The Round Tower

by Catherine Cookson

  She looked down; then turned away, saying, ‘You’d think I’d been in the fight, I feel so tired.’

  It had been his practice to put the light out when they were about to get undressed. He knew this was a daft idea right from the beginning, but once he had started it, it became a habit. But tonight he didn’t put it out. He took off his coat and loosened his tie, then reached for his pyjamas that were underneath the pillow.

  Vanessa had her back to him. She had taken off her dress and was standing in her slip. Then he was surprised to see her pull her nightdress over her head and do some wriggling motions under it. When her slip and panties dropped to the floor he thought, ‘Well! Well!’

  He had no tent under which to undress, nor did he need one. As he stripped off his clothes and got into his pyjamas she was getting into bed and she didn’t look at him until he came and sat by her side. His weight brought the edge of the divan right down, and she rolled a little towards him. As they stared at each other the sound of Emily’s and Rosie’s laughter came to them from the rooms above, and, without taking his eyes from hers, he said, ‘They’re happy.’

  She nodded at him.

  ‘They think you’re the tops.’

  She could say nothing to this. They hadn’t always thought her the tops; perhaps it was because they thought she had come down to their level that they had changed their opinion of her.

  He said, ‘It’s been a strange night; a lot has happened.’

  She nodded again; she was unable to speak.

  ‘We could have some good times together, Van.’ His hand came out and stroked her cheek, then moved down her neck onto the top of her breasts. Her flesh was trembling but she didn’t shrink openly from him. Yet she couldn’t look at him. He said softly, ‘Van! Van!’ When she didn’t answer or look at him, he was about to say, ‘All right, we’ll leave it,’ but he asked himself was he daft altogether. Lie there half the night awake, his innards churning as if they were filled with boiling oil? The time had passed for words. They were no longer necessary. Get on with it. That’s what he had to do, get on with it. He had made up his mind, hadn’t he, that it was the night or the morrow night. If this stillness of hers put him off now it would put him off the morrow, and all the morrows.

  As he rose quickly from the bed her eyes sprung wide and she was staring at him as he crossed the room and put the light out; then he was throwing back her bedclothes and the next minute she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers and his hands were over her; and it was quite different from what it had been with Brett.

  Nine

  ‘You’re not taken with it?’

  She turned from him and looked about her once more. ‘Yes, yes; it’s very nice.’ What she wanted to say was, ‘It’s wonderful,’ and it would be wonderful, she thought, decorating it. She was sure she could do it herself, at least inside. And then there was the garden. Angus could dig it and she would plant it with roses and shrubs and perennials…Yes, she could have said, ‘It’s wonderful,’ but instead she said coolly, ‘It’s very nice.’

  ‘What’s the matter with it? I know it’s all brown paint; I don’t think it’s been painted inside since it was built; but that’ll come off. And I’m telling you, if it was done up we wouldn’t be getting it for this price.’

  ‘That’s the point.’ She turned towards him again. ‘We can’t afford it.’

  ‘Now look!’ He spread his fingers wide, almost in front of her face. ‘You leave that to me. I’ll manage. Things aren’t going to stay as they are; I’m going on and up. You’ll see.’ He jerked his head at her in his characteristic fashion.

  She was staring at him in a way she wouldn’t have done this time yesterday. There was a confidence about her, an assurance that hadn’t been there then. Had it come about because she had defended him last night? Because she had pushed his assailant? Or because she had taken the strain out of her body in loud hilarious laughter? Or had the difference been created because he had made love to her for the first time and she hadn’t shrunk from him. Not that she had enjoyed the process. And when afterwards she had lain in his arms and he had fallen asleep, his flesh still pressed against hers, she had asked herself what all the fuss was about, why people craved for this thing, and she remembered her curiosity concerning it that had kept her awake at nights, made her irritable and a willing victim of Brett’s.

  She also thought that the gigantic consequences of the act was the most illogical, even diabolical, happening nature could have thought up. A second of union and you filled your body with a child. And then the further illogicality was that the goodness or the badness of the act was decided by a ceremony, during which a man said you are now married and gave you a piece of paper to that effect. She hadn’t got to sleep for a long time.

  But whatever it was that had changed her, she was undoubtedly different, and Angus naturally put it down to his lovemaking.

  She said to him now, ‘How much would you have to pay for a second-hand lorry?’

  He screwed up his eyes at her. ‘Seven hundred; anything less would be like what I’ve got, held up by paper and string. But…but what are you getting at?’

  ‘Take the money that you’re going to put down on this and put it on a lorry. You can pay it off by instalments, just as if you were buying this.’

  He came and stood close to her, his bulging chest almost touching her. ‘You’d give up this so’s I could get a lorry?’

  The look in his eyes embarrassed her and she turned her glance away as she said lightly, ‘Perhaps I’m after something bigger, and the only way to get it is for you to get more business.’

  He pulled her round squarely to him. ‘It could mean staying in number twenty-four for God knows how long, you realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  The question was silly and he knew it, but when she answered truthfully, ‘Not as much as I used to,’ he nodded at her, and after a moment during which his gaze burrowed deep into hers, said, ‘You’ll do.’ It was a compliment. Then stepping back from her, he ended, ‘You know, if I give it up I’ll lose fifty quid.’

  Her reaction was immediate. ‘Oh no! He’ll give it back to you.’

  ‘I can’t see him doing it.’

  ‘But I thought you knew him.’

  ‘Oh, aye, I know him; but business is business.’

  ‘I’ll go with you; I’ll help to explain.’

  His head went back and he laughed. Then looking at her again he said, ‘I think you would an’ all.’

  ‘Well,’ she began walking down the narrow hall towards the front door, ‘you can tell him that when, one day, we go after a bigger place we’ll put the business in his hands.’

  She found herself swung round, and the next minute her breath was taken away with his kisses, which covered her mouth, her eyes, her neck, and she became filled with panic when she thought where his frenzy of loving might lead: daylight would hold no obstacle, they were alone in this house. She managed to press herself from him and to say between gasps, and in an airy fashion, ‘Come on, come on; there’s fifty pounds at stake.’

  He looked at her, at her flushed skin, which was like tinted cream, and he swallowed deeply; then with a rumbling laugh he pulled her arm tightly against his side, and he held it there as he locked the door. Then they walked down the path, but before they went through the gate he drew her to a stop and, leaning his face close to hers, he said, ‘I’m so happy I could bust.’

  The summons came on the Wednesday afternoon. It was served by a policeman.

  In the usual way Angus wouldn’t have been in the house on a Wednesday afternoon, but he had wanted to show Vanessa the lorry; after all, it was she who had really got things moving.

  Reg Walker had given him back his deposit without much demur—a five-pound note had eased the situation here—and on the Saturday afternoon he and Fred Singleton had gone lorry-hunting and had found one, but Angus hadn’t been able to pick it up until an hour
ago, when the owners’ use for it had come to an end.

  Vanessa and Emily had stood on the pavement and admired the new acquisition, which showed up to disadvantage Fred’s lorry. They were both on their way to a job, but now they returned to the kitchen and the cups of tea Emily had poured out for them, also to continue the discussion of hiring another man for the old lorry. Angus was eager for this move, but Fred seemed reluctant. Angus was wondering about Fred. There was, he put it to himself, something up with him these days. He hadn’t the interest in the business he once had, yet he had started it. It was his missis, Angus thought; she was a nagger. She didn’t belong to these parts and had never settled. Doncaster was her home.

  Angus was saying, in answer to Fred’s statement that it was risky engaging another driver, ‘You’ve got to take a risk, man; I’ve put me lot into that out there,’ when the knock came on the front door.

  Emily returned to the kitchen. She stared at Angus for a full minute before she said, ‘It’s for you. It’s the pollis.’

  ‘The pollis?’ He looked puzzled; he had forgotten about Friday night. Then under his breath he muttered in horror, ‘It must have been nicked, the lorry.’

  Emily shook her head, then stood aside as he thrust himself into the passage. And now she looked at Vanessa, who had come to her side, and whispered, ‘’Tisn’t the lorry.’

  Vanessa knew what it was before Angus returned to the room. He walked past them and to the table, and there he flung down the sheet of paper, then put his fist on it and looked first at Emily then at Vanessa. He looked at her for quite a while before he turned his gaze to Fred, and it was to him he spoke. ‘That bugger, Cornell, that I told you about; he’s summonsing me.’ He always tried to curtail his swearing in front of Vanessa, but his good intentions went by the board at this moment. ‘The bastard, summonsing me for assault. I told you, Fred, he started all this. He’s a good three inches taller than me and could give me a stone any day, and if one of his blows had contacted, as drunk as he was, I don’t suppose I’d have stood much of a chance. He’s got fists and feet on him as hard as a bull. I’ve felt them on the field many a time when we’ve been in the scrum and he’s summonsing me!’

  ‘Aw, Angus, you don’t want nowt like that at this time.’ Fred pushed his cap on the back of his head. ‘Summonsing means money, a solicitor. And then there’ll be a fine; as likely as not you’ll get fined.’

  ‘I’ll not, you know.’ Angus rounded on him. ‘I’ll not, you know. I’ll tell them exactly what happened. And you will an’ all, won’t you, Van?’ He was glaring at her.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Angus.’ Her voice was low but firm.

  ‘There; he’ll not get his own way in this. By God, no!’

  ‘What does the charge say?’ It was the first time Emily had spoken, and he picked up the paper and after a moment read, ‘Assault occasioning actual bodily harm.’

  Emily said nothing for a while, but her colour faded. Then she sat down and muttered, as if to herself, ‘That’s bad…You’ll have to get help.’

  ‘I’ll get help all right, don’t you worry.’ He looked at the summons again and said scornfully, ‘Actual bodily harm!’

  ‘Don’t you think you should go and see that Mr Fowler?’

  He stared at Vanessa; then said, ‘Aye. Fowler…’

  His voice was high now. ‘Aye, yes, you’ve got something there, Van. Funny, he thought something might come of it. He said if I should need him he’d speak up for me, but by damned I never dreamed I would. It just shows you, doesn’t it? It was a little punch-up, clean, nothing dirty.’ He was speaking to Fred again. ‘And that was that. Finished as far as I was concerned. And now this.’ He swiped the paper aside; then looking at Vanessa, said, ‘I’ve got to go through the town, I’ll drop in and see him if he’s there.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need; not yet, anyway.’

  ‘I’d like to come.’

  ‘Aye, let her go along of you,’ said Emily, and Angus shrugged his shoulders. It looked an indifferent, nonchalant movement, and it covered up the fact that he was glad she was coming. He turned to Fred. ‘I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes behind you, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ said Fred. ‘You be as long as you like.’

  ‘Time’s money and it looks as if I’m going to need it, doesn’t it?’ He nodded from one to the other.

  Andrew Fowler’s office was a surprise to both of them. It stood in a new block of buildings. There was a secretary in the outer office, and she asked if they had an appointment.

  ‘No,’ said Angus, ‘but Mr Fowler told me to look him up.’

  The secretary spoke into the phone, and listened, and she’d hardly replaced the phone and said, ‘Will you wait a moment?’ when Andrew Fowler appeared at the connecting door. He looked pleased to see them. ‘Hello,’ he said, then, ‘I’m going to give a guess. He didn’t waste much time.’

  ‘You’re right there.’ Angus smiled and nodded towards him, as he handed him the summons.

  ‘Come in.’ He stood aside and allowed them to walk into the inner office; and pushing a seat towards Vanessa, he said, ‘Do sit down.’ And he motioned to another for Angus to be seated. He did not go round the desk and sit in his chair but perched himself on the corner of the desk, and after reading the summons he looked from one to the other and said, ‘Well, I’m not at all surprised. He’s a vindictive beggar, Cornell, nasty piece of work. But assault occasioning actual bodily harm, that’s laying it on. And he’ll likely have a good solicitor. You’ll have to be well prepared. Have you a solicitor?’

  ‘No, and I don’t feel like paying for one. I’ll do my own defending. I can only speak the truth, and my wife here will tell exactly what happened. And…then there’s you.’

  ‘Oh well, you can rely on me. I’ll put them in the picture.’ He laughed now, adding, ‘And as much as I’d like to hear you defending your own case I think it would be wise to get a solicitor.’

  ‘How much would that cost?’

  ‘Oh, it all depends. Fifteen, twenty guineas. If you lose you’ll have to pay the costs. And then the fine can be pretty stiff for what’s stated here, I think.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure, fifty I’d say.’

  They both looked at Vanessa because she had groaned, and she, looking at Fowler, said with a weak smile, ‘And this morning he bought a new lorry.’

  ‘You did?’ He looked at Angus with interest, then asked, ‘You’ve got another man?’

  Angus moved his tongue quickly around his upper lip and after a pause said, ‘No, not yet; but I’ve got the promise of a fellow.’ And he added, ‘It looks as if I’m going to need half-a-dozen lorries, and the blokes to go with them, afore I’m finished.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it’ll be as bad as that. A lot depends on who’s on the Bench and how they’re feeling.’

  ‘And…and you don’t mind speaking up for me?’

  Andrew Fowler looked at the big fellow before him. He looked rough, he walked rough, but there was something about him that attracted one. It had certainly attracted the daughter of Jonathan Ratcliffe. He would like to know the real ins and outs of how it came about, and he would through time. In the meantime he liked the idea of giving the fellow a hand.

  Andrew Fowler was honest enough, as he always was with himself, to see the philanthropic gesture to Cotton as a roundabout way of getting his own back for past slights received from distant relatives. Who knew, but if this rough diamond rose he might come to be an embarrassment to the combined families of Ratcliffe and Braintree. As it was, he must be something of an embarrassment to the Ratcliffes, for had he not stormed the citadel of the mighty and snatched their convent-bred lily-white chick from under their noses? Indeed, yes. And from the little he had seen of her the chick was adapting herself to her changed circumstances. She was out to push this rough man of hers. He would like to bet it was she who reminded him about coming he
re this morning; it was she who certainly had brought up the subject of the lorries again. They said she was seventeen. She looked older, nineteen at the least. Having a child likely did that; and, of course, being under the tuition of Mr Angus Cotton.

  He chuckled. Andrew Fowler in his puckish way liked people. He liked these two, and no matter how it worked out he would enjoy giving them a lift. And he wouldn’t lose anything by it, of that he was sure. Not if young Cotton got some lorries going, he wouldn’t. He nodded inwardly and said, ‘By the way, I’m going to look at a site yon side of Durham some time this week. Plastow’s have got the contract for excavating. He’s not all that big and I know that he’s often very glad of an extra lorry or two when any of his fellows are laid off, and this can happen, especially after a long run and they get a bit tired and want a break, a couple of weeks’ holiday or something. Will I mention your name?’

  ‘Aye, yes. Thank you very much.’

  ‘How are you fixed now?’

  ‘Oh, I’m set for the next month up at the quarry, Peterson’s.’

  ‘Well, look me up before that…Oh, I forgot; we’re most certainly sure to meet before then, aren’t we?’ He slid off the edge of the table, saying, ‘And don’t worry too much about this. If I were you I’d go and have a talk with a solicitor. Millard’s a good chap. Millard and Fogerty, you know, in the Market Square.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll think about it.’

  Angus waited until they reached the outer door, and there, turning to Andrew Fowler, he said, ‘Thanks again for everything.’

  ‘A pleasure.’ Fowler nodded his head. ‘And don’t be afraid to pop in any time.’

  ‘I won’t. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Cotton.’ Andrew Fowler inclined his head towards Vanessa, and she answered, ‘Goodbye, Mr Fowler.’ She wanted to thank him, but she refrained; Angus had done that.