The Blind Miller

by Catherine Cookson

  He pulled himself from the wall and wiped his face, then straightened his hat and buttoned up his coat. Well, it was done. Two hours ago she had become Davie’s wife. If it had been anybody else but Davie—Dan even—he would have gone all out, full sails set, and caught her up like a demon of wind, all the magnificent size of her, all her unconscious, unaffected loveliness. He would have cried, To hell, let’s get out of here. What did it matter about a wife and a bairn, about a mother who was so stiff-necked with pride and a sense of security it became painful at times for him to look, or listen, to her? He knew that if he had let himself sail before the wind of his passion, Sarah, whether she wanted to or not, would have been borne along with him. But it was Davie she had married, Davie she wanted. Or, did she?…Anyway, Davie had wanted her, and the only decent thing that had been in his life had been the love for his brother.

  PART TWO

  One

  Sarah alighted from the tram at the market place and made her way to the ferry. Her step was light, for there was no swelling around her ankles. Three men, coming up the bank from the landing, turned their heads towards her and one of them whistled as he winked at her.

  Cheeky thing. She moved her body slightly, expressing indignation that she did not feel. That’s what new clothes did, she told herself, made men cheeky.

  But as she bought her ticket the pleasure that the men’s admiration aroused in her vanished, to be replaced with the feeling of being slightly ashamed, slightly anxious and apprehensive.

  Before boarding the ferry, she thought, What if she hasn’t turned up? Well, I’ll only have to come across again. But she said the two-thirty.

  She stepped on to the boat and moved quickly around the engine house, and there in the bows, her back to the rail, stood Phyllis. In a moment they were together, their hands joined, exchanging smiles and gabbled greetings.

  ‘I thought you weren’t comin’. You got me letter?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t be here else, would I?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  They laughed at each other as they moved back to the rail, and Phyllis, leaning her side against it, examined Sarah, and her verdict was, ‘By! You look bonny. I’ve never seen you look like this. All new things?’ She flicked Sarah’s coat with her finger.

  ‘Yes.’ Sarah smiled shyly. ‘I’ve got two complete rig-outs right through…But never mind me. What about you? Are you in trouble?’

  ‘Trouble?’ Phyllis drew her chin in. ‘No, no. I’m in no trouble.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sarah paused. ‘I thought when I got your letter…’

  ‘I just wanted to see you. I felt I had to see you. An’ I wanted to hear about me mother an’ all.’

  Phyllis turned and leant her forearms on the rail; and bending over it and looking down to where the water was beginning to froth as the boat moved from the quay, she added, ‘I would have come up to see her.’ She swung her head quickly up and sideways. ‘I’m not afraid of that lot up there. They couldn’t do anything to me. I’m not afraid of any of them, but it was him. I didn’t want to run into him. You understand?’

  Yes, Sarah understood. She, too, looked over the side of the boat, but without leaning her arm on the rail because it was grubby and would soil her new coat. She looked for some time at the waves dashing themselves against the bows before she said, ‘I’ve missed you an’ all, Phyllis. I’ve thought about you nearly all the time. I’ve wanted to write but didn’t know where to…How’s things?’

  ‘Oh, fine.’ Phyllis now turned her back again to the river, and, supporting herself with her elbows against the rail, she nodded slowly at Sarah as she said, ‘An’ it’s the truth, things are fine, better than I thought. I can hardly believe it, mind.’ She flicked her eyes downwards. ‘Still, things isn’t all jam.’

  ‘He’s all right to you?’

  ‘Ali? Oh, Ali’s all right! I’ve got him there.’ She twisted the forefinger of her left hand around the little finger of her right. ‘I can manage him. Course he’s a bit rough at times.’ She pulled a knowing face. ‘You know what I mean.’ Noting Sarah’s flushed face she laughed, and said, ‘Aw, our Sarah, come off it, man, you’re married…An’ when we’re on, how’s things with you? Is he all right?’

  Sarah wanted to say wonderful, wonderful, but she felt that her enthusiasm might in some way hurt Phyllis. Yet she seemed happy enough. But still it might, so she answered almost flippantly, ‘Oh, you know, could be worse.’

  ‘You’ve got your own house?’

  ‘Yes, next door. You know, the one I told you about. We’ve got the kitchen and one bedroom furnished and are getting at the front room now. John, David’s brother, is making us some furniture.’

  ‘I thought he was a joiner…a boat joiner?’

  ‘He is, but he can do anything with his hands and wood, it’s a hobby. And he’s got plenty of time now, he’s on the dole.’

  ‘On the dole!…One of the Hetheringtons out of work?’ Phyllis was evidently surprised. ‘My! I didn’t think it would touch them. Anyway, how you findin’ them all?’

  ‘Oh, they’re lovely. At least…’ She pulled a face at Phyllis. ‘The male members are.’

  ‘His mother still sticky?’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis.’ Sarah now covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes for a second. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day we were married and we went back and told her. Honestly…You know she’s a quiet woman, I told you; you wouldn’t think she would ever lose her temper, all dignified like, you know. Well, you know something?’ She leaned towards her sister, and it was as if they were on the bed again in the back bedroom. ‘I thought she was going to hit me, I did, honest. I’ve never seen anyone get into such a rage. You know how Mrs Cartwell used to go mad and break things around the house and throw them into the yard. Well, she went on just like her. It was an eye-opener. I thought she would be stiff, and cold and on her high horse, but I never dreamed she’d act like that. I think she shocked David an’ all. He looked flabbergasted. He expected her to go off the deep end an’ all but not in that way. It put the damper on our time in Newcastle, and she never spoke to me for a fortnight. I don’t think she would have spoken even yet if David hadn’t stopped going in; that made her come round.’

  ‘Is she all right now?’

  ‘She is, on the surface. But you know, Phyllis, somehow I think she’ll never forgive me. I’ve got to be so careful. You see, when David stopped going in, the men started to come into our place, Dan, and John, and even the father; but now that things are all right—at least, as I said, on the surface—they still keep coming in…Oh, I like it.’ She smiled at Phyllis. ‘It’s lovely to have them all there, and Dan’s a lad, he keeps us in stitches. But the awful thing is now, she’s started to knock through. You see, our kitchen fireplace and their living room fireplace are back to back and she must have heard us all laughing the other night, for there came a rat-tat on the back of the grate. Oh, Mr Hetherington was vexed. I’ve never seen him so vexed. And you know, one night last week he said to me, “Can I smoke, Sarah?” Just like that, he asked me could he smoke. Do you know where he’s got to smoke?’

  ‘In the lav!’

  ‘No. She won’t allow it there; he’s got to use the shed at the bottom of the yard. She’s never let him smoke in the house. That’s why David or Dan don’t smoke. John does, in his own place. When he asked me I said, “Of course, fancy asking.” And when he said to me, “I shan’t make a habit of it, only now and again,” do you know, I could have cried, Phyllis. I like him, I like him better than I did at first. The twitch in his eyes got on my nerves, but now I don’t notice it.’

  ‘Her and Ali’s father would make a pair. He tried to put me there.’ Phyllis pressed her thumb into the palm of her hand. ‘But I let him see just how far he could go. He runs a boardin’ house, you know, and he thought he’d got some cheap labour in me, but he found his mistake out. He’s as mean as muck. But Ali’s got ideas…What do you think we’re going to do, Sarah?�
�Start a shop. Oh, I wish this wasn’t comin’.’ She patted the front of her coat, and Sarah exclaimed, ‘Oh, I’d forgotten. You’re not showing, how are you feeling?’

  ‘All right now. I felt lousy at first.’

  ‘But this shop, what kind? Oh, it would be lovely if you could start a shop.’

  ‘Well, it’ll be a sort of cafe. There’s money in it, ’cause even if it’s only tea and buns people’ve got to eat. Eeh, the men that’s out of work around us, from the boats, it makes you frightened. It’s worse down here than our end was, and that was bad enough, God knows…That’s why’—her voice was excited—‘I’d love a cafe, ’cos food’s the most important thing in life. It is, you know; you’ve only got to see them looking hungry and you know damn well just how import…’

  As the ferry bumped against the North Shields pier Phyllis stopped talking, and for the first time looked rather helplessly at Sarah and asked, ‘What we going to do? Have you got to get back?’

  ‘No, not until teatime. Let’s go for a walk and have a cup of tea somewhere.’

  ‘Aw, I’d like that.’

  In the murky half-light of the December afternoon they walked through the dull streets talking, talking, talking. When in the main thoroughfare they came across a cafe that looked a…bit posh, they went shyly in, and over the elegance of a set tea with toasted teacakes and cream buns they laughed and giggled with the excitement of two girls let out on their own for the first time.

  It wasn’t until the ferry was halfway across the darkened water nearing South Shields again that their chatter trailed away, and they stood silently side by side, their arms touching, looking towards the unseen waterfront picked out with meagre lighting along its jumble-scarred length.

  ‘Look.’ Phyllis was fumbling in her bag now. ‘I want you to give this to me mother for Christmas.’ She handed Sarah two pound notes, and Sarah said, ‘All that? Can you afford it?’

  ‘Oh, aye. I look after number one.’ The remark sounded as if it came from a woman versed in the ways of handling men, or riddling pockets, of demanding pay packets. But Phyllis wasn’t like that; she was still a young girl, at least so she looked to Sarah, a short pink-and-white, doll-faced young girl.

  ‘She’ll be grateful for it, Phyllis.’

  ‘Tell her it’s for herself, mind. I’d burn it if I thought he’d get his chaps on it…Do you know how much Ali gives me a week, just to run the house with odds and ends, because we mainly feed downstairs?’

  Sarah shook her head now.

  ‘Three pounds. He said once we get the cafe going he’ll double it.’

  ‘Three pounds!’ Sarah exclaimed.

  Three pounds for odds and ends. Why, David’s whole wage was only two pounds seventeen and she had thought that marvellous. She said to Phyllis, ‘By! You’re lucky!’

  In the darkness Phyllis turned from her towards the rail, and her voice had a flat faraway sound as she said, ‘Yes, yes, I’m lucky. An’ I’m all right. Aye, I’m all right.’ It was as if she was confirming a statement in her own mind. ‘There’s only one thing I can’t stand.’ In the darkness she swung round to Sarah and caught at her hand, and her voice cracked as she said, ‘I feel a beast, Sarah, a proper swine ’cos Ali’s good. He’s better than any of them up there. I know that, I do. But…but it turns me stomach up when we walk down King Street or through the market. It’s all right in our quarter, it doesn’t matter, ’cos there’s other white girls there. Some of them’s tarts, but one or two’s nice. One girl’s from High Jarrow. So it doesn’t matter there. But going down King Street I want to yell at them…people who look at me: “Keep your pity for yoursel’, missus!” I want to say. You know something, Sarah? You know the Howards that live in Duxham Street, you know when all the schemozzle was on a few years ago about the girl having a bairn to her brother…well, she didn’t know whether it was her brother or her father, you remember? Well, you know, I always felt sorry for her and I’ve always spoken to her on the road when we passed. Well, what do you think the bitch did? We were in the market and she cut me as dead as a doornail. Do you know, I almost threw me basket at her. I was so flaming mad.’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis! Perhaps you imagined it. Oh, our Phyllis!’ Sarah’s compassion brought the tears into her voice.

  ‘Don’t be daft; you don’t imagine things like that. An’ the others told me they’ve all had to go through it. But most of ’em can go back and see their folks…Oh, Sarah!’ She was holding tightly to Sarah’s hands. ‘I wish we could be together, or we lived nearer, so I could pop in.’

  There was a new kind of pain tearing through Sarah now. She wanted to say wholeheartedly, ‘Well, don’t you be daft. Come whenever you like; you’ll be welcome, you know that.’ And if she was speaking for herself Phyllis would be welcome. She would have even let her bring the Arab with her—she couldn’t think of the man as Phyllis’ husband. But there was David to think of. No, it wasn’t David she was thinking about—David had said everybody must do what they felt driven to do. He had added lovingly at this point that he had felt driven to marry her. No, it wasn’t David she was thinking about, it was his mother. She had hurt his mother very much, she realised that. Deep within herself she felt guilty. She felt she had forced herself into her family, and Mrs Hetherington fed this impression. So she couldn’t make matters worse at this stage by asking her sister into her house. If they hadn’t lived next door to David’s mother she would have managed it somehow, but asking Phyllis up would be like asking her into the Hetheringtons’ living room. She couldn’t do it—but oh, she wished she could. She gripped Phyllis’ hands as she said, ‘Look, we’ll get together, make a habit of meeting, and I’ll bring me mother with me sometime. What do you say?’

  ‘I’d love that…You know, Sarah, you can come to our place if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve the two rooms at the top done nice. You’d be surprised at the things I’ve got. But…but don’t come on a Friday.’ It was as if Sarah had already accepted the invitation. ‘Friday’s their Sunday, you know. You wouldn’t believe it, you talk about the Catholics being religious…Coo! They couldn’t hold a candle to Ali’s people. His father’s a big noise in their kind of church…they’re Moslems. They’re always prayin’ all times of the day, you wouldn’t believe it, an’ yet the old devil—Ali’s father, I mean—bleeds his own folk white.’ She pushed at Sarah. ‘That’s funny, isn’t it? Bleeding them white!…They want me to become a Moslem.’

  Sarah was aghast, ‘But you’re not!’

  ‘No, I’ll not. Not that it makes any difference; I was never affected by our church as you were, it just slid off me. Hellfire if you missed Mass on Sunday. Who do they think they’re kiddin’! You know, Sarah, you learn a lot by mixin’ with other people. Still, I’d have to learn a lot more afore I became a Moslem.’ She was laughing now and punching Sarah on the arm. And her laughter began to rise until Sarah said, ‘Be quiet, our Phyllis, you’ll raise the boat.’ She wanted to slap her sister to stop her laughing because the sound was painful, it wasn’t real laughter; it was the kind of laugh you laugh to stop crying.

  As the boat once again bumped against the quay she gripped Phyllis by the arm and together they walked over the gangway and up the rough road to the market place.

  As the clock struck five Sarah exclaimed, ‘Eeh! David will be in and he’ll wonder what on earth’s happened to me. No tea ready.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him you were meetin’ me?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did.’ Sarah made the lie sound convincing. ‘But you know what they are for their tea. There’s the tram in, Phyllis, I’d better catch it.’

  They stood peering at each other in the dim light; then, their arms around each other, they held together tightly for a moment before turning away without further words…

  All the way home Sarah wanted to cry. She kept saying over and over in her mind, Oh, our Phyllis. Oh, our Phyllis.

  When she alighted at the bottom of the street there was David standing waiting for her. He came forward at a
bound, saying, ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve been worried stiff. Look, it’s quarter to six, the house all in darkness. Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I am, David. I’ll get your tea directly.’

  He had her by the arm hurrying her up the street. ‘It’s not my tea I’m worrying about, woman.’ He shook her. ‘You’ve never been out before and there was no note or anything; I didn’t know what to think.’

  Sarah suddenly felt warm, wanted…she belonged. She dropped her head on to her shoulder and hunched it up against him as she said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll never run away.’

  He patted her cheek before saying, ‘But I do worry…and about you running away.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘No, no I’m not.’

  They were at the front door now. ‘But you must be, David.’

  ‘Get yourself in.’ He pushed her playfully from behind. Then when the door was closed and they stood in the black darkness of the passage he groped at her and, pulling her into his arms, kissed her. It was a long hard kiss, and when he was finished he said, ‘Always leave a note, will you?’

  ‘Yes, David.’ His deep concern at her absence puzzled her, she couldn’t fully understand it. If he had been a little irritable, or chastised her in a jocular way, or even sulked, not that David would ever sulk, but if he had taken any of these attitudes she would have understood it, but that he was really frightened that she wouldn’t come back was something that she couldn’t take in because it put value on her beyond her worth, at least the worth she placed on herself. Now if the boot were on the other foot and she was concerned about him walking out on her, well she could have understood that plainly, because she knew that compared to David she was very ignorant. She wondered sometimes how he put up with her ignorance. She was doing her best to improve, she had even asked him to get her books, but she could never see herself conversing with David other than on personal topics. She would never be like May, able to hold her own, even argue with John or Dan about unemployment and politics. Yes, she could have understood it if the boot were on the other foot.