‘What do you do next?’
‘Well, our next step, I think, is to get a search warrant for the house. Of course, he’ll be in bed with his bad back, but it’s under the roof we must look to find that case.’
‘When will you make the search, do you think?’
‘Within the next hour, I hope. We shall contact the boy’s mother again. After the boy went missing we contacted her in Middlesbrough. She felt that the boy would make for there. We asked her to keep in touch, but we haven’t heard from her since yesterday morning. The boy himself was found just outside the town in an old disused barn. He must have been lying there for a couple of days. The two policemen who found him, or really it was their dog who smelt him out, said he was ravenous.’
‘What will happen to the boy?’
‘Oh well, we’ll arrange to keep him away from that house, while Stickle is still there anyway. Then there is the elder son to be dealt with. He’s obviously had a hand in it too. Now I’ll get one of the men to run you back home, Mrs Leviston.’
As I rose to my feet I said to him, ‘No matter what time of the night it is, would you get word to me about what you find…in the roof, and also let me know that he’s in custody?’
‘I’ll do that. Yes, I’ll do that, Mrs Leviston.’
When I arrived back at Gran’s I took Mary aside and I told her briefly what had transpired. She gaped at me open-mouthed.
‘My God! My God!’ she said; then putting her hand to her mouth, she muttered, ‘If my Kitty were to die he could be brought up for murder, but things being what they are, they would bring it in as manslaughter. But it would be murder, wouldn’t it?’ Her voice suddenly rose, ‘Murder!’
I took her by the shoulders, saying, ‘Sh! Sh! Gran’ll hear you.’
She became still within my hold and, looking into my face, she said, ‘Strange, isn’t it, Maisie, that all this has come out of kindness, your kindness. If you hadn’t given us that house to live in, this wouldn’t have happened to us.’
I knew she didn’t mean to stab me in the heart but her words had done just that. In this moment I felt responsible for Kitty, and Nardy, and George, George who might find it difficult to drive a bus again.
As I turned away she said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Maisie. Don’t take me wrong.’
Then she rushed past me as she heard George’s key turn in the front door, and a moment later, when he entered the kitchen, I could see by his face he was relieved. And when they all gathered round him and, his voice thick, he said, ‘She’ll make it,’ Mary dropped her head towards him and he put his good arm around her and Betty, and he looked at the two boys and me, then he said, ‘What d’you think?’
We remained silent. Then he went on, ‘She was awake, really awake and she said, “Hello, Popeye.”’
At this the boys sniffed, then giggled.
And George went on, ‘And I looked down on her and said, “Hello Olive Oil.”’
His chin knobbled as he made an effort to keep back his tears. Then, almost roughly, he pushed Mary from him, saying, ‘Stop your bubblin’, woman, and get me something to eat; I’m as hungry as a horse.’ And on this, for the first time in days, he laughed as he turned to me, saying, ‘You’d better look out for yours. How is he anyway? Still kickin’ his heels up?’
My smile was tentative as I replied, ‘He’s up and down, you could say.’ Then I added, ‘May I see you a minute?’ I walked towards the kitchen again and he followed me.
Quietly, I told him what had transpired at the police station; and during the telling he gripped the top of his head with one hand while staring down at the other bandaged one, and then, from between his teeth, he said, ‘If he gets off with this I’ll swing for the bugger. I will, Maisie. I tell you I will.’
I didn’t hear anything from the police until the following morning at eight o’clock. It was from the sergeant himself, who was accompanied by a plain-clothes man.
Only Mary and I were up, and in the kitchen, without any preamble, the sergeant said, ‘We’ve got him. Of course, he raised a fuss, couldn’t get out of bed.’ He gave a tight smile as he added, ‘We helped him up. That was after we had examined the loft. There was a case there that reeked of petrol. There were two empty bottles in it; one had definitely held petrol, the other paraffin. One was rolled in part of a towel, likely to make sure they wouldn’t jingle as he carried the case. I can see why he had it up in the attic because if he had put it in the dustbin, the smell might have aroused the dustman’s curiosity, for he would be more likely to open the case. Then his son, the elder one, who’s a bit of a bully-boy, almost gave him away by shouting, “It was me da’s house anyway.” We took him along, too and, like all bullies, he broke down after a time and confirmed his younger brother’s statement.’
‘His wife?’ I asked.
‘Oh, she was there all the time, and strangely she never said one word. We interviewed her, but it was plain she knew nothing whatever about it. As her young son said, she was at her father’s funeral the day it happened.’
It was Mary who asked now, ‘When will he be tried?’ And the sergeant said, ‘Oh, I couldn’t put a date to that yet. But don’t worry, I can’t see him getting bail. I can’t see anybody coming forward to stand for him if it was asked for.’
Later that day, as I sat beside Nardy, I broke the news to him, and surprisingly he said, ‘There was never a doubt in my mind but it was him. A man like that would have worked out every detail. I…I knew he had from the first. But anyway, my dear, you’re safe now.’
I held his hand and looked down into his grey face as I asked, ‘How’s the pain?’
‘Bearable. They’re very good. Oh, so very good. But…but I wish we were home, at least, for your sake. It must be very crowded at Gran’s.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind, dear.’
‘Why don’t you go into an hotel in the city for the time being?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that, it would upset them. Don’t worry about me. My goodness! I’m the least of your worries.’
We became silent for a while, and then, as if making conversation, he said, ‘How’s the weather? I can’t see anything from here.’
‘Oh, it’s grey, and damp, and cold, yet you forget about it when you come into the hospital; all the wards look gay.’
‘Yes’—he moved his head slowly—‘they always say that hospitals are the happiest places at Christmas. The nurses are so cheerful. That one over there at the desk, she’s always got a smile. She calls me laddie.’
I looked towards where the nurse was standing, and then looking down on him again, I said, ‘She’s very pretty. Now don’t you pay her too much attention.’
As he closed his eyes for a moment, I thought of the trite things one says in place of words that are spurting upwards from the painful emotion tearing at your innards: chatting about the weather, the Christmas decoration, and the pretty nurses. I felt of a sudden I was quite alone: Nardy was there, but he wasn’t still with me; I was back in the days when I had only Bill my bull terrier, George and Gran on one side, and the doctor as a bulwark against insanity.
That reminded me. I must call in at the evening surgery when on my way home and tell him the latest news.
‘Have you heard from Tommy?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I heard from him yesterday. He’s coming up at New Year. He said he was writing to you. You haven’t had a letter yet?’
He smiled weakly, then he asked, ‘Did you give Janet her Christmas box before we left?’
‘Yes, yes.’ My throat was full, and I was, in a way, grateful to the Scottish nurse who appeared at the bedside with a glass in one hand and a spatula in the other with pills on it, saying, ‘Now then, laddie, open your mouth and close your eyes and see what God’ll send you.’
It was a long time since I had heard those words. Gran used to say them to me as she popped a sweet into my mouth. ‘Open your mouth and close your eyes and see what God’ll send you.’ It was too much. I heard m
yself laughing, and the nurse turned to me and said, ‘Is that a new one to you?’
I put my hand over my mouth for, standing by the bedside between me and the nurse, was Begonia. She put up a front leg onto my arm, saying, I’d go now; they’ll be wanting to do his treatment, that’s why they’ve given him the pills.
When I put my lips gently on Nardy’s, they trembled, and his hand came onto the back of my head and held my face close to his for a moment. Then, his kind eyes looking into mine, he said, ‘Don’t worry; we’ll get through. The main thing is, Kitty’s making it. Go on now. Go and see your prehistoric bushman, he’ll do you good.’
I could say nothing, not one word, not even a goodbye. I walked out of the hospital. It was dark now, and I was grateful for it, for the tears were streaming down my face.
The doctor held his surgery from five till half-past six. It was almost half-past when I got off the bus, hurried up the street, and pushed the door open into that room that I knew so well. There was only one patient left waiting to be seen, and who should it be but You again, the woman who always greeted me with those words, ‘You here again? It’s your nerves, I suppose?’ And yes, I was greeted by those very words.
Half-rising from the seat, and a smile on her thin face, the woman said, ‘You here again?’ Only this time she didn’t add, ‘It’s your nerves?’ at least not in that way. What she did say was, ‘I heard your house was burnt down. As I said to our Susie, you are an unlucky sod. First you had a pig of a man, then that to happen. It’s enough to give anybody nerves. And you wrote a funny book, didn’t you, about things you imagined seeing when you were in a breakdown?’
I reared, Hamilton reared, and Begonia stood on her dignity. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I wrote a funny book, but it…it wasn’t because I was in a breakdown.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, I thought it was. Our Susie read it. She said it was like what fellows see when they’ve got the D.T.s. White elephants going up the wall, and ants crawling all over them.’
I was back in the old life, sitting here on a Monday morning, waiting my turn, looking around at all the weary faces, and, should I be unfortunate, seated next to this particular woman listening to her complaints, which always began: ‘It’s the neck of me bladder, you know. He can do nothin’ about it.’ And sometimes she would add, ‘I don’t know why I come.’ But here she was, still coming.
Miss Price, one of the secretaries, was standing in front of me now, surprise on her face, and her manner and voice so changed from the old days as she said, ‘Oh, Mrs Leviston, shall I tell the doctor you’re here?’
‘No, don’t bother, Miss Price, I can wait.’
At that moment his door opened and the patient came out and my ‘neck of the bladder’ acquaintance rose, nodded at me, saying, ‘Be seein’ you then’—she seemed sure of this—then went into the surgery.
‘How are you, Mrs Leviston? I was so sorry to hear about the trouble. Were you injured in any way?’
‘No, no, Miss Price; fortunately not.’
She bent nearer to me now, a prim smile on her face as she said, ‘I’ve read your book. I think it’s very funny. I bought a second one for my mother’s Christmas box. I wonder if you’d autograph it for me sometime, Mrs Leviston?’
‘Yes, certainly, I’d be pleased to.’
Life was funny, wasn’t it. This particular secretary never, as I remember, gave me a civil word all the years I was Mrs Stickle and a regular customer here. To her I was just one of those nerve-ridden individuals who wasted the doctor’s time. Odd how a little bit of fame could alter a person’s attitude towards you. I hadn’t liked Miss Price then and I didn’t like her now.
A few minutes later the lady with the weak bladder came out of the surgery and she waved to me and I waved back. Then I went in and was greeted immediately with, ‘What the devil are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come for a bottle and a note.’
‘How long have you been sitting out there?’ He thumbed towards the door.
‘Not long.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the house and see Jane?’ His head jerked in the other direction now, and to this I replied, ‘I wanted to see you alone for a few minutes. Did you know that it was Stickle?’
‘Yes. Well, I knew it all along,’ he said, nodding his head the while; then he added, ‘Sit yourself down…Yes, I was along at the station this morning; I heard it all. God! I hope he gets his deserts. If ever there was a fiend on this earth, he’s it. How are you feeling?’
I sighed before I answered, ‘I just don’t know,’ but then contradicted myself by adding quickly, ‘Yes, I do. I feel I’ve gone back years, and it was confirmed a few minutes ago when I met up with your last patient. We always seemed to come on the same day; she reminded me.’
He gave a laugh now. ‘Oh, you mean Water Lily.’
‘Water Lily?’ I felt my stomach shake. ‘Is that what you call her?’
‘Yes. She’s had trouble with her inner tubes for years. They’re all right now, but she won’t have it. It’s nerves with her really.’
When the high laughter erupted from me he rose quickly and came round the desk, saying, ‘Now, now, what is it?’
The tears were running down my face. I was laughing and crying at the same time, and he put his arms around me and held me for a moment until the paroxysm passed.
Wiping my face, I looked at him and said, ‘Nerves? You saying she’s got nerves? For years she’s accused me of visiting you simply because I had nerves. She hadn’t nerves, it was the neck of her bladder. It was always the neck of her bladder.’
We were both laughing now. ‘Come round and have a drink,’ he said. ‘I’ve got one call out tonight so far, then we’ll have a bite.’
‘No thanks, they’ll be expecting me back.’
He shook his bushy head, then said, ‘It must be a tight squeeze round there, and you haven’t been used to tight squeezes this last year or so living in your lap of luxury up in the wicked city. Come and spend a couple of days with us in the New Year; I’m sure Nardy would be happy to know you’re having a change.’
‘Yes, yes, he would. I’ll try to arrange it without hurting feelings.’
‘Do that.’
He stared at me now; then placing his hands on my shoulders, he said, ‘You know it’s going to be a long job with Nardy, don’t you?’
‘I’ve…I’ve sort of guessed that.’
‘They’ll make a good job of his legs in the end, but it’s going to take time. You can’t replace large areas of skin all at once.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Anyway’—he grinned at me now—‘he’s going to be all right. And the child too. Oh, it was touch and go with her, and I’m afraid she’s in for a long spell an’ all. It’ll be worse for her in the long run being a girl, because she’ll be scarred up to her chest. Still, she’s alive. And George’ll get by; he’s got the main part of his hand, and that’s something. And Tommy? Have you heard anything from him?’
‘Yes, I had a letter, but he didn’t say how he was feeling.’
‘The smoke nearly finished him off. If it hadn’t been for that fireman he certainly would have been a goner. And the experience has left its mark on him. I had a talk with him before he left. All his bounce had gone, hadn’t it? He was always so cheery.’
‘Yes.’ I nodded.
‘Sure you won’t come in and have a drink?’
‘No thanks, Mike, not tonight, but I’ll likely take you up on your other invitation.’
‘Good. Good.’
He was leading me towards the door when he stopped and said, ‘You know, Maisie, it’s funny to see you back in this room again. I often think of the old days and they’re not all that far away. And you know something? I can tell you now, I got to look forward to your coming; there was something about you that was different.’ He leant his hairy face down to me as he added, ‘I didn’t know it was because you were accompanied by a blooming gre
at horse.’ He chuckled now, then said, ‘How is he by the way?’
‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘I don’t see him so often, not since he took a wife.’
‘Never! A wife? Never!’
‘Oh, yes. Why shouldn’t he? I took a husband.’
‘Well, yes, there’s something in that. Freud would be able to supply the answer there. Or would it be Jung? What do you call her?’
‘Begonia.’
‘Be…go…nia.’ His face was twisted up so much in disbelief that the hair seemed to have taken over so that even his eyes were invisible for a moment.
‘It’s a nice name.’
‘For a horse?’
‘She’s a mare…naturally, and she’s definitely a lady, smallish, cream chocolate coloured, with lovely soft eyes.’
I was swung round and pushed in the back and through the door into the waiting room and past a surprised Miss Price. And then I was in the street and he was saying, in no soft voice, ‘I refuse to certify you, you’ll have to get somebody else. But it will have to be done.’ And I went on my way really laughing for once and wondering what Miss Price would be making of that.
The lonely feeling had gone. Strange how that man could bring comfort to me, reassurance and the will to persevere. I asked myself again: What would I have done without his help all those dreary years?
My mood was changing, telling me that I should be thankful that Nardy had escaped with his life, that Kitty was getting better, that Tommy was alive, and there was still George. And this is what decided me to go into the church. It was only two streets out of my way.
When I entered I could see that the confessions were over, and there were only three people altogether there, a mother and small child kneeling before the crib, and a woman lighting some candles.
Goodbye Hamilton Page 15