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Well, it's a bit loose; I think that must have been the reason. It probably caught on the bar. I ... I can't blame him.' He tried to smile but found he couldn't stretch his lips when Douglas said, 'No, you'd never blame a horse, no matter who else you blamed. Well'-he laughed'--what I mean is. Oh, what does it matter? Go on, get yourself home; and I would take a hot bath. Good job it isn't tomorrow, isn't it?'For answer Lionel drew in a deep breath, made a small motion with his head, gave a light tug on the reins, then walked forward.Douglas watched him until the path, zigzagging away, led him out of his sight. And as he turned away the thought occurred to him that Lionel hadn't asked what he was doing alone here in the wood at this time. But then, he wouldn't; he had never taken an interest in anything he had done; and especially

178 not in his stone work that was now providing him with a livelihood, and a good one, so much so that he was contemplating starting a real business. Of course, up till recently the word business would have aroused his father's ire and brought exclamations of open disdain from his brother. But Lionel was now having to change his tune, for business was going to support him for the rest of his life, or at least for as long as he remained in favour with Bridget. My! there was a young woman for you. One had to admire her, if for nothing else, for her business acumen. And, in a strange way, he admired her for more than that. She was such good company. She must be the only woman with whom he had ever been able to hold a conversation made up of words of more than two syllables.He was on his way back to the gully with the intention of walking along it to see if there might be one or two more pieces of available and suitable stone that, with some manual help from the yard, he could get out of the ground without having to employ diggers. But it would soon be dark, especially where the gully ran through the wood itself.

179But then there was the clearing. He'd go as far as that, and if there was anything suitable he would come back tomorrow with the men. No; he wouldn't be able to come back tomorrow. It was the eve of the wedding, everybody would be on their toes. Although the reception was to be held at Bridget's house, their yard men would be busy sprucing up the trap and the brake and themselves preparatory to carrying the bridegroom and the staff to the church. On this thought he did not walk back through the woodland but kept to the path that led back to the clearing. And he was halfway across it when he imagined he heard a strange sound like a moan. He stopped. Perhaps an animal had been caught in a trap. Oh, no! he hoped not. There was now a law against traps, but still the devils set them.He waited, but hearing no further sound he went towards that part of the gully where there were a number of large boulders exposed. These, however, he concluded, would be much too soft for what he required.It was as he turned away to retrace his steps across the clearing that a sharp wind met him and he turned up the collar of his

180coat. He didn't like the cold, likely because he had little flesh on his bones. If ever he made enough money he would go and live in a warm country, an island perhaps, one inhabited by kindly natives. And he wouldn't need a house, he could sleep out on the sand, and he would live on fruit and home-made wine, and live to a hundred and one.Huh! Why did he think such ridiculous thoughts? Who wanted to live to a hundred and one? Who wanted to go on living at all at times? If he reached thirty that would be enough. He had been told that during early childhood his life had been despaired of a number of times; after reaching the age of twelve it would seem he improved somewhat physically but not, his father would have it, emotionally. On one occasion, when deep in his cups, his father had kindly put it that he had shamed him on his first trip when he threw up at the sight of the fox being given its deserts by the dogs; on another: who other than a girl would cry at the sight of kittens being bagged and drowned in the tank?However, he could recall the great day he had kicked his father and clawed at him 181(when his father, enraged at having been "thrown twice in the one day, had tethered his horse in the yard and lashed out at it with his whip. He himself still had the mark down the side of his ear where the whip had been turned on him.But why was he thinking these old thoughts? All because he had felt cold from that blast of wind and had the silly vision of the warm island again.He stopped. An animal was just in there to the right of him. Had it earlier been caught by another it would have been dead by now and half eaten. He moved slowly towards the thicket; and then his hand went to his mouth but hardly covered the gape as his mind yelled, Oh my God!Three steps more and he was bending over a man who had one hand tight to his neck, with his face covered in blood. He bent nearer, saying, 'You're hurt. You've been hurt.'The wet, blood-laden eyelids lifted, the mouth opened, and the blood dribbled from it. Then the lips came together as the man spoke.'What is it? Yes?' He couldn't distinguish 182what the man was saying. It sounded as if he was asking for someone called Billy. Then he made out the words, 'get' and 'go', and he nodded at him, saying, 'Yes. Yes, I'll go. Lie ... lie still. I'll go and get help.'As he was about to straighten up the man spoke again. It was a mutter but he made out his own name because he said Tilmore.' And he answered him, nodding vigorously, saying, 'Yes, I'm Mr Filmore.

Now I'll be back as soon as possible. Just stay quiet.'He shot from the thicket across the glade and onto the wood path. There, he hesitated for one moment. Where was the nearest house? To the right was a farm, but it was very nearly as far as the factories and the town. To the left of him the nearest habitation was his home.He had always been able to run, but he had never run as quickly as he did now. Yet it took him ten minutes before he arrived, panting, in the yard, there to stand gasping as he called out to Jimmy Fawcett and Ron Yarrow, the stablemen, 'Get the c ... cart ready! the flat cart. Quick! D'you hear?

There's a man bleeding to death in the wood . , . back there/

183'What, sir?' Jimmy Fawcett screwed up his face in enquiry: 'You all right, Mr Douglas?''Yes, damn you! Jimmy, I'm all right. I'm telling you, there's a fellow back there bleeding to death. It looks as if he's had his throat cut or something. I don't know.''Good God!''Where's Johnson?'' Tis his time off, Mr Douglas.*'Who else is on?''Bill, but he's just gone down to his cottage.''Well, get the cart out and I'll go and get Bill to come along with us. Then Ron . . . you take to your heels and go down the road to The Beeches, Doctor Nesbitt is nearly sure to be in at this time. Bring him along to the wood. It's in the clearing.''But which wood, Mr Douglas?''My God! man, there's only one wood on the road to town.'*Oh, that one. Oh, all right, all right. I'll do that. Yes, I will.' And with this, he dashed into a stable, swung his coat off a nail and even while putting it on was running out of the yard.

184Meanwhile, Douglas almost burst into the groom's cottage, apologizing as he gabbled, "I'm sorry, Bill, but you've got to come along with me. There's a man bleeding to death in the wood. Jimmy's getting the cart ready, Ron's gone for Doctor Nesbitt.' Knowing that this man would follow him, he immediately turned and made for the house.He now ran through the kitchen quarters, startling Rosie Jackson and the maids. And in the hall, seeing the butler coming out of the dining-room he shouted at him, 'Where's Mr Lionel?'The man's only answer was to turn his face towards the dining-room again, and Douglas, pushing past him, entered the room to see Lionel sitting in a chair at the far end of the table, a glass to his mouth, which he drained as Douglas hurried towards him, saying, 'There's been an accident of some kind, Lionel. I came across a fellow in the wood. It looks as if his throat's been gashed. Will you come and give us a hand?''Wh . . . What?''Oh, I'm sorry, you're still feeling the effects of your toss. But the poor fellow's likely bled to death by this time.'

185Lionel laid the empty glass slowly down on the table and looked at Douglas as he said, 'He's not dead?''No, but he likely will be by the time we get there. I've sent Yarrow for Doctor Nesbitt. They're getting the cart ready.'Looking hard now at his brother, he said, "Oh, I'm sorry; you're not up to it. It's all right. It's all right,' and he backed from him, flapping his hand and assuring him, 'We'll manage.'Left alone, Lionel closed his eyes tightly and brought his teeth down onto his lower lip, dragging it inwards on top of his tongue until the pain caused him to desist; then slowly his hand went out towards the decanter, and, as slowly it seemed, he filled the wine glass to its brim. The glass was quickly emptied and once more his head drooped until his chin rested on his chest, and he muttered aloud, 'God Almighty! All that for nothing. And if the fellow was able to speak . . .' and again he said, 'God Almighty!'

As Mary Ellen Skinner entered the factory her nose wrinkled and she brought her hasty step to a walk as she looked about her at the dust-laden air. Her narrow glance flitting from one dim figure to another, she stopped at a bench and said to the figure standing there, 'Where's Joe Skinner?'The worker happened not to be a girl but a married woman, and a mother of five children, but was still known as Susie Fields because she had been Little Susie Fields when she first started in this factory at nine years old. And she had lived in Honeybee Place all her life, and so Mary Ellen Skinner was no stranger to her.Susie was known to be a bit of a card and no respecter of man or woman of no matter what class, and so, on a laugh, she said,

187'Well, the silly bugger was standing in his trousers the last time I saw him.'The titter ran along the bench but the hands never stopped folding over the squares of blacklead. They all seemed to be working in unison and so fast it seemed that within the blink of an eyelid a block was placed on a piece of paper, the ends of the paper brought together, the sides enveloped and dabbed with glue, then racked. And the process was repeated within almost another blink of the eyelid.Mary Ellen's lips seemed to be on the point of letting out a loud whistle, but when they parted what she said was, ' 'Tis a wonder they weren't down then when you were about.'A lass's hand came out and grabbed Susie's and forced it and the block of blacklead onto the bench again, and from the other side of the bench the man loading a trolley with the wrapped blocks said, 'Well, Susie, you know, you asked for that;' and added, 'Wonder what she's after?'When Mary Ellen reached the end of the room she asked Johnnie Mcinnes, 'Where's Joe?'

and he replied, 'Oh, hello, Mrs Skinner.

188 You want the gaffer, do you? Oh, well, he's gaffering in the storeroom, I think.' He nodded and jerked his head towards the door.Mary Ellen peered at him and her head wagged slightly as she said,

'Oh, I thought you were the gaffer, Johnnie, and our Joe the manager? He told me he had bumped you up, seeing you missed getting his job.'Johnnie Mclnnes glared after the small sturdy figure as it disappeared into the storeroom and what he muttered under his breath wasn't respectable.Joe was talking to a cart man. He had a clip-board in his hand and he was checking the small crates being loaded onto the flat dray cart, and he started somewhat when he heard his mother's voice at his elbow, saying, 'I want a word with you.'He didn't speak but turned and walked out of the loading shed, went through the door into the factory and there, calling Johnme Mclnnes forward, he handed him the board, saying,

'Finish that load, will you?' and continued towards the office, and there, before he could ask what had brought her here, she said, 'You want to watch that one.

189He called you the gaffer and said you were gaffering in there. If you're managing you want to stand on your feet and let them see you're managing.''What d'you want? What's the matter?'She drew in a long breath, before answering. 'Have you seen anything of our Fred?''I saw him last night. But why should I have seen him since? He knows I won't set him on.''He hasn't been home all night. I waited up till nearly three. It's never happened afore.''Oh that.' He went behind the desk and sat in the chair before adding,

'He's got to start some place. But then, I thought he was already well versed in that line but would never fork out to stay the night.''You're a bitter sod, aren't you?''Well, I know where I get it from, Ma. And I've somethin' to be bitter about if I look back over me life, where neither you nor he hasn't. You've both seen to number one first.'Her head made small movements as she said, 'Who's talkin' about number one?

If anybody's seeing to number one it's you:

190leaving me to fend for meself while you see to your trollop, 'cos that's what she is ... and you needn't get to your feet 'cos you'll sit and hear me out. I know there's somethin' fishy about her, and our Fred knows a thing or two, but you've threatened him if he opens his mouth.'He had risen to his feet now, and his voice was dangerously quiet as he said, *You know more than is good for you, Ma. But don't think you'll get to know anythin' from Fred; he's careful of his skin, is Fred. And remember Andy Davison did time for one of Fred's exploits. But we've been through all this afore, haven't we? Now, Ma, I should go home an' make yourself, as you always do, a good cup of tea. And cook a few griddle cakes an' get the butter out an' treat yourself as you usually do when you're on your own.'They stared at each other for a moment; then as she turned away from him she said almost under her breath, 'Bad sons always come to rotten ends. And you'll sup sorrow with a big spoon afore you're finished. I know that,' to which his answer was: 'Likely I will, Ma. If you wish it hard enough for me, I certainly will.'

I191When the door banged behind her he dropped back onto the seat, and a tremor shot through him. It was as if he had been stung by a hornet, and so physical was its effect that he gripped a handful of the front of his coat, and admonished himself. Steady. Steady.'You don't like it, Joe?''Oh, yes, lass, yes. It's fine. I couldn't imagine you makin' a bad meat puddin'.''You generally ask for a second do almost afore you've finished your first. There must be somethin' the matter. Now tell me, what I is it? Is it your Fred again?''Aye; in a way, you could say it's him. But I me mother came to the Works the day. He I hadn't come home last night. I put it to her, there could be a reason for that, and yet, as far as I can remember, he's never kept a steady lass. But anyway, she went for me. By, she's a bitter pill, is me Ma. The things she said. Well, she's said as much before but it's never affected me like it did the day. It left me with the most odd feeling; I can't describe it. She's not a happy woman, is me Ma, but then she never has been.