The Round Tower

by Catherine Cookson

  The following evening Angus brought Vanessa in the lorry to the vicarage, and in a musty, dimly lit room he asked that the banns for their marriage should be put up. The old man repeated her name twice. ‘Ratcliffe. Ratcliffe,’ then he peered at her and said, ‘Hm! Hm! You will want your birth certificate and your parents’ consent.’ They couldn’t be sure if he recognised her or not. Angus had the idea that he might not be as old and doddery as he looked.

  When they came out Vanessa had her head buried deep in her coat collar. She seemed afraid to look up; or, he wondered, was she ashamed to? He hoisted her up into the cab and then he drove her home to Ryder’s Row.

  Again there was only Emily in the house. Rosie had refused point-blank to meet her future sister-in-law; there was nobody going to look down her nose at her, not if she could help it. Although Emily had said far better stay and get it over, she had replied, ‘Not me. You might have to, but not me.’ And now Emily stood self-consciously in her own kitchen looking at the girl she had practically brought up, and she saw her as a stranger. Physically she was changed. Her body naturally had filled out, not only her stomach but her face, and also naturally she looked older. Emily also saw that the girl had entirely gone. Here was a lass, a lass in a jam, and the jam had made her calculating. That was how she saw Vanessa now, and in consequence the feeling she gave out was one of resentment.

  ‘Well, Mam; here we are.’ Angus looked at Emily, then turned to Vanessa and said, ‘Sit down, sit yourself down.’ But Vanessa did not sit down, she stared back at Emily and said softly, ‘Hello, Emily.’

  ‘Hello.’ There was no Miss Van now, not even Van.

  Angus sensed that the situation was going to be more awkward than he had bargained for, and the best thing he could do was to leave them alone for a while, so loudly he exclaimed, ‘Look. I’m as hungry as a hunter; I’ll slip along and get some fish. All right?’ He cast his glance down at Vanessa, and she nodded at him and tried to smile, for he was, she knew, doing his best to help matters along.

  They sat silent for a long time after the door had banged, before Vanessa said softly, ‘I’m sorry, Emily.’

  ‘Aye. An’ you’ve reason to be; you’ve brought a lot of trouble on a lot of people.’ She moved about the kitchen before she went on, ‘And if he isn’t the father why are you marryin’ him?’

  ‘Be…because I like Angus and because he wanted me to marry him.’

  ‘You like him!’ Emily stopped and, turning, faced Vanessa. ‘Lots of people like him. Likin’ him isn’t enough, it’ll be for life. You know likin’ isn’t enough if he’s goin’ to look after your bairn and give you some of his own. You don’t get by just on likin’. But you’ve got a thousand and one obstacles in your way; I suppose you know that?’

  ‘Yes, Emily; I know that.’

  ‘Look round you. Look round you, lass.’ She was bending towards her. ‘This is where we live. This is where he lives. Come here.’ She pulled Vanessa towards the front room and, thrusting open the door and switching on the light, she said, ‘This is his room. That will be your room. Look at it.’

  Vanessa looked. Compared to the one she had just left it could be termed a palace.

  ‘We’re cramped for space as it is, but just imagine, with you and the bairn here…And there’s another thing I’ll tell you.’ She turned her about and, pulling her almost roughly into the middle of the kitchen again and pointing to another door, said, ‘That’s the scullery in there. Talk about swinging a cat. Two of us can only just get in together. And beyond that is the door leading into the yard, and at the bottom is the lay. Not the loo here, the lay. Sick or well, wet or fine, you go down the yard to the lay, or do it in your room and have it under the bed. This is the way some folks still have to live.’

  Vanessa closed her eyes and Emily, letting go of her arm, thrust herself around and said, ‘I’m puttin’ it plainly to you; I’m lettin’ you see what you’re in for. You were brought up with carpets in the lavatories, carpets in the bathrooms, powders and scents and creams, bath sprays, the lot. You’re goin’ to find this very different.’

  Vanessa could say nothing in her own defence; there was nothing really to say; she only knew that she wanted to placate Emily. ‘I’ve been living without all these things for some months now, Emily,’ she said. ‘I’ll…I’ll be quite pleased to live here if…if you’ll have me.’

  ‘If I’ll have you?’ Emily’s voice was flat now and her face held a dead expression as she turned and looked at Vanessa again, ‘I haven’t much choice, lass, have I? I know it’s my house; my name appears on the rent book, but Angus has always been the head of it since his dad died, even before, because my man was sick for years. And although I keep sayin’ I can look after meself, I’ve been on me feet too long.’ She slapped her legs. ‘They’re lettin’ me down an’ they’re not going to get any better. I know that. It’s water. They’ll get worse. All the doctor’s medicine won’t cure what I’ve got. I stood in your mother’s kitchen for years just for one thing, so that your father would push my lad on. And now see where it’s got me. Do you know something?’ Again she bent towards Vanessa. ‘I just can’t believe this is happenin’; I think I’m in a sort of a dream, or at the pictures. Daughter of influential man marries fitter…Daughter of influential man marries cook’s son…Daughter of influential man lives in slum. An’ that’s what the papers’ll say when they get hold of it. At least the local one will, unless your father plonks down on them, ’cos he’s got shares in that company, hasn’t he?’

  Vanessa said nothing. She was trying her hardest not to cry, because she knew that if she cried Angus would blame Emily. She sat down abruptly on a wooden chair near the table and, supporting her face with her hands, she muttered brokenly, ‘Emily, I said I’m sorry and I am, but…but I’m very tired, I’m sort of lost. When…when Angus came that day to my room the first time, I was…I was thinking about finishing it all. I’d lain in that awful place for three days and the only person I’d seen was my landlady, and then only once. I wanted to die. If I’d had enough aspirins or tablets, I would have taken them. Angus was the first person who had spoken a kind word to me in weeks, except the woman whom I worked for in the greengrocer’s shop; and then she was a very brusque kind of person.’ She lifted her eyes and looked at Emily. She could have added, ‘Just like you.’

  There was silence between them again, and Emily turned to the fire and stared into it. Then after a moment she gave a deep sigh and said flatly, ‘Well, what’s done’s done, I suppose. But it’s no use sayin’, lass, that I’m goin’ to welcome you with open arms because I can’t. And then there’s our Rosie. You’re goin’ to put Rosie at a disadvantage.’

  ‘Oh, no. No, I won’t, Emily; I—I’ve always got on with Rosie.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her kindly, but she’s always been tongue-tied in your presence. Think back. Has Rosie ever chatted with you like Angus has? No. There’s as big a difference between Rosie and you as between him and you. Only he’s got sex on his side. Oh! Oh!’ She raised her hand. ‘He’s a man. That breaks down barriers of a sort, but not atween women, not atween lasses. You’ve got every advantage over my Rosie; and Rosie’s no fool, she knows it.’ She came now to the table and, bending down quite close to Vanessa, she asked quietly, ‘It isn’t his, is it?’

  ‘No, Emily, no.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say who it was and get him to marry you?’

  They were staring at each other, and then Vanessa said, ‘I couldn’t do that, Emily.’

  ‘Does he know who it is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think that’s fair to him?’

  Vanessa turned her gaze away, then said, ‘Fair or not, I can’t ever tell him.’

  Emily straightened up, then walked away, saying, ‘Well, you’re not out of the wood yet. You know what’ll happen if your father gets wind of this? He’ll come storming along here again…’

  ‘I don’t think so, Emily. He’ll close his eyes to it. I’m q
uite dead to them, at least him. I’m sure of that. I’ve just realised lately that he’s always disliked me.’

  At this point the door was thrust open and Angus came in carrying three paper bags, and the kitchen reeked with the smell of fish and chips.

  ‘Haven’t you got the plates warmed?’ He looked at his mother. ‘What you been up to?’ His voice was loud, covering the embarrassment that pervaded the three of them.

  ‘Put them in the oven a minute,’ said Emily; ‘the plates won’t take a tick.’

  A few minutes later they were sitting at the table eating the fish and chips. At least Emily made an attempt to, but all of a sudden she got to her feet and, taking her plate and thrusting it back in the oven, she said, ‘It’s not ten minutes ago I had me tea, I’ll have them after. I’ll make a drink.’ And on this she went into the scullery.

  Angus looked up at Vanessa under his eyelids. She had stopped eating. He put his hand out and pressed hers; then silently he mouthed the words, ‘It’ll be all right.’

  Fifteen minutes later they left the house, and on the journey back to Newcastle they hardly exchanged a word, and not until they were standing in her room did he ask, ‘How did she take it?’

  ‘Not very well, Angus.’

  ‘She’ll get over it; she’ll come round; I know me mam.’

  ‘It isn’t fair to her. I…we could get a room somewhere…’

  ‘We’re getting no rooms anywhere, Vanessa. If you’re marrying me, as I said you’re comin’ home; I’m not leaving her to God and good neighbours. There’s too many does that the day. Round our place it’s littered with old folks livin’ alone. Well, she’s had it hard enough. And I’m not being easy on her now; I know that, but I’m not making it worse by walking out on her. I explained it all to you…’

  ‘Oh, I know, Angus, I know. I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking. Is it wise to…?’ She stared into his eyes, and after a moment he said, ‘You’re going to marry me. It’s settled, so just take things as they come, one at a time. The next hurdle you’ve got to get over is our Rosie. She won’t be as easy as me mam, so prepare yourself…Well now, I’d better be gettin’ back; I’ve got to get up early in the mornin’. I’ll see you the morrow night, same time.’

  He made no move towards her; all he said was, ‘Ta-rah!’ and he smiled at her and went out. And she went and sat on the side of the bed, and slowly her head drooped in her hands and as the tears fell through her fingers she muttered, ‘Oh, God! Oh, God! What am I doing? It isn’t fair to him, it isn’t. Oh Brett…You! You!’ Her thoughts ground to a standstill on her clenched teeth, and she rocked herself back and forward, much the same as Emily would have done.

  Four

  Jonathan Ratcliffe heard of the banns being called in St. Edward’s through Mr Wilton. Mr Wilton was standing at the other side of the desk, his face showing deep concern as he explained how he had come by the knowledge. One of the men in the fitting shop had a mother who attended St. Edward’s. She had heard the names being called and had put two and two together. Mr Wilton thought Mr Ratcliffe should know.

  Jonathan Ratcliffe looked at his subordinate and was unable to speak; then after a moment he thanked him and nodded his dismissal. As Mr Wilton went out of the door he was about to call him back and tell him to keep this knowledge to himself when he realised that Wilton would be the last but one in the whole works who had remained in ignorance of the situation between his daughter and Cotton.

  He picked up a steel ruler and endeavoured to break it between his clenched fists. The slut! The low, low slut! The scheming little hussy. It was only three or four days ago that she had written to her mother thanking her for sending her birth certificate, the birth certificate that was supposed to be required by an employer. It had never dawned on them for a moment why she wanted her birth certificate. My God! And she was in the town. But that last letter had been postmarked Islington…Islington. She could never have been in Islington; you had to reside at least three weeks in the parish where you were to be married. The scheming…! The treacherous…! Words failed him. He rang his secretary and told her to get his wife on the phone.

  All Jane Ratcliffe could say to her husband’s information was, ‘Oh, no! Oh, no! But how?’ and again, ‘Oh, no! Oh, no!’ Then she asked, ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I get in,’ he answered and rammed the phone down…

  And he told her immediately he entered the house, even before he had taken his coat off. After asking, ‘Is anyone in?’ and getting her answer, ‘No,’ he said, ‘Can you believe it?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t make it out,’ she said. ‘How did she send the letters from those various places?’

  ‘He likely manoeuvred that for her.’ And he hit on part of the truth by saying, ‘Lorry driver. Long-distance lorry drivers. That could be it. Taking her letters down there…And to think you sent that birth certificate and it was picked up and returned to this very town.’

  ‘How was I to know? What are we going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to put a stop to it. Anyway he can’t do it without our consent, but by God he’s likely forged that. I know what he’s up to. Once he’s married her he thinks I’ll come round, and there’ll be a place for him well up the ladder at Affleck’s. He was never more mistaken in his life.’

  ‘Do you really think that’s his intention?’ Her question was tentative and conveyed her doubts and brought him barking, ‘Of course, woman! I know him and all his type. He thinks I won’t be able to bear them being in this town together, not her living in that quarter and us up here. And he’s right. But his plans are going a little awry.’ He now beat his fist into the palm of his hand as he cried, ‘That girl! She must have a defective streak in her. That’s it.’ He nodded at his wife as if he had discovered the root of the trouble, then went on, ‘I’ll straighten that out when I get her home. I’ll have her put in care. I will. I will.’

  ‘You’re going to fetch her home?’

  ‘Just that. And then we’re taking her to your Aunt Jean’s, and we’re taking her ourselves, every step of the road. And then you’re staying with her for as long as is necessary.’

  ‘Oh, Jonathan! I…I can’t do that. How are you going to…?’

  ‘Look, woman. Put first things first. I’ll manage and see to Ray.’

  It was as if by speaking his son’s name he had conjured the boy up, for he turned his eyes slightly to the side towards the passage leading to the kitchen, and there he saw his son standing. This was a thing that annoyed him about the boy; he was always standing in dark corners listening. He yelled at him, ‘Come out of that!’

  When Ray walked slowly into the hall he said angrily, ‘You’ve been listening again.’

  ‘Not really. Not really, Father; I was just coming out of the kitchen.’

  ‘I’ve told you about it, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  The boy glanced at his mother, then back to his father again and said, ‘About Vanessa going to marry Angus Cotton.’

  As Jonathan Ratcliffe ground his teeth his wife said, ‘It can’t do any harm now, no matter what he hears.’

  As her husband stalked into the drawing room she took hold of the boy and drew him into the kitchen, and there she said to him, ‘Now mind, Ray, I’m warning you, don’t discuss this with Michael. Remember, Michael is only a little boy; you shouldn’t talk to him about things that happen in the house. I’ve told you, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’ He stared fixedly at her. He wasn’t afraid of his mother; he wasn’t really afraid of his father; well, just a little bit. He knew something he would like to tell his father just to see him go red in the face and nearly choke, like he did when he was in a temper. He had forgotten about it for a long time now, but hearing his father talking about Vanessa going to marry Angus had brought it back to his mind. He liked to be able to surprise people. He knew he would have spoken about it before if
Uncle Arthur hadn’t killed himself, yet he knew that his knowledge was somehow connected with Uncle Arthur killing himself.

  The next best thing to surprising his father was to surprise his mother. He said to her now under his breath, ‘I didn’t think Vanessa would marry Angus, I thought she would marry Uncle Arthur.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I thought Vanessa would marry Uncle Arthur, that he’d give up Aunt Irene and marry her, Vanessa, like they do after a divorce. There were three boys in our form whose parents were divorced.’

  Jane Ratcliffe was sitting down now. She had hold of her son’s shoulders and was staring into his face. Her lips were moving, but no words issued from them for some time. And then she whispered, ‘Ray, what are you saying? Come along, tell me what you know. What makes you think Vanessa should have married Uncle Arthur?’

  ‘Well,’ he shrugged his thin shoulders and moved his dark, satanic eyebrows upwards, ‘they used to kiss and slop.’

  She was doing now what she had never done before, she was shaking her son as if he was a rat, and for the first time in his short life he himself was really frightened. When her hands were still again but still gripping his shoulders, she muttered thickly, ‘Tell me, boy, tell me everything. Everything, mind.’

  His head seemed to be still wobbling and he jerked it once before he said, ‘Well, I saw them kissing.’

  ‘You saw them…?’ She swallowed deeply. ‘Yes, go on.’

  ‘I used to go out at night down the drainpipe, and one night I saw her go down the wood and when she came back Uncle Arthur was with her, and they stood by the gate talking, and he kissed her. I was up in the tree house.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘And another time I followed her and she and Uncle Brett were in the summer house.’

  His mother was gripping his shoulders so hard that he hunched them up against his head, and when she relaxed her hold and again said, ‘Go on,’ he continued, ‘Well, I saw them sitting on the steps. Uncle Arthur was talking and then they were kissing and things.’