The Year of the Virgins Read online

  Four

  The Mass was nearing its end. The Missal was moved from one side of the altar to the other. The priest covered the chalice and genuflected before the tabernacle before being preceded from the altar by two small altar boys. It was eight o’clock Mass and there were no more than twelve people present and they were regulars, all except one.

  After Father Ramshaw had taken off his surplice he didn’t as usual go through the side door into the yard and across the lawn that led to the presbytery and his breakfast—he was always ready for his breakfast—but instead went back into the church, knowing there would be one of the congregation still seated.

  At a pew near the back of the church he sat down beside Daniel, muttering, ‘If you’d got any further, you’d have been out of the door. How are you? You look awful.’

  ‘I feel awful, Father.’

  ‘What’s happened now?’

  ‘Winifred went off her head last night, clean off her head. She found out…’ He paused.

  ‘Well, what did she find out?’

  ‘That Annette is pregnant.’ He paused again, then said, ‘She’s going to have a baby.’

  ‘Yes, I understand; there’s no need to spell it out for me. Only one thing surprises me and that is she took so long to twig Annette’s condition. What happened to her?’

  Daniel looked towards the altar. ‘She wouldn’t accept it, that it was Don’s. She pushed the blame on Joe and went for him. And when we got her upstairs screaming, we had to lock her in her room where she smashed up everything movable. She was taken to the County.’

  ‘Oh dear God! The County. I’m heart sorry to hear that it’s come to this. Although it’s no surprise. But God help her when she comes to herself in that hell-hole. I’m telling you, I hate to visit there. It isn’t the real mad ones I’m sorry for. Oh no. They’re happy in a way being Churchill or Chiang Kai-Shek or merely one of today’s television so-called stars. No; it’s the ones that have snapped temporarily through breakdowns and the like, because they are conscious of what’s happening to them. And she’ll be in that category.’

  Father Ramshaw now put his hand onto the back of the seat in front of him as if for support; then, narrowing his eyes, he asked of Daniel, ‘Is it guilt that’s brought you here this morning?’

  ‘Why…why should I feel guilty? You know what my life’s been like. You…’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know all right. But you’re not free from blame. And ask yourself what’s brought you to Mass this morning when, to my knowledge, you’ve never been to weekday Mass in your whole existence. Yes, Daniel, you’ve got to share the blame, it’s not all hers. In a way we’re all accountable for another’s sins. More so are we accountable for our thoughts, for they prompt our speech. And do we ever say anything, I ask you, that doesn’t have a reaction on something or someone? All right, all right, we don’t do it in all cases with the intention of bringing disaster in its train. But look at you, look at yourself, Daniel. You wanted to free your son from his mother’s apron strings, and what happens? Yes, I know I’m laying it on thick, and at this time too when you feel you need sympathy. But I want you to realise that you are not free from blame.’

  Daniel stared at the priest. He had come here to find comfort. He’d not returned home from the hospital until almost two this morning and he hadn’t been able to sleep. He had glimpsed only one ward in that place but the sight and sounds were haunting him. He had said to the doctor, ‘Isn’t there any private place she could go?’ And he had replied, ‘Not in her present condition. And there’s none such around here.’ And now for his dear friend here to take this attitude! His voice was stiff as he said, ‘You seem of a sudden to be siding with her, Father.’

  ‘I’m on nobody’s side, Daniel. As always, I’m on the touchline, running meself skinny, asking the referee to see fair play done. But I’ve got to catch His eye, as it were, for most of the time He’s under the impression, like many another, that’s it’s up to me, so He doesn’t look the side I’m on. I’m an ordinary man, Daniel. I’m not one of God’s chosen and I’ve no aspiration to be, and I don’t see the world divided into saints and sinners; there’s always a lot of grey in the middle.’

  Daniel remained silent. He had never known the priest’s parables to irritate him before. But now he was finding that this outlook of a middle man was anything but helpful, particularly this morning when he was feeling desperate.

  ‘I won’t keep you, Father,’ he said; ‘you’ll be wanting your breakfast.’

  As he made to rise the priest’s hand pushed him none too gently back onto the seat while he said, ‘Me breakfast can wait for once, and I wouldn’t be able to stomach it if I knew you were going off in a huff. Look—’ He leaned towards him and, his hand now on Daniel’s shoulder, he said, ‘I know what you’ve been through all these years. I’ve even condoned in me own mind your antidote against her, when I should have been condemning you for your rampaging with women. I’ve thought many a time, as I’ve listened to her ranting on about her son and God and goodness, that in your place I would have done the same, God forgive me. But Daniel, I’m sorry for any human being who has to shoulder the burden of an unnatural love like she has. She couldn’t help it no more than those two youngsters could help giving in to nature. If you want to know, I’m on your side, but at the same time, as I said before, we’re all accountable for another’s sins. And you can’t come into church here and make your confession, talking to God through me or anyone else and think, that’s that, the slate’s clean. It isn’t. You know’—his tone lightened—‘that’s what Protestants think we do. They think you just have to go to confession, tell the priest you’ve committed murder and he says, “Oh, you’ve committed a murder? Well, it’s all right. I’ll have a crack with God about it, and he’ll wipe your slate clean. Carry on.” That’s extreme, I know, but it applies to drunkenness, whoring, and coming in here to Mass on a Sunday while refusing to speak to your neighbour or relative or some such. Anyway—’ He now patted Daniel on the shoulder, saying, ‘Everything in this life must be paid for in one way or another. But I’m with you, Daniel, all along the road. Just remember that. Now get yourself home and I would suggest that you have a bath, for you don’t look your usual spruce self this morning. Eat a good breakfast, then get off to work. Yes, that’s it, work, there’s nothing like it.’

  They were back on their old footing. And the priest took Daniel’s outstretched hand, then he walked with him to the door; and there he shivered, saying, ‘By! It’s cold enough to freeze the bacon in the frying pan. We’ll surely have snow for Christmas. I’ll tell you something, I hate snow. Mind how you go; the roads are like glass.’

  Odd, people were always saying that: mind how you go, the roads are like glass. It was like a warning against life.

  ‘Goodbye, Father, and thank you.’

  ‘Goodbye, Daniel.’

  Lily and Peggie were clearing up the debris of the b edroom, and Peggie, holding the cut-glass powder bowl in her hands, said, ‘My God! She did go at it.’ And to this Lily said, ‘Her brain must have completely turned. It was the shock of finding out.’

  ‘Oh, to my mind her brain was turned a long time afore that. Anyway, she must have been blind not to notice. And Miss Annette being sick an’ all and lookin’ like a sheet most of the time. But wait till it gets around; it’ll set the church on fire.’…

  Standing in the greenhouse, John Dixon and Bill White were discussing the events.

  ‘We hadn’t gone to bed,’ Bill said, ‘when we heard her. I didn’t like to go up because I thought it was an ordinary shindy they were havin’. But when the ambulance came, well, I ran up then, and I couldn’t believe it. There she was on a stretcher. I thought they were taking her to hospital, but no, it was the County. My God! To end up there. But in a way I’m not surprised, for she’s been a tartar both inside and outside the house for years. Oh, the airs she used to put on when she was in the car. D’you know what she suggested just a while ago? That I should we
ar a uniform. I put it to the boss and he said, “You don’t want to wear a uniform, do you, Bill?” And I said, “No fear, boss.” “Well, you’re not going to then,” he said. And that was that. By, he’s had a life of it! I would have done her in afore now if I’d been him.’

  ‘Oh, he’s seen to it that he’s had his compensations.’

  ‘Who’s to blame him? Not me. Anyway, things will be quiet now for a bit, I hope.’

  ‘Quiet for a bit, you say. Wait till it gets round about the youngsters. My God! If it had happened only one day after the wedding they would have been in the clear. I wonder how her people will take it? Now, there’s a pair for you. Have you ever seen a fellow like her father? He stands there, doesn’t say a word, but just looks. Ah well, let’s get on; there’s wood to chop. We’d better get a stock in afore the snow comes, because I can smell it; it’s in the air.’

  Nurse Pringle had just left the room after saying, No, no; she wasn’t surprised at what had happened last night. It took a lot to surprise her. And almost before the door had closed, Don said to Annette, ‘She’s a cool customer.’

  ‘She has to be.’

  ‘Are you all right? You look white.’

  ‘Of course I’m all right. Don’t you worry about me, please.’

  ‘Who else have I to worry about?’ He stroked the hand he was holding and, looking at it, he said, ‘Strange, but that scene last night, it’s just as if I’d had a nightmare, that it wasn’t real. But then, it’s not even like a nightmare, because I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I should be feeling terribly sorry for her, but I can’t; I’m just glad that I won’t see her face coming in that door. It’s dreadful, isn’t it?’ He looked up into Annette’s face. ‘It’s unnatural in a way. Yet nothing about our association has been natural.’ He let his head fall back onto the pillow, saying, ‘Strange but it’s the first morning I can remember that I haven’t had any pain. I feel as if—’ he smiled wryly, before adding, ‘I could get up and walk.’

  ‘That’s good. That’s a good sign.’

  ‘How long do you think they’ll keep her there?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Dad will be going today. He’ll find out more. I should think it will be some long time; she needs treatment.’

  Oh yes, Annette thought, she hoped it would be some long time. Enough time to let her baby be born and for her to be strong enough to insist that she take Don to their own home, because she knew that the case put forward both by Daniel and Joe, that it was necessary for Don to stay here so that they would be on hand to help, was only part of their strategy; she knew it was also because they didn’t want to lose touch with him. As long as he was here the family, as it were, was still together.

  She felt knowledgeable about things and people now. Four months ago such thoughts would never have entered her head. Yet from the moment she woke up after the accident she had felt so much older, as if it had made her into a mature woman. But then, hadn’t she been made into a woman months before that, as Don had yelled at his mother; a whole year before that? She recalled the time they had first come together. It was the day on which they had escaped her mother’s vigilance, and had supposedly gone to the pictures. If only her mother had known that day what had happened, she too would have gone insane.

  Oh dear me! She still had that journey before her and that inevitable scene.

  She said now to Don, ‘Look, dear, you know what I’ve got to do this morning.’

  He screwed up his face for a moment, then said dolefully, ‘Oh, yes, yes. It isn’t fair that you’ve got to stand this on your own. I should be there. I should. I should…’

  ‘Now don’t get yourself agitated. If I know anything it’ll be over before it’s hardly begun. That’ll be that. And it’s not going to worry me.’

  ‘You’re sure? Because, after all, they’re…’

  ‘Don’t say it: my parents. We’ve discussed this, haven’t we?’ She bent over him and kissed him; then smiling down into his face, she said, ‘Do you remember the day that I told you what I thought of my parents and you nearly choked yourself laughing? And I felt dreadful at saying the things I did. But the tears were running down your face, remember? And then you told me about your mother. I’d always known that she smothered you, more than mothered you, but at the time you made it sound so funny, and we clung to each other laughing. Remember?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ He traced his fingers now around her face, and there was a break in his voice as he asked, ‘Why had this to happen to us?’

  She did not immediately answer him; but then she said, ‘I’ve asked that every day for weeks.’

  The muscles of his face tightening now, he asked the dreaded question: ‘And you have told yourself, “He’ll never be able to love me again”?’

  ‘No, no’—her voice was firm as she pulled herself upright—‘because you do love me and I you…even without that.’

  ‘Oh, Annette’—again he put his hand out to her—‘don’t delude yourself. It’s all part of the process.’

  ‘Well, we’ve had a good share of the process, haven’t we?’ There was a break in her voice now. ‘Just think of that. I’m carrying the results of the process, aren’t I?’ She patted her stomach and, forcing back the tears, she brought laughter into her voice as she said, ‘And tonight I’m getting into that bed with you, so move over, Don Coulson.’ Then giving his face a light slap, she turned swiftly away, saying, ‘I’m going to get ready.’…

  Half an hour later she got into the car. It would be less than a five-minute run to her old home, and she knew exactly where she’d find her parents when she reached there at about ten o’clock. Her father would be in his study, going over the previous day’s reports from their shops: four grocery and three greengrocery establishments, as well as an antique shop in the upper quarter of the town, and a junk shop near the market. At half past ten he would leave the house and do spot checks on the establishments, varying his time of arrival so as to catch out someone, as he saw it, not doing his duty. It was said that he had the quickest turnover of staff in the town: misdemeanours, however small, were not tolerated under his management.

  Her mother would have already been in the kitchen and given Polly orders for the meals of the day. She would have examined the larder and the refrigerator. She would have checked the stores in the cupboard. And it being Thursday, and with the Catholic Ladies’ Guild meeting being held in the afternoon in the drawing room, she would likely have given Janie and Sarah their weekly admonishment as to their duties—she still insisted on their wearing frilly caps and aprons after lunch. She had often wondered how Janie had reigned so long in the house, because she hated wearing them. She had watched her snap one from her head and throw it on the kitchen floor, then pick it up and, laughing, say, ‘You won’t split, will you, miss, will you?’ And she could hear Polly saying, ‘She won’t split, else she won’t get a jam tart at eleven.’ There had been no eating between meals in her home.

  It was Sarah who opened the door to her. ‘Oh, hello, miss,’ she said. ‘But isn’t it cold? Freeze the drops in your nose, this would. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine, Sarah. How are you?’

  ‘Oh, you know, miss; you know me, waiting for that rich man to come along and sweep me off my feet.’

  It was her usual remark, and Annette said, ‘Well, if I meet him on the road back, I’ll tell him to hurry up.’ This was their usual banter. Sarah, Polly and Janie and their predecessors were the only light relief she had found in this house.

  ‘Where’s Mother?’

  ‘Oh, in her rest room, miss; you know.’

  ‘Polly all right…and Janie?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Sarah’s voice was subdued now. ‘Nice if you could pop in afore you go.’

  ‘I’ll try, but I doubt it will be this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sarah’s mouth was pursed…which said a lot for her understanding of the situation in the house.

  For such an imposing house it lacked a hall; in its place was a
very broad and long corridor, at the end of which was a similar but shorter one. She turned into it and knocked on the first door. It was several seconds before a voice called, ‘Come in.’

  She entered the room that had always appeared to her to be partly a chapel, for in one corner stood a small altar, in the centre of which was a crucifix flanked on one side by the figure of Mary and on the other by the figure of Joseph, and to the right of it, attached to the wall, a glass holy-water font. In front of the altar was a padded knee-stool from which she knew her mother had just risen.

  ‘Hello, dear.’

  ‘Hello, Mother.’

  ‘You’re visiting early.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose I am.’

  ‘How is Don?’

  ‘Much the same…Mother?’

  ‘Yes, my dear?’

  ‘I have something to tell you. Sit down.’

  Mrs Allison stared at her daughter. She wasn’t used to being told to sit down, at least not by this child of hers. She sat down, but noted that her daughter didn’t. And now she said, ‘Well, I’m sitting down, so what have you to tell me?’

  ‘Mother-in-law was taken to the County Asylum last night.’

  ‘What!’ Mrs Allison half rose from the chair, then subsided again, to sit breathing heavily for a while before saying, ‘Well, it’s really not surprising, Winifred has always been very highly strung. But what brought this about? Some kind of fracas?’

  ‘Yes, you could say that.’

  Her mother stared at her and her mouth opened and closed twice before she said, ‘Concerning you?’

  ‘Definitely concerning me…You see, Mother, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. But then, of course, I’ve been wearing loose dresses and coats. And you’ve very rarely looked at me, have you, not properly?’