CHAPTER FIVE

Mrs Joe Is Attacked

So it was that in a single year everything in my life had changed. I had always wanted to be a worker and student to Joe, and I had always been happy at home, even if I had to put up with my sister's scolding. Now, after going to Miss Havisham's and knowing Estella, I was ashamed of my home and my work and was in fact quite miserable. However, because of Joe, I stayed at the iron workshop and worked my hardest. I never told him how unhappy I was then. I decided the best thing to do was learn to be an ironworker and become an honest, happy, hardworking man. Still, I could not stop thinking about Estella. My greatest fear was that she would one day come to the iron workshop and see my life as a common ironworker, with black face and hands. I knew she would only turn away in disgust.

I continued to study as hard as I could in the evenings. I must admit I did this not to educate myself, but to educate myself for Estella. Likewise, I also tried to educate Joe, not so he would be more educated, but so that I would be less ashamed of him in front of Estella. One Sunday Joe and I went out to study together, as usual, on the wetlands. He never seemed to remember anything from one week to the next. Still, he smoked his pipe comfortably, looking as intelligent as he could. I decided to ask him a question I had been thinking about lately.

"Joe, do you think it would be alright to visit Miss Havisham again?"

"Well, Pip," said Joe, "she might expect that you've come back expecting her to give you something. She told me she wouldn't give you anything else."

"But, Joe, I've never thanked her, and it's been almost a year since I've been training as an ironworker!"

"True, Pip," said Joe slowly.

"Maybe if you gave me a half day's holiday tomorrow, I could go and visit Miss Est—Havisham."

"Miss Estavisham isn't her name, as far as I know, Pip," said Joe very seriously.

"Please, Joe!"

"All right, Pip, but she may not be happy to see you. If she isn't happy, you'd better not go again."

Joe had another ironworker he could use instead of me. His name was Orlick, and he had no friends or family in the village. He was big and strong, but quite lazy, and he moved about unhurriedly, with his shoulders bent forward and his eyes on the ground. He never liked me, even when I was a child, though I never knew why. When Joe told him about my half-day holiday, he angrily threw down his hammer.

"If young Pip gets a holiday, then I do, too!"

"Well," nodded Joe after thinking for a moment, "I will give you one too."

My sister had been secretly listening to this conversation outside the iron workshop, and she now called to Joe through a window, "You fool! You can't give a holiday to a lazy man like Orlick! If I were his master I'd soon show him!"

"You're just a wicked, ugly, old woman who wants to be everybody's master!" Orlick told her angrily.

"What was that? What did you say?" cried my sister. She began to scream. "Oh! Oh! What did you call me? Someone hold me, quick!" Joe and I knew that she was making herself become angrier and angrier. We had seen this happen many times before.

"Hold you!" replied Orlick in disgust, "if you were my wife, I'd hold you tight round the neck until you couldn't breathe!"

"Oh!" screamed my sister. "Me, here as a married woman, being spoken to like this! In my own house! With my husband standing nearby! Oh! Oh!" She began to pull her hair loose like a mad woman, and then rushed at the iron workshop door. Luckily, I had locked it.

Poor Joe had no choice but to challenge Orlick to a fight. Since Joe was the strongest man in the village, Orlick was soon, like the pale young gentleman at Miss Havisham's, lying on the ground. Then Joe unlocked the workshop door and picked up my sister, who had also dropped to the ground, but only after watching the fight through the window. He put her in the kitchen, where she stayed for the rest of the day, while Joe and Orlick shared a glass of beer peacefully together in the iron workshop.

That afternoon I arrived at Miss Havisham's house hoping to see Estella. But it wasn't Estella who opened the gate, just a cousin of the old lady's. Miss Havisham was still looking the same as before.

"Well?" she said, not even asking after me. "I hope you don't expect me to give you anything."

"No, indeed, Miss Havisham. I've only come to express my gratitude to you for helping me become Joe's worker and student."

"Good. You may come and see me again on your birthday. Ah!" she suddenly cried, "you're looking for Estella, aren't you? Answer me!"

"Ye—yes," I admitted. "Is Miss Estella well?"

"She's gone abroad to receive a lady's education. She's even more beautiful, and she has dozen of admirers. Do you feel you've lost her?" She was laughing so unpleasantly with these last words that I couldn't say anything. She had seen into my heart and I left the house feeling even more miserable than before I arrived.

I met Mr Wopsle on my way through town, and we started the long walk home to the village. It was such a dark, wet, misty night that we barely saw someone ahead of us.

"Hello!" we called out. "Is that Orlick?"

"Yes!" he answered. "I'll join you on the walk home. I've been in town all afternoon, I have. Did you hear the big gun firing from the prison-ships? There must be some prisoners who've escaped." We didn't talk any more, but walked along in silence. We heard the gun firing several times, and I kept thinking about my prisoner.

We arrived at the village very late, and we were surprised to see lights on at the pub. Mr Wopsle went in to see if something was happening. He came rushing out after a few minutes, shouting, "Something's wrong up at the iron workshop, Pip! Run! They think an escaped prisoner got into the house while Joe was out. Mrs Joe's been attacked!"

We ran all the way until we reached the iron workshop. In the kitchen was a doctor, Joe, and a group of women. And in the middle of them all, on the floor, was my sister, lying unconscious. She would never yell at us again.

When Joe arrived home just before ten from the pub, he found Mrs Joe lying on the floor. She had been hit very hard on the back of the head with a heavy weapon. Beside her on the floor was a prisoner's iron chain. Nothing had been stolen from the house.

The police spent the next week looking into the attack, but they did not arrest anybody. I thought that the iron chain looked like the one that belonged to my prisoner, but I could not believe that he would attack my sister. That left only Orlick, or the stranger who had shown me the file in the pub many nights ago. But several people had seen Orlick in town all that evening and my only reason for suspecting him was the argument he had earlier with my sister. But my sister had argued with everyone in the village at least ten thousand times, so Orlick was not the only suspect. If it was the stranger who had come to ask for his two pounds back, my sister would have gladly given it to him. I did not know who her attacker could be.

She was ill in bed for quite a long time. Because she could not speak or understand much, her character changed greatly. She became patient and grateful for all everything we did. Not being able to speak, she used to write a word or draw a picture when she wanted something. As she needed someone to take care of her all the time, Biddy came to live with us. She seemed to have a gift for understanding my sister, and she also looked after us all very well.

One day my sister drew a large 'T'. I brought her toast, and tea, but Biddy knew immediately what she wanted.

"That's not a T; it's Orlick's hammer!" she cried. "She wants to see Orlick, though she's forgotten his name!"

I almost expected my sister to accuse Orlick of attacking her, but instead she seemed very happy to see him. After that she would often ask for him, and nobody was able to figure out why.

One Sunday I asked Biddy to come for a walk on the wetlands.

"Biddy," I said quite seriously, "promise you won't tell anyone this. I'm going to tell you a secret. I want to be a gentleman."

"Aren't you happy as you are?" she replied.

I often wondered about this myself, but I didn't want Biddy to say it. "It's a shame, I know," I said, "if I could have been happy working at the iron workshop, it would have been better for all. Perhaps we would have spent more time together. I would have been good enough for you, wouldn't I, Biddy?"

"Oh yes," she said sadly. "But remember I don't ask for very much."

I continued somewhat angrily. "If nobody had told me I was rough and common, I wouldn't have ever known!

Biddy looked at me. "Well, that's not true or polite. Who said it?"

"A beautiful young lady at Miss Havisham's whom I greatly admire." Before I could stop myself I said, "I want to be a gentleman for her!"

"She may not be worth the trouble, Pip," Biddy added gently.

"That may be true, but I can't help myself."

Being the most sensible of girls, Biddy did not try to change my mind. As we walked home, I felt rested and comforted.

"Pip, what a fool you are!" I said to myself. I realized then that I would always be much happier with Biddy than with Estella.

"I wish I could make myself fall in love with you, Biddy!" I said suddenly. "Do you mind that I speak so openly, as we're such good friends?"

"No, of course not. But you can never fall in love with me, you see," she answered in a quiet, sad voice.

I thought about if I should continue to work with Joe in a common, honest way of life, and perhaps marry Biddy. Or did I dare to hope that Miss Havisham would give me her fortune and marry me to Estella?

(end of section)