by Mary Wood
‘I know. As it is, they are going to be surprised at how grown-up you are, as we always spoke of you as a little girl. And now I find I am a granny, too! That is a shock.’
‘Aye, you are. And it’s lovely to think that all these years you and me brothers have been praying for me – ta, Mam. Mind, it makes you wonder if Him up there ever listens. But thou knows sommat, Mam, Bert did . . .’
She went on to tell Bridget how Bert had kept her letter and how he’d wanted to be in the place where she was brought up, and had searched for the burial place of the babby her mammy lost. ‘And like I told you in me letter, he named Billy after your dad.’
‘That’s a comfort, Megan. Thank you for telling me. If only he’d answered my letter . . .’
‘He told me that he did. But then, he could have lied just to stop me going on about it. Bert were a stubborn man. Billy can be like him. I – I’m worried over Billy, Mam. I’ve heard tell as inbred children can suffer – well, mentally.’
‘Yes, it is possible. I know what you are worrying over. Issy told me everything. Billy may need help. I’ll bring Edward up to meet you soon: he has friends in the profession. He can see that Billy gets the best possible treatment. Everything will turn out, you’ll see. Now, my dear, you’re tired. We’ve covered a lot of ground, and we’ve both been hit by something akin to lightning, finding each other like this. It’s the happiest and yet the saddest day of my life.’
‘I know what you mean. We’ve lost so much, and so much has happened to us, and all because of Sister Bernadette thinking she was doing right by us. We’ve a lot to tackle. But we won’t lose each other again, will we? No matter what happens and no matter how all this concludes, we won’t lose each other.’
‘No. You’ll never be able to get rid of me, even if you find you don’t like me! I’ll not go away.’
‘Mam, I’ll never come to not like you. I know as I love you even now, and I know as I will for the rest of me days. I’m so happy to find you. It’s what me and Hattie . . . Oh, poor Hattie. We used to dream of this moment, but I can’t ever see a day when she’ll find her own mam.’
‘Megan, I think I know who Hattie’s mother was. In fact, given her name and that Hattie looks so like the girl I think was her mother, and you two being brought up together in the same convent and being the same age, I’m certain I do. The person I’m thinking of was in St Michael’s with me. We became very close, like you and Hattie. She was a lovely girl. Her name was Lucy. Sadly, she died during childbirth.
‘Her story was heartbreaking, in that it was a calculated rape by a member of her own family, specifically to get a child. The rape was instigated by Lucy’s aunt, her mother’s younger sister, who was childless, and whose husband was on the verge of leaving her. My friend Lucy didn’t know it was a plot. Her shocked parents, who had thought she was in France with her aunt, discovered the truth, partly through what Lucy had told me about her young man, and partly by Sister Bernadette knowing of a sum of money being paid to the Reverend Mother.
‘Lucy had been taken to France by her aunt as a companion and had been introduced to a relative of the aunt’s husband. The young man’s attention to Lucy made her think that he had fallen in love with her and they would be married. One night he forced himself on her, but was sorry afterwards and she forgave him. They continued their intimate relationship, but once she was with child he disappeared. Her aunt put all the blame onto Lucy, and then told her she had a plan to keep everything secret from Lucy’s parents and society. The plan was to send her to St Michael’s to have the child.
‘During the pregnancy, the aunt stayed in France. Her husband believed her to be pregnant and was happy again and visited her occasionally. Once the baby was born there was a plan that her aunt’s maid would collect the child and take it to France and the aunt could announce that she’d given birth. But, with Lucy’s death, her parents had to be informed, and the whole story came out.
‘Lucy’s surname was Grampton, which is similar to Hattie’s, as your maiden name is to my maiden name. Sister Bernadette must have changed your surnames. Why, we will never know!
‘The Gramptons were a well-to-do family, but there aren’t any close relatives alive now. The shock of what happened to their only child and the deceit they suffered proved too much for Lucy’s parents. They were an elderly couple and had had Lucy very late in life. They both died within two years of Lucy’s death.
‘So you see, Hattie really is an orphan, with no one who would care to be found. And though she is probably entitled to a legacy, she could never prove it, as it was all hushed up and all traces of her were banished. She was even named by Sister Bernadette. But one thing: despite her deceit in not telling you and me the truth, for whatever reason, Sister Bernadette did her best for you both. She used her knowledge of what happened to Lucy to blackmail the Reverend Mother of St Michael’s to arrange things so that she was always going to be with you both.’
Megan had lain still throughout the story, her heart heavy for Hattie. ‘It’s strange about Sister Bernadette. It will take me a long time to forgive her. You and I could have been together. She stopped that, and yet she protected Hattie – well, both of us – because she did take care of us and she intervened on our behalf, if things got really bad. Thou knows, things have gone better for me throughout than for Hattie, and I’ve always carried a guilt about it.’
‘That’s not your fault, my dear. Anyway, if Hattie is like a sister to you, she can be like a daughter to me. I know it’s not the real thing for her, but I’ll try to make it the next best thing, and it will be my way of paying back her mother. She was very good to me.’
‘But, Mam, I need you to understand about Hattie . . .’ As she had done with Issy so long ago, Megan carefully told her mother Hattie’s story. True to form, she didn’t want anyone to ever think badly of Hattie.
‘Don’t worry, Megan. I’d guessed some of it when I met her. It won’t affect me. As I’ve said before, there’s stuff in my past I can’t tell of yet – oh, not about me, but . . . well, others, so I know how it is. Anyway, from what I understand, Hattie is trying to put it behind her.’
‘She is. She has a good stash now. She was left a house – well, sort of. Anyroad, it’s been sold, so she’s been able to get rid of her old business. Her and Harry – he’s the fella as loves her – well, I think . . . I’m hoping they might marry soon and . . . Oh, I’m not making much sense, but well, thou knows, Mam? Afore all this happened, everything was going good for me and Hattie.’
‘It will again. I know it’s hard to believe that it will, but we are together now, and I think everything will turn out right for Billy and Jack, and you could start up your business again. You hadn’t been going long, so you can’t have lost it all. I mean, orders will be delayed, but, like you told me, your customer was very taken with your designs and is likely to recommend you. Give me her address and I will contact her. I imagine that, as she is a friend of that despicable Laura Harvey, she’ll already know what has happened and probably feels some guilt and doesn’t know what to do about the situation. Did you take a deposit and leave carbon copies of the designs that she wanted with her?’
‘Yes, Lady Gladwyn did give me a deposit; but no, I didn’t leave copies of what she wanted making. I had them all in a book. Me idea was to have a book for each customer, and then they could point out things they really liked on one outfit and might want on another. Now I think on it, though, I should make copies.’
‘Yes, you should in future, but it won’t matter. I’ll try to persuade Lady Gladwyn to see you again, and together you should come up with what it was she wanted. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. You can’t be sure how top-drawer folk’ll act over owt, but I’d not be against you trying. It would be grand if she would give me another chance. I’ve probably got enough of me start-up capital to buy the materials, and Hattie will help me out. I could use Issy’s sewing machine. It’s slower than them as I bought for shop, b
ut I managed for over two years on it. And even if Lady Gladwyn won’t have me back, I’ve still got hope. I can start up again. I can.’
‘Well, I’m glad you think so, dear. We all need something we can hang on to. Just a thought: would you consider a restart in another area, rather than staying around here where there are so many memories? It would be lovely if you could move nearer to us. We can build a proper family. Edward and I can help you. I’d certainly become a customer, and I know I could get you some business amongst my friends. Some of them are on the fringe of being top-drawer, as you call it, and they have some good connections.’
Megan felt her mouth drop open at this information.
‘I know. Look, it’s all too much for you to take in at the moment. I’ll tell you all about it when you are better and when I’m more able to disclose more about my life. Anyway, I’d better go and bring Edward up to meet you. He’ll be worrying about us. We’ve left them all for such a long time, they’ll be wondering how we are doing.’
As she got to the door, Bridget turned back and said, ‘I’m very proud of you, Megan love. You know, I think you get your talent for drawing from my dad, your granddad. He loved to make sketches. Oh, and I chose the name of my Granny O’Hara for you. She was my mother’s mother – oh, I’ve such a lot to tell you.’
Megan smiled. She lay back and allowed the wonderful feeling of really belonging, and of being part of a family, to wash over her. She knew there was still a lot to face, but she had her mam to face it with her. That was something to be thankful for, she told herself. But then a thought came to her. ‘Mam, will you ask Hattie to come up first, and will you come, too? I can’t keep the information about Hattie’s mam from her. She has to be told.’
‘All right, dear, if you are sure?’
‘I am, Mam, I am.’
48
The Truth Will Out
The sweat ran freely down Jack’s cold body. His legs shook as he stood looking at the judge, whose voice droned in his ears.
‘Jack Frederick Fellam, you are charged that on the fifteenth day of October 1930 you did murder, by beating, a Mr Albert Armitage. How do you plead?’
His ‘Not guilty’ didn’t sound convincing. But then it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. He’d not wanted to drag it all out. Why had he let Pellin convince him to?
The wrangling didn’t take long. Pellin had warned Jack that he’d not have much of an argument for getting him bail.
‘Mr Fellam, bail is refused. You will be remanded in custody until the eighteenth of March 1931. At which time you will appear here, at Leeds Crown Court, to stand trial. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Your Honour.’
He understood, all right. Five bloody months cooped up in that cell! Oh, Megan. Megan! he thought with despair. He held on to the message she’d sent him. It added to his shame that she knew of his affair with Laura, but to know that she had come to an understanding of it and had forgiven his part in it was a help. If only he could talk to her.
He was glad to hear that Megan had found her ma, though her being who she was beggared belief! Still, no matter what the circumstances, it was something that would be a help to her. He wished as it was him helping Megan. Holding her – would he ever do so again? And what of Billy? He was glad it was a friend of Megan’s step-dad who was going to help him, and it wasn’t to be paid for by any more of Laura Harvey’s stinking blood-money. But how would the lad cope with having to face what he’d done? What if it tipped him over the edge, as Dr Cragshaw had warned? What then? Oh God! It all seems so hopeless.
‘Oh, dear, Doctor, will Billy be all right?’ Issy asked the consultant psychiatrist. ‘Should I go after him?’
‘No, we’ll leave him for now. But you must all be prepared for a long-drawn-out healing process. It is going to take a long time to get through to him. I will have to gain his trust, which I have already damaged. You saw his reaction when I mentioned his dad. He took flight. That’s a typical reaction to this kind of trauma. Billy is a very frightened young boy. I’m going to have to go slowly – very slowly indeed.’
‘But we don’t have time.’
‘Don’t get upset, Issy. Surely, John, there are other, quicker ways. What about the new regression techniques? I was reading something only the other day that servicemen, suffering from similar mental traumas due to their experiences in the war, have been helped by taking them back to their pre-war life and then bringing them forward.’
‘Yes, it is an option, Edward.’
‘Is it safe, John?’ Dr Cragshaw asked. ‘Only I am afraid your field is something I know very little about.’
‘Yes, the trials have been good, but all of those who were on the trial programme were much older than Billy, and they could be told what would happen and talked through all the implications.’
Issy felt all this medical talk was above her, as were the three doctors discussing it. But she knew that Phi— No, she wasn’t to think of Dr Cragshaw as that; it wasn’t her place to call him Philip, even in her mind. But, whatever his status, she knew he’d watch out for Megan and Billy. He knew how far all this should go.
A sudden scream cut into her thoughts. The scream held a terror. It was Megan – what was she screaming? Issy stood as if she’d never move again, but Edward grabbed her as he went by and pulled her along.
Hattie and Bridget emerged from the kitchen, just as they entered the hall. Sarah was right behind them, but thankfully Issy saw that Daisy was there too, and that she took Sarah by the hand, led her back into the kitchen and closed the door.
Edward held Issy back as they reached Megan’s room. When he opened the door, the sight caused Issy to freeze. Billy held aloft a wooden rolling pin as if he would bring it down on Megan’s head. His eyes stared out of their sockets, and froth foamed from his gaping mouth. Issy knew she was looking at living evil. Her blood ran cold in her veins.
Megan had quietened as the door opened. She turned towards them. She looked desolate, and Issy wanted so much to go to her, but knew she had to allow Edward to get things under control.
‘Put that down! Do you hear me, Billy? Put it down! Billy, Billy, can you hear me? Don’t be afraid, put . . .’
Edward had a commanding tone to his voice, but Billy took no notice.
‘She’s got to die – it was her fault.’
‘No, Billy, it wasn’t your mother’s fault. Don’t—’
‘I – I have to. I have to kill her. It’s telling me I’m to do it.’
‘What’s telling you, Billy?’
‘The redness, the red . . .’ Billy’s body broke out in sweat and his skin paled. ‘The redness says she’s to blame. She left me dad! She made him mad – he hit Jack. He . . . he was going to kill him!’ Billy swung his arm even further back.
Issy felt her body sway. ‘No! Oh God! No.’
‘I’ve to get the red out. I—’
‘No!’ Edward leapt forward.
Billy swung round to face Edward. He felt his arms drop. They were heavy. Everything was heavy. That fella that claimed he was his step-granddad was near him. He’d to stop him.
‘Get away, else I’ll do you an’ all!’ The redness inside his head burned. It swelled – his head would burst! It had to come out. He thought of the first time it had come to him and given him such pain. The thought carried with it an image of Bella at his feet, and he laughed.
‘The stinking halfwit. Ha!’ His body shook and the laughter took hold of him. The pain in his head increased. The redness was eating him! He needed to stop laughing. It was making him weak – he’d to beat it. Look at them all – he’d have to do them all in.
The redness would help. It was helping him; it was coming back, giving him strength.
He swished the rolling pin backwards and forwards. He could still see Bella, and she was looking back at him, the ugly sod. He lashed out at her. Heard once more the crunching sound of her head.
‘She’s dead – I’ve done her! Ha! She’s heavy, she stinks
. . . the ugly sod stinks. I’ve got to get her to the mineshaft.’
‘Billy, what are you saying, lad?’ Issy’s voice penetrated the redness. Billy liked Issy.
‘It was the redness. It told me to – it come out; it was on the branch. Then on me – it come out of me head. I didn’t know what to do. I hid her. I dragged her to the mineshaft . . .’
He was losing his power again. He’d only to do his mam in and it’d be over. His eyes hurt. They felt like they were leaving his head! The agony of the redness crushed him. He swished the rolling pin again.
‘You killed—’
‘Shuddup! I have to listen.’
‘Who are you listening to?’
That was the new bloke they’d brought in. Why didn’t he listen to what he told him?
‘The REDNESS! I told you: he’s in me head!’
A pain seared through Billy. He had to get it out. Had to do his mam in – it was all her fault. He raised his arms. A strength came into him. He felt huge, bigger than everyone in the room. He looked round at them. They were all staring. He laughed out loud.
Someone was shouting. It was his Aunty Hattie.
‘Tell the redness to go away, Billy. Go on. Tell it. It isn’t your boss. It’ll do as you say, lad. Tell it as you don’t want to kill your mam.’
‘No! It won’t. It made me . . . it made me kill Bella and me dad. It made me.’
‘Well, you bloody well tell it it isn’t going to make you kill your mam, or it’ll have me to answer to, and that’ll frighten it. I’m helping you, lad. We can beat it together, eh?’
‘Billy, I’m your mam, I love you. I’ll join with Hattie. I’ll help you fight the redness.’
‘We all will, lad. We’ll not leave you on your own with it.’
Everybody was nodding. The fella who had been talking to him earlier started to move. Billy didn’t want him talking at him again. He wanted his mam. The redness was going – he’d beaten it. His Aunty Hattie had made them all help him to beat it. He didn’t ever want it to come back. ‘Mam . . . Mam . . .’