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668wait until you were gone and then nothing would have stopped me: but I can't wait for that now, not with the evidence I've got.'The old man nodded at him and his voice came deep and steady as he said, That's the answer I would have expected from you. Yes, that's the answer. You are my son but you are rotten to the core. Now Lionel, what I am going to do is something that you did years ago, only in a different way. You murdered a man because he was going to expose you for giving a factory girl a bastard. You cut his throat and left him in a wood and you let his brother hang for your crime. Yes, you can wag your head and look at your wife and Bright and the young fellow to your side, they're all witnesses to what I'm saying, but if they don't believe me they must go to your brother, because he has the evidence. Now, even having been exposed, Lionel, nothing will stop you wreaking your vengeance on the innocent child that you begot, for you can't bear the thought that anything that came out of you could be deformed in any way. No. Well, I'm going to stop you, Lionel. I haven't much longer to go, it might be hours, it might be days. But they can do

669nothing to me for what I'm going to do now.' And at this the old man's hand, with alacrity that defied his age, swung up to the curtain and pulled from its folds a gun. For a moment there was a deadly silence in the room; then the old man, levelling the gun at his son, said, 'It's been cocked, it's all ready. If I miss with the first I'll get you with the second;' and he fired.Whether Joseph had been going to dive at the bed to prevent the old man carrying out his intention, or Lionel Filmore's arm had come out and pulled him in front of him, the bullet hit Joseph.There was a concerted gasping now in the room as the young fellow seemed to spring from the floor then stand rigid for a moment before looking down at the blood oozing through the white overall from somewhere below his shoulder. Then, before anything could be done to help him, the second shot came from the gun, and this time the old man did not miss his aim. The bullet caught Lionel Filmore in the exact spot where his cravat was tied, and he, too, stood for a moment rigid, staring as in amazement at his

670father, before slowly crumpling onto the floor.Joseph hadn't fallen but had staggered back and was leaning against the wardrobe door as questions raced through his mind: Why had the old man shot Lionel? Why? He must be in the dream again. It couldn't happen: he didn't want to die. What he wanted was to get away from this house. He had wanted to see the man who was his father. Now he knew and he wished he didn't, because he was a murderer. And why was he lying there? He looked dreadful, dreadful.What was the matter with him? Why was he floating? This was ridiculous. Yet it wasn't, it was fact: the old man had shot him. He hadn't meant to but that's what he had done. And why was the mistress laughing? She was standing somewhere near and she was laughing, and she was talking loudly about how she had longed to shoot her husband. Well, he had been shot. And he himself had been shot.

Why had the old man shot him? He was covered in blood; he felt odd, faint.He was lying on the floor now. Oh, he hoped he wasn't lying against him. Yet he

671was his father. It didn't matter, it didn't matter. He shook his head definitely against the idea of lying against that man, because he was not only cruel to his daughter, he had murdered his stepfather's brother, and his poor stepfather had been hanged for it. Oh, his mother. If only his mother had known; perhaps she wouldn't have been so sad.What were they doing to him? And why was the mistress bending over him? He spoke to her now, saying, 'Tell Mr Douglas and Miss Bridget . . . you know, Mrs Filmore.

Mam used to always call her Miss Bridget. Am I going to die? He was my father. They won't take her away, will they? . . . Hello, Ron.'It was as they lifted him from the floor that he passed into unconsciousness.

The doctors had been and gone. Lionel Filmore was pronounced dead. The young man known as Joseph Carter, according to Doctor Curry, had had a lucky escape, for the bullet had lodged itself just below the shoulder blade and he had removed the offending article, under the eyes of the cook, on her kitchen table.The police, too, had been and had questioned the master of the house in the presence of two doctors. They both confirmed that, although he had admitted to the shooting, it was impossible to move him, and that in any case his time was running out fast.This had been followed by a consultation around the bed between the old man, Victoria, and Bright, when it was conveyed to the master of the house that the young man who

673had helped to tend him over the last few weeks was his grandson, the son of the man whom he had shot, and to this he had answered, *I know.' And when Victoria had said, 'But how, Father-in-law?' he had answered, 'Instinct. From the moment I saw him. He was like Lionel as a boy on the outside, but thanks be to God, I don't think he's got a fragment of him inside.'It was then that Bright said, 'I think Mr Douglas should be informed.''Yes. Yes, of course. Oh, of course.' The old man's head wagged. 'I want to see Douglas. I've been longing to see Douglas. Will you see to it, Bright, please?''Yes, sir, right away.'When Bright had left the room, the old man took hold of Victoria's hand: 'If I'm sorry for anyone in all this dire business,' he said, 'it is you, my dear, for you've had a dirty deal right from the word go. The only thing I can say against you is that you've been too hard on your cousin, for she's a good woman, you know.''Yes, I know, Father-in-law.''But you don't know to what extent, my dear/

674*I think I do, Father-in-law. I know that we couldn't have existed all these years without some outward help. I have never questioned how Bright came by such odd amounts of money in times of necessity; but I knew there could be only one source from where he would have received it.''Dear! Dear!

You are a very strange girl, because you know, that's what you still are underneath that stiff exterior, you are still a girl. And to think, knowing that, you have refused to see her; and she could have been a great comfort to you all these years.'Victoria now bowed her head, saying, *Yes, it does seem strange, doesn't it? But you see, I was young and empty-headed when this happened to me and I had the feeling that she had paid the man, who was called my husband, money in order to be free from the responsibility of me.'Her voice had taken on a sad note now. 'I imagined she had become tired of my prattle, my vanity, my taking everything and giving nothing. Because that's what I did. And then there was the fact that Lionel wouldn't have even dreamed of coming within an arm's length of me if he had known I had no 675money, whereas I, all the while, was imagining that it was because of my so-called beauty and my charm that he was marrying me, knowing that I hadn't a penny. Can you imagine the shock when I found out otherwise? I grew up overnight. Yes, indeed; from a gullible young girl I became an embittered woman, and remained so for a long time. When I did begin to see things differently it was too late. I then felt I couldn't make a move towards her, yet all the while I wanted to. I longed to. I longed for someone to talk to.''And you had only me.'Her other hand came on top of his now and she said, 1 had to change my opinion of you, too, before I appreciated your worth, and I've always valued you since. And now'

-she patted his hand-'both our times are running out . , ,' But at this he pulled his hand away from hers, saying with gasping firmness, 'Don't you , . . talk . . . so. Mine. . . could... be... hours away, >erhaps a few . , . days, but you . . , you re still young.'*I am forty, Father-in-law. I have lost what looks I ever had and, what is more, my

676heart is in such a condition that I know it could stop beating within the next minute or so.''Nonsense.

Nonsense. Your heart is in the state it is because of all the worry you've had and the treatment you've had from that man who was my son.' Then he looked away from her and stared over the foot of the bed; and from there he turned his gaze to the window, where a weak wintry sun was doing its best to lighten the room, and he said, 'Imagine killing your son, murdering him and not feeling a trace of regret.' Slowly he turned his head to look at her again and said, 'I wonder how God will deal with me? Because I believe in Him, you know. While ignoring Him for years I somehow got to know Him when I had to lie here day after day, month after month, year after year. When I've talked to Him in the middle of the night He would answer me quite frankly. And some of His answers were very hard, condemning. Yet I think He will weigh this business up and see it as something I just had to do, if for nothing else, to save a child from being incarcerated in an asylum.'She was again holding his hand between 677hers as she said softly, 'Whatever God does or says about your action, I thank you for it, and from the bottom of my heart. You did what I have longed to do for years, and as I stood over him there'-she turned her head and motioned towards the floor-'and I laughed, I became terrified that he had won, that from even being dead he had won and that I was going to go mad, because, as you know, I couldn't stop that laughter for a long time. But now I don't think I shall ever laugh again, not really. Smile, yes, but never laugh, because laughter is a terrifying thing when it is humourless.'He now asked, 'How is the boy?

I think of him as a boy, although he must be close on twenty; yet he is a boy, and my grandson. A bastard grandson. Huh! I ... I wouldn't care if he was a bastard ten times over . . . he ... is my grandson. I

... I wonder what Doug will make of it.' He again said, 'Huh! He's known who he is all the time . . . But do you think he knows he's here?''I shouldn't think so because, before he became unconscious, in a rambling way he asked me to tell him.''Why do you think he came here?'

678'Oh, I don't know. Very likely he just wanted to find out to whom he belonged, really belonged.''Yes.

Yes, likely you're right, dear. Where . . . where have you put him?''Just along the corridor.''Do you think he'll be well enough to come and see me before . . . ?''Yes, yes,' she interrupted him; 'I'm sure he will; and I'm sure he'd want to.''Victoria.''Yes, Father-in-law?''Do you think I could have a port ... a double, before Bright returns?'Her smile was soft and her voice, too, as she assured him, 'I'll see what I can do.'As she rose from the bed he asked hesitantly, 'Tell me, Victoria, do you think that one could have a feeling almost akin to love for a servant?' and, looking down on him, she answered simply, 'Yes, I do.''But it would be very hard to speak of it, wouldn't it?''Yes, perhaps; yet I imagine that it would be the best way to pay a debt through speaking of it, or a gesture by the hand that indicates it.'

679He nodded his head slowly before allowing it to fall back on the pillow; then he closed his eyes and said softly, 'Thank you, Victoria.'J

10Five days later, after an inquest, they buried Lionel Filmore, and it was noticeable that few people attended his funeral; that, in fact, his brother was the only relative present. Nine days later they buried his father, William James Filmore.Perhaps it was the clear frosty day which accounted for the very large cortege that followed the family coaches to the cemetery.Following a short service in the little church, they stood round the grave watching the coffin being lowered into the earth. As the newspapers later briefly reported, his relatives were the younger son Douglas, with his wife and daughter, and next to her the new-found cousin Joseph Skinner, the illegitimate son of the man who had been killed by his father during a family feud.

681It wasn't the first time that the papers had referred to Joseph's parentage; in fact, they'd had a field day with regard to the murder and of himself having been shot at the same time as his natural father.Joseph's arm was still in a sling; his coat was buttoned over it. He stood now, bareheaded, his hat in his hand, as he watched the first clods of earth being shovelled on to the coffin, the while he recalled the final meeting with his grandfather: he could see the tears raining from the bleared eyes, and feel again the swelling in his own chest and the restriction in his throat which prevented words from passing through his lips. He heard again the old man saying, 'Bend down, my boy,' and when he did so the arms came about him; and he returned the embrace, tightly, hungrily, and, as now, his heart was full. But his eyes were dry; yet it was a burning dryness. But not so Bright, who was standing at his side: Bright's head was bowed low and the tears were dripping off the end of his nose and his chin; and when he went to take the older man's arm, he muttered, 'Leave me, sir, just for a while;' and Joseph, after a moment's hesitation, turned

682slowly and walked to where Amy was waiting for him.Douglas first helped his wife into the carriage and then his daughter, and lastly he went to assist Joseph; but Joseph, turning to him, said, 'I ... I won't be coming back with you.''What!' It was as if Douglas hadn't heard aright.Now Bridget and Amy were leaning from the carriage and they both said, *What do you mean?'Tm . . . I'm going to stay with Mrs Hanratty for a few days.''You can't.9He looked at Amy and said quietly, *I can. I want to.''Why?'

Douglas's voice too was low but the word was hard-sounding.'Because I , f . I want to sort myself out.

And anyway I'm all right now . , , and'- he gave a tight smile-Tm no longer working there.''Don't be silly.

You're being awkward again. Don't be silly.''Amy, please! Look, I'm going to stay withAL, 683Hanratty, I've told you.* And now he looked from one to the other,This is ridiculous. Who's going to look after you?' It was Amy again, and he turned to her, saying, There's nobody better than Mrs Hanratty.5'But how are you going to get there? Will we drop you off?'He turned to answer Bridget: 'No, thank you. There's a cab waiting. Mrs Hanratty saw to it.''Dear! Dear! Dear! You have been busy.'

Douglas's head was nodding now and he looked anything but pleased as he muttered, 'You are an awkward cuss, you know. It's as Amy says.*'Yes, I know that. I know that, but I'll likely grow out of it.''Please' - Bridget was extending her hand towards him - 'come back with us. Please.''Mrs Filmore,' he said, 'please see my side of it: they'll all be waiting; I'm a curio. It's been awkward in the house these last few days: I was a worker, the lowest in the small staff, and now who am I? They are having a job to find out how to treat me, even Bright. And then you are expecting half this crowd 684to go back to the house, aren't you? It's amazing'-he smiled quizzically now-'how many friends the old fellow has suddenly accumulated. He has lain there for years, I should imagine, and not one of them looked in on him. If, for nothing else, I should feel too cynical to face them today.'Douglas looked at this tall young man whom he had seen grow from a boy into a youth and had now jumped from a young man into maturity. It wasn't two full months since he had last seen him yet he seemed to have put on years. He placed his hand on his shoulder, saying, 'Have it the way you want it. We'll come along there tomorrow; we've got a lot to talk about.'Joseph let the carriage bowl away before he turned and walked to where a solitary cab was waiting. He did not even address the driver, but got into the cab and lay back in a corner of it and closed his eyes . . .Bertha Hanratty was waiting for him. Her face was bright, her hands outstretched in welcome, and they were gentle as they helped him off" with his coat, then practically led him, as if he were an invalid, up to the fire and to the basket chair; and not until 685then did she speak, saying, 'Well, you got it over?''Yes, Mrs Hanratty, I got it over.''You know something?''No. What should I know?'Td rather you called me Bertha.''That would be nice, Bertha. Yes, I'll call you Bertha.'He looked round the room, sighed and said, 'It's good to be back.''Aw, lad.' Her hands one on each side of the chair, she bent over him, her face close to his and said, 'You've got no idea how good it is for me an' all. You know, from the minute you came to that door'-she jerked her head back-'as wet as a duck that forgot to oil its wings, me whole life has been different, changed. And yours has an' all ... I mean, changed, hasn't it?'She straightened up now, adding, 'And to think you belong to that lot down there. Eeh! it's like somethin' that you read about/'I don't really belong, Bertha. I'm an offshoot that shouldn't have happened.''You belong all right, signed paper or no ^igned paper.' Her voice had hardened somewhat. 'Half the royalty were got on the