‘What?’ Jo questioned.
‘No one seems happy,’ Ivy said heavily. ‘Mark loses his temper so easily these days. He’s like a rollercoaster − up high one minute, down in the dumps the next.’
‘He’s probably missing the Navy,’ Jo guessed. ‘Or maybe he’s worried about going back after what he’s been through.’
Ivy’s look was grave. ‘I think it worries him that they might not take him back. He’ll have to pass all sorts of fitness tests first.’
Jo asked gently, ‘Have you told him?’
‘Told him what?’ Ivy said, feigning ignorance.
‘You know what,’ Jo answered, holding her look.
Ivy said sharply, ‘No, I haven’t! He’s in too much of a state at the moment. I don’t think he could take it.’
‘Take what?’ said a bleary voice behind them. Ivy gasped and Jo jerked round.
‘Mark, hinny,’ his grandmother said in a fluster, ‘we didn’t want to disturb you.’
Jo stood up and smiled nervously. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither knowing what to say. Eventually she forced herself to move forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. In the harsh daylight she thought he looked terrible, much worse than when he had returned a month ago. His eyes were dark-ringed and his face was lined with pain. He could have been thirty-six, not twenty-six.
She was about to stand back, when Mark put out his arms and gave her a hug.
‘I’m sorry about Colin,’ he said in a low voice. Jo felt tears sting her eyes as he squeezed her to him.
‘Me too,’ she whispered, burying her head in his T-shirt and feeling the agony of her brother’s loss anew. Standing close to Mark brought Colin back to her so vividly it was as if she could feel him there. She had no memories of a time before Colin and Mark had been friends. It seemed inconceivable to have one without the other and Jo knew this was the real reason she had kept away from Mark. She had not wanted to contemplate a time when there would be just the one. It was too painful.
Suddenly the words were tumbling out of her. ‘I miss him that much,’ she cried, ‘and I never got to speak to him again after that night we all rowed. I never got to tell him how much he meant to me or how sorry I was about falling out with him. And now he’ll never know. I feel so bad about it…!’ Jo convulsed into sobbing, wondering where the words came from. She had never admitted such regrets to anyone before; she had suppressed them deep within herself.
‘He knew,’ Mark comforted, ‘of course he knew.’ But his kindness just made her all the more wretched. She shook with distress, and Mark simply held her. Eventually she became aware of his arms around her. He smelt of cigarette smoke and stale beer. She pulled away, glancing with embarrassment at Ivy. The older woman’s eyes were glistening behind her spectacles.
‘Eeh, hinny!’ Ivy fussed, pushing a handkerchief at her. ‘Sit yourself down. I’ll get us some lemonade.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jo apologised, ‘I didn’t mean to…’ She turned away and wiped her face. Mark sat down on Ivy’s chair while his grandmother went for refreshment. Jo looked at him awkwardly. ‘How are you?’
He gave her a bleak, haunted look, then reached into a pocket of his scruffy jeans for a squashed packet of cigarette papers and tobacco. He began to methodically roll a cigarette. When he’d finished, he offered it to her, but she shook her head. Only when he had it lit did he speak.
‘I’m alive,’ he said with a bitter little laugh. ‘I’m the lucky bugger, aren’t I?’
‘Aye, you are,’ Jo answered, taken aback by his sudden change in attitude.
‘Well, it doesn’t feel like it,’ he said in a stony voice.
She tried to jolly him. ‘You’ve been through a lot. You just need to get yourself fit again.’
‘Fit for what?’ he demanded.
‘The Navy, of course.’
‘Look at me!’ he said savagely, waving his bandaged hand at his wasted right leg. ‘Who wants a screwed-up cripple like me on board?’
Jo was suddenly annoyed at his self-pity. She wanted to shake him out of it. ‘So you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Is that why you’re drinking yourself stupid round Wallsend every day?’
His look was hard. ‘I drink because it’s a free country. That’s what we all fought for, wasn’t it? Me, Colin, Skippy…’
‘Stop it,’ Jo said, frightened by his bleakness. ‘Don’t belittle what you all did.’
Mark gave a harsh laugh. ‘So you approve of what we did now, do you? Well, that’s big of you. Has your bleeding-heart boyfriend had a change of heart an’ all?’
‘Alan doesn’t deserve that,’ Jo said, offended. ‘He’s been very supportive over Colin’s death.’ Jo heard her voice tremble and stopped. Damn him for riling her like this!
‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ Mark said, blowing out smoke contemptuously.
Jo rounded on him. ‘So why are you giving up so easily?’ she demanded. ‘You should wake up every day being thankful you’re alive and safe at home. You’ve got Brenda and all your family around you. You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you.’
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘And I should be more grateful, is that what you mean?’
‘Aye, I do!’ Jo sparked. ‘You’re not the only one suffering, you know. Have you seen the state of Skippy’s parents? Have you seen how my dad has aged? He’s like an old man. And Marilyn can’t even bear to be around us any more. So don’t you feel so bloody sorry for yourself!’
Mark lurched up on to his good leg and ground out his cigarette under a scuffed trainer. ‘Don’t tell me what I should feel!’ he shouted. For a moment she thought he would hit her. His whole body was taut with anger. ‘I saw Skippy burning to death,’ he hissed in her face. ‘I can still smell him. Every time I close me eyes I see him. I hear him shouting at me to save him, the poor bastard!’
Jo stared back in horror. ‘I’m sorry…’ she gulped.
‘Not as sorry as me,’ he said, his face contorted in fury. ‘Don’t you think I would have given anything −anything − to have saved him or taken his place? Or Colin’s?’ He shook as he spoke. ‘What do you think it’s like for me − the one who survived? Why me and not them? They were better lads than me! I’m the one who’s always screwing things up. So why should I be saved? I shouldn’t have lived when they didn’t,’ he choked. He could hardly get his words out. ‘I feel guilty for living!’ he rasped.
Jo was shaken to the core by his tortured words. ‘You mustn’t feel like that,’ she gasped, stretching out her arms to him. ‘It’s the last thing Colin or Skippy would’ve wanted.’ But he pushed her away.
Shaking with dry, angry sobs, he demanded, ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I knew them,’ Jo said desperately.
His look was full of contempt. ‘No you didn’t. You stopped knowing us years ago. I don’t know why you still hang around here. Why do you, Jo?’
She felt winded by his cruel words. ‘Go to hell!’ she shouted, pushing past him.
His dark eyes blazed. ‘I’m already there,’ he said in a hard voice.
She fled into the kitchen, nearly knocking Ivy over as she returned with a tray of tumblers fizzing with lemonade.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Ivy gasped, catching sight of Jo’s distraught face.
‘I’m sorry, Ivy,’ Jo quavered. ‘I’ve just made things worse. I can’t help any more. I can’t bear to be with him!’
Clamping her hand over her mouth to smother the sob that rose in her throat, Jo stumbled for the front door and out into the warm, breezy street. Dust blew in her eyes and throat, but she rushed on, desperate to escape Nile Street. She hated Mark for his wounding words. How dare he accuse her of not knowing her own brother and one of her oldest friends! She had loved them both. She had gone out with Skippy long before she and Mark had got together. He did not have the monopoly on friendship. How could he be so cruel as to exclude her, as if she had not been close to any of them?
Damn
Mark Duggan! Jo cried inwardly, as she ran up the hill on to the high street, hoping she would not meet anyone she knew. She could not face her father or Pearl after that. She could not face anyone. She rushed for the Metro station and jumped on the first train back into Newcastle. Only in the half-empty carriage, as the shipyards and docks gave way to suburban housing and office blocks, did she allow herself to weep silently, biting on her fist.
Stepping onto the underground platform in the centre of the city, Jo cursed herself for getting involved again. She had tried to help Mark, but he had thrown her friendship back in her face. She could do nothing more for him. It would be best to stay away and let those close to him cope. More than ever, Jo wished she did not carry Ivy’s secret. But Mark’s grandmother would have to be the one to tell him, not her, especially not now. He had hurt her deeply and robbed her of her peace of mind.
In turmoil, she walked the streets of Newcastle for an hour, until she had calmed down enough to go home to Alan. At least in two days’ time she would be out of the country and away from the source of her pain. Alan would help her recover. He always did. She hurried to be with him, impatient for escape.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Galicia was lush and green, its beaches busy with Spanish families eating huge picnics of spicy sausages, chicken, hunks of bread and potato omelettes. Frank and Maya’s rented house was on the edge of a village near La Coruna, and they would drive into town and drink coffee at pavement cafes and argue Spanish politics. There were two other couples there: Maya’s sister Susie with boyfriend Bob, and two playwrights whom Alan had known for years. At night, they would sit under the stars drinking red wine from flagons filled up at the village bar, their talk and laughter punctuated by distant fireworks at some fiesta.
The effect on Jo of their heartiness was to make her quieter than usual, and she would slip away and sit by the village pump watching the children playing with the water. If her baby had lived, she thought, it would have been five years old by now and as boisterous as these lithe children with their high-pitched chatter. But she chided herself for such thoughts, for they brought with them painful reminders of Gordon and Mark. If her baby had lived, she would have been inextricably linked to the Duggans for ever. She would never have been free of them. Sitting listening to the splash of water on hot stone flags, Jo realised how much she wanted to be free of them.
At least the time away had given her perspective on the terrible scene at Ivy’s. She now had to admit that there was some truth in what Mark had said. She had grown away from Colin and her old friends in Wallsend. Marilyn was the only one she had kept in regular touch with since Alan had come into her life. Jo had moved on, outgrown the circle of friends with whom she had grown up. But she would not be blamed for changing and developing other interests and friendships, she decided. Just because Mark had not. Lifting her face to the warm sun and closing her eyes, she tried to find the inner calm that eluded her.
Jo was sorry for Mark in his private hell, but she could not reach him. He had made it quite plain that he saw her as an outsider now; he had changed beyond recognition from the Mark she had once loved. Yet she was still angry with him for his harsh words about not knowing her brother.
As she lay next to a sleeping Alan in their shuttered room, the thought of never being properly reconciled with Colin robbed her of sleep. She would give anything to have five more minutes with him, to explain how much she cared for him, she agonised in the dark hours. He had been her closest childhood companion, the one who had always stood up for her, her cherished older brother. But their friendship had suffered after the miscarriage. Mark had come between them. Colin had blamed her for Mark’s wounded pride and their split. Yet it was not all her fault! It was they who had pushed her away, Jo realised in distress. Was it any surprise that she had forged a new life for herself? she questioned angrily.
‘What’s wrong?’ Alan demanded towards the end of the holiday as they walked across the imposing cathedral square of Santiago de Compostela. Maya had dropped them off there for the day, sensing that they needed time alone from the rest of the household.
‘What do you think’s wrong?’ Jo replied sharply.
Alan was not going to let her argue. He swung an arm around her. ‘I know it’s a difficult time. You’re grieving. That’s why I wanted to get you away from all that. Spoil you a bit.’
Jo relaxed against him. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Let’s go to the hotel for coffee and cake,’ Alan insisted.
It was quiet and cool in the imposing hotel on the edge of the square and Alan was in such a good mood that Jo found herself telling him about the encounter at Ivy’s. His mood changed at once.
‘You never told me you’d seen Mark,’ he said crossly. ‘Why was that?’
‘I was too upset by what he said,’ she exclaimed. ‘And he’s in a terrible way mentally.’
‘God, that boy!’ Alan cursed. ‘He’s a complete head-case, can’t you see that? I’ve always thought it; he’s unstable. I can’t imagine what you ever saw in him − he’s just not your type.’
‘Don’t patronise me.’ Jo flushed. ‘And he hasn’t always been like that. He’s had a bad time − more than we can ever imagine. He saw his best friend burned alive.’ She shuddered.
‘Oh, yes,’ Alan said impatiently, ‘and there’s that sob story about his Arab grandfather. I suppose that gives him the excuse to behave badly as well? Poor, misunderstood Mark.’
‘Don’t!’ Jo protested, regretting that she had ever told Alan Ivy’s secret. ‘He doesn’t know about all that.’
Alan looked incredulous. ‘You mean the old baggage hasn’t had the guts to tell him yet?’
‘Don’t speak about Ivy like that,’ Jo cried. ‘She’s right not to tell him now the state he’s in.’
‘Well, I wash my hands of the lot of them,’ Alan growled. ‘And the Duggans don’t deserve all the pity and anguish you spend on them, that’s for sure. You should forget them and concentrate your efforts on getting your father out of his depression. He’s the one you should be worrying about.’
Jo was stung by the rebuke. ‘I do worry!’
Alan’s anger subsided suddenly. He covered her hand with his. ‘This is awful, arguing,’ he grimaced. ‘I wanted this to be a special time together − just you and me.’
‘And six others,’ Jo reminded him.
Alan shrugged. ‘Well, I need people around me, you know that. But I also wanted you to myself, away from all those others who make such demands on you. You’re only ever half with me, I can tell. I can’t get close to you like I want to,’ he complained.
She felt a stab of guilt at his anxious face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she relented, ‘I know it hasn’t been easy for you either.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I want to get close again too,’ she whispered.
He put her hand up to his lips and kissed it. ‘We won’t go back tonight,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll book in here. Tonight is just for us.’
***
Mark had had another row with Brenda and was walking the streets late at night. She had gone on a pub crawl with Gordon and Jerry from the old rock band. He found it stifling at home with his mother sitting watching his every move and his father making opinionated remarks at the television. The nightmares had increased, not lessened, with time. Now he was getting them while he was wide awake, and it terrified him. He would get flashbacks that paralysed him. It might happen in the street. One of his shipmates would pass right by him and he would reach out to grasp him, the words that he longed to say trapped in his throat. But before he could speak the man would turn into a stranger and brush him off, leaving him gasping and sweating in confusion.
Once he had frozen at the sound of a machine gun and ducked behind a car.
‘What you doing?’ Brenda had laughed. But the look on his face must have told her it was no game. ‘They’re drilling the road,’ she told him. ‘Get up, Mark man, people are staring.’ She had walked on in embarrassment and tried t
o make a joke about it later when they were out with Gordon.
Increasingly, Mark did not want to venture out at all. He sat in their bedroom watching the television Brenda had brought from her mother’s, or he went to Nile Street, where Ivy made no demands on him. Brenda was tiring of his moods, but he could not help them, they seemed quite beyond his control.
‘When are the Navy going to get in touch with you?’ she complained.
‘I don’t know!’ he snapped. ‘Stop going on about them. One buggered-up sailor isn’t of any importance.’
‘Yes you are,’ Brenda cried. ‘And we need to make plans, Mark. I can’t stick it here with your parents much longer.’
‘It was your idea to come here,’ he reminded her.
‘Keep your voice down,’ she answered. All their arguments were carried out in hissed whispers; they couldn’t even row properly in case Norma got upset. ‘I didn’t know you’d be on the sick this long,’ Brenda argued. ‘If you’re not going back to sea, I want us to get a place of our own.’
‘With what?’ Mark asked in agitation. He wanted this twilight world to change too, but he did not have the energy to do anything about it. He felt lost in a fog and each day he wandered deeper into it.
Brenda had put on her lipstick and gone out for the evening. She didn’t even ask him if he wanted to go any more, because he had lost the appetite for social drinking. He felt safer drinking himself into oblivion in his room, frightened of being shown up public if an anxiety attack seized him. Even the smoke in pubs could send him into a panic. It would invade his nostrils and grip his chest and in seconds he would be back below deck in the hell of that burning ship. He tried to explain it to Brenda, but she just looked at him as if he were mad.
As he roamed the riverside in the dark, the huge cranes looming over him, Mark thought he probably was mad. There were demons in his head that he could not control. The only person he had come close to explaining this to had been Jo. But it had come out all wrong. She had reminded him too painfully of Colin, and his guilt and anger had erupted. Jo had made him feel his weakness and despair and he resented her for it. What right had she to lecture him about his duty to be thankful and happy because he had survived and her brother had not? he thought bitterly. He had been shaken by the force of his rage towards her.
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 110