The Wingless Bird Page 11

  The two men stood up and one, who looked older than the others, came towards her. He stood quite close to her and he said, ‘I don’t know who you are, lass, never clapped eyes on you, and from the look of you an’ your voice you’re not the kind wor Robbie would pick up with. Now come on, what’s your game?’

  ‘May I…may I sit down?’

  ‘No, you may not, as you put it, until you tell us what all this is about.’

  ‘Arthur.’ It was the other man speaking now. His voice was quiet. ‘I told you some time ago I’d seen wor young ’un with a piece. They were standing outside that school office, the young lasses’ typin’ school, you know. I told you.’

  ‘Was it this one, Willie?’ The man motioned his hand towards Agnes; and the man called Willie stepped towards her now and said, ‘No; this one was younger and very bonny.’

  ‘That…that…’ Again she heard herself say, ‘that’, and then she managed to stammer, ‘w…was my sister,’ before the floating feeling overcame her and she knew she was falling into somewhere. It was like a pit, and as she fell she clutched at a hand, but the hand turned into a foot and the foot kicked her.

  But Mike Felton’s foot hadn’t kicked her; he had moved it quickly out of the way and caught her as she fell and so saving her head from coming into contact with the brass coal bucket.

  ‘God Almighty! She’s passed out. Go and get Ma up. Go on! Shout her, somebody.’

  One of the men now rushed from the room and along a passage to some stairs. ‘You, Ma! Ma!’ he called.

  ‘You know she’ll be dead to the world. Go on up and give her a shake.’

  Meanwhile there was pandemonium in the kitchen. These men who, with their fists, knocked others insensible, the art of doing so having been passed down as a necessary part of their growing up, had evidently never had to deal with a fainting female before; and when the big, fat, enormous-breasted woman came into the kitchen, bawling, ‘What the hell d’you think you’re at! What’s up here?’ her reaction on looking down on Agnes was just as loud and domineering: ‘Which bloody fool among you brought her in?’

  ‘Listen, Ma. Listen.’ It was the biggest of her sons speaking now, the one who had opened the door, and he said, ‘She’s a classy piece, Ma, and she’s come with some strange news. She says wor Robbie’s in hospital.’

  ‘And you swallowed that? Then you’re a sillier bugger than I thought you were, Mike.’

  ‘Look, Ma, silly bugger or not, I can tell a piece when I see her, or smell her, and this one isn’t wor Robbie’s type, nor none of wor types. But just afore she passed out she said something about her sister and wor Robbie.’

  ‘But his boat isn’t in yet; he’s not due for days.’

  ‘She says he’s in hospital.’

  The fat woman now bent over Agnes and felt the quality of her dress, which was a fine Irish linen. Then, turning up the hem some way, she now fingered her petticoats.

  ‘Bring a mug of cold watter. Go on! One of you move, an’ stop starin’.’

  When she was handed the mug she dipped her fingers in it and began to splash Agnes’ face with the cold water. But when this produced little response, she brought the palm of her hand in short slaps on each side of the pale cheeks, and when Agnes gulped at the air, she cried at her, ‘That’s it! Come on now. Come on,’ and, turning, she said to no-one in particular, ‘Pour out a tot of that whisky.’

  There was a scramble to the table now, and when she was handed the glass, she put one hand behind Agnes’ head and raised it, then put the glass to her lips and commanded, ‘Get that down you. Come on, swalla! Get it down you.’

  As if she had heard her, Agnes swallowed the spirit, only immediately to splutter and choke and cough.

  ‘That’s it. That brings the dead round. Get her on her feet an’ into a chair.’

  Two of the men now hoisted her up, and when she was seated in the chair she slowly opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the great broad face of Betty Felton. In fact she imagined the woman’s body to be filling the room, spreading right across it, blotting out the men behind her. She had never seen such a fat woman; voluptuous was the word that came into her mind. She whispered, ‘I’m…I’m sorry. I…I must have fainted.’

  ‘Aye, well, if you didn’t you made a good stab at it. What’s your name?’

  Agnes drew in a deep breath, then said, ‘I’m Miss Agnes Conway.’

  ‘Aye, you’re Miss Agnes Conway. And where’re you from?’

  ‘I live in Spring Street. We…we have the tobacconist’s and confectioner’s shop there.’ She knew that her voice was slow and her words were spaced. It was as if she were learning to talk.

  Betty Felton now put her head back and looked from one to the other of her four sons and she said, ‘Aye, there’s a confectioner’s an’ baccy shop in that street. Been there for years. Aye, an’ the name is Conway. But what the hell is she doin’ here?’

  ‘Well, you’d better ask her, Ma, hadn’t you? As she says, she knows wor Robbie.’

  ‘Or her sister does,’ put in another one of the men.

  Betty Felton’s tone was a little softer now as she said, ‘Well, lass, come on, tell us what you’re doin’ here and how it’s come about.’

  Agnes pulled herself up straighter in the chair and, looking into the broad face, she said, ‘Your son has been seeing my sister clandestinely.’

  ‘What?’

  A voice behind her said, ‘She means on the quiet, Ma.’

  ‘I know what she means, clever bugger. Go on. Go on,’ and she now stabbed Agnes in the shoulder with a none-too-clean finger. But it was a moment or so before Agnes obeyed and when she did her voice was stiff as she said, ‘And your son has given her a—’ How was she to put it? Should she say ‘a baby’? or, ‘made her pregnant’? or, ‘my sister is with child’? No, no; that sounded too much like the Bible, so she plumped for the simple way and finished, ‘He has given her a baby.’ But now she added quickly, ‘But he…he wants to marry her, and she him.’

  ‘God Almighty!’

  She watched the big woman flop back and onto a chair, then look from one to the other of her silent sons as she said, ‘Did you hear that? Did you just hear that? That young scut has put a fancy piece in the family way. Well, begod! I’ll say this, if he’s done it, he’s done something more than you hulks ’ave ever done; it’s been left to me two lasses to breed. And it was in me thoughts that I bred a bunch of punch-drunk pansies who couldn’t use their heads or, for that matter, any other part of their make-up, ’cept their fists. Well, well, well; an’ so me young Robbie’s gone an’ done it. But what’s this about a hospital?’

  She was bending forward towards Agnes now.

  ‘Aye, what about the hospital?’ It was the biggest son enquiring again. ‘You said he was in hospital.’

  ‘And he is.’ She looked at the man. ‘Apparently his boat came in sooner than expected and docked at Shields, and he came up to the house hoping to see my sister, and he did. And my father found them, and…and they fought. I must tell you, though, that your son could, I am sure, have injured my father, but he didn’t. My father was in a mad rage and’—she now bowed her head—‘he picked up a shovel and threw it. The end caught…well, it caught your son on the side of the head. And so I had to do what I could; I…I got him into the factory and from there we got the ambulance and…and I took him to the Royal Victoria Infirmary.’ The room became quiet until a voice said, ‘She’s tellin’ the truth.’

  The woman turned and looked at the speaker, and there was scorn in her expression, but she said nothing until she turned on Agnes again and said, ‘How bad is he, lass?’

  ‘From…from what I gathered from the nurse it wasn’t as serious as they at first thought. Apparently it is a big cut, but not so deep that it has done any irrevocable damage, at least that’s the impression I got. But I…I think you will find out more when you see him—’ and to this she added, ‘naturally.’

  The big woman got to her
feet now and, looking at her eldest son, she said, ‘I’m goin’ up to get into me things.’ Then, turning to Agnes again, she said, ‘Have you got a cab outside, lass?’

  ‘No, I…I came out without any money. I really had to borrow the fare here.’

  ‘Oh, well, the lads will see you home. You, Willie, go with the young miss here. Oh, there had better be two of you. Arthur, you go along of Willie, because the Pritchards don’t sleep, you know, and in one way or another they’ll get you, or have a damn good try after the last business. And you Mike, and Jimmy, come along o’ me.’

  ‘Will I call a cab, Ma?’

  ‘No, you’ll not call a cab. Would you like to call The Journal and tell them what’s ’appened?’

  ‘No, Ma; I just meant…’

  ‘I know what you meant. An’ you should know that this city ’as got a bigger mouth than any reporter from any newspaper. So use your loaf. And lass’—she now bent over Agnes—‘if that Dad of yours has done me lad any deep damage he’ll pay for it. By God, he will an’ all. But to you…well, you must have stood out against him to do what you’ve done the night so…so far; you ’ave me thanks.’ And on this she turned away; and Agnes got to her feet and not until then did she realise how tired and even sick she was feeling.

  The two men, one called Willie and the other called Arthur, were standing with their caps on, and as she walked towards them the man called Mike, the big one, said to her, ‘Sorry I was rough on you, miss.’

  She looked at him but made no reply; then she went out escorted, one on each side, by the two men, and neither of them spoke to her nor exchanged a word with each other until they were crossing the main road, when seemingly out of nowhere stepped a policeman, and they all came to a halt.

  Looking from one man to the other, he said, ‘Well, hello there.’ Then bending forward, he almost peered into Agnes’ face, enquiring, ‘You all right, miss?’

  ‘Yes, constable; I’m all right.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Perfectly sure, constable, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, she’s sure, constable.’ The last word was stressed and almost on a growl. ‘She happens to be a visitor to wor house an’ me ma sent us to escort her home. Would you like to ’company us?’

  ‘Yes, I could do that an’ all.’

  ‘There’s no need, constable.’ Agnes’ face was placating. ‘I had to take a message to these’—she almost said gentlemen—‘to Mrs Felton about her youngest son; he’s in hospital.’

  ‘Oh, he’s in hospital. Well, that’s no surprise; but it’s been a long time in coming. What d’you say, lads, eh?’

  ‘What I say, constable, is’—and now it was Arthur speaking—‘there’s such a thing as ’arassment, that’s what they’ve told me when I’ve been up afore the old bloke. ’Arassment, he said, and it can come from all quarters, you know. An’ we’ve got a witness…Miss, here. Well, she’s a lady an’ she’ll always speak the truth.’

  ‘On your way.’ The policeman stepped aside; and they went on their way, silent once again.

  When at last they came to the lower end of Spring Street, Agnes stopped and, looking from one to the other, she said, ‘This is where I live; I’ll be all right now. And…and thank you very much for…for accompanying me.’

  ‘Been a pleasure, miss, a pleasure.’

  She recalled now that this was the one who had explained to his mother what ‘clandestinely’ meant, and he, too, was the one who brought in the law when confronted by the policeman. He seemed to know about it; at least, the wrong side of it. Yet, she couldn’t say that she disliked him, or the other one, come to that.

  ‘Goodnight, miss.’

  ‘Goodnight, miss.’

  ‘Goodnight, and thank you again.’

  They turned away and she walked up the street, past the baker’s, past the shoemaker’s, and the hat shop, and she rang the bell that was attached to the wall at the side of the door leading into the sweetshop. This rang in the corridor outside. She rang it twice, she rang it four times, but there was no response.

  She now hurried round the corner and into the yard and there she knocked on the back-staircase door. After the third knocking a light went on in Jessie’s room; then there was the sound of muffled voices. The light went out, but still no-one came downstairs.

  He couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean he wasn’t going to let her in.

  She looked across the yard. She had no means of getting into the end house, as the keys were upstairs. And if she woke Tommy, where could she sleep there? They had only two rooms. And she couldn’t sleep on the floor of the factory with the mice skittering round, and the black beetles everywhere. A great desire to stand and cry descended on her.

  The next minute she was running out of the yard and into the street again and into the shelter of the doorway leading into the hat shop. There was a bell here too, that communicated with the Miss Cardings’ rooms above.

  She was pressing it for dear life now as if she was in a panic, and she kept her finger on it until, through the glass door, she saw the flicker of a candle weaving its way down through the shop. Then a voice said, ‘Who’s there?’

  It was Miss Rene’s voice, and she cried out at her, ‘I can’t get in! He won’t let me in.’

  The door opened. ‘Oh, my dear, you’re shivering! Where’ve you been? It’s midnight. Come in. Come in. Florence’—she turned to where the two sisters were hovering in the background—‘get back upstairs and light the gas; and stir up the fire; it isn’t out, so use the bellows. And you, Belle; you put the kettle on the stove. She needs a hot drink; she’s shivering like a leaf.’

  Upstairs, she put a shawl around Agnes, saying, ‘There you are, dear. Sit down. Sit down. You’ll have a hot drink in a minute.’

  It was too much, too much. Agnes began to cry, quietly at first, then it mounted into sobs, then almost into hysteria and in it she gabbled out incoherently to the three gaping sisters what had transpired from the time she had taken the linen across to the house. She even told them about the nice young man who said he hadn’t seen her for some time. She told them everything, right up to the fact that two of the notorious Felton brothers had actually brought her home to this very street, only to find there was no home to go to.

  Again she was plied with whisky, but this time in hot water and sweetened with brown sugar; she was then led to the sitting-room couch that had been made up as a bed for her. Left alone now, she fell into a troubled sleep and a dream in which her father was decapitating men in the backyard, and one of them was the nice young man whose name she didn’t know nor from where he came. And the dream took her into hospital where the nice young man was lying in bed with his head bandaged and she was holding his hand; and the dream brought a little comfort to the events of a night that was to be the turning point in her life.

  Three

  It was a week later and Agnes was in the state of not knowing if she could put up with this present situation even one day longer. On the day following the night she had spent with the gentle sisters, her father had stormed in and demanded that she return home, and she had replied, ‘What! After being locked out in the dead of night?’ And she had asked him what would have happened to her if she had not had these good friends who had come to her aid and given her shelter, and when, in the form of an excuse, his answer had been: didn’t she realise that he was distracted, she had come back with: didn’t he realise he had almost killed a man, that he was lucky he wasn’t in gaol now answering a charge of murder? But he was in no way repentant, for he had parried this by saying he wished he had killed him and if he ever came across him again he would make another attempt.

  When she told him she had no intention of coming back and working for him, that her mind was made up and she would be staying with the Miss Cardings until she found other employment, he had become almost pathetic in his pleading: he couldn’t do without her. Her mother was in a state. As for that other one, which was how he now alluded to the daughter he had alw
ays doted on, she was in her room and there she would stay until she saw sense.

  It was this latter statement that had got Agnes back into the house, because she could see her sister, in her present state devoid of any common sense, doing something drastic.

  And when later that day she did return she found that her mother, worn out with upbraiding the daughter who had disgraced her, had taken to her bed. As for Jessie herself, she had held her in her arms and reassured her that her Robbie would be all right, even though, from the scanty information given her by the nurse, she couldn’t know for sure if he would be.

  When by the third day her father had still not allowed Jessie out of her room, and Agnes confronted him, saying he couldn’t keep her incarcerated forever, and that if he didn’t let her out then she was leaving, and that she meant it, he had gone along to his younger daughter’s room, taking with him a Bible, on which he made her swear that if he gave her the freedom of the house she would not attempt to leave it. Jessie swore on it, and he left, leaving her door open. But immediately Jessie said to Agnes, ‘I’m going at the first opportunity, Bible or no Bible.’

  ‘Listen here, girl.’ Agnes had pushed her onto the bed. ‘That young fellow’s still in hospital. I don’t know how bad he really is; I only know it will be some time before he’ll be able to come out and take you away and, what is more, work for you. So where would you go? You couldn’t go to his people. I’ve been; I’ve seen them. His mother is a big, fat, raucous woman. She has four great big sons. They too are raucous, and they are known to the police. Even at night the policeman recognised the two who brought me home. And one brother is very conversant, I should imagine, with the inside of a courtroom, from what passed between him and the policeman. Anyway, it’s only a small house; where would you go? Now, what you’ve got to do is to be wily. Bide your time. I will try to go to the hospital tomorrow and find out how Robbie is. I can see now he is extremely fond of you. And if you’re determined to have him, then you must be married. That’s got to be thought out. And after that, wherever you go it must be far away because, as Father said, he missed killing him this time, but he won’t the next. And you know something I’ve discovered? Father has a gun. He might have had it for some long time, I don’t know, but I came across it in a drawer in the small bedroom when I was putting his clean linen away. It’s a pistol and it’s in a case. Now let that give you an idea how serious things are. Stay here. Stay up in the house. Don’t venture down into the shop. It’s a good job that Nan has been off with her bad leg these past two weeks.’