The old man blew out three large puffs of smoke before he said, ‘Well, putting it like that shows a different complexion, at least from your side. But I know what kind of a life she’s had to lead and it hasn’t been easy. Power’s been her only pleasure. But power’s an empty love and a cold bed. Come to think of it, though, I’m not without blame, at least where your men are concerned, because I can recall telling her that you had a gang of the best men throughout the area which showed itself in the work they had turned out, especially those houses above Brampton Hill. And she then likely saw one way of getting at you was to disrupt your gang. She’s a ruthless woman, I admit. Oh yes, she’s ruthless. But I know one thing, she disliked Brown, in fact she might have hated him, but not with the fervour that she hates you, to go to the length of engaging scoundrels to do dirty work, as she has. Anyway, I sent her a wire and told her that it had to stop; and then wrote to her and told her I was aware of her little game. But apparently the letter didn’t reach her. I understand she’s gone abroad on holiday.’
‘But what makes you so sure she’s behind this, sir?’
‘Oh, a hunch, and the way she told me if it was the last thing she ever did she would ruin you one way or another, for she meant it. She also said that if I voted for you to get this contract she’d never speak to me again. And she meant that too.’
‘But, sir’—Bill had now risen to his feet—‘I’m not going to let this go on; I’m going to the police.’
‘What can you prove? Nothing until they catch the fellows.’
‘I can say who’s behind them.’
‘You’ve only my word for it, Bailey. And sit down, sit down, you look ferocious standing there. Do something for me: put on another nightwatchman just for the time being. If you do I’ll pay his wages, so don’t worry about that. You see, there’s two or more of these other blokes and your single man and a dog won’t be a match for them because they’re dirty players. And another thing, if they should cause any more damage, I’ll make it right.’
When Bill resumed his seat he sat quiet for a moment; but he certainly wasn’t quiet inside, he was raging. He wanted to strike out at something or someone. That bitch of a woman. Never would he have imagined that she would go to such lengths. It was criminal. She was worse than any gangster. And this he voiced now, saying, ‘It’s criminal. She’s worse than any gangster. Look, sir, as much as I admire you, I can’t promise to keep my tongue quiet if I can nab those fellows. Anyway, like all thugs of that type, they’ll squawk once they’re caught.’
‘Well, until they are, Bailey, let’s say that any damage they do to your works or your men’s property will be covered…I’ll see to it.’
‘Money won’t buy a life, sir, and they nearly did for Barney McGuire. He’s a man of fifty, and tough. And they almost got Dave McRae. What about if they kill somebody, sir?’
‘Oh, they won’t go that far; they’d be afraid of the consequences.’
‘Do you know who they are, sir?’
‘No, I don’t, Bailey; and if I did, I’m afraid the frame of mind you’re in I wouldn’t tell you, because that would involve Eva straight away. And once I get in touch with her she’ll stop this. I’ll see to it.’
Bill got abruptly to his feet again, and he walked the length of the long rug towards the big open fireplace; and there he stood for a moment in silence.
When he turned, he looked at the old man and said, ‘I can’t believe it, sir; I can’t take it in. That some firm had it in for me through competition; yes; yes, that would be quite feasible; but that she would take it on herself to get back at me like this…well, as I said, I just can’t believe it.’
‘You said a moment ago you’d had quite a few dealings with women in your life, and I can believe that. Well then, you should have learned that they are the more dangerous of the species. Sit down. Sit down. You get on my nerves popping up and down. And I’ll tell you something about women, something that happened in this very house. My great-grandmother was the daughter of a farmer, what you’d call in those days a gentleman farmer. She had her eye on this house and all that was in it, I was told, and she set her cap at my great-grandfather. Now he was a lad of many tastes and his tastes ranged from the kitchen, through various farm barns, to the wife of his best friend. Now, my great-grandmother must have known all about this before she took him, but when she found him in one of the attics with the housemaid she went almost berserk. And later, when the girl was known to be pregnant, she made her marry, at least she paid this man, a horse dealer, to marry her. And this particular fellow was known to be cruel, even to the dog he was supposed to care for. He was never seen without a whip in his hand and he whipped his bride from the day he married her. It was said he was ordered to by my great-grandmother. And when my great-grandfather discovered what had happened…he really wasn’t a man who bothered with anybody’s business but his own, but he had the decency to take the girl away before she was flailed to death. He installed her in a cottage with a woman to look after her. It was only half a mile from the house—the foundations can still be seen, overgrown with weeds but they can still be seen—but the day after the child was born the cottage was burnt down and the mother and the child and the woman who was looking after her were burnt with it. It was rumoured that the window had been nailed up and so had the door. The horse dealer disappeared. It was also rumoured that my great-grandmother had paid him to do the deed. Anyway, from that time my great-grandfather never slept with his wife; but he made hay all round the countryside and she could do nothing about it. It was said, too, that he was heard to say while laughing at her, “You can’t go round burning all the barns down, Cicely.” It became a catchphrase I understand: “You can’t go round burning all the barns, Cicely.” Women, Bailey, are the very devil. I’ve been lucky. Oh yes, I’ve been lucky: Bertha is a good woman; she’s been a great helpmate and companion. But, you know, we’ve bred one hellcat of a daughter. She could be great-grandmother Cicely over again.’ He laughed now and his lower set of false teeth wobbled in his mouth. Then he said, ‘You know people think nothing happens in the country. Let me tell you, the country makes the patterns for the towns. And, you know, it isn’t the day or yesterday that I’ve thought Eva Brown could be the reincarnation of great-grandmother Cicely. Ah, here they come.’
The door opened and the children actually ran up the room, only to come to a stop at a respectful distance from the man in the basket chair. But he cried to them, ‘Come here! Come here! Well, what do you think of this little cottage?’
They all laughed, and it was Katie who said, ‘It’s beautiful, lovely.’
‘Would you like to live in a place like this?’
Katie glanced first at her mother then at Bill, and her answer was diplomatic: ‘When I grow up,’ she said.
‘Clever girl, clever girl. You like your own home?’
‘It’s a beautiful house, sir.’ The old man looked at Mark and asked now, ‘What are you going to be career-wise?’
‘Well, sir, I would like to do physics; and I’m rather good at maths, you see; yet on the other hand I have a fancy for being a doctor, so I might have to take biology, I’m told. I haven’t fully made up my mind yet. It all depends on how I do in the exam.’
‘Well, it’s good to hear that somebody knows what road their life’s going to take. Either one of those sounds good. And you, young lady, what are you going to be?’
‘An actress.’
There was a quick exchange of glances between Bill and Fiona because it was the first they had heard of it.
‘An actress? My! My! Stage or television?’
Katie hesitated just a moment before she said, ‘I’ll be able to do both.’
The old man put his head back and let out a wheezy laugh, which caused his wife to wag her finger at him and say, ‘There you are! You’re laughing now; you didn’t laugh when Annabella made that statement some years ago, did you?’
‘A lot of water’s gone under the social bridge since
then, woman. Ah, here’s Jessie with the tea.’
At this they all turned and looked towards the door where a maid was pushing in a large two-tier tea trolley, the top laden with tea things, the bottom shelf holding plates of scones, sandwiches, and a fruit loaf.
‘By! You’ve taken your time, Jessie; my mouth’s as dry as the desert.’
‘That’s caused by cigar smoke, sir.’
‘Now, don’t you start.’
Fiona watched a mingling of glances between the mistress and the maid; then Lady Kingdom, now addressing Mark, said, ‘Take the things off that small table there, will you, dear, and bring it here? This room’s full of tables, and for what? Just to hold stupid cups and trophies. And who notices them?’
‘I do. It’s all I’ve left in life.’
‘Poor soul. Poor soul.’
Again there was an exchange of glances, this time among the children. They were amused; this sounded just like home.
When Mark had duly brought the table to her, Lady Kingdom set it in front of Fiona, saying now, ‘Do help yourself, please; I’ve long since given up being polite and handing plates around. You see, when the family descends upon us it’s a free-for-all. And so I generally let them get on with it. I can assure you of one thing, the sandwiches will be very nice: they are fresh cucumber, pre-season, brought forward in the greenhouses. I said to a certain person’—she now closed her eyes and nodded her large head—‘that we should start a market garden, but no. Has everyone got a cup of tea? Well then, it’s a free-for-all. Move along, dear; I’m going to sit in between you.’
Willie hitched himself along to the end of the couch, and when the big woman as he thought of her sat down on the big cushions beside him he bounced slightly. Then, with some surprise he watched the big woman bite into a scone, taking half of it in one mouthful.
He looked at the tea trolley. On it, there was a large silver tray and on the tray was a silver teapot and a matching sugar basin and milk jug, besides a small tea-strainer on a stand.
‘How old are you?’
When Willie didn’t answer, Lady Kingdom followed his gaze and said, ‘Would you like another cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you. It’s the teapot.’ He pointed.
‘The teapot, you like it?’
‘Ah-ha; I mean yes. It’s just like the one my friend Sammy brought my mother today.’
‘It isn’t!’ The strong denial came from the other end of the couch and brought all eyes on Katie. ‘That’s a beautiful teapot, the other one’s broken. He…he got it off the tip.’
It was evident that both Katie and Willie had forgotten just where they were for the moment because Willie, bending across Lady Kingdom’s knee, hissed, ‘I know where he got it, but it’s still a lovely…’
‘Willie! Katie!’ Bill’s voice brought them both back to where they were. ‘Apologise to Lady Kingdom.’
‘Oh, no! No! No!’ Lady Kingdom was laughing now, as was Sir Charles, and they, looking at each other, said, ‘It could be Rachel’s lot, couldn’t it?’
‘Yes, to a tee, to a tee.’
‘Well, what about this teapot?’ Sir Charles was looking at Willie now. ‘You say, at least your sister says, he got it from a tip. What do you mean he got it from a tip? Somebody tip him off to buy it?’
Willie hung his head for a moment; then, jerking his chin upward, he stared straight at the old fellow in the funny basket chair and said, ‘No, sir; he hasn’t got any money to buy silver teapots, he’s very poor. He’s from Bog’s End. But they’re filling in the quarry in Belmont Road.’
‘Oh, that tip! Where they’re filling in Murphy’s quarry. And so your friend found a silver teapot there?’
‘Yes, sir. And he cleaned it up inside and out and brought it to my mother for a present.’ He glanced at his mother’s very red face.
‘Well, to my mind, that seems very kind of him. Is he a school mate of yours?’
‘Well’—Willie hesitated—‘He doesn’t go to the same school. I go to St Oswald’s, it’s a private school, but Sammy goes to the convent school, he’s taught by nuns but he doesn’t like them.’
‘He doesn’t like the nuns? Why now, why? I thought nuns were all holy ladies.’
It was evident in the glint in Sir Charles’ eyes that he was enjoying this conversation. He had even brought himself more upright in the chair and had stopped puffing at his cigar. ‘Why doesn’t he like the nuns?’
‘Well, sir, Sammy says they’ve all got hosepipe hands.’
‘What hands?’
‘Hosepipe hands, sir.’ Willie had made his voice loud and clear as if he was talking to somebody hard of hearing.
‘Hosepipe hands? Nuns with hosepipe hands? What does he mean by that?’
‘I suppose it’s because when they whack him across the ear it’s as if he was being hit by a piece of hosepipe. His dad went for one of the nuns…put the wind up her…’
Of a sudden Sir Charles had a fit of coughing and at the same time his wife seemed to be wriggling in her seat. Willie did not look towards either his mother or Bill, he kept his gaze directed to the funny old fellow. He liked him. He thought, somehow, Sammy would like him, and he would like Sammy an’ all.
The bout of coughing over, Sir Charles wiped the spittle from his lips with a napkin; then, looking at Willie again, he said, ‘He sounds a very interesting chap, this friend of yours. How did you meet him if you go to different schools?’
‘Our school played them at football, sir.’
‘Do you like football? Are you a good footballer?’
‘Not very.’
‘What about him, your friend?’
‘He’s not very good either, sir. He was pushed off the field that day.’
‘What for?’
‘I don’t quite know, misbehaviour I suppose.’
‘You mean fouling?’
‘Could be, sir.’
‘So you and he are pals?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sir Charles now looked at Bill and Fiona and noting the consternation on Fiona’s countenance, he said, ‘With your parents’ approval?’
Lady Kingdom had also noticed the look on Fiona’s face and, now pulling herself with some effort from the deep cushion on the couch, she addressed her husband, saying, ‘Mind your own business, Charlie Kingdom. You should know by now that children pick their own friends, and they’re often better at it than parents. Now, do you want anything more to eat?’
‘No, ma’am, I don’t.’ And he turned to one side so he could once again see Willie, and in a loud whisper he said, ‘Do you get bullied like this?’ And Willie, smiling back at him, said, ‘Yes, sir.’ Sir Charles’ voice changing, he looked up at his wife and said quietly, ‘Bring me the children’s box will you, dear?’ And she turned from him and went to a cabinet at the far end of the room and returned under the watchful eyes of the company and placed a box on her husband’s knees.
‘Have you had enough to eat?’ He looked from one to the other of the children. And when they all spoke at once, saying, ‘Yes, thank you,’ he said, ‘Come here, then.’ And when they stood in a line at the side of his chair, he opened the box and said, ‘This was my father’s children’s box and each week he doled us out a certain amount according to our age. I was the second in line and I got ninepence. My brother, the eldest who is now dead, he got a shilling. The baby got a penny. There were seven of us altogether. So I propose to do the same with you as I do with my grandchildren. You Mark, are the eldest. Well, here you are.’ He picked out a pound coin from the box and handed it to Mark, who said with evident gratitude, ‘Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you very much indeed.’
‘Now you, Willie. Well, I think it will have to be fifty pence for you.’
‘Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you.’
‘And Katie. Well, what’s half of fifty, Katie?’
‘Twenty-five pence, sir.’
‘Well, let me see.’ He now counted out twenty-five pence and handed it to her.
&n
bsp; ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And now the little one. Maisie you say her name is?’
‘No; Mamie, sir.’
‘Oh…Mamie. Well, Mamie, ten pence is your allotment.’
‘I have a money box, a piggy bank.’
‘Have you? And are you going to put that in?’
‘Well, some of it.’
‘Say thank you, Mamie.’ Fiona was standing behind the child now, and she said, ‘I have, Mammy B.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
‘Oh well. Thank you, Mr…sir.’
‘You’re welcome, Mamie.’
‘I suppose you’ll be making for home now?’
It wasn’t a note of dismissal but a note of enquiry and Fiona answered, ‘Yes, Sir Charles, straight home. We wouldn’t want to spoil the memory of this visit with anything else.’
‘Nicely put. Nicely put. Well, it’s been my pleasure too.’ He now shook hands with the children one after the other. And they all said again, ‘Thank you, sir.’ And then they turned to Lady Kingdom, and as they thanked her she patted their heads; at least she patted three, with Mark she did him the courtesy of shaking his hand.
It was as they were all trooping out Sir Charles’ voice called, ‘Willie!’
Bill Bailey's Lot Page 12
