The Obsession

by Catherine Cookson

  They had their arms about her pressing her down onto the settle again, sitting one on either side of her. And through her tears and sobbing, she cried, ‘I . . . I want to die. I . . . I feel dirty, used. He said friendship.’ Her head was wagging on her shoulders now and neither of them could keep her still. ‘It wasn’t a friendship, it was a courtship. It was, it was, it was a courtship.’ She turned her face towards Robbie, and he nodded back at her, saying gently, ‘Yes, dear, it was a courtship all right, a very good courtship.’

  A knock came on the door and a voice said, ‘Anybody at home?’ And when it was opened Annie sprang up from the seat, saying, ‘Oh, come in, Doctor. You’re very welcome at this point, I can tell you.’

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ John laid his bag on the table and pulled off his overcoat as if he were at home, then went to the settle and sat down next to Rosie. And, looking across at Robbie over Rosie’s bent head, he enquired, ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Oh, quite a deal, Doctor. Rosie’s had . . . well, a great disappointment. I’d like to talk to you about it.’

  ‘No! No!’ Rosie’s tear-stained face came up now and, looking first at one then the other, she said, ‘Let it rest! It’s finished! It’s my business! Yes, it is, it’s over.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, dear, it’s over. Don’t worry. All right, we won’t talk about it. Come on, dry your eyes. Could you do with a cup of tea, Doctor?’

  ‘I could that. Two cups, in fact. I’ve not been near the surgery since I left it this morning. I’ve been looking for a place for Mother, as I told you, and my feet are worn down to my knees. I’m going to get a horse and trap. All right, all right, you did tell me I should have one ages ago.’ He rose from the seat now and walked behind the settle to where Annie stood at the end of the table pouring out the tea, and he jerked his head backwards, and in answer Annie reached out and picked up the letter from the end of the table and silently handed it to him.

  As he read she watched his expression alter in disbelief, and then he shook his head slowly and muttered, ‘No, no! Not him.’

  ‘Aye, him.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Nor can I. Worst of all, nor can she.’

  He put the letter back on the table, then went and sat by Rosie again and, gently turning her face towards him, he said, ‘Had you any inkling at all of this?’

  Her crying had eased but the dry sobs in her throat checked her speaking, and she brought out slowly, ‘No . . . no, Doctor. None . . . none.’

  ‘He did send her a note three or four days ago to say that he couldn’t come to tea,’ said Robbie. ‘He was to ask the head of the house’ – there was a sneer in his voice now – ‘for her hand, but instead he sent a note to say he had been called back to London and would write . . . and now he has written.’

  They both turned to look at Annie, who was standing before Rosie now, saying, ‘Come on, lass, into the sitting room; there’s a fire on in there. I don’t know why I put it on, it being only Saturday. Just to keep the room dry, I suppose, or I must have known it would be needed. Come on.’

  Obediently, almost like a child again, Rosie allowed herself to be led from the room, which left the two men facing each other.

  ‘What d’you make of it, Doctor?’

  ‘I just don’t know. I can’t make it out, only that it’s very strange. It seems a funny business.’

  ‘You said it there; a funny business. But I mean to get to the bottom of it. That fellow was in love with her as much as . . .’ Robbie stopped and walked towards the fire, and John said quietly, ‘You were going to add, “as much as I am”.’

  Slightly indignant now, Robbie said, ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’ But then he asked softly, ‘Does it show so much?’

  ‘Well, I’ve been here nearly two years and I guessed I would have been a blind man if I hadn’t seen how things were with you. If you had had any sense you would have spoken before now.’

  Robbie swung round on him. ‘She was a child. I’m ten years older than she is. I’ve carried her around since she was a baby, when her grandfather used to bring her over here every day to talk with my dad, but leave her to me. She looks on me as a brother; sometimes, I’ve even thought, as a father, but in no other way.’

  ‘You’ve never given her a chance. The Scot in you has put bristles on your tongue, like all your clan. Oh’ – he flapped his hand – ‘don’t get on your high horse.’

  ‘I wasn’t getting on any high horse, Doctor, but . . . but I didn’t think it showed like that.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t to anyone else. You have very few visitors here. The Mackays, too, look upon her as a child. The Robsons . . . well, if I’m not mistaken and he dared risk it, Harry would have showed his hand before now. But there was you to get over, and then the lord of the manor, next door. And now he’s gone, you feel the lady is worse. Her one aim in life is to achieve prestige. And yet, you know, I feel sorry for her. She’s got another side altogether. I’ve found that out of late, too. Quite a softer side, at least where Rosie is concerned. She is fond of her and if it wasn’t for her mania for the house and its surrounding grounds, she could be quite attractive and interesting.’

  ‘Well, I’ve yet to find that out, Doctor.’

  ‘Yes, and so have other people. But we’ve all got two sides, you want to remember that. One of yours you’ve kept dark for too long.’

  ‘And what d’you want me to do about it now?’ asked Robbie. ‘She’ll never get over him, or if she does the insult will remain with her the rest of her life. She’ll feel inferior. Women that are let down always feel inferior.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to bunk her up, as you call it, won’t you? and stop making her feel inferior.’ The doctor’s tone changed now as he said, ‘Give her time, and let her see how you feel in little ways.’

  ‘I doubt if there’s any chance of that, Doctor. She’ll see me as her brother, her big protective brother until she dies. We’ve been an escape hole for her and we always will be. I’ll see to that. Anyway, what’s brought you here today?’

  ‘Something else that you’re blind to. Your mother’s cough. Oh, yes, she says it’s just a tickly cough, but that could easily become bronchitis, I’m telling you, and in this dreadful climate of yours. Of course, I don’t suppose it’s as bad as Scotland, but it’s bad enough in the winter.’

  Robbie’s tone had changed to one of deep concern. ‘Mam’s got something wrong with her chest?’

  ‘No, not something wrong, but she certainly will have if she neglects it as she has been doing. She’s got a bad cough and she wheezes. Haven’t you heard her? What’s more, she goes out in all weathers. Well, that’s up to you, you’ll have to see that she doesn’t. And I’m leaving some medicine and stuff to rub in and you’ve got to see that she takes that.’

  Robbie bowed his head before saying, ‘Funny, things that are under your nose you never notice unless they smell.’

  ‘Well, there’s something I smell, too, and it’s about that letter. I have a cousin in the administrative Civil Service. It is just possible he could throw a little light on the matter about marrying and so on. Meantime, my advice to you, Robbie, is to forget about the brother and fatherhood and make yourself even more indispensable to her than you are already. You follow me? If you don’t you must be blind.’

  Robbie gave a ‘huh!’ of a laugh and said, ‘You’re about as tactful as a charging rhino, Doctor, but I’m partial to charging rhinos.’

  Three

  ‘I hate doing it, but I’ve got to let the annexe . . . did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Yes, Beatrice, you’ve got to let the annexe. All I ask now is why you didn’t let it before you dismissed Connor and Taylor?’

  ‘I dismissed them because they’re unnecessary now. Since the land has been sold it’s taken away a lot of
the bottom ground, and William Connor was well into his sixties and really past his work, as was Luke Taylor. Anyway, in my opinion, he has been unnecessary for a long time. As far as I can gather he spent his time trimming trees.’

  ‘But you were against cutting down the staff.’

  ‘Yes, yes; I know I was, but circumstances have altered things.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you get rid of one of the girls when you were at it? You don’t need both a housemaid and a parlourmaid, there are only two of us to be waited on.’

  Beatrice’s voice was near a bark as she cried, ‘I can do that, too, and put you in their place with a duster. You need to do something.’

  Rosie had been sitting on the couch in the drawing room, but now she was on her feet, crying back at her sister and vehemently, ‘You’ll never get me working inside here. You and your house! That’s all you think about, the house. And don’t say to me what you’re going to put me to. You’ll put me to nothing more. For two pins, if it wasn’t leaving you on your own I’d go to Helen’s. I’d be welcome there.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Oh, I know you’d be welcome at Helen’s. If Helen could do me a disservice, she would do it.’

  ‘Helen wouldn’t do anybody a disservice. You’ve been jealous of her all your life. You hate the idea of her being happy and living above the level you’ve always aimed at, lady of the manor. She’s a natural lady of the manor.’

  ‘One of these days . . .’ Beatrice looked to be on the point of choking; then she flung round and hurried from the room.

  Rosie sank back onto the couch again. She couldn’t stand much more of this. She asked herself why she was putting up with it; but she knew: being made as she was, she knew that if she left Beatrice here on her own she’d be worrying about her all the time, for she had no-one in the world to care for her. She hadn’t kept a personal friend over all these years. It seemed that, except for her father, she had never needed a friend. And now, since he had gone, she was adrift. Oh, what was she going to do about it? She was sick at heart; sometimes she felt she was of no consequence. Teddy . . . oh, don’t let her think of Teddy, it would drive her mad. Months now and she hadn’t heard a word from him. That indeed had been a letter of rejection. That was the word that bored into her all the time: rejection. What she would have done if she hadn’t had Robbie and Mrs Annie, she didn’t know. And the doctor, too. Yes, he was nice. She had met him a number of times when he visited next door. Funny, calling Robbie’s place ‘next door’, when it was in all ways a thousand miles away from this house. When she was there she had to force herself to return here.

  Well, that’s where she would go now.

  The thought brought her swiftly up from the couch and she went from the room into the hall. But as she went to pass the main door, which was wide open, she saw coming up the steps the man she had just thought about. And she went towards him, saying quietly, ‘Have you come to the wrong house?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ His voice was as quiet as hers, almost a whisper. He was smiling at her. ‘I’ve come in answer to the advert.’

  ‘What? You mean, for the annexe?’

  ‘Yes, for the annexe. I couldn’t believe it. Is she really letting it? It does mean here, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it means here all right. And you are the first applicant, I think. Come in. Come in.’

  As he stepped over the threshold his eyes lifted to where Beatrice was now descending the stairs, and there was certainly no welcome in her expression, nor in her voice as she said, ‘Good afternoon, Doctor.’

  ‘Good afternoon.’ He did not add, Miss Beatrice or Beatrice.

  She was now asking plainly, ‘Did someone call you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ He moved his head twice, his manner now as stiff as hers. ‘A newspaper advert called me. I understand you are letting part of your house?’

  He watched her expression slowly change, then resume its former stiffness as she said, ‘Not part of my house, Doctor, merely the annexe.’

  ‘Well, your annexe.’

  ‘Do you want to take it, the annexe?’

  ‘Well, it all depends.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She nodded at him now. ‘But I must tell you straight away that I would not allow a surgery to be held there.’

  ‘I had no idea of setting up my surgery in there, Miss Steel’ – his tone now matched hers – ‘or of living here myself. I’ve been looking for a house or private apartments for my mother for some time now.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’m sorry.’ Her words were apologetic. ‘I merely thought . . . well, you understand.’

  He did not come back politely to say that he did understand, but turned to look at Rosie where she had been standing the while, and she said, ‘It really is nice, a house on its own,’ and Beatrice’s glance towards her sister was almost soft as she said, ‘Yes, as Rosie says, it’s a house on its own: it has a private entrance and a conservatory, rather small, but leading to its own garden.’

  He was looking at Rosie now and he seemed to see the appeal in her eyes, as there surely was, for she was thinking, If his mother comes there and she’s anything like him, it will be someone else to talk to. And he’ll be popping in. I hope he’ll take it. She looked at Beatrice now, saying, ‘Will you go through the house or shall I get the key for the front door?’

  ‘Oh, we can go through the house.’ Beatrice was even smiling now. And as she walked ahead, saying, ‘Would you like to come this way?’ John and Rosie exchanged glances and followed her.

  He had never been in this part of the house and he was amazed at the size of it. They were in a broad corridor now with doors going off one side and tall windows the other, facing out onto the garden.

  When they entered the small hall with a flight of stairs going off it, Beatrice pointed to them, saying, ‘That leads to the servants’ quarters, but this is the side door to the annexe. Of course, it can be locked permanently from the other side.’

  They had now turned down a short passage at the end of which was a grey panelled door, and as she pushed it open she stood aside to allow him to enter. But he put his arm out for her and Rosie to precede him.

  He now found himself in a quite large, square, tiled hall and Beatrice was saying, ‘It’s a very compact little house. There are only eight rooms altogether; three are bedrooms upstairs.’

  He put in here, ‘I’m afraid my mother would have to sleep downstairs as she suffers rather badly from rheumatism.’

  ‘Oh, that could be easily arranged, because this was once used for children and there is a small bathroom downstairs.’

  She led the way to a room across the hall, saying, ‘This is the sitting room.’

  He stood in the middle of the room looking about him. He was really amazed at the furnishing and the comfort it expressed.

  ‘It’s a lovely room,’ he said.

  Beatrice made no reply but said, ‘Come and see the dining room.’

  The dining room was much smaller but the table was large enough to seat six. Again he was amazed at the quality of the furniture and the curtains.

  Next, as she thrust open another door, she said, ‘This would make a lovely bedroom for your mother. You see the long windows open out to the conservatory and there’s the garden beyond. And the three bedrooms above, which I will show you, needn’t be wasted, because she could have her friends to stay.’ Beatrice’s smile was broad as she turned to Rosie, saying, ‘That’s what Grandpapa built it for . . . well, I mean to house a family.’

  It was Rosie who put in now, and she was smiling, too, the sad plaintive smile he had come to know, ‘Mother’s cousin used to love to come and stay. But they had four children and they were four too much for Grandpapa, because there was no controlling them.’ She turned now and looked at Beatrice, saying, ‘Remember? They used to slide down the bannisters and into the hal
l. We were all younger than they were but we emulated them as much as we possibly could. And Marion nearly broke her neck. Remember the day? Pandemonium.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I remember.’ The sisters were nodding pleasantly at each other. ‘I remember distinctly Grandpapa laying down the law to Grandmama.’ Beatrice turned to John now, saying, ‘You see, they were here for nearly two months in the year. And Grandmama’s brother-in-law was an architect, and it was he who set the ball rolling. And Grandpapa took it up like a new toy.’ Now she added on a laugh, ‘The only toy he had that wasn’t of the Army.’ Then, her tone changing, she said, ‘It cost quite a bit to build, but the sad thing about it, at least the annoying thing about it to Grandpapa was that it was used only for two years after it was built, for my great-uncle, I understand, got another bee in his bonnet: it was called emigration and he whipped the whole family off to Canada, of all places.’

  John was laughing now, as he said, ‘And it’s been unused ever since?’