Miss Mary Martha Crawford (18 page)

me bum. I jumped an' that did it."

Not for a long time had he had the spontaneous urge to laugh, to

bellow, not at the scene as he saw it depicted in his 125 mind with

that lout outside taking a liberty with the little one, but at the look on Miss Martha Mary Grawford's face. Dear! dear! dear! we were

easily shocked, weren't we? Hadn't she heard the word bum before?

He forced his expression to change when he looked at Martha and asked,

"Were you aware that this was how the accident happened?" i "No."

"That young fellow wants seeing to, doesn't he?"

"I'll speak to him."

"I should. I certainly should; and more than that. Well now." He rose to his feet and still looking directly at her, he said, "This is where you can use a little of your own remedy. You may now lay her

arms on pieces of oiled sheet, also her legs." He glanced towards the fire where the ashes were piled high on the hearth and added, "And you can get rid of those, I don't think there's much risk of infection

now.

I'll look in towards the end of the week again. "

"Well now, little maid' he was again gazing down on Peg 'you be a good girl and do as I've told you, eat and rest, and I'll see you later."

"Aye, doctor. Anta thanks."

He nodded at her, and only just stopped himself from winking. He now went out into the hall, and Martha, after a moment's hesitation

followed him, but at a distance, and she remained at a distance while he got into his coat, turned the collar up, and drew on his gloves. It was as he stooped to pick his bag up from the chair that he heard her gasp, and he turned his head quickly in her direction. But she was

looking upwards towards the stairs.

In utter amazement now his gaze followed hers and settled on the

apparition descending towards them. It was that of a middle-aged

woman, naked, except for a pair of corsets over which her sagging

breasts hung, and a pair of open drawers, their flaps showing the skin of her inner thighs with each step she took down the stairs. This

then was the Miss Sophie Grawford that Doctor Pippin had spoken of as the cross on the house, the tender cross he had called her.

Martha didn't utter a word, but as if she had been fired from a gun she shot across the hall, then bounded up the stairs. But when she reached Sophie and went to shield her and made an effort to turn her about,

Sophie did an unusual thing, she slapped her beloved niece, in fact she pushed her so roughly that if Martha hadn't clutched at the banister she would have fallen backwards down the stairs. Then she exclaimed in a sweetly authoritative voice, "You can say what you like, Martha Mary, I am going down to dinner. Yes, yes I am... now let me pass."

"Aunt Sophie." 3 For a moment Harry watched them struggling in such a way that both could at any moment tumble headlong into the hall. Then he took the stairs two at a time and when he put his hands on Aunt

Sophie's bare shoulders she became still, turned her head and looked into his face and smiled a childish smile as she said, "Have you come to see George?

Are you staying to dinner? "

Their faces were all close, so close that he felt Martha's agitated

breath on his cheek, and when he looked into her eyes he was, for a

moment, touched by her distress.

"Get a rug. Let go of her, go on, let go and get a rug." His voice was low and soft, his tone kindly. When she hesitated, looking first upstairs and then down as if fearful of letting go of this almost naked creature he quickly unbuttoned his top coat and, pulling it off, put it around Aunt Sophie's shoulders, before turning her gently about and

saying, "This way, eh?"

"We're not going into dinner?"

"Not yet, later."

His arm about her, he led her up the stairs and on to the landing,

there to be confronted by the other two sisters, both showing their

horror. Nancy with her hand tight across her mouth and Mildred with

both hands cupping her face.

"The gentleman has come to see George, Nancy." Sophie smiled from one to the other.

Nancy, staring at Aunt Sophie's bare breasts, which the coat failed to cover, uttered no word, but Mildred turned her head away as if the

sight of her aunt's body was sacrilege to gaze upon.

When suddenly Sophie's steps began to falter and she slumped against him, he jerked his head towards Martha, saying quickly, "Give a hand, put your arm around her."

But again Martha hesitated a moment too long; perhaps it was the

thought of bringing her hand into proximity with his.

"Get out of the way!" He now thrust one arm under Sophie's legs and the other under her shoulder and, lifting her bodily up, carried her to where Nancy was now holding wide the bedroom door. Going straight to the bed, he now laid the limp form on it, then turned and looked at the three faces surveying him and exclaimed angrily, "For God's sake don't look as if you're all going to faint because you've seen bare flesh!

Human beings come in two sorts, male and female." His attention was brought from the three even more startled faces now back to the bed

where Aunt Sophie's mouth was going into one wide gap and from it was issuing an unearthly cry.

Now it was his turn to find himself thrust aside as Martha reached out and grabbed a bone letter opener from a side table and pushed it

lengthwise across the gaping mouth, and as she then caught hold of one thrashing arm Harry held on to the other.

When the spasm finally subsided they both released their holds almost at the same time, and as Martha hastily drew the covers over the now sweating, heaving relaxed form, he asked, "How long has she been having fits?"

"Fits!" The word was a denial.

"My aunt has had turns for some years."

He turned from the bed and glared at her.

"Give them what name you like, Miss Crawford, but that was an epileptic fit. How long has she had them, precisely how many years?"

"She's had her turns ... since ..." she hesitated. How long had her Aunt Sophie had her turns? Long before she had come here. But this

man, this horrible individual calling them fits! She had come to

recognize hate through her father, and she had hated his woman, but the combined feeling was nothing compared to that which she felt towards this individual.

Well, how long? "

"I... I can't recall."

"What do you give her?" Give her? "

"I mean in the way of medicine?"

"I give her no medicine."

"Does Doctor Pippin not prescribe for her?"

"Doctor Pippin says what she needs is quiet and care." She now glanced to where Mildred and Nancy were standing gazing wide-eyed at them both and she said, "Stay with her." Then looking directly at Harry, she added, "I would like a word with you... doctor."

He returned her hard stare for a moment before nodding while saying,

"Yes, that would suit me too." Then stooping, he picked up his coat that had fallen to the floor by the side of the bed and followed her out of the room, down the stairs, across the hall and into what was

their sitting-room.

What struck him immediately about the room was its chill. There was no fire in the grate; its clutter and knickknacks passed unnoticed. Most of the houses he visited in this class were much the same; some people went as far as putting trousers on the table legs to prevent their

being scratched.

They were standing facing each other in the middle of the room. A weak shaft of winter sun penetrated between the heavy curtains and passed over her shoulder and across her chest in front of which her hands were joined, and tightly he noted. And what he also noted in this moment

was that she was greatly distressed. The business of that poor soul up there appearing almost naked must have seemed like the last straw to her.

Remembering what Doctor Pippin had advised, he took a deep breath and clamped down on the irritation she had the knack of arousing in him, and said quietly, "Well now, what do you wish to say to me?" He watched her gulp and her throat swell, and then he was actually

startled by her answer.

"I don't wish you to attend anyone in this house again; I prefer to have Doctor Pippin, and I will write to him to that effect."

The heat from the colour flooding his face seemed to surge downwards through his body," he was filled with an anger which he knew in his mind was far and above that which the situation warranted; she was just a narrow-minded, ignorant, stupid young female.... But was she?

No, she wasn't. At least she wasn't stupid, and that statement she had just made was not, he felt sure, against himself as a doctor, but

himself as a man. She hated him, he could feel it emanating from

her.

He had felt it from the beginning. But why? Why? In the name of

God!

Why? He had never seen her until he entered this house. Or had he?

On first sight he thought that he had come across her somewhere, and if so, then it must have been a fleeting meeting, for she had left no

impression on him.

"Miss Crawford' he spoke her name as if there was a heavy weight attached to it " I want a straight answer to a straight question. Why have you adopted this attitude towards me? You have shown me nothing but animosity from our first meeting. "

He now watched a faint colour seep into her pale skin and his eyes

rested on her lips as they pressed hard one against the other before she replied, "I... I don't like your manner."

His face was screwed up, and he made a small movement with his head, then said slowly, "You mean to say you've taken this attitude towards me just because you don't like my manner?"

There was a moment of complete silence, during which he stared hard

into her face before adding, "I don't believe you. A lot of people don't like my manner, especially females who have their own idea of how a doctor should look, talk and act, but I feel with you there is more in this than just dislike of my manner.... And let me tell you

something at this point. Miss Crawford. If you refuse my services you won't be able to call on those of Doctor Pippin, for he is past

travelling this journey, he's a sick man himself. And what is more,

you might find it difficult to persuade another medical man to come out here because, and you force me to say this, generally they won't run up accounts with new patients, they like their fees on the spot."

Martha could hardly believe her ears; even the grocer and the coal

merchant would never have been so tactless, so coarse. He was even

worse than she had imagined at first. But then, he would want money, wouldn't he? Like her father, he too would want money with which to

supply his mistress.

She was experiencing that choking feeling again. There was spittle on her lips now as she almost spluttered. You shall have your fees,

doctor. Oh yes, I shall see to it that you are paid immediately

because I understand how badly you need money. Mistresses have to be well provided for, they take a lot of keeping up. "

Her fingers were now over her lips, her hand looking as if it had an ague. She swayed slightly, looked from side to side for support, then felt her arms gripped and her body thrust down into a chair. And there she sat, her head back, her breath coming in deep gasps, staring up

into his face now hanging above hers. She blinked twice as she watched it slowly recede; then her vision clearing, she saw that he was

standing upright.

She continued to stare at him in the eerie silence that picked up the sounds in the rest of the house, a door closing, footsteps on the

stairs, a cough, then from outside a dog's whimpering bark. As Harry kept his eyes fixed on hers he came to the conclusion that she was ill.

That was the girl's trouble, she was ill, mentally so. He wouldn't be surprised if, like her aunt, she had . turns, as they called them.

She was in her twenties, unmarried, likely sitting tight on the lid of her emotions and natural desires. The forbidden pleasures denied her, every man would become a target for supposed

sin, so she had tacked a mistress on to him. He felt a deep pity

rising in him for her, but it was immediately checked as she spoke.

"She was my father's mistress; he ruined himself through her. For years I understood he was visiting my great-uncle in Newcastle and all the while it was her. He gave her my mother's jewellery; we are on the verge of ruin, penury. I went to see my great-uncle to ask for his

help and what did I find ... her, and ... and you visiting her too."

Her voice had gradually risen and she was shouting now, like Dilly or Peg, and what was more she couldn't stop her self.

"Well! so now you know. Now you have the reason for my dislike and and why out of decency you should not visit this house again...."

It was his turn to gape.

That's where he had seen her, that morning on his way to Newcastle when she didn't know how to purchase a ticket; it must have been her first train journey. He hadn't known the name of Angela's latest supporter, but it must have been Crawford. Good God! she had every right to be

bitter against him. But Angela his mistress? Huh! He laughed

ironically inside. He would as soon think of taking a boa constrictor to his bed, at least a boa constrictor would finish you off, it

wouldn't keep squeezing you till almost dry as Angela had done to three men to his knowledge, and that wasn't counting this one's father.

As if in relief he now pulled a chair towards her, and sat down in

front of her, and his knees were almost touching hers when, leaning

forward, he said softly, "If your accusation had any truth in it I'd agree with you, you'd have every right to hate me, but Mrs. Mear is

not my mistress. In a way I wish she were, for then I could be rid of her. Un fortunately, she is my sister-in-law. I married her elder

sister nine years ago. Mrs. Mear ... Angela was then barely