The Year of the Virgins Read online

  ‘Well, not ’til you tell me.’

  Daniel now turned from the window, walked to the couch and dropped down onto it. Then, bending forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and, staring at the polished parquet floor, he said, ‘She’s demanding that I ask Don if he’s still a virgin.’

  There being no comment forthcoming from Joe, Daniel turned his head to look up at him, saying, ‘Well, what do you say to that?’

  Joe shook his head as he said, ‘What can I say? Nothing, except to ask what you think she would do if you came back and gave her the answer that he wasn’t.’

  ‘What would she do? I just don’t know; me mind boggles. She’d go to some extreme, that’s sure, even perhaps try to stop the wedding, saying he wasn’t fit to marry a pure girl like Annie, or Annette, as her mother insists on calling her. These people! Or she’d try to yank him along to Father Cody. Oh no, not Father Ramshaw; no, he’d likely laugh in her face, but hellfire Cody would likely call up St John the Baptist to come and wash her son clean.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ Joe now covered his mouth with one hand, saying, ‘That’s funny, you know.’

  ‘Lad, I can see nothing funny in anything I say or do these days. To tell the truth, and I can only talk about it to you and one other, I’m at the end of me tether. I’ve left her twice, as you know, but she’s hauled me back through pity and duty, but when I go this time, all her tears and suicide threats and for the sake of the children…Children!’ He pointed at Joe. ‘Look at you. You were twenty years old when she last named you among the children. That was five years ago and she still had her child with her, because she still considered Don, at sixteen, to be a child. It’s a wonder he’s turned out the decent fellow he is, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes; yes, I suppose so, Dad. And he is a decent fellow. But…have you thought, if you were to go, what would happen to Stephen, because there’s someone who is a child for life. You faced up to this a long time ago. And you couldn’t expect Maggie to take him on if there was no other support. And if you went, you know what Mam would do with him; what she’s threatened many times.’

  Abruptly, Daniel thrust himself up from the couch, his shoulders hunched, saying, ‘Don’t go on. Don’t go on, Joe. Stephen will never go into a home; I’ll see to that. But one thing I do know: I can’t stand much more of this.’ And moving his feet apart and stretching his arms wide, he said, ‘Look at it! A bloody great room like this, full of books that nobody apart from you bothers to read. All show. Twenty-eight rooms, not counting your original prehistoric annexe. Stables for eight horses; not even a damned dog in them. She doesn’t like dogs, just cats. Six acres of land and a lodge. And for what? To keep five people employed, one for each of us. I’ve lived in this house for fifteen years but it’s seventeen years since I bought it, and I bought it only because it was going dead cheap. A time bomb had gone off close by, and the soldiers had occupied it, and so the owners were glad to get rid of it. Funny, that. They could trace their ancestors back two hundred years, but they were quite willing to sell it to a taggerine man who had made money out of old scrap that was helping to kill men.’ He nodded. ‘That’s how I always looked at it, because when my Dad and old Jane Broderick were blown up together in the works towards the end of the war, I thought it was a sort of retribution. And yet it’s strange, you know, for even though it was going cheap, when I saw it I knew I had to have it. I can’t blame your mother for that, for like me she jumped at it and then took a delight in spending a fortune furnishing it; and wherever she got it from, I don’t know, but that’s one thing that can be said for her; she had taste in furnishings. But it’s funny, you know, lad, this place doesn’t like me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Joe now pushed Daniel on the shoulder with his fist, saying, ‘Come on, come on, don’t be fanciful.’

  ‘It doesn’t. I have feelings about things like this. It doesn’t. I’m an intruder. We are all intruders. The war was supposed to level us all out. Huh…! But these old places, like some of the old diehard county types, keep you in your place, and mine isn’t here.’

  For the first time a smile came onto his face and he turned and looked towards the window again, saying, ‘Remember our first real house, the one at the bottom of Brampton Hill? It was a lovely place, that; cosy, a real home, with a lovely garden that you didn’t get lost in. Do you remember it?’ He turned to Joe who, nodding, said, ‘Oh yes, yes, very well.’

  ‘Yet you like this house?’

  ‘Yes, I like it. I’ve always liked it, although when I was young, the “cill” part of it, Wearcill House, always puzzled me. Yes, I’ve always liked it, but at the same time I know what you mean. There’s one thing I must point out to you, Dad: you’re lucky, you know, that it takes only five people to run the house, and that’s inside and out. When the Blackburns were here, I’m told there were twelve servants inside alone. And they had only three sons and a daughter.’

  ‘Aye, three sons; and they were all killed in the war.’

  ‘Come on, Dad, cheer up. I’ll tell you what.’ He again punched his father in the shoulder. ‘Go on; go and ask Don if he’s a virgin.’

  Watching Joe shaking with laughter, Daniel began to chuckle, and characteristically he said, ‘Bugger me eyes to hell’s flames! I’ll never get over that. Anyway’—he now poked his head towards Joe—‘do you think he’s a virgin?’

  ‘Haven’t the slightest idea. But on the other hand…well, I should say, yes.’

  ‘I don’t know so much. Anyway, where is he?’

  ‘The last time I saw him he was in the billiard room, playing his usual losing battle with Stephen. He’s very good with him, you know.’

  ‘Aye, he is. And that’s another thing she can’t get over; that her wee lamb has always found time for her retarded and crippled first-born. Aw, come on.’

  They went out together, crossed the hall to where a corridor led off by the side of the broad shallow staircase, and at the end of it Joe opened the door and almost shouted at the two people at the billiard table, ‘I knew this was where you’d be. Wasting time again. Chalk up to the eyes and company coming’—he glanced at his watch—‘in twenty minutes’ time.’

  ‘Joe! Joe! I beat him. I did. I beat him again.’

  Joe walked round the full-sized billiard table towards a man who was almost as tall as himself, a man thirty years old, with a well-built body and a mass of brown unruly hair, but with a face beneath it that could have belonged to a young boy, and a good-looking young boy. Only the eyes gave any indication that there was something not quite normal about him. The eyes were blue like those of his father, but they were a pale, flickering blue. It was as if they were bent on taking in all their surroundings at once. Yet there were times when the flickering became still, when his mind groped at something it could catch but only momentarily hold.

  ‘I…I made a seven…break. Didn’t I, Don?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he did, and he made me pot my white.’

  ‘Never!’ said Daniel. ‘He made you pot your white, Don? In that case you’re getting worse.’

  ‘Well, he’s too good for me; and it isn’t fair; he always wins.’

  ‘I’ll…I’ll let you win next time, Don. I will. I will. That’s a promise. I will. I will, honest.’

  ‘I’ll keep you to it, mind.’

  ‘Yes, Don. Yes, Don.’

  Stephen now put his hand up to his throat and, pulling a bow tie to one side, he said to his father, ‘It hurts my neck, Dad.’

  ‘Nonsense. Nonsense.’ Daniel went up to him and straightened the tie.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes, Stephen?’

  ‘Can I go in the kitchen with Maggie?’

  ‘Now you know that Maggie’s getting the dinner ready.’

  ‘Then I’ll go with Lily.’

  ‘Not now, Stephen; we won’t go through all this again. You know what the pattern is: you say how do you do to Mr and Mrs Preston and Mr and Mrs Bowbent and, of course, to Auntie and Uncle Allison and Annie…Annette.
Then after you’ve done that and had a word with Annette, as you always do, you can go upstairs and Lily will bring up your dinner.’

  ‘Dad.’ Don was signalling to his father as he turned away to walk down to the end of the room, where a wood fire was burning in an open grate, and when Daniel joined him he stooped and, picking a log from a basket, he placed it on the fire, muttering as he did so, ‘Let him go up, Dad; he had an accident earlier on.’

  ‘Bad?’

  ‘No, just wet. But he’s all nerves.’ He stood up now and, looking at his father, said, ‘It’s hard for him. I can’t understand why you make him keep it up.’

  Daniel lifted his foot to press the log further into the flames, saying, ‘You know fine well, Don, why I keep it up. I’m not going to hide him away as if he were an idiot, because he’s not an idiot. We know that.’

  ‘But it isn’t fair to him, Dad. Let him go tonight. It would upset Mum if he were to have another accident, and in tonight’s company. It’s happened once before, you know it has.’

  ‘That was a long time ago. He’s learned better since.’

  ‘Dad, please.’

  Father and son stood looking at each other; neither spoke, even though in the background there was Joe’s voice still forming a barricade behind which they could talk, until Don said, ‘Look upon it as an extra wedding present to me.’

  ‘Aw, you; aren’t you satisfied with what you’ve got?’

  ‘Oh, Dad, don’t say that, satisfied. I’ve told you, I can’t believe it, a house of our own and such a grand one. And—’ He paused as he now looked deep into his father’s eyes before adding, ‘a good distance away.’

  ‘Aye, lad, a good distance away. But there’s one thing I’ve got to say, although I don’t want to. But it must be said: don’t cut her off altogether; invite her often, and come back here whenever you can.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Yes, yes, I’ll do that. And one more thing from me, Dad: thank you for everything, particularly for bringing me through.’

  He did not have to explain through what, nor did Daniel have to enquire; they both knew. Turning quickly, Daniel walked towards Stephen, crying, ‘All right! You’ve got the better of me again. You’re not only good at billiards, you’re good at getting round people. Get yourself away up to your rooms; I’ll get Lily to go up with you.’

  ‘No need. No need, Dad.’ Joe put his arm around Stephen’s shoulders. ‘We’ve got to get things straight here; he’s backing Sunderland against Newcastle. Did you ever hear anything like it? Come on, you! Let’s get this worked out.’ And with that the two tall men left the room, Stephen’s arm around Joe’s waist now and a deep happy gurgle coming from his throat.

  On their own now and with the opportunity for more talk, it would nevertheless seem that the father and son had exhausted all they had to say to each other, until Don asked, ‘Like a game, Dad? We’ve got fifteen minutes; they always arrive on the dot, never before.’

  ‘No thanks, Don. I’d better slip along to the kitchen and ask Maggie if she can send something upstairs before she gets the dinner going.’ And with this he turned and abruptly left the room.

  A baize door led from the hall into the maze of kitchen quarters. He’d had the main kitchen modernised, putting in an Aga, but leaving the old open fire and ovens, which were still used and baked marvellous bread. It was an attractive kitchen, holding a long wooden table, a delf rack on one wall, a sideboard on the other, a double sink under a low wide window that gave a view of the stable yard. There was a long walk-in marble-shelved larder, and next to it a door leading into a wood store and from this into a large covered glass porch, where outdoor coats and hats were hung and, flanking one side, a long boot rack.

  The kitchen was a-bustle. Maggie Doherty, a woman of thirty-seven, stood at the table decorating with half cherries and strawberries a trifle which had already been piped with cream, and she glanced up at Daniel for a moment and smiled as she said, ‘They’ll soon be here.’

  ‘Aye. Yes, they’ll soon be here…That looks nice. I hope it tastes as good.’

  ‘Should be; there’s almost half a bottle of sherry soaking itself downwards.’

  ‘Eeh! We mustn’t let Madge Preston know, must we?’

  ‘Tell her it’s cooking sherry. It makes all the difference; you wouldn’t believe.’

  ‘Aye, I would. Is it duck the night?’

  ‘Yes; with the usual orange stuffing and the odds and bods.’

  ‘What soup?’

  ‘Vichyssoise.’

  ‘Oh aye? That’s something to swank about.’

  ‘Or shrimp cocktail.’

  ‘Oh, Betty Broadbent’ll go for those.’

  He stood for a moment watching Maggie’s hands putting the finishing touches to the trifle, then said, ‘I’ve sent Stephen straight up. He hasn’t been too good the day, I understand. Would you see that he gets a bite?’

  Maggie Doherty lifted her eyes to his, then looked down on the trifle again before saying, ‘Why you insist on putting him on show, God only knows; he suffers agony with strangers. How can you do it?’

  ‘Maggie, we’ve been through this; it’s for his own good.’

  The top of the trifle finished, she took up a damp cloth from the table and as she wiped her hands with it, he said under his breath, ‘For God’s sake, don’t you an’ all take the pip with me, Maggie, ’cos it’s been one of those days; a short while ago I just staggered out of another battle.’

  Again she looked at him, but her gaze now was soft as she said, ‘You know better than that,’ before turning away and calling out to a young woman who had just entered the kitchen, ‘Peggie! Set the tray for Master Stephen and take it up. You know what he likes.’ Then she added, ‘Is everything right on the table?’ And Peggie Danish replied, ‘Yes, Miss Doherty. Lily’s just put on the centrepiece; it looks lovely.’

  At this Maggie said, ‘Well, I’d better go and see if I’m of the same opinion,’ but she smiled at the young woman; then taking off a white apron and smoothing her hair back, she went from the room. And Daniel followed her. But once in the passage they both stopped and he, looking down into her face that was neither plain nor pretty yet emanated a soft kindness, said, ‘I’m sorry, Maggie, sorry to the heart of me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’ve waited a long time for that and I don’t feel brazen in saying it.’

  ‘Aw, Maggie; but after twenty years, and me like a father to you.’

  ‘Huh! I’ve never looked on you as a father, Dan. Funny that’—she gave a soft laugh—‘calling you Dan.’

  ‘You won’t go then?’

  ‘No.’ She turned her eyes from him and looked up the passageway. ‘I thought about it, then knew that I couldn’t. But I’ll have to watch my tongue and my manners, won’t I? And that’s going to be hard, because whenever she’s treated me with a high hand I’ve felt like turning on her many a time and walking out. I never knew what kept me at first’—she was looking at him again—‘and when I did I knew I was stuck here. But I never thought it would be for twenty years. Early on I used to imagine it was just because of Stephen, because he was so helpless and in need of love, and still is’—she nodded at him—‘more than any of us I think.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, Maggie.’

  When she turned abruptly away he caught her arm and was about to say, ‘Don’t worry; it won’t happen again,’ when she forestalled him by looking at him fully in the face and saying, ‘As you’ve known for years, I go to me cousin Helen’s on me day off. You’ll remember it’s at forty-two Bowick Road.’ She made a little motion with her head, then went from him, leaving him where she had left him, dragging his teeth tightly on his lower lip.

  Two

  The dinner was over. The guests had spoken highly of the fare and congratulated Winifred on the achievement, and once again she had been told how lucky she was to have such a cook as Maggie Doherty.

  As usual, the ladies had left the men to their cigars and port in the dining room and h
ad adjourned to the drawing room. This was a custom that Winifred had inaugurated when they had first come into the big house, and this aping of a bygone custom had made Daniel laugh at first; but just at first.

  Annette Allison sat on a straight-backed chair to the side of the grand piano and she looked from her mother to her future mother-in-law, then from Madge Preston to Betty Bowbent and, not consciously directing her thoughts as a prayer, she said to herself, ‘Dear God, don’t let me turn out like any of them.’ And she did not chide herself for her thinking, nor tell herself that when next she examined her conscience she must repent for her uncharitableness to others, especially for not wishing to grow even like her mother; and she should have done for, educated in a convent, she had been trained under the nuns since she was five years old, and so such thoughts should be anathema to her.

  Her mind wandered to Don, but she knew she wouldn’t be allowed five minutes’ privacy with him tonight; not only was her own mother like a gaoler, but Don’s was too. Oh, yes. When she thought of Don’s mother she became a little afraid of the future because, once married and with the added status of a wife, she might not be able to hide her feelings or curb her tongue.

  When she heard Mrs Bowbent mention the name Maria and her mother put in quickly, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if we could order the weather for next Saturday?’ she saw an outlet for her means of escape and, standing up, she said to Winifred, ‘Would you mind if I went up and had a chat with Stephen?’

  After a slight hesitation Winifred smiled at her and answered, ‘No, no; not at all, Annette. He’ll be delighted to see you.’

  The four women watched Annette’s departure; then Madge Preston turned to Janet Allison and said, ‘Why put a taboo on the subject, Janet? She knows all about it; in fact everybody does.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’ Janet Allison almost bridled in her chair. ‘And anyway, they moved, didn’t they?’