the maltese angel (33 page)

cried;

and in such an abandoned way.

They waited for the coming of the police, those in the farmhouse and those in the Hollow. And when by Monday evening neither a police

constable nor a reporter acting on rumours had made his appearance, Annie said to Carl, "It couldn't be they are going to let such a thing as this drop; you know, besides the flailing they could be had up for levelling guns.

"And then there were the fights they'd had afore they could get them stripped. They say it was Pete Mason who left his boot marks on

Johnnie Mullins. His shin was split. But both he and the Wilberforce fellow must have been scared in the first place when they assumed that the notes were from the verger; as Mike said, they came skittering into the vestry like rabbits. But whereas Mason put up a fight, the other one was as cringing as a beggar. Well, they got their deserts. The only thing I'm sorry about is I wasn't there to see it."

Raising his eyes to look up at the ceiling, Carl said, "Patsy says there's no improvement whatsoever," and to this Annie replied, "And if you ask me, there never will be; she's gone far away into another self, and it's filled with terror. One thing I do know, if her fear of a man doesn't soften a little, himself will wither away inside. You mark my words. And God knows, there might be still more torment for him to come. But this we won't know for a time, will we?" She looked at Carl, who was sitting at the end of the table, and she added, "There's one good thing has come out of all this: he can't do without you; in fact, he can't do without you both, for Miss Jessie must have somebody to relieve her or shortly she herself will end up in bed. But 'tis odd' Annie

nodded her head now and repeated, "Tis odd, really it is, for that young lass has come into her own with this business, an' there's no getdn' away from the fact that himself, though he be her father, didn't even seem to notice she was there. It was Angela, Angela, all the

time;

but of course, being so much like her mother, you could understand that. Still, now that he's got no solace in that direction, he's

havin' to look at his first-born. Although he's seeing her without any real feelin' for her, he will, nevertheless for the future, I should imagine, have to rely on her. "

Annie now turned to the stove, her voice trailing away as she said,

"Funny that. And all she ever wanted from him was a kind word, a loving word, which she never got."

It was on the following day that Fred paid a tentative visit to the farm. Their boyhood friendship and that of their early youth had been strained somewhat over the last few years as Ward had grown more and more into himself. But now he was knocking on the kitchen door, and when Patsy opened it, he said, "Hello there," and she answered simply,

"Hello," and looked back to where Annie was at the table cutting raw meat away from a bone, and she said, "It's Mr. Newberry," and Annie called, "Come away in, Fred. Come away in." And then she added, "Tis some time since we've seen you."

"Aye, Annie, aye. Business has been brisk. How are you?"

"Fine, Fred, fine; at least down to me waist, the rest of me is rotten."

He grinned at her; then straight-faced again, he said, The mother . I mean, we all were upset about the latest business, Annie. And poor little Angela . Is he about? " And to this she answered, " No. He's along the corridor, in his office, where he seems to spend more than half his days. He's in a state. You can understand. "

"Oh aye. Oh aye. D'you think I should pop along and have a word?"

"Yes, I would do that, Fred; an' I'll have a drink ready for you when you come back."

"Ta, Annie. Thanks." He walked around her cautiously as if he were unused to being in this kitchen, and he smiled at Patsy before going out.

When he tapped on the study door, there was no answering voice calling,

"Come in," but the door was pulled open, and Ward stood there, looking surprised for a moment, and when Fred said, "I thought I would just pop in, Ward. Hope you don't... you don't mind," Ward stood aside, saying,

"No; come in, Fred." And after Fred had passed him, he closed the door, then pointed to a seat, before again seating himself behind his desk.

"I suppose you're surprised at finding me here?" he said gruffly.

"No; no, man, no. I'd have been surprised if I hadn't found you here.

That would have meant that all had gone against him. "

"Gone against him! What d'you mean, gone against him? Who do you mean?

What are you talking about? "

"Well ... well, you know, Sunday. Me me self I've never set foot in the church for years. You know that. But it seems some of them wanted to get the authorities straightaway. It was then the young master from the Hall jumped up and what he didn't say wasn't worth listenin' to, so they tell me. And the old man, the Colonel, yelled at him, an' he

yelled back. He said he'd stand up in court and tell... well' Fred now lowered his eyes 'just how he came across poor, dear Angela .. " Then looking directly at Ward again, he went on, "That seemed to put the seal on it. Anyway, they have all taken heed of what Tracey said, that the village would attract hordes of all kinds, so they had to keep their mouths shut." He now leant forward towards Ward, adding in a low voice, "And I know this: almost everybody in the county would have been with you."

Ward made no comment, and there followed a silence for a few moments, before Fred, his tone changing, said, "Charlie and his lads were a bit peeved, you know, Ward, that you hadn't let him and us in on it. He said he would have liked nothin' better than puttin' some iron into his fire an' shaping body-belts for the three of 'em;

and similar things have been said in the village here and there. You won't believe it. Ward; you never would;

but there's a lot over there that are for you. Always have been. And they've always objected to old Tracey making out that the village was his. And you know something' else, Ward? " Fred's voice dropped a tone:

"Yesterday, me dad had me drive over two big baskets of stuff to the Hollow, and it wasn't all week-end stuff, stale. No; some was freshly baked yesterday morning. But it was just to show that if they went along the line their womenfolk would be seen to."

Ward lay back in his chair and looked at this kindly simple man, this innately shy man, one who was never likely to marry and so experience the heights and the depths of such a state, but who could only find his happiness through supporting and being supported by his close friends.

And at this moment he felt a tinge of guilt at never having appreciated Fred; in fact, he had despised him for his simplicity. But now he said quietly, "Thank you. Thank your dad and your mother, too.

Tell them .. that I appreciate what they did, and their support. "

And he added, "And yours, too, Fred. Yes, and yours."

"Oh' Fred's head now wagged from one side to the other " Tis nothin', man.

"Tis nothin'; we just want you to know we're with you, always have been. And my mum told me to say if there's anythin' she can do, you know where she is. Night or day. An' she says she could put her hand out to half a dozen others who would say the same. Women are handy at these times, you know, Ward."

It was too much. Ward could stand no more at the moment, not of this kind of emotion, such sympathy tore at him.

He now rose so quickly to his feet, saying, "Have you had a drink?"

that Fred almost fell backwards with his chair as Ward passed him, and he laughed as he stumbled and said, "You'd think I'd had one of the hard stuff already, wouldn't you? But Annie said she would have a

drink ready for me."

"Good. Anyway, thanks for coming, Fred. And, as I said, thank your dad and mother, and--' He nipped on his lip before he could add, "

Charlie and the rest. "

"I will. I will. Ward. I'll tell them."

In the hall, Ward placed a hand on Fred's shoulder and gave him a

gentle thrust towards the kitchen, saying, "I'll be seeing you."

"Aye, Ward, aye. So long then."

Ward stood for a moment watching this friend making his way to the kitchen. Then he hurried up the stairs to his daughter's bedroom. But after entering the room, he stood looking towards where his beautiful little Angela was sitting propped up in a chair to the side of the bed, her eyes wide and staring. To her side sat Jessie, the book she had been reading aloud from now lying on her lap, and she turned to look at her father and said one word that was hardly above a whisper:

"Slowly."

And he obeyed. Walking almost on tiptoe, he crept towards the chair.

And he looked at his daughter, and she looked at him; but this time she did not shrink back into her pillows. And Jessie now smiled at him and nodded her head, and he nodded back at her, and when she made a small flicking motion with her hand he stepped back from the bed and walked softly towards die door again.

When it had closed on him, Jessie, leaning towards the still figure, said, "That was Daddy, dear. He came to see how you are. Do you understand?"

The face was turned towards her; the lips opened slightly but no sound came from them, and Jessie said, "You're not afraid of Daddy; he loves you very dearly. Never, never be afraid of Daddy. You see, I'm not afraid of him."

It seemed that the slight chest heaved as if a long breath were being drawn into it; and Jessie said, "You liked this story, didn't you?

It's about the little match-girl. At one time it used to make you cry, didn't it? "

As Jessie now lifted the book to begin reading again, she thought. Oh, if only it could make her cry again. But they were making progress.

Oh, yes; they were making progress because she no longer shrank into her pillows when their daddy came into the room. His next step must be to sit at the very foot of the bed. A thought now crossed her mind, which was startling: she was giving her father orders, and he was

obeying them. It was like being imbued with a strange power, and she recognised that it was this feeling that was keeping her going and enabling her to see to her sister, for at times she felt strangely ill: her nightmares were not abating, and whenever she fastened her bodice she could feel that man's hands on her.

But her father had avenged her, avenged them both;

Angela more so, of course. Oh yes, Angela especially. If it had

happened to her alone, would he have gone to such lengths as she had heard had transpired in the church on the Sunday morning, when naked men were strung on to the screen and lashed? When her mind aimed to conceive the picture of its happening she brought the book nearer her face and began to read, her voice over-loud as if to drown her

thoughts.

It was six weeks later when Angela indicated that she was about to be sick. Patsy happened to be sitting with her at the time. She had, by now, persuaded the young girl to sit in a chair by the window. There were two windows in the bedroom, one overlooking the yard; the other, at the back of the house, had a view of the garden.

It was to the latter that they would lead her, Jessie and Patsy between them, as if the small slight girl were an old, enfeebled woman.

The routine repeated itself day after day. First, they would wash her, then place the breakfast before her, which by this time she would

manage to eat, at least in part, although never quite finishing it.

They would then wrap her in a warm dressing-gown and sit her before the window. She was, however, never left on her own. And this was tiring for the two girls, although Annie, when her swollen limbs would allow her to climb the stairs, would occasionally give them relief.

Patsy no longer had time for the yard work, and so another dairymaid had been engaged by Carl. She came from Fellbum on the carrier's cart, arriving at nine in the morning, leaving at six in the evening. It was soon apparent that she knew her work well; and this lessened any

objection Ward might have felt, for the dairy produce supplied a good portion of the profits.

But this morning the daily routine was to be altered, for Angela, for the first time, was sick.

When Patsy saw this, she did not exclaim as Annie might have done, "God in heaven!" or call on the deity in any way, for her feelings were too deep, in fact, too frozen with the horror that this sign portended.

The effect on Jessie, however, was different: she ex claimed loudly,

"Oh no! No! Please, Angela, no! No!" |i Then she turned to Patsy beseeching her now to deny what she was saying, "Is this a sign? It is said that ... Oh Patsy! Patsy!"

"Hush! Hush! What will be, will be, miss. Yet she ate more than usual last night; and fish has a tendency that way."

"Oh please! Please say it is the fish."

"I can't, miss, not yet; we'll have to wait a day or two to see if it is repeated."

"But Daddy ..."

"Say nothing to the master, miss, nothing at all. Do you hear? For we don't know, not for sure." Yet in her heart she was sure; but she could only hope that the child would be born dead ..

Two weeks later Ward learned that his daughter was carrying a child, but it was days before he reached a state of acceptance such that he could sit opposite his beloved daughter as she gazed out of the window, for straightaway he had again felt the urge to take drastic action. In any case, he could have done nothing more to the perpetrators of this evil, for they all had left the village; even Pete Mason, so he

understood. The desire for vengeance was however more than ever

terrible for it was becoming centred on his own child.

For two nights running, while pacing his room, sleep being beyond him, he had thought she would be better off dead than bringing into the world a being bred of one or other of those beasts. Which of them was responsible would never be known. What lay ahead for the offspring?

How would it face life when the knowledge of its creation was one day thrown at it, as undoubtedly it would be, either through tormentors or someone deciding it was time the creature should know why it was

isolated, for isolated it would remain all its life in this place.