The Maltese Angel

by Catherine Cookson

‘Oh yes. Lady Lydia seems to like me to jabber. But—’ Her tone altered, as did her expression, as she said soberly, ‘But I like to jabber sensibly. You know what I mean? When I once said that to Lady Lydia she laughed until the tears ran down her face, and she said, “Never stop; never stop jabbering sensibly.” I…I like Lady Lydia,’ and she immediately added emphatically, ‘More than like her.’ And on this she turned and walked away.

  And again Carl stood thinking, Yes, the girl had to more than like someone, and someone to more than like her in return. Jessie undoubtedly loved her but she couldn’t like her because she didn’t really know whom she was liking; in fact, whom she was loving: to her, the child must always have been a triplet of evil.

  Two

  ‘How’s the pain, love?’

  ‘Oh, I hardly feel it when I’m lying down. My chest’s worse than any other part of me.’

  ‘Well, that’s your own fault. You’re stuck in that draughty kitchen.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She slapped at his hand. ‘Draughty kitchen indeed! What about the draughty dairy. That’s where I got it in the first place.’ Then, drawing in a painful breath, she said, ‘It’s going to be some Christmas.’

  ‘Never mind about Christmas. Mrs McNabb has everything in hand in that quarter, and Miss Jessie will see to the rest.’

  ‘There’s another one that should be in bed. She looks utterly tired.’

  ‘Well,’ said Carl, ‘it isn’t with work so much as with worry.’

  ‘Do you think there’s any truth in what Rob says, that he’s sure he saw Pete Mason?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Anyway, would he recognise him after nearly fifteen years? There’ll always be rumours about him and his whereabouts. Remember, he was supposed to have been killed in the war—a good way of getting rid of him. Then, just a few months ago, that he had absconded from the Army. Anyway, from what Mike said, Rob was tight on the night he was supposed to have seen him.’

  ‘It’s a terrifying thought. I can understand Miss Jessie worrying because of Janie.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t see him doing anything to her…well, you know—’ He lifted his hand expressively; then changing his tone, he said, ‘Never mind them; it’s you that’s worrying me. Now you’ve got to make up your mind to stay there, not for a few days but, as Doctor Patten said, for a couple of weeks or more.’ Then bending over her, he added, ‘Why don’t you do what he says, love, and go to one of those hospitals. They do wonders. Well, the war has given them practice. They’ve got fellas walking who thought it would never be possible to put their feet on the ground again. And anyway, they could rig you up with one of these corsets,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Yes, dear, I’ve heard of them, and what I’ve heard I don’t think I’ll bother. Now listen to me. I’m all right. I’ll…I’ll do what I’m told.’ She gasped again, saying now, ‘I have no other choice. Anyway, I was managing fine on my wooden legs until this hit me.’ She stabbed her chest. ‘I’ve had bronchitis before but never as bad as this. Now get about your business, Mr McQueen, and leave me to mine, which is reading the paper. By!’ She flicked the newspaper that was lying on top of the counterpane, saying, ‘The way they’re preparing for Christmas in some places, you’d think there had never been a war. They seem to have forgotten half the houses will have no man to play Santa Claus, or to see in the New Year. Oh yes; it’ll be merry and bright, but just for some.’

  ‘Well, you cannot undo the past. There’s a new generation coming up. They’ll want their fling, and those who are lucky enough to come back alive, they’ll have it. But talking of generations, I’ve got a few in the cowshed waiting to start another one, so I’ll go and see if they’ve arrived yet.’ And with the back of his closed fist he punched her gently under the chin, then went to do the cows’ bidding.

  In the kitchen Mrs McNabb greeted him with, ‘Look at that!’ as she pointed to a tray. ‘He’s hardly eaten a bite; well, just a mouthful of bacon and a bit of toast. He’s not taking his food, Mr Carl, at no time. And I set it out well enough.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course you do. But don’t you worry, he’ll eat when he’s hungry.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Carl: he won’t get very hungry sitting about in that room most of the day. He hardly moves until night-time. D’you know’—she leant towards him—‘McNabb said he saw him leaving the cemetery again last night, and it was almost on dark.’

  ‘Well, he often goes to the cemetery.’

  ‘Oh aye; but not like he’s been doin’ lately. McNabb said he shouldn’t wonder if he’s found dead there one day,’ to which remark Carl only nodded before going out, but he could not restrain himself from thinking: that wouldn’t be a bad thing either. He might even take with him the confounded curse that seemed to be on the place, because let him face it, that village would never forget or forgive Ward Gibson, at least while he was alive. It remained so strong that even he, when forced by the weather to drive the cart through rather than skirt it, would feel, even smell the fear his master must have engendered in it.

  When he entered the yard it was to see Jessie and Janie crossing swords again. Jessie was saying, ‘There are plenty of things here to keep you occupied. We need all the help we can get, you know that.’

  ‘I’ve told you, Auntie Jessie, I shan’t be long. I just want to catch Lady Lydia before she leaves; I have Mr Gerald’s Christmas present.’

  ‘Well, see that you aren’t long. I’m…I’m becoming tired of this running backwards and forwards…Something will have to be done.’

  Janie had moved a couple of steps away from Jessie when she turned and said defiantly, ‘Yes. Yes. Something will have to be done. It could be my staying over there altogether. And I would like that. Yes, I would. I would.’ And on that she turned and ran from the yard, leaving Jessie looking at Carl and saying helplessly, ‘What am I going to do with her?’

  ‘Just leave her alone. She’ll grow out of it.’

  ‘Oh, Carl!’ Jessie tossed her head now as if throwing off the inane reply; then she muttered, ‘Grow more into it, you mean,’ and flouncing about, made for the kitchen, whilst Carl drew in a gulp of the icy air, shook his head, and went back to the byres …

  When Janie actually burst into the Hall, which had now taken on a semblance of its old style, with some of the smaller pieces of furniture having been brought in and set in their familiar places, she came to an abrupt halt and looked up the stairs to where Lady Lydia was about to descend. And she cried, ‘Oh! I was afraid you’d be gone.’

  ‘No; the taxi isn’t due for another fifteen minutes. You’re out of breath, child.’

  ‘Well, I wanted you to have this to give to him.’ She now held out the brown paper parcel. It was tied up with narrow grey-silk ribbon, and she pointed to it, saying, ‘Men don’t like fussy stuff, but it’s better than string.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he won’t notice what it’s tied up with. But come into the drawing room, it’s a bit warmer in there. May I ask what the present is?’

  ‘I’ve knitted him a scarf. I hope he likes it. But I’m not a very good knitter. I mean, the stitches are not even, you know. Sometimes they’re slack and sometimes they’re tight; it’s according to how I feel.’ She laughed, a sound that, with her growing taller, was becoming more and more attractive, and which drew Lady Lydia into laughing with her and to put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. And as she pulled her down onto the couch that was set at right angles to the fire, she wondered what she would have done these bleak years without this child. She dreaded to think how bare her life would have been.

  ‘Are…are you going to ask if I may come with you next time?’ The question was put very softly, and as softly Lady Lydia answered it, saying, ‘Yes. Yes, I am, dear. And I’ll put the question straight to him.’ But even as she said this she could see the response: silence and that blank look in his eyes. Yet she would feel that he knew he was pleased that she was there, even though he might show no sign, not even the movement of a hand.
Her heart was always heavy with love and pity for him, but it turned to lead in her breast whenever she sat beside him.

  ‘Will you be back tomorrow, or are you staying longer this time?’

  ‘Oh, I think I’ll come back tomorrow. The weather is very uncertain and, as I’ve told you, the hospital is some way out in the country and I wouldn’t want to be snowed up there.’

  Oh, no, no, she couldn’t bear that. Although she loved him so dearly she could only tolerate the pain of seeing him in such a state for a few hours at a time.

  And then there were the others, the poor others. Was there any God in the heavens that allowed men to go on living with only bits of their bodies and minds left?

  They had said that if Gerald got even a little better they would move him, perhaps to Highgate; she would then be able to see him every week. But would he ever get better? Some of those men had been there since the first month of the war …

  But the dear child was chattering again. ‘What was that you said, dear?’

  ‘I said, I’ve been working on an idea. It’s about the smallholding and putting it into shape again and getting it ready for when he comes home. He’d like that, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Oh yes. Yes, I am sure he would. But…but you know, we talked about this before and…’

  Now Janie patted the hand that was resting on her knee and said with some excitement, ‘But this is different. It wouldn’t take a lot of money. Well, just a little, and you said you had a little that you were saving up for his return. Well, it won’t do much good lying in a bank, will it?’

  Lady Lydia threw her head back now and laughed; then, hugging Janie to her, she said, ‘You know, my dear, one day I can see you ruling a big company or some big house. Really ruling it, and all on your own.’

  ‘Huh! Huh! I don’t see anything like that, Lady Lydia, not for me. Although’—she now pulled herself slightly away and affected a pose—‘I wouldn’t mind ruling over the gardens and telling men what to do, like Carl does. Carl’s very good at telling men what to do. He doesn’t demand: he doesn’t say, do this and do that; he always says, We. “I think we should do this. What do you think?”’

  ‘Oh! Janie.’ She was laughing again.

  ‘Do you find that very funny?’

  Lady Lydia coughed, almost choked, then managed to say, ‘I’m more positive than ever, child, that one day you will be saying we would like this done, and we would like that done, and not only to gardeners, mind,’ and straight away rose to her feet, pulling Janie up with her. But Janie did not immediately leave go of the holding hand; she slowly looked around the room as if contemplating, then said, ‘I’ll never want to run a big business or do anything like that. You know what I would like to do?’

  ‘No, my dear, I don’t.’

  ‘Well…really and truly—’

  ‘Well, tell me what you would like to do, really and truly.’

  ‘Live here for the rest of my life, with you.’

  ‘Oh, my dear. My dear.’ Lady Lydia bowed her white head, and as the tears ran down her lined cheeks Janie put her arms around her, saying, ‘Oh. Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry. And…and I wasn’t being what you call—’ She searched for the word before saying, ‘presuming. It is just that…well, I feel more at home here than I do—’ Her voice breaking now, she muttered, ‘I’m very sorry.’

  ‘My dear child, you have nothing to be sorry for. My tears were really of gratitude. It’s wonderful to hear you say that. But now look at me.’ She stepped back, dabbing her eyes with a fine lawn handkerchief. ‘Here I am about to go on a journey, and if I’m not mistaken there is the taxi man’s hooter telling me he has arrived. Dear, dear! Where are my gloves? Oh, there they are. And my parcels. Come on, come on. Is my hat straight?’

  Smiling now, Janie said, ‘Your hat’s always on straight, m’lady, and you always look lovely. Will you tell Mr Gerald that…that I love him and ask him, will he come back soon?’

  ‘Yes, my dear, I’ll tell him that.’

  It was four hours later when Lady Lydia was ushered into the matron’s room with some ceremony. And the matron, rising from her chair, held out her hand, saying, ‘You must have had a very tiring and cold journey, m’lady. Isn’t the weather dreadful? Do sit down.’ Then turning to a nurse who was standing by the door, she said, ‘Bring Lady Lydia a coffee, please. No, bring two. I know I’ve just had one but I can always drink coffee.’ She smiled widely now; then she resumed her seat and from across the desk she said, ‘We’re all getting ready for Christmas.’ But seeing the expression on Lady Lydia’s face, her own changed and she said, ‘Yes, it does sound silly, doesn’t it? It’s ludicrous really, but, you know, a number of them do appreciate it.’

  ‘May I ask if there’s any change?’

  It was the same question on every visit and the matron said, ‘I’m afraid not; but it’s early days. It’s amazing how the change comes about in cases like that of your son. You know, I often think of the first two lines of psalm 130:

  Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord.

  Lord, hear my voice,

  Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication.

  Sometimes it’s as if the Lord’s ears are open to the prayers and pleadings and supplications because quite suddenly something happens. Ah, here’s the coffee.’

  Ten minutes later the matron passed Lady Lydia over to a nurse who, smiling, then led her along a corridor made up entirely, so it seemed, of a great number of doors. She had been down this way before and she knew to where it led, and she dreaded going into that room.

  When the nurse opened the door a strange buzz of sounds assailed her ears. She sometimes likened it to an aviary of birds, cockatoos, mockingbirds, parrots. It wasn’t loud, just an overall hum, and as usual she concentrated her gaze on her son, who sat in the far corner of the room, because the faces looking at her created such a sadness it was unbearable; not the faces that were twisted up as if in pain, nor those of the disfigured or limbless, but those that smiled at her with that soft appealing look, like a child at its mother. The look always said: come and hold me. Please, come and hold me! Put your arms about me.

  Sometimes hands would go out to her and it would take all her will-power not to jump aside. Sometimes she would take hold of one and pat it, and sometimes the nurse would have to loosen its grip on her.

  Then she was with her son. He was sitting in a comfortable chair, a small table to the side of him. But this, she had noticed the first time she had come into this room, was fastened to the floor, as were all the other pieces of furniture.

  ‘Hello, darling.’ She took the limp hand from the knee. ‘How are you feeling?’ Oh, if she could only think of something else to say. But what?

  ‘I’ve brought you some presents.’ She pointed to the table, but there was no response whatever from him.

  She sat for some minutes stroking his limp hand while gazing into his thin blank countenance. His eyes seemed to have sunken deeper into his head each time she came. After a while she allowed her eyes to wander around the room. Nurses were to be seen here and there. They all seemed very cheery. One was sitting at a table showing a patient how to make paper chains, and the man was laughing as his fingers fumbled under her guidance.

  And this is where her beloved son would have to spend the remainder of his life. It was unbearable, unbearable. She suddenly reached out to the table and, picking up Janie’s present, she put it on his knee, saying, ‘Guess who this is from? She’s knitted it for you.’ And as if she had received an answer to this she undid the ribbon, then unfolded the paper and took out the blue- and white-ribbed scarf with its tasselled edge. And now, putting it across his hands, she said, ‘It feels lovely and soft. You must wear it when you walk in the garden. She must have spent a long time over it because she’s no knitter. But I must tell you she’s full of ideas about getting the smallholding ready for your coming home. Anyway, she wants to come with me on my next visit…’

  Whe
n his hand lifted suddenly and thrust her aside she could not help but cry out. But it did not drown the sound that came out of his wide-open mouth, like a wail from some injured animal, as it emitted one long drawn-out word: ‘Noo…o! Noo…o!’

  Immediately two nurses appeared at his side, trying to restrain him. But when suddenly his head flopped and he coughed so much that she imagined he was going to choke, all the while clutching at his throat, she stood aside speechless. Then she watched the nurses lead him from the room, and as she went to follow she stepped on the scarf and the parcel she had brought, and, stooping, she grabbed them up and together with her handbag she clutched them to her before running from the room. When she reached his room the nurse said, ‘He’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. Would you like to go to the waiting room?’ and as if following some invisible signal another nurse appeared and, taking her arm, led her along the corridor and into a small, cosily furnished room. ‘Just rest there awhile,’ she said. ‘Matron is on her rounds with the doctor. Would you like a drink?’

  Lady Lydia looked at her but did not speak, and the nurse said, ‘A cup of tea, eh? I’ll get that for you. It always helps.’ And on this she went out.

  She did not know how long she had sat there: she thought it was for hours, but it was only twenty minutes later when the matron and doctor entered the room and they were both smiling. And the doctor said immediately, ‘Well this is good news. A definite breakthrough. How did it happen?’

  ‘How…how did what happen?’

  ‘I mean, did you say something to him that caused him to react? or do something that all our gadgets have failed to do?’

  She thought back for a moment, then said, ‘No; nothing startling. I just made small talk as usual, and I was talking about a present a young friend of his had sent him. She had knitted him a scarf and’—she paused—‘it was just as I was saying she wanted to come and see him and would he like that, that he…well, a change came over him. He yelled something that was like, “No! No!”’