One Snowy Night

by Rita Bradshaw

  It wasn’t until his plate was empty and Adam got up from the table that he spoke. He always left the house after the evening meal, winter or summer and even in the worst weather, returning at bedtime. It was one of the many unspoken ways he made it clear he’d rather be anywhere than with her and Alice. It was unusual for him to speak, however, and in her surprise Olive looked at him, something she avoided if she could help it.

  ‘I hear you’ve been talking to my mam behind my back.’

  ‘What?’ She stared at him, utterly taken aback.

  ‘You heard what I said. Been round there, have you, crying on her shoulder?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about and the last time I saw your mam was when she called in a couple of days ago. I haven’t been to theirs since we went on Christmas Day.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Still doesn’t change the fact you’ve been whining to her about me.’

  The sense of injustice at what she was being accused of kept her voice from shaking even though she could see he was spoiling for a fight. ‘I have never discussed you with your mam. She pops in now and again to see Alice and have a cup of tea, that’s all. She’s Alice’s grandma, for goodness’ sake.’

  He glared at her, dark anger glinting from his eyes under their narrowed lids. ‘Don’t give me that, I know how you work. Cunning as the Devil himself, you are, putting on an act of the poor misunderstood wife and trying to get sympathy. Well, I tell you now, I don’t want my mam round here while I’m at work. I don’t want no one here, is that understood? So you tell her next time she “pops” in she’s not welcome.’

  Olive continued to stare at him but for once she didn’t acquiesce to what he demanded. Since the day she had got married and especially since Alice had been born she had taken the line of least resistance, hoping against hope that somehow they would find a way to be able to live together in – if not happiness – then at least civility, for the sake of their daughter. But if he expected her to cut off their families then he was in for a shock. Her parents’ and his mam’s support, and even his brothers’ kindness to her on the rare occasions they met, was what kept her going half the time. She’d go stark staring mad if she couldn’t have normal conversations with normal folk sometimes. And she had never said a bad word about Adam to his mam; to her own, yes, but never his. Her stare became fixed as she said, ‘If you don’t want your mam calling round to see Alice, then you tell her so. As far as I’m concerned she’s welcome any day, same as any of your family.’

  ‘You’re refusing to do what I tell you?’

  The tone of his voice was all the more threatening because of its quiet grimness, but Olive knew she was fighting for her very sanity. ‘I’m saying it’s up to you to tell her if you don’t want her here, that’s all.’ She couldn’t hold his gaze any more, standing up and beginning to clear the table of the dirty dishes and hoping he didn’t notice the way her hands were shaking. He had never hit her – manhandled her out of the way on occasion, pushed her roughly to one side, yes, but never hit her – but she wouldn’t put it past him. He liked to hurt her, that was for sure. On the nights he took her in their bed he was uncaring and deliberately brutish, sating his physical need without a word or the slightest caress and then rolling away so no part of him was touching her. Twice since Alice had been born she had missed a couple of periods but then on the third month each time she had miscarried, and in truth she hadn’t known whether she was glad or sorry. Much as she adored her daughter the thought of bringing another child into the existence she was enduring seemed wrong in every way.

  She wasn’t aware he had gone until she heard the back door bang, and then she turned and watched him through the kitchen window as he disappeared out of the yard into the lane. He wouldn’t be back until it was late, and with this knowledge the tenseness seeped out of her body but in so doing left her limp and trembling.

  She had paid for what she’d done that New Year’s Eve, she told herself as the ever-present humiliation and pain washed over her in a great wave, bringing her hands to her face as she rocked herself back and forth. She paid every day for it. And some nights. Oh, yes, some nights.

  ‘Mama, Mama.’ Alice’s voice brought her out of the maelstrom of despair and she saw her daughter was holding out her arms to her, struggling to climb out of the highchair now her father had left. Whisking the child into her arms, Olive held her close, drinking in the smell and feel of her as two chubby little arms wrapped themselves round her neck and Alice’s cheek nuzzled against hers.

  This was what it was all about; for this she would endure what needed to be endured. Her bairn loved her because she was her mam; it didn’t matter to Alice that she was ugly. Alice didn’t wish she was someone else or think she was wicked or judge her wanting.

  She didn’t deserve her bairn, she knew that, but please, God, keep her healthy and safe, she prayed as hot tears streamed down her face. It was a constant fear, loving her as she did, that she would be punished by losing Alice to one of the childhood diseases that swept the towns and cities every so often. Just the other Sunday Father McHaffie had preached that God wouldn’t be mocked and sin had to be paid for, and he had looked straight at her when he had said it.

  How she loathed that man. Immediately the thought came into her mind she was begging God to forgive her for it. It was the most heinous of crimes to criticize a priest, even if the criticism wasn’t voiced out loud; everyone knew that, and if they didn’t you could be sure they soon would when Father McHaffie preached his Sunday sermons. Priests were only one step down from the Almighty Himself and on the same par in holiness, if the father was to be believed. Eh, she was doing it again, and she had enough sins on her conscience as it was.

  Shaking her head at herself, Olive set Alice down and once the little girl was occupied in playing with the brightly coloured wooden bricks Adam’s mother had bought for her granddaughter, she finished clearing away the dirty dishes and washed up.

  Once the kitchen was spick and span and knowing Adam wouldn’t be back for a good while, Olive decided to give Alice a treat and take the old tin bath out into the yard and fill it with warm water for the child to play in before bed. The day had been hot and sticky and it would be good for Alice to tire herself out and have a wash at the same time. After bringing out a chair from the kitchen and setting it to the side of the tin bath, Olive sat in the sunshine watching Alice tipping water from one bowl to another with the fierce concentration only very young children bring to bear. As ever when she had a minute to herself, she found her thoughts drifting to Ruby and the bitter regrets she had regarding her sister. Before Ruby had disappeared out of all their lives, Olive would have sworn on oath that the only feeling she had for her sister was one of dislike. It had taken Ruby walking out for her to understand that buried under all the layers of resentment and jealousy and ill will was a feeling akin to love. She would give the world to be able to turn back time to that New Year’s Eve and change things, but of course that was impossible, and anyway, she wouldn’t have Alice if that night had been different.

  Alice stood up in the water, her wet skin gleaming in the sunlight like a seal’s, and offered her mother one of the bowls saying, ‘Dink, Mama, dink.’

  Olive took the bowl and pretended to drink. ‘What a lovely cup of tea, thank you.’

  Alice giggled delightedly, plonking down in the bath again and continuing her game. For the hundredth time it struck Olive just how like Ruby her daughter was. Alice had the same sunny nature and zest for life, the same ability to captivate folk and make them love her – everyone except her own father, that was. She bit down hard on her bottom lip.

  She hadn’t been too worried at first when Adam had refused to have anything to do with the child. Lots of men were nervous of newborn babies and didn’t want to hold them, but then as the days and weeks had gone by she had realized it was much more than mere male apprehension at dealing with such a little person that was bothering Adam. He didn’t look at Ali
ce if he could help it; in fact, he ignored her presence altogether. It was as if the baby didn’t exist.

  Things had come to a head one day when Alice was about fourteen months old and learning to walk, staggering around the kitchen holding on to the chair legs and every so often plopping down on her bottom before determinedly dragging herself up again. The baby had inadvertently grasped one of Adam’s legs as he had sat at the table reading his paper while Olive had been busy at the range, and she had turned round with their plates in her hands just in time to see him jerk Alice off him. The child had lost her balance and smacked down so suddenly her little head had made hard contact with the stone slabs as she’d fallen backwards.

  She had slung the plates on the table with enough force for the food to go everywhere, whisking Alice up into her arms and cradling the baby against her. Alice had screamed at the top of her tiny lungs, a visible bump already forming.

  The row that had followed had been vitriolic on both sides, but whereas Olive had been beside herself with rage and fright, Adam had been as cool as a cucumber, his words icy and venomous, and showing not the slightest remorse. It had been later that evening, when Alice was asleep in her cot upstairs, that Adam had come in from his nightly walk and paused at her side where she was sitting doing some mending at the kitchen table.

  ‘Let me make one thing perfectly clear,’ he had said coldly. ‘I bring home a wage each week that enables you and your child to be fed and clothed while you live under my roof. In return for that I expect my meals to be in peace and for my physical needs, in the bedroom and out of it, to be met at all times. I will not tolerate the sort of scene you made tonight again. Keep the child out of my way in future. Do you understand?’

  She had looked up at him, into blue eyes as icy as his voice. ‘Her name is Alice, and she’s your child as much as mine.’

  He’d said nothing for a moment, then he had walked across the room and paused with his hand on the door into the hall. ‘Don’t try my patience.’

  Just four words, but they had chilled her blood. Even now, sitting in the warm sunshine with Alice splashing about and the sounds of normal life all around her – birds singing, the neighbours next door talking in their backyard and bairns shouting in the lane – she shivered. What was she going to do? She pushed a strand of hair from her brow. What could she do? Her da was so poorly now there was no chance she and Alice could go there, besides which, what could she say as a reason for leaving him?

  ‘He won’t have anything to do with Alice and he never talks to me or wants to be in the house.’

  Her thin mouth tightened. She could just imagine how that would go down. She could actually hear her mam saying that most men took little interest in their bairns when they were as young as Alice, and as for talking, he was likely too tired after a day at the pit for conversation. Regarding his treks, she ought to count herself lucky. Some men were forever down the pub with their pals drinking the rent money away or spending it on the dockside dollies; what was a passion for walking compared to that? And she ought to be thankful not to have him under her feet in the house when he wasn’t working; there was many a wife round these parts who would be only too pleased to see the back of their man. Oh, aye, her mam would say all that and then change the subject if she tried to discuss the state of her marriage. Her mam wanted to bury her head in the sand and pretend all was well; she’d actually heard her say to one of her sisters that everything had turned out all right in the end for her and Adam. It had been Boxing Day when they’d gone to her mam’s for tea and Adam had set off for a walk as soon as they’d eaten. Her aunties and their families had been there and she could tell they had thought it strange that Adam hadn’t entered into any jollity and then disappeared as soon as he was able.

  The sunshine was warm on her face and as Alice played Olive found herself relaxing, her mind beginning to wander. How much longer could they go on like this before something snapped? She had only been Adam’s wife for a little while when there had been an accident at the pit and a miner had been killed, and since then she had realized it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Gas explosions that brought the roof down were the cause of nearly all the big pit disasters, but accidents involving the machines down the mine were frequent and could cause horrible injuries. Adam’s brother, Walt, had been terribly shook up when they were at his mam’s on Christmas Day due to his best friend being killed that same week. He hadn’t gone into details but it had been something to do with one of the steel ropes and a saw. She’d heard him talking to Adam’s father and his words had stuck in her mind.

  ‘One minute Nat was there, chatting away, a whole man, and the next he was like nothing on earth, Da. I wish he’d gone straight away rather than having to hear him scream for his mam for minutes. She’s been dead for umpteen years but he called for her like a bairn. Damn pit.’

  Adam’s father had shaken his grizzled head. ‘I know, lad, I know, but at least he didn’t linger for weeks. Remember Doug Turner? Now that was a bad do—’ He had stopped abruptly, becoming aware of her listening, and that had been the end of the conversation, but now Olive mused that men died often, didn’t they, so why not—

  She came to herself with a horrified jerk, clamping her hand across her mouth as though she had been speaking out loud. What was she thinking? She didn’t wish Adam dead, did she?

  The answer, when it came, caused her to jump to her feet and whisk Alice out of the water. ‘Bedtime, hinny,’ she murmured as Alice protested at the sudden end to her fun, ‘and Mam’ll read you a story while you have your milk and a biscuit. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Course you would.’

  She’d read her two; in fact, three. And when Alice was asleep she’d clean the kitchen from top to bottom and scrub out the cupboards and line them with fresh paper. She had been meaning to do that for ages. She needed to keep busy, that was the thing, and she wouldn’t let herself think. It did no good to man or beast, thinking.

  Chapter Seven

  Ruby stared at Ellie in horror, and her voice was a reflection of her face when she said, ‘You can’t, Ellie. You can’t. Think, lass, think. If he loves you as much as he says he’d marry you, wouldn’t he? Not ask you to go and live with him in that house. He’d ask you to get wed first.’

  Ellie stood facing her but she looked at Ruby without answering, merely shrugging her shoulders and moving her head in a way that could have meant anything.

  There had been a great change in Ellie over the last couple of years, one that left Ruby at a loss at times. Within a few months of them being settled in Newcastle, Ellie had taken to going out at night and at weekends with Bridget and some other girls. Ruby had accompanied them once or twice at first, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she found the incessant chatter about lads irritating at best and a little shocking at worst if Bridget’s friends really did get up to all they said they did. Ellie, on the other hand, seemed to admire and envy them. She had her hair cut in a bob and became obsessed with the latest fashions, regularly returning late at night smelling of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Ruby knew Bridget’s pals frequented some of the less salubrious dockside pubs and gin houses where they let men buy them drinks for – as one of them had put it – a bit of slap and tickle, but Ellie always insisted she didn’t get up to anything untoward when Ruby questioned her and had become increasingly hostile to any probing.

  Ruby had reluctantly accepted that to keep the peace she had to let Ellie follow her own devices but she worried about her friend constantly, and could never fall asleep at night until she knew Ellie was safely home. Things had got worse in the last little while since Ellie had got herself an admirer, a young man called Daniel Bell. Initially when her friend had begun to mention one lad in particular, Ruby had been pleased. She’d hoped that having a steady beau would calm Ellie down. In a way she could understand the desire to make hay while the sun shone after the awful life Ellie had had at home, but it was that very thing that made her friend susceptible to a glib tongue. At t
he bottom of her, Ellie wanted to be loved and cared for, that was all. And now she was saying that she was going to up and move into the house that Daniel and one of his pals lived in.

  Ruby tried again. ‘Ellie, take some time and think this through. Please, for me. We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve always been there for each other.’

  ‘I don’t need to think it through.’

  ‘But to move in with him before you’re married—’

  ‘Howard’s lass lives with him.’ This was the other man Daniel shared the house with.

  ‘That doesn’t make it right for you.’

  ‘You’re so old-fashioned, Ruby. No wonder you’re Matron Henderson’s pet. Smoking, drinking, wearing make-up and dancing – she’s against all that, isn’t she, and forever going on about loose behaviour and suchlike.’

  ‘I’m not her pet and I think for myself as you well know. There’s nothing wrong with wearing make-up and dancing and the rest, but you know your reputation will be ruined if you live as Daniel’s wife without being married. Men can do it, have mistresses and all that, and they’re just considered a bit of a rake and a Casanova, but it’s different for lassies. And I’m not saying that’s right because it isn’t, but it’s how things are. But the main thing, the important thing, is that Daniel knows all that and he shouldn’t have asked you.’

  ‘He said you’d be like this. He said you’d be jealous because it’s me he loves and not you.’

  Ruby stared at Ellie in amazement, hurt uppermost. ‘Do you believe that?’

  Ellie had the grace to look discomfited. ‘No,’ she muttered, and then more strongly, ‘no, I don’t, but it’s your own fault he thinks like that. You’ve never let him get to know you. I’ve told you he’s suggested several times we could go out in a foursome with one of his pals, but you wouldn’t. You’ve only met him twice.’