The year of the virgins (12 page)

She conceded to the arrangement whereby her husband and Joe saw to the changing of the bedding; but when she learned that the nurse would not be bathing Don, and she had told Annette that she would do it, the girl had answered, 'He won't allow me to wash him down, so he won't allow you.' There had been times during the past five days she had wanted to take her hand and slap that young, confident-looking face. She would not say 'beautiful', because she didn't think she was beautiful; to her she wasn't even pretty.

And so now, as usual, she was bracing herself as she crossed the hall on her way to pay her morning visit, when her jaws stiffened at the sound of laughter coming from the direction of her son's bedroom. When she opened the door she saw the reason for it. Her eldest son - she couldn't bear to think of him as such, but nevertheless he was - was standing with his back towards the bed and laughing all over his face as he cried, 'Go on. Go on, Don, pat me on the back. Go on. Maggie always does when I've been a good boy. Go on, 'cos I've been a good boy. Ever since you came home I've been a good boy. Go on.'

Neither the nurse nor Annette turned at her entry. They too were laughing as they watched Don reach out and pat his brother on his back, saying, 'That's one extra for tonight.'

'Yes, Don. I'll be good tonight; you'll see, I'll be good. And you know, I'm goin' to help to lift you tomorrow. I asked Dad, 'cos he says, I'm strong as a bull. I helped Joe carry the other bed in. Yes, I did. I did . . .'

'Stephen!' The young fellow became quiet, and as he straightened up, his body became stiff and he said, 'Yes, Mam?'

'Go up to your room.'

'I've . . . I've just come down, Mam. And . . . and Don likes me to be here; I make him laugh.'

'Go on, go up to your room.'

Stephen looked down on Don, who nodded at him, saying, 'Go on now. Come down later. We'll have coffee together and chocolate biscuits, eh?'

'Oh yes, Don, chocolate biscuits, yes.' He backed away from the bed, moving in an arc around his mother as he made for the door.

And now Winifred, addressing the nurse, said, 'You must be firm with him: he cannot come and go as he likes; he'll tire him.' She looked away from the nurse and back towards the bed, as though expecting no reply from the nurse; nor did the nurse answer, but Don said quietly, 'He doesn't tire me, Mother. I like to see him.'

She ignored this and said, 'How are you?' She had now moved to the head of the bed and was looking down on him.

'I've had a good night; not too bad at all, in fact, a hundred per cent better than I did in hospital. I'll soon be in that chair the nurse was talking about yesterday. What do you say, nurse?'

'Could be. It all depends. But like your brother, you'll have to be a good boy.' Then looking from her patient to Annette, she added, 'There now, you two, you can get on with your crossword. I'm going into the hall to do some phoning. There are some medicines I need and I want a word with Mr Richardson.'

'What do you want to say to Mr Richardson?'

Nurse Pringle looked at Winifred and she said quietly, 'I want to report on my patient.'

'You can tell me and I can do that.'

'I'm sorry, Mrs Coulson; this comes within the confines of my duty, and I'm obeying Mr Richardson's orders in doing so.'

'You're impudent.'

'I'm sorry if you find me so. If you have any complaints . . .'

'Nurse.' Annette was standing at the other side of the bed now; she had turned from arranging some flowers on a table near the window. 'Do what you think is right. And I don't consider you impudent. My husband is very grateful for your attention, aren't you, Don?'

Don's lower lip was jerking in and out and he muttered, 'Yes, yes, I'm very glad of nurse's attention. And . . . and you must forgive Mother; she doesn't understand the routine.' He forced a watery smile to his face by saying, 'She's never been stuck in a hospital for weeks.'

The nurse went out leaving the three of them breathing the air that was thick with hostility.

'Something will have to be done; I'm no longer mistress in my own house,' Winifred said, and emphasised what she had said by drawing in her stomach.

'Mother! For God's sake, stop it, will you? If you start again I'll ask to be taken back to hospital. No, no, I won't' - he shook his head in much the same manner as Stephen would have when in a tantrum - 'we'll go to the cottage. Yes. Yes, that's what we'll do.' He put his hand out and, gripping Annette's, he almost whimpered, T can't stand this arguing. We'll have a night and day nurse and someone like John, a handyman. Oh' - his voice rose - 'a male nurse. Yes. Yes, a male nurse.'

'I'm sorry. Please, don't agitate yourself. I'm sorry. It ... it won't happen again,' said Winifred.

The words had cost his mother something, and both Don and Annette realised this. And it was Annette being placating now when she said, 'Please, Mother-in-law, try to accept things the way they are. It could all run smoothly. He ... he wants to see you. Don't you, dear?' She turned and looked at her husband, and when he nodded, she went on, 'You see if you'd only try to . . .'

The look on the woman's face checked any further words, and Annette watched her turn about and go hastily from the room.

'It won't work, Annette. It won't work.'

'Yes, it will, dear; she'll come round. I know she will. It will take time. In a way I know how she feels: I've stolen you from her. If someone tried to take you from me, I . . . I would feel the same as she does.'

'Never!'

He was right, of course; she would never be able to feel the same way as that woman did. There was something about her that wasn't . . . She couldn't find a word with which to translate her thoughts, but what she said was, 'You mustn't worry. That's the main thing, you mustn't worry. Because, as you've just said, we could go to the cottage. Any day, dear, we could go there. In fact, as you know, that's where I wanted to take you in the first place.'

T wish you had stuck out, dear. Oh, I wish you had.'

So did she . . . But they were here now, yet not for long, she knew, for the scene that had just been enacted was but a pin-prick to the one that was bound to come.

It came that evening at half-past nine.

Winifred's mind was in a turmoil: there was another person in her household that had been set against her: the nurse. Now, only the servants spoke civilly to her, and she didn't think it was because they were paid to be civil. Even Joe was totally on the side of that girl. But of course, he would be, wouldn't he?

She felt hungry. It was more than three hours since she had eaten. She must have something.

She went downstairs. The house was very still: there was only the throbbing of the boiler from the cellar penetrating the quiet. She went into the kitchen. It was empty. Maggie would, of course, be in her room. Lily would have been down at the lodge this last hour; she finished at eight every night. Peggie Danish would not yet have gone to bed; she must be upstairs seeing to Stephen, hoping no doubt that Joe would be up there too. She'd have to watch that girl; she was too fresh by half.

She went to the fridge, but found only a shop-bought veal pie and some cheese that could be eaten immediately.

She hesitated on the cheese; it generally kept her awake. So she cut herself a slice of the pie, put it on a plate, then stood for a moment with the plate in her hand; she never liked eating in the kitchen. She went out and walked towards the dining-room, but then changed her mind. There was a moon out; it would be nice in the sun-room. She would eat there. And then she would look in on the sick-room; just a peep.

The sun-room was softly lit by the moonlight. She sat down in a chair and munched on the pie. When she had finished she licked her finger ends and wiped them delicately on her handkerchief. Then she sat musing for a moment as she looked out on to the garden, so thickly lined with frost that it looked like a layer of snow.

Although she rarely felt the cold, she shivered and pulled her dressing-gown tightly about her before getting up and making for the door, only to stop before reaching it and to look to the far end of the conservatory to the door that led into what was now Annette's sitting-room. Why shouldn't she go in that way? She did not add, and surprise them and see what they were up to; at least, what she was up to, for she wouldn't put it past her to be lying with him at night. That was why she had been against the night nurse. And in his condition. It was disgusting!

Swiftly, she walked to the other door. It opened quietly. She paused on the threshold. The only light in the room was that coming from under the door leading into the bedroom. But there was no obstacle in her way; the couch was to the side. She closed the door behind her; then, hand outstretched, she made her way towards the strip of light on the floor, sought the handle of the door and pushed it open. Then, at the sight of the tableau on the bed, she froze.

There was that girl, that hussy, that woman, stark naked! And there was her son, reaching out, his hand on her belly and her two hands covering it!

At the sound of the door opening, Annette swung round to grab at her dressing-gown, then Winifred heard her son cry, 'Don't! Don't! Stay as you are.' And the girl, the dressing-gown trailing from her hand, stayed as she was for a moment.

Winifred found it impossible to accept what she was seeing: it couldn't be! It couldn't be! her mind was screaming at her. The car accident had happened at the bottom of the drive; it would be impossible for them to have been ... The words were cut off in her mind by a dreadful thought that seemed to spiral up from some dark depth in her. And when it reached the top of her head it pierced her brain and sent

thoughts splintering in all directions. She could read them but she could scarcely believe them. And so she screamed, 'You dirty slut, you! You filthy creature! You're pregnant and you're putting it on to my son. You low down . . .'

'Stop it!' Don's elbows were pressed into the bed, supporting his raised shoulders now as he cried at her, 'Shut up, woman!'

She took five steps into the room, and these brought her almost to the foot of the bed. And there she screamed back at him, 'Never! Never! I know you. I'm your Mother, remember? You were good, clean, pure . . .'

'Pure? Hell!'

'Don. Don. Lie down; I'll . . . I'll deal with it.'

Annette had by now pulled the dressing-gown around her; but Don ignored her and dragging himself a little further up the bed, he yelled at his mother in a voice as loud as hers had been, 'Listen! woman. Listen! for once. The child is ours . . . mine. We've been together for a year, a whole year. And what do I mean by being together? I mean, having it off under your nose. Having it off. You couldn't expect anything else, could you? her mother treating her like a vestal virgin and you trying to tie nappies on me. A full year we've been together. When this happened' - he jerked his head - 'it was no mistake. I wanted it. I wanted an explosion. Yes, do you hear? an explosion to blow you out of my life'

'Don! Don! Enough! Stop it! Lie down.'

'I've lain down long enough. It's got to be said, and I'll say it: it's been a wonderful year, a time I think of as a year of the virgins.'

Winifred's mind was refusing to recognise the man in the bed as her son. This man was talking common, dirty, just like her husband, and her son wasn't like her husband. But

there was one thing certain: he was so much enamoured of that creature that he would like just to save her face and name.

Now she screamed at him: 'I don't believe a word of it! You can't hoodwink me. You're just shielding her.'

There was the sound of a door banging in the distance. It must be the door at the far end of the corridor, the one that led into the cottage, she thought. Yes, that was it. Joe. And so she cried, 'It was him, wasn't it? Joe. It was Joe. He always wanted you. And he would drive you here and there, wouldn't he? Even when you two were supposed to be engaged he would drive you. It was Joe. Tell me, girl. Speak the truth. But there's no truth in you. You're a dirty, filthy slut. You're a . . .'

The opening of the door and Joe's appearance did not stem the flow of vituperation, but simply redirected it, and now she screamed at him. 'Getting my son to hide your filthy deeds, were you?'

Joe's face screwed up. He looked perplexed for a moment before asking of Don, 'What's this?'

But it was Winifred who interrupted her son as he was about to answer, yelling, 'Don't you ask "what's this?". Look at her stomach! But of course, you know all about that, don't you? Being a bastard yourself, you've given her one too!'

'Oh my God!' Don gasped and fell back on to his pillows the words, garbled, tumbling from his mouth. 'She's m . . . mad, clean mad. She . . . she always has been. Get. . . get her out of here, Joe. Get her out . . .'

Joe didn't move towards his adoptive mother, but stood gazing at her, wishing to God that what she was saying were true. And then, through gritted teeth, he said to her, 'You were glad to take in a bastard baby at one time.

But there's more ways of being a bastard than being born on the wrong side of the blanket. Think on that. Now I'd get yourself away to bed.'

For answer she swung round, grabbed the carafe of water from the table at the side of her and threw it at his head. It struck him on the ear and sent him reeling to the side, and as she came at him, her arms outstretched, her fingers clawed, the door opened and Daniel rushed in shouting, Tn the name of God! what's up now?'

It took both Joe and Daniel all their time to hold her and drag her from the room as she screamed abuse at them, using the same words she had previously yelled at Don.

In the hall, she brought Peggie Danish's eyes popping and her mouth agape, but the language made no impression on Maggie as she tried to avoid the kicking legs and helped the men get her up the stairs.

At one time Maggie thought the four of them would come tumbling down backwards, and as she clung to the banister with one hand, she shouted down at Peggie, 'Phone the doctor. Go on, girl, phone the doctor.'

Once on the landing, they propelled the wriggling, screaming woman to the bedroom; and there Daniel, kicking open the door, shouted at Joe, 'Let go!' Then he thrust her forward on to the floor and, turning quickly, he pulled the key out from the inside lock of the door, pushed Joe and Maggie into the corridor again, then locked the door from the outside. And as the three of them stood panting, a high scream came from the room, followed a few seconds later by the sound of articles being thrown about. When something heavy hit the door they all stepped back, and Daniel, looking at Joe, said, 'What brought this on?'