He realised the man knew who he was, and so for the moment he took advantage of his position. ‘When are you returning?’
‘Any minute, sir.’ The soldier looked past him. ‘They’ve cleared the truck. Any minute now, sir.’
‘Will you give me a lift?’
Again Ben was made conscious that the man knew all about him because the surprised look on his face gave place to eagerness as he answered, ‘Yes, sir. Yes indeed, sir.’
Ben turned from him and went towards the vehicle, took a deep breath before pulling open the cab door, then clambered up. It appeared to those who were watching as if he had thrown himself into the seat.
A minute later the driver was at the wheel, the truck was turned, and they were passing the house; now they were going down the drive, down, down, down, until there in the distance were the gates. They were open, pushed well back, and the grass growing from the verge through the bottom bars said they had been open for some time. There was no division between the inside and the outside world.
They were going through the gates when the driver stopped the truck.
His heart began pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t going to make it. His eyes stretched wide, he looked at the man, and the man said, ‘You didn’t say where you wanted to go, sir. Was it the station way?’
His mouth opened and shut twice before he answered, ‘No, no, over towards Alston. Not as far as that really, just, just over…over the hills.’
‘Over the hills, sir? It’s a tidy way.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m due back in half an hour, but I tell you what, sir, I…I could take you some of the road, halfway or more. But then that could leave you stranded up there in no man’s land like…Aw.’ He pursed his lips, looked thoughtful, then asked tentatively, ‘Are you sure you want to go the day, sir?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure I want to go today, corporal,’ and his tone said, Don’t treat me like an idiot!
The man, in no way offended, grinned and said, ‘Well, sir, if you want to go the day you’ll go the day,’ and he started up the engine and drove out into the road and towards the hills.
Ben looked hard at the cottage as they passed it. It looked small, and almost derelict. How would he like living in the house in which his mother was born and brought up? Enough! One thing at a time. He was out, wasn’t he? He was out on the road. Yes, but he was in the safety of the truck and there was a man by his side. What when he was on his own…up there?
Wait—wait—wait—wait. His heart beat out the word to the rhythm of the engine.
They were mounting upwards. The truck bounced over the rough ground like a solid ball, on and on, up and up. Now he was looking at the world. It stretched out on both sides of him, dropping away into deep valleys, spreading into moors, then rising again to hills, fold on top of fold to wider and higher hills.
‘Grand sight, sir.’
He could not answer the man but he moved his head.
‘Only been this way twice before, once in a fog. God, it was frightenin’! But it’s different the day, grand sight, grand, see for miles, almost to the ends of the Earth you could say.’
To the ends of the Earth…the edge of the Earth. ‘Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death I shall…’ Oh, for God’s sake! ‘I lift up mine eyes unto the hills.’ Shut up, will you! Shut up, for Christ’s sake! ‘I come, I come, my heart’s delight, I come my heart’s delight…’ He was going over the edge again, and he was here in the safety of the cab with this man by his side. ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary.’ ‘I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed. Gods and men, we are all deluded thus! It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.’
He was pursuing a maiden, with Shelley he was pursuing a maiden, and when he clasped her to his breast would he bleed? His mother had made him bleed, all his life she had made him bleed, but he wouldn’t have minded that if only she had clasped him to her breast. Quiet! Stop it! She’s gone, and all past memories with her. You worked it out, you worked that one out at least, for if she couldn’t go on living for the man she loved, or show a little kindness to the man who loved her, and who had given her her two beloved sons, then how did you expect her to love you? You, who carried the white streak, a Mallen.
The view became wider. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment against the great expanse of earth.
‘We’re nearly at the top now, sir. There’s the old ruin. I remember that. We went in there that day in the fog and a lot of good it did us; there’s hardly any roof left on. But the stink, God! It was awful; you’ve no idea, sir.’ He turned and grinned at Ben. ‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t have created a smell like there’s in there.’
They passed the house; another mile and another mile and now they were going downhill.
It was just as they came within sight of the farm lying like a huddle of black stones in the far valley, that the man stopped and asked quietly, ‘Where exactly do you want to go, sir? Or did you only want a run?’
‘No, no, not just a run. That…that farm down there.’
‘Oh, well, the way the road goes it’s only a mile or so. Will I take you on, or will I drop you, sir?’
The man was leaving the initiative to him, while at the same time saying, Get out here, sir, if you don’t mind, or else I’ll get it in the neck when I get back.
‘I’ll…I’ll make it on foot. It was very good of you to come so far, as it is…’
He was standing on the road. The truck had backed over a low ditch and onto the fell land. Now it had turned in the direction of home. The driver leant out of the cab.
‘You be all right, sir?’
‘Yes. Yes, thanks. Thanks.’
The head was withdrawn, then popped out again. ‘How do you aim to get back, sir?’
How did he aim to get back? ‘I’ll…I’ll get back.’
‘It’s gone eleven o’clock now, sir.’ The man was looking at his watch again. ‘I’m making the run again this afternoon between three and four; I could come this far and pick you up.’
‘Th…thank you, but…but I don’t think it will be necessary. I hope not. Still it’s…it’s very kind of you. I’m…I’m very grateful. Well, on second thoughts, yes, yes, you could. If I’m not back by then, you could. It’s very kind of you.’
‘Anything to oblige, sir. So if you’re not back then, I’ll pop over. Goodbye, sir.’ The man gave him a smart salute, which he returned; then he stood watching the truck bobbing away back up the long slope into the distance—and his feet wouldn’t move.
He turned his head as far to one side as he could and then to the other. He was alone, utterly, utterly alone. The edge of the Earth lay an inch from his toecaps; there was nobody in sight or in shouting distance of him. He could stand rooted here until his heart gave up the uneven battle against his fear, or he could take the step forward and fall over the edge; it was up to him. He had only himself to rely on now, no Nurse Pettit, no Nurse Byng, no Nurse Taylor, no Matron, no doctor, no father, no Brigie, not even such a one as Lawrence. Why did he say not even such a one as Lawrence, for it was Lawrence who had forced him so far.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with but one little step.
He drew in a great draught of air, then another, then another, and he stepped over the edge of the Earth. And he didn’t become rigid and fall flat on his face. His feet were moving, left foot, right foot, moving faster with each step, faster, faster. Now he was running, running by himself out in an open space. The tears poured from his eyes and streamed down his face like the overspill from a dam.
When he stopped he was off the road and leaning against a drystone wall, gasping and sobbing aloud for there was no-one to hear, no-one to see, there was only himself to watch himself, and he had watched himself step over the edge of the Earth, and he had not fallen into the abyss, he had not crawled on his belly and choked on muck, and his mind hadn’t leapt back into that dark mad cell. He was alive.
It was some time later, after
he had dried his face, smoothed back his hair, and adjusted his coat that he walked onto the road and down the last slope to Wolfbur Farm.
The yard looked smaller than he remembered it from that one visit. Everything looked smaller, the farmhouse, the barns, the whole place seemed to have shrunk.
He moved slowly towards the back of the house. Going down the middle of the yard he looked from right to left.
There was no-one about yet he was conscious of voices coming from the house. The byre doors were open, so were the stable doors, but there was neither cattle, men nor women to be seen.
He turned towards the kitchen door and knocked. And now his heart began to pound again and a new fear seized him as he waited. But there was no response to his knocking.
The fear subsided just the slightest; he could still hear the voices in the distance.
He walked back up the yard and round the corner, and as he approached the front of the house the voices became louder as if the door had opened, but the front door remained closed.
Yet a door had opened. They came out of the sitting room: Constance, Sarah and Jim Waite, all following Hannah, who was crying, ‘All right, all right, I admit it. It was unfair of Dad to leave the place to me, but he did. And you know the proviso, you can both stay here for life, unless…unless there is any disagreement. And then I am authorised to provide you with alternative accommodation. Those were the words in the will, remember, alternative accommodation. And it wasn’t written the day he died but three years ago…three years ago! And why he didn’t say anything about you, Uncle Jim, is because you were a thorn in his flesh for years. You spied on him and tittle-tattled, and you caused as much trouble as he himself did in the family. Oh yes, you did.’ She stabbed her finger at him. ‘I would say more, for you aggravated it. And I’ll say again, I don’t care a damn what happens to you, Uncle Jim, because I know, and he knew, that you feathered your nest out of this place. It got to be an almost quarterly thing for a sheep to stray, didn’t it? And where did they stray to? Ratcliff’s butcher shop. Oh, you weren’t as cute as you thought…’
‘Don’t you dare talk to your uncle like that or I’ll…’
‘I’ll talk whichever way I like, Mam, because you know what I’m saying is true. And I’ll have you remember I’m no longer a child, not even a young woman, I’ve been married, I’ve been out in the world. And that’s where you should have been pushed years ago.’
‘Did you hear that? Did you hear that?’ Sarah appealed to Constance. ‘The injustice of it after what I’ve…’
‘Oh, for God’s sake! Mam, don’t start on that tack again; you’ve lived on your crutch long enough…’
‘Hannah!’
‘All right, Grandma. And you can say Hannah like that, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same thing. But you decided to hide it behind that superior façade of yours, simply because you wanted an ally.’
‘Girl! Girl! What’s come over you?’
‘I’m speaking the truth, Grandma. For the first time this house is hearing the truth, this miserable house, because we’ve all led miserable lives, every one of us…’
‘And whose fault was that, I ask you?’
‘Yours in the first place, Grandma, for not letting your son marry the woman he wanted. You cashed in on an accident. That’s how I see it.’
‘My God! I never thought I’d live to see it, or hear it.’ Jim Waite put his hand to his head.
‘Well, you have, Uncle Jim, and the truth must sound very strange, particularly to you…And when I’m on, Uncle Jim, get it into your head that I’ll know everything that’s going on here, you’re not the only one that can use spies, and if the place goes down…well, then as the will said…’
‘Shut your mouth, shut your mouth this minute. God in heaven, you’re brazen, that’s what you are. You’ve turned into a real brazen hussy.’
‘Yes, Mam, just as you say I’ve turned into a real brazen hussy.’
‘And shameless into the bargain. You’re utterly shameless if you go back there. And I’ll tell you something, the whole countryside will talk; your name’ll be mud—your father, now you, whoring from the same stock…’
‘Sarah! Sarah! Be quiet. Be quiet, I say!…Hannah.’ Constance turned and looked into Hannah’s face which from being red was now as pale as lint. ‘Let me put it to you this way. You claim the farm is yours. All right, all right, he left it to you. Then why don’t you stay and work it? I’d be quite willing to take alternative accommodation.’ It was some seconds before Hannah could answer and her voice was much lower but trembling as she said, ‘Aw, Grandma, the subtlety of you; anything to keep me from going back there.’
‘Yes, yes, Hannah, anything to keep you from going back there.’
‘And…and it’s not because I’ll be seeing Brigie or I’ll be nursing poor creatures, but because I’ll be in contact with Captain Bensham, to whom Mam so generously referred to a moment ago as ‘that barmy bastard’. Well, I’m going back, and yes I’ll be in contact with him…And now I’m going to tell you all something.’ She looked from one face to the other, and there was a catch in her voice as she went on, ‘I wish to God things were as you all imagine them to be, I wish he could say to me, ‘Come and live with me, Hannah, and be my love.’ And let me tell you, if he did I’d jump at the chance. But for your peace of mind I’ll be charitable and tell you that he doesn’t know I’m alive, not in that way. I’m a nurse, I’m one of the staff, that’s all I am to him, and I’ll say again, more’s the pity.’
They were silent, all of them, until Constance murmured, ‘Don’t do this, Hannah. Don’t do this. Don’t go back.’
‘I’ve got to, Grandma. In any case I could never live here again, not with you all. There’s been too much said, none of us could ever forget it, and it had to be said, it’s been festering for years. All I say now is, you let me live my life and I’ll let you live yours…here in peace.’
‘Oh, Hannah! Hannah!’
‘It’s no good, Grandma, and tears won’t help, the time’s passed for tears. I’ve shed all the tears I’m going to shed over this business. I thought when Dad went that was the finish of me, but life’s tenacious. I’m going, and I’m going to live. I don’t rightly know how but I’m going to live…’
In the pain-filled pause that followed there came a sharp knock on the door and it startled them all. It was Jim Waite who went forward and opened it, but without exception they all gaped at the man standing there for he had become instantly recognisable to the others, and it wasn’t only by the white streak that ran down to the left temple in his black hair; if by nothing else they would have recognised him from the expression in his eyes as he stared fixedly at Hannah.
Hannah had never fainted in her life, but she knew she was on the point of it now. So great was the shock at seeing him at this particular moment, and here on the doorstep of all places, that she was incapable of either speech or movement, she was almost in the same state as he had been when they first met, that was until he said, ‘Hannah!’ like that, different, firm. ‘Hannah!’ Then she was lifted towards him, and as she gripped his hands and cried, ‘Oh Ben! Ben, you did it!’ Sarah let out a sound that spiralled to a scream. ‘Nothing between them! Doesn’t know you exist! You to talk about speaking the truth!’
Hannah turned her head towards her mother now and, her voice almost as loud as hers, she shouted, ‘I didn’t, I didn’t know.’
‘You’re a liar! Do you hear? A bare-faced liar. And you think you’re clever with it. You’re nothing but your father over again. To think I’d see the day. Don’t you realise that I’ve been put through enough without having her son coming into my very house. Her son and you…Get out! Get out…You!…’
‘Be quiet, Sarah!’ Constance spoke with authority, but Sarah took no heed. And now Jim Waite joined his voice to hers. Stepping through the door, he growled, ‘Look, Mister, get yourself away afore I…’
He got no further. The eyes that glared at him were as b
lack as the hair above them and the voice that came through the tight lips was one of authority. ‘I’d advise you not to come any nearer and to keep a civil tongue in your head.’ They were looking at each other like wrestlers about to grapple. ‘By what I have inadvertently overheard during the last few minutes I would also remind you that you are dispensable, and it would be well for you to remember that.’
He did not add ‘my man’ for it was not necessary, it had been conveyed in his tone.
Ben now looked at Hannah, where she was standing gazing at him, her eyes wide and bright with tears, her lips apart, and he said briefly, ‘Get your things.’
When she turned and went towards the stairs, Sarah, using her crutch as swiftly as any leg, bounded forward and, blocking her way, cried at her, ‘No, you don’t! You’ll get your things and go with him over my dead body. The son of that, that Mallen bitch. It’s indecent, filthy. You’re not clean.’
‘Sarah!…Sarah!’ Constance came forward and, gripping Sarah by the arm, pulled her away from the foot of the stairs; then looking at Hannah, she added grimly, ‘If you’re going, go and be quick about it.’
Hannah paused on the bottom step, and looked at the faces turned towards her, her family, and each expressing hate in some form. Her head drooped, she stepped down into the hall and quietly she said, ‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t need anything; most…most of my things are over there anyway.’ Then going to a cupboard she took out a coat and put it over her shoulders before moving towards the door, only to be pulled to a halt by Sarah’s voice again crying, ‘You’ll regret this day as long as you live, my girl. If you get my prayers you’ll…’
Hannah swung round towards her mother. ‘Don’t…don’t say it, Mam. Remember, curses come home to roost.’ Then turning to Constance she said, ‘Goodbye, Grandma.’
The Mallen Litter Page 31