‘How long has she been like this? I mean, is she often sick?’
‘No, not often,’ Ward replied. ‘I made her eat some dinner. It was cold food as usual, for you can imagine we have no attention from downstairs, and I think that’s what she’s bringing up.’
When Ward took the dish from the bed, Philip Patten noticed the colour of it, and it wasn’t, he thought, much like the eruption of cold mutton. It had a dark greeny tinge, which could very well be bile.
After taking hold of her wrist he turned for a moment and looked at Ward as if he was about to say something. Instead, he first laid the hand back on the coverlet and paused for a moment before announcing, ‘I’m going to stop the draughts. I think she’s had enough; she should come round now. And may I ask what you have decided to do?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Ward was washing his hands in the basin on the wash-hand stand, his back to the doctor, and he repeated, ‘Yes. Yes, I have decided. We’ll get someone in.’
‘Good. Good. I’m glad of that. Well now’—Philip Patten gave a half smile—‘I’ve no need to open my bag tonight. By the way, there’s a good nursing agency in Newcastle. It’s just off Northumberland Street. I’ve forgotten exactly the name of the street.’
‘Oh, I know it. It’s Cranwell Place; at least, so I found out yesterday. I looked it up. It was advertised in the paper. I’ll go in today and make arrangements.’
The doctor turned and looked at the bed. ‘She’ll still be quiet I think. Yes. Yes. What time did you give her the dose last night?’
‘Oh, not till rather late, about eleven, just before I lay down myself.’
‘Oh well, I suppose that will do it.’ He did not add, ‘I must go and see your granddaughter,’ for he knew what would make this man happy was the thought that the child could die. And so he left the room saying simply, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Half an hour later Ward once again lifted his daughter up from the pillows and, forcing her head back, poured most of a glass of milk down her throat, then put the glass on the side table before he wiped her mouth and arranged her hair. Finally, bending over her, he kissed her twice and, his head deep on his chest, he muttered, ‘Goodbye, my darling.’ Then he went out of the room. He entered the kitchen to see Patsy scurrying around. She was throwing roughly-cut vegetables into a pot in which already there was a piece of lamb. As she pushed it onto the hob she remarked, ‘You’ll have a hot meal by dinner time.’
‘I won’t be in to dinner. You’ll be pleased to hear I’m going into town to engage help…nursing help, for both night and day.’
She stood looking at him for some seconds; then she nodded once, saying, ‘Yes. Yes, master. I’m pleased to hear that.’
As he turned to go back into the hall, he remarked, ‘I’ll have a bite in town; and she won’t need anything, she’s still under the doctor’s draught.’
‘Very good.’ Patsy nodded towards his back. The kitchen to herself again, she thought, none too pleasantly, that’ll mean two of them, night and day I suppose. Well, they won’t have me waiting on them. Meals, yes: but that’s all. And this decision made, she left the kitchen by the back door that took her into the yard, there to see her master mounting the trap. Carl was standing to the side of it and the master was saying something to him. And she watched her husband wait until the trap had disappeared into the lane beyond the farm gates before he turned towards her, and she to him, and her first words were, ‘He’s going to get help, night-and-day people.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded at her, then enquired, ‘How’s the youngster?’
‘Oh, we won’t know until tonight, I suppose, but she’s holding her own. You know, I think Miss Jessie will go as daft as her sister up there’—she thumbed towards the house—‘if anything happens to that child. You know, she looks upon her as if she had given birth to her.’
‘Well, she might as well have; she’s seen to her since the minute she was born.’
She looked at him closely now, saying, ‘What’s the matter? Something wrong?’
‘No. No, nothing.’
‘You look more thoughtful than usual.’
He smiled at her now, saying, ‘Do I? Well, I’ve got a lot to think about.’
‘Yes,’ she said somewhat tartly, ‘about this bloomin’ place. It’s never about us, ourselves.’
‘Oh, that isn’t fair, Patsy. You know it isn’t.’
She folded her arms tightly now before saying, ‘I get tired of it at times, Carl. We have no life of our own. And I’m at the beck and call of that one up there.’
‘Well, you won’t be any longer, will you, if he’s getting help?’
‘No; but I’ll have other work. I’ll have more cooking, won’t I? And Mrs McNabb can only do the rough.’
‘But, you know, dear, we took it on, and we will be half owners of the place…’
She turned quickly to interrupt him, saying, ‘Yes, but when? When? When he dies, the master? He could live for another twenty years. And so could she. But just imagine if he went and we’re left with her. I know what I would do with her, and I’ve heard the doctor say the same on the quiet. Perhaps not in so many words, but I know what he thinks.’
‘Yes. Yes, you’re right, Patsy. But that’s the last thing the master would do. He’d never let her be put away, you know that. He’d go to any lengths, yes, any lengths’—he nodded now as he looked to the side—‘before he’d put her in an asylum.’
‘Well, if she has another turn like she had the other morning, that’s where she’ll end, because she could have killed the child. Her poor little hand is swollen up twice the size, and it was only a scratch on her neck, so Doctor Patten said, but it’s going to leave a mark. It started to ooze blood again yesterday. To my mind it should have been stitched.’
‘Well, I suppose the doctor knew what he was doing,’ and then as if to dismiss the matter, he said further: ‘I’ve got to get on now.’ But as he went to walk away, she called after him, ‘Carl, the master said he wouldn’t be in for dinner—he’s going to have a bite in town—and that she would sleep. But I can’t leave her all day up there by herself, can I? And yet, at the same time, I’m not going to go in that room by myself. I’ve never ventured in, unless the master’s been there, for some time now. So will you come on up with me?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. But she’ll likely scream the place down when she sees me.’
‘I don’t suppose so; she’s been under those sleeping draughts for days now. But I must warn you, you’ll see a difference in her. Since you last saw her she’s become like an old woman.’
‘I could never imagine her looking like an old woman.’
‘Just wait till you see her. She’s a vixen of an old woman at that.’
‘Well, give me a shout when you need me.’ And with that he went across the yard, and she made her way to the cottage.
It was almost three o’clock when she called to him as he was weighing out the meal in the corn room: ‘I’m going up now,’ she said.
‘Righto.’ He left what he was doing and walked towards her, clapping his hands and dusting down his clothes. And as he crossed the yard he smiled at her as he said, ‘I don’t suppose she’ll notice I’m not spruced up.’
‘I don’t suppose she’ll notice you’re even there. But, of course, you never know; I haven’t seen her for days. I really don’t know how the master can stand looking after her day and night. He’s even been sleeping on the sofa in the room. But then, he’s always been as barmy about her as he was about her mother.’
They were in the kitchen when he put an arm around her waist and said, ‘Aren’t you still barmy about me?’
And now she looked at him softly and seriously as she said, ‘Yes, Carl. I’m still barmy about you, and always will be. But at the same time I’m filled full of guilt, because I can’t rear a family for you.’
‘Now, look…look, I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter one jot to me. I want you and not a family. I’ve told you, dear.’
&
nbsp; ‘Aye, you could go on telling me for the rest of your life and I would try to believe it, all the while knowing that I can’t. Every man wants a family. But…but look, I don’t want to start and bubble here; I’ve done enough crying in me time. Let’s get upstairs.’
He kissed her before he let her go; then they were climbing the stairs together.
She entered the room first, and he hesitantly followed. She went and stood near the bed and looked down on the still form; then she turned towards him, whispering hoarsely, ‘Carl! Carl! Come here. Look at her.’
Quickly and quietly he went and stood by her side, but said nothing as he looked down on the face that now had a young appearance. The eyes were wide open, the lips apart. He was seeing the young girl again as she was before the night of the magic lantern show.
‘Oh, my God! My God!’
‘Be quiet!’ he said. ‘Get out of the way.’
He moved close to the head of the bed and put his hand tentatively on the white nightdress and left it there for some seconds. Then Patsy’s voice expressed the futility of what he was doing as she hissed at him, ‘She’s dead! She’s dead! Look at her eyes, she’s dead.’ She backed from the bed now, whimpering, ‘I should have come up before. I should. Yes, I should.’
‘No, you shouldn’t!’ His voice was firm but quiet. ‘Look; go down and get one of them. It better be Rob, as he can ride the horse. Tell him to go for Doctor Patten as soon as possible. I’ll stay here. Go on now.’ But he had to press her as she walked backwards towards the door.
He looked about him, and presently muttered something to himself, then said aloud, ‘’Tis the best way. And he knew what he was doing.’ And with the thought he went over to the side table on which stood a glass with about half an inch of white liquid left in it. This he lifted and smelt, then held it up to eye level. There was some sediment at the bottom of the glass. His suspicions had been right. Yet, he wouldn’t believe it when he had seen him at the tin. It was the dim light of a covered lantern that had attracted him to the storeroom. He had been unable to sleep, and he had lain listening to the dogs growling in the yard. It was when they stopped abruptly that he had risen and gone to the window of their bedroom, the room that used to be the master’s study and which looked onto the end of the yard. It was from there he had seen the light in the storeroom. This had puzzled him. If the light had been next door in the harness room he could have understood it, for then somebody would have been after a harness or horse’s accoutrements of some kind. But who would want to be in the storeroom, where only empty sacks, boxes, or tools and such were kept?
He had pulled on a coat and gone quietly outside and made for the window, and there, to his amazement, he had seen the master with a tin in his hand. After watching him put the tin back on the shelf on which were kept rat poisons and such, he had scampered back into the house. But the next morning, early on, he had examined the tins. There was a dust of powder against three of them: one contained rat poison; a second, arsenic; the third a kind of jellied liquid which they diluted for spraying.
He now put his hand tightly across his jaws. But when he heard footsteps running on the landing, he turned towards the door and there was Patsy again. She was breathless, and she said, ‘Doctor’s behind. There was no need to go, he was just coming in the yard to see the child. He’s…he’s here now.’ Her face was wet with tears, and again she said, ‘I should have come up earlier. I should, I know I should.’
‘Be quiet! Be quiet!’ He turned and looked towards the glass on the table, but there was no time to remove it, for there stood the doctor.
Philip Patten looked down on the woman whom death had transformed into a girl, and slowly he did what Carl had done earlier; he placed his hand on her chest. Then he felt her wrist. Then, just as slowly, he closed her eyelids and drew the bed-sheet over her, before turning to the two people who were standing staring at him. And now he spoke, saying, ‘When did it happen? I mean, when did you find her?’
‘It was me, Doctor. Just…just a few minutes ago. I was scampering downstairs to send for you and…and, well, there you were. I know I should have come up earlier. But when he left, I mean the master, he said she would be quiet after the draught you gave her, and that he was going into town to hire some help.’
He nodded, then said, ‘She’s had nothing to drink today?’
‘No. No. I should have brought something up, but I was afraid of her on me own, the way she’s been. Well, he said she would sleep for some time. And then I went and got Carl to come up with me.’
‘It’s all right. It’s all right, Patsy. Look, go downstairs and make us a pot of tea.’
‘Yes. Yes, Doctor.’ She looked from one to the other, then turned and hurried out.
Philip Patten now looked around the room, taking in the glass on the side table holding a small amount of white liquid; and he resisted the urge to go near it. This room was impregnated with tragedy and sorrow and he asked himself, Was he going to add to it? He knew full well that the sedative he had left to be given to her each day in no way would have caused her demise. Anyway, if more proof than was already in his own mind were needed, he had only to go by her pupils, and the fact that her father had definitely made up his mind what was going to happen to her. He had taken advantage of her being rested under the sedative and then had thought he was being clever in showing that he was apparently agreeing to the lesser evil: either she went into an asylum or he got competent nurses to see to her. Oh, Ward had thought it all out. But what was he himself to do about it? Accuse him? There was that accusing white sediment in that glass. He had slipped up there, hadn’t he? He had only to test it himself and find the slightest trace of a poison and that would be proof enough. And what then? The man could hang, or, if compassion came into the judgement, be imprisoned for the rest of his life. And how old was he now? Early fifties?
He went past Carl and stood near the window looking down on the garden, and he asked himself where he stood in this. What was his duty? Oh, he knew what his duty was all right. But could he carry it out? And who was to know if he didn’t? Who was to ask questions about the death of one demented woman, when the whole country was at war? Even the village was caught up in the excitement. The fact that Ward Gibson’s daughter had died would cause nothing but a flutter.
He turned briskly from the window and, looking towards the bed, he said, ‘I think I have missed something. I had better examine her again. There are signs that she may have died from a blood clot on the brain. As I recall, her mother went the same way. Look, slip down and bring me a cup of tea up, will you?’
‘Yes. Yes, Doctor.’
As soon as Carl had left the room Philip Patten picked up the glass, swirled the contents round, dipped his finger in it, then tasted it. As he placed the glass back on the table his jaws met tightly together for a moment. Before grabbing it up again he emptied the contents in the china slop bucket standing beneath the wash-hand stand; then he half-filled the glass with water from a ewer, did some more swilling, then poured this into the bucket, after which he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the glass clean, paying particular attention to the bottom of it. He had only just managed to pull the sheet down from over the still face when the door opened and Carl entered carrying a small tray with cups of tea on it and by its side a bowl of sugar.
As he laid the tray on the side table, Carl noticed the clean glass, and he stared at it for a second. When he looked up the doctor had turned from the bed and their gaze linked and held for some seconds with the unspoken knowledge they both shared …
Philip Patten did not return to the house until six o’clock that evening. Ward was sitting in the room that he used also as a dining room. He rose to his feet as Philip came up the room, and his head was slightly drooped and his eyes cast down as he said, ‘I came back to a shock.’
When there was no response to this he raised his head and looked at Philip, and added, ‘She was resting peacefully when I left her.’
&nbs
p; There was a war going on in the doctor’s mind. The man’s attitude was making him regret that he had washed that glass out: he must think him an idiot. Had Ward’s wily brain not taken in the fact that there would be a post-mortem? He hated to be thought the doctor who didn’t know his business; but he knew he must go carefully; if the man thought that his doctor was condoning a poisoning, he could hold it over him. Not that he thought Ward would do such a thing. Yet one never knew how a man’s mind could be turned, given the circumstances. The next moment he only just prevented himself from speaking the truth, bawling it, when Ward said, naively, ‘How do you think it came about, and…and so quickly?’
Philip had to turn away. And it was some seconds before he was able to say, ‘I…I think her heart must have given out, or she had a blood clot on the brain.’
‘Oh. Well, well!’
Philip swung round to see Ward now walking towards the fireplace, where he put one hand up and gripped the mantelshelf and stood looking down into the fire as he said, ‘Isn’t that strange: her mother went in the same way. Well, she’s at peace now. God rest her soul. Yes. Yes.’ He turned now from the fireplace and looked at Philip, saying again, ‘She’s at peace. But what I must do first thing in the morning is get word to the agency in Newcastle. I’ll be able to prevent one of the nurses coming. She was due at the weekend. But the other, the day nurse, she was to start in the morning.’
Philip could stand no more. He made his way towards the door, saying, ‘I must go and see your granddaughter. She’s in a very bad way. By the look of her she may not last the night.’ He was halfway down the room when he swung round and in a loud voice said, ‘And don’t say that you hope she joins the others! Just don’t say it!’
The Maltese Angel Page 35
