The Long Corridor

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. She’s out to destroy me, but she’ll likely destroy herself in the effort. It wouldn’t surprise me if the woman doesn’t go mad. She’s been neurotic for years…But enough of her.’ He jerked his head backwards as if throwing Bett and all her works away. ‘Where do you think Lorna’s got to? Couldn’t she be with some of her friends?’

  ‘I phoned the Watsons first, then the Bells, and then Doctor Price’s house. Queenie said she hadn’t been there, but as I was talking to her the doctor came on to the phone. He asked what time Lorna had gone out and I told him. He said it was most odd, but when he was coming along Sunderland Road at yon end, about four miles out, he picked up a girl in his headlights. She was walking on the grass verge and he was so sure it was Lorna that he pulled up: but when he called to her she took to her heels and ran on to the wasteland. He—he said it puzzled him for a bit but he could understand the girl running away if it wasn’t Lorna. He said if she wasn’t back shortly, to contact him again.’

  Before Jenny finished speaking he had picked up the phone and dialled a number. ‘Hello. That you, John?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Paul. Has Lorna turned up?’

  ‘No…I’m worried. About this girl you saw. Whereabouts exactly?’

  ‘Well, you know the wasteland near Braithwaite’s factory. Just there.’

  ‘You think it was Lorna?’

  ‘Paul, I’m sure of it now. I was sure of it then, but when she ran…well, you understand.’

  ‘How long ago, John, exactly?’

  ‘Oh, an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half I should say.’

  ‘She could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘Was there any trouble?’

  ‘Yes…yes.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘At the moment, I don’t know. She might turn up, but on the other hand if she was that far out who knows, she might be going straight on. I think my best bet would be to inform the police. What do you think?’

  ‘Mine, too. Look, I’ll come straight over.’

  ‘Thanks, John.’ He put the phone down, held his hand on it for a minute, while he looked at Jenny, then dialled the police station and asked if Sergeant Cooper was on duty.

  The sergeant came on the phone and his voice was more than affable. ‘Anything I can do for you, Doctor?’

  Paul told him what had happened, finishing with, ‘It might be nothing; I might be making a mountain out of a molehill and I’ll feel a bit silly if she walks in within the next few minutes but…but, you see, she was in a bit of a temper when she went out.’

  ‘I understand, Doctor, I understand; I have three of my own. Leave it to me. I’ll get things moving right away and I’ll keep you informed.’

  ‘Thanks, Sergeant…By the way, I’m going out to have a look round myself, I’m just waiting for Doctor Price to join me.’

  ‘There’ll be someone in the house?’

  ‘Yes…yes.’ Paul cast a sideways enquiring glance towards Jenny.

  ‘Very good, Doctor. I hope I have news for you shortly. Don’t worry. She couldn’t have got very far, unless of course she took a lift. But…but likely somebody will have seen her. Don’t you worry, sir.’

  Paul put the phone down and resting his two hands on the desk repeated, ‘Don’t you worry, sir.’ Then glancing sideways at Jenny he said again, ‘Don’t you worry. I feel I’m going mad with one thing and another and I’m told not to worry…How often I dish out that advice myself.’ He turned round and leant his buttocks against the edge of the desk and asked her, ‘Will you get me a drink, Jinny?’ But as she turned away he said quickly, ‘No, no, better not; I’d better keep my head clear.’ As he glanced at his watch she looked at him and said tentatively, ‘Paul,’ and her tone brought his head round to her.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s something else I—I think you should know. I’ve just come down from Bett. She isn’t well, she’s running a high temperature…’

  ‘Jinny.’ His big body reared upward away from the support of the desk and he seemed to expand as he growled at her. ‘Don’t you expect me to show the slightest concern about my wife’s condition. I don’t care if she’s got a fever so high it melts her bones. At this minute Bett could be lying dead at my feet and I would step over her and walk out…’

  The colour drained from her face. He had every reason to be wildly angry, but it seemed that he was also blaming her; this was the second time he had gone for her in a matter of hours. The Paul of her acquaintance was an impatient, sharp-tempered, slightly arrogant individual, but at all times so very human; not so the man facing her.

  ‘…And don’t mention Bett to me again, not for a long, long time. Tomorrow we part company, and if she doesn’t go off of her own bat, I’ll put her out. She’ll drain me dry when it comes to a settlement, and if my throwing her out goes in her favour, so be it, but out she goes…’

  Not a little to her own surprise, Jenny found her anger rising swiftly against him. There wasn’t another soul in the world she really cared two hoots about, except perhaps Lorna, and it didn’t seem possible that she could go against him in anything, but now she cried at him and her voice wasn’t low, ‘All right! All right! You needn’t go on. But when you can forget your personal feelings remember you’re still a doctor. And don’t forget also that I’m a nurse, and as such I know she’s in need of help. Her throat is infected, and this hasn’t just started today. She must have been feeling off colour for some time. Now if you don’t want to give the order perhaps you’d have no objection to me asking Doctor Price to look at her?’

  He had been glaring at her as she went for him, but now his face relaxed just the slightest, and in a semblance of his ordinary tone, he said, ‘You know you could have been sisters, you and her, Jinny, for when it comes to a balance between us you always tip the scales to her side…Well, you do what you like, only don’t tell me about it…There’s John, now. Look.’ He turned back to her. ‘I suppose it’s a kind of nerve to ask you after that to stay on until I get back…’

  ‘Aw, don’t be ridiculous.’ She blinked her eyes and jerked her head away from him. ‘Go on.’ Her voice softened. ‘And for God’s sake find her.’

  As he went across the hall to the front door he saw Maggie standing just within the kitchen door as if she was waiting for him, but all he did was to pause slightly and exchange a glance with her.

  John Price was a tall, thin man, a few years older than Paul, and the father of two daughters and two sons. He had been friends with Paul for many years, even before he had been asked to attend Bett, but he knew as little, or as much, about either of them as did any outsider. He knew, for instance, that they had separate rooms, but so did a number of people, because the daily helps and maids had been numerous over the years. And then it wasn’t anything new for a couple to have separate rooms, particularly a doctor who was liable to be disturbed any hour of the night. Who knew; it might be out of consideration that he had a separate room; yet in this particular case John Price had his own opinion. The only thing he knew that was perhaps not public knowledge was the situation between the Higginses had been tense for many years, and he was sorry for them both because he liked Paul and in a way he was fond of Bett. When defending her to his wife he had often said, ‘She’s never really grown up, and whatever you say, you’ve got to admit she’s always cheerful.’ His wife had had varying answers to this kind of comment, but they all suggested that Bett was only cheerful in the company of men. And she had now and again commented on Lorna’s strange oriental look; she hadn’t much use for the theory of throwbacks.

  But he was worried about this business of Lorna. He could still see the frightened face of the young girl in the headlights. He blamed himself now for not giving chase, but if he had been wrong he could have scared the girl to death.

  He said on greeting, ‘Hello, there. Any news? What was the trouble, anyway? Queenie said she was all right when she left her after school
.’

  ‘Aw.’ Paul put his hat on and tugged on the brim before saying, ‘We had a few words.’ He did not mention Bett.

  ‘Oh, well, I can understand that upsetting her. I could never imagine you and her having words. It’s funny, but whenever Queenie and her used to fall out Queenie used to do a mime of her talking about you. The little devil used to call you Lorna’s Big Chief Daddy Doctor.’

  Paul jerked his chin. It was meant as a light movement, in place of a laugh.

  ‘Where do you intend to look?’

  ‘Well, I think it would be a good idea if we went along to where you saw her and we worked from there. She might be miles away; on the other hand she might be hiding among the buildings around there. But I think I’d better call at the station first and tell the police where we are going.’

  Before John Price got into his car he turned to Paul and asked, ‘How’s Bett taking this?’

  Paul was pushing his bag and some files along the seat; his body was bent and his voice came muffled in reply, ‘She’s under the weather. A bit of a cold, I think. She’s in bed.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that; I’ll look in on her later.’

  Paul’s car door banged shut behind him. Then Doctor Price’s door followed suit, and the two cars moved swiftly out of the Square

  Three

  Maggie sat with her slippered feet pressed close to the bottom of the Aga cooker, while her hands gripped the towel rail. She had a feeling on her of impending doom. If anything happened to the child it would be the finish of him, seeing that it had come about because of the two of them warring. She had known all along right in her bowels that the child was no blood of his. She remembered the slant-eyed little fellow coming to the house and the tizzy herself had got into. She had known then all there was to know, and the old doctor had known, and the mistress, too. Ah, yes, she had known…And then himself…It was from that day that that look had come on to his face. Aye, they had all known, yet nobody had said a word because it was a thing best left buried. And the little snipe had played it off with a high hand, defying the lot of them, saying as plain as if she had bawled in their faces, ‘You prove it. Go on, prove it.’ Well, there was one thing to be glad of: it had burst into the open at last. They couldn’t have gone on much longer as they had been doing these past years, with the hate growing atween them so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  Then look how the little upstart had treated her, like so much muck beneath her feet. Before the mistress had died young mistress Higgins had minded her p’s and q’s, but from the day the mistress had been carried out of the house she had done her best to get rid of her. And begod! Two seconds she wouldn’t have stayed if it hadn’t been for himself. No, she wouldn’t that. But there was nothing she wouldn’t put up with for him, for he was to her like a son; in fact if there was anything closer than the flesh of your flesh then he was that. Never had she had the same regard for her own boy, and let’s face it, he hadn’t it for her, for at no time in his life had he shown her half the consideration that young Paul had. The mistress had given birth to her only son six weeks after her own Monica had been born, and from when her daughter was six weeks old she had lain during the day in a clothes basket in the corner there while she herself had gone about her duties, and later on wasn’t it natural, when the mistress wasn’t feeling too good that she should nurse them both on her knees and that they should often drink from the same font. Perhaps that was why she loved him so, for she had suckled him like a mother. He was supposed to have been bottle-fed and everybody exclaimed at his thriving and the wonders of the patent food, and she had smiled quietly to herself and went on giving him the mixture as before, and in after years as she saw him broaden and grow she had taken credit to herself. She knew in this moment that if her three children, who had gone from her, should die together from one blast she wouldn’t feel it half as much as if anything should happen to himself. She sometimes felt that she hadn’t very much to live for. When she left this kitchen at night and went back to her empty house, all she thought about was getting her feet up and getting her rest to enable her to carry on another day. She knew that in ordinary circumstances she would have given up work long ago, for she was past it; she was old—how old only herself knew. Most people when they guessed her age were out by ten years or more. But for the remainder of her time she was determined to spend it near him, for she knew that if during some part of the day she didn’t see him then it wouldn’t be much use her going on.

  When the kitchen door opened and Jenny appeared, she turned her head slowly towards her and said, ‘If that phone doesn’t ring soon they’ll have to cart me away. Another night it would be deafenin’ you. I’ve never known it so silent. Isn’t it just like the thing?’

  Jenny came slowly towards the stove. ‘Well, in one way it’s a good job it isn’t ringing, for he wouldn’t be able to see to anyone tonight.’

  ‘No, you’re right there; he wants no calls the night. With one thing and another he’s had his bellyful the day, and I’ve a feelin’ inside me it isn’t finished yet.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie, don’t say that.’

  ‘Aw, Miss Jenny, I come from a race that can smell disaster from afar off, an’ I wish to God you weren’t goin’ the morrow.’

  ‘At the present moment I can’t see myself going tomorrow, Maggie.’

  ‘Have you told her’—Maggie jerked her head upwards—‘that the child’s gone?’

  ‘No, no, I haven’t, Maggie, she’s in no fit state to be told. She’s partly hysterical as it is.’

  ‘Well, she hasn’t far to look for the cause of her trouble. She deserves all she’s got an’ more. Not that I’m holdin’ it against her for tryin’ to brain me with the water jug. No, no; that’s a natural sort of response, an’ it’s many the time I’ve done the same meself, let fly at my Frank with what came to me hand when he came in bottled, God rest him. No, I’m not holdin’ that against her…Has that clock stopped? It must be more than quarter to ten.’

  Jenny looked at the wall clock, then at her watch. ‘It might be a minute or two out, but that’s all; the time hangs heavy.’

  ‘Aw, well, I wish to God somebody would use that phone. That’s all I ask.’

  As if in answer to Maggie’s plea the phone shrilled from the hall and Jenny, darting out of the kitchen, picked up the receiver.

  ‘Is Doctor Higgins in?’

  ‘No, but can I take a message?’

  ‘Yes. This is a report to tell him that a girl who answers the description of his daughter has been picked up in Newcastle. She is being held at Pilgrim Street Police Station. But she won’t give her name. Will you ask him to go there?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes. Thank you. Thank you very much. As soon as I hear from him—he’s out searching—I’ll tell him. Thank you; thank you very much.’ Jenny’s hand remained gripping the phone after she had replaced it on the rest, and for a moment she rested against the wall by the side of the table, her whole body slumped.

  ‘Maggie, Maggie.’ She burst into the kitchen now. ‘They’ve got her. At least, someone of her description. But there’s not two Lornas.’

  ‘Aw, thanks be to God.’ Maggie was standing holding on to her chair, and she crossed herself. Then drawing in her thick wrinkled lips she sucked at them for a moment before saying, ‘I’ll make a cup of tea.’

  Jenny began to pace the floor, talking all the while. ‘It must be an hour since he rang; he could be miles away. Oh, if only he’d call. But anyway she’s safe.’

  ‘There it goes.’ As the phone rang again, Maggie’s voice almost drowned it…

  ‘Hello. Oh, Paul. Paul, listen. They’ve found her. She’s at Pilgrim Street Police Station, Newcastle…Paul, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘But where are you?’

  ‘We’re in Low Fell. John and I arranged to meet here. We’ll…we’ll get off now, Jinny. Thanks. Thanks.’

  The phone clicked and she put the receiver down then she stoo
d looking across the hall and up the stairs.

  She should now be able to think, Well, that’s that—I can leave tomorrow as arranged, but in her mind she was looking along the upper landing and to the end of the corridor, to where Bett lay tossing and turning in distress, both mental and physical. What would happen to her if she was left with Paul and Maggie? Paul who wouldn’t go near her, and Maggie who hated the sight of her, while the fact of being visited by either of them would, Jenny knew, increase her mental distress. And then there was Lorna. The gulf between them would be greater than ever now. Why, she asked herself, as she returned slowly to the kitchen, was she pulled from all sides by the emotions that filled this house.

  ‘It was himself?’

  ‘Yes, Maggie; he’s going straight there.’

  ‘Thanks be to God. An’ sit yourself down an’ have this cup of tea; you look as white as a sheet. And you’ll have to content yourself to wait, for it’ll be an hour afore they are back. So sit down, sit down.’

  Four

  It was nearer two hours before they came. The sound of the car coming into the courtyard brought Jenny to the door, while Maggie busied herself at the stove, knowing that it was better at moments like this not to make too much of them.

  From the light of the kitchen door Jenny saw Lorna and Paul standing beside the car. Then from the street came Doctor Price. Like Maggie, she told herself to act calmly and make no fuss, and so she waited. At least for a short time until she heard Paul’s voice curt, commanding, saying, ‘Now stop this, Lorna, and come inside.’

  ‘Come on, Lorna, that’s a good girl.’ Doctor Price’s tone was low and persuasive.

  ‘I—I don’t want to. I’m not going in.’

  ‘Lorna!’ Paul was shouting.

  ‘I’ll go to Aunt Jenny’s.’