The Wingless Bird

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Your…your mother wasn’t like that at all. She…she didn’t mean it.’ Agnes inclined her head towards her mother. ‘It’s just a word people use when they are angry or hurt, and…and Mother’s been hurt. Yes, she has, Jessie. When you know the whole story perhaps you’ll understand this too.’

  Jessie now screwed up her eyes as if she were peering at Agnes and she said, ‘By, you’ve changed your tune!’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I have, because now I know all the facts. Father…well he wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t a nice man, Jessie. He wasn’t a good man, and he was mean in lots of ways.’

  ‘Mean?’

  ‘Yes, mean; but never to you. He loved you and only you. You’ve got to remember that.’

  ‘Well, who did he leave all his money to, the shops and everything else?’

  Agnes drew in a long breath: ‘He left it all to me,’ she said; ‘but he was sorry he did, so I think. That’s one of the reasons why he shot me…that and my helping you to escape.’

  ‘He left it all to you? Everything?’

  ‘Yes, everything.’

  ‘Nothing to—’ She turned and looked towards Alice.

  ‘No; nothing to Mother. Nothing to you.’

  ‘Well, well! So you’ve fallen on your feet. But then’—her voice changed—‘I don’t mind; you worked for it.’ She now looked from the one to the other, then said, ‘Well, I’ll be going. And don’t worry, we won’t trouble you again.’

  She was hardly out of the door before Agnes cried, ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Mother. You shouldn’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It came out; it had to come out some time.’

  ‘I’m going to let them have the house.’

  Alice’s head jerked up. ‘Right on our doorstep? You know what that’ll mean: his lot will be there and…’

  ‘That can’t be helped. She’s got to have some place to live, and the child coming.’

  ‘Well…well, you’re the boss.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother, but I must do this.’ And she hastened out and ran into Jessie and Robbie as they were about to go down the stairs, and she said, ‘Come back a minute. Come into the sitting room.’

  ‘What for?’ Jessie asked abruptly.

  ‘Well, you won’t know until I tell you, will you?’ It was the old Agnes talking; and so Jessie followed her, and Robbie followed Jessie. And then they were facing each other in the room again with Agnes saying quietly, ‘You may go into the house. It hasn’t been cleaned since the couple left over a week ago, or the bed changed. But you know where the things are.’

  Jessie remained silent, her head deep onto her chest now; it was Robbie who said, ‘Thanks. But I don’t want it for nothin’. I’ll pay the rent.’

  Looking into the young man’s stiff face, Agnes said, ‘There’ll be no need for that. Jessie is my sister; I’ll always see to her needs…’

  ‘I don’t want you to see to her needs, miss. I’m the one who’ll see to her needs in the future. I married her, didn’t I? Well, I’ll keep her. It mightn’t be on the lines she was kept here but, nevertheless, she’s mine and I’ll look after her. I thank you for helping us out now. At a pinch I could have taken her back to me mother’s; but as I see it, that’s no place for her.’

  Jessie’s head was up now; she was looking straight at Agnes and the expression on her face seemed to be saying, ‘You see, I’ve got somebody to look after me, and I’m proud of him.’

  Agnes read the expression and her own thoughts were: Yes, whatever he is, he’ll look after her. He may not ever be able to give her much materially but what he is giving her is worth more than money. And she made a promise to herself then concerning them both.

  Her voice was soft now as she said, ‘Go on and get yourselves across and settled in. I’ll see you later.’

  As she went to turn away Jessie stopped and, putting out her hand and touching Agnes’, she said, ‘Thanks, Aggie, thanks. And Robbie will do as he says, he’ll pay…’

  ‘Be quiet, will you! Go on, as I said, get settled in. In the meantime I’ll fill up some stuff from the larder to give you a start. And perhaps you…Robbie’—she had hesitated on his name—‘will come and pick it up…Well,’ she added with a smile, ‘I can’t carry anything with this.’ She indicated the sling.

  They stared at her. It was as if they were both intending to say something but changed their minds; then they turned from her and went out.

  When Agnes entered the kitchen her mother was sitting by the table and tapping her fingers on it in a rhythmical movement, as if she were playing on an instrument. She didn’t speak; not until she saw Agnes go and open the pantry door and stand looking in, when she said, ‘That’s it, lass, clear the shelves to give them a start! I only hope in the future your back will be broad enough to bear the burden of letting the Feltons into this house.’

  ‘The Feltons aren’t coming into this house, Mother. There’s one at yon side of the yard and if I know anything he’s got the same opinion of us as we have of him and his family. And you know something? I think Jessie could have travelled further and fared worse.’

  ‘I couldn’t see how much worse she could get in this town than marrying a Felton.’

  ‘I would have agreed with you at one time but not now. Either way, we don’t want any more of this veal pie, do we? And may I have one of your fresh loaves?’

  ‘Why ask me! It’s all yours.’ As she spoke Alice rose slowly from the table, only to give a start as Agnes yelled at her: ‘That’s enough of that, Mother! I’ve told you. Now, no more of it. We are partners, we are going to share and share alike. I’ve told you. And if I want to share my share with Jessie then I’ll do it.’ But then more quietly, she added, ‘And just think, Mother, just think, if things hadn’t gone the way they have, it would be Jessie ruling the roost here now, because he would have left everything to her. Oh, yes, I know that; in fact, the solicitor hinted as much. You would certainly have been out. After that row he made it his business the very next day to alter his will. I understand that in the original will I was left a mere pittance with certain conditions attached; I was to carry on running the shops and the factory because his Jessie hadn’t to dirty her hands with such menial tasks. Now, just think on it, Mother, and let us be grateful. Yes, I say that, let us be grateful for the way things have turned out. No matter what happens from now on to either of us, we are both comfortable for life. So, don’t begrudge her something that would have been all hers if she hadn’t fallen in love with one of the despised Feltons. Come on now, Mother, and help me fill a basket to give them a start.’

  Two

  ‘What’s to be done, Hugh?’

  ‘I don’t know, my dear, I just don’t know.’

  ‘He can’t go through with this, can he?’

  ‘No. No, of course not.’

  ‘You must talk to him.’

  ‘Yes, I certainly shall. Oh, yes, I certainly shall. Where is he now?’

  ‘He went back into the town. He said he couldn’t wait for your return; he said he would talk to you later. He had to take a column or something to a newspaper. I have made it my business to send a wire to Reginald to ask him if he could get leave…’

  ‘Oh my dear, why did you do that now?’

  ‘Well, he has met her, apparently, and Charles says he has a good opinion of her. I understand they all had tea together and he wanted to emphasise that she wasn’t a shop-girl. I have nothing against shop-girls. You know that, dear, don’t you? I’m very wide in my outlook; but as I said to Charles, if she serves in the shop and in the tobacconist’s then she is a shop-girl, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, my dear, yes. I should say she is.’

  ‘Do you know Spring Street in Newcastle?’

  The Colonel screwed up his face, then said, ‘Yes. Yes, my dear, I think so. It’s a little side street. And you remember, Elaine said that I took her and Charles there years ago when they were tiny and bought both of them sugar mice, and there was quite a nice little cigar shop n
ext door. An old man used to run it, knew quite a lot about cigars. There was one particular…’

  ‘Hugh! Please, pay attention. We are talking about Charles’ future, not about your taste in cigars.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I’m sorry. It’s a serious business, I admit, and something must be done.’

  ‘And then there’s dear Isobel; what is she going to think? Fred and Hannah have their hearts set on her marrying Charles. It’s been an understood thing.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, I don’t think Isobel will take it too hard; she has her horses.’

  ‘She can’t marry a horse, Hugh. And as I said, there is Fred and Hannah. They always thought that Charles would make a match with Isobel.’

  ‘Well, Pickering’s a fool. He’s to blame for Isobel’s mania for horses. I don’t know how he’s had time to father three children. David was sensible; he took after his mother and got married. And so was Rosina. Well, I mean, she isn’t married but she’s left home, hasn’t she? Gone into business of some sort. Always a bit odd, was Rosina. Art, I think she took up, wasn’t it? Oh, I shouldn’t worry, my dear, about Isobel.’

  ‘Hugh, dear, I’m not worrying so much about Isobel as I’m worrying about Charles and his choice of a wife. He told me plainly that he intends to marry this girl. It has to be stopped. You can see that, dear, it has to be stopped.’

  ‘I’ll have a talk with him.’

  ‘Hugh.’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘Why don’t you go down yourself and…and see this person, this girl; get an opinion of her?’

  ‘Me, dear? I can’t interfere.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to interfere. You could go in for some cigars or something.’

  ‘But if she’s not serving in the shop?’

  ‘Then you could ask to have a word with her. As Charles’ father you’d be entitled to do such a thing, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Grace, you’re asking something now.’ The Colonel got to his feet and began to pace the room. He walked as far as the high window set in a deep stone alcove at one end of the room, then marched down between the chairs, small tables and couch to the far end, and when he reached the door he muttered, ‘Going for a stroll, dear…think about it,’ and went out.

  Grace Farrier rose from the couch and began to pace the room, but not to the same extent as her husband, just backwards and forwards over the length of the hearthrug.

  A shop-girl in the family; it was unthinkable. Personally, she had nothing against shop-girls in their place, but to marry her son? Oh no, no. That wasn’t to be tolerated. It must be put a stop to. And what would Kate and Howard Combes think? And their daughter Frances, just married into one of the top Scottish families, who had strong connections in London. And Sarah and Laurence Hammond, and their son, Roger, so high up in the Church. And then there were the servants.

  Oh, dear me, what would Mitcham think? She had been housekeeper for years, had maided her when necessary. And the Colemans: Fanny had cooked in the kitchen for the last twenty years, and John had been with them from a boy and risen to be coachman. But then they didn’t really matter so much as Banks. Banks had been the Colonel’s batman for thirty years and had taken to buttling when the Colonel retired. And McCann, he was not only footman but an all-round man, and so polite.

  In her walking to and fro she hadn’t touched on any of the outside workers except Coleman; but then there was the stable man, the stable boy, the yard lad, and the gardeners. However, their opinions weren’t to be considered as were those of the indoor staff. She stopped. Had she ever considered the opinion of her indoor staff before?

  No, because until now there had been no reason; they had all had something to look up to: her eldest son a captain in the army; her second son a minister of the church—no matter how lightly he took his position he was, nevertheless, a minister of the church. And there was Elaine. She had married into one of the top county families…But what if Charles married a shop-girl?

  It must not be. It simply must not be. Apart from everything else there was her own side of the family: her two cousins, members of Parliament, her half-cousin in the Royal household; and then a brother so highly thought of there was talk of a title; and not just because of his armaments.

  No, this thing must not come about. Definitely not.

  Reginald arrived during the evening. He took a taxicab from Fellburn station to The Hall and surprised Mary Mitcham, the housekeeper. ‘Why, we didn’t expect you, Mr Reginald,’ she said. ‘The Colonel and Madam are just finishing dinner, but I can get you something.’

  ‘That would be nice, Mitcham,’ he said to her as he took off his coat and cap and threw them over a hall chair. ‘But just put it on a tray.’

  ‘Very good, sir. Very good.’

  When he entered the dining room George Banks, who was alone serving at the table, turned and said, ‘Oh, good evening, sir.’ And his father exclaimed, ‘Hello there. Hello.’

  Reginald went first to his mother, kissed her on the cheek, then said, ‘What’s all this about?’ only to be given a warning glance, after which she said, ‘Have you had dinner? No, of course you won’t have. Banks…’

  ‘I’ve just seen Mitcham. She’s getting me a tray. It’s all right, Banks.’

  ‘Are we having coffee in the drawing room, dear?’ now asked the Colonel, and to this she replied, ‘Yes, dear, yes. Banks will see to it.’

  Reginald gave his mother his hand to assist her from the chair; then the three of them walked slowly out, chatting as they made their way to the drawing room.

  As the door closed after them, Reginald asked again, ‘What is it? What’s happened? I’ve only got twenty-four hours.’

  ‘It’s Charles, Reginald. Charles. He’s acting silly.’

  ‘Charles, acting silly? What d’you mean?’

  His parents were both seated now, and he stood between them looking from one to the other, and his gaze coming to rest on his father caused the Colonel to move uneasily in his chair and say, ‘Some girl, shop-girl. He…he says he’s going to marry her.’

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ Now he was looking at his mother. ‘And is that what you’ve brought me helter-skelter here for, Mama?’

  ‘It’s a very important issue, Reginald. You are the only other one who has met this person.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Elaine saw her.’

  ‘Yes, but Elaine didn’t have a conversation with her. I understood you took tea with her. Now we want to know your opinion, don’t we, dear?’ She now leant towards her husband, and the Colonel, his finger now dividing his short white moustache by stroking it to each side, said, ‘Well, it would be helpful.’

  Reginald sat down, but instead of answering his parents, he sat looking towards the fire. It was his mother’s saying, ‘Is she that awful?’ that caused him to turn quickly to her and answer, ‘Not at all! She’s anything but awful. A highly intelligent girl, if you want my opinion, very presentable, very presentable indeed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Grace Farrier raised her eyebrows, looked at her husband, then back at her son before she remarked, ‘She seems to have impressed you too.’

  ‘Well, she did inasmuch as she didn’t talk about horses, dresses, balls, or the London season, or how boring the North was.’

  ‘You were impressed.’ His mother’s tone was cool.

  ‘Well, Mama, you asked for my impression and all I can say is that in the short time we were together I found her good company, with a pleasing personality. I can understand how Charles has gone over the hill for her.’

  ‘Would you like her as a sister-in-law?’

  ‘Oh, that. Well—’ He rose and walked towards the fire and, resting his elbow on the mantelshelf, he looked down into it for a moment before he answered, ‘I don’t know, I’ve never given it a thought. Well, not much.’

  ‘Which means you have been thinking about it?’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned and confronted them both again. ‘Well, to tell you the truth I hoped Charles wasn’t serious because I co
uld see obstacles, the very ones you’re presenting now.’

  ‘Do you know that she’s been in a scandal recently?’

  ‘You mean, her being shot because she helped her sister to get married? Well, if that was the scandal, she was in it. I think you’ve got the wrong word there, Mother. Her father apparently objected to his younger daughter marrying a man whom he termed was beneath her; so he took matters into his own hands, and with fatal results. As I see it, the case is being repeated; we don’t want Charles to marry her because she’ll be letting this family down, the same as that young girl did her family. But believe me, Mama and Father, I see your point and I understand the situation. And if I hadn’t seen the young lady in question and was told that Charles was going to marry a shop-girl, I would have said, Hell’s bells, no way can we let this happen! But she isn’t a shop-girl as such and, what is more, Mama, and surprisingly so, dresses exquisitely.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh yes. If you saw her you would have to concede that she stands out in that way. Her taste is of the best.’ He smiled now as he ended, ‘By the little experience I’ve had of ladies and their attire I can assure you she knows how to dress.’

  ‘What do you think we should do, Reginald?’

  He turned to answer his father now and said, ‘Well, the only thing I can suggest is that you both go and see her, or invite her here. There’s one thing you don’t want to do, either of you, and that’s estrange Charles from us all. I’m very fond of Charles, you know, Father, and I admire him, because he had the guts to go out and fight his own battle for a career. It’s in a hard field, you know, and there’s not much cash at the end of it, whereas I…well, I fell into the army through tradition, didn’t I, Father? I’d want no other way of life, but I know I am cushioned on all sides.’