How could he get out of it? Could he tell her straight…but tactfully? Oh, God Almighty! There was no tactful way to tell a woman that she wasn’t wanted any more, particularly if she had been used and had been promised for five years. But that was it, he couldn’t recall any promise, any talk of marriage, except from her. It was at that New Year’s do when they were having a party and Jimmy Blaze had opened up a full barrel of rum he’d had put by for years and everybody was merry, very merry. They toasted everything and everyone, and one of the toasts had come from May. Lifting her mug up she had said, ‘Here’s to Freddie and me, we are gona be married.’ And they had all slapped him on the back. He might not have remembered but the accompanying comments surfaced the next day: ‘Glad to see, lad, you’re stickin’ to your own,’ and, ‘That Maggie Hewitt hasn’t turned you into a proper upstart yet,’ and, ‘You’ve got a fine lass in May, made for each other you are.’
When, a few minutes later, he knocked on May’s door it was she herself who opened it with the greeting, ‘So, you’ve got here then.’ In a way, she sounded like his mother or his wife, but she wasn’t his mother or his wife; and looking at her round high-coloured face with its peevish expression which he had come to recognise spelt trouble ahead his mind said, And she never will be.
‘Yes, I’ve got here in the flesh.’
‘Been very busy I suppose?’
‘Yes, as you say, May, I’ve been very busy.’
‘You’re always very busy, if you ask me.’
He looked around the dull kitchen. There was a brass fender in front of the fire, but it wasn’t shining. The wooden table top had never seen sand and salt for many a day, nor had the clippy mats that covered the floor been shaken for some time either. And it offended his taste to see pieces of food sticking to the black rags that went to make the mat that was set alongside the table.
‘Are you alone?’ he said.
‘Not quite; me ma’s in bed, an’ me da’s gone to bring our Mick.’
‘What for? Is your ma worse?’
‘No, me ma isn’t worse, but me da thinks it’s about time we had a talk, an’ our Mick an’ all.’
‘Have a talk? Your da and your Mick, and me, about what?’
‘Oh, don’t play the innocent. You know what about. It’s five years now since I’ve been promised, an’ I want to be married. You know I do.’
He stared at her before saying flatly, ‘Well, what if I don’t want to be married, May?’
‘Oh, don’t you come that with me. You’re gona marry me, or else.’
‘Yes? Or else what?’
‘Well, me da an’ our Mick’ll tell you. Aye, they will. I’ve kept them back till now. But the morrow that one’ll be back in Miss Maggie’s fancy house, the one you’re never out of, an’ I know what happened last time when she was on holiday. I hardly saw hilt or hair of you an’ I’m not goin’ to put up with it again because now I understand she’s home for good. With the airs an’ graces she puts on you would think she was the Duke of Northumberland’s daughter instead of some homeless waif that Maggie Hewitt took under her wing. And that’s another thing, whether you know it or not, she’s supposed to be the daughter of Miss Hewitt’s cousin. Well, me da was talkin’ to a man some time gone by who knew her and her da and the family, an’ he couldn’t remember her havin’ a live cousin. Her mother was an orphan, but her father had one brother, and he had two daughters and they were the same age as Maggie Hewitt but they died in their teens, both were hit with the cholera. He said he helped to bury them. So you explain that if you can.’
He shook his head, saying, ‘I can’t; but perhaps if you had a word with Miss Hewitt herself she would explain it. All I know is that Belle is the daughter of Miss Hewitt’s cousin, and if you ask me I can’t think that Miss Hewitt, being who she is, would take on anybody else’s child. Can you?’
‘Funny things happen. Me da says lots of funny things happened along this coast years back, an’ that’s one of them, that Belle.’
‘Well, as I said, you’d better talk to Miss Hewitt about it. But with regard to us, May…’
‘Aye, with regard to us, what about it?’
He stared at her. What could he say? In this moment I dislike you…I’m sorry for you but I dislike you? And: Yes, I’ve used you but you’ve wanted to be used, not only wanted but you’ve almost eaten me alive at times; and I’ve sickened myself when I’ve touched you? Could he say that?
What he said was and quietly, ‘May, I don’t think we’d make a go of it. I must face up to it. Quite candidly it isn’t because I don’t want to marry you, it’s because I don’t want to marry anybody. I’m…well, you could say I’m not the marrying kind.’
‘Oh my God!’ She was moving her head slowly from side to side now while keeping her eyes on him. ‘You know what I could do to you this minute, Freddie Musgrave? I could stick a knife into you. By God, I could! But I’ll leave that to me da and our Mick. When they’ve finished with you you’ll wish you’d never been born, I can tell you that. You’re a dirty rotten sod! You’re a bloody upstart, a dirty big-headed nowt…’
‘May! May!’
She turned her head in the direction of the bedroom, shouting now, ‘Shut up, Mother!’
He was about to turn from her and go towards the door when she almost sprang across the room and, standing with her back tight against the door, she said, ‘Oh, no, you don’t! You dirty bugger you! You’ll stay there if I have to claw you to bits until they come in. An’ I hope they’ve had a drink on the way ’cos then they’ll be able to use their feet better on you.’
‘I don’t want to manhandle you, May, but get away from that door.’
‘You try it, big fella. You try it.’
He looked behind him: one door led into the bedroom and another into the wash-house.
She realised his intention before he could make a move and she screamed at him, ‘You try that way an’ I promise you I’ll do me best to tear you to shreds. You know me strength, don’t you? You’ve had a taste of it in other ways, haven’t you?’
There was the sound of footsteps outside and the next minute she was pushed forward as the door opened, and there entered her father and brother.
They were small and thickset men, and although they were muscular due to their work as keelmen they were also bloated with heavy beer drinking. Jimmy Harper’s protruding stomach gave him the appearance of being nearly as broad as he was long, and his son was almost a replica.
They stood staring at him now, and it was Mick who, looking at his sister, said, ‘Been havin’ a chat like, eh May?’
For answer she said, ‘The dirty bugger says it’s all off. He says he’s not the marryin’ kind.’
‘Oh, he does, does he?’ The words were ominous.
‘Look, lad,’ said Jimmy Harper; ‘let’s talk this over, eh? What d’you say? You’ve been welcome in this house for years; we want no bad feelin’. You’re gona marry me lass, aren’t you?’
‘No, Mr Harper, I’m not going to marry your lass; and I’ve just told her. And if you think your bashing and kicking’—he glanced towards Mick—‘will make any difference, you’re wrong. And I’d just like to tell you that when there’s any bashing and kicking to be done I can do me share.’
‘You can?’ Jimmy Harper’s lower jaw jutted out, and in the short silence that followed Freddie heard the grinding of his teeth; then with an almost lightning jump he missed the blow that had been aimed for his face.
When next Mick made to come for him his father yelled, ‘One at a time! lad. One at a time! I’ll leave some for you; just let me deal with the pink-livered lily.’ And his hobnailed boot came out and contacted the side of Freddie’s knee and sent him stumbling towards the table, which in preventing his falling also enabled him to spring around and almost in the same action to deliver his fist between Jimmy Harper’s eyes. The elderly man stumbled backwards, his two forearms across his face now. But his son had already taken his place and was pounding at Fred
die’s body; and Freddie, in turn, was lashing out at him. For a moment they were locked together until the toe-plate of Mick’s boot tore down the length of Freddie’s shin. Perhaps it was the agony of the flesh being ripped from the bone that brought his own knee up and into the man’s groin with such force that sent him reeling back.
Freddie’s vision was now partly blurred with the blood running into one eye from a tear in his brow, but out of the other he could see the two men lined up against the door, with May to one side of them. Not only was she screaming but her mother’s voice had joined hers, for the elderly woman, looking like a witch, had appeared in the bedroom doorway.
Freddie was aware that the two men together could do for him, then dump him in the river. Such things had been done before, and the fear of this caused him to bend swiftly and grab at a two-foot iron poker leaning against a fire blazer to the side of the grate. And now brandishing it, he cried, ‘Open that door because if you don’t I’ll brain the first one that comes near me. You’re out to do me, well, it’s the same from this side. And I might not only finish one but the two of you.’
There was a silence in the kitchen for a matter of seconds, yet it was a silence full of hissing breath.
‘Let him be!’
No-one took notice of the voice from the bedroom door until it came again, screaming now, ‘Let the bugger be! He’s not worth it. If he maims you that’s your job gone.’
Again there was the silence, until once more the woman screamed: ‘Our May, you stupid bitch! Get them from the door. D’you hear me? Get them from the door.’
He watched May glare at her mother; then, reaching out a hand she grabbed her father’s arm and without a word pulled him to the side. Now there was only Mick left, and it was his mother’s voice that moved him: ‘Have I got to come across there and shift you?’ she yelled. ‘Let him out! There’ll come other times. Let him out!’
As if pressing against a force Mick Harper stumbled sideways and joined his father. And now, slowly Freddie, sidestepping and his eyes riveted on them, made towards the door, with the iron poker held ready to strike.
When he opened the door he did not immediately step outside, but he thrust it wide because he knew that once he made a step through it they would bang it on him and likely knock him flying again. Before going through it, he shouted, ‘Move to the table!’
And he watched them, like wounded animals ready to spring, slowly make a move towards the table. But not May, until he said, ‘You an’ all!’
Her head moved as though this was more than she could bear; but then she joined her father and brother. And when he had them in full vision he stumbled backwards onto the stone slab, then reached forward and pulled the door closed with a bang, and seemingly all in the same motion grabbed up the lantern and broke into a staggering run.
He had no fear of their following him now for he guessed they were in as bad a condition as himself; and he knew he was in a pretty bad state and must get home.
On the way down the slippery stone steps towards the quay he stumbled once and only just saved himself from an uncontrolled hurling to the bottom by grabbing at the broken balustrade to the side. He lay over it gasping. He had instinctively managed to hang on to the lantern, which he now placed on the step, then sat down and let his head droop forward between his knees for a moment to get rid of the faintness that was overtaking him.
The blood was still running down his face and he was aware that his mouth was stiffening and also that there was something wrong with his leg; and this for a moment filled him with fear, the old fear of anything happening to his feet.
He’d have to get home. But which home? His mother would look after him, yes; but not in the way Maggie would; nor had she the facilities. And what was more, Belle would be home tomorrow and if she knew he was ill she’d be along to Bing Cottage, and would stick around. And his mother wouldn’t like that.
He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled down the rest of the steps and made his way slowly and erratically, which brought occasional and ribald comments from passers-by, to the house he really thought of as home…
After he had pulled at the bell and the front door was opened by Maggie, he literally fell into her arms. And as she gasped, ‘Oh, my God! What’s happened, man?’ she lowered him onto the carpet while reaching hastily out and picking up the lantern that had fallen from his hand and was now lying on its side, its oil spilling and aggravating the flame.
A minute later, the door closed, she helped him to his feet and into the sitting room and, peering at him now, she again said, ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Mag…Maggie.’
‘Yes, lad, yes, what is it?’
‘Give…give me a drink, will you?’
She seemed to fly out of the room and fly back again; and then she was holding a glass of raw spirit to his lips; but in his efforts to gulp at it, half of it ran down his chin.
‘Let’s get your things off. Come on, get up.’
She had to help him to his feet, then lead him into his room; and there he dropped as he was onto the bed and made no protest as, for the second time in his life, she undressed him.
It was when she finally pulled off his trousers and his small clothes and saw the sight of his shin from the knee to the top of his foot that she brought her lips tight together for a moment before saying, ‘Well, the buggers did a good job on you here. Who was it, a mob?’
His lips scarcely moved as he muttered, ‘My in-laws to be.’
‘Oh, now…now I understand…It’s over then?’
‘Aye…Aye, you could…say…it’s over.’
‘Well, my God, they’ve made you pay for it! You could have them jailed for this.’ She straightened up for a moment, then said, ‘I should get the doctor.’
‘Maggie.’
‘Yes, lad?’
‘Just…just wash my leg will you? The rest will be all right. Just wash my leg.’
‘I’ll do that. I’ll do that.’ Her voice was soft; it was as if she knew of his fear.
While she washed his leg he had to make a great effort not to scream, and all the while he thought of his father and what he must have gone through when they were trying to push the bones back…
When he went to sleep, he had no idea, but he faintly remembered waking up several times, once thinking he had died and was in hell, another time there was a young girl bathing his head and he knew her to be Maggie, but she was only seventeen; another time he was aware that it was Maggie as she was.
When he finally awoke it was to see his mother standing at one side of the bed, but he couldn’t see who was at the other because his eye was bunged up. And when he tried to turn his head he thought his neck was broken. Then Maggie’s voice came at him, saying, ‘Here’s Doctor Wright.’
‘Well, well! I thought the Crimean War was over.’
The jovial tone irritated him. He felt ill. What was wrong? He tried to recall what had happened to him, and for a moment he had the queer feeling that he was lying in some shrubbery and he’d hit his head upon a stone. But…but that was years ago.
The voices were talking across him now. ‘It must have happened just after he’d left our house, Doctor.’
‘You should have come for me last night, Maggie.’
‘How could I? I couldn’t leave him in this state and he was raving half the night.’
The doctor’s hands were moving over him now, and no-one spoke for a time until he said, ‘I would say this is a case for the Justices. You could put those two Harpers along the line and right into the House of Correction for a time.’
‘No, no.’ His voice sounded like a croak to himself. ‘’Tis over, finished.’
‘Well, that’s up to you, but during the time you got this I hope you left a little impression on them.’
He said nothing, but he knew he had left a little impression on them for he could recall the pain in his knuckles as they landed between the dark baggy eyes.
Gradually he became aware that every i
nch of his body was paining, but his main concern was still his leg.
‘My leg, Doctor.’
‘Oh, it’s nasty but it’s clean, stripped to the bone in parts. It must have been some iron toecap to rip through your trousers and take the flesh off and that deep. But don’t worry, it’ll be all right. It remains to be seen if you’ve got good healing flesh. And by the look on your face I can see you will be on liquids for a few days. Well, there’s nothing so sustaining as gruel and rum, and hot milk and whisky for a change. You won’t come to much harm if you keep to that diet. Now I don’t need to tell you to lie still, do I? But I may pop in later; if not, I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ve got two good nurses here so you needn’t worry. But the next time you want to finish a courtship I would think about doing it in a different way, if I were you.’
Laughing at his own joke, he went out, and Maggie followed him. He was left with his mother, and what she said to him was, ‘Well, the finishing of that courtship could have finished you. You’ve had a lucky escape; and it’s a wonder you got clear of those two. But anyway, you’re free. You can thank God for that. You’re free.’
He was free. He was free. For a moment he could feel no pain, no stiffness, no ache, no thumping in his head. He was free from May…
He went to sleep again, only, later, to wake with a start, thinking, I’ve got to go and collect Belle. And then there’s tonight. Who’ll take Nancy?
He opened his eyes. There was no-one in the room, and when he tried to raise himself the pain in his body was so excruciating that he fell back on the pillow, groaning aloud.
The door opened and Maggie came in. She was dressed for outdoors, and, on seeing her thus, he attempted to speak but his mouth refused to open and the sound that came from his throat could have issued from the far end of a tunnel.
‘Belle.’
‘Don’t worry yourself about Belle. I’m all ready for the road, can’t you see? In my best bib and tucker. All you’ve got to do is to lie quiet and do what your mother tells you. We should be back middle of the afternoon.’ And then she smiled before adding, ‘Goodbye, peaceful and quiet house…How you feeling?’
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 16