Return to Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Nursing?’ he barked at her in astonishment.

  ‘Yes, Father, it’s what I’ve set me heart on.’

  The priest shook his head. ‘They’d never take you on,’ he said bluntly. ‘You’ve not got the education. It’s a hard training, Kitty; you wouldn’t cope. Be thankful for what you’ve got. You’re getting on well at the laundry - it’s a great achievement for a girl with no learning.’

  Catherine wanted to run out of the church hall screaming. She was deeply hurt by his dismissal of her ambition. A girl with no learning. She hated him for belittling her. She would show them all! Stubbornly, Catherine continued to borrow heavy medical books and ploughed through them, making notes in her rough scrawl.

  In moments of self-doubt, she surveyed her notes and thought Father O’Neill was right. She could draw competently, but knew her writing was jumbled and the words misspelt. She did not have the learning to write long essays or put her thoughts into grammatical English. Her mind was a wilderness, untended, and she was bowed down with the effort of improving it.

  Only being with Gerald made her feel better. With him, she could practise speaking in a genteel way and talk of art and music without feeling self-conscious. Sometimes she wished he would be more demonstrative, do more than walk arm in arm along quiet lanes or kiss her hand at the end of the evening. She dreamt of him holding her tight and kissing her lips like they did in films, but there was always a reserve about him that she could not breach.

  But soon Catherine would be twenty-one and an adult. No longer would she be bound by Kate’s rule. She would be a fully-grown woman, free to marry. Perhaps this was the moment Gerald was waiting for too.

  It was Kate’s suggestion to throw a party.

  ‘You must do some’at to mark your comin’ of age,’ she declared. ‘Me and Mary’ll put on a grand tea - have our Sarah and your cousins over from Birtley. And you can have your friends round, eh? We’ll have a right good party - Uncle Alec on the fiddle - push back the furniture and have a bit dance.’

  Catherine eyed her mother with caution. The last thing she wanted was Kate making a spectacle of herself in front of all her friends. And which friends would she invite? Lily and Amelia, of course, and Tommy and Peter and cousin Ida. But what about Gerald? This would be a golden opportunity to introduce him to the family - as long as Kate did not get drunk.

  ‘Gan on, Kitty,’ Kate urged, ‘you like a party as much as I do. And don’t give me that look. I’ll not show you up. Promise I’ll not touch a drop.’

  Catherine smiled in relief and nodded. ‘I’d like a party.’

  ‘If it’s canny weather we can tak the tables outside and have a street party - like after the war,’ Kate enthused. ‘All the more room for dancin’. And some of the neighbours can join in - like Bella and her mam.’

  Catherine’s insides clenched. She might have been only eight when Bella and the other girls had shut her out of their birthday party, but the shock and humiliation would stay with her for ever. She felt the hurt like a raw wound as if it had happened yesterday.

  Kate saw her look. ‘Maybes not Bella. But the McGraths - they’ve got a piano - we could pull it outside.’

  Catherine felt dizzy at her mother’s plans; the whole of Jarrow would be turning up for her birthday at this rate.

  ‘Could we have it round at Aunt Mary’s?’ Catherine asked. ‘She’s got more room.’

  Kate looked wounded. ‘You mean she’s more posh. I’ll not have her lording it over us on such a day. You’re my bairn and we’re having the party here.’

  Catherine felt a guilty twinge, for she had been thinking of Gerald’s reaction.

  ‘Well, let’s just keep it to family and close friends,’ Catherine said firmly.

  Kate scrutinised her. ‘Close friends? So are we ganin’ to meet your mystery man, Mr Rolland?’

  Catherine reddened quickly. ‘He’s not a mystery man; he’s just shy of company.’

  Kate snorted. ‘Keeping him hid ‘cos you’re ashamed of your family, more like.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’

  ‘Then bring him to your party,’ Kate challenged.

  ‘I will,’ Catherine glared.

  The next time Gerald took her walking she told him.

  ‘Me birthday’s on the Monday, but we’re having the party on the following Saturday afternoon when I’m off work. You will come, won’t you? Me family want to meet you - they tease me that you don’t exist.’ She laughed, trying to make light of it, but her stomach knotted at the alarm on his face.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said gravely. ‘I may have to visit Mother.’

  Catherine withdrew her arm. ‘You can see your mother on the Sunday. This is me twenty-first! Tell her - she’ll understand. Unless you’ve never told her about me?’

  He glanced away.

  ‘You haven’t, have you?’ Catherine looked at him dismayed. She clenched her fists. ‘It’s plain as glass I don’t mean owt to you! If I did, you’d want to come and meet me family and share in me special day.’

  She turned and stalked away down the cinder track by the railway line. Butterflies flew up as she pulled savagely at the long grass. Gerald did not love her. He was too grand to deign to come to a party in East Jarrow. She had seen the look of distaste on his handsome face and known the void between them.

  ‘Kitty, wait! Stop,’ he shouted, running to catch up. He swung her round. ‘Of course I’ll come. I didn’t know it meant that much to you.’

  She swallowed angry tears. ‘Course it does. How could you not know?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘I’m glad you value our friendship so much. These times together mean a lot to me too.’

  She smiled back, encouraged. ‘They mean the world to me, Gerald.’

  He bent and kissed her forehead. It was a fatherly kiss, like a blessing. She stood with face upturned, hoping he would kiss her on the lips too. But he stood back and held out his arm for her to hold. Catherine smothered her disappointment and took it, reminding herself that she had won him round. Gerald would be the guest of honour at her coming of age.

  Chapter 13

  June came, hot and blustery. On the Saturday of the party, Catherine hurried round to William Black Street to help with the preparations.

  ‘It’s too windy to have it outside,’ Mary decreed. ‘Me tablecloths’ll fly off to China.’ She had brought beautifully embroidered covers, and Alec had staggered round with their china plates and tea cups.

  Kate looked disappointed, then nodded. ‘I’ll swill the yard out and we can dance out there.’

  Mary muttered loudly to Catherine, ‘You’ll not catch me dancing in her yard if the Pope himself were to come.’

  Kate winked. ‘There’s a far more important guest comin’ than the Pope. Isn’t that right, Kitty?’

  Mary smiled, ‘Aye, of course. Will we have to curtsy when he comes in?’

  ‘Stop it, the pair of you,’ Catherine laughed in embarrassment. ‘Just act normal. But don’t ask him lots of questions or make a fuss or tell him things about me as a bairn. And don’t say he’s the first lad I’ve brought home.’

  ‘But he is,’ Kate pointed out.

  ‘Well, just don’t say anything.’

  Her mother and aunt exchanged looks. ‘McMullens not say owt? That’ll be the day,’ Mary said.

  ‘Aye,’ Kate chuckled, ‘Hell will freeze over first.’

  Catherine gasped. ‘And don’t say things like that.’

  The women burst out laughing at her consternation.

  ‘By, he must be special,’ Davie joined in, clomping in from the street where he was hanging bunting over the front door.

  Aunt Sarah and four of the cousins arrived off the train from Birtley. The noise of chatter, clattering crockery and banging oven doors rose as e
veryone helped or got in the way. A chair was put outside for old John while Davie and two cousins went off to fetch some beer to quench their thirst. Not for the first time did Catherine wish her stepfather was far at sea. If he enticed Kate to get drunk and loudmouthed, she would never forgive him.

  By quarter to four, the parlour was dusted and table beautifully laid with an assortment of sandwiches, scones and cake. The kitchen floor was scrubbed, the fender and fire irons gleaming, and more baking sat cooling by the open window, ready to replenish the plates. All traces of washing and ironing had been banished to the wash house, and flowers decorated the mantelpiece and windowsills.

  Catherine wore a new pale blue dress, with clip-on earrings that Aunt Mary had given her. Kate had given her a garish scarf that she had tried to look pleased about, but would probably never wear.

  She looked at her mother, still flushed from her marathon of baking, the sweat stains darkening her dress, her apron floury.

  ‘Haway, and get your pinny off,’ Catherine fussed, trying to calm her nerves. ‘I’ll help you pin up your hair again. You are going to change your dress, aren’t you?’

  Kate blew out her cheeks. ‘You would think the King was inspectin’ the troops,’ she teased. But she allowed Catherine to bundle her into the bedroom and look out a clean blouse and skirt.

  As she combed Kate’s thick brown hair, Catherine mused, ‘You haven’t a single grey hair. Lily’s mam has lots.’

  ‘It’s a miracle,’ Kate grunted. ‘Your grandda’s given me enough trouble to turn me white five times over. Not to mention the rest of you.’

  She turned and put a rough hand to her daughter’s face. ‘By, but you’re bonny in your new frock.’

  Catherine’s eyes pricked at her mother’s soft tone. How rarely she heard it, yet how much she had craved it in childhood. Now her girlhood was officially over and she could look this woman in the eye as an equal. Except she didn’t feel equal; inside she was still a child seeking Kate’s approval.

  ‘I hope you like him,’ Catherine said, suddenly seized with doubt.

  ‘Your mystery man?’ Kate’s look was reflective, wistful. ‘You’re a better judge of character than me. I’m sure he’s a real gentleman. As long as he does right by you, I’ll welcome him into this home like family.’

  Catherine felt a surge of gratitude. She quickly hugged her mother. ‘Ta, our Kate. Ta for doing all this.’

  Kate’s lip trembled. Catherine, thinking she was going to cry, pulled away. It would not do for either of them to be red-eyed for their guests.

  Kate turned away. ‘Haway, let’s start the party,’ she said briskly.

  Back in the kitchen, Lily and Amelia had arrived with presents of lavender water and handkerchiefs. Tommy and Peter brought flowers and a canary.

  ‘What in the wide world am I supposed to do with that?’ Catherine laughed.

  ‘Have it as a pet,’ Tommy said cheerfully.

  ‘Matron doesn’t allow pets.’

  ‘I’ll keep it for you,’ Kate said. ‘Bet it speaks more sense than old John.’

  The laughter and noise in the kitchen grew. Kate shooed them into the parlour and told them to help themselves to the food.

  ‘Can’t we wait a few minutes?’ Catherine said, her insides taut. She kept glancing at the door, looking for Gerald’s arrival.

  ‘What time did you tell him?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Four o’clock - four-ish,’ Catherine stammered, ‘I think.’ Her mouth and throat were dry with nervousness.

  She glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. Twenty past four.

  ‘We’ll not cut the cake till he comes,’ Kate promised. ‘Haway, Sarah and get the tea poured. Everyone’s parched.’

  Catherine busied herself in the parlour, handing out sandwiches and chatting to the guests.

  ‘I’ll just take these round,’ she said, slipping out of the room. Lily followed with a plate of scones.

  At the open front door they peered into the street. John was turning red in the June sun, mug of beer in hand.

  ‘I’m still on sentry duty,’ he said. ‘No sign of the enemy yet.’

  ‘Grandda!’ Catherine chided. Her heart sank. Two neighbours across the street stood cross-armed at their doors, watching. Catherine nodded and they waved back. How many of them were looking out to see whom Kitty McMullen was courting?

  Catherine retreated inside again. Quarter to five. Panic began to seize her. Something had happened to him. He had promised to come; he wouldn’t let her down deliberately.

  ‘Maybes he’s waiting for a tram,’ Lily suggested.

  Catherine nodded. But by five o’clock she knew that was unlikely. Gerald could have walked from his boarding house by the promenade to Jarrow in an hour. While she smiled and joked with her cousins and friends, her stomach heaved like a rough sea.

  Doubts crowded in. How did she know where he lived when she had never been there? She had never met any of his friends or family. His precious mother did not even know she existed. Why was he so secretive? Why did she only get to see him when he decreed it? He was living a double life. Lily was right, he must be married. She was as foolish as Kate to be taken in by his sophisticated clothes and his cultured ways. But that was ridiculous. Gerald was a devout churchgoer, a man of honour, and he had given his word he had never been married. How dare she doubt him?

  Half-past five. Catherine’s worry turned to anger. Gerald had discovered that her mother was a fallen woman and she was illegitimate. That was the truth of it. What other reason could there be for humiliating her in front of all her family? Kate’s sinfulness with her father had blighted her life yet again. Why was her mother so weak? She wanted to run out of the house, escape from the pitying glances, the worried looks.

  Finally the cake was cut and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’.

  ‘Make a wish,’ someone shouted.

  Catherine closed her eyes, knowing that her greatest wish, for Gerald to walk through the door, was not going to happen now. So she wished with all her might for escape from Number Ten William Black Street and the humiliation of being Kate’s daughter.

  For the rest of the party she looked on like a bystander observing strangers. Uncle Alec played his fiddle and Tarn McGrath joined in on the tin whistle. The table was pushed back and dancing began in the parlour, the dancers knocking into John’s iron bed. Tea drinking gave way to beer and whisky. Tommy and the Birtley cousins arm-wrestled on the kitchen table while Sarah and Kate grew louder with each drink.

  Catherine was glad Gerald was not there to see her mother swaying on the hearth singing ‘Cushie Butterfield’ and bursting into tears when someone mentioned it was Jack’s favourite. What did it matter if Kate got drunk and took over her party? The spark had gone out of it the moment she realised that Gerald was not coming.

  It was late when the last of the revellers staggered off into the night. Sarah and Ida were staying at Mary’s, while the boys piled into the parlour with the snoring John. Catherine lay down on the settle, drained of emotion.

  ‘Sorry, hinny,’ Kate said, lurching over her. Catherine felt queasy at the familiar reek of whisky.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she muttered, burying her face in her arm.

  ‘You deserve better than him,’ her mother slurred.

  ‘I’ll not find better round here.’

  ‘Course you will, Kitty. Don’t let one rotten apple spoil the what’s-it.’

  ‘Barrel.’

  ‘Aye, the barrel.’ Kate hiccuped.

  ‘Come to bed, woman,’ Davie called wearily from the back room.

  Kate chuckled. ‘See, I found one in the end.’

  Catherine snorted. She would never settle for a man like Davie, or a life like Kate’s.

  Once Kate had gone, she got up and padded outside, a
blanket thrown over her nightdress. The smell of the sea was strong on the night breeze, the clouds racing across the stars.

  She felt bruised from Gerald’s rejection. She ached for him, yet he was a huge disappointment. Longing weighed her down. But for what? Maybe not just for Gerald, but for something out there under the stars, out of her reach. For the first time, Catherine thought of escape, real escape, of leaving not just William Black Street, but Jarrow itself. The thought wriggled in her mind, frightening and unsettling. There was a world out there beyond Shields, far from Tyneside, which people like her father inhabited.

  She shivered in her bare feet. One day, she was going to find it.

  Chapter 14

  The following Saturday evening, Gerald was waiting for her outside church. Catherine brushed past him and stalked off down the street. He chased after her and caught her by the arm.

  ‘Kitty, wait. What’s wrong?’

  She shook him off. ‘What’s wrong? You made a laughing stock of me in front of all me family, that’s what!’

  ‘When?’

  ‘On me twenty-first,’ she glared.

  ‘You mean your birthday party?’ He sounded bemused.

  ‘Aye, the one you promised to come to,’ she accused. ‘All me family were there and me friends - all waiting to meet you, and me looking at the clock every five minutes, fretting and thinking some’at terrible’s happened to you. And them looking at me as if I’ve made the whole thing up - you and me.’

  Suddenly, Catherine was seized by a huge convulsion. A sob rose up from the pit of her stomach.

  He seized her hands in consternation. ‘I’m sorry, truly sorry.’ Quickly, Gerald pulled her round the corner. He stared down at her, his dark eyes contrite. ‘I had no idea it meant that much to you. I was in Newcastle -Mother has been unwell again and I didn’t like to leave her. I didn’t know how to get a message to you. I knew you would understand once you heard my reason. And with all your other friends there - well, I didn’t think you’d miss me.’