‘Kaa-tee.’ He turned swiftly from her. ‘I’ve got to go to the yard.’ He was in the hall now, and she followed him, her voice high, crying, ‘You’ll not go to the yard, you won’t.’
‘I’m going to the yard, Kaa-tee.’
They were standing facing each other at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
‘To the yard? Don’t be silly. What’ll they think, a woman coming into the yard to see if her man’s got a ship!’
‘Andy, I’m coming with you; I can stay outside. I’ve…I’ve never looked round Jarrow, not for a long time, not the new parts.’
‘And you want to look round Jarrow on a day like this with the wind cutting you in two? And it’s freezing under foot.’
‘I want to come with you, Andy.’
‘Kaa-tee, this has got to stop.’
‘I want to come with you, Andy.’
He dropped his head before her. Then, turning slowly away, he said, ‘Very well, you come.’ Then, as quickly turning towards her again, he added, But there’s one thing you’ve got to remember, Kaa-tee; you won’t always be able to check my movements. You might know my goings-out, but not my comings-in; tides vary. Let me go alone, Kaa-tee.’
‘No, no.’ She flung herself at him now. ‘No, Andy, I beg you. Haven’t I gone through enough? I’ve known this was going to happen. For years I’ve felt it coming, dreading me da’s pattern repeated. Andy, I can’t bear it. Let him be; he’ll rot in his own evil juice. It doesn’t matter what he said to me, or how he treated me. Anyway, Mr Hewitt was exaggerating. He was, he was. He shouldn’t have gone over it. He had no right to tell you, it’s just egging you on. I’m surprised at him. I am. I am. Nothing matters, Andy, only that you don’t go back there.’
‘Who said I was going there, anyway? Calm yourself, calm yourself, and if you’re coming get your things on. Wrap up well, because it’s going to be a cold business looking around Jarrow…’
The house became strangely quiet, and ten minutes later, when the front door closed on them, Theresa moved from the door and back to her couch and, sitting on the edge of it, stared ahead into the bright fire. After some time she turned and looked around the room, her eyes picking out each piece of furniture, each knick-knack; then, reaching out, she pressed down an enamel handle attached to the bell.
She so very rarely rang for Betty that when she did Betty answered her summons with alacrity, and now she came in without knocking, saying, ‘Yes, Miss Theresa? You all right?’
‘Yes, Betty, I’m all right. Come in. Come here.’
When Betty was standing before her, Theresa looked up at her and said, ‘Will you do something for me, Betty?’
‘Aye. Yes, anything you say, miss. Just you say. Do you want a custard made?’
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Theresa shook her head and smiled weakly. Then, putting out her hand and grasping Betty’s, she said, ‘I want you to go to the livery stables and get me a coach.’
‘You what, Miss Theresa?’
‘A coach, Betty. I want to go for a drive.’
‘The day! Like this? Freezin’! Eeh no, Miss Theresa.’ Betty paused. ‘Ma’am would knock me into the middle of next week if I did any such thing. You go out alone? What’s come over you? An’ you been real poorly this week.’
‘Betty. Betty, listen to me. You don’t want anything to happen to separate Katie’—she used the Christian name now, not saying Mrs Fraenkel as she usually did when speaking to the maid—‘from the captain. Do you?’
‘Separate…? No, miss. Oh no! My God, that would be a tragedy.’
‘Well then, you must do what I tell you. Go to the stables and ask for a coach to be sent here immediately. I would like Mr Weir if possible, but it’s not important. If he isn’t available anyone else will do, but you must hurry.’
‘But how you goin’ to manage a ride on your own? You’re in no fit state to get off the couch on your own, never mind go out. And where you goin’?’
‘I’ll tell you all that later. But now I’m relying on you to help me. And it’s for Katie’s sake, remember that, and the captain’s.’
Betty stood upright and looked down on the figure which, as she said to herself, looked like a clothes-prop with clothes on. Miss Theresa was bad, she had a wonky heart, she should never go out by herself. Oh, she wished Katie was back. But she hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes. She said now, with what authority she could muster, ‘I don’t think you’d better do it, miss.’
‘Betty.’ Theresa’s voice sounded stern, different from the one Betty was used to hearing. ‘If you don’t do as I say I’ll walk to the stables. Go now. I’ll be ready when you come back.’
‘Yes, miss. All right, miss. But…but you’ll tell Katie that you sort of insisted, won’t you?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Theresa nodded at her. ‘It’ll be all right with Katie. Katie will thank you until her dying day.’
‘Well, I hope so, miss.’ Betty smiled wryly, then went out of the room, and as she went down the stairs she added to herself, ‘I doubt it. She’ll likely give it me in the neck; but what can I do, ’cos if I don’t get her one she’ll do as she says an’ walk. She means it, she does.’
Chapter Seven
It was eight o’clock the same evening and Katie was seated at one side of Theresa’s bed, Andrée at the other. The hair on Andrée’s cheeks was wet and the startling blue of his eyes was dimmed. He could only see Theresa’s face through a mist, but he held her thin hand firmly between his, and the feeling in his body at this moment was for her alone, and it transcended any other feeling he had experienced in his life, even his love for Katie. ‘Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.’ And that is what she had done. Dying, she had not wasted her last hours; she had laid down her life for her friend, Kaa-tee, and, yes, for him. Ah, yes, for him. For if she hadn’t done it he certainly would. Perhaps he mightn’t have gone so far as she had, he might have just used his fists, but he would have left his mark on that man some time or other and to hell with the consequences.
Katie, with Theresa’s other hand in hers, was beyond tears. She could not take in what had happened; she knew that if she started to cry she would never stop. There would be a time for crying, but it wasn’t now, because Theresa’s life was running out fast. Through their long acquaintance her feelings towards Theresa had varied from liking to hate—liking because she was kind, hate because she was a Rosier—and somewhere in between there had been a feeling of revulsion. But strong among her feeling had been compassion. Yet she knew that her compassion for Theresa had never been as great as Andrée’s, and that was strange. And now Theresa had given her life to save Andrée for her, and for that she loved her at last.
There was a movement behind her, and she turned her head and again became concerned at the nearness of the policeman sitting by the door. Why couldn’t they let her die in peace? But she was dying in peace. The love in her fading gaze, the calmness of her face, spoke of peace as she waited for her slowing heartbeats to cease…
Down in the kitchen was another policeman. He sat at the table, opposite Betty, who was beating her fist on the board and saying for the hundredth time in the last few hours, ‘If only I hadn’t gone and got that cab!’
‘But you did,’ said the policeman flatly, ‘and if I were you I’d forget about it.’
‘It’s all right you sitting there and sayin’ that ’cos it doesn’t concern you really, but I went an’ got her the cab.’
‘But you said if you hadn’t gone and got it she would have walked down to the stables herself.’
‘She would have never reached the stables in her condition…I should have known.’
‘She reached Greenwall Manor all right,’ said the policeman, jerking his chin upwards. ‘By, I’ve come across some funny cases in me time, but the day’s beats all. What did she want to shoot her brother for? She hadn’t seen him for over fourteen years. Gettin’ o
ut of bed, where she’s been bad for months, an’ going shootin’ him, it doesn’t make sense.
‘There she was, sittin’ as cool as a cucumber and him lying there, not a couple of yards away from her, swimming in blood, an’ his wife standin’ in the doorway with the butler next to her, an’ a gardener bloke. All like waxworks they were. I don’t think one of them had been near to see if he was dead or not. An’ when we saw him there didn’t seem much doubt about it, the side of his face all mangled, and his hand shattered. God, he looked a mess! She had aimed full belt at his face, that was evident. An’, you know, the cook there, she said a funny thing to me on the side when we was waitin’ for the maria comin’ to bring her down. She said she was crossin’ the hall when she saw her coming in.’ He nodded towards the ceiling. ‘An’, she said, she stood like a stook because it was all of fourteen years since she’d seen her, an’ the last time she’d been in the house there’d been fireworks, an’ she said she saw her speak to the butler chap, then leave him and walk into the gunroom. And when she came out she had one hand in the breast of her coat, an’ she walked straight past him an’ he didn’t do nowt to stop her…An’ another funny thing that cook said—she said her mistress was halfway up the stairs and she turns and looks down on the woman going into the drawing room but she doesn’t do anything either. She doesn’t come downstairs and ask her what she’s about, she just stands there. And then the cook said she heard this great bang. No raised voices or anything, just a bang. Likely she didn’t give him the chance to open his mouth.’
Betty was leaning across the table now, her joined hands pressed under her double chin. ‘They could have taken the pistol off her, couldn’t they? Couldn’t they? They must have known why she went into the gunroom, mustn’t they? The butler would anyway.’
‘Well, if they had,’ said the policeman calmly, ‘it wouldn’t have made much difference ’cos she intended to get him. Why else would she have had a gully down her skirt waist with an eight-inch steel blade on it as sharp as a razor? She had taken that from here. Oh, she knew what she was about.’
Yes, Theresa had known what she was about—and now she lay looking for the last time at the woman she had loved all her life. Love was a mighty thing, and it was a terrible thing. It had whipped strength into her frail, sick body; it had enabled her to ignore the ties of blood. It had enabled her to kill to save the one she loved. Her life had not been without purpose after all.
Chapter Eight
Bernard Rosier didn’t die. Theresa’s wavering hand, aiming for his breast, had caused the shot to hit the side of his face, taking off his right ear. Her second shot had hit his left hand as he had raised it to his face, shattering it in such a way that it left him with only his index finger and thumb. The newspapers stated that Mrs Noble had committed this outrage while the balance of her mind was disturbed.
Although Andrée wished from the bottom of his heart that Theresa had accomplished what she had set out to do, he realised that the reason underlying her attack had succeeded, for he felt no longer impelled to meet Rosier. Moreover, now that he was severely maimed, the score, as it were, had become even. And so, three months later, when he was first attacked, he did not connect it in any way with Bernard Rosier.
It was late evening when his ship docked on a particular Thursday night, and darkness had fallen when he left her. He was now carrying a leather case, which replaced his sailor’s bag, and he had crossed over a siding and was going in the direction of the gates when from behind a wagon two figures pounced on him. As the burning pain from a blow with something hard pierced his left shoulder he dropped his case and swung up his free fist and rammed it blindly home. Again and again his fist found its target, until another blinding pain on the back of his head brought him toppling down to the ground. The blow didn’t knock him out, only dazed him, and after a moment he got to his knees and then to his feet; and, picking up his case, he stumbled back to his ship, where he attended to his bruises and cleaned up before going home.
He had reported the matter to the dock police, stating that he thought his assailants had been after his wallet but that they had gone away empty-handed.
Although he did think that his attackers had simply been after his money, he did not tell Katie he had been set upon, for he gathered that in her state of mind she would jump to conclusions and start worrying all over again. The explanation for his bruised shoulder and the cut on the back of his head he gave as slipping off the iron ladder and falling some distance into the hold, and to this explanation he had added he was lucky he hadn’t killed himself, and he was satisfied she believed him.
It was a month later, and incidentally the first time he had left his ship in the dark since the night he had been attacked, and, on the supposition that lightning never strikes in the same place twice, he took the same road to the gate, and almost at the very spot it happened again, but this time there were more than two assailants.
It seemed at first he was combating a battalion of them and as he opened his mouth to curse a fistful of dirt was rammed deep into it. This outrage brought his stomach heaving, and he reared like an angry giant and tossed the bodies from him, and, his hand coming in contact with another that held an iron pipe, he wrenched it away and flayed wildly left and right with it, all the while spluttering and spitting.
And then he was alone, leaning, gasping, against the wagon. At least he thought he was alone, until he heard a moan coming from almost at his feet. Groping over the body until he found the coat collar, he hauled the man upwards, and pushing him forward through the darkness he staggered, like someone paralytic drunk assisting another in the same condition, back to the ship, spitting all the way.
When he was some distance from the quayside he bellowed out, ‘Mr Naylor! Ahoy there, Mr Naylor!’ Then, ‘Cullen! Cullen!’
‘Aye, Captain.’ The voice of the donkeyman who acted as watchman came back to him first, followed by that of the first mate, a Hartlepool man who was sleeping aboard that night. ‘That you, Captain? What’s up?’
‘Come down here.’
When the two men came to Andrée’s side he thrust the drooping figure towards them, saying, ‘Get him aboard.’
‘God Almighty!’ said the mate, peering at Andrée. ‘What’s happened to you, sir?’
To this Andrée answered nothing, but, pulling himself up the gangway, said, ‘Keep a watch on him, Cullen.’
‘Aye, Captain,’ said Cullen, then added, ‘do you want me to pepper him?’
‘No,’ said Andrée. ‘If there’s any peppering to do I’ll see to it; just see he doesn’t get away.’
‘Aye, Captain.’
In Andrée’s cabin Mr Naylor closed the door and, looking close at Andrée, said, ‘That eye, sir; it should have a stitch.’
‘I’ll see to that. later.’ Andrée spat a mouthful of water into the sink, then said, ‘Will you get me a clean rig, Mr Naylor? I can’t touch anything, I’m muck from head to foot.’
When he had stripped to the skin he examined his body. His shin bone was raw and bleeding and a swelling was starting in his groin where a heavy boot had contacted him; also, the mate pointed out, there was a large bruise on his shoulder. ‘Shall I call the pollis, sir?’ said Mr Naylor.
‘No, not yet; perhaps later.’ Andrée was now seeing to the cut above his eye.
‘How many were there, sir?’
‘Well…’ He paused to consider. ‘It seemed as if there was a regiment of them, and all dumb, because there wasn’t a whimper from one of them. But I should say four or five.’
‘But why? Have you any idea, sir?’
It was some time before Andrée answered. He was pulling on a clean vest when he said, ‘Yes, Mr Naylor, I think I’ve got an idea, but I’ll know more in a few minutes.’
‘Well, whoever they are they’re a dirty lot of buggers,’ said the mate. ‘To be set upon is one thing, but to ram filth into your mouth is another. I’d like to get me hands on the swine. By God, I would!’
‘And so would I, Mr Naylor,’ said Andrée.
A few minutes later they were down in the engine room staring at the shivering creature who stood with his back tight against an iron girder, and he looked from the great bearded man to the thickset man in the blue uniform, then to the burly, aggressive-looking greaser, and his head began to wobble and his mouth open and close, but no words came from him.
‘What were you after?’
When Andrée spoke the man’s head stopped shaking for a moment; then his mouth made a fishlike movement and he muttered, ‘Nowt. Nowt.’
‘Money?’
The head was wagging again.
‘Answer the captain when he speaks to yer!’ The stoker’s boot was thrust out and the man jerked sideways and gabbled, ‘It wasn’t money, it wasn’t. It was nowt. Nowt.’
‘How many were there of you?’
The man peered at Andrée now and whimpered, ‘Four. Four blokes.’
‘Who were they? Their names?’
The head was swinging again, and again the stoker’s boot came out, and the man yelped loudly, and, cringing, spluttered, ‘Honest. Honest, I only knew one, a bloke that I met in a bar. His name is Harry.’
‘Harry what?’
‘Honest, Captain, I don’t know.’
‘The other two?’
‘I only knew one was from Wallsend an’ the other from Shields. The…the Shields bloke seemed the boss.’
‘What reason had they for setting about me?’
‘I don’t rightly know. Honest to God, mister…’
‘Captain!’
‘That’s enough, Cullen.’ Andrée put his hand out in a checking movement towards the stoker and, nodding to the man, said, ‘You’d better tell me all you know. If you value your hide, you will start to talk, and fast.’
The man began to talk, but incoherently for a moment or so; then, slowly, he said, ‘But I tell you…I tell you I don’t know. It sounded all sixes and sevens to us. These blokes, these two, they took Harry and me in and stood us a pint, an’ then another, an’ they asked us did we want a quid. As I’ve only worked three months in the year, I said…’ His head now dropped and he muttered, ‘I said, laughin’ like, I’d murder for a quid. An’ that was how it started. I didn’t know it was gonna be this. They said they were gonna beat up a sailor fellow who had taken a bloke’s sister down, and the bloke would pay well if this fellow…’ Again his head was wagging. ‘If this fellow was skinned like.’
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