That night Tommy lay rigid in bed with his head turned away, “You see… w… what… you’re letting yourself in for…”
Margaret ran her fingers over the raw puckered scars. He turned to speak but she put her finger over his lips. “You once told me you loved me as I was. That’s how I love you. We’ll get through this together.” She kissed him again and again while he stammered out the brutal details of the accident, indebted to the surgeons for installing the metal plate in his head keeping him alive.
They didn’t make love but Margaret tenderly nursed him, pulling the blinds and curtains shut to keep out the light, holding him while the spasms of pain subsided.
* * * * *
“I… don’t… w… wwant… your pity…” Tommy stammered one day, as she tiptoed round the bedroom. Margaret hoped that the increasing clarity of his angry exchanges indicated progress but he followed her like a confused child, uncertain of today and unable to deal with tomorrow.
Nan said it was nice to have a man in the house. It gave her plenty to do. She made Tommy laugh but he couldn’t do with sitting around. “I can’t… sstay fffor… ever Margaret. I’ve got to get a job.” Margaret entreated him to wait for although his speech was improving, the sudden fits of shaking made him virtually unemployable. She couldn’t disillusion him. Consequently nothing was decided about their future and Tommy returned to Yorkshire for more treatment and to search for work.
Chapter 32
Scotland to Yorkshire 1945-1955
Nan had squirreled away the bounty of luxuries brought from India: tea, nuts, dried fruits, sweets, cloth and table linen. Sometimes she made a cake using the dried fruit but eked out the treats to make them last longer. Margaret remembered the monkeys eating their fill, plucking the fruit straight from the trees at Aakesh. Everything was dull by comparison, except the pain of separation, which was as sharp as it had ever been.
Margaret heard from Tommy. She had given up so much to be with him, but he’d had no luck in finding a job and was living with his father and stepmother in Denaby. He had written a disjointed letter but sending the address of a hospital at Mexborough, a short distance away. If Margaret could get a post there accommodation would be provided. It was a splendid idea. They could meet without the pressure of sharing someone else’s home and the lack of money.
Throughout her stay at Nan’s, Margaret ached to hear the voices of her own children. She consoled herself that they were better off in the luxury provided by their father, than being homeless with her.
* * * * *
My Dearest Tommy
I have wonderful news. I have a nursing post at Mexborough Montague Hospital. I didn’t tell you I was applying in case I didn’t get it and you were disappointed. I am to have some sort of training. Of course I will have to live in as Nursing rules are still strict, but it won’t be forever. I will travel straight there, settle in and if it’s alright with your father, I can visit you.
Even better I start in two weeks. It won’t be long my darling. We will make a life together so keep your chin up.
Nan and her father understood. Margaret would miss them.
* * * * *
A square woman approximately five feet tall, dressed in an ill-fitting navy blue suit and black peaked hat, marshalled the small railway station. At Margaret’s request for a porter to unload the luggage from the guard’s van the woman threw her head back and burst out laughing, “You’re looking at everybody love, station master, porter, and taxi service. Nelly’s the name,” she said wading in to help the guard throw Margaret’s endless bags from the train.
A wicker basket spilled, scattering nuts. “Looks like you’ve come to stop,” Nelly wheezed, shovelling up the nuts with workman like hands. Margaret began to help. “Eeh lass, leave it to me… them fancy clothes weren’t meant for jobs like this. It’s not for ladies. I’ll ’ave it done in a tick.”
Wiping her brow on the back of a straining sleeve, Nelly produced a handcart from behind a shed, loaded it with the rest of the luggage and asked Margaret where she was going.
“A place called Mexborough.”
“Last train that stops at Mexborough’s gone.”
“Yes, I know but I thought I’d get this far and take a cab.”
“There’s no cab ’ere love.”
“Well can I get to Barnburgh Street in Denaby… Do you know it?”
“Know it? It’s where I live. Hang on a minute. You’re the woman that Tommy Waters met out in India? Going to work at Montague?”
Margaret was glad she’d worn gloves or this knowing woman might have noticed the faded mark of Ben’s wedding ring on her finger.
After briskly rubbing her hands together the indomitable Stationmaster grabbed the handles of the cart. “Right, there’s no train for a bit. Them that wants me’ll have to wait” she said, setting off to walk at a cracking pace. Margaret teetered behind in high-heeled shoes, taking care to avoid the numerous stagnant puddles and potholes barring the way.
The station lay in a dip opposite the colliery. A black-watered canal navigated by coal-laden barges ran parallel to the rough road. The surrounding landscape blighted by monstrous slag heaps smoking like menacing volcanoes.
Nelly took a rest, “Look back way we’ve come and there’s Castle.” Margaret followed Nelly’s outstretched arm and in the distance, shielded by trees, were the remains of a ruined stone edifice high on a hill. “That’s Conisbrough, but you’re alreet, we’re not going among them hoity toities. Can’t stand’em miself” Nelly said, striding sturdily out in the opposite direction.
Margaret was disappointed. Conisbrough looked likely to be a pleasant place, whereas rough smudged-black men with bright eyes outlined in coal dust peopled their treeless route.
“Now then love them’s only pitmen” Nelly reassured. “Day shift’s finished. That there’s tobacco juice they’re spitting. Gob it out wit’ dust to clear lungs…”
In Bombay Margaret had mistaken the red betel juice splashes on walls and floor of the railway station for blood but there was no mistaking the thick tar-like substance ejected by the coughing miners. It made her want to vomit.
On one side of this walk through hell, row upon row of sooty brick terraced houses stretched back into the distance. On the other side identical dwellings were squashed together against the railway track, bordered by the dismal canal. A run of solid bay-windowed double-fronted shops proudly displayed their owners’ name above the door. Dark grey smoke spewed in unison from countless chimneystacks. In the distance the enormous winding wheel of a second colliery was silhouetted against the mean skyline.
Thin, grimy children, playing on the mucky roadside, disappeared inside warren-like houses, reappearing with a gaggle of the inhabitants.
Nelly stopped and hammered on a door. “Anybody at home?” She hammered louder. “This must be only house in Denaby with everybody in it.”
Margaret smiled grimly as the door was opened by a dapper man, with a silver pocket watch hanging from his waistcoat.
“Come in. Come in. Tha must be Margaret. I’m Albert, Tommy’s dad. Make thisen at ’ome. Mother, brew a pot of tea. Poor lass’ll be gasping.”
Margaret wiped her feet on the clipped rag doormat. The delicate shoes and nylon stockings were ruined. What
a fright she’d look when she arrived at the hospital.
A woman, her face reddened from cooking on the fire, shook Margaret’s hand, “I’m Shirley, Tommy’s stepmother. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Albert pulled out a wooden chair from under the kitchen table, “Sit thi sen darn. Tha shud ’ave let us know. Well you’re ’ere now safe and sound. “
“I didn’t mean to put you out” Margaret said, “I thought the train went to Mexborough.”
Shirley cleared the remains of a meal from the table. “Tommy’s father�
��s been on the day shift but I’ll soon have you a bite to eat.” She produced a lace tray cloth and set a place with a china cup and saucer, plate and silver butter knife.
Albert sliced chunks of bread to toast on the fiery coals of the black lead range. A kettle steamed incessantly. The hot toast was lavishly buttered and set before Margaret. Someone would have to go without for this hospitality.
“This was my mother’s tea set,” Shirley explained. “Only the best is good enough for Tommy’s future wife. He’ll be back soon. He’s gone for a walk.”
Gone for a walk, Margaret thought. Who’d go for a walk in this awful place?
Shirley told her that they were lucky to have Tommy. “He’s an accident waiting to happen. We didn’t think he’d recover from T.B. let alone join the army… Hasn’t he told you? He had a T. B. spine as a boy. The hospital put him in a plaster cast. Albert concocted a flat cart for him to lie on. Alice, that’s Tommy’s eldest sister, pushed him round on it. Florrie, she’s the youngest, was in a sanatorium for months. At least he was at home.”
“I married a grand lass,” Albert said. “She took on children. as her own; travelled every week t’ hospital at Ilkley t’ see Florrie.”
“Enough of that, Dad…” Shirley said pleased to have the attention turned on Tommy who came in through the back door
“Where’s tha bin lad? We’ve got a visitor.”
“I can see” Tommy said. He leant awkwardly on the mantelpiece aware of his rough hob-nailed boots and shoddy clothes. He put his hands in his trouser pockets. Took them out, did it again but Margaret saw his despondency at not finding work and the scars standing out like ridges on his gaunt face.
She explained about the train, skirting round his discomfort. It struck Margaret that when you returned to your parents’ home you became a child again. She was the same in Scotland, but this wasn’t what she’d travelled half way round the world for. She had to get away.
“Tommy, I’m expected at the hospital and it’s getting late.”
Albert put on his trilby hat and coat saying, “I’m off t’ see Father O’Keefe. Stay ’ere lad. Keep Margaret company.”
Margaret looked at him blankly. She was having trouble understanding what he said. She was fine with Shirley, who had hardly any accent, certainly not a Yorkshire one. It was Tommy’s turn to explain, “The priest’s got a car. My dad’s gone to sort it.” And, with his whippet-like father gone, he quickly, kissed her.
“I thought you’d never get round to doing that,” Shirley said. “You know Margaret, Denaby wasn’t what I was used to. It’s been hard but I mustn’t grumble.” She said she’d had a daughter before she married Tommy’s father. Albert was good to both of them, and she was happy. Things had a habit of working out.
Margaret instantly liked and admired Tommy’s stepmother. Such open honesty. Secrets didn’t belong here but how much had Tommy told her? Margaret didn’t want things to work out if it meant living like this. She had tried to fit in to Ben’s family and it hadn’t worked. She didn’t know if she could do it again but Tommy was so pleased to see her, standing taller, his face relaxed. What ever would she do? She smiled at him and said, “Tommy, the basket of nuts and dates by the door is for Shirley.”
“Margaret, you shouldn’t have…” Shirley said. “It’s years since I saw nuts. We used to have them at my parents’ house at Christmas, and dates. I don’t think Florrie’s children have ever tasted them.”
Shirley carried some of the gifts into the tiny kitchen, giving Margaret and Tommy a few moments alone. He hadn’t deceived her about his family. They hadn’t talked much about their parents. It hadn’t been important. Denaby and Gorebridge were immaterial. India was to be their home. She put her arms round him to reassure them both.
Albert returned with the priest who kept the car engine running, while Margaret said goodbye. She was greatly tempted to ask him to take her to Doncaster Station and catch the next train back to Scotland.
Chapter 33
The pits resembled battlefields, equally capable of mangling a man’s body and mind. Margaret worried what became of patients discharged from hospital but she soon discovered the unspoken loyalty that bound the mining community together. Neighbours rallied round. Meals were cooked; children looked after, washing shared out and what ever else was needed to ’tide the family over’.
People took to knocking on Albert’s door with various ailments or to ask for advice when the nurse came. “Tha might as well move in… Turn kitchen in t’ surgery…” He complained but Margaret knew he liked the attention. His son had a feather in his cap having a fiancée who was a nurse.
Living in at the hospital enabled Margaret to save. The Post Office savings book was in her name. She suggested to Tommy it was changed, to include him.
“It’s your money, Margaret. I can’t take a penny.”
“It’s for us, for our home. I want to be with you more than I want money.”
“I’ve no right.”
“We have the right to be together. What’s mine is yours and if anything happened to me… ?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I know but the divorce isn’t through and well… you see what I mean.”
He shook his head.
“Then do it for me.”
They went together to change the account. Tommy’s shaky signature bound them together but it increased his determination to find work. His sister Alice lived outside Manchester. Her husband was overseas and she had three children to support. Tommy decided to stay with her. Albert, Shirley and Margaret were against it.
* * * * *
Tommy hadn’t been at Manchester three weeks before a letter came from Alice.
Manchester
Dear Margaret,
I am writing to ask you to send Tommy’s bank book. He has found a job but will not get paid for another week and I have the children to support.
Alice
What kind of work had Tommy found? Was he well? The letter only mentioned the bank book. He’d probably had one when he was in the army but Margaret hadn’t seen it. This was theirs, for their future, a statement that she’d given up hope of returning to India. She’d take it to Manchester.
* * * * *
Margaret waited patiently. Alice registered her disapproval by banging pans, chopping vegetables and over-polishing the kitchen range. Talk was impossible. Alice grudgingly offered to stretch the meal to one more but there was no invitation to stay the night.
The heavy iron sneck was lifted several times before Tommy opened the back door. He didn’t notice Margaret. Ashen faced, more dead than alive he stripped off his shirt to wash in the kitchen sink. Margaret counted every rib in his drastically underweight frame. Towelling himself dry he brightened at the sight of her. “Alice got me a job, working in the mill.”
“I can see that.” Margaret said trying to control her anger.
“It’s easy. When the cloth comes off the machines all I have to do is wrap it round me. If I stick at it I’ll earn good money.”
Tommy was a human bobbin! Margaret rounded savagely on Alice, “Are you blind? Can’t you see what it’s doing to him?”
Alice fought back, “You come here thinking you know it all! Well you can tell my brother what to do but you’re not telling me.”
Tommy tried to calm things down, “I owe money.”
Margaret looked at Alice in disgust, “So it was really you who wanted the bank book?”
“I can’t expect my sister to keep me for nothing,” Tommy said, looking from one to the other.
Margaret threw the bank book at Alice, “Take your blood money!”
Alice ground it into the kitchen floor. Tommy shouted above the din, “Margaret it was my idea.”
“Pack your bags and return to Yorkshire with me ton
ight or there’ll be no wedding!”
Tommy hadn’t the strength to argue. He slept for most of the journey back to Yorkshire. Margaret realised the foolishness of losing her temper. Tommy couldn’t know what the bank book meant. She had humiliated him and alienated Alice. What if he’d chosen to stay in Manchester?
Tommy found another job in the local glass-making works. The high temperature and his stubborn attempts to do the same work as the other men made him ill. He missed shifts and was sacked. He tried to work in a small engineering factory making irons and kettles but the constant hammering of the steel press drove him mad and he had to give it up.
Margaret hated to see him dead beat with trying. She attributed her late period to overtiredness. A rest and change of scene would put things right.
Chapter 34
A break in Scotland
Scotland provided a ready escape. Tommy didn’t question Margaret’s decision to go there and was excited at the prospect of a holiday. Frances had left Margaret’s father and returned to London. He was with Nan. His collection of clocks, at various stages of repair maddeningly ticked and chimed the hours away. Nan was looking forward to Margaret and Tommy’s visit, especially as the clocks would be stopped. Their father said that Tommy coudna do with the noise.
Margaret tossed and turned in bed at Nan’s. After her behaviour in Manchester she hadn’t the heart to reject Tommy’s lovemaking. He was so vulnerable. He might think she didn’t want him. But Tommy was clumsy and she would have to deal with the consequences. How could they cope with a child?
She understood why women procured abortions. A foolish lonely war time fling, a careless slip and another mouth to feed, so much to lose for a moment’s pleasure. At the Montague she’d nursed the results of women interfered with by so called, ‘mothers helpers’. Often the result was abortion but damaged wombs, childlessness and death through septicaemia were equally common. Everyone knew but nothing was said. This way fewer people were hurt.
The Letter Page 17