She went to the pump near the sink and after drawing a dishful of water she sluiced her face, dried it, then reaching up to the mantelpiece she took down a comb and pulled it through each side of her hair. This done, she took in one long slow deep breath, made her way back into the sitting room and without any words sat on the edge of the bed and put an arm under Barney’s head and held him to her.
It was as if Pete had taken the sun with him for a wind came up and brought rain with it; then it freshened still further and by the evening it was blowing a gale.
It was almost nine o’clock when she saw Jimmy’s lantern swinging down the yard. He had been working on the cottage: he had done wonders with the inside; he had mended the dress bed and varnished and comb-grained the doors; he had brought up from the village an old broken cupboard, taken it to pieces and made a delph rack. By the time he’d finished, the cottage would certainly be fit to live in.
She bolted the door, emptied the teapot onto the fire to damp it down and stood back from it for a moment coughing as the cinder-smelling steam wafted about her face. Then picking up the lamp, she went into the sitting room to say goodnight to Barney; but finding he was already asleep, she quietly turned down the wick of his lamp to a mere flicker, then went up the stairs.
It was sometime before she went to sleep. As always, the doings of the day tumbled through her mind, and again as always she ended up thinking about two people, Annie and Henry; then finally, just before sleep, she thought, I wonder if he’ll come and see me before he goes. The thought took her over into a dream.
It was the kind of dream she’d often had before: she was in the midst of people, all misty faced, and she was peering at them in the hope of recognising one. At times she thought she saw her father, and when she imagined she was looking at her mother the face would turn into that of Annie and she would go and put her arms about her, only to find she was embracing a man.
Tonight the dream was following the same pattern and she had reached the point when she had her arms around the strange man when she screamed; and she ran from him and through the village, only to meet him again. When he put his arms about her, then threw her to the ground, she screamed once more and it wasn’t like a dream scream when your mouth opens and no sound comes out, or that you’ve imagined that you’ve yelled to the pitch of your lungs only to wake up murmuring; now she knew she was actually screaming and that she was no longer in a dream but was actually struggling with a man. When his body came thumping onto hers and his hand was ramming something into her mouth she tried to bite on it; but the next instant her head spun as she received a blow to the side of it and she was only vaguely aware that she was being thrust onto her face.
She came to herself screaming in her head as she felt herself being dragged from the bed. Her hair was being torn from her head. She knew now she was being pulled into the attic and as she emerged from the darkness of the bedroom into the light of the lantern the terror in her almost caused her heart to stop, for she saw plainly now who her assailant was. Yet subconsciously she had known that from the moment in the dream when her own screams had echoed those of another.
The agony her body had endured in being dragged over the uneven floorboards was nothing to that of her mind when, as she lay on her side, he brought the lantern and, swinging it so close to her face that she thought he intended to spill the oil on her, he said, ‘Comfortable, Emma?’
Her eyes, wide like those of a trapped animal that knew it was about to die, stared back at him.
‘Didn’t tie you too tight, did I?’ He took his foot now and kicked at her bare ankles where the rope was searing the skin. ‘Anyway, you won’t mind that in a minute or two, you’ll have forgotten all about it.’
He now stood the lantern on the floor and, dropping onto his hunkers, he brought his face close to hers and his spirit-laden breath wafted over her as he growled, ‘You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this minute, Emma, just you and me alone, nobody to interfere. Years and years I’ve waited for it, ever since you first toddled into the yard, I think. It was from that minute you blasted me life. Do you know that, Emma? You blasted me life. You separated me from me family; you turned me out of me home; you lost me inheritance that you are now handing on to Pete; an’ you made me somebody to be pitied and scorned because I’d busted up me brother’s life an’ all. I’ve had to carry the blame for that. I just told him so downstairs. Did you hear him yelling? He was trying to warn you while I was giving him a kind of picture of what I was gona do to you. But he’s quiet now; I saw to that. That’s one chalk mark off me slate, ’cos he never liked me nor me him. But we would have got along if you hadn’t stepped in. You should have seen his face when I told him what I was going to do to you after I had taken you. But you know something, Emma? I don’t want you, not that way; not even years ago I didn’t want you. Didn’t mind lookin’ at you or havin’ a tickle, but you had no fire in you; not like Annie. Aw now, Annie’s got fire in her. And I’ll tell you something more, Annie’s worth a hundred of you.’
He now took the flat of his hand and brought it fully across the side of her face, and when her head hit the floor she again almost became insensible. But she came to herself when she felt his hand grip the front of her nightdress and with a savage tug rip it clean down to the hem, and there he had to use two hands to tear the calico apart.
‘Skin and bone, not really a woman. Open your eyes, Emma; I’m lookin’ at you.’
‘Well now.’ She knew by the sound of his voice he had turned from her; and slowly she forced her lids open and then her mind cried, ‘Oh, Jesus! Jesus,’ as she saw what he was about to do. He had taken the lantern to where the wall sloped and he was examining the whips that had lain in the corner for years. She saw him pick one up after the other before he appeared to choose what her dad had called the standard. This had a heavyish handle and a single strand of leather, broad at the top and narrowing to almost a thread at its end. It was very like the one she had used to whip the idol off the table in those far gone days up at the house.
He next picked up the belt of knives, and when he held the cloth case by its strap it unrolled and two of the knives dropped out and fell hilt first to the floor. Throwing the case down, he said, ‘We might come to you later.’
Coming over to her now, he bent over her once more and pulled the gag, a dirty cloth, out of her mouth, and smiling at her he said, ‘It’s easier to yell, Emma, and I want to hear you yell…scream, screech. It’s a windy night and it’s not likely that anybody’s around at this time. Even if a fellow was poaching he would just take it for one of the owls, or a fox because you’ll be screamin’ like a vixen afore I’ve finished with you.’
‘Luke.’ His name trembled on her lips, and he said, ‘Aye Emma, what is it?’
‘Pl…P…please, do…do…don’t do this, Luke, please.’
‘You pleading with me, Emma?’
‘Yes, Luke, pl…please.’ As her lips trembled out the word and she looked into his contorted face an even deeper terror filled her, for what she saw in his eyes she recognised as madness. It wasn’t only that he had been drinking, for he wasn’t really drunk, but he was mad; and it wasn’t only the madness of a moment she was witnessing, it was an insanity that had taken him over. She could smell it; it was almost tangible; and the fearfulness of it was in the seeming reasonable animosity of his next words.
‘Oh, what a pity, Emma, you didn’t think about pleadin’ afore now. Funny; if you had, things might have been different. No…Emma—’ His voice changed now and he jerked himself to his feet and, cracking the whip over the floorboards, he said, ‘I’m gona take payment for me life, an’ for this.’ He pointed to the weal on his face. ‘Remember this, Emma? You did that with a rope. Well, just in case you had got rid of the whips I brought some along of me. But this one is better. Oh, much better.’ Again he cracked the whip. Then swinging round, he brought his arm in a lightning flash over his head and the end of the whip across her face.
&nbs
p; As her body bounced on the floor, her screams seemed to deafen herself, and as the blood ran into the corner of her mouth he lashed out at her again and once more her body bounced. This time she rolled onto her face, her open mouth pressed against the dirty boards. But she wasn’t there seconds before his foot had brought her onto her side again. And now he was flaying her. No part of her body did he miss. And when his arm became tired he stood gasping, his own body heaving almost as much as hers. But she was past hearing when he bawled, ‘That’s only the beginning. An’ don’t think there’ll be somebody comin’ to your rescue, because I’ve arranged it. There’s a note left for your dear helper to say you’ve gone to the painter’s. How’s that for thinkin’? And when they eventually find you and him I’ll be miles away. And I’ve people to vouch that I’d been with them every minute for the past week, because I’ve made meself scarce, said I was goin’ into Newcastle to look for a job and some place to kip. And of course that’s natural since me and Laura broke up. The bitch! The bitch, to leave me. I’ll do for her an’ all. I will! I will…Emma.’ He again pushed her with his foot, and when there was no movement from her he brought the lantern and held it above her. Her face was streaming with blood, the crossed lines on her breast, stomach and legs were oozing blood; the torn nightdress was now bespattered with blood and split in places and had ridden up beyond her thighs.
He took his hand and gripped her shoulder, shouting now, ‘Come on! Come on! You’re not goin’ as easy as that.’ Then when her head rolled to the side, he straightened himself, saying, quietly, ‘Well, rest a while. That’s it, rest a while. An’ me an’ all. It’s hard working lashing out. I don’t seem to have your knack, Emma, but I’m not doin’ so badly, am I? ’Tis hard work. An’ me head’s aching. Want a drink. Me head’s aching.’
And on this he threw the whip down and went and sat on the floor opposite her. His back against a box, he sat gazing at her wealed and bleeding body, as another man might have done at a picture that soothed his senses. And time went on and he continued to look at her, and the only movement his body made was when his jaw sagged. From then on his mouth remained open as if in astonishment.
Fourteen
It was the day for the market. Jimmy came into the yard around six o’clock. The first job he did was to water and feed the horses; he then put the mash on in the boilerhouse for the pigs; following this, he let out the hens earlier than usual simply to stop the cock crowing its head off; and before he started the mucking out of the cow byres and the milking he got the horse and cart ready for the market.
Later, on looking towards the attic he noticed there was a light showing dimly through the fanlight. But he had seen no sign of the missis, and market day she was generally trotting backward and forward to the dairy getting the stuff ready for the cart. And she always called him over about this time and gave him a mug of something hot. Perhaps she wasn’t well. Perhaps the boss had taken worse.
He went to the kitchen door and tapped on it. When he received no response he pushed it open and stood looking round the kitchen. The fire wasn’t blazing; the kettle wasn’t boiling on the hob, as he would have expected to see; but the table was set for breakfast as it always was the night before. She couldn’t be up yet.
But there was a piece of paper stuck in front of the jug.
He took a step further into the kitchen and went towards the paper and read his own name on the top of it. Picking it up, he saw that it said: Jimmy, been called to Mr Bowman’s. Carry on as usual. I’ve seen to Barney. Don’t trouble him. I’ll soon be back.
He stared at the piece of paper, then he looked down the room to the far door before bringing his eyes back and reading the note again. She had written her husband’s name calling him Barney. She never called him Barney, not to him, she always called him the boss, because crippled or no he still owned the place. And he had always thought it a nice gesture of her to refer to him as the boss. But here she was calling him Barney. But that wasn’t all. The writing, it was big and scrawling. He had seen her writing before on the orders she had written out for him when he had taken the cart into Gateshead Fell for horse feed and such. There was something funny here. And she said he hadn’t to go in to the boss. Why? when he had looked after him those days when she was cut off by the snow, and for sometime after an’ all, to help his ma out.
He turned about and left the kitchen. Then, going quietly along the yard, he stopped outside the sitting room window. The head of the boss’s bed had been placed so that he could see out of the window. Jimmy stood a pace back from the window, looking at it for some seconds; then leaning towards it, he pressed his nose to the glass and looked in. There was the boss in bed where he expected him to be. He looked asleep; yet no, he wasn’t.
Jimmy moved his head against the reflected light, then cupped his hand over the side of his face and his mouth opened wide as he stared at the face on the pillow. The eyes were open, the jaw was hanging slack, and one eye was black and blue as if he had been in a fight.
He stood back, his doubled fist held tightly against his mouth now. The boss was dead. He was dead. And the missis? There was something wrong. He looked upwards towards the windows. Should he go in, and upstairs?
No, no, he must go and get somebody. There was something radically wrong here. But where was the missis?
He ran across the yard now towards where the cart stood. He had to go and get somebody, he couldn’t tackle it himself. He was just about to mount to the seat when he stopped as he remembered something. The light, that light coming from the attic. He had thought it was the reflection of the rising sun spread through the branches of the apple tree.
He turned from the cart and ran across the yard to the side of the house; but there he stopped and, moving cautiously, he crossed the square of grass in which stood the old tree. Then backing two or three steps, he looked upwards, and yes, there it was. It was dimmer now in the broader daylight but it was nevertheless a light, and what was it doing in the attic. Nobody, to his knowledge, slept in the attic. Well, there was nobody to sleep in the attic, was there?
He looked up into the branches of the tree. He had skimmed up this old tree more times than he’d had weekly wages. He put his hands up and gripped the stout lower branch and within seconds he was standing on it, and from there he threaded his way as if up a known staircase to the top.
He wasn’t quite on a level with the fanlight and the sun coming through the branches of the tree was still dappling it. He put his hand gently out and laid it on the roof, then brought his face round to the edge of the dirty pane, and through narrowed eyes he squinted into the room below. And what he imagined he saw almost brought him toppling backwards. He could see the dim outline, also dappled by the sun’s rays, of a trussed naked figure on the floor. It was red in parts, and sitting not a yard from it, his back against a box, was the hunched figure of a man. And he recognised the man.
His lips formed the words, Eeh! God in heaven. Eeh! Then he was again moving cautiously through the branches. But once on the ground he seemed to cover it in leaps until he reached the cart; then mounting it, he cried, ‘Gee up there!’ and the horse trotted out through the opening onto the land, with Jimmy again urging it on: ‘Up! Up!’
At the coach road he pulled the animal to a halt and looked first one way and then the other. He had to get help. But it was a couple of miles to the village. Just along the road though there was the painter’s cottage and the parson was staying there, and he was no weakling. This was the day he was leaving, so it was said; his ma said his big trunk had been sent on to the station yesterday.
Having turned the horse’s head in the direction of the cottage, he put the animal into a fast trot, and when they reached the cottage he jumped from the cart almost before the horse had come to a stop. Tearing up the path now, he hammered on the door.
It was opened by the painter, with a shawl over his shoulders. ‘Oh, Mr Bowman’—Jimmy leaned forward, one hand clutching the stanchion of the door—‘is…is
the parson with you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here, Jimmy.’ Henry appeared by the side of Ralph.
‘Oh! Parson. Parson, you’ve got to come, there’s somethin’ going on up there, bad. I…I think the boss is dead, and the missis.’ At this point he closed his eyes tight, drooped his head and shook it as if to fling off the picture in his mind; then on a gabble of words he said, ‘Luke Yorkless. He’s got her up in the attic. She…she looked stark, stark-naked. She’s trussed up and as…as far as I could see…I…well, I might have been mistaken but…well, she looked as if she was bleedin’ in parts.’
For a second Henry and Ralph remained mute; then Henry rushed down the room, grabbed up his coat and was back within seconds, to find that Ralph had thrown off his shawl and that he too was lifting a coat from the back of the door. ‘No! No, man. No! No!‘ Henry bawled at him.
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No, I tell you! Anyway, what use would you be? You’re in no fit state to…’
‘Don’t waste words, Henry. I don’t know what use I’d be, I only know I’m coming with you.’
Henry looked from where Jimmy had mounted the cart to where Ralph was now pulling the door closed behind him, and he shook his head. It was no use wasting time arguing.
He helped Ralph up onto the seat beside Jimmy and he himself jumped onto the back of the cart.
It was some five minutes later when they neared the farmyard, and before they went through the opening Henry called, ‘Stop a minute.’ He jumped down, went round to the front of the cart and, looking up at Jimmy, he said, ‘Had he a gun?’
The Whip (The Spaniard's Gift) Page 45
