By the way, Chad never talked to me about his war experiences, not then or later. Years afterwards I discovered a revolver on a shelf in his study on the farm. It lay between a couple of files. When I asked him about it, he said, ‘Me gun. From t’ war.’
‘Why are you keeping it?’
‘Just am. In case we get burgled.’
I held it. ‘It’s heavy,’ I realised.
‘Put it back!’ he ordered. ‘Don’t want t’ have t’ do with all that any more!’
I had understood. I never mentioned his gun again, nor dared to ask him about that traumatic part of his life.
Right now what he said was, ‘I’m sorry. I shoulda written. It were all … too much.’ He made a gesture of something billowing up.
‘How’s your dad?’
‘He’s not copin’. He barely does anythin’ on t’ farm. Just sit at home starin’ at t’ walls. He never got over me mam’s death.’
I was not surprised. As an eleven-year-old girl I had intuitively understood that Emma was the soul of the Beckett farm, and that it was she, much more than her husband, who had the impulse to grasp the nettle. Without her, Arvid had become a hollow shell. It fitted in with the image I had of him.
‘I try t’ do me best,’ said Chad. ‘But it’s hard t’ get a farm goin’, when it’s totally run down. In these times …’
His eyes bored into me. ‘You’re a right young lady,’ he said, changing the topic abruptly. I felt myself blush.
‘I’ve left school,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know what to do next. Mum thought some distance to my life in London might do me good. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to stay for a while … if I may.’
‘Of course. Could do with another pair of hands,’ said Chad and grinned.
He was kidding me. I smiled.
And suddenly, in a split second, he was the Chad I had known, the boy who had responded so tenderly to my infatuation. He opened his arms and let me fall into them. I felt secure with him that evening on the beach, although the feeling was later to prove to have been illusory. Whether because of the war or the example of his silent father, he was already starting to become the clammedup man who in the end would be unable to show feelings.
At the time I did not know that this change had already started. I was too young to understand it, and too blissfully in love to think about the future. The bitterness and weight of the last few years evaporated. London, the war, my depressive mother, Harold – suddenly that was all far away and unimportant. Finally I had arrived at the place where I belonged. Close to the man I loved.
That was the extent of my romantic thoughts on that darkening beach. Soon night fell. The sound of the sea changed as the ebb tide sucked it further and further out. The sky was clear and full of stars. August nights have a particular magic to them. Perhaps a falling star or two even fell into the sea. Who knows? In any case, that’s how I imagined it, after the first time that we made love in that stony bay in Staintondale.
It sounds corny, I admit. A warm summer night, stars, the sound of the sea, two young people and first love. An overwhelming feeling of happiness after years of doing without. It might sound too perfect, but I have to say that it felt just like that. No doubt I saw things with rosy spectacles, as you do when you are young. Today I can imagine that the pebbles were uncomfortable, that it stank of seaweed, and that clouds drifted across the sky, concealing the stars. I can imagine that there was not a single falling star, that it was rather cool and that we started to shiver with cold. But back then I did not notice any of that. It was like a dream which was not disturbed or tarnished by anything. The complete intimacy with Chad, the way we melted together, seemed to make it the most wonderful moment of my life and – naive as I was, in spite of everything – I was sure that we would be inseparable.
Chad had cigarettes. Afterwards we cuddled close together for a while on the rocks and smoked. I did not say that this too was a first for me, in order not to look too childish. I dragged on the cigarette as casually and naturally as I could, and thankfully I did not cough. Chad had put his arm around me. For a long time he did not say anything.
In the end he said, ‘I’m cold. Shall we go back t’ farm?’
That was when I realised I was freezing too. I nodded, which he must have been able to see, because he got up and, holding my hand, helped me up too. Hand in hand, we silently felt our way back through the gorge. At the top, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now the stars and the moon lent us a little light.
Chad carried my rucksack into the house. It was dirty inside. I saw that at a first glance. And it did not smell good either. It smelt as if food was rotting somewhere in the kitchen. It was clear that inside the house the process of decay was also far advanced. It was no longer the cosy nest which Emma had made of the simple and poor house. It was cold, damp and a mess. Even I, who was ready to see the Beckett farm in almost any condition as paradise on earth, had to admit that you could no longer feel at home here. I resolved to start to make everything beautiful and homely the very next day.
Chad turned on the light in the kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. The remains of dinner stood on the table.
‘Looks like Dad’s gone t’ bed,’ said Chad. ‘Unfortunately ’e don’t normally even tidy up ’is meal.’
Disgustedly he looked at the salami sausage and bread which had been bitten into rather than cut in slices, and at a cup half full of coffee. The coffee had globules of fat on the surface. ‘It get worse every day!’
‘I’ll tidy it up,’ I offered immediately, but he held me back.
‘No! I don’t tidy up after ’im, and I don’t want you to either! ’e ain’t sick, just lettin’ ’imself go, and I ain’t got any patience no longer.’
‘It will go off, and it stinks. Just let me put the sausage in the fridge.’
The farm had an old-fashioned icebox which regularly needed a new block of ice. It turned out that no one had ordered an ice delivery in a long while. The icebox was as warm as the rest of the room. Inside it there were a few indefinable items that stank and should have been thrown away long ago.
Chad looked slightly embarrassed. ‘T’ farm takes up all me time and energy. Dad should look after t’ house, but …’ He did not finish his sentence. It was obvious that his dad did not look after anything.
In the end I put the sausage and bread in the pantry. It had no windows, was dark and a few degrees cooler than the house.
‘Tomorrow we have to order ice,’ I said, as if I were the housewife on the farm.
Chad agreed. ‘Will do. Promise.’
We stood there looking at each other. I thought, Now say you love me. Say that I should stay for ever! Please. Don’t let what was so special tonight just disappear.
However, he could not stop casting angry glances at the table. He was angry with his father. That was clear to see. Perhaps he was no longer thinking about what had just happened down at the beach.
And instantly I knew what had been irritating me the whole time.
Something was missing. Something which should have seen us coming and appeared by now.
‘Where’s Nobody, by the way?’ I asked.
Chad lowered his gaze. Suddenly it was creepily quiet in the kitchen. I heard something rustling in the pantry. A mouse, I thought.
I asked again, almost afraid.
‘Chad! Where’s Nobody?’
13
‘Well,’ said Chad slowly. ‘Couldn’t go on like that.’
We were sitting at the kitchen table, right under the light. It made Chad look tired and grey, me too, no doubt. Chad had opened a bottle of beer and offered me some, which I had refused. I was serious about not touching a drop of alcohol.
The evening – the night – had changed. There was the kitchen with its rotten smell, the clammy air in the house and the feeling that something threatening was coming closer. I shivered. I suddenly felt terrible.
‘What do you mean, Couldn’t go on like that?’
Chad stared into his glass. ‘He were no longer t’ boy you remember. He suddenly shot up and were enormously tall fer ‘is age. Don’t know how old ’e was, but I’m guessin’ he were fourteen or fifteen. Not much longer and he’d be a man.’
I thought of the lanky, young blond boy. Only three and a half years had passed since I had last seen him, but of course he could have changed a lot in that time. I just found it hard to imagine.
‘Yes … and?’
He looked up at me. ‘Fiona, his mind don’t grow with his body. He still think like a child, and always will. Me Mam always claimed he’d wake up one day. Rubbish. Nobody’s mentally disabled, no gettin’ away from it.’
‘That’s nothing new,’ I said.
‘You knew ’im as a child. He ‘ad ‘is limits, but were ‘armless. That changed. He …’ Chad stopped.
‘What?’ I asked. I was feeling more and more worried.
‘March this year a young lass appeared on t’ farm. We didn’t know her. She was lookin’ for work, and askin’ at all t’ farms round about. We had enough work, but no money. Anyroad, we ‘ad t’ send her away. But just as she were goin’… Nobody came out.’
I waited.
‘Like I said, the lass was young. Not twenty years old. She had beautiful long blond hair.’
I could guess what was coming. ‘And Nobody …?’
‘He ran over, grinned at ‘er an’ grabbed ‘er ‘air. He were makin’ those incomprehensible sounds he always make when he talk. The woman were frightened half t’ death. She tried t’ get away, but ’e kept hold of ‘er ‘air. Then ‘er breasts. He were slobberin’ over her. He were … first time I’ve seen ’im like that …‘e were all excited. Then she starts screamin’. I drag Nobody off ‘er and she ran off, fast as she could. I shouted at ’im, but ’e just grinned. Soon as I let go, ’e rubbed ‘is hands frantically over ‘is crotch. Disgustin’. He was disgustin’.’
I gulped. ‘That … that doesn’t sound nice.’
Chad leant forward. ‘It’ll only get worse. He’s got sex on t’ brain like a man, but t’ mind and maturity of a child. So ’e can’t control his lust. He don’t even know what was happenin’. He’s a menace t’ every woman ’e meets. And Dad and I couldn’t watch ’im all day.’
I thought I knew what was coming next, and relaxed a little. After all, it was something we had often talked about.
‘So you put him in a home,’ I said. ‘I’m sure that was the most sensible thing you could do.’
Chad looked down at his glass again. ‘A ‘ome … right, we thought ‘bout it, Dad and I, but … there were some problems.’
‘Really?’ I asked.
‘By gum, Fiona, don’t be so daft! You can’t just bring a young man like Nobody int’ home an’ say, Hello, this lad’s been livin’ with us the past six years but it can’t go on, now you take him. I mean, we’d have trouble. Weren’t proper, right from start. Nobody shouldn’t have been with you evacuees. Mam shouldn’t have taken ’im in. He shouldn’t have grown up with us like our family secret.’
I remembered the dark November evening in 1940 and the field opposite Staintondale’s little post office. The frightened children crouching and waiting …
‘But the evacuees’ escorts agreed Emma could take him with her,’ I said. ‘They didn’t know what to do with him themselves. They wanted to check with someone higher up and then get back to her. But they never did. That’s not our fault.’
‘But Mam should have told someone, when she saw they’d forgotten. She had no right t’ keep Nobody. He weren’t ‘er child or even a foster child. He were just t’ other child, like Dad called him. You were here officially, not him though. She shouldn’t have just let the years pass like that.’
‘She wanted to protect him. She meant well for him.’
‘My dad should have done summat, at least when she died. I don’t know why he didn’t, whether it were his laziness which put everythin’ off, or loyalty to Mam. Don’t matter which. Then t’ war was over, I came back. I didn’t do nowt. Somehow … didn’t think to. We were used to Nobody, he didn’t bother us. Until … well, that incident. Then I noticed ’e were a tickin’ time bomb and we could get in right trouble. The woman could’ve taken us t’ court. Lucky she didn’t.’
I leant forward. Where’s Nobody?’ I asked slowly, emphasising each syllable. I was starting to fear they had drowned him in the bathtub or chased him out into the sea.
‘An opportunity came up,’ said Chad. ‘My dad wanted t’ sell his old plough, an’ I told everyone around here. A farmer from Ravenscar came by. He saw Nobody, who were about like usual.’
‘And?’
‘He asked who ’e were. My father told ’im a bit ‘bout ’im. A lad evacuated t’ our farm in t’ war. With no parents or relatives. Someone we didn’t rightly know what to do with … The farmer – Gordon McBright, by name – said ’e could do with a pair of hands on his farm. We warned ’im, of course. That you couldn’t use Nobody for nowt, that ’e never understood you, and mainly was more trouble than ‘elp. Dad also pointed out ‘is enormous appetite, which was out of all proportion to the ‘elp he could be. But this McBright didn’t let up. Said ’e could use Nobody. So Dad and I agreed.’
I could not help asking, ‘And Nobody … I suppose he didn’t go willingly?’
Chad stood up abruptly. This part of the story seemed to agitate him more than the rest.
He stood with his back to me as he answered. ‘No. He didn’t go willingly.’
He must have struggled, screamed, fought. The Beckett farm was his home, probably the only place he felt safe and maybe even secure. Chad and Arvid had put him in the hands of a complete stranger and sent him off. I knew Nobody and his violent emotional outbursts. I only had to look at Chad, who was no longer able to look me in the eye, to know.
He must have made a terrible scene.
I swallowed. ‘But …’
Chad whipped around, and now his face was distorted with rage.
‘Damn it, now don’t be a prig!’ he hissed at me, although I had said nothing except for a cautious but. ‘You got us into this! You brought ’im here! You weren’t ’ere for years, you don’t know what it were like t’ be lumbered with this big ‘alf-baked lad! And no one were goin’ t’ blame you. You were a child then, only seventeen now. You got out of it all just fine. But me dad and me, we coulda got in a right pickle. Nobody shoulda been in a school for kids like him. A ‘ome. He shoulda been cared for by people who knew. Instead ’e grew up ’ere like a wild animal. We coulda been in ‘ot water ‘bout that. Even been dragged t’ court!’
His voice lowered. ‘Look around, Fiona,’ he said bitterly. ‘We’re strugglin’ t’ survive. Me dad’s done all but nowt since Mam died, and I were at t’ front. All broken and abandoned ’ere, and we’ve got debts left, right an’ centre. I work like a dog from morning t’ night. I just can’t be ‘avin’ any trouble, any investigation, where I might need to get a lawyer – God knows I couldn’t pay one – just because I put Nobody in a home, and people ‘eard of ’im. So should I wait for ’im to rape a lass? Should I wait for ’im to kill someone, because the person ‘ad summat he wanted? What should I tell t’ police then? Easy to raise your eyebrows now, Fiona, but what would you’ve done?’
I stood up and came over to him. I wanted to show him that I understood him, that I was not against him. After all, I loved him!
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want you to think I was judging you. How could I? You didn’t do it lightly.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t.’
We stood close to each other. I could feel Chad trembling. I wanted to ask a question, although I was afraid that it would lead to another angry outburst, as it started with another but. I still asked it.
‘But … why did this Gordon McBright agree? He could get in trouble too, if he took on Nobody.’
Chad shrugged. ‘We told ’im. But ’e said it wouldn’t worry ’im.’
<
br /> ‘He can’t just lock him up. Or chain him up.’
Chad shrugged his shoulders, and bit his lip. I suddenly had the impression that this was just what Chad’s unspoken fears were, that Gordon McBright would do just that: lock up Nobody, or keep him chained up until he needed him for work. Keep him like a slave.
‘What’s … this Gordon McBright like?’ I asked nervously.
‘Don’t rightly know,’ replied Chad, looking out of the window into the night.
‘But you met him.’
It was clear that Chad just did not want to answer this question.
‘Don’t matter.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘Near Ravenscar. Outside t’ village, on a farm on its own.’
Ravenscar was not too far from Staintondale, just up the coast towards Whitby.
‘I could visit him,’ I suggested. ‘Nobody, I mean. And meet McBright.’
‘Don’t! Nobody will go crazy again, seein’ you, and McBright …’
‘Yes?’
‘He’ll put ‘is dogs on you, or face you with a gun. He get irate if someone just approach ‘is farm. He don’t get on with other people. I doubt he’d let you within a thousand yards of ‘is land.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I asked a few people in Ravenscar ‘bout him,’ murmured Chad uneasily.
How had he and Arvid given Nobody to such a man?
I did not dare ask this question out loud, as I was afraid I would make Chad angry again. He felt cornered by me, needing to justify himself and yet – that was obvious – he himself had a bad conscience when he thought of what had become of Nobody. I shared that feeling. I could scarcely hide my horror. I had never exactly, been close to Nobody, he had been a pain in the neck, but somehow he had been part of life on the Beckett farm. With my new maturity at seventeen I felt that I too shared responsibility for the helpless boy.
I resolved to visit him at his new home, even if Chad’s warning scared me. I told myself that Gordon McBright could hardly kill every harmless walker who arrived at his farm – else he would have been put in prison long ago.
The Other Child Page 32