THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Millie said, losing patience. ‘He’s been out of work that long, he probably didn’t think about the time of day.’

  ‘Well, that’s not my fault. Anyway, why you sticking up for Grant all of a sudden? You never used to like him,’ Dan accused.

  ‘Don’t let’s argue over him,’ Millie sighed, giving in. ‘I’ve bought some chestnuts for a treat. Why don’t we have Bob and Dinah round for the evening?’

  Dan brightened at this suggestion and calmed down. He was soon playing with Edith, trying out the presents that he could not wait to give her for Christmas. Their friends came round, bringing a bottle of sherry, and soon the argument over Grant was forgotten and the visit was never mentioned again.

  ***

  Christmas came and went with happy activity: a service in the local parish church, Christmas dinner at the flat with their friends and the widowed Mrs Hodges, and a trip to see Dan play in a Boxing Day match.

  At New Year they went round to the Fairishes while Mrs Hodges minded Edith. They celebrated at the Waterloo and then called in on neighbours, before ending up back at their friends’.

  Dinah said tipsily, ‘Dan, you be our first caller of the New Year. Out you go! I’ll show you where the coal is kept.’ They disappeared into the back yard, and when Millie thought they’d been gone too long, she went looking for them. When she called there was a scuffling in the doorway of the darkened coal shed and Dinah appeared, stifling a giggle.

  ‘What’s going on in there?’ Millie said tartly to Dan, as he appeared looking dishevelled.

  ‘Couldn’t find the coal,’ he laughed.

  But after that the party went flat and Millie persuaded Dan to leave. ‘You’ve got the match tomorrow, remember?’

  Later she tried to question him about the incident in the shed. ‘Were you kissing Dinah?’

  Dan lay on the bed. ‘We were having a laugh, that’s all. It’s New Year, Millie man. Come here and give me a kiss.’

  Millie shrugged off her feeling of disquiet. Everyone had had too much to drink, that was all. Dan loved her and was devoted to Edith, so she had nothing to worry about. The next time she met Dinah, her friend showed no embarrassment and the incident was never mentioned again. Millie decided to forget about it, thinking she must have imagined the sight of them embracing in the dark. Yet after that, she and Dinah were never quite as close or as keen to spend so much time together as they had done over the past two years. When she observed Dan and Dinah in each other’s company there was never an improper gesture or word, though now and again she caught a look that passed between them and wondered if it meant anything more than it should.

  ***

  Nineteen twenty-eight rushed by with Dan enjoying his football and Millie delighting in every advance that Edith made. She found herself writing long letters to her mother about the child.

  ‘. . . She won’t stop in her pram if she can help it; she wants to be running round the park. She chats to anyone who passes, mostly nonsense, but she makes noises as if she’s having a great long chinwag! Dan has bought her a little ball and she kicks it to him and he dives to save it as if she’s made a great strike at goal. Who would have thought I’d have a daughter who could play football before she can walk properly! She’s the apple of her daddy’s eye, of course. He’s never regretted that she wasn‘t the boy he thought we were getting. She can tell when he’s coming home before he reaches the outside door. She toddles towards the window and demands to be held up and nine times out of ten, he’s there in the street, walking up to the flat. It’s a feeling I used to get when Dan was nearby and I think Edith’s got it too. I wish you could see her. Maybe when the season’s over, Dan will drive us up for a visit. You’ll never believe how much she’s grown. I show her your picture on the mantelpiece – the one from the wedding — and she says Nana every time . . .’

  She never mentioned to her mother her concern that they were spending too much money. It had been fun at first buying whatever they wanted. But now that they had Edith to care for, Millie wanted security more than ever and would have been happy to forgo some of the treats Dan brought home for them. She began to worry over his extravagance and how having Edith around had done nothing to curb his appetite for drinking his way around town after matches.

  For some reason Dan also felt a need to keep up with the Fairishes, who were happy spenders; hence the need to have their own car. Bob had made money on the horses and he and Dinah were in the process of buying the hairdressing business from old Mrs Laurie. Bob was a risk-taker, but a shrewd one.

  ‘There’s a future in hair,’ he kept declaring, and when Millie thought of how the fashion in hairstyles was forever changing these days, she wondered if he might be right. But when Bob had suggested that Dan put some money into his new venture, Millie had not encouraged it. ‘We don’t have that sort of money,’ she pointed out. Privately she pondered whether her reluctance was more to do with keeping Dan and Dinah apart. They saw enough of each other socially without them becoming business partners, Millie thought, and then felt churlish at her suspicions.

  When the season ended, Dan came home and announced that the Vulcans were going on a foreign tour during June. ‘We’ll be playing in Italy and Hungary,’ he enthused. ‘And I’ll be getting a full wage – so that should please you.’

  ‘How long will you be gone?’ Millie asked, pleased for him but dismayed at being left alone. She had been so looking forward to the summer break when they could spend time together and take Edith out on trips.

  ‘We’ll be gone about three or four weeks, not long,’ Dan assured, kissing her. ‘It’ll fly over.’

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ Millie told him, snuggling into his hold.

  ‘Not as much as I’ll miss the pair of you,’ Dan replied, ‘But you’ll have Dinah to keep you company.’ Millie slid him a look. Had he really not noticed that her friendship with Dinah had cooled since New Year? Dinah always said she was too busy at work these days to come round as much, and Millie used Edith as an excuse not to go into town as often as they used to. She suddenly thought how lonely she would be, left in Newcastle without Dan.

  Later Millie said what was on her mind. ‘I think I’ll go back to Mam’s while you’re away, instead of stopping here on me own. She hasn’t seen the bairn all year. And I can be useful lending a hand in the hotel.’

  ‘I’ll not have you skivvying there like the old days.’ Dan was dubious.

  Millie laughed. ‘You know I’m not the kind who can sit around doing nothing all day long.’

  ‘Well, if that’s what you’d rather do, I’ll drive the pair of you up to Ashborough before I go,’ Dan insisted.

  The evening before they left, they took Edith for a walk round the park and watched the bowlers playing on the green in the mellow sunshine. Dan treated them to ice-creams at the parlour on Cedar Crescent and carried his daughter home on his shoulders, singing football chants, while she giggled to be up so high.

  Later, as they lay in bed, the window open against the stuffy, airless night, Dan and Millie made love with a tender urgency. ‘We’ve never been apart this long since I went away to London as a lass,’ Millie mused sadly.

  ‘I know,’ Dan whispered, caressing her hair, ‘but it’s worse for me. You’ll have Edith with you – I’ll be stuck with a bunch of footballers.’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ Millie answered with a wry smile. ‘Just don’t pay too much attention to the foreign women.’

  Dan rolled over and tickled her. ‘You’ve nothing to be jealous about,’ he assured her. ‘You’re the only lass for me, Millie.’

  ‘Good,’ she laughed, and kissed him.

  ‘I mean it,’ Dan said, suddenly serious. ‘I’d be nothing without you and the bairn. The footie wouldn’t be enough.’

  Millie answered his tender smile, realising how deep her love for him still went. ‘Kiss me again then,’ she whispered, ‘while we’ve still got each other.’

  Millie closed her eyes as
Dan’s lips pressed down on hers – urgent and possessive – showing he needed her as strongly as she yearned for him. She lay for a long time afterwards, warm in his hold, listening to the night sounds of tugs on the river, a distant train and someone singing their way home up the street. Edith lay sleeping peacefully in the next room and Millie felt a deep contentment, wishing life could go on like this for ever.

  ***

  Edith cried loudly when Dan drove away in the car, disappearing down the street with horn hooting. Although the road was no longer cobbled but laid with a proper surface, dust rose up in clouds from his speedy departure. Millie, standing waving goodbye, knew he was just showing off rather than being in any real haste to get away. Yet he had declined her suggestion of visiting Walter and Ella before he left. ‘You’re much better at knowing what to say,’ he had answered. ‘I just seem to spark off the fights.’

  ‘You’ll come for us when you’re back?’ Millie had asked.

  Dan had promised her he would and kissed her roundly in front of Teresa, then made a fuss over leaving Edith.

  So Edith was now in tears and her grandmother was ready to spoil her with cuddles and sweets. But the small child clung to her mother, not yet sure of this loud woman with the untidy hair, who smelt of carbolic soap and lavender water. She was more intrigued by Joseph, who snoozed in the sunshine with a newspaper over his face and his bad leg propped on a footstool that Teresa carried around for him.

  ‘That’s Grandpa Joseph,’ Teresa told her granddaughter. ‘He likes to sleep a lot.’ She glanced at Millie and lowered her voice. ‘Either that or he’s sitting at the dining-room window watching the trains come in, hoping Ava will be on one of them. Can’t accept she’s gone for good. Mind, it’s been bliss round here without her constant complaining.’

  ‘Have you heard from them recently?’ Millie asked, following her mother into the kitchen carrying Edith. The room seemed smaller than she had remembered, and gloomy after the brightness outside.

  Teresa nodded. ‘They’ve settled somewhere called Pennsylvania, but Ava was vague about Grant’s work. I’m not even sure he’s down a pit. Still, she goes on about how great the place is – living off ice-cream sodas by the sounds of it.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad they’re happy,’ Millie said, removing Edith’s matinée coat and thinking how sooty all their clothes were going to get. The kitchen was filthy. There appeared to be no travellers staying and the hotel wore a forlorn, down-at-heel look that reminded Millie of when they had first arrived there. With Moody to nurse and no Elsie or Ava to help out, her mother seemed sapped of the energy or enthusiasm to make the place attractive. Millie resolved to have a good scrub-round in the morning. Her mother was far more interested in winning the approval of her granddaughter.

  ‘Give the little pet to me,’ Teresa insisted, sweeping Edith on to her knee and ignoring her protests. As soon as biscuits and milk were produced, the girl acquiesced. At bedtime that night, Teresa played nursery rhymes on the piano and sang through her old repertoire of music-hall songs, which delighted the child. Before long Edith was like her grandmother’s shadow, tottering along behind her, calling ‘Na-na!’ and pulling her hand until she got what she wanted.

  Teresa delighted in showing her off around Ashborough, taking her into shops and calling round on friends like Mrs Dodswell. Millie was sure Edith would burst with the amount of cake she was fed on these visits, though judging by the mess of crumbs, more ended up on the floor than in her mouth.

  For a week, Millie worked at smartening up the hotel, scrubbing down the walls, washing the windows and polishing the furniture. She did enormous washes of table and bed linen that had sat in damp cupboards since before the strike, and baked scones and current loaves to entice shoppers in for a refreshing cup of tea. By the end of the week, with a board outside to advertise their teas, the dining room was once more in use and Millie found herself enjoying the work.

  But the frantic activity was not just to fill the emptiness of not having Dan around, as her mother suspected. ‘You can’t go putting off seeing Ella much longer,’ Teresa said, in gentle reproof. ‘She knows you’re back. Her aunt was in here having tea yesterday.’

  Millie felt like replying that she had been too busy and that Ella could just as easily have called to see her. But she knew that was not fair and that she would have to make the effort to salvage the friendship. She dreaded the encounter. What would she say to her estranged friend? Would she be received in her house at all after the terrible fight between Dan and his brothers nearly two years before? Finally she took Edith round shortly before tea-time, so that she would have an excuse not to stay for long.

  It was Walter who answered her knocking, looking bleary-eyed from sleep.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve woken you,’ Millie apologised. ‘I’ll call another time.’

  He blinked at her a few seconds before recognition dawned. ‘By, you’re looking well, Millie,’ he smiled. ‘I was just taking a nap before night shift. Ella and the bairn are up at Drake’s farm – picking strawberries. Why don’t you gan up and meet them?’

  Millie was encouraged by his welcome and the fuss he made over Edith, leaning into the battered pram Teresa had borrowed for her and tickling her chin.

  ‘You’re a Nixon,’ he chuckled. ‘You could be sisters with our Marjory.’ As she left, Walter asked, ‘Dan not with you then?’

  Millie shook her head. ‘On tour abroad,’ she explained.

  Walter gave a twisted smile, the nearest she had ever seen to envy on his fair face. ‘By, the lad’s done well for himself, I’ll say that.’

  Millie found Ella and Marjory in one of the lower fields at Drake’s, where the farm bordered the edge of the town. Ella was wearing an old-fashioned bonnet to keep off the sun, while Marjory’s mouth and fingers were stained with red juice. The small girl came running up to scrutinise the object in the pram.

  ‘Hello, I’m your Auntie Millie and this is your cousin Edith,’ Millie explained with a nervous smile.

  Marjory grew quite excited, not knowing what a cousin was but aware that the gesticulating baby somehow belonged to her. ‘Dith! Dith!’ she lisped. ‘Look, Mammy, at the baby!’ The two women regarded each other in awkward silence while their daughters prodded one another with inquisitive fingers and Marjory asked questions that received incomprehensible babbling from Edith.

  Millie thought Ella’s face had hardened; there were lines around her mouth and eyes that had not been there before. It appeared Ella had nothing to say to her. Millie saw her stare at Edith with a strange look. Was it resentful, or just pained? Millie wondered.

  All of a sudden Millie was swept by a wave of sympathy for the anguished woman. Taking a step towards her, she held out her arms. ‘I’m sorry about your baby, Ella. I really am sorry!’

  Ella’s stern look crumpled like a child’s and she fell forward into Millie’s outstretched arms. They hugged while Ella broke down sobbing and clung to her friend.

  ‘Oh, Millie, it was terrible. Terrible.’ Millie held her while she shook with bitter crying. ‘And n-now,’ Ella spoke with difficulty, ‘n-no one wants to mention him,’ she wept.

  Millie stroked her hair, knowing that somehow she had to comfort her friend, yet feeling quite inadequate to do so. She asked tentatively, ‘It was a boy, then?’

  ‘Aye,’ Ella sobbed. ‘A little l-lad.’

  ‘Did you – see him?’ Millie asked gently.

  Ella nodded, her face red and swollen, but for a moment the question seemed to calm her. ‘He looked that like his dad – a miniature Walter. And he was still breathing. I felt his breath warm on me finger. But they took him away and I never got to see him again . . . !’

  Ella broke down once more, and Millie held her tight as she cried uncontrollable tears, stored up and forbidden until this moment. No other words were necessary, just comforting arms. Ella had confided her innermost feelings and Millie knew she had never lost her friendship. It might have been damaged by jealousy, negl
ect or too much money, but it was still there.

  Marjory gazed at her mother and the stranger in apprehension. She hesitated a while and then, growing distressed, pulled on Millie’s linen dress, saying, ‘Don’t make Mammy cry.’

  Millie felt tears flood her own throat at the girl’s words. Bending down, she swung Marjory into her arms too, kissing her sticky cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t make Mammy cry again, promise.’ She looked at Ella. ‘I’ve kept away too long. I should’ve been more help. Do you forgive me?’

  Ella sniffed, gulping back her tears. ‘Aye, of course I do.’ She wiped her wet face on her sleeve. ‘I feel bad myself about the last time you came – letting Ava say all those spiteful things in me own home, and you me oldest friend.’

  ‘Maybes we both said things we shouldn’t have.’ Millie flushed with shame. ‘You must have hated the way we came visiting like Lord and Lady Muck – and in that car. When I think of what it must’ve been like for you during the strike . . . ’

  ‘We got by,’ Ella said stiffly, lifting Marjory from Millie’s arms. For a moment Millie feared she had wounded her friend’s feelings again by mentioning that terrible year. But Ella gave her a bashful look and added, ‘I’ve missed you, Millie. Ashborough’s been that dull without you and Dan here.’

  Millie felt a great surge of relief to be forgiven. She vowed she would never be so selfish again. ‘Well, I’m here for the summer,’ she promised, ‘so we’re going to make the most of it.’ And for the first time in too long, the friends smiled at each other.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Millie found herself enjoying being back in Ashborough far more than she had expected. Her enthusiasm for bringing life back to the hotel seemed to infect her mother, and she noticed how Teresa began to care about her appearance once more. Her step was brighter and she showed interest in the customers who came for tea or Millie’s homemade lemonade and shortbread biscuits. Millie began to realise just how much the strike and its impoverished aftermath had taken a toll on her mother’s health and spirits. While she had been enjoying life in Newcastle as never before, Teresa had been barely scraping a living at the hotel, worn down by helping out her neighbours and Dan’s family and nursing Moody.