Hamilton

by Catherine Cookson

  When the bottles started to mark time to the woman’s singing voice coming through the wall, a hand came on my shoulder and I shrunk instinctively from it and crouched against the wall. But as a quiet voice said, ‘Sit up and have this drink,’ I opened my eyes, and there was the policewoman. And I sat up and I thankfully drank the mug of steaming tea.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked.

  I looked at her and shook my head.

  ‘I’ll bring you another blanket,’ she said, and she did.

  When she left me and the door clanged again, I shuddered, and the shudder told me I was back in my senses, for I seemed to have been out of them for some time. I drew in a long breath and looked about me. This was terrible; I was in a cell. It doesn’t matter, I told myself, you’ve done it. And I answered, Yes, yes, I’ve done it. But where was the exaltation I’d felt earlier on? I wanted someone, company, the doctor, Gran, anybody. I got up and started to walk about in the narrow confines, then sat down again, and as I did so, the door opened yet again and there entered the doctor and the solicitor. I almost threw myself upon Doctor Kane and he, gripping my hand, said, ‘There now. There now.’ And looking intently into my face, he said, ‘You feel better?’

  I shook my head, and for the first time in what appeared to me years my voice came out of my mouth, and I said, ‘No. Terrible.’

  ‘Well, that’s better than your dumb show anyway. Now, here, as you see, is Mr Pearson. I’m going to let him do the talking.’

  Mr Pearson now asked me to tell him exactly what had happened, and I was telling him when, halfway through, he stopped me and said, ‘You had a tape recorder running through all that he said?’

  ‘Yes, at least I switched it on; unless in the excitement I ran it back and rubbed it off.’

  ‘Pray God that you didn’t, then.’

  Yes—I nodded at him—pray God that I didn’t.

  When I had finished telling him all that had happened, I asked pathetically, ‘Will they let me go out now?’

  The two men exchanged glances, and Mr Pearson said, ‘My dear Mrs Stickle, I have no doubt that your husband deserved everything you gave him, but as yet I don’t know how serious his injuries are. I’ll have to visit the hospital to find that out. Let’s hope they are not as serious as some people seem to think. And then, don’t forget, my dear, that you also left your mark on a policeman.’

  I closed my eyes tightly and looked down and muttered, ‘I’m sorry about that; but’—my eyes opened as quickly as they had closed—‘I’m not sorry about what I did to him…Howard, and never will be, not even if he dies. I’m only wondering now how I resisted doing it before. But…but when he kicked the dog, and he isn’t well, Bill, that seemed the last straw.’

  ‘He kicked the dog?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mr Pearson turned now and looked at the doctor, saying, ‘I suppose I could get the key from the police to enter the house. You could come with me and pick up that tape because’—he turned now and looked at me—‘if that conversation is recorded, it’s going to be your main witness. No matter what the doctor or I might say, or your counsel, and you’ll have to have a counsel, if your husband is condemned out of his own mouth, then that should carry great weight with the judge.’

  I felt sick from the pit of my stomach. I’d have to go to court, face a judge? Well, I wasn’t stupid altogether; of course, I’d have to go to court and face a judge. I said on a gulp, ‘Will they let me out now…I mean, until the time comes?’

  Mr Pearson pursed his lips for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said, ‘procedure is: you will have to go before the magistrates in the morning, and it depends on how you plead whether you get bail straight away or not. If you plead not guilty, you’ll be allowed out on bail, but if you plead guilty, I’m afraid you’ll likely be kept…be kept in custody until your case comes up.’

  ‘But…but I am guilty. I did do it. I did hit him. Well!’ My voice was shaking now, not with laughter, but at the silliness of his suggestion: guilty, or not guilty. Everybody knew I was guilty and I said so: ‘Everybody knows I did it. There was a big crowd there; they saw me.’

  ‘Yes, I know that. We all know that. But I’m telling you that you must plead not guilty if you want to get out of here and stay out until your trial.’

  Doctor Kane had hold of my hand and once more patted it as he said, ‘It’s difficult to understand, but that’s the law. Now tomorrow morning we’ll be around here like a shot, and all you’ve got to do when you go before the magistrates and they ask if you’re guilty or not guilty, you’ve just got to say, not guilty. Anyway, we’ll go into the procedure more tomorrow morning. Now’—he got to his feet—‘try to get a night’s rest.’

  As they went to leave I caught hold of Doctor Kane’s arm and said, ‘You will come? I mean…’

  ‘Of course I’ll come. I’ll skip surgery. My lazy good-for-nothing partner can do some work for a change.’ He grinned, but it was a weak grin, an anxious grin; and I nodded at him, then at Mr Pearson, and they went out. The door clanged again and I put all my fingers in my mouth and bit down hard on my nails.

  Five

  I was in the street. There was the sky above me. It had never looked so wide, nor so high, nor had the air tasted so wonderful, it was going down my throat like the wine I’d had that time in London. I stood and looked about me as if in wonder, and the doctor was standing on one side of me and Mr Pearson on the other, and Mr Pearson patted my shoulder and smiled at me now as he said, ‘You did very well.’

  ‘I only said, not guilty.’

  ‘But you said it with some conviction.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘By the way, two hundred pounds. Who stood all that amount?’

  ‘Never you mind.’ Doctor Kane now caught hold of my arm, saying, ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m frozen standing here. The quicker we get to your granny’s the better. And I hope she’s got the teapot on the hob.’

  ‘You put up the money?’

  ‘Yes.’ He now poked his head towards me. ‘And don’t you go and scarper.’

  ‘Oh, Doctor Kane.’

  ‘Never mind, oh Doctor Kane.’ His voice was impatient. ‘Come on, get into the car…You following?’

  Mr Pearson nodded, saying, ‘Yes, I’ll come along; I’ll have to see where I can find you.’ He now smiled kindly at me and walked back to his car.

  As soon as we entered the door of Gran’s house, and not without curtains being drawn aside in the street, Bill scrambled towards me, and Gran put her arms round me and, the tears running down her face, she said, ‘Doctor thought it better that I didn’t come. Aw, lass, I’ve been worried sick in case you said the wrong thing and didn’t get out.’

  ‘Don’t let’s have so much palaver, Hannah. What about that teapot?’

  ‘Oh, aye, the teapot.’ She looked from one to the other as if in a daze, then went to the kitchen, only to return almost immediately to the doorway and ask the doctor, ‘How is he, Stickle?’

  ‘Oh, he’ll survive. But no thanks to this one here.’ He now looked at me and added, ‘You did a good job on him. And after listening to that tape’—he nodded at me now—‘oh yes, we found it—’ He glanced at the solicitor, then turned his gaze on me again as he went on, his voice quiet, ‘I don’t blame you, nobody would.’

  ‘Where’s the tape now?’

  ‘I’ve got it.’ Mr Pearson held up his index finger. ‘And as the doctor just said, it’s understandable, your reactions; but I must add, you are very lucky that you succeeded in taking down what he said, because without this evidence, had your husband produced the…well, writings about this horse that the doctor tells me here is a sort of’—he paused—‘companion, he might have, after all, succeeded in his claims.’ As he finished speaking, Gran came out of the kitchen carrying four cups of tea on a painted tin tray, and just before she put it down on the table she glanced towards the window, saying, ‘There’s a taxi j
ust pulled up. That’ll be another of ’em. They were swarmin’ round here last night like flies on a midden. All the way here from Newcastle and Sunderland, they had come. At the finish, I clashed the door on their faces and told them to get the hell out of it. An’ that’s what I’ll say to this one an’ all.’

  She marched to the door now, and when I heard the voice say, ‘Are you Mrs Carter?’ and Gran’s reply, ‘Yes; and what of it?’ I got up from the couch and pushed past Mr Pearson and the Doctor and went to the door; and there, pressing Gran aside, I looked at the visitor and said, ‘Oh, Nardy.’

  ‘Maisie.’ He held out his hand, and I looked about me in bewilderment back to the two men who were looking towards us down the passage, then to Gran, and I said, ‘Gran, this is Mr Leviston, you know, from London.’

  ‘Oh, aye. Aye.’ Gran’s whole manner changed, and she now extended her hand, saying, ‘I’m pleased to see you, sir. Come in. Come in.’

  He came in, and in a fluster now I looked from the Doctor to Mr Pearson and said, ‘This is a…a friend of mine from London, Mr Leviston.’ Now I turned and looked at Nardy and added, ‘This is my solicitor, Mr Pearson.’

  The men shook hands, then stood looking at each other, and it was evident to me that the doctor was definitely wanting to know how I’d come by this friend from London, this well-dressed, city-looking, gent. Then as I was about to speak, Gran said, ‘Would you have a cup of tea, sir?’

  ‘Yes, yes, Mrs Carter; that would be very acceptable.’ Once again the men looked at each other, and now I said to Nardy, ‘I’d better tell them.’

  And he answered, ‘As you wish, Maisie. As you wish.’

  I looked pointedly at the doctor as I said, ‘This is my publisher.’ I indicated Nardy with my hand, and when Doctor Kane’s eyes became lost in his hair, as they were wont to do when he was puzzled, he said, ‘Your what?’ And at this I said, without a smile because there wasn’t a smile in me, ‘You’ve got that habit now. You heard alright, my publisher. I’ve written a book.’

  I saw him look at the solicitor, and they exchanged glances that, a few minutes earlier, if Nardy hadn’t been present, would have read, Poor thing. It’s a pity, but he was right. Yet, still their glances exchanged incredulity.

  I think it was the first time in our acquaintance that I found the doctor absolutely stumped for words. It was Mr Pearson who said, ‘A book…you have written a book?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said, I’ve written a book. And it’s to be published…When?’ I looked at Nardy, and he, now seeming to enjoy the situation, smiled from one to the other as he said, ‘It should be out in the first week of December.’

  The doctor now spoke. ‘A book about what?’ he asked.

  I looked directly at him as I replied, ‘Hamilton, the horse I told you about.’

  ‘Hamilton?’

  ‘Yes, the horse.’

  ‘And you’ve made it into a book—’ He cast a glance at Nardy now before he added, ‘that will sell?’

  ‘We have every hope that it will romp, and keep pace with Hamilton himself.’

  Gran now brought all the attention upon herself by saying, ‘She’s been tellin’ me for ages about this horse that’s been rompin’ round me kitchen, an’ I’ve said, well, it’s a pity it couldn’t be of some real use and leave some manure on me patch of garden.’

  ‘Oh, Gran.’ Once more I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I had the feeling deep inside me that I’d never laugh again, nor would I ever think anything funny again, Hamilton or no Hamilton. I felt that, since twelve o’clock yesterday, my whole personality had undergone a strange change. First, I felt much older, and adult with it. I knew that some people could reach seventy and never be adult, but now I felt adult. I felt that in a way, whatever lay in the future, I would be able to cope with it. But I added a proviso to this thought, and it was, as long as I had friends such as these to support me. Part of my whole being, I knew, was still in that cell in the police station, and the thought that I might have to return there created a blackness shutting off some section of my mind wherein lay my future.

  ‘Maisie, it sounds trite, but you amaze me. You always have.’ I was looking at the doctor, and he went on, ‘There you’ve been, pestering me morning after Monday morning, with one thing and another, and all the time you’ve been living another life, because you must have been if you’ve written a book. So I’m going to ask you this, woman: why, if you are capable of writing a book that’s going to be published, and it must have some quality if that’s the case, because from what I’ve heard of publishers’—he glanced at Nardy—‘they don’t act like a charitable organisation; that being so, why the devil couldn’t you take yourself in hand before now?’

  I let a pause elapse before I answered him, and then I said, ‘When you read the book, you’ll find out.’

  ‘We’ve got another situation here.’ We all looked at Mr Pearson now and watched him take a drink of tea from his cup, which from his veiled expression I didn’t think he found palatable, as Gran’s tea always looked like ink and she put very little milk in it, because that’s the way she liked it herself. Then he went on, ‘You have written this book under a pseudonym, I presume?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And no-one up till now has known about it except Mrs Carter’—he inclined his head towards Gran—‘and your publishers?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Well, that being the case, if you want my advice, I would leave it like that until the case comes up. And of course, the timing of that will depend upon how quickly your husband recovers. Anyway, it might not come up for months. In the meantime, your book will have come out and have been read. When you say it’s about a horse, I presume it deals with your imagination, you just imagine you see this horse. Is that so?’

  I paused before I answered, because I expected Hamilton to appear rearing on his hind legs in denial of his immaterialism, but there was no sign of him, so I said, ‘Yes, you could say that.’

  ‘Well, as this seems to be one of the main points on which your husband will press his case, which, putting it plainly, is that you are mentally unbalanced, and if it appears that this is carrying weight, and with some judges it certainly could do, even with the evidence of his conversation on the tape recorder, the fact that you’ve written this as a book could influence the proceedings. But then, we must remember, the real case concerns your attack on him.’

  As he pursed his lips in a jocular fashion I bowed my head, but it wasn’t with any feeling of remorse because I felt not one tinge of regret at what I had done. I wasn’t even interested in the extent of Howard’s injuries. Yet when Doctor Kane said, ‘Anyway, what’s twenty-seven stitches here and there between friends?’ I looked up and at him, and he nodded back at me, adding, ‘It’s a good job you spread those bottles around. If they’d hit the one place, things might have been serious.’ He now turned to Nardy and said, ‘I suppose you know all about it? Have you been to the police station?’

  ‘Yes. I…I called there, naturally after I’d read the morning papers.’

  ‘But how did you get from London to here in this short time?’

  ‘I flew up. Anyway, the news really didn’t surprise me.’

  It seemed that both Doctor Kane and the solicitor spoke at once, and he repeated, ‘No, not after having read Maisie’s story. It is intended, I think…at least you would say, wouldn’t you, Maisie, that it is a funny book? Yet running through it is the story of a sadist and his treatment of his wife Rosie. That’s the girl in the book. Anyway, I felt I came to know Mr Stickle very well before Rosie’—he now inclined his head towards me—‘gets rid of him towards the end.’

  ‘Gets rid of him?’ Doctor Kane poked his head forward. ‘You mean…you mean, actually?’

  ‘No. Maisie was kind: she let Rosie divorce him, but not before Rosie’s supposed brother has a go at him; and also Rosie’s dog, which didn’t happen to be a bull-terrier, but a small Highland terrier whose chief occupation was
chasing rats; and he recognised a big rat when he saw one and so he went for Rosie’s husband. There is a court case at the end of the story, too, where the man is trying to have the dog put down.’

  ‘Does he succeed?’

  Nardy shook his head and smiled at Doctor Kane as he replied, ‘Of course not.’

  ‘And how, may I ask, does that story end?’ Doctor Kane’s face was straight now.

  ‘Oh’—Nardy turned and smiled at me as he said—‘Rosie achieves her heart’s desire. She goes on a sea cruise, dressed up to the nines. And there begins the sequel…we hope.’

  ‘Well, well.’ The doctor got to his feet, adding now, ‘And we all lived happily ever after.’ Then looking down at me, he said, ‘I hope your own story turns out as well as the one you’ve written. Anyway, we’ll do our best to see that it does…Do you want to go on sea cruise?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I’d be seasick; I heave when I cross the ferry.’