‘And you know there’s a possibility he will have to go into hospital again?’
‘Yes, yes, I know that also, Father.’
‘Ah, well, we all know where we stand, don’t we?’ And his voice rising, he ended, ‘Where’s the head of the house?’
‘The last time I saw him he was making for his study.’
‘Well, I’ll slip along and see him, then have a word with Don.’
‘He’ll be pleased to see you, Father. He’s missed you these last few weeks.’
‘Ah, that’s nice to know. It’s nice to be missed. I’ll tell you something, though: there’s one who didn’t miss me. He’s had the time of his life, I understand, in that pulpit. You know who.’
‘Yes, I know, Father. The church has been very warm these last few Sundays.’
His laughter rang out as he said, ‘Ha ha! That’s a good one. Opened up a few more furnaces, has he? Well, let me get back onto that stand and I’ll cool ’em down. You take me word for it.’
‘I’ve no doubt of that, Father.’
They went their separate ways laughing, and the priest, knocking on the study door, called, ‘It’s me! May I come in?’
‘Oh yes, yes, come in, Father,’ Daniel called, and on the priest’s entering the room, he said, ‘I never expected to see you; I didn’t know you were up.’
‘Nobody seems to expect to see me except at me funeral. I’ve disappointed a lot of people, I can tell you. Anyway, I’m here and I’ve just given Maggie orders about the hot water and the sugar. Is that all right?’
Daniel made no answer to this but said, ‘Sit down. Come up to the fire.’
The priest sat down and gazed at the flickering electric logs, saying, ‘They give off a good heat; a little imagination and you feel you could stick a poker into them. I’m going to treat meself to one of those some day and put it in me bedroom, because, believe me, Iceland’s nothing compared with that room. That’s what’s given me this.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Now the damage is done, they’re going to put in central heating. The belief that freezing cold is good for the soul and dampens the emotions is poppycock; there’s more people jump into bed together in cold rooms than there’s ever been counted. Anyway, how are you?’
‘Oh, I’m all right, Father. But how are you? How long have you been up and about?’
‘Oh, for the last three or four days. By the way, if you don’t mind me saying so, I don’t like the look of Annette. She looks peaky, very tired. It’s natural of course to be tired at this stage of her condition, but she doesn’t look right to me.’
‘She’s been worrying about Don, as we all are.’
The door opened and Maggie came in with a tray on which stood a decanter, a jug of hot water, two glasses and a bowl of brown sugar. And the priest greeted her with, ‘Ah, here’s the soul’s solace. Thanks, Maggie, you’re one in a thousand. You’re still determined not to come in?’
When Daniel looked from one to the other in enquiry, the priest, with a solemn expression, said, ‘I made her an offer to be my first convert, but she refused; threw it back in my face. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. You know, when I was a lad I believed, at least so me mother used to tell me, if you could make one convert in your life it was as good as the key to heaven, no matter what you did after, for it could never be taken from you. I worked hard at it as a lad, because I understood that once I had the key I could rampage about as much as I liked and me heavenly future was fixed: a house with a billiard table, the lot…’
‘He’s a dreadful man, isn’t he?’ Maggie was looking at Daniel now and he said, ‘The worst I’ve come across. Thanks.’ He nodded down at the tray.
Maggie now said, ‘When you get through that lot, ring for refills.’ And at this both men burst out laughing.
With the room to themselves again, the priest said, ‘She’s a good woman, that Maggie, and you’re not a good man towards her. You know that, Daniel?’
‘It all depends, Father, on what you term good. Good for what? Good for whom? Good for each other? Or not good for each other? I’ve had a lifetime, as you know, of not being good for each other.’
As Daniel poured out the whisky the priest watched him, then took the glass from his hand and sniffed it appreciatively, before taking a long drink. Then he lay back in his chair, staring ahead for a moment as he said, ‘I saw her this afternoon.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes; I was over there, and I looked in on her.’
‘And how did you find her?’
The priest sighed. Then, placing his glass on the table, he said, ‘I think it would take a miracle, a large one, to bring her back to normality. And yet she talks sensibly enough, at least until’—he flapped his hand—‘this house is mentioned, or any person in it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up, but I did. I pointed out that her beloved son was soon to be a father and she a grandmother, and wasn’t that marvellous?’
‘And she went wild.’
‘No, no, she didn’t. She just sat there and stared at me. But I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face nor watch her body go rigid, so I called a nurse and left. On my way back I was set to thinking of the things we do in the name of morality, such as persuading people to stick to a recognised code, to follow a line of duty, and I thought if I hadn’t persuaded you to stay, but let you do what you wanted and leave her that first time, things mightn’t have reached this state today.’
‘Oh, don’t trouble your head with that, Father. They would have reached this state in any case, because don’t forget, she had a son who—and I’m not blaspheming when I say this, Father—I’m sure she had convinced herself had come through Immaculate Conception, or Virgin Birth, or whatever. It wasn’t only the fact of losing her son to another woman, but the fact that he had bespoiled himself—that is a favourite word of hers—with a woman before marriage, and that this filth, as she used to term it so often, had been going on for a year, practically under her nose. That’s what finished her. Of course, I’ve known for a long time that she couldn’t stand the sight of me, but at the same time she didn’t want me to leave because she wouldn’t then have been able to bear the thought of being the deserted wife, nor the covert satisfaction of all her friends in the church seeing her brought low. We both know, Father, that she wasn’t liked even among her own kind, because right from the beginning she played the lady, and the veneer was so thin it could be seen through. Moreover, she was one of those women who wanted to rule, whether it was a Mother’s Meeting, or the Children of Mary, or the Holiday Committee for Poor Children. Oh yes, she liked to be thought the good-doer of good-doers.’
‘Don’t sound so bitter, Daniel, because, God help her, she’s paying for her vanities. And in a way, she knows it, and that is the worst of her troubles: she is not mad, only deranged with hate and bitterness and failure. It takes a strong man or woman to face up to failure and come out of that battle unscathed. Well, what I want to say is this: that as things stand, and from what I gathered from the matron in our chat later, she’s going to be there for a long time, because were she to be sent home as she is now, she would be a danger to herself and to everybody else.’
‘I can’t say I’m sorry Father, I’d be a hypocrite otherwise, but once she entered this house again, I’d have to leave. And definitely Annette and Don would too.’ He looked to the side, saying, ‘But, as you know only too well, Father, Don could go at any time soon. So it would be better for us all if she was never let out.’
The priest made no comment on Don, but hypothesised further: ‘Say she did come out and you left and Annette left, what about Joe and Stephen?’
‘Stephen would come with me; he’s my responsibility. And Maggie would come with me, Father.’
The priest did not take his eyes off Daniel’s face and said, ‘And Joe?’
‘Oh, Joe wouldn’t stay here on his own, nor would he come with us. Joe would start a life of his own, because, somehow, he’s always lived a separate existence. He looks u
pon me as his father and I think of him as my son, but it’s a game, really. He’s one alone. You know something? We found out only recently that he had been looking for his parents; at least, trying to find out who his mother was. I just happened by chance to come across an old nurse who, for years, had been at the Catholic Home we took him from. She retired last year and she was well into her seventies, and she was very forthcoming and said what a fine fellow my adopted son had turned into. I didn’t realise she knew him, and I said as much. Oh, she said, he had been to see the matron some time before, but had got no joy out of her. She said she could have told him what he wanted to know, but said he hadn’t asked her. In any case, she said, they were supposed to keep closed mouths. But she didn’t agree with this; she thought they should know.’
‘And did you ask her who his mother was?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And what answer did you get?’
‘The correct one. She gave me the married name and last address she knew of.’
‘And have you taken it further?’
‘Yes, in a way. I went to the house, but the occupants were an Asian family and they had lived there for eleven years. The previous owner, they thought, had emigrated to Australia.’
‘And you haven’t told him?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think you should?’
‘I’m in two minds. He could easily go off to Australia on a wild goose chase. What would you do, Father?’
‘I’d keep me mouth shut and mind me own business, because, let me tell you, it isn’t anything unusual you’re talking about. And I can also tell you it’s only one in ten who turn out to be glad they’ve made the search; most come away ashamed of their findings. It’s a strange thing about illegitimates, you know, they’ve got to have something to cling on to bigger than themselves, because society has made them have a low opinion of themselves. So, who do they pick for a father? Or a mother, but mostly, who do they pick for a father? It’s never a docker or a bus driver or a window cleaner or a lavatory attendant. Oh, no, no, no. They usually start with doctors, climb the ladder to surgeons; or if it’s in the teaching line, then they are likely to go for one that’s been to Oxford or Cambridge. It’s not unknown for them to imagine they are in line with a family connected with the Crown. Oh, you can raise your eyebrows, but a priest is a receptacle for lost ideals and idols. When a nice girl with a nice job in an office and with nice adoptive parents, has the urge to find out from where she sprang, it’s usually a mother she’s after, and then she finds out that her mother is from a large family, and a family who don’t want her. Why? Because she’s been on the streets for years. I’m not giving away confession confidences here by relating that, because it happened to my sister and brother-in-law, who adopted a child and doted on her. The girl was never the same afterwards. Did she stay with her adoptive parents? No; she broke their hearts as her heart had been broken. But then you might say a man like Joe would look at matters differently; he could take a blow like that and survive. Don’t you believe it. Men are more critical of their mothers than any woman could be, because every man, at the bottom of it, wants to feel that his mother is a good woman. A wife could be a whore but never a mother, and knowing that he was conceived on the wrong side of the blanket, he carries a feeling of shame in him for the rest of his life. I’ve got proof of this; I’m not just talking through me hat. So my advice to you is to let sleeping dogs lie, in Australia or in Timbuktu, or wherever. Well, now—’ His tone changed and he held one hand out towards the warmth of the artificial logs, saying, ‘I’m so comfortable, I don’t want to move. But I must go and have a word with Don. Would you like to lead the way?’
They both got to their feet. Then the priest, after a moment’s pause, during which he looked up towards the ceiling then down at his highly polished black boots, said, ‘About the last rites for the boy. You’ll let me know, won’t you, if there’s a sudden change? I don’t want to administer them too soon, because although in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it brings peace, I know it does, there is a chance in his case he might just let go. And we want him to hang on, don’t we? So when you think his time has come, any time of night or day, just let me know.’
‘I will, Father. But I don’t think you need be worried about it precipitating his going, because he knows he’s due to go, and soon. As I said, he’s only hanging on to see his child.’
Later that night Daniel stood in the kitchen facing Maggie, saying, ‘What difference does it make, here or at your place?’
‘All the difference in the world to me, Dan. This is still her house. To tell you the truth her presence is thick in it. And you’re askin’ me to go upstairs to your bed. That’s insensitive of you.’
‘I don’t see it that way. I’ve just told you what the priest said: she’s not likely to come back for a long time, if ever, so are we only to be together once a week? Oh, Maggie!’—he put his arms about her—‘I need you. I need you, in all ways. There are even times in the day, in the thick of business in the yard, I want to break off and go to the phone just to hear your voice. When I come in at night I want to come straight to the kitchen and hold you. I just don’t want you for one thing alone: you represent everything to me, companion, friend, lover. And yes, and lover, very much that. At night up there’—he jerked his head—‘I toss and turn knowing that you’re just a staircase and a corridor away from me. Look, my dear, if you won’t come upstairs, will you let me come to your room?’
Standing within the circle of his arms, she bowed her head until her brow rested on his shoulder and her voice was a mutter as she exclaimed, ‘You don’t want me any more than I want you, Dan, and in all ways, for I, too, lie down here thinking of you up there and I long to gallop up those stairs. Yes, I do, I do. But there’s something in me that won’t allow it. I have scruples about it.’
He released his hold on her and stood back, and there was a suspicion of a sad smile on his face as he said, ‘There was Winifred who wouldn’t let me in to her room for fear my body touched hers, and there is you who won’t come into my room for the same reason.’
‘Oh, that’s unfair, Dan, and you know it. You’re twisting things. I’ll come into your room anywhere but here.’
‘Well, don’t come in up here, but let me come into yours down there. Look, Maggie, this state of affairs could go on for years; I mean, her being where she is and likely to stay there. What are we going to do? Live our separate lives, as you said? Being with each other once a week? Making ourselves love then as if to order, mustn’t miss an opportunity? As much as I need you, I don’t need you to order. As I said, I need you in so many different ways: to sit quiet with you, to lie peacefully with you, just to know you are there.’
As they stood looking at each other in silence for a moment they heard the phone ring from the hall, and Daniel said, ‘Who can it be at this time of night?’
‘I’ll go and see.’
He pressed her aside, saying, ‘No, no; I’ll see to it,’ then hurried into the hall, picked up the receiver and said, ‘Hello.’
‘Daniel, this is Flo.’
‘Flo! What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong at this end; everything’s very right. At least, I’ve got some news for you: Harvey and I are to be married.’
He paused a moment before saying on a laugh, ‘Well, I’m not surprised at that.’
‘Well, you may not be, but it’s going to be quick. It’s to be next Saturday and I’d like you to come down.’
‘Next Saturday! Why the rush? You’re not…?’
‘No, I’m not pregnant; but he’s had a wonderful offer. And it’s come at the right time, a time when things aren’t busy here, at least for him. It’s in Canada and naturally he wants to take it.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I’m pleased to hear that, Flo. But on the other hand we’ll be losing you. Oh, I’ll miss you and Harvey. I’ve taken to that fellow, you know.’
‘So have I. Apparently he’s known ab
out it for some weeks; at least, about the impending offer, but he didn’t tell me in case it fell through. And Daniel…’
‘Yes, Flo?’
‘You understand there won’t be any more weekly visits to Winnie? You’ll have to do something about that.’
‘I can do nothing about it. Father Ramshaw was in earlier this evening. He had seen her today and from what I gather, even my name sends her round the bend. But don’t worry on that score; I’ve got to thank you for what you’ve done over the past weeks. Anyway, I’ll be down on Saturday. If not me, it’ll be Joe.’
‘Couldn’t both of you try to come? Oh, no; I suppose that’s too much to ask. I understand. I’ll be glad to see one of you. How’s Annette?’
‘Not very bright at the moment, I’m afraid. Doctor has ordered her to bed for a week. Well, she stayed there about twenty-four hours. Between you and me I’ll be surprised if she goes her time, although I hope she does. By the way, how long do you mean to remain away? Are you going to make that your permanent home?’
‘Yes, as far as I know. But of course we’ve got to go there first and see how we are received. You understand?’
‘Yes. Yes, I understand. But once they get to know Harvey they’ll accept him wholeheartedly, I’m sure.’
‘I wish I could be as sure. He won’t go to any of the main hotels. You know that, don’t you? Or any clubs. And I’ve always thought him wise that way, because Gerry Morley—you know, the friend we’ve spoken of—he was turned away from a working men’s club. You wouldn’t believe that, would you? And he’s not a bit like Harvey, who is contained and can take it. He caused a bit of a rumpus and it just missed getting into police hands. So with regard to Canada, we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’
The Year of the Virgins Page 15
