But Sara did worry. The Dimarcos’ distress at her seeing another man filled Sara with guilt, too, and Raymond’s hurt confusion at her rebuff only made her feel worse.
‘What’s changed, Sara?’ he asked in desperation, catching her outside the parlour one day.
‘Nothing,’ Sara replied irritably. ‘You just expected too much from me.’
‘I don’t expect anything,’ Raymond said, ‘but I care for you and I don’t like to see you unhappy like this. You seemed to be - you know - getting over…’
‘I’ll never get over Joe’s death!’ Sara snapped.
Raymond looked at her with wounded blue eyes, his handsomely wolfish face colouring.
‘No, you won’t,’ he said quietly. ‘I was daft to hope you might.’
Sara looked at him unhappily, wanting him to be angry and not to give in to the pressure under which she had bowed. But he went, hunched in sadness, and did not call at Pit Street again.
***
On May 8th Sara did not go out to celebrate the joyous news that the war in Europe was over and the Germans had surrendered. While Rosa went out to join in the street parties and stand over the bonfires of blackout material, Sara stayed quietly at home with the other Dimarcos and shared a toast to absent friends over a bottle of Arturo’s bitter homemade parsnip wine.
‘To the partisans who strung up Mussolini!’ Arturo gave another toast.
‘To the end of Hitler!’ Elvira joined in, already tipsy.
‘To the return of Davide and Domenica,’ Anna said quietly.
Sara exchanged looks with Sylvia and saw the sadness on the small woman’s face. Only they, of all the family, knew what it was like to be widowed. It was clear the next few weeks and months would bring a flood of husbands and sons and daughters returning to their families in ecstatic reunions, but they would only relive the pain of losing Paolo and Joe. Sara got up abruptly and went over and kissed Sylvia on the cheek. Before anyone could question her gesture, Sara retreated to bed, snuggling down beside her sleeping son for comfort, thankful for his warm, peaceful, trusting presence.
Wilfred Parkin was one of the first prisoners to return to Whitton Grange at the end of the war, his camp liberated by the 9th battalion of the DLI. A welcome-home committee was set up by friends and neighbours and a party laid on at his home in Hawthorn Street which was bedecked in patriotic bunting. A thin, bewildered, but cheerful Wilfred was greeted by his family and neighbours and a nervous Hilda.
‘What if we don’t get on?’ Hilda had asked Louie fearfully that morning. ‘I hardly remember what he looks like.’
‘Stop worrying,’ Louie retorted, ‘and make the lad feel at home.’
To Louie’s relief, Hilda and Wilfred at least put on a show of being happily reunited, however awkward they felt in private. She was more concerned about her subdued nephew Raymond, who had lost his cheerfulness in recent weeks and spent his free time up at the allotment instead of with his friends. She knew his unhappiness was due to his parting with Sara and Louie wished there was something she could do to cheer him up.
‘You’ll be looking forward to your mam coming home,’ Louie smiled, handing Raymond a plate of drop scones to take next door to the Parkins. ‘She’ll be bringing that American with her, will she?’
‘Aaron?’ Raymond grunted. ‘I suppose so.’
‘He must be special if he’s passed Iris’s inspection,’ Louie said wryly. ‘I’ve never met an American before. What’s he like?’
‘Canny,’ Raymond answered, ‘and he’s got plenty money, so Mam’s happy twice over.’
Louie gave Raymond a playful cuff. ‘Don’t be cheeky about your mam,’ she scolded, but was pleased to see a smile return to Raymond’s drawn, handsome face.
In July, Iris returned to Whitton Grange the day after the General Election and was annoyed to find the Ritson household more concerned with the Labour landslide than her dramatic appearance with her sophisticated American. She had not seen Sam Ritson so galvanised with excitement for years.
‘Labour have taken every seat in the county, every bloody seat!’ he cried, cock-a-hoop. ‘By heck, it’s the dawning of a new era for the working classes.’
The easy-going Aaron showed his surprise. ‘I can’t believe you Brits have kicked old Churchill out after he’s won the war for you. You’re all crazy.’
‘He was the right man for the job in wartime,’ Sam admitted, ‘but God help us if he’d ended up running Britain in peace time. The country’s had enough of Tory bosses putting us down. And Churchill’s one of them, after all.’
Aaron looked bewildered as he passed around his cigarettes.
Louie explained. ‘Churchill was no friend to the pitmen when he broke the General Strike in ‘26. He and the other Tories supported the coalowners and we suffered for years as a result.’
‘Aye, but now we’ve got Attlee and a Labour government who’ll nationalise the pits. It’s the beginning of a golden age for British coal and us pitmen - an industry worth working for.’ Sam’s eyes shone with joy as he looked across at Louie, still intoxicated by the news. Louie smiled back fondly, so happy for Sam and their own people.
‘Aaron hasn’t come here for a lesson in British politics,’ Iris said testily, ‘we’ve got something more important to celebrate.’
Louie put down her mending and saw Raymond pause in his game of cards with Malcolm.
‘What’s that, Mam?’ Raymond asked.
‘Aaron and I are going to be married. Isn’t that wonderful?’ Iris’s attractively made-up face beamed at them all.
‘Congratulations!’ Louie spoke first and gave her sister-in-law a kiss.
‘Aye, all the best,’ Sam followed, shaking the American by the hand. They all turned for Raymond’s reaction. For a moment he hesitated, then stood up and went to hug his mother.
‘I’m pleased, Mam,’ he smiled and kissed her, ‘I really am.’ Still with his arm about her he said to Aaron, ‘I hope you’ll make me mam happy - she deserves it.’
‘She sure does,’ Aaron smiled at Iris. ‘But she’ll only be completely happy if you agree to do something too.’
‘What’s that?’ Raymond asked.
‘Come with us to America,’ Iris urged excitedly. ‘Raymond, we’ll start a new life together just like I always promised we would.’ Iris laughed at the gawping faces around her. ‘I mean it - and Aaron wants you to come, too.’
‘Yeah,’ Aaron nodded. ‘I’m not short of a bob or two, as you English say. We could start something up together - a family business - while your mom becomes a famous movie star,’ he joked. ‘The climate’s good in California and my family live near the beach - you’ll love it. What d’you say, partner?’
‘You’ll never need to work underground again, Raymond pet,’ Iris smiled and ruffled his auburn hair.
Raymond was astounded by the suggestion, quite speechless at the dream life being waved before him. It would mean never having to labour underground again in the dark and wet of a cramped pit, not seeing the daylight for hours on end. His mind filled with glamorous images of America gleaned from films at The Palace. It was more than tempting. He looked at Louie and Sam for their opinion.
‘It sounds a grand offer,’ Sam grunted.
‘Aye, why don’t you sleep on the idea?’ Louie suggested, not wanting to show her dismay at the thought of Raymond going so far away. But if that was what he wanted to do, she would never stand in his way, Louie told herself firmly. She loved him like her own and all she wanted was that her nephew would be happy.
‘Well, don’t take too long,’ Iris wagged a finger, “cos Aaron’s going back home shortly and I’ll be following him out.’
Sara sat in the sheltered backyard on Nonna Maria’s old bench, peeling carrots and watching Paul tottering around Elvira’s vegetable patch after his cousin Peter, while Linda attempted to teach Mary to skip. Rosa sat beside her, fidgeting with a piece of crochet, the perfume of late summer roses filling the air.
‘When shall I tell them?’ Rosa asked. Sara put down her knife and raised her face to the late afternoon sun, sensing her friend’s nervousness.
‘You should tell them soon, Rosa. No point putting it off,’ Sara advised, wondering how Anna and Arturo would respond to the startling news that Malcolm and Rosa had decided to marry. She was pleased for them, but worried that Malcolm would experience the same resistance from Rosa’s parents as she had.
There had been a rash of weddings that summer as men returned to the village and started new lives in the euphoria of victory. Sara was thankful that at least Malcolm wanted to stay on at the Eleanor and train as an engineer, so Rosa would not be leaving Whitton Grange for the moment - unless the Dimarcos’ attitude drove them away. For Sara was sure of one thing, Rosa would not allow her parents to stand in the way of her happiness this time. She herself felt set adrift and aimless now that all the war work had stopped and people were already building new lives for themselves. Elvira had returned to Sunderland to prepare a homecoming for her husband Davide, finally released from captivity, and for Albina and Benito returning from their army jobs. Domenica had written to say she and Pasquale would be returning to Britain as soon as they could, making Anna impatient with excitement to see her two unknown grandchildren.
Brother Tom had written from Greece to say he would be demobbed and home before Christmas and was longing to see her again. Sara treasured her brother’s letters, but knew the reunion would be a painful one as he was a last tangible link with Joe, a comrade who had seen him before he was killed.
‘We’ll live nearby, I promise,’ Rosa said, watching Sara’s pale, taut face framed by her fair hair, glinting gold in the sunlight.
Sara turned and gave her friend a wan smile. ‘I know and I’m glad. I’d hate to think of you going away. Paul would miss you so much, too.’
‘That’s not what’s worrying you is it?’ Rosa said quietly. ‘It’s the thought of Raymond going away.’
Sara gulped, trying to hide her sadness. Rosa was right; the news from Louie that Raymond was going to emigrate to America with Iris and her new husband had come as a heavy blow. She could not blame him for wanting to start a new and exciting life away from the grimy pit village of his birth and she had heard stories of America’s vastness and wealth, a land of opportunity for the young and eager. She had given him no reason to stay.
‘I’ve no right to be so miserable over him, but I am,’ Sara whispered. ‘He’s been such a good friend.’
‘Tell him how you feel,’ Rosa urged, ‘before it’s too late.’
Sara shook her head. ‘I couldn’t stand in the way of such a chance,’ she replied, ‘it wouldn’t be fair. If that’s what he wants to do, I’ll not be the one to stop him.’
Rosa sighed with impatience, but their argument was cut short by the appearance of a man at the yard gate. He was square-shouldered with a weathered, bronzed face, cracked in the centre by a bushy moustache. He wore an old-fashioned suit and his hair was cropped short under a battered trilby hat.
‘Is it Domenica?’ he queried, beaming at Rosa.
‘Rosa,’ she answered, half rising. The children gathered round to stare.
‘It’s no?’ he cried. ‘You’ve grown that bloody much since I seen you. You were just a wean. D’you no mind me?’
A half memory stirred as Rosa stammered, ‘Sorry, I don’t remember…’
‘Your Uncle Gino, that’s who I bloody am!’ he laughed and swung her into a firm embrace.
Gino’s appearance had the effect of a minor earthquake in the Dimarco household. Arturo clung on to his long-lost brother as if he were a ghost who might dissolve into thin air once more and Anna forgave all his past misdemeanours and prepared a feast of pasta and fresh vegetables. Gino explained how, after the sinking of the Arandora Star, he had been picked up in the Atlantic and returned to Liverpool, only to be shipped out almost immediately to Australia, where he had spent the last years as a lumberjack.
‘I wrote once,’ Gino insisted, ‘but I’m no bloody journalist.’
‘Why didn’t you try and come back sooner? Did they keep you interned all this time?’ Arturo asked.
‘I was no going to risk another bloody voyage,’ Gino was scornful. ‘The first time the Nazis blow us out the water, the next we end up wi’ dysentery. Soldiers treated us like pig shit, d’you ken?’
Anna gave him a disapproving look.
‘Awfy good pasta, Anna,’ Gino smiled and let Sylvia help him to some more.
They spent the evening exchanging news and stories and Arturo and Gino stayed up half the night talking while they emptied two bottles of wine. Arturo told his brother he could stay as long as he wanted, but by the end of the following week, the women were tiring of his raucous presence. The wayward Gino was eating and drinking away their meagre rations with no signs of wanting to leave.
Rosa and Malcolm chose this moment to declare their intention to marry.
‘Another stranger in the family!’ Anna protested to her husband once they were alone.
Arturo sighed. ‘At least this Scots boy wants to marry our Rosa and give Mary a proper father. It’s more than that devil Emilio Fella was prepared to do.’
‘He might still return…’ Anna was stubborn.
‘Anna!’ Arturo lost his patience. ‘You would wait for ever for that terrible man? I would not have him under my roof - and neither would Rosa.’
Anna covered her fraught face with her hands. Just when life appeared to be getting back to normal and she was full of anticipation at Domenica’s return, the wretched Gino had turned up to disrupt their lives and now Rosa’s sudden announcement … Anna shook her head as if she could empty it of problems. But deep down she was not surprised that Rosa and Malcolm wanted to marry, she had witnessed their growing tenderness for each other and she knew the fair Scotsman loved her daughter and young Mary. She would accept him, if only because he would make Rosa’s situation respectable again.
‘Perhaps we could ask them to wait a while longer…’ Anna said.
‘That young man knows his own mind, Anna,’ Arturo said sternly. ‘He will not wait. Do you want our Rosa to blame us a second time for standing in the way of her marrying?’
Anna shook her head. Arturo was silently thankful to see his wife capitulate over the drama. He was far more concerned about the aggravation his brother Gino was causing among his family. So, distracted by the domestic crisis caused by Gino’s continuing presence, Arturo gave his consent to the marriage without protest.
‘You will have to tell him to go,’ Anna told her husband in bed one night, kept awake by the wireless music Gino was listening to.
‘He’s my brother, he saved my life,’ Arturo protested, half-heartedly.
‘And he has a home in Glasgow and that woman he’s been living with who must think he’s dead,’ Anna reminded him sharply. ‘He’s taking advantage of your good nature, Arturo, as always.’
Arturo sighed. He had been overjoyed to see his brother return from the dead, but he knew Anna was right. They all had to try and rebuild their lives as best they could and for Gino that meant returning to Glasgow. If not, the fragile regrowth in his own business and family happiness might be blighted beyond repair.
‘I’ll speak with him soon,’ Arturo promised and buried his head under his pillow to muffle the strains of Vera Lynn singing about meeting again.
A deluge of rain caused the opening match of the new football season to be cancelled and Raymond returned home, thwarted from playing his final match. He had handed in his notice at the pit and worked his final shift. In a couple of days he would be travelling to Liverpool to meet Iris and sail with her for America.
Louie occupied herself making him a pair of dark trousers out of an old coat of Jacob’s for him to travel in. She looked up as he tramped across the uneven doorstep, soaked and stony-faced.
‘Match off?’ she guessed.
‘Aye, I told you it wouldn’t be worth coming to watch,’ he grumbled
.
‘Don’t look so twisty faced,’ Louie said. ‘You won’t be bothered by the rain in America. Iris says it’s sunshine all the time where Aaron lives.’
‘Aye, well that makes no difference, ‘cos they don’t play football either, according to Aaron,’ Raymond snorted. ‘Least, not what we’d call football.’
Louie put down her sewing and looked hard at her restless nephew. It was just a hunch, but she decided to speak her mind before it was too late. ‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,’ she spoke gently. ‘Iris would understand.’
‘I’ve burned me boats now,’ Raymond answered ruefully. ‘Packed me job in, said me goodbyes.’
‘You haven’t said all your goodbyes,’ Louie persisted. ‘What about Sara? You can’t leave without seeing her.’
Raymond fought to control his emotions. ‘I’ll write a letter when I’m on my way.’
‘Don’t be so daft!’ Louie replied roundly. ‘If you care for the lass go and see her instead of moping around like a wet rag.’
Raymond looked up in astonishment at his aunt’s sudden attack. ‘That won’t change anything,’ he defended himself. ‘She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me. I’m not Joe and I can’t stand in a dead man’s shoes. I’m not like me father who didn’t think twice about going after any woman he fancied. I care for Sara too much to treat her like that.’
‘Don’t you criticise your father,’ Louie said angrily. ‘He had more guts than you’re showing, Raymond Kirkup. He stood by your mam when she was pregnant with you and unmarried. He may have had his faults but our Davie had a loving nature - he was one of the best. He’d have gone to Sara long ago and shown her that he loved her. Of course she thought the world of Joe - but he’s dead and he’s never coming back. That lass is too loving not to marry again - and if it’s to someone else and not you, Raymond, then it’ll be your own doing.’
Raymond jumped up in agitation. ‘All right!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll go and see her, even though I know she’ll turn me down. But I’ll risk being made a fool of just to keep you happy.’
Durham Trilogy 02. The Darkening Skies Page 47