Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

  ‘You could tell me where and how my mother is?’

  ‘It is very difficult. Life isn’t that simple that you can just walk into our lives. You will cause a lot of disruption, be an embarrassment to our family.’

  ‘I promise I won’t be that. I know it isn’t every day that a grandson you knew nothing of turns up. But this is 1963, ma’am, and no one bothers about such things now.’

  ‘The people you mix with may not, but my society does. I’m not saying we won’t meet, but I have to be sure you are who you say you are. I have to protect my daughter. She . . . she’s ill.’

  ‘Ill? How ill? Will she die? You can’t keep me from her. She loved me. I have photos and . . . Look, can I come up there to see you? No one need know who I am. I could show you stuff and tell you my story.’

  Daphne didn’t answer for a moment. A big part of her wanted to say yes, but suppose she was letting in a conman? Or Theresa didn’t want to know him. And what of her other grandchildren and Louise? Oh, what the hell. ‘I will come down to London.’

  ‘Won’t that be too much for you? Can we meet halfway?’

  ‘No. I have a driver . . .’

  As she replaced the receiver she had an attack of What have I done? and nearly picked it up again, but stopped herself. It was all incredible, but she believed it, and maybe, just maybe, this was what had been ailing her daughter for years: a terrible secret. A secret she couldn’t share. Had she shared it with Terence? But even if she had, that wouldn’t have made him do what he did. There must be something else that involved the two of them. Still, the first thing was to meet this young man and see how that went, then she would get in touch with Theresa’s psychiatrist to see what she thought. Oh, but the scandal . . . And how did it all happen?

  Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. There seemed a lot to face in the near future, but if only it could bring about a reconciliation with her darling daughter. She’d face anything for that to happen.

  Twelve

  Doubts Cling but Hurt Unites

  Breckton and London – 1963

  ‘Mam, what’re we going to do? Patsy would have rung if she was alright, you know she would.’ Ian’s voice held all the anguish Harri could feel inside herself, but for different reasons.

  ‘There isn’t owt we can do, love. We just have to wait. Maybe she couldn’t find a telephone box.’

  ‘In London? I know I haven’t been there, but I can’t imagine there ain’t a telephone box on every corner. I just feel there’s sommat wrong, Mam.’

  Harri saw the anguish on her mam’s face as she fell silent and knew it wasn’t all due to them not hearing from Patsy. Like herself, her mam didn’t like how Ian felt about Patsy. They hadn’t spoken of it, but she wondered if their concerns were the same.

  ‘Mam . . .?’

  At this plea from Ian, Sarah looked over at her and sighed heavily, in a ‘help me out’ kind of way.

  ‘Look, Ian, let’s wait until Dad comes home. There’s nothing Mam can do. Dad said he’ll ring the sergeant he spoke to in London when he gave information about Theresa Crompton. He’ll ask him if he can find out if Patsy made it to the hospital or if they had any enquiry from her. Now, for goodness’ sake stop acting so daft. You make yourself look foolish, the way you hang around Patsy—’

  ‘Harri!’

  ‘Well, it’s embarrassing, Mam. He should treat her like a sister, not—’

  The door slamming behind Ian cut Harri off and put a regret into her at the way she’d spoken. Ian was a gentle soul, and very loving, just like their Granddad Jack. ‘Oh dear, Mam, that makes me feel bad. I’m sorry for him, I am, but he has to realize, Patsy doesn’t think of him in that way.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I am sorry about that. I wouldn’t want them . . . Oh, I don’t know . . .’

  ‘What is it, Mam? Is there something about Patsy, or is it the family thing?’

  ‘Nothing, dear, I’m just being silly. Me past often visits me and gives me the colly-wobbles, that’s all.’

  Impatience welled up in Harri, but she said nothing. Her mam had a right to keep things to herself if she wanted to, but sometimes she wished she would talk and not keep everything inside. ‘I’ll go after him. I shouldn’t have snapped at him. He’s worried, that’s all. I am meself, to be honest. I’m scared that Patsy not contacting us is sommat to do with that Rita woman.’

  ‘But I thought Patsy hadn’t spoken to her.’

  Harri bit her tongue. She wanted to say that what they all thought about Patsy wasn’t what Patsy was really like – that she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Patsy had been in touch with Rita. Patsy had a devious side to her at times – not that she took her to task over it very often, as she had a nasty tongue if she thought you were getting at her. But for all that, she had a lot of good points and she wouldn’t be without her. She was her sister and she loved her ‘warts an’ all’, as they say. So instead she just said, ‘I know, but I’m wondering if she was tempted to, but didn’t like to say . . . I mean, Rita was a link to her mam without there being any pressure. Not that we meant to put pressure on her, but she must have felt the worry we all had in us.’

  ‘Aye, especially in me. I didn’t want her to ever have contact with that lot again, and for me own selfish reasons. I tried not to show it, but it weren’t easy. But then, why go to Rita? I still don’t understand or think she would.’

  ‘I’m just saying it is a possibility we should consider. And one as worries me, as I think that woman has motives that Patsy may not have thought of. Anyroad, it does no good to speculate. While we’re doing so, Patsy’s probably sitting with her mam and all the past is forgotten. Oh, I didn’t mean . . .’

  ‘I know, love. But that is how it should be, ’cos the past in this family holds a lot of pain and that should be locked away so it can’t come into our lives again. Anyroad, you go out to your brother and sort him. I’ll be alright, I’ll not dwell on stuff. I’ll get meself busy.’

  Before going after Ian, Harri went over to her mam and gave her a hug.

  ‘Eeh, you daft ha’p’orth, get on with you.’

  Seeing Ian standing by the fence gazing out over the countryside, Harri walked up to him and linked her arm through his. He looked down at her and smiled. ‘Can’t help meself, I’m afraid, sis.’

  ‘I know, love. I’m a pig. I shouldn’t tease you. It’s . . . well, I want you to be happy.’

  ‘I am, and I’d be even happier if I thought Patsy returned me feelings. But . . .’

  ‘I know, but she looks on you as a brother, though I think she’s aware of how you feel.’

  ‘Has she said owt?’

  ‘Not really. But I do see her handling you well when you’re doing your flirting bit.’

  ‘Aye, she does. She don’t lead me on. Eeh, Harri, am I making a fool of meself?’

  ‘A bit . . .’

  ‘Ha, say it how it is, why not! But I’m not daft, though I can’t help but hope.’

  ‘As long as you don’t hold on to false hope too long, love. There’s someone out there for you. You’re only twenty-one, and I don’t think Patsy is the right one. Anyroad, it don’t feel right. She’s me sister! It’s weird, like you have a sister fixation, or sommat.’

  ‘Ha, well, she does look like you! Maybe you’re reet . . .’

  ‘Ugh, Ian!’

  ‘I’m only funning. Eeh, lass, you should be glad I took it that way as it wasn’t a nice thing to have said to me. But though Patsy does look like you, I see her differently. It’s like I’m tuned into her. I want to be in the same room . . . Well, thou knows.’

  ‘I don’t, actually. It hasn’t happened for me. I’ve had a few attractions, but nothing more. Nor has Patsy – well, not really. Like me she’s had a few dates, but I haven’t known her to go out with anyone for more than a week. Not that we get much time. It ain’t easy being a woman trying to prove yourself in a man’s world. We have to fight for every bit of respect we get.’

  Privately, she didn’t
think this was the real reason why Patsy hadn’t made many friends of either sex. It was her attitude – her lack of feeling and empathy . . . no, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t have a total lack of feeling for others, but she was just more calculated with it – a worrying trait.

  ‘It makes you feel better just looking out over them hills, doesn’t it?’

  She followed Ian’s gaze, glad of the change of subject. The light was fading and the remnants of the sun had spread a reddish glow over the western side of the landscape, giving it a magical feel. The hills in the distance had turned black, but still looked majestic. Turning her back to the fence, she looked towards their home. Big by the usual standards, Hartington House was a typical Victorian country house. Surrounded by landscape gardens, it represented all that was good in her life: family and comfort and love. Though she knew it hadn’t been untouched by all that had gone before.

  There were many tragic stories linking the folk who used to own Hensal Grange – the Harveys and the Cromptons – to her own family, and some of them involved this house in that it had once belonged to an ancestor of theirs. And now one of that family was linked to her in a way that could never be broken. A shudder went through her at this thought.

  ‘Are you cold, love?’

  ‘No, just thinking. We come from a chequered history on our Mam’s side, don’t we?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t given much thought to the tales meself Granddad never talks of them, and if you bring them up he changes the subject. Anyroad, it’s in the past now. There’s nowt as can affect us. Them as caused it all have long since died or moved away.’

  ‘Patsy’s a Crompton . . .’

  ‘Eeh, Harri, don’t be daft. By, look, there’s a full moon coming up. No doubt We’ll see a wolf howling in front of it any minute. Ha ha . . . Come here, you daft ha’p’orth.’

  His arm felt heavy on her shoulder, but it soothed the feeling that had taken hold of her. She looked up at him and told him, ‘I am worried about Patsy, you know. I just didn’t want to show it in front of Mam. That’s why I took it out on you. It was just a diversion, really. Why hasn’t Patsy rung? It’s not like her.’ And, she thought, if Patsy did have an agenda, then surely part of her plan would be to not rouse any suspicion at home.

  ‘Well, what d’yer reckon has happened, then?’

  ‘Ian, if I say, promise you won’t do owt. For one thing, Patsy’d kill me if I set up a fuss about nowt, and for another, I’ll look silly if Mam and Dad make a big to-do and then Patsy turns up.’

  ‘I can’t promise. Don’t ask me to, Harri. If there’s a possibility that Patsy might be in trouble or owt . . .’

  ‘But that’s it. That’s why I feel daft about feeling apprehensive. I mean, why should she be in trouble? She’s gone to London to see her mam, and she knows the city like the back of her hand. It could be something simple that’s keeping her from contacting, like she might have lost her purse or had it stolen.’

  ‘If that was the case, she’d phone reversing the charges. Look, Harri, what are you not saying?’

  ‘Well, you know this woman that kept ringing, Rita? Well . . . no, it’s daft.’

  Ian’s hands clamped her shoulders. His face came close to hers. ‘Harri, please, love. I feel in me bones as sommat is up. Tell me what’s bothering you. At least give me a chance to make me mind up if it might be important. Who is this woman, and what’s the worry over her?’

  Telling what she knew of Rita and the anxiety her mam showed over the woman turning up only increased her fear. In the end she decided it best to share her real concerns. ‘But that’s not all. I – I think that Patsy may have contacted her . . .’

  As Ian listened to Harri’s theory about Patsy’s reaction to the phone call she’d had yesterday, from this Rita person they all seemed worried about, it all sounded a bit far-fetched to him.

  Harri told him she felt sure that Patsy wouldn’t hesitate to do something on the sly if she needed to. And the reasons she gave for thinking she may have done this time, Patsy’s hatred of her mother, did give her theory some merit. In the end he decided to make a joke of Harri’s suspicions. ‘Ha, you’re a funny one. You were for reading too many of them Enid Blyton books when you were young . . . The Famous Five. You were always making us act out them adventures. I reckon as you still think of yourself as George, the tomboy sleuth.’

  ‘Oh well, you did ask. I was only giving you what I thought might have happened.’

  ‘Yes, but you seem to be saying that Patsy had a plan, like she’s plotting a murder or sommat. Come on, Harri . . . Anyroad, you may as well get it all out. Why should we be worried?’

  ‘Well, if I’m right and she did contact Rita, I just think that she didn’t think it through. Like I told you, that Rita hurt her before and all for her own ends. If she got her claws into her again, she may go further. She wanted revenge on the Cromptons, and Patsy is a Crompton. Patsy is the daughter of the woman this Rita wants revenge on . . .’

  ‘Eeh, Harri, none of it sounds right to me, I’m sure you’re reading sommat into nowt. Look, We’ll run it by Mam and Dad, and if they think like you, well then, Dad’ll do what should be done.’

  Sarah greeted them as they walked back into the house. ‘Dad’s home. Are you alright now, Ian, love?’

  ‘Aye, sorry, Mam. I’ll be reet. Harri tells me I have a crush and it’ll pass. She thinks it’s a sister fixation thing or sommat daft like that, ’cos Patsy looks like her! Have you ever heard the like? That’s what too much education does for you: sends you bonkers analysing everyone.’

  His mam laughed at this, taking away the embarrassment he felt at having laid his feelings bare earlier. But those feelings wouldn’t go away, he knew that. Patsy was under his skin and she would stay there.

  ‘Who’s been analysing who?’ his dad asked as he came through the door.

  ‘Harri has, Dad, me big-sister-cum-next-amazing-doctor-in-the-world, covering medicine and personality traits and everything else under the sun.’

  He dodged the slap Harri playfully aimed at him, but could see she was still upset. She seemed to really think Patsy might have done something to land herself in trouble, but the Patsy that painted didn’t sit right with how he saw her.

  Talking to his dad relaxed his mind.

  His dad didn’t think there was anything to worry over, so then there probably wasn’t. Though as they talked it all through and his mam agreed with Harri about Patsy having another side to her, some of his concerns came back into him.

  London

  Rita’s bones ached as she put the mop into the bucket and twisted it to squeeze it for the umpteenth time. The smell of the stale blood and the sight of it congealing as it mixed with the soapy water bought the bile to her throat. Her heart lay like a piece of lead in her. She didn’t care about Ken; she was glad he’d gone. And she hadn’t much feeling one way or the other for that Patsy. She’d become like a thorn in her side, though it worried her that she’d have to be got rid of. Still she’d have to leave that to Jim. But Lizzie . . . how all this was going to pan out for her, she didn’t know. Jim’s plan wasn’t a bad one: he wanted to take Lizzie and her with him – said he had a nice mooring up north somewhere. It took a couple of weeks to get there, but he said he felt safe travelling the waters once he got into the rural areas. No one bothered you there, or cared who you were.

  She’d always fancied Jim, so going with him wasn’t a problem to her, although he was a nasty bit of work, she knew that. And she hadn’t forgiven him for killing her sister. Violet had been a good girl. She’d never given anyone any trouble and had never refused her anything when she was younger. It still hurt to think of her being beaten to death. And then, look at what Jim had done to Lizzie. But for all that, it was a long time ago. He said he’d changed since then, though she hadn’t seen evidence of it. From what she’d seen, he still had the same aggressive ‘I must be obeyed’ attitude.

  Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she had to admit they’d
all changed. Look at the state of her! She used to be a good-looker – still could be if she took some interest in herself. She shouldn’t have taken to the gin – thinking of which, though, one would go down a treat at this moment.

  Surveying the area she’d been cleaning, she decided that one more bucketful of clean water would wipe away all traces of what had happened here. Which was how she wanted it, as when it was realized they’d gone and the landlord came snooping around to find they’d done a moonlight, she didn’t want anything left that would arouse suspicion.

  That done, and the bucket swilled, she left the tap running for a good five minutes to send all traces of blood down the sewer, before retrieving the bloodied rolling pin from where she’d hidden it. She doubted she’d need evidence to blackmail Patsy with now.

  Pulling the only case she owned from under Lizzie’s bed, she began to fill it with what she thought she and Lizzie would need. Opening the small drawer at the top of Lizzie’s dresser revealed the exercise books. ‘Bleedin’ hell . . . Well, I suppose I’d better take ’em, as they seem to keep her happy.’ Anyway, she wouldn’t mind reading some of it herself – see what Theresa had put about their relationship. She hadn’t read any of that when she’d peeped at it all those years ago. She’d only read . . . no, she’d not think of that. It was unbearable and incredible that Theresa went through so much, and she’d often wondered what happened to that son of hers. That would be a shock for Patsy.

  ‘Are you done yet? I ain’t hanging around here for much longer. Someone might spot me.’

  The aggression in Jim’s voice made her freeze for a moment. She hadn’t heard him come in, and thought she had longer to sort things.

  ‘Come on. It’s dark now and the streets are quiet . . . What’s that?’