Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly by Catherine Cookson

Author:Catherine Cookson [Cookson, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780360898
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Then she answered herself, ‘No, you weren’t dreaming; there was a man there all tied up.’

She wished John were here, she wished she could go to him straight away. But would he believe her? In a way he was very like her granda.

But she’d have to make someone believe her. Mrs Campbell. Yes, Mrs Campbell would believe her. But Mrs Campbell was away in Fellburn. Mr Thompson. Yes, Mr Thompson would likely believe her. If John didn’t believe her she would go straight to his father.

But they could have killed that poor man by then. By! If they had, and he was found, her granda would have a very red face. By, he would that! And it would bring him down a peg, lots of pegs, and when he said to her he was sorry she would say, ‘It’s too late to be sorry.’ That’s what Mrs Golightly said. A time came, she said, when it was too late for people to say they were sorry. She had said that the day she had come in and found her dad crying; and she had said he only managed to say he was sorry when he was drunk and that it would be a different kettle of fish if he ever said he was sorry when he was sober.

It seemed to be easier for people to say they were sorry when they’d had a drop.

On this conclusion she decided that even if they did find the man dead her granda wasn’t very likely to take the blame to himself, for he never took a drop.

They had walked up the road towards the smallholding arguing all the time, and now at the gate John threatened her; ‘Look! If you don’t stop talking such nonsense, I’m going to take you straight back to your granda and tell him why.’

‘I won’t go with you.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

‘You’re just like him, you’ll believe nothing.’

‘I can’t believe you; you’ve told me that your granda went back with you and there was nobody there, and then you heard Lord and Lady Committy on the drive with Mr Aimsford. Now use your sense if you’ve got any. During the time you left that man, or the one you imagined was there, until you got back to the spot with your granda must have only been a matter of minutes, ten at the most, and by the sound of it the visitors must have been there some time. People like them don’t come and pay a visit and say “How do you do?” and walk out again, so how do you think they managed to get a trussed-up man into the house past those big windows?’

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