Bridie said, ‘Why don’t you stay another day or two?’
Kate shook her head. ‘Davie wouldn’t like it - think I’d run off with another man.’ She laughed at Catherine’s shocked expression. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’
‘Things are all right between you and Davie, aren’t they?’ Catherine asked.
Kate pulled a face, then laughed. ‘Course they are. It’s just the thought of ganin’ home after such a canny time with you and Bridie.’
‘You can come again any time,’ Bridie said spontaneously, ‘can’t she, Catherine?’
Catherine felt irritated at Bridie’s rash offer, but the look of expectation on her mother’s face made her weaken.
‘Course you can,’ Catherine promised.
It made it easier saying goodbye to Kate at the station, for she felt guilty at sending her back to a bleak Jarrow and long days of idleness.
‘Come in the summer when the days are longer and I can take my holidays,’ Catherine suggested.
Kate hugged her tearfully. ‘I’ve had such a canny time. Take care of yoursel’, hinny.’
Catherine waved her away, confused by the mix of emotions the disappearing Kate evoked. Relief that it was over without incident, and tears from the rare gesture of her mother’s arms pressed around her, for no one’s benefit but her own.
Chapter 30
1932
When Kate came back in the summer, which was the next time Catherine saw her, having spent Christmas and Easter in Hastings, she stayed for over a month. Davie had finally found employment, working on a cargo ship plying the Baltic.
‘There’s nowt for me to go back to,’ Kate kept repeating, ‘just an empty house.’
Bridie went to Ireland to see Maisie. Catherine would have liked to have gone with her, but she had Kate to look after. Instead, she took a fortnight’s holiday and they went for picnics and trips along the coast. Kate was not one for walking for the sake of it: she preferred to sit on the beach, observing and making comments about other people.
‘Everyone here has a motor car,’ she said in wonder. ‘Look at them all! Where can they all be going?’
Catherine laughed. ‘The same as those who don’t have cars - work, home, on holiday.’
‘Do you know what?’ Kate said, gazing out over a calm azure sea. ‘This is me first summer holiday ever.’ She turned to look at her daughter. ‘And I’m having the best time of me life, Kitty.’
So when Catherine went back to work, she found it impossible to send her mother home.
‘I can get everything shipshape for you - have the dinner on when you come home,’ Kate bargained.
‘I get dinner at the laundry, remember.’
‘Well, the tea then,’ Kate said with a pleading look. ‘You’re that tired when you get in from work. I can look after this place for you. Let me be some use to you, hinny.’
Bridie came back, subdued and resentful at having to leave Maisie again, and was an instant ally of Kate’s.
‘Let her stay as long as she wants,’ Bridie said on a trip to the tennis club. ‘She’s not a bad cook and she keeps the place spotless.’
Catherine was uncertain. ‘But without us around, she’ll have too much time on her hands. There’ll be nothing to stop her waltzing off to the pub.’
‘Has she tried anything since I’ve been away?’
‘No,’ Catherine had to admit, ‘but. . .’
‘But, you’re just looking for problems where there aren’t any,’ Bridie cried. ‘You’re such a little worry-head. She’s desperate to please you; I think you’re being too hard on her.’
Catherine was stung. ‘I can see how she’s got round you. She can be sweetness and light when she wants to, but it won’t last.’
Bridie gave her a hooded look. ‘I’d give anything to be with my daughter - and Kate’s the same. Give her a week or two and see how it goes.’
For the rest of August, Kate played housekeeper, walking to the shops and buying food, which she had ready cooked when they got in from work. Never once did Catherine smell whisky on her breath and she felt guilty at having begrudged her mother the extended holiday.
It was a postcard from Davie that forced the issue of Kate’s return. He was back on Tyneside for a fortnight and wanting her home.
‘Don’t know why he can’t manage on his own,’ Kate complained. ‘I’ll no sooner be back and he’ll be off to sea again, leaving me all on me own.’
Catherine knew her mother wanted to stay, but she had had enough of sharing the flat. It felt cramped with the couch having to be used as a bed, Kate’s sewing cluttering up the table, extra washing strung over the fireplace on wet days. Kate had rearranged the furniture and was forever telling Catherine how things could be done better, ignoring her pleas not to oversalt the food or buy from passing hawkers. She longed for the tranquillity of evenings reading by the fire, just her and Bridie, without Kate’s constant chatter and interference. Bridie had been strangely distant with her since returning from Ireland and she wanted to recapture their old friendship.
‘You can’t stay here for ever,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘You have to go home sometime.’
They were sitting either side of the fireplace, while Bridie wrote a letter to Maisie at the table. Catherine wished her friend would say something to support her, but she kept quiet.
Kate gave her a mournful look. ‘But I feel more at home here than I do back in Jarrow.’
‘That’s ‘cos you’ve been on holiday,’ Catherine protested. ‘It’s not a picnic all year round. Besides, Davie’s your husband and Jarrow’s where you live.’
Kate began twisting her hands in her lap. The veins stood out like ropes. Old work-roughened hands. She said, ‘I don’t want to gan back. I hate living on me own - I’ve never lived on me own. Once Davie’s back at sea, I’m frightened of what I might do.’ She gave Catherine a beseeching look. ‘You know what I’m like when there’s no one there to keep the reins on.’
Catherine gulped. ‘There’s Aunt Mary and Uncle Alec - and all your friends. You wouldn’t be on your own. Not like here, where you don’t know people.’
‘I want to stay,’ Kate blurted out. ‘Please let me stay!’
Catherine felt panic rise. She stood up and poked the fire, keeping her back to Kate so she could not see the desperation in her mother’s eyes. She could not live with her again. Already they were irritating each other, Kate’s little jibes getting under her skin, making her feel like an angry child again. Yet, if she sent her back home and Kate started drinking, then it would be all her fault. That’s what Kate meant. It was an impossible choice.
‘Look at this place,’ Catherine said in agitation. ‘It’s just not big enough for the three of us. There isn’t room . . .’
Suddenly, Bridie spoke up. ‘We could rent a bigger flat.’
‘What?’ Catherine spun round to stare at her friend.
‘You’re on a good salary, Catherine, you could afford it.’
Why was Bridie encouraging Kate’s fantasy? Could she not see that her mother would ruin everything for them? Anger choked her. She loved her flat and did not want to move.
‘B-but what about Davie?’ Catherine fumbled for an excuse.
‘What sort of husband is he?’ Bridie snorted. ‘Away for months on end or moping around like a lost ghost when he’s home. That’s no way to live for someone as full of life as Kate. He doesn’t deserve her.’
Catherine gawped at them both. When had Kate been confiding all this in Bridie?
‘But you love Davie, don’t you?’ she demanded.
Kate sighed. ‘He’s canny enough - but these past couple of years haven’t been a bundle of laughs, I can tell you. Sometimes, he’s that drawn into his shell, he never speaks from the minute he gets up till the minute he gans to bed. I end up talking to the walls.’
‘But he’s still your husband,’ Catherine said desperately.
Bridie said fiercely, ‘Would you force your ma to go back to
a loveless marriage just for appearance’s sake? I know all about unhappy marriage and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.’ She challenged Catherine with her sharp blue eyes. ‘Jarrow has nothing for Kate - you said yourself it’s quiet as the grave. How can you send her back to scrimping and the means test?’
Catherine felt tears of frustration well in her eyes. She was not to blame for Jarrow’s plight or Kate’s stale marriage. She never wanted her mother to marry Davie in the first place! So why was she feeling so guilty? She could not bear Bridie looking at her with such contempt as if she hated her. Unexpectedly, she burst into tears.
Bridie rushed over at once. ‘Oh, poor girl, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She hugged her tight. ‘Here, let me dry your eyes.’
Kate hovered close, touching Catherine’s hair with tentative fingers. ‘I’ll gan back, hinny. Davie and me can manage. I can see there’s no room for me here, and I’m sorry for making you cry.’
Catherine felt even more wretched at their sudden kindness. She howled while they fussed and petted her like mother hens. She took Bridie’s handkerchief and blew her nose. It was spattered with blood. Dizziness overcame her as more blood poured from her nose. Bridie cried at Kate to fetch cloths from the kitchen while she helped Catherine to the bed. Their voices came and went like bad reception on the wireless. When she lay down the room spun around and made her nauseous.
It was an hour before the bleeding stopped, by which time she was exhausted and past arguing about anything. Catherine fell asleep and woke in the early hours, as a silvery dawn light seeped in around the curtained windows. She felt weak and listless, the wrangling of the previous evening plaguing her thoughts.
Getting up, she went to the window and peered out on the quiet street. Wide pavements, ornate railings, clipped hedges and electric streetlights. It was a world away from the New Buildings in Jarrow. Glancing back at Kate, sleeping in the big bed, she felt a pang of remorse at her selfishness. Her mother looked so peaceful, the lines on her face smoothed away, her mouth half-open like a child’s.
‘Can’t you sleep either?’ Bridie whispered, startling her.
‘No.’
‘Come here, girl, and sit with me.’ Bridie made room for her on the couch. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea in a minute.’ She put an arm about her. ‘You’re shaking. Are you still feeling ill? I’ll fetch the doctor out in the morning.’
‘No, I’m all right,’ Catherine whispered, grateful for her tenderness. ‘I’m sorry about last night. I’ll let Kate stay if you think it’s the right thing to do. It’s just I was looking forward to having the flat to ourselves again.’
‘So was I,’ Bridie reassured her. ‘But if we got a bigger place, we could all get along without being in each other’s pockets.’
‘I suppose so,’ Catherine said resignedly.
‘Well, there’s no harm in looking, is there?’ Bridie encouraged. ‘And if we found somewhere you liked, and if it was big enough, then maybe . . .’
‘Maybe what?’
‘Maybe I could bring Maisie over from Ireland. We could all live together like one big happy family,’ Bridie said excitedly.
Catherine finally understood. ‘So that’s what this is all about. It’s Maisie you want, not Kate. Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Because you’ve already been so good to me,’ Bridie said, suddenly tearful. ‘I couldn’t ask you to dig into your pocket just for my Maisie. She’s my responsibility not yours.’
Catherine took Bridie’s hand. ‘You really miss her, don’t you?’
Bridie nodded. ‘She’s all I can call my own.’
Catherine made up her mind. ‘If that’s what you really want, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll go out this weekend and hunt for a bigger flat.’
Bridie threw her arms around her. ‘What a darling girl! What a big-hearted darling, darling girl.’
Catherine laughed. She felt flooded with warmth to be able to make someone so happy. Worries over Kate and the cost, or caring for Bridie’s young daughter were banished as they hugged each other. She was loved again and that was all that mattered.
Chapter 31
Kate went to Jarrow but wrote twice weekly to ask how plans for her return were progressing. Davie had gone back to sea agreeing that she should live with Catherine while he was away so much. He could take his leave in Hastings.
Catherine felt creeping foreboding at Kate coming to live with her, but smothered her doubts and continued to house-hunt to please Bridie. Her friend was skittish at the thought of Maisie being with her again and Catherine’s tentative questions were brushed aside.
‘Will we need to find her a school?’ Catherine asked.
‘School?’ Bridie laughed. ‘She hasn’t been to school since I left Ireland. She’s not the learning kind.’
‘A job then?’
‘Maisie’s not the kind of girl to hold down a job,’ Bridie replied.
‘What will she do all day while we’re working?’ Catherine asked.
‘Oh, she can help Kate with the housekeeping. She’s a good girl - just needs telling what to do. Your mother will love her.’
So, with pressure coming from both older women, Catherine found a maisonette near the sea front in Laurel Street. At the end of October, Mr Townsend brought round the workhouse van and helped her move her furniture. She handed back the keys to her ground-floor flat with a heavy heart. It had been a happy place that she had made her own. Now she would have to start again, but with two strong-minded women who would want a say in how her home was furnished and run. Still, Catherine clung to the belief that Kate had changed for the better and, anyway, Bridie would protect her from her mother’s interference.
Bridie and Catherine set to work spring-cleaning the large flat and ordering extra furniture. Kate and Maisie would have the two small bedrooms, as Bridie thought they needed rooms of their own, while Catherine and Bridie shared the large one. There was a separate bathroom, a kitchen big enough to eat in and a spacious sitting room with a partial view of the promenade and the sea beyond.
‘Isn’t it a dream place?’ Bridie exclaimed. ‘Much nicer than Clifton Road. And it’s nearer the shops and the beach. Maisie will think she’s died and gone to heaven.’
It was arranged that Kate would arrive first and settle in, before Maisie was sent over from Ireland. A nervous Catherine went to meet her mother at the station, with Bridie’s words of encouragement ringing in her ears: ‘It’s the start of a new life for all of us, girl. One happy family, that’s what we’ll be.’
The carriages of the London train emptied. There was no sign of Kate. Catherine’s instant feeling was of relief. Her mother had decided not to come after all. Ridiculous to think she could ever leave Jarrow. But she knew deep down that Kate would come and the next moment there was a commotion at the far end of the train. Bags were being thrown out of the door and a guard was helping a passenger down the step. She heard Kate’s laugh. Even at this distance she knew that her mother was drunk.
Catherine hurried up the platform, heart hammering. Kate was talking loudly, the guard placating her, calling for a porter to help.
There’s no need,’ Catherine said hastily. ‘I’ll take her luggage.’
‘Here she is,’ Kate bellowed, ‘my posh daughter, Kitty. Oops, s-sorry, likes to be called Catherine. Bet you thought I was making it up, lad.’ She laughed loudly as she stumbled against the guard.
‘Steady, ma’am. Let me help you to the barrier.’ He shot Catherine an amused look.
‘Looked after Kitty for years - now she’s ganin’ to look after me,’ Kate giggled. ‘That’s fair, isn’t it?’
‘Sounds fair to me,’ the guard answered, winking at Catherine.
She followed behind with Kate’s two bags, puce with embarrassment. Swiftly she hailed a taxi and bundled her mother in the back. She did not look capable of walking to the new flat and Catherine feared a scene in public. By the time she had marched her mother up the stairs to the maisonette and s
taggered up with her heavy bags, Catherine was seething with anger.
She turned on Kate. ‘How dare you turn up in such a state?’
‘What state?’ Kate looked at her wearily.
‘Drunk, that’s what,’ Catherine snapped.
‘Just had a little nip,’ Kate said, flopping into a chair. ‘Keeps the cold out. London’s perishing.’
‘You promised you wouldn’t drink any more,’ Catherine accused. ‘I wouldn’t have agreed to you coming here if I thought you were still hitting the bottle.’
Kate gave a hurt look. ‘I was celebratin’. Ta-ra Jarrow, hello Hastings.’ She started to hiccup. ‘D-on’t be cr-oss.’
Catherine gave a sigh of exasperation and strode to the kitchen for a glass of water. By the time she returned, Kate’s eyes were closed and her breathing heavy.
‘You can’t go to sleep here.’ Catherine shook her. Kate grunted and slumped further into the chair. Moments later she was snoring loudly.
Bridie came back from the shops to find Catherine sitting at the window her face wet with tears.
‘What’s wrong, girl?’ she asked in concern.
Catherine jerked her head at the sleeping Kate. ‘Turned up drunk, didn’t she? Same as ever. It’s all a big mistake. I should never have let her come.’ She covered her face and wept anew.
Bridie put an arm around her. ‘She was probably that excited about seeing you. It doesn’t mean she’s at the drink all the time. Come on, cheer up. We’re the bosses here and we’ll not let her slip back into bad ways.’
When Kate woke, she was contrite and made an effort to be complimentary about her new home. She hobbled into the kitchen and rolled up her sleeves.
‘I’ll wash the dishes,’ she insisted. ‘You two workers put your feet up by the fire.’
‘Told you so,’ Bridie whispered to Catherine, as she picked up her knitting and settled in a chair. ‘Come on, sit down and read something to me.’
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