‘What, sir?’ Jimmy Fawcett screwed up his face in enquiry: ‘You all right, Mr Douglas?’
‘Yes, damn you! Jimmy, I’m all right. I’m telling you, there’s a fellow back there bleeding to death. It looks as if he’s had his throat cut or something. I don’t know.’
‘Good God!’
‘Where’s Johnson?’
‘’Tis his time off, Mr Douglas.’
‘Who else is on?’
‘Bill, but he’s just gone down to his cottage.’
‘Well, get the cart out and I’ll go and get Bill to come along with us. Then Ron…you take to your heels and go down the road to The Beeches, Doctor Nesbitt is nearly sure to be in at this time. Bring him along to the wood. It’s in the clearing.’
‘But which wood, Mr Douglas?’
‘My God, man, there’s only one wood on the road to town!’
‘Oh, that one. Oh, all right, all right. I’ll do that. Yes, I will.’ And with this, he dashed into a stable, swung his coat off a nail and even while putting it on was running out of the yard.
Meanwhile, Douglas almost burst into the groom’s cottage, apologising as he gabbled, ‘I’m sorry, Bill, but you’ve got to come along with me. There’s a man bleeding to death in the wood. Jimmy’s getting the cart ready, Ron’s gone for Doctor Nesbitt.’ Knowing that this man would follow him, he immediately turned and made for the house.
He now ran through the kitchen quarters, startling Rosie Jackson and the maids. And in the hall, seeing the butler coming out of the dining room he shouted at him, ‘Where’s Mr Lionel?’
The man’s only answer was to turn his face towards the dining room again, and Douglas, pushing past him, entered the room to see Lionel sitting in a chair at the far end of the table, a glass to his mouth, which he drained as Douglas hurried towards him, saying, ‘There’s been an accident of some kind, Lionel. I came across a fellow in the wood. It looks as if his throat’s been gashed. Will you come and give us a hand?’
‘Wh…What?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, you’re still feeling the effects of your toss. But the poor fellow’s likely bled to death by this time.’
Lionel laid the empty glass slowly down on the table and looked at Douglas as he said, ‘He’s not dead?’
‘No, but he likely will be by the time we get there. I’ve sent Yarrow for Doctor Nesbitt. They’re getting the cart ready.’
Looking hard now at his brother, he said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry; you’re not up to it. It’s all right. It’s all right,’ and he backed from him, flapping his hand and assuring him, ‘We’ll manage.’
Left alone, Lionel closed his eyes tightly and brought his teeth down onto his lower lip, dragging it inwards on top of his tongue until the pain caused him to desist; then slowly his hand went out towards the decanter, and, as slowly it seemed, he filled the wine glass to its brim. The glass was quickly emptied and once more his head drooped until his chin rested on his chest, and he muttered aloud, ‘God Almighty! All that for nothing. And if the fellow was able to speak…’ and again he said, ‘God Almighty!’
Seven
As Mary Ellen Skinner entered the factory her nose wrinkled and she brought her hasty step to a walk as she looked about her at the dust-laden air. Her narrow glance flitting from one dim figure to another, she stopped at a bench and said to the figure standing there, ‘Where’s Joe Skinner?’
The worker happened not to be a girl but a married woman, and a mother of five children, but was still known as Susie Fields because she had been Little Susie Fields when she first started in this factory at nine years old. And she had lived in Honeybee Place all her life, and so Mary Ellen Skinner was no stranger to her.
Susie was known to be a bit of a card and no respecter of man or woman of no matter what class, and so, on a laugh, she said, ‘Well, the silly bugger was standing in his trousers the last time I saw him.’
The titter ran along the bench but the hands never stopped folding over the squares of blacklead. They all seemed to be working in unison and so fast it seemed that within the blink of an eyelid a block was placed on a piece of paper, the ends of the paper brought together, the sides enveloped and dabbed with glue, then racked. And the process was repeated within almost another blink of the eyelid.
Mary Ellen’s lips seemed to be on the point of letting out a loud whistle, but when they parted what she said was, ‘’Tis a wonder they weren’t down then when you were about.’
A lass’s hand came out and grabbed Susie’s and forced it and the block of blacklead onto the bench again, and from the other side of the bench the man loading a trolley with the wrapped blocks said, ‘Well, Susie, you know, you asked for that,’ and added, ‘Wonder what she’s after?’
When Mary Ellen reached the end of the room she asked Johnnie McInnes, ‘Where’s Joe?’ and he replied, ‘Oh, hello, Mrs Skinner. You want the gaffer, do you? Oh, well, he’s gaffering in the storeroom, I think.’ He nodded and jerked his head towards the door.
Mary Ellen peered at him and her head wagged slightly as she said, ‘Oh, I thought you were the gaffer, Johnnie, and our Joe the manager? He told me he had bumped you up, seeing you missed getting his job.’
Johnnie McInnes glared after the small sturdy figure as it disappeared into the storeroom and what he muttered under his breath wasn’t respectable.
Joe was talking to a cart man. He had a clipboard in his hand and he was checking the small crates being loaded onto the flat dray cart, and he started somewhat when he heard his mother’s voice at his elbow, saying, ‘I want a word with you.’
He didn’t speak but turned and walked out of the loading shed, went through the door into the factory and there, calling Johnnie McInnes forward, he handed him the board, saying, ‘Finish that load, will you?’ and continued towards the office, and there, before he could ask what had brought her here, she said, ‘You want to watch that one. He called you the gaffer and said you were gaffering in there. If you’re managing you want to stand on your feet and let them see you’re managing.’
‘What d’you want? What’s the matter?’
She drew in a long breath, before answering, ‘Have you seen anything of our Fred?’
‘I saw him last night. But why should I have seen him since? He knows I won’t set him on.’
‘He hasn’t been home all night. I waited up till nearly three. It’s never happened afore.’
‘Oh that.’ He went behind the desk and sat in the chair before adding, ‘He’s got to start some place. But then, I thought he was already well versed in that line but would never fork out to stay the night.’
‘You’re a bitter sod, aren’t you?’
‘Well, I know where I get it from, Ma. And I’ve somethin’ to be bitter about if I look back over me life, where neither you nor he hasn’t. You’ve both seen to number one first.’
Her head made small movements as she said, ‘Who’s talkin’ about number one? If anybody’s seeing to number one it’s you: leaving me to fend for meself while you see to your trollop, ’cos that’s what she is…and you needn’t get to your feet ’cos you’ll sit and hear me out. I know there’s somethin’ fishy about her, and our Fred knows a thing or two, but you’ve threatened him if he opens his mouth.’
He had risen to his feet now, and his voice was dangerously quiet as he said, ‘You know more than is good for you, Ma. But don’t think you’ll get to know anythin’ from Fred; he’s careful of his skin, is Fred. And remember Andy Davison did time for one of Fred’s exploits. But we’ve been through all this afore, haven’t we? Now, Ma, I should go home an’ make yourself, as you always do, a good cup of tea. And cook a few griddle cakes an’ get the butter out an’ treat yourself as you usually do when you’re on your own.’
They stared at each other for a moment; then as she turned away from him she said almost under her breath, ‘Bad sons always come to rotten ends. And you’ll sup sorrow with a big spoon afore you’re finished. I know that,’ to which his answer was: ‘Likely I
will, Ma. If you wish it hard enough for me, I certainly will.’
When the door banged behind her he dropped back onto the seat, and a tremor shot through him. It was as if he had been stung by a hornet, and so physical was its effect that he gripped a handful of the front of his coat, and admonished himself. Steady. Steady.
‘You don’t like it, Joe?’
‘Oh, yes, lass, yes. It’s fine. I couldn’t imagine you makin’ a bad meat puddin’.’
‘You generally ask for a second do almost afore you’ve finished your first. There must be somethin’ the matter. Now tell me, what is it? Is it your Fred again?’
‘Aye; in a way, you could say it’s him. But me mother came to the Works the day. He hadn’t come home last night. I put it to her, there could be a reason for that, and yet, as far as I can remember, he’s never kept a steady lass. But anyway, she went for me. By, she’s a bitter pill, is me Ma. The things she said. Well, she’s said as much before but it’s never affected me like it did the day. It left me with the most odd feeling; I can’t describe it. She’s not a happy woman, is me Ma, but then she never has been. Me Da used to call her misery guts. Nothin’ he ever did seemed to please her: she was always “on…the want”, he would say.’ But then, smiling across the table at Lily, he said, ‘Apparently there was a lighter side to her visit, I understand from Bill: as she was passing up the shop she asked Susie where I was, and you know Susie and her mouth, well, she told her the last time she had seen the bugger he was standing in his trousers. But me Ma’s not backward in coming forward with her tongue, an’ it seemed she sort of insinuated what happens when they come down, which maddened Susie, who was for hittin’ her with a block of blacklead. And she would have done, but she was stopped in time by one of the lasses.’
Lily laughed as she said, ‘Oh, I can hear Susie. When she opens her mouth somethin’ always comes out that you would never hear in Sunday School.’
He was glad to see her laughing and being chirpy, for she had been rather quiet these last few weeks. And he knew why, but the reason wasn’t spoken of: it was well known around the quarter that Miss Bridget’s cousin, Miss Victoria, was going to marry the Filmore fella. He himself had never mentioned it, but he knew she would be aware of it even if she never left the house; Mrs Leary was as good as the evening paper. The wedding was to be tomorrow and, from what he understood, quite a big affair: the breakfast at Miss Bridget’s house, then a ball at night in the Assembly Rooms in Newcastle.
Well, it would be up to him to think of something to take her mind off it, at least for part of the time. So, as she placed before him the second helping of meat pudding he looked up at her and said, ‘How about us havin’ a night out the morrow. Mrs Leary would see to him.’ He nodded towards the child where he lay in the cradle to the side of the fireplace. ‘How about the Empire? I hear there’s a couple of blokes on there that bring the house down. They’re as daft as a brush, or two brushes.’
She, too, looked towards the cradle, then back at him and smiled, saying, ‘Oh, I would like that, Joe. Yes, I would. And I can wear me new hat and coat.’
‘Oh lord, that’ll mean we’ll have to have a box.’
As she pushed him in the shoulder they both turned and looked towards the door that led into the passage from where came the sound of the front door knocker being rapped.
‘Who can this be that uses the knocker?’ He pulled a face at her. ‘If they’re collectin’ for owt, I’m not in.’
She was smiling again as she passed him on her way to the passage, and he was about to finish the last few bites from his plate, but stopped, his fork poised halfway to his mouth, his head turned to the side and his ears alert now to the sound of men’s voices.
When the door opened and Lily entered, followed by two policemen, he pulled himself quickly to his feet, saying, ‘What’s up? What’s the matter?’
One of the men he recognised straight away, Constable Salop, and as all policemen were known as slops, so this particular one became Sloppy Salop, who would chase the bairns when they’d be up to some mischief. But they weren’t really afraid of Sloppy Salop because the most he did was to shake them by the ear, or wallop it, with an accompanying threat to tell their ma. It was never their da, always their ma.
The other man was a sergeant and it was he who spoke, saying, ‘I would like to ask you a few questions, Mr Skinner. But first of all I must tell you that’—he paused—‘your brother is dead.’
Both Joe and Lily now exchanged amazed glances; then Joe muttered, ‘Fred?’
‘Yes.’ The man’s voice was very cool. ‘He has been murdered. He was alive last night when found in Brook’s Wood, but he died in hospital this morning at half past ten. There was no identification on him at the time. And it wasn’t until some time later that the mortuary attendant, coming on duty, recognised him.’
‘Oh my God! I’ll…I’ll—’ He turned again and looked at Lily, saying, ‘I’ll have to go straight to me ma’s.’
The sergeant now seemed to hesitate before he said, ‘I…I don’t think you had better do that. In any case we would like you to come down to the station. There’s a few questions we would like to ask you.’
‘Questions to ask me? What about?’
‘Well as I’ve just said, you brother was murdered. He died from a stab wound in the throat, and…and’—again he paused—‘you have been known to threaten him. Now, now.’
He held up his hand, his forefinger wagging. ‘You must think before you speak; we’ll be taking note of all you say from now on.’
‘My God! You can’t mean this? Aye, I’ve threatened him since he was a lad; he was always gettin’ into trouble. And I took over after me da died an’ I had to keep him steady. Aye…aye, I’ve threatened him. But what are you sayin’? I’ve murdered him?’
‘I would ask you again, Mr Skinner, to come with us.’
Joe now appealed to the constable, saying, ‘Mr Salop, you know me. I’ve never done anythin’ in me life to get into the hands of the pollis.’
Constable Salop said, ‘Well, it was your mother, lad. She said, only last night you had a go at him…’
The sergeant’s manner became very brisk, and he turned a hard look on his subordinate as he said, ‘We’ll continue this down at the station.’
Lily was hanging on to Joe’s arm, her head was wagging, her mouth opening and shutting; but she uttered no word until he moved from her to take his cap from the rack. Then she turned on the two men, crying, ‘He wouldn’t! He couldn’t do a thing like that. He’s…he’s always looked after him. Gone for him, aye, but kept him out of trouble. His mother’s a wicked woman, she is, she is to say such a thing. People have rows, they say all kinds of things in rows…’
‘It’s all right, lass, it’s all right. I’ll be back. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back.’
She was clinging on to him so much that he had to force her hands from his arm and his voice had a slight break in it as he said, ‘Now be a good lass. You’ve got the bairn to see to. I’ll be back. I tell you, I’ll be back.’ And with that he walked from the room ahead of the two men; and it was he who opened the front door, there to see what appeared to be the whole street out, with Mary Leary nearest the step. And he turned and said to her, ‘Go on in and see to her, will you, Mrs Leary?’
‘Aye, lad. Aye, lad. Let that be the least of your worries. What have you done to bring the lousy coppers on to you?’
And that was what Joe was asking himself: What had he done? Nothing. And yet, on his mother’s word, it looked as if he was to be accused of murdering Fred. He looked back to the times when he would have liked to do just that and so wipe him out of existence, because he had been a thorn in his flesh since he could crawl…
And that’s what he kept saying to the two men sitting opposite him across the wooden table. ‘Aye, if that’s threatening then I’ve threatened him in all kinds of ways, because as you know yourself, if you look in your books, he’s been suspected of this, that and the oth
er.’
He sat back on the wooden chair, tired. This had been going on for hours now. These were two strange men sitting opposite to him, and one was asking, ‘Do you know anyone who has a grudge against him?’
Yes, he knew somebody with a grudge against him, Andy Davison. He pulled himself straight now; even so, he paused before he said, ‘Aye, I know somebody with a grudge against him, but…’ Again he paused. Could he say…? Well, it seemed to be either his neck or somebody else’s. And there was Lily and the bairn to think of; and what was more, he was innocent. He said, ‘There’s a fellow called Andy Davison. He did time for stealin’, but…but it wasn’t him; it was Fred that planted the stuff in his yard. I didn’t know till after.’
‘And do you know if this man has threatened your brother?’
‘No; he didn’t know who had set him up. He always swore that…well, if he found out, what he would do.’
The men looked at each other; then they left the room, leaving him with the policeman who was standing at the door, and he turned to him and said, ‘’Tis like a nightmare.’ And the policeman replied softly, ‘Aye, that’s what most of them say when they come in here.’
A few minutes later another policeman came into the room and said to him, ‘Come along, lad; you’ll be here for the night, at any rate.’ And with that he led him out, across the reception area, down a flight of steps, then along a corridor that was lined with heavy knobless doors, each faceless except for a small grid.
The constable opened one of the doors and, pointing to a wooden bench on which there were two folded blankets and a bare pillow, he said not unkindly, ‘Make yourself as comfortable as possible, lad. You’ll have a mug of cocoa shortly.’
When the door clanged and there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, Joe resorted to an old habit; he put the four fingers of his right hand into his mouth, each nail covering a tooth, and pulled at them as if to loosen the roots.
The Black Candle Page 12