The Bondage of Love

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Katie! Now you stop it! Please! You stop it! It’s Christmas. Oh, my goodness!’ She put her hand to her head, and at this Katie said quietly, ‘It might be Christmas, Mam, but this has been blowing up for a long time because he’s been absolutely insufferable. And you’ve made excuses for him all along. That’s nothing new though; you have done that over the years.’

  ‘Nonsense, Katie! Nonsense! What’s come over you?’

  ‘Well,’ put in Mark quickly now, ‘one thing Mam can say about me is, I haven’t caused her any heartache, as Willie did years ago with his choice of friends. And you did with your love affair.’

  Katie’s response was to go and sit down on the couch, from where she glared at him, while he, bending towards her, said, ‘How would you like the shocker for a sister-in-law?’

  Katie neither moved nor answered, but Fiona shouted, as if in alarm, ‘What? What d’you mean? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m just talking about my younger brother and that specimen, because that’s what she is, a specimen, she who has just left the house. Haven’t you listened to him over the past weeks, going on about her? But that’s nothing to what I’ve been given: he’s collecting all the one-liners she comes out with. He’s absolutely besotted with her. Why d’you think he’s unglued himself from Sammy?’

  As Fiona stared at her son, Katie got up from the couch, saying, ‘Don’t worry, Mam, it may never happen. Anyway, put her in some ordinary clothes and she’d pass muster anywhere. There’s more to be seen in her than her thighs.’

  When the door closed on Katie, Mark said, ‘She wants slapping down, if anyone does.’

  ‘Mark! You’re talking about your sister. Now, listen to me.’ Her hand was on his shoulder and pulling him round to face her. ‘I’m saying this to you—not to her or to anyone else—you have been rather a trial over the past months. You used to be so understanding. Another time you would have understood and been helpful with Mamie, because you know the trouble I’ve had with her over the years. But you’ve been so absorbed in your own affairs.’

  ‘Mam!’ His voice showed he was deeply hurt. ‘I’ve been swotting. Yes, that’s the word she used, but I’ve been swotting for months past.’

  ‘Only since you got the results in the summer term, Mark. Before that you were your usual thoughtful self.’

  He swung away from her now, saying, ‘Yes, too thoughtful for the others; I didn’t pay enough attention to what I really wanted, and that was to work.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mark; nobody stopped you from working. You spend too much time playing tennis and squash and such with Roland Featherstone.’

  ‘Well, he spent the same time on sport and he got through and he’s no better than me.’

  She just stopped herself from saying sharply, oh, yes, he is: learning comes easy to him, and he’s got a retentive memory. Moreover, you couldn’t bear the thought of him getting into the London hospital before you.

  Fiona walked away from her son and sat down in a deeply upholstered chair to the side of the fire. She was tired. She was always tired these days; not so much physically but mentally. Yet at times her mind seemed empty and groping for something, that elusive something. She had thought that when she got over the business of Mamie, they would all return to being a laughing, happy family. But it hadn’t come about. Sparks had always flown between the two brothers. They were such opposites. One could say that Willie was all heart, and Mark was all head. Yet, Willie had got nine O levels last year, whereas all the trouble was because Mark had only three Cs at A level, and he needed at least three Bs to gain a place at the London Hospital Medical School.

  She could never understand him wanting to be a doctor; but then, he didn’t just want to be a doctor, he wanted to be a surgeon. And Bill had said that there was a coolness in Mark that would fit him for the surgeon’s role, whereas he could never see him as a general practitioner adopting a bedside manner.

  But careers apart, all she wanted for her family was for them to be happy. Yet not one of them was happy. But was ever a teenager happy, going through this period of mixed emotions? And these erupting unexpectedly, some with terrifying force. She could recall her own youth and the sick fear that swept over her on realising that she hated her mother. And thinking of her mother she thought, if ever a miracle was wrought on anyone, it had been on her; and she could honestly say now she loved her. Nothing would have pleased her more if she had settled in the annexe. But no, she had her bungalow. Yet, as Bill said, it was a waste of a house, because she spent most of her time here looking after Angela.

  Oh, she hoped they would have a happy Christmas, if only for Bill’s sake. He worked so hard, he never seemed to let up. But now there was a full week ahead. How could it be a happy time, though, with the two boys at each other’s throats? She put out her hand towards Mark, where he was standing looking down into the fire, one hand resting on the mantelpiece. He looked a man, although he was not yet nineteen. ‘Mark, dear. Go and make it up with Willie.’

  ‘What?’ He seemed to spring round towards her. ‘Make it up? I didn’t start this, and you heard what he said to me. Oh, no, Mam! Don’t ask me to belittle myself by saying I’m sorry, when I’m not. I’m only sorry that instead of a shocker I didn’t call her a freak. Because that’s what she looked like, with her face plastered in make-up.’

  Fiona rose from the chair and her voice held a cold note as she said, ‘Well, apart from what you think, Mark, and what you have said to Willie, I wouldn’t repeat your opinion to Sammy, if I were you, because Sammy is very fond of her.’

  ‘Well, that’s understandable, Mam, isn’t it? He was from the same quarter as her once, wasn’t he?’

  Fiona stared at her son. In her wildest imaginings she would never have thought that the day would come when she would look at him, the son who had taken a man’s place in her life when she was made a widow, and not like what she saw. And she was also made to wonder just how he looked on Bill now, the man who had been such a wonderful father to him, and still was; paying out thousands of pounds for his school expenses, and would have to continue keeping him for the five years he would likely spend in London in his training, that’s if it were not to be longer. Bill put on no airs, he was always himself, and he had been brought up in circumstances similar to both Sammy’s and Daisy’s. And such was the state of her mind at this moment that she said to Mark, ‘Do you class your dad in the same category as Daisy and Sammy?’

  He blinked rapidly, then wetted his lips and said, ‘Dad’s different. He…he’s a man.’

  Her voice was cool as she went on, ‘He’s a man who never forgets his upbringing. That’s why he understands Sammy and Daisy; he was one of them. Think about that. At the same time, think of what you owe him, and will go on owing him. Also, what he has done with his life, and without the education you’ve had the benefit of so far. Just think of that, Mark.’

  ‘Mam.’

  ‘Good night, Mark. I’m going to bed.’

  She hurried from the room and was making for the stairs when, glancing down the broad corridor, she saw Nell, Bert, Willie and Katie standing together. And she paused a moment before walking towards them and saying, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing.’ Nell shook her head; then Bert said, ‘Willie’s going to apologise. It’s Christmas and…’

  ‘No!’ The word was sharp, and now Fiona, looking at her Willie, said, ‘No, Willie; there’s no need for you to apologise.’

  ‘But…but, Mam, I…I know I went off the handle.’

  ‘Yes, and there was more than one handle. Now I’m saying to you, forget about it, ignore it. As everybody is saying, it’s Christmas, the time for good cheer and jollity.’

  In surprise they watched her toss her head back. And when she turned from them and made for the stairs, Nell said softly, ‘They’re both fast asleep.’

  ‘And that’s where I hope to be very soon,’ Fiona said, ‘I’m going to bed. When Bill returns will you tell him I’m
upstairs?’

  Bert and Nell exchanged a quick glance. Then Nell hurried along the passage to join Fiona on the stairs and, putting her arm about her shoulders, she said, ‘Well, if you’re going to bed you’ll have to be undressed, won’t you?’

  There was no laughing rejoinder to this. And below, Willie, Katie and Bert stood looking at each other in silence until Bert muttered, ‘Dear, dear. Something drastic must have happened in there. I’ve never known her take an attitude against Mark; Mark above all of you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Katie nodded at him, ‘Yes, Mark above all of us. Well, perhaps she’s seeing him as he really is for the first time, or as he has become, because that’s what Dad will label him; an upstart. But I’ve noticed he’s careful what he comes out with in front of Dad; his opinions and that. But Dad would have known what his opinions were had he been aware that he didn’t want to put his name to one of the Gallagher parcels.’

  As they looked at each other in silence, the sound of the car passing over the drive came to them. And at this, Willie, looking towards the hall, said with a note of apprehension in his voice, ‘Oh, I hope she doesn’t tell Dad; he’ll wipe the floor with him, because it’s really all my fault—’ He tossed his head now, then said hurriedly, ‘I’ll…I’ll go up and ask her not to.’

  Both Katie and Bert stood listening to the soft thumping of Willie’s footsteps across the landing.

  With a small smile on her face, Katie looked at Bert and said, ‘He’s soft, you know…Willie. Remember, we used to fight like cat and dog when we were younger. And I used to be all for Mark. Funny how you change, isn’t it, Bert?’ Then she asked him a question that bore no relation to what she had just said, ‘Does Jimmy…you know, Jimmy Redding, does he consider Daisy his girl? I mean, his real girlfriend? You suggested in there’—she thumbed towards the drawing room—‘that he was married.’

  Bert’s reply was mumbled, ‘Oh, well, Katie, I couldn’t really answer that, not truthfully. I only know he looks after a young woman and three children; in fact, he lives in their house. As for his association with Daisy, I know he took her in hand when she first came to the club. She was about fourteen then, and in with a lot of tearaways.’

  ‘Well, she calls him her minder. And it’s funny, but he’s about the only one she takes any notice of. I mean, she’ll go her own way in all things and say what she likes, until he stops her.’ She laughed gently now as she added, ‘You should hear her at times. If she’d had an education, she would have gone in for politics in a big way. She’s very hot on class.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard her. But why do you ask about Jimmy?’

  ‘Well, simply because Willie’s gone head over heels in that direction.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’

  When Bill went into the bedroom, Fiona was lying on her side, her face away from him. Putting his hands on her shoulder, he gently pulled her on to her back, saying ‘What is it? What’s happened? You’ve been crying.’

  ‘I felt tired. I had a headache.’

  ‘Oh, don’t come the “headache” one, Mrs B, not after the jolly night we’ve had. Anyway, I have a headache an’ all. So, we’ll call a truce, shall we, on that point? At least for tonight.’

  ‘Oh, Bill!’ She pulled herself up onto the pillows, and he, sitting on the side of the bed, said softly, ‘What is it, love? Something happened? Well, nothing could have happened since I’ve been away; it’s been hardly half an hour.’

  ‘Mark and Willie went at it.’

  ‘What about?’

  She turned her gaze away from him as she said, ‘Minnie…Daisy.’

  ‘Oh, Willie thinks she’s the cat’s pyjamas, and Mark thinks she’s less than cat’s spit. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, putting it that way, I suppose, yes.’

  ‘And Master Mark expressed his high-class opinion of her, and Willie went for him. Is that it?’

  ‘That’s it!’

  ‘Well, good for Willie. But…but that shouldn’t have made you howl. They’re always going for each other, those two. If it’s not one thing it’s another.’ He had hold of her hands now and he pulled them towards his chest as he asked, ‘What happened?’

  She shook her head and her lips moved as if she were trying to form words; then she said, ‘Mark’s changed.’

  The retort came back quickly, saying, ‘Oh, no, he hasn’t: Mark is Mark. It’s only coming out more now because he’s feeling his feet. I think you’ve got to face it, love; and I’ve wanted to say this to you for some time now, because I’ve seen the road Mark has set himself to follow. And it’s all on the upgrade. Mark is ninety per cent his father, whereas Willie and Katie are nearly all you. Was his father a snob?’

  Again she found it difficult to answer. Then, she said, ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so, mostly about his work and literature.’

  ‘And he wasn’t very much good at that, from what I gather. But his son thought he was. Oh, it’s some years ago since…well, since we came into this house. He was showing somebody the pool, and voices echo from there, you know, and I was in the dressing room. He was saying, “Oh, he’s my stepfather. My real father was an author. He wrote travel books and novels. He was well known.”’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But he never wrote a book, did he?’

  ‘He wrote articles on travel…He wrote articles on all kinds of things. He would read up something and expand on it. We once had very hot words, because I suggested it was a form of cheating; he called it a result of his research.’

  ‘I suppose Mark called Minnehaha common?’

  ‘Yes, and more. It was the terms he used that maddened Willie. And you know what he’s like when he gets going. They almost came to blows.’

  ‘I suppose he still thinks of Sammy as common. But Sammy has acquired a façade; thin in places, but it’s still there. However, he manages it better than I do, because common I was and common I remain.’

  ‘Oh, Bill. Bill, don’t say that; there’s not a common streak in your body. You’re’—she now put her hand out and touched his cheek—‘you’re brash, loud and dominating, but there’s nothing common about you, my dear.’

  His voice was soft as he said, ‘You really think that, Mrs B?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Mr B, I really think that. And…and it’s no exaggeration to say that there’s not a day goes by that I don’t love you a bit more. Especially on days when you come up with ideas like you did about the Gallaghers’ Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, that! Well, that was poor return for Sammy…Oh, it was funny when I stopped the car outside the door. I wondered if she would ask me in, and if she had I would have gone. But what she said, in her inimitable way, was, “D’you want me to ask you in?” And at this, her brother put in sharply, “Daisy!” And she turned on him and said, “Look! I know what I’m doing, and he understands.” And what I answered her was, “No, I don’t want to be asked in. When I want to visit your people I’ll make a point of going when you’re not there, because then we might be able to talk without you butting in, Miss Clever-Clouts.”’

  ‘You didn’t say that to her!’ She was smiling now.

  ‘Yes, I did, word for word.’

  He got up from the bed now, bent over and kissed her hard on the lips, then said, ‘I’m going down now to make some hot milk, and I’m going to cool it down with a good dose of brandy, and you’re going to drink that, Mrs B; then off to sleep.’

  ‘But…but what are you going to do? Aren’t you coming to bed?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ve got a lot of things to do, such as minding my own business. And look—’ He bent over again and now kissed the tip of her nose, as he said, ‘It’s Christmas, so forget about the irritations of your offspring. Anyway, Sammy’ll be home tomorrow, and the atmosphere will be lifted sky-high. He’s a chip off his old block, that boy.’

  When the door closed on him, she stared towards it: Sammy. His feelings for that boy outdid any he had fo
r her own tribe. Measure for measure, it could be the same as he felt for his daughter. Well, she liked Sammy, too; she even loved him. And yes, the atmosphere would change once he entered the house…She was glad she had opened up to Bill about Mark. It had made her feel better. But then, he always made her feel better. And it was true, she did seem to love him more and more as time went on. Yet, what about that lonely spot in her? Was that still there? Yes, strangely, it was still there. It was like an anxiety, one she couldn’t explain, and she recalled how she had been aware of it during the time she had gone for Mark. It had appeared then as if she were experiencing a great loss. And she supposed she was, in a way, because never would she look upon her son in the same way again. He had revealed his true character and she didn’t like it. She admitted to herself now that he was, as Bill had suggested, a replica of his father. Of a sudden, she sat bolt upright in the bed, asking herself a question: could it be that she wasn’t using her mind? Secretly, she had always wanted to do something, something different. But what had she done with her life? Struggled alone to bring up three children; then married Bill and acquired Mamie, and later Sammy. Then, the great event of her life; she had given Bill a child of his own. But what a child. A Down’s syndrome child, whom she had hated for a time, but then began to love, even passionately, for she could not return such a love as emanated from the child. But it was only during this last year or so that she’d had this gnawing emptiness inside her. It wasn’t that she knew she was going to lose them all, but a want of some kind. But for what? What?

  Sixteen

  When the bell rang, Katie, who was passing through the hall, opened the door, then stood almost gaping at the figure on the step. It was, yet it wasn’t, the Daisy Gallagher she once knew.

  ‘It’s going to snow.’

  ‘Yes, Daisy. Yes, get in.’ She almost pulled the girl across the step. Then she stood looking at her, an amazed smile slowly spreading across her face.