The Branded Man

by Catherine Cookson

  He stopped, and Don, the unmarked part of his face deadly white now, said, ‘Yes, it is known as congenital melanocytic nevis.’

  John Ridley’s colour too had changed, but it had gone to a deep pink; and now he muttered, ‘I’m…I’m very sorry; you’ve been into this, then, but my intention is not to deal with the skin, but with your disguise. I thought it might be other than a stain because of this ugly apparatus you wear. I can’t see any reason why you cannot wear something less noticeable. I happened to surprise you the other day with your cap off. Did the hospital supply it?’

  Don’s voice was flat now as he said, ‘I have never attended a hospital; it was made by a kindly Brother so that I could face the world.’

  ‘Yes; yes, I see. Again I say I’m sorry, but’—he now put out his hand and gripped Don’s knee—‘I would like to be of some help to you. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?’

  ‘Not at all. No; not at all.’

  John Ridley wetted his lips now and said, ‘Does it cover other parts of your body?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘That’s what I said, no. That is the irony of it; it’s marred only a very small portion of my skin, from my hairline to my breastbone.’ And when Don almost sprang to his feet and tore at his headpiece, John Ridley remained quiet as he looked at the ugly seared skin that marred this young man’s face. And it was ugly, being made so, not just by its colour, but by its roughness. It resembled warts on a pig’s back.

  It was a long moment before he could say, ‘Sit down, Don…Now look, there is nothing I can think of at the moment which will give you any hope that that cursed stain can be dealt with, but I do know that in Germany attempts are being made to lighten the colour. However, what can be done and right away is to fit you with a proper mask. It should make all the difference in the world…Now it’s like this.’ John Ridley rose quickly from his chair and sat on the couch beside Don, and his voice was eager as he said, ‘Let me explain. There’s this young fellow. He’s a patient of mine. He hasn’t any legs, but he has a pair of hands that can work miracles; at least, I think so; but that’s when you can get him interested. He works with papier mâché, not just for fancy trays and such, but he can shape figures and masks, and all so lifelike. He doesn’t take to everybody, mind—he has an unusual temperament. I know he had an offer to do masks for the theatre group, but wouldn’t take it on. He’s of a very caring family. His father is a painter in the shipyard, and two of his brothers are apprenticed there—one a riveter, the other a carpenter—and so they live comfortably and, strange to say, happily, for they have another invalid in the house. Unfortunately, their twenty-one-year-old daughter won’t be with them much longer, I fear, for she has been consumptive since a child. They live in a terraced house, and the usual front room has been turned over to Joe, a bedroom-cum-studio-cum-meeting place. It’s a very interesting family. I’m sure you would agree if you met them and had a natter with Joe. I’ve told him about you and for once got him interested in someone. So, what about it?’

  ‘Why are you doing this…taking this trouble?’

  ‘I ask myself that many times; it’s because, I suppose, I’m an interfering busybody. My real reason, which I apply to most things is that I hate to see good stuff going to waste.’

  When Don exclaimed loudly, ‘Huh!’ John Ridley echoed it, and Don went on, ‘I don’t consider I am going to waste.’

  ‘It all depends upon what you mean by that. It’s possible that you could be made to spread your wings, and live a different life away from this little hut’—he flung one arm aside, indicating the room—‘in which you mainly hide yourself…All right! All right!’—his voice was loud now as Don again bounced up from the couch—‘Don’t take up a boxing stance with me, because what I said is true. Anyway, I am asking you to do this, because I think you owe me something.’

  ‘Owe you something! How? Why?’

  ‘Well, you are more than fond of Marie Anne, aren’t you? Yes, you can look like that, and so I’ll not say, “more than”, but you’re fond of her, and you’ve likely thanked your God for saving her. Well, let me tell you, He couldn’t have done much without my help in the first place.’

  At this, Don drew in a long breath, then turned, and walking to the fireplace, he gripped the rough oak mantelshelf.

  Some part of him wanted to laugh; but only a part of him, for he was considering this man a little too prying, and far too knowledgeable.

  He did not turn about when John Ridley’s voice came to him quietly now, saying, ‘I’m off. You needn’t show me out; I know the way. But think over what I’ve said. You just need to write “Pick me up” on a sheet of paper and post it, and I’ll arrange to fetch you. And instead of standing there like an angry bull, you should be thanking me.’

  It was minutes after the door had banged that Don straightened up and again took in a deep breath.

  Talk about revelation; he had been given the whole book this morning, and he didn’t like it, not any part of it.

  Ten

  There was a family gathering in the sitting room of The Little Manor. Present were Emanuel and James and Patrick and Evelyn and Marie Anne. Also present were Patrick’s future wife and Evelyn’s husband; and, of course, there was Sarah. At this moment, she was pouring tea.

  As Pat lifted two cups of tea from the tray Sarah pointed to one saying, ‘That’s the master’s, with two sugars, and that one’s Mr James’s, no sugar; and be careful, don’t spill them in the saucer.’

  He turned his head to the side and laughingly said, ‘No ma’am; no ma’am. I’ll be careful I will, I will that, I will.’

  ‘Go on with you and your mockery, Mr Pat!’

  When Pat reached the couch and handed his grandfather and his father their cups, Emanuel said, ‘Why has he gone off to Dr Ridley’s again today? That’s the second time within a week. Farmer Harding says he was there last week too. Anything wrong with him physically, d’you think?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so, Grandfather. To me, he looks as fit as a fiddle.’

  ‘I suppose nobody thought of asking him, but perhaps Marie Anne’s got an inkling. Marie Anne!’ he called above the chatter of the women.

  Marie Anne, who was sitting with Anita and Evelyn, called back, ‘Yes, Grandpa?’

  ‘Do you know why our good friend Don has been taken up by Dr Ridley?’

  ‘No, I don’t, Grandpa. Nor do I intend to probe.’

  ‘Well, somebody should. I’ll ask him myself next time we meet up.’

  ‘Huh! Huh!’ This sound came from the tea table and all eyes were turned in Sarah’s direction, and the old man now called to her, ‘Did I hear you make a remark, Miss Foggerty?’

  And Sarah, in the act of passing the last cup of tea to Nathaniel Napier, replied, ‘It was no remark, sir, just a sort of expression.’

  ‘A sort of expression?’

  The old man now exchanged a quick glance with James, after which James bent his head and bit on his lip and waited, as did the rest of the company, for the exchange they knew would follow.

  ‘May I ask what the expression was supposed to convey?’

  Sarah was back at the tea table dabbing at some spilt tea with a napkin, and when she did not answer the voice came again, now in the form of a demand, ‘May I have your attention for a moment, Miss Foggerty!’

  Sarah turned and walked towards the couch and stood dutifully and, what would appear, docilely before her master, and after he had repeated, ‘I asked what your expression was supposed to convey,’ she said, ‘Well, sir, were I to translate it you might consider it out of place, like.’

  ‘Well, you can leave me to be the judge of that, Miss Foggerty, so I would thank you if you would kindly translate the meaning of “Huh!”‘

  There was an absolute silence in the room, then Sarah broke it by saying briefly, ‘Some hope.’

  The choked ripple that went through the others was quickly silenced by a look cast on them by the old man wh
o again demanded of Sarah, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I translated as you wanted, sir, the meaning of Huh! It meant some hope.’

  Again there was a strangled titter.

  James’s head drooped further. There were actually tortured expressions on the faces of the others.

  Emanuel Lawson kept his face perfectly straight as he said to her, ‘So you don’t think that I would have any success if I questioned Mr McAlister as to the reason why the doctor collects him?’

  ‘Well, going on what he said to me, sir, I should say you don’t.’

  ‘Oh! You asked him?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You mean, you asked him why he was going to Dr Ridley’s?’

  ‘Just that, sir.’

  There was an expectant hush around the room now. James had raised his head and was staring at this Irish woman whom, as he put it to himself, demanded to be liked, and so he requested of her, ‘And may we ask what his reply to you was?’

  ‘You may, sir.’

  ‘Well, go on.’

  ‘Well, sir, I could put it briefly and say he refused to tell me, or I could give you his answer in full.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. By all means, Miss Foggerty, let us hear his answer in full.’

  Sarah looked towards Marie Anne and she gave an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders as if to say, Well he’s asked for it, so don’t blame me. Then turning to Emanuel, she said, ‘Well, it went like this, sir: after I’d put the question to him, he said, “Well, you know what you are, Sarah Foggerty? You are a Nosey Parker, and were I to tell you, you would go strutting round this house throwing off hints to all concerned that you knew something that they didn’t, while knowing that they were breaking their necks to find out. Oh, you’d make your knowledge pay all right, but this, I think, would touch on the sin of pride; and so your ignorance will save you from that temptation.”‘

  ‘Well, I never!’

  ‘Did he really say that?’

  Sarah turned and faced them, saying, ‘Yes, he did that. I’ve got a good memory for insults, no matter in what shape they come.’

  Leaning back, his hand across his mouth and his eyes sparkling, Emanuel cut off further remarks by saying to James, ‘We should get down to business. Are you sure he’s going in the morning?’

  It was Pat who answered, ‘Yes, definitely; his bag, full of pieces, is there and waiting by the door; and there was another case that was full of objects still to be painted and glazed. By, he had some stuff in that studio! At the moment he’s working on a piece of stone, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was to be. Anyway, the carpet men have been given a good idea of what they’ll need. And we all agreed that the couch and chairs would be more suitable for him in hide or leather, and so Anita, here, picked out what she called a military tan. The old sideboard will have to be stored with most of the bedroom furniture, but the refectory dining table and chairs are lovely; they will stay as they are. What will take time is the painting and decorating.’ And now turning to Marie Anne, he asked, ‘Did he give you any idea of when he’ll be back?’

  ‘He said, in a week or more; it all depended.’

  ‘On what?’ asked her father.

  ‘I don’t know.’ But as she said this, a surprisingly niggling thought came into her head. Why not ask Sarah? He talks to her more than he does to me. And that was true. She often saw them chatting together. He rarely chatted with her, and knowing the feelings he stored in his heart towards her, she had to question herself if, in fact, she had dreamed it all. And so she answered her father, ‘It’ll be over a week; for two days will be taken up with travelling.’

  ‘Well, once Mike has dropped him at the station tomorrow, we can start counting from then,’ said Pat.

  Back in the sitting room, Emanuel had stopped his son rising from the couch when the others were preparing to leave the room by saying, ‘Stay awhile; I want a word with you.’

  So now he said, ‘You received a letter by the late post. Was it from her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, go on. What’s transpired?’

  ‘She’s willing to accede to my suggestion; but she’s asking a price; it’ll take practically every spare penny I have, but it would be worth it to be rid of her.’

  ‘But you’re not thinking of giving her what she’s asking, are you?’

  ‘No, no; of course not, because don’t forget he’s out there with her, and if he’s got this idea of setting up a horse farm he’ll want much more money than was allotted to him. David says that if Vincent’s going to stay on he would prefer him to get settled a good few hundred miles away. As for John and his Kate, neither of them can stand him.’

  There was silence between them for a moment; then Emanuel said, ‘With Evelyn gone, you’re going to find it very lonely down there, unless when Pat marries they make it their home.’

  ‘There’s no chance of that, Father. I hinted at it, but Pat came back flatly, saying that in no way would he want to start his married life there. But don’t worry about me, Father; I’ll be glad of a little peace and to know that it’s going to be permanent. You’ve got no idea what relief that brings.’

  Again there was a short silence, before Emanuel startled James by saying, ‘Why did you stop seeing your woman those years back?’

  ‘What d’you mean, Father?’

  ‘Just what I say, James, just what I say. I told you before that I knew about it. Why did you stop seeing her? Oh, don’t look like that; I knew what was going on, have done from the beginning. Likely the same way as you found out about Vincent; just keeping my ears open and putting two and two together.’

  With James rising to his feet, Emanuel said, ‘Now don’t get on your high horse, ’cos I can tell you I was glad you had some diversion from that mistake you made; and she was a mistake; I always said so.’

  ‘Well, Father,’ James had moved towards the fire now and stood staring into the low embers as he said quietly, ‘she wasn’t a diversion, and she wasn’t what you call my woman. She was in no way a person of such character. She’d had no male contact since her husband died, until we met up; and when I found I loved her, really loved her, I was humbled by the fact that she loved me, because she was a highly intelligent woman and had seen quite a bit of the world in her travels with her husband. And what was more, she was pretty well off; she bought the Thornton estate.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know, and that’s a nice place; but I ask you, what broke it up?’

  ‘Well, as she said, she wasn’t made to be a mistress; she wanted to be a wife again and in a settled place with her dogs and sick animals. That was her main interest, sick animals. She wanted me to divorce Veronica. Well, I knew I hadn’t a hope in hell in that direction for, had I even broached it with Veronica, she would have ferreted out who was behind it, and I don’t think Elizabeth could have taken the exposure. So, well, it petered out, and my consolation became food and wine.’

  ‘You never see her at all now?’

  ‘Oh yes; yes, now and again, but always outside; I mean, at a dinner party or an afternoon meeting for a cup of tea or something like that. I never go to the house.’

  ‘How long is it since you were last at the house?’

  ‘Ten years or so.’

  ‘And she has never married?’

  ‘No, no; she’s never married.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Oh, about sixty now; she’s older than me by a few years.’

  ‘Bloody fool!’

  James turned and looked sharply at his father, and the old man repeated, ‘That’s what I said and that’s what you are. Why the hell, man, didn’t you come out in the open and face that vixen, for I doubt if she would have made any scandal; that wasn’t her line. She would have fought like hell to keep you, yes. You held the upper hand had you but known it; you could have had your cake and eaten it. But that’s a point: what cake did you ever get from her without lowering yourself to battle for it? Well, there’s nothing to stop you from renewing
your acquaintance with your Elizabeth now, is there?’

  ‘Oh no, Father, no; she wasn’t the kind of person to be dropped, as it were, then picked up again. Unlike everyone else at that time I think she did not consider me gutless, yet I was. And don’t worry about me, I’m all right; or I shall be once I get the Canadian business settled. Another thing: it’ll be a relief for Marie Anne knowing she will never again see Vincent.’

  The door opened abruptly and Sarah, about to enter, said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry sir. I thought…I thought you had all gone. The girls were about to come in and clear the things.’

  As Emanuel pulled himself up from his chair, Sarah put in quickly, ‘Don’t you trouble yourself, sir.’ And with this she closed the door.

  Emanuel looked at his son and laughed as he said, ‘Oh, that woman! Imagine her at The Manor! How long do you think she would have reigned?’

  ‘Not for a split second, Father, not for a split second.’

  At this, Emanuel laughed and said, ‘Yes, a split second. But you know, I think it seems for once that God knew what he was doing when he made Sarah Foggerty a maid to that mean skunk of a woman up there in London. It would seem that He directed her life so that one day she would take under her wing a young and hapless girl, because where on earth would my Mary Anne have been without her? I just dare not think. No, I just dare not think.’ …

  There were only three for dinner that evening, Emanuel, James and Marie Anne. As usual, they were waited upon by Sarah and the maid in much the same way as would have a butler and footman.

  Following the meal, the new routine in The Little Manor was that Sarah should share her mealtimes with the new nanny, because, of course, you couldn’t expect a nanny to eat in the kitchen with the rest of the staff; it wasn’t done. So it was during the hour following the evening meal that Marie Anne could have her daughter to herself and gaze as though upon her reflection. Except, that is, for the deep brown eyes which, at times, brought a little tremor into her heart, when she would say to herself, he was nice. Yes, he was, and she would wonder where he might be now, and if he thought of her; or, if he realised that by now he was the father of a child.