The other officer spoke now and said, ‘If I were you, Miss Morgan, I wouldn’t go to the hospital until tomorrow. You see, as I said, he won’t be round for hours and then . . . well, I’m afraid he won’t be able to speak to you much, if at all.’
‘That’s if he’s still here,’ Bella persisted bitterly.
‘Well,’ said one of them quietly, ‘we can only hope, and we’re all hoping. Believe that.’
After an awkward silence the two men rose, and she too, and as she let them out she said, ‘You didn’t tell me which hospital he’s at.’
‘He’s in the Royal, in a side ward. One of our men is sitting with him all the time so that if he does recover he might give us a lead about who attacked him. Whoever they were, I’m sure they never expected him to survive.’
When she closed the door on them she had almost to grope her way to the bottom of the stairs, and there, dropping down on to the last step, she bent forward, picked up her apron, buried her face in it and began to cry as she hadn’t done before, even after Andy’s death.
She had known Carl before Andy and the others had come on the scene. He had been pitiable in many ways: he had had his looks to contend with, and she was convinced he had been sleeping rough for a long time. She knew that he was sharpwitted; later, she recognised he was wise in many ways and also that he had a brain, that he was intelligent. When she felt the arm go round her she turned and put her head on Reenee’s shoulder; and Reenee held her and rocked her gently, and her face, too, was wet. Presently, she pushed Bella away gently; then she brought out the word, ‘Dead?’
Bella’s throat was so tight she couldn’t speak, but she stood up and tugged Reenee to her feet. Then she said haltingly, ‘Not. . . yet,’ and repeated, ‘not. . . yet.’
Reenee now put her joined hands against her breast as if she were praying, and the guttural sound that came from her throat repeated the words, ‘Not yet.’
Bella was in her best coat and hat. Joe had on a good suit; he’d even had his hair cut, and his brown shoes were well polished. The police had arranged that they would be met outside the Royal Hospital’s main entrance at eleven o’clock this morning and they were now waiting for the taxi to take them there. Willie was in the hall, Reenee was there, too, but standing further back near the kitchen door, and Bella, turning towards her, said in quite a loud voice, as if she were some far distance away, ‘Don’t worry, love, we won’t be long; and if he’s awake we’ll tell him you’re thinking about him.’
‘Here’s the taxi,’ said Willie, as he opened the door. Then, looking at Bella, he said, quietly, ‘She’ll be all right.’ Then even lower, he added, ‘Don’t expect miracles; he likely won’t know you.’
For a moment she stared at him as if in disbelief, then went out into the street, with Joe following her, and they got into the taxi. The driver had not bothered to leave his seat and open the door for them, an action that seemed significant – fares from this end of town wouldn’t expect courtesy.
However, his manner changed, just the slightest, when he drew his cab to a stop and was turning to ask for his fare before they let themselves out. To his surprise, a policeman hurried along the pavement towards the taxi, opened the door and gave his hand to the woman. Then, looking at the taxi driver who had now opened his door and was about to get out, the policeman asked, ‘What is it?’ The man, inspecting the meter, gave him the price, and at this the policeman turned to Joe, saying, ‘It’s all right, I’ll see to it.’ Bringing some silver out of his pocket, he picked from it the exact amount and said to the driver, ‘You were a bit late in opening the door, weren’t you?’
The man glared at him, reached back and banged the door shut, then drove off.
Bella had recognised the policeman as one of the two men who had called at the house yesterday to give her the dreadful news, and she said, ‘Thank you. Thank you, Officer.’
Placing a hand gently on her elbow, and with Joe walking at her other side, he guided them to the main door of the hospital.
Although she had lived in London all these years she had never seen the Royal London Hospital and she was awed by its size, but more so by the bustle that was going on all around her as they were led through corridors and past wards until the policeman brought them to a halt. He stopped a nurse, and said, ‘We have permission to visit Mr Carl Poze. He is, I understand, in a side ward.’
The nurse looked from him to the little woman and the tall man and she said, ‘Oh, yes. Wait a moment, I’ll get Sister.’
The sister came and the policeman addressed her, ‘Good morning, Sister;’ then, motioning to Bella and Joe, he explained, ‘These are relatives of Mr Carl Poze and have permission, I understand, to visit him.’
The sister looked at the two visitors before she said, ‘Yes; just come this way.’
She led them into a short corridor, but paused before opening the door and, looking at Bella, she said, ‘Please don’t be distressed by the condition in which you’ll find . . . your son?’ she enquired.
‘Yes, you could say so,’ said Bella softly.
‘I must ask you, if possible, not to disturb him in any way by . . . well, your reactions. Also I think that ten minutes will be sufficient.’ She now opened the door to allow them to pass into the room.
A man was seated at the far side of a bed. Bella had taken only three steps towards it when she found she couldn’t move further. Joe’s arm came about her, and with the sister’s help, he placed her in a chair.
She sat staring at the thing in the bed. At first, all her blurred gaze could make of it was that it was attached to wires and tubes, all joined to the head and face and neck. The little of the face she could see was just a slit that might have been the mouth, and if there was a body it was lying under a cage, with the exception of the arms. Yet here again there was no flesh visible, because right down to the wrists they were bandaged, and from there the hands lay in what looked like bags.
There was a whirling in her mind. The sister had said only ten minutes: that was a long, long time ago; something was happening to her . . .
For the first time in her life, Bella had fainted.
She knew she was dragging herself up out of some terrible blackness. She had never felt like this in her life before. What was the matter with her? Where was she?
She opened her eyes and gasped for breath, and a voice said, ‘That’s it. Take deep breaths. That’s it, deep breaths. You’ll feel all right in a moment. I’m sure you’d like a cup of tea.’ It was a nice voice, soothing. She felt relaxed. She didn’t know why she was here. What had happened to her? Then slowly, slowly, there came into her mind the picture of the thing she had seen lying in the bed, and she wanted to cry out against it. But the soothing voice was going on: ‘Ah, here comes a cup of tea. Now will you sit up? That’s it. Open your eyes. There, that’s better, isn’t it? I’ll put this cushion behind your head. Now sip this tea; you’ll feel better. That’s it, open your eyes.’
She opened her eyes and looked up into a bright round face, a young face, and what she said to it was, ‘Joe?’ and Joe’s voice came to her from the foot of the couch or whatever she was lying on, and he said, ‘It’s all right, Bella. It’s all right. I could’ve passed out meself. I could that.’
She looked up again at the bright face. She had to put her head well back, for the nurse was standing, and she said, ‘Is . . . is he gone?’
‘No, no. Don’t worry. The doctor’s just finishing on the ward; he’s going to come in and have a word with you. Now, just finish this tea,’ she said, placing the cup on a small table to Bella’s side.
‘Thank you.’
‘Rest there now; I’ll be back in a moment.’
‘Joe.’
Joe went to her and knelt down by her side. He took her hand, and said, ‘They say he’s holding his own. Try not to worry.’
‘But, Joe . . . did you see him? There . . . there must be nothing left of him.’
Joe did not answer for almost a minute
. Then he said, ‘He’s tough inside, is Carl, and he’s got pluck. I always knew he had much more pluck than me. Me, I was all brawn and mouth, but Carl, well, he had brains – and pluck.’
For a moment she forgot the picture in her mind as she patted his hand and said, ‘You’ve always been a good man, Joe, always. You were like two brothers together, and he was very fond of you. Very. He – he once told me that you were the best mate anybody could have.’
‘He did, Bella?’
‘Yes. Yes, he did, Joe, and that’s the truth.’
When the door opened, Joe pulled himself to his feet and looked to where a young man in a white coat, accompanied by the sister, was coming towards them.
‘This is Dr—’ Bella did not catch the name, it sounded foreign, but the sister went on, ‘He is seeing to your son, Mrs Morgan.’ She now pulled a chair forward and the young man sat down on it. Leaning towards Bella, he said, ‘How are you feeling now?
‘I – I couldn’t really tell you, Doctor. It was the shock.’
‘Of course. Of course.’
‘Will . . . will he live, Doctor?’
The young man did not answer for a moment; and then he said, ‘If we can possibly make him, he will live. If he gets over the next three or four days then we’ll be able to say he’s going to be all right.’
‘He must’ve been in a dreadful state.’
Again there was a pause before the young man said, ‘He was, Mrs Morgan, in a dreadful state. Whoever did this to him didn’t intend him to live. Even if for nothing else, I would hope that he does survive to give us some idea of the culprit or culprits whose intention was to murder him. Perhaps you noticed that there was a policeman sitting by his bedside. They, too, are hoping, even willing him to live so that justice can be done. Anyway,’ he patted Bella’s hand, ‘rest assured everything that possibly can be done medically will be done.’
As he went to rise from the chair Bella caught at his hand and said, ‘How – how long will it be before . . . well, before he will know anybody?’
‘That’s hard for me to tell you at the moment, Mrs Morgan, but give us a week and then I’m sure we shall know much more. And may I suggest, for your own good as well as the patient’s, that you don’t come to see him for, say, another three or four days? Will you agree to that?’
She stared up at him. ‘Yes,’ she said flatly.
As if to lighten her anxiety, he said, ‘But you can phone every day and Sister will tell you how he is. All right?’
She nodded and he said, ‘Goodbye, then, Mrs Morgan.’ He inclined his head towards Joe, then went out with the sister.
Bella sat up on the side of the sofa and realised she was in a rest room. ‘Let’s go home, Joe,’ she said.
Quickly, he replied, ‘Stay there a minute while I go and see if the polis is still there, ‘cos we’ll never find our way out of this place on our own.’
The policeman was still there, and he got them home; and now, her hand in Reenee’s, Bella was sitting facing her four boys and listening while Joe related to them what they had found in the ward and how Bella couldn’t stand it and had passed out; and he gave them word for word what the doctor had said about Carl, finishing with, ‘There’s nothing for us now but waitin’.’
At this point Willie put in, ‘Aye, and prayin’. I’ve never prayed in me life that I can remember, not even from a bairn, but I’ll do it now.’
John added his voice. ‘I won’t do any prayin’; I can only hope that the police catch those buggers before one of us get wind of who did it, because what they’ve done to him would be nothin’ to what we’d do to them. I can promise you that,’ then turned and went down the stone steps to the room below.
Without further words, the other two followed him, and Bella was left with Joe and Reenee. She whimpered, ‘It was awful. Awful, the sight of him. He wasn’t there; it was a mummy of some kind, all wired up.’
‘Don’t distress her, Bella. Don’t distress her.’
‘I’m not! I’m just tellin’ her. The only good thing about it, he’s under a very good doctor. He’s a nice fellow, young, and he said I can phone every day, but . . . but we haven’t got to go yet.’
Bella phoned every day for a fortnight. The first week the sister’s replies were mostly the same, kindly but firm: there was little change; she would be advised not to visit for a while. At the end of the week a different voice came on the phone and a nurse said, ‘Oh, I think he’s turned the corner. Anyway, they’re taking him down again to theatre this afternoon, so he must have.’
Bella had repeated, ‘Theatre! Another operation?
‘Oh, yes. But they wouldn’t be giving it to him if he wasn’t fit to have it, you see, so it’s good news in a way. Don’t worry.’ She rang off.
Such were the answers, too, during the following days. The sister must have been absent, for different nurses answered Bella’s calls and they all said yes, definitely he was holding his own; and they had great hopes for him, and perhaps, yes, they would tell her tomorrow when she could come and see him again.
Carl came to himself gradually. He knew he had no body, but he could move a few fingers on his right hand; but then they stiffened. All he had left was a head, and it ached. Sometimes it ached so badly that they would stick another needle into him. He welcomed the jabs, because they took him away from everything and into a warm blackness where there was nothing. But one morning he woke up to see a face looking at him. It wasn’t a nurse’s face, this face he didn’t know, but he knew the voice and what it was saying, because it was saying, ‘You’re feeling better this morning, not all sixes and sevens.’
Sixes and sevens. He was sitting once again on the bar bench and a man was saying, ‘Oh, it’s been a day. All sixes and sevens.’ And whenever the man said that Carl would give him a message. What kind of a message? The man’s voice came to him again, saying, ‘You won’t remember me, because I don’t look as I did when we talked in the bar.’
He could see only out of one eye, for the other was bandaged, and he fixed it on the face. This was a thin face, sharp. The chin was pointed. He always noticed people’s features. He could see that the man was smiling at him, and the voice said, ‘If I told you I had thick tidy brown hair, a moustache and plump jaws, and I talked with a Cockney accent, saying, “It’s been a day, all sixes and sevens”, would you recognise me? A wig and some gum shields and an imitation ‘tache can change a man.’
The man in the bar, the police bloke.
His voice was soft. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you.
Sorry to the heart, chum. You did a good job but, my God, you’ve had to pay for it! And I’m still looking for them; but, believe me, I’m grateful for what you did. That’s a poor way of saying thank you, but if, in the future, there’s ever anything I can do, you’ve just got to say, “What a day it’s been! All sixes and sevens,’” and he laughed, still softly, then said, ‘We were wonderin’ if you could remember anything that happened before the attack.’
Carl thought . . . Before the attack. Before they murdered him. He knew they had been going to murder him. Oh, yes; yes. It was the ginger-haired fellow, the one who had pulled him out of the brewery. He didn’t know the other two with him, but his face he’d never forget. It was the last thing he remembered. Carl’s eye turned towards the man and he muttered, ‘Ginger-haired.’
‘He was ginger-haired?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes . . . and . . .’
‘Yes? Can you remember anything more about him?’
Could he remember anything more about him? The teeth? Oh, yes, the teeth, because that day he himself had had the toothache, which was why he was walking with his head down and his hand across his mouth. And that’s also why he saw the tooth like a tusk. When the man said he had remembered him playing the whistle, he had grinned, and there, at the side, yes . . . yes, he had seen what he had thought looked like a little tusk. It must have been two teeth growing together. T
wo growing out of the one place. He remembered thinking it was a good job the point went straight down else it would have ripped his lip. Yes. ‘The tooth.’
‘The tooth? Something about his teeth?’
‘Yes. This side.’ He was trying to lift his hand up to his face, but found it too difficult. Then he said, ‘Right side . . . No, left side. Two teeth, one—’ He paused for breath and the man said, ‘Take your time, don’t hurry. Just try to remember,’ and his voice sounded excited.
‘Well . . . two from, like, one root. One half over the top of other, like – like a fang.’
‘Oh, Carl. You’re a marvel! You really are a marvel. I must tell you, straight away, I’ve got them. I know where he is, and where I get him I’ll get his mates. I’ve got him. Red hair and a crooked tooth. God!’ He put his hand on the bandaged arm and said, ‘You’re a wonderful fellow, so observant. You should’ve never been in the position you are. I must go now, but you’ll see me again, and many others of my lot, I promise you. And I promise you this also, if I can do anything about it, he’ll get life.’
The detective hurried from the room and almost bumped into the doctor, who said, ‘My, you’re in a hurry! What is it?’
‘You wouldn’t believe, Doctor! He’s just given me a piece of most vital information. He’s actually given me the features of the man who intended to murder him, and I know exactly who this fellow is. We’ve grilled him for four days, but he got out of it – supposed to be in the house with a cold or something, never near the brewery. And he was backed up by his mates.’
‘And you know where he is?’
‘Oh, yes! We can put a finger straight on him.’ He leant towards the doctor. ‘He thinks he’s safe, lying low, he’s assisting in a brothel.’
The doctor laughed gently now and said, ‘How exciting for him.’
The Silent Lady Page 24