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never . . . leaves . . . you . . . alone.'When Douglas gave vent to a loud laugh she reached out and slapped his knee; and he mouthed at her: 'You're . . . the . . . one ... to talk, Etta. Who is it that gets in a temper . . . when she can't come and see Joseph?'To Joseph, it was as if Douglas were talking to a little girl, and the big, almost hefty woman sitting close to him took up the childish pattern by looking at him and saying, 'But . . . Joseph . . . likes ... me . . . near . . . him, don't you, Joseph?' and she went to grab his hand, but he moved his arm quickly away, for of a sudden he was 766repelled by her. For some time now she had aroused a similar feeling in him, but only now did he put a name to it. Immediately he recalled when she had first been made aware that they were half-brother and sister. She was then a young, slim, beautiful eighteenyear-old girl; and she seemed to remain so for the next two years until Victoria died, when she came under the full supervision of Bridget. From then, there were no more days spent digging in the garden; she attended school, not part-time as she had been doing, but full-time. And it seemed to be from then that her free time was given over to lazing about and eating. Whether eating assuaged the frustrations, or the frustrations caused her to eat was a question no one could answer.Although at school she learned to speak volubly on her hands and there was even some improvement in her speech, there was little in the controlling of her limbs, and her mental prowess remained stationary and she was still given to fits of wild temper. In fact, one such bout ended her schooling, when she floored another pupil and it took two men and a teacher to restrain her.

767He recalled his thoughts when he had imagined being alone in this house with Amy once their family had all gone. But now he knew he wouldn't just be alone with Amy; there would be Henrietta, too, to guard him. Three times, lately, she had taken the train and the bus to come here to see him, and he remembered Amy's reaction when she had called her mother and demanded that someone should come and take Henrietta immediately back to Shields, only to be told by an irate Bridget that it wouldn't do her daughter any harm to put up with Henrietta for a week, in order to give her a rest.Strange how people changed. After Bridget had lost her daughter to him her whole interest became centred on Henrietta: it was Henrietta this and Henrietta that; Henrietta was doing marvellously at school, and on one parents'

night she had danced with Douglas and there had been great fun in the school hall , . . And Henrietta had so enjoyed her holiday in the Lake District . . . And Henrietta had a sense of humour; she came out with very funny things at times. Henrietta. Henrietta.

768But the applause had dwindled away as Henrietta's body developed, and was heard of no more after Henrietta had attacked a pupil, tearing at her face before felling her to the ground. There had been talk of the parents bringing charges for damages, but the matter had been settled privately. He never did know how much Bridget had paid for that particular tantrum. /For a long time now, this obsession to be near him had embarrassed him, to say the least, for she had taken to pawing him. Although he admitted it was a childlike gesture, as if she were stroking a favourite doll or a puppy, nevertheless the attention was coming from a grown woman, and a very large grown woman at that.'What's . . . the . . . matter . . . with

. . . you? Got ... a pain?''Yes, yes,' Joseph answered, looking towards his foot, while Douglas rose from the end of the couch and, taking hold of Henrietta's arm, he said, 'Come on ... Joseph's tired . . .

Anyway, it'll soon be dinner time . . . Go down and see ... what the girls ... are doing . . . They are still decorating the tree.'

769Like a petulant child she now shook off pouglas's hand and stamped towards the door and went out, leaving it open.Douglas slowly walked towards it, closed it, then returned to the couch and, after sitting down again, he looked at Joseph, saying, 'She's becoming a handful.''Becoming? She's been that for a long time now, Douglas. I don't know how you and Bridget put up with her.''I don't. It's Bridget who has her most of the time. And she's glad, I know, to get out to business these days and leave her to Nellie.

What we'd do without her, I don't know. She can handle her. She's almost as big as Henrietta, and she stands no nonsense. It's odd, but it's always on Nellie's day off, or at the weekend, that she makes tracks here for you.' He sighed again; then, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he allowed his hands to hang slackly between them, and from this position which, to Joseph, appeared to touch on despair, he said, 'I don't know where it's going to end. I used to look forward to when I could retire and spend long peaceful days with Bridget, but now'-he turned his head towards Joseph-770'now there is Henrietta, the great intrusion. You know, Joseph, I'm like my daughter or she's like me; we are a pair in that we only want to be with the person who belongs to us. What's happened between you two, Joseph?'Joseph was startled. He hadn't thought that the tension, or, to give it its real name, the rift, that had arisen between Amy and him had been detected at all by her parents, because they didn't visit them that often.However, he didn't give the usual and stupid answer by asking a question, such as,

'What do you mean?' but said, I've never felt I belonged to anyone, Douglas. Right from a child I sensed there was a mystery about me, and so I accepted the feeling as part of my nature. Yet, right from when she was a child, Amy tried to possess me-that is the word, possess-and in a way I accepted it, right up till when we were married, because then I hadn't thought about it as possession, I just gave it the name of love. But from shortly after we were married I knew that I had something to contend with, and it became more evident after each child

771was born, because she became jealous of her children.''Oh! Joseph What are you saying?' *I am saying ... I am telling you the truth, Douglas, because I've always spoken the truth to you. I've always felt that you understood me and I you. Inside we think alike; we could be brothers, not uncle and nephew, and I repeat what I said: Amy is jealous of her family because they take up my time, they take up my attention, and they take up the love that she thinks should be entirely hers. And when she finally said no more children and-' he now looked towards the fire as he ended, 'no more of that, because that, in spite of what I promised, would in the end lead to children, the rift began.'You see, Douglas, and I must say this to you, your daughter's idea of love is not like yours or Bridget's. Your love for each other is so patent that neither of you has been able to hide the passion of it, not even to this day. But there is no passion in Amy. There is what she terms love, but her love doesn't include the essence that should exist between a

772husband and wife. Do I need explain further?''Dear God! Dear God!' Douglas rose to his feet and went to the fireplace, where he stood looking down on the blazing coals, and like that he muttered, 'I'm grieved, Joseph. I'm grieved to the heart for both of you. She's my daughter and I love her, but I have an equal affection for you, not as a brother, as you said, but as if you were my son, for you came into our household as a baby and my interest in you grew with the years; but I had to keep it under cover, and you know the reason why.''What was the reason?' The sharp question caused them both to look towards the door to see Bridget entering; and Douglas realized that he couldn't have shut the door properly or they would have heard it open. But he answered her, saying quickly, 'The reason why the prices of houses are shooting up.''Well, what do you imagine the reason to be?'When he rose but then stood as if thinking up an answer, Joseph put in, 'Profiteers, those people who made a mint during the 773and bought up good-class houses for a song.''Well, well! Don't forget we bought a number; but of course not large ones, and we paid a fair price. Anyway, how are you feel-ing?''Pretty much the same. I think I like being a semi-invalid and being made a fuss of.''Oh, yes, I can imagine how you like being a semi-invalid.' She did not, however, add, 'And being made a fuss of,' but said to Douglas, The bell will be going for dinner shortly; you'd better come and tidy up.''I don't need to tidy up; I've got a shirt and collar on, woman.''And a suit that you wore in the workshop this morning. So, come along.' And she caught hold of his arm, casting a glance back at Joseph as she said, 'Do you think you'll be downstairs tomorrow?''Yes, definitely; even if I have to slide down the banister.''That's an idea. That's an idea.'

Douglas laughed as he allowed Bridget to lead him from the room.When the sneck clicked, so indicating that the door was closed this time, Joseph leant

774back on the couch, closed his eyes and asked himself if Douglas would tell Bridget what had really passed between them. He doubted it, for if Douglas could keep the knowledge to himself for twenty years that his brother was a murderer in order to prevent others being hurt, then he wasn't going to hurt his wife by telling her that her daughter was actually a failure as a wife. Anyway, he also doubted if she would believe him . . .It was quite late the same evening before he had the chance to have a private word with John, who spoke first: *It's been a very busy day, sir,' he said, 'but I must tell you the ladies were delighted and not a little astonished at the gifts. The box of fruit looked beautiful and the flowers equally so, and I chose a large box of assorted chocolates. I have rarely seen so much pleasure expressed over gifts. I think it was the surprise as much as anything. They sent their very kind enquiries to you. And a very interesting point, sir, which was put over by the daughter in quite a humourous way, but one which I'm sorry I can't emulate for you. Anyway, she told me that the boys who caused your fall came the following day to enquire if you had been re-775ally hurt, but that her mother had scared them to death by saying you had died in hospital and they would have the policemen after them shortly. She herself had had to reassure them, and the way in which she had done so was expressed by the mother in mock sternness; her silly daughter, she said, had then to reward them for causing your distress by giving them an orange and a handful of nuts each. She seems of a very pleasant disposition, the daughter, sir.'Joseph laughed as he said, 'Poor little beggars. I bet they were scared.''Yes, I understand one burst out crying and said his ma would skelp the lugs off him.*Their laughter joined now, and John ended the conversation by saying more soberly, *I enjoyed my visit, sir. I felt indeed like Father Christmas, and they both looked like children who had opened their Christmas stockings . . ,'That's nice,' said Joseph soberly. 'That's nice.*Christmas Day started early, the girls running from one room to another, saying,

776Thank you, thank you,' for what were merely trivial items, such as articles for their toilet, books, and of course boxes of chocolates. The real presents wouldn't be given out until mid-morning, when the family, together with the staff, would gather round the tree. KIt was about half-past ten when Kitty and Bertha dashed into his room, only to come to a dead stop, their hands across their mouths for a moment as they saw their father getting into his shirt. 'Why can't you knock? you hare-brained individuals,' he cried at them as his head appeared through the shirt opening. 'And what do you want?'It was Kitty who ran towards him and, grabbing the tail of his shirt, said, 'We've come to tuck you in;' and when Bertha joined her sister in tucking his shirt into his trousers, he turned to see John standing at the dressing-room door, his mouth wide with laughter and calling to him, 'You won't need any assistance from me, sir.'Td be glad, John, if you'd help me to get rid of these pests.''John wouldn't get rid of us, he's too fond of us,'

Bertha shouted and, nodding towards777John, informed her father, 'I'm going to marry him when I grow up, aren't I, John?' 'Well, miss, it's something we'll have to go into; and I'm afraid it would have to be a long, long, engagement.' 'How long?''Oh, say twenty years at least.' At this Bertha wagged her hand, saying, 'You'll be an old man then, as old as Daddy,' which brought forth a helpless remonstrance from Joseph: 'Huh! Huh! Get yourselves out, both of you!' he commanded.'We've come to help you downstairs.* He turned Kitty about and thrust her towards the door, saying, 'I don't need your help miss.

Get away with you.'As the door banged behind them he looked towards it and for a moment he knew a feeling of deep happiness. He had a loving family, right from Malcolm down to Bertha . . . And yes; yes, there was good in Malcolm. He might be selfish, but then he had shown himself to be capable of caring.

He recalled two years ago when his son was sixteen and Rover, their fourteen-year-old dog, was dying.

It had been Malcolm who had sat up two nights in the stable with him, and 778that dog had died with his head on Malcolm's thigh. And then what had happened? The boy himself had buried the dog, and afterwards had disappeared for a whole day; and when he did return, he had a furious row with his twin, because Willie had said to him he wasn't the only one who cared for Rover.

Yes, there was good in Malcolm. His mind suddenly giving him lines from Shakespeare, he muttered:Finds tongues in trees, Books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, And good in everything.Well, he would question that last bit, good in everything or everyone ... for there had been very little good in his father. And yethe was again questioning, as he had just done with regard to Malcolm-what about his mistress? He had loved her, a woman much older than himself and of no particular attraction, so he understood. Life was strange.

779There had been a great deal of hilarity round the tree: first, the indoor servants were given their Christmas boxes, and whether they were gloves, stockings, handkerchiefs or ties, there was an envelope with each, and in it a gift of money according to their rank in the household. Add to these the six outside men, Ron Yarrow, the head yardman, the gardeners Harry Talbot and James Lombard, the apprentice boy Ben Wallace, then the farmhand Sam Jones and his assistant Davey Pollard. These latter two worked under William, who had plumped for farming rather than, like his brother, university. Without exception, they would declare that the Skinners were a very good family to work for, even though they all knew that behind the master stood the wealthy Mr and Mrs Filmore, and that it was Mrs Filmore who really owned the place. Nevertheless they worked for the Skinners.Then came the family presents. There was much laughter from the young people when their father had given their mother a gold fob watch and in return she had given him a gold wrist watch; they had all yelled, 'Surprise! Surprise!' Bridget received a diamond