The Wingless Bird

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘There’s no need, Ma, I can manage meself. Oh aye, with a little bit of help.’ Then turning to Agnes and his smile widening, he said, ‘You’ve given me new life, miss. An hour ago I couldn’t see a way out no ’ow. Thank you for your help. I’ll not forget you. But one thing, you’ll have to write down the names of your ma an’ da for me, eh?’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘Would you like another cup of tea?’

  Agnes shook her head at her sister’s future mother-in-law before saying hastily, ‘No, thank you. No; that was very nice,’ wondering at the same time how she had managed to swallow the extra-strong concoction, because this tea wasn’t like anything she had tasted before; it had a slight scenty flavour to it, which was explained by Mrs Felton saying, ‘’Tis special, this tea. The lads got it straight off a boat. ’Tisn’t like the ordinary stuff.’

  ‘No, no, it’s very nice, very nice indeed.’

  The lads got it straight off a boat, and she’d like to bet she knew how the lads got it off the boat.

  And here she was planning for Jessie to marry into this family. And not only that; but she herself had put it into Robbie’s head that her parents’ signatures should be forged. She was no better than them. Her thoughts were interrupted here by the enormous woman, as she thought of her, gripping her arm and saying, ‘As Robbie there says, he’ll not forget you; nor will me or mine…You’re off then?’

  Agnes had risen to her feet, saying, ‘Yes, I must get back.’ Then turning to Robbie, she asked, ‘How…how will I know what arrangements you have made?’

  He and his mother exchanged glances; but it was Robbie who said, ‘Rosie could go to the shop. She could be buying bullets for the bairn.’

  ‘But I may not be in the shop.’

  ‘Well, is there anybody you can trust to take a message?’

  Agnes thought for a moment and her mind said, Yes, she could trust Nan, because Nan would enjoy getting one over on her father. So she said, ‘The young woman who serves in the sweetshop. A message could be given to her as to the day and time you are likely to be at the Registry Office.’

  As she spoke the name she knew a moment of fear and she asked herself again what she was doing, tying her sister to this fighting family; and besides a fighting one it was also a thieving one, for two of them had been to prison. And there was the fancy tea she had just drunk. But then, what was the alternative? An illegitimate child born to a frightened young mother. That’s if Jessie ever reached that stage, because in her present state of mind she was liable to do something to put a final end to it all. But what would her father do? What would his reactions be?

  She found herself screwing her eyes up against the thought, and when Mrs Felton said, ‘You got a headache, lass?’ she answered, ‘Yes. Yes, a bit,’ and the woman came back with, ‘’Tis no wonder. And I bet you have a heartache too livin’ under the same roof with that bloody madman. Who does he think he is, anyway? If he was class I could see him looking down on wor Robbie there’—she stabbed her finger towards her son—‘but he’s not, is he, ’cos his shop, beggin’ your pardon, is little bigger than a huckster’s; and it’s not even in the main street either, but tucked away up a side road. You can’t do much up there. I bet we do more trade on a Sunday on the quay than he does in a week. Beggin’ your pardon, miss, ’cos I know you’ve got to work there. If I know anything, I bet it goes against the grain.’

  ‘Let be, Ma; she wants to get away.’ Robbie now pushed past his mother and, looking at Agnes, he said, ‘I’ll let you out.’

  Mrs Felton remained where she was, but she called to Agnes, ‘Good luck, lass.’ And to this Agnes replied, ‘Goodbye.’

  At the front door Robbie said, ‘I know you’re takin’ a risk, miss,’ and, as if finishing off a polite conversation, she replied, ‘No; not at all. Goodbye.’

  When she reached the end of the street she found that her knees were shaking. Yes, she was taking a risk. Indeed she was taking a risk.

  The journey home took twice as long because she stopped on her way to go into Saint Dominic’s Church. She wasn’t used to going to church. They had never been churchgoers. So she knelt in a back pew; but as she looked towards the altar no formal prayer came into her mind; instead, like a child pleading, she said, ‘Please tell me if I should go along with this. Tell me what to do. Tell me if it’s the best thing for Jessie, because…because I really don’t know.’

  She remained kneeling, hoping for an answer. Presently, the words passed through her mind: they were his, and it was his voice saying them as it had said them on the day they were seated by the river: ‘If they love each other, then it’s the right thing to do.’

  After a while she rose from her knees and sat for a moment longer; then she went from the church with the feeling that the die was cast and she must go through with it.

  It was as she was passing the hat shop that the knock came on the window and she saw Miss Belle’s face and her hand beckoning her in.

  She sighed heavily as she opened the shop door: she didn’t feel like talking to anyone, even her three dear friends, as she thought of them.

  ‘Come into the back shop’—it was a hoarse whisper—‘Rene and Florence are in there.’

  She looked from one to the other of the two ladies who were busily trimming the hats, then at Miss Belle who was addressing them, saying, ‘I thought we should tell her. It might ease…well, the feeling of guilt, you know.’

  ‘Can’t see how.’ Miss Rene placed the hat on which she was working onto a side table, then said, ‘It’s about Christine, you know, Hardy’s Fancy Cakes,’ and pulled a face as she said the title of the shop at the end of the street. ‘She’s going to marry Johnny Temple.’

  ‘Christine!…Marry Johnny, Johnny who helps Mr Steen with the boots?’

  ‘Well, there’s only one Johnny Temple in this street as far as I know, Agnes.’

  ‘But he’s only a boy.’

  ‘He’s twenty; and oh yes, Christine can give him eight years if a day. But there it is.’

  ‘But…but I thought Christine was enamoured of…well, Mr Steen.’

  ‘She may have been.’ Rene pursed her lips now. ‘Well, let’s speak plainly: she’s in the same position as your dear Jessie.’

  ‘Christine?’

  ‘Yes, Christine. And…and they are to be married. Banns were read out for the first time on Sunday in the Catholic church. Of course, she’s a Catholic, but I don’t know what Johnny is.’

  ‘A silly boy to let himself be trapped.’

  Both Rene and Belle looked at Florence, and it was Belle who said, ‘Tut-tut! How do you know that…well, I mean, that he was…I mean, if he was silly?’

  For a moment Agnes had the desire to laugh: two disgraced families in this one short street. Would the knowledge placate her father? No. More likely it would aggravate the situation.

  ‘How is dear Jessie?’ asked Belle.

  ‘Not very happy, Miss Belle.’

  ‘Well, that’s to be expected.’ Miss Rene picked up the hat from the table again and resumed her work. ‘These things happen but they’ve got to be paid for, and the payment is very high and is never worth it. Never!’ There was a note of bitterness in the voice which caused the other two sisters to cast their eyes downwards, until Belle said with forced brightness, ‘Mrs Bretton-Fawcett will be coming in next week. We may have something nice for you, dear. You looked a picture the other day; much better than she does in her clothes.’

  Looking at the three elderly spinsters, Agnes hadn’t the heart to say, ‘I don’t want any more clothes from your Mrs Bretton-Fawcett; they have caused me enough trouble already, presenting me as something that I am not,’ then as she turned from them, Miss Florence said, ‘How is your father, dear?’

  ‘As always,’ she answered flatly.

  Outside in the street she paused and looked back towards the baker’s shop, thinking how desperate Christine must have been. And she understood the source of her desperation. Oh yes, s
he understood that all right, especially in the darkness of the night. But would she herself be prepared to pay the price for its easement?…No. Never. Never. She would rather be prepared to end up like one of those dear women in that hat shop. Life was unfair to women: they had been impregnated with the demands of nature, yet the price they had to pay for its release was shame or a marriage of convenience, while men paid for their pleasure in cold money only.

  When she entered the sweetshop Nan was serving a customer, but as Agnes lifted the counter flap Nan left the customer, saying, ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ and coming to her, she whispered, ‘That gentleman called. He wanted to see you. He said he’d try to come back tomorrow at the same time.’

  Agnes made no reply to this, but went through the shop and up the stairs and into the kitchen where her mother was at the table rolling out pastry. Her mother’s solace seemed to be cooking and eating. Jessie was at the sink washing up dishes and they both turned and looked at her. Her mother said, ‘Well, what did you buy?’

  She had forgotten that her purpose in going out was to buy new underwear. She said, ‘I found nothing to suit me.’

  ‘My! All the shops in Newcastle and you couldn’t find underwear to suit you.’

  ‘No, Mother. But I tell you what I did see’—she turned now and looked at Jessie—‘a nice dress. It was in print and full.’ She said the last words softly. ‘And I think it was your size.’

  ‘Where did you see this?’

  She looked at her mother again. ‘Oh, it was—’ she turned her head away as if she were thinking; and she was thinking, trying to think which shops sold maternity gowns; then she said, ‘Well, it was in Fenwick’s. I just thought I would mention it.’

  A few minutes later, in her bedroom, she had taken off her outdoor things and was about to take off her dress and get into her black and white attire, suitable apparel, as her father pointed out, for someone who was not just a shop assistant, when she said to herself, ‘No; I’m not going to wear that any more; I’m not going into uniform.’ And with this, she snatched up the black dress and the apron that were lying over the back of the chair and, bundling them up, she pushed them into the bottom drawer of the chest, and as she did so Jessie’s voice came to her, saying, ‘May I come in?’

  She pulled open the door and Jessie sidled past her, asking, ‘What happened? What happened?’

  ‘Sit down.’ Agnes pushed her sister onto the edge of the bed; then sitting beside her, she took her hand and said, ‘Now listen carefully. I saw him…and his mother…’

  ‘Is he all right? How’s his head?’

  ‘He’s all right. Never mind about that, but listen, girl. He’s going to the Registry Office to try to get a special licence. I’ve explained to him as much as I know about it. Now, the main thing is getting you out of here to meet him.’

  ‘Oh, Aggie. Aggie.’ Jessie’s arms were around her neck.

  ‘Stop it. Stop it, and listen to me. We won’t hear any news for the next few days; then his sister Rosie will come to the shop…’

  ‘But who’ll she see?’

  ‘I’ll arrange all that. It’ll be through Nan. I’m going to talk to her. But a way out just struck me back there in the kitchen about getting you a larger dress. I’d try to take you out on my own, but I suppose Mother will surely come with us. But if we go into Fenwicks, there’s a ladies’ room there, and at some point when I give you the nod, you’ll go to the ladies’ room, supposedly, then you’ll slip out and go to the Registry Office where he’ll be waiting for you.’

  ‘But where is the Registry Office?’

  ‘Oh, we’ll find out where; don’t worry. Now as soon as it’s done you must both get yourselves out of this town as quickly as possible. Don’t hesitate, I’ve told him this. His people might be for celebrating, but you know Father. God only knows what will happen when you’ve gone; and he’ll be after you if he has the slightest inkling of your whereabouts. Now, for the next few days you’ve got to act as if you’ve given in: use the sitting room more, keep away from your bedroom, do your embroidery, read, anything, but put on a placid front. You understand?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Aggie, I understand. And I’ll never forget you for this, never. What would I have done without you?’ Her arms went out again and around Agnes’ shoulders, and this time Agnes allowed them to remain there and she pressed the girl to her, saying, ‘There’s something I must say to you and it’s this: you’re going to find life pretty rough with that young man. All right, all right, don’t shiver like that. I know how you feel about him and how he feels about you; but he is from that family and you couldn’t get a coarser one, I think, if you searched the town. They, all of them, seem to earn by their fists or cheating, or stealing.’

  ‘Not Robbie. Not Robbie.’ Jessie had lifted her face now from Agnes’ shoulder. ‘He’s different. He wants to be different. He knows what they are, I mean, his people; but as he said, they are his people and his mother has worked hard. She did the only thing she knew in order to bring them up in the rough quarter they used to live in. His father was a boxer and he was well known about here. But Robbie’s different. He is. He is.’

  ‘All right. All right. But it’ll be up to you to make him more different still. Do you understand?’

  Jessie took her arms from around her sister now and sat straight as she said quietly, ‘I don’t know if I want to change him all that. I…I like him as he is. He’s honest.’

  Agnes turned her head away. She had said that she didn’t want to alter him. Goodness me! Her sister was a refined girl and she was intelligent, intelligent enough anyway to come out second top in the last year of her school examination, and also to have good results from the typing college, although she hadn’t worked as she should. Yet she was prepared to live with Robbie, and it wasn’t only his appearance that was rough but also his manner and speech.

  Yet when her mind jumped to the reason why Christine Hardy was marrying Johnny Temple, a boy eight years younger than herself, she also had the reason why her sister was prepared to go to any lengths to marry Robbie Felton. And the disclosure she found embarrassing, while at the same time chiding herself for its being so, because Jessie, like Christine, and not forgetting herself and all women, was caught in this trap, this unfair trap which she reasoned had nothing to do with the emotions of love…or had it? Oh, she didn’t know. Her mind was in a whirl these days. Again she wished she was miles away from the house, this place, and all connected with it. And yes, and yes, even from Mr Charles Farrier. Oh, yes, him, because it was a certainty that if she left her own world for whatever reason she could never join his.

  She was startled now by Jessie saying, ‘You know, Aggie, you should have married Pete. He was all right; and he was second mate, he could have been a capt…’

  Agnes had sprung up from the bed, exclaiming, ‘My God! Here you are in this predicament and I’m nearly out of my mind making arrangements in order that you’ll be married to this fellow, and against the grain, I can tell you, and what do you do? You say I should have married Pete Chambers. Well, if I had, where would I have been now? Likely on board ship with him, enjoying myself in another country, seeing the world, not running in between two little shops all day and a potty little factory and being at the beck and call of one and another of you. And would my marrying Pete have solved your problem? Eh? What would you have done then? Would you have still got yourself with child by that fellow, or would it have prevented you?’

  ‘I…I’m sorry, Aggie. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to upset you. I…I just thought it was a shame that you weren’t married because, as you say, you are at the beck and call of everybody.’

  Jessie slid from the end of the bed and went quietly out. And Agnes, turning about, sat down on the bed again and thumped her fist into the pillow as she warned herself not to start crying, because that would be the finish of her; she might become hysterical and scream, as she had seen her mother do.

  Six

  It was Tuesday of
the following week and the weather helped to further the plans, for it had rained for days. But here, on the Tuesday morning, the sun was shining again and the air was warm and there was no wind, and they were ready to set out on the shopping expedition.

  Alice Conway was dressed in a tight-waisted grey dress, the mud fringe attached to the hem reaching her ankles and the whole covered by a grey alpaca dust coat. Her hat was a blue straw with a high crown, the rim sporting a bunch of red cherries at one side. Agnes was dressed in her ordinary clothes, a blue print dress covered with a short linen jacket of the same hue, her hat a leghorn straw with a single band of ribbon around it.

  Whatever dress Jessie was wearing was covered with a loose coat, which even so made her look as if she was already far advanced in her pregnancy, for she was actually wearing two dresses and three sets of underwear beneath it. On her head was a dark-green bonnet-shaped straw hat, the front of which shaded her eyes and also the expression in them, which would have betrayed her excitement as well as her fear.

  They were all silent, waiting, their eyes on the door, and when it opened and Arthur Conway entered he looked first at his wife, and she said, ‘I’ll want some money.’

  At this he took a suede bag from his pocket and counted out five sovereigns onto the table, and she, looking down on them, said, ‘That won’t be much use for the things she needs.’

  He looked at her again. His lips now were parted but his teeth were tight together as he threw another three sovereigns onto the table, and when his wife picked them up and transferred them into her purse, which she then put into her beaded handbag, he said, ‘How long are you likely to be?’