by Katie King
‘Stop, James. James! Bill! Bill, let him alone, you idiot – he’s a doctor, a surgeon, and he can’t afford to get injured. Bill!’ shrieked Peggy as she scrambled to her feet and tried to pull apart the brawling men. It was to no avail as they dropped to roll on the ground together, with their feet kicking and scuffling against Milburn’s stable door with thumps that made the wood judder as they twisted this way and that with no care to the racket they were making, and Peggy shuddered as she heard the champagne glasses being crushed to smithereens. But both men had gone beyond the stage of being able to listen to reason.
Roger and Ted elbowed past Peggy to wrench James and Bill apart but they weren’t able to separate the sparring men quickly enough to prevent a final head-butt from Bill landing square on its target of James’s nose with a sickening crunch that everyone could hear as his nasal bone splintered and dark blood splattered across the breast of his white shirt.
Mabel ran inside the rectory to telephone the police, and she called for the children to come with her back to the kitchen, but although they edged backwards a bit not one of them left the back yard. They all wanted to see what was going to happen.
At last Bill was dragged away from James by Ted and Roger, while Peggy stood in front of a heavily panting James, who stared over her shoulder, never taking his eyes from Bill.
Queasily Peggy glanced at her husband. He looked crazed and as if he only had eyes for James, although Ted – who was standing behind him, tightly gripping Bill’s upper arms – was trying to calm him down, saying as firmly as he could (which wasn’t terribly firm, as Ted was shocked at the sudden bad turn the evening was taking, and so his voice was a bit up and down), ‘That’s enough, Bill, pal. You’ve made your point, that’s enough, pal. There are women an’ children ’ere watchin’ you. An’ it’s our Connie an’ Jessie’s birthday, an’ you don’t want ter spoil that, do you? Easy, pal. Easy!’
Ted’s anxiety was evident in his cockney roots coming through now in his accent more than anyone was used to these days, as over the years he had picked up on Barbara’s more proper way of speaking.
Bill ignored Ted’s words completely, and instead he took a deep breath and then gave what could only be called a primeval snarl, as suddenly he tried to break free by wrestling himself this way and that and then trying to jump upwards, although when Ted held firm in anchoring him to the ground, he gave three earth-shattering kicks to Milburn’s stable door as he vented his temper.
Barbara had gone to Peggy’s side to stand in front of James, but he too was beside himself with fury, yelling at his rival Bill, ‘Control yourself, man – there are women and children here, you blithering idiot,’ cutting across Bill’s garbled stream of blasphemy.
It was too much for the pony and, thoroughly panicked, she squealed in terror and then forced first one small front hoof over the top of her stable door, and then the other and then somehow Milburn wriggled her big belly up and over the top of the door, knocking Barbara to one side as she raced out of the yard, and managing to clip Bill’s thigh with a well-aimed kick as she pelted past, which made him yell in pain.
Sounds of a police car with its emergency bell ringing careering up the road could be heard, and then the dreadful drumming of Milburn’s metal shoes on the tarmac as she ran out into the road.
There was a squeal of brakes and the sound of the car slewing around, and immediately a dreadful thumping noise, a sickening bang and a second bumping noise before the shatter of breaking glass, and the sound of metal sliding on tarmac.
Milburn gave a terrified bellow, and then there was a moment’s silence, and a cascade of metal shoes as Milburn struggled to remain on her feet. Peggy’s heart felt as if it had exploded, and her ears rang – and then she realised that was the sound of the pony’s iron shoes crashing down the road now at full gallop.
‘Milburn!’ screeched Peggy and Roger together, and then Roger shouted, ‘All you children stay here, do you hear me? I mean it – here!’
Peggy, James and Roger left the screaming children and raced to the entrance to Tall Trees, leaving Ted to hang onto Bill (he looked like all the fight had now left him), and Mabel and Barbara to make sure the children all stayed well out of harm’s way.
Gracie, who’d been inside with the babies and Jessie and Angela, ran across the yard to get a halter, and with the back door open the distressed cries of Jack and Holly rang out in the night air, as she raced out to the road in pursuit of the bolting pony. Peggy remembered that Gracie wasn’t fond of horses, and had never made a fuss of Milburn, and so she knew how much the quick-thinking Gracie was putting herself out, and she hoped that neither Milburn nor Gracie would come to harm.
Out in the road the police car was at an angle with a badly dented bonnet, one front wheel up on the kerb, a window smashed and a windscreen that was mostly missing. The white five-bar gate that was always propped open at the entrance to Tall Trees was hanging off its hinges, tipping askew at a ludicrous angle, and part of the police car’s front bumper had tangled with it. A thousand little pieces of glass had scattered all over the place glinting in the bright light of the moon, a horrible parody of the shiny champagne glasses of only minutes earlier, Peggy found herself thinking and then she was cross with herself for such thoughts in the middle of a disaster.
One of Milburn’s shoes had been wrenched off and was lying forlornly in the road, with the nails still attached. It looked to Peggy as if Milburn had run straight into the road and the police car had had to swerve to miss her.
A young policeman was dazed, kneeling in the road on all fours, his forehead pulsing with blood and with his arm at a horrifically strange angle as he kept repeating, ‘I didn’t see it, I didn’t see it’, while the other policeman, this time with a bloody nose and something unnaturally shaky about his movements as he stood beside the wrecked car, supporting himself by its open twisted door, repeated again and again, ‘I know, I know.’
James ran to them. ‘Sit down on the wall. You’ve head injuries and must be examined.’
Roger said he’d telephone the police station again, and James told him to phone an ambulance first and then to bring out blankets, as shock was a possibility for the two policemen, and something for the bleeding would be useful too.
‘What shall I do?’ said Peggy.
‘Support the broken arm.’ James wrenched his shirt off, and tore off one of its arms and passed it to Peggy. ‘But also watch for any traffic and flag motorists with the shirt arm to make them slow down.
James began to rip up the rest of his shirt to use as bandages, and Peggy watched him expertly tend to the men, his own chest getting increasingly bloodied from the drips still coming from the injury to his own nose.
Roger hurried out with a sheet, some blankets, and several towels that James employed to staunch the bleeding, and then he used part of the sheet as a rudimentary sling for the broken arm. Roger’s presence was calming to everybody and he actually proved to be much better at knowing what to do than Peggy, helping the policemen sit more comfortably and asking if they could remember what day it was and the name of the wireless station that broadcast the daily news, questions that yielded only vague and inaccurate answers.
Then quite a lot happened all at once. The ambulance arrived and soon the policemen were being helped into it, and then there was a tricky moment when James’s grazes, his broken nose, and his bloody knuckles caused concern, but James insisted that the ambulance go on without him, saying he’d head over to the hospital later to be checked out, which the medic in the ambulance itself wasn’t happy about.
A police car drew up meanwhile, and three policemen got out. Both the ambulance and the police car had to park well back because of all of the broken glass and the difficulties in replacing any tyres.
James, hobbling slightly, went with them and Roger back to the yard, as he said that he’d have a look at Bill to make sure he wasn’t badly hurt.
Barbara came out to sweep up the glass, and Peggy found h
erself standing in the road, incapable of saying or doing anything.
It all felt too much, and suddenly she had an overwhelming desire for a stout in the Jolly back in Bermondsey, and a simple night in the Ladies Bar, rough round the edges as it was and sometimes stinking of fetid river smells.
‘I miss London, Barbara, and I miss you,’ said Peggy in a croaky voice, and Barbara stopped what she was doing and went to hug her sister, whose body sagged against her. ‘Really nothing’s gone right since we’ve been here, and just when I think we’re getting back on the straight and narrow, something happens to tip it all upside-down again. I can’t take it anymore.’
‘Peggy, you’ve had a shock, and anyone would feel like you just at the moment,’ Barbara replied. ‘But none of this is your fault, you do know that, don’t you?’
The sisters looked at each other, Barbara trying to bolster Peggy, but Peggy’s eyes staring back, glazed with defeat.
At last there was the welcome sound of a faint clip-clopping, although the beat wasn’t quite regular because of the missing shoe. Peggy felt a rush of relief and she realised she had become fond of the pony. She sped towards Gracie who was holding Milburn’s lead rope very cautiously, although the pony looked glad to have found a friendly face, even if it was only Gracie.
‘T’ pony were down on t’ busy road,’ said Gracie, ‘an’ it’s a miracle nobody ’it her or she didn’t run into someone on t’ way t’ pub as there were a lot aboot, but a man caught ’old of ’er and then put t’ rope on ’er fer me an’ she came back as good as gold.’
‘Give her to me.’ Peggy touched Gracie on the arm and then took the pony and led her back into the yard. She felt too wrought up to thank Gracie properly for her quick thinking in giving chase, but she thought her friend would understand.
In fact everything that had happened in the last hour felt overwhelming, and suddenly Peggy couldn’t hear properly and nor could she quite catch her breath, and she felt heady and faint. Milburn’s nose touched her arm as if she felt the same.
Barbara and Maureen had bustled the children inside, and so the yard felt quieter even though there was the occasional burst of a raised voice from inside as clearly the children were upset.
For a few seconds Peggy, still clutching Milburn’s lead rope, had to cling onto the top of the stable door to stop herself sinking to the ground. Then she forced herself to gather herself and turned to look at the pony. She couldn’t see too well in the blackout but it looked as if Milburn had skinned her belly from going over the door, and there was an open gash on the top of one of her legs. Blood trickled down her shoulder, and the hoof that had lost the shoe seemed to be torn and badly split.
Milburn looked shocked and exhausted, and she was sweating freely with her nostrils flaring in and out much more rapidly than normal, but Peggy thought the pony’s injuries didn’t seem to be in any way life-threatening. She patted her damp neck and Milburn gave a grunt, although Peggy wouldn’t have described it as one of pleasure. She leant over and gently stroked her ears, which were colder than Peggy would have expected. She tried to put her back in the stall, but Milburn planted her feet apart and rolled her eyes with her head high in the air, before turning to look at Peggy as if she were checking to see if Peggy was serious.
Peggy realised how terrifying the pony’s last moments in her stable must have been, and she stroked Milburn nose and said, ‘Quite right, old girl, not just yet,’ and Milburn gently pushed at Peggy as if to say thank you for understanding.
‘Aiden!’ Peggy called.
‘Only me?’ said Aiden, poking his head around the back door a second later. He must have been right on the other side.
‘Yes, just you,’ Peggy answered. She thought Aiden the most reliable of the children and also that he would be very diligent in keeping an eye on the pony in case she suddenly took a turn for the worse, as Peggy wasn’t quite sure if ponies could suffer from shock. ‘Please come and take Milburn onto the grass near the veg plots. I need you to be very sensible now, so see if she wants a drink, and after that let her have a few quiet minutes and a mouthful of grass if she wants it until everything quietens down here and we can try the stable again. But before you take her go and find those blankets Roger took outside – I can’t remember them going in the ambulance – as we can put them on her back for half an hour with some straw underneath to make sure she doesn’t catch cold as there’s a slight nip in the air and she’s been sweating.’
Aiden looked purposeful and very grown up as he went to do Peggy’s bidding, and she could see why Connie was so smitten.
Chapter Thirty
The policemen were back in the road inspecting the damage to the police car, and Bill was in Ted’s charge, although they had edged around the side of the garage.
James had given Bill a once-over to check he wasn’t seriously hurt – how this must have cost him, Peggy thought – and now James looked to have disappeared somewhere inside the rectory, presumably to wash and to borrow a shirt from Roger.
Peggy went to stand in front of her husband. He looked filthy, and she could smell acrid sweat and more than a whiff of stale alcohol oozing from his pores.
Well, that explained a few things, Peggy thought sadly, but she had already suspected as much.
‘However did you think this was all going to work out, Bill?’ she asked quietly, as Ted tactfully took several paces back to give them a bit of privacy.
Bill refused to catch Peggy’s eye, preferring instead to stare down as he flexed his hurt knuckles.
‘Peg, I came to tell ye Maureen ’as ’ad the baby, but although I’m goin’ to pay for ’im, I’m never goin’ to see ’im. I told ’er that.’ Although he had started reasonably enough, Bill’s voice got more strident as he continued, ‘It’s your an’ my ’Olly who’s my girl, and I want us – us, Peggy! – to be a family agin. An’ I come all the way ’ere to tell you this an’ then the very first thing I see is you canoodlin’ sumfing awful with yer fancy man. An’, seein’ that, what red-blooded man wouldn’t ‘ave acted as I did, ’is wife a whore and a ’ussy right before ’im? You tell me that, Peg, you tell me that.’ He tipped his head to look defiantly at her, seemingly oblivious that it had been his seduction of Maureen that had fractured their marriage vows, and that this meant that many would feel Peggy was no longer bound to them.
Peggy stepped back a little and she didn’t say anything as she took in the sorry state of her husband. He looked dreadful, indeed such a woeful sight that Peggy could hardly believe that she had ever thought him attractive.
In the background was the sound of another vehicle arriving, presumably a police car to collect Bill and take him to the police station, or a vehicle big enough to tow the wreck away.
‘James is not my fancy man, Bill. He’s, um, um, er well, he’s not important, that’s all you need to know,’ said Peggy at last as, gravely, she held Bill’s stare. ‘He’s not my fancy man.’
‘I saw you, Peg!’ cried Bill. ‘Your tongue down ’is throat…’
Peggy felt a fury rising. This seemed unfair, and yet her feelings were complicated. What had felt in the moment as a special lingering kiss had now been described with a clinical accuracy that felt demeaning and embarrassing, and suddenly she felt wrong-footed by Bill. Perhaps it had all been too soon, and perhaps she had gone too far. Not that Bill had any room to criticise, but…
‘He’s nothing, you stupid man,’ Peggy almost shouted, ‘do you hear me? What you saw is not important as regards you and me, not at all.’
Ted touched her elbow in some sort of warning, and Peggy swung around to see that James was standing in the yard.
She knew that he would have just heard her saying he wasn’t important and that he was nothing.
And in that moment she understood with a fearsome clarity that actually James most certainly wasn’t nothing to her. He was important to her, very important, although right now he could only be thinking exactly the opposite.
Peggy could hav
e screamed in anguish, but all her emotions felt used up, and so she didn’t say anything and could only stand dejectedly, her head angled downwards.
What she had been trying to get over to Bill was that James was nothing to do with how she felt about him, Bill. That whatever was going on, or wasn’t, with James was happening regardless of the train crash that her marriage had become. But her words had come out wrong, and most hurtfully as far as James was concerned. It would be no exaggeration to say that Peggy wanted to curl up and die right at that very moment.
She looked up at Bill once more, and was surprised to see that the policemen were now standing around him, and that he was sneering in triumph in James’s direction.
‘Peggy? Peg!’ Bill called in anguish over his shoulder an instant later as he was bustled unceremoniously away.
‘Get out of my sight,’ Peggy said softly, but only to herself. Her heart felt as if made of stone as far as he was concerned.
She looked towards James, his nose flattened and swollen, the side of his face grazed and what looked like a black eye developing.
Peggy’s dejected heart slithered lower as his only response was to glower furiously at her for a long second with his lips pressed together in a hard line, and then pointedly he stalked past her and out of the yard without a word or a backward glance. He was followed by an awkward-looking Ted, as Roger came to Peggy’s side to say that the police had said they wanted witness statements, and so James and Ted were to go to the police station too, with Roger to go tomorrow.
Peggy felt without a doubt that her firmness with Bill was also the death-knell as far as any chance of she and James being together was concerned. With a depressing tremble, she saw that her and James’s best moment had already passed. His face thrown into relief by the moonlight as he’d refused to look at her, he’d seemed so resolute, so wounded, so unbending. She didn’t feel she’d ever be able to breach his defences.
