Today, Elsie had brought Anna along to find Bert, who had begun to describe himself as a semi-steward. He and a man named Bernard Hanley were joint stewards, and they relieved Linda Mellor of most of the work involved in the running of several large farms. ‘Why are we here?’ Anna asked repeatedly.
‘I need to talk to your Uncle Bert.’ Elsie couldn’t do this on her own.
‘The twins’ll be in the house by themselves, Auntie Elsie.’
‘Never mind. Come on and do as you’re told.’
So Anna was in the room she still considered to be Mrs Mellor’s study when she heard about her father. Elsie had received a visit from a friend of Billy MacRae’s who had explained it all to her. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t in his right mind any more. ‘Like the twins?’ she asked.
Elsie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s had some shocks, and he thinks the war hasn’t ended. He’s going to need medicines and a lot of rest. Then they’ll move him to a place up here, and we can go and visit him.’
‘I want to go to Brighton. I want to see him, talk to him. If he sees me, he’ll remember me and he might just—’
‘Anna, leave it to the army and the doctors. They know what they’re doing. Where your dad is, there’ll be all kinds of clever people who know exactly how to help him. It may be too soon for visitors. Please, please wait.’
‘I’m always waiting,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve waited years and years for my dad, years for the twins to start turning decent. I’m fed up.’
Things became confused after that, because a child had gone missing, and police came in to seek permission for the public to search the Mellor family’s lands. It was already getting dark, so there was a degree of urgency in the man’s tone. ‘We need more than just the force,’ he said. ‘We’re losing light. The child’s vulnerable.’
Anna looked at him. ‘Who is it?’
‘Jimmy Hardcastle.’
The child nodded wisely and pondered for a few moments. ‘He beat one of my sisters in some test or other a few weeks back.’ She turned and looked at Elsie. Anna, exhausted and worried about her father, didn’t care any more. She held Elsie’s hand before returning her attention to the policeman. ‘They burned that barn, they stole – now they’ve taken a child who got one right answer too many. Ask them. Hit them – whatever you have to do. Jimmy has a bad leg and he can’t see properly. Get my sisters. They’ll know where he is. Because they will have put him there.’
The sergeant stared hard at Anna. She was talking about members of her family as if they were apprentice criminals. ‘Are you sure?’
Bert stepped forward. ‘She’s sure.’
Elsie said nothing, because she continued to labour under the delusion that she had turned Kate and Beckie bad. Children were not born bad – they were made bad and, as she was in loco parentis, it was her negligence that had caused the twins to turn out so odd.
Anna pitied her foster mother. ‘Auntie Elsie, it’s not your fault – it’s nobody’s fault unless you blame my mam for dying. You remember how a sheep knows its own lamb? How they skin a dead baby and wrap the fleece round another one? The ewe believes that’s her baby. I think Kate and Beckie knew you weren’t their mam because you didn’t smell like her. That was when it went wrong.’ She had heard all this from a sheep farmer, and had applied it to her own familial situation. It made sense in some way.
Most of the police had already left when Anna caught up with their boss. She knew he was the boss because he had stripes. ‘Try Grantham Woods,’ she advised. ‘That was where they used to hide stolen jewellery and stuff. But first, try to shake the truth out of them. Oh – you’ll need me there. I’m the only thing in the world they are afraid of.’
Bert, Elsie and Anna arrived home in a police car. ‘Get down here now,’ screamed Anna as soon as they entered the house. ‘Now!’ she repeated.
A pair of perfect children descended the stairs. Dressed in yellow gingham dresses and green cardigans, they looked like angels, round-eyed, innocent and beautiful. But their sister grabbed them and dragged them down the last two stairs, thereby depriving them of dignity and literally lifting them off terra firma. ‘Where is he?’ she demanded as she dumped the pair in front of the sergeant.
‘Where’s who?’
‘Jimmy Hardcastle.’
They shrugged. They had no idea, because they never played with him.
‘You don’t play with anybody,’ snapped their sister. ‘Because there’s nobody bad enough for you, not round here, anyway.’
‘Steady, love,’ urged Elsie.
Anna turned to her foster mother. ‘He can’t walk properly, can’t see properly – he’s the sort of person they’d choose. And if they’ve left him out there somewhere, he could be dead of cold by morning.’ Once again, she focused on her sisters. ‘Where is he?’
When no answer was forthcoming, Anna stood and looked into the policeman’s eyes. ‘Right. You can take them to that orphanage now, the one you told me about where they cure bad kids. We can’t manage them any more. This time, it could be murder.’
Kate stared at Anna. Anna was a good actress. But she was also a part of their world’s law, and she was not on the side of her younger sisters. Kate’s eyes slid sideways in the direction of Beckie. ‘Becks?’
‘What?’
‘Will they put us in an orphanage?’
Anna managed not to gasp. These two seldom displayed a chink in their armour, but she had slid a knife some way in on this occasion.
‘No,’ answered Beckie. ‘We’ve got a dad somewhere.’
Anna exploded. ‘Have we? Have we? The war’s made him ill, too ill to come home. He’s hundreds of miles away in a hospital. Nobody knows when he’ll be well enough to come back and look after us, and he certainly couldn’t be in charge of nasty people like you two. Uncle Bert’s had enough, and Auntie Elsie’s not able to cope with you. So tell us where that boy is, or this policeman will take you to a place where you can do least damage.’
The two younger girls turned as one person and walked out of the house. A strange procession followed, with the sergeant behind the twins, Anna hot on his heels, Elsie and Bert bringing up the rear.
When they entered the wood, the twins stopped and Beckie spoke. ‘We saw the whole thing,’ she said. ‘Two people in black tied him to a tree and broke his glasses. It was terrible.’
‘We’ll get him,’ snapped Anna. ‘I’ll deal with your lies later.’
Again, they had lost. Again, their older sister was the reason for their lack of success. She was storing up so many black points that she would have to become a target. No one did this to them; no one who committed such an act of betrayal could be allowed to get away with it scot free.
Elsie, not as quick a mover as the rest of them, was bringing up the rear. She was asking herself questions, and she didn’t like the answers. Her love for Anna burgeoned as well as ever, but she didn’t love the twins. She admired them, because they were intellectually superior to most other people, but she found it difficult even to like them. It had taken a while, but she was coming round to her husband’s way of thinking.
Anna, crippled internally by the news about her father, was now worrying about a boy who was truly handicapped, a weakling with a strong mind, bad eyes and a good attitude. He didn’t deserve this. It was as if the twins practised on easier victims before working their way up to more difficult people. Only too aware that she was setting herself up as a target, she began to call Jimmy’s name. ‘Shout, Jimmy,’ she yelled. ‘We know you’ve no glasses, so stay where you are and just shout.’
Other searchers responded to Anna’s cries, and several joined the main party. Bert’s partner, Bernard Hanley, led in ten or more labourers and they all stood by Anna. Not a word was spoken while they listened for a response. At last, a faint sound reached grateful ears. ‘He’s deep in the woods,’ Anna told everyone. ‘I know every tree in here, because I’ve had to keep my eye on certain people who regard this place as
their own personal property.’ She noticed that the twins didn’t even flinch. They had no sense of shame, no idea of right and wrong. All they knew was winning, escaping, staying safe.
It was Anna who found him, held him and cuddled him. It was Anna who wept over him and wished she could have him for a brother. Because although his problems were visible, they were bearable. Years later, she would look back on the moment and realize that though she hadn’t heard the word, this was the day on which she had known for certain that her sisters were clever psychopaths.
Later, when Jimmy had been taken to hospital to be warmed and watched, Elsie left the house and went to sit with Betty Culshaw. She was tired, and she had seen enough trouble today. Bert stood by and surveyed the scene with interest while Anna literally beat the truth out of the younger girls. They scarcely reacted, shed not one tear, but, when the whole thing became boring, they admitted their crime. Anna sent them to bed without supper, then sat in Bert’s arms and cried till she slept.
Elsie returned. She hadn’t been able to bear to stay and watch while Anna did what needed to be done. ‘Betty asked a lot of questions, but I told her nowt,’ she said. ‘Jimmy’s mam and dad’ll spread it soon enough. Did Anna knock the truth out of that pair?’
‘They want talking about, them bloody girls,’ Bert whispered. ‘What are we supposed to do? They did it, all right.’
Elsie shrugged. ‘I reckon they’ll finish up put away.’
‘No,’ replied Bert, his voice low enough not to wake the sleeping Anna. ‘They’ll learn to hide it, go from strength to strength, then they’ll likely kill somebody.’ He glanced down. ‘And I think I know who.’
Elsie shuddered. ‘Get a lock for her bedroom door. She can have a key, and we’ll keep one hidden. Anna’s got to be safe.’
He stroked the child’s hair. ‘Her dad and this, all in one day.’
It was a big, old house set back from Chorley New Road, Bolton. It had a massive front garden with a fountain in the middle. This was in the shape of an angel holding an enormous sword, and the water came out of the sword. Anna looked at the item and judged it to be a symbol of war.
A huge lawn looked as if it had been manicured, and Anna felt obliged to talk to the gardeners. One was in a wheelchair, and he was weeding with the aid of a long-handled fork. A second man laboured with one remaining arm, while the third, whole in body but with a badly charred face, seemed to be in charge. ‘It’s lovely,’ she told the scarred man. She looked him straight in the face, because instinct led her to know that he wanted and needed that.
‘Thanks, love. The garden’ll be resting for the winter soon.’ He couldn’t smile, because the lower half of his face was worst affected. ‘Who are you?’
‘Anna MacRae, and this is Mrs Dixon. She looked after us when my mam died in 1940.’
The man squatted down. ‘So you’re Sergeant Macker’s girl, eh?’
‘Macker?’
‘It’s his nickname. Now, listen to me, young lady. Do you remember your dad?’
Anna considered the question. ‘Very tall, kept lifting me up till my head was in the washing on our pulley line. Smelled of beer and cigarettes and had a noisy laugh.’
The man looked up at Elsie. ‘He’s not the same as he was, Mrs Dixon. I don’t think he laughs, and this young lady should be prepared.’
‘We’ve done what we can.’ Elsie replied. ‘But she’s determined to come here and make him whole again. And, let me tell you, if anyone can, it’s this little madam.’
The ex-soldier watched the two females as they walked the long walk to the doors of Hollybank House. He prayed inwardly that Macker would be calm, at least, that he would not go into one of his tantrums while his daughter was here. The one-armed man looked up. ‘Good luck to them, eh? I think they might be needing it.’
The wheelchair turned until its occupant could see his colleagues. ‘He broke two windows last night. They reckon he’s smashed more glass than the Germans did with their doodlebugs. In a way, we’re lucky. Better a broken body than a broken mind.’
Elsie and Anna were taken into an office where a doctor awaited them. He smiled, introduced himself as Adam Corcoran, then asked them to sit. He cleared his throat. ‘Sergeant MacRae, isn’t it?’
Elsie nodded.
‘Ah. Here you are. Mrs Dixon.’ He put a tick against her name. ‘We had to give him sedatives last night. He forgot again, started throwing things. We can’t let you visit him without supervision. He seems to be stuck in a place where one of his men died, and it may take some time for him to return to normal.’
Elsie stared hard at the officious dwarf. ‘Last war, my husband served. He came back all right, but some of his shell-shocked mates were shot by their own for trying to desert, and others came home and either got locked up or dumped on their families. Empty shells, they were, because the shells sent over by the Germans took their minds away. Shells from shells, that’s what we had to deal with. I was lucky. Bert had the strength to take it in his stride, but he never talks about it. Is it still the same? Do you do nowt for them once they come home? After they’ve saved their bloody country?’
Anna was shocked, because Elsie had seldom made so long a speech, and she wasn’t often rude. And she hadn’t finished.
‘Fit for bloody heroes? Is it hell. This girl’s father’s a fine man, and we want him back in one piece, so get on with it.’
The doctor scarcely reacted. It was plain that he was used to dealing with attacks of this kind. ‘We can only keep him safe, Mrs Dixon. From all accounts, he was an extraordinary soldier, so we shall do our best. How can we do better than our best? The Americans are working on new drugs—’
‘Drugs?’ Elsie was almost screaming now. ‘He wasn’t on bloody drugs before he went abroad. Nearest he came to drugs was that much whisky – he fell from top to bottom of some stone steps, not a bone broke. Drugs. Hmmph.’
A twitch gave the doctor away. Anna knew he was trying not to laugh about the stone steps. ‘He had a bottle in each pocket when he fell,’ she told him. ‘And they weren’t broken, either.’
He smiled at her. ‘Your name?’
‘Anna MacRae.’
‘Wear that name with pride, Anna MacRae. I’ve heard nothing but good about your father. Come along – let’s see what he makes of you.’
They walked down a long corridor. At first, rooms along each side had doors opened to reveal men enjoying card games at tables or reading in armchairs. Some were playing darts and dominoes, and many had visible injuries. Then the corridor narrowed, and a huge iron gate had to be opened before the party could continue its walk.
At this end, the rooms were all locked. ‘These are single rooms,’ Dr Corcoran said. ‘For soldiers who aren’t yet ready to face the world and all its noise. Anna, my dear, hold my hand.’ He looked at Elsie. ‘I’ll take her in,’ he said. ‘Let him deal with one at a time.’
Elsie sat on a chair outside the door to Billy’s room. She wanted to be with Anna, but the doctor possibly knew best. ‘God, I’m scared,’ she told a Constable print on a wall.
Anna’s hold on her companion’s hand tightened. Her dad was a big man, but the person in the small room was thin. His hair seemed to have crawled away from his face to the back of his head, while his eyes were sunken into the skull.
‘Billy?’ said the doctor.
Billy turned and saw only Anna. ‘Frankie?’ he whispered.
Anna wrenched her hand free and ran to the poor creature. ‘It’s me, Daddy. It’s Anna.’
‘Anna.’ A skeletal hand traced the contours of her face. ‘You look just like her.’
‘I’m lucky, then.’
‘You are, love.’ He stared at her for what seemed to be a very long time before speaking again. ‘I took her to Blackpool once, you know. Before you were born. All the lads were looking at her, but she only had eyes for me. Where is she?’
‘Tonge Cemetery.’
‘Bolton?’
Anna nodded. ‘She di
ed after having the twins.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember.’
Dr Adam Corcoran was stunned. He hadn’t experienced a conversation like this, not with Sergeant Billy MacRae.
‘I live with the Dixons now,’ Anna went on. ‘They took all three of us – me, Katherine and Rebecca. They’re six now. At school.’
At last, a smile. ‘Are they as pretty as you?’
‘Prettier. But very, very naughty.’
‘Dixons,’ Billy said thoughtfully. ‘So you moved next door. Not far, I suppose.’
‘We live in the country now, Dad.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Uncle Bert’s a steward for some farms, and Auntie Elsie looked after mothers and babies all through the war. We had to go to a Proddy school, because that was all they had up there, and we couldn’t get far in the war. But I shall be able to get to St Mary’s Grammar next month, because the trams and buses are running properly again. I passed the scholarship.’
‘Of course you did. You’ve got your mother’s brains as well.’
Anna touched the thin face. ‘And yours, Dad. Will you come home soon?’
‘When I find him.’
‘Who?’
‘Bobby Watson. He’s very good with a camera, said he’ll teach me as well. We can do weddings. Good idea, eh?’
The doctor stepped forward. ‘Bobby died in Tunisia, Billy. Anna – tell him.’
Anna told her father that Bobby was dead.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Positive.’
‘Tunisia?’
She nodded.
‘I liked Tunisia,’ he told her. ‘And Egypt. But my first love’s still India. I wanted to live there, wanted to take you all out with me. The Punjab. It’s brilliant there. Is he really dead?’
‘Yes. And India’s going to have its own government, so we won’t be in charge any more. This is home, Dad. Well – not here, not in this house. You could work with Uncle Bert. You have to get better. You can’t stop here, you know.’ She opened her little peggy-purse. ‘There you are. That’s a picture of me, and here’s one of the twins. When you forget where you are, and when you forget that your friend died, look at these photos and remember that Rebecca, Katherine and I are real.’
Sugar and Spice Page 18
