The Invisible Cord

by Catherine Cookson

When she brought the second box in she said to him, ‘The old fellow nearly salaamed, he carried the stuff out for me.’

  ‘It looks heavy.’ His voice was thin and flat.

  ‘It’s the milk, there’s four pints. And there’s a frozen chicken; it says roaster, but I bet it’s an old boiler. It’s so big it must have been the mother of them all; it was the only one he had.’

  In the kitchen she did not unpack the groceries straight away but put some milk on to boil; then having made two cups of coffee, she took them into the room, set the tray on the table near him and lifting one of the cups went and sat on the chair near the fire.

  ‘It seems lovely out,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘If it’s like this tomorrow I’ll make a move.’

  She made no reply but sipped at her coffee. It was the first time he had made any reference to leaving, and she didn’t know if this remark referred to him finding his legs again or going away.

  The conversation for the most part over the last three days had been monosyllabic. A few minutes ago she had spoken at more length than she had done since she had first seen him lying there; she surprised herself when she said, tartly, ‘You’ll get on your feet, but that’s as far as you’ll get I should imagine, for the next day or so.’

  ‘I’ve…I’ve been a nuisance.’

  She didn’t contradict him.

  ‘I…I meant to ask you before you left if you would phone my uncle. There’s…there’s a phone box along the road. About a mile I think.’

  ‘Yes, I know it.’

  ‘He…he thinks I’m abroad.’

  ‘Abroad?’

  ‘Yes, when I last saw him I said I would likely go abroad.’

  ‘Won’t he be wondering at not hearing from you?’

  ‘He’s used to not hearing from me, then my turning up suddenly.’

  ‘What would you want me to say to him?’

  He took in a deep breath before he answered, ‘You…you could tell him he could bring the car and pick me up. You could direct him how to get here.’

  ‘Yes, I can do that. But you’ve got to get down to the copse, and you won’t make that for a few days unless you’re carried. Shall I tell him to bring a stretcher?’

  He turned his head and looked fully at her; then after a moment of staring into her face he said, ‘I can always tell when you’re vexed, Tishy. I only suggested this because I don’t want to impose on you any further. It…it was different when I was here on my own.’

  ‘I should say it was.’

  He turned his gaze from her, his head drooping. ‘Yes, yes, the place was in a shambles. I’m sorry about that. Annie…Annie kept it so lovely.’

  It was the first time he had mentioned her name and her teeth dug into her lip. She lifted up the cup and drank from it as he began again, his voice a little above a mutter now, ‘I…I meant to come to the funeral but once back here I knew that I couldn’t go, because then I would have to admit that she was dead and my mind rebelled against accepting the fact. I…I stayed on here until I knew it was over. Then I went to my uncle’s, but I couldn’t stay there. Then I went to my flat in Newcastle, but…but I couldn’t rest. I took my kit and came up here again. I slept out a few nights and got wet, and didn’t eat, and every day I looked for one of you coming. I don’t know why.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know why. And then when I knew I was ill I came inside. I thought at first some hot grub would soon put me right; then the old trouble hit me.’

  He turned his head slowly and stated simply, ‘I had a breakdown. The main ingredient of it was fear, of what I don’t know. Well—’ he shook his head—‘that’s about it. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come on the scene. I knew I was near the end of my tether; another few days and you’d likely have found me dead I suppose.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘When do you go back?’

  ‘I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind, not fully. I’m due back at school on Tuesday but I’m of two minds whether to go or not.’

  ‘Oh…oh you mustn’t let me stop you.’

  ‘You won’t stop me.’ Why did she say it like that? Why had she to spit everything at him? Couldn’t she call a truce?

  It was as if he were thinking along the same lines for he said now, sadly, ‘I know I won’t stop you, Tishy. I…I was just meaning…well, I didn’t want to put you to further inconvenience…’

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head and said, ‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

  ‘You know, Tishy,’ he said, ‘we should talk,’ and at this she got up and went hastily down the room.

  On Monday she went down to the phone box. She told Percy she wouldn’t be coming home that night and would he send a note to the school to say that she wasn’t well and that she’d be sending a letter or a doctor’s certificate.

  Percy’s concern touched her. Wasn’t she well? Wouldn’t she let one of them come over? Bill was very worried about her being there on her own.

  ‘Percy,’ she said quietly, ‘I am not on my own, I have someone with me, and…and I don’t want to be disturbed for a few days. Don’t let any of them come, Percy. Please, do this for me.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Tishy. As long as you’re all right, that’s all we need to know.’

  ‘I’m all right, Percy,’ she had said; ‘perfectly all right.’

  But as she walked back to the car she knew that she was far from all right. She could go and get that doctor’s certificate and send it to the school because she felt that there was something about to snap inside her. There was a constant feeling of sickness in her chest; her temples felt as if they were being drawn into the middle of her head; there were emotions building up inside her that she was becoming afraid of.

  When she arrived back at the cottage and entered the room she walked straight to where he was sitting by the side of the fire, and she looked at him and said, ‘I couldn’t get through to your uncle; I tried three times.’

  ‘Oh, he’s likely away on one of his jaunts. Well, perhaps…perhaps tomorrow; or do you think you could run me over? I’d be very obliged if it wouldn’t be putting you out too much.’

  She turned from him as she said, ‘Yes, yes, I could do that. But…but if there’s no-one there, how are you going to manage?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll manage. You’ve got me on my feet, I’ll manage.’

  She didn’t turn to look at his face as he spoke but continued on down the room, saying, ‘I’ll make a cup of tea.’

  As she waited for the kettle to boil she sat down on the edge of the kitchen chair and leant her elbow on the table and dropped her head onto the palm of her hand. She felt tired, utterly exhausted. She had been here six days and she had been on the go from morning till night. It wasn’t only looking after him, and the cooking, and getting the place put straight; there was also the water to be brought up from the burn, and the wood to be chopped. That reminded her; they were getting low on wood. She’d have to go down to the copse shortly and bring up a few more branches…But if he was going tomorrow would it matter? There was enough to last till then.

  The kettle whistled and she made the tea, then took the tray into the room. And now it was she who sat on the couch.

  She made no attempt to open the conversation, nor did he speak until he had finished his first cup of tea. Then, leaning over and putting it on the tray, he said, ‘What happened to Rance, you never said? Has the trial come off yet?’

  There was a pause before she answered, ‘It was last Tuesday. I came straight here from the court.’

  ‘Oh…what did he get?’

  ‘Her Majesty’s pleasure.’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘Are you sorry for him?’

  ‘No, no. Yet I don’t know. Her Majesty’s pleasure. But in some cases it just means a set number of years.’

  ‘In his case I think it will be life.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They brought him in insane; he was sent to Bro
admoor.’

  ‘Well, that’s about the only thing they could do, because he must have been insane. Did it…did it come out about your father?’

  ‘No…Well, it couldn’t, could it? There was only me…and you left who knew about that.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  As she poured out more tea she spilled it over the edge of the cup and she shivered as she remembered back to the courtroom. A moment before they brought him into the dock she had thought, if they let him off I’ll tell them about Dad. She had wanted him to be confined for life because he was bad, evil. He was a danger to anybody he came in contact with, he mustn’t be allowed to go free, yet the moment she saw him she knew he would never be free. It wasn’t that he’d be aware of being imprisoned in a cell, or within walls, he was already deeply imprisoned within himself. She hardly recognised him. His eyes were fear-filled yet vacant. He had looked towards them where they were all sitting together, but seemingly without recognition, except that his gaze strangely enough lingered on Alice, and she had wondered why he should be looking at her. Perhaps it was because he had always objected to her and now found, in the colour of her skin, something left for him to hate.

  When the sentence was passed on him he had shown no emotion whatever. Bill was the only one who saw him in private before he was finally taken away, and the meeting seemed to have unnerved him. It was Alice who asked, ‘Did he say anything?’ and Bill, after a moment of evident distress, muttered, ‘It was awful, awful. All he said was, “It won’t be long before I see Mam, will it, Bill?” He spoke like a child.’

  Alan said now softly, ‘I…I would have made her very happy you know, Tishy. It wasn’t a matter of years; there was an affinity between us. I…I must have recognised it when I was a small child. You know…you know I told her that because of this feeling I believed in reincarnation; I felt we must have been together in some other existence. It may sound silly but…but I still firmly believe it. Perhaps in that existence too we were torn apart; in the next one we might be more lucky.’

  She was on the point of springing up when he said, ‘Don’t think badly of me, Tishy. And…and you must never think badly of her, for she was full of concern for you.’

  He had closed his eyes, and there was silence between them until she forced herself to ask, ‘What are you going to do? I mean when you’re quite well?’

  He lifted his head now and looked at her. ‘Oh, I’ve an appointment at an American university. But this time last week I thought that was that. I had managed to cable them before I went down. I said I might be delayed…Delayed!’ He gave a small laugh. ‘And if it hadn’t been for you, Tishy, I would have been…finally. I’m sure of that now.’

  ‘When do you intend to go then?’ Her tone was abrupt.

  ‘Oh, it’s more than three weeks before term starts; I can give myself a fortnight. I’ll be pulled round sufficiently by then.’

  ‘Do you want to go?’

  He didn’t answer her for a moment but turned his head and looked down the room, then towards the stairs, before bringing his eyes back to her. ‘Yes, yes, I want to go, Tishy,’ he said. ‘I’ll never be healed if I stay here, either in mind or body. It’ll be a new life. You see…well, you’re not to know, but…but Annie knew all about it. My marriage went wrong; there was a divorce; it was a very bad time.’

  It was odd but even when her mother had said to her, ‘Everything’s above board, we’re going to be married and go to America,’ she hadn’t said in reply, ‘What about his wife?’ She remembered seeing him with the girl that once, and feeling still more cheated when she realised that he had chosen someone almost as plain as herself.

  ‘It’s strange,’ he said now, ‘but prior to the first time I came to your home that night seven years ago I would have said that my life had been easy going; there had been small frustrations, annoyances, disappointments; but when I look back now it would appear that on that particular night I experienced an earthquake and my world has rocked ever since, and I don’t think it will steady until I get away from this country into another atmosphere, another way of life.’

  She rose now and picked up the tray, and he said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve kept talking.’

  ‘It does one good to talk sometimes.’

  He watched her moving down the room. She walked well, straight; she had a good figure in the modern sense. But she was a strange girl, Tishy. She had a strength about her that frightened him. Nothing, he felt, could break through her armour; she was one of those people who were sufficient unto themselves. How had she been born of Annie, Annie who was soft and loving and giving? Oh! Annie…Annie…will the pain of you ever leave me? He rose from the chair and, walking to the door, he opened it. Then turning his head in the direction of the kitchen, he called, ‘I’ll go out and stretch my legs, Tishy, practice for tomorrow.’

  She came into the room almost at a run, then stopped abruptly some feet from him, saying, ‘Be careful. Don’t go far; you haven’t got your strength back yet.’

  He smiled gently at her. He was touched by her concern, she wasn’t all bristles.

  She waited until he had gone down the steps, then she moved to the window and watched him and she had to check herself from running to the door and shouting, ‘Don’t go down the hill, you’ll only have to walk up again.’ She watched him until he came to the wall, then go beyond it down towards the copse, and when he was out of sight she sat down on a wooden hall chair standing to the right of the door and leant her head against the wall …

  When, almost half an hour later, he hadn’t returned she was on the point of going down the steps, but she saw him coming from the shelter of the trees, and so she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, thinking as she did so of the countless times she had put the kettle on and heated milk for coffee during the last week. The making of tea or coffee had in a way become therapeutic for her; when her mind dashed along forbidden channels she would go to the stove and put the kettle on.

  She heard him panting as he came in at the door, and when he entered the kitchen she turned her head towards him, saying, ‘You’re out of puff.’

  ‘Yes, yes I am a bit, but I walked as far as the road. Bit too long, but just as well I did. I saw a taxi passing. He had been taking some people to the inn. I…I asked him to come back for me around five; I thought it would save you tomorrow, and you can get away early.

  ‘What is it?’ He came towards her. ‘Don’t you feel well?’

  She put one hand out quickly towards him as if thrusting him away, the other went to her mouth and she said through her fingers, ‘Go on, leave me alone, I’m…I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘No. No, why should I? What is it?’

  She was leaning over the washing-up dish now, and when she retched he put his hand out and held her brow. As the sweat from it stuck to his fingers he said, ‘What’s…what’s upset you like this? The tinned meat?’

  She retched again; then turning away from the dish and him, she wiped her face on the roller towel that was hanging on the back of the door, and he watched her helplessly for a moment before saying, ‘Come and have a cup of tea.’ He lifted the tray and went into the room, and after a moment she followed him. He had put the tray down on the table that was standing on the hearthrug to the side of the big chair and waited for her to sit down. But she didn’t. Instead, she stood at the back of the couch and placing her hands on it she gripped the upholstery while gazing at him in silence.

  ‘What is it, Tishy?’

  ‘Alan.’

  He seemed slightly startled by the use of his name; she had never called him Alan during all the days they had been together. ‘Yes, Tishy?’

  ‘Don’t…don’t leave me, Alan. Don’t go. Please, please, Alan, don’t leave me.’

  His face became thinner in its stretching. When he brought his mouth closed, he gulped but said nothing, just stared at her, and her next words brought his head bowing to his chest for it was like seeing her ripping her body ap
art and exposing her innermost depths, ‘I’ve…I’ve got to say it, because it’s the only time in my life I’ll say it to anybody…I love you. I’ve always loved you. You’re the only one I’ll ever love, or can love. Without you there’s nothing. From that first night I knew that I would love you and nobody else, and I thought a miracle had happened when you took me out. I thought you loved me, me who had nothing to offer, in looks anyway, because I knew I was irrevocably plain, which no amount of titivating could improve. And…and when I found it was the last thing in your mind I wanted to die, doubly, because you wanted Mam.’

  ‘Oh! Tishy. Tishy. Don’t, don’t.’ There was agony in his voice as he lifted his head and looked at her.

  The tears were streaming down her face but she went on, ‘I hated Mam. For a long time I hated Mam. I’d fought for her love for years, but she gave it to Rance; everything she had she gave to Rance; and then it seemed she had taken you. But, of course, that was wrong. She wasn’t to blame there, but…but try as I might I couldn’t hate you, I never hated you until—’ now she lowered her head as she murmured—‘I…I saw you in bed with her. But I only thought I hated you, for now I know I didn’t. I could never hate you, Alan, I love you too much. Please, please, take me with you. I…I know you don’t love me, but…but I’ve so much to give you, and…and you need looking after. And I promise you I won’t be possessive; I…I just want to be near you. I’m not asking you to marry me; you can have me on the side, or any way…’

  ‘Tishy! Tishy!’ He was grinding the words out through his teeth. ‘Don’t! What can I say? Your mother and I were…’

  ‘I know, I know.’ She flung her head from side to side. ‘And I don’t care. Do you hear? I don’t care.’ She was shouting now. ‘I care about nothing only being with you. I thought yesterday I would do anything, try to get my face altered—they can remake noses, look at Cilla Black. I’d scorned such ideas before, but I’ll do it now.’

  ‘Tishy! Be quiet! Please, please, be quiet.’ He had swung away from her and as he walked towards the window she bent her body over the couch. She was gabbling as if talking to herself. ‘I’ve been quiet for too long, for too many years; I’ve hidden all I’ve felt; I’ve built up a cast-iron case around my feelings. Plain people like me are not supposed to have any feelings; feelings are just the attributes of good-looking girls. Any good-looking girl attracts a man’s sympathy, but not people like me, no, not people like me. I’ve been quiet too long. I may never talk like this again; in fact, I know I won’t. I’ll never beg like this again in my life, but I’m doing it now.’ She straightened up and turned to him, the tears spurting from her eyes now. ‘I need you, Alan, and no-one’s ever needed you before, not even Mam. She didn’t need you as I do. She’d had a husband and four children; in a way she’d had a full life; I’ve had nothing to call my own. You know the future I saw for myself? I saw myself here, ending my days in this cottage; that was, after I had spent years teaching other people’s children, and for recreation joining literary groups, or poetry circles, or pottery classes or some such bloody nonsense.’ She now tossed her head wildly. ‘A life in doing voluntary service, a life of good works; and the reward? A dog, a cat and a budgerigar, and, of course—’ her head was bouncing up and down now—‘there’s always the television.’