Daisy began to protest but Sally manhandled her into her cardigan and replaced the box on the mantelpiece.
‘You can play with it another day.’ Grandma kissed her grand-daughter and wished she would get some more colour into her pretty little cheeks.
Back at home Betty was still in bed. ‘Right!’ Sally strode purposefully up the stairs and into Daisy’s bedroom. ‘Come on, Betty, time you were going home.’
‘I’m not going home!’ She pulled the patchwork quilt over her head. Sally pulled it down again.
‘Yes, you are, your mother’s worried about you.’
Betty sniffed. ‘Pull the other one.’
‘Well, you’re still going home. This is Daisy’s room.’
‘I’m not feeling well.’
‘No wonder. It’s not good for expectant mothers to lie about. You need to exercise or you’ll have a terrible time at the end.’
Betty didn’t want to think about the actual birth; if she didn’t think about it, it might go away.
‘Come on, get your things together. I’ll make you some toast.’
‘You don’t know what it’s like, living with my mother.’ Betty told Sally as she ate the toast. ‘Nothing I do is ever right.’
‘Then you’ll just have to try harder, she’s a lovely mother really. You should be proud of the way she stood up for you against Kitty Ramsgate.’
Betty didn’t know about that. ‘My mother stuck up for me? When?’
‘One day last week, on Kitty Ramsgate’s mucky doorstep, with all the row listening.’
‘Really? That must have taken some doing, my mam having a set to with everybody listening.’
‘Yes, it must, but she did.’
Betty remained silent as she absorbed the latest news. Then she went upstairs and fetched the bag containing her things. ‘Right then, I suppose I’d better go. Clarence should have come home by now.’
‘Where will he have been?’
Betty shrugged. ‘Oh, working on something or other. He doesn’t tell me what he gets up to. I know he works at the pit, it’s his spare time that’s a mystery to me.’
‘Perhaps you should talk to each other more, that’s if you want your marriage to work. You do, don’t you?’
Betty didn’t look bothered one way or the other. ‘I suppose so. Thanks anyway. Sorry I put you out last night.’
‘That’s okay. We really don’t have room, Betty. Besides, your mother could do with a bit of help just now. Her leg’s quite bad, you know.’
‘All right, I’ll do my share, I promise. It’s just that I hate bloody ironing.’
‘So do I,’ Sally told her. ‘It’s one of the prices we pay for being a woman.’
Betty waved as she went back home. It had shaken her to know her mam had had a go at Kitty Ramsgate on her behalf. She thought back to all the other times Mam had been there for her when she was small. Oh, well, maybe she wasn’t such a bad old stick after all, even if she couldn’t forgive her daughter for marrying in a veil and virginal white. Betty would help out with the housework more and give her a rest. After all, she would need to know how if they ever managed to find a house of their own. Besides, she didn’t want to fall out with her mam, not when they would need a baby-sitter come July or August.
Chapter Two
SALLY’S PARENTS LIVED down a lane overlooking the Bar Mill. It was a pretty little house in the wrong setting. Joe Denman had an allotment with a fast-flowing stream on one side and the chapel on the other. The trouble was the noise from the mill and the locomotives, which were working day and night.
Daisy liked Tuesdays, when they always went to Grandma and Grand-dad Denman’s for tea. If Grand-dad was on the right shift he would cook bloaters over the fire on the brass toasting fork. Grandma would nag at him not to let the oil from the fish drip on to her black shiny fireplace or the brass fender, but Grand-dad never seemed to take any notice. When the bloaters were cooked he would open them and remove the long bones from the middle. In Daisy’s case he would take out all the tiny bones too, so that she could eat the fish without anybody worrying.
Daisy would sit and watch Grand-dad, and stare into the fire which would flare up as the oil dripped into the flames. Sometimes she saw pictures in the fire, like figures dancing and laughing faces. After they had eaten the fish and Grandma’s home-made bread there would sometimes be stewed rhubarb from the allotment and nice creamy Bird’s custard.
Grand-dad Denman had a piano, a walnut one with candlesticks set on the front. He was teaching Daisy to play scales and had promised her that as soon as she could read, he would teach her to play real tunes. Just as he had Sally, except that she had never really been interested in learning to play. He was also teaching his grand-daughter to read and write her own name.
After tea Grand-dad would take Daisy to the bottom of the lane and lift her on to the high wall which separated the houses from the works. She loved to watch the locomotives transporting metal from one place to the other and listen to the gossip between Grand-dad and some of his neighbours who would join them. They would talk about the pit where most of them worked, or the war some of their sons were fighting. At eight o’clock he would take Daisy back to Grandma’s and go with the other men to the works club for a pint or two to ‘slaken the dust’ – well, that was the excuse they made. It was also Daisy’s bedtime. Today Grandma Denman had taught Daisy how to do French knitting. She had knocked four tiny nails into an empty bobbin and threaded pink wool around them. She showed Daisy how to make stitches with a pin so that a long trail of knitting came down the hole in the bobbin. Daisy was fascinated. Grandma Denman always thought of some different way to entertain her grand-daughter. No wonder Daisy loved Tuesdays.
Every day Sally would visit old Mr Jessops and take him a drop of soup or something, even though he could eat nothing any more. She kept his house and bed clean and tended the sores on his back. Mr Jessops lived on Taylors Row and had bought the house when it was built in the 1880s. It was a good house, built of the same local stone as the school at Longfield. Because there was a tunnel-like entrance leading to the back of the row, Mr Jessops’ house had an extra bedroom above this. The Dawsons, who lived next-door, were also fortunate enough to have an extra room. In the third house lived Emily Simms. Mrs Simms was spending a lot of time at present sitting with Mr Jessops, but it was Sally he looked for on the rare occasions when he opened his eyes.
Today she had had to do the washing. It was usually considered a sin not to wash on a Monday but the Easter visit to the crags had played havoc with this week’s routine. Now, with her washing wafting on the line in the spring sunshine, she was ready to visit the dying man.
Mary Porter was sweeping her flags. ‘Are you going to see old Walt?’ she enquired.
‘Yes, I’m late today,’ Sally answered.
‘Why don’t you leave Daisy here? I’m sure it’s not healthy for her to see him lying there so ill.’
‘Oh, you’re an angel, Mary.’
‘Any time. Besides they’re playing nicely together, her and our Stanley. He’ll only start pestering me if he’s on his own.’
‘Thanks anyway.’
Sally hurried off across the field. Poor old Walter wouldn’t have known if she had been a day late or not even turned up at all. She bent and stroked the wispy hair from his cold, pallid forehead. Emily Simms came and stood beside her.
‘How’s he been, Mrs Simms?’ Sally enquired.
‘Not worth a row of pins, if you ask me.’
‘Well, you can go now. I don’t know what would happen to him without your kindness.’
‘Nay, lass, I haven’t done much. The nurse came and brought him some more dressings and ointment, but I couldn’t get ’im to eat owt. I couldn’t even get a drop of water down ’im.’
‘I’ll have a go, see if he’ll take anything.’
‘It’d be cruel, if you ask me, just prolonging things.’
‘Yes, maybe you’re right. I’ll just sponge his lips then.’
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br /> ‘I’ll go and ’ave a bit to eat and be back at teatime so you can get off.’ Emily Simms frowned. ‘I don’t think he should be left on his own at this stage.’
‘No, I’ve been thinking … I’m going to stay the night.’
‘What about your little lass?’
‘Our Enid will take care of her. She can go in with our Pat and Norah.’
‘Won’t yer ’ubby mind?’
‘Who, Jim? Oh, he might moan a bit, but he knows how much Mr Jessops means to me.’ Sally was suddenly overcome with emotion and began to sob.
Emily wrapped her in her arms and cuddled her. ‘Now then, you’re bound to be upset but ’e’s ’ad a good innings and I don’t think ’e’s aware of any pain. You’ve done more than anyone could ’ave been expected to do. Come on, love, ’e wouldn’t like to think you were upset because of ’im.’
Sally smiled, a weak watery smile. ‘Go on, go and have something to eat, you must be famished.’
‘Aye, I am a bit peckish. I’ll be back about four. I’ll bring me embroidery so yer needn’t come back till bedtime. You’ve got a family to consider, I’ve nobody but meself.’
Sally went to see the kind old woman out, then she went to find a bucket and cloth and set about cleaning the windows. She looked out at the garden, which at one time would have been a mass of colour. Clara Jessops had tended it lovingly over the years. Now it was neglected, although Jim had kept the grass down. He was good like that.
She could see down the valley from this side, down the Donkey Wood and beyond to the tops of the smoking chimneys of the works. It was a well-built house and must be worth quite a bit now, even though it was in need of decorating. It must be ten years since Mrs Jessops had died and very little had been done since then. Nevertheless Sally had kept the place immaculate, just as Mrs Jessops had before the stroke had taken the use from her legs and almost paralysed her. Her death had been a merciful release, as would Walter’s, she supposed.
Only last year Sally had told him they would have a party when he reached his century. Now, if there was any organising to be done, it would be for his funeral. Sally felt his niece should have been thinking about arrangements, but she had never replied to Sally’s letter asking her to visit the sick man.
Sally went to check on him, glad that his bed had been brought downstairs. That had been Jim’s idea, too, he and Bernard had moved it one Sunday afternoon. He really was a good man, her husband. The only time Jim grumbled was when Sally insisted on doing everything for everyone. Sometimes he thought other people were more important to her than he was. She frowned. He wouldn’t like it tonight when she told him she was staying here.
Mary popped in while Sally was making a pie for tea.
‘It’s only me, can I come in?’
‘Looks like you’re already in.’ But Sally grinned to see Mary back to her normal cheerful self.
‘Want to go to the pictures?’ Mary asked.
‘Sorry, I can’t, I’m going to stay with Mr Jessops.’ Jim came in then and hung up his coat. ‘Perhaps another time,’ Sally said.
‘Oh, well, it was just a thought.’ Mary looked disappointed, though. ‘It’s just that it’s so long since we went anywhere, that’s all. Is he worse, Mr Jessops?’
‘Yes. I doubt if he’ll see the morning.’
‘Oh, dear. Well, I’ll see you later then. Perhaps another time … the pictures, I mean.’
Sally would have loved to go to the cinema, especially as it was the first time Mary had suggested it since Celia had died.
Jim put in looking rather glum, ‘What was that about staying with old Walter?’
‘Oh, Jim, I have to. Mrs Simms thinks he could go at any time. She can’t stay up all night at her age.’
‘I know that, Sally, but you can’t be staying up all night either. What about our Daisy?’
‘She’ll be all right with our Enid.’
‘I know, but that’s not the point. Besides, I want you here with me. You can’t be looking after the old man and our Daisy all day, and staying up all night. I’m thinking about your health, Sally. I know yer think a lot of him – I do too, he’s a lovely old thing – but he isn’t yer father. He should be in hospital.’
‘It won’t be for long. He can’t live without some form of nourishment. Besides, I promised Mrs Jessops, and I can’t break a promise to a dying woman.’
‘It wasn’t a promise, it was a bloody life sentence! You weren’t to know he would live to be ninety-nine. All those years you’ve been fetching and carrying, even at weekends.’
‘I didn’t mind, Jim. He appreciated everything I did, and making him a bit of dinner at weekends wasn’t any hardship.’
‘I didn’t mind that. I didn’t mind you bringing his washing home. I didn’t even mind fetching him across to spend Christmas with us … but I do object to you staying up all night!’
‘It won’t be for long, and it’s a lot easier now you’ve brought his bed downstairs.’
‘Okay, I know I’m wasting me breath. I don’t expect you’ll ever change. I don’t suppose I’d even want you to. I just wish you’d put us lot first for a change. What with our Betty coming waltzing in uninvited, I sometimes think we live in a house with an ever open door. Still, I don’t suppose I’d ’ave fallen for yer if you’d been any different.’
Sally felt the tension slip away from her. ‘Sorry I can’t change.’ She pulled a face at him.
‘Hmm, I am too.’ But he grinned as he spoke.
‘What time are yer off then?’ Jim asked a few hours later.
‘I ought to go now and let Mrs Simms go home.’
‘Come on then, I’ll walk over with yer.’
‘Thanks, Jim. Though I’ll bet that’s an excuse to set off to the Sun.’ Sally attempted a smile as she put on her coat and picked up her Red Letter magazine. ‘Oh, and Jim?’
‘What now?’
‘Don’t think I shan’t miss you ’cos I shall.’ She reached up and kissed him.
‘Come on, or are yer trying to make me change me mind?’
Mrs Simms rolled up her embroidery and gathered up her silk threads as she heard Sally coming through the entry.
‘How is he?’
‘Not on this earth, if you ask me. I thought he’d gone once and then all of a sudden ’e sat bolt upright, nearly gave me a heart attack! Told me to switch off the light … and ’im blind as a bat for all these years.’
‘Goodness, I didn’t think he had the strength to move, let alone sit up.’
‘Oh, he’s on his way, love. The light always comes to show ’em the way. It ’appened to my Albert just the same. You mark my words, ’e’ll be gone by morning. If I were you, I’d open that winder. Yer don’t want ’is soul trapping in ’ere. Somebody else’ll want to live in this ’ouse once ’e’s gone.’
Sally almost smiled, but the look on Emily’s face told her she was deadly serious so instead Sally said, ‘Yes, well, seeing as it’s not a very warm night, I think I’ll leave the window closed. Besides, I don’t think a stone wall’ll prevent his spirit leaving if it’s a mind to.’
Sally wished Emily hadn’t started on about ghosts and things, though, not when Sally was to spend the night with a dying man. Emily, however, believed in all things of a psychic nature and swore her late husband had been in contact with her on a number of occasions, through a medium at a spiritualist church she sometimes attended.
‘Aye, well, if yer’ll be all right, I’ll be off to me bed then.’ And think on – if yer need me, come and knock me up.’
‘I’ll remember, and thanks for staying with him.’
‘You’re welcome. Like I said, he’ll be gone by morning.’
Sally sighed as she slipped on the bolt. It was going to be a long night. She boiled some water and bathed the old man’s face, then she made some tea and settled in a chair to read her magazine. The words were leaving no impression on her, despite her reading them over again. She put down her reading matter and closed h
er eyes, her mind flitting from the organising which would soon need to be done to the fact that Mr Jessops’ only relative couldn’t be bothered to visit him and hadn’t even answered Sally’s letter. Well, at least her conscience was clear.
She saw the covers on the bed moving then as his cold, claw-shaped fingers clutched them. Sally reached his side just as he whispered her name.
‘Sally?’
‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘Sally, lass, my will … everything yours, Dunstone and Sedgewick.’
‘Shush, you’ll wear yourself out.’
‘No, listen. Don’t let that niece of mine ’ave owt.’
‘She’s entitled, she’s the only family you’ve got.’
‘I’ve told yer, she got everything she could out of us then never came near.’ Walter’s voice seemed stronger now. ‘How long is it since she came?’
‘According to Mrs Simms, it must be twenty years. Even so …’
Suddenly a rattling noise began in Mr Jessops’ throat but still he struggled to speak.
‘Nothing … Charlotte Scott gets nothing.’
Sally held his hand as he took his final breath. Walter Jessops had spoken his last words.
She sat for a while, stroking the fine, white hair from his forehead. A tear dripped on to the blue satin elderdown and still she waited, wondering what to do, unwilling to let this gentle old man, who had been like a second father to her, go. Then the realisation that he had already departed from this life seemed to hit her for the first time and Sally laid her head on his chest and sobbed.
She was stripping the bed the next morning when Emily Simms arrived. ‘Why didn’t yer fetch me, yer silly lass?’
‘There was no point in waking you. Mr Baraclough let me use his phone … the shop was just opening anyway for the men going on the morning shift. Dr Sellars came as soon as I called, there was nothing for you to do.’
‘Well, how are yer feeling? In shock, I expect. It’s always the same. You’re waiting for it to happen, and then when it does it hits you just as hard. Did yer get any sleep?’
‘Not really. I got home about quarter to six, just as Jim was setting off for work. I’m okay, but I’m going to miss him. The Jessops sort of adopted me when I was a little girl – I suppose it was with them being childless.’
Where the Heart Is Page 4