The Wingless Bird

by Catherine Cookson

  But she was horrified on opening the chest of drawers where he said the linen was kept to find that the flannelette sheets were really damp.

  ‘Was the bed made up when you came?’ she asked.

  ‘The bed? Oh yes, everything was in order.’

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Comparatively well. It was strange the first night but…’

  ‘How many nights have you been here?’ She walked towards the bed now. ‘How many nights have you slept in the bed?’

  ‘Well, as I’ve been here three days I’ve slept three times in this bed.’

  She now pulled back the patchwork quilt but didn’t slide her hand towards the middle of the bed but under the bolster; then she was whipping this and the pillows aside, saying, ‘Feel that! These sheets are still damp. They’re like those in the drawer. It’s absolutely scandalous.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Can’t you see what I’m doing? I’m stripping this bed. I’ll bring you some proper linen. This is simply outrageous. What’s more, the pillowcases haven’t been ironed but rough-dried. Who on earth recommended this place to you?’

  ‘I saw it in the newspaper.’

  ‘Well, whoever she is who owns the place she should be shot. Did you meet her?’

  ‘No, I didn’t meet her, it was done through an agency.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness me! Charles.’ She shook her head. ‘Come on back with me and I’ll send one of the girls to make up your bed and light the fire; then the quicker you get out of this the better. I’ll look round and try to find a suitable place for you.’

  ‘Why bother?’ His voice was low as he drew her towards him. ‘I’ll be living above the shop in any case, won’t I?’

  Her voice was soft now as she answered him, saying, ‘I hope so. Oh, my dear, I hope so.’ And on a slight giggle now, she said, ‘And I’ll see you have dry sheets.’

  Five

  Agnes was in the hat shop. Miss Rene had fallen down the last three stairs and twisted her ankle, and the doctor had been called in. The ladies were in a fuss, too, because they had a new outfit to show her. However, as her arm had been taken out of the sling only that morning and she still had to be very careful how she used it, and also because she was in pain, they all decided it would be better to leave the matter for a day or two.

  As Agnes listened to them, one chatting against the other, she realised the dressing of her had become a form of excitement for these three dear people.

  She had just commiserated once again with Miss Rene and was about to take her leave when the shop door burst open and Maggie came running in, calling, ‘Miss Agnes! Miss Agnes! Your mother says to come. The gentleman’s here.’

  ‘All right, Maggie. All right.’ She nodded towards the woman, but when Maggie gave no indication of moving, she added, ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

  Purposely she did not immediately follow Maggie for, no matter what her feelings were, in the eyes of these dear ladies it would not have been seemly. So, after some small talk she bade them goodbye, telling them she would call in later to see how Miss Rene was.

  It was three days since she had seen Charles. She had expected him yesterday, and she had wondered, more than wondered, she had become worried because he hadn’t called or even sent a message of some kind. But immediately she saw him as she entered the sitting room she deduced the reason: for as he went to rise from the couch her mother put her hand firmly on his shoulder, saying, ‘Sit where you are, sir. Sit where you are.’ And before she could enquire about his state her mother said, ‘He’s got a stinking cold and I don’t know how he’s got up the stairs. He’s in a bad way.’

  ‘What is it, Charles?’ She sat down beside him, and when she took his hand she found it was hot and clammy.

  He endeavoured to smile at her but his voice was a croak as he said, ‘Bit of a cold. Got it yesterday, or some time…pouring, got wet. Thought I’d stay in bed, but had to come and…and tell you.’

  She glanced up at her mother, saying quickly, ‘Something hot.’

  ‘Ginger or whisky?’

  ‘Whisky.’

  She was now holding him against her, saying, ‘It couldn’t have been the rain, it was that bed. I knew it. I knew something would happen from that bed, those damp sheets. Oh, my dear, why couldn’t you have got a note to me and I would have come? No, of course you couldn’t, not in the state you are in.’

  ‘It’s my head, it’s going round, dear. Never…never had a cold…like this. Never been ill…in my life.’ He smiled at her. ‘Never…never had a doctor. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. What have you to be sorry about?’ Alice came back into the room with a steaming mug of whisky and hot water, saying as she did so, ‘I’ve put plenty of brown sugar into it. Now get it down him.’

  Charles coughed on the first mouthful but nodded up at her, saying, ‘It’s good.’ But when he had drunk half of it he rested the mug on his knee, saying, ‘I’ll…I’ll finish it later.’ Then he laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes.

  Agnes stared at him. Her mother stared at him. Then Alice beckoned Agnes towards her and she rose from the couch and went to her. She was standing near the door now and she said, ‘He can’t go back to that room alone. He’ll…he’ll have to stay here.’

  Agnes stared at her, and Alice, as if pressing a point now, said, ‘Well, he’ll have to. What else can you do? He’s in a fever. He should have been seen to before this.’

  ‘Yes. We could put him in Jessie’s room.’

  Alice thought for a moment, then said, ‘No. He can go in mine.’

  Agnes showed her surprise before saying, ‘Yours? But, Mother, there’s no need.’

  ‘Look. If he’s as bad as he appears to be, at least to me, he’s going to be here a few days, and he’ll have visitors. Now, it’s no use looking like that. He’ll have visitors, all right, because with a cold like that it can turn to anything, and for sure, it won’t be gone tomorrow, or the day after.’

  Agnes again experienced amazement at this new mother of hers. It was as if since…the trouble, as she thought of it, her mother had stepped out of one character into another, the peevish, selfish person seemed to have disappeared and in her place was this understanding, perceptive woman that took some getting used to.

  ‘Well, if you want it that way.’

  ‘It isn’t what I want, it’s what’s best for him; and…and I don’t want anybody to think you were brought up in a padden can.’

  Brought up in a padden can. At another time she would have laughed at that, but all she did now was nod at her mother. And as Alice went quickly out of the door she hurried back up the room and took her seat again by his side, saying, ‘Charles.’

  He opened his eyes as if he had just woken from a doze and said, ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘You’re going to bed.’

  ‘To bed?’ He raised his head from the back of the couch.

  ‘Yes, to bed, and here.’

  ‘Oh, no. No, Agnes, that would never do.’

  ‘Never mind what will never do. You’re going to bed now. It’ll only be for a night; you’ll be better in the morning. But you can’t go back there with no-one to see to you.’

  His head fell back again, and now he said quietly, ‘Agnes.’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘I can’t argue with you; I’m feeling really awful.’

  ‘Don’t try to argue, dear. You’ll be all right. But give me your key to the flat.’

  He made an attempt to raise his head again as he said, ‘What…what for?’

  ‘I just want to send for your night attire, that’s all, just your night attire.’

  ‘Oh. Oh.’ He fumbled in his pocket for a while; then his hand dropped to his side as he said, ‘Here, somewhere.’

  She put her hand in his pocket and took out his key. ‘Now, in the meantime,’ she said, ‘I’m going to take your collar and tie off and your shoes, and you can lie down here for a while.’
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  He began to cough; then gasping, he muttered, ‘Thank you, dear. Thank you. Thank you. Huh! You know what I was thinking? I was thinking I’d just got off the boat on the river at Durham with Reg and Henry and we were all laughing. Silly things one thinks.’

  His collar and tie off, his shoes on the floor, she arranged the cushions at the head of the couch, then gently lifted his legs up, and as she did so he fell sideways, saying now, ‘I’m troubling…troubling you.’

  ‘Go to sleep.’

  And he seemed to obey her, for he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side and lay inert; and at this she dashed out of the room and into the bedroom where she knew her mother would be changing the bed linen, and she said, ‘Look, I’ll have to go across and ask Robbie if he’ll go to the flat and bring Charles’ night things and his case and such.’

  ‘Robbie? Robbie Felton?’

  ‘Yes. Which other Robbie is there, Mother?’

  ‘I don’t like asking anything of him. Why not Arthur downstairs? I’ll go and stand in until he comes back.’

  Again there was amazement at her mother’s reaction, that she would go and serve in the shop. But really nothing would surprise her any more about this woman. She said, ‘I would rather Robbie knew about our business than Peeble. You know what I think about him.’

  ‘Well, if you’re going you’d better go, because that man should be in bed. I’ll put a couple of hot oven plates in. And you know something else? I think he should have the doctor.’

  ‘We’ll see. We’ll see later.’ She actually ran out of the room and down the back stairs and as she approached the house, she was thinking how odd it was that she should be the one to be going visiting, because Jessie had never crossed the yard to see them since she had given her leave to live in the house.

  She knocked on the door, and it was Robbie himself that opened it.

  Before she had time to speak he was saying, ‘Oh, hello! Come on in.’

  ‘I can’t, Robbie, but will you do something for me?’

  Jessie now appeared at Robbie’s side, and she said, ‘Hello, Agnes. I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t been…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.’ Agnes was shaking her head. ‘Look, Charles, Mr Farrier, is ill, he’s practically collapsed. He…he’s been living in a flat not far from here and what I saw of it was scandalous: the sheets were damp, well, practically wet, and he’s caught an awful chill and we are keeping him here tonight. Would you go along and bring his nightclothes and…well, pack his things; what you see there and think are his? Well, all the odd things you see will be his, because there’s nothing but the bare furniture in the place. So, would you mind?’

  ‘No. Why no, not at all. I’ll go now.’ Robbie turned to Jessie, saying, ‘Put me tea in the oven.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, get your tea first.’

  ‘No. There’s nae need.’

  He reached behind the door and, taking his cap from a hook, he pulled it on, held his hand out for the key and said, ‘When I get them, will I leave them here or bring them across?’

  ‘Bring them across, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Righto. Righto.’

  He now hurried from the yard, and Agnes and Jessie stood looking at each other until Jessie said, ‘I…I haven’t been over because…well, I thought…’

  ‘I understand. But you know you’re welcome at any time.’

  ‘But her…Mam. I still think of her as Mam.’

  ‘Well, she has been that to you. Never mind, she’s different. She’s changed.’

  ‘She won’t change towards me.’

  ‘Oh yes, she will, you’ll see. Give her time. But now I must go. I’m sorry if you’re in the middle of your tea.’

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. And Aggie…’ Agnes had been about to turn away and she stopped at the tone of Jessie’s voice uttering her name, and as Jessie said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m heart-sorry for all that’s happened, not for marrying Robbie, because he’s all right, but…but for what nearly happened to you. I’ll never forgive meself for that.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t really happen, did it, so you needn’t worry. Now I’ve got to go, but slip across when you feel like it.’

  ‘I will. I will, Aggie.’

  Her mother was in the sitting room when she returned, and she came towards her saying under her breath, ‘Look, I think we’d better have the doctor. He doesn’t really know where he is at times. He said to me, “Don’t tell Mama. Get Reg.” He called her Mama like a child.’

  ‘They all call her that.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, I see.’

  She hurried up the room and knelt by the couch. Her mother had put a damp cloth on Charles’ forehead and she turned it, saying, ‘How do you feel, dear?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Agnes. Not too bad when I’m lying down. It’s when I try to walk.’ He aimed to smile at her, then had another bout of coughing that seemed to rack his chest.

  Picking up the half-empty mug from the table, she said, ‘Here; try to drink this. It can’t do any harm.’

  He drank the rest of the now-warm whisky and as she took the mug from him he said, ‘I…I should get home, Agnes.’

  ‘You are home, for the time being, dear. You’re going to stay here. Now, now; don’t get agitated. I’ve sent for your nightclothes. They’ll soon be here.’

  ‘Agnes.’

  ‘Yes, darling, what is it?’

  He paused for some moments before saying, ‘I don’t know. I just wanted to say something but it’s gone. My throat’s sore.’ Then he closed his eyes again.

  She rose quickly to her knees now and, turning to her mother, she said, ‘I think you’re right. We’d better have the doctor. Look; if you take over from Nan, she’ll run down to Doctor Bailey. He has a surgery about this time. She can ask him to come.’

  Alice hurried from the room, and she turned to the couch again. Charles was still lying with his eyes closed, but he spoke to her, saying, ‘What’s hit me, Agnes? I’ve never had a cold like this.’

  ‘As I said, that wet bed’s hit you, dear. But it’ll be all right…’

  She didn’t know how long she had been kneeling by the couch when she heard the tap on the door and a voice saying, ‘Are you there? It’s me…Robbie.’ Springing to her feet, she called softly, ‘Come in. Come in.’

  Robbie came in carrying an overcoat and a dressing gown over his arm, saying, ‘I’ve fetched two cases, his shirts an’ that. But there’s a lot of books back there an’ oddments. I’ll get them the morrow.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you very much, Robbie.’

  ‘Is he bad, real bad?’

  ‘Yes. I think he’s got a temperature. We’ve sent for the doctor, but we’ve got to get him to bed now.’

  He looked down the room towards the couch. ‘Can he stand?’ he said.

  ‘I…I don’t know. He wasn’t steady on his feet when he first came, I understand. I was out at the time.’

  ‘D’you want me to give him a hand?’

  Realising that Charles would have to be undressed, she said, ‘If…if you would, please. I’d…I’d be grateful.’

  They were both standing by the couch now and it was Robbie who bent over Charles, saying, ‘D’you think you can stand on your pins, sir?’

  ‘What? Oh…Oh, it’s you, McCann. Well, I could do with a hand.’

  ‘It’s Robbie, Charles, you know, Mr…Felton.’

  ‘Oh…Oh yes.’

  She waited while he tried to clear his head, but when he made an attempt to sit up he had another bout of severe coughing and lay back gasping.

  ‘He should be in bed, all right.’

  ‘I…I could take an arm.’

  ‘No need for that, miss. He’s slim, not much over ten, I should imagine; stone that is. If you’ll show me where to go, sort of, I can manage him meself.’

  ‘But you can’t carry…’

  ‘Miss.’ For the first time she saw him smile; then he said, ‘You know I come from a tough lot. We don’t
let anythin’ beat us, we’re knockers-out, every one of us.’ At that he stood astride, bent his knees, put one arm underneath Charles’ legs and one under his shoulders, gave a heave, and then there he was carrying him down the room, she scuttling before him, pulling the door open, running along the corridor, opening the bedroom door, flinging back the bedclothes, and when Robbie dropped his burden, saying, ‘There you are then. But he can’t get into bed with his clothes on. Would you like me to see to him, miss?’ she stared at him for a moment, her mind gabbling, What a situation: her relying on Robbie Felton, the man who had caused her father’s death, caused her nearly to lose her life, at the same time making her into a rich woman. Life was strange. She said quickly, ‘Yes, if you please,’ then hurried towards the door. But there she stopped and turned, saying, ‘But…but won’t you need help, I mean some assistance?’

  ‘No, miss. I’ll manage. It won’t be the first time I’ve stripped a fella. But then this one’s sober, he’ll be easy. Don’t worry.’

  After closing the door, she stood with her back to it for a moment, drawing in deep breaths before slowly walking along the corridor, there to be met by her mother hurrying from the kitchen, saying, ‘He said he’ll come as soon as he’s finished the surgery. How is he?’

  ‘I’—she wet her lips—‘I think he’s in a pretty low state.’

  As her mother went towards the sitting room she said, ‘He’s not in there, he’s in bed. Robbie’s putting him to bed; at least he’s undressing him.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Well, he brought back his clothes, then saw that he should be in bed and carried him there.’

  ‘On his own?’

  ‘Yes, on his own.’

  Her mother could apparently find nothing to say to this, but she walked quickly up the corridor and into her bedroom, but not before whispering back to her, ‘You stay there for a moment.’

  In the room Alice hesitated when she saw Robbie relieving Charles of his small clothes, but then he turned to her almost nonchalantly and said, ‘You can give me a hand with his nightshirt.’