Under World

Chapter 17

Colin Farr sat up in bed and held his mother’s narrow pale hands loosely between his own.

‘You’ve not asked me if I killed him, Mam,’ he said. ‘Why’s that? Because you’re sure I didn’t? Or because you don’t want to hear the answer?’

‘You’re sometimes so like your father,’ May said sadly.

‘What’s that? Good or bad?’

‘I don’t know. He were always looking to see the inside of things too. No such thing as a straight answer, either giving it or taking it. Always looking for something hidden. And always hiding himself as he looked.’

‘You’re not so bad at ducking a straight question yourself,’ said her son, smiling. But she wasn’t deceived by his smile.

‘How’d you get in anyway?’ asked Colin.

‘That Union lawyer, Mr Wakefield, fixed it. Said if you weren’t being charged, it’d create bad feeling to keep me out.’

‘Threatened them with another riot, did he? Perhaps Wakefield’s not as daft as he looks.’

‘I wish you’d pay heed to him, Col. You need help.’

‘I’m getting it,’ said Farr. ‘Just lying here with lots of time to think and only one thing to think about, that’s a great help. Slaving down that bastard hole all day, then getting pissed to try and forget you’ve got to go back down tomorrow, that doesn’t leave much time for thinking. At sea now, you’ve lots of time for thought …’

‘You’ll go back to sea then when this is all over?’ said May hopefully.

‘So I’ll have more time to think? Depends, doesn’t it?’

‘What on?’

‘On what I’ve got to think about,’ said the young man, laughing strangely. He pulled himself up when he saw the distress on his mother’s face and said with an effort at matter-of-factness, ‘What’s the crack, then? They can’t have had as much fun as this in the village since that parson started flashing at the Reform Chapel.’

‘Everyone’s upset, natural,’ said his mother. ‘Arthur’s been round since first thing …’

‘Didn’t stay the night, then?’

‘No. But if he had done, it’d be my business, not yours.’

‘Sorry,’ said Colin. ‘What’s he reckon to it all, then?’

‘He’s not said much. But he’s been a grand help fending folk off, like.’

‘Oh aye? Well, if you look like a mangy hound, you might as well act like one. Sorry.’

‘You should be. He’s been a good friend.’

‘And that’s all?’

‘How many times do you need told?’ she asked angrily. ‘And don’t you think you would have been told a hundred times in that bloody club if there had been owt going on? Why’s it bother you so much, anyway? Am I supposed to live like a nun just to keep you happy? You ought to practise what you preach. I’ve had a houseful of your fancy women this morning, most on ’em married.’

‘You wha’?’ said Colin, his face contorting into a look of pantomimic amazement. Despite herself, May Farr laughed.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Only two. That teacher, Mrs Pascoe. Did you know her husband’s a bobby? A CID inspector?’

Now her son was genuinely amazed.

‘What? No, I bloody didn’t, but it explains … or mebbe it doesn’t. Any road, get one thing straight, she’s not my fancy woman.’

‘Suit yourself. She doesn’t seem a bad sort, bit wet behind the ears, though. Your other little friend who called was Stella. I suppose you’re going to say you’ve never laid a finger on her either?’

‘You know that’s been over for years!’

‘Oh aye? And that bother down at the Club? And you visiting that fancy house of hers in broad daylight when you should have been on shift? Social call, were it?’

Farr shook his head in disgust.

‘Bloody Burrthorpe! The Russkis should send the KGB there for training. Who told you? One of your Action Women, was it? Or that other gabby tart, Downey? All right. Sorry again. Look, what did Stella want?’

‘Just to see how you were, she said. Me, I’m not sure she knew what she wanted. She seemed a bit mixed up. One thing she said was that you’d phoned her last night as well as that Mrs Pascoe.’

‘She said that? And what did she say I said?’

Mrs Farr hesitated, then replied, ‘That’s where she seemed mixed up. I couldn’t make right sense of it. I sent her packing. We’ve got enough trouble without having jealous husbands looking for you with pick-handles.’

‘Gav?’ The young man laughed. ‘Gav’s no bother. We understand each other, me and Gav.’

May Farr looked at him uneasily.

‘I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.’

‘Like you wished you could have known what was going on in Dad’s head?’ said Farr savagely.

‘Oh no. Not like that.’

‘But you said we were the same, always hiding ourselves.’

‘Aye, but there were a difference. I knew your dad’s limits. Even if I didn’t know what he was thinking, I knew what he could and what he couldn’t do!’

‘And with me you don’t?’ He didn’t seem displeased with the thought. ‘So you just knew he couldn’t have anything to do with Tracey’s disappearance? That must have been grand for you. Saved you having to lie awake nights wondering why he just dumped her at the bottom of the lane and never bothered to see her properly home!’

She shook her head sadly at his vehemence.

‘Of course I wondered. Of course I asked him. Of course he told me.’

‘Told you? What? And if there’s something to tell, why have I never been told it?’ he demanded.

‘Because of what you are, Colin. Because there’s a wildness in you … and I didn’t want trouble. But it doesn’t matter any longer, does it?’

‘What doesn’t, for Christ’s sake?’

So she told him. He listened without interrupting and when she had finished, he shook his head and forced a smile and said, ‘Even then? By God, you’ve got to give it to them. They must have been real clever, else it would’ve been scrawled all over pit-yard wall.’

‘Is that all you can say?’ demanded May Farr passionately. ‘This is about your dad, about what was going on in his mind, about what he could and couldn’t do! But I shouldn’t need to be telling you this, not you, his own son …’

Her voice broke under the weight of her emotion.

‘Mam, Mam,’ said Colin, drawing her to him. ‘Don’t upset yourself. You’re right. I knew he couldn’t have done it. I’ve always known it. Sometimes you lose sight of things a bit. It’s like being down that bloody pit. Sometimes the dark seems to get inside you so that a lamp’s no good, nowt but the sun will clear it away. You’re the sun, Mam. I see things clear now!’

He kissed her forehead. She pushed him away and wiped the tears from her eyes.

‘You talk daft sometimes, Colin, always did. Is this the way you charm that schoolteacher with your fancy words?’

But she smiled as she spoke to take any sting out of what she said. Now she rose and said, ‘I’ll be off now. I want to talk to that solicitor again. And I want to see the doctor. Is there owt you need, son?’

‘Here? No. I’ll be discharged tomorrow, they reckon. As far as cop-shop at least. Take care, Mam.’

‘You too.’

They exchanged smiles, hers loving, his loving also but with an admixture of something else. She hesitated uneasily, then opened the door. Constable Vessey rose from the chair outside.

‘Did you get a draught from the keyhole then?’ she asked caustically.

He cupped his ear and said, ‘What?’ and grinned, but she was paying no attention to his antics. She’d spotted Gavin Mycroft standing at the end of the corridor, framed against a swirling autumn sky which the tall narrow window tried in vain to give hospital corners to.

‘What’s he doing here?’ she demanded.

‘He’s come to see your boy,’ said Vessey. ‘It’s all right. He’s got permission, like you.’

‘I don’t care if he’s got a letter from the Queen, get him out of here!’

Mycroft had advanced and caught her words. He said, ‘It’s all right, Mrs Farr. No trouble, I promise you. I’ve just come to see how he is. Col says he’d like to see me.’ She looked at him doubtfully. He looked pale and strained but returned her gaze unflinchingly.

‘No trouble,’ he repeated.

‘Hey, is that Gav Mycroft out there?’

It was Colin’s voice through the half-open door.

‘Aye, it’s me,’ said Mycroft, raising his voice.

‘Well, send the bugger in. If I can’t have a telly, I might as well try a bit of live entertainment.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Mycroft, edging past May Farr and into the room. He closed the door firmly behind him. May stood irresolutely looking at it for a while, till Vessey said slyly, ‘Like to take a peek through the keyhole, missus? Be my guest.’

‘Sorry. I can’t get low enough for your kind of work,’ she said.

The constable watched her walk away. Once she was out of sight, he resumed his seat, pulling the chair forward so that his ear came close to the jamb of the door. Not that he could hear anything more than a murmur of voices. It was all right for bloody Wishart telling him to listen, but in these days of electronic bugging, why was he expected to manage without as much as an ear-trumpet? Also it was embarrassing to be spotted by passing nurses in this farcical position.

He jerked upright now as one approached, a little Scottish girl with a satirical tongue.

‘Busy again, I see,’ she said. ‘Too busy for a cup of tea, I dare say.’

‘I could murder one,’ he answered. ‘And I’d make it a mass murder for a quick drag.’

‘Light up here and there’ll likely be a mass murder,’ said the girl. ‘But if you have your cuppa in Sister’s cubbyhole, you’ll be all right with the window open. She’s not around just now.’

Vessey was tempted. Sister’s room was just round the corner and there was no way out from this blank end of the corridor without passing it. With the door open, he could keep as good a watch there as here. As for listening … he applied his ear to the jamb once more. Only the indistinguishable murmur of voices. He looked up into the nurse’s face. The child was choking back her giggles! It was too much.

‘Right,’ he said rising. ‘I reckon I’ve earned a fag. Lead on!’