‘You will?’
‘Yes, I will. I promise. Just as soon as they are a little better. But you will have to be good. You know what I mean?’
The man-cum-boy hung his head and in an almost childish whimper he said, ‘Yes, Dad. Yes, I know what you mean. And I will; I will be good.’
‘Well now, you go back into the kitchen and stay with Maggie while I pop upstairs, and then I’ll come down again and we’ll have a crack, eh? Or a game of billiards.’
‘You will, Dad? Billiards with me?’
‘Yes; yes, I will. Go on now.’
Stephen grinned with pleasure, then turned and at a shambling run made his way towards the kitchen. And Daniel, glancing back towards the decanter on the sideboard, hesitated for a moment before going out and up the stairs.
Rather than tap on his wife’s door he called out, ‘Are you there?’
He waited, and when there was no answer, he opened the door and went in. She had taken off her outdoor things and was sitting at the dressing table. He had often wondered why she sat so long at the dressing table, but assumed she was admiring her unlined skin and the lack of grey in her hair. And this had made him wonder too why she didn’t concentrate more on getting rid of her surplus fat, because without it she would have been a very presentable woman. Her eating problems, so the doctor had said, came from inward anxieties. And he could say that again—inward anxieties—anxieties with which she had affected the whole family over the years.
He moved no further towards her than the foot of the bed, and there, his hand on a post, he said, ‘I must have a word with you.’
She made no reply, but simply stared at him through the mirror, as she was wont to do whenever she was seated at the dressing table.
‘It’s about the hospital visiting,’ he said. ‘Mr Richardson thinks it would be advisable if we make our visits very short for the next few days, just for a minute or two. It’ll give Don a better chance…’
‘A better chance?’ As her body moved slowly around on the seat her flesh seemed to flow and ripple. He saw the muscles of her arms undulating under the tight sleeves of her dress. He watched her large breasts sway. On anyone else these motions could have suggested a certain seductiveness, but with Winifred, as he only too well recognised, they were but the signals of a rising rage.
Her words, like her movements, came slow at first. ‘A better chance?’ she said. ‘A better chance? You’re agreeable to giving him a chance? Is your conscience pricking you? You arranged his life: you arranged his marriage; you would have gone to any lengths to take him from me. But getting him married was a sort of legitimate cover-up for your own actions, wasn’t it?’ Her voice had risen but was not yet at screaming point. ‘You couldn’t bear the thought that I kept him pure, that I saw to it that he didn’t follow in your footsteps with your filthy woman.’
‘Shut up! Shut your mouth!’
The movement that she made now was a spring. She was on her feet and standing at the foot of the bed gripping the other post as if she would twist it and wrench it from its support.
‘Don’t you ever tell me to shut up! But you listen to me now. If my son dies I’ll kill you. Do you hear that? I’ll kill you.’ Her voice had risen to a scream. ‘You were longing for last night, weren’t you, when he’d be defiled, made into a man, like yourself with your dirty whoring.’
The blow caught her fully across the mouth; yet she didn’t even stagger. Instead, her hands flashed out, and she was tearing at his face and screaming words that he realised were obscene, yet he could hardly believe his ears.
Gripping her throat now, he struggled with her; and as his rising hatred matched hers he would not have known what he might have done next, but for the hands pulling at him, and through a blur of blood he saw the black face close to his own and Joe with his arms tight around Winifred as she lay half-sprawled on the chaise longue at the foot of the bed.
When Peggie’s shocked face appeared in the doorway Joe cried out, ‘Fetch Maggie!’ And it would seem that Maggie was already on the scene, for the next instant she was in the room, although she stopped and stared for a moment at the sight of Daniel, his face streaming with blood from the torn flesh of each cheek.
Turning swiftly to Peggie, she cried, ‘Get Mrs Jackson; she’s in the garden with Stephen. Then phone the doctor.’ And to Harvey she said quietly, ‘Take him out. Get him out,’ and Daniel allowed himself to be guided from the room. But on the landing they both stopped, surprised by the sight of the priest on the stairhead.
Father Cody was a man in his early thirties. He had the countenance of an ascetic, his tone was clipped, and his voice had no recognisable accent: ‘I heard the commotion,’ he said. ‘I just popped over between Masses to see how the young couple were faring. Dear God! I see you have been fighting. This is not a time for recrimination, I would have thought. You wife has been suffering of late. Don’t you know that? What she needs is comfort. And especially at a time like this. Those two poor innocents yesterday. But you know’—he raised a hand—‘they do say the sins of the fathers will be visited on the children, even to the third and fourth generation. Everything in life has to be paid for. God sees to that. Yes, He…’
‘Get out!’ Daniel had pulled himself from Harvey’s grasp.
‘You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t dare!’ The priest held up both hands. ‘Don’t take that attitude with me, Daniel Coulson. I am your wife’s confessor and at this moment I’m sure she needs my help.’
‘Look! If you don’t want me to help you on your way with my toe in your arse you’ll turn about and get out. And I don’t want to see you again, not in my house.’
Father Cody now cast a glance at Harvey, expecting him to remonstrate with this perturbed individual; but all the black man said, and in a deep voice, was, ‘I would do what you are told, man, and quick if I were you.’
‘You can’t intimidate me.’ Father Cody looked from Harvey to Daniel. But when Daniel, with fists doubled, took a quick step towards him, the priest thought better of his stand and turned abruptly, saying, ‘God has strange ways of working: He protects His own, you’ll see.’
‘You go to hell, and as far beyond.’
The two men remained at the top of the stairs watching the black-coated figure go across the hall and out of the house. And Harvey, now taking Daniel by the arm, said, ‘Come on. We’ll get you cleaned up.’ Then in an aside that at another time would have raised a laugh, he added, ‘There’s no fear of him going to hell. Did you see him cross himself at the bottom of the stairs?’
The doctor gave Winifred a sedative almost without her realising it, for her rage was still blazing. And when he saw Daniel’s face he said, ‘A tiger might have gone a bit deeper but not much; I’d better give you an injection.’ Then, later, as he was about to leave, he said, ‘One of these days she’s going to need help, special help. You understand that?’
Daniel understood it only too well and prayed that it would be soon…
It was around two o’clock when Father Ramshaw came. The house was quiet, unusually so. He let himself into the hall, then made straight for the kitchen, asking Maggie, ‘Where’s everybody?’
‘I think you’ll find himself in the study, Father,’ she said; ‘the others are in their rooms.’
‘Well, it’s himself I want to see. Have you any tea going?’
‘No; but I could have it going any time, Father.’
‘When you’re ready I’ll be glad.’
He went out, crossed the hall to the far end where the door led into the study and, after tapping on it, he called, ‘It’s me.’
Daniel swung his feet from the leather couch and sat up, although he didn’t rise to his feet; and the priest stopped in his stride, his mouth dropping into a gape before he said, ‘Oh, my goodness, no! What brought this about? But need I ask?’ He sat down on the edge of the couch and, shaking his head, muttered, ‘Something will have to be done. But what, God only knows. There’s always a climax to these things
, and your face, I should imagine, could be it. But will it? You’re feeling rotten?’
‘Not very good, Father. But have you come about your assistant?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes.’ And adopting a severe expression, the priest said, ‘You’ve insulted my curate, do you know that? In fact, as far as I can gather you sent him to hell; you actually voiced it.’ He turned his head to the side, saying, ‘Oh, the times I’ve wished I was brave enough to say that.’ Then he went on quickly, ‘Don’t try to smile; it’ll hurt, I can see that.’ And they looked at each other for a moment in silence before the priest, his tone serious now, murmured, ‘She must have gone clean mad. What brought it on anyway?’
‘She had made a scene in the hospital because she wasn’t allowed to sit with Don, and the doctor took me aside and asked me if I would impress upon her that, for the next few days, her visits had to cover minutes not hours, or days and nights as they would if she had her way. And I went in and put it to her quietly. But then’—he sighed now—‘she’s holding me responsible for the accident. If I hadn’t inveigled them into marriage and they hadn’t been going away in that car at that special time, none of this would have happened. It’s all at my door.’
‘Well, Daniel, look at it this way: she’s right, you know, because on your own saying you brought them together; and you got them married yesterday. Strange, but in a way she’s right. Your intentions were good. Oh aye, they were good. You wanted to save the boy from being swallowed whole by her. If ever there was an Oedipus complex in reverse this is it. It’s probably the worst case I’ve known. And I’ve known a few. It isn’t all that rare. Oh no; but a lot of it’s hidden. How many women treat their daughters-in-law like dirt? Cause trouble? In fact, separate the couple? I know one who arranged a divorce. Yes, she did; and they were Catholics an’ all. She had them separated, hating each other. Then the couple happened to meet by themselves on a street, and in his own words as he told me, he said to his wife, “I must have been mad to listen to her and put her before you. If you’ll only come back I’ll tell her where she stands.” And you know, he did, and they had ten years of happy marriage. But it had a strange ending, for the young fellow up and dies and, would you believe it, the two women lived together quite amicably for years afterwards. Can you believe that now? There’s nothing so odd as human nature. I see quite a bit of it you know, from the inside, you could say.’ He paused, rubbing a hand tightly over his clean-shaven cheeks, then said quietly, ‘One of these days, I fear, she’ll have to be put away. You know that? At least for a time. She needs special attention. It’ll be for her own good.’
Daniel stared at the priest. He was surprised to hear put into words the very thought that had been in his mind for a long time. In his mind, yes, but then he had told himself that you couldn’t class anyone to be in need of mental attention just because they had an unnatural passion for their son. Yet, couldn’t you? Hadn’t it in a way turned her mind?
‘I hear Don’s in a bad state. By the sound of it I think it would be better if the Lord took him…’
‘How do you make that out, Father? The surgeon, Mr Richardson, he didn’t give up. What I mean is…’
‘I know what you mean: where there’s life, there’s hope. But I happen to know Freddie Richardson. I’ve known the family since I was a lad. I got on to him. I didn’t know whether or not it was he who would be seeing to Don, but I sensed he would know about the case, and he said the lad’s in a bad way. And I think, Daniel, you’ve got to face up to that. You’ll be able to, I know, but I doubt if she will. You said to me a little while ago that you thought about walking out again and I was for putting you off, and I did put you off. But looking at you now, I wonder if I was giving you the best advice. Sometimes I wish I was nearer to God, then I would know what to do under such circumstances.’
Daniel got slowly to his feet, and as he did so he said, ‘I think you’re near enough, Father, as near as anybody can get.’
‘Oh, come off it. I wasn’t implying sainthood or anything like that. I was pointing out my fallibility.’
‘I know what you were aiming to do, Father, and I’ll tell you something now. Perhaps I’m saying this because I don’t know if I’m walking or sleeping, but you are the best friend I’ve got: you know all about me, the bad and the good; and I don’t think, whatever I told you, you would turn against me, even if I told you I wanted to finish her off this morning.’
‘Well, under the circumstances, that was a natural reaction, I’m sure, but you know we must curb such reactions. Yes, don’t I know meself that one must curb such reactions.’ He smiled wryly, then said, ‘Thank you, Daniel, for calling me your friend. Thank you. Well, now I must be off, but’—and here he wagged his finger at Daniel—‘but before I go I must admonish you for insulting my curate and sending him to hell. This has got to stop, you know; I’m the only one who can indulge in that privilege.’
A sound that could have been a laugh issued from Daniel and he said, ‘Well, Father, you keep it up, and keep him out of my hair, for I’ve never been able to stand him. And today was the last straw.’
The priest leant towards him now and, his voice low and a grin on his face, he said, ‘What annoyed him most was the black fellow daring to tell him to get out. I like that chap, you know. And what a voice! Lovely to hear. And he’s too good-looking for his own good. You know that? He caused a stir yesterday, in a nice way you know, surprisingly; yes, in a nice way. People were enquiring about him. As one old faggot said, he talked like a gentleman. Huh! Women! But what would we do without them? One thing I do know, me confessional box would be empty or near so. Well, I’m away. I don’t expect to see you at Benediction tonight. My advice to you is to take two double whiskies hot and go to bed and pray—and it’ll have to be hard—that face of yours will look a little different in the morning, because what excuse you’re going to give for it I don’t know. I’ll leave you to think that one up. Goodbye, Daniel.’
‘Goodbye, Father.’
He sat down on the couch again. Yes, yes, he’d have to think one up, wouldn’t he? But who would he hoodwink? Nobody, not those in the works, or out of it.
PART TWO
One
Don lay with his eyes fixed on the door, longing for it to open to see one face, dreading for it to open to see another. How long had he been here? Years and years; six years it must be, not just six weeks. But it was just six weeks since the world had exploded.
He lifted one arm slowly from the counterpane and looked at it, then he lifted the other one. He still had his arms, he still had his head, and he could think. He still had his sight and his hearing, and he could talk. He had all these faculties, but of what use were they to him? His body had gone. Well, not quite; but he had to breathe heavily at times to know that he still had lungs. And dear God, he knew that he had a bladder and bowels. Oh, that was shame-making. If only, if only. But he had no legs. Yes, he had. Oh, yes, he had; his legs were there, he could see his toes sticking up. But what use were they? Why didn’t they take them off? They had taken so much else from him. Hurry up, Annette. Hurry up. Dear God, don’t let Mother come today. I’d like to see Dad and Joe. Yes, Joe was comforting. He had said yesterday he was going to try and bring Stephen in just to have a peep.
Just to have a peep. That’s what people did. They came in and peeped and they were gone again. He wished some of them would stay longer. He wished Annette would stay all day and all night. She did yesterday, at least nearly all day, and the day before. No, not the day before. His mother had sat there—he looked to the side of the bed—and she had stroked him and patted him and whispered to him. That worried him. He was too weak to cope with his mother. They should keep her out. He would talk to his dad about it. Dad understood. So did Joe. And, of course, Annette understood. Oh, yes, yes, Annette understood. He didn’t like her people. He had just discovered he didn’t like her people. Her father was pompous and in a way her mother was stricken with God as much as his was. That was a funny thought
: stricken with God. Odd that he could think amusing things, like a short while ago when of a sudden his mind cleared of the fuzz that would constantly float across it and he thought, I’ll get up and get dressed. Yes, he had thought that, I’ll get up and get dressed. He would never get up and get dressed again, he knew that. Never.
He closed his eyes tightly; then appealed to God: don’t let me cry. Please! Jesus, don’t let me cry. Holy Mary Mother of God, don’t let me cry.
‘Don. Don.’
‘Oh, Annette! Oh, darling, I didn’t know you were there.’
He moved his hand in hers, his fingers clutching weakly at the softness of it. ‘Oh, my love, I’ve been longing to see you.’
‘I’ve only been gone an hour; I’ve been down to the surgery. Look, they’ve taken the plaster off my arm. I have to have massage and therapy, but it will soon be all right.’
‘Only an hour?’ He blinked at her.
‘Yes, darling, only an hour.’
‘I’m very muddled, Annette; my mind goes round in circles. Sometimes I can think quite clearly then it is as if a mist blots things out.’
‘It will pass. You’ve improved marvellously in the last week. Why, everybody’s amazed at the improvement in you.’
‘Are they?’
‘Yes, yes, darling.’
‘Will I ever get home?’
‘Of course you will, sweetheart.’
‘I mean, to our home?’
‘Yes, to our home. It’s all ready.’
He turned his gaze from her and looked around the white ward, at the flowers banked up on one table, at the mass of cards arranged on another, and he said, quietly, ‘I’ll never be able to walk again, Annette.’
‘Oh, yes you will. There’s ways and means.’
‘There’s not, Annette. I heard them, Mr Richardson and the others. I heard them. I couldn’t make out any words, but I could still hear. He was talking to the students about the operation, the lumbar section. I heard him say, “And what happens when that is smashed?”’
The Year of the Virgins Page 8
