Bill Bailey's Daughter

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘I thought so too, but the doctor didn’t seem very impressed. He said he didn’t want me to get my hopes up; it sometimes happened, but it signified little.’

  ‘Tactful blokes, doctors. By the way, did they ever find the fella that did it?’

  ‘Oh yes; and he’s only got three years to go now.’

  The way those last words were spoken sent a small shiver through Bill; but he understood the fella’s feelings all right; he had felt the same towards those bastards who had tried to do him in, and even more towards the one that had paid them.

  Rupert turned and said to him, ‘Now you know why I’m not married and why I continue to carry on in this cissy job, as so-called secretary to Sir Charles.’

  Again Bill could find nothing to say. He sat back in the seat and looked through the windscreen as he thought: This should be an object lesson to you, lad. Your mother was always saying you never knew what was going on behind the curtains next door. People, himself included, envied those like Sir Charles and Lady Kingdom and this fella here for their position, their money, their houses, probably imagining that those things protected them from the tragedies of life. In fact, now he came to think about it the tragedies hit them harder than most because they put a face on it; people like himself yelled out against injustice, the injustice of tragedy, especially when it was doled out to the innocent like this fella’s lass. God, that must have been awful!

  Tentatively now, he asked, ‘Were they long in finding the bloke?’

  ‘No, no; the next day.’

  ‘As quick as that?’

  ‘Well, it was easy. You see, he was a friend, in fact, our very good friend. He had always fancied Sue. How he had got her to the shrubbery will never be known. It was suggested that he might have said, Come on let’s hide from old Rupert. And she was high-spirited and mischievous. From what came out at the trial he hadn’t meant to hit her, that was the last thing on his mind; but when she screamed he was afraid she’d be heard, and when she wouldn’t stop screaming he put his hand across her mouth and his other hand, groping, must have come across the piece of wood. They showed it in court. It was only about a foot long but it had dark patches on it. He got ten years and he left the dock crying.

  He let out a long-drawn sigh as if he was tired, but his voice was still level as he went on, ‘He wouldn’t have got that for rape alone. But the verdict of the specialist was that there was extensive brain damage, and although she had come out of the coma it was doubtful whether she would ever return to normal.’

  He turned and looked at Bill now. ‘Love’s a funny thing. He had told his solicitor that he loved her and he couldn’t bear the thought of me having her. And there we had been for three years, almost like brothers: playing squash together, cricket, tennis; him staying at the Manor, me staying with his family. Oh, yes, yes’—he nodded—‘he had a warm family. It finished them too: his father had a heart attack and died three days after the case was closed; his sister and her husband went off to Australia, and the mother’s now at a cottage somewhere in Dorset, likely waiting for his return…as I am.’

  Bill put a hand out and gripped Rupert’s knee, saying, ‘Forget that part, lad; but I know how you feel. Retribution is me second name and I know how I’ve longed to lay me hands on Sir Charles’ pet god-daughter, but it’s not worth it. Anyway, have you looked ahead? You can’t go on like this: you’re a young fella an’ you need a family. You’ve already shown that to me. You must get yourself married.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’ Rupert’s voice was quite calm now. ‘I somehow still think she’ll come round sufficiently to recognise me, and what would happen then if I had a wife? I know I would leave her, no matter who she was, and go to Sue. You see, our relationship was something rare. We often discussed it. We felt we had been here before because we recognised each other right away when we were very young. And so I have memories, wonderful memories.’

  ‘You can’t live on memories, lad. Sometime or other they go sour on you. Anyway, let me say now, thanks for tellin’ me. And I’m sorry about the big mouth of mine. But you see I’m as jealous as hell of Fiona; but not any more, where you’re concerned.’ He patted Rupert’s knee. ‘So, let’s get home.’

  ‘No, no. Please drop me.’

  ‘Shut up! The matter’s closed, except to say this: you’re welcome there any time of the day or night; so fasten that seat belt and let’s get away. I know a good firm I can ring to pick up the Rolls.’

  Rupert did not demur: he fastened his seat belt, laid his head back on the rest once again, and did not speak for the rest of the journey.

  On entering the house, Bill was saying to him, ‘Get your coat off,’ when there was a howl from upstairs that brought their attention to the landing; at the same time the kitchen door opened and Fiona came into the hall, and the commotion on the landing gave her a shield to cover the surprise of seeing whom Bill had brought with him after the fiasco of the other day.

  ‘I’ll bash your face in!’

  ‘Willie!’ Fiona and Bill cried almost simultaneously while looking up the stairs.

  ‘Well, she’s torn up my picture, Mam.’

  ‘It was a picture of me’—Katie was now slowly descending the stairs, her chin thrust out, battle blazing in her eyes—‘and he gave me a big nose.’

  ‘No, I didn’t! No bigger than it is. And a big mouth an’ all.’

  ‘Come down here, both of you.’ Bill’s voice was not loud now.

  ‘Shan’t.’ This was from Willie, and he was about to turn away when a sound emanating from Bill’s mouth shook them all and brought his stepson to a halt, his hand now gripping the top of the bannister.

  ‘Down!’ Bill thumped the floor three times, crying, ‘Get down here this minute!’

  Katie, now at the foot of the stairs, said, ‘He’s always taking the mickey out of me with his drawings and…’

  ‘And you, madam, get into the kitchen and find something to do with your hands instead of using your tongue so much. Get!’

  After a very surprised look at her hero, Katie departed for the kitchen, but not in a hurry.

  Then there was Willie, chin thrust out too; and to him Bill said, ‘Get into that study. And the next time you say shan’t to me, you won’t be able to walk there.’

  Willie hesitated, about to appeal to his mother, but by her look he thought better of it and stamped away. And Bill himself was about to turn to Fiona when another voice piped from the landing, ‘They’ve been fighting all afternoon.’

  ‘And you, madam, stop tellin’ tales and get back to the playroom if you don’t want your backside smacked.’

  ‘Bill!’ Fiona’s voice was scarcely above a whisper and he turned to her and said, ‘And you, madam, shut up!’

  Before Fiona could either walk away or retort there was a sound from Rupert that made them both look up the stairs again and to the figure descending.

  ‘Well, well, well.’ Bill looked at Sammy and Sammy looked at him as, unblinking, he marched down the stairs.

  ‘I didn’t know you were here. Where’ve you been hidin’?’

  ‘I ain’t been hidin’.’ Sammy passed Bill and made his way towards a chair to the right of the door on which his coat and cap were lying.

  ‘Where do you think you’re goin’?’

  ‘I’m goin’ home.’

  ‘Where’s your dad?’

  ‘He’s at the football match. Where else?’

  Bill bit on his lip. ‘Will he be home for tea?’

  ‘How do I know? ’Tis Saturda’, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, to tell the truth, Sammy Love, I don’t know which day it is, it could be whistle-cock-Monday, nor do I know which end of me’s up in this house. So don’t you add to my confusion, but put that coat down again and get yourself into the kitchen and see if you can be useful and rattle up some tea…Go on, get!’

  Sammy stared at him for a moment, then slowly threw his coat and cap onto the chair, mumbling something as he did so.

&nb
sp; ‘What did you say?’

  The small boy turned and looked at the three adults; then his eyes focussing on Fiona, he said, ‘He does nowt but shout.’

  ‘Bill!’ She caught at his arm; then on a half laugh, she said, ‘And he’s right. I’m sorry, Rupert.’ She had turned towards him, but before he could answer, Bill said, ‘Oh, don’t be sorry for him; he wants a noisy family. Look, get yourself in there and sit down, and take him along with you.’

  In amazement, Fiona looked from the one to the other and was surprised to see a quiet smile on Rupert’s face, especially when he said, ‘You’d better do what you’re told.’

  But before making a move to do what she was told she said to Bill, ‘And what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going into the kitchen to sort that lot out and get us some tea. We’re both froze; it’s cold outside you know.’

  Bill now stamped towards the kitchen, and Fiona walked into the sitting room followed by Rupert. But she had hardly entered the room before she turned to him and said, ‘I’m all at sea. What’s happening? He was civil to you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a long story, one for a winter’s afternoon. And it’s already been told. I’ll leave it to Bill to relate to you, perhaps when you’re tucked up in bed tonight.’

  She sat on the couch; and when he sat down beside her and took her hand she glanced over the back towards the door; and when he said, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right; he won’t mind,’ she stretched her face, her eyes wide, and said, ‘No? Well, life is full of surprises.’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it,’ he said; ‘and some are nice.’

  Bill did tell her the story when they were in bed tucked up together. And when he finished she was near to tears and she said, ‘Poor soul. Oh, poor soul.’

  ‘Now don’t get too sorry for him,’ he said; ‘he’s not goin’ to fall for you, and you’d better not start fallin’ for him because you know what I once promised you if you ever turned your eyes away from my direction—and I meant it, I wasn’t jokin’—I’d murder you both.’

  ‘Oh Bill! You do say such frightful things. But I’m glad you won’t mind him coming here, for I sensed he was lost in some way. We’ll have him for Christmas, eh?’

  ‘Aye. Well, yes, that’s an idea…What is it? Got a pain?’ He took his arms from around her and pulled himself up on an elbow, and she flapped her hand at him, saying, ‘No, not really; no, just he, she, it, is jumping about a bit. Been doing it all day.’

  ‘Oh, woman!’ He drew in a long breath. ‘I wish it was over; me nerves are in a frazzle; in fact, you’ve got all our nerves in a frazzle. That’s what’s the matter with the kids: they’re all waitin’; they’re tired of waitin’; their tempers are all on edge. And it’s true, you know. You know what Willie said to me tonight when I was goin’ for him? He started to bubble and he said, “I’m frightened.” And when I said, “What are you frightened about?” he said, “’Cos Mam’s going into hospital and she mightn’t come out.” “Don’t be daft,” I said; “she’s just goin’ to have a baby. They all come out after havin’ babies.” And he said, “Do they?” And when I said, “Aye, yes of course,” he said, “I hope it isn’t a girl. I couldn’t stand another Katie and another Mamie. Girls are awful.” Then he ended up by sayin’, “Sorry I cheeked you, Dad.”’ He sniffed; then laughed. ‘That got me. That got me. He’s a nice kid is Willie. They’re all nice kids. I love ’em, but I’ve got to say it’—he laid his hand gently on her stomach—‘this ’un’ll be really mine. Can you understand that and how I feel about it?’

  ‘Yes, dear, I can understand that perfectly,’ she said.

  Four

  Bill was in the office cabin going over a pile of invoices with his accountant, Arthur Milburn, when a rap came on the door.

  ‘Right!’ he called, without lifting his head; and when a man entered and approached the desk, Bill sat back in his chair and looked at his works manager in enquiry, saying, ‘Yes, what is it now? I can tell by your face it isn’t pleasant.’

  Peter Honnington said, ‘No, it isn’t very pleasant. There’s been a bit of a fracas on the Community Hall site with that big Irishman and one of the new fellas.’

  ‘You mean Love?’

  ‘Yes, that’s who I mean.’

  ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘He’s knocked a fella about. Had to get an ambulance.’

  ‘God! How did that happen? Why did you have to get an ambulance?’

  ‘Because the fella needed an ambulance; he couldn’t get up and he was bleedin’ heavily from the nose.’

  ‘How did it happen? I mean, what started it?’

  ‘As far as I can gather the man Potter referred to Love’s nationality in a derogatory way.’

  Bill stared at Honnington. Honnington’s attitude stuck in his neck at times, particularly his pedantic way of speaking. He was good at his job, but when that was said, all was said.

  ‘Was it really necessary to get an ambulance?’ he asked. ‘Simms does first aid and there’s everything that’s needed in the hut.’

  ‘The man was almost unconscious, and I may as well tell you the police came on the heels of the ambulance.’

  Bill rose from his chair. ‘Have they taken Love?’

  ‘No; they questioned him. It will all depend if Potter presses the charge. Anyway, I’ve wanted to speak about this fellow Love for some time. In my opinion he’s not the right man to be in charge of others. There’s too much—’ he paused here before he added, ‘merriment goes on.’

  ‘What have you got against merriment? As long as it doesn’t interfere with the work…Has it in this case?’

  Honnington pursed his lips. ‘Not noticeably,’ he admitted; ‘but his gang don’t seem to have any respect for him. What I mean is…’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Bill turned his head away. ‘Which century do you think we’re in, man? The whole lot of them have hardly got any respect for me that’s noticeable. In my opinion a happy gang works better, and if they’re happy they’ll joke.’

  ‘Well, that’s your opinion, sir.’

  ‘Aye, it is.’

  ‘What are you goin’ to do about him then…Love?’

  ‘Nowt. Why should I, except have a word with him? If the police have come on the job, they’ll have plenty to say to him.’

  ‘In my opinion I don’t think he’s the man for the job.’

  ‘Don’t you? Well, we differ on that point an’ all. Anyway, send him along an’ we’ll hear his side of it. And he’ll have a side, I know that.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes; he’ll have a side.’ Honnington turned and went out, and Arthur Milburn, looking at Bill, said, ‘I don’t like that fella, never have. And I think that’s the opinion on the site. But there’s one thing about him, and it’s in his favour, he’s straight. So far there’s been no backhanders to the contractors that I know of, and so, of course, he’s not liked in that quarter either.’ He smiled. ‘A man can’t have it all ways, can he? Now back to the pounds, shillings and pence.’

  But Bill couldn’t put his mind wholly to the pounds, shillings and pence, because he was thinking that if that fella was sent along the line again to Durham it would do something to him. The bloody fool. It was to be hoped the other fella wasn’t badly hurt.

  It was not ten minutes later when a rap came on the door and Davey entered and, going straight to the desk, he got the first one in by saying, ‘I know, boss, I know. I know every word that’s gona come out of yer mouth, an’ the first one is, you’re a bloody fool, Love, you’re a bloody fool. But I don’t feel so in this case, boss. No, begod, I don’t! When I give you the rights of it you’ll likely see me side.’

  When he paused Bill said, ‘All right; go ahead and give me the rights of it.’

  Davey cast a glance at Arthur Milburn, then nodded at him, and looking back at Bill, he said, ‘That bloke’s been a trouble since you set him on, boss. The artful dodger he’s known by. Boss, my crew had been a happy lot till Jack Potter was put among ’em. I’m tell
in’ you, boss, he’s the kind of bloke what starts riots. Ireland is dotted with ’em: they’re against everybody else’s God but their own. And against Parliament, works managers, an’ people who go abroad for their holidays. That’s the kind of bloke he is. So you can guess, boss, what he thought of me. And he showed it. Oh aye, begod, he showed it! But I put up with it. Every day for the past week I’ve put up with it, since Jim Ridley went sick an’ you put this one in his place. But to come to the point. Just an hour gone I asked him, and I did it, boss, as you told the lot of us who’s in charge of gangs, ask first, and if that doesn’t work, then tell ’em. Well, I asked first. “Take those four-be-two’s down to Roger,” I said. Roger was workin’ in a little room at the end, puttin’ the floor in. If I’d asked the fella to climb up to the roof I could have understood it when he lifted one plank an’ put in on his shoulder an’ went to walk off. “What you playin’ at?” I said next. “There’s two more there on the floor beggin’ to be lifted at one an’ the same time.” He stopped now and lifted another, then said, “It’s me back.”

  ‘“Aye,” said I; “we’ve all got backs, an’ they ache. But you tell yours yer goin’ to give it another plank an’ see what it says.” Well, boss, he lifted up the other plank and he muttered somethin’. And I guessed it wasn’t in me favour, boss. So I said to him, “What was that you were after mutterin’?” And at that, you know what happened?’

  Bill made a slight movement with his head, as did Arthur Milburn; and Davey, nodding from one to the other, said, ‘He threw the three bloody planks at me. They scraped me shins. Look!’

  He stepped back from the desk, pulled up his trouser leg, pushed down his sock, and there indeed Bill could see that the planks had scraped his legs and drawn blood for quite a long way down from below his knee.

  Davey now said, ‘I nearly fell on me arse; an’ you can guess, boss, I let out an oath or two. Then there he was, standin’ yellin’ at me. And you know, boss, I’m quite used to people pointin’ out me nationality—well me tongue gives me away—and I can laugh with ’em that chip me, but not this time, boss. You know what he said to me? He said, “You thick pig-ignorant Irish Paddy.” That’s what he called me. Then he went on to mention how the muck of the sty was runnin’ out of me ears. God in heaven! I could stand no more. An’ I heard no more, ’cos I went in at him hell for leather. I only had the chance to hit him three times for the lads got me off him. Then Mr Honnington came on the scene. An’ there’s a man who has no love for me either—we don’t speak the same language. No, begod, we don’t, ’cos that man’s so unbendin’ you would think he has a poker up his…’