‘You could say that, doctor, you could say that.’
As he shook his head and made to step out of the door, he turned to her again and said, ‘The young girl? She looks ill. Has she been ill?’
‘No, not really, doctor.’
‘What do you mean, not really? Does she have the consumption?’
‘Oh, no, no, nothin’ like that. She had a bit of a shock. She heard this mornin’ from the sergeant who just went out that her father was found in the canal.’
‘Good gracious! Good gracious! And I hear there was a murder and an attempted murder last night, and over the weekend I signed a death certificate for five children, and there’ll likely be more today. Are you a praying woman?’
‘No, I’m not, doctor.’
‘I thought you wouldn’t be. Well, as a matter of fact, I’m not a praying man either, especially when I look at the churches and the chapels and all these supposed good folk hurrying into them to have words with their God, asking Him to keep them living comfortably, never mind about those being turned out of their hovels for not paying their rent because they let themselves live in stench and among vermin, having brought it on themselves through gin.’ He grinned at her now as he repeated, ‘Yes, gin. But they don’t say why they drink, what drives them to gin, do they, Mrs Winkowski?’
He now poked his face towards her, still grinning, and she replied, ‘No, they don’t, doctor, an’ I’ll not take your remarks to meself, either. I’ll only say I’ll be pleased to see you any time, even when I don’t need your ministrations and have to pay you for poisoning me with your pills.’
He laughed openly now, saying, ‘Get back indoors, else my next visit will be to see you and to sound that chest of yours. And that wouldn’t be a bad idea at any time.’
She watched him stride across the yard, a young virile man, and ironically she thought, God’s good, before turning indoors again.
It was two days later. The young doctor had paid three visits and had said that, although the arm was doing nicely and showing no signs of gangrene or undue inflammation, Ben had lost a great deal of blood, and, consequently, couldn’t expect to recover straight away. But being the kind of man he was, Aggie felt he was just trying to allay their fears.
She had sat up the previous night with Ben and she’d been on her feet all day. Millie had insisted that she should go to bed and that tonight she would sit in the basket chair by the side of the couch.
She had bathed Ben’s forehead and his chest. His body was bare to the waist, for it was impossible to get a shirt onto him. He had been dozing, but now his eyes were open wide and, looking at her, he muttered, ‘Millie.’
‘Yes, Ben? Yes, I’m here. What is it?’
‘I…I feel rotten.’
‘I know you do, Ben, I know you do. But you’ll soon be better. It’s the fever; it will soon go.’
‘Fevers don’t often go…Millie, unless they take you with them.’
‘Please, please, Ben.’ Her face was twisted up now with grief at the thought of what his words portended. ‘Don’t talk like that. You’ll be all right in a couple of days.’
‘I…I hope so. Sit down.’
She sat down and reached out for his good hand, which she stroked as she said, ‘Oh, Ben, Ben, don’t ever talk like that, or think like that, because’—she half rose from her seat and leant over him—‘I…I couldn’t go on without you. I know that now. I’ve been mad, stupid, and I brought you to near death. Ben, don’t…don’t ever leave me.’
‘Millie, do…’ He now started to cough. It tore at his chest, and she took a piece of linen and cleaned round his mouth, and he laid his head back and drew in an agonising breath before he spoke again, saying, ‘Do you know what you’ve just said?’
‘Yes. Yes, Ben, I know what I said. I…I—’ She tried to smile now as she added, ‘Mrs Sponge would have me say I know what I’ve indicated. Oh, Ben, Ben. You’ll get well. You must get well, because I need you. I’ll always need you; I know that now.’
The sweat was running down his face, and after she had again wiped it away, he lay looking upwards; then with an effort, he said, ‘There…there are good moments in everybody’s life. I think this is mine.’ But then, turning his head slowly on the pillow, he murmured, ‘But if I was…standin’…before you…as tall as I could in me boots, even then I…I’d be a small man…what then?’
Her voice was low but firm as she answered him: ‘You will never be a small man to me, Ben. I shall always see you as a big man, and the best of all men. I know that you love me, and have for some time, but I didn’t know that I loved you, and have for some time, too. I was still in the throes of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales and I thought a prince had come riding out for me. I was so blind and stupid. I…I didn’t know the prince was already right here in the kitchen. So, Ben, you…you believe me?’
He looked at her for a long moment, before he said, ‘I…I want to, Millie. Oh, aye, I want to, but…let’s face facts…say I don’t…make it…?’
‘Ben. Please.’
‘No; listen. Say that I don’t…then I want you to get out of this hole. You can make…a very…good living in bakery. I…I’ve been thinkin’ about it…for a long time. Pratt’s…the baker in…Oswald Road. He’s…he’s selling. He’s old. Aggie…Aggie’s got more…than a tiny bit put by…I know that. She’ll…she’ll get it for you…go with you. Nice place…garden and house above. Seen it.’
‘Lie quiet, dear. Lie quiet. Here, drink this.’ She took a glass from the table and, holding his head up from the pillow, she helped him to drink.
‘Now…now go to sleep.’
‘Millie. Do…do what I…I say…Promise?’
‘Yes. Yes, Ben, I promise. But, we’ll all go…to Mr Pratt’s.’
The tears were now running down her face as she sat watching him having to drag at each breath, and just as when lying in that lush bed, she had thought of Sister Cecilia’s words, and had even prayed to her, she was again calling to her as if to God, imploring her to keep Ben alive.
What time she fell asleep, she did not know, but she woke to find the lamp almost gutted and the fire low, and she scurried to replenish the light and then to put a blazer to the fire.
When she returned to the couch, Ben seemed to be asleep. But was he? Her heart seemed to jerk: the bedclothes weren’t heaving up and down. Almost in panic now, she thrust her hand under the blanket and on to his chest, and when she felt the steady beat she almost fell across him. Then she had to press her hand over her mouth to stop herself gabbling: ‘Oh Ben, Ben. Oh, Ben, Ben. You’re going to be all right.’
Doctor Stevens said the patient must have passed the crisis during the night and that now he needed only rest and nursing and his bandages renewed; that he wouldn’t need a doctor’s attention again unless he had a relapse, which he doubted would happen.
When he said goodbye, Ben, looking up at him, said, ‘If ever there’s anything I can do for you, you’ve only got to ask,’ and the doctor laughingly answered, ‘That’s a foolish thing to say. The times I’ve heard people say that and later regret it.’ He turned to Millie, adding, ‘And now, my young nurse, it’ll be you I’ll have to come and visit next if you don’t get out and put some roses into those cheeks of yours. Alabaster’s all right on marble, but it doesn’t portend good health.’
Aggie was quick to answer for her, saying, ‘She’ll be all right now. We’ll all be all right now. Thanks to you. How much do I owe you?’
‘Well, shall we say five shillings?’
‘Yes, you can.’
She went to the cash box on the sideboard and took out two crowns which she handed to him; and he, looking at them, said, ‘Oh, but…!’
‘If you had said a pound a visit, doctor, I would have doubled it in any case.’
‘You are very kind. By’—he poked his head towards her—‘I’d be able to retire at the end of the year if everybody paid up like this, especially in The Courts.’
She laughed now,
and even Millie laughed, while Ben smiled.
After seeing the young man out, Aggie returned to the kitchen and she nodded from one to the other, saying, ‘Some men are born to make their mark, and there goes one of them.’
It wasn’t half an hour later when there came a knock on the outer door.
Up till now, Millie had not once attempted to go and answer a knock, or the gate bell; and she made no move to do so now. So it was Aggie who shuffled through the room, and she was smiling at something Ben had said; but the smile was wiped off her face by the sight of the man standing there.
Bernard Thompson doffed his hat, then got as far as saying, ‘Mrs Winkowski,’ when Aggie said, ‘And what d’you want here?’
‘I…I felt that I must…well, that I must come and give some sort of…explanation and…and find out how Millie is faring?’
‘Oh, you’re interested in how Millie is faring, are you? Well, you’ll be pleased to know she’s alive, and as far as I can gather she still remains untouched…if you know what I mean.’
She watched the colour flood over his face and his head lower before he said, ‘I’m…I’m terribly sorry. It was a misunderstanding. I…I thought…’
‘Aye, I’m well aware, sir, of what you thought, and of what you thought I thought. Well, you were wrong in both cases, mine and hers. And let me tell you this, sir, there’s a lot of scum lives along in these Courts, but they’re nothin’ compared to your breed. You think you can come down here and take up a lass as beautiful as Millie, and as innocent—aye, as innocent—and use her, like your brother-in-law did.’
His chin went up, his eyes narrowed, and he said, ‘What do you mean, my brother-in-law did?’
‘Oh, don’t tell me that you’ve known him all these years and not realised what he’s been up to? An’ what did you think when she ran from you? Where did she run?’
‘She took a cab. My neighbour, who was coming from the opposite direction, had to move aside to allow the cab to pass him. And when I stopped and enquired if his coachman had seen her, he said she had stopped the cab. So…well, I imagined she would be all right.’
‘Hell’s bells! You imagined she’d be all right. An’ you know whose cab it was? She stopped it all right, but when she saw who was in it she ran. But he was wily: he let her run into a load of drunks; and then he was supposed to have rescued her. He rescued her all right, an’ took her to his brothel, the dirty whoremaster that he is; or was, because, I suppose like everybody else, you’ll have heard that he got his throat cut. An’ I say whoever did it should have a medal pinned on him.’ Now she thrust her face close to his. ‘And you know who he pinched her for? Who he kept her for, locked up for almost two days, eh? Your brother-in-law. A special titbit for your brother-in-law.’
‘You must be mistaken.’
‘Mistaken, be buggered! From her own lips I got it. He gave her the choice of having him or being shipped off by Boswell.’
He stepped back from her: ‘I still can’t believe it. Anyway, my brother-in-law was attacked outside his club.’
‘Huh! They can move bodies quickly, that lot. He was attacked all right…by a gang that went in to save her. It was a big gang of honest men, but let him come round and open his mouth, and I’m tellin’ you this country, for that matter, wouldn’t be able to hold him.’
She watched him now close his eyes and droop his head before he said, ‘Oh my God!’
‘Aye, you can say, oh my God, but it was through you that all this happened. You wanted a mistress, well, why couldn’t you go and take one of the lasses off the street? Boswell and Big Joe had a lot to choose from, an’ they know the ropes. But no, you wanted somebody clean and innocent. All your family seems to be tainted with one filthy brush.’
He almost shouted at her now as he remonstrated, ‘Don’t you dare say that! I have no connection with that man. He is my half-sister’s husband. I have never liked him, and I’ve always suspected—’ He stopped now and turned his head to the side; then after a moment he was looking at her again, and in a more level tone he said, ‘I apologise for all I have done and surmised. I was wrong. So, will you let me see Millie?’
‘Yes, I’ll let you see Millie, if you knock me down and walk over me. That’s about the only way you’ll see Millie.’
‘I mean no harm by her…please! In fact I mean…’
‘I know what you mean. But if you were seein’ Millie this minute, you wouldn’t see the lass that ran from your house and you. She’s gone, never to return. What she went through with you an’ them will last her to her grave. Now, sir, get yourself away from my door an’ don’t let me see you here again.’ And on this she stepped back and banged the door in his face; then stood supporting herself against it for a full minute before she could allow herself to go back into the kitchen.
‘Who was that?’ Millie laid aside the rolling pin with which she had been pressing the pastry on a floured board.
‘Oh.’ Aggie had to gather her wits about her now: lying to that one about who had rescued her lass was one thing, but to hoodwink Millie was another. ‘It was a fella with some tale about havin’ heard that I was thinkin’ about sellin’ up. He said we had stopped the baking business, an’ the taggerine lot, so he wanted to know what I was goin’ to do; was I going to sell? He said he would give me a good price.’
‘What…what does he want it for?’ Ben now asked.
‘A little factory, I think. You know there was talk of pulling half The Courts down to make houses for the new intake of workers, Irish, Scots, Jews, the lot. Well, he wants to make this into a…’
‘What does he want to make it into?’ Millie was drying her hands now on a damp towel while staring at her.
‘Well, as I said, a sort of little factory, and the house to live in; I should imagine this one.’
‘Where would he build a factory here?’
‘He could turn the stables and outhouses into one, couldn’t he? Anyway, what does it matter? I sent him off with a flea in his ear.’
Millie looked at her hard, then turned about and went into the scullery, and there she stood looking out of the small window on to the patch of grass that seemed never to be green. For a moment she had thought she heard his voice, as if he was calling loudly. But the only time she could remember his raising his voice was when he shouted to the horse. For a moment, she had felt sure it was him. What would have happened if it had been and she had opened the door?
Nothing would have brought her any comfort, because she would have told him exactly what she thought: because of him, she had been exposed to a terror that no-one should experience, not a child, nor girl, nor a woman. And because of him, Ben had become a murderer and almost lost his life.
And she? Well, she didn’t know yet if she too was a murderer; she only knew that it would be a long, long time before she would fall asleep without imagining herself on that satin and silk bed, with the big soft hands playing over her and the sight of his partly naked body; nor would she forget that her mind kept telling her during that experience that as soon as he was gone she would use the rope at the bottom of the bed and go the way her mother had, for only as she lay frozenly staring ahead had she noticed that there was a hook on the door on which to hang a dressing gown. It would hold her weight, she was telling herself just as Ben and his enraged countenance burst into the room.
Would she have told him all that?
Yes, yes; perhaps she would. But she would have told him something else; she would have told him that any feeling she had for him was like a mirage, that it had faded as if it had never been.
And would that have been true?
She took up a pail of water from the floor and emptied some into a bowl before she gave herself the answer: Ben would eventually make it come true.
Twelve
It was a fortnight later when the sergeant paid them a second visit; and his first comment was to Ben, whom he noticed was wearing a coat with an arm in only one sleeve, the other hanging slack on his shou
lder.
‘Something happened to your arm, Ben?’
‘I fell on it and cracked a bone.’
‘Oh, I thought it was the result of your cold.’
Both Ben and Aggie refrained from exchanging a look, and now the sergeant turned towards Millie, saying, ‘Well, I’m glad to see one of your family looks better. You looked like death on sticks the last time I was here.’
‘That must be an old saying, sergeant, death on sticks. I’ve never heard that one before.’
‘Oh, my father used to say that. It’s funny where these sayings come from. By the way, speaking of fathers, that’s why I’m here.’ He lifted the bag he was carrying and put it on the table, saying, ‘These were found on your father’s person.’ Then turning and glancing at Aggie, he said, ‘They followed your instructions, I hope, with regard to the burial?’
‘Yes, I understand they did that.’
He now emptied the bag onto the table and, having moved the things around with his finger, he pointed to a leather wallet, saying, ‘There’s a letter in there to a parson’s wife in Durham that might interest you. But for the rest, there was this small amount of money’—he moved the coins around—‘but these two brooches and this pair of gold cufflinks and also that little tiepin: do you think they belonged to your father?’
Millie looked at the articles on the table, then at the sergeant, before she said sharply, ‘No, except perhaps the wallet and this small amount of money. For the rest, I…I suggest he must have stolen them.’
‘Well’—he raised his eyebrows—‘you’re very plain-speaking. So what d’you propose I do with them, advertise them?’
‘I don’t care what you do with them, but I don’t want them.’
‘Well, there’s a point here: if we put word out that these have been found, whoever claims them might come under suspicion for doin’ him in. What d’you say to that?’
The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl) Page 31