The Tallow Image

by J. T. Brindle

  Sadly, Maria shifted her gaze. Now, when she and Cathy exchanged glances, each sensed the bond between them. Its deed done, but not quite victorious, the malevolent force was gone, no doubt to hide in darker places, to secretly fester, to recover its energy. But it would be back, she knew that. Relentless, insatiable, it would be back. She saw the tears fall down Cathy’s lovely face and her old heart went out to that unhappy soul.

  Smiling in her pain, she held out her hand. Cathy gripped it tight. ‘Fight it, child,’ Maria whispered, ‘trust in God.’ She herself had long forsaken the Almighty. Now there was no place left to turn. Her eyes swivelled upwards to see Emily ever near, always loving. A sense of calm settled on her, then her eyes closed and the ambulance doors shut out the world, save for Emily, who went beside her dearest friend, quietly crying, and praying that she would not soon be mourning.

  Through the back window of the speeding vehicle, Emily saw the curious, milling crowd. Her gaze was drawn to the young woman to whom Maria had spoken, and who was staring after the ambulance. There was the young woman’s husband, his head bowed as he talked with the policeman. Beside him stood the older man. Both men were badly cut and bleeding; both had fought desperately to pull away the dogs. No man could have done more. The older man glanced up, his scarred eyes following the ambulance, searching for her. These people were good people, Emily knew. She knew, also, that she would see them again.

  Cathy had been to the hospital twice before, and each time she had lost the courage actually to go in and see the old lady. Instead, she had got as far as the desk and then hurried away.

  This time she spoke to the nurse behind the desk. ‘The old lady who was involved in an attack down by the river. How is she?’

  ‘Are you a relative?’ The dark-haired nurse had not seen Cathy before. Her instructions were very clear. Only relatives to visit.

  ‘No, but I was there. I just wondered if she was making a good recovery.’ She felt somehow cornered, so nervous that the sweat was trickling down her back, sticking her blouse to her shoulder blades.

  The nurse eyed her curiously. ‘Are you ill?’

  Seeming not to have heard, Cathy glanced nervously about, before asking in a whisper, ‘The old lady… she will be all right, won’t she?’

  ‘We’re doing all we can.’

  ‘Can I talk to her?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Unless you’re a relative?’

  ‘No.’ Cathy felt ill. She had to get out, but she had desperately needed to talk with the old lady. Suddenly it was all important.

  ‘I can let you see her through the window, if you like?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

  Cathy hadn’t known quite what to expect, but when she looked into the room where Maria was fighting for her life, she was moved to tears. ‘She looks so pale and still.’

  ‘She is very old. But she’s holding her own. I’ve never known anyone with such a strong will to live.’

  Cathy’s attention was taken by the woman seated at Maria’s side, her hand entwined with the old lady’s. She recognised her as being the same woman who was with her when the dogs attacked, and her heart went out to her. For one unthinking moment she was tempted to ask the nurse if she could speak with the younger woman. But before she could speak, the nurse addressed her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll have to ask you to leave now.’

  The nurse dropped the outer curtains, but the scene lived on in Cathy’s mind. ‘I’ll pray for her,’ she said simply. And she did.

  10

  ‘He’s a vicious bastard.’ Red faced and breathless, Joseph reined in the horse. ‘I think that’ll do for one day,’ he told Matt, who had been watching Joseph take the animal through its paces.

  ‘What d’you think? Should we agree to train him on?’ Matt asked, a frown on his handsome face. ‘Or d’you think he’ll prove to be too much of a handful?’ Joseph and Matt had conquered rebellious horses before, but this one had a deep-down nasty streak in him. Eighteen hands high and unusually broad in the chest, he was immensely strong and muscular. ‘He’s got all the qualities to make a top dressage horse, but he’s lapsed into some dangerously bad habits, and I’m not sure whether we’ll ever ride them out of him.’ Matt watched as Joseph dismounted, in a surprisingly agile manner for someone who was no longer a young man. ‘What d’you think, Joseph?’

  Joseph sighed, regarding the horse with dismay before at length saying, ‘You’re right. He’s got what it takes, but yes, he’ll need a lot of work before he’s ready to mix with civilised horses.’

  ‘We refuse to take him, then?’ Matt hated to turn any animal away, but this one was a rebel. Uppermost in his mind must be the safety of his grooms and the horses already in his care.

  Joseph, also, hated to admit defeat. ‘What say we give him another few days?’ he suggested. ‘Seems a shame to give up on him.’

  Matt thought for a moment, his critical gaze roving over the magnificent lines of the animal. He was certainly a champion in the making, if only they could rectify the legacy of bad treatment as a colt, and a catalogue of shameful neglect right up until a few days ago when the new owners had bought him at a sale. They were convinced that if anyone could train him, Matt Slater could. ‘He’s a beautiful creature, and no mistake,’ Matt conceded now. The stallion was the darkest bay he had ever seen; almost black, with a proud bearing, and, surprisingly in view of his iniquitous character, his eyes were big and kind, though too often shifty and nervous. ‘I don’t know.’ Matt was torn two ways. Suddenly he knew he could not readily commit the stallion to the knacker’s yard. ‘One week, then. If he’s still unmanageable after that, we’ll have no choice but to turn him away.’

  Laura was consulted as the two men returned the stallion to its stable. She was in full agreement, though, ‘Don’t ask me to exercise him.’ She knew her own limits.

  ‘I think it’s best if we leave Joseph to handle him, seeing as he’s started with him. One man, one horse… that’s a sensible rule,’ Matt decided.

  While Joseph settled the stallion for the night, Laura walked back to the tack-room with Matt. She knew how bad things had been between Matt and Cathy, and that awful business two weeks ago had seemed to worsen them. At least, Cathy still did not venture into the yard and, judging by Matt’s quiet mood these days, all was still not well between him and his new bride. Laura hated to see how unhappy he was. There had been disappointment in her own life and she was no stranger to pain. She had learned to live with the loneliness. At one time she hoped that her friendship with Cathy might flourish, but, lately, Cathy seemed somehow hostile to her. Anxious to engage Matt in conversation, she said quietly, ‘You miss the dogs, don’t you?’

  For a long agonising minute he gave no answer, walking on, his head down as though weighed with all the troubles in the world. Presently, he turned and looked at her, the horror of a certain memory betrayed in his dark eyes. ‘I’ll never understand it, Laura,’ he murmured, looking away again, the thick rubber soles of his wellington boots striking the concrete with a muffled squashy sound as he quickened his step. ‘What in God’s name possessed them? I still can’t believe it!’

  ‘What will happen, do you think?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Banned from keeping dogs… a colossal fine, or both. Whatever the court decides, it won’t bring that poor fellow back, and it won’t help Maria Hinson.’

  ‘They can’t impose a jail sentence, surely?’ There was fear in her voice. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You and Cathy’s father did all you could to pull the dogs off.’

  ‘I don’t know, Laura. All we can do is wait.’

  ‘When is the hearing?’

  ‘The date hasn’t been set yet.’

  ‘The old lady – how is she?’

  ‘Mending, but still very ill. Bill’s been to the hospital several times. It’s difficult for the old lady’s companion to get there, so Bill picks her up and takes her in.’ He smiled. ‘I think he’s really smitten with her.’

 
; And I’m smitten with you, Laura thought shamefully. She had seen how these past weeks with Cathy had got to him, and now this latest tragedy. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was. She even started. ‘Matt?’

  ‘Yes?’ They were at the gate now and he was looking down on her.

  Her courage faltered. ‘Nothing. It’s all right.’

  Smiling, he kissed her affectionately on the forehead. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you’ve taken up my work when I’ve been with Cathy.’

  ‘Think nothing of it.’ In truth she would rather be here at the yard than at home in her lonely bedsit.

  ‘You know, Laura, I do wonder about you.’

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’

  ‘Forgive me, but you’re a very attractive woman, and yet there seems to be no man in your life. Don’t you want marriage, babies, all that?’ She was so good with the children here, it seemed only natural to him that she would want some of her own.

  ‘I did, but not any more.’ The silence between them was momentarily awkward.

  He felt he had struck a bad chord with her. ‘I’ve got a bloody cheek, prying into your private life,’ he apologised. ‘Look, when Cathy’s well, I want you to come and have dinner with us, I know she’d like that. She’s taken a shine to you.’

  ‘And I’ve taken a shine to her.’ Cathy was going through a bad time right now, but it would be good to make friends with her. ‘An evening with you and Cathy sounds like a real treat. I don’t have much of a social life.’

  ‘What? No sweetheart?’ He laughed. ‘There I go again… prying.’

  ‘There was someone, but we split up when I moved away from Liverpool.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all water under the bridge.’

  ‘What about friends?’

  She laughed nervously, gesturing towards the horses in the stables. They were her life now. ‘What you see is what you get.’

  ‘When she’s able, you’ll have a good friend in Cathy.’

  Laura nodded. ‘I know. And Matt… if there’s anything I can do?’

  ‘Thank you for that.’

  Deliberately changing the subject, she asked, ‘That man who was killed… it was merciful that he had no family.’

  ‘None they could track anyway.’ He opened the gate, keen to get back to the house. ‘Goodnight, Laura.’

  ‘Goodnight, Matt.’

  As he went one way she went the other. ‘Watch him, Cathy,’ she murmured. ‘There’s many a woman who would beg and steal for a man like that.’ Laura knew only too well how cruel and deceitful men could be. Matt, though, he was different. And he idolised Cathy.

  Her thoughts returned to a letter she had received only that morning. Taking it from the pocket of her breeches, she read it again:

  Dear Laura,

  Please don’t be angry with me. I know I’ve let you down badly, and I’m sorry. I would give anything for us to put all the regrets behind us and make a new life together.

  The other woman was a mistake. I don’t know how I could ever have imagined I loved her. I can’t forgive myself for having caused you such heartache, especially when you have already known such tragedy in your life.

  I can’t bear to think of you now, alone, without any family. Please, Laura, find it in your heart to forgive me?

  You must know I still want you. Please write.

  All my love,

  James.

  With tears in her eyes, Laura crumpled the letter in her fist and threw it on the manure heap. ‘It’s too late,’ she murmured bitterly. ‘We could never be lovers again.’ She remembered how it was, and she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him. Yet she needed a friend. That was all. No commitments. ‘Maybe we could be friends again… one day,’ she wondered aloud. It was something for her to think about.

  Pulling off his boots, Matt left them by the step and went into the house. ‘Cathy, I’m home.’ He shut the kitchen door behind him. There was no sign of Cathy, yet she couldn’t be too far away, he thought, because the pan of vegetables was simmering on the hob, and through the glass in the oven door he could see that the pie was almost ready for taking out. The delicious aroma permeated the room. There were flowers and a vase on the draining board, where Cathy had obviously been in the process of making an arrangement for the table. Going into the dining room he saw that the table was set for two. Still no sign of Cathy. Returning to the hallway, Matt called up the stairs. ‘Cathy, are you up there?’ Still no answer. Thinking she might be out in the back garden, he went by way of the sitting room and out through the patio doors. A quick but thorough search told him she was not there either. Puzzled and irritated, he came back into the cottage and looked again in every room. Cathy was nowhere to be seen.

  As he was coming out of the dining room, he was intrigued to hear a low and haunting melody issuing from upstairs. At first he thought someone had switched on a radio somewhere in the cottage, but then he realised it was someone close by. Cathy, perhaps? Yet it did not sound like Cathy. The voice was that of a stranger, and the melody, too, was unlike any he could remember.

  As he climbed the stairs, following its source, Matt thought he had never heard anything so lovely. It was oddly hypnotic, floating into every corner of his being, filling him with deeply pleasant sensations. Entranced, he went on, up the stairs and along the landing. He was almost there. The soulful melody was coming from Cathy’s room. Curious, he pushed open the door.

  At first he didn’t see her. The evening sunshine poured in through the dormer window in a thin, brilliant shard, blinding him for a second until his eyes grew accustomed. The room was small, sparsely furnished with only a narrow oak wardrobe, a small, matching chest of drawers, and a three-quarter size bed. The walls were emulsioned in a blue pastel shade, the cushions, curtains and bedspread were all in a quiet, pretty floral pattern. Beside the bed stood a barrel-backed rocking chair. Cathy was curled up there, her legs tucked beneath her and her head half-turned to the window. There was a faraway look in her eyes. The plaintive melody was softer now, more beautiful. Matt remembered. Of course! He had heard that melody before. In the car… when they were returning from the airport. His heart leapt as the memory became more vivid. It was when Cathy attacked him, tearing the doll from his grasp. The lilting tones were deeply affecting. Suddenly he did not find it so pleasant. ‘Cathy, are you all right, sweetheart?’ He wanted her to stop now. ‘Cathy?’ He came further into the room, sweeping his gaze over her. He loved her so much, so very much. So small and vulnerable; so lovely, like a doll. Like a doll. Instinctively, he peered closer.

  Cradling the tallow doll, Cathy was slowly rocking back and forth, her fingers tracing its chiselled features, stroking its hair. Suddenly, he froze. There was something different! But what? He was standing before Cathy now, and still she did not look up. The tune was no longer gentle on the ear; it was harsh, mournful. Stooping, he reached out to touch her. ‘Cathy… Cathy.’ He wanted to take her in his arms. But something held him back, some intangible thing that came between them. He had never been more afraid. Was it him? Was he insane? His gaze was drawn to the doll in Cathy’s arms. The truth stabbed at him like the point of the blade. It was not the same doll… then it was! The features that Cathy traced so lovingly had not been the craggy features of an old woman, but those of a strikingly handsome creature, and the grey wisps of hair had become long thick shanks of deepest black. It was uncanny! Shocked, he drew himself up, burying his head in his hands, softly groaning.

  Suddenly, the singing stopped and Cathy’s voice punctured his frantic thoughts. ‘Matt… oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were home.’ He opened his eyes; the palms of his hands were now flat against his ears, straining the facial skin, making his eyes seem bulbous. What the hell was wrong with him? His gaze dropped to the doll in her lap. It was old and ugly.

  ‘You look tired,’ Cathy remarked, carefully arranging the doll in its place on the window ledge before scrambling to her feet and sl
iding her arms round him. ‘Bet you’re starving.’ She casually regarded his face, thinking how extraordinarily good looking he was.

  It was then she noticed the strange expression, the alarming manner in which he was staring into the window. Curious, she half-turned, her eyes following Matt’s gaze. He was staring at the doll. She reached out and held it up, the incoming sunlight creating a unique halo all around it. For an instant, one astonishing instant, the doll was incredibly beautiful. ‘It’s like nothing I’ve ever owned before,’ Cathy said breathlessly. When Matt made no comment, but continued to stare grimly at the object, she reprimanded him quietly. ‘You don’t like it, do you? You’ve never really liked it.’

  ‘It’s a repulsive thing.’ In spite of the tumult it caused in him, he could not take his eyes off the gruesome image. Old, grey faced, with random isolated hair-stumps; not at all like the younger, beautiful creature he had seen. Or thought he saw. Trembling inside, he stretched out a hand to touch it. It felt hard, unyielding. On impulse he snatched his hand away.

  Placing the doll back in its corner, Cathy moved away. ‘We’d best go down,’ she said, ‘or the meal will be ruined. I felt suddenly tired, came up for a nap.’ She massaged her temples, momentarily pausing, closing her eyes. ‘I’ve still got a headache though,’ she confessed. It had been creeping up on her all day. She thought a short sleep might be the best cure. But she hadn’t slept, or, if she had, it was a bad sleep, disturbed by frightening dreams and weird gyrating shapes.

  ‘Cathy…’ Matt turned to look on her. All the old fears were coming back.