Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly

by Catherine Cookson

  She didn’t answer but turned and, putting her hands out, groped at the air as she walked forward, only to find herself grabbed again by the neck and turned round in the direction of the back door; and his hold on her wasn’t released until he had pushed her into the scullery and banged the door behind her.

  She sat on the chair in the kitchen rocking herself backward and forward, her two hands gripping the arms.That poor man, what would they do to him? There had been a man there, hadn’t there? She had untied the bandage from around his mouth and from over his eyes? She stopped her rocking and asked a question of the empty room. ‘I did feel him, didn’t I? I wasn’t dreaming, was I?’

  Then she answered herself, ‘No, you weren’t dreaming; there was a man there all tied up.’

  She wished John were here, she wished she could go to him straight away. But would he believe her? In a way he was very like her granda.

  But she’d have to make someone believe her. Mrs Campbell. Yes, Mrs Campbell would believe her. But Mrs Campbell was away in Fellburn. Mr Thompson. Yes, Mr Thompson would likely believe her. If John didn’t believe her she would go straight to his father.

  But they could have killed that poor man by then. By! If they had, and he was found, her granda would have a very red face. By, he would that! And it would bring him down a peg, lots of pegs, and when he said to her he was sorry she would say, ‘It’s too late to be sorry.’ That’s what Mrs Golightly said. A time came, she said, when it was too late for people to say they were sorry. She had said that the day she had come in and found her dad crying; and she had said he only managed to say he was sorry when he was drunk and that it would be a different kettle of fish if he ever said he was sorry when he was sober.

  It seemed to be easier for people to say they were sorry when they’d had a drop.

  On this conclusion she decided that even if they did find the man dead her granda wasn’t very likely to take the blame to himself, for he never took a drop.

  They had walked up the road towards the smallholding arguing all the time, and now at the gate John threatened her; ‘Look! If you don’t stop talking such nonsense, I’m going to take you straight back to your granda and tell him why.’

  ‘I won’t go with you.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘You’re just like him, you’ll believe nothing.’

  ‘I can’t believe you; you’ve told me that your granda went back with you and there was nobody there, and then you heard Lord and Lady Committy on the drive with Mr Aimsford. Now use your sense if you’ve got any. During the time you left that man, or the one you imagined was there, until you got back to the spot with your granda must have only been a matter of minutes, ten at the most, and by the sound of it the visitors must have been there some time. People like them don’t come and pay a visit and say “How do you do?” and walk out again, so how do you think they managed to get a trussed-up man into the house past those big windows?’

  ‘They…they needn’t have taken him into the house, there’s bound to be stables and things, they could have put him in there.’

  ‘I know that place, Bella.’ Now his voice held a long-suffering patient note. ‘It’s been empty on and off for years, nobody seems to stay. And I’ve played round there and in the stables. But the stables lie at yon side of the house. There’s a big courtyard with outhouses on three sides of it; but there are no buildings on this side where you were standing, it’s just woodland. Your granda’s wood was once part of the property; it was one of the bits that was sold off years ago. It used to be a big estate at one time, now there’s only the house and about twelve acres left. And the outhouses are all at yon side, as I said, so I ask you, how would those fellows that you thought you heard…?’

  ‘I did hear them! And I heard them swearin’.’

  ‘All right, all right, you heard them. Well, how do you think they got a trussed-up body past those windows that go practically down to ground level? Both the drawing and dining-room windows are facing the drive. I tell you I know that house, I’ve explored it from the attic that used to be the nursery right down to the cellar, the coal cellar. There are no real cellars. So now what do you want to do? Are you going to shut up about it or are you going back home?’

  She was feeling sick; there was an upheaval in her chest. She turned about and retched, and when now, holding her head, and his voice full of concern, he said, ‘Oh, Bella, why do you get so upset? Why do you think such things? Get it up! That’s it,’ she was unable to make any retort.

  When she had finished vomiting up the dinner her grandfather had insisted she eat, she lifted her head and muttered, ‘A drink of water.’

  ‘Come along.’ His voice and attitude were now full of concern, and when a few minutes later she was sitting in the kitchen sipping a glass of water he got down on his hunkers before her and, his voice unusually soft, he said, ‘I…I want to believe you, Bella, but everything is against it. You see, you’re always imagining things, aren’t you? Now own up. There’s the dog, and the horse, and Mrs Golightly…’

  ‘Mrs Golightly is real; and…and the horse an’ all.’

  ‘And Gip?’

  Her head drooped. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I made Gip up a long time ago ’cos I hadn’t anyone to talk to and now he’s sort of real to me. I can nearly see him. But…but’—and now she put her hand out and groped towards him—‘Mrs Golightly is real, John. And the horse is an’ all. And…and the man who was trussed up…Don’t sigh like that, John, I’m telling you the truth…Have you—?’ She turned her head now from side to side, then said rapidly, ‘Have you got a Bible?’

  ‘A Bible?’

  She knew his face was screwed up.

  ‘Well, if anybody swears on a Bible and it isn’t the truth, then they can expect to go to hell for ever and ever. Have you got a Bible?’

  She knew he was standing up now, and he said quietly, ‘Yes, yes, we have a Bible.’

  ‘Can you get it?’

  She waited patiently until he returned to her and placed the book in her hand. Handing him the glass, she placed one hand on top of the book and, closing her eyes, said solemnly, ‘Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. You know I speak the truth when I say I felt a man trussed up under the fir tree and that when I took the bandage from his mouth and eyes he asked me to go for help. “Tell your parents,” he said. And then the other men came. You know they did, Lord, don’t you? And you know I’m speaking the God’s truth…Amen.’

  Slowly now she handed the Bible back to John. He took it without a word, but it was some minutes before he moved from her side and placed it on the table. Then coming to her again, he said quietly, ‘What time was this when…when you went down the wood the first time?’

  She had pulled herself off the chair and was standing close to him, her face turned up towards his as she said, ‘It was a good while after breakfast. You see, I’d had a nightmare and woke up yelling and disturbed me granda and…and he wasn’t in a good temper, so I didn’t go near him at the sawing block, I felt I’d better keep out of his way for a while. I walked about the yard for a bit and then went to the gate and…’

  ‘What time do you usually have your breakfast?’

  ‘Oh, eight o’clock, because he always puts the wireless on then. That’s the only time he lets it be on to get the news and the time.’

  ‘How long did you play round the yard, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, about half an hour or more. But before that I washed up and tidied the kitchen and I made my bed and dusted my room. I mustn’t have gone outside till quite a long time after nine o’clock…What time is it now?’

  ‘Just turned three.’

  ‘He could be dead, they could have killed him.’

  ‘Well, who could they be?’ he asked her now. ‘I don’t know if Mr Aimsford has more than one man working for him. I saw a man on the drive as I was passing, but it was in the distance and I didn’t recognise him. And with regard to this…this man being dead,
if they were going to kill him they would have done it before now I should imagine, not trussed him up and brought him here…And there’s another thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, there’s no news in the paper about anybody being kidnapped or anything like that. You sometimes hear of people being kidnapped and held to ransom for money, but it’s always in the papers. I went to the village and got this morning’s paper for Father and there was no headlines to that effect. What I should do now is to take you down to the village to see Constable Samson, but what he would do immediately would be to come back and see your granda to confirm what you’d said, and then…well, we know what would happen after that, don’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was small. ‘So…so what are you going to do?’

  She knew he had turned from her and was thinking; and when he turned to her again he said, ‘I know how to get into the grounds from yon side. I’ve come up into the stable yard many a time that way. I could have a look into the outhouse because if the owner, Mr Aimsford, expects visitors like Lord and Lady Committy then they would never have taken the man into the house. But still…’ He paused, and she knew he was pondering on something and so she said, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, if it’s not in the papers about a man being missing, who can he be? Perhaps he’s of no importance except…well, he could be one of their own men, somebody that had done them down in some way.’

  ‘Would that stop you letting him loose?’

  Again he paused before answering, and then he said, ‘No, no, I suppose not.’ And he added, ‘I wish Father was in.’

  ‘Has he gone to the village?’

  His bark made her start when he cried, ‘No, he hasn’t! He hasn’t been to the village for days.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, I wasn’t meaning anything, I didn’t mean the pub, I just meant had he…had he taken some eggs and vegetables in, or something like that? You needn’t go down me throat.’

  ‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

  ‘Anyway, I don’t see why you get so het up about your da takin’ a drop, ’cos he’s a nice man.’

  ‘He’d be a nicer if he kept sober.’

  ‘Eeh! You are like me granda in some ways, John. But don’t let us fight, not until you see where that man is.’

  She heard him drawing in a long breath and letting it out before saying, ‘Well, come on. If we intend to push our noses into somebody else’s affairs we’d better do it before I start doubting again…’

  Ten minutes later they passed the gates of the drive that led up to the old manor house, but it wasn’t until they were well past that John said under his breath, ‘There’s nobody about as far as I can see.’

  They had gone some distance farther along the road when he said, ‘Come on, you’ve got to jump a ditch here and go along by the boundary fence, or what they call a fence, for there’s hardly any of it left standing. Farmer Pollock’s cattle have trampled it down in parts.’

  After she had jumped the ditch she held on to him tightly until he stopped walking when, putting his lips close to her ear, he said, ‘Now don’t say anything, not a word unless I speak to you. Do you hear?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And if I hear anything and want to bring you to a quick stop I’ll squeeze your hand. But then, with your ears you’ll likely hear sounds before I do, so if you want to draw my attention, press my hand twice, like this.’ He demonstrated.

  ‘All right.’ Her whisper held a tremor, but it was more of apprehension than excitement.

  Now he was leading her through a winding path and every now and again the brambles that he parted sprang back and hit her, and more than once she was for shouting out. Then they were in the clear again; and now his lips were near her ear, saying, ‘I can see the entrance to the courtyard. I think you’d better stay here until I go and have a look.’

  ‘No, no! Please take me with you; I’ll be more frightened here.’

  ‘But if anyone sees me, I’ve got to run for it.’

  ‘I can run an’ all.’

  ‘You won’t be able to run through the thicket and I might have to make a dash for it. Now look, I’ll explain where you are. You’re standing with your back to a young birch tree, and right opposite to you is the arch leading into the courtyard. Now don’t move from there until I get back.’

  ‘Oh John!’

  ‘Never mind “oh John”; now do what I tell you.’

  ‘Be careful.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be careful; I don’t want to be trussed up an’ all.’

  She knew he was smiling at her but she didn’t smile back Then she heard his footsteps going softly over the grass, and when she could hear them no longer she knew he had gone through the arch.

  From the moment she realised she was alone she told herself to count the seconds and that’s how she’d know how long he had been away.

  She had just finished counting sixty for the fifth time when she heard a yell and a voice cry, ‘Leave me a—!’ The rest was smothered in a scuffling of feet on the stone yard. When this sound continued and was intermingled with grunts and broken words, she left the tree and rushed towards the opening, calling, ‘John! John!’ and as she did so a voice cried, ‘My God! There’s another of ’em.’ She turned about and made to scramble back towards the tree, but found herself plunging blindly into the undergrowth.

  At the same time as a bramble branch caught her fully across the face two hands gripped her shoulders and heaved her backwards, and when she yelled a hand was placed tightly across her mouth, and she felt she was going to choke. Now she used her arms and her legs and she clawed and kicked at the man who was holding her to such purpose that when he had managed to pin her arms he called throatily between curses to someone to come and hold her legs.

  Now she felt herself being lifted up bodily; hands were gripping her ankles, another hand was encompassing her wrists, while yet another still pressed tightly against her mouth.

  She was being carried through the yard; and then the throaty voice of the man who had his hand across her mouth called to someone, ‘Where’s boss?’ and a voice from the distance came in what was almost an undertone, saying, ‘The room cellar.’

  A few minutes later she felt herself being carried through an enclosed place; then she knew they were taking her head first down some steps. At the bottom, when she became horizontal again, a voice said, ‘Let her go.’

  ‘What if she screams?’

  ‘She could scream her head off down here and nobody would hear her, not at this end.’

  When she hit the ground none too gently she lay still, panting, making no movement.

  Presently, the first voice said, ‘What about the lad? Have you knocked him out completely?’

  ‘He’ll survive…Bloody kids! Last thing one would expect to happen. The whole bloody police force, aye, but not kids. And one of them as blind as a bat!’

  ‘Shut your mouth! You talk too much.’

  ‘Talk too much? If I hadn’t caught him we might have been talkin’ to a bleeding judge shortly. Nothin’s gone right with this lot, nothin’.’

  ‘Will you shut up? If the boss hears you, nothin’ll go right for you. You know that, don’t you? You’re a damn fool. Go on, get up!’

  The voices faded away. There was the sound in the distance of a door clanging closed, then quiet blackness and deep silence all around her. She was used to the blackness but the silence was heavy and frightening. Her voice was a mere whimper as she said tentatively, ‘John.’ Then again ‘John!’

  When there was no answer, she turned onto her hands and knees and began to grope around her. One thing was evident straight away, the stone floor was very dusty and it was cold.

  Her voice now was louder and threaded with panic as she called, ‘John! John! Are you there? John! John! Where are you?’ She had come up against an obstruction, not one but many. Her fingers, moving swiftly, made them out to be boxes, small boxes, big boxes, different shaped boxes. She turned and rested her back a
gainst one and began to whimper, ‘Oh John! Oh Granda! Oh dear me! Oh dear me!’

  It was just as real panic was about to rise in her that she heard the slight rustle. It was to the right of her and she turned her head eagerly in its direction. When it came again and was followed by a moan, she scrambled forward, crying loudly, ‘John! John!’

  ‘Oh-my-goodness!’

  As her hands passed over his face, then gripped his shoulders, he pushed her aside and, pulling himself up, said again, ‘Oh-my-goodness!’ and now added, ‘Oh my head!’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No.’ The word was half a groan. ‘No, I’m not all right, it’s my head.’

  When her fingers moved over his head he winced and said, ‘Oh! Careful.’

  ‘There’s a big bump on it, they must have hit you with something hard.’

  ‘I’ll say they did. Is it bleeding?’

  Her fingers went tentatively through his hair and she said, ‘It isn’t wet.’

  ‘It feels as if it’s been split in two…Where are we anyway? It’s…it’s dark…black.’

  When she detected a slight note of panic in his voice she said, ‘It’s all right; I…I can find me way around in the dark, so stay still and I’ll go and—’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ He thrust her aside and stood up, saying, ‘There must be a window, there must be light of some kind.’

  She heard him moving forward, only to exclaim loudly as he stumbled over the boxes, and she cried at him, ‘I told you, I told you. You won’t be able to find your way if it’s dark. Put your hands out when you’re walking.’

  ‘I had them out.’

  ‘Ssh! Listen!’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s…there’s somebody coming; I heard a door opening in the distance.’

  He cocked his head from one side to the other but heard nothing for a moment; in fact he heard no noise whatsoever until the sound of a key grating in a lock came to him, and then the further sound of a door opening, a door that he guessed was little used if the grating of the hinges was anything to go by. Then he was gazing upwards to the top of a long flight of stone steps and to the figure of a man who appeared faceless in the light of the candle he was holding aloft.