Return to Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘It’s the same for me,’ Kate fretted, her fear fuelled by Bridie’s alarmist words. ‘Doesn’t care what happens. Said she’ll not support me any longer - and I’m having trouble managing such a big place. All I need is a little help with the bills. It’s not much to ask.’

  ‘It’s up to you to put him off,’ Bridie challenged. ‘Only you can tell him things about Catherine - show him she would never fit in at his posh school. If you do, I’ll make sure Catherine stumps up the money you need.’

  The next time Catherine was out with Tom at a school concert, he was unusually subdued. Walking home, she tried to discover what troubled him.

  ‘Is it something I’ve said?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing.’

  ‘Yes it is. Talk to me Tom. Has Kate been at you again?’

  His look gave him away.

  ‘Tell me,’ she pleaded.

  He stopped and stared back at the sea, rattling the change in his pockets in agitation.

  ‘She told me about - about you not having a father.’

  Catherine felt punched in the stomach. She could hardly breathe. It was the one thing she had kept from Tom, fearing it would mar his love for her. How could Kate have done such a thing? The look on Tom’s face told her how shocked and disappointed he was. He was a devout man of strong principles. How he must despise her now!

  ‘She had no right,’ Catherine rasped. ‘You must hate me.’

  Tom swung round. ‘No, of course I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me how you were born.’

  ‘It must do,’ Catherine said in confusion. ‘That’s why you’ve been so quiet all night. You can hardly bring yourself to speak to me.’ She began to walk on. Tom came after her.

  ‘Stop, Kitty, it’s not that.’ He pulled her round. ‘I feel so sorry for you - I understand now all your hatred of bigotry. It must have been terrible. Why didn’t you tell me? I thought there was nothing we couldn’t say to each other.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to look at me like others do,’ Catherine said, ‘the ones who know. I didn’t want you to look down on me - pity me!’

  Tom dropped his hold.

  ‘What else did my interfering mother tell you? How many failed love affairs I’ve had?’ His silence and wary look frightened her. ‘She did, didn’t she? Well, you hardly get to my age without having been out with other men. Not that any of them wanted me except for one thing. But that’s what people expect from bastards!’

  ‘Stop it!’ he said. ‘Don’t say such things.’ He clenched his fists. ‘The only one pitying you round here is yourself!’

  ‘Well, at least I know what you really think of me.’ Catherine was stung.

  ‘Listen for once, Kitty!’ he demanded. She had never seen him so angry. ‘I know why your mother says such things - to try and put me off you. She’s been against me from the start - sees me as a threat because I love you as much as she does.’

  ‘She doesn’t love me!’ Catherine cried indignantly.

  ‘Yes she does and you’re blind if you can’t see it. She can’t bear the thought of losing you to me. She’s a frightened old woman, lashing out. She needs you, Kitty.’

  Panic gripped Catherine; she felt faint. ‘But I need you.’

  ‘Do you?’ he challenged, his look fierce.

  ‘Yes, I do!’

  He seized her hands. ‘Then marry me.’

  ‘Marry?’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes, before they drive us apart for good.’

  Catherine stood, clutching his hands, head reeling with the idea. She heard Father John’s censorious words about jeopardising her soul; she saw Bridie’s face contorted in hatred; Kate wailing at her desertion.

  She looked in desperation at Tom’s eager face. ‘W-would you - could you convert to being a Catholic?’ she whispered. ‘Father John and Sister Marguerite say it’s impossible for me to marry an Anglican.’

  ‘We could get married in a registry office,’ Tom said wildly.

  Catherine shook her head. ‘I couldn’t marry if it wasn’t in church, you know that. To me we wouldn’t be married.’

  Tom pushed her hands away and plunged his into his pockets. His face looked resigned.

  ‘I couldn’t give up my faith, Kitty,’ he said quietly, ‘and I wouldn’t expect you to give up yours.’

  She looked at him, stunned. He was as good as saying it was over. They had come to an impasse that neither was strong enough to overcome. She felt sick with misery, yet even in that moment it was tinged with relief. To go on would have been purgatory, falling deeper in love with a man she could never marry. Better that it stopped now before her heart was torn in two.

  ‘Then I don’t think we should see each other again,’ Catherine said, her calmness belying her inner turmoil.

  Tom’s lean face was tense with regret. He seemed about to say something, then stopped.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he nodded. ‘Goodbye, Kitty.’

  He turned away and walked into the gloom. Catherine stood looking after him, gulping back the sob in her throat, the cry that would call him back. But she remained as still as stone, watching the man she loved walk out of her life.

  Only later, in the middle of the night out in the garden, did she curl up under an oak tree and weep out her sorrow.

  Chapter 41

  Catherine buried her hurt and plunged herself into work. She spent long days at the laundry, not hurrying home, and when she did so, took a notebook into the garden and wrote. On wet evenings she huddled in the leaking summerhouse. She filled notebook after notebook with stories and characters that transported her far from the drudgery and disappointments of real life.

  Bridie fussed around her, now that Tom was no longer calling.

  ‘You’re tired out, come inside,’ she would coax. ‘I’ve made you a hot cup of cocoa. You’ll ruin your eyes, scribbling in the dark.’

  But Catherine was still angry with Bridie for her part in spoiling the relationship with Tom. She would not be comforted. She spoke as little as possible and kept out of Bridie’s way. When one of the lodgers left, Catherine moved from the billiard room into the small spare room rather than go back to sharing with the older woman. There was no solace in being told that she and Tom were incompatible, even if it were true.

  She avoided Kate even more, refusing to call at Maritime Place for fear of running into Tom. She was furious with Kate for telling Tom too much about their past, and could not forgive her. Catherine neither knew nor cared how her mother was coping.

  Yet, as the summer wore on, Catherine came to the painful conclusion that Bridie and her mother had probably been right. She and Tom were complete opposites: she was extrovert and impulsive, he cautious and shy. She was older and worldly-wise, he young and idealistic. He was an Oxford scholar, intellectual and well read, while her education had stopped at thirteen. The more she knew him, the more ignorant she felt.

  Above all, Tom was Church of England and she Catholic to her very core. The two were not supposed to mix. Hers was the true faith, as the priest and nuns kept reminding her. If Tom was not prepared to convert then there was no future for them, however strongly they might be attracted.

  For a short time, Catherine stopped going to church, resentful of her situation. She railed against a God that would cast good men like Tom into the flames of Hell. But Sister Marguerite continued to visit. She was putting her own soul at risk by avoiding confession and absolution, the nun worried.

  While Catherine wrestled with her spiritual dilemma, another crisis erupted. A distraught Kate came round to The Hurst to seek her out.

  ‘It’s Davie,’ she sobbed, her face puffy and tear-stained.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Catherine said in alarm.

  ‘Has he had an accident?’ Bridie asked.

  Kate shook
her head. She held out a letter with a trembling hand. Catherine took it and read the brief note. Her concern turned swiftly to annoyance.

  ‘What’s bad about this? He’s got a job working on a Shields ferry - and what’s more, he wants you back.’

  ‘I cannot!’ Kate cried. ‘Me home’s down here now. I don’t want to gan back to Jarrow.’

  ‘Well, write and tell him so.’ Bridie was blunt.

  Kate looked at Catherine warily, twisting her hands in her lap. ‘The thing is, there’s another reason - I can’t afford to gan back.’

  Catherine sighed. ‘I’ll pay your train fare if that’s what’s worrying you.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ Kate said, on the verge of tears again. ‘I’m owing a bit on the house - got behind on the payments.’

  ‘How behind?’ Catherine demanded, her heart sinking.

  ‘Couple of months - and the gas bill’s due and they’re threatening to cut me electric off.’ Her look was pleading. ‘I need a bit money to tide me over - till I find a couple more lodgers. It’s been quiet over the summer. But I’ll sharp pay it back, I promise.’

  Catherine eyed her mother, unable to hide her contempt. ‘Your promises aren’t worth a pinch of salt.’

  Instead of lashing back, Kate’s face crumpled. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Kitty.’

  Bridie patted her shoulder. ‘Maybe it’s for the best if you go back north. At least Davie can put a roof over your head.’

  Kate shot her a bitter look. Once she had thought her an ally, but the Irish woman had usurped her place in Catherine’s affections. Bridie no longer had a use for her.

  ‘Bridie’s right,’ Catherine said. ‘You’ve got no choice.’

  ‘Please, hinny, don’t send me away,’ Kate begged.

  ‘This isn’t my doing!’ Catherine gave her mother a hard look. ‘I’ll bail you out one last time, but it’s on one condition - you go back to Davie.’

  Kate bowed her head. ‘But what about me lodgers? I’d feel bad, putting them out.’

  Catherine tensed.

  ‘How many do you have?’ Bridie asked.

  ‘Two,’ Kate answered, almost inaudibly.

  ‘Two in the whole of that big house?’ Catherine cried in disbelief. ‘No wonder you’re up to your neck in debt.’

  Kate lifted her head defiantly. ‘And there’s Tom Cookson - said he’d come back after the summer holidays.’

  Catherine reddened at his name.

  ‘Where is he?’ Bridie asked, glancing between them.

  ‘Gone travelling on the Continent. Said there was nowt to keep him in Hastings.’

  Catherine swallowed. ‘We can take your lodgers in here if they can’t find anywhere else.’

  Bridie was suspicious. ‘But what about the schoolboy? What if he comes back to Hastings?’

  Catherine answered briskly, ‘He can take his chances like the rest of the lodgers. I really couldn’t care.’

  A week later, Catherine received a letter from Davie too. He was tired of living in lodgings apart from Kate. She was his wife and he wanted her back to look after him. He was proud to have found the Shields job when so many were idle. He knew Kate would be pleased so it worried him that he’d heard nothing from her.

  Catherine went straight round to her mother’s, any half-doubts about making her leave Hastings gone.

  ‘If you haven’t written to Davie, you’ll do it right this minute,’ she ordered. ‘He’s worried about you.’

  Kate snorted. ‘Worried he’s got no housekeeper, more like.’

  Catherine did not know why things had soured between her mother and stepfather, and it was none of her business. She stood over her while Kate wrote a letter back, telling him she would be home by the end of August. Before she left, she spoke to the two lodgers, offering them accommodation at The Hurst, paid Kate’s overdue bills and agreed to dispose of the lease as soon as she could.

  Kate looked stunned by her quick businesslike handling of the mess. She did not try to argue or prevaricate with Catherine, who reminded her of Rose when faced with a crisis. Kate thought how her mother would have handled the situation with just as much tough-minded fairness as Catherine.

  A week later, a one-way ticket was bought, and Catherine arrived in a taxi to pick up Kate and her two bags of belongings. Bridie had offered to come too, believing Catherine might weaken at the last minute and allow her mother to stay.

  ‘I won’t change my mind.’ Catherine was resolute. ‘I can’t wait for her to be gone.’

  Kate sat in the taxi, white-faced and sober, clutching a handbag. They rode all the way in silence.

  At the station, Catherine bought a platform ticket to make sure she got Kate and her possessions on to the train. Kate, who had been mute since being collected, suddenly burst into tears at the carriage steps. She turned and threw her arms around her daughter.

  ‘I-I’m so s-sorry, Kitty!’ she wept. ‘It’s all a mistake. I didn’t mean to spoil things for you and your teacher. I’ll never stand in your way again. Just please don’t send me away. I cannot bear to gan away from you!’

  Catherine was horrified at the clinging, wailing woman. She looked around in embarrassment at the other boarding passengers.

  ‘Don’t, Kate,’ she hissed. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’

  Kate cried louder, ‘I don’t care -I want to stay! Please take me back - I’ll never tak another drink - I’ll do anything you want. You’re all I’ve got. Please, Kitty!’

  Catherine was overcome by her mother’s desperate last-minute plea. For a moment she held on to her, in a self-conscious hug. Kate shook in her arms, her tears soaking her collar.

  The guard came by. ‘You’ll have to get on board now, ma’am. Sorry, but the train’s leaving.’

  With a huge effort of will, Catherine pulled away from her mother. ‘Come on, you have to go, it’s all arranged. There’s no going back on it.’ She pushed Kate towards the carriage, forcing her up the steps. ‘It’ll be all right once you get there.’

  Kate turned and gave her such a look of desolation that Catherine almost relented. But the guard came back and she had just enough time to heave the bags on board before he slammed the door shut. She watched her mother standing hunched and crying in the empty carriage. She looked so old and utterly dejected. The whistle shrieked.

  The train jolted forward and Kate swayed, almost losing her balance. Who would look after her now? Catherine was flooded with guilt. She wanted to wrench the door open again and pull her mother off. But she clenched her hands and resisted the urge, fighting back her own tears. She waved Kate away.

  Moments later, her mother was out of view and the train was picking up speed. Catherine stood for a long time, peering through the smoke of the departing train at the place where her mother had been. She had severed the cord between them for the last time, and it ached as if it had been physical.

  Catherine went for a long walk along the cliffs above Hastings, gulping in sea air to try to stem her sense of failure. Finally, the buffeting breeze brought her to her senses.

  Kate had Davie to look after her. Here, her mother was out of her depth, incapable of fending for herself. Catherine’s own relationship with her was in shreds and she could do no more for Kate here.

  As Catherine turned for home and the job of picking up the pieces of her life again, she clung to the belief that her mother was a survivor. She had done the best thing by Kate in sending her home to Davie and her family. One day she would see that.

  Chapter 42

  It was a shock to open the door to Tom, one September evening. Catherine knew he would probably call - there was a box of books cleared from his room to collect. Even so, her heart thumped to see him standing there lean and suntanned under a Panama hat, with a battered suitcas
e at his feet.

  ‘Hello, Kitty,’ he said, removing his hat. ‘I know it’s late, but I got this message at the school. . .’

  She stared at him, ridiculously tongue-tied, her insides doing somersaults. He was as handsome as she had remembered.

  Tom ploughed on, ‘You see, I don’t have anywhere to stay. Your mother’s place is closed and they said at the school to call here. What’s happened to Mrs McDermott?’

  ‘She’s gone,’ Catherine said, finding her voice. ‘Back to Jarrow - her husband’s got work. I said I’d take in any of her lodgers who needed it. Mr Parish is here. And there’s your box of books - you’ll want those, of course.’

  Tom eyed her warily. ‘I know this is awkward for both of us, but if you have a room spare I’d take it. Just till I find somewhere else. I’ll keep out of your way.’

  Catherine’s heart twisted at the bittersweet thought of having him so close yet untouchable. She waved a hand at him. ‘Not awkward at all,’ she said briskly, ‘not for me. There’s a room at the back of the house you can have.’

  Tom hesitated. ‘Won’t Mrs McKim mind me being here?’

  Catherine hid her disquiet. ‘Bridie’s in Ireland - taken Maisie on holiday. Anyway, it’s up to me who I take in as lodgers. It is my house, after all.’

  Tom blushed. She had not meant to sound so brusque, but she did not trust herself not to betray the surge of tenderness she felt towards him.

  Just at that moment, Tuppence came bounding out of the trees from chasing rabbits and rushed up to Tom. The dog ran round him excitedly, barking a welcome.

  ‘Get down, Tuppence!’ Catherine cried.

  But Tom bent to greet him with the same enthusiasm. ‘Hello, old boy. How’ve you been? Yes, I’ve missed you too.’

  ‘Tuppence, that’s enough,’ Catherine said, calling the dog to her side. ‘Why don’t you join the other guests in the sitting room while I get your room ready, Mr Cookson?’

  Tom shot her a look. ‘Thank you - Miss McMullen.’

  Aware he was probably teasing her, she marched quickly ahead of him so he could not see her blushing.