The Fledgeling

by Frances Faviell

  ‘Not hurt are you?’ she asked Neil.

  ‘No. A bit winded—that’s all. My eye’s closed up—and my mouth hurts—one tooth seems loose . . . I don’t know what came over me, Gran. I wanted to kill him . . . me . . . wanting to kill. . . .’ He shivered suddenly and went over to look down at Mike. ‘Is he all right?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I don’t want him hurt although I hate him. I hate him. . . .’

  ‘Not worth hating,’ said the old woman. ‘He’s a poor misguided creature. There’s flaws in everyone—and his got on top of him. Go and wash your face, and pick up that pink swan.’

  He was running the cold tap on his head when Charlie burst into the room, sleep still visible on his blank face. . . . ‘What’s going on? The whole house must be awake. . . .’ Then he saw the figure on the floor and Neil come in from the kitchen sink with his hair dripping wet, his eye closing up and his nose still bleeding. ‘What the hell? . . . what’s going on? . . . Nonie came in screaming that Neil was being killed. . . .’

  ‘Shut the door,’ snapped Mrs. Collins. ‘I’m in bed—I wish you’d remember that. This room’s been like a transit camp all day. We’ll have Mrs. Danvers and old Evans down in a moment.’

  Charlie bent over Mike with a professional eye. ‘Holy smoke! He’s out all right.’

  ‘How long will he stay out?’ asked Neil, faintly.

  ‘By the look of him, for a very long time,’ said Charlie, grimly. ‘Perhaps someone will enlighten me. Who is he? How’d he get here?’

  ‘Neil’s friend, Mike Andersen,’ said the old woman. ‘He came in my window. Neil attacked him when he thrust the scissors into me. I had been trying to stick them into him—but the odds were against me. . . .’

  ‘You tried to . . . what?’ asked Nona, astounded.

  ‘To stick the scissors into that evil young wretch lying there . . . Miss Rhodes gave me those scissors—and he’s killed her . . . or so he says.’

  ‘Killed Miss Rhodes. . . . Gran, do you know what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m not under the influence of alcohol or drugs—I never took any last night. He told Neil and me that he’d attacked Miss Rhodes over on the waste ground, and that he thought she had cracked her skull. He brought her handbag here . . . there it is . . . look.’

  Nonie looked with fascinated interest at the muddy handbag, then she turned to her twin. ‘You knocked him out! Isn’t it wonderful! Oh, Neil, I’m so proud!’ She ran to him and kissed him . . . then said with concern. ‘Oh, your poor eye and your nose. . . .’

  ‘Oh, leave the boy alone . . . he’s all right,’ said Charlie, gruffly. ‘This place has become a mad-house. I’m still waiting to know what he’s doing here.’

  ‘I knew he was coming,’ said Neil. ‘We planned to escape together. I didn’t want to desert—but I was scared of him. He’s made my life up there purgatory.’

  But why did you come here?’ demanded Charlie. ‘It’s the one place they are sure to come looking for you. . . .’

  ‘We planned to meet here. We had to have clothes—my civvies had been confiscated because I’d deserted. We were going on from here together.’

  ‘But why the scrap? What’s happened?’

  ‘I discovered that he’d attacked Miss Rhodes . . .’ Mrs. Collins answered, ‘and he was so callous and indifferent as to whether the poor girl is lying over there injured or dead that I threatened to give him up. He attacked me as soon as I screamed . . . then Neil went for him. . . . See?’ The old woman showed Charlie the scratch on her neck, which was bleeding freely.

  ‘I’m going to attend to that. I’ll get some warm water. . . .’ said Nona. ‘Is he all right, Charlie? He won’t recover and attack anyone will he?’

  ‘I doubt if he’ll be feeling too good when he does come round,’ said Charlie, examining Mike again. . . . ‘He must have had a terrific knock to go out like this. . . .’ He looked in grudging admiration at Neil.

  ‘Charlie, put on some more clothes and go and find Miss Rhodes. She’s lying somewhere over there. He said something about her having hit her head on some concrete.’

  ‘That’ll be the foundations—looks like an empty swimming bath. . . .’ said Nona.

  ‘Look, I went over there hunting for that kid early last night. What is this? Hide-and-seek?’

  ‘You do as I ask. Please, Charlie. I feel terrible about Miss Rhodes. It seems to me that I’ve never been nice enough to her.’

  Nonie had brought a basin of water and was dabbing with a swab of cotton wool at her grandmother’s neck. ‘It’s a nasty cut . . . the doctor’ll have to see it. However are we going to explain it?’

  ‘You don’t imagine do you that we can keep this thing hushed up? Miss Rhodes has been injured—perhaps murdered. . .’

  ‘But Neil!’ cried Nonie, ‘Neil must get away. He must.’

  Charlie, now completely dressed, put his head round the door. ‘I’m going now. Watch that corpse there, Neil. I can’t say I like the idea of going over there. If anyone sees me near they’ll imagine that it was I who attacked her.’

  ‘Her attacker’s lying unconscious on this floor,’ said the old woman, impatiently. ‘He confessed to it both to me and Neil.’

  ‘Charlie’s right,’ said Nonie. ‘Let me go. If anyone sees a woman near her they will be less likely to suspect her of an attack than a man.’

  ‘I won’t have you wandering about over there,’ insisted Charlie, quickly. ‘You attend to your grandmother.’

  ‘If you’ll keep an eye on Mike I’ll go and look for Miss Rhodes,’ said Neil.

  His grandmother and sister looked at him in astonishment. ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘I’m still in your clothes, Nonie.’ And without further ado he went.

  As soon as he had gone, Nonie said. ‘Now keep still, Gran, I want to put something on this.’

  ‘Oh, put some disinfectant on it,’ said her grandmother, impatiently. ‘That’s all it needs. The scissors have been cutting wool which is dyed.’

  ‘And what about Neil now?’ urged Nonie. ‘He’s got to get away. He’s had nothing whatsoever to do with attacking Miss Rhodes . . . Charlie, you’ll stick to your promise and get him away? It’s almost four now.’

  ‘And what about this?’ demanded Charlie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Collins. ‘That’s the question. What’s to be done with him?’

  ‘If he’s still out we’ll dump him somewhere on the way. I’ve got no compunction about doing that, after what he’s done to you and Miss Rhodes.’

  ‘You’d do that, Charlie? Would you?’ Nonie was pathetically pleased.

  ‘Yes. We’ll dump him somewhere. He can find his own way out of this mess. Whose fault is it but his own?’

  We can’t do that without involving Neil. Remember, he threatened to swear that it was Neil who attacked Miss Rhodes.’

  ‘He won’t involve Neil unless he’s caught. If you dump him near a railway station he’ll get away all right . . . he’s no fool.’

  ‘Here’s Neil back!’ cried Nonie, jumping up. . . . ‘Well?’ she asked tensely as he came in.

  ‘I’ve searched everywhere. It’s quite light now. She isn’t there. But she was. I know where she was. There’s blood on the concrete, and I found this. . . .’ He held out a small felt beret.

  ‘That’s hers. She was wearing it this afternoon.’

  ‘There’s blood on it,’ said Nonie in horror. ‘That brute leaves blood everywhere.’

  ‘One thing leads to another,’ said the old woman. ‘He may have told the truth. He said he only hit her lightly and that she overbalanced and hit her head on the concrete. But it won’t sound convincing in a Court.’

  ‘What’s to be done with him—that’s the point,’ said Charlie. ‘I met Mrs. Danvers coming down the stairs just now. She wanted to know what all the noise was about. I told her that Gran had been having nightmares.’

  ‘And did she swallow that?’

  ‘She looked as if she didn’t believe a word of it,’ admitte
d Charlie.

  ‘Neil. Go and get ready. Charlie’s going to fetch the lorry now, aren’t you, Charlie?’

  ‘But, Mike?’ Neil was looking again at the youth whom he had knocked out so thoroughly. ‘What’s to be done with him like this? I hope I haven’t hurt him.’

  ‘Serve him right if you have,’ said Charlie, callously, ‘If you’re coming, get dressed. I’m not taking you like that. We’ll take your friend in the lorry and deposit him somewhere convenient to us—and him.’

  Neil hesitated. ‘Go on. Hurry up, do,’ urged Nona, frantically. ‘If he left that place soon after you did, they’re bound to be here soon for both of you. Why not just dump him over there on that bombed site he’s so fond of?’

  ‘Too risky. You never know with a little runt like that. Might involve you both with the police here if you leave him so near. Me, too, for that matter.’

  ‘We’ll be involved anyway by helping Neil get away. You’re not going back on that, are you, Charlie?’

  ‘No,’ shouted Charlie, violently. ‘I’m not. I don’t go back on people. I wish you’d learn that, Nonie. I’m no saint—but I don’t go back on my word. It’s not me I’m worrying about—it’s you and your grandmother.’

  ‘This has upset everything. I intended to come with you as far as the boat, Neil. I could get Mrs. Danvers to look after you, Gran,’ but Neil had gone through to the room behind the bed.

  ‘He doesn’t need you,’ said her grandmother, quietly. ‘This business of having knocked Mike Andersen out is going to make a lot of difference to Neil. He offered to go and look for Miss Rhodes just now—and he went. Why, before this he’d never have dared to go over there at this hour and look for an injured or dead woman.’

  ‘I can’t think how he ever found the guts to knock Andersen out,’ said Charlie.

  The old woman smiled to herself. They should never know how it had been accomplished.

  ‘I’m going with Neil—all the same,’ said Nonie.

  ‘If you insist on going with your brother, you and I are washed up for good. You’re my wife. He’s chosen a path now which you can’t follow. He’ll be on the run for years . . . years . . . do you realise that? Until he’s too old for National Service or it’s abolished. A man who can face that can look after himself. I couldn’t face it myself. Aren’t I right, Gran?’

  The old woman looked at the downcast face of her granddaughter. ‘Let’s see what Neil has to say. . . . Hurry up in there . . . Neil. What on earth are you doing? What’s he wearing Nonie?’

  ‘I put out his old clothes for him—they’re all in there.’

  ‘Neil? Are you ready?’ called Charlie.

  There was a silence in the little room behind the bed, and then Neil emerged.

  Nonie exclaimed in dismay, staring in disbelief at her twin.

  ‘Neil!’ exclaimed his grandmother. ‘What are you up to now?’

  For he was not dressed in the old tweed jacket and the grey flannel trousers which his sister had put out for him to wear on the journey to Ireland. He was wearing his khaki uniform and he held his cap in his hand. He looked pale and terribly shaken. The events of the last few hours had left their mark on him, in addition to the swollen eye which was rapidly discolouring and the bloody nose. His hair, still wet, was brushed flat and smooth, and his voice as he answered his grandmother was not quite steady—but this time he looked her right in the face.

  ‘It’s what you see,’ he said, shortly. ‘I’ve decided to go back—that’s all.’

  ‘But Charlie’s arranged the lorry and everything. Oh Neil, you can’t go back to all that . . . to the glass-house—or worse. I can’t stand it. I can’t.’ Nonie flung her arms round her twin, crying hysterically and unnerving him for a moment. ‘It’ll be awful. Awful! Neil, you can’t. You can’t. What does it matter about Miss Rhodes? It’s you that matters. I can’t bear to think of you going back.’

  Neil disengaged her arms gently. ‘I must,’ he said, quietly. But she broke into wild bitter sobs.

  ‘Nonie . . . Nonie . . . don’t, don’t.’ Charlie tried awkwardly to comfort her. ‘Neil’s right. Don’t stand in his way.’

  But she thrust him away from her and flung herself down on the floor by the bedside and sobbed uncontrollably. Her grandmother stroked her head; then, as she did not stop, she said sharply, ‘Control yourself, Nona. You’re making a fool of yourself. You should be admiring your brother instead of making such an exhibition. Leave her alone,’ she said, fiercely, to Charlie who was trying to lift her from the floor. He desisted, wretchedly looking down at the sobbing girl with a puzzled expression. ‘I needn’t get the lorry?’ he asked Neil, ‘You aren’t coming?’

  ‘No,’ said Neil, his eyes on Nona.

  ‘Hadn’t I better dump this former friend of yours somewhere. What are we to do with him?’

  ‘It’s no use, Charlie. There’s no getting over this business like that. I’m no more use as a deserter than I am as a soldier. I can’t face being on the run. I’m a coward I suppose. But I knocked Mike out—and I’m going back—there’s nothing else to do.’

  ‘No! No!’ cried Nona, frantically, ‘Don’t. Don’t.’

  ‘It’s no use taking on like that, Nonie. It’s best for us all that I go back.’ He picked up his cap again, kissed his grandmother quickly and, hesitating, as Nona cried out protestingly again, he went slowly to the door, ‘Could you look after Mike for a bit, Charlie? I’m going to the police station to give myself up. They’ll see to everything.’

  But Nona screamed frantically at her grandmother, ‘You’ve got your own way! You’re making him take Len’s place now. Both of them must make up to you for Father . . . you don’t care about Neil . . . all you want is to force him to do what you want! Don’t go, Neil. Don’t go!’

  But for the first time in their lives Neil was adamant. Deaf to her pleadings, he turned resolutely to the door, and they watched him in a silence broken only by Nona’s sobs. He was not by any standard an impressive figure in the ill-fitting uniform—his shoulders were too narrow, his chest too flat; but somehow, narrow as they were, those shoulders had a new firm lift to them, and when he said good-bye there was a new note in his voice.

  The old woman lay silent for a moment. Nona’s outburst had shocked her. She watched the girl sobbing, crouched on the floor by the bed, and Charlie’s clumsy efforts to console her. Then she said sternly, ‘That’s enough, Nona. He went himself—of his own free will. No one forced him to go. Go and make some strong black coffee, and Charlie, I want you to try and bring that lad round now. Get some cold water and a towel and slap him briskly. When he begins to stir, try and get some coffee down him. Then you two must walk him about. . . . No, don’t argue with me . . . I know what I’m talking about.’

  Then, as Nona slowly got up to obey her, she held out a hand persuasively to her—but the girl ignored it, and went blindly into the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve made a lot of trouble for us—and there’ll be plenty more to come when the police arrive. As to what you got—you brought it on yourself.’ She addressed the still inert figure on the floor.

  As both Charlie and Nona bustled about doing as she asked, she turned to the portrait of the Queen. ‘He’s going back!’ she said quietly but triumphantly. . . . ‘And I can come and fetch Len’s medal.’

  She lay back then, utterly exhausted; and wept for her grandsons.

  CHAPTER XX

  NONA finished sweeping the room and setting it to rights. She fetched a clean bed-jacket for her grandmother. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked pathetically plain. The old woman looked sideways at her. It would take time and patience to help her over this.

  ‘Has Charlie telephoned the store to say you’re not coming back?’ she asked.

  Nona nodded. Turning her back on her grandmother she surreptitiously wiped her eyes.

  ‘Is it all right now with you and Charlie?’ pursued the old woman.

  Nona nodded again. ‘He’s been very decent about Nei
l—and everything . . . but I can’t forget Neil going off like that and coming back with the police. . . .’ and she began to cry again . . . ‘And that Mike Andersen he was so sullen and beastly. . . .’

  ‘The police will look after him. He’s got to explain about Miss Rhodes. She’s badly hurt; the inspector said that she’ll recover all right though, thank heavens. . . .’

  ‘You’d better try and sleep now, you’ve had a bad night,’ said Nona.

  ‘I’m not so sure it was a bad night. I’ve seldom felt better than I do this morning. I’ll have plenty of sleep soon whether I need it or not. . . . Listen, Nonie! There’s someone tapping on the window. I shall have to discourage my friends from doing that although it’s my only diversion. It’s not so pleasant in the night. . . . See who it is. Oh, it’s Linda! . . . let her in, will you, Nonie?’

  Nona did not seem at all pleased at the sight of the child but her grandmother was delighted to see her favourite.

  Nona opened the window unwillingly and the child stuck her bright head in. . . . ‘Gran Collins! Gran Collins! can I come in?’ She called in the voice of the Three Little Pigs game.

  ‘What d’you want at this time of the morning?’ asked Nona, crossly.

  ‘I want to give these to Gran Collins,’ said the child importantly. She held out some bright pink daisies. ‘I’m on my way to school.’

  ‘You’re late, aren’t you?’ asked Nonie.

  ‘I was late getting to bed—so Mother let me sleep on.’

  ‘Come along in, Linda,’ called Mrs. Collins. ‘You gave us all a fright last night.’

  Nonie helped Linda in at the window and she stood there looking down at the old woman. Nonie’s disapproving presence evidently disconcerted her, for she seemed tongue-tied instead of her usual volatile self.

  ‘What’s the matter with your neck?’ she said looking at the pad of lint showing above the nightgown.

  ‘Scratched, that’s all,’ said Mrs. Collins, looking with pleasure at the lovely intent little face.

  ‘That Smokey done it?’