The Invisible Cord

by Catherine Cookson

  When he brought his gaze to hers and spoke his voice sounded quite ordinary as he asked, ‘Is he dead, really dead?’

  She moved her head once and they stared at each other, her eyes looking deep into his, and the significance of what he had done getting through to him, his shoulders hunched up round his neck, he covered the sides of his head with his hands and groaned, ‘Oh Christ Almighty! Christ Almighty!’ After a moment he looked at her again and said, ‘I…I didn’t mean it, Mam. You know I didn’t mean that.’

  She didn’t say, ‘Yes, yes, I know.’ What she said was, ‘Listen. Listen, Rance.’ She bent close to him now. ‘You’ve got to convince Tishy.’ In this moment she didn’t think of the stranger, the man who had witnessed the whole thing, the outsider, she was only concerned with her daughter’s reaction. ‘Stay quiet now,’ she said; ‘just stay quiet. I’ve got to phone the doctor. I’ll…I’ll be back. Stay quiet.’ She went out and closed the door but didn’t go immediately across the landing; instead, she stood with her back to the wall asking herself how this had come about. Half an hour ago she had been in the kitchen laughing and happy, and now Georgie was dead, and Rance would go to prison.

  Her mind went completely blank for a moment and when the blankness passed the first question she asked herself was, Why…why am I not crying? What’s the matter with me? The pain in her heart was so great as to be almost unendurable: she had lost Georgie, Georgie who was a good man at heart. In spite of his rough ways and not having much up top, he had been a good man. He had known his limitations, nobody better; his blustering had just been a cover-up. And to have his son throw his ignorance in his face, and to die at the moment. Oh, Georgie. Georgie. And Rance. Rance would die an’ all. If they put him in prison he’d wither and die. She couldn’t bear it, not to be parted from both of them at one stroke.

  She went slowly down the stairs, her eyes all the while on the still figure at the bottom. But she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her world had gone mad. She stooped and touched his face again, saying, ‘Oh my dear, my dear.’ Her body was full of tears but her eyes were dry. Why wasn’t she crying? Why couldn’t she cry? She looked towards the table where the phone was, and as she went towards it Tishy’s voice came from the room, saying brokenly, ‘He’s no good, he’s bad, bad right through and she can’t see it.’

  She didn’t pick up the phone but went into the room and they both turned towards her. She didn’t speak until she had sat down on the chair opposite the couch where they were sitting; then looking at Tishy, she said, ‘There’s not much time; I’m going to ask you something. But first of all I’m going to remind you, lass, that I’ve given to you all your life.’

  Like a flash Tishy’s voice came back at her, filled with bitterness, saying, ‘Given to me? You’ve given me nothing, Mam. Nor Bill, nor Kathy. What you’ve had to give you’ve given to him, and we all know it.’

  ‘You’re wrong, quite wrong, I love you all.’

  ‘You like us all, but you only love him.’

  ‘You’re wrong, girl. Anyway, it’s going to be up to you whether he goes to prison or not.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes you…It was an accident; your dad slipped and fell downstairs…’

  ‘With a boot in his stomach.’

  Annie closed her eyes tight and bowed her head, and remained like this for some seconds. Then looking at her daughter again, she said, ‘You…you needn’t have been there, you…you could have been in the kitchen with Alan.’ She now looked at Alan, and he was staring at her through narrowed lids, a look of utter perplexity on his face, and she said to him, ‘You…you’ll stand by us in this, won’t you?’

  His eyes widened now, his lips parted; then he turned his head to one side and looked towards the floor, and when she put out her hand and caught his and, gripping it, said, ‘It…it means nothing to you,’ he could make no answer. What could he say? Could he bring up principles, ethics? Could he say he had no intention of condoning a murder, because in a way that is what it had been? When that fellow’s foot had come out and caught his father in the groin he himself had winced aloud. But she was repeating, ‘It is nothing to you, is it?’

  He was saved from making any comment at the moment by Tishy crying, ‘Involve him. Go on, Mam, involve him. He’s a stranger, he hasn’t been in the house a couple of hours and you would involve him? I tell you—’ she turned and looked at Alan now while she swept the tears from each side of her chin with the back of her hand—‘she would take the blame herself rather than let him suffer. It’s always been that way.’

  ‘Stop it, Tishy. Stop it this minute. I’m in trouble, bad, bad trouble.’ There were tears in her voice now although her eyes were still dry. ‘I’ve lost your dad, I don’t want to lose my son too. I wouldn’t mind so much if he had died an’ all but if he goes to prison that’ll be the finish of me. I couldn’t bear it.’

  Tishy lay back against the couch and put her forearm across her eyes, and Annie, getting to her feet, said quietly, ‘I’ll phone the doctor…’

  From the moment she phoned the doctor her mind began to work in a way that surprised her. In anyone else she would have called it cunning. After she had put a blanket over Georgie she went into the back garden and towards the bottom end of the right-hand side, and there, peering over the railings, she looked up at the Tressels’ house. It was in darkness, which meant they were out. And there was no light in the house beyond either. Thank God for that. The Brookses on the left; they were all right, they were away for the weekend. There was someone in the Lauries’ beyond but they wouldn’t have heard anything. And anyway, their youngsters always had the television or a record player blaring.

  This done, she crossed the hall again, keeping her head turned from Georgie now, and went upstairs to Rance. He was lying on the bed but still had his shoes on. He sat up when she entered the room and looked towards her with the same look in his eyes that used to be there when, as a child, he would appeal to her for protection against his father’s thrashings.

  She sat on the bed beside him. She did not take his hands as she would have done when he was in trouble, but she said to him, ‘Now listen to me. You were in your room, in here—’ she now dug her finger towards the floor—‘changing to go out when…when you heard your father shout. You guessed he must have slipped at the top of the stairs, caught…caught his foot in that piece of carpet that overlaps. There’s…there’s a nail out, it’s been out for some time. I…you’ll remember—’ she nodded her head now—‘I kept on at him to have it tacked. I could have done it meself if I’d only thought, a simple job like that…Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Aye, Mam. Aw, Mam.’ His hands came out and clutched at hers but she made no response to them as she asked, ‘That’s all you’ve got to say.’

  He gulped before he said, ‘Our Tishy, and that fellow?’

  ‘The fellow, he’s Arthur Bailey’s nephew, Mona’s husband you know. He’ll…he’ll be all right. It’s our Tishy you’ve got to worry about. Now I want you to come downstairs and in your own words tell her, tell her you never meant to do it.’

  ‘To our Tishy?’

  ‘Yes, to our Tishy.’

  ‘Aw, I couldn’t, Mam.’

  ‘What do you mean you couldn’t?’ Her voice was harsh now. ‘It’s either that, or prison.’ She spat the word out at him, and when she saw his stomach contract as if he were going to vomit she said, ‘Facts are facts.’

  ‘She hates me.’

  ‘Aye, she might, but you’ve got to convince her that you never meant to do this. And you didn’t, did you?’

  It was a second before he looked at her and said, ‘No, Mam.’

  She had not thought that the pain in her breast, the pain that was tearing her body apart, could become worse, but his answer had given it a new depth. There was a bitterness in her voice as she said, ‘You’ll have to be more convincing than that to her. Come on…’

  Annie had to help him down the stairs an
d pull him away from the support of the banister as he stood gazing down at the covered body lying at his feet. When he entered the sitting room he staggered like someone drunk, then stood some distance from Tishy and stared at her where she was sitting alone on the couch. The man was now standing at the head of it and was staring at him; but he took no notice of him, he kept his gaze fixed on Tishy. He couldn’t remember a time in their lives when she hadn’t hated him, or he her. He swallowed twice, rubbed his hand up and down his thigh, glanced towards his mother before looking at Tishy again and saying, ‘I…I didn’t mean it, I didn’t.’

  She glared at him. Her eyes were red and swollen but she was no longer crying and she said slowly, ‘You could go on saying that from now until eternity and I wouldn’t believe you.’

  His teeth clamped together but without force; he had no energy left in him, no feeling of anything but fear, and it was the fear that overcame his pride and propelled him to the couch to sit beside her and mutter in desperation, ‘It’s true, it’s true Tishy. He was going to belt me. I wouldn’t have stood a chance against him, I never have. He would have busted my face up, I could see it in his eyes. I…I only did what I did in self-defence. But I never meant him to…Honest. Honest. Oh my God!’ His whole body heaved. He put his hand tight across his mouth, swung himself up from the couch and dashed out of the room. But he didn’t reach the kitchen sink; it was with his head against the kitchen door and within sight of the prone figure at the foot of the stairs that he vomited and retched as if he would bring his heart up, while Annie held his head, as Georgie had so often held hers.

  Perhaps it was the sound that softened Tishy somewhat, for, looking up at Alan, she said, ‘And what will you say? She’s taken it for granted you’ll go along with her.’

  For answer he said, ‘She’s in great distress, if I can help I will.’

  ‘Distress about whom? Me dad or him?’

  ‘I…I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t know, but I do. Me dad’s dead and she hasn’t shed a tear; her whole concern is for her darling Rance.’

  He stared at her for a full minute before he said, ‘I’m not meaning to minimise your emotions at the moment, I’m sure you were very fond of your father, but…but I think it’s a known fact that when a person cannot cry their inward pain may be very intense, and if this state continues it can be very detrimental to their health. Crying is a safety valve; it’s not to say that you feel less emotion, only it’s shown in a different way.’

  She looked at him for some time before saying, ‘You’ve got nothing to do with all this really, and now you’re in the thick of it. Why don’t you go before the doctor comes…and the police?’

  ‘Well, as I see it the very fact that I’m here may help matters…It’s very odd—’ he looked around the room then shook his head—‘I’ve been wanting to come for years. I knew I would some day.’

  Breaking the silence that followed, she asked, ‘Why?’

  He looked into her face as he said, ‘I wanted to see her again, your…’

  ‘Mam.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you were only a child, a baby, when you last saw her.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I remembered her vividly, and I knew that some time I’d have to see her.’

  Tishy kept her penetrating gaze tight on him for some time, then slowly she took in a long deep breath and drooped her head onto her chest.

  Three

  ‘If you insist on doing the books then that means you don’t trust me.’

  She couldn’t say outright that she didn’t trust him, what she said was, ‘It isn’t a case of trust. I’m concerned for the garage; it’s my livelihood as much as it is yours.’ She did not say, ‘It’s my garage.’

  ‘Mam, look.’ He leant towards her. ‘I’ll work me fingers to the bone if you’ll leave things to me, but if you’re going to be trotting around after me every minute…’

  She rose to her feet as she said, ‘Whether you like me trotting around after you every minute or not, Rance, I’m coming to the garage, and I’m going to see to the books.’

  He was facing her now. ‘It’s no place for a woman, it’s a man’s job, the garage.’

  ‘No!’ Her voice rose. ‘Neither was Hanlon’s coal depot any place for a woman, but I had to run that. And we wouldn’t be where we are today if I hadn’t.’

  ‘I know, I know, Mam. And that’s part of it. I want you to sit back and have it easy; you’re getting on, you’ll soon be forty.’

  ‘My God! Getting on. Soon be forty. But if I was sixty it would be the same…And look.’ She closed her eyes and sat down with a thud on the chair again. ‘I’m tired, Rance; I’m not feeling too well…’

  ‘Isn’t that what I’m getting at? I know you’re not, and I just want to relieve you of…’

  ‘You can relieve me of a lot of things, Rance, and worry is one of them. You can relieve me by going along steadily and remembering what we’ve just experienced.’

  He turned away from her, his head hanging as he said, ‘Aw God, Mam, don’t bring that up again.’

  ‘Don’t say it like that—’ her voice was low and bitter—‘as if it was everybody’s fault but yours.’

  He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. ‘You’re turning against me.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I wish I was. Do you hear that? I wish I was. I wish I could; it would only be fair to turn against you. And another thing while I’m on. There’s going to be no more gambling.’

  ‘Look, Mam, don’t tie me up altogether.’ His thin, pale face was twitching. ‘What’s done’s done, I’ll never forget it, but you can’t tie me up, you can’t tie me hand and foot because of it.’

  ‘I say there’s no more gambling.’

  ‘Mam, there’s worse things than gambling.’

  ‘Yes, there might be, but to me it’s quite bad enough when it drives you into the stolen car racket.’

  He had been about to speak; now he gaped at her while she stared at him. Then slowly he said, ‘You believed that…?’

  ‘I’m no fool, Rance. Neither was your dad, although you took him for one. And I’m going to tell you this, and it’s taking me a lot to say it, but if I ever find you out in any jiggery-pokery like that again it would be the finish for you, at least with me. I’ve…I’ve stood by you in all things and my latest stand would be condemned by everybody if it ever came to light.’

  ‘But Mam!’ He was appealing to her with both hands. ‘I tell you that car was on the level. The blokes were just sort of havin’ garage space an’ the use of the sprayer…’

  ‘Quiet, Rance!’

  As she gazed at him she marvelled that he could protest his innocence so vehemently on this point. As she had said, Georgie was no fool, and if he had been blind drunk and his mind befuddled when he had accused him she would have still believed him. Let her face it: there was a weakness in her son, an underhandedness, a cunning, the awareness of which made her sick when she thought about it, for he was the same now as when a small child, he thought he had only to look her in the face and repeat a thing over and over again to convince her it was true.

  Why did she love this son more than the others? Tishy was right, she liked the others but she loved Rance. Only once had she felt any hate for him; that was the moment when she stood by the grave and watched them lowering Georgie down into it. In that moment it was as if Tishy were inside her crying out, ‘He’s no good. He’s no good. No man is any good who could lift his foot and kick his father down the stairs.’

  There had been a coroner’s inquest and they had brought in the verdict of ‘Accidental Death’. There had been no queries; it was well-known that Georgie McCabe drank heavily. The only place there had been any talk was in the Wheelbarrow. Georgie, they said, had had a few doubles, yes, but what was a few doubles compared to what he could carry? He had been all right when he left there. It was a pity Pat Reynolds hadn’t gone with him to the garage. He was to come to his house with t
he car, Reynolds said, but he hadn’t turned up and it was just over an hour later when he had fallen downstairs. Funny, wasn’t it? He’d be missed, would Georgie. Good sort Georgie; always open-handed, if you were broke you were always sure of a set-in if you met Georgie. Such was the public verdict on Georgie.

  Annie rose again from the chair now, saying, ‘Why don’t you get yourself married and settled down?’

  ‘What! Married! Why should I? I don’t want to marry, not…not yet anyway. And if I married I’d have to leave you. What about that?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’ She shook her head slowly.

  He came towards her, stood close to her and looked into her face as he said, ‘But I do worry about you, Mam.’

  She stared back into his eyes for a moment before turning away. She wished she could believe it, she wished to God she could believe that. She wished she could believe anything that he said.

  Tishy was in her room sitting before the mirror. She looked first at one profile, then at the other. If she put colour on it might make her face look plumper, not so scraggy. She tried colour; then rubbed it off again. She’d wear a brownish lipstick, not a red. And what about her hair? Should she take it straight back or part it in the middle? She parted it in the middle. Her face looked softer now. If only her nose weren’t so short and her lips were fuller. She pursed her lips and said, ‘Prunes. Prunes. Prunes.’ Then, with a swift movement turning her head to the side, she muttered aloud, ‘Oh, what does it matter! He’s seen me as I am, and he likes me as I am.’ She looked in the mirror again and her smile softened her face still further, and she nodded at herself now, saying, ‘He does like me; he wouldn’t have taken me to Newcastle if he hadn’t, would he?’