Hannah massey (28 page)

"Ee, mister! You sure it's all right?"

"Of course it's all right."

The ma mightn't believe us. "

"That's true." He nodded at them.

"Wait a minute." He pulled a loose pad towards him and wrote on it,

"I've given your boys the boot money back." Then he -signed his name.

"You won the pools, mister? Is that why you're givin' up?"

"Well something like that." He nodded at them, and with a hand on each of their shoulders he turned them about and pushed them towards the door.

"Thanks, mister."

"Aye, thanks, mister."

"Mind how you go."

"Aye, mister."

They didn't mind how they went, they went running and skipping down the icy hill, and Hughie watched them for a moment with a sort of envy before turning into the shop and closing the door. As he did so he noticed the paper lying in front of the window, and, picking it up, he saw it was the notice he had given Rosie. So she had been here, or Jim Cullen had. Well, anyway, he'd have to stay this morning, until Lance turned up in case anybody came for their boots. There were about

fifteen pairs of shoes and boots to be collected and about the same number to be repaired. He should have got in touch with Lance before now; he didn't know what he had been thinking about.

He went round the counter and entered the back shop, and what he saw transfixed him for a moment in horror.

Rosie was lying on the bed chair. He knew it was her by her hair and her figure; he would never have been able to recognize her by her

face.

"Ooh! Ooh! Rosie He groaned out the words as he moved slowly towards her, and, dropping down by the side of the chair, he put out a

trembling hand to her face. As he did so she opened as much of her eyes as she could. The whole expanse of the upper part of her face was black, swollen and distorted, while her mouth, that tender once

laughing mouth, was now a shapeless bloody mass. Her lips were fixed apart and showed a gap where two or three teeth were missing.

"Oh! Rosie, Rosie." He lifted up her hand, which too was bloody and dead cold.

When he saw her lips trying to move and the narrow slits of her eyes close in pain with the effort, he gabbled, "Don't, don't. Don't move, don't say anything; lie still." He got to his feet and looked about him as if not sure what to do. The room was like death and she was wearing nothing but the dress he had seen her in the night she first came home.

"You'll be all right, you'll be all right." He was still gabbling.

"Just lie still." He rushed to the stove and lit it and put on the kettle; then back to the oil stove and, lighting that, turned it to its full extent. Coming to her again, he bent over her. Then saying to himself, "What am I thinking about?" he tore off his coat and covered her with it. Dashing into the shop, where hung an old coat and an

overall on a peg, he snatched these down and came back to her. Gently he raised her feet and folded the coats about them. Then kneeling by her side again he brought his face down to hers and asked very quietly but urgently, "Who did this to you? Tell me, Rosie. Who did this to you?"

When for an answer the slits of her eyes closed again, he said, "When I find out who's done this I'll kill them. I swear to God I'll kill

them.... Aw, Rosie." He put out his hand to her hair, but so light was his touch that she didn't feel it.

When the kettle whistled he jumped to his feet and mashed a pot of tea, but before he poured the rest of the hot water into a basin he had to take the towel and wipe his face. Last night. or this morning it was, he'd had to stop himself from crying, but now he had been crying and hadn't known he was. It was many, many years since he had really

cried. It was the day Hannah had cornered him up in the attic and told him that he had fathered Moira's child. She had beaten him black and blue where it didn't show, and nobody knew except him, and her, and Moira. It was from that time he'd had a room to himself. the box room, in which you could turn round and that was all.

When he brought the bowl and flannel to her side he was afraid to touch her face, until her lips making a stiff motion she spoke his name,

"Hughie."

"Yes, Rosie, what is it?"

"I'm ... I'm v-very cold, Hughie." He could just make out the words

"Me hands."

"Put them in the water." He lifted one hand and put it in the dish that stood on the chair, and taking the hot, wet flannel, he wrapped it around the other hand.

He left her for a moment, to pour out a cup of tea, which he brought to her, saying, "Try to drink this." But when he put the hot cup to her lips she started and gave the first real movement since he had come into the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He was all clumsy contrition.

"I should have thought, I should have put more milk in it. Look, I'll pour it in the saucer." But when he put the tea in the saucer she couldn't swallow it and it ran down the side of her mouth and over the dried blood and on to her dress.

"Rosie." He hovered above her.

"Look, you're in a bad way. I'll... I'll have to get a doctor. There's one just lives two streets away. If I slip out now I'll catch him

afore he finishes his surgery. Look, I'll go now, I won't be five

minutes. Lie quiet now.

All right? "

When she made no move he turned from her and hurried through the shop, just as he was, without cap, coat or muffler, and, locking the door, he pelted down the hill, across the road, and didn't stop until he reached the doctor's surgery. "A young girl been beaten up?" said the doctor.

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"Funny." The doctor didn't say this but his look said it for him.

"I'll be with you in a minute." He left Hughie, and when he returned carrying a bag, he said, "We'll go now," and led the way to his car. A few minutes later he was looking down at Rosie.

"How did this happen?" he asked her gently.

She made no effort to answer, just an almost imperceptible movement with her head. His hands were tender as he touched her face, and his voice was equally so as he said, "I'm afraid you'll have to go to hospital, my dear."

She made another movement, and now her eyes turned in Hughie's

direction.

Hughie, too, thought with the doctor that she should go to hospital; that was, until he remembered that Hannah was in hospital. in the

mortuary. There was only one hospital in the town. It wasn't possible that Rosie would be long there before she found out about her mother.

He found himself stammering, "I don't think she wants to go to hos ...

hospital, doctor. She'll be all right at her brother's. If you would just tell me ... tell me what to do."

The doctor moved slowly away from Rosie. He moved into the shop as though he was still walking in the same room, and Hughie followed

him.

"Her lip will have to be stitched inside." The doctor looked at Hughie.

"There's nothing much can be done to her face, only apply an ointment.

That will take time. But she's suffering from shock, and she should go to hospital."

Hughie looked down at his own twisting hands, and then he said, "Her mother committed suicide this morning, doctor. She was taken to

hospital. She," he motioned towards the room, "she doesn't know. There was a fight, a ... a family row. If she knows what has happened to her mother she'll blame herself... because, well" --it was difficult for him to say what he had to say-- "well, in a way she was the cause of the the row ... you see?"

"Yes, yes." The doctor's brows moved upwards.

"Yes, I see what you mean. She'll be all right at this brother's?"

"Oh, yes, yes. And I'll be there."

"Are you a relation?"

Hughie's eyes nicked downwards again.

"No, but I've lived in the same house with her since she was born."

"Have you any idea how she really came by. this?" The doctor touched his own face.

"As you said earlier, it looks as if she's been beaten up. Can you throw any light on it?"

"No, no." Hughie shook his head.

"Except... well, there's a man she's been connected with. He could have done it, but... well, it's the time factor. I understand she left home after twelve last night. He could have been waiting for her, but I just don't know. And then there was a woman ... she was with her at the club earlier on...."

"Oh, that isn't a woman's work." The doctor paused before moving back into the room and said under his breath, "If she'll name who did it, he's in for a nice quiet stretch." He nicked his eyes towards Hughie and his words were scarcely audible as he asked, "Was ... was she a gpod girl?"

Hughie returned the doctor's glance without blinking.

"Yes," he said definitely.

"Yes."

The doctor's brows moved upwards again and then he asked briefly, "Good looking?"

"Beautiful."

"Hmm! Well, let's hope that this will leave no mark outside or in. But only time will tell that."

Yes, thought Hughie, as he followed him back in the room, only time would tell that. And then he found himself replying, as it were, to an inner voice, saying, "Well, she is a good girl, she is."

It was odd how the mind worked.

Dennis came slowly out of the bedroom and into the hallway where

Florence and Hughie were waiting for him. He looked more shaken now than when he had returned in the early hours of the morning from the hospital. He glanced from Florence to Hughie, then swung his head

sideways, and with it held at an angle he passed them and went into the room.

"Terrible, isn't it?" Florence went to his side.

He did not answer her but drew his hand around the back of his neck; then looking up at Hughie who had come to stand in front of him, he said.

"You know who did it?"

Hughie shook his head.

"She didn't say."

Now Dennis looked from one to the other of them again, and his lips moved, but he didn't speak until he turned his head towards the window.

Then he said, "Me mother."

No exclamation came from either Florence or Hughie, and Dennis said no more. The situation had gone beyond discussion for the moment. Nor did they bring the topic up during the hours that followed. Dennis related in a somewhat desultory fashion that the lads had been allowed bail and their case adjourned until a week come Monday because of the circumstances of their mother's death; that Ronnie MacFarlane was still in hospital but would likely be out in a day or two; also that there were a few lines of Stop Press in the Fellburn Observer, which, Dennis said, would keep the appetites whetted until the full account came out next week. And all the while Rosie lay sleeping in the bedroom. She would sleep, the doctor said, for around twenty- four hours, and this would be the best medicine for her.

It was on Sunday afternoon just as the light was fading that Dennis made a statement which startled Hughie. It was a bold statement, and apropos of nothing that had ever been discussed between them.

"You're in love with our Rosie, aren't you?" Dennis said.

The question actually brought Hughie out of his chair, and he stood looking down at Dennis while the bones of his jaws moved backwards and forwards; then, he said, "What makes you think that?"

"Look, come off it, Hughie. Don't stall. If I'm wrong, well I'm wrong, but it isn't the day or yesterday that I've known how you felt about her; at least," he jerked his head, "I felt sure I was right.

Anyway if I'm wrong about that, well I must be wrong about lots of other things too.... But it's true^ isn't it?"

Hughie turned his back towards Dennis and walked to the window and looked out on to the slush-strewn road.

"How many other people think they know how I feel?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Florence."

"And all the lads I suppose?"

"No. No, it never entered their heads, I'm sure of that.... But... but she did." Dennis did not say, "Me mother."

"Yes, she did." Hughic inhaled deeply; then turning and coming back towards Dennis he asked, still in a tight, stiff fashion, "Well what difference does it make? Why had you to bring it up, Dennis... ? It's no good."

"Sit down, man. The trouble with you..." Dennis nodded rapidly up at Hughie, "the trouble with you is you don't know your own worth, you never have. Sit down." He jerked his hand towards the chair, and when Hughie sat down he leant towards him, saying earnestly, "Take her away with you, Hughie, take her out of this."

"Aw, Dennis, talk sense. Do you think for a moment she'd come with me?" His voice ended on a high derogatory note.

"Yes I do, and so docs Florence. Women sense these things quicker than men. Florence feds that you'll have little persuading to do, specially now."

Hughie beat his knuckles together as he repeated, "Especially now when she's at a disadvantage, eh? If she did say she would come I'd always know she took it as a last line of escape."

"Well you want to help her, don't you?"

"Yes, I want to help her."

"Then do it just because of that."

Hughie got to his feet again.

"She'd never come."

"Well, you won't know until you ask her, will you? And you'll be in no worse position if she refuses; you were going away on your own, anyway, weren't you? Don't you think it's worth a try... ? Think about it, there's plenty of time."

"Do you think so?" Hughie turned and looked at Dennis over his shoulder.

"I mean about time, an I don't mean in my case but in hers.

I think the quicker she gets away from this town the better, because if she hears about her mother God knows what effect it will have on her.

"

"Well then, there you are." Dennis was also on his feet now, but Hughie brushed the conclusion aside with, "I'm thinking about arranging for a holiday for her so that she can get away as soon as she gets on her feet. She needn't know about a thing. It isn't likely that the lads will come here, is it?"

"No, it isn't likely; but don't you be such a blasted fool, man. And what will happen to her on her own at some guest house or hotel? She wants someone near her who knows all about her. There's a strong sense of home in Rosie, it's in all of us;