‘Then what’ll you do while I’m away?’
‘Bake, look after the boys, watch the telly.’
‘But what if—?’
‘Don’t think about it. I’ve survived without you before, so I can do it again.’
She gathered up her new coat, made a bundle of it. ‘I’ll stick it in the yard afterwards. Will I make the cocoa?’
‘Please.’
It was the humming I would miss most, I thought as she banged about in the kitchen. She was always la-la-ing or whistling or tapping a rhythm with her feet. At this moment, she was ruining a bit of Bach as she slammed down the pan, upset a cup, sent the lid of the cocoa tin clattering across the stone floor. I would have bet a tidy sum that the convent was safer without her, that plates and statues lasted longer without Sister Maria Goretti. There would be peace, that was sure. And silence. An awful, boring silence.
He came about a week after Confetti had left, a crooked old man with a flat cap and a suit that had seen better days. The headgear was pulled so low that it almost met a striped scarf, leaving little of the face visible. I studied him, knew him, didn’t know him, remembered that this unrecognizable person was a good man long before he removed his packaging.
‘She’s gone?’ he asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The one who’s been staying with you.’
I poked my head into the street, looked left and right as if I expected to find the answer written on the cobbles. ‘Yes,’ I answered uncertainly.
‘Don’t you remember me?’
I hesitated, fished about at the back of my mind. ‘I’m sure I’ll … remember in a minute,’ I said lamely. ‘Would you like to come in?’
He removed the cap. ‘Laura?’
Immediately, I remembered the hair, or rather the lack of it. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Come in, Mr Thompson. Where’ve you been all this time? I never got to Frank’s funeral, you know. Well, of course you’ll know, because you would have noticed my absence.’ I was wittering and babbling like a nervous child who has just arrived at a new school.
He settled into the collapsing sofa, placed his cap on the melamine coffee table. ‘Are you managing for money?’
Yes, this was definitely my Frank’s father. ‘I bake. There’s a chap who comes and picks up the stuff, then it’s sold at Tattersall’s. Would you like some tea or coffee? Or shall we go upstairs and have a peep at the boys?’
The lines of tension in his face eased when I mentioned his grandchildren. ‘Does Phoebe visit them?’
‘Never.’
He nodded slowly, as if keeping time with a platoon that marched to the beat of funereal drums. ‘I’ll see them before I go. Do you get support money from our Bernard? No, don’t say anything, I know the answer. He’s an executive now, if you please. He’s gone into what they call marketing, all to do with targets and advertising campaigns and concentrating the sales force in certain areas. Big boy these days.’
‘Oh.’ He hadn’t answered about the tea, so I was unsure of my next move.
‘Sit down,’ he said.
I sat. ‘Where’ve you been?’ I asked again.
‘Here and there.’ He pulled a notebook from his pocket, waved it in the air. ‘Dates and times. He’s messing about with one or other of those twin girls, the pair who gave him the alibi. They look so alike that I can’t decide which one’s he’s favouring.’
I fixed my eyes on the book as he placed it next to his cap. The pages were dog-eared, looked as if they’d taken a hammering. ‘Irene and Enid are married,’ I ventured.
‘That’ll not stop him. There’s nothing will stop him having his own way, even if he has to wait longer these days. When he was a kid, his mother gave in to him every time. He’s shown Phoebe his appreciation by beggaring off and leaving her in a terrible state. With me gone and no money coming in, she’s had to take up cleaning. Still, a job of work might just improve her character. You’d fine mothers, both of you. Well, all three of you. Between that wife of mine and Liza McNally, the devil himself would have a job picking a deputy.’ He smiled, showed two rows of very white teeth. ‘But you belonged to Frank, Laura.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I’m worried about you,’ he said.
I didn’t want him reviving my fear. Perhaps it was only slumbering. Whatever the truth of the matter, I had no intention of skulking in corners. ‘I’m safe. My cousin even had an inside toilet made so that I don’t have to go outside after dark. He’s done his worst, Mr Thompson. He killed his own brother. After that terrible crime, he’ll be afraid of me pursuing him. No, he’s leaving me alone.’
‘Aye, well we’ll have to see about that.’ He picked up the shabby book and flicked through a few pages. ‘Co-op on Derby Street last Thursday? You’d Edward in his reins and Gerald pushing that little cart with cereal packets in it. Am I right?’
I nodded.
‘Well, he was in the pie shop across the way, next to the newsagents where the woman’s got one eye.’
My gullet quivered, threatened to rise. ‘Blind Ivy,’ I muttered uselessly. ‘Go on.’
‘I was standing outside the school, wore an old trilby and a mac. As you’ve probably noticed, I disguise myself. Bernard bought his pies, got into his car, then sat eating his dinner till you turned up View Street. After that, he drove away.’ The book was tossed again onto the table. ‘He’s still following you.’
I told him again about the letters, about the injunction. ‘He daren’t come near me,’ I insisted.
‘You’d have a job proving that he’s bothering you. I reckon he’s making a timetable of your movements, trying to work out when you’re at the shops and so on. He’s followed you to playgrounds, to the parks and he’s waited outside the doctor’s.’
I felt poleaxed to the chair, fixed like a granite statue. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do?’ I asked. ‘I can’t stay in the house. We’ve got to get out. The boys need fresh air and exercise, then there’s food to buy, ingredients for the baking, clothes …’ I searched his face. ‘Anyway, how are you managing to watch him? What about your own job in the pit?’
‘I’ve left.’
‘Oh.’ I waited for some embroidery.
At last, he spoke. ‘I work for that cousin of yours. I run messages and do a bit of cleaning in the office, find out anything she might need to know. Being his dad, I can work out his movements some of the time. But there’s more cases than this one, you know. I go to the Town Hall for papers for property searches, talk to bailiffs, run back and forth between police station and the office, go to the bank sometimes. She’s a good woman, is Miss Turnbull. I get paid well and I work my own hours.’
‘So my cousin isn’t paying you just to watch Tommo?’
‘No.’ He pulled some more thin and tattered books from a capacious pocket. ‘I’ve a few jobs in hand, and it’s good to see daylight. This is a grand change from coalmining.’ He paused, ran a nervous tongue across his upper lip. ‘Laura, I know him. There is no-one better qualified than I am. And I’ve talked to your cousin, asked her what she thought about him shadowing you. So she sent me up here, wanted me to tell you, because I’m the one on the spot, the one who’s seen him hanging around when he should have been at work. I don’t want to frighten you, yet you must be made aware.’
The flesh between my shoulder blades began to crawl, then icy fingers touched the roots of my hair on the neckline. ‘He wouldn’t dare, Mr Thompson. Surely, he can’t risk prison?’
He sighed, shifted his legs, sagged back against the sofa. ‘There’s no law of man or God that will hold him back. Bernard is ill, love. He has a sickness in his head, something that recurs time after time. Occasionally, he loses control over himself, obeys some other voice.’
‘So … so he’s not to blame?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He closed his eyes, shook his head from side to side. ‘That’s a clever boy, you know. When he was small, everybody remarked on how early he walked, how clearly he spoke.’ The eyes opened sudde
nly, seemed to burn with emotions that were deep but very mixed. ‘He’s my son. At times, it’s easier to hate those who are close, too close. I’ve tried to stand back, tried to believe that he would change, tried to give him a chance. But I have to tell you how I feel, how I feel inside.’ A closed fist crashed against his chest, then the Adam’s apple rose and dropped in his throat several times. ‘He can help himself. He does choose to be evil. You see, he fixes his attention on something or on someone, then homes in for the kill. I think he becomes obsessed, but he indulges himself. A doctor would have a hard time diagnosing insanity, since Bernard has a brain that covers for him, hides the craziness. In a way, this is a man who prefers to be unwell.’
My hands had folded themselves, the finger-nails biting through thick wool and into the flesh of my upper arms. I forced myself to relax. ‘What do you suggest, then?’
‘Don’t be alone. Get that woman back, or move into a house where there are other tenants. There’s a room available where I stay. Between us, we can keep ahead of him and—’
‘No. I’m not running.’
‘But you need someone with you—’
‘For how long?’ I jumped from the chair, stood with my hands spread wide. ‘For a year, ten years, for the rest of my life?’ I allowed my arms to drop, struggled for composure. ‘Part of me knows that Tommo isn’t done with me. In a way, I want him to strike, because his next crime will be his last. You know, I would love to be there when they send him down. Is that wicked?’
He dropped his chin. ‘If it is, then I’m another sinner, because I need to see him punished for Frank, for you, for that young girl who couldn’t face the pain. No, you’re just seeking an end to him, Laura. There’s nothing bad about caging a poisonous beast.’
We tucked up the boys, drank tea, watched the BBC news. It was the start of a new year, so we wished one another all the best as we said goodbye. I stood at the door for a long time, watched Mr Thompson getting smaller as he trudged down the hill towards Bolton. There walked a man who had had two sons, one now dead, the other a killer. Here stood a woman who had known both, who had borne a child to each of those two men. I almost quaked in the icy cold, yet I remained at my door until Colin Thompson’s figure had disappeared completely.
Inside once again, I flicked a switch to illuminate another bar of warmth, picked up Pride and Prejudice, a parting gift from Confetti, curled myself into a dip in the sofa. The wind howled in the chimney, sounded like a creature trapped and lonely. But I calmed myself, began to enjoy the work of a woman who had applied common sense to an era whose literature had been lurid and sensational. As the elements clashed, Austen and I kept our feet on the ground and our minds on the marrying-off of Mrs Bennett’s daughters.
When the bigger draught arrived, I had no time to assess its source. Before I could rise from my seat, he had brought into my house a sickly smell and a large pad of gauze. As he covered my mouth, I tried not to breathe, but in the end I was forced to enter a world of silence and darkness where no wind howled.
Chapter Nine
The roaring brought me back, that mournful sound of turbulent air trapped in the vertical tunnel of bricks that was my chimney. During those first moments, I felt little, saw nothing, just heard the futile screams that came from the place behind my electric fire. Opening my eyes took tremendous will-power, and I remained blind even when my lids were lifted. He had covered my upper face with a cloth of some kind, had turned me into a creature without identity.
‘I know you’re awake.’
My limbs began to tremble, not just from fear, but because all my clothing had been removed. He was king and I was nothing, was less than a person in the presence of his greatness. As the cold registered on my flesh, so did the pain. I had been raped again. A part of me started to wonder where my anger was, but a brain reduced by chloroform does not react quickly. I opted for silence, waited for his next move.
Something clinked – a spoon against a saucer? What kind of a man was this? He could break into a house and disable its occupant, he could beat and rape an unconscious woman, after which commonplace events he was capable of drinking tea and … yes … he was eating something crunchy, perhaps a ginger biscuit. My children – were they safe? Had he found them, hurt them, killed them? In such thoughts lay the route to insanity, so I forced myself to believe that Gerald and Edward were alive and asleep. If I kept very still, they would not be disturbed, would not shout for me, and he might forget them. Edward. Edward was Frank’s son. Frank’s son had been blotted out with Indian ink …
‘Cat got your tongue, Laura?’
I moved my legs away from the fire, imagined the red mottles that must have appeared along the calves. Electric heat was dry and unforgiving, tended to concentrate on the nearer objects, failed to warm most of the room. If I did not answer, he would attack me again, but my mouth was sore, tasted salty and unclean.
‘You are my wife. I’ve signed nothing, sent nothing back to that cousin of yours. You’ll get no divorce from me. You see … ah, you can’t see.’ He ripped the blindfold from my face, scowled down on me. ‘You see, I’m staying here now. The Irish witch is out of the picture, so I’ll be sharing your bed in the future.’
When my pupils had adjusted to the cruel invasion of light, I raised my head, saw blood on my chest, knew that it had dripped from my mouth. A front tooth was loose, seemed to hang by a thread next to its brothers. Something was alive in my head, a loud thing that clamoured like the wind in the chimney. Exhausted by the headache, I dropped back to the rug, flinched as the loosened tooth jarred against its own nerve.
‘I’ll give up the job. Hanging on to you will be a full-time caper, but I’ve saved money, so we’ll not go short.’
‘You can’t keep me here for ever.’ Speaking was intensely painful. I wondered whether he might have broken my jaw, because everything seemed to grate as soon as I tried to talk. As the fumes cleared, I was aware of more damage, knew that I would be black and blue within hours. He had acted completely in character, had needed me unconscious so that his near-impotence would not be noticed and mocked. All his rage was on my flesh, inside me, around me. And to survive, I would need strength and wit, qualities that had been denied to me by this grinning monster. ‘You can’t,’ I repeated.
‘Just watch me, lady. Years we were together, you and I. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Laura. You’re my whole life, have been my whole life ever since I first met you with Ginger and the others. All I ever wanted was to be with you. And you bloody well left me and ran off with my own brother. How do you think that made me feel? Everybody was laughing at me, calling me a fool.’
‘You killed him.’ Several loud beats of time crashed through my head after this careless statement had escaped.
But he laughed. ‘Prove it. Go on, get down to the police station and prove it.’
‘I know. Everybody knows, especially your father.’
‘Frank wasn’t a man. He was a pathetic cripple with no sense in his head. Nobody in their right mind could choose him over me. He always hated me because I was in one piece and because I could get the girls. So he tried to teach me a lesson by taking you away. He knew how I felt about you, so he stole the one thing I cared about.’
I swallowed. ‘I’m not a thing.’ The tooth was threatening to fall out at any moment. ‘I’m a human being and I need a dentist.’ It was becoming obvious that Tommo did regard other people as things, probably tools or toys to be used for his own gain or amusement. It was difficult to assess whether his depleted sexuality was the cause of his wickedness, or whether it was just another symptom of his disordered personality. Whatever, it deserved no attention at this particular juncture.
‘You don’t need anybody except me.’ These words were growled from a corner of his mouth. I did not look at him, but I knew that his lip was twisted.
With the tip of my tongue, I wiggled the tooth. ‘This will be out by tomorrow.’
‘Good.’ He threw himself in
to the sofa. ‘Then no other man will want you.’ There was greed on his face as he allowed the cold grey eyes to travel over my nakedness. ‘You belong to me, because I’ve got a certificate to prove it,’ he whispered.
What he needed was a different piece of paper, one signed by two doctors. My main feeling in that moment was panic. He was going to try again. I pulled at the rug, covered some of my nakedness. If he pounced now, I would not be able to stop my own screams. While I thought about screaming, I heard a shrill noise, thought for a moment that it had emerged from my own mouth. But no, it was the telephone.
‘Leave it,’ he snapped.
I inhaled deeply, winced as cool air cut damaged gum, tried to settle my shoulders in a position where the knots of muscle might relax slightly. Tension was my enemy. If I lost my cool, I might well lose my life. The phone persisted, sounded its cry twenty or thirty times. It was about nine o’clock. Those who knew me would be aware that I must be in at this time of night. Like the good cowboy in a Saturday matinée, I waited for the sheriff to arrive.
‘Who is it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’ A piece of the tooth flew out of my mouth and landed on the rug. ‘I’ve no way of knowing unless I answer it.’
‘Will they come?’
I coughed, cleared my throat of blood. ‘Eventually. Today or tomorrow, somebody will come.’
‘Wrong answer, Laura. Get dressed, we’re leaving. And we take just one kid. That boy of Frank’s has no place near my son. Somebody’ll find him before too long, put him in the orphanage where he belongs.’ He kicked out at me, caught my shin with the toe of a shoe. ‘Get the clothes on. Now.’
I didn’t cry, didn’t make a sound, the dress was torn and bloodstained, but I managed to pull it over my head. There was no obedience in my fingers, no direct line from brain to hands. I shook, faltered, groped for underwear, dragged the garments onto my aching flesh. Buttons and zips were my enemies, especially when the phone sounded again.
‘Answer it. Get rid of whoever it is.’
September Starlings Page 42