Northern Girl

by Fadette Marie Marcelle Cripps

  Evenwood, England

  Sunday, 9 December 1945

  ‘I thought you’d come,’ Hannah smiled, answering the back door.

  Norah Atkins from No. 1 bustled into the scullery excitedly. ‘Ah’ve got a message fer yer, lass!’

  And before Hannah could even shut the door, Norah said, ‘It’s from your Tom. ’Eee phoned earlier this mornin’, and said yer ter be at my house be five and twenty past eleven, and ’ee’ll phone yer with some news at half past!’

  ‘Can ah come too, Gran?’ piped up Jeannie, who was on her third attempt to toast a slice of bread on the kitchen fire without setting it alight.

  ‘Well, ah s’ppose so, but ’ee won’t have much time ter talk, yer know. It’ll cost ’im a fortune as it is, cause ah don’t expect that lass in France has got a phone in her house yer know. So ah don’t know where he’ll be phonin’ from.’

  ‘Ah promise ah’ll just talk to ’im very quick, Gran.’

  ‘All right, pet, we’ll see, eh?’

  Hannah looked at the grandfather clock, and opened the door at the front to make sure that the chains holding the weights were fully wound up, while Jeannie stood in front swinging her head from side to side with the motion of the pendulum.

  ‘Quarter past ten,’ Hannah said anxiously, looking at Norah. ‘It’s just as well ah thought of giving Tom yer phone number before he went away, Norah, even though ’ee thought he’d never use it.’ She was so grateful that there was someone on her street who could afford a telephone in their house.

  ‘Ah wonder what ’ee’s got ter tell yer?’ Norah asked. Hannah wondered the same. Though she had an inkling he was going to bring that French lass back with him, she couldn’t think why he’d want to talk to her about it first.

  ‘Ah’ll away back ’ome,’ Norah said, ‘and get the kettle on. Ah’ve got a feelin we’re goin’ ter be needin’ a cup of tea after.’ She looked sympathetically at Hannah’s anxious face. She’d let herself out and was off through the lines of backyard laundry before Hannah had time to move.

  Exactly one hour later, Jeannie and Hannah arrived at Norah’s house. It was a quarter past eleven on the dot, and they sat there on her over-stuffed settee, barely able to contain their excitement. When the phone finally rang, all three jumped off their cushions. Norah rushed to pick up the bakelite receiver.

  ‘Long-distance call from France to Evenwood 497,’ said the operator’s shrill, tinny voice, clear enough to be heard by the others.

  ‘Yes … yes,’ Norah replied. Then, suddenly, her voice altered, and Hannah and Jeannie heard her exclaim, ‘Eee, Tom, fancy makin’ a phone call all the way from France, lad!’ He was so far away that she shouted, to make sure he could hear. ‘Ah’ll hand yer over ter yer ma, then, shall ah?’ She listened in case he said anything else, then gave the phone to Hannah.

  Both Jeannie and Mrs Atkins watched Hannah intently. Tom’s deep voice was only a murmur. They couldn’t make out what he was saying. And Hannah, only interspersing the silence with an occasional ‘yes’, didn’t give any clue, either, as to what the conversation might be about. Finally she said, ‘All right, lad. If that’s how you want it, that’s how it’ll have ter be. You take care then, and we’ll see you soon.’

  Jeannie, worried that her gran was going to put the phone down, started jumping up and down in front of her, imploring, ‘Let me talk, Gran!’ Hannah handed over the receiver, and, without a word, flopped down on to the settee and stared at the fire. Norah pushed the kettle further into the coals, deciding that this was definitely time for that comforting cup of tea. She got out her best china, with the yellow roses on, and after pouring boiling water on the loose leaves, said, ‘We’ll leave it ter mash fer a minute,’ handing a plate of silver-foil-wrapped biscuits to Hannah, who was listening in on Jeannie’s rather grown-up conversation with Tom.

  ‘Don’t yer realize that yer’ve had me gran worried sick, our Tom?’ she was saying.

  Tom was speaking louder now, and Hannah distinctly heard him answer jovially, ‘Hey! Who do you think you are, me mam?’

  ‘No, ah don’t! But Gran is, and you should ’ave let ’er know what was goin’ on.’

  ‘All right, keep your hair on. She knows now, doesn’t she?’ Tom’s voice said. And before Jeannie could ask what he was talking about, he had changed the subject. ‘You don’t know what you’ve been missing here, young lass!’

  ‘What? What ’ave ah missed?’

  ‘Oh, it’ll keep till ah get home!’ he teased.

  ‘’Urry up and get back ’ere, then! It’s nearly Christmas, fer God’s sake!’

  ‘Jeannie!’ Hannah called out, shocked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t blaspheme like that!’

  Jeannie, shaking the phone, asked, ‘Why’s the phone makin’ a buzzin’ noise, Gran?’

  ‘You’ve probably been cut off, lass.’

  ‘But ah hadn’t finished with ’im! An’ anyway, ah wasn’t blast-feemin’, Gran, but he does make me vexed, sometimes, our Tom. He’s always messin’ about.’

  ‘Well, ’ee’s not messin’ about this time, pet,’ she told Jeannie. Then she added, ‘No. he’s dead serious this time!’

  Chapter 25

  Evenwood, England

  Monday, 10 June 1946

  Almost six months had passed since that phone call between Tom and Hannah. Two hectic weeks later, involving a civil marriage ceremony and a blessing in a Catholic church, Tom had come back to England alone.

  Hannah had been alarmed and worried by what he’d told her on the phone at Norah Atkins’s. Here was her only son, set on marrying a lass none of them had met, and a foreigner to boot! What if the new lass didn’t fit in? What if she didn’t think the house at Glamis Terrace was good enough? How would they even communicate? All these thoughts, jumbling round her head, worried her senseless at first. But, after talking things over with Jack and their Rene, she’d calmed down.

  ‘It’s just that ah always thought ah’d be there when our Tom married,’ she’d said, wiping a tear from her eye. Rene understood only too well what was going on in her mother’s thoughts, because she had the same worries. But she wasn’t going to let Hannah know that.

  Jeannie, overhearing a bit of all this, piped up, ‘Ah’ll be friends with ’er! And ah’ll look after the new bairn!’

  Tom was a changed man. He’d gone straight to the pit, and started work at the bricklaying job he’d been offered the week before, planning to go back over to France and fetch Maddie and the bairn once he got himself established. He knew it was going to take time and dedication, but, he told himself, the bairn wouldn’t be born for a while yet, so he had time to prove himself. Also, there’d be a bit more room in the house once their Rene moved to Bishop Auckland.

  Rene was absolutely insistent they were going, even though Jeannie kicked up about it. Rene did manage to win Jeannie round a bit by reminding her that she couldn’t let her new friend Ian down, now that she’d promised to teach him how to talk like a proper Northerner. So, with permission to invite Ian over for tea on the first Sunday after they’d moved in, Jeannie relented. ‘As long as ah can be at me gran’s on the day that Tom’s new missis and bairn arrive, mind!’ She wasn’t going to give way on that.

  Madeleine sent some photographs of the wedding over to England, and after studying them, the whole family agreed she looked nice enough. Madeleine was sure Tom’s family would be as curious about her as she was about them. So the photos were a way of introducing herself, and in return she asked Tom to send her some pictures of the Dawsons. He borrowed a camera from his mate Harry, and Jeannie helped him, and they had a lot of fun with it, including pictures of Hannah half-hidden behind a line of drying smalls – and, their favourite – Jack caught unawares, coming in the back gate covered in coal-dust and shaking his fist in mock-annoyance.

  Unusually for Hannah, she was sitting down, duster in hand, when she heard Tom whistling as he came in the back door from the yard.

 
‘Eee, pet!’ She jumped up. ‘Ah was just havin’ a bit of a sit-down before you and yer da got in from work. And here you are already. Ah’d lost track of the time.’

  ‘Mam, there’s no need to excuse yourself cause you’re having a rest. Now, you sit yourself back down.’ He led her gently to the couch. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’

  ‘No more shocks, ah hope?’ she smiled, flopping down.

  He sat opposite her. ‘Nah, nowt like that.’ He looked across at her from under his brows, and grinned.

  ‘Come on, then, out with it!’ She flapped the duster at him impatiently.

  ‘Ooh, it’s nowt much. Just that I’ve been promoted to site manager.’

  ‘Eee, our Tom! Site manager! Aw lad, ah’m that pleased for yer! That’ll mean a bit more money then, will it?’

  ‘Aye, a bit, but I’ll have to prove myself before they give us a decent rise, like.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll do it, lad. Ah know yer will.’ She patted his arm. ‘Eee, two managers in the family!’

  ‘Aye, what will our Rene have to say about that, I wonder?’ Tom stuck his jaw out, striking an attitude of mock-superiority. He moved over next to Hannah on the couch. ‘Of course, you know what this means now, don’t you?’ He chose his words carefully.

  ‘Yes, lad, ah do. It means yer can bring that poor lass and the bairn over here sooner than yer thought.’

  ‘I’ve got to say I’m feeling a bit nervous about it, mind!’ Tom confessed.

  ‘Well, imagine what it’ll be like fer her. Comin’ over here to a country she doesn’t know, ter live with folks she’s never met and probably won’t be able ter talk to very much, none of us having each other’s language, like.’

  ‘She knows a bit more English now than she did when I first met her. And I reckon she’ll learn quick.’

  ‘Well, ah hope yer right, lad. Otherwise it’s goin’ ter be very hard for her, what with bein’ so far from her mam an’ all.’

  Tom patted Hannah’s arm as he got up to poke the fire. ‘Eee, you’re such a worrier, Mam! She’ll be fine, you’ll see.’ He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince most: Hannah or himself. Then, suddenly remembering some unfinished business, he said, ‘I hope Jessie’s not going to be a pain in the arse to her.’

  ‘Well, ah wouldn’t expect her ter be friendly,’ Hannah answered, equally concerned. ‘She took it very badly, yer know, when yer finished with her, like!’

  ‘Aw, Mam, that was months ago, surely she must be used to it by now!’

  ‘Well, ah wouldn’t bank on it!’ Hannah said with some certainty. ‘She might be just biding her time, yer know.’

  She’d never forget how Jessie had come barging into the house on the very day Tom had returned from France. Why he’d hardly had chance to draw breath, and there she was in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, yelling her head off. He’d chucked his case down and dragged her out into the backyard.

  Hannah hadn’t been able to avoid hearing what was said. In the end she’d watched them through the scullery window. She’d felt a pang of sorrow for Jessie. Particularly when the yelling had suddenly stopped, to be replaced by what could only be described as a look of pure horror on Jessie’s face, Hannah, knowing that Tom had just told Jessie he was married, had blinked back tears at the sight. Because, for all her gobbiness, she knew that underneath Jessie did have a heart, and was a decent lass. Hannah had always had a soft spot for her, and she’d been like one of the family for years. But, at the same time, she’d had often sensed that the relationship was doomed.

  Hannah had watched as Tom tried to take hold of Jessie’s hand while he explained what had happened, but Jessie would have none of it, and violently pushed him away before running out of the gate and down the back lane. Worryingly, they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since. I hope she’s not storing it all up to make a nuisance of herself when the lass and her bairn come over from France, Hannah thought – and not for the first time, either.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Tom asked, wondering what she was worrying about now.

  ‘Oh, it’s nowt!’ she answered, quickly changing the subject. ‘When d’yer think you’ll go, lad?’ she asked.

  ‘The bairn won’t be born for another couple of weeks, so I’ll have a word with me boss to give him plenty of warning that I’ll be needing a few days off. I reckon it’ll be as soon as he can spare me, probably in the next month or so.’

  ‘Ah can get a cot fer the bairn from Mrs Atkins’s daughter, because she’s moved her bairn into a proper bed now that she’s getting bigger,’ Hannah offered.

  ‘Oh, aye?’ Tom answered, only half paying attention while an idea began to form in his head. Hannah continued, oblivious, ‘We’ll have to get the beddin’ and all that new, though, yer know,’ she said, trying to make the point that he was going to have to fork out at least some money. ‘This new wife of yours won’t be too happy with all second-hand stuff, lad. She’ll want new, yer know. You’ll have ter take her into Bishop as soon as yer can to buy some proper stuff, our Tom—’

  ‘Ay, Mam,’ said Tom, cutting her short as he pulled her up from the couch in his excitement. ‘Give it a rest for a minute, will you? I’ve an idea.’

  ‘Oh aye, and what might that be?’ Hannah looked doubtful.

  ‘Well, d’you remember that conversation you had with Mrs Hurd a few weeks back about old Jake, and him dying sudden, like?’

  ‘Yes. What about it?’ she asked, puzzled now.

  ‘Well, I wandered past Jake’s house after, just being curious, like. Anyway there was a couple of chaps there, clearing the place out, and I asked them what was going to happen to it, and they said it’d probably stand empty till some builder or suchlike came along to do it up.’

  ‘Aye, well, I expect it will. So what about it, anyway?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Think about it, Mam. If that house is standing empty, well, who better to fill it than me, Maddie and the bairn?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’ Hannah suddenly stopped in her tracks. She gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, our Tom! You’d never afford a house like that! Why, it’s got two bedrooms, if ah remember right, along with a kitchen and livin’ room, and a proper garden with trees in it!’

  ‘Yes, ah know, Mam. But it’s in a hell of a state, so it might be cheap. It’ll need doing up an’ all that, and I could do the work, couldn’t I? But in the meanwhile, I reckon a bit of painting would make it OK. I’ll just have ter find a way to get the money … Maybe I could rent it – to start with, like!’

  He pulled a couple of grainy, yellowed photographs from his inside pocket, and showed them to Hannah. ‘Look, I picked these up from a pile of stuff that was being chucked out while ah was there. I didn’t know why I wanted them at the time, but I think I do now.’

  Was this really her son talking? Hannah, dumbfounded, sat on the nearest chair.

  Bishop Auckland, England

  Sunday, 28 July 1946

  ‘Mam! Mam! Ah’ve brought Ee-an ’ome for ’is tea!’ Jeannie came running through the shop.

  ‘Jeannie! What have I told you about running through the shop and shouting like a … a fisherwoman?’

  ‘Oh, ah’m sorry, Mam, but there’s no customers in on a Sunder, is there?’ Jeannie said, crouching down and lifting the curtain of one of the three fitting rooms to peer inside.

  The day is “Sunday”, Jeannie, not “Sunder”. And this is not your “’ome”, but your “home”.’ She gave Jeannie a meaningful look, then, smiling apologetically at Ian, said, ‘Oh, just get yourselves upstairs, I’ll be up in a minute.’ Jeannie’s grammar had got even worse since they’d moved to Bishop Auckland, Rene thought.

  ‘Do you think you could finish up in here, Hilda?’ she asked her under-manager.

  ‘No problem,’ Hilda said, surfacing from under the pile of coats that she’d been unpacking ready for the first day of the sales. ‘Una will help me, she’s just gone to powder her nose, like. And ah’ll tell yer what, ah’m glad we decided to come
in today to do all this unpacking. It’d be a right carry-on if we’d left it till Monday, like we were goin’ to.’

  ‘You’re right there, Hilda. Thanks for coming in. I do appreciate it, you know.’

  ‘Oh, ah know that, Rene. Mind you, ah wouldn’t do it fer just anybody, like,’ Hilda said. ‘But yer a fair boss, and we want ter be fair ter you in return.’

  Rene nodded towards her. ‘Thanks,’ was all she managed after such a compliment.

  Before she even turned to go up the stairs she could hear crackling and whistling sounds coming from the wireless. The odd burst of Glenn Miller, interspersed with a comedy show and snatches of the news fading in and out, reminded Rene that it had been a mistake buying a second-hand wireless: she should have bought brand new. But there’d been so many bits and pieces to buy when she’d moved in, that a wireless had been low on her priorities. Had she realized just how much pleasure Jeannie and herself, for that matter, would get from it, she would definitely have given it more priority.

  She walked into the sitting room and there they both were, Jeannie and Ian, kneeling in front of it each desperately twiddling the knobs. Jeannie looked over her shoulder as her mother came in.

  ‘We’re trying ter get the thing ter work, Mam! But the needle thing that goes on the programmes keeps getting stuck,’ she exclaimed in frustration. ‘Ee-an wants ter listen ter his favourite comedy programme, but the needle won’t seem ter stop at t’ right place.’

  Rene, her arms folded, stopped and observed with a grin, ‘Oh girl, what am I going to do with you? Move over, and let’s have a look at it.’ She crouched down beside them.

  ‘Ah’ve put the beans in a pan ready ter heat up, and shall ah make some to-ast, Mam?’

  ‘I think you mean “toast”, Jeannie,’ Rene sighed, in her relentless quest to improve her daughter’s speech.

  Jeannie understood, and sighed. ‘Yes, Mam, ah mean “toast”.’

  Ian was tipping his prize marbles from a small drawstring bag on to the brightly coloured clippie rug in the middle of the polished wooden floor, and didn’t seem to take any notice of the exchanges between Jeannie and her mother.