The Invisible Cord Read online

  She thought she would remember last Saturday for the rest of her life. She had felt so proud to be seen with him for he was no boy, or lad, he was a man. He looked like a man, he talked like a man, and he acted like a man, not like the sixth-formers who used to follow them home from school. Well, they hadn’t followed her. She wondered now why she had been so silly as to pray that one of them would. But last Saturday she had been out with a man. They had browsed around the bookshops, they had gone through the museum, then they’d had tea. He hadn’t suggested taking her to a show, but she felt sure he would have if it hadn’t been so soon after her dad’s death.

  She felt guilty about being happy and it being only a month since the funeral, but she couldn’t help it. It was strange, but, in a way, it was because her dad had died that Alan and she had become so close. And they were close, weren’t they? She asked the question of herself in the mirror, and it was some time before she answered, saying, ‘Yes, because we think alike about so many things, and we get on well together.’ He laughed at the things she said. He thought she was very witty, and she could be witty when she was with him. Her mind worked overtime when they were together; he stimulated her. When she was with him she forgot that she was utterly plain for in his company she took on a personality, a vivacity that made her bubble and brought her alive.

  She knew that her mother was all for the association. For one thing, if she married Alan it would get her out of the house and away from Rance, and that is what her mother wanted more than anything. The fact that she’d be out of the house for months on end when she went to training college wasn’t the same thing; this would still be her home, she’d still come back.

  Oh, to be married, to be married to Alan; to have a man of your own, someone who belonged to you, loved you. She had never thought anybody would love her, not the way she looked. Why was it, when her mam was so good looking she should be so plain?…Why? And their Kathy beautiful, and Bill good looking an’ all. It wasn’t natural, to say the least. And what was more, it was unfair. And then there was their Rance, looking like a plaster saint, whereas he was a devil. But Alan didn’t care how she looked; he liked her for what she was. Oh she wished he were coming today. He had been two weekends in the last month. She wondered if her mother would suggest him living here when he came to take up his new post; he could always travel up to Newcastle. She would put it to her.

  She went to the wardrobe and took out a dress. Although she wasn’t in black all her clothes seemed dark and dingy. She’d like something bright, gay; but it was too early she supposed. Yet why not? Her dad would have said, ‘Go ahead and don’t be a bloody hypocrite.’

  She went downstairs and found Annie lying on the couch in the front room. Going to her, she said, ‘You all right, Mam?’

  ‘Yes, yes, Tishy, only I’m so tired. I suppose it’s not being able to sleep.’

  ‘Are you taking the pills the doctor gave you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m taking them.’

  ‘What about the sleeping pills?’

  ‘I’m not taking those; they make me feel terrible the next day. I don’t want to get used to sleeping pills.’

  ‘Mam.’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  ‘Would…would it seem awful if I went out and bought a new frock?’

  ‘Bought a new frock? No, lass, no. Why should it? Your dad used to say buy something cheery, bright, you remember? But you never did. Get yourself away, lass, and buy something cheery.’

  ‘It…it won’t seem disrespectful?’

  ‘Who to?’ She lifted her hand heavily and touched Tishy’s arm; then patting it, she said, ‘Go on, make yourself bonny.’

  A cynical expression swept over Tishy’s face as she said, ‘Aw, Mam, don’t ask the impossible.’

  ‘Now, now, stop that. You’ve never looked better than you have these past few weeks. Get something warm looking, with a pink tinge in it, eh? Have you enough cash?’

  ‘Yes, yes; I’ve never spent anything for months.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘You’re sure you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m all right, lass.’

  They smiled at each other; then Tishy went out, and Annie, letting her head sink back into the cushions, thought, All right? I don’t think I’ll ever feel all right in my life again.

  The feeling that was weighing on her wasn’t, she considered, natural. Sorrow was one thing but she felt she was carrying a load that was becoming unbearable, and if it didn’t soon drop from her then she would die. She had thought, quite often during the past few weeks, that she could quite easily die. The feeling wasn’t only sorrow at Georgie’s going, or at the crime her son had committed, it was more of a weakness, the sapping of her strength caused not a little by the stratagems she’d had to use when dealing with the doctor, and the police, and not forgetting Tishy. In the days between that dreadful night and the funeral she had marshalled and manoeuvred people like a general with an army. Looking back, she didn’t know how she had accomplished it. The only one to whom she hadn’t to lie to convince or coerce had been Alan.

  Strange, she thought now, how he had to come into their lives on that particular night. It was, as she had said before, God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform, and although Georgie’s death hadn’t brought him to the house, the circumstances around it had certainly brought him and Tishy close together.

  Tishy put her head round the door, saying, ‘I’m off then, Mam. Sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes, lass, I’m all right. Don’t forget a nice colour, something warm looking.’

  ‘All right, Mam. Bye-bye.’

  ‘Bye-bye, dear.’

  She had the house to herself. At one time it had been nice to have the house to herself, but now it was as if there were never anyone in it; even when the four of them were sleeping upstairs it was still empty. Although she had come to love Georgie in a peculiar sort of way she hadn’t realised just how he had filled her life until he had gone from it. Seeing him off in the morning and waiting for him coming in at night had been but a habit, part of a pattern, but in bed, lying by his side and being loved by him, and being told in his own rough way that she was a wonderful lass and that he’d be nothing without her, that hadn’t been a habit, or part of a pattern; that had been something special which made her realise that it was only she who knew the real Georgie, the man beneath the bluster, the man alive to his own inadequacies, the man who knew that his only defence was to bellow and curse. Oh, she missed him. Oh, how she missed him.

  Her eyes closed, then opened slowly again as she heard a car draw up outside. It wasn’t their car, she knew the sound of their car. Somebody after Kathy she supposed. She waited for the front doorbell to ring, but it didn’t. She imagined she heard footsteps going up the side path towards the back door. As she heard the back door open she thought it must be Rance. But it hadn’t sounded like their car. When the voice from the hall said, ‘Anybody at home?’ she pulled herself up onto her elbow, saying, ‘Oh, in here, Alan, in here.’

  She was lifting her feet slowly from the couch when he entered the room.

  ‘You’re not well?’

  ‘Just tired, Alan. I didn’t expect you. Tishy’s just gone out shopping. Sit yourself down; I’ll get you a cup of…’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort. You were resting, so go on resting.’ He bent down swiftly and with one hand lifted her feet onto the couch again while with the other he pressed her back into the cushions.

  ‘I’ll make the tea; I can manage that, I think.’ He smiled at her.

  ‘Take your things off.’

  ‘I will in a minute.’ He pulled up a chair towards the couch and sat down, saying, ‘Have you seen the doctor?’

  ‘Yes, yes; I was there on Wednesday. He just said to rest.’

  ‘You don’t feel well, do you?’

  ‘No, Alan, I don’t feel well, but strangely I couldn’t describe just how I feel, it’s as if there were a gathering in here, you
know—’ she patted her breast—‘like an enormous boil coming to a head. But…but enough about me. How’s things with you?’

  ‘Oh, moving.’ His voice sounded flat, and when he stopped and stared at her, she said, ‘We didn’t expect you.’

  ‘I know, but…but I thought I’d better come…There was something…’

  ‘Oh.’ She waited, and after a moment he said, ‘It’s rather difficult…It’s been a strange month, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Very strange, Alan.’

  ‘I…I feel I’ve known you for years, never stopped knowing you.’

  ‘It’s the same with me, Alan; there seems to have been no break.’

  ‘That’s it, no break. I…I was saying something similar to Uncle Arthur. I went over the other day and told him; he…he didn’t know about Georgie.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘He…he was very upset.’

  ‘You…you didn’t tell him the facts?’

  ‘Oh God no. You didn’t expect me to, did you?’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘He…he was very fond of Georgie, you know that.’

  ‘Yes.’ She lowered her eyes and looked to where her hands were lying limply one on top of the other on her stomach.

  ‘He cried.’

  ‘Arthur?’

  ‘Yes, he cried like a child. It upset me.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose it would.’

  ‘I’m very sorry for Uncle. He’s been cast out by some of the family, and to the others he’s just a joke.’

  ‘Why?’ She wished she hadn’t asked that, it was asking the road she knew. She saw him hesitate about giving her the answer; he was looking away from her as he said, ‘Perhaps you didn’t know, but that’s why his marriage failed, he’s a homosexual.’

  There, that was the word, the word that had been buried for all these years. She was going to be sick. You could say odd, funny, pansy, you could say they wore drag, painted their faces, used scent, and went to bed in nighties, it didn’t seem to matter until you put that word to them…And what had he said just a minute ago, that Arthur had cried because he’d heard Georgie had died. He must think that Georgie…She was sitting up straight now, her voice cracking as she cried, ‘Georgie wasn’t like that. He wasn’t, he wasn’t.’

  ‘No, I know.’

  ‘Then why did you say Arthur cried; that’s inferring that…’

  ‘No, no, Annie, no, no. Listen—’ he caught hold of her hands—‘listen to me. He was telling me that Georgie was the only real friend he’d had. From what I can gather Georgie became friendly with him before he knew anything about that, but when he found out it made no difference to him. But it made a lot of difference to Uncle because at last he had found someone who didn’t treat him as an oddity. He knew from the beginning that Georgie would have no hanky-panky, but as I see it he used Georgie as a sort of alibi, a sane clean alibi, if you know what I mean, to hold up to his folks, and others. If people saw he had a friend like Georgie, well they wouldn’t think there was any hanky-panky. That’s how I see it.’

  The lump was moving from her breast up into her throat and when she tried to get words out it halted them. ‘Georgie…Georgie, he was…he was a…good man; there was nothing like that…about him.’ The lump was choking her, she couldn’t bear it. She put her spread hands over her face and when his voice came to her, murmuring softly, ‘Oh, Annie, Annie, I’m sorry. Oh, Annie,’ and his arms came about her, the lump burst. The tears spurted from her eyes and her nose, the saliva ran out of her mouth as if an explosion had taken place inside her. Her crying rose like wailing notes on a scale, and when they reached a crescendo she thrust her face into his breast and, as if he were talking to a child, he whispered softly, ‘There now, there now. It’s all right, it’s all right. That’s it, cry it out. This is what you need. Cry it out.’

  When she had cried it out and her sobs were subsiding she raised her head and looked at him. She was still lying on the couch but he was sitting at the head of it and the upper half of her was in his arms. When she felt his fingers stroke her wet hair away from her brow she shivered.

  ‘Feel better now?’ he said, his voice still a whisper, and she made a slight movement with her head before saying, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh my dear, what is there to be sorry for? You should have done this that first night, you would have felt much better by now. You’ve been storing it up.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She had a strange feeling, as if her body had been drained of all its blood. She felt weak and empty, but at peace now. He was right, it would have been much better if she could have cried at the beginning. She knew she should get up, she shouldn’t be here, it wasn’t right lying like this in this young fellow’s arms. What was she thinking about?

  She was on the point of putting her hand out to make a move when the door opened and Tishy entered, and as she looked into her daughter’s face across the distance she wanted to die, really die.

  As she struggled upwards away from Alan’s slackening hold, she muttered, ‘I…I collapsed. I’ve…I’ve had a good cry, and Alan…he came unexpected.’

  She was on her feet now. Alan, too, was standing.

  ‘Did you get your dress, lass?’

  Tishy didn’t speak. She looked from her mother to Alan and waited.

  And Alan looked back at her for a moment before stretching his neck up from his collar. Then he began on a slightly hesitant note, saying, ‘I…I know I wasn’t expected, but I have something to tell you, to tell you both.’ He turned his gaze to Annie for a moment. ‘I thought, well I’d put it off long enough, but…but under the circumstances over these past weeks I didn’t think you’d be interested in my business. But…but I think the time has come when I’d better tell you. You see, I’m…I’m going to be married.’

  Tishy hadn’t moved, nor had the expression on her face altered, but Annie sat down in a chair and stared up at him, her face still wet and her mouth agape. She stared at him as he went on in an apologetic tone, ‘I…I would have told you that first evening if it hadn’t been, well, for what happened. And then…well, you were so distressed. Following that I…’

  His voice was cut off by Tishy holding up a paper bag and saying on a high note, ‘I got the dress, Mam. It’s pink. Get it bright you said, it’s all pink.’ She wagged the bag at arm’s length before her, then turned round and went out.

  Annie rose slowly to her feet and looked at Alan, and, her voice low and trembling, she said, ‘You shouldn’t have done this, Alan; it…it was cruel. You…you could see how things were going with her.’

  ‘No, no, Annie, I didn’t, not really. And she’s so young, still at school…’

  ‘She’s in love with you.’

  ‘Oh no! No. She hasn’t had time, it’s only a month.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. What time does it take for a young lass to fall in love?’

  ‘Not long, I suppose.’ His voice was grim now. ‘Nor that long to fall out of it again. I tell you it didn’t strike me.’

  ‘Oh, Alan.’

  They stood staring at each other. His face was red and his Adam’s apple jerked violently before he said, under his breath, ‘If I were to fall in love with anyone here it certainly wouldn’t be with Tishy, Annie. Don’t you understand it wouldn’t be with Tishy?’

  She didn’t move but she dropped her head backwards on her shoulders as if to see him better.

  ‘I’ve been engaged for three years and the longer it goes on the less I want it. But everything’s arranged. She’s the granddaughter of Grandma’s friend. Friends of the family.’ His tone was bitter again. ‘Annie.’ He leant swiftly forward and gripped her hands. ‘It may seem mad to you, but not to me. If you would say the word, tell me that, if I waited a year, any time, then you would…’

  ‘Shut up!’ She jerked her hands from his and, putting one to her throat, she stroked her finger and thumb down each side of her neck as if to slacken the muscles. Then she muttered under her breath, ‘You’d b
etter go, Alan, and now.’

  ‘Annie.’

  ‘Please, that’s enough. I’m fourteen years older than you, I’m nearing forty. Even the suggestion is indecent, not forgetting that my husband is hardly cold in his grave yet. Now go on, get yourself out, and I’m…I’m sorry to have to say this, Alan, but, but don’t come back…’

  Not until she heard his car start up did she move. Slowly she sat down on the couch. Her hand outstretched gripping the rounded side of it, she stared before her, not thinking of Tishy upstairs, likely crying her heart out, nor yet of Georgie, whom an hour ago she had been missing so much, but she thought of the young girl she had once been and the dreams she’d had then, and she imagined that if such a man as Alan had come into her life at that time she wouldn’t have had to bury her dreams. But they had been buried when she married Georgie and were now in the grave with him.

  Alan had been born much too late.

  PART FIVE

  TISHY

  One

  ‘Stand still, will you, Kathy.’

  ‘Oh, Mam, I told her it was too long; I said I didn’t want it covering my toes.’

  ‘It’s not covering your toes. Don’t forget you had high heels on when she measured you, and also when she fitted you. Why didn’t you tell her that you intended to wear flat? But stand still, it only needs a little tacking up into the ruche, it’ll never be noticed.’

  ‘It’ll make the hem uneven.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Kathy. It’s supposed to be uneven, isn’t it, scalloped.’

  ‘Yes, but it’ll hang down more on one side than the other.’

  Annie got up from her knees and surveyed her daughter standing in her wedding dress. ‘Well then,’ she said, ‘pull it up the other side and you’ll create a new fashion.’

  ‘Mam! Mam, don’t joke.’

  ‘What do you expect me to do, girl, cry? Aw, come on.’ Annie put out her hand and tapped her daughter’s cheek. ‘You look as if you were preparing for your funeral instead of your wedding.’