THE BONDAGE OF LOVE (31 page)

business to carry on."

"He doesn't care a damn about the business. Well, what I mean is, that comes second to you."

"I know that. But there'll be no need if you'll only do what I tell you."

"Where are you going in the morning?"

"I'll tell you later. You'll know all about it then. Just leave it to me.

And do this for me, will you? On no account let him go to the station before that time. Anyway, I'll likely be waiting for him outside, if not inside."

"What're you up to, Katie?"

"I'm up to nothing. But I can straighten this thing out in my own way if I'm left alone. Will you do that?"

"Yes. Yes, of course, I'll do that. But I can tell you, it'll be like keeping a tiger in a rabbit hutch."

She put out her hand now, saying on a small laugh, "A good description."

He caught at her hand as he whispered, "Well, whatever you do, I'm with you.

You know that, Katie. And I'm glad you laid him out."

"Good night, Willie."

"Good night, Katie, and don't worry, I'll do as you say and hang on to him."

The seven o'clock bus was the first bus of the morning, and it was full of workmen who all seemed to know each other, and, without exception, eyed the young lass in the long mackintosh and woollen hat.

She had to go to the back of the bus where sat three men, and they moved along the seat to make room for her.

"A sharp morning, miss," said one of them.

"Yes. Yes, it is very cold."

"Get fed up with dark mornings," said another.

"Can't see your way to work."

"A good excuse for being late," put in a laughing voice.

"But you wouldn't need that, would you, Dickie?"

She sat listening to the back-chat, mostly put on for her benefit. And when the bus reached the market place she was the only one who rose to get off.

The three men on the back seat all said, "Goodbye, miss." And one added, "As the Americans say, have a nice day."

She turned and smiled at him, and what she said, was, "I intend to."

Which left them not a little puzzled.

She knew that the Ferndales' house was called Willow House and that it was situated in Lime Avenue. This had come to her knowledge some time ago. It was when her Dad had been remarking on the number of law people that lived in this district and that the police inspector's sumptuous house was only four large gardens away from George Ferndale's. And this, she was thinking as she covered the ten minutes walk from the town centre to the avenue, couldn't be better for her purpose.

She had entered the gate and was halfway up the drive and in sight of the front of the house when it was suddenly illuminated by strong beams of light, and she knew she must have passed a trigger point.

This kind of protection was being taken up by a lot of people in the town, so it didn't deter her. But it showed her up in the bright light when the door was opened to her knock and a maid peered at her, saying, "Yes? What is it?

What d'you want?"

"I wish to see Mr. Ferndale."

"Eeh! Who are you? He doesn't have visitors at this time in the morning.

Are you selling something?"

Katie's voice soon disabused her of the idea that she was the kind of person who would be selling something when she said, "No, I am not selling something. And will you kindly tell your master that Miss Bailey is

downstairs and wishes to see him?" Then she put her hand out, saying, "Don't close the door on me." And, stepping into the hall, she said, "I'll wait here."

The maid, who was dressed in a blue-print dress to which was attached a working apron, now stooped and picked up a dustpan and brush from the floor, all the while keeping her eyes on Katie. Then she muttered, "He won't like it. He's just finished his shower. He's ... You had better wait until he comes down."

"I'm not waiting till he comes down. If you don't go up now and tell him, I will present myself in his bedroom. How does that appear to you?"

The girl, who was in her late teens, stared openmouthed at the visitor; then turning, she hurried towards the stairs, but remembering what she was

carrying, she again laid down the dustpan and brush. And it was only a

minute later when she heard a man's voice saying, "What?"

Then a woman's voice saying, "What is it? What is it?"

"The Bailey girl is downstairs."

The man's words came clearly to her and she nodded to herself, saying, yes, the Bailey girl is downstairs.

When George Ferndale reached the bottom stair, he stood peering at her; but there was no need to peer because the hall was brilliantly lit by a

chandelier. Then stepping down, he took three paces towards her before he stopped and said, "May I ask the reason for this early visit. Miss Bailey?"

"Yes, you may, Mr. Ferndale. I've come with a proposition."

"Of what?" His head moved to the side and his eyes narrowed.

"I'll repeat the word: proposition. First of all, I must tell you that your son is not only a liar, but he is a coward and a dirty swine."

She watched the man's face stretch and his jaw come out, and as he was about to speak she unloosened the belt of Fiona's raincoat, and so exposed her partly naked top: her school blouse was hanging as it had done last night; her brassiere strap had been torn from the material and one cup of it was hanging loose over her left breast. Then letting the raincoat drop to the floor, she pulled the sleeve of her bloodstained coat to the side to expose her shoulder. And lastly, she pulled the middle of the brassiere down and pointed to the two red weals marking her breast. And now she said, "Look at me! This is how your son left me last night when he tried to rape me. But he didn't expect what he got. And let me tell you, sir, it's a wonder I didn't throttle him, and I could have done."

"What on earth are you talking about, girl?" The voice thundered almost as loudly as Bill's would have done, and she said, "Do I have to explain? Your cowardly son tried to rape me. He waited in Laburnum Walk for me, right in the dark part at

the middle, and snatched me. And I soon realised his flies were already open. "

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" The man now turned and looked at his wife who, by now, was standing two steps up from the hall and supporting herself against the balustrade.

"Yes, you can say that, Mrs. Ferndale: Oh my God! Oh, my God! That's what I yelled out. And my friend, Sammy Love, whom I was to meet at the end of the Walk, heard me, and it was he who tore me off your son, and saved him from being throttled. Then he pushed me away and I was on the verge of collapse.

And, quite candidly, I didn't know where I was until I reached the end of the Walk, and there I vomited. If you want proof of that, you'll likely find it there this morning!"

"She's ... she's mad! It's lies! She's mad! She's mad!"

"I'm not mad now, Mrs. Ferndale, but I was last night. Your son has trailed me for weeks. Oh, longer than that. I repulsed him last year with one of my jujitsu tricks, and he has been on the look out for me since. But last night I used every trick I knew, and if he's alive it's Mr. Sammy Love you've got to thank for it. But your cowardly son couldn't bear to let anybody think that he had been done over by a girl not half his size, so he pins it on Sammy."

"I don't believe it! I can't believe it!"

"Shut up, woman! And you, get yourself away!" he yelled at the staring maid. Then, drawing in a long deep breath, he said, "Come in here a minute, miss. And you, too!" He turned on his wife.

"No! No! I must go--' " You must damn well not go to him. I'll be the one who'll go to him.

Come down and into the drawing-room this minute. "

Katie watched the tall, thin woman step down into the hall and follow her husband, very like an automaton would have done, for each movement was stiff, as if she had to force her feet forward.

"Sit down."

"No, thank you. I've more to say, and I'll say it standing. I'll begin by telling you that I kept your son's name from my father last night, because I was afraid of what he would do; more than likely he would have finished what I began. But it was you, yourself, who came on the phone and gave him the name that I had withheld. It then took my mother all her time to stop him from coming over here." This wasn't quite true but it added to the effect.

Then she went on, "But what he intends to do is to have me at the police station between half-past nine and ten this morning, an hour before your demand that he should meet you in your chambers, by which time he would have laid a charge of rape against your son. With this evidence." She flapped her hand against her chest, and, as she did so, she was aware that the

woman's face turned away as if in disgust. Then she went on, "I've no need to apologise for my father's manner. But I'll leave you to guess what will happen in that police station;

and as there's always a reporter kicking around a police station, so this town would be ablaze before

32. 3

the day's over. And my father would leave out no detail, from my torn

clothes to my bleeding breast, and his flies, as I said, already open. "

"Girl! Girl! You're indecent!"

The woman had been seated, but now she was on her feet, and her husband, turning on her, yelled "Of course she's indecent. She's been made so by your son ... our son. God forgive me that I've got to say he is mine. And I've warned you for years, haven't I? Oh! Go on up, now, and bring him down."

"I can't! I can't!" Her voice now was firm and cold.

"He's not well.

You've seen how he is. "

"All right: he won't come down, then we'll go up. Come on, girl."

"You can't! I forbid it."

Katie watched the husband and wife facing each other, and for a moment she felt sad as she saw the actual hate that emanated from each of them.

"Come on." He beckoned Katie towards him, and she hesitated for a moment before following him.

When she reached the galleried landing, her whole body began to tremble. She felt like putting her hand out to the man in front and saying, "No. No, I don't want to see him. I can't." But then the bedroom door was thrust open, and she could see the man propped up in bed. He'd had a cup in his hand, but he now thrust it on to the bedside table, and pulled himself up straight, then stared wide- eyed at his father. And when the man yelled, "Come in,"

she was unable to move until the father took her arm and pulled her into the room.

She looked at the figure in the bed. There were red weals down both sides of his cheeks. One eye was slightly discoloured and his lower lip was

swollen. But the expression she saw on his face was indescribable, going beyond fear into terror. The skin had turned so pale that the scratches and bruises stood out as if they had been painted there. He now fell back

against the bed head and was drawing in his breath as if he were gasping, and what he muttered was, T . I didn't. I didn't. I mean, well . "

"What do you mean?" His father was standing by the head of the bed now.

"Look at her breast. The nipple's the size of a walnut. And you drew blood there, didn't you?"

"Mother! Mother!"

"Oh, don't pass out. She got you out of playing rugby, but she won't get you out of this. A jug of water will soon revive you."

"She's ... she's mad."

"Well, who made her mad?"

"I... I only tried to ... to k ... kiss her."

"With your flies open?"

"They ... they weren't!"

"You're a liar." The words were forced from Katie. She now moved a step towards the bed and added, "And you're a dirty coward. You couldn't bear to be beaten up by a girl, could you? It would take some living down; and if my father has anything to do with it you never will."

George Ferndale turned now and, taking her arm, he said quietly, "Come along.

Come along. As

32. 5

you say, it will take some living down. "

Downstairs once more, he said, "I'll put things right."

"Oh, yes. Yes, I know you will. But there's something more."

"More?" His voice had risen again.

"What more?"

"Sammy Love will not only be accused of assault and battery, or whatever terms they use, but, because he was so enraged when they wouldn't believe that he had just come across your son and was helping him to get to his feet, he swore at the police. More than swore at them, I understand. But what is even worse in their eyes, he threatened to throw one and, I think, actually attempted to."

She watched the man before her close his eyes, then say, "Dear, dear!

Well. well, that's another case, isn't it? "

"No. No, it isn't. It's all the same case."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean this. I must get Sammy out of that place before my father reaches it this morning, and I've made arrangements with my brother to keep him at home until half-past nine, to beg him to stay there until then; and only to come to the police station when I expect Sammy will be free, and through your intervention."

"I cannot go against the police."

"No, but the chief inspector can, and he's a friend of yours and lives four doors away."

George Ferndale's eyebrows seemed to strain towards his hair as his nose tended to move downwards while his mouth opened, then closed. He did not speak, but just seemed to be waiting for her next words. But when she

uttered them, saying, "You could slip along and ask him as a favour to inform the men of the Dene Street station, that last night never happened, or

whatever way he likes to put it. But if Sammy isn't freed from that charge too, and is not at liberty by half-past nine, then I promise you my father will be there and I will do what he is dead set on me doing, name your son as my assailant and attempted rapist." She watched the big head move slowly from side to side, and then he uttered one word, "Now?"

"Well, the time's going on. It's getting on for half- past eight, and I'm not leaving until I get what I came for, and that is, to use a word with which you are familiar, justice, for someone who has been wrongly imprisoned."

"He hasn't been imprisoned yet." There was a terseness in the tone.