The Branded Man

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Oh, give her a chance, Grandpa, Maggie is a tough proposition. But don’t worry, your housekeeper’—and she stressed the word—‘will succeed in the end; she always does.’

  After Marie Anne had left the room an embarrassed silence fell between father and son, until at last the old man said, ‘I suppose that’s the first time you’ve seen her in this long while?’

  ‘Yes, Father, it’s well over a year.’

  ‘Well, what d’you think?’

  James moved uneasily under the question before he said, ‘She’s so changed. She’s no longer even a girl, and you can’t imagine her ever being wild and of a fiery temperament. That seems to be all gone.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you believe it. Her wildness might be subdued, for she can no longer run like a hare: that ankle of hers is still painful too; but as for the temper, I wouldn’t want to be the one to cause her to use it.’ Here Emanuel paused and stared into the fire; then sharply turning his head towards his son, he said, ‘I’ll tell you this much, James, I don’t give a damn what anybody says about her giving birth to an illegitimate child. I only know that she has given me a new lease of life, just being with me, near me. In the short while she’s been here she’s turned this house into the home it once was when your mother was alive. Two years ago, before your daughter left, I was planning for my demise, and my worry then was what would happen to her when I was gone; who would understand her, who would look after her, and now here she is looking after me and bringing joy into my life. I now have a purpose in living. Of course, I have also realised that I have no power to forestall death. It could be tonight, tomorrow, or years ahead; but just in case it is tonight or tomorrow is the reason why I have made all these changes, some of which—in fact, all of them—must seem unfair to you. So this is why I wanted to see you privately and put something to you which will undoubtedly seem even more unfair. However, first I will tell you that The Manor is yours. I have willed it to you. But as I said yesterday, how long you keep it in its present condition will be entirely up to you, providing you cut down and turn it into a home run by a reasonable number of staff. It’s not too late to put your foot down, man; I’m telling you it’s not too late.’ There was no need for him to point out on whom he had to put his foot down, but he went on, ‘I will never see you pushed up against the wall; but what help I give you will be done in private, for I don’t want anyone in that house thinking that I’m still backing you. You understand?’

  James stared at his father, but made no comment, so Emanuel went on, ‘Now for the part that isn’t going to be so pleasant. You own twenty per cent of the shares of the business, so what I want you to do is sell me ten per cent. On the face of it you would be selling them to me; I would give you three times their worth, but I would not keep them for long before I passed them on to Pat. Why? I see you are asking. Well, be honest, James, has Vincent any quality at all that would entitle him to be managing director of the business? On the other hand, Pat is not only more naturally qualified but he has worked for such a position, whereas Vincent wastes his time in that office. He wasted it when he knew I was just a door or so away from him; so what he does now…well, I suppose only you could tell me, James, but you won’t. Anyway, you were never very good at giving orders, were you? And over the years, since I retired anyway, you must admit you’ve left all that side to Pat. So you can understand why I want Pat to be the governing body and adviser to Marie Anne, and he won’t be able to act that part unless his shares give him the power. So if you were to sell me half of yours, this would bring his holding up to twenty-nine per cent.’

  ‘He wouldn’t stand for it, Father; I mean, Vincent.’

  ‘He need know nothing about it. This could be done quietly by our solicitors and it would not be made evident until you died, when anything Vincent had to say wouldn’t hurt you; and then Pat would legally take your place as managing director. In any case, whatever you decide to do, James, I mean to make it impossible for Vincent to assume that position.’

  James looked steadily at his father. He had always been slightly afraid of this man, and now he knew why: it was his indomitable spirit; and at this moment he recognised that it was from this man that his wayward, wild and stubborn youngest child had inherited her character. Nothing of himself was in Marie Anne, nor of the woman who bore her. Oh no, there was no vestige of her mother in Marie Anne. He wondered why he hadn’t recognised this before, why it hadn’t become evident. Likely because, over the past month and up until yesterday, his father had never shown his hand. Yet, all things being said, his father’s present attitude should have engendered a greater fear. Strangely, he no longer felt afraid of him or even uneasy in his presence. Perhaps he was feeling tired, weary of it all and, as had been his wont, was taking the easy way out. All he had wanted to do was eat a little, drink a little, sleep a lot, and rest. Perhaps in a house like this. Funny about that. He looked about him. There was a strange atmosphere here. It was as if, were he to put his arm along the back of the couch, his mother would be standing there and she would be stroking his hair, bringing the parting to one side or the other, saying, ‘Don’t have your parting in the middle, James,’ and he would say to her, ‘I’ve told you, Mother, it grows like that.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Emanuel broke into his reverie.

  ‘Nothing, Father.’

  ‘You’ve…you’ve lost your colour, you’ve gone pale.’

  ‘I’m…I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘And upset I suppose. It’s understandable. I’m sorry that I’ve had to speak like this.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Father. Have it your own way.’ He was about to add, You always have, but checked himself, remembering that this man had been most generous to him and his family for the best part of a lifetime. If only Veronica had been a different…But then he remembered he had once loved her, although he was certain now that she had never really loved him. Tolerated him, yes; but only for a short time. He had been a means to an end. It was from then on he had found solace in eating and drinking; he hadn’t always had a pot belly, but had once been as slim as Pat was now.

  It was as if thinking about his wife caused him to say suddenly, ‘I didn’t tell you, Father, that some months ago I wrote to the boys; or at least to David, who passes the letters on to John. As you know, John was never a hand with the pen. Anyway, David had asked me why I did not go out there, sometime, for a holiday. I told him I couldn’t get away.’ He paused and laughed before he added, ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of being seasick during that long journey; and so I suggested that perhaps he should write to his mother and invite her. Well, two days ago, I had a reply, and she had a letter, too. David told me he had asked her to go over, but so far she hasn’t mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Well, it would be a good thing for you if she did go. It would give you a chance to pick up your old friend again. Do you still see—?’

  Before James could reply the door opened and Pat entered, saying, ‘Oh, hello, Father,’ then added, ‘By! it’s cold out there; enough to freeze you.’ He walked past his grandfather’s chair and straight to the fire and held his hands out to the flame before turning to the old man and saying, ‘I met Don McAlister on my walk and invited him along for a meal; d’you mind?’

  ‘Mind? Not at all. As I’ve told you, that man’s welcome at any time of the day or night in my house.’ He now leaned towards James and said, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve met Don McAlister, have you, James?’

  James shook his head: ‘No, not that I can recall,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I doubt if you’d ever forget him if you had. That’s his name, but he’s known hereabouts as The Branded Man or some such, because he has a scarred face and has it covered up.’

  ‘Oh. The man who found Marie Anne in London; the monk?’

  ‘No, no;’ and Pat laughed now; ‘he’s no monk. He was brought up by the Brothers in a priory, and he tells some very interesting stories of the life these Brothers lead.’ Pat laughed now, saying, ‘App
arently, when he didn’t want to become a priest, not even a Brother, they sent him off to Rome for a time. Oh, I think you would find him very interesting, Father. What about you staying to dinner?’

  ‘Oh no,’ James answered; ‘they’ll be expecting me back.’

  ‘Well’—it was Emanuel speaking now—‘why not send someone down and tell them you’re having dinner in your father’s house for once.’

  ‘Yes, do that.’ Pat nodded at his father. ‘I’ll send Mike down.’ Then putting out a restraining hand towards his father, he said, ‘Don’t say no; it isn’t often we three get together.’

  At this, James nodded in agreement, saying, ‘No; you’re right there, Pat, it isn’t often we get together. Well, thank you; yes, I would like that.’

  ‘Good. I’ll go and see Mike.’

  ‘Where’ve you left McAlister?’

  Pat grinned at his grandfather, saying, ‘In the sitting room. Marie Anne’s with him there, and also your housekeeper, so I should imagine the exchanges will be lively, because Miss Foggerty seems to know a lot about Mr McAlister and he, in turn, knows equally as much about her. Anyway, shall I bring him along here?’

  ‘No.’ His grandfather lifted his hand. ‘No, don’t do that, Pat; but you come back for a few minutes, I want a word with you. Then we’ll go along to the sitting room together.’ …

  At that moment, in the sitting room, there was definitely an exchange going on between Don McAlister and Miss Sarah Foggerty for, on entering the room, she had remarked on the fact that instead of donning his big soft felt hat he was wearing a close-fitting peaked cap. She was saying, ‘Did you make it yourself?’

  ‘Yes, Sarah, I made it myself.’

  ‘It looks as if it’s leather.’

  ‘It is soft leather.’

  When Marie Anne put in on a reprimanding note, ‘Sarah, please!’ Sarah turned to her, saying, ‘Oh, I’m just remarking on the fact that it’s an improvement,’ and turning towards Don again, she added, ‘Why didn’t you think about it before?’

  ‘It never crossed my mind, Sarah, until I was invited into a family atmosphere, and I’ve always understood it is bad manners to wear a hat in the presence of ladies.’

  ‘Well, we’ve done that much for you anyway.’

  ‘You’ve done more than you’ll ever know for me, Sarah, as has Miss Marie Anne, too.’

  ‘You know, when I was young,’ said Sarah, ‘we had a Jewish friend. He was kind to our lot with oddments of clothes and things. He lived only three doors away. He always wore a hat that shape.’

  ‘Did he? Well then, that’s something in my favour; I feel nearer the Lord now.’

  ‘Nearer the Lord?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Sarah. You’re a Catholic, aren’t you? So you’re bound to know that our Lord was a Jew.’

  ‘Oh yes; but I feel it would be hard to get a priest, like Father Broadside, say, to admit it.’

  ‘It would that,’ said Don.

  ‘You know’—Sarah was looking at Marie Anne now—‘we three knew each other back in the East End, didn’t we? Even if it was only for a very short time, but since we’ve come here we all seem changed. Have you noticed that?’

  Marie Anne was sitting back in her chair enjoying the exchanges between these two she now thought of as dear friends, when Sarah turned to her, saying, ‘Well, what d’you make of it, Marie Anne?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sarah,’ she said; ‘I haven’t given it thought. I leave all the deep thinking to you.’

  ‘Now, don’t take the mickey. Anyway’—Sarah turned back to Don again—‘talking about religion creates wars. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I would, Sarah, I would,’ said Don, smiling widely.

  ‘Well, you’ll have it in a minute.’ As she went to turn away Sarah gave him one last look and, as always having to have the last word, she said, ‘It is an improvement.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Don,’ said Marie Anne; ‘she doesn’t mean to be rude.’

  ‘Oh, please! Please, don’t apologise for Sarah. I think I’ve told you before, she’s like a breath of fresh air; someone who speaks her mind. And, you know, she’s right in her observation about us all being changed, because you no longer are the girl who lived at the top of Ramsay Court, and Sarah’s no longer your guardian and watchdog, because here she is carrying out a task in a post which gives her a feeling of independence. Nevertheless I expect she’ll keep on her job of watchdog.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m sure of that, and at the same time I’m glad of it, because, you know, it is a good feeling to have someone to watch over you with kindness and love, for it’s something I had never experienced before.’ There was no smile on her face now. ‘For all the days of my life I shall be grateful to her. She was the first woman to show me any affection. Now you, Don, what about you?’ she asked softly. ‘How do you think you’ve changed?’

  He did not immediately answer, but leaned forward, elbows on knees, his hands joined between them, and the mask side of his face towards her so that she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, before he said, ‘The change in me would be very difficult for me to explain and for you to understand. When, eight years ago, I left the precincts of the Brothers’ house and came to live in Rill Cottage, I imagined life had opened its doors wide for me; but I was mistaken. Back in the House most of the Brothers were my friends, but once I was settled here I experienced enmity and hate, and it was painful until it was eased a little by Farmer Harding and his wife and the river warden, Bob Talbot. People are afraid of the unusual, or of anything they don’t understand. Old wives’ tales flourish today almost as much as they did at the beginning of the last century. So, except when I made my twice-yearly visit to the Brothers, I experienced loneliness and isolation. Very often, although I wanted my freedom, I almost made up my mind to go back and join the Brothers, and they all seemed to be waiting for me to do just that. Yet, although there was warm companionship among most of that group of men, each had his own private aloneness to contend with. Aloneness, you know is different from loneliness, being made up of need, despair, and in many cases, rejection. I think there is in each of us a part that I can only describe as aloneness. In the case of the Brothers, I am sure they are helped by giving themselves over entirely to the spirit of God. Probably, for the ordinary man this feeling takes him into marriage, and not only for procreation but for friendship and comfort. He is, of course, lucky if it is crowned by love.’ Suddenly straightening up and putting his hand to his brow, he said, ‘Oh, dear Lord!’ and turning to her, he said, ‘Oh! Miss Marie Anne, I lost myself; I forgot who I was talking to.’

  Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, and as she swiftly put out a hand and laid it on his, she said softly, ‘I hope this is the first time of many that you will forget yourself. I am no longer a very young girl, Don; my experiences in London piled the years on me, so much so that I cannot believe that I am nearly seventeen, for to Grandpa I am still a child and, to Pat, a very young girl. Only to Sarah and now to you am I a young woman, and as a young woman I recognise that I’m bringing into the world an illegitimate child and that later it will be shown contempt; even now, as soon as I move out of the precincts of this house and grounds the finger of shame will be pointed at me. I have committed a great sin, the greatest a young person of my class could commit, and there’s no hope that it’ll be even condoned by any friend of the family.’

  When there was the rattle of the tea trolley again outside the door Marie Anne quickly withdrew her hand, at which he said, ‘You must not think that way; we must talk more sometime, my dear.’

  As the door was being pushed open Sarah’s voice came to them, saying, ‘I don’t know why I’m putting it on a trolley; a tray would’ve done. Anyway, here it is.’

  Don had risen to his feet and now said, ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, Sarah. There was no need for it.’

  ‘Take what’s being offered and thank God for it.’ Sarah grinned at him, and he came back with, ‘
I will, Sister Sarah; I’ll offer a novena, specially for this tray.’

  ‘Now, don’t you start scoffing me, Mr McAlister, else I’ll have nobody on my side;’ and after nodding at him she turned to Marie Anne, saying, ‘I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking I’m not suitable for this post, and perhaps you’re right.’

  ‘Yes; yes, I think you are right, Miss Foggerty; I’ll see you tomorrow morning in my office.’

  ‘Do that, ma’am. Do that. I have me bag packed already.’ And with an exaggerated swish of her skirt, she turned about and flounced from the room.

  They were laughing quietly together when Marie Anne said, ‘Seriously, Don, I’ll have to have a talk with her; but I don’t know if it will do much good. Anyway, she uses such chit-chat only with you and me. She really does try to play the matronly housekeeper, and up to a point she has succeeded. The girls like her, even Katie in the kitchen, and that hasn’t pleased Maggie Makepeace. And the men in the yard, they are very respectful to her. As for Grandpa, I’m sure he looks to her for amusement.’

  ‘Well, don’t expect me to make excuses for her, Miss Marie Anne, because I think she is a fine woman with a very warm heart.’

  Ignoring this, Marie Anne said, ‘Pour yourself a cup of tea and eat that toast while it’s hot.’

  As he helped himself to the tea and toast she said, ‘Are you comfortable in your cottage?’

  ‘Yes; yes, I’m very comfortable. You could say it suits me. But I think you would find it very shabby. The carpet has known no pile for years, and all the covers are well patched and the curtains very faded. But having said that, it has a fine open fireplace, which gives it a homely feeling; and the main thing is, it’s mine.’

  ‘Was your aunt your mother’s sister or your father’s.’

  ‘I don’t know; I knew nothing at all of my parents or their families; I know only that, as a baby, I was discarded.’