Torn

by Gilli Allan

  ‘I’ll give him weight restrictions, bloody chicanes, and road humps! I need people to drive through the town,’ he roared to no one in particular, as he shouldered through the crowd in the gangway. Already anxious about the deteriorating situation, Jess leapt to her feet and attempted to follow the red-faced man. Sheila cried out after her.

  ‘Are you mad, Jess? Come back! Sit down!’

  The funnel effect at the half opened double doors created congestion which backed up along the aisle. Buffeted by elbows and trodden on by scuffing feet Jess was as much a victim of the rising panic to get out as of the growing violence. Abusive language or the odd push or shove had already degenerated. A scuffle developed between the younger men from opposing camps. A chair crashed to the ground. A punch was thrown. A voice shouted, ‘Has someone called the police?’ The speed with which bad temper mixed with poor planning had escalated was frightening. Fighting broke out in the aisle.

  Ahead the doors had at last been fully opened on both sides, plus a fire door further down the auditorium and those who wanted to leave were pouring out into the night. A siren could be heard in the distance. More chairs fell over. Arms swung in wild blows. The two policemen who were outside had come in, but in the face of the disorderly crowd were making little headway in calming the situation.

  The red-faced man had reached Danny, taken hold of him, and was shaking him. His campaigner friends were mostly involved in their own disputes; they either did not see that Danny was being manhandled or were unable to get to him. The man confronting him was quite a bit shorter and a lot older, but he was stocky and fuelled-up with unreasoning anger; after all, the young man he’d targeted was ostensibly on his side. But a kind of madness had overtaken too many of them there that night.

  ‘You want to send me bloody bankrupt, do you? That shop’s my livelihood.’

  ‘Let go!’ Danny croaked, trying to release the man’s clutching hands from his shirt collar. ‘I’ve got nothing against you, pal, or your shop. I’m against the by-pass!’

  ‘I’m not your pal! You bloody hippies live in cloud cuckoo land.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to stop all traffic going through town!’

  ‘I should bloody hope you don’t. What’s it to do with you, anyway? You don’t even come from round here. I’ll be buggered if I let a crusty Forest inbred tell me how to live my life.’

  ‘I’m not telling you … Look, calm down, I’ve nothing against you!’ Danny might be slender but he was wiry and stronger than he looked. But he was off balance, backed up against fallen chairs. ‘Get off me!’

  Jessica screeched, ‘Stop that! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ She might just as well have been a flea shouting at an elephant. She dragged at the man’s arm but he flung her off, knocking her to the ground. The temporary release of one of the man’s hands aided Danny. He at last appeared to be making some headway in wrestling his way out of the man’s choking grasp. Just as it seemed Danny was about to free himself, his assailant secured a grip on his waistcoat and abruptly dragged the young man towards him. The suddenness of the move created an unstoppable reaction. Danny’s head whipped forward. The man’s head butted into his. With a crack the bridge of Danny’s nose connected with the man’s forehead. In the stunned split second that followed, a fist crashed into his cheek. All animation switched off. Danny’s knees gave way, his head lolled, and he crumpled, falling amongst the tangle of half collapsed chairs. Without pause for breath the man was kicking at him, but this time with Jessica on his back, shrieking as though demented, one hand wound into his hair the other battering at the side of his head. Now, in pain himself, he flailed about to brush off the wildcat dragging at his hair.

  ‘Get off! Get off!’

  The next moments were all confusion. As the constabulary presence swelled with the sudden eruption into the hall of police carrying riot shields and batons, she felt herself being lifted away.

  ‘It’s all right Jess, I’ll take over.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  For Jessica the next minutes were a confused kaleidoscope. It was only later that she found out it was James Warwick who had restrained her and who’d then held the man’s arms in a lock behind his back until taken charge of by the police. It was James Warwick who prevented his dazed and bleeding employee from being arrested. And when the police made a beeline for the ‘Hippies’, it was James Warwick who spoke up for them. This was not a one-sided fracas, with goodies and baddies, he told the officer in charge. Blame resided in all camps.

  But at the time, the world darkening, her teeth rattling with icy tremors, Jessica was unaware that it was Danny’s employer who helped her into a chair, draped his jacket around her, and urged her to drop her head down between her knees. Only half conscious of an argument going on above her she thought she heard Sheila’s voice. ‘She can come home with me.’ But the male voice countered, ‘Don’t you think she would prefer to stay under the same roof as her son? Anyway, I’m taking Dan into Casualty. It would do no harm to get Jessica checked out at the same time. She seems to be in shock.’

  Jessica sat up groggily and the choice was put to her.

  ‘I want to be with Rory,’ she said, weakly. ‘I’ll take him home.’

  ‘There’s no question of you driving yourself. And I don’t think Rory would thank you for dragging him home in the middle of the night.’

  The world was still foggy and unbalanced. She shook her head to clear the jangling confusion. ‘You’re right. I’m not thinking straight. But my car …?’

  ‘Don’t worry. If you’ll allow me to drive yours I’ll leave the Land Rover in the car park. We can do a swap in the morning.’

  Memory of the incident that had triggered all this flashed-back with a breath-stopping rush of terror.

  ‘Danny?’ she gasped, clutching James Warwick’s arm. ‘Where’s Danny? Is he all right?’

  There was a momentary pause before his answer. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. There’s a bit of blood from the bump on the nose. But he’s a tougher cookie than he looks. See … there he is.’

  It was only then that her surroundings began to resolve into clear focus. In the middle distance small groups were being questioned by the police. But not far from her, and still looking out of it, Danny leaned back; he clutched a red-blotched handkerchief to his face. And, for the second time that day, blood was splashed on his clothes.

  They were among the first to arrive at the hospital and Danny was whisked away fairly swiftly. Sheila had followed them there and while James Warwick phoned Gilda, she sat with Jessica. The conversation was stilted; unable to concentrate Jessica was almost relieved when James reappeared.

  ‘Everything’s fine at home,’ he said. ‘The kids are in bed. Whether they’re asleep, who knows? Gilda sends her love, by the way. She’s getting a guest room near the kids ready for you. That’ll be a surprise for Rory in the morning.’

  ‘You could still come back to my place,’ Sheila muttered in her other ear, as if the prospect of spending one night at the farm was akin to torture.

  ‘But Rory’s there, and Gilda’s already making up a bed. It makes sense. You go home. I’ll be fine.’

  But Sheila refused to leave her friend. While others of the walking wounded arrived in Casualty and were assessed, they just had to sit there and wait. It was agonising. Jess still shivered, though a hospital blanket was wrapped around her. Her acute concern for Danny was not expressible. She was stuck between a man she didn’t approve of, whom she’d publicly rebuked only an hour or so earlier, and Sheila, who had no time whatsoever for any man, apparently regarding them all as potential rapists. James attempted to make conversation, but none of them, it seemed, wanted to broach the subject which had brought them to this uncomfortable situation. Just then a doctor emerged from Danny’s cubicle. James Warwick went over to speak to him. Jessica’s name was called and feeling like a total fraud she followed the nurse.

  It was gone midnight by the time they got back to the far
m. The two casualties were ushered into a smaller living room than the one in which Gilda had previously entertained Jessica. This was a less formal room than the other, which had been almost unnaturally pristine. Here, there was a scattered heap of newspapers on the floor, a TV in the corner, an old-fashioned music system with large speakers either side of the chimney breast, and a wall of books, CDs, tapes, and vinyls. A pyre of logs in the open grate crackled and spat, the flames shot high against the blackened fire-back. The slightly scorched and moth-eaten rug in front of the hearth was probably not moth-eaten at all, but holed over the years by the sparks which jumped from the fire. Big, fat, squashy armchairs were drawn up close around the blaze.

  ‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ James Warwick told them. ‘I’ll get the brandy. My mother is making hot drinks.’

  Apart from the three tiny adhesive dressing strips which crossed the wound on the bridge of his nose, and some kind of antiseptic unguent smeared onto his cheekbone, Danny had been discharged with one caveat. He and his employer were told that due to his brief loss of consciousness he was to come back immediately if he suffered any visual disturbance or headaches. Otherwise he was simply advised to take things easy for a day or two. Jessica had also been pronounced OK, but told to keep warm and drink plenty of fluids. She guessed brandy was not what the hospital had in mind.

  ‘Here we are, I’ve made some hot chocolate,’ Gilda said, looking as fresh as if it were six hours earlier. ‘In the circumstances I thought you would need something more comforting than coffee or tea. James is bringing the spirit.’ She put the tray down on a small table and sat down. ‘What a to-do! Why do people get so worked up?’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ said her son, as he entered the room with a bottle and four small tumblers. ‘We’ve only got this.’ He waved the bottle of Rémy Martin. Only? Jess thought.

  ‘But I thought we could dispense with balloon glasses, particularly if you want to put the cognac in your chocolate.’

  A suggestion Gilda approved of. ‘What a good idea, James.’

  Was Jess the only one who found this situation bizarre; sitting around a roaring fire, about to imbibe cognac and hot chocolate like a group of close friends, après-ski? ‘Um, I ought to tell you, Gilda, we weren’t all on the same side at the meeting. Both Danny and I spoke against James.’ She glanced up and caught the man’s eye as she made this admission.

  ‘Good heavens, I’m sure he has broad enough shoulders. And he knew very well Daniel was against him but still gave him a lift there!’

  ‘You know Nigel Stockley turned up late. If Dan hadn’t helped me with the ewes we’d both have missed the start of the meeting! I could hardly deny him the chance to get showered and shaved, and then insist he biked it into town.’

  Gilda turned to Jessica confidentially. ‘I’ve already told you I’m bored to the back teeth with the subject. James, however, has strong opinions, but he’s not a man to deny others the right to express their opposition. That is correct, isn’t it, my dear?’ she confirmed with the man she’d been talking about as if he were not there. James, the only person standing in a room with three armchairs, shrugged, but Jess could almost imagine he was suppressing a smile.

  ‘It depends,’ he said. ‘A difference of opinion is one thing. But it’s a pity that some people can’t separate their emotions from their logic. That’s presupposing they’ve got any logical capability.’

  ‘Present company excluded, I take it?’ Gilda said.

  He nodded sagely. ‘They were both cool rationality personified.’

  Jessica held her breath. He could so easily have qualified the remark by telling his mother that her new friend had publicly insulted him.

  ‘You know I was a keen supporter of the meeting as part of the democratic process, a chance for all views to be aired. But look what happened! Swift descent into chaos! One of the main culprits was that idiot Bill Bryant, who owns the ironmongers in town. It was Bryant who laid into Dan, accused him of wanting to send him bankrupt.’

  ‘Daniel? But he’s against a new road.’ Gilda looked thoroughly perplexed and turned to Danny. ‘You’re against a new road.’ To Jessica Danny looked almost asleep, eyelids heavy and the side he’d been punched beginning to puff and discolour.

  ‘I know that. You know that,’ James continued, not waiting for Danny’s confirmation. ‘Think it was Dan’s idea for weight restrictions and road humps in the High Street he objected to. Even so, I swear the man’s heading for a nervous breakdown. It’s not a by-pass that’ll send him bankrupt. It’s the half-arsed way he runs his shop!’

  ‘But the notion that a forum to air opposing views is anything to do with the democratic process is utterly specious!’ Jessica said abruptly, interrupting what seemed a discussion solely between the man and his mother. ‘For one thing there is no way the opposing views can be reconciled, and for another it’s obvious that the decision has already been made. The whole thing was a farce from beginning to end. It’s a cynical ploy to whip up dissent. While the people affected argue amongst themselves, the powers that be will put the road wherever they first intended to put it!’

  ‘And you think I’m a part of this conspiracy to hoodwink the public?’

  ‘You were on the platform.’

  ‘Had I known the meeting was just a smoke-screen, that a by-pass and its route had already been decided on, I wouldn’t have taken part in tonight’s fiasco.’

  ‘If that’s true I apologise.’ James’ eyes narrowed, but Jessica continued talking. ‘But even if the promised referendum is held, how fair will that be? It puts the residents of Northwell at a huge disadvantage.’

  ‘That’s democracy for you.’

  ‘Dictatorship by the majority! I’m sorry.’ Jess stood. ‘Gilda, you’ve … both been so kind to me. I’m not being a very conciliatory guest, but do you mind if I go to bed?’

  ‘Of course dear, you must be tired. I’ll show you your room.’ Everyone was on their feet now, except Danny. ‘And I don’t think it’s necessary for any of us to rise early tomorrow. It won’t hurt the children to have a morning off from nursery.’

  ‘Sounds tempting, but there’s no peace for this evil, mendacious violator of our green and pleasant land. I’ll need to relieve Nigel first thing.’

  ‘James?’ It was the first time Jessica had addressed the man by his given name. ‘I did mean it when I said I was sorry.’

  ‘I am not in the habit of telling lies,’ he said flatly.

  ‘I’m sorry. I get ratty when I’m tired.’

  His eyes were sceptical but he nodded, rubbing his hand across his mouth.

  ‘And,’ she added, ‘I think Danny needs to get to bed too.’ As she spoke James Warwick was looking at her face and suddenly she was aware of a slight shift in focus. The scarf, which had been twisted around her neck, was long gone, probably trampled on the floor at the cinema. Jess guessed he had noticed the fading bruise on her neck. No longer caring what he, or anyone thought, she raised her chin. Their gaze held for a moment before he looked towards his employee. Danny’s head had drooped down onto his hand, his eyes were firmly closed.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ James said, his expression softening. ‘Poor old Sideshow. He’s had quite a day of it!’

  It took several moments to remember where she was. At first she was struck by the unnatural light. Even with the curtains left open at home she awoke to a room of shadows. Then she heard the voices of the children and saw with a shock that it was gone nine; the sun was already above the trees in the cerulean blue sky.

  The window looked down on the large garden, a part of which was walled and cultivated. Beyond the wall, in the gnarled spreading branches of a leafless fruit tree, an elaborate tree-house had been constructed and a swing hung below. On the ground, spread as far as the tree canopy, was the minced-up rubber surface used in playgrounds. The two dark-haired children climbed up the ladder, entered the house, emerged the other end, and slid down a slide. They raced around from slide to ladder to
repeat the process.

  In the brilliant February sunshine a large white rabbit lolloped on the grass, then snuffled at, and possibly ate, some of the budding daffodils and crocuses. From time to time Sasha ran over, reprimanded the animal, then carried it away from the flowerbeds and put it back in the middle of the lawn.

  Beyond the boundary was a meadow with more fruit trees and, at the far fence, a white slatted beehive. The meadow was also inhabited by a ram and a donkey; chickens and ducks pecked at the ground. Here, too, was the large hutch to which Rory had taken her to admire the new laid eggs. That afternoon in January it had already been dark, and without this bird’s eye view she would have been hard pressed to say exactly where the hutch was situated, amongst the complex of house, barns, and stone walls. What a lucky little girl, Jessica thought.

  As ever Gilda looked bright eyed and well groomed when Jess found her way down to the kitchen.

  ‘I feel so guilty!’

  ‘Nonsense. No one expected you to be up first thing. You had a nasty shock last night. I offered to have Rory to stay, which included getting him to Cherubs. As it is I haven’t entirely fulfilled my side of the bargain. Now, breakfast?’

  ‘You didn’t expect to be entertaining me as well!’

  ‘But it’s a pleasure.’

  As she ate – a new-laid egg, followed by a slice of toast spread with the farm’s own honey – Jessica described to Gilda how her shock at the previous evening’s events had been heightened by her experiences with Sean. It was a deliberate misdirection, but there was no way she could justify her attachment to their farm worker. Until last night, she had only ever heard Gilda refer to him as ‘the lad’, with that unconscious and utterly self-confident assumption of superiority she would certainly have denied if challenged. James’ attitude to Danny was less cut and dried.

  ‘Where is James?’ she asked, voicing the thought.

  ‘He will have been up since six or earlier. I had to clean the mess he’d made in here filling the thermoses. Coffee does stain so, doesn’t it? He could reappear any time to have something to eat. It depends what is going on with the lambing. But that will be finished in a day or so, thank the Lord. It’s been so much worse this year than last.’