She now flapped her hand up at him and actually laughed out aloud. It was a high tinkling sound as might come from a young child, not one with an old head that had been forced onto her shoulders. And then she said, ‘I like you. I like you a lot, and I shall come again when you can’t see me.’ And at this she tugged at his hand, and he led her through the labyrinth until they came to the wall; and from here she led him to the hole which was hidden by the bushes on the mound. And as he watched her lie flat and crawl through it, he wondered how she was going to explain her soil-dabbed dress as well as her dirty hands.
Three
Apart from the front door and the kitchen door, there was another entry to the house: a door from the yard to a back stairway leading up to the attic rooms, but with a door, halfway up, onto the main landing. The attic rooms had at one time been used for winter storing; but the door had been locked for many years now. Janie was very aware of this door for she had more than once tried to open it. But this morning she had a key; at least, she had a bunch of keys, seven in all, most of them rusty.
She had first noticed a very old horse collar hanging in the corner of the harness room, and on investigation had seen the keys on the nail driven into the wall at the collar’s centre. A few days previously she had been passing the front of the house, when her attention was caught by an indistinct figure standing in front of one of the upper windows. One minute it was there, the next it was gone. She knew immediately that the figure could be no other than that of her sick mother. But if she was sick, why wasn’t she in bed?
The glimpse she’d had of the person had suggested someone very small. But she had reasoned that having seen only the upper part of her, she might perhaps have been sitting on a chair.
However, that glimpse had been enough to stir her determination to see her mother. Why not? And her mind did not take her further than ‘why not?’
Shortly after this sighting, the bunch of old keys caused her to plan a way of bringing about the encounter. First, she told herself that even if one of those keys fitted the lock it would not turn because it was rusty. So when the opportunity occurred, she took down the ring and dipped the whole of the keys into the oil bucket, then let them drain for a while before hanging them back on the wall. The oil would need to soak in, she told herself.
However, it was to be some time before she could bring her plan to fruition, for it was on that same day she had met the nice man, and as a result of this meeting she had been confined under lock and key.
After returning home with a soiled dress and dirty hands and refusing to explain how this had come about, her Auntie Jessie had said there was no alternative: she must be kept in. And she was until the day there was great excitement in the yard, all because war had been declared somewhere. Even her Auntie Jessie was excited. And so she was let out and left to her own devices. It was then that she decided there was no better time to try the keys in the lock of that door.
And this she was now doing.
It wasn’t until she tried the fourth key that she felt it click as if it had dropped into a socket. And when she turned it halfway round and the door moved under her hand, she was so overcome by trembling excitement that for a moment she didn’t push it open. When she did, she saw a flight of stairs with cobwebs hanging from the sloping ceiling. One step at a time she mounted the stairs, to be confronted at the head by another door. But this opened easily. And now she was in a small hallway where more stairs went off to her right. But opposite was a large landing and she stepped cautiously onto it, only to jump back when she heard a door opening. She waited, her head turned to the side, so that she could see part of the landing; but then stiffened when there emerged from a room the figure of Patsy carrying a slop pail.
She held her breath, wondering which way Patsy would go, for were she to pass this way she would certainly see her. And there wasn’t time now to scamper down those stairs. But she sighed with relief as Patsy’s figure disappeared from her view.
After waiting some minutes, which she gauged would give Patsy time to reach the kitchen, she stepped onto the landing and noticed there were doors on both sides. But she knew now which one she must go to.
At the door, she paused for a long moment before tapping on it. But when there was no response she opened it and, lifting her feet as if she were about to tread on something fragile, she entered her mother’s room. And what she saw was a large bed—she did not take in other pieces of furniture, only the bed—and standing at the far side of it was a very small…she hesitated to think lady, and woman didn’t fit either. The only way to describe the person she was looking at was ‘a young girl’. She was fat; even under a loose dress it could be seen that she was fat. But it was the head that Janie stared at, for this wasn’t the face of a girl and her hair was almost white.
Unaware that she had closed the door behind her and that she was standing with her back to it, she knew only that the small person had walked down by the side of the bed and that she could now see all of her where she was clinging to the iron frame of the foot of the bed. And what the complete sight of her conveyed to Janie was that there must be a mistake. This little person could not be her mother, for she was not much bigger than herself. And she didn’t look the kind of person to be a mother.
She wanted to get out of this room and with this in mind she stepped away from the door and opened her mouth to say ‘I am sorry’, but instead what issued from it was a high scream as she found herself flung back against the door. And now the room seemed to echo with screams.
The bouncing of her head against the door made her feel dizzy for a moment, although this did not prevent her from letting out another scream when she saw the small woman lift the lamp from the bedside table with a very obvious intention. She sprang to the side, but not quickly enough to evade the splintered lamp-glass splattering the back of the hand she had put up to shield her face.
Still screaming, she groped blindly for the door as more objects were hurled against it. But then she was out on the landing, so terrified that she didn’t know which way to run until, looking to the right, she saw her grandfather appearing at the top of the stairhead. He was running, but at the sight of her he paused for a moment, his mouth agape. Then as he came at her, she sprang back towards her exit; and she actually fell down the last three stairs and tumbled through the door into the open again. But once on her feet she began to run.
Philip Patten stood by the bed, looking down on the contorted face which, like the rest of the body, was gradually relaxing. And now he turned towards Ward, who stood at the foot of the bed, and said, ‘That should keep her under for a few hours. I’ll come back later and give her another shot.’ He bent now and closed his black bag and was making for the door when he stopped and looked back at Ward, saying, ‘I warned you some time ago, you know, how she would react and matters won’t improve. All right, she was provoked this time, but there have been times when she hadn’t been provoked…well, let us say nothing that would provoke any sane person. Oh, yes, I know, Ward.’ He put his hand out as if in protest. ‘You don’t like that word, but you’ve got to face it. Her mind is deranged. It has been from the beginning. She’ll have to be put under control—I’ve said so before—or you must engage someone to do that. I’m warning you; Patsy can’t put up with much more. As for Jessie, she’s had to cope with more than any human being should be asked to do. She’s got her hands full as it is; and this last event has proved that. Now, I’ll say no more at the moment; except that she has to be sedated and…yes, I’ll say it, guarded. Just imagine if this had happened during the evening when that lamp was lit; the whole house would have gone up. From what I see here, even since it’s been tidied up’—he looked around the room now—‘it must have been a shambles. It seems that not even your presence or Patsy’s could stop her wreaking havoc. She should have been tied down. It’s no news to you that Patsy has voiced this again and again when she’s had to deal with her alone.’
‘She doesn’t often deal w
ith her alone; I’m always on hand.’
‘You’re not always on hand; you can’t be. Anyway, you have my opinion, and I don’t think, on this occasion, that you want a second one, do you? But I’m telling you, if this is allowed to go on as it is now and you don’t have her restrained in some way, there will come a time when there will be a second outburst, and perhaps at night; and I’m putting this plainly to you; it isn’t far ahead.’ But then, his voice softening, he said, ‘I know this must be affecting you, Ward. But in your heart you’ve known for years how things were with her. Well, I’ll be off, but I’ll see you shortly.’
When he reached the kitchen and before he had time to say anything to Patsy, she confronted him, saying, ‘I’m not standing much more of this, Doctor. Not for all the bribes in the world. And I’ve told Carl, and him an’ all’—she thumbed towards the ceiling—‘there’s got to be more help up there, night and day, and somebody experienced. D’you know, you wouldn’t believe it, but she’s got more strength when she’s in one of them turns than me and Carl and him put together.’
Her voice sinking, and with it her whole tense frame, she asked, ‘What’s to be done, Doctor? Things can’t go on like this, can they?’
‘No, they can’t, Patsy; and I’ve just told him so; it’s either one thing or the other. I’ve put it plainly to him. The first suggestion I know he wouldn’t hear of, and that’s having her put away. So he’ll have to engage more help. But don’t forget that’ll mean more work for you down here.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind that. I don’t mind that. It’s the running up and down; and her, she’s become more thankless with the years. It’s funny; she can’t speak, yet she can demand. Oh, aye, she can demand. And scream. Oh, my God, her screaming!’
He put in, ‘What happened to the child? Where is she?’
‘Don’t ask me, Doctor. Miss Jessie’s out hunting for her now, and Carl an’ all, ’cos Rob said he saw her flying across the lower field, and he swears there was blood on her. Where’s it all going to end? Can you tell me that, Doctor, where’s it all going to end?’
‘I can no more answer that than you can, Patsy; only time will tell.’ Then he lifted his hand as she went towards the teapot. ‘Nothing for me this morning, thank you,’ he said; ‘I’ve got a very busy day ahead of me. I must be off, but I’ll see you this evening.’ And with that he left…
It was in the afternoon when, sitting beside the bed on which lay his beloved child, as he still thought of her, Ward came to a decision. The doctor had given him two options. One he would never condone; having her put away would give the village two bells to ring. The first: it was only justice that his daughter should end up in the same place as Daisy Mason; and secondly: God would not be mocked: He was making him pay for His desecration through his daughter. No, that had always been out of the question. And as for the second option, having a day and night warder in this room, the image presented to him was of big strong, hefty women handling his child. Never! Never!
He now put out his hand and stroked her hair back from her brow. Her face was relaxed; she was his little girl again, so like her mother, at least her countenance was, for her inactivity had bloated her body.
He rose now and, gazing down on her, he murmured, ‘When you join your mother you will be so happy, and then together you will wait for me.’ Then he bent and kissed her, a long slow kiss, before going out of the room.
Jessie was nearing the farm gates when she saw Carl riding in from the other direction, and when he pulled his horse to a stop she could see by his expression that he had no news. Without her enquiring, he said, ‘Not hilt nor hair of her.’ Then she asked, ‘Did you see the blacksmith?’
‘Yes. Yes, and nobody gets past him. I went to the Newberrys too, and to the Holdens, and to Mr Wainwright’s. He’s the Methodist minister at the far end of the village, you know, and his wife’s ailing and sits in the garden a lot, and she said no-one had passed there. They were very kind in their concern for her. Lastly, I went right through to the other end and made it my business to go to the school, because I’ve always said she’s been starved of her own like and age and’—he nodded down at her now—‘I did find out something there, but not touching on today. Apparently, some time ago she turned up at the school gate.’
‘No! At the school gate?’
‘Aye. Yes. That’s what Miss Pratt said, and…and she apparently told her to go home because there were some children around and she thought it was better that they didn’t get to talking, although Janie had already told them her name.’
She said now, ‘There’s nothing for it but to tell the polis.’
‘Not yet.’ He bent down towards her. ‘The state that things are in, your…well, I mean, your father would be more upset. You know what happens when they arrive on the scene; they’re always followed by newspaper men.’
‘Well, where can she be?’
‘She could be hiding somewhere quite close.’
‘I’ve been through the wood.’ She now paused a moment before she asked, ‘You don’t think she could have got in the Hall grounds? I can’t see her climbing the walls, and certainly not the fences. And she knows she mustn’t go out through the gate.’
‘After what happened this morning,’ Carl said tersely now, ‘I think she would have gone straight through a blank wall.’
She was silent for a moment as she looked around her, as if searching for some clue, and then she seemed to get it by saying, ‘You remember when she came back that day with her dress and hands all soiled and she wouldn’t tell me where she had been or what she had been doing? She could have crawled through some place, couldn’t she?’
‘Yes. Yes, I remember. But you know,’ and he was shaking his head now, ‘we went all round those walls. She’d have to be a badger to get underneath that wall, wouldn’t she?’
‘Yes, but she had been crawling somewhere. Carl’—she put her hand up to him now—‘would you go to the Hall, and ask if you could look through the grounds?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ He nodded down at her. ‘The young master up there is very amenable, I hear, and Lady Lydia always has been pleasant. Yes, I’ll do that, although it’s a faint hope; if she kept running in the direction that Ron saw her, it wouldn’t have led her towards the Hall. She would have to go out of the gate for that. Anyway—’ He now turned the horse about, saying, ‘It’s a long shot.’ Then he galloped off leaving her standing, her arms tight about her waist now as if trying to squeeze out the anxiety that was filling her body. If anything had happened to the child she wouldn’t be able to bear it, she just wouldn’t. She had done wrong in disobeying her orders, but then, what could you expect? She knew she had a mother, and now what could she think of her mother? Only as a madwoman; for it had to be faced, and her father had to face it, too, his beloved Angela was mad, and craftily mad: what sweetness remained in her she expressed only when her father was present, but her manner towards both herself and Patsy was demanding and aggressive, and it had worsened with time, so much so that she had to make a big effort not to hate her.
What if anything had happened to her child! And Janie was her child: she had reared her, cared for her, loved her; and yet in doing so she had imprisoned her; but only for her own safety. With what result? Yes, she knew if anything had happened to Janie she would scream her loathing at her sister, and at her father, too. Oh, yes, at her father, who cared for nothing, nor for no-one but the replica of his wife.
As she turned away she was surprised by the fact that she could think of her mother just as her father’s wife …
Carl had dismounted from his horse, which was now holding up its head as it answered the neighing of another in a stable along the yard; then he turned to meet Lady Lydia’s approach.
Her greeting was warm: ‘Hello, Carl,’ she said. ‘Dear, dear! It’s such a long time since we met, but…but it’s enviable how you carry your years because you don’t appear any older than when I last saw you.’
‘Thank you, Lady Lydia.
’ He nodded at her as he smiled. ‘I would like to believe that. You’re very kind, as always.’
She asked now, ‘Can I help you in any way?’
‘We’ve had a little upset back at the farm, and the child—you know, the young girl, Janie—has been missing since this morning. And Miss Jessie wondered if you would allow me to look through your grounds to see if she might…well’—he shrugged his shoulders—‘it’s a faint hope because I don’t know how she could have got into your place. But as I said, Miss Jessie thinks she might be hiding somewhere. It’s a sort of last straw before we apply for further help from…the polis. And I…well, you can understand Mr Gibson wouldn’t take kindly to that.’
‘Oh no; I can understand. And of course you are very welcome to search where you like. My son is out at the moment. He’s on some business in the town and McNamara, our gardener, is with him. They were killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.’ She smiled before adding, ‘We run a business now, you know, called a smallholding.’ She poked her face forward, an amused expression on it, and he said, ‘Yes. Yes, I’ve heard, and also, m’lady, that it’s doing well.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Her eyes widened now. ‘Surprisingly well. My son seems to be a genius with a pick and shovel, which, too, is very surprising when he doesn’t appear to be…well, to have a manual temperament. Books are more in his line.’
Carl smiled at her now, saying, ‘Yes. Yes, I recall that was his line, m’lady. We had a talk now and again when he came home from the university, and he recommended one or two books to me that were good reading. Yes, yes, that was his line.’
The Maltese Angel Page 33
