‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ He was all clumsy contrition. ‘I should have thought, I should have put more milk in it. Look, I’ll pour it in the saucer.’ But when he put the tea in the saucer she couldn’t swallow it and it ran down the side of her mouth and over the dried blood and onto her dress.
‘Rosie.’ He hovered above her. ‘Look, you’re in a bad way. ‘I’ll…I’ll have to get a doctor. There’s one just lives two streets away. If I slip out now I’ll catch him afore he finishes his surgery. Look, I’ll go now, I won’t be five minutes. Lie quiet now. All right?’
When she made no move he turned from her and hurried through the shop, just as he was, without cap, coat or muffler, and, locking the door, he pelted down the hill, across the road, and didn’t stop until he reached the doctor’s surgery…
‘A young girl been beaten up?’ said the doctor. ‘By whom?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Funny.’ The doctor didn’t say this but his look said it for him. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’ He left Hughie, and when he returned carrying a bag, he said, ‘We’ll go now,’ and led the way to his car. A few minutes later he was looking down at Rosie.
‘How did this happen?’ he asked her gently.
She made no effort to answer, just an almost imperceptible movement with her head. His hands were tender as he touched her face, and his voice was equally so as he said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go to hospital, my dear.’
She made another movement, and now her eyes turned in Hughie’s direction.
Hughie, too, thought with the doctor that she should go to hospital; that was, until he remembered that Hannah was in hospital…in the mortuary. There was only one hospital in the town. It wasn’t possible that Rosie would be long there before she found out about her mother.
He found himself stammering, ‘I don’t think she wants to go to hos…hospital, doctor. She’ll be all right at her brother’s. If you would just tell me…tell me what to do.’
The doctor moved slowly away from Rosie. He moved into the shop as though he was still walking in the same room, and Hughie followed him.
‘Her lip will have to be stitched inside.’ The doctor looked at Hughie. ‘There’s nothing much can be done to her face, only apply an ointment. That will take time. But she’s suffering from shock, and she should go to hospital.’
Hughie looked down at his own twisting hands, and then he said, ‘Her mother committed suicide this morning, doctor. She was taken to hospital. She,’ he motioned towards the room, ‘she doesn’t know. There was a fight, a…a family row. If she knows what has happened to her mother she’ll blame herself…because, well’—it was difficult for him to say what he had to say—‘well, in a way she was the cause of the…the row…you see?’
‘Yes, yes.’ The doctor’s brows moved upwards. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. She’ll be all right at this brother’s?’
‘Oh, yes, yes. And I’ll be there.’
‘Are you a relation?’
Hughie’s eyes flicked downwards again. ‘No, but I’ve lived in the same house with her since she was born.’
‘Have you any idea how she really came by this?’ The doctor touched his own face. ‘As you said earlier, it looks as if she’s been beaten up. Can you throw any light on it?’
‘No, no.’ Hughie shook his head. ‘Except…well, there’s a man she’s been connected with. He could have done it, but…well, it’s the time factor. I understand she left home after twelve last night. He could have been waiting for her, but I just don’t know. And then there was a woman…she was with her at the club earlier on…’
‘Oh, that isn’t a woman’s work.’ The doctor paused before moving back into the room and said under his breath, ‘If she’ll name who did it, he’s in for a nice quiet stretch.’ He flicked his eyes towards Hughie and his words were scarcely audible as he asked, ‘Was…was she a good girl?’
Hughie returned the doctor’s glance without blinking. ‘Yes,’ he said definitely. ‘Yes.’
The doctor’s brows moved upwards again and then he asked briefly, ‘Good-looking?’
‘Beautiful.’
‘Hmm! Well, let’s hope that this will leave no mark outside or in. But only time will tell that.’
Yes, thought Hughie, as he followed him back in the room, only time would tell that. And then he found himself replying, as it were, to an inner voice, saying, ‘Well, she is a good girl, she is.’
It was odd how the mind worked.
Dennis came slowly out of the bedroom and into the hallway where Florence and Hughie were waiting for him. He looked more shaken now than when he had returned in the early hours of the morning from the hospital. He glanced from Florence to Hughie, then swung his head sideways, and with it held at an angle he passed them and went into the room.
‘Terrible, isn’t it?’ Florence went to his side.
He did not answer her but drew his hand around the back of his neck; then looking up at Hughie who had come to stand in front of him, he said. ‘You know who did it?’
Hughie shook his head. ‘She didn’t say.’
Now Dennis looked from one to the other of them again, and his lips moved, but he didn’t speak until he turned his head towards the window. Then he said, ‘Me mother.’
No exclamation came from either Florence or Hughie, and Dennis said no more. The situation had gone beyond discussion for the moment…
Nor did they bring the topic up during the hours that followed. Dennis related in a somewhat desultory fashion that the lads had been allowed bail and their case adjourned until a week come Monday because of the circumstances of their mother’s death; that Ronnie MacFarlane was still in hospital but would likely be out in a day or two; also that there were a few lines of Stop Press in the Fellburn Observer, which Dennis said would keep the appetites whetted until the full account came out next week. And all the while Rosie lay sleeping in the bedroom. She would sleep, the doctor said, for around twenty-four hours, and this would be the best medicine for her.
It was on Sunday afternoon just as the light was fading that Dennis made a statement which startled Hughie. It was a bold statement, and apropos of nothing that had ever been discussed between them. ‘You’re in love with our Rosie, aren’t you?’ Dennis said.
The question actually brought Hughie out of his chair, and he stood looking down at Dennis while the bones of his jaws moved backwards and forwards; then, he said, ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Look, come off it, Hughie. Don’t stall. If I’m wrong, well, I’m wrong, but it isn’t the day or yesterday that I’ve known how you felt about her; at least,’ he jerked his head, ‘I felt sure I was right. Anyway if I’m wrong about that, well I must be wrong about lots of other things too…But it’s true, isn’t it?’
Hughie turned his back towards Dennis and walked to the window and looked out onto the slush-strewn road.
‘How many other people think they know how I feel?’ he asked in a tight voice.
‘Florence.’
‘And all the lads I suppose?’
‘No. No, it never entered their heads, I’m sure of that…But…but she did.’ Dennis did not say, ‘Me mother.’
‘Yes, she did.’ Hughie inhaled deeply; then turning and coming back towards Dennis he asked, still in a tight, stiff fashion, ‘Well what difference does it make? Why had you to bring it up, Dennis…? It’s no good.’
‘Sit down, man. The trouble with you…’ Dennis nodded rapidly up at Hughie, ‘the trouble with you is you don’t know your own worth, you never have. Sit down.’ He jerked his hand towards the chair, and when Hughie sat down he leant towards him, saying earnestly, ‘Take her away with you, Hughie, take her out of this.’
‘Aw, Dennis, talk sense. Do you think for a moment she’d come with me?’ His voice ended on a high derogatory note.
‘Yes I do, and so does Florence. Women sense these things quicker than men. Florence feels that you’ll have little persuading to do, specially
now.’
Hughie beat his knuckles together as he repeated, ‘Especially now when she’s at a disadvantage, eh? If she did say she would come I’d always know she took it as a last line of escape.’
‘Well you want to help her, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I want to help her.’
‘Then do it just because of that.’
Hughie got to his feet again. ‘She’d never come.’
‘Well, you won’t know until you ask her, will you? And you’ll be in no worse position if she refuses; you were going away on your own, anyway, weren’t you? Don’t you think it’s worth a try…? Think about it, there’s plenty of time.’
‘Do you think so?’ Hughie turned and looked at Dennis over his shoulder. ‘I mean about time, an’ I don’t mean in my case but in hers. I think the quicker she gets away from this town the better, because if she hears about her mother God knows what effect it will have on her.’
‘Well then, there you are.’ Dennis was also on his feet now, but Hughie brushed the conclusion aside with, ‘I’m thinking about arranging for a holiday for her so that she can get away as soon as she gets on her feet. She needn’t know about a thing. It isn’t likely that the lads will come here, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t likely; but don’t you be such a blasted fool, man. And what will happen to her on her own at some guest house or hotel? She wants someone near her who knows all about her. There’s a strong sense of home in Rosie, it’s in all of us; that’s why she came back. I would have done the same in her case; in fact I’ve been doing it for years. Even when I knew there’d be a row as soon as I put my nose in the door, I had to go home every now and again. Rosie will never survive on her own…and I don’t like to think what she will come to if she’s left on her own…you know what I mean, don’t you?’
Hughie made no answer but started to walk about the room again, until Dennis asked, ‘Is there much more to do to the caravan?’
‘I don’t know.’ Hughie paused in his walk. ‘Old Jim’s in bed, I hear…I…I think I’ll take a dander over now and see how far he’s got.’
Dennis nodded at him. ‘Do that,’ he said. ‘And if he’s not up to it I would get somebody else to finish it. The funeral’s on Wednesday…I’d get away before then if you can.’
‘Aw, but…’ Hughie turned, his hand out, protesting, towards Dennis, and Dennis making the same gesture back said, ‘No aw buts. Go on, man, and get that bit settled; and who knows but the rest will fall into place.’
Rosie became fully awake by seven o’clock on the Sunday evening. She was shuddered into awareness by a voice echoing down a long corridor. It was her mother’s voice and she was running away from it. Her shuddering moved the muscles of her face, and the pain brought her hand up sharply to her head. She opened her eyes as wide as she could and saw Hughie sitting by her side.
‘I’ve…I’ve had…an awful dream, Hughie.’
‘You’re awake now; you’re all right, Rosie.’ He took hold of her hand and smoothed it gently.
‘I thought…I thought for a moment she…she was dead.’ Like Dennis, she hadn’t said ‘me ma’. The words came through the misshapen mouth in a whisper. ‘It…it was a terrible dream.’
Hughie’s hand had become still, and with it his whole body, while his pores opened and he began to sweat; and now he said, his voice shaking just the slightest, ‘Don’t let it worry you, it…it was just a dream…How are you feeling?’
She looked at him, then made a small movement with her head. ‘Awful, Hughie,’ she said. ‘Awful. My mouth’s so sore.’
‘That’s the stitches,’ he said. ‘You’ll feel better soon.’
‘Will you stay with me, Hughie?’
‘As long as you want, Rosie.’
And he stayed with her until an hour later when, after another dose of tablets, she went to sleep again…
On the Monday when Florence asked her if she would like to get up for a while she seemed a little taken aback, for she felt she hadn’t the power to move, but with an effort she sat up in a chair.
But on the Tuesday morning she got up and dressed, putting on once again her bloodstained suit. But she did not leave the bedroom. Now she could move her lips a little but the whole of her face felt more painful than ever, and when she caught sight of it in the mirror it was impossible for her to believe that she was looking at herself. She stared at the black, blue and yellow contorted mass, at the shapeless lips and the black gap where her teeth had been, and she said, ‘Oh God! Oh God! How could she?’ Yet hadn’t she always known that her mother was capable of all kinds of cruelty? That was why her lavish generosity towards her had always frightened her. Her mother’s giving had been a kind of insurance which one day she expected to pay off in such a way that the name of Hannah Massey would be enhanced.
If she had come home and told her she was going to have a baby she would have gone mad, but it would have been a controlled madness, for she would have arranged for her to go away until…the disgrace was over. And she would have comforted herself with the thought that ‘her poor innocent child was took down’. Looking back now, Rosie knew that if she had told her mother the real truth Hannah might have wanted to kill her, and she would, without doubt, have told her to get out, but still she would have kept everything under control. The men would have known nothing about it. And when she didn’t come home again Hannah would have declared to her family, ‘Well, that’s daughters for you. You bring them up on the best and then they do well for themselves and don’t want to know you.’
But the unforgivable thing in her mother’s eyes was that her sin had been made public. She had destroyed her, she had said, meaning that she had blown up the ivory tower of eight Brampton Hill.
Florence came into the room now and Rosie, looking at her through the mirror, asked pitifully, ‘What am I going to do, Florence?’
Florence put her arms about her, saying, ‘In a few weeks it’ll be back to normal. The doctor says there won’t be any marks, the split was inside your lip. Don’t cry, my dear, don’t cry. You’re more than welcome to stay with us, you know you are…But…but…’
As she floundered, the sound of a door opening caused her to exclaim, ‘If that’s Hughie I’ll just slip out for a bit of shopping and get back before Dennis comes in. Will you be all right, dear?’ She bent over her.
‘Yes, Florence, thanks.’
‘Now don’t cry, everything will be all right, you’ll see.’
When Florence reached the kitchen Hughie was standing warming his hands over the boiler. He turned at her approach and asked quickly, ‘How is she?’
‘She’s up.’ Florence shook her head. ‘She was at the mirror and I thought she was going to pass out; she’s upset. And who wouldn’t be? How did you find things?’
‘Oh fine; the fellow will be finished the night. Everything’s ready, I can start any time.’
‘I, Hughie?’ Florence repeated. ‘Not we?’
Hughie rubbed his hands over the top of the boiler. ‘I haven’t got the nerve, Florence, and that’s the truth.’
‘But you want to help her, Hughie, don’t you?’
‘Of course; but there’s other ways than asking her to come with me, when…when she’s at this low ebb.’
‘It’s the best thing that could happen to you both, Hughie.’ Florence was standing close to him. ‘You could make her happy, I know you could. And she could make a different man of you. Not’—she put out her hand and touched him—‘not that I want you any different, but you know what I mean, Hughie. Inside, you’d feel different, self-assured…No more timidity.’
‘Oh, I know fine well all about that part of it, Florence.’ He drew his breath in. ‘But it seems like taking advantage of her…’
‘Aw!’ Florence gripped his arm and shook him. ‘You make me wild, Hughie…Well anyway, go on in with her now. I’m going out to do a bit of shopping.’
‘Oh, I’ll run you there…Look.’ He drew her to the kitchen window and pointed. �
�I called at the garage and picked it up. Everything’s in shape.’ He pointed towards the Land Rover out on the road, and Florence said, ‘Good, good. But the shop isn’t ten minutes away.’
‘But you might slip, it’s all slushy.’
‘I never slip. Have I slipped yet? Go on,’ she pushed him and hissed at him, ‘and do something.’
A few minutes later Hughie nervously knocked on the bedroom door, but when he entered the room and saw Rosie sitting by the bed his face brightened, and he said cheerily, ‘Well, that’s more like it…how do you feel?’ Then without waiting for her answer he went on, ‘You’re bound to feel mouldy for some time but you’re up, that’s something.’
When he sat down opposite her she looked at him for a moment before saying, ‘It’s Tuesday today, isn’t it, and you were going yesterday.’
‘Oh, things weren’t quite ready. Old Jim Cullen had rheumatism and couldn’t finish the caravan.’ He smiled.
‘You won’t be going then…not yet awhile?’
‘Well’—he dropped his head to one side and looked towards the floor—‘everything’s ready now. There wasn’t really much to do, and Jim didn’t mind me getting another fellow to finish it. The roads are still a bit slushy but I’ve just got to drive the lot to the airport. I’ve decided to have it taken to the other side by air ferry. Amazing to be able to do that, isn’t it?’ He lifted his head and glanced at her as if to confirm that she agreed with him on the wonders of aviation.
She was staring fixedly at him through the swollen narrow slits of her eyes. ‘When are you going?’ she asked.
‘Well…well…’ He had his hands joined and was rubbing the palms together. ‘Well I could leave tomorrow, but you’ve got to give a little notice for the plane and things, you know.’ He nodded at her. ‘I’m going to phone the night; I just may be lucky and get a booking.’
‘I’m…I’m going to miss you, Hughie.’
He did not say, ‘I’ll miss you, too,’ but said in a small voice, ‘Will you, Rosie?’
Hannah Massey Page 22