by Tania Crosse
‘Well, I’m not going to stand here and be insulted,’ her aunt was announcing. ‘Come along, Clarence, we’re going. We’d best leave the girl to her dear friends,’ she added, casting a haughty sneer at Fred and Mabel. ‘But I still blame that Vince for my dear Freda’s death.’
She snatched up her coat and marched the two steps to the sitting-room door which miraculously opened from the other side and she collided with Vince who was coming in with the refilled coal scuttle. Anna saw her shrink back for a second before instantly lifting her head in defiance.
‘Hurry up, Clarence, we’re leaving.’
She swept past Vince out into the hallway and let herself out of the front door. Uncle Clarence gave an apologetic glance around the room, mumbled to her dad what Anna thought was, ‘Sorry, old chap,’ and shambled after his wife. Anna almost felt sorry for him.
But everything was suddenly forgotten as her eyes caught the expression on her dad’s face. A look like thunder darkened his features, accentuating the deep dent in his forehead. Anna’s heart flipped over. She needed to grieve, to let the emptiness inside her fill up with tears and wash away the pain, but instead every nerve in her body was stretched with tension. Her father had been like a closed book ever since he had returned on that terrible night to find that, when he had stormed out, his wife had not been lying stunned at the bottom of the stairs as he had thought, but dead. He had hardly uttered a word since. Was he bereft, imprisoned in sadness, or racked with guilt? Anna had no way of knowing, and the strain of it was destroying her.
‘What you all looking at?’ Vince barked now.
Without the habitual cigarette for support, Mabel seemed momentarily flustered, but it only took her a matter of seconds to gather herself together. ‘I were just wondering ’ow dear Freda ’ad a sister like that,’ she declared.
‘Sister? More like one of those, what were they, gorgon creatures you learnt about at school, Anna? Medusa, wasn’t it, the one with snakes for hair?’
Anna nodded in reply. She could just see the head of Medusa, chopped off by the Greek hero Perseus, with her aunt’s face emblazoned upon it. She felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up from inside. Almost. Her father’s grim expression smothered it, and her strung-out nerves tightened further. What now? Her dad wasn’t an educated man, but he was intelligent and strong. He’d had to be, brought up in a children’s home with no known family and then left to make his own way in the world. Her mum had been his life, and Anna was sure that, in his own strange way, he must feel as torn as she did. If only …
‘Well, good riddance, I says,’ Mabel pronounced. ‘But us must leave you good people. An’ we’m really sorry about Freda. Real lady, she were. An’ if there’s ort us can do, you’ve only to shout. Bain’t that right, Fred?’
The big man’s head jiggled up and down. ‘Thanks for the tea. An’ Mabel’s right. If us can do ort … Well, you knows where us lives. You coming, Eth, or you staying with Anna for a bit?’
‘I’ll just ’elp Anna wash up. Pass us the tray, Annie, an’ us can stack the dirties on it. Lovely sponge, by the way. Bake it yoursel’, did you?’
Anna nodded. It had been good to have something practical to concentrate on as it had kept her mind from the tearing void her mum’s death had gouged out of her heart. Now, as they did the washing-up and the crockery clinked echoingly in the damp scullery, the numbness swamped her yet again. Dear Ethel was chatting away, and though Anna was grateful for her attempts to cheer her up, she didn’t hear a word.
‘Well, I musts be off,’ she suddenly realised Ethel was saying. ‘Meeting Bert tonight, I is.’ But then the expectant grin that she had tried unsuccessfully to contain faded from her face. ‘That’s if you wouldn’t rather I stayed yere with you,’ she added apologetically.
Anna’s heart plummeted to her feet. Oh, yes, she had hoped to have her dear friend’s company that evening, but Ethel had been a tower of strength and it would be selfish of her to ask her to give up her precious hours with Bert. A nice chap was Bert, and Anna could see why Ethel was so smitten. Davy had met him at work, Bert taking the newcomer under his wing, and they had become friends. But being a station porter meant shift work, so it wasn’t always easy to find time when he and Ethel could see each other.
‘No, of course not.’ Anna forced a smile, hoping her voice hadn’t betrayed her disappointment. ‘I suddenly feel exhausted.’ Which, at least, was utterly true. ‘Dad and I’ll just have a quiet night in. I’ll read a book. Something nice and gentle. Little Women, perhaps. Go on, now. Better make yourself look beautiful for Bert.’
‘Huh, that’d be a fine thing!’ Ethel grinned. ‘Lucky ’e likes us as I is! Ta-ta, then, Annie.’ And she suddenly crushed Anna in a huge bear hug before dancing away across the street.
Anna watched her for a moment, shaking her head. Oh, what would she do without Ethel? She closed the front door, leaving her hand resting on the latch as the cloud settled on her once again. That was that, then. Her mum was dead and buried. Despatched. As if she had never been. So what now?
She turned back into the hallway and a squeal lodged in her throat. She hadn’t heard her father come up behind her, and now he grasped her wrist in a lock of iron, forcing her against the wall. His face was maddened, eyes bulging menacingly from their sockets.
‘What the hell have you been saying?’
‘What?’
Anna’s heart had bucked in her chest, but as Vince poked his head forward so that their noses were almost touching, raging contempt swept her fear aside. This was her own father, for God’s sake. She wasn’t going to be afraid of him, and now that her mum was gone, she wasn’t going to let him turn his temper on her instead.
‘What do you mean?’ she said levelly, her eyes scorching into his.
‘Iris!’ he spat back. ‘I heard her! She said it were my fault!’
‘Well, she was right, wasn’t she?’ All Anna’s pent-up emotions suddenly exploded in unleashed fury. ‘Only for the wrong reasons. She said you hadn’t been looking after Mum properly and that was why she fainted. But you and I know different, don’t we? You hit her and she lost her balance. You killed her, Dad, you killed her!’
In that moment, the hatred froze solid somewhere inside her, driving away the last vestiges of affection she had ever felt for her father. The figure who pressed her hard up against the wall was a stranger. More than that, he had become someone to be despised.
‘If you ever breathe a word to anyone about what happened,’ his grating whisper hissed into her ear now, ‘so help me God, I’ll kill you, too!’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she sneered back. ‘If I was going to tell the police, I’d have done so in the first place. The miscarriage left her anaemic and she fainted, that’s what they believe. So you’re off the hook.’
‘And it had better stay that way!’
‘Oh, it will! But only for Mum’s sake. Now, if you’d kindly let me go, I’ve got things to do.’
She glared back at him, her lips compressed in caustic disdain. She felt his grip on her slowly release and then suddenly jerk tightly again in one last, threatening gesture before he spun on his heel, and grabbing his coat and cap, thundered out of the door and slammed it behind him.
A shattering silence echoed in his wake. Anna’s knees went weak and she slithered down the wall, her heart hammering inside her chest.
Dear Lord above, what was she to do?
Chapter Four
‘Oh, Lordy love!’
‘Sssh!’
Anna’s heart had been beating nervously ever since the day of the funeral and she had hardly slept, tossing and turning or staring into the darkness of the night. And now, at last, she had the chance to confide in her friend, for if she didn’t tell someone, she thought she might break under the strain.
Ethel clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she gulped in an urgent whisper. ‘But … oh, Lord, Annie! What you’m going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anna moaned. ‘I
was rather hoping you might have some idea.’
Ethel’s brow squeezed in a deep frown. ‘Oh, come yere,’ she sighed, and sitting together on Ethel’s bed, they hugged each other tightly. ‘Well, I knew things was bad with your dad, but not that bad. But … you sure you shouldn’t tell someone?’
Anna vigorously shook her head. ‘No. Definitely not. And who should I tell anyway?’
‘The police?’
‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ Anna drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long, ponderous stream. ‘Can you imagine what would happen if I did? They’d want to know why I hadn’t told them in the first place. And they might not believe me.’
‘Your word against your dad’s, you means?’
‘Exactly. Nothing could be proved, could it? Dad wouldn’t end up in prison for manslaughter or anything. All it would do would make him furious, and then God knows what he’d do to me.’
‘Oh. I sees your point. But …’e could ’urt you anyway. So … oughtn’t you to tell someone that ’e can be violent an’ that you’m scared of ’en? You doesn’t ’ave to mention ort about ’ow your mum … They could protect you from ’en.’
Anna worked her mouth into a knot. ‘How? I’m eighteen. Too old to be put in a children’s home or anything, and I’d hate that anyway. Besides, Dad’s never actually hurt me, and I expect he has to before they’d do anything.’
Her heart began to pound again. She had only revealed her father’s part in her mum’s death, not his threat after the funeral. Despite the calm contempt she had displayed at the time, she had been terrified. But deep down inside, she recognised why she wouldn’t tell anyone the entire truth. It was because it would be a betrayal of her mum’s belief and loyalty, and Anna simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.
But Ethel was glaring at her, one hand on her hip in a gesture of irritation. ‘So you’m going to wait until ’e really ’urts you?’
Anna wrung her hands in her lap. ‘In some ways I can’t believe he ever would. But … I don’t intend staying around long enough to find out.’ There. She had said it.
Ethel was staring back at her slack-jawed. ‘You means … you’m leaving? Running away? But you cas’n. I cas’n do without you. You’m like my sister. An’ where would you go, tell me that?’ she nodded triumphantly. ‘An’ what about your A levels an’ all they fine ideas about becoming a secretary or a teacher?’
‘I know. And I’ll miss you terribly. But I’ve got to get away. Surely you can see that?’ Her determination strengthened as she spoke and she took Ethel’s hands. ‘It’s the last thing I want, but I don’t see that I have any choice. I was supposed to be going back to school on Monday, but I’ll have to tell them I’ve got to keep house for my dad now.’
‘They’ll try an’ persuade you otherwise.’
‘I expect they will. But I’ll say if things settle down, I’ll go back next year if the authorities will allow it.’
She watched as Ethel sucked in her cheeks. ‘That still don’t solve the problem of where you’ll go. Pity you ’asn’t got a fiancé or ort. Could’ve got married an’ got away from your dad like that. Only you’m always so busy with your ’ead in your books, you ’asn’t even got a boyfriend. An’ you proper pretty an’ all, like.’
Anna chuckled, and somehow she suddenly felt better. ‘Trust you to think of boys. One-track mind you’ve got, Ethel Shallaford. But I have to admit I don’t know where I’ll go.’
‘You got some money, then, to tide you over?’
Anna’s smile faded. ‘No. Not much.’
‘Nor’ve I. I’d let you ’ave it if I did, mind.’
‘Yes, I know you would.’
‘What about your auntie?’ Ethel suggested with a flash of inspiration.
‘Auntie Iris? You must be joking!’
Ethel’s face was still. ‘Yes, I reckon I were.’
Suddenly the idea seemed so ludicrous that the tension snapped and they fell about with laughter, urging each other on and holding their splitting sides.
‘Summat’ll turn up,’ Ethel spluttered, trying to curb her mirth.
And Anna burst into tears.
‘Yere, Anna. Someone left this on the next table. Let’s ’ave a shifty. Might find summat in there for you.’
It had seemed an age before Saturday arrived. Having missed work the previous week, Anna had been anxious to get back. She needed every penny for her plan to run away, and she knew that Mrs Woodhead would be more than kind to her, and she craved every ounce of comfort that was on offer.
‘Oh, today’s Western Morning News?’
‘Yes. Look in the Situations Vacant. Might be summat suitable. Summat well paid so as you can afford your own place, or summat live-in.’
Anna’s eyes opened wide with a touch of amusement. ‘Like a live-in servant? You don’t get those sorts of jobs nowadays, do you?’
‘Well, there must still be posh ’ouses around that need people. Be very different now, though, I imagines.’
‘Well, we mustn’t spend too long looking. We’ve only got an hour for lunch, remember.’
‘Yere we go, then.’ Ethel began demolishing the newspaper and handed a page to Anna. ‘You looks there an’ I’ll look in this bit. So …’ She only hesitated for a moment. ‘’Ow ’ave things been with your dad?’
Anna’s face fell. ‘Oh, he went out and got drunk the night of the funeral. I guessed he’d gone to the pub so I made sure I was in bed early and, well, I moved the bed against the door. Didn’t want him coming into my room half sloshed.’
‘Oh, Anna.’ Ethel was aghast. ‘You’m right. You cas’n live like that.’
‘As it happened, he didn’t even try. I heard him come home, but he went straight to bed. He went back to work the next morning and he was all right for a couple of days, though you could’ve cut the air with a knife in the evenings. Thank God we had the television to watch. But last night …’
Her voice ended in a trail of desolation and Ethel’s brow creased with concern. ‘Yes?’ she prompted.
‘Well …’ Anna turned her attention to the sheet of newspaper, her fingers toying with the corner. ‘He went to the pub again, only it wasn’t long before he was back. He’d bought a bottle of whisky, but he’d obviously had a few pints at the pub first. I could smell it from him and he was already tipsy. And, well, let’s say he was a bit rough with me.’
She could feel the heat prickling around the collar of her blouse. From the look on her face, she could tell that Ethel realised she was being economical with the truth. But Ethel didn’t press her and instead murmured, ‘We’d best find you a way out, then.’
Anna’s heart sagged with relief that she hadn’t needed to go into detail, and turned her concentration on the newspaper. A moment later, she was startled by Ethel’s exclamation.
‘Oh, look! This could be interesting. Wanted. Young lady of good character to join household staff at remote residence on Dartmoor. Equivalent six days a week. Full board and lodging, plus £3 per week wages. Hmm. What d’you thinks of that, then, Annie?’
Anna tipped her head to one side. ‘I didn’t expect to find anything like that. But I don’t just want to be a cleaner.’
‘It don’t say exactly what the work is. Wouldn’t ’urt to ring up an’ ask, would it? Might be just what you’m looking for. I wonder where on Dartmoor? You used to love going up on the moor, didn’t you, when us was evacuees in Tavistock? Not so keen mysel’, but you was in seventh heaven as I remembers.’
A warm tide teased Anna’s memory. She hadn’t been back to Dartmoor since the war had ended and suddenly she was flooded with the need for those wild, endless miles of rugged landscape and majestic crags. Escape …
‘What’s the telephone number?’ she said at once.
‘Cheap day return to Princetown, please.’
‘Three bob, please, miss.’
Anna took out her purse. At least that wasn’t too expensive. But if she didn’t get the job, it would b
e three shillings out of her savings. She would need to earn a lot more to put into action her other plan, which was to go to Exeter or possibly to Bristol, find herself some digs and then look for a job to support herself. You could hide in a big city like that, and hopefully her father would never find her. But she would need time to save enough to get away, time when anything could happen with her dad.
Her stomach churned as she sat in the carriage, her emotions muddled and confused. Grief over her mum, anxiety about the interview, fear of her father and tearing sadness that things just shouldn’t be that way. Whatever happened, she was going to have to leave behind everyone who should be helping her through her bereavement – and go to live among strangers instead.
But as the train puffed away from the suburbs of Plymouth and began to skirt the south-western edge of Dartmoor, Anna felt the tension easing away and a quiet excitement took its place. Glimpses of those far-reaching, empty uplands flashed past until the track broke out onto the moor itself. She was glad that she had a seat by the window. It had been another cold, frosty night, but now the sun was well up in a clear, iceblue sky and the hills were crisply defined.
Anna remembered how, as a summer treat, Mabel would sometimes take her, Ethel and Davy on the train from Tavistock, change at Yelverton onto the Princetown line – as Anna was about to do – and then get off at Burrator Halt. Not that Mabel was a country girl at all. Far from it. But she clashed frequently with Mrs Ward at whose house they were all billeted. It gave her a break from the old sow – who incidentally was happy to take baby Billy off her hands for the day.
From Burrator Halt, they could go in many different directions onto the moor for their picnic of sandwiches and Tizer. Anna found herself smiling. All those fond memories. Before she knew what the war had done to her dad. Her mum came to visit her once a fortnight at the big house in Granville Road. She must have been quite posh, Mrs Ward, so it was no wonder she and Mabel never hit it off. But Mabel had found herself pregnant from Fred’s recent leave and Mrs Ward had been very helpful when Billy was born. They had remained at her house for well over three years until Mr Hitler was being driven back and there was no more fear of air raids over Plymouth. Anna wondered vaguely if Mrs Ward still lived in Tavistock.