Durham Trilogy 03. Never Stand Alone

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘We were coming home by the beach. Eddy fell in,’ Mick explained. ‘Everyone’s a bit wet, Mam.’

  Lotty quickly decided that fuller explanations could wait and she bustled them into the kitchen. Within half a minute she had the kettle on, towels fetched out of the airing cupboard, shoes steaming on the hearth and an open-mouthed Linda, woken by the noise, despatched upstairs for dry clothing. Lotty noticed with alarm that the other bedraggled girl was Carol Shannon, which confirmed her suspicions that where that girl and Kelly Laws appeared together, there was bound to be trouble. But at least Carol seemed to be with Sid Armstrong, she noted with relief. He was being very attentive towards her.

  When she had shooed the girls upstairs to change in the bathroom, bundled the men’s wet clothes into the scullery and administered mugs of piping hot tea, Lotty perched herself on the arm of Mick’s chair and demanded details.

  Carol and Kelly reappeared with a garrulous Linda, squeezed into a jumble of Lotty’s clothing: flowery blouses, mini skirt and camel-coloured trouser suit. Carol thought they looked like sixties dancers from Top of the Pops and wanted to laugh. Mick was just finishing his story.

  ‘Sit yourselves down by the fire, lasses,’ Lotty ordered and thrust mugs of tea into their cold hands. ‘What a carry-on! I hear we’ve you to thank for saving our Eddy.’ She fixed Carol with her no-nonsense look. ‘That was a very brave thing to do. Very brave! Thank you, pet. I’ve already told Eddy off for putting you in such danger, haven’t I, Eddy?’

  ‘Aye, as always,’ Eddy muttered, looking very tired and ill. Carol felt a pang of sympathy for the wayward uncle being reprimanded in front of everyone.

  ‘It was an accident, it could’ve happened to anyone. There’s no harm done,’ Carol insisted. She smiled tentatively at the bird-like woman balanced on the chair arm.

  ‘No harm?’ Lotty exclaimed. ‘The pair of you nearly drowned! You were lucky my Mick was there to pull you out of the water, so I hear.’

  Carol gasped in astonishment. ‘I didn’t need his help,’ she began, but was cut short.

  ‘Lasses your age shouldn’t be out on the beach at this time of night, let alone swimming in the sea. I don’t know what your mam and dad are thinking of letting you go out like that. And on the night of your sister’s wedding! I certainly wouldn’t let a daughter of mine carry on like that! More than likely your parents don’t even know where you are, am I right?’ Lotty fixed her with that look again and Carol flushed. ‘I thought as much. Well, if you won’t listen to your own mam, then listen to Lotty Todd, because I know what gets into you lasses on hot summer nights. High jinks, that’s what! So don’t let me hear you’ve been swimming at night time again, or it’ll be you we’ll be fishing out of the sea. Now, drink up your tea, lass, and Sid’ll see you straight home, won’t you, lad?’

  ‘Aye, straight home,’ Sid echoed obediently.

  Carol was dumbfounded by the telling off. She had helped save the life of Lotty Todd’s brother-in-law but here she was being ticked off more severely than by her own mother. Even more galling, it appeared that Mick was now taking the credit for the rescue! Why on earth had she even had an inkling of interest in him on the beach? Carol thought angrily. Glancing round the small kitchen, she saw by the quiet faces that no one was going to say a word in contradiction. It seemed that Lotty Todd ruled this household and what she said went. Even Kelly was mute and sipping sweetly at her tea. Carol bristled. It was bad enough being criticised on the beach by Mick, but what right did this outspoken, interfering woman have to tell her off as if she was her twelve-year-old daughter? She was nearly eighteen and a Shannon, and no Todd spoke to her like that.

  ‘Would you rather I’d left him to drown then?’ she demanded scornfully, putting down the tea untouched. Lotty blinked at her a moment, but Carol stood up before she had time to respond. ‘It’s none of your business what I do with my time and if I want to go swimming at night, I’ll damn well do so!’

  Lotty sucked in her breath and Linda giggled behind her. But Carol was too exhausted and annoyed and emotionally battered after the long wedding day to care what any of them thought.

  Kelly put out an arm to warn her, but Carol shook her off. She caught sight of Mick’s stony face and could read nothing in the direct blue gaze that held her own. Contempt, probably.

  ‘Just because I’m seventeen, you think you can lord it over me and tell me what to do. But you’re not me mam and you don’t have the right to tell me how to behave! I’m off. I’ll not stay for any more lectures, thank you very much. Not from you or any other Todd.’ She said the name with as much disdain as she could muster. A stunned silence settled on the room.

  Carol looked pointedly at Sid and wondered if he would stand up for her. After a moment’s hesitation, he put down his mug and got to his feet.

  ‘Better get you home,’ he mumbled to the floor.

  Carol’s surge of relief evaporated the instant she turned to leave. There in the back doorway stood a small bullish-looking man in a suit, his tie pulled away from his thick neck and his top button undone. His dark eyes glinted in a lively face, hard and knowing, taking in the scene at a glance.

  ‘Evening, Mr Todd,’ Sid said, nodding at the man and standing aside with respect. ‘We’re just off.’

  ‘Evening, Sid,’ he replied.

  ‘Charlie, there’s tea in the pot,’ Lotty told him, her voice betraying none of the fury she felt at the rude Shannon girl. ‘Did you get me da safely home?’

  ‘Aye, and the dog walked,’ Charlie replied, moving into the room without taking his eyes off his visitors. A small West Highland terrier padded past his legs to the fire and flopped on the hearth rug. Carol was struck by the energy that emanated from Mick’s father, dominating the cramped room as if it could hardly contain him, and she wondered with dread if he had heard the whole confrontation. No wonder her father called Charlie Todd a powerful man, she thought with a mixture of admiration and fear. They were a powerful couple.

  She realised that they were not going to be provoked by her outburst; instead they were pretending she had not spoken or that what she said was too childish to be taken seriously. They were much too proud and secure among themselves to bother with her petulant rant. Carol was suddenly achingly tired. At that moment she envied them their togetherness, gathered around the cheerful fire, in harmony, related, content, not needing her there at all. Her envy clawed at her stomach like a physical hunger and she could no longer bear to be among them.

  ‘I’ll bring back the clothes, thanks,’ Carol mumbled and dived for the door, keen to be gone, already regretting her fiery words. Her and her big mouth! She groaned inwardly.

  Sid hurried after her and she could feel his embarrassment too. She had probably blown her chances with him now, having insulted his friend’s mother and spurned her tea. Just as she was about to close the door, a voice called out, ‘Carol.’

  She glanced back to see Uncle Eddy standing, his craggy face still white and haggard from the half drowning but smiling at her.

  ‘Thank you, flower.’ He looked like a wizened imp, with his long sideburns and his twinkling eyes, but Carol saw the warmth in them and was grateful.

  ‘That’s OK.’

  ‘I’ll not forget what you did for me,’ he said, his voice suddenly cracking. A moment later he crumpled into his seat and burst into tears.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Eddy man,’ his brother Charlie growled. ‘Blubbering like a bairn! Too many pints at The Ship, I’ll bet.’

  Carol watched in consternation, upset by the sight, but Sid pulled her after him.

  ‘Leave them to it,’ he hissed. ‘They’ll not thank you for gawping.’

  Minutes later they were back in the car and roaring up the sleepy back lane, down the hill towards Granville House and home. Sid was quiet. Carol sank back in the seat, utterly spent. He stopped on the road outside the wrought-iron gates and switched off the engine. Carol glanced nervously at the house. Her parents’ bedroom light
was still on. She didn’t think she could face another ticking off.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Carol half pleaded.

  But Sid had sobered up and was already wondering if he had gone too far with Shannon’s daughter. He fancied her, but he wasn’t going to get on the wrong side of the pit manager over her.

  ‘Better not.’

  ‘Another time maybe.’

  ‘Aye, maybes,’ Sid nodded. He leaned over and Carol thought he was going to kiss her, but he yanked on the door handle and pushed it open for her. ‘Ta-ra, Carol. It was a canny laugh tonight, until. . . well, you know.’

  I know, Carol thought, until everyone remembered I was a Shannon and not one of them. All she said was, ‘Yeah, it was.’ She quickly kissed his cheek and then climbed out. ‘Ta for the ride home.’

  She let herself in through the gate as quietly as possible, but Sid started the car noisily and by the time she was at the front door she could see that the landing lights had come on. It occurred to her that her clothes were still in a heap in the Todds’ neat flowery bathroom and so was her door key. She was standing there dressed like one of Pan’s People in orange flowers and a brown mini skirt. What would they think? She wavered for a minute on the doorstep, wondering whether it might be preferable to bolt now and run off to sea or join the circus.

  Why was it that she kept wanting to run away from things? Fuzzy with tiredness, she leaned on the bell. She would come out with this sensible, heroic tale of her sea rescue and gain her parents’ approval at last. But the thought of trying to explain how she was dressed in Lotty’s dated clothing gave her the giggles, so that by the time her father yanked open the front door and was standing there glaring at her in his pyjamas, she was shaking with mirth. They would think she’d made up the whole story anyway. Best to say as little as possible.

  ‘Forgot me key,’ she chortled. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ her father swore and dragged her in.

  ‘Is it Carol?’ she heard her mother ask in shrill concern.

  ‘Yes, and she’s drunk, Nancy. You can deal with her,’ Ben said in disgust and pushed Carol roughly towards the stairs.

  Carol walked into her parents’ vast, mirrored bedroom with its gaudy Mediterranean paintings and decided to attack first.

  ‘I stayed at the wedding until Fay was safely away and then I went off with my friends. We went to the beach and I went swimming. Rescued a drowning man. Clothes got soaked by the tide. Went back to Mick Todd’s house and I’m wearing his mother’s clothes. Oh, and my trainers are halfway across the sea to Denmark. Now can I go to bed?’

  Her mother was sitting up in bed in a flouncy blue negligee, her face pale and glistening with cream, her heavy make-up removed. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could utter a word.

  ‘Your trainers?’ she gasped.

  ‘The Todds?’ her father barked.

  ‘What drowning man?’

  ‘On your sister’s wedding day? How could you?’

  Questions and accusations flew at Carol like pinballs. She flopped down on the red candlewick bedspread and tried to explain. But the more details she gave them, the more upset they became.

  ‘What were you doing with Eddy Todd on the beach?’ Ben shouted.

  ‘Nothing. I heard him fall in Colly’s Leap. I was with Kelly and Sid.’

  ‘Is Eddy Todd all right?’ her mother gasped.

  ‘Aye, he is now,’ Carol answered, ‘and he was the only one of that terrible family who thanked me.’

  ‘Sid who?’ her father demanded, interrupting the diversion.

  ‘Armstrong,’ said Carol wearily.

  ‘Is she seeing this boy, Nancy?’ Ben demanded of his wife, as if Carol could not be trusted to answer.

  ‘He just gave me a lift home, that’s all,’ Carol sighed. ‘But if I want to see him again, I will.’

  ‘You’ll tell me first!’ her father ordered.

  ‘You’ve been to the Todds,’ her mother shuddered. ‘What was it like?’

  Carol snorted to think her mother’s curiosity was still razor-sharp. ‘It was like any other house in Brassbank,’ Carol answered, ‘except ours.’

  ‘What did Lotty Bowman have to say?’ Nancy demanded querulously.

  ‘You mean, Mrs Todd? Quite a lot actually.’ Carol couldn’t resist mischievously adding, ‘She told me off for going on the beach at night and swimming. Said she would never allow a daughter of hers to do such a thing. I think she must disapprove of you two as parents.’

  Carol watched the explosion. Her father glowed furnace red; her mother turned more of a nuclear white.

  Nancy went off like a pressure cooker. ‘The cheek of it! Lotty Bowman’s one to talk. That revolting girl of hers, Linda, is always roaming the streets and calling out rude names. I knew Lotty at school and she was as common as they come - her mother used to clean for your father’s family. How dare she tell me how to bring up my daughter!’

  ‘We didn’t allow you to go to the beach anyway!’ her father thundered. ‘We didn’t know where you’d disappeared to. You went off without a word to either of us. We’ve been worried sick. It was thanks to young Dan Hardman that we knew you’d left the hotel and driven off. Otherwise we might have had the police out searching.’

  Carol had had enough. She pulled herself up and glared at them both. ‘Rubbish! You weren’t the least bit concerned what I did tonight,’ she accused. ‘You were drowning your sorrows because the beloved Fay had driven off into the sunset with bags-of-money Victor. Don’t pretend you were the least bit bothered about me, because I know you weren’t. You never have been and you never will be. All I’m good for around here is being nagged at.’

  Her mother began to wail. Her father whipped round the bed, took Carol by the arms and shook her hard.

  ‘You ungrateful little bitch! We’ve given you everything the others have had but you’ve always thrown it back in our faces. You’re wicked and destructive.’ Carol winced at the pain of his hands digging into her upper arms, but she refused to cry out or show how much he was hurting her.

  ‘Apologise now to your mother for saying those things. Apologise.’ He shook her so hard that her vision blurred.

  ‘Ben, be careful,’ she heard her mother call from the far end of the bed.

  Carol felt faint and sick, but she refused to utter another word. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an apology, she couldn’t! He just wanted to show her up as weak, like her mother, to show that he was the one who must be obeyed and in control. She’d bet he was just like that at work as well. Well, she wasn’t going to apologise for being a failure in their eyes, for not being the perfect daughter, for being unlovable. She was who she was, and if that wasn’t good enough for them, then she would go.

  Suddenly her father let go and she nearly dropped to the floor.

  ‘Get out of my sight!’ he bellowed.

  Carol glanced at her mother. She looked haggard and wet with tears, but stayed silent, unable to come to her daughter’s defence. Carol turned and stumbled out of the bedroom. Only when she was up the stairs and safely in her attic room did she give way to tears.

  She lay on the orange bedspread and buried her face into her pillow so that no one could hear her distress. How many times had she done this in her orange room? she wondered bleakly, when the tears had subsided. It was stiflingly hot, even in the middle of the night with the dormer windows thrown open to catch the night sea air. The sloping walls were covered in posters of Led Zeppelin and Queen, Ilie Nastase and Omar Sharif. The chairs were piled with cheap clothes from the market and the boutique, scarves and homemade belts, while her desk and dressing table were a mess of shell jewellery and half-made sculptures, fashioned from driftwood and shells and dried seaweed. It was her haven in the eaves, the bedroom she had chosen, away from the grander rooms on the first floor.

  Here she was left alone with her treasures; her mother told the old cleaning lady, Mrs Hunt, not to bother with the ‘s
qualor’.

  But now, looking around the overcrowded room, Carol felt it was no longer a sanctuary. It was too small and claustrophobic, too near to the scene of brutal bickering that had taken place below. With Fay now gone and Simon only around at odd weekends from his police training in Durham, she knew she would increasingly be the target of her parents’ dissatisfactions. It was time to go.

  Carol packed a backpack that Simon had lent her for a youth-hostelling trip in her last year at school. She stuffed in some clothes, shells, letters from a penfriend in Spain and Auntie Jean in London - who sent her joss sticks and exotic beads and didn’t think being a teenager was a criminal offence - two paperbacks, her Biba make-up and a pack of sandalwood-scented toiletries from Fay for being her bridesmaid.

  She had a sudden thought. Jean had offended the family for failing to come to the wedding. Nancy had told her that starting a new hotel job and not being given time off was no excuse. Carol decided she would head for Jean’s; they could be outcasts together, she thought wryly.

  She lay on the bed until the dawn began to strike the orange walls and set them glowing. Getting up and putting on jeans and a sweatshirt, Carol shouldered her backpack and crept down the stairs. It was early Sunday morning and she knew her parents would lie in late after the excesses of the wedding day and the trauma of the late-night argument. She would be expected to fend for herself until lunchtime.

  She scribbled a note of farewell and left it propped on the smoked glass hall table which she had always been terrified of breaking. She walked out into the fresh dawn of a beautiful summer’s morning, with her father’s roses heavy with dew and the birds singing their matins. In her sandals she tramped down the hill and past the cliff above Colly’s Leap, thinking of the previous night’s escapades and how the Todds had inadvertently triggered her flight from Brassbank. How Lotty Todd would disapprove of that!

  But what had she to stay for? For a year, since leaving school, she had drifted along aimlessly, allowing other people to make decisions for her. Vic had got her the job with Val Bowman when she’d refused to go off to secretarial college; Kelly arranged her social life; her parents ordered and curtailed her every movement; Mrs Hunt cooked her meals and ironed her clothes.