Playing With Fire

by Mary Larkin

  ‘Perhaps she got fed up listening to you, Dad.’ Alison ventured to speak out on her sister’s behalf. ‘You did go on and on at her.’

  Tentatively his wife intervened. She knew why Trevor had always been hard on Susan. ‘Trevor, I agree with Alison. You did come down rather hard on Susan lately. And for what? Voicing her opinion? Staying out late? Good heavens, she’s a grown woman.’

  Trevor’s fist descended hard on the table, making his wife and daughter jerk in surprise. ‘She should have known better than to answer me back,’ he bellowed. ‘Good Lord, you can’t expect me to tolerate insolence from my own daughter. Can you?’

  With a sigh, Rachel carefully mopped up the tea she had spilt. ‘Now she’s twenty-one we have no control over her. Remember that!’ she warned. ‘You could have been a bit more diplomatic. When she comes back you will have to bite your tongue now and again to keep the peace.’

  ‘Huh! Chance would be a fine thing.’

  ‘Now, you know you don’t mean that. You want her to come home as much as I do.’ She glanced quickly at her husband’s dour face and said tentatively, ‘Perhaps I should go over and try to talk some sense into her?’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind! Let her make the first move.’

  Clenching her teeth in frustration, Rachel cried, ‘I do wish Edith was on the phone. Then I could at least talk to Susan, make sure she’s all right.’

  ‘What about me going over?’ Alison offered brightly. She had an uneasy feeling that there was more to Susan’s escapade than met the eye. There was something fishy going on. She had tried to find out what had happened between Jim Brady and her sister, but Susan had remained tight-lipped, insisting that their parting had been mutual, with no animosity on either side. Why, then, had she been so miserable?

  ‘No, thank you. You’ll stay where you are.’ Rachel was aghast. ‘What would Graham say if you were to go?’

  ‘He would probably come with me. A wee holiday break.’ Alison’s eyes danced with mischievous glee at the very idea of it.

  Her father fixed a stern eye on her. ‘Don’t even joke about going off alone with Graham until you’re married.’

  Alison turned aside to hide the smug look on her face. Parents could be so blind. She had no intention of making any mistakes. So far she had managed to keep Graham at bay. If he became too frisky, she would make sure that precautions were taken. Not that she thought he would. He had been quite cool lately and, come to think of it, marriage had not been mentioned between them for a long time. Could he be having second thoughts about marrying her?

  It was a Wednesday evening that Susan rang her mother, confident that she would find her alone. She knew her father would be playing bowls. He was in the Churches’ League and, when not playing in tournaments, he practised in the church hall every Wednesday night. Wednesday was also the night Alison went to Sammy Leckie’s to learn advanced ballroom dancing. Susan was hoping for a private chat with her mother - a chance to assure her that she was all right, without her father giving off in the background. The continuous peal of the phone resounded for some moments. Susan pictured her mother setting her perpetual knitting carefully to one side, before leaving the lounge and crossing the hall to answer it. It saddened her to think that in the normal course of events her mother should be knitting for her first grandchild.

  ‘Hello, Rachel Commings speaking.’

  ‘Hello, Mam.’

  Rachel didn’t receive many evening calls and she had expected it to be someone leaving bowling fixtures for her husband. Her delight was therefore all the more obvious when she heard her daughter’s voice. ‘Susan! Thank God to hear your voice. Are you well?’

  ‘Yes, Mam. I’m fine.’

  ‘What on earth possessed you to run off like that?’

  ‘Now, Mam, you were there. You heard me dad. He treats me like a five-year-old.’

  ‘It’s only because he worries about you. He’s afraid of you falling in with the wrong company.’

  The wrong company? If they only knew, she thought resentfully. In their eyes Jim Brady would be the wrong company, but she couldn’t persuade him to lay a finger on her. Yet the other one had taken advantage of her vulnerability and seduced her. Thoughts of Graham suddenly crowded her mind, making her recall the warmth and excitement of their union. A feeling of desolation swamped her. It was her own fault; she should have known better.

  ‘Susan? Are you still there, Susan?’

  She stifled the tears that threatened. ‘Yes, yes, Mam. I’m here.’

  ‘Are you crying, love?’

  ‘No. I’ve got a cold. You know, watery eyes and runny nose?’

  ‘Do take care of yourself, love. You know . . . your father regrets speaking to you like that. We would be so pleased if you would come home.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe, Mam. He’s never really shown concern for me. Alison is apparently giving him the ideal son-in-law, so I don’t count at all. Ha-ha, that’s all that matters. He couldn’t care less about me.’

  ‘Ah, Susan, you’ve always been so defiant. You get your dad’s back up. He’s terribly disappointed that you took the huff and ran off like that. Of course he cares and wants you to come home.’

  ‘Mam . . . he isn’t taking his spite out on you, is he?’

  A silence met these words. Then Rachel cried, ‘What on earth do you mean, Susan? Of course he isn’t!’ She was alarmed at how perceptive her daughter was.

  Susan remembered the times her father’s spiteful remarks had reduced her mother to tears; remembered the muffled weeping coming from her parents’ bedroom, and did not believe her. ‘I’m sorry, Mam, if I’m bringing you grief. Don’t let him browbeat you.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Susan.’

  ‘Have I, Mam?’ Wanting to change the subject, Susan asked, ‘What about Alison? Is she engaged yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I imagine a ring will be bought at Christmas.’

  ‘You know, I envy her. She’s two years younger than me, yet she can do whatever she likes! So long as she is with “Graham” she gets away with murder. Dad doesn’t demand that Graham has her home by eleven every night. No, those two can do no wrong. Graham would never do anything ungentlemanly. Huh!’

  Unable to understand her daughter’s bitterness against Graham, Rachel said soothingly, ‘Well, he is older than Alison. We trust him to respect her.’

  ‘But you don’t trust me?’ Susan felt a hypocrite. Here she was, about to become an unmarried mother, and she was giving off about her parents’ lack of trust. Why, they would probably disown her if they found out.

  ‘We do trust you. We were just worried when you refused to bring your friend home. I think your dad was under the impression that you were dating a Catholic?’ She waited hopefully for her daughter either to deny or confirm the accusation. Her words hung in the air for a few seconds, then sadly she continued, ‘I’ve been wondering about your work, Susan. Did you ask for time off? Surely you didn’t hand in your notice? Not knowing what you told them, I was afraid to phone the office. Is your position still open for you?’

  Susan laughed; her mother never did wait for an answer. ‘One question at a time, Mam. Yes, Mam, my job is safe. I’ve managed to get time off. One of the other secretaries will take over until I come back.’ Susan wasn’t really telling lies. Her boss was a very understanding person and would bring in a temp if required to keep her position open. Knowing it would go no further, Susan had confided in him and she had until after the birth to decide what she wanted to do. However, since she didn’t know how long she would be away, she couldn’t expect her job to be kept open indefinitely. But there was no need for her mother to know this.

  Rachel’s relief was obvious. ‘Thank goodness for that. Well, you’ve made your point, so come home at once. I worry about you over in that small, cold house at this time of year.’

  ‘Mam, anyone listening to you wouldn’t believe you had been reared in a small kitchen house on the Shankill Road, with no h
ot water and an outside toilet,’ Susan teased. She knew her mother didn’t like to be reminded of her roots.

  ‘That may well be! But you have known only the best. Will you come home?’

  ‘I’m enjoying my bit of freedom, Mam, so I’ll stay on here for a while. And the house isn’t cold, it’s like a wee palace. Edith and Billy have it lovely and comfortable. Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘I can’t help worrying. I don’t want you led astray.’

  Susan sighed inwardly. ‘Mam, believe me I have less chance of going astray over here than I had back home. Aunt Edith keeps a close eye on me. You can rest assured, I’m not in any danger of being led astray.’

  ‘How is Edith?’

  ‘She’s wonderful, Mam. They are both so kind to me. They have a stall in the market now and sell fruit and veg. It’s proving very profitable. I help out sometimes. I enjoy meeting the Darlington people. It reminds me of the market back home.’ The pips sounded. ‘Mam, I’ve run out of money. I’ll phone you again soon. Give Dad and Alison my love.’

  ‘Susan! Susan,’ Rachel cried in distress, but the phone was dead.

  The wind had strengthened while she was on the phone and icy gusts whipped at Susan’s clothes, moulding them into the contours of her body as she left the phone booth, almost lifting her off her feet with its ferocity. She had eased the woollen beret up off her ears whilst phoning and, as the wind set her ears tingling, she made to pull it back down over her unruly curls, but was too late. The wind wrested it from beneath her hand and tossed it like a feather along the street. With a cry of dismay she raced after it and for some moments struggled against the wind in an effort to retrieve it. However, it eluded her efforts and an extra-strong gust lifted it far beyond her reach. She slowed down in frustration. There was no way she could catch up with it in this gale-force wind.

  A figure suddenly sped past her, long legs quickly covering the ground. She watched as he effortlessly retrieved the beret and turned back towards her. As he drew near, to her surprise she recognised him. He and her cousin Jack were close friends. She had often trooped about with them on her last visit all those years ago. Would Donald Murphy recognise her again? With a flourish, he handed her the beret.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’

  At the sound of her Irish brogue he leant closer and dark-blue eyes scanned her face. ‘Don’t I know you?’ One fist hit the palm of the other hand as recognition dawned. ‘Ah, yes, you’re Billy Devine’s niece. I heard you were over here. We met some years ago, but I don’t suppose you’ll remember.’

  ‘I remember perfectly,’ she retorted, pulling the beret down over her ears and tucking her hair in under it. ‘I’m not senile, you know,’ she teased.

  ‘I didn’t mean to imply you were,’ he replied stiffly.

  She gaped at him in amazement. ‘Touchy, aren’t you? I didn’t mean any offence.’

  ‘No offence taken.’ He swung away and then back again. ‘I’ll walk home with you.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  A slight smile curved his thin, sensitive lips. ‘I’m going in that direction.’

  They walked along in silence, the wind making conversation difficult. He had grown quite a few inches and filled out since Susan last saw him. She was very aware of the bulk of him as they battled against the wind. He had certainly grown into a very presentable young man. She wondered if he was married. Stealing a glance at his brooding, dour looks, she declined to ask. In her opinion Heathcliff, her hero in Wuthering Heights, wouldn’t hold a candle to Donald’s sullen expression. Hark at her! Imagine thinking along those lines. Would she never learn?

  To break the effect he was having on her, she shouted above the wind, ‘This is some wind, isn’t it? Is it usually this strong?’

  ‘Yes, it is strong,’ he agreed. ‘Usually we’re sheltered here in Darlington. It lies in a valley and we miss the worst of the snow and gales, thank God. Take Barnard Castle, for instance, it’s just a few miles away and is not so lucky. It can be cut off for days at a time by snow and we would see nothing here in Darlington. To be truthful, I think we’re in for some snow here, at the moment. It’s certainly cold enough. However, when it does fall it doesn’t lie long. How long are you over for?’

  ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet. I just came over for a short holiday.’

  At the corner of the street she prepared to say good night, but to her surprise he continued walking around the corner and down the street.

  Bemused, she followed him. ‘There really is no need for you to come any further, Donald. I’ll be quite safe,’ she chided.

  ‘Oh, but there is,’ he assured her. When they arrived at her door she turned to him. ‘Will you come in for a cup of tea? I’m sure Aunt Edith will be pleased to see you.’

  ‘No, I’d better not. It’s getting late. I’ve something to attend to and then I’d better get on home. Good night.’

  ‘Good night, Donald. Thanks for walking me home.’

  He lifted his hand in farewell and she watched in amazement as he took a bunch of keys from his pocket and, approaching the house next door, inserted one in the lock. It turned easily and he give her a big wink before disappearing inside.

  As Susan entered the house, her aunt rose from her seat by the fire and came into the hall to meet her. ‘You look frozen. I’ll make us a cup of tea. Did you get through to your mam all right?’

  ‘Yes. She was relieved to hear from me. She asked after you and Billy.’

  ‘Is everything all right at home?’

  ‘Mmm . . .’ Hanging her coat on a hook in the hall, she said, ‘Donald Murphy walked up from the phone box with me. I didn’t realise he lived next door. I thought that house was empty.’

  ‘It is . . . well, not quite empty. When his aunt died he somehow or other managed to get his name put in the rent book. When it became common knowledge there was a bit of an uproar at the time, as half of the street wanted it for someone or other. However, whether or not hands were greased - and they probably were - we will never know. But the landlord stood firm and his word was law. As far as he was concerned, Donald’s name was in the rent book and that was the end of it.’

  Edith fell silent as if undecided. Then she continued, ‘Donald was engaged to a girl at that time and they intended starting married life there, but it wasn’t to be. He doesn’t live there himself, but comes up and stays a few days every month to keep it aired. I sometimes wonder if he expects her to come back to him.’

  ‘What happened? Did they not get married then?’

  ‘No. Apparently she fell in love with someone else.’

  ‘So that’s why he’s so different. I can sympathise with him. He must have been very unhappy. If I recall correctly, he used to be such a happy-go-lucky sort of lad, and now he seems quite surly. I asked him to come in for a cup of tea, but he was in too much of a hurry to get back home.’

  Edith sighed and her eyes took on an empty look. ‘I suppose I may as well tell you the rest of it. He isn’t very friendly towards us Devines.’

  ‘Oh, why’s that? Didn’t he and Jack used to be best mates?’

  ‘They were. That’s why he avoids us when he can. You see, it was our Jack she ran off with.’

  ‘Oh, no. How awful for him. He must have felt betrayed.’

  ‘Don’t put all the blame on Jack!’ Edith tersely defended her son. ‘These things happen. It nearly broke Billy’s heart. This community is so close-knit, you wouldn’t believe it! They all rallied round Donald, because he was the injured party and his family were here long before Billy and me. In fact, Donald was born over here. They said some awful things about Jack. Billy also turned on him. Railed at him about doing the dirty on a mate. That’s why I don’t think Jack will ever come back. I could tell he was hurt at his father’s attitude. I suppose, knowing our own history - how Billy fell in love with me and left his wife - Jack must have thought his father a right hypocrite. But there were extenuating circumstances. You see, Donna, Billy’s
wife, didn’t love him, or I would never have agreed to come away with him.’ Tears welled up and ran down her cheeks.

  Reaching across, Susan gripped her aunt’s hands tightly. ‘Oh, Aunt Edith, don’t upset yourself. I’m so sorry for you both. What an awful thing to happen. What was this girl like? Did you like her? If things had been different, would you have welcomed her as a daughter-in-law?’

  ‘How can I say? I never really got to know her.’ Edith’s voice was sad. ‘Her name was Margaret McGivern. I say was, because for all I know she might be Mrs Devine now. She was attractive all right. Not what you would call a raving beauty like, but attractive, with pale-blonde hair and great dark eyes. She came from the other end of town, Saltersgate. She and Donald were to be married at Christmas and Jack was to be best man. The three of them ran about together everywhere; to the dances and the picture houses and the clubs. They were inseparable. However, she was only in this house one time. If she and Jack were carrying on behind Donald’s back, we weren’t aware of it. I would never have tolerated it under my roof and neither would Billy.’

  She fell silent and Susan waited patiently, convinced that more was to come. She was right, for after some moments of contemplation her aunt continued tearfully. ‘The night she told Donald she was in love with Jack, Donald went berserk and came looking for him. They had one hell of a brawl out there in the street. It was awful. They beat each other from one end of the street to the other. No one else was allowed to interfere. Billy tried to separate them, but the men crowded round him and warned him to let them be. They near murdered each other. Margaret was hysterical, so I brought her inside. Somebody phoned the police and an ambulance, and both Jack and Donald ended up in casualty in the Memorial Hospital, under police guard. When they had taken statements and knew the full story, the police wanted Jack to press charges, on account of it being Donald who started the fight, but he declined. The next morning he and Margaret left for London. It was heart-breaking, so it was, watching them drive off for the station in a taxi. Jack’s ribs were bandaged and his face was a right mess. He was obviously in great pain.’ She paused, lost in unhappy memories. Her voice was bitter when she continued. ‘Donald vented his spleen on us. You’d think it was our fault, the way he treats us. He never gave us the benefit of the doubt. It’s awful annoying. He just can’t be civil towards us. But we honestly hadn’t a clue what was going on. As I say, she was only in this house that one time.’