by Annie Murray
‘Me?’ There was a pause. ‘Well – yes, course. But it ent happened yet. You don’t meet up with people for long, working the cut. Here today, gone tomorrow. Don’t s’pose I’m very easy to live with, neither.’
‘I wouldn’t mind living with yer,’ Maryann said.
She heard Joel’s laugh again. She liked the way he laughed when she said things, as if he found her surprising and funny.
‘Don’t know what yer mom’d say about that. She won’t be very pleased with you in the morning, will she?’
‘No. I s’pose not. But can I come and see yer again?’
‘I told you you could. We work up and down this route. We can send word when the Esther Jane’s coming through.’
‘Oh, will yer?’
Joel stood up. Once more she felt him pat her, this time her shoulder. ‘You don’t give up, do yer? Go on – off to sleep.’
They were up at dawn, the sky grey and rain still falling, the men with many hours of work ahead of them. Maryann said her goodbyes and thanked them.
‘Look out for us!’ Ada called to her.
‘Oh – I’ll be back!’ She was shivering in her thin frock in the wet, but so happy she didn’t care.
She watched as the Esther Jane began to slide along the wharf, off to collect her next load to be moved north, Jep standing on the cabin roof, Bessie plodding along, the white blotches of her coat standing out in the overcast morning. Joel waved at her.
‘Go on now – I want to see you on your way!’ he called, then coughed.
‘Come back soon!’ she shouted, watching until they were out of sight before she tore back round on to the towpath towards home. She had to get changed into her school clothes!
It was fully light when she got home, the lamps were out, people were setting off for work. When she opened the front door she could hear the sound of her mom shovelling coal. The cellar had flooded so they were keeping it out the back under a tarpaulin. She stood in the front for a breathless moment, hearing footsteps on the stairs, which came down into the corner of the front room. The stairs door opened and Sal appeared, face white as a sheet.
‘Maryann! Oh my God, Maryann. Where were yer? I thought summat ’ad happened to yer! Our mom’s going to ’ave yer for this!’ To Maryann’s astonishment, Sal flung her arms round her, sounding tearful.
Flo came and stood in the doorway, hair still plaited from bed.
‘Well—’ she began menacingly. ‘Where in God’s name ’ve you been?’
Maryann shrugged. She wasn’t telling them. ‘Out.’
‘Out!’ Flo was about to get herself worked up but then the effort seemed too great. She badly wanted a cup of tea and there was obviously no harm done. ‘Well – you’re back now, ain’t yer? We’ll ’ave to see what yer father ’as to say.’
Eleven
That evening Maryann was settled in the kitchen after tea, about to start on her bit of homework. She was still wondering with astonishment why no one had said anything. They’d all sat through the meal together and there’d been not a word. Had she got away with it? Then she heard Norman Griffin’s voice from the front.
‘Maryann – come through ’ere.’
Her heart started racing then, stomach tightening in dread but she kept her expression blank as she went through to the front room, clutching one of her books to her chest. Sal had stood up and was hovering behind Flo’s chair. Maryann didn’t look at her stepfather. She fixed her gaze on the grate: the poker with its brass handle was lying across the fender. The room stank of his cigarettes.
‘I’ve not heard anything in the way of an explanation about you disappearing off for the night, Maryann, worrying yer mother half to death.’
Maryann hung her head.
‘So where were yer?’
She said nothing. Nothing on God’s earth was going to make her tell him, even if he took a stick to her. She’d slept on the Esther Jane! That was something they couldn’t take away from her and she’d never forget it.
‘Are yer going to tell me, or what?’
‘What.’
Norman propelled his rotund bulk up out of the chair. ‘Why, yer impudent little bugger!’
‘Maryann!’ Flo sat forward on the edge of her chair, eyeing her husband. ‘I’ll not ’ave yer speaking to Norman like that. Now come on – spit it out. Was you at Nance’s, or what?’
‘I ain’t telling yer.’ She looked up into Norman’s face. Her legs had gone weak and trembly. Sal had a desperate expression in her eyes, her hand over her mouth.
Norman seemed at a loss for words. ‘Go up to bed,’ he said, his voice tightly controlled. ‘But you needn’t think I’ve finished with yer.’
‘Don’t do that, Maryann,’ Sal said when they were upstairs, undressing in their candlelit room. ‘Just tell ’im where yer went for God’s sake, we was all worried. Where were yer?’
‘I’m not telling you neither!’ Maryann flung her cardigan on the chair. Her voice was a fierce hiss. ‘And I bloody ain’t telling ’im, Mr Smelly Pig!’
‘Keep yer voice down – you’ll wake Tony. You’re a silly little cow, Maryann. You’re just making trouble for everyone.’
‘Not for everyone – just me. You ain’t in no trouble, are yer?’
‘That’s what you think – you don’t know what ’e’s like, none of yer – you ain’t got no idea . . .’ Sal’s voice started to crack. She put her hands over her face. ‘Oh God, Maryann . . .’
‘What the ’ell’s the matter now?’ Maryann managed a rough transition from being furious to sounding sympathetic. At least Sal was talking to her for once and not just telling her to shove off. She was really crying her heart out as well, shaking with it. ‘Come on, Sal – I’m on your side, you know I am.’
‘I can’t . . .’ Sal was shaking all over, could hardly speak, teeth chattering. ‘You don’t know what ’e might do!’
‘Don’t talk daft – what’s ’e going to do? ’E can’t do nothing!’
But the emotion she could feel coming from Sal was so strong that she hugged her tightly with one arm, taking her hand with the other, trying to steady her. ‘God, Sal, you’re freezing! What’s happened – you can tell me. I won’t breathe a word, you know I won’t. Cross my heart.’
‘It’s . . . it’s . . . I can’t . . . It’s too dirty . . . I’m dirty . . .’
‘Sal!’
But they both froze then, eyes meeting each other’s, as they heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Don’t you worry, Flo love, I’ll deal with it my way. You stay ’ere – it’ll all be sorted out in a few minutes.’
Moving as one body the girls blew the candle out and flung themselves into the bed, half undressed as they were, the springs on the bed giving them away as they pulled the covers up over them, lying down and squeezing their eyes tight shut. Maryann could feel her heart thumping as if it might burst.
The heavy steps came closer. He was in the room, standing looking down at them. They could hear his breathing. Maryann felt Sal grip her arm, squeezing until her nails dug in.
‘I know you’re not asleep. I don’t need a candle to know that.’
There was a long silence, so long that Maryann had an odd floating sensation as if she was dreaming, that he was not really there, but she couldn’t open her eyes because it felt as if Norman Griffin could see everything, each flick of an eyelid, as if the room, for him, was full of light. It wasn’t completely dark outside and you could just see the outlines of things in the room. She felt Sal give a gasping little breath. What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he say anything? Then at last he moved closer along Maryann’s side of the bed.
‘So – secrets, eh?’ Speaking more softly this time, almost singsong.
Another pause.
‘Maryann?’
She said nothing, stopped breathing, remembering to do so again with a gasp.
Norman cleared his throat. ‘We all have our little secrets, don’t we, Sal? See, Maryann, Sal and
I’ve come to a sort of agreement, haven’t we, Sal? And I don’t see why you shouldn’t be part of that now as well. Sal’s getting older and there are certain things older girls ain’t no good for.’
Maryann felt him sitting himself down on her side of the bed and she squirmed further across towards Sal. What was he talking about? She didn’t understand at all. It was no use carrying on pretending to be asleep. She forced her eyes open and, though fully aware that he was there, she jumped when she saw him leaning close, looking at her. Her heart was racing frantically. With an abrupt movement he pulled back the cover and laid his hand on her chest, fumbling round her tiny breasts. His hand felt hot and heavy, pinching and hurting her, and Maryann whimpered.
‘Don’t touch my sister!’ Sal sat up, trying to find a thread of courage, then her own voice trailed pathetically. ‘Please Mr Griffin. Not ’er as well. ’Er’s only a child. It ain’t right.’
‘Oh – jealous now, are we!’ He laughed. Maryann had the same feeling she had the night she found Nanny Firkin dead, that this couldn’t really be happening. It was a horrible dream.
‘D’yer want it an’ all, Sal?’ He reached across and Maryann heard Sal cry out.
‘Stop it – I’ll call our mom, yer dirty man.’
‘Call yer mom!’ he mimicked her. ‘D’yer think she’d believe a word you say, little Sally Griffin. She ain’t gunna believe any of this in a month of Sundays. And you ain’t so brave, are yer, not normally.’ The voice was hard now, cold as steel, talking on and on, and they had no choice but to hear it.
‘Just remember, Sal, what I’ll do if I ’ave any trouble from you. Do I ’ave to remind you again, eh? You ain’t no good to me now, and I need someone who is. And this one’ – Maryann felt him prod her – ‘she’s still clean and she’s got a bit of spirit to ’er an’ all. You can leave school in a couple of months, can’t you, Maryann? And then we’ll see about a job for yer.’ He ran his hand down the length of her body, hovering at the top of her thighs. ‘Secrets, Maryann. Yer a good wench if yer can keep a secret. Because if you say a word . . .’
He left the threat hanging over them, unfinished, as he got up and went off downstairs.
Sal turned away, crying, curling herself up as tight as she could.
‘Sal – oh Sal, don’t! Talk to me!’ Maryann felt horrible, having him touching her, but she didn’t understand what it was all about, she just knew it was all wrong. ‘Why was ’e doing that? Sal, tell me what ’e’s been doing!’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t tell yer – couldn’t say the words. Just, Maryann—’ She rolled over, peering down intensely into Maryann’s face. ‘’E’s bad and dirty and I don’t want ’im going anywhere near you. ’E does things ’e shouldn’t.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Maryann asked in a small voice.
‘Things you shouldn’t even ’ave to know about. Look, Maryann – you’re better at standing up to ’im than me – do anything yer can, even if you get into trouble. But don’t let ’im make yer work in that place. Get yerself another job after you’ve finished school.’
‘I will,’ Maryann said. ‘But why don’t you leave an’ all? You don’t ’ave to stay there, do yer? Just walk out – ’e couldn’t do nothing about it.’
‘I can’t,’ was all Sal would say.
Maryann couldn’t understand her. It was as if their stepfather had cast a spell over her and she couldn’t resist anything he did, wouldn’t stand up to him. She just couldn’t get Sal to tell her more. She lay awake, full of disturbed feelings at the thought of Norman Griffin’s hand moving over her. At the end of this school term she would reach the end of her education, of being a child. She was nearly fourteen. What had he meant when he said Sal wasn’t clean any more? Was that to do with the bleeding? None of it made any sense. All she knew was that nothing at home felt safe any more. She thought with sudden longing of Nance. Nance had always been a good pal and she’d treated her badly. If only she could patch things up with her. She needed Nance now more than she’d ever needed her.
Twelve
‘’Ello there, stranger!’
Cathleen Black appeared when Maryann knocked on the half-open door.
‘Well – we ain’t seen you in a while, even though Sal seems to think she lives ’ere nowadays! Awright are yer, Maryann?’
‘Oh yes, ta,’ Maryann said, distracted from everything else by the sight of Cathleen Black’s enormously swollen belly. It would have been impossible not to notice that she was expecting another child, she was so big she looked as if it might decide to pop out any moment.
‘Look who’s ’ere, Nance.’ Cathleen waddled over to the range and picked up her cup of tea.
Nancy was doling out spud at the table to the four youngest, and a grubby lot they were, all grime and snot but cheerful. Perce was eleven now, William and George, nine and six, and Horace who was two and a half and kept sliding off his chair and running about. Nance tutted and banged the pan down.
‘’E won’t keep still, Mom!’ She picked Horace up and slammed him down on the chair again. ‘Just park yerself and for God’s sake stay there!’
‘Ain’t yer going to say ’ello to Maryann?’ Cathleen said.
Nance’s eyes were unmistakably hostile under her curly black fringe.
‘So yer’ve turned up all of a sudden then. Don’t I stink after all?’
Maryann blushed. Nance was in the right. She had been vile to her for ages. ‘I know I’ve been a bit mean to you, like, Nance. Only I wanted to see you.’
‘Go on with yer, Nance.’ Cathleen put her cup down. ‘Get yerself a plateful and yer can go and eat it on the step and cant with Maryann – I’ll see to this shower in ’ere.’
‘S’awright, Mom,’ Nance said stiffly. ‘I’ll ’elp yer first.’
‘Don’t talk daft.’ Cathleen waved a hand at her. ‘You’ve been carrying on about ’ow yer ain’t seen Maryann, so get off with yer. You’ll ’ave plenty of ’elping to do when this babby comes, so yer might as well enjoy yerself while yer’ve got the chance.’
Nance doled the unappetizing food out on to a plate. Maryann watched with a pang of guilt. Her family had much better food than the Blacks – meat every day! ‘What won’t fatten will fill,’ were words often on Cathleen Black’s lips, and most of the Blacks’ meals were in this vein. Then they both sat squeezed in side by side on the step. The yard was full of metal smells from the foundry at the back.
‘Sorry I ain’t been over,’ Maryann said. ‘Only things at ’ome ’ve been a bit . . . well, you know . . .’
‘Is it yer old man?’ Nance asked through a mouthful of tater.
Maryann hesitated, then nodded.
‘’E killed that cat, daint ’e?’
‘Who else?’ She wanted to pour everything out to Nance. Coming back here again felt nice. Mrs Black chatted to her children, asked them the odd question about school, was always on about one or the other of them’s First Communion. She took an interest, unlike her mom. Being here was a taste of the old times and it made her long for everything to be as it was before, back on the old footing, without all the horrible things going on at home. But she didn’t have words for all of it. How could she say what had happened last night, Norman Griffin pawing at her through her nightshirt? She couldn’t tell Nance or anyone that, but she did want to joke and laugh like they used to, before her dad died and everything went bad.
‘It’s my birthday next week,’ Nance said. ‘I can walk out of that school and never go back – get myself a job of work. You can an’ all soon, eh?’
Maryann shrugged. ‘S’pose so. Where’re you gunna go?’
Nance grinned. ‘Kunzle’s’d be nice. Eat cakes all day! I’ll go round the firms, see who’ll ’ave me. Eh—’ She nudged Maryann. ‘If you’re looking too, why don’t we go round together?’
‘I’ve got a bit of time to go yet.’ Maryann felt cheered. Nance was so warm-hearted and she already felt
forgiven.
‘Oh ah, that’s a thought. Anyroad, I’ll let yer know what it’s like, wherever I end up.’
They chattered on a while while Nance scraped up the last of her food, and they had a bit of a giggle.
‘’Ere—’ Nance grinned and budged up a bit closer. ‘I saw your Sal and our Charlie at it kissing the other night. They was in the brew’us and they never knew I was ’aving a look in!’
‘They never!’ Maryann didn’t know whether to feel glad or not. Sal had turned fifteen. She was growing up. But she’d never said a word about it. There were too many things about Sal she didn’t know nowadays.
‘She was all over ’im,’ Nance went on with relish. ‘She ain’t backward, your Sal, and that’s a fact!’
The two of them were tittering over it, but while Maryann was intrigued – Charlie Black was a handsome devil, there was no denying – she felt hurt and left out.
‘She never breathes a word to me about it,’ she complained to Nance.
‘Well, what d’yer expect! – O-oh,’ Nance said as they heard loud muttering and blaspheming approaching along the entry.
Blackie appeared in the yard, walking with a gorillalike gait, arms swinging, cap on askew, his jacket hanging open.
‘Dad,’ Nance said. ‘Over ’ere.’ She and Maryann got up out of the way and Blackie looked and looked.
‘The door!’ He pointed a wavering finger. ‘Shome-one moved . . . the fuckin’ door.’
‘Oh come on in, yer silly sod,’ Cathleen shouted from inside.
Blackie stumbled in through the door and they heard a grunt as he fell into his chair, followed by a loud, grating belch.
‘Well,’ Nance said with a wry look. ‘That’s ’im finished for the day.’
Friday night was bath night. Maryann got home feeling much more light-hearted after her visit to Nancy’s and found Flo filling up the tin bath which usually hung on a rusty hook on the wall of the privy outside.
‘Glad you’re back at last,’ she said resentfully. ‘Yer can come and bath the boys for me.’