Half the liquid ran over Vanessa’s face, but some went down her throat as she gasped and gulped.
Now Rosie tried to get her to her feet but it was impossible, and once more she slumped across the table.
There was nothing for it, Rosie knew, but to get her mother and the doctor. She had her mother’s phone number. If she could get a taxi she could be here in ten minutes. She looked once more at the inert figure, then flew out of the house and down to the corner of the street and across the road to where there was a telephone kiosk. When a strange voice answered her ring she asked if she could speak to Mrs Cotton, it was very important.
When her mother came to the phone, she said quickly, ‘Mam, you’ve got to come. Listen. She’s tried to do herself in. Get a taxi, do you hear?’
There was no answer from the other end and she yelled, ‘Do you hear me, Mam?’ and she thought she heard her mother say, ‘Aye, I heard you,’ before the click of the phone came to her. She was gasping herself now, and on the point of being actually sick as she phoned Doctor Carr. Fortunately, he was still in his surgery and she began by saying, ‘Doctor Carr?’ and when he answered, ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Do—do you remember Vanessa Ratcliffe? She—she married my brother, Angus.’
When again he said, ‘Yes. Yes, I remember,’ she said, ‘Well, she’s tried to do herself in, in our house.’
‘What with?’ he asked sharply now.
‘With aspirins.’
‘What have you done?’
‘I’ve given her salt and water; that’s all I could think of.’
‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘Ta, thanks doctor.’
She ran out of the box, across the road again, just missing being run down by a bus, down the street and into the house. It was very quiet and she stood for a moment looking down at the relaxed figure lying across the table, and she put her double fists over her mouth and whispered to her, ‘Don’t die. For God’s sake, don’t die.’
She continued to stare at her, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t get her to her feet on her own, so perhaps it was better just to leave her there.
Emily was the first to arrive. It couldn’t have been five minutes since she got the phone call. She must have walked straight out of the house, for she was without hat or coat and was wearing a blue print dress with a big white bibbed apron over it. She, like Rosie, stood just within the door and gazed for a moment at the inert figure. Her face looked bleached. Then she whispered in much the same way as Rosie had done, ‘Oh, God Almighty!…Did you do anything?’ Her lips were quivering as she asked the question.
‘I—I gave her salt water to make her sick, but it hasn’t.’
‘Get at the other side of her. Hoist her up. Keep her walking. That’s what we must do, keep her walking. Did you get the doctor?’
‘Yes, he’s comin’. He should be here any minute.’
It was as much as they could do between them to support Vanessa. They pulled her arms around their shoulders and Emily thrust her arm around Vanessa’s waist, and they managed to walk her up and down the kitchen twice. And then they could go no further. As they sat her in the chair again her body heaved and out of her mouth frothed the salt water and some of the liquid she had swallowed earlier.
‘That’s it, get it up, lass. Get it up.’ Emily now started to rub her back with a large circling movement, talking in a coaxing, wheedling voice as she did so. ‘Come on, come on, have another try. Doesn’t matter about the floor.’ It was as if Vanessa had pointed out that she was being sick all over the floor. ‘If that’s all we’ve got to worry about then we’re all right. Come on, lass, get it up.’
‘Hoist her again,’ she said to Rosie, and as they were about to resume the walk the door opened and the doctor came in.
‘Has she got it up?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Just a bit, Doctor,’ said Emily.
‘How many has she taken?’
‘There’s the papers.’ She pointed to the table. ‘Twenty, thirty. I don’t know.’
He opened his bag quickly and filled a syringe. Then baring Vanessa’s arm, he pressed the needle in gently. ‘Get a bowl or something,’ he said without turning his head.
It was Rosie who ran to the kitchen for a bowl and placed it at Vanessa’s feet.
‘Shall we walk her again, Doctor?’ asked Emily.
‘No, she’ll be sick in a minute…I hope.’ He slanted a bleary glance towards Emily, asking now, ‘What’s brought this to a head?’
Emily’s eyes were cast down and she muttered something, and he repeated scathingly, ‘You couldn’t say? You couldn’t say?’
Emily’s head jerked up quickly in the old aggressive manner, only to turn sideways, and, her face averted, she said, ‘It’s been difficult all round, Doctor; the blame isn’t all mine.’
‘No, I dare say not, but you could have helped.’ He was patting Vanessa’s cheeks now, first one and then the other, keeping her head up the while. ‘By all accounts you’ve been giving her hell.’
Again Emily’s head swung upwards; then after a pause she said, ‘You’ve had your ear to the ground, haven’t you?’
‘I didn’t have to put it that far to hear what she’s been going through. Angus did a decent thing, if you could use an old phrase, a noble thing, not that it was purely altruistic on his part; nevertheless, he did what many another wouldn’t have done, no matter what his feelings. But you’ve done your best to spoil it, Emily.’
‘Begod, look here—’
‘Don’t shout; I should think you’ve done enough of that.’
‘What do you know about it?’ Emily turned her back on him, and he said, ‘Quite a bit; we’ve all got crosses to bear. And if I hadn’t had my ear to the ground, I would still have known your reaction to the present set-up. You seem to forget I’ve known you for the last twenty-five years.’
It was in her mind to say, ‘And me you, you drunken slob,’ but this wasn’t the time for retaliation. Perhaps she had retaliated too much. Aye, what he said was true, but who was he to say it, anyway?
The sound of Vanessa retching brought her swiftly round and as she saw the volume of water spurt from the girl’s mouth she said deep within her, ‘Thank God. Oh, thank God.’
‘Oh de-ar, oh de-ar, oh de-ar me,’ Vanessa groaned, and Doctor Carr said, ‘You’re all right.’ He was now holding her head against his breast, and as she moaned again he stroked the hair back from her head. ‘There now, it’s all over. You’ll feel better soon.’
She opened her eyes dazedly and muttered, ‘I’m sick.’
‘Yes. It’s all to the good; it’s all to the good.’ He nodded towards Emily now and said, ‘We’ll get her to bed.’
Emily and Rosie between them undressed her. Rosie supported her as Emily pulled off her clothes. Neither of them spoke until the doctor, standing at the foot of the bed, said, ‘Where’s Angus working?’
‘He’s on haulage. He’s with Fred Singleton; they’re running a sideline on their own.’
‘Can you get him?’
Emily looked at Rosie, and Rosie said, ‘They’re under contract to Farrer’s.’
‘Well, I would phone Farrer’s and get him here. I think he should see this.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ Rosie ran out of the room. She had forgotten entirely about the pain in her stomach and her own sickness.
Emily, now standing close to the doctor at the foot of the bed, asked under her breath, ‘Will it harm the bairn?’ and he raised his eyebrows and said, ‘That’s to be seen. It could bring it on…Has she been going to the clinic?’
‘No, not that I know.’
‘Well, you should have seen to it, woman.’ He poked his face towards her, and his attitude now brought no feeling of retaliation to her because her conscience was working against her. What she said was, ‘Aye, I suppose I should. I should have done many things, but bein’ meself I didn’t.’
‘Being yourself, you’re a stubborn, ignorant individual. You know that, don
’t you?’
‘Yes, I know it, Doctor, and I don’t need you to rub it in; it takes every man to look to his own house.’ They stared at each other; then she added more calmly, ‘How was I to know she was working up o this?’
His voice, too, was calmer now as he said, ‘You’ve known her for years. You knew her background, soft, easy, filled with refinements. Your own sense should have told you what this set-up would do to her.’ He jerked his chin twice as he looked round the room.
‘She seemed to be fallin’ in. I thought she was settlin’, makin’ the best of a bad job. She doesn’t show things very much. How was I to know?’
‘You, with your experience of people, should know that there are greater conflicts fought beneath the skin than in any open battle. She couldn’t get rid of her inhibitions by yelling and shouting; it isn’t done in her quarter. You know that, Emily. Their battles are fought quietly, secretly, not like round here.’ Again his chin jerked twice. ‘You should know that it’s a saving grace to be able to bawl your head off. There’s very few suicides in this quarter, whereas in the Brampton Hill area there were four last year, one a close neighbour of hers. If any of them from that quarter had one such row as you have on a Saturday night, say, it would break up the entire family forever. She’s from a different world, Emily. You should have realised that…But it’s not too late.’
Vanessa moaned now and Doctor Carr went to her side, and when he touched her forehead she muttered, ‘Angus. I’m sorry, Angus.’
‘Don’t worry. Don’t talk anymore. Go to sleep; you’re all right.’
She opened her eyes, then shook her head slightly and whispered, ‘Doctor Carr.’
‘Go to sleep.’
Rosie came back into the room now. She was panting, and she said, ‘They’re goin’ to tell him when he comes back for his next load.’
The doctor walked into the kitchen and Emily, about to follow him, said to Rosie, ‘Stay with her a minute, will you?’ Then she pulled the door closed before she asked, ‘What are you goin’ to do about it? Will you have to report it?’
‘I should, yes.’
‘But must you?’ She was staring hard at him.
And he returned her stare for a full minute before he asked, ‘Does anybody else know?’
‘I’ll find out.’ She went into the bedroom and came out within a minute saying, ‘No. Rosie’s got her head screwed on right. She phoned for me; she didn’t even go next door. They’ll think it’s a miscarriage coming.’
He was nodding at her. ‘What did she tell them when she got on the phone to Angus?’
Once more Emily went into the room, and when she came back she said, ‘She told them to tell him that Vanessa had been taken bad, that’s all.’
Again they were staring hard at each other; then he said, ‘There’s a possibility she might make a second attempt, and the next time when she’s found she’ll likely be too far gone to be sick.’
‘No such thing, no such thing,’ said Emily. ‘She won’t do it again; I’ll see to that. I’m staying here. I’ll see to her; I promise you.’
‘Well, we’ll see.’ He sighed; then went to his bag, closed it, picked up his coat from a chair, put it on, and, going towards the door, said, ‘I’ll be in my surgery around one-thirty. Send Angus along to see me then.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ She came close to him again and muttered softly, ‘Thanks. I promise you things’ll be different. I’ll see to her.’
‘You’ve nearly been too late, remember that.’
She closed her eyes and shook her head, as she said, ‘Don’t worry. It’s somethin’ I won’t forget in a hurry.’
Half an hour later the lorry stopped at the door, and Angus burst into the house. ‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘What’s happened to her?’
‘She’s all right,’ said Emily from the other side of the table. ‘Don’t go in for a minute; Rosie’s in there with her. You’d better read this.’ She handed him Vanessa’s letter. It was no use withholding it from him because Vanessa would ask him if he had got it when she came round.
His mouth was agape when he stopped reading and he put his hand up and ran it slowly through his rough hair. He did it a second time before he muttered, ‘Aw, no. No.’
Emily, her lips compressed to stop them trembling, stared at her son. The dark stubble round his chin was standing out against the dead whiteness of his face. There was a grey dust on his hair and shoulders. He looked all white and grey. She dreaded his onslaught; she dreaded to hear the truth from him that she was to blame for this; and she waited silently. And to her surprise he didn’t break the silence, but moved slowly across the room and opened the door.
Rosie was sitting by the head of the bed. She had her hands clasped tightly between her knees; she looked like a very young girl, and she, too, was evidently waiting for the onslaught. She stared at her brother and rose to her feet as he came to the bed. She tried to say something but couldn’t. He didn’t look at her, and after a moment she went out into the kitchen.
Angus stared down on the long pale face. Her hair was scattered over the pillow. It looked dank and tousled. She looked almost dead. He couldn’t take it in that she had tried to die. His mind seemed to have got stuck for he was still repeating to himself, ‘Aw, no. No.’ Then slowly he began to tell himself things and ask himself questions. He should have realised she was at this pitch. But how could he have told? She had been so quiet; she didn’t talk much, and when she did she gave no indication of how she was feeling.
He was a thick-headed numskull; he had been mad to marry her in the first place; but having done so he should never have brought her back here. Yet what could he have done? AYE, WHAT COULD HE HAVE DONE? Not married her at all; just been friendly to her until she had got on her feet. He had rushed her, taken advantage of the fix she was in.
He knelt down by the bed and, enclosing her thin hands between his two hard dirt-covered ones, he whispered, ‘Van! Aw, Van!’ He had the desire to lay his head down on her chest and cry.
When she neither moved nor spoke he realised she was asleep, and after a moment he got to his feet and went into the kitchen.
They were waiting for him, standing stiffly within arm’s length of each other looking towards the door. He knew they were expecting him to blow them sky high, but he couldn’t, he didn’t feel that he had a shout or a bawl left in him. He had the sensation of being winded. Moreover, he knew it would achieve nothing to blame his mother now. She couldn’t have acted differently if she had tried; she had acted according to her nature, as he himself had, as Rosie had. As he walked towards the table he asked, ‘Who found her?’
The moderation of his tongue loosened Rosie’s tongue, and she said, ‘Me. I—I had to come home, I had the cramp, and when I got in she was sittin’ there.’ She pointed to the chair. ‘I—I nearly went mad meself.’ She shook her head. ‘I rung me mam—’ she nodded towards Emily, who was staring at her son, and then she ended, ‘And I rang the doctor.’
‘What did he say?’ He was addressing his mother, and Emily moved her tongue over her lips for a moment. She wasn’t going to repeat what the doctor said, she wasn’t a fool; anyway, he’d likely open his mouth to him when he went along. And that’s what she told him. ‘He says you’ve got to go and see him about half-past one.’
‘Does—does he think it’ll affect the bairn?’
Emily glanced down for a moment. ‘It might, he says; we’ve got to wait and see.’
He dropped suddenly onto a chair and he looked downwards as he asked, ‘Have you got anythin’ in, a drop of hard anywhere?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but Rosie will slip along and get you somethin’, won’t you, Rosie?’
‘Aye; it won’t take a minute.’
They were both openly eager in their placating of him.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Coffee will do, black.’ He put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hands. After a time he got to his feet as quickly as he had sat
down and, going to the fireplace, stared into the fire as he said quietly, ‘There’s got to be a change, Mam.’
It was some seconds before she answered, and then briefly. ‘Aye,’ she said.
‘I’ve got to get her away from here.’
‘It would be best,’ she said.
‘I—I can’t do it at once, not straight away; I’ll have to look for something.’
‘I understand that.’ She was supporting herself against the edge of the table, the nails of one hand digging into the underside of the wood. ‘But until you do,’ she said, ‘I’ll see to things. I’ll see she’s all right.’
He turned and looked at her squarely but didn’t speak, and she said, ‘I’m gettin’ Rosie to phone Mrs McVeigh. I never liked working for her anyway; she’s a mean scrub. I’ll be glad to be back home.’
He surprised and broke her down at the same time by saying, ‘Thanks, Mam.’
‘Don’t,’ she turned from him, her voice harsh, her manner almost back to normal, ‘don’t heap coals of fire on me head; you know in your heart you’re blamin’ me for what’s happened the day and…and, although I don’t blame you, I’ll remind you that I didn’t start this. However,’ she turned on him quickly before he had any time to reply, ‘it’s done and I’m not very proud of me share in it, but as I’ve said, as long as she’s here I’ll see to her.’
Rosie came in from the scullery, a cup of coffee in one hand and a sugar basin in the other, and she stood mutely before him while he ladled three spoonfuls of sugar into the cup. She wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ but you didn’t say you were sorry, not openly; you didn’t ask for forgiveness, although you might crave it badly to take the fear away from you, the fear that told you that if Vanessa had died you yourself would have been more than a little to blame, for, to use her own words, she had been a bloody stinker.
Her tone when she said quietly, ‘I made it strong,’ was in itself a plea for forgiveness, and when he answered quietly, ‘Ta. Ta, Rosie,’ the words were a form of absolution.
The Round Tower Page 22