by Maggie Hope
They sat silent for a while, watching the flames lick round the pan on the fire. She ought to be with her family at a time like this, he thought. And he had the cause to think about. It occupied all of his time. There was talk of the yearly bond being abolished.
Eliza got to her feet and took the pan from the fire and out to the back yard to drain the water from it. Coming back in, she took a pat of the pork dripping she had been given by the butcher and chopped the cabbage and mixed in the fat and salt and pepper. She was still not hungry but she felt she had to force the food down. It was a sin to waste food and she needed to eat to be able continue the search.
Surprisingly, after the first few mouthfuls her appetite returned and she was able to finish what was on her plate. Peter made a pot of tea and there was sugar to go into it. Eliza began to revive a little. A restless energy filled her now she had eaten; Jack might be back home and Thomas with him.
‘I should come. I promise I’ll keep out of the way. It would be safer,’ said Peter and Eliza sighed.
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
It was almost dark by the time the two of them set off. All the way there Eliza was buoyed up by the thought that she would see Thomas soon; he would be back. But as they approached the house she saw that it was quite dark within, no light shone through the net curtain and she was plunged into disappointment.
‘How will you get in?’ Peter asked her.
‘The back way. The gate to the yard will be open and I can get in the window, it doesn’t lock.’
‘Are you sure? Only I can’t afford to be caught helping you, it could be considered an offence. How the mine owners would love it if I were caught committing a crime! It would discredit the union.’
It was true and Eliza knew it. ‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry,’ she replied. ‘I’m so grateful to you for what you’ve done for me already.’ They were speaking in low tones just above a whisper. ‘Go now,’ she went on. ‘I can get in. And Jack will come back, I know it. I’ll have Thomas back with me, I will.’
‘If you don’t, think about going to your parents,’ he said as he handed her the basket box he had been carrying for her, before turning away. ‘Promise me you will think about it.’
Eliza nodded and watched as his tall figure disappeared into the smoky dark that had descended. She slipped down the narrow back street until she came to a gate leading into the tiny back yard of the house, glancing up at the neighbouring windows. The bedroom windows were still dark, though within half an hour the residents would be going to bed, she knew. Then she tried the small sash window by the door.
It wouldn’t budge at first but after a moment or two it gave an inch then stuck. She heaved at it to no avail, then looked round for a piece of wood or anything that would provide some leverage. There were some logs in the corner but nothing suitable for what she had in mind and in an agony of frustration she forced her fingers through the gap at the bottom and gave it one last heave. The window flew up with a cracking noise and she paused for a moment in case anyone came to investigate, but no one did. She heaved her basket box inside. Hitching up her skirts, she climbed over the sill and at last she was in.
There was usually a candlestick on the shelf near the door that connected to the living room, she remembered. She felt around the wall with her fingers until she came to it. There was even a box of lucifers beside the candlestick and she struck one and lit the stub of candle.
The room was bare; only a small deal table and a few packets of dried food on the shelf. There was a cold-water tap on the wall at about knee height and a bucket beneath it. Eliza faltered for a moment for it reminded her of how happy she had been when she and Jack were living there, how he had had water piped into the house for her. No good thinking about those days.
She carried the candle through to the main room. The furniture had changed since she had lived in the house but there was a sofa and a comfortable-looking armchair that was actually padded. A table and four dining chairs stood in the middle of the room. They didn’t look like Jack’s work so he must have had enough money to buy them from a furniture shop. He must have had at least one good win, she thought cynically.
She sat down on the sofa and loosened her shawl. She would wait. Wait until hell froze over if she had to. After a while she blew out the candle and put her feet up on the sofa. She spread her shawl over her hips and legs and closed her eyes.
Jack took the train to Alnwick, changing at Newcastle. He bought a cup of milk for Thomas from a vendor on the station but the little boy refused to drink.
‘Please yourself,’ said Jack shortly. He was heartily sick of playing nursemaid and couldn’t wait to see his mother and get her to take over from him.
Thomas no longer cried. His little face was white and pinched-looking. ‘Mammy?’ he asked Jack. ‘Tot wants Mammy.’ But he appeared to have lost hope that his request might be answered.
‘Aw, shut your mouth about your bloody mammy, will you?’ Jack said savagely and Thomas whimpered then relapsed back into his silence.
When they finally arrived in Alnwick it was almost midnight and Jack had to walk to the house carrying the child, who was at last asleep. He had sent a post message to his mother so there was still a light at the back of the house. This was what he had been expecting and he walked round the side and in through the door leading to the kitchen. His mother had been sitting at the kitchen table and now she rose to her feet.
‘Give me the bairn,’ she said and held out her arms. ‘And keep your voice down, I don’t want Henry to wake up.’
‘He’s bound to know in the morning, Mother,’ said Jack. She had given him no greeting and so he gave her none.
‘Aye, but you’ll be gone by then and he won’t throw the lad out. Any road, I’m taking the cottage down the road for me and Thomas. I’m not going to be a skivvy in this house, indeed no.’
‘I’ll be coming back for him at the end of next week, Mother,’ said Jack.
‘Aye, I know. But you can take your time. I can look after a little lad, can’t I?’ She gazed at her oldest son. By, he had been a disappointment to her and to John Henry. His gambling let him down every time. Well, she reckoned she would be able to turn it to her own advantage.
‘You can’t sleep here yourself,’ she snapped. ‘Go in the barn if you like. Or I’ll give you a sovereign, you can get lodging in the town.’
‘Mother! By, you’re a hard one, you are.’
‘That may be. But I’m having no more upset than I have to over the bairn. You’re best out of the way.’
Jack was so angry he didn’t even look at his son as he turned away and opened the door. ‘Keep your flaming sovereign,’ he hissed. ‘I’m not completely destitute.’
‘No? That is a change then,’ his mother replied. ‘Don’t forget, if you come back it’ll be the cottage just down the lane.’
She watched as Jack disappeared into the dark then put out the lamp and carried Thomas upstairs to her room. He would have to sleep in her bed tonight. Tomorrow she would get the old cradle out of the attic. After all, though John Henry had left the house to his second son he had left her the furniture. She would take what she needed to furnish the cottage. Any road, she thought, it didn’t look as if Henry and his sour-faced wife would be in need of the cradle.
Eliza woke as the first rays of the sun penetrated the window of the living room. She sat up, disorientated, and looked around before she realised where she was. The sunbeams through the window were hazy for the window was mottled with dirt and the net curtain was grey around the sides. It probably hadn’t been washed since Jack came back to the house. Obviously there was no woman coming in to help him, then.
Where was Thomas? Why had Jack taken him away? The familiar desolation filled her. She had to find her boy, she had to. But she couldn’t go out and look for him in case Jack came back with him and she missed him again.
Restlessly, Eliza went into the back room. The larder in the corner was about empty but ther
e was a packet of porridge oats on the shelves and a bag of sugar. She lit the fire and cooked some oats in water and sweetened them with a spoonful of sugar. She put the kettle on to boil while she ate the porridge, forcing herself to finish it for she needed the stamina it would give her. The tea caddy was empty but an opened packet of Rington’s tea was on the table. She drank a cup without milk for there was none.
There was no clock on the wall; the candymen had taken the one that used to hang there and no doubt the tenants who came afterwards had taken theirs when they went. But the bells of the churches of the city told her it was already nine o’ clock. Perhaps Jack would come back soon. She stood looking out of the window. The street was just about empty for the men were already at their work and the women would be cleaning the houses. Only a couple of children bowled a hoop up and down the flagged pavement outside, laughing and shouting.
She would clean the window, she decided. It would pass the time until Jack came home and she would see Thomas. Filled with a new energy fuelled by hope she took down the curtain and washed it and hung it in the back yard to dry. She found a wash-leather and scoured the fly dirt off the windowpanes until they sparkled. She barely heard the bells strike ten o’clock.
She was not aware of what time it was when she heard a key in the lock and Jack walked in. She had washed the furniture with vinegar water and polished it until it shone then washed the floors and tidied up the back kitchen. She turned eagerly to the door for the first sight of her child but when Jack walked in he was quite alone.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Jack demanded.
‘Where’s Thomas?’ Eliza asked almost at the same time.
‘Never mind Thomas, I asked you what you were doing here,’ Jack snapped. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I came for the bairn, of course, and you weren’t hard to find,’ said Eliza. ‘Where is he? He must be missing me, he’s never been away from me since he was born.’
‘He’s all right. He’s in a safe place; safer than he was with you.’
‘Jack, how can you say that? A baby is best off with his mother!’
‘Not when his mother is a whore,’ Jack replied, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘Anyway, how did you get in here? Did you think you could worm your way back into my life?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ He was weary from the travelling and lack of sleep and now, seeing Eliza, he was filled with bitterness. Not only bitterness, though. He couldn’t help the old feelings rising in himself. Had she come back because she couldn’t keep away from him? He took an involuntary step towards her.
‘Jack, I did nothing wrong,’ said Eliza. ‘Please let me have Thomas, please.’ She had seen the slight softening in his eyes. Dear God, let him give me my baby back. I’ll do anything, she prayed.
‘You deserted me, your lawful wedded husband,’ Jack reminded her.
‘But you staked me on a wager!’ The retort sprang to Eliza’s lips but she bit it back. She had to if she wanted Thomas returned to her, she had to.
Jack was directly in front of her now and she put out a hand to him. With an oath he took hold of her and brought his mouth to hers so hard that her lips were bruised against her teeth. He held her with one arm while he tore at her dress until he had uncovered a breast and squeezed it ruthlessly.
Eliza gasped and cried out but he was past hearing as he bore her to the floor. He pulled up her skirts and held her while he unbuttoned his flies and entered her with no more ado, heaving himself again and again so that her back was scraping on the floor and pain seared through her.
It was all over in a minute. He lay panting over her then pushed himself away and got to his feet and straightened his clothes. Eliza lay for a few moments, catching her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks but she brushed them away. Wincing as she stood up, she turned to him.
‘What about Thomas?’ she asked.
Jack laughed. ‘Thomas? You thought that would buy you back my son? No, lass, it will not. I told you, Thomas is somewhere safe and he will stay there. You’re not going to see him again. Now, get out of this house, I don’t want to see you again.’
PART TWO
Chapter Sixteen
1869
‘MONDAY, MARCH 1ST,’ Eliza wrote in the ward day book. Her writing was copperplate and easy to read as she had been taught in the Methodist literacy class five years ago now. She paused after writing the date as she did every day, for every day it reminded her of how long she had been separated from Thomas. Today was special however, today was Thomas’s seventh birthday. Dear God, where was he? She prayed he would be safe and well. He would have forgotten her but that didn’t matter so long as he was well.
After a moment or two she continued writing up the history of the last twelve hours of each patient in the ward.
‘Bed no. 1: Alice Donavan, age thirty-three,’ she wrote. ‘The patient slept poorly. Complained of pain in her chest. Tincture of digitalis 5 minims administered at 2am according to doctor’s instructions. A little brighter this morning. Took a little light breakfast of coddled egg.’
Alice Donavan was not going to go home to her ten children and miner husband. Alice’s heart was close to giving up altogether, worn out as it was with hard work, childbearing and a poor diet. Of course she didn’t know that, or didn’t admit it. Alice lived for the day she saw her children again but they weren’t allowed to visit her in hospital. Her husband had brought them to the window near her bed so that they could wave to her but she had been so upset when they went he was frightened to do it again.
‘Bed no. 2,’ Eliza wrote. ‘Betsy Jane Hopper.’ She stayed as she was about to write, ‘Prolapse of uterus,’ and looked up as there was a knock at the door and Nurse Jones came in. Nurse Jones was the day nurse and her relief. Eliza immediately felt guilty for she was late with the report. There had been an admission during the night, a woman haemorrhaging copiously from a knife wound to the upper arm. Sarah Brown lived only a few streets away from the hospital, a fact that probably saved her life. Her husband was with her and he was deathly pale and trembled almost as much as his wife.
‘She did it herself,’ he kept repeating to anyone who was willing to listen and to Dr Parsons and Eliza, who were too busy staunching the flow to listen. Dr Parsons ordered him to leave to the ward. Luckily, the blood was flowing from a vein rather than an artery and eventually they had it stopped. Eliza washed the arm with a solution of sublimate and the doctor stitched the wound and Eliza bandaged it. All the while Sarah said not a word but watched everything with large, frightened eyes.
‘I’ll get on with the breakfasts then,’ said Nurse Jones. ‘I’ll get the report after.’ She pinned on her cap and went out to the ward kitchen.
Eliza went back to her writing. It took her another half an hour to finish, and by the time she had read it out to Nurse Jones and reported to Matron’s office it was already eight o’clock before she could at last walk across the grounds of the North Durham Infirmary to the nurses’ hostel.
Eliza was weary but she took that for granted. She always was after a night on the ward. The women’s ward held both medical and surgical cases though not anyone with contagious diseases. The policy now was to keep them in a new block away from the main hospital.
The air was fresh with a cold wind blowing from the north. She huddled into her cloak, pulling it closer around her shoulders. As always, her thoughts turned to Thomas. He was seven years old now. She imagined him on his way to school, carrying his pencil and slate. He would be going to school she was sure, his father would want him to, surely. Did he remember his mother? Please God, he did.
Eliza ate the porridge and bacon and bread provided for her breakfast. She was almost too tired to eat but forced herself to and washed the food down with two cups of tea. The dining room in the nurses’ hostel was painted a stark white with only the dark varnished doors for relief. The only decoration was the picture of Florence Nightingale gazing sternly down from one wall. Most of the other night nurses h
ad already finished their meal and gone to their rooms so it was quiet except for the rattle of pots and pans from the kitchen at one end of the hall.
Eliza sat back in her chair and sighed. She would have to summon the energy to climb the stairs and get ready for bed soon but for a few minutes she was enjoying the peace. Oh, she thought, it had been hard work on the coal screens, hard, labouring work. But nursing, she found, was just as hard in its own way. She glanced up at the portrait of Florence Nightingale and stuck out her tongue inelegantly at it. The lady had issued a decree recently when there had been a movement from the grass roots for nurses to have more time off duty and even a holiday.
‘If a nurse has a true vocation then she will not wish to be away from the work,’ she had said, or words to that effect. So nurses had only one day a month off or, in Eliza’s case, one night. It was due on the following Monday, only two days away, and Eliza planned to visit her mother and father and her brothers in Blue House colliery village. At least she would be able to stay overnight. If she didn’t go to bed on coming off duty on Monday morning she could stay until Tuesday afternoon.
‘Can I clear your pots now, Nurse?’
The voice intruded on Eliza’s thoughts and she looked up and smiled. It was Bertha, the diminutive girl who had once worked at her father-in-law’s house in Alnwick. She had managed to follow Eliza to the North Durham Infirmary, somehow ferreting out where she was. Now she worked as a maid in the nurses’ home.
‘Morning, Bertha,’ Eliza said. ‘I was just thinking of my night off on Monday. I’m going to Blue House. It’s a while since I saw my mam and dad.’ She rose to her feet and pushed in her chair. ‘I’d best get to bed anyway or I might fall asleep walking.’
‘You’ve been busy?’ Bertha asked sympathetically. She knew what it could be like on the wards at night and with only one nurse on duty and a helper running between wards. She had started work at the hospital as a helper but for all her upbringing she couldn’t stand to see the human misery and pain of the disease-ridden or injured patients. So she had been allowed to transfer to the nurses’ home for she was soon recognised as a hard and honest worker.