The year of the virgins (9 page)

Daniel went towards him, saying, 'You're down early,' but stopped himself adding, 'Why, and all by yourself?' Instead, he asked, 'Where's everybody?'

'Maggie's in the kitchen, Dad. Lily's gone to church with Bill, and I think' - he paused as he put his head on one side - 'Peggie is doing the bathroom. Not mine; I've been good. I have, Dad; I've been good.'

'That's a clever fellow.' Daniel put his hand on his son's shoulder, saying, 'Well, what are you going to do now?'

'I ... I want to see Joe. I ... I want to ask him about Don and Annette.'

It had been evident to Daniel for a long time that it was Joe whom the lad sought whenever he wanted help with anything, not him, his father. He said, 'Well now, I think Joe will be busy, as we've all only just come back from the hospital, so you should . . .'

He was cut off by Stephen, who quickly said, 'Don't . . . don't send me back upstairs yet, Dad. Don't; please don't send me back upstairs. I'm . . . I'm sad. I'm sad all over. I ... I would like to go and see Don. I ... I saw it happen yesterday. I . . .'

'Yes, I know you did,' Daniel sharply interrupted, 'and you are upset, but now I want you to keep quiet and be a

good fellow. And I promise you this: as soon as Don and Annette are a little better, I'll take you myself to see them in hospital. What about that?'

'You will?'

'Yes, I will. I promise. Just as soon as they are a little better. But you will have to be good. You know what I mean?'

The man-cum-boy hung his head and in an almost childish whimper he said, 'Yes, Dad. Yes, I know what you mean. And I will; I will be good.'

'Well now, you go back into the kitchen and stay with Maggie while I pop upstairs, and then I'll come down again and we'll have a crack, eh? Or a game of billiards.'

'You will, Dad? Billiards with me?'

'Yes; yes, I will. Go on now.'

Stephen grinned with pleasure, then turned and at a shambling run made his way towards the kitchen. And Daniel, glancing back towards the decanter on the sideboard, hesitated for a moment before going out and up the stairs.

Rather than tap on his wife's door he called out, 'Are you there?'

He waited, and when there was no answer, he opened the door and went in. She had taken off her outdoor things and was sitting at the dressing-table. He had often wondered why she sat so long at the dressing-table, but assumed she was admiring her unlined skin and the lack of grey in her hair. And this had made him wonder too why she didn't concentrate more on getting rid of her surplus fat, because without it she would have been a very presentable woman. Her eating problems, so the doctor had said, came from inward anxieties. And he could say that again - inward anxieties - anxieties

with which she had affected the whole family over the years.

He moved no further towards her than the foot of the bed, and there, his hand on a post, he said, 'I must have a word with you.'

She made no reply, but simply stared at him through the mirror, as she was wont to do whenever she was seated at the dressing-table.

'It's about the hospital visiting,' he said. 'Mr Richardson thinks it would be advisable if we make our visits very short for the next few days, just for a minute or two. It'll give Don a better chance . . .'

'A better chance?' As her body moved slowly around on the seat her flesh seemed to flow and ripple. He saw the muscles of her arms undulating under the tight sleeves of her dress. He watched her large breasts sway. On anyone else these motions could have suggested a certain seductiveness, but with Winifred, as he only too well recognised, they were but the signals of a rising rage.

Her words, like her movements, came slow at first. 'A better chance?' she said. 'A better chance? You're agreeable to giving him a chance? Is your conscience pricking you? You arranged his life: you arranged his marriage; you would have gone to any lengths to take him from me. But getting him married was a sort of legitimate cover-up for your own actions, wasn't it?' Her voice had risen but was not yet at screaming point. 'You couldn't bear the thought that I kept him pure, that I saw to it that he didn't follow in your footsteps with your filthy woman.'

'Shut up! Shut your mouth!'

The movement that she made now was a spring. She was on her feet and standing at the foot of the bed gripping the

other post as if she would twist it and wrench it from its support.

'Don't you ever tell me to shut up! But you listen to me now. If my son dies I'll kill you. Do you hear that? I'll kill you.' Her voice had risen to a scream. 'You were longing for last night, weren't you, when he'd be defiled, made into a man, like yourself with your dirty whoring.'

The blow caught her fully across the mouth; yet she didn't even stagger. Instead, her hands flashed out, and she was tearing at his face and screaming words that he realised were obscene, yet he could hardly believe his ears.

Gripping her throat now, he struggled with her; and as his rising hatred matched hers he would not have known what he might have done next, but for the hands pulling at him, and through a blur of blood he saw the black face close to his own and Joe with his arms tight around Winifred as she lay half-sprawled on the chaise longue at the foot of the bed.

When Peggie's shocked face appeared in the doorway Joe cried out, 'Fetch Maggie!' And it would seem that Maggie was already on the scene, for the next instant she was in the room, although she stopped and stared for a moment at the sight of Daniel, his face streaming with blood from the torn flesh of each cheek.

Turning swiftly to Peggie, she cried, 'Get Mrs Jackson; she's in the garden with Stephen. Then phone the doctor.' And to Harvey she said quietly, 'Take him out. Get him out,' and Daniel allowed himself to be guided from the room. But on the landing they both stopped, surprised by the sight of the priest on the stairhead.

Father Cody was a man in his early thirties. He had the countenance of an ascetic, his tone was clipped, and his voice had no recognisable accent: T heard the commotion,'

he said. 'I just popped over between Masses to see how the young couple were faring. Dear God! I see you have been fighting. This is not a time for recrimination, I would have thought. You wife has been suffering of late. Don't you know that? What she needs is comfort. And especially at a time like this. Those two poor innocents yesterday. But you know' - he raised a hand - 'they do say the sins of the fathers will be visited on the children, even to the third and fourth generation. Everything in life has to be paid for. God sees to that. Yes, He . . .'

'Get outV Daniel had pulled himself from Harvey's grasp.

'You wouldn't! You wouldn't dare!' The priest held up both hands. 'Don't take that attitude with me, Daniel Coulson. I am your wife's confessor and at this moment I'm sure she needs my help.'

'Look! If you don't want me to help you on your way with my toe in your arse you'll turn about and get out. And I don't want to see you again, not in my house.'

Father Cody now cast a glance at Harvey, expecting him to remonstrate with this perturbed individual; but all the black man said, and in a deep voice, was, T would do what you are told, man, and quick, if I were you.'

'You can't intimidate me.' Father Cody looked from Harvey to Daniel. But when Daniel, with fists doubled, took a quick step towards him, the priest thought better of his stand and turned abruptly, saying, 'God has strange ways of working: He protects His own, you'll see.'

'You go to hell, and as far beyond.'

The two men remained at the top of the stairs watching the black-coated figure cross the hall and out of the house. And Harvey, now taking Daniel by the arm, said, 'Come on. We'll get you cleaned up.' Then in an aside

that at another time would have raised a laugh, he added, 'There's no fear of him going to hell. Did you see him cross himself at the bottom of the stairs?'

The doctor gave Winifred a sedative almost without her realising it, for her rage was still blazing. And when he saw Daniel's face he said, 'A tiger might have gone a bit deeper but not much; I'd better give you an injection.' Then, later, as he was about to leave, he said, 'One of these days she's going to need help, special help. You understand that?'

Daniel understood it only too well and prayed that it would be soon . . .

It was around two o'clock when Father Ramshaw came. The house was quiet, unusually so. He let himself into the hall, then made straight for the kitchen, asking Maggie, 'Where's everybody?'

T think you'll find himself in the study, Father,' she said; 'the others are in their rooms.'

'Well, it's himself I want to see. Have you any tea going?'

'No; but I could have it going any time, Father.'

'When you're ready I'll be glad.'

He went out, crossed the hall to the far end where the door led into the study and, after tapping on it, he called, 'It's me.'

Daniel swung his feet from the ieather couch and sat up, although he didn't rise to his feet; and the priest stopped in his stride, his mouth dropping into a gape before he said, 'Oh, my goodness! no. What brought this about? But need I ask.' He sat down on the edge of the couch and, shaking his head, muttered, 'Something will have to be done. But what, God only knows. There's always a climax to these

things, and your face, I should imagine, could be it. But will it? You're feeling rotten?'

'Not very good, Father. But have you come about your assistant?'

'Oh, yes. Yes.' And adopting a severe expression, the priest said, 'You've insulted my curate, do you know that? In fact, as far as I can gather you sent him to hell; you actually voiced it.' He turned his head to the side, saying, 'Oh, the times I've wished I was brave enough to say that.' Then he went on quickly, 'Don't try to smile; it'll hurt, I can see that.' And they looked at each other for a moment in silence before the priest, his tone serious now, murmured, 'She must have gone clean mad. What brought it on anyway?'

'She had made a scene in the hospital because she wasn't allowed to sit with Don, and the doctor took me aside and asked me if I would impress upon her that, for the next few days, her visits had to cover minutes not hours, or days and nights as they would if she had her way. And I went in and put it to her quietly. But then' - he sighed now -'she's holding me responsible for the accident. If I hadn't inveigled them into marriage and they hadn't been going away in that car at that special time, none of this would have happened. It's all at my door.'

'Well, Daniel, look at it this way: she's right, you know, because on your own saying you brought them together; and you got them married yesterday. Strange, but in a way she's right. Your intentions were good. Oh aye, they were good. You wanted to save the boy from being swallowed whole by her. If ever there was an Oedipus complex in reverse this is it. It's probably the worst case I've known. And I've known a few. It isn't all that rare. Oh no; but a lot of it's hidden. How many women treat their daughters-in-law like dirt? Cause trouble? in fact, separate the couple? I

know one who arranged a divorce. Yes, she did; and they were Catholics an' all. She had them separated, hating each other. Then the couple happened to meet by themselves on a street, and in his own words as he told me, he said to his wife, "I must have been mad to listen to her and put her before you. If you'll only come back I'll tell her where she stands." And you know, he did, and they had ten years of happy marriage. But it had a strange ending, for the young fellow up and dies and, would you believe it, the two women lived together quite amicably for years afterwards. Can you believe that now? There's nothing so odd as human nature. I see quite a bit of it you know, from the inside, you could say.' He paused, rubbing a hand tightly over his clean-shaven cheeks, then said quietly, 'One of these days, I fear, she'll have to be put away. You know that? At least for a time. She needs special attention. It'll be for her own good.'

Daniel stared at the priest. He was surprised to hear put into words the very thought that had been in his mind for a long time. In his mind, yes, but then he had told himself that you couldn't class anyone to be in need of mental attention just because they had an unnatural passion for their son. Yet, couldn't you? Hadn't it in a way turned her mind?

T hear Don's in a bad state. By the sound of it I think it would be better if the Lord took him . . .'

'How do you make that out, Father? The surgeon, Mr Richardson, he didn't give up. What I mean is . . .'

T know what you mean: where there's life there's hope. But I happen to know Freddie Richardson. I've known the family since I was a lad. I got on to him. I didn't know whether or not it was he who would be seeing to Don, but I sensed he would know about the case, and he said the lad's in a bad way. And I think, Daniel, you've got to face up to

that. You'll be able to, I know, but I doubt if she will. You said to me a little while ago that you thought about walking out again and I was for putting you off, and I did put you off. But looking at you now, I wonder if I was giving you the best advice. Sometimes I wish I was nearer to God, then I would know what to do under such circumstances.'

Daniel got slowly to his feet, and as he did so he said, 'I think you're near enough, Father, as near as anybody can get.'

'Oh, come off it. I wasn't implying sainthood or anything like that. I was pointing out my fallibility.'

'I know what you were aiming to do, Father, and I'll tell you something now. Perhaps I'm saying this because I don't know if I'm walking or sleeping, but you are the best friend I've got: you know all about me, the bad and the good; and I don't think, whatever I told you, you would turn against me, even if I told you I wanted to finish her off this morning.'

'Well, under the circumstances, that was a natural reaction, I'm sure, but you know we must curb such reactions. Yes, don't I know meself that one must curb such reactions.' He smiled wryly, then said, 'Thank you, Daniel, for calling me your friend. Thank you. Well, now I must be off, but' - and here he wagged his finger at Daniel - 'but before I go I must admonish you for insulting my curate and sending him to hell. This has got to stop, you know; I'm the only one who can indulge in that privilege.'