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

  Jo got the impression she was going to need to sit down for what was coming next. She flopped into an armchair and undid her coat while watching Alan pour from an already opened bottle.

  ‘I haven’t been here much myself − not since Christmas,’ he told her, handing her a large goblet of red wine. She took it and sipped, her heart hammering, but her face composed.

  ‘You’ve been at Maya’s,’ she said.

  He gave her a look of surprise. ‘Yes. Who told you?’

  Jo shrugged. ‘Just put two and two together, I suppose.’ She could not believe how calm she sounded.

  ‘She’s always been a good friend,’ Alan said as if they were discussing a play, ‘and I felt I’d lost your interest a while ago. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jo said quietly, feeling a flood of relief at having admitted it at last. She was almost grateful to Maya for stepping into her place, though her pride felt bruised.

  Alan looked relieved too. ‘I imagine you’ve been seeing someone in London,’ he said, studying her.

  Jo put down her wine in surprise. ‘No,’ she declared. ‘I’ve been living like a nun. Well, a nun who drinks too much maybe − but there’s been no one else.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Alan said quickly. ‘Just my big head. Didn’t think you’d simply go off me.’ He smiled in self-mockery.

  ‘It’s not like that −’ Jo began.

  He stopped her. ‘Let’s not talk any more about it. As long as we both know where we stand.’

  ‘Are you going round there now?’ Jo asked. ‘Is Maya expecting you?’

  ‘If that’s all right?’ Alan looked sheepish.

  Suddenly they were both laughing. ‘Why are you asking my permission?’ Jo giggled.

  ‘I’ve no idea!’ Alan said, shaking his head. He put down his glass. ‘I thought this would take longer. Oh, girl! I think I might miss you more than I imagined.’

  ‘Don’t start that,’ Jo grimaced. ‘No you won’t. There is one thing I’d be grateful for, though.’

  ‘Go on,’ Alan said, sitting down opposite.

  ‘Will you read the play and tell me what you think?’ Jo asked, feeling her stomach knot with nerves.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘Show me.’

  She handed him the manuscript and refilled his glass. He raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s that bad, is it?’

  ‘Read!’ she ordered, and went into the kitchen, unable to bear watching him read it. She began to prepare a curry and then remembered she would be eating it alone, so gave up and went back to the sitting room, putting on her tape of music softly in the background. Alan was absorbed, but his face was stern and she feared his criticism. They might have proved incompatible, but she still valued his judgement when it came to theatre. She tiptoed restlessly around the flat like a child waiting to hear if she had passed some test. Eventually she went back in the kitchen and carried on making a mound of curry that would probably never be eaten.

  After half an hour she poked her head round the door, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He sat with the play on his knee, his wine glass empty. He looked up at her sombrely and shook his head. Her heart sank.

  ‘You hate it, don’t you?’ she said. ‘It’s a load of emotional rubbish.’

  He put out a hand for her to sit down beside him. Only then did she notice that his eyes were glistening.

  ‘It’s certainly emotional,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I’m impressed, Jo,’ he said simply. ‘I had no idea you could write.’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said, her heart thumping in excitement. ‘I just couldn’t keep this stuff in any longer.’

  ‘That’s obvious.’ He nodded. ‘It’s very powerful. I had no idea how much you were grieving for your brother. I’m sorry, it’s very humbling. I was pressing you the whole time to forget and move on, without really thinking how you felt. But this is very good.’ He ran a hand through his greying hair. ‘I’d like to do something with this. Can I copy it and show it to Maya?’

  Jo coloured. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘She could give advice on the publicity,’ Alan urged. ‘She’d like this.’

  ‘Ask her round for curry,’ Jo suggested. ‘There’s loads of it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Alan looked taken aback. Jo nodded. He sighed. ‘You really have got over me, haven’t you?’

  ‘Don’t fish,’ Jo warned him. ‘Go on, give her a ring. I don’t mind if she doesn’t.’

  Alan got up. ‘By the way,’ he added, ‘is Greg based on someone we both know?’ He gave her a quizzical look. When she shrugged, he nodded. ‘Yes, I thought it was him. Poor Jo.’ He gave her a pitying look. ‘You’ve never stopped loving him, have you?’

  Jo looked away, her heart squeezing painfully at the thought of Mark. Alan had seen it as clearly as Susie. The play had brought out all her deepest feelings and longings for Mark, but that was where they must stay − contained in the play.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ she whispered.

  Alan nodded. ‘Some of it reads like a very beautiful love letter. Pity it’ll be wasted on him,’ he added drily.

  ***

  On the day of the wedding, Jo went with Pearl to the hairdresser’s and kept her occupied until it was time to get ready. Alan was coming to the wedding after all, to be a witness with Jo, now that they had agreed on an amicable friendship. Jack was quite baffled by their relationship, but Pearl seemed to understand. ‘It’s nice you’ll have an escort for the occasion,’ she said.

  Alan was to meet Susie off the train and bring her to the registry office. Jo’s stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of doing the play. Pearl had suggested that Martha come along in the evening to the restaurant and help her with the music.

  ‘At least you’ll all be anaesthetised with champagne,’ Jo joked.

  They met Alan and Susie on the steps of the registry office and went quietly inside. Jack and Pearl wanted no one else there, for it was an emotional moment without Colin and they wanted no comparisons with Jack’s grander wedding to Gloria. Jo remembered the photograph, now put away in a drawer, of her mother in an elaborate white dress and veil outside a church, clutching a large bouquet of flowers. But when the time came for Jack and Pearl to make their promises to each other, her thoughts were only for them and how happy they looked together. She knew with all her being that they were doing the right thing at last.

  Afterwards, they went home for a celebratory cup of tea and Alan produced a bottle of champagne. Jo felt quite euphoric by the time they arrived at the restaurant and were shown upstairs to the small function room. She had been there the day before to gauge where she would perform, and Martha was already there to help.

  Then the small band of friends that Pearl and Jack had invited to celebrate with them began to arrive. Marilyn’s parents were the first, Jo noticed.

  ‘The Leishmans love a free meal,’ she whispered to Alan.

  ‘Stop bitching,’ he smiled at her.

  Then Skippy’s parents came in and Jo went over to greet them, knowing that it was still an effort for the Jacksons to come out in public. There was a friend of Pearl’s from her keep-fit circle, Nancy from the Coach and Eight and a former workmate of Jack’s with his wife. A couple of friends from the Seamen’s Mission followed, and then Ivy came in, escorted by Mark.

  Jo’s heart thumped in fright. She had not expected to see him. Ivy had been invited, but Pearl had explained that they were restricting it to close friends of their generation to keep it small and intimate. When Pearl saw Mark, however, she waved him in. ‘You’ll stay for a drink, won’t you, pet?’

  Mark came over, looking long-haired and gaunt. ‘I just came in to wish you well,’ he said, bending to kiss Pearl, ‘and to see Nana got here safely.’

  ‘Pull up a chair, lad.’ Jack was effusive. ‘Is Brenda with you?’

  Mark’s look flickered towards Jo as he shook his head.

  Jo wondered if he blamed her for them not being invited. Maybe her father and aunt had decided tha
t it would be awkward for her if they were. She would have said hello, but he did not look in her direction again, slipping off to talk to the Jacksons.

  Ivy came over and greeted her quickly, but she was seated at the far end of the long table and Mark pulled up a chair next to her. Jo wondered how long he would stay. She tried to forget about his presence at the opposite end of the room and enjoy the meal, but she could not eat for nerves and kept a check on what she drank, determining to keep a clear head. She must not make a fool of herself or let her father and Pearl down.

  Towards the end of the meal, Alan gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘It’s time you got ready. Go and do some deep-breathing exercises in the ladies’,’ he smiled, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  Jo nodded, heart hammering hard. As she got up she noticed that Mark was watching her. She panicked that he was going to stay for the play. Suddenly she was not sure if she could perform it in front of him. She would be mortified if he guessed that Greg was him.

  As she passed close to him on her way to the door, she realised she had been hiding from the truth. The whole play was about Mark. Susie and Alan had seen it plainly enough. Her words might be fiction, but they spoke of her love for him. He was the hero of her drama.

  Ivy called out to her, ‘I hear you’re going to put on a bit of a play, hinny!’

  ‘Aye, Ivy,’ Jo smiled, ‘so no snoring in the cheap seats.’ Ivy chuckled and Jo rushed out for fresh air.

  She stood at the back entrance, breathing in the cold, drizzly night air. There was no hint of spring yet and she knew when that came, it would remind them all of the time of year that Colin and Skippy and Mark had gone away, one long year ago. Jo closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm her nerves. She turned as she heard footsteps thumping down the stairs behind her. Mark loomed out of the doorway and looked startled to find her in the dark.

  ‘Are you going?’ she asked him, her heart sinking.

  ‘Aye,’ he grunted. ‘I’ve stayed longer than I meant.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jo said, wondering why she was suddenly stuck for words. Damn it! She must think of something.

  ‘Your dad looks happy,’ he added, ‘and Pearl.’

  ‘Aye, they are,’ Jo agreed, nodding as inanely as a toy suspended in a car window.

  ‘Well, I’ll be off,’ he said. But she stood in his way.

  ‘And how about you?’ Jo asked quickly. ‘Are you feeling any better?’

  He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Less screwed up, you mean?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, feeling gauche and helpless. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like a doctor.’

  He gave her the glimpse of a smile. ‘Some things seem clearer now,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I had a visit from me shipmate, Andy. His new ship was in at the quayside last week. I went on board.’

  Jo was surprised. ‘What was that like?’

  ‘Strange,’ he admitted. ‘I was dead scared.’

  ‘But you did it?’ Jo asked softly.

  ‘Aye, and it wasn’t that bad once I got on board,’ he reflected.

  ‘So are you going to go back in the Navy?’ Jo dared to ask.

  He gave her a hard look with his dark eyes and she saw that the pain was still there. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘That’s one thing I’ve come to accept. I’m taking a sick pension. I realise I’m not fit enough to gan to sea again; I’d be a liability.’

  She wanted to protest that he would not be, but stopped herself. He went on defensively. ‘But I don’t need anyone’s sympathy. I’m not bitter about it. It’s just something I’ve come to a decision about.’

  ‘What will you do?’ Jo asked.

  ‘Bewick’s widow is giving me a bit of gardening work.’ He shrugged. ‘One step at a time.’

  ‘What does Brenda think?’ Jo dared to ask.

  His look hardened again and his mouth twisted. ‘She’s given up on me,’ he said. ‘We’re splitting up.’

  Jo felt her heart lurch. ‘Oh, Mark!’

  ‘No, it’s a bit of a relief not to pretend any more,’ he admitted. ‘She’s wanted to leave for ages, but she’s felt too guilty to go − me being wounded and that. So I made the decision for us − I’m moving back to Ivy’s till it’s sorted out. We’re going to divorce.’

  Jo stepped forward. She reached out her hand and touched him gently on his puckered jaw. She felt him flinch, but he did not pull away. ‘Stay for the play,’ she pleaded softly.

  ‘Why? Still trying to make a pacifist out of me?’ he joked.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not trying to change you at all. I started by writing the play for Colin,’ she confessed, ‘but I ended up writing it for you.’

  He gave her a look of disbelief. ‘Me? Why me?’

  Jo swallowed and forced herself to admit out loud, ‘Because I care for you, Mark. I always have done, even when we’ve been worlds apart or not speaking.’ She pushed back his tousled mane of hair from his scar and leaned close. ‘I’ve kidded myself for so long that I didn’t care. But that’s been my problem all along. I’ve never been able to tell you how I really felt deep inside.’ She swallowed hard and forced herself to confess, ‘I’ve loved you all me life. And I still do love you.’

  For a moment he stared at her as if she had hit him, and she feared she had made a fool of herself. He must feel nothing of the deep desire that she felt for him, she panicked. She recoiled, but swiftly Mark pulled her back, gripping her arms.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘I thought you hated me guts. I thought you resented me for coming back and not being Colin!’

  ‘No, Mark, never!’ Jo exclaimed. ‘How could you think that?’

  ‘Because you were so angry about your brother!’ Mark cried. ‘You seemed to hate me for not being grateful that I’d survived, when all I wanted was not to have come back at all − not without Colin and Skippy.’ He looked deep into her eyes for reassurance. ‘But all the time you say…’

  ‘Yes, I love you,’ Jo repeated, not caring whether she was making a fool of herself, just knowing she had to tell him.

  ‘But that man up there?’ Mark jerked his head towards the restaurant. ‘You’re with him!’

  ‘Alan?’ Jo questioned, having forgotten all about him. She saw now how it must look to Mark. ‘No, no,’ she insisted quickly, ‘he’s with someone else now. He came as a witness. We’re just friends.’

  ‘Oh, Jo!’ he groaned, as if a great burden had been lifted from him. ‘I thought I’d lost you for ever!’

  Jo silenced him with a fierce kiss. ‘Now do you believe me?’ she asked, her pulse thumping. He pulled her closer and answered her with another kiss, hungry and lingering. They gripped each other tightly, as if both were afraid to let go again.

  Mark whispered into her hair, ‘You’re the only one who can see me through the darkness. I need you!’

  ‘I’m here for you now, Mark,’ she promised. ‘I never want to leave you again.’

  He held her away suddenly. ‘I have to tell you something,’ he said desperately, ‘but I’m afraid you might think me mad.’

  ‘Go on,’ Jo urged.

  ‘I’ve never spoken about this to anyone − not since the hospital ship. But it’s been haunting me ever since…’ He swallowed, and Jo sensed his fear.

  ‘Tell me,’ she whispered, holding on to him.

  ‘When I was down below deck,’ Mark said hoarsely, ‘looking for Skippy − I found him trapped under a girder. I couldn’t move it.’ Jo could tell by his face how he was reliving the agony. ‘I tried. But I had to leave him − he told me to go and save m’self. I heard him screaming, Jo, dying…!’

  She gritted her teeth against the nausea she felt inside and nodded for him to go on.

  ‘I was alone in that hell,’ Mark rasped, ‘but then someone led me out of it to the hole in the bulkhead. He told me to jump and I did. He saved me life.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Jo asked, with a tingle up her spine that told her what he was going to say.

  He
looked at her, afraid of her disbelief. ‘It was Skippy’s voice − I’d know it anywhere. Do you think I’m mad?’

  They stared at each other, speechless. Jo knew that if she poured scorn on the idea that Skippy had saved him, then she would shatter his trust for ever. She might even destroy his cautious gropings towards sanity and peace of mind.

  ‘You’re not mad,’ Jo answered gently. ‘Who’s to say that Skippy didn’t save you?’ She took his tortured face between her hands. ‘And if he did, then it was done for a purpose. He wanted you to survive. It was his final gift to you, Mark. You tried to do as much for him, remember?’ She looked at him tenderly. ‘Take his gift, Mark, your second chance at living. Anything you do from now on will be living proof of the friendship you both had − and with Colin too.’

  She saw tears well in his handsome dark eyes and his drawn face soften in relief.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said hoarsely, and buried his face in her neck. ‘I can’t believe you’ve come back to me.’

  ‘I have,’ she assured him.

  ‘Do you know what my last conscious thought was in that freezing water?’ he demanded. ‘Do you know what kept me going?’ He looked at her lovingly. ‘It was you. I was half drowning and I saw you swimming ahead of me, like at Wallsend Baths, telling me to keep me head above the water!’

  Jo smiled, exultant. ‘Interfering to the last, was I?’

  ‘Aye,’ he grinned. ‘And I’m bloody lucky you always do.’ He kissed her again. ‘I love you!’ he whispered.

  There was a noise on the stairs behind them, and Pearl’s voice demanded, ‘What you doing out there in the dark, Joanne? Are you ever going to come up and do the play? Everyone’s waiting.’

  They looked round guiltily, their arms dropping from each other, but Pearl had seen. ‘I’m coming,’ Jo said quickly.

  ‘I’ve interrupted something, haven’t I?’ Pearl said. ‘You look as guilty as if you’d been caught pinching apples from Bewick’s orchard.’

  They both laughed, and Jo felt Mark take her hand possessively, as if he didn’t care who saw them together. ‘You never did miss much, did you, Pearl?’ he teased.

  ‘I’m not going to ask any awkward questions now,’ she declared, ‘not on me wedding day. But I can’t say I’m sorry to see you two making it up,’ and she winked a little tipsily.