by Janet Tanner
They walked up Ridge Road beyond the houses and stopped in the gateway leading down to the woods. Dusk was falling already, and a chilly breeze was springing up.
“This is far enough,” she said. “ What is it you want, Evan?”
He turned towards her suddenly, so that she was forced back against the gate. “I want you, Dolly. You know how I feel about you.”
Her mouth tightened. “Evan, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want you. Not in that way.”
“But it used to be so good I’d do anything for you, Dolly, anything!” he begged.
“No, Evan, I’m sorry,” she said. “ Now, let’s go back, shall we?”
“No!” His voice was so strange it frightened her, and she tried to move away. But his hand was on her arm, the fingers biting into her flesh.
“Let me go!” she cried. Then she felt something sharp pricking into her stomach. Quite suddenly she was overcome with fear. “Evan, what …?”
“You’re mine, Dolly, and if I can’t have you, no one else will!”
“Evan, stop it! You’re hurting me!”
His fingers bit harder into her arm; the pressure on her stomach increasing. “I’m going to kill you, Dolly,” he said.
“Evan!” she sobbed, looking around wildly. But the lane was deserted.
“You shouldn’t have left me, Dolly,” he said. “I love you. I want to marry you.”
“Oh, God, Evan!” she cried.
Slowly his fingers relaxed their hold on her arm, sliding up across her shoulder and around her throat Dolly was mesmerized by fear, her breath coming in shallow sobs.
“He’s going to strangle me,” she thought, but she could not move.
His fingers were rough against her throat, moving upwards with a steady pressure. Then they fanned out beneath her chin, holding it in the same iron grip he had held her arm. Slowly he brought his face towards hers. Holding her head steady he kissed her so hard she cried out, but the sound was lost.
The world seemed to stand still, frozen by fear. Then, suddenly, across the quiet hillside the first owl hooted. Dolly jumped violently; so did Evan. His hold on her slackened, and with presence of mind born of terror, she pushed hard at him with both hands. Caught off balance, he stumbled. She twisted away and ran, sobbing with fear, her heart beating wildly, her legs unsteady. Along Ridge Road she fled, and it was only when she reached the entrance to the house that she realized there was no one following. She stopped and looked round. There was no sign of Evan.
Sobbing and frightened, she stood there in the drive. But she didn’t go in. She didn’t want Cook to see her like this. She couldn’t face her questions. She wanted Mam!
With another look back up the road to make sure Evan was not following, she started to run again, on down the hill. Several times her ankle twisted on the steep ground, almost throwing her down. But she kept going, and turned into the rank. Past the first ten houses she ran, past a startled Moses Brimble, still cleaning the fork and spade he had been using on his garden that evening.
The door of number eleven was ajar. She pushed it open and half fell in, the tears spilling again from her eyes, coursing down her face.
“Dolly, whatever are you doing here?” Charlotte asked, startled.
But for a moment Dolly could say nothing but “Oh, Mam! Oh, Mam!”
EVERYONE was present in the kitchen when Dolly came bursting in. Only Amy and Harry were in bed. For a moment there was complete silence, but for Dolly’s sobbing. Then suddenly they all began talking at once.
“What’s happened?”
“Dolly, whatever is the matter?”
“What’s going on?”
“Leave her alone for a minute!” Charlotte ordered, leaping up from her sewing and running across to Dolly. “ Go and fetch the brandy, one of you. You know where it is—in the chiffonier in the front room.”
Jack went, and when he returned with it, Charlotte forced a drop or two between Dolly’s trembling lips while James supported her.
“Now tell us what’s up, Dolly,” he said when she seemed a little better.
Dolly did not answer.
“It’s that Evan Comer, isn’t it?” Charlotte said savagely. “ What did he do to you, Dolly?”
Dolly covered her face with her hands. “ Oh, Mam, he said he was going to kill me,” she sobbed.
“What?” they all chorused, again shocked into silence.
“Kill you?” Charlotte repeated. “Whatever do you mean—kill you?”
She was interrupted by the stair door opening. It was Amy, wakened by the commotion and wanting to know what was going on. Sharply, Charlotte told her to go back to bed, but she only retreated a fraction, standing round-eyed behind the half-open door while Dolly poured out her story, none of them noticing she was still there.
“Oh, it was awful—awful! He had a knife! He said he was going to kill me!”
James stood up, reaching for his jacket that hung behind the door.
“This is a job for the police. I’m going down to get Sergeant Eyles.”
“No, Dad, no!” Dolly began weeping wildly again. “ Not the police—no, don’t!”
“If he thinks he’s going to get away with this …”
“No, Dad, please! I couldn’t bear it …”
“Threatening you with a knife …”
“No, Dad!”
Charlotte put a restraining hand on his arm, speaking over Dolly’s bowed and shaking head. “Don’t upset her any more.”
“But if he had a knife, Lotty …”
“I didn’t see it!” Dolly said wildly. “I didn’t actually see a knife, Dad!”
“But you said …”
“I know. I felt it But it mightn’t have been, might it? I could have been wrong. I was so frightened. I didn’t know what to think.”
“And he’s going to have the police on him for it!” James thundered, his voice filling every corner of the kitchen. He moved towards the door, and Dolly became almost hysterical.
“I don’t want to get him in trouble with the police! Oh, Mam, stop him you? Oh, please!”
“Dad!” Jim said. “Wait. We’ll sort the bugger out.”
James stopped, and Fred and Ted both stood up, closing ranks with Jim.
“Leave him to us, Dad.”
“Well make him sorrier for what he’s done than any policeman.”
For a moment James looked at them, then his lips curled upwards in a satisfied, mirthless smile. “All right, boys, I’ll leave it to you. But if I was a bit younger, I’d come myself, and that’s straight up.”
Without another word they put on their jackets. Jack went to get his too, and Charlotte put a hand on his arm.
“Not you, Jack. Leave it to your brothers.”
He hesitated. He hated violence, but he too wanted to extract his revenge for what Evan had done to Dolly. Sensing his dilemma, and seeing the stair door moving slightly, Charlotte said to him, “Go and put your sister to bed. She shouldn’t be hearing this, but I don’t want to leave Dolly.”
Jack nodded, relieved, and went to escort a highly excited Amy upstairs. When the door had closed after the three older boys, Charlotte turned back to Dolly.
“I told you not to go,” she admonished gently. “I knew something would happen if you did.”
Dolly snuffled softly into one of the large handkerchiefs Charlotte had given her. “I know, but I didn’t like to upset him, Mam.”
James and Charlotte exchanged looks. Her soft heart would be her undoing if she was not careful. But neither of them wanted to upset her any more now.
“Your father will go up to the house and tell them you’re taken poorly,” Charlotte said. “And your brothers are going to take care of Evan Comer, so you haven’t a thing to worry about, have you?”
Dolly shook her head. Her trembling was subsiding, and her eyelids drooped as if she might fall asleep any moment. Charlotte stroked her hair protectively—the boys would sort Evan Comer out, of that she w
as sure.
THEY MARCHED up the hill side by side, Jim and Ted on the pavement and Fred walking in the gutter. Into Ridge Road they turned, past Captain Fish’s house and the other big houses. They knew that Evan could get home to Purldown by following this road until it met up again with the main road to Bath, and if they did not catch up with him before he got there they intended to knock him out of his house. Evan Comer would not be allowed to threaten their sister and get away with it.
When the gateway leading to the woods came into sight, however, they were all surprised to see a figure standing there. It was too dark to see at a distance who it was, but as they got closer, they exchanged glances.
It was Evan. He had not moved from where Dolly had left him. He was leaning over the gate, his head bowed like a drunk.
As they approached, he looked up and saw them. A look of surprise and fear crossed his handsome face, and without a word they closed in around him. Fred took one of his arms and Ted the other, pinning them behind him, and as they did so, something fell out of his hand and lay shining on the ground.
Jim bent to pick it up. It was a knife, the blade still extended from the fancy handle. So Dolly had been right. He straightened, pointing the sharp blade at Evan’s throat.
Evan winced away from the sharp point, but Jim let the knife rest there while Ted and Fred held him fast.
“You little bugger!” He spat the words at him. “You do that to my sister, and you’ve got us to deal with!”
“I didn’t … hurt her …” Evan spluttered, almost choking with fear. “I didn’t touch her … I wouldn’t!”
“Well, I think you did. She wouldn’t be in the state she’s in for nothing.” Jim presses the knife point further against Evan’s throat.
“Don’t … don’t hurt me … I didn’t … I wouldn’t…”
Jim brought his face dose to Evan’s, and saw the fear glittering like tears in his eyes.
“You leave her alone then. If you go near her again, you know what you’ll get—all right?”
“Yes… yes…” Evan sobbed.
With one movement Jim lowered the knife and brought his knee up into Evan’s groin. He heard, and felt, the breath come out of him in a choking explosion. Then, as his body jerked convulsively Ted and Fred let go of his arms, and he folded up on to his knees, retching.
For just a moment the three of them stood over him, watching with satisfaction, but they did not touch him again. They were not bullies.
Leaving Evan retching on the ground they turned and walked back down the hill, and when they came to the thickest part of the hedge, Jim thrust the knife deep into it.
Chapter Five
It was summer, 1913, and the Hall household was busy with preparations for a wedding. Jim had asked Sarah Brimble to marry him, and Charlotte was only surprised that it had taken him so long.
Sarah was a pretty girl, with soft brown curls and eyes to match, and she would have been a very willing bride. But Jim had hesitated over settling down. He had seen too many of his friends rush into marriage, only to lose their enthusiasm when the responsibilities began piling up—wailing babies, a complaining wife if they spent too long over a pint or a game of quoits at the Miners Arms, and wages they were no longer able to call their own.
One warm evening in June, however, he and Sarah went for a walk up to the down. On the way back, they found a field gate that was easy enough to climb, and sat down under the hedge for a rest. It was pleasant there, and soon they were kissing and cuddling.
“I never met a girl who likes to be kissed as much as Sarah does,” Jim had confided to Fred. “Though she won’t let me go any farther. If I so much as try, she goes into a mood and tells me, if I don’t watch myself, she won’t go out with me any more.”
Today, however, Sarah seemed different. When Jim pushed her back into the long grass; she went on kissing him, her body soft and yielding. Even when she felt him bunching up her skirt, she made no protest. The scent of the grass was around her, and the desire she had resisted for so long ached within her. He parted her legs with his hands, and she let him, afraid, yet mesmerized by her own longing, and there beneath the violet evening sky they made love.
Afterwards Sarah cried; she lay with her head turned away from him, the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, raising himself on one elbow, looking down at her. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, but went on sobbing.
“What then?” he asked. “I love you, Sarah, there’s nothing to cry about.”
Still she did not answer, and he moved away a little impatiently.
“Oh, well, if you won’t tell me.”
She twisted her head then, looking at him with eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t you realize what we’ve done? I could be going to have a baby!”
The shock of it made him go cold. Stupid as it seemed, he just hadn’t thought of it. He was so used to her stopping him just when he most wanted to go on that he simply had not thought beyond the yielding beauty of her body and the all-consuming fire in his own. Now, he looked down at her, shaken but still trying to retain a masterful air.
“It’ll be all right. It was the first time. It couldn’t happen the first time.”
“It could. I know girls it’s happened to. Oh, Jim, I don’t know what I’d do! The disgrace…”
She began to cry again, and feeling guilty, he said, “We could always get married.”
Her tears stopped as if by magic. “Oh, Jim, could we? Really?”
“Course we could. We’d have to get your father’s permission— mine, too, come to that. I shan’t be twenty-one until next year. But they wouldn’t object, would they?”
She shook her head. “ No, I know they wouldn’t. Oh, d’you think we could make it soon? Just in case? Then we could always make out the baby was early.”
“Well…” He experienced a moment’s panic, but Sarah was smiling at him with eyes that were still bright with tears and already he was beginning to think he’d like to make love to her again. “ I’ll see O’Halloran and find out if there are any houses going,” he promised.
CHARLES O’HALLORAN was the general manager of Hillsbridge Colliery Companies, a bluff north-countryman with a reputation for fairness, although he was a hard taskmaster.
Jim went to see him the next day, and Hal, as he was popularly known, told him there was a cottage he could have right away, provided he was prepared to put it in order. Cockahoop, he called in at the Miners Arms, where Sarah worked, to tell her they could begin to make their plans, and then went home to break the news to the family.
The announcement, naturally, was greeted with great excitement. James smiled and nodded to himself as if he could not believe it. The boys teased Jim and called him a fool, and Amy bobbed up and down demanding to know if she could be a bridesmaid. Only Charlotte gave him a narrow, probing look, and Jim had the uncomfortable feeling that she had seen through his sudden decision and knew the reason behind it.
“Have you got anywhere to live?” she asked shortly.
Jim nodded. “ There’s a house empty in Pit Cottages, along under South Hill Batch,” he told her. “It’s been empty some time, Hal said, and it’ll need a bit of doing to, but it will be very handy for me getting to work. Just up the pit path and I’ll be there.”
“Whose place can that be?” Charlotte asked, puzzling. Pit Cottages was a line of houses sandwiched between the long, ridged batch and the railway line on the south-west side of the valley, and far enough from Greenslade Terrace for her not to be acquainted with the people who lived there.
“Well, whoever it was, they bain’t there now,” James said reasonably, and Charlotte turned back to Jim with characteristic briskness.
“If it’s empty it’ll be damp and dirty,” she told him. “ You’d better ask Sarah if she’d like me to help her get it cleaned up. With two buckets and scrubbing brushes, it’ll be ready in half the time.”
&
nbsp; The date had been set for six weeks time. Besides helping Jim and Sarah at the cottage, Charlotte found herself caught up in the wedding arrangements, for although they were primarily the responsibility of the Brimbles, living next-door-but-one it was inevitable that she should find herself almost as involved as they were. There were guest lists to be planned and food to be organized. The chapel service had to be decided upon, and Stanley Bristow’s wagonette booked. Charlotte also had to arrange her family’s outfits. Amy and Dolly were taken care of. Sarah had asked them to be her bridesmaids, along with her own sister, Queenie, and she was having their dresses made for them—an expense Charlotte could hardly credit. But the boys’ best suits had to be cleaned and pressed, and Charlotte treated herself to a new flower at Fords draper’s shop to put in the lapel of the good silk coat she always wore on special occasions. For Harry, Charlotte went to great lengths to save on her housekeeping and managed to run up a neat little sailor suit for him.
At last the great day arrived. Some of the rank walked down to the chapel for the service, and the rest stood in their doorways to watch the families leave.
Charlotte, James and the boys set out first, though Charlotte was certain something would go wrong the moment her back was turned. Then just before noon, Dolly, Amy, and Queenie Brimble emerged, dressed in pink with daisy wreaths in their hair, and climbed into Stanley Bristow’s wagonette, which had been especially decorated for the occasion.
A few moments later, Sarah herself came out of the house with her father, and the watching neighbours gasped in awe. She looked beautiful in her simple, cream-silk dress, with a circlet of orange blossom in her hair. Stanley shook the reins and as the pony trotted off, the occasional tear formed in the spectators’ eyes.
As Sarah walked into chapel the same breathless hush hung in the air while the organ poured forth its melodious song. Down the aisle she went, on Moses’ arm, and stood where Jim was waiting for her.
Charlotte looked with pride at her eldest son standing at the altar—once he had been her baby. Twenty years ago it might have been, but to her it seemed like only yesterday that she had looked at him, her first-born.