The Bondage of Love

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘I didn’t just “take up” with her for that.’ Sammy’s words came slow now, but heavy. ‘I like Katie. You could say we’re on the same wavelength.’

  ‘You mean…you like her?’

  ‘Yes, I mean…I like her.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think of it that way. Well, what I mean is…’

  ‘Well, whatever you mean, get it right in your mind: we are good friends.’

  ‘Oh, well, good friends.’

  ‘Yes! Good friends.’

  Again Willie said, ‘Oh!’ as if that had cleared something else from his mind. And it had, because a girlfriend and a good friend meant two different things. He wanted Daisy for a girlfriend, but apparently Sammy just wanted Katie for a…well, friend.

  ‘May I ask you something?’

  ‘You’ll ask me whether I want to listen or not.’

  ‘Well, it’s just this. D’you think I stand a chance with Daisy?’

  ‘Well, you want it straight, so I’m going to give it to you straight. You stand as much chance as I do. In fact, I stand more chance than you because she and I understand each other. We speak the same language, being out of the same boat, if you take our environment into account. And I’ll tell you something else. You’ll never change Daisy, not inside. A new rig-out won’t touch her real self. She’ll always remain amusing, funny ha-ha, to make people laugh, while at the same time being as deep as a drawn well. It’ll take someone more clever than you or me to get to the bottom of the real Daisy, because she’s got a thinking mind, which she tries to hide.’

  ‘Well, she’s all the better for that, as I see it.’

  Sammy sighed now as if he were tired, and his voice was slow as he said, ‘Willie, you’ll see her as you want to see her. You’ll see her the same way as you saw me, and you’ll aim to keep pressing on and pressing on until you think you’ve got her as seeing her through your eyes. With me, it worked. Circumstances made it work. Unearthing your dad in the muck heap put the final touches on it. They felt they owed me something and that has worked in with what you wanted. So, let’s face it, I’m here at this minute being nursed and pampered because of you. If you work it back you’ll see that. And, in a way…oh, I’m not going to just say in a way, I’m going to say simply…and I’m lucky.’ And now he laughed quietly as he said, ‘I’ve never said this to you before, but I owe you for the way of life I have now; for my home, because I do look upon this as my home; my education; and all because of you who wanted to cuss and swear like me.’ He smiled now up at Willie, but Willie’s face was straight. And what he said next proved that he hadn’t really been listening to the latter part of the conversation, for his mind was still brooding on the answer Sammy had given him with regard to his chances with Daisy, for he said, ‘I’m just going to keep on. And I know one thing; Mam will accept her now. She looks different. It’ll work.’ He nodded twice towards Sammy, then turned and walked quickly from the room. And Sammy, looking towards the door, repeated, ‘Mam will accept her now. She looks different.’ And it was as if a voice from the side of him said, Like hell she will! It was his father’s voice. And strangely, he heard himself reply to it, You don’t think she will? And the answer he got was, Mrs Bailey is not Mr Bailey, and there’s no-one to fight Daisy’s case like Mr Bill fought yours. Anyway, Daisy will decide.

  Yes, Daisy would decide.

  PART TWO

  One

  Mark had finished his exams in June, but he wasn’t to know the results until the middle of August. What he did know was that if he got three Bs, he would be able to take up the place offered him in the London Hospital Medical School, where Roland Featherstone would be about to start on his second year. And Fiona had not known how, in the meantime, she was going to put up with this new-found son of hers.

  But time had passed, and tomorrow he’d be gone to start his new life in London. He had been fortunate enough to find a room in the same house as Roland Featherstone, and for the first time in what seemed years Fiona was seeing her son again.

  They were all at dinner, the last dinner before the family was to break up and, as Nell had just put it, the first fledgling was to fly the nest. This had brought no retort from Mark but Willie once again put his foot in it by commenting, ‘To start his first year chopping up rats.’

  Fiona watched the look that she had hated, and which she could only describe as disdain, appear again on her son’s face, as he snapped back at his brother. ‘Don’t be so stupid, showing your ignorance.’

  And Willie, about to retort again in his usual way, picked up a warning look from Nell who was sitting opposite him. And after a moment, he said, ‘Well, that’s what I understand. Ralph Conway’s brother is in his second year, and Ralph says he will stop dissecting rats now and go on to something bigger, such as…’

  ‘Enough, you!’ put in Bill, harshly. ‘I’m eating, or trying to anyway.’ And he picked up his wine glass and said, ‘Let’s drink to the future surgeon.’ And when he got to his feet, the others followed, with the exception of Mark, who remained seated looking down towards his plate. ‘To the future surgeon.’

  When they were again all seated and there followed a moment of silence, Mark broke it by looking towards Bill and saying quietly, ‘Thanks, Dad, for all you’ve done for me, and are going to do. I do appreciate it.’ Then, before Bill could answer, Mark turned to his mother and said, ‘I’ve…I’ve been a bit of a pain in the neck, haven’t I, lately?’ And immediately two laughing voices, almost simultaneously, shouted out, ‘You’ve said it, boy! You’ve said it!’ Katie and Willie pushed at each other and a ripple of laughter went round the table, which brought from Mark a forced smile as he said, ‘Oh, I know you two will be glad to see the back of me. I only hope I’m given the chance to operate on you one of these days.’ There was loud laughter, and the tension at the table was broken.

  ‘Right!’ Bill’s voice was a bellow now. ‘Let’s away into the drawing room. Katie has raked out some old ragtime piano pieces and Willie’s going to perform on his whistle “Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey?” Remember that, Mrs B, when a certain lady got on the phone and sang that to me? The best thing you ever did in your life.’

  Fiona put her hands to her head. ‘Oh, that man’s ego! For goodness sake get yourself into the drawing room and let us clear up.’

  ‘You’re not doing any clearing up tonight,’ her mother put in. ‘I’ll help Nell.’

  ‘No, you won’t! We’ll all clear it,’ called Bill. ‘Come on! Pick up your dishes and take them into the kitchen, all of you.’ And at this he picked up his pudding plate and a wine glass and marched out from the room, singing, ‘Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey?’

  Katie and Willie and, almost immediately, Mark joined them.

  When later, they all stood round the piano singing one old tune after another, with Mark’s clear tenor voice now rising above the rest, Fiona gazed at him, thinking how she now wished he wasn’t going away, until her common sense told her he had fallen back to his former self only for the simple reason that he was going away.

  During the days that followed, the house fell back into what Fiona thought of as its usual pattern before she had experienced Mamie’s tantrums, Sammy’s near tragedy, and Mark’s insufferable manner.

  At least once a week, sometimes twice, Katie, Willie and Sammy went to the Centre and continued with the fencing, karate and ju-jitsu, but, in the main, their evenings were taken up with study. Katie was in her A level year. She had got ten O levels, which hadn’t pleased Willie, who, later, had managed only nine. And even Sammy, who had missed quite a bit of schooling, had got nine. Still, he had taken it very well. He was quieter these days, was Willie, and she felt she knew why. It had something to do with Daisy. Daisy had turned out to be a very attractive girl and she often turned up in a new rig-out from what she termed ‘her private source’. But according to something Katie had let drop, it seemed that she did not return Willie’s ardour. In fact, she had even refused to go to the cinema with him,
telling him bluntly she wasn’t starting ‘anything like that’. And for this attitude, Fiona was doubly thankful.

  She liked Daisy, found her very refreshing, very amusing, but as a prospective wife for Willie? Oh, dear! Even she could see what Willie was blind to: it wasn’t just that Daisy was strong-willed, had a mind of her own, and, whatever happened, would go her own way, but that she knew her second son and she was able to realise that he would not be able to keep up with her, mentally that is. And then there were her people; and if there was ever an advocate for a family, Daisy was an advocate for hers. There would be no hiding behind a façade for Daisy. And as much as Fiona liked them, and yes, she did—they were all good people in their own way, and she secretly admitted they and their ways would be acceptable to Bill and to Sammy, and even to Katie—she, too, was herself, and whereas she had accepted Sammy and even loved him, she could not see herself loving Daisy as a daughter-in-law. Still, as Daisy was showing no designs this way, she needn’t worry. And Willie would get over her; he was young yet. Young? In another few months he would be seventeen.

  It happened to be a Tuesday night and Willie was sitting before the drawing-room fire, nursing a cold. He hadn’t been to school for the past two days, and Sammy had come straight home from school to keep him company and, at the same time, to get a bit of work in. He would really have liked to be with Katie at the Centre, where they were practising turning the routine into an exhibition piece for the pantomime that they were putting on for Christmas. As it was, he was to take the six-fifteen bus into the town and meet Katie at Laburnum Walk. From there they would both go to Bill’s club, where he was at a meeting which should be over by seven o’clock, and he would pick them up from there.

  For the past few weeks, if Katie had been going to practice alone, she had always asked Sammy to come and meet her. He hadn’t asked the reason why, of a sudden, she wanted to be met, but he put it down to her not liking to come along Laburnum Walk. Although there was a lamp-post at each end, the middle section tended to be dark.

  The name Laburnum Walk had been given to the short cut flanked on both sides by high garden walls overhung by the branches of laburnum trees.

  Katie wasn’t afraid of walking through Laburnum Walk; she had never been afraid of the dark; but she admitted to herself she was becoming afraid of being waylaid by Roland Ferndale, who had taken to pestering her when she was by herself. It had first happened at a charity disco. Sammy, Willie and Daisy were all there and she herself had been dancing with one of the members of the ju-jitsu class. He was only about fifteen, but when he was shouldered roughly aside by a tall fellow, Katie, for a moment, had thought he would react by throwing the big fellow on his back. And likely he would have done, had she not shaken her head at him. Then she was staring at the swaying figure in front of her, but only for a minute, for when he lifted his hand with the intention of taking her arm, she knocked it aside and, turning her back on him, walked from the floor.

  For the remainder of the evening, whenever she passed him, he would scowl at her as he had done that night when she had refused a lift from him in no uncertain manner. And twice she had noticed him sitting in a stationary car when she came out of school. However he had not made any move to contact her. The last time she had encountered him was by the park gates, but, that night, she was with Daisy and the boys. Nevertheless, although it was getting dark, she knew he was staring at her. She had heard a rumour he had been engaged but had broken it off, or rather she had, whoever she was.

  Tonight, she had come out of the Centre with Daisy. Daisy would be making for home so they parted at the park, and she made for Laburnum Walk and Sammy.

  When she turned into the cut she was aware of footsteps hurrying ahead of her as if somebody were anxious to get to the other end, and so when the sound stopped, she took no further heed.

  ‘Well, hello!’ When the arm was thrust out and blocked her way, she gave an audible gasp. She had no need to ask whose voice it was, so she cried, ‘You let me past, Roland Ferndale, else you’ll get the worst of it in the end, I’m telling you.’

  ‘Big talk from a little girl.’ The tone was derisive. Then it changed. ‘What is it about you that gets me, for you’re nothing special, you know, are you? And your people neither. What is your father after all? He’s known as a loud-mouthed git.’

  The push she gave him actually knocked him against the wall, which seemed to enrage him, for he gripped her shoulder and pulled her round, but in the swinging she jerked herself free. And now, jumping back with the practised step of the fencer, she brought her thick-soled lamb’s-wool boot up, aiming at his groin. As he fell sideways, his flailing arm caught her shoulder again, and she in her turn, was knocked sideways against the wall. Now he was tearing at her coat, in spite of the nails clawing at his face and hair, and he continued to rip at her clothes.

  The buttons flew from her coat and the top of her blouse; but when his hands grabbed at her breast, she really went berserk, and the same white-hot fury was in her again as when she had seen the two naked figures on the bed and had thrown the heavy wooden bowl at them. Automatically, her knee came up again and her hands clawed at his throat. She was unaware that she was screaming.

  Before his body crumpled her foot had caught him in the stomach. Then again she heard running footsteps. Now she was leaning against the opposite wall, gasping. She knew that there was blood running into her eyes and that her blouse was wet.

  ‘My God! My God!’ It was Sammy holding her up.

  Taking a small torch from his pocket, Sammy flashed it down at the prone figure, and again he said, ‘My God!’ And when he heard running steps and voices, he pulled Katie from the wall, saying, ‘Go on! Go on! Get out of this! Quick!’

  For a moment he watched her stumbling away into the darkness before he bent down and, gripping the man’s collar, brought him into a sitting position. In doing so, he felt the blood running over his hands. His face was in a mess. My God! What had she done to knock him out? Was…was he dead?

  ‘What’s this? What’s this? What have you done?’

  He turned and peered at the dim faces of two men and a woman.

  ‘I…I found him like this. He’s been in a fight,’ he muttered.

  ‘Been in a fight? My God! Look at his face. You mean, you’ve been in a fight too. Look at you! What have you done to him?’

  Roland Ferndale’s hand came up and gripped Sammy’s wrist, and he muttered something.

  ‘What did he say?’ the woman said.

  ‘It sounded like, “You, you!”’ said one of the men. While the other, peering at Sammy, said, ‘You say you found him here?’

  ‘Yes. Just…just a minute ago.’

  ‘Well, how is it that you’re covered in blood too?’

  ‘Oh.’ Sammy looked down at his hands. They were wet: he couldn’t make out whether it was blood or not; but, of course, it was blood.

  ‘Something fishy here,’ pronounced the woman.

  ‘I think it’s a police job,’ added one of the men, ‘and an ambulance too, for that poor fellow won’t be able to stand. Run back home, Carrie, and phone for an ambulance. We’ll keep this one here.’

  Sammy now got to his feet, protesting, ‘You send for the ambulance, missis, and the pollis, but I tell you, I just found him here and straightened him up.’

  The man who now spoke to him was a burly type, well into six-feet and a good head above Sammy, and his voice was threatening as he said, ‘If you’re going to make off, young man, you’ve got another think coming.’

  For a moment Sammy wondered if he could throw the man. But no; he’d better wait until the pollis came; they would understand. But when Ferndale comes round he’ll find some excuse.

  What would he tell them? That a young lass had done this to him when he tried to rape her. There was a point here; yes, what would he say?

  A voice came to them now, calling, ‘There’s a police car in the district, and they’re sending an ambulance.’

  It
was hardly a minute later the big man said, ‘There they are now.’ Then, turning to Sammy, he said, ‘Well, young fella, now we’ll find out what’s what, won’t we?’

  ‘Yes,’ snapped Sammy, ‘we’ll all find out what’s what. And it’ll likely teach you not to jump to conclusions. As I’ve told you, I didn’t do this.’

  Before the policemen reached them the woman called, ‘We’ve come upon a nasty business, officer, a nasty business.’

  Neither of the officers spoke until a light was shone on the figure slumped against the wall, when one of them said, ‘Well, what’s happened here?’ And he turned to Sammy, and, taking in his bloodstained light-grey overcoat and also his hands, he asked quietly, ‘Had a row?’

  ‘No, sir, I haven’t had a row. I came along here and I saw him in this condition. He was bent forward leaning over towards the ground, and I straightened him up to get him to his feet. And then these’—he made a motion with his hand—‘these people came along; and because they saw the blood on my hands, they jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

  Without commenting, the policeman bent over Roland Ferndale and said, ‘Do you think you can stand up, sir?’

  ‘My…my head…it’s aching.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I should imagine it is, sir. Come on, see if you can get to your feet.’

  One on each side of him now, the policemen hoisted him and he was propped against the wall; and slowly he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his eyes. Then he blinked in the strong light from the policeman’s lamp. The light now was showing up two men, the woman and Sammy, and it was on Sammy that Roland Ferndale fixed his blinking gaze. And as he did so, he put his hand to his groin and his upper body came forward from the wall and he groaned.