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192used to call her misery guts. Nothin' he ever did seemed to please her: she was always "on ... the want", he would say.' But then, smiling across the table at Lily, he said, 'Apparently there was a lighter side to her visit, I understand from Bill: as she was passing up the shop she asked Susie where I was, and you know Susie and her mouth, well, she told her the last time she had seen the bugger he was standing in his trousers. But me Ma's not backward in coming forward with her tongue, an' it seemed she sort of insinuated what happens when they come down, which maddened Susie, who was for hittin' her with a block of blacklead. And she would have done, but she was stopped in time by one of the lasses.'Lily laughed as she said, 'Oh, I can hear Susie. When she opens her mouth somethin' always comes out that you would never hear in Sunday School.'He was glad to see her laughing and being chirpy, for she had been rather quiet these last few weeks. And he knew why, but the reason wasn't spoken of: it was well-known around the quarter that Miss Bridget's cousin, Miss Victoria, was going to marry 193the Filmore fella. He himself had never mentioned it, but he knew she would be aware of it even if she never left the house; Mrs Leary was as good as the evening paper. The wedding was to be tomorrow and, from what he understood, quite a big affair: the breakfast at Miss Bridget's house, then a ball at night in the Assembly Rooms in Newcastle.Well, it would be up to him to think of something to take her mind off it, at least for part of the time. So, as she placed before him the second helping of meat pudding he looked up at her and said, 'How about us havin' a night out the morrow. Mrs Leary would see to him.' He nodded towards the child where he lay in the cradle to the side of the fireplace. 'How about the Empire? I hear there's a couple of blokes on there that bring the house down. They're as daft as a brush, or two brushes.'She, too, looked towards the cradle, then back at him and smiled, saying,

'Oh, I would like that, Joe. Yes, I would. And I can wear me new hat and coat.''Oh lord, that'll mean we'll have to have a box.'As she pushed him in the shoulder they 194both turned and looked towards the door that led into the passage from where came the sound of the front door-knocker being rapped.'Who can this be that uses the knocker?' He pulled a face at her. 'If they're collectin' for owt, I'm not in.'She was smiling again as she passed him on her way to the passage, and he was about to finish the last few bites from his plate, but stopped, his fork poised halfway to his mouth, his head turned to the side and his ears alert now to the sound of men's voices.When the door opened and Lily entered, followed by two policemen, he pulled himself quickly to his feet, saying, 'What's up? What's the matter?'One of the men he recognized straightaway, Constable Salop, and as all policemen were known as slops, so this particular one became Sloppy Salop, who would chase the bairns when they'd be up to some mischief. But they weren't really afraid of Sloppy Salop because the most he did was to shake them by the ear, or wallop it, with an accompanying threat to tell their ma. It was never their da, always their ma.

195The other man was a sergeant and it was he who spoke, saying, 'I would like to ask you a few questions, Mr Skinner. But first of all I must tell you that'-he paused-'your brother is dead.'Both Joe and Lily now exchanged amazed glances; then Joe muttered, 'Fred?''Yes.' The man's voice was very cool.

'He has been murdered. He was alive last night when found in Brook's Wood, but he died in hospital this morning at half past ten. There was no identification on him at the time. And it wasn't until some time later that the mortuary attendant, coming on duty, recognized him.''Oh my God! I'll . . . I'll-' He turned again and looked at Lily, saying, Til have to go straight to me ma's.'The sergeant now seemed to hesitate before he said, 'I ... I don't think you had better do that. In any case we would like you to come down to the station. There's a few questions we would like to ask you.''Questions to ask me? What about?''Well as I've just said, your brother was murdered. He died from a stab wound in the throat, and . . .

and'-again he paused-

196'you have been known to threaten him. Now, now.' He held up his hand, his forefinger wagging. 'You must think before you speak; we'll be taking note of all you say from now on.''My God! You can't mean this? Aye, I've threatened him since he was a lad; he was always gettin' into trouble. And I took over after me da died an' I had to keep him steady. Aye . . . aye, I've threatened him. But what are you sayin'?

I've murdered him?''I would ask you again, Mr Skinner, to come with us.'Joe now appealed to the constable, saying, 'Mr Salop, you know me. I've never done anythin' in me life to get into the hands of the polis.'Constable Salop said, 'Well, it was your mother, lad. She said, only last night you had a go at him .

. .'The sergeant's manner became very brisk, and he turned a hard look on his subordinate as he said,

'We'll continue this down at the station.'Lily was hanging on to Joe's arm, her head was wagging, her mouth opening and

197shutting; but she uttered no word until he moved from her to take his cap from the rack. Then she turned on the two men, crying, 'He wouldn't! He couldn't do a thing like that. He's . . . he's always looked after him. Gone for him, aye, but kept him out of trouble. His mother's a wicked woman, she is, she is to say such a thing. People have rows, they say all kinds of things in rows . . .''It's all right, lass, it's all right. I'll be back. Don't you worry, I'll be back.'She was clinging onto him so much that he had to force her hands from his arm and his voice had a slight break in it as he said, 'Now be a good lass.

You've got the bairn to see to. I'll be back. I tell you, I'll be back.' And with that he walked from the room ahead of the two men; and it was he who opened the front door, there to see what appeared to be the whole street out, with Mary Leary nearest the step. And he turned and said to her, 'Go on in and see to her, will you, Mrs Leary?''Aye, lad. Aye, lad. Let that be the least of your worries. What have you done to bring the lousy coppers on to you?'

198And that was what Joe was asking himself: What had he done? Nothing. And yet, on his mother's word, it looked as if he was to be accused of murdering Fred. He looked back to the times when he would have liked to do just that and so wipe him out of existence, because he had been a thorn in his flesh since he could crawl . . ,And that's what he kept saying to the two men sitting opposite him across the wooden table. 'Aye, if that's threatening then I've threatened him in all kinds of ways, because as you know yourself, if you look in your books, he's been suspected of this, that, and the other.'He sat back on the wooden chair, tired. This had been going on for hours now. These were two strange men sitting opposite to him, and one was asking, 'Do you know anyone who has a grudge against him?'Yes, he knew somebody with a grudge against him, Andy Davison. He pulled himself straight now; even so, he paused before he said, 'Aye, I know somebody with a grudge against him, but . . .' Again he paused.

Could he say . . . ? Well, it seemed to be either his neck or somebody else's. And 199there was Lily and the bairn to think of; and what was more, he was innocent. He said, 'There's a fellow called Andy Davison. He did time for stealin', but . . . but it wasn't him; it was Fred that planted the stuff in his yard. I didn't know till after/'And do you know if this man has threatened your brother?''No; he didn't know who had set him up. He always swore that . . . well, if he found out, what he would do.'The men looked at each other; then they left the room, leaving him with the policeman who was standing at the door, and he turned to him and said, ' Tis like a nightmare.' And the policeman replied softly, 'Aye, that's what most of them say when they come in here.'A few minutes later another policeman came into the room and said to him, 'Come along, lad; you'll be here for the night, at any rate.'

And with that he led him out, across the reception area, down a flight of steps, then along a corridor that was lined with heavy knobless doors, each faceless except for a small grid.The constable opened one of the doors1

200and, pointing to a wooden bench on which there were two folded blankets and a bare pillow, he said not unkindly, 'Make yourself as comfortable as possible, lad. You'll have a mug of cocoa shortly.'When the door clanged and there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, Joe resorted to an old habit; he put the four fingers of his right hand into his mouth, each nail covering a tooth, and pulled at them as if to loosen the roots.The following morning he was informed that Andy Davison had been interviewed, and that this had taken place in Newcastle Infirmary where he had, last week, undergone an operation for a shattered kneecap. And so the questioning began again.As the day wore on, he became not only tired at the unusual pressure of the talking but also very frightened. More so when there came in a man whom he straightaway recognized as the one he had talked to in the wood and, looking at him, said gently, 'Yes; this is the man I spoke to on the night that I found the wounded man.'When the policeman said, 'Thank you, Mr

201Filmore,' all Joe could do was gape and repeat the name to himself, 'Filmore.' There was a younger son; he had heard tell of him: first; that he was a bit funny; then that was squashed when next he heard the young fellow had been to a University. But the man he had spoken to in the wood had told him he chipped stone; so he was a sculptor. And this was the brother of the other one. Yet he had been a nice gentleman to talk to. He was still nice, at least from his expression, because he'd looked sort of sad when he'd said he recognized him.Then the questions started again. What time was it when he had spoken to the gentleman? Where did he go after that?He went through the town.Which part? Did he go into any public house?No.Did he speak to anybody he knew?No; because he didn't often go to yon end of Gateshead Fell. But he walked through Low Fell and touched on Fellburn.Why had he gone so far?His head was bent when he said, and for

202what seemed the countless time, *I was looking for Fred.'Why was he looking for Fred? came the question; and again for the countless time, 'I ... I was afraid he might be up to somethin' that might get him into trouble.'What was this something that would get him into trouble? ' 'Twas a private affair. That's all I'm goin' to say about that, 'twas a private affair.''About which you threatened to do for him?'That was only a sayin'.''Not as your mother expressed it. And she implies, too, that there was something that you didn't wish your brother to do. But she herself knew nothing of it. Now it would help you if you would tell us what this matter was.'Always at this point he became dumb, stubborn and dumb. He could, of course, say Fred was out to blackmail the real father of his wife's bairn. But Lily had gone through enough. That was one side of it. But there was another side to it: the bloke had, this very day, married Miss Bridget's cousin, and it was well known that those two lasses were

203closer than sisters and that Miss Bridget had always played mother to the other one, so if he opened his mouth, what would happen? That young lass, Victoria, would be in a state. The scandal would ruin the beginning of her married life. As for Miss Bridget, well, there was nothin' he wouldn't do for Miss Bridget. She had been the one person in his life who had really been kind to him. He was holding the position he was today through her kindness alone. If her father had been still alive, the managing would have gone to Johnnie Mclnnes. Although he stood well in the eyes of Mr Carter, he knew everybody would expect Mr Carter to suggest Johnnie Mclnnes for the job. So, on all accounts, he must keep his mouth shut on this because he owed that to Miss Bridget.Anyway, as he saw it, this had nothing to do with Fred's being polished off. A stab in the neck was likely from some low-down dirty bugger who had it in for him, and perhaps with some justice on his part, Fred having done him down some way , , . But who was he?He was becoming really frightened now.

8There was a reason for Bridget's wishing to go down to Meadow House just two days before the wedding. The excuse she openly gave was that she would like to collect all Victoria's things and to pack them ready to be sent to her new home.Victoria was in the throes of having her wedding apparel adjusted as well as of packing the necessary clothes for her honeymoon. And she had already been made to realize that although dear Bridget was still giving her the dress allowance she wouldn't be able to indulge it all on herself. And so whatever attire she had kept for use in Meadow House would now likely come in useful, especially in the skilful hands of her dressmaker. She therefore offered no objection to Bridget's leaving her at this particular

205 time. What is more, she felt it would do Bridget good to get away by herself for a day. She had been very moody of late, not herself at all; and she'd always felt that she preferred Meadow House to this, their home in the country.But Bridget had hardly returned to the house and taken off her dustcoat and been hugged by Victoria before she was shocked with the news that Victoria garbled at her.'My dear, such happenings since you've been away; you would never believe; you would think that you had been away for months. Douglas found a man in Brook's Wood who had been murdered, his throat cut. Did you ever? Did you ever? He dashed back to the house and got the yard men to take a cart; then went with the man to hospital. He had been in the wood ... I mean, Douglas had, looking for stones, you know, along that ridge that goes right through . . . Oh dear me! But the worst is, and I'm sure you'll be shocked by this, because you've spoken of him so often and said he was such a good fellow. I've only seen him, myself, a few times but he was nice . . .'It was at this point that Bridget, now in 206the drawing-room, pushed Victoria down into a chair, saying sharply, 'Stop rattling on like that!

Who's this that I know?'The manager. The one you made manager. Joe. You know, he was a kind of protege of Uncle's, and yours, yes, and yours. Well, he's killed his brother. Murdered him.'Bridget took a step backwards, her face now looking contorted and her words hardly audible even to herself as she gasped, 'What are you saying? Joe . . . ? Murdered his brother?''Yes. Yes, in the wood, Brook's Wood.