Millie wondered fleetingly how many women he had tried to persuade to be a replacement for Mrs Moody. She had noticed Joseph smelling of beer as soon as he entered the kitchen, but no one had said anything. Mrs Dodswell had hinted that his drinking was the reason why no one stayed for long, but since her mother’s nocturnal visits to Moody’s room, Millie knew it was more than that. She wondered what Ava would say to the clandestine arrangement.
‘Father, don’t upset yourself,’ Ava said briskly. ‘With Mrs Mercer’s help we can put this place on the map.’
So it was Millie who ended up in the laundry room all day on her own, possing the sheets, wrestling with a giant wooden mangle and hanging the washing out in the yard to dry. Keeping it clean seemed an impossible job, for the coal trains ran along a siding right behind the hotel and left smudges of soot on the white linen.
By tea time, Millie was quite exhausted and a sudden gusty downpour made all her efforts at drying the washing worthless. She was in the middle of draping the sheets around the kitchen when unexpectedly a group of hikers sought refuge out of the storm. Her mother, who had just returned with Ava, took command of the situation.
‘Get a pot of tea made, Millie,’ Teresa ordered as she bustled off to show the visitors into the parlour. ‘Ava, you come and keep them talking while I lay the fire.’
Twenty minutes later, Teresa had persuaded them to book in for the night and dispatched Millie and Ava to make up three bedrooms. Alone together for the first time, Millie found herself being closely questioned.
‘How did your father die?’ Ava asked. ‘Your mam wouldn’t say. Are you an only child like me?’
Millie flushed, her throat going dry. What would her mother want her to say? she panicked.
‘Am I upsetting you like your mother?’ Ava asked, standing back while Millie moved around the bed, tucking in the sheets.
Millie was goaded into answering. ‘She would get upset. She not only lost me dad, but her only son as well. I had a brother called Graham.’
‘Really? I wish I’d had a brother.’ Ava sounded interested and Millie was at once anxious at having mentioned his name. But Ava went on, ‘I’ve suffered as well, you know. I lost Mother when I was four years old. It was lonely growing up here just with me dad. Housekeepers came and went, of course. And there’s Aunt Effie – she used to help out. She’s not a real aunt – just a distant cousin – and she had her own family to look after. I’ve never really had anyone to call Mam. You’re lucky – I like your mam.’
Millie nodded, feeling suddenly sorry for Ava and pleased that the older girl had confided in her. She felt a desire to talk of her own sense of loss, though she could not tell the truth. It was terrible being made to feel so ashamed of the brother she had loved so much. ‘Aye, Mam’s all right considering what she’s suffered. Graham was a canny brother – I really miss him.’
‘Tell me about him,’ Ava encouraged, sitting on the bed Millie was trying to make.
Millie found herself gushing. ‘He died at an outpost, defending it, of course. He was the last one left alive – a real hero.’ It was a story she had heard about someone else’s father and she did not know what had made her say it, only that she yearned for it to be true.
‘Go on!’ Ava gasped. So Millie gave way to a flight of fancy, describing all the courageous deeds of which she knew her brother had been capable. After all, Graham had pushed heavy tubs of coal in the dark, cramped tunnels down Craston Pit, and seen his best friend crushed in a fall of stone, so he was no coward in her eyes. Her tale was interrupted by Teresa’s abrupt appearance and warning look.
‘Get yourself downstairs, Millie, and serve our customers,’ she ordered briskly, and Millie escaped, realising too late that she had said too much.
For the rest of the evening she was kept busy waiting on the travellers and helping in the kitchen. She had to rescue the sausages from burning which her mother had forgotten all about while chatting to the guests, and she ended up baking the apples and mixing the custard too. How long was it going to be before Moody realised that her mother could not cook? Millie wondered. Somehow she was going to have to learn quickly from someone else.
After boiling up water to fill the china pigs for the guests’ beds, Millie hauled her weary body upstairs and fell into her own bed. She was soon asleep and did not know at what time her mother joined her.
***
The following week, Millie was kept busy with cleaning the hotel from top to bottom while her mother reorganised the dining room. Ava was supposed to help, but always seemed to find some errand to do that took her out to the shops. Millie was impressed by her mother’s work when she saw how the dingy room had been transformed with white tablecloths made out of old sheets, fresh flowers on the tables, potted palms, and new lace curtains at the windows. Teresa was triumphant when, four days later, a local leek club booked it for their show.
Word soon spread and people came to look for themselves. They were charmed by the ‘Morpeth’ widow, with her smart appearance and welcoming manner, who offered to play the piano for any special events. Ashborough Cricket Club booked the venue for their annual dinner, and the newly formed operatic society showed an interest in hiring the room for rehearsals.
‘I’ll need a bit of help in the kitchen for the cricket dinner,’ Teresa admitted to Moody. But he was so delighted by the local interest after years of being shunned that he willingly volunteered the services of his cousin Effie.
Effie Nixon was a tall woman, with fair greying hair pulled into a loose bun and a long nose dominating a pale face. She emitted a quiet energy and composure that Millie found comforting among the hectic scenes in the Station Hotel. Millie liked her immediately. It was from the calm, capable Effie that she learned to bake bread that rose, cakes that did not collapse and pastry that did not flake or crumble at a touch.
Effie’s standards of cleanliness in the ancient kitchen were far more exacting than Teresa’s, and she would not start to prepare anything until all the surfaces had been scrubbed, the range blacked and the floor washed down. The two older women disliked each other on sight, but Teresa could see that she needed Effie’s co-operation in the kitchen. Millie also noticed that Effie quietly but firmly stood up to Ava and encouraged her to do some work.
‘Come and help me peel these vegetables, Ava,’ Effie coaxed. ‘We can’t leave everything to young Millie.’
While her mother chattered away about everything that came into her head, Effie got on with her work, dropping the occasional comment about her family of sons which seemed to annoy Teresa the more.
When Millie and Ava were sent out to buy extra groceries, Ava grumbled about Aunt Effie. ‘For all she boasts about her family, I bet she likes to get away from them. Uncle Mungo’s like a bear with a sore head half the time. Used to be famous round here for playing the border pipes, but now he drinks too much to be any good. And as for the Nixon lads!’
‘What about them?’ Millie asked, interested in Ava’s gossip. At least it took her mind off Craston and how it was proving impossible to slip away for long enough to search out her father.
‘Always arguing,’ Ava said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Grant and Walter work at the pit. They say Grant came back from France a Communist after the war – he’d fight with his own shadow, that one. Walter’s canny enough – bit of a dreamer – always getting a clip from his dad for not listening. Then there’s Dan, but he’s away down London somewhere. Word is he’s playing football – never came back after the war ended. Was always football-daft was Dan – and always getting on the wrong side of his dad and his brothers because of it. The times Aunt Effie tried to stop him getting a hiding for breaking windows and being late for school!’
‘Did you spend a lot of time round at your cousins’ when you were younger, then?’ Millie asked, intrigued by the other Nixons, who sounded so different from the reserved Effie.
Ava said, ‘Aye, I suppose I did. It was always more homely than stopping around the hotel
. More lively too sometimes!’ Then she sighed. ‘But the war came and things changed. Me eldest cousin, Mungo, went off to sea and was killed at the Battle of Jutland. I remember the blinds being drawn at the house for months after that, and they never really wanted to see anybody very much.’
Millie’s stomach twisted. She could understand that feeling so well. ‘But the other boys came back all right?’
Ava nodded. ‘Grant survived nearly the whole war in France. Aunt Effie called it a miracle. But he was that different when he came home, like he was angry with the world all the time.’ As they turned into Dyke Road, the main shopping street, Ava added, ‘Mind you, it’s Dan that Aunt Effie misses the most, I reckon. He’s only been home once in two years. A real war hero.’ Millie winced at the thought of her own brother’s cowardice and how she had pretended quite differently to Ava. How lucky Ava was to be able to talk proudly of cousins who were heroes. Ava chatted on, unaware of Millie’s discomfort. ‘But Dan seems to have taken a liking to London. Trying to make a go at football rather than come back and go down the pit. Can’t say I blame him. He’s the type of man I’m going to marry,’ Ava declared. ‘Someone with a bit of ambition who doesn’t want to spend all his life in Ashborough – and canny-looking, too!’
Millie had never thought much about marriage before, nor of travelling any further than Ashborough. After Craston it seemed to offer so much. But here was Ava, who had lived in Newcastle and knew so much more of the world than she did, yearning for something better. And as she swung down Dyke Road in an ill-fitting dress that Ava had discarded, a restless feeling stirred within Millie, too. Maybe there was a whole world of possibilities beyond the bustling shops and teeming terraces, just waiting to be grasped. Her friend Ella had disappeared to London and written once about enormous houses and parks, and visiting a Lyons coffee house. Why had she never thought of following her? Millie wondered. It had never occurred to her to leave home until she had been forced to. It was something that other people did, like her brother or Ella. Up until now, she realised, she had never had an ounce of ambition for herself.
‘So why did you leave Newcastle if you don’t want to stay in Ashborough all your life?’ Millie asked.
Ava gestured impatiently. ‘Because I don’t want to skivvy for some lazy wife who thinks she’s better than me, that’s why! It was Aunt Effie’s idea. She and that Mrs Dodswell she goes to church with. They said the hotel wasn’t a suitable place for a lass to grow up. Me dad didn’t want me to go. They had a real row about it – over me!’ Ava announced, sounding pleased. Then she turned and gave Millie a considered look. ‘Still, with your mam here now, Aunt Effie won’t be interfering. Everything’ll be grand, won’t it?’
Millie was about to answer when she spotted a familiar figure that made her heart somersault. There, right ahead of them, was her father, limping across the road just a stone’s throw from where they walked. Her instant desire was to drop her shopping, rush up to him and fling her arms about his drooping shoulders. He looked so tired and downcast, his face drawn and lifeless, his suit shabby.
If they carried on they would bump right into him. Millie’s heart hammered. This was not how she wanted to meet him, with the inquisitive Ava at her side. If he spoke to her and caused a scene, then Ava would find out that her mother had lied about being a widow and discover the disgrace of their eviction and flight from Craston. She could not risk that. She felt nauseous, her heart hammering and her legs weak.
In panic, Millie grabbed Ava by the elbow and steered her towards the penny bazaar that they were passing.
‘Let’s have a look in here,’ she urged breathlessly. ‘I’ve never been in yet.’
Ava was dismissive. ‘There’s nothing in there I want. Not after the choice of shops in Newcastle.’
‘Please!’ Millie pleaded in panic. ‘Just show me what they’ve got. Then you can tell me all about Newcastle. I’d like that.’
To Millie’s relief, Ava was persuaded, and she pushed her in quickly. While Ava picked things up and scrutinised them, Millie glanced anxiously at the window. Moments later she saw her father limping past. He stopped to glance in at the cheap goods on display and her breath froze. For a second she thought he was staring straight at her, his faded blue eyes red-rimmed and troubled. But the light must have been reflecting off the glass, because his look never quite focused on her or showed any sign of recognition. Then he turned and hobbled on down the street, leaving Millie shaking and struggling for breath, fighting the urge to run after him.
‘You all right?’ Ava asked her, having grown quickly bored with looking around and telling the shopkeeper that there was nothing she wanted. Millie nodded dumbly. ‘Look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come on, let’s get home. All those cricket lads will be arriving this evening. That should liven the place up!’
They emerged from the shop and hurried home. Millie did not look back in case she caught sight of her father again. For the rest of the evening she was too busy to dwell on the near encounter, as she helped with the large gathering of cricketers, serving them with soup and ham and steamed vegetables, followed by apple crumble and raisin pie. Yet she could not shake off the feelings of guilt and dread that had knotted her stomach since seeing her father in Ashborough, and she wondered if she should tell her mother.
But there was no opportunity, for after the speeches and presentation of trophies, Teresa played the piano for them, while the bearded club captain sang and provoked loud applause. Ava was flirting with some of the young men, which made Millie feel embarrassed and gauche. Everyone else was having a good time, so she forced herself to smile too and hide her unhappiness.
Moody came out of the bar to congratulate Teresa on a successful evening. Watching her mother so full of vitality and laughter just after she had witnessed her father’s forlorn condition was more than Millie could bear. She escaped to the kitchen, hoping to be alone, but Effie was still there, standing at the outside door in dispute with someone. The gas lights flickered and popped, disturbed by the blast of cold air.
‘I’ll not gan until I’ve seen her,’ a man was shouting belligerently.
Millie’s heart thumped in recognition.
‘You must be mistaken,’ Effie was explaining patiently. ‘There’s no one here from Craston.’
‘That’s not what I’ve been told. She’s been seen by someone from the village. Now let me past, woman!’
‘Please go away,’ Effie said, a little frightened at the desperate man before her. ‘Mrs Mercer here doesn’t come from one of the villages; she comes from Morpeth. Besides, she’s a widow. Now go before Mr Moody finds you bothering us. He’ll only call the police.’
Ellis swore at Effie and tried to push past.
Millie shrank away into the shadows, trembling. She was ashamed of her father’s rudeness to Effie, but more ashamed of her own instinct to hide rather than come to the rescue. What should she do? she agonised.
‘No!’ Effie’s voice was now raised in anger. She pushed back at the aggressive caller, quite as strong as he was.
‘I want to see me lass! You’ll not stop me, you bitch!’
Millie forced herself to move. She must go and get her mother, for no one else could deal with him as she could. Back inside the dining room, Teresa had just finished playing and was the centre of attention among a group of men. Millie summoned all her courage and pushed between them to reach her mother.
‘Please, Mam, can you come?’ she urged.
Teresa looked annoyed. ‘Don’t speak until you’re spoken to,’ she scolded.
But Millie persisted. ‘Please, Mam, there’s someone to see you. Someone from home.’ She gave her mother a pleading look and saw horror flicker across the older woman’s face.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ she smiled. ‘There’s work to be done.’ She slipped out quickly, with Millie following. Closing the kitchen door firmly behind her, she rushed to the outer door. Effie was standing on the steps above a figure sprawled on the ground.
From the lighted kitchen doorway, Millie could see her father’s haggard face looking up at them.
‘T’resa,’ he mumbled, ‘T’resa.’ He tried to stagger to his feet.
Effie looked at Teresa, puzzled. ‘Do you know this man?’
Teresa did not answer, but advanced down the steps in fury. ‘You stay away from me,’ she ordered, ‘and don’t come bothering us again, do you hear?’
Ellis pulled himself up and faced her. ‘You’ll come back wi’ me, woman,’ he growled. ‘You don’t belong here.’ He lunged for her. ‘I want to see Millie. I want to see the lass!’
‘She doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve failed her. We’re not coming back, not ever!’ Teresa shouted, and shoved him away. He was so much weaker than two months ago that it took little effort to throw him off. ‘You’ve got nothing to offer us anymore.’
Millie stood with her hands half covering her face, appalled by the scene. She had forgotten just how upsetting their arguing had been, and dark memories came flooding back. She was shaking but could not speak. To her horror, her father did not deny Teresa’s accusing words; instead, he crumpled at her feet and began to weep.
‘Come back wi’ me, T’resa, please,’ he cried. ‘I can’t manage on me own. I can’t live on me own.’ At that moment he looked beyond his wife and recognised Millie for the first time. ‘Millie, pet, help me!’
A sob caught in Millie’s throat as she moved down the steps towards him. She could not bear to see him brought so low, this man who had once been tall and dignified and proud of his learning.
‘Dad!’ she croaked, stretching out her arms to him. But her mother held her back.
‘Keep away from him, he’ll only do us more harm,’ she ordered. ‘You’re disgusting!’ she hissed at her husband. ‘You may be fit for the gutter, but you’ll not take us down with you. Now be gone, Mercer!’ She shoved him away from them with her foot, as if he were a troublesome stray dog, unable even to bring herself to call him by his Christian name. She had no feelings left for this wreck of a man on the dirty yard floor. The man she had married and lain with all those years was dead to her, and the hopes she had once had of him long gone.
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 47