The Stranger House (50 page)

Later Sam and Mig learned from Winander what was said.

Gerry, in Thor’s words, looked like death warmed up.

As he approached, he growled, “I see you’ve brought that abomination then.”

“Thought you and Frek had got all that sorted,” replied Thor.

“No. I gave in weakly, as I have always done. But that’s at an end. You and your minions can take it away. And that will be the last time I ever look to see you Gowders on my property. You’re finished here, you understand what I’m saying? It’s over. Now you must answer for yourselves. To God and to man. If the Law doesn’t punish you, then surely the Almighty will.”

It was, theorized Thor when he knew the whole story, mere rhetoric, spoken by a man dizzy from lack of sleep,
his emotional being a maelstrom of guilt and remorse, and fear too at the path of confession and penitence which lay ahead. There was in fact and in law no case for the Gowders to answer. Even if some kind of charge could be devised after all these years, at the age of eleven in a rape case they were below the threshold of criminal responsibility. But such subtleties were not a part of the twins’ thinking. Their measure of what they had done was not a legal still less a moral one. It was the reward they had reaped from their silence, the patronage of Dunstan Woollass without which they would almost certainly have ended up, in their own outdated term, “on the parish.”

What they now heard from Gerry, that the truth was coming out and their protected status was over, simply confirmed what Sam’s outburst in the pub had threatened. They were in deep trouble.

The Gowder under the Wolf-Head, which sloped out from the bank at an angle of forty-five degrees like the figurehead of some monstrous ship, was unable to react except with a threatening glower.

His brother, however, shot out a huge hand as Gerry turned away and grasped his sleeve, saying, “Now ho’d on, now ho’d on,” still having enough strength in his other arm to do his share in steadying the Cross.

Probably Gerry’s intention was merely to shake himself free from this abhorrent touch. But as he flung out his arm to dislodge the grip, the back of his hand caught Gowder full across the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted, tears came to his eyes. Strike a fighting dog and it will strike back. With a bellow of rage, he flung himself at Gerry.

The loose end of the canvas sling whipped round the Cross and Thor’s own weight sent him toppling backwards.

To the onlookers who saw all this in terrifying dumb-show, it seemed as if the monstrous Wolf-Head, freed at last from long restraint, leapt forward in its eagerness to destroy its nearest captor.

Even now if the other Gowder had simply hurled himself sideways he might have come off scot-free or at least escaped serious injury. But a lifetime of triumphing in all trials of strength inspired him to hold his ground.

Thor, prostrate, could only watch in horror. The other twin, grappling with Gerry, turned his head and saw too late what was happening. His brother held the monstrous bole of wood steady for perhaps two seconds, which was at least a second longer than most other men could have achieved.

And then he fell backwards, still embracing the Wolf-Head, which crashed down along the whole length of his body.

His arms flew wide, he spasmed for a moment, then he lay there, stock still, to the kitchen onlookers’ eyes like a man crucified upside down.

All this in less time than it takes to gasp a prayer.

After that it was all confusion, with everyone rushing around, and most of them guessing that not all the activity in the world could make the slightest difference.

Winander and Mig and the other Gowder, now forever Laal, dragged the Wolf-Head clear. Thor proved himself a man for emergencies, trying every technique of resuscitation, but it was soon clear to everyone except his brother that the crushed man was dead. He knelt by the body, pleading with it, urging it, screaming at it, to return to life. He resisted all efforts to move him away and he was still there when the small local ambulance came ululating up Stanebank.

Accepting, as though hope remained, that hospital was the best place for his brother, Gowder finally allowed the paramedics to lift the body into the ambulance. As he climbed in beside it, Thor tried to accompany him, but felt himself pushed back, not roughly but firmly.

“Nay,” he said, “Just me. We’ve got nobody, we need nobody.”

Then he turned his terrible gaze, which had something of the Wolf-Head in it, on to the three Woollasses who stood close together and said, “This is thy doing.”

It defied logic, it expressed no threat, yet the words fell on the listening ears like a sentence spoken by a black-capped judge.

As the ambulance’s warning wail faded down the valley, Sam looked towards the Woollass trio, standing close together, Dunstan in the middle, Frek and Gerry on either side.

Maybe that’s where I should be, she thought. I’m one of them.

Revulsion from the thought made her put her arm round Mig’s waist and he needed no second invitation to pull her close to his side.

Sam and Gerry had come near to each other during the melee after the accident, they had even made eye-contact, but not a word had yet been exchanged. This didn’t feel like the right time. But when would be a right time to say whatever they had to say?

Thor looked from one group to the other as if sensing but not yet comprehending the gulf between them.

Then the kitchen door opened and Mrs Collipepper appeared.

“Mr Dunny, you get yourself in here afore you catch your death,” she commanded, “I’m surprised at you, Miss Frek. Can’t you see he’s not well?”

The old man did indeed look very frail, but Mig found himself wondering if this too wasn’t just part of
the consummate performance he’d witnessed over the past hour.

It certainly resolved the situation. Gerry and Frek began to assist Dunstan towards the kitchen. Imperiously he shook them off on the threshold, looked back at Sam and said, “We should talk further, my dear. This afternoon, when we have all had time to recover our composure. Come to tea. Four thirty sharp.”

For Mig and Sam the precise domesticity of the invitation was a tension-breaker. As the kitchen door closed, they looked at each other and had difficulty stifling their giggles.

“I’m glad you find something funny in all this,” growled Thor.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam remorsefully.

“You don’t understand,” said Mig.

“Then come down to the Forge and explain it to me,” said Thor, opening the door of the pick-up.

Sam started talking even before they were out of the Hall driveway. She felt strangely calm now, as if the death of whichever Gowder it was had been cathartic. She felt the same calmness in Mig, pressed close against her on the seat. Perhaps, cocooned in this calm, they should carry on down the Bank to the Stranger House, get into their cars, and simply drive away, leaving Illthwaite and all that it had done to them behind.

But as she told Thor in simple lucid terms what she had discovered that morning, she knew that the calm was merely an interval, a gathering of strength for some final onslaught.

He brought the vehicle to a halt by his front door and sat in silence, staring straight ahead as she completed her story.

Then he smashed his fist on the dashboard and exclaimed, “Dear God! The poor kid. And that happened here and none of us knew anything about it? Dear God.”

“What would you have done if you had known?” asked Sam.

“For a start, I’d have made sure the kid was properly taken care of, not packed off to the sodding Antipodes!” he exclaimed.

It was a good answer, the best answer.

Now he turned his full attention on her.

“Sam,” he said, “I’m so sorry. This must be terrible for you. I’m sorry.”

“What for? It’s not your fault.”

“It happened here and we let it happen, and after it happened, we didn’t find out about it. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry you’ve been messed around, and I’m sorry you’ve had to … Jesus. You must hate this place and everybody in it.”

She considered this for a moment then said, “No.”

“No?”

He didn’t sound as if he believed her.

She said slowly, getting her thoughts in order, “Where’s the logic in that? What happened to my gran was terrible, all of it, what happened here and what happened back home. So if I hated everyone here then I’d have to hate a helluva lot of people back home too. And every tyke in both places.”

“Yorkshiremen?” said Thor, puzzled.

“Roman sodding Catholics,” said Sam, “Which would include my Aussie granpa and gran. And one or two others who aren’t so bad.”

She glanced at Mig who said, “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

“You too? So which of you pair of sorry plonkers is going to do something useful like getting me a stiff drink?”

They got out of the pick-up and followed Thor into the kitchen where he picked up a bottle and some glasses before leading them out into the cobbled courtyard.

“Might as well enjoy the sun while we’ve still got it,” he said.

Above them the sun, just past its zenith, still shone out of a clear blue sky, but away to the west where the sea lay, huge storm clouds were now bubbling up.

They sat at one of his wrought-iron tables. Thor poured generous measures of Scotch. Raising his glass, he said, “To better times.”

They drank. No one seemed inclined to talk further. Sam’s eyes kept straying to the piece of wall against which the Wolf-Head had stood. She recalled how she’d found it menacing, repulsive—and compulsively attractive.

She said suddenly, “Until the moment it fell, I wanted it to fall. Once it happened, it was terrible. I wanted it all reversed. But before, when I laid eyes on the Gowders, I hated them so much it was like I caused it.”

Now they’ll say,
There, there, don’t be so silly,
she thought.

Mig said, “I felt the same. At least you were hating the same people that caused your family harm. My hate was four hundred years out of date.”

Thor said, “You’re both wrong. Anyone in the dock, it’s me. Industrial accident, employer’s responsibility. I can’t even say I wasn’t aware. I’ve gone on long enough about lifting gear and safety harnesses and not relying on the Gowders’ brute strength. Drink up.”

Mig accepted some more, but Sam put her hand over the glass.

“Need to keep a clear head,” she said, “It would be rude to turn up to tea at the Hall legless. In fact, maybe I should get back down the Stranger, grab a bite to eat and build up my strength.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Thor, “I’d guess the Stranger’s buzzing this lunchtime, and there’ll be just one topic of conversation after the show last night. Plus once news of the accident gets round the village …”

“How’s that going to happen so soon?” asked Mig.

“This is Illthwaite. They’d hear the ambulance siren, plus Noddy Melton monitors the emergency channels. They’ll know already. You don’t want to walk into that. You’d better have a bite of lunch here with me. OK?”

They didn’t argue.

“Can I help?” asked Sam as Thor rose.

“Careful,” said Thor, “Haven’t they heard about us new men in Oz?”

They watched as he went into the house.

Sam said, “I’m glad we’re here. He’s what we need. He shows you can get over the past even though you never forget it.”

“You’ll get over all this then?” said Mig.

“Absolutely. You?”

“I hope so. But it’s hard to say until I’m sure what ‘all this’ entails.”

“I thought you were all done.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t feel it’s over for me until I’m sure it’s over for you.”

His expression was so full of affection and concern that she said, “Mig, look, it’s important we get things straight …”

“I know. I shouldn’t act like a love-sick adolescent
who thinks one night of passion must presage a lifetime’s deep and meaningful relationship. Right?”

“Close,” she said, smiling, “I’d have said something like, lighten up, for Godsake, let’s see how things look away from this place. But maybe the way you put it is better. Look, I like you, I admit it. Must be chemical, I suppose, it’s certainly not rational. Set you down on paper, I wouldn’t hang you in a dunny. But in the flesh, I don’t know, I feel I’ve known you a long time, if that makes sense.”

“It makes sense to me, but if I start on again about feeling we were both sent here for a purpose and it’s the same purpose, you’ll probably break that bottle over my head.”

“You see? Like I said last night, you’re a quick learner.”

They both laughed at the memory.

Thor, emerging from the house with a tray, said, “How good it is to see the little victims at their play. This is the best I can do.”

It was a pretty fair best. Cold beef and pickles accompanied by crusty wholemeal bread and creamy fresh butter.

“I rang the hospital. They weren’t very forthcoming. All they’d say was the ambulance had just arrived and it would be some time before the medics had made an assessment. And I had to tell them I was the Gowders’ uncle to get them to tell me that. I’ll try again in half an hour. Not that I expect to hear anything but what was obvious to all of us.”

This dampened the mood again and they began their meal in silence. Eventually Thor made an effort at conventional conversation which the others joined in, rather stiltedly at first, but soon it began to flow and eventually it was possible to think for half-minutes at a
time that they were just a group of friends enjoying a snack in the sunshine.

Dessert was tangy cheese, apple pie and strong black coffee.

After half an hour, Thor excused himself and went back inside. When he returned he looked very serious once more.

He said, “I rang the hospital again. They confirmed the poor bastard was dead on arrival. Then I asked about Laal. Normally they’d be very cagey talking about the living, but they were worried enough about him to be glad there was someone outside taking an interest. It was like I’d forecast. They had a hell of a job getting him to take it in. They had to let him see the body. For a while he just sat there in a stupor. Then suddenly he stood up and left.”