Durham Trilogy 01. The Hungry Hills

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  As the stream of cars purred to a halt under the naked black trees, there were gasps at the elegant society women who filed past as if the villagers were not there, and nudges and giggles at the kilted Scots who swaggered confidently into the church amid the sombre morning dress of the Englishmen. When Beatrice alighted from her carnage with her father, a loud cheer went up from the assembled onlookers and Louie felt a lump form in her throat at the young woman’s pretty flushed face. Whatever the gap between them, she recognised the happy anticipation of a bride-to-be and, for that instant, secretly wished Miss Beatrice well.

  When the newly wedded couple emerged from the church under the raised swords of the groom’s Highland soldiers, treacherous tears of emotion spilled on to Louie’s cheeks. She quickly wiped them away before anyone noticed.

  Hilda had no such inhibitions. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ she cried, her nose running and her face awash with tears. The crowd cheered afresh and called out good wishes to the beaming Beatrice and her handsome uniformed husband. Some threw extravagant handfuls of rice at them to bring luck. Louie marvelled at the generous and spontaneous response of the Whitton Grange people; Sam, she knew, would have been mystified by the whole scene.

  ‘How do you think she manages?’ Sadie asked seriously.

  ‘Manages what?’ Louie was startled out of her reverie.

  ‘To go to the toilet with that long train?’

  Hilda and Louie burst out laughing at the sight of Sadie’s winsome face puckered in concern.

  ‘I don’t know, pet.’ Louie threw an arm about her bony shoulders and hugged the girl to her.

  ‘Posh folk don’t go to the toilet,’ Hilda winked at her sister, ‘do they, Louie?’

  Sadie had shot her an astonished look before it dawned on her that she was being teased. She set her lips in a disapproving pout until her cousins coaxed her mood away with the reminder of cake in the parish hall. Minnie and Margaret waved to them on their way in and they joined up and pushed their way inside, chattering all the while. Minnie was already looking heavily pregnant under her tight coat.

  Elbowing their way to the far tables, they were greeted with platefuls of sandwiches, cake and scones. Sadie’s mouth was soon silenced by the delicious food, and Minnie too tucked in enthusiastically.

  ‘There’s a bit of space over there,’ Louie indicated to her friend. ‘You can sit down on the bench, Minnie. You should be resting instead of being on your feet all this time,’ she fussed.

  On their way over, Louie bumped into Iris and Raymond.

  ‘Wasn’t it romantic, Louie?’ her sister-in-law exclaimed as Raymond held up his arms for his aunt.

  ‘Aye,’ Louie agreed, kissing her nephew warmly, though Minnie regarded the auburn-haired girl warily. They had not spoken to each other since Iris and Davie had gone to live in Whitton Station, though Margaret had kept in touch with Iris and passed on occasional snippets of news to her sister.

  ‘By, you’re looking big.’ Iris gave Minnie a onceover glance. ‘When’s it due?’

  ‘April,’ Minnie answered through a mouthful of cake. Her green eyes looked resentfully at Iris’s slim figure.

  ‘Good luck to you,’ the Durham girl laughed. ‘You won’t get me making that mistake again - one bairn’s enough trouble.’

  ‘You’re no trouble are you, pet?’ Louie let Raymond’s fingers explore her mouth.

  ‘How is Davie?’ Minnie asked provocatively, annoyed by Iris’s scornful words. She ignored Louie’s warning glance.

  ‘Why d’you ask?’ Iris shot the dark-haired girl a suspicious look.

  ‘No reasons,’ Minnie answered, licking her fingertips with a smacking noise. ‘Eeh, we had such a laugh on the farm last summer.’

  ‘He’s just grand,’ Iris replied testily and turned back to Louie. ‘You haven’t been to see us since before Christmas - Davie’s missing you.’

  ‘I’ve been that busy,’ Louie mumbled, prickled with guilt.

  ‘You mean Sam won’t let you visit,’ Iris said forthrightly.

  ‘Well, he’s around all day just now, seeing as they’d rather have scabs at the pit instead of good union men like my Sam,’ Louie said defensively.

  ‘Davie’s not blacklegging any more,’ Iris retorted. ‘The strike’s over, Louie, can’t you just let bygones be bygones? He’s so longing to see his family again, though he won’t admit it.’

  ‘You’ve got a nerve,’ Minnie butted in, ‘after what Sam and Bomber have been through! Of course Louie can’t forgive you for what you’ve done. Davie would never have broken the strike unless you’d forced him to, though I can’t see what you’ve got that’s so special,’ she scoffed.

  ‘Minnie, be quiet!’ Louie remonstrated, aware of curious glances from the people round about.

  ‘And what makes you such an authority on my Davie?’ Iris glared at her opponent.

  ‘Don’t say another word,’ Louie warned her friend. ‘Here, Iris,’ she handed Raymond back to his mother, ‘it’s time we were off. Tell Davie we’re not ready to see him back home yet - it’s too soon - there’s too much bad feeling.’ The boy gave a howl of protest at the abrupt rejection. ‘I’ll come and see you again soon, pet.’ Louie tried to placate her crying nephew.

  ‘Don’t put yourself out,’ Iris said caustically. ‘I’ll just tell our Davie his sister’s too high and mighty to speak to him any more. I knew Sam Ritson was too stubborn to forgive, but I never thought you would be, Louie.’

  Stung, Louie turned from the flushed, accusing face of her sister-in-law and grabbed Sadie’s hand. The young girl had been watching them in silent perplexity and was reluctant to leave Iris so soon. Louie knew that her cousin was growing fond of Iris’s family, with whom she lodged during the week, and it made her feel more ashamed at the harsh words just spoken. If only Minnie had not tried to stir things up between them. She had not meant to argue.

  Louie pushed her way out into the bright, cold sunshine, dragging a protesting Sadie behind her.

  ‘She’s always been too big for her boots, that one,’ Minnie declared as they trooped back into the village. Louie pressed her lips together and did not reply. Already she was feeling remorse at leaving Iris and Raymond so rudely, and the bad words that had been uttered rang in her head like relentless tolling bells. After all, Iris and Davie had few enough friends in this village without her turning her back on them as well.

  ‘I wanted to stay with Iris,’ Sadie said grumpily. ‘Why did you shout at her, Louie?’ For a few steps, Louie did not answer but increased her pace.

  ‘I’ll take you to see her next week,’ Louie promised impatiently. ‘But don’t you breathe a word of it to Sam, do you hear?’

  During the long, lavish lunch, Eleanor allowed herself to drink too much wine. She gave in to the hazy relaxed state that it induced and the afternoon seemed to melt away like the magnificent iced sorbets. Once the speeches and banquet were over, Beatrice disappeared with a gaggle of friends to change into her going-away outfit and prepare to leave with Sandy. They were to spend a brief honeymoon in Scotland before sailing with the regiment for Malta.

  Eleanor slipped after them, wishing to get her sister on her own just one last time. She felt suddenly overwhelmed by the finality of today. Her young sister was leaving as wife to an army captain and from now on her visits home would be rare. No matter how infuriating Beatrice could be at times, Eleanor would always feel a protective tenderness towards her.

  But Beatrice remained surrounded by her lively friends while she changed, and Eleanor sat on the edge of the bed listening to their laughter and ribald remarks about the night to come.

  Only as they descended the stairs to the hallway, where the guests were gathering to wave them away, did Eleanor slip an arm through Beatrice’s and whisper, ‘I hate to admit how much I’ll miss you. This house’ll be deadly quiet without you and your friends, Bea.’

  Beatrice smiled, pleased at her sister’s confession. ‘I thought you’d be thankful to have it all
to yourself - plenty of time to read those ghastly books and entertain your blue-stocking pals,’ she joked.

  Eleanor smiled ruefully and kept back the words she had been tempted to say. Beatrice would hear about her plans soon enough and she did not intend to spoil her day in any way.

  They kissed on the steps and Beatrice hugged her father warmly. Before stepping into the waiting car, she tossed her bouquet into the crowd of well-wishers where it was caught by a delighted Harriet Swainson. The car pulled away with a rattle of tin cans tied to its back fender, amid a roar of goodbyes and frantic waving from the guests. That’s the end then, Eleanor thought to herself, a strange emptiness opening up inside; the end of our family life together.

  Instead of following the others inside for tea, Eleanor crept off in the direction of the water garden. In the growing dark she could make out the partially frozen lake, its thin film of ice covered by the footprints of tiny birds. She shivered and hugged her arms around her body, allowing the silence of the late winter afternoon to soothe her after the cacophony of noise at the reception.

  Dry twigs cracked behind her and Eleanor swung round to see Will sauntering down the path. She turned back to watch the pale-gold light dim across the water.

  ‘Sad?’ Will asked, his breath like steam in the icy air. Eleanor nodded. ‘I didn’t think you and your baby sister were close.’

  ‘Perhaps not recently,’ Eleanor admitted, ‘but I still care for Beatrice. It’s the end of an era for our family - Rupert, then mother, now Beatrice gone. Just me and father - and he’s more interested in business and following his own pursuits. We’ve grown apart too.’ Eleanor hated the self-pity in her words, but it eased her loneliness to speak them aloud.

  ‘And there’s Reginald,’ Will added softly. He slipped out his cigarette case and offered it to Eleanor. She took a cigarette and waited for him to light it before she answered.

  ‘I’m going to leave him,’ she said, blowing smoke at the glimmering lake.

  Will jerked round in surprise. ‘You mean divorce Reggie?’

  ‘I mean separate - if he wants a divorce he can have one. No doubt the strident Miss Fisher will press him to do so.’

  ‘But Reggie won’t give up The Grange - the business,’ Will commented.

  ‘No,’ Eleanor replied calmly. ‘I will.’

  Will whistled in disbelief at the indigo sky. ‘You’d give up your family home - all this - just to get away from your husband? Boy, you must really hate that guy!’ He watched the end of her cigarette glow as she drew on it.

  ‘I don’t think I do hate him,’ Eleanor mused. ‘Sometimes I feel sorry for him. He’s so immersed in making money out of other people - that’s all he seems to live for - he’s lost sight of the important things in life - love, friendship, that sort of thing.’

  ‘What will you do?’ Will ground his cigarette underfoot. Eleanor did the same.

  ‘I have various plans,’ she answered vaguely. Suddenly, Will stepped towards her and took hold of her thin arms.

  ‘Come away with me, Eleanor,’ he suggested enthusiastically. ‘We’ll travel round Europe - have a ball. I’ve friends in the south of France we could stay with for the winter - Antibes - it’s all the rage.’

  Eleanor smiled at his eagerness, flattered that this debonair American should want her company. She shook her head. ‘At least not yet, Will,’ she said gently. ‘Though I find the offer tempting.’

  ‘There’s still someone else, isn’t there?’ Will’s face showed disappointment as his hands dropped to his side.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Eleanor whispered doubtfully. ‘I just know that I have to give him one last chance.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Throughout the weekend Iris brooded over Minnie’s insinuations about Davie. They reinforced something John had implied during a past argument about Davie’s behaviour at Stand High Farm. Nevertheless, it infuriated her that the Slattery girl should make remarks about her husband as if she had some claim to him. It had been Davie’s decision, as much as hers, to go back to work and Minnie had no right to treat her as an outcast. She obviously influenced Louie’s mind on the matter too, else why had her sister-in-law’s visits become more infrequent? Was it possible that she would never be accepted as part of this close-knit community? At first she had thought that it would just take time, but here she was, two and a half years later, very much an outsider. Only Margaret Gallon, Minnie’s sister, and her neighbour Molly Hutchinson, a stranger to the village herself, could be numbered among her friends. Though it was Louie’s warm, unshowy friendship that she hankered after the most.

  Iris vented her hurt feelings on Davie. On Monday, as he tucked into an early breakfast before going on the morning shift, she tackled him.

  ‘I saw Minnie Bell at the wedding,’ Iris said frostily, flicking roughly through a magazine. ‘She was asking especially after you.’

  Davie continued methodically eating his bacon and fried bread, head down, though a tinge of colour crept into his fair jaw. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’ Iris warmed to her theme. ‘Says she’s six months pregnant, though she looks more to me.’ She tossed the well-thumbed magazine on to the floor and uncrossed her legs. Davie scraped the last of the grease from his knife and licked the fork clean. Pushing the plate away from him he grinned uncertainly.

  ‘Made you broody, did it? Wanting another bairn, I bet? Well, that’s fine by me - we can practise any time.’ Iris leapt to her feet, startling Raymond who was kneeling in the hearth in his pyjamas, playing with some old farm animals of Sadie’s.

  ‘That’s not what I meant at all,’ she answered crossly, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her. ‘I want to know what really happened between the pair of you on that farm. And don’t give me that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth look, Davie Kirkup, she as good as said there’d been some carry-on.’

  Davie stood up agitatedly, his face a guilty crimson. ‘You shouldn’t listen to the likes of Minnie - she’s got too much imagination for her own good.’

  ‘Well, you should know,’ Iris said sarcastically.

  ‘Listen, there’s nothing between me and Minnie Bell, all right? You’re the only one I care for, Iris, always have done and always will.’ Davie took a step round the table and grabbed her hand. He tried to kiss her but she shook him off. Sensing their disagreement, Raymond climbed to his feet with a whimper and grabbed his mother’s dressing gown.

  ‘Is she having your baby?’ Iris demanded, hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  Davie went on the defensive. ‘I’ll not be questioned like a criminal by my own wife!’ He turned away and reached for his jacket on the back of his chair.

  ‘And I’ll not let you go till you answer me.’ Iris blocked his way to the door.

  ‘I’ll be late for work,’ Davie said aggressively. ‘Out of my way.’

  ‘It’s true then,’ Iris shouted as he pushed his way past. ‘While I worked myself ragged in that soup kitchen you were having it away with Minnie Bell!’ Raymond began to cry and ran after his father. Davie stopped him at the door and ruffled his auburn hair distractedly.

  ‘Look, you’re upsetting the bairn.’

  ‘What about upsetting me?’ Iris blazed.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Iris lass.’ Davie floundered under her accusing gaze.

  ‘I don’t think so. You’ve made me a laughing stock. I bet half of Whitton’s talking about it!’

  Davie wanted to say he was sorry, but the words lodged in his throat; Iris’s scorn was more than he could bear. He bent and kissed Raymond on the head and disengaged the small boy’s grip on his legs.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’ He glanced up briefly at Iris and left quickly, shamed by her raw hurt. Tonight he would make it up to her, show her she was the only woman for whom he had ever really cared. His wife’s temper was as violent and brief as a firework. A spot of loving and she would forgive him, Davie assured himself. Still, looking back up the dark street, he was disappointed not
to see Iris waving him away as usual. The door was closed and no curtain was lifted at the lighted window to betray a change of heart. He tramped on regardless to meet his friend Alfred Hutchinson, though today his sulky mouth could not form into a cheerful whistle.

  Iris shook with the upset of the past few minutes and the realisation of her husband’s infidelity. She was furious, sick with the knowledge that their romance had been marred by his selfishness. How could he have done this to her? She grabbed Raymond into a rough hug until he wriggled to be free.

  ‘Don’t you turn out like your father,’ Iris warned the uncomprehending boy passionately. ‘Don’t you ever!’

  Half an hour later, as she spilled out her story to Molly, she felt the anger easing to disappointment.

  ‘It happens more than you think,’ said the philosophical Molly. ‘Life’s not like the flicks you know.’

  ‘But I thought Davie loved me,’ Iris answered bitterly.

  ‘He does,’ Molly assured her, ‘everyone can see that. He just didn’t expect you to find out. To Davie it was a summer fling.’

  Iris grunted. ‘I know where I’d like to fling Minnie Bell.’

  Molly laughed and poured Iris another cup of tea.

  Davie entered the pit gates with Alfred, his nostrils filling with the smell of tarred fences and engine grease, and they picked their way across the debris-strewn yard, dimly illuminated by light from the solid pit buildings. His friend was discussing the merits of their Saturday football game; they had formed a new team, from men who had worked during the strike, and had travelled into Durham for the match.

  ‘Tadger’s a useful player - if he didn’t drink so much on a Friday night,’ Alfred maintained.

  Passing the forge and the redbrick telephone exchange, they took the iron steps up the pit bank. Davie wondered if he should call in to see his mother on the way home from work. If he could be sure of Sam Ritson being out, he was tempted to do so. It was time they put a stop to this stand-off between them; life was too short and he knew his mother would accept him no matter what he did. Today he was going to put things right with his family and his wife. All at once he was optimistic.