The Year of the Virgins

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Go away? What are you talking about? Don’t be silly. Go on now.’…

  He had to cross the hospital yard to get to the Maternity Ward. At one point he stood on the frozen grass verge and pondered what he should say to Annette. It wasn’t likely that she’d heard the news already, so he decided he would say nothing until later in the day, and not even then unless either of them died. He didn’t include Maggie in his thinking, nor yet Don. He remained standing as he thought: four of the household in this hospital; five, if one counted the baby; and back in the house Don lay as near death as made no odds. There seemed to be only himself and Stephen left whole. What had happened to the family?

  When love, all kinds of love, came as the answer, he jerked himself from the verge and hurried towards the Maternity Ward, and strangely, Stephen’s words came to the front of his mind: ‘You won’t go away, Joe, will you?’

  Annette was propped up in bed. She showed her surprise immediately by saying, ‘You’re supposed to be at the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, Dad changed his mind and thought he should be there. So we swapped around again.’

  ‘But you would have liked to go, Joe.’

  ‘Not all that much. Anyway, they’ll be coming up this week. How are you feeling?’

  He drew up a chair to the side of the bed and took hold of her hand, and after a moment she answered, ‘Up and down. I’ve had an uneasy night, they tell me. Temperature popped sky high around midnight. I felt awful. I couldn’t explain it, so they made me take a sleeping tablet. You know how I hate sleeping tablets. And then I had sort of nightmares. Oh, I’m glad to see you, Joe.’

  But he did not pursue this line; instead, he asked, ‘How’s her ladyship?’

  ‘Well, I saw her half an hour ago and she said she’d like to stay here with me, but they wouldn’t let her. And I told her to put on some weight and then she could defy them, and walk in all on her own.’ She smiled wanly, and he said, ‘You’ll be surprised how soon that’ll come about.’

  Her eyes tight on his now, her face unsmiling, she asked, ‘How is Don?’

  He paused a moment before answering: ‘Well, he was still asleep when I came out.’

  ‘He’s worse? Tell me, tell me the truth, Joe, he’s worse?’

  ‘Now, now; don’t be silly, he’s not worse.’

  ‘You know what, Joe? With that weird feeling I had last night I was sure he had died. I must get home soon. They said it might be ten days or a fortnight but I can’t possibly stay that long. And…and he must see the child. Joe, you understand?’

  ‘Yes, my dear’—he was stroking her hand now—‘I understand how you feel, and I’ll have a talk with the doctor and find out just how soon they’ll let you go. But you must remember this was no ordinary birth, as I think you know. It wasn’t plain sailing.’ He smiled at her, but her face was straight as she answered, ‘Nothing I seem to do is plain sailing, being clever and getting pregnant for a start.’ She turned from him now and looked down towards the foot of the bed. ‘Getting married and having such a wedding day. And I blame myself for that because if…if I hadn’t been pregnant there would have been no hurry. And what did it do to Don? Killed him slowly.’

  ‘Be quiet. And don’t talk like that. What you did, what both of you did, was out of love for each other.’ There was that word again. What a lot it had to answer for. He went on, ‘Stephen sends his love. I’m going to have to bring him in one day to see you. It’s a job to get away from him when he knows I’m coming in and he keeps yammering on about the baby.’ How easy it was to create a story; and once started he went on, ‘The girls send their love, and…and Maggie. They keep asking when they’ll be allowed to visit. They’ve all been knitting like mad.’ That was true; he had seen them at it in the kitchen.

  The nurse entered the room now with a tray and, looking at him, she said briskly and in an exaggerated Northern accent, ‘This is chucking out time. Will you go peacefully or shall I have to use force?’

  He smiled at her, saying, ‘Well, I don’t know; I might make a stand for it.’ Then bending over Annette, he kissed her on the cheek, saying, ‘I’ll be in this afternoon.’

  As he backed a few steps from the bed she said, ‘When will Dad be back? I want to hear all about the wedding.’

  ‘Oh…oh.’ He scratched his brow now, saying, ‘Well, I think he might stay on until they come up. I…I really don’t know. But anyway, you’ll have to put up with me for a day or so.’

  ‘Give my love to Don, won’t you?’ Her voice was small and he said, ‘Oh, yes, yes, I’ll give him your love, dear.’

  Once again out in the grounds, he stood breathing deeply of the icy air. He knew he must now go back into the hospital and find out what was happening to his mother, when all he really wanted to do was get into the car and drive, drive away from it all…from everyone. Yes, even from Annette, because every time he looked at her he was torn between love for Don and desire for her.

  Back in the reception area of the hospital he was making his way towards the desk when a sister hailed him; then standing in front of him she looked at him and said quietly, ‘I’m afraid, Mr Coulson, we weren’t able to save your mother. She…she didn’t regain consciousness. She died from the effects of exposure.’

  Was he sorry? Was he glad? He didn’t know. But after a moment he asked, ‘What is the procedure now?’ And she answered, ‘Well, she’ll go to the mortuary and you’ll have to make your own arrangements. They generally lie in the undertaker’s chapel, you know.’

  ‘Yes, yes. There’s nothing more required of me now?’

  ‘No; unless you would like to see her.’

  ‘No.’ The word was emphatic. Then he added, ‘Thank you. I’ll…I’ll be back.’ And on that he turned abruptly from her.

  The sister went to stop him with a movement of her hand as if she had something more to say. Then, turning towards the desk, she leant on it for a moment as she said to the receptionist, ‘He’s upset naturally, but if you ask me it’s just as well she went. She could have been certified as insane and then she would have spent her life inside. And if she wasn’t…well! By what I understand she did to those other two last night, she would have gone along the line for that. Oh well, it’s all in a day’s work.’ And on a small laugh she said, ‘One day I’ll write a book and I’ll call it, “She Died At Her Post”, because I don’t know how I’m going to get through this session. My head’s lifting off.’

  Nine

  It was Sunday evening. Flo and Harvey had arrived earlier in the day, and it was Flo who was now standing in the hall talking to Father Ramshaw.

  Helping him off with his coat, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Father, to get you out at this time of night, and such a night, but I don’t think this is a case for the doctor. As I said to you on the phone, he swears she’s in the room with him.’

  ‘Well, she might be at that, Flo, because she was a very forceful woman. She’s shown that in more ways than one. Dear God, she has that! But who would have thought she would have gone to the lengths she did? But there, human nature is as unpredictable as the weather, for who would have thought we would have snow at this late time of the year. But then again we should have remembered we’ve had it before as we should also remember that human nature is a very strange mixture of the good, the bad, and the “I can’t help it”.’

  ‘Will you come into the dining room and have a drink first, Father?’

  ‘No, no; later perhaps. What’s the latest from the hospital?’

  ‘Daniel has regained consciousness. They think he’ll pull through.’

  ‘Thanks be to God for that at least. And Stephen?’

  ‘He’s asleep, Father. I gave him a tablet. He’s been through it, poor boy.’

  ‘He acted very sensibly by all accounts.’

  ‘Yes, yes, he did. You know, Father, I must confess, if I’m sorry for anyone in this world I’m sorry for Stephen. Just that little something…just that tiny little something up here’—she tapped her forehead�
��‘and he’d be a splendid fellow.’

  ‘God picks his children, Flo; they come in all sizes. By the way, I’m forgetting you were married yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, Father, I’m pleased to say.’

  ‘In a registry office?’

  They had been walking towards the corridor and Flo stopped, saying, ‘No, Father, not in a registry office; we were married in a church by special licence.’

  ‘Oh! Oh! But’—he poked his head towards her—‘the other side?’

  ‘Yes, Father, the other side.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ve heard He pops in there now and again when He has time.’

  ‘Oh, Father.’ She pushed him in the shoulder, and he grinned at her, saying now, ‘I’m happy for you anyway. And he’s a fine man, what I’ve seen of him. But you know…well, I think you know, that life won’t be easy.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, Father, and he more so; but we’ll get through.’

  ‘That’s the way to look at it.’

  When they entered the sickroom the nurse seemed to be relieved at the sight of them, and she said immediately to Flo, ‘He won’t take his tablets.’

  ‘Go and have a bite.’

  ‘I’ve had my supper.’

  ‘Well, go and have another one.’ The priest pushed her gently towards Flo, then went towards the bed and, pulling a chair up close, he sat down.

  Don was propped up against the pillows, although his eyes were closed and he kept them closed as he said, ‘Hello, Father.’

  ‘Hello, son. Misbehaving yourself again?’

  ‘So they tell me, Father.’

  It wasn’t until the door had been closed for some seconds that Don opened his eyes and, looking at the priest, he said, ‘She’s here, Father.’

  ‘Now, now, now.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Father. My body’s in a mess, I’m only too well aware, but my mind isn’t affected. She’s here. I…I said it isn’t affected, but how long it will stay that way I don’t know.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s here?’

  ‘I saw her, Father. She was standing there at the foot of the bed.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Last night. No, no, yesterday, some time. Can’t rightly put the hour to it. I thought I was imagining it at first because she looked just like an outline. And then, towards night-time it got stronger. She stood there looking at me, with no smile on her face, just staring. And I was glad to take the sleeping tablets; but then, in my dreams, she became more lifelike. Oh yes.’ He moved his head on the pillow. ‘She sat on the edge of the bed where you’re sitting now and she talked to me, the same kind of stuff that I’d listened to for years, how she loved me…’

  ‘Well, she did love you, and that’s what you must remember.’

  ‘There’s love and love, Father. She must have been insane half the time.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘You didn’t have to live with her, Father.’

  ‘No; that’s true. But she’s gone now, only God knows where; she’s not here any more.’

  ‘She’s here, Father.’

  ‘All right, all right, don’t get agitated. All right. To you she’s here. But I can promise you this, she’ll go.’

  ‘When? Tell me that, when?’

  The priest paused for a moment, then said quietly, ‘Tomorrow morning I’ll give you Holy Communion. But in the meantime, should she return, talk to her. Tell her that you understand how she felt. Yes, yes, do that. Don’t turn your head away like that, boy.’

  ‘Father, you don’t understand, she’s waiting for me to die, then she’ll have me again wherever I go.’

  ‘She won’t. I promise you. Listen to me.’ He gripped both of Don’s hands now tightly and shook them as he said, ‘After tomorrow morning she’ll go. You’ll never see her again. But your main job now is to give her peace. Send her away in peace. Tell her you forgive her.’

  ‘Forgive her, Father! She doesn’t think that she’s done anything to me that needs forgiveness.’

  ‘You know nothing about it, Don. Only she knows how she felt for you, and likely the main reason she’s coming back is to ask for your forgiveness. Give it to her.’

  It was some time before Don answered; then, his chin on his chest, he murmured, ‘I’m frightened, Father.’

  ‘Of her? Is that all?’

  ‘No, no. Of everything. Where I’m going shortly…Everything. I thought I wasn’t, but I am.’

  ‘Well, you needn’t worry about the latter; God’s got that in hand.’

  ‘And Father, there’s something else.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve…I’ve already spoken my mind to Joe about it. I…I want him to marry Annette. I want him to have the care of her. You could manoeuvre that for me.’

  ‘I’ll do no manoeuvring. No such thing. If it’s so willed that they should come together, they’ll come together without any more manoeuvring being done in this house.’ He got to his feet. ‘I suppose you know you are where you are at this minute because of manoeuvring. You’re aware that your Dad manoeuvred you towards Annette. Oh God forgive me.’ He put his hand to his brow. ‘I don’t want to lose me temper at this stage; I’m too old to get worked up about life’s foibles.’ He stopped here for with some surprise he saw that Don was actually smiling, and so, his voice now taking on a purposely rough note, he said, ‘And what are you grinning at? I have a pretty rough time of it. You’re not the only one you know.’

  ‘You always do me good, Father. You know, I’ve always thought you’ve been wasted as a priest; you would have done much more good on the stage.’

  ‘For your information, boy, I am on the stage. What do you think the priesthood is but a stage and all of us enacting a play…?’

  The last word trailed away and his head drooped and he said softly, ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Then his chin jerking upwards, he said, ‘Yes, I did. God isn’t fooled. He’s looking down on this stage all the time and watching His lead players. Like a good producer, He’s picked us. But He doesn’t take on the directing; He’s left that to each individual, and some of us find the act harder to play out than others. I’ll tell you something.’ He leant both hands on the bed now and, bending, brought his face close to Don’s, and almost in a whisper he repeated, ‘I’ll tell you something. You know what I would like to have been if not a priest?’

  ‘A psychiatrist?’

  ‘Psychiatrist, no! A clown, a simple clown. Not a magician; you know, one of the clever clots; just a simple clown. And I would like to have acted solely before children under the age of seven, because it is then we are told they come to the use of reason and reason wipes out wonder. Have you ever thought about wonder? It’s a gift that’s given only to children, but they lose it so quickly, so quickly.’ He sighed now, pulled himself up straight and, his voice changing, he said, ‘You know something: you’re bad for me. You’re like Joe. He’s the kind of fellow that makes you go to confession every time you talk to him.’ He chuckled now, then said in a deep but soft tone, ‘Goodnight, my son, and God be with you every minute of it.’ And on this he left the room. And Don, pressing his head back into the pillow, said, ‘Yes, God be with me every minute of it.’

  Joe met the priest in the hall, saying, ‘Come in here, Father; I’ve got a hot drink for you.’

  ‘Don’t have a shock, Joe, but I’m going to refuse it. I’ve got two visits to make and it’s getting near me bedtime. See that he takes his tablets early, will you? Do you know, he…he thinks she’s come back and is waiting for him.’

  ‘Yes, Father. I got an inkling of it a while back, and I believe he’s right.’

  ‘Oh, now, don’t you start, Joe. You with a head on you like a spirit level.’

  ‘Does that mean, Father, that you’re insensitive if you’re level-headed?’

  ‘Not a bit of it, not a bit of it. You know what I mean.’

  ‘Harvey sensed something, Father. He didn’t know what. But he wasn’t in the house
very long before he said, “I can’t believe she’s gone. I’ve got the feeling she’s still upstairs, and not in the ordinary way. I just don’t know.”’

  ‘Well, coming from his culture, they’re nearer the earth than we are.’

  ‘Or the gods.’

  ‘Oh, Joe, don’t egg me on to theology at this time of night and in my present state. Still, I know what you mean and although I’m throwing doubt on everybody’s opinion, let me tell you I too know she’s here. There are more things in heaven and earth than this world dreams of. One more thing and I must be off. How soon can Annette come back? Because he wants to see that child and it’s only fair that he should.’

  ‘It’ll be some days yet, Father, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, well, there’s no doubt about it, he’ll hang on if at all possible. I’ll be round in the morning at eight o’clock for Holy Communion. And it wouldn’t do you any harm to take it either. Two for the price of one.’

  ‘I’ll buy it, Father. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Joe.’

  Ten

  Don took Holy Communion the following morning, but his mother remained with him.

  They buried her on the Wednesday and it was noticeable how few of her friends attended the funeral, for had she not been insane and tried to murder her husband and other members of the household? Besides Joe, Flo and Harvey, you could have counted another twenty people, half of them Daniel’s workmen. Nor did any of these, other than Joe, Harvey and Flo make their way back to the house.

  From the talk around him, Stephen had known that his mother was to be buried that day, but he had shown no desire to attend the funeral; in fact, he had remained in his room until Joe had gone up to him. ‘It’s all right,’ Joe had said to him, ‘for I want you to stay and look after Don till we get back.’ And Stephen had jabbered with relief, ‘Yes, yes, Joe, I will, I will. I’ll see to Don. Don likes me seeing to him. Yes, I will.’

  On arriving back, Joe went immediately to Don’s room. Inside, however, he did not approach the bed, but looking towards the nurse, he said, ‘Mr and Mrs Rochester are going to have a bite of food; would you like to join them?’