‘Do that. Now that’s a point. Do that, about insanity in marriage.’ And look, if you want to look around and find a place for your mother, I’ll share your patients with Doctor Rees.’
‘Thanks very much. I’ll be grateful. I was thinking about going to that new place that you talked about in Brampton Hill.’
‘Oh? Oh, there, you’ll be out of luck. Yesterday when I was visiting, the matron told me they had a waiting list.’
‘I’m sorry about that, it sounded a good place.’
‘Where will you yourself go?’
‘Not back to Mrs Pearson’s, I can tell you that for sure. Oh, I’ll find somewhere, don’t worry.’
‘Well, until you do, there’s a bed upstairs if you would like it.’
John did not give any answer to this invitation for a moment; but then he said, ‘That’s very kind of you, Doctor. And if I can’t get fixed up I’ll be glad to accept.’
‘Oh, you won’t be putting me to any trouble. But you might have some restless nights, because when I’m not snoring, and I can snore up to high C, and singing—’ he turned now and grinned at John, adding, ‘I’m sober when I snore, but when I sing it’s a sign that I’ve had my medicine.’
John was forced to smile and he came back with, ‘Well, if I have a dose of the same medicine, we could do a duet, because I’m told I have a good baritone voice.’
‘Oh, I doubt if that’ll ever come about, because you could never carry my medicine. You’re not built that way. But go on, and let me know how you get on. By the way, have you any special visits to make?’
‘Three, but I can do them on the way.’
‘Good.’
At this they parted and John started on his furnished-apartment hunting session . . .
By twelve o’clock he was feeling slightly desperate for his searching had been fruitless. And so, as he had been longing to do all morning, he turned the horse in the direction of Col Mount, and Helen.
It should happen that Daisy was visiting, and they were eating a light lunch, and when they pressed him to join them, he did not refuse as, other than a slice of toast, he had had nothing to eat all morning.
It was while they were sitting in the drawing room taking their coffee that Daisy, looking hard at John, said, ‘Something on your mind more than usual?’
He smiled at her as he said, ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Because you haven’t had a decent shave today.’
His hand went to his chin as his eyes widened and he said, ‘I’ve had a shave.’
‘Yes, here and there. There are two tufts below your ears that you missed.’
As Helen burst out laughing, he too began to laugh; then he stopped abruptly saying, ‘It’s a wonder I shaved at all; we had rather a busy night.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Helen was looking towards him now enquiringly.
He didn’t answer her immediately, but put his cup down on a side-table, then said flatly, ‘We are having to leave the house. My mother’s frightened to death. She only told me yesterday what had been happening. Beatrice has been scratching on the door in the dark as well as talking through it. Being upstairs I haven’t heard her. But I heard her all right last night when two bricks came through the windows. She didn’t know in which room I was sleeping, but she was taking no chances.’
‘Oh, never! Never!’ Helen was shaking her head now. ‘She must be—’ she stopped and he nodded at her, saying, ‘Yes, going mad. She is mad, I’m sure, and has been for some time.’
‘Does Doctor Cornwallis know this?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. But, as he says, it would be difficult to prove; he doesn’t agree with me. Anyway, I’ve been house-hunting again all morning. I’ve left my mother and Mrs Atkinson packing. I imagined I would get my mother into the new nursing home on Brampton Hill; but Doctor Cornwallis tells me there are no vacancies. So I’ve been doing the rounds again, but so far without success.’
As Helen put her hand out towards him and was about to speak Daisy put in, ‘I know of two places she could have the choice of.’
‘Yes?’ John’s voice was high.
‘Yes.’ Daisy’s head was bobbing now. ‘Either at my place, or here.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Helen and Daisy exchanged glances. Then Helen said, ‘It’ll be here. I would love to have her, John.’
‘Oh, no; no. That would be an imposition. Anyway, she must have someone to see to her needs and she would need at least two rooms.’
‘Look how many rooms there are in this house, and all empty! There are eight bedrooms upstairs.’
‘But she couldn’t go upstairs.’ This came from Daisy. And Helen, her voice unusually loud, said, ‘I know that. I know that. But there is the games room that no-one uses now. It would make a lovely bedroom. And next to it there is the smoke room, which would make a nice sitting room. And it leads on to the conservatory. She would be in nobody’s way because the rooms are at the far end of the corridor. And I would love to have her here.’
‘Oh no.’ John shook his head now. ‘I don’t want you giving up your time.’
‘Don’t talk daft, man.’
He turned sharply now to Daisy, who went on, ‘She doesn’t know what to do with her time. She’s bored to death. I’ve tried to introduce her to committee work, but the look on her face when sitting round a table is very off-putting to the others.’
‘Oh, Daisy, how can you say such a thing? I’ve kept that silly smile on my face for hours just to please you. And as instructed’ – she bounced her head towards Daisy now – ‘talked of things I know nothing whatever about, really.’
‘All right then; you do something that you do know something about, and instruct the staff to prepare those rooms; and I’ll give them a hand. As for you, John, get on your way back to your mother and tell her it’s all arranged, and to stop worrying. And by the way, where d’you propose to stay?’
‘Oh, Doctor Cornwallis has offered me a bed until I get fixed up.’
‘Well, you can get fixed up in my place any day. And that would be nice. Think about it, lad. Oh, yes, to have a man all to myself. Look, tell old Cornwallis that you’re fixed up. Tell him you’ve had a proposal, immoral, illicit, or whatever name you’d like to put to it, but nevertheless, a proposal. And, you know’ – she nodded at him – ‘it isn’t every man I’d make that proposal to.’
John took two steps towards her and, taking her wrinkled face between his hands, he said quietly, ‘I’ll tell you something, Daisy, and it’s the truth: if my heart wasn’t already given somewhere else, I would jump at the chance, and seriously.’
As he saw the bright eyes glisten for a moment and a tinge of pink diffuse itself over her face, he nodded at her as if in confirmation of his words. And then, turning to Helen, who stood with a soft, knowing smile on her face, he said, ‘Thanks, my dear. That sounds inadequate, but at this moment I cannot tell you how relieved I am.’
And now she asked quietly, ‘What time will I send the carriage for her?’
When he hesitated Daisy put in, ‘It should be after dark in case Beatrice spots it. What d’you say, John?’
‘Yes, you’re right, Daisy.’
‘Well, whatever time it goes, I’ll come and . . .’
‘No, no. Please, Helen.’
‘He’s right,’ said Daisy; ‘you want to keep out of it. But I’ll go along and give a hand.’
‘Thank you, Daisy. Thank you.’
‘So, we’ll say about seven o’clock?’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine.’ He looked from one to the other now and said, ‘I . . . I don’t know how to thank you. I was at my wits end when I came in and now I feel—’ He stopped and shook his head before muttering, ‘I’ll . . . I’ll be away then.’
As he hurried from the room He
len went to follow him, but a gesture from Daisy stopped her. And when the door had closed on him Daisy said softly, ‘He’s better left alone, dear. He’s at breaking point.’
It was just after six when he returned for the second time to the annexe and was surprised to see his mother sitting fully dressed for outside, and she greeted him rather tartly. ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve not seen you since this afternoon.’ And he answered her in a similar vein: ‘Mother, there are sick people out there.’
As he sat down beside her the tears began to race down her cheeks, and she said, ‘Oh, my dear, I am sorry. In spite of the good news I have had a fearful dread on me all day.’
‘Now don’t be silly, dear; our lives are about to change, and for the better.’
She squeezed his hand, then said, ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Woman! Woman! Listen to me! I told you earlier I’d lunched with Helen and Daisy. Now Daisy will soon be here. You’re dressed, but are you all packed up?’
‘Yes; except for the few books Frances promised to bring from upstairs. Mrs Atkinson had to go to the dentist; she was nearly mad with the toothache; she was going to call in on you. You must have been out. I suppose it’s being by myself that’s made me jittery.’
They both started when there was a distant knock on the door and a voice calling softly, ‘Doctor. Doctor.’
‘That’ll be Frances,’ he said, ‘about the books.’
He hurried through the hall, unlocked the door and there was Frances. She had a number of books in her arms and she said, ‘There’s quite a few more, Doctor, but I couldn’t carry them. Anyway, she’s gone out. She must be going for a tramp; she took her walking stick with her.’
He glanced quickly over the books and realised they were mostly non-medical. He said, ‘Does she usually go out at this time of night?’
‘Yes. Yes, Doctor, she goes for walks round about.’
‘Well, come on, I’ll go up with you.’
They were both now running along the passage, through the main hall and up the stairs and to the spare room. Then he scooped a number of medical books from a shelf, but in doing so, toppled the rest onto the floor. Then turning swiftly, he made for the door, saying, ‘Bring those, Frances, please.’
At the top of the stairs he stopped with the feeling that his heart was leaping through his ribs, so startled was he, for there, coming up towards him was Beatrice.
On the sight of him she paused and blinked her eyes tightly as if she didn’t believe what or whom she was seeing. Then very slowly she took the rest of the stairs, lifting each foot firmly from one tread to the other.
When she was about to reach the landing he had to step back, and, like a schoolboy who had been caught in some thieving act, he almost stammered, ‘I . . . I was collecting my . . . my medical books.’
‘Oh yes, your medical books. I’ve just come back to collect some chocolates; I was hungry.’ The smile on her face made him actually shudder. And when she went on, ‘Something said to me, “Go back, Beatrice. You need energy.” And chocolates make energy. Did you know that, John? Chocolates make energy.’
He nodded at her as he sidled round her to the top of the stairhead. He was aware that Frances was standing somewhere to the side of her. Then he turned abruptly and made to walk down the stairs. He had no way of supporting himself for his arms were holding the books.
Later, he could not recall if it was Frances’ scream he heard first or his own when the foot landed viciously into the middle of his back. He felt he had leaped into the air and that the books had taken wings, but he did not hear himself scream again as he hit the floor, nor the cry from Frances, nor the gasps of horror from Cook and Janie Bluett.
The screams had brought Catherine Falconer up out of her chair and grabbing her stick, before she hobbled from the annexe into the passage and towards the group of people shouting in the hall.
Frances was yelling, ‘You kicked him down, ma’am; you kicked him down,’ and Beatrice was wielding her stick and yelling back, ‘Shut up! you, before I bring this across you. He fell! He fell down the stairs.’
‘Oh, my God!’ The words were wrenched from Mrs Falconer when she saw her son lying inert, one leg under him, the other at an odd angle. And there was blood seeping from one trouser leg.
‘What have you done, woman? What have you done?’ Catherine Falconer was screaming at Beatrice.
‘He fell! He fell! He’s dead!’
‘No! No! He’s not dead, ma’am, he’s breathing.’
‘Well, he won’t be for long. Stay where you are, woman!’ Beatrice now waved her stick towards Janie Bluett.
‘You’re mad! You’re mad, woman! Get a doctor. I command you to get a doctor for my son.’
‘Command! she says. This is my house. My house, Mrs Falconer. Your son was trespassing. And be careful what you say to me else you’ll go the same way. I’ve had enough of you. Yes, I have, behind your closed door. But it’s all over. Oh, yes, it’s all over for both of you.’ Then she actually screamed at Frances, who was aiming to slip past the foot of the stairs, ‘I’ve told you, woman! You’ll get this across you,’ and she brought the stick within an inch of Frances’s face, causing the girl to scream again, ‘You’re mad! You’re mad! And you kicked him. You did; you kicked him down the stairs.’
When the stick fell viciously across Frances’s arm the girl jumped back as she cried out, then hung on to Janie Bluett.
‘Oh, woman! Woman’ – Mrs Falconer now was pleading – ‘I beg you, send for the doctor,’ and in a placating voice Cook added her pleas, ‘Mistress, yes; please, please, let someone go for the doctor.’
Beatrice took no heed of Cook’s plea, but yelled at Mrs Falconer, ‘Shut up! I’ve told you, or I’ll knock you down off your rickety sticks,’ and she was about to advance on Catherine Falconer when the sound of someone scurrying behind her turned her about, and the sight of Mary Simmons flying down the passage seemed to put her in a quandary for a moment. Then she was yelling again, ‘That’s it, old woman! Get down on your rickety knees. He’d be surprised to see that, wouldn’t he? because you’ve kept him by your side for years, pretending you couldn’t walk. Now I’d advise you to stay there. And you lot’ – she thrust out her arm towards the three women now huddled together – ‘the same applies to you, because it’s going to be a long night. Three o’clock in the morning is when they die, isn’t it? Three o’clock. It’s very quiet around three o’clock. Have you ever been outside in the middle of the night at three o’clock? Even the birds don’t rustle, and the rooks are frightened to make a sound. Did you know that? Did you know that? Because the world is dead at three o’clock in the morning and it takes the dying with it. It takes the dying with it. Oh, yes. Yes. So, like the old girl, I’m going to sit on the floor.’ . . .
Mary Simmons was flying up the drive. She’d have to get help. She’d have to get help. Mr MacIntosh next door. She’d get Mr MacIntosh.
The young girl now let out a loud scream as a figure emerged round the curve of the drive and almost bumped into her, in fact, it caught hold of her shoulder. But when the voice that spoke to her was soft, her gasping breath eased.
‘What is it? What is it!’ Daisy drew the shivering girl out of the shadow of the trees into a narrow patch of moonlight. And staring into her face, she said, ‘What is it, my dear?’
‘Oh, ma’am, ma’am, she’s . . . she’s gone mad. She’s killed the doctor. Kicked him downstairs and she won’t let them send for Doctor Cornwallis. I . . . I was going for Mr MacIntosh next door. They are all in the hall; she won’t let them pass, the cook or anybody. She’s got a stick.’
‘It’s all right, my dear. It’s all right. You go on and tell Mr MacIntosh to come quickly. But listen, my carriage is on the road. Tell the driver there’s been an accident and Miss Daisy says he has to go an
d fetch Doctor Cornwallis. Now, can you remember that?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Tell your driver to fetch Doctor Cornwallis and I’ll fetch . . . I’ll fetch Robbie, I mean Mr MacIntosh.’
‘That’s it! That’s a good girl. Off you go now. Quick!’
Then Daisy herself actually ran down the remainder of the drive. The annexe door was open. She did not immediately enter, but paused and listened to a voice, its sound rising and falling. Then she was tiptoeing through the small hall and to the door that led into the corridor. Peering along it, she could just see into the hall, with a figure standing there, its arms waving. And now she could hear the voice quite plainly: ‘What are you saying, old woman? You are making one last request? Oh, people who are going to die always make one last request. If he could talk, he would make one last request, wouldn’t he? Oh, yes, he would make one last request all right. Your son would make one last request, and it would be to see his dear Helen. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it now? And if he did, he’d know what I would say.’ There was a pause here before the tone rose to almost a scream as it said, ‘I’d say that the only way Helen will see you is over your dead body. That’s how she’ll see you, over your dead body.’
‘He’s bleeding, Beatrice. You can see he’s bleeding.’
‘Oh, yes, dear Mrs Falconer, I can see he’s bleeding, and from the mouth now. And I expect him to bleed a lot more. Then he’ll suddenly stop bleeding because dead people don’t bleed, do they? Well, I don’t think they do. I think I’ve read it somewhere that they don’t bleed.’
‘He’s not dying; he’s not!’ Mrs Falconer protested loudly; ‘and the blood’s coming from his nose, not his mouth.’
‘Well, wherever it’s coming from it’ll soon stop.’
Daisy bent quickly down and slipped off her shoes. And now she could have been one of the jungle animals she had become acquainted with in Africa, so stealthy was her approach.
Her appearing from the passage brought a gasp from the two women huddled together and from Cook who was now at John’s other side. Then everything happened so quickly.
The Obsession Page 28