Chapter 32: Pain

An illustration from Complete Version of Ye Three Blind Mice written by John W. Ivimey and illustrated by Walton Corbould. Published by Frederick Warne & Co., 1909. Not in copyright.
More images and the text here: www.archive.org/details/completeversiono00ivim

Michael and Gwyn were delighted with the kitten Jesse. They'd only had it a fortnight but it was developing fast. Even though it had been taken away from its mother early, it survived all right. Brother and sister were only too willing to dip their fingers in a saucer of milk and encourage it to take succour from their fingers. Its blue eyes opened wide and changed colour to green. It was always amusing the children with its antics.
"I'm glad you two are training it," said Gordon. He was sitting in his chair one evening by the blazing fire. "We've mouse droppings in the kitchen again. I hope Jesse's going to be a good mouser."

Gordon had been setting mouse-traps ever since they'd been at Edward Street and he had managed to dispose of the bodies discreetly. He didn't want the children to see dead things.

That evening, the children witnessed for the first time the reality of a death. Michael's imagination and dreams were already haunted by the reports he'd heard about Billy Ruxton's mother's and father's untimely demise. Imagining is not the same as seeing.

It happened while they were still playing with the kitten by the fire. Gordon was enjoying watching them when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a mouse creeping from under the fender and going across the hearth. He acted without thinking. He picked up one of the flat-irons which Margaret had left by the fire and plonked it down on top of the mouse.

The first blow did not kill it immediately and it squeaked in pain. The children stopped playing with Jesse and watched. They were horrified when Gordon hit it again. Blood spurted out from under the iron and splashed onto the fender.

Michael cried and Gwyn sobbed. Margaret looked up from her sewing-machine and asked,

"What on earth's wrong with you two? What's happened?"

Michael managed to tell her between his cries, "It's Dad, he's hurt a mouse."

Gordon defended himself and tried to soothe the children by saying, "It's all right. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's alright now. You have to kill mice because they spread disease."

"What's disease?" asked Gwyn.

"Dad's cruel! You're cruel. It wasn't doing anything to you," Michael bellowed.

That night, he dreamed about the nursery rhyme "Three Blind Mice" and when it came to the end, it was his Dad who cut off their heads with the carving knife. It was the one he used to cut slices off the beef on Sundays. Michael woke up screaming but when Gordon came to comfort him, he would have nothing to do with him. He did not settle until Margaret came and calmed him down.

Fortunately, Gwyn slept all through the commotion.

They say things come in threes. For Michael there were four incidents close together, all involving pain. They made his world seem less secure and himself more vulnerable.

The second one was when his mother and he went up-town to spend the money he had had for Christmas. They'd left Sheila Matthews at home with Rob, Gwyn and Rosa. Rob could have gone with Michael but he didn't want to. He decided to stay with his mother. He had no money left to spend.

"Why don't you come?" asked Michael, "You can help me to choose."

"No, it's all right thanks. I'd rather stay with me Mam." Michael wondered why Rob decided to stay behind. It wasn't anything that Michael had said or done so he didn't ask any more.
Rob's mother seemed very upset so perhaps it had something to do with that.

Before Michael and Margaret left the house, Margaret said to her, "Worrying won't help matters! Try not to worry. He'll be all right. He knows what he's doing. Make yourself a cup of tea! We won't be long. We'll talk about it all when we come back."

Sheila sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her hanky, "Yes," she said, "I'll do that. See you soon!"

Michael and Margaret had not gone very far when the next terrible thing happened. They were just going to cross Stonewell. There was a lot of traffic and Margaret said, "Hold my hand tight and be ready to dash when I tell you."

They were still waiting when there was a loud screeching of brakes. A car veered towards them stopping with its front wheels nearly touching the kerb. Then a terrible yelping and howling started. To his horror, Michael saw a big, brown dog, running as fast as it could up Church Street. It was running on three legs and all the skin was hanging down on one side and blood pouring out. The yelps of terror went right through him and he put his hands over his ears to try and blot the noise out.

He could not see the dog any longer but he could still hear it. Margaret surveyed the scene. No person had been injured in the accident. The driver of the car was shaken but drove off. She said to Michael, "Come on, we'll go up St. Nicholas Street. We won't see it there."

She was wrong. They were halfway up St. Nicholas Street when they heard the dog's howls again and coming nearer. It had cut up Cheapside. Now it turned the corner and came down the road towards them. It was quite mad with fear and pain. It passed them by, still running and howling. It kept on going, turning up Great John's Street and across Dalton Square.

Once again it was out of their sight -- but Michael could still hear it.

Michael had hidden his head in his mother's coat until she said, "Come on son, it really has gone now. Let's go and buy you something nice."

Michael didn't want to, "I don't want to Mam. I feel sick. I want to go home and see Rob."

So they did.

When they were back in the house, Sheila told Margaret all about Jack having gone off to Spain.

"Never mind love, you know you can count on us. Whenever you feel a bit down, come and see us!" Margaret tried her hardest to cheer Sheila up but she was wasting her time. Sheila was convinced Jack would be killed -- and that she would never see him again.

The third thing that happened was later the same afternoon. Margaret said she and her children would walk part of the way home with Sheila and her two.

The six set off together. Michael and Rob led the way. They were all wrapped up warm because the January day had turned very cold. Margaret went as far as the back wall of the Grammar School. They said farewell there and turned to go back home.

"Cheerio, love!"said Margaret, "Come and see us again tomorrow and we'll have another little chat." With that, the three of them turned to go back to Edward Street.

Michael had just learned, to his dismay that Rob would not be starting at St. Anne's School with him. Instead he would be going to the one nearer his house. He was grumbling about this to his mother.

"It's not fair! Why can't we be together?"

They were at the end of Ullswater Road, all easy going downhill. Michael was holding Gwyn's reins and Margaret was pleading with him not to go too fast She was frightened that Gwyn might trip and hurt herself like she had once before.

She was trying to explain to Michael why Rob would have to go to a different school from him. She was in mid-sentence when a woman came out of a nearby shop pushing a little girl, just a bit older than Gwyn, ahead of her. The woman was shouting and bawling at the tiny scrap and emphasising her words with slaps about her legs, hitting her again and again. She was really laying into the infant. Michael shuddered and wondered what the little girl could possibly have done to deserve such punishment. Margaret could not stand to see what was going on.

"Leave her alone!" she said, grasping the woman by the arm. "Can't you see you're really hurting her?"

The woman left go of the child. She shook Margaret's hand off her arm. She turned her venom on Margaret. The pale-faced hag's features were hideously contorted with rage.

"You interfering shag bag! Who the hell do you think you're talking to? Why don't you piss off? Go on! Mind your own bloody business. Get the hell out of it!"

Distressed by the woman's verbal attack but relieved to see that she had apparently stopped the child from having more blows, she retorted, "You ought to be reported! You cruel thing!"

She picked up Gwyn, took Michael by the hand and walked quickly away down the hill.

"Shag bag!" the woman called after them. "Shag bag!"

Three days later it was Sunday. Michael was due to start school on the Monday. For once they were not having their usual joint of beef for Sunday lunch.

Margaret said, "Burt's beef was too expensive this week. I bought lamb instead. He said it was a really nice bit of meat."

"Smells good!"enthused Gordon, sniffing the aroma coming from the oven.

"You haven't got a lamb in there have you, Mam?"asked Michael anxiously. The parents exchanged glances not knowing whether to be amused or not by what Michael had said.
Michael went on, "I'm not having any. I don't want to eat a lamb." He imagined a lamb being killed and shrieking wih pain like that dog he'd heard.

Margaret pleaded with Gordon to be tolerant. "Leave it Gordon! Don't have a commotion. He starts school tomorrow. Don't upset him."

Gordon gritted his teeth then agreed, "Right, I won't."

"What shall I give you then, love?" his mother asked Michael.

"Don't care! But I don't want a poor little lamb!"

"All right, pipe down,"said Gordon, "it's settled isn't it? You don't have to have lamb. So what are you going to have?"

Margaret intervened, "I have a nice meat pie which I forgot to have for my lunch on Friday. It's in the cupboard in the kitchen. It's cool enough out there. It will still be fresh."

Michael agreed and lunch passed off peacefully.

When Michael had gone to Sunday School with Joan and Gwyn was asleep upstairs in her cot, the woman who never swore said to Gordon, "What a bloody awful week!"

"Never mind love,"Gordon consoled her. "He's off to school tomorrow. Things should be a bit easier for you then."

Links

• The Origins of the rhyme, "Three Blind Mice" (Wikipedia link)

• The Complete Version of ye Three Blind Mice (1909, Internet Archive link)