Changing Patterns

by Judith Barrow

‘You fight for her. Do you want to give up on your marriage that easily?’

  ‘You think it’s come to that?’ Ted paled.

  ‘I do.’

  There was a querulous high-pitched complaining above their heads. They glanced at the ceiling.

  ‘Linda’s like her mum.’ Mary gave him a small smile. ‘Determined to get her own way. She wants to see you.’

  ‘I love that little girl, Mary.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ve loved her from the day Ellen brought her home, the moment I opened the door and saw you both on the step.’ He leant forward, his arms on his thighs. ‘I knew already. Ages before I’d found a small photograph of a baby on the floor of our room. Ellen must have dropped it. I left it there, didn’t say anything.’ He wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘I don’t mind telling you that was a blinkin’ hard thing to do, Mary, waiting for her to tell me.’

  ‘Did Hannah know?’

  ‘Not until afterwards.’

  ‘How was she about Linda?’

  He moved his shoulders.

  ‘Do you want me to be perfectly honest, Ted?’

  He nodded.

  ‘From what I can make out, it’s Linda your mother has the most problem with. And Ellen’s had as much as she can take from Hannah.’ She watched him, head tilted to one side. ‘Ellen loves you, I know that. And you love her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I think you and your mother have a bit of straight talking to do. If you don’t make things right, somehow, I think Ellen will leave you. And then what will happen to the children?’

  Chapter 17

  The clump of the lavatory chain and the heavy splash of water filling the overhead cistern sounded throughout the cottage. Then there was a clatter on the stairs and Linda appeared, quickly followed by her mother trying to catch hold of her. ‘I told you, madam. Stay upstairs.’

  Linda took no notice. She ran to Ted. ‘Daddy.’ She scrambled onto his knee, her arm wound tight around his neck. ‘Where’ve you been?’ She grabbed his chin, pulled his face down to hers. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Sorry, love, I’ve been busy in the shop. Have you had a nice holiday?’ Ted held her close.

  ‘Yes. Uncle Peter takes us to the beach.’

  Mary didn’t miss the small automatic drawing in of Ted’s eyebrows.

  The little girl bobbed her head as she spoke. ‘But we have to come home now, don’t we?’ She screwed her head round to look up at Ellen. ‘Eh, Mummy, don’t we have to go home?’ There was anxiety in her voice. ‘And I miss Beauty.’

  ‘I’ve been feeding him and changing his water,’ Ted reassured her. ‘Her budgie. Got him for her birthday,’ he said, answering Mary’s look of enquiry.

  ‘He’s blue and he talks,’ Linda said, ‘nearly.’

  ‘That’s nice, love.’ Mary smiled at her, standing up. She pointed to her chair. ‘Sit down,’ she said to her sister.

  ‘No.’ Ellen didn’t take her eyes off Ted. ‘I’m okay.’

  Mary lifted William out of her sister’s arms. ‘Sit,’ she said again and then wriggled her fingers at her neice. ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s go and play in the garden.’

  Obstinate, Linda clutched tighter to Ted. ‘No.’

  ‘Go on, love,’ he said, ‘go and do as Auntie Mary says, there’s a good girl.’ She wailed but let herself be put onto the floor and led away. ‘Me and Mummy have things to talk about.’ He glanced at Ellen. ‘And then, soon, we’ll all go home.’

  Mary heard the sharp intake of breath and saw her sister fold her arms. ‘Give him a chance,’ she hissed, making for the back door.

  Outside the sun had shifted around, casting the garden nearest the cottage in shadow. Mary shivered.

  The children squirmed until she let go of them and they ran along the path into the sunshine. William’s unsteady gait, a rolling from side to side, reminded Mary of her father’s walk. They followed a large seagull that was strutting about and managing to stay a few feet away from them. She moved from the steps to the low wall to sit watching the children in case they went too near the greenhouse. She wrapped her cardigan around her and hunched over. Shadowed from the sun the back garden hadn’t much warmth in it. Deliberately turning her back she realised that, even above the rhythmic sigh of the incoming tide, she could still hear Ted talking.

  ‘Whatever’s wrong, tell me and we can sort it. I can’t live without you and the kids.’

  ‘No.’

  Nothing more was said. The minutes dragged by. Mary hesitated, not sure what to do. If it was true what Ellen said, life at Henshaw Street must be unbearable for her sister and Ted needed to know how bad things were. But was it only that? Was Ted having an affair? And would their marriage survive such betrayal?

  Since Tom died, so much had happened; so many secrets rising to the surface, some still being kept. Mary covered her face with her hands. When she looked up the children were sitting on the path watching the seagulls circling around them. They were safe for the moment. And they needed to be safe in the future. If she couldn’t be truthful to Peter about Tom, if she couldn’t bring herself to ask him how he really felt about what Frank had done to her, she could at least do something about her sister and Ted.

  She moved quickly, up the steps and into the kitchen. Ted was still at the table. Ellen, arms crossed, had her back to him and was leaning on the doorframe facing the parlour.

  ‘Why don’t you take the kids to the beach and let them have a run around?’ Ellen refused to move. Mary raised her voice. ‘So you can have a talk.’

  Ellen glowered over her shoulder. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘You won’t just think, you’ll do it.’ Mary caught her lower lip with her teeth. Ellen wouldn’t like what she had to say next. ‘I’ll be honest with you. You can’t stay here forever. This place is too small for all of us. You need to get things sorted.’

  Chapter 18

  ‘I wanted to be here for you, to be with you at the funeral.’ Ted tried to take her hand.

  There was a hot feeling in Ellen’s chest. But now it wasn’t guilt, and it wasn’t for Tom – it was grief for her marriage. The simmering anger had turned into hurt; she was utterly bereft. Yet still she heard herself say, ‘I don’t need you.’ She shook him away.

  ‘I think you do.’

  Ellen wandered further down the beach. ‘I didn’t want you to come here.’ If he didn’t touch her, she would stay strong. For years their marriage had been one-sided. Ted gave, she took, content in the knowledge he would do anything for her. But since she’d brought Linda home and seen how much affection he had for her daughter, how he made sure he was totally fair to each child, she’d felt the tables slowly turning. The only way she knew how to show her gratitude was to put up with Hannah’s jibes. But lately she knew his mother was sensing the change between them and she was on the receiving end of more rancorous attacks.

  Now she couldn’t bear to be in the house with either of them.

  ‘What have I done?’ He looked genuinely upset but she wasn’t fooled.

  ‘You must think I’m daft.’ Ellen watched Linda take William’s hand as she searched for shells on the tideline. ‘Not too far,’ she called.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She moved her shoulders, poised, ready to run. Nervousness made her restive.

  ‘I don’t know what you think I’ve done, Ellen, but you have to tell me.’ Ted sat on a rock. ‘Sit down here. Please.’ He reached towards her. ‘Tell me. Unless you do, I can’t put things right.’

  ‘No,’ she said, making a performance of keeping an eye on the children. ‘You know what you’ve done.’ Tell me who you’re having the affair with; tell me that, she silently pleaded.

  ‘I don’t.’

  The light wind spiralled a veil of sand around their feet. A seabird, its feathers a white blaze reflecting the sun, rose from the nearby cliffs and then, closing its wings, arrowed into the sea. Ellen squinted looking for its re-emergence but fa
iled. She felt another layer of sadness.

  ‘Doreen Whittaker?’ The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

  There was a moment’s pause before she slanted a look at him and saw the surprise on his face, saw him finger the jagged scar on his left cheek the way he always did when he was thinking. She waited to see how he’d squirm his way out of the accusation.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Doreen Whittaker.’ Ellen spoke through clenched teeth.

  ‘Doreen? You know?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I told him he was stupid. I said I didn’t want us involved.’

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘Patrick.’

  ‘Patrick?’ Ellen spoke slowly.

  ‘Yes, Patrick.’ Hurt understanding emerged on his face. ‘It’s not me having the affair, Ellen, it’s Patrick. Do you really think I’d do that to you?’

  Glancing back to check on the children, she took a step towards him but again wouldn’t take his hand.

  ‘The reason he keeps coming to the house is so he can slip out from the back yard to next door. I’ve told him I don’t like it but your brother doesn’t take no for an answer.’

  Ellen took a few long breaths, searching his face for the truth. When she thought about it there were a couple of times she’d watched Patrick turn up the alleyway towards Greenacre Street, when it would have been quicker to go down towards Shaw Road if he’d been going home. And then she remembered something. ‘Once,’ she said, ‘just after Christmas, that time he created hell because you wouldn’t go to the Crown with him, I watched him hanging around at the back gate for ages, looking back at the house.’ She held Ted’s gaze. ‘I was washing up. I kept looking at him. And then, suddenly, he’d gone, vanished.’ She raised her eyes, cursing her stupidity. ‘Obviously one of the times he’d gone next door … to see her.’

  ‘Probably.’ Ted was clearly shaken. ‘You thought I was having an affair with her?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘I did.’

  Ted held out his hand. This time she took it.

  ‘Listen Ellen. I’ve loved you since we were kids, you know that. I love you now and I will always love you. Whatever happens, whatever you do, I love you.’

  The warmth that filled Ellen startled her. Somewhere, deep inside her, the tiny kernel of love that had grown began to spread until the overwhelming sensation almost made her dizzy. ‘I love you too, Ted.’ It was the first time she’d said it to him and she knew she really meant it.

  In that moment of stillness she knew she needed to be honest. Her voice wobbled. ‘Ted, there is something I need to tell you. I’ve kept something from you about Linda.’

  He covered her mouth with his fingers. ‘Frank Shuttleworth?’

  She twisted her face away. ‘You know?’ Now it was her turn to say the words. What an idiot I’ve been, she thought. ‘He used me to get back at Mary for chucking him.’

  ‘I know. Patrick told me the first time I met him after I came home. I think he was trying to put me off. He felt I was too old for you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t care about that. He’s just spiteful. You’re a better man than he’ll ever be. What’s eight years anyway, it’s never bothered me.’ She enclosed his hand with both of hers. ‘I’m sorry, Ted, I should have been the one to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t care who Linda’s father was. I’m her Dad. I love her. I love both my kids.’

  The seabird suddenly appeared again. Or perhaps it’s a different bird, she thought. It rose and fell on the crest of each wave, drifting slowly away until she was unable to make it out against the horizon.

  ‘I made such a mess of my life. I’m surprised you looked twice at me.’

  ‘Well, I’m not. I love you, Ellen Booth, and don’t ever forget that. You don’t have to tell me anything. It was enough that when I came home you were there,’ he said, shrugging off his jacket and dropping in onto the pebbles. ‘Let’s sit down.’ Further along the beach the children were climbing small rocks. ‘Don’t fall,’ he called. ‘And watch you don’t slip into the pools.’

  Ellen sat by him, gradually aware Ted was staring at her. Self-consciously she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks hot.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’

  ‘Don’t look at me, I’m a right mess – no make-up.’ She dipped her chin.

  ‘You’re beautiful to me, with or without.’

  ‘Your mother said you don’t like slap, as she calls it.’

  ‘Ma?’ Ted stared at her. ‘I don’t recall ever talking to her about anything like that. Anyway, whatever she put on her face it wouldn’t improve it – unless it was a paper bag.’

  Ellen laughed. He could always make her laugh. She sobered for a moment; pulling her knees up under her chin, she wrapped her full skirt around them. ‘Your mother…’ She was apprehensive. It was something she’d broached before, something they never resolved. She knew Ted felt beholden to his mother because of the money.

  His face set. ‘Mary told me some of it. How bad is it?’

  ‘It’s worse than ever. And it’s driving me mad. She watches – and picks all the time. She’s nasty and she’s spiteful as soon as you’ve turned your back.’ Her throat tightened with misery and she struggled for breath.

  He pulled her close. ‘That’s okay, love. I get the picture and I’ll make sure it stops.’

  ‘How, Ted?’ She pulled herself away from him. ‘When you’re not there? How can you do that?’

  ‘I’ll talk to her, tell her to stop.’

  Ellen gave a small shake of her head. ‘It’s when she starts on about Linda that I really hate it.’

  His face darkened. ‘What does she say?’

  ‘That I tricked you into keeping Linda, that she shouldn’t be with us, that she’ll grow up to be a whore like me.’

  ‘Right!’ A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clamped his teeth together.

  For a moment Ellen was scared. She’d kept so much to herself for so long, thinking he wouldn’t believe her. He was used to Hannah’s whining but his mother kept the malevolence for when she was alone with Ellen. ‘She calls Linda “the bastard”, Ted.’

  She heard his long muted breath. ‘It won’t happen again, Ellen. You’ll not have to hear that ever again, I promise you.’ He held her to him. She rested her head against his chest, relieved that at last she’d told him everything. He would make it all right. His voice echoed in her ear. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure she never speaks to you like that again. I love you more that I’ve loved anyone, ever. It’s you, me and the kids from now on, believe me.’

  Ellen swallowed; for the first time in her life she felt she belonged to someone, that she fitted just right into someone’s life and she hugged that knowledge to herself.

  Chapter 19

  ‘So, Ted arrived then?’ Jean stood by the parlour window looking out at the front garden.

  ‘Yes, while you were out with Jacqueline.’ Mary dried the last plate and piled it on top of the others in the wall cupboard. Exhausted by the sleepless hours, the sick worry about the little girl’s revelation, she pressed her fingers to her temples. Folding the tea towel she came out of the kitchen. ‘Let’s sit down. I need to talk to you.’ How to start asking Jean about Patrick? She resented even having to think about him but she wasn’t going to ignore what Jacqueline had said.

  ‘What about?’ Jean pushed the net curtain to one side and settled on the windowsill. ‘Peter’s drawn a game of hopscotch on the path for Jacqueline,’ she said, filling in the pause. ‘I have to say he’s good with the kids.’

  ‘What did you expect? He’s the same man who looked after you when you lost your baby,’ Mary said, immediately defensive. ‘He’s just a man, Jean.’ She paused. ‘No, actually, he’s not just a man. He’s the man I love and I’ll thank you to remember that.’ Just as Patrick’s the one you’ve always loved, she thought, and Peter’s worth a million times more than him.

  ‘I was only
saying.’

  ‘Like you did last night? What was it? Oh yes, I remember. “She’s enough to cope with living with that man. She’ll have the life of hell.” Something like that?’ Frustrated by the diversion yet unable to ignore her hurt, she spoke sharply.

  At least Jean was mortified enough to redden. ‘I’m sorry. I’m only thinking of you.’

  ‘Even after all these years you still think you’re entitled to try to organise my life.’

  ‘I’m trying to get you to think about what you’re doing.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing, thanks.’

  ‘I doubt that. Look, there are plenty of jobs. Since Bevan opened the Park Hospital in Manchester they’ve been crying out for nurses. With your experience you’d have no trouble getting in.’ Jean took off her glasses and cleaned each lens with her handkerchief. ‘With Tom … gone there’s nothing to stop you coming home now.’

  ‘This is not what I want to talk about. Jacqueline—’

  ‘Is really upset about Tom,’ Jean butted in. Mary had a sense that she was being warned off. ‘She’s having all sorts of nightmares. Sometimes she’s mixing bad dreams up with things that have actually happened.’

  She knows what I’m going to say. Mary was determined to keep calm but her voice still trembled when she spoke. ‘Is that what’s she’s doing when she tells me Patrick’s hit you?’

  There was a silent plea in Jean’s eyes. ‘Mary…’

  ‘Is she mixing that up?’ Mary stressed the words. ‘Or has he actually hit you?’

  Jean slid off the windowsill and stood motionless. ‘Mary…’

  ‘Has he?’ She knew the answer, saw the humiliation in her friend’s eyes. She moved swiftly from the sofa and grabbed Jean’s arms. ‘You have to tell me. Is it true?’

  Jean lowered her head.

  ‘Oh Jean.’ The distress merged with the rush of rage. ‘I am so sorry.’ She gathered her in her arms, frightened by the ferocity of her friend’s sobs. ‘It’ll be all right. We’ll sort something out. You can stay here as long as you want.’ Mary ignored the sudden vision of Peter’s reaction; he’d understand when she explained. ‘As long as you want,’ she said again.