A split to the waist up one leg of the bathing suit showed starkly the whiteness of the skin; the broken goggles still hung from his neck; but the face was streaked with black, which was probably dye from his hair.
Don felt his stomach heave. He looked about him: no-one could see the body from the opposite bank; there was too much debris caught up in the inlet. The river, already running fast, would continue to rise and very likely take this lot with it before morning. What should he do? Go back to the house for Pat and his father and bring them back here? Or should he let the river have its own way, and that would be that?
But it wouldn’t be that: the worry would still be there and they would still be waiting for his coming. And on this thought he hurried back to The Little Manor.
As he approached it, he could see Mr Lawson apparently taking leave of Pat, and he called softly, ‘Hello, there! Wait a minute.’
James immediately stepped back into the doorway, out of the rain, awaiting Don’s coming; and he was surprised when Don, seeming to ignore him, said to Pat, ‘Put on a mackintosh and come with me; there’s something I want you both to see.’ And when he took James’s arm to pull him onto the drive, James said, ‘What’s the matter, Don? What’s the matter?’
‘You’ll see soon enough, sir.’
It was the same question Pat asked as he caught up with them: ‘What’s the matter, Don? What’s up?’
‘In a minute, Pat. In a minute.’
The minute had turned to ten before they reached the inlet and Don pointed to the figure bobbing on the rising water.
It could have been a prayer coming from James’s lips as he said, ‘Oh! Almighty God.’
Pat said nothing: he was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at his brother, for in spite of the camouflage, his brother he was.
Softly now, James said, ‘How did it come about?’
‘I left Marie Anne lying on the beach while I went to make some lunch. I heard her scream, just the once. He was aiming to drown her. When I grappled with him we both went down into deep water, and he was dead when we surfaced again. I was almost in the same condition myself. What she’s suffering from is not sunstroke but shock, and it might take some days for her to get over it.’
Sounding almost like a child, Pat spoke for the first time, saying, ‘What are we going to do with him?’ and Don almost barked in answer, ‘Nothing, only pray to God the river soon moves him from there and he goes out with the debris into the North Sea. If he comes up in the dock or anywhere else there’ll be an enquiry. And if he’s here under his real name, I leave you to guess what that’ll lead to. Thankfully there could have been no witnesses to the affair.’
When James swayed slightly, Pat put an arm about him and gently urged him: ‘Come away from here. What Don says is for the best.’ …
It was half-past five the next morning when Don waded through a foot of water towards the inlet, there to see it clear of all debris, including the body.
He could only hope that the storm, which had continued into the early hours, had carried it all out to sea. But this remained to be seen.
Eight
As it had done for the previous two nights the screaming seemed to hit Pat and brought him upright in bed, his hands over his ears.
As he got out of bed he groped dazedly for his dressing gown, muttering, ‘What’s the matter with her anyway?’
He did not knock on Marie Anne’s bedroom door but thrust it open, there to see Sarah endeavouring to hold down Marie Anne’s flailing arms as she cried, ‘He drowned, Don, didn’t he, Don? He drowned. After, there was no blood, was there? I didn’t stick it in, did I, Don? My hair’s all wet. And they were his eyes.’
‘There now; there. Be quiet. It’s all over. You’re all right: you didn’t do anything wrong; you didn’t. That’s it; lie down and go to sleep. There now. There now.’
Sarah had been leaning half over the bed. As she straightened up, she pulled together the opened neck of her nightdress; and when she shivered, Pat said, ‘Put your dressing gown on, woman.’
After one more glance at the sleeping figure in the bed, Sarah went to the dressing room, Pat following her and whispering, ‘In Heaven’s name! What’s all this about? I have my own ideas, but I just can’t believe them.’
In the room, Sarah picked up her dressing gown from a chair, the while saying, ‘Well, if you have your own ideas, that’s all right, isn’t it? Stick to them.’
‘Sarah!’ Pat’s voice was harsh. ‘Don’t be so close. You know what all this is about; come out with it.’
‘I know no more than what you’ve heard yourself, Mr Pat.’
‘Well, Sarah, what I’ve heard myself over the last three nights makes me put two and two together and voice what I’m sure you already know; that Vincent wasn’t drowned by Don; she killed him in some way.’
‘Well, as I’ve just intimated, Mr Pat, if you’ve come to that conclusion, I can’t alter your mind.’
Pat straightened up, and they stared at each other in the lamplight, until Pat said softly, ‘And he’s carrying the can for her.’
When she made no response, he said, ‘The things that fellow does for this house, and with no reward.’ Sarah came back quickly, ‘Oh, he’ll have his reward this time: he’s going to marry her.’
‘What! He’s certainly not.’
‘He is. Hell or high water, they’re going to be married. She’s just been waiting for him to speak;’ and she added, ‘I’m not giving anything away here. As soon as he comes back he’s going to confront The Blessed Trinity’—here she gave a small laugh—‘the three of you.’
Pat, too, chuckled, then said, ‘Well, I’m not all that surprised, but I can’t speak for the other two.’
‘Well, I can tell you, whether they are vexed or pleased, that if they try to put a spoke in his wheel it will make no difference to either of them; they know what they’re going to do. I only hope I’ll be around when he has his say.’
He smiled as he touched her shoulder, saying, ‘Knowing you, Miss Sarah Foggerty, I have not the slightest doubt you will indeed be near at hand.’
At the foot of page two of the Tuesday edition of the local newspaper, was a brief announcement concerning a missing man.
The manager of the Waverley Hotel, Durham, has reported to the police his fears concerning one of his guests. On the day of the great storm, Mr Henry Culmill had reportedly gone swimming, and he has not been seen since. The police are investigating.
As he had promised, Don returned on the Tuesday. He didn’t get in until five o’clock, but after a wash and a change of clothes, he was at the house by six.
The trap in the yard told him that Pat was home, and he hoped that his father might also be here.
This was confirmed by Fanny Carter when she opened the door to him and said, ‘Hello, Mr McAlister. The gentlemen are in the master’s room; but Miss Marie Anne…I mean ma’am, is in the sitting room.’
‘Thank you, Fanny.’
When he opened the sitting room door Marie Anne sprang up from the couch and ran towards him. They embraced and he held her tightly for a moment before he kissed her.
‘Oh, my dear, dear! You haven’t been out of my mind for a moment since I last saw you. You look peaky; has anything more happened?’
They walked towards the couch, but not until they were seated did she burst out, ‘Oh! Don; I’ve been so frightened: I’ve had the most terrible nightmares. I’ve been over and over every moment of it since it’s happened. I…I didn’t do it, Don, did I?…I mean—’ But before she could finish, he put in, ‘No! No, of course you didn’t. You know what happened: he must have drowned as we went down fighting; as I’ve told you, I almost did myself. Now stop worrying, it’s all behind us.’ …
It was odd, but at that moment, at the other end of the house, James was saying, ‘Well, he drowned, Don said he did.’
‘He was lying,’ said Pat. ‘She said he did; she was terrified at what she had done. It’s this that is causing
the nightmares. And let me tell you, Father, there are not many men who would take that on their shoulders for the rest of their days; and there you are, getting on your high horse because I tell you they are going to be married, and you saying, it’s too much; that you will put a stop to it; that you have control over her until she’s twenty-one. Well, let me tell you, Father, if you do put your foot down, they’ll put their feet down and walk along to that cottage and live in sin, or what you like, until they can marry.’
‘He said that?’
‘Not to me; but I got it straight from the Foggerty’s mouth.’
There was now a movement from the basket-chair as Emanuel hitched himself upwards; and his body shook as he said, ‘I can see them doing just that.’
‘You are for it, then, Father? Have you thought that that business of his—I mean his face—might be hereditary?’
‘No; I haven’t got that far. But what if it is? As long as they inherit his character as well as the brand.’
‘Has she seen it, do you think?’ It was James now asking the question of Pat.
‘I don’t know. Likely she has. But I don’t suppose it’ll matter a bit, or anything at all, come to that, what it looks like; it’s him she wants.’
‘And so you’re for it, too?’
‘Yes; because I like the fellow. And don’t you think it’s about time Marie Anne herself has a little real happiness?’
Happiness and Marie Anne. Looking back, she had caused havoc in the house since she was born. But that hadn’t been her fault; she hadn’t been wanted by anyone…Happiness, and she returns from London pregnant by some man, about whom they knew nothing other than that he was a Spaniard and was now dead…Happiness, and look at the great reshuffle his father had then made on her return and which had altered all their lives. It had driven away his wife; not that he hadn’t welcomed that, but it had deepened into madness the evil in his son. And now she had killed him. He had likely intended to kill her, but she had killed him first. And where was he now? At the bottom of the dock or in the middle of the North Sea.
With this thought, a wave of pity welled up in him. After all, he had been his son, and conceived during a happier period of his marriage.
With the knock on the door he blinked his eyes and raised his head towards it.
When Pat opened the door and saw it was Don, he exclaimed, ‘Talk of the devil!’ And to this Don answered, ‘You’ve never been more right, I would say, and particularly on this occasion.’
‘Hello, Don,’ Emanuel greeted him. ‘You’re back then?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Don briefly.
‘Sit down, then. Sit down.’
For answer, Don said, ‘I have something particular to say, sir; and I would rather stand. It’s just this—’ he now addressed James: ‘As you, sir, are Marie Anne’s father, the right thing to do on an occasion such as this is to ask for the hand of your daughter. Well, sir, I am not asking for the hand of your daughter, nor for the approval of her beloved grandfather,’ who was now sitting bolt upright on the lounge chair, ‘nor you’—he now half turned about to look at Pat—‘her beloved brother, because I know you each will have your own reason why this should not come about, such as, the man is disfigured; that he is old enough to be her father; and thirdly, what has he to offer her? A cottage to live in, and a mere subsistence from an unusual business.’
The three of them were staring at him now with different expressions on their faces. They watched Don wetting his lips twice before he added, ‘Whatever happens we are going to be married. I have already spoken to Father Prior, and he says he will be delighted to perform the ceremony in the chapel there.’
It seemed that James bounced in his seat as he said, ‘But you’re a Roman Catholic and she is Protestant.’
‘I know that, and he knows that.’
‘Didn’t he make any fuss about bringing her into the faith?’
‘No; he’s a very wise man.’
‘Oh, I only wish I’d had him to deal with.’ Pat had turned to look at his grandfather, who seemed to be shaking with silent laughter, and he said, ‘I hadn’t expected to drop my news today to you, Grandfather, or to you, Father. After what has happened this past week, I thought it could keep. But after Don’s bombshell I can tell you now that Anita and I have arranged our wedding for early in October. And wonder of wonders, it too will be celebrated in a Catholic Church.’
‘Oh no!’ All the laughter had disappeared from Emanuel’s face. ‘You said you would never turn.’
‘And I haven’t, Grandfather. No; no, I haven’t. I’ve stuck out against priest, bishop, the lot.’
‘The bishop?’ The old man’s eyes were wide with surprise.
‘Yes; that dyed-in-the-wool priest dragged me to the bishop. Oh, and there was a diplomat if I ever heard one. They say “as smooth-tongued as a Jesuit,” and they are right. He had a halo and the crown of Heaven on his knees ready to hand to me. Anyway, when we parted we shook hands, for he had been tactful enough not to bring up what you had told me about, Don, concerning the signing of a paper stating that any children would be brought up in the Catholic faith. But when later, I actually barked a final “No!” to the old bigot of a parish priest and said I wasn’t signing my children’s minds away, I thought he would collapse where he stood. If he could then have stopped Anita’s brother taking the service, he would have done, but he had been given a warning by the bishop about that.’
Pat looked down at his father, now sitting hunched up in his seat, and he said, ‘Well, Father, what have you got to say about it?’
There was a sad note in James’s voice as he replied, ‘What can I say? It’s all cut and dried. I can’t see there’s much we can do about it.’ He turned to look at the old man. ‘Your grandson is to be married in a pit village, and in a Catholic church, and your granddaughter is to be married in London and, of all places, in a monks’ house—’
‘A Brothers’ house, sir,’ Don put in quietly. ‘And the chapel is beautiful.’
‘Well, whatever! We’ll be called upon to do very little in either case.’
The cane chair was creaking vigorously now, drawing their attention to Emanuel, who now said, ‘Who said we would be having nothing to do with it. Tell me, Mr Donald McAlister, the date you have decided upon to marry my granddaughter.’
Don hesitated before he replied, ‘I haven’t suggested a date yet, sir.’
‘Then would it be too much to ask you to wait until October when, perhaps, you could make it a double event and celebrate it here, not in your London Brothers’ priory or whatever, but side by side with Pat? I’m sure your priest or your bishop wouldn’t put any spokes in that when the bridegroom’s not, what shall we say? far removed from a priest, monk or Brother.’
Amid the laughter Don protested, ‘I never aspire to any of those titles, sir.’
‘I don’t know so much about that,’ said Emanuel, ‘because some of the atmosphere has stuck to you.’
Don now turned to Pat and asked quietly, ‘How do you feel about this?’
‘First rate. First rate.’
The three of them were startled now by Emanuel yelling at the top of his voice, ‘Come out of there, Foggerty! You’ve heard it all; now go and fetch Miss Marie Anne.’
The dressing room door slowly opened and Sarah came into the room. She did not look at her master, nor did she answer his bawled order in any way, but she went to Pat and, holding out a hand, she said, ‘Congratulations, sir! And may you never need a hot-water bottle for your feet.’
‘Oh, Foggerty!’ In characteristic fashion Pat pushed her on the shoulder, and amid the laughter she turned towards Don. She did not now hold out her hand, but she looked into his face, and he back into hers, and what she said was, ‘May all good things never end for you.’
It was a second or so before, unsmiling, he answered her: ‘Thank you, Sarah,’ and with this she went smartly from the room.
When she opened the sitting room door, Marie Anne was stan
ding in the middle of the room. Her ‘Oh; Sarah,’ showed that she had expected to see Don.
‘Off you go!’ Sarah had extended her hand. ‘They’re waiting for you along there.’
‘No, no! Wait a minute. What happened? Did he ask Father?’
‘No. He didn’t ask your father, or your grandfather, or your brother; he just told them what he intended to do. But I’m telling you no more, except that you have another surprise coming to you.’
‘No, no! Don’t pull me, Sarah. It’s very odd, but I’m nervous, frightened.’
‘What are you frightened of?’
‘I don’t know. Oh, Sarah! I feel that now we’re in the open, life is bound to change, and…and I’m asking myself if I’ll be able to cope. There’s one thing, Sarah, I want to make sure you know,’ and she now almost threw herself on Sarah and put her arms about her. ‘I love you. You are mother, sister, friend, everything to me. Promise me you’ll never leave me.’
‘O…oh! Now! Now! Now!’ Then Sarah swallowed deeply before she added, ‘As long as I’m needed I’ll stay. But you will find you won’t need me all that much. You’ll have a husband. Yes, yes; you’ll have a husband; and he’s an unusual man, one in a thousand—’ here she paused before she went on, ‘and being so, let me say, dear, there’ll be times when you may find him hard to understand.’
‘Never! Never! Because I love him so much.’
‘Love, let me tell you, Marie Anne, has nothing to do with understanding. And he is a man who was brought up in a kind of monastery, and as your grandfather said’—she jerked her head towards the wall—‘a bit of the priests, monks and Brothers has rubbed off on him. And he’s right. I know he has fought it so as to be like an ordinary man, but it’s there, deep within him, just as the Catholic Church is. He may not go to mass very often, but deep inside he’s a dyed-in-the-wool Roman Catholic.’
The Branded Man Page 43
