Bill Bailey's Daughter

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘I’m…I’m coming home.’

  She paused. ‘You are? For a holiday?’

  ‘No, no; I’m coming home for good. Do…do you think you could meet me? I…I am due in Newcastle about six o’clock in the evening your time next Thursday.’

  ‘Are you all right, Mother?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m all right, dear. I…I will explain everything when I see you.’

  Fiona held the mouthpiece and looked at it. The voice was her mother’s and yet not her mother’s. ‘I’ll…I’ll have to go now, dear. You’ll be there?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course, Mother. I’ll…I’ll look forward to seeing you.’ She didn’t know whether or not she meant those words, she only knew that there was something not right. There must be something not right because she was coming home and not on a holiday, and she was still Mrs Vidler.

  ‘Goodbye, dear.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mother.’

  She put the phone down. There was only Mark in the hall now. She looked at him and said quietly, ‘It’s your grandma, she’s…she’s coming back.’

  He pursed his lips and said, ‘Phew, more trouble!’

  ‘Yes, perhaps, but she sounded different.’

  ‘I couldn’t imagine Gran being different, ever.’

  Katie entered the hall now from the direction of the kitchen, and it was Mark who said to her, ‘Granma’s coming back.’

  ‘Why?’

  The question was directed at Fiona, and Fiona shook her head and said, ‘You know as much as I do. She just said she was coming back, and not for a holiday, for good.’

  At this her daughter just lifted her shoulders slightly, then turned and went up the stairs and Fiona stood for a moment looking after her. The girl had grown apace in the last year but there was none of the old sprightly Katie about her any more; very little conversation; in fact, it was almost nil. Her answers: yes, no, perhaps, why? Strangely, the only one with whom she conducted any form of conversation was Sammy; and that indeed was strange because she had always considered him, in her own jargon, common.

  Thinking of Sammy reminded her that he hadn’t been for two to three days, and that was unusual. She could understand his not coming over at nights but she couldn’t remember a Saturday for years now when the boy hadn’t been here some part of the day. That’s why Willie had gone on his bike to see him.

  She called now up the stairs to where Katie was disappearing along the landing: ‘Look in on Mamie, will you dear?’ she said.

  Although she expected no response she knew that her daughter would do what she asked. It wasn’t that she had become docile, but since that dreadful affair last Boxing Day when she thought she was going to have a defiant sex-ridden girl on her hands, practically the opposite had happened. Katie had become quiet, obedient, but withdrawn into herself, different. In fact the whole house had become different since Rupert no longer popped in. Only Bill saw him.

  One thing that incident had done, it made Rupert take a decisive step in his own life. Within a month, Miss Isherwood had sold the bungalow and taken up her abode with him as his common-law wife, and they now lived above the garage. She hadn’t seen the young woman but Bill said she had a scar running along the top of her left eye that she would probably never get rid of and it was a miracle that she had the eye at all. It pained her to see Bill’s attitude to Katie: he spoke to her but he never touched her or made a fuss of her like he used to. And there were times when she would catch her daughter looking at him with a mixture of bitterness and sadness in her face. When he had first come onto their horizon she had loved him and vied for his attention; and he had given it to her. But now no more…

  It was only a matter of minutes later that Willie, almost throwing his bike against the house wall, ran indoors, crying, ‘Mam! Dad! Dad!’

  To his calling Fiona came out of the dining room and Bill from the study along the passage.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’

  Willie stood gasping as he looked from one to the other: ‘It’s…it’s Mr Davey, he’s bad.’

  ‘What d’you mean, he’s bad?’

  ‘Sammy’s worried. His dad’s got to go into hospital.’

  ‘When did all this happen? He was at work yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, yes, he was, but you said yourself last night, Dad, that you thought there was something wrong with him because the flesh was dropping off him and he shouldn’t have been there.’

  ‘Aye. Aye, I did. Well, I’d better go and see what all this is about. There’s no rest for the wicked. It’s likely the diarrhoea again. I’ve told him for months now he should go and have that seen to. But he gave it some fancy name, diverticular or something.’

  Fiona nodded. ‘Yes, yes, he did, diverticulitis. That can cause diarrhoea, so he said. And he was taking some medicine for it, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Maybe; but he should see the doctor. Get me coat.’ He stumped along the passage, and Fiona immediately went across the hall and into the cloakroom and brought his coat and soft hat to him; and as he put them on he said, ‘There’s always something. But I’ve told that idiot to get a doctor, not to rely on what somebody else told him to get.’

  ‘The doctor came this morning. Sammy wouldn’t listen any longer to his dad and he went out and phoned, and the doctor came, said he would get a bed for him by Monday,’ Willie put in.

  As Bill made for the door he said, ‘Well, this is another of those days: Mamie coughin’ her heart out, your granny comin’ home and now this.’

  About twenty minutes later Bill drew the car up in front of the bungalow in Primrose Crescent, and when Sammy opened the door to him Bill’s voice was quiet as he said, ‘How is he, lad?’

  ‘He’s bad, Mr B, real bad. He’s been real bad for a long time, but you can’t do anything with him, he’s so pig-headed.’

  Bill went slowly into the bedroom. Davey was in bed. His face looked ashen but his smile was as wide as ever and he greeted Bill with, ‘I’ll break that little bugger’s neck. I will, so help me. Haulin’ you out on a Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘You know what you are, Davey Love, you’re a bloody fool, as the youngster said, and a pig-headed one into the bargain. What is it all about?’

  ‘Aw, well, boss, just one of those things.’

  ‘Come off it, Davey. What is it?’

  Davey looked towards the door. ‘He’ll be makin’ tea. I’m full up to here with tea.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘If he’s made it once the day he’s made it a dozen times.’

  ‘Never mind that. What’s wrong. D’you know?’

  ‘Oh aye, boss, I know. Aye, I know.’ The smile slid from Davey’s face. He looked down over the quilt before adding, ‘I’ve known for a long time. It’s what they’re callin’ the big C.’

  Bill said nothing, he just stared down on this big rough Irishman for whom he had developed a very warm liking amounting to affection. And after a long moment he said, ‘And you’ve done nowt about it?’

  ‘Aw, aye. Yes, I’ve done something about it. I’ve taken things. Been to Mass.’ Now the grin reappeared. ‘I had a talk with Him’—and he glanced upwards—‘but He’s in two minds where to send me: bad lads, He said, with good intentions are difficult to place.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Davey, stop jokin’ about it!’

  ‘What d’you expect me to do, boss? Eh? I’ve had to make up me mind I must face it. I’ve covered it up from the youngster this long while. I’ve always sworn at him, but God forgive me I’ve sworn at him more these last few months than I’ve done since he was born.’ He again looked towards the door. ‘That’s the only thing I’m worryin’ about, boss, him. He’ll have to go to his granny’s. I mean, for good.’

  ‘For God’s sake, man, there’s cures the day!’

  ‘Aw, aye, yes, I know that, boss. God’s good to a lot of folk. But I’ve known from the start me number’s been written down and when it’s called out I’ll have to jump to it, saying, “Present, Sir!” But seriously, boss, I’d like to thank you
and the missis ’cos you’ve been kindness itself to the lad. You’ve shown him another side of life. So could I ask you, boss, that when he’s with the old girl you would now and again, when you have a minute, give him a helpin’ hand?’

  ‘Shut up! Will you! You know without sayin’ or askin’ that the helpin’ hand will be there. An’ another thing, I’ll promise you this, he won’t go to his granny’s ’cos he can’t stand her. Up till this week or so he’s practically lived at our house anyway. I should send you a bill for his meals.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right there, boss. Funny, I’ve often thought about that. You know, about him an’ Willie, they’re more like brothers than Willie an’ Mark, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, that’s true.’

  ‘An’ they couldn’t be two more opposite types, could they now? Your lad bein’ nicely spoken an’ mine with a tongue like a guttersnipe. And I’m to blame for that. Aye, I’m to blame for that. He’s had a rough haul, has the youngster. But life’s been different for him since he met up with Willie an’ your family. An’ boss, you meant that, I know you did, that you’ll see to him, and that’s all I want to know; I’ll be ready any minute now ’cos that’s settled me mind.’

  ‘Stop talkin’ bloody rot! Are you goin’ to have an operation?’

  ‘Aye, that’s what he said. I go in on Monday.’

  ‘Well, that could be the beginning of your cure. And look at it that way, sort of mind over matter. They’re doin’ a lot of that stuff the day. Look at me for instance. I’m a case of mind over matter. I thought I was a big shot when I was nowt; but look at me the day, sittin’ pretty. So use that napper of yours. Tell yourself you’re goin’ to get better.’

  ‘Just as you say, boss, just as you say.’

  ‘I brought you some tea.’

  They both looked to where Sammy was coming into the room holding a tray on which there were two cups of tea, a bowl of sugar and a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Thanks, lad. That’s just what I could do with.’ Bill pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, then, looking at Sammy, he said, ‘Your da tells me he’s goin’ in on Monday.’

  ‘Aye, and not afore time. Pig-headed galoot!’

  As Sammy turned away Davey heaved himself up in the bed and, addressing himself to Bill, said, ‘D’you see what I mean? Goes to a private school an’ speaks to his father in that fashion. Pig-headed galoot. Would you allow Willie to speak to you like that, I ask you? Now, would you?’

  ‘Well, he mightn’t use the same words but I often get looks that speak louder than words. Aye, I do.’

  As Bill drank the strong tea he looked at the man in the bed and he found it difficult to know what to say, so he talked of the family: Mamie’s cold, sending for the doctor, Angela’s clever way with plasticine. And lastly he asked him, had he ever seen anybody with such a permanent grin on his face as was on Bert’s since he had become a father? ‘There’s no gettin’ a word in,’ he said, ‘not even edgeways. All he can talk about is the bairn. You’d think it was the first one that had ever been born. I think he was for usin’ his fists on me, an’ him the good quiet, religious man, just ’cos I laughingly said that the bairn’s mouth was a little outsize. It was yawnin’ at the time. He didn’t like it. You don’t dare joke about his son.’

  ‘He’s a good man is Bert. He pops in now and again.’

  ‘He does?’ said Bill in surprise. ‘Why the hell didn’t he tell me?’

  ‘Why should he now? You’ve got enough on your shoulders. And anyway, as Bert said, you’re like a kangaroo hoppin’ from one place to another; you were difficult to pin down. An’ that’s understandable ’cos this is some job you’ve pulled off this time, boss. By God, it is that!’

  ‘Kangaroo hoppin’ from one place to another! Just you wait till I see him! Well’—he got to his feet—‘I’ve got to be goin’. But listen. I’ll be along the morrow, and the missis an’ all. And don’t worry about the lad; let your mind rest there.’ He bent over and looked into the gaunt bony face as he said softly, ‘You’re goin’ to get better. Get that into your head. Do a little talkin’ to the Holy Mother that you’re always callin’ on and see what she can do for you.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll do that. Yes, I’ll do that, boss. An’ if anybody can fix it she will.’ Then his smile sliding, he put out his hand and gripped Bill’s, saying, ‘I can rest easy now.’

  At the door all Bill could say to the boy was ‘We’ll be over the morrow, but pack a case for Monday, you’re comin’ with us.’

  And all Sammy said was, ‘Aye. Ta.’

  Davey had his operation on the Wednesday morning. He was wheeled into the theatre at half past nine and was wheeled out at half past twelve. And it was four o’clock in the afternoon when Bill spoke to the surgeon; he then drove straight home, went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself out two good fingers of whisky.

  Standing by his side, Fiona said, ‘Bad?’

  ‘Couldn’t be worse. They just sewed him up again. The surgeon said there was nothing they could do; if they had tried he would have died on the table. It was all over his body. God, what he must have been goin’ through all these months. The bloody fool!’

  ‘What’s going to happen now to him?’

  ‘He’ll be in hospital for a time, and then, well…’ He walked away from her and, standing in front of the fire, he placed his glass on the marble mantelshelf, then gripped the edge of it with both hands as he said, ‘He’ll need lookin’ after. I’m goin’ to bring him here for what time he’s got left; he can’t stay in that bungalow by himself.’ Turning sharply towards her now, he said, ‘I’ll engage a nurse.’

  ‘No, Bill, no; you needn’t do that. Whatever’s to be done, Nell and I can do it between us, and be only too glad. If things get very bad, all right, we’ll have a nurse; but wait and see what has to be done first.’

  He drew in a long breath, saying, ‘I said all that without consultin’ you in any way. Sorry. That’s how I feel. I mean, he’s a big Irish galoot, as Sammy’s always tellin’ him, but he’s brought more laughs into this house than any comedian you see on the screen. An’ the lad an’ all. They somehow became linked up with the family, you know what I mean?’

  ‘Oh yes, Bill, I know what you mean. I feel the same, and I wouldn’t be able to rest if I thought he was in that bungalow all day on his own.’

  He put his arms out and drew her to him, then said, ‘And your mother’s comin’ the morrow. Things never happen singly in this house, do they? Are you worried? I mean about her coming?’

  ‘Yes; yes, I am. There was always a dread when I used to lift the phone that I would hear her say my name, Fi…o…na, drawn out, just like that. Condemnation in each syllable. I kept thinking about it last night.’

  ‘Well’—he now gripped her shoulders—‘there’s one thing I can tell you, I’m going to put me foot down straight away when she enters that door. I don’t care if I vex or please her but I’ll make it plain that she’s not goin’ to upset you again in any way, And…Oh my God! I’ve just thought, will we have to put her up?’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so, she’ll go to an hotel.’

  ‘Yes; yes, that would be more like her, ’cos she wouldn’t want to come in close proximity to me, would she?’ He smiled now, saying, ‘You’ve never noticed or remarked recently on my use of the big words. You should hear me at the board meetings; I astonish meself.’

  ‘Oh! Bill, Bill; you sound like your old self again.’

  ‘Aye.’ He turned from her now and picked up the glass from the mantelshelf, saying, ‘We’ve all got old selves, haven’t we? I wish I could have kept mine with regard to one person in this house.’

  ‘You still haven’t forgiven her?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose I’ve forgiven her, but somehow things have never been the same, have they? She’s not the same to me, naturally, and I’m not the same to her. An’ none of you see Rupert except me; and you used to like him poppin’ in and out, didn’t you? He gave a bit of class t
o the place.’ He wrinkled his face at her and she said, ‘He was just himself, like Sir Charles used to be: they’re at ease in any company. They didn’t treat me or you any differently from anyone else. Except on last Boxing Day.’

  ‘My God in heaven, I’ll never forget that day as long as I live! And that’s what I see every time I look at Katie, I see him and that lass bleedin’ an’ know that she did it, and worse, was capable of doin’ it. Ah well, there’s more serious things to hand now. Where will you put Davey? In the annexe?’

  ‘No, no; that’s too cut off. There’s two spare bedrooms up there. We’ll put him in the one looking onto the drive. He’ll see the comings and goings from there, that’s if he’s bedridden all the time.’

  ‘Aye, that’s an idea.’ Again he turned and put the glass on the mantelshelf; then, pulling her to him once more, he kissed her hard on the mouth before saying, ‘You’re a good lass, you know. Wonderful, wonderful. And at this minute I could believe in Davey’s God and thank Him for you.’

  Two

  Fiona watched the plane taxi to a stop. She watched the doors open and the passengers come down the steps. Then she saw her mother, having recognised her more by her walk than anything else. But when a few minutes later they came face to face Fiona had trouble in hiding the shock she felt.

  When she had last seen her mother, the result of the facelift had given her a false youthfulness, but now, although the skin appeared still tight, she was definitely looking at an elderly woman, not someone just turned sixty. She was further surprised when her mother’s arms went about her and her voice murmured, ‘Fiona. Oh, Fiona!’

  ‘Are…are you all right, Mother?’

  ‘Yes, yes dear; I’m all right, only tired. I’ve had a long journey, even before I got on the plane. And then there were the changes and—’ She sighed before adding, ‘How are you, dear?’

  ‘Oh. I’m fine, Mother, fine.’

  ‘And…and the children?’