The Silent Lady Page 4

  ‘He did not see me. Now, what I’ve got to say next is third hand. My information came later from the hysterical dresser. She said, “The lady had just got her costume off and had pulled on the cosy garment when the door was flung open and a man stood there with his arms outstretched, crying ‘Irene!’ and she jumped round and without hesitation rushed to him. He flung his arms about her and she hers about him, and they laughed at and with each other, and she cried, ‘When did you arrive?’

  ‘“‘About an hour ago,’ he said. ‘I’ve just heard that you were singing here, and I rushed from the hotel. I saw Mr Armstrong’s mother getting into a car outside and she said you were in the dressing room. Oh Irene!’ He held her at arm’s length and said, ‘Why, miss, did you not ask my permission to marry, eh?’

  ‘“‘You weren’t here,’ she said; ‘you weren’t here.’ Then again she threw her arms around him, and this time they kissed. Their lips were tight and their bodies close when the door opened and, at the sight of the man looking at them, she let out a sort of high-pitched scream.

  ‘“The young fellow turned and said, ‘Oh, hello. You must—’ That’s as far as he got because that man sprang on him. Like a tiger, he was, and the young fellow was so surprised that under the first blow he fell backwards and never seemed to regain himself, because that man battered him to the floor. All the while the lady was screaming; and then he snatched up one of the props. It was a china vase, and he brought it down on the young fellow. It hit him across the chest and the side of the face. The attacker then turned to her, and he shook her as if she was a rat. Then his fists pounded her face as he screamed at her: ‘You dirty whoring slut, you!’ The cleaners were rushing into the room now, but he wouldn’t let go of her. By the time they dragged him from her she was quite senseless.” That’s all my informant remembered, because at that point she passed out.’

  Alexander took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow; but his son said nothing, just sat staring fixedly at him. Presently, his father gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes as he said, ‘I can still see them lying there: her bleeding body had fallen across the young fellow’s crumpled legs. His face was obliterated by blood. Somebody was yelling, “Get the police!” Another, “Get an ambulance.” Another, turning to where Baindor was leaning against the wall, yelled at him, “You murdering bugger, you! Wait till the police get here!”

  ‘The word “police” seemed to bring Baindor to his senses, and he was about to stumble out when he came face to face with me, and his words came out on a deep growl as he said, “She’s a whore!” and I, forgetting for the moment who he was, cried at him, “And you’re a bloody madman!” He just stumbled past me; and I went into the room and said to two of the men who were trying to straighten the young fellow’s legs, “Don’t touch him! Leave him until the ambulance men come.’”

  Alexander had not opened his eyes and James, after sitting silent for some time, said, in a very small voice, ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘Oh,’ Alexander pulled himself up in his chair, ‘it’s a wonder she survived. They were in a dreadful state, both of them. I recall wishing the fellow would die and that mad beast would be brought up for murder. It happened that at that time Aunt Glenda had her nursing home going; Father had set her up with it. In those days she could only take six patients and within a week we had brought Irene from the general hospital ward into Glenda’s care. From the accompanying report, she learnt that Irene hadn’t spoken since regaining consciousness. Nor did she utter a word for the next three weeks. It appeared that the brutal beating had not only marred her body it had also marred her mind in some way, for although she understood all that was said to her, she couldn’t give a verbal answer, only make a motion with her head.’

  When Alexander again paused James said, ‘What happened to the young fellow?’

  ‘Well, he was in a very bad way for some weeks. One side of his face from the front of his ear to his lower jaw had been split open, and this undoubtedly would leave a scar, but at the end of the first week he was able to speak. It appeared that the manager of the troupe he was with, which had come over for a short run in England, wanted to take the matter to court, but he would have none of it. He was thinking of Irene and did not want her name to be plastered all over the papers and Baindor’s reason given as to why both she and he had been battered by the husband.’

  ‘But didn’t the police take it up?’

  ‘No; it appeared that they went to the manor and saw him, and he said the woman in question was his wife. Had she made any complaint? And when they said no, he had asked about the other person: had he taken up the case? And again the answer was no. He said it was a family affair, quite private. It was nothing to do with them.

  ‘I did not see him for nearly six weeks and I thought he had gone abroad; and then one day he stormed in here and demanded to see my father. At that time Father was retiring gradually and was enjoying himself, seeing to the alterations of the house he had bought next door to Glenda’s in order to extend her business. The idea was to take the inner wall down and make comfortable private quarters for her and a sitting room for her nursing staff. This would still leave space for eight more bedrooms. He was like a child with a new toy. My mother had said, “Let him alone, you can manage the firm, and he’s happy.”

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying, Baindor came in here like a wild bull. He stood where you’re sitting now, and I sat here. I did not rise to my feet as was usual when a client entered the room, and he said to me, “Where is your father?” I, lying gently, said, “At home; he has a cold, he’s in bed.” I remember there was a long silence before he said, “Who gave you the authority to take my wife from the hospital and put her into your sister’s nursing home?” I wonder now how I dared to answer him as I did, but what I said was, “Since you had almost beaten your wife to death and seemingly did not care any more what happened to her, I took it upon myself to move her from the hospital to quieter quarters.”

  ‘“You had no right!”

  ‘“I had every right,” I said. “It was a humanitarian act. She needed personal nursing.”

  ‘There was another long pause before he said, “I understand from the doctor that she also needs mental attention, so I am having her transferred to Conway House.”

  ‘This, James, brought me to my feet immediately and I cried, “Conway House! Attached to the convent? It’s practically a lunatic asylum under the name of a nursing home.”

  ‘“It is not a lunatic asylum, it is for disturbed patients, and at the present time my wife is a disturbed woman. So will you be good enough to let me get down to the business I came to discuss with your father. As he is not available I will have to talk to you. You will have come across the Zephyr Bond?”

  ‘I remember I couldn’t speak for a moment but then I said, “Zephyr Bond? Yes, of course.” The Zephyr Bond was the remnants of a company his father had bought up years ago. It never produced much interest although it remained steady but, whatever the market, it would never set the place on fire. He went on, “I wish to pass this deed wholly over to your father or to you, who unfortunately seem to be in charge now, in order that you will allot to my wife the sum of five pounds a week – no more, no less – from it. This will be paid to the matron of Conway House as long as she stays there, or to wherever they may transfer her. As a Catholic I cannot divorce her, but I wish to have no more mention of her name made to me, ever. And should she at any time in the future attempt to visit the manor there are orders – strict orders - that she is to be forcibly removed. In fact, should she resist and try in any way to get in touch with the child, I shall have the matter taken to court, and I shall be given sole custody of my son because his mother was an adulteress.”

  ‘I remember saying to him in deep anger, “You’ve no proof of that. She was welcoming back home after an absence of three years a man she thought of as a brother, a young man who had helped to bring her up from a child.”

  ‘The cool
answer came, “So you say, but I don’t believe it; and more than once she has spoken of this man with affection. In fact, I once told her, and only recently, to desist. But he is not the only man in question. There was my valet, Cox, whom I dismissed three months ago. She had him so fascinated that one day when I was out he was accompanying her on the piano as she sang.”

  ‘This,’ Alexander now said, ‘was news to me at the time, but I also then recalled how the poor creature had looked on various occasions when I had seen her.

  ‘He now thrust on the table the case he had brought with him and, after opening it, he placed beside it a folded bond, and with it a long, typed letter. Pushing them both towards me, he said, “This is the old bond. It has never been of great significance, but it has revived somewhat since the war, and will bring in enough to provide for my wife’s maintenance at the rate of five pounds a week. I wish you to sign the acceptance in the name of your firm, and it can be witnessed. Send for your clerk.’”

  Alexander was now breathing heavily as he said, ‘I recall, James, that I had the greatest desire to pick up that glass inkwell’ – he pointed along the desk to where it was set in a brass tray – ‘and smash the thing into his face. Nevertheless, at the same time I knew that five pounds was better than nothing. She could exist on that in those days. Moreover, he hadn’t mentioned anything about what was to happen to the money should she die. Were we to accept it as ours or return it to him? But I left this. That was in the future and it made no matter just then.

  ‘The only thing I wanted at that moment, James, was to get him out of this office in case I did something that would not only ruin me but deprive the business of its most profitable client, one with whom Father had borne for years and whose business had helped greatly towards his putting me through university, buying a new home for Mother and setting Glenda up in her nursing home. Anyway, when old Watson, the clerk, came in he showed no deference to the client, because he knew what had recently happened. Although it wasn’t in the papers the news had certainly got round and, as it was no doubt also said openly, Baindor should have been exposed for what he really was. My heart went out to the old fellow for his courage because, looking down at the letter on the table, which was obviously a document, he turned to the great man and demanded, “What am I signing?”

  ‘Baindor was taken aback; then he almost shouted, “It is no business of yours. You are paid to do what you are told to do.”

  ‘Before Watson could make any further remark on this I said to him, “It’s all right. It is to do with the firm and it is in order. Just sign.”

  ‘The old fellow did as he was bidden but very slowly and reluctantly. Then, straightening his back, he gave the important client one long stare before walking out.

  ‘I fully expected Baindor’s next remark: “Dismiss him, and at once!”

  ‘“He is my father’s clerk, and that is his business,” I retorted.

  ‘His last words to me before leaving were, “Tell your sister that my wife will be collected tomorrow, and that, let me inform you, sir, is the last word I want to hear about her.” He stood waiting for me to make a reply of some kind, but when he didn’t receive one he went out without closing the door behind him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t talk any more for a moment. I’ll pour you another drink,’ said James, getting to his feet now, but his father stayed him with a gesture of his hand: ‘No; no more.’

  He smiled wanly. ‘But I’ll tell you something, even remembering this business has brought back to me the awful feeling I had, once that man walked out of the office. I felt so full of rage, real rage. I’d never experienced anything like it in my thirty-odd years before and I almost felt I was going to pass out. The only thing that brought me to was the fact that I had to see Glenda, as quickly as possible, and make some other arrangement for that poor girl.

  ‘When I told Glenda she couldn’t believe it. She said that Irene wasn’t fit to be left on her own yet, she still hadn’t spoken. Although her body had mended in a way, it was covered with odd marks and indentations. Her face, too, was still bruised, and her mind in some way was also affected. As Glenda said, we would have to get her away from the nursing home, but to where? If she took her to our place he would certainly come there. The only thing she knew about Irene’s relatives was that she had an aunt in Eastbourne, the one who had come to the wedding. And it was on this basis that we got to work and talked to Irene. We had to explain what her husband was about to do, and when we asked her if he knew anything about her aunt in Eastbourne she made a small movement with her head, which meant no. Then Glenda asked her aunt’s name. I can see Irene now, slowly pointing to a table on which were a pencil and pad, and as slowly she wrote down the name of her aunt, and the address. When I said to her, “Do you think you could get there – go on the train by yourself?” she made a desperate move with her head, nodding twice.

  ‘Glenda got her into her outdoor clothes, and took her to the station. As she told me later, she kept thinking all the time that she should go with her and see her settled. But, in my presence, she had suggested to Irene that one of the nurses should go with her to Eastbourne and Irene’s head had moved desperately from side to side. Then, for the first time, she spoke. Pointing to herself, she said, “All right.” It was just a murmur, but it definitely was those words. Then she spoke again to me when I took her hand and helped her into the cab. Slowly and hesitantly the words came, “Thank ... you,” and that was the last time I saw her until yesterday, when she fell into this office in what looked like a vagrant’s garb, but were the identical coat and hat she was wearing when she left Glenda’s all those years ago. She was wearing them at the concert on that fatal Sunday night. How she has lived in them for the last twenty-seven years I don’t know. But one thing is evident, she has existed on the streets.’

  James’s head was shaking in disbelief and his voice was low as he said, ‘What about the aunt? Didn’t she go there?’

  ‘Yes, she did, but when we didn’t hear anything from her for a week Glenda and I went to the house. And there I met the woman. God! My hatred for that woman almost matched my feelings about Baindor. Irene had come to her. Oh, yes, she told us she had come, but she had soon shown her the door. Irene was drunk, she said, or on drugs or something, for she wouldn’t speak but wrote some disjointed words on a paper. One was “distress”, the other was “husband misunderstood”. So what did she say to her, this poor distressed creature? She told her that she was a married woman and must go back to her husband. Anyway, she herself was about to leave Eastbourne and live in Yorkshire.

  ‘You know what I said to her?’

  James shook his head.

  ‘I hope you die a slow and painful death.’

  ‘You said that?’

  ‘I did. At that moment it was the worst thing I could wish on her.’

  James now put his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his head on his hand. They remained silent until James said, ‘And you haven’t the vaguest idea where she might have been all this time?’

  ‘None whatever. And we won’t have if she doesn’t speak before she dies. But one thing I’ve promised myself, she will see her son before that happens.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ James was sitting up straight now. ‘The son. What d’you think he’ll do when he knows?’

  ‘That’s to be seen. But I’m sure he’s not like his father at all. He doesn’t look like him or act or speak like him.’

  ‘And he must have a will of his own to have rejected taking on the business and going in for medicine. Where is he now?’

  ‘I don’t know – in one of the London teaching hospitals, I think. I understand he’s aiming to become a plastic surgeon.’

  ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘Oh, let me think. He was just on four when all this happened and that’s twenty-six years ago, in 1928. He’s thirty, I should say, just a couple of years younger than you. I should imagine he might be a consultant by now. But I don’t really know when he started;
I only know he was at Oxford until he was twenty-two or so. We’ll soon find out, though.’

  ‘When do you intend to see him?’

  ‘It all depends on how the poor woman is. As she is now I don’t think she’d be able to recognise anyone. Yet there must be a deep pain inside her that has lingered all these years, because that’s what she said to me, the only words she spoke, “My son,” which I took to mean she wanted to see him. And then she said, “He’ll come.” It was as if she was sure. At the moment, I only wish I knew what is in that package she keeps a tight hold of. It might give us some clue to her whereabouts all these years. Otherwise I doubt we’ll ever find out.’

  But he was to find out, and in a comparatively short time, and his knowledge was to come in as strange a way as the appearance of his informant herself. The story she was to tell Alexander Armstrong about where Irene had spent twenty-six of the missing years was as strange, if not more so, than the story he had just related to his son.

  PART TWO

  1929-1955

  1

  Big Bella Morgan closed the door on No. 10 The Jingles, then walked a couple of yards to her left and inserted a key into the lock of a rusty iron gate, which led into a large yard. It would have looked larger still, had it not been for the piles of broken wooden fruit boxes and the rotten fruit scattered here and there. Down the middle of the yard was a clear pathway that led to a stone building, at the end of which was a large wash-house. Thrusting open its door she cried, to the two sleeping forms lying there on thin palliasses, ‘Come on! Show a leg and get on your way.’

  One of the men sat up, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes and saying, ‘What time is it, Bella? It’s early like.’