There was no tapping through the wall now, there was no singing loudly or playing of the guitar, nor did he come again to the house for almost a month after this first visit. Then one day there was a knock on our front door, and when I went to it he said, "Hullo, Christine," and before I could reply he asked, "Is Uncle Bill about?"
"He's in the kitchen," I said.
"Can I see him a minute?"
He made no attempt to come in, and I did not ask him to but went into the kitchen and told Dad.
It was almost ten minutes later that Dad closed the front door and came back into the room. He had a parcel in his hand and he looked at me rather helplessly as he put it on the table, saying, "Now dont go for me, lass, I couldn't do any thing about it."
"About what?" I asked.
"This." He tapped the parcel.
"It's some butter and sugar and stuff."
I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, then said quietly, "Dad, you mustn't start that, not with him."
"I know, I know, lass." Dad's tone sounded harassed.
"But what could I do? He's trying to be kind and he seems changed. I think Ronnie going was a shock to him an' all. We've got to give him a chance, lass."
I did not answer, but went into the kitchen thinking, "Dear God, dear God." And Dad came after me, saying, "And there's Phyllis, she's got nothing really, nothing but her bits and pieces. It's her that's to be pitied."
Some time later an incident occurred which explained the many, and seemingly useless, bits and pieces that my Aunt Phyllis gathered about her. I was in Burton's in the High Street, upstairs in the china department, or what had been the china department before china, like everything else, became hard to get. Burton's was a sort of multiple store, with counters dotted here and there and goods displayed in arranged piles on the floor. It was just as I caught sight of my Aunt Phyllis's familiar back that my steps towards her were halted, for I saw her hand, which was holding a cloth bag at her side, gently pick up a small ornament and with a swift twist of her wrist slip it into the bag and she carried this out while looking the other way. The whole thing was so slick that I could not believe my eyes. I was only a few yards from her, and the next instant she had turned and was facing me, and she saw by my face that I knew what she had done, for she came towards me quickly, saying "Come on."
"But, Aunt Phyllis...."
"Look' she was breathing quickly 'dont stand there with your mouth agape, come on." She grabbed hold of my arm, but when I refused to be moved her whole attitude changed and she pleaded in a whisper, "For God's sake, Christine, come on ... come on. I'll explain, I'll tell you about it when we're outside."
I allowed her to lead me from the shop, but once outside I pulled my arm from her. We passed up the main street and were on the road for home before she spoke. Then she said, "I've never done it before, honest. I dont know what came over me."
I was shocked at the idea of her stealing and felt only con tempt for her lying, and so there was little pity in my voice as I said, "You have done it before, all those odd, useless things coming into the house for years."
I had not looked at her as I spoke, but when she did not answer or deny anything I glanced sideways at her and could not help but be touched to see her in tears. I had never seen her cry, never, and now she was mumbling, "I only do it when I'm worried, I can't help it.
It's Don, he's on with a woman in Bog's End. She's old enough to be his grandmother, as old as me anyway. It's nearly driving me frantic.
I only do it when I'm worried. "
In this, at least, I believed her; she only did it when she was worried. The knowledge, too, that Don had a woman came as a relief to me, and my tone was much more kindly as I said, "All right, Aunt Phyllis." Then I added, "But if you're caught, just think what'll happen."
"Sometimes I dont care if I am." Her tone was so dead sounding, so hopeless, that I realized as I looked at her how true my mother's words had been. Aunt Phyllis was a very un happy woman. She was not yet forty yet she looked an old woman. She had no joy in life except her elder son, and he, I was convinced, cared not a fig for her. It was Sam on whom she had thrashed out her unhappiness. It was he alone who showed her any consideration, and she could not find even a small grain of comfort in it for she had no love for Sam. I now thought, "Poor unhappy soul, poor Aunt Phyllis."
When I reached home and entered the kitchen and saw Constance turn from Sam and rush towards me with a cry of joy, and felt her little arms tighten about my legs and heard her voice cry, "Mummy, Mummy," I thought that after all I had quite a lot to be thankful for. I had her, and there was no bitterness in my heart.
I hadn't been in the house long enough to put away the rations and the odd things I had bought in the town when there came a tap on the back door, and thinking it was Aunt PhyUis again, I called, "Come in!"
It was Don who appeared in the kitchen doorway, filling its frame and making the room look small with his hugeness. At times he looked bigger than at others; when he was in a pleasant humour he seemed to swell.
He looked at me now and said "Hallo, there," and I said lightly,
"Hallo, Don." Then he glanced at Sam who was getting up from the mat where he had been playing with Constance and said, "You're cutting it fine, aren't you? You should be on your way."
"Oh, I've time enough," said Sam briefly, and his tone, I noticed, was not that of a younger brother to an elder, and such an elder, but he spoke to Don as to an equal, and his tone implied, if not an active dislike, utter disregard, and he made no move to leave the kitchen, for which I was thankful.
"Been for your rations?" Don nodded down to the articles on the table, and I said, "Yes, I've been for the rations."
"Well, there's no need to starve yourself, you know that, dont you?"
I was saved from making any comment on this by Constance pulling at Sam and crying, "Come on, play. Uncle Sam, come on, play, and make houses." She was trying to pull him towards her blocks again when Don's voice brought her little fair head towards him as, dropping on to his hunkers and facing her, he said, "Come here and talk to your Uncle Don ... I'm your Uncle Don."
I found that my hand was gripping my forearm until it hurt, and as he put his hand out towards her a wave of faintness swept over me and I heard myself praying, "Oh, Holy Mary, dont let him touch her!"
But he did touch her. His hand took hers gently from Sam's trouser leg, and he turned her towards him. It was with a glad face that she stood between his knees. They looked at each other, and he touched her under the chin and said, "You know, you're a bonnie lass."
It was a phrase that any north country man would have used to a child, and Don's tone was that of any north country man talking to a child, but I knew that Don was no ordinary north country man. Some deep instinct told me to beware of even his kindest word.
But it was obvious that Constance liked him, for she put out a finger and touched the small moustache that he was now growing, and at the feel of it she laughed. Then, with a sudden agile movement in one so heavy, he swung up from his hunkers with her in his arms and I rushed towards them as if saving her from some danger. My hand was on her to pull her away from him when his fingers touched mine. His eyes left her face and his gaze held me for a brief second, but in that time it was as if my temperature dropped by degrees, as if I had been suddenly thrust into a refrigerator. I took my hands away and turned from her, and he put her down on the floor again, saying, in the most pleasant fashion, "Uncle Don will bring you something the morrow. What would you like? A doll?"
She nodded at him, laughing.
"A doll, like Patsy." She went to the cupboard and pulled out her box of toys and, taking from it a doll, she held it up to him saying, "Like Patsy."
oh, it'll be bigger than Patsy that big . " He stretched out his hands indicating the size. Then saying, " Well, I must be off," he turned towards the door, but when there, he looked back at Sam and remarked, "
You in with the deputy that you can afford to
be late? "
Sam did not answer, but he turned and looked him straight in the face, and Don, saying nothing more, went out.
I found that I was trembling, shaking from head to foot. I looked at Sam but he would not meet my eyes and turned away and stood gazing into the fire until I said, "You will be late, Sam. I'm sorry I was so long."
He did not answer but made for the door, patting Constance's head as he passed her. He did not even say goodbye, and I remember thinking, Oh if he were only as old and as big as Don and could fight him. "
Don brought the doll for Constance, but he did not follow up his gift with daily visits. Sometimes a week would go by before he came in, and then all his talk and attention would be for the child. It would have appeared to an outsider that I did not exist for him, had never existed for him. But I knew differently, and was afraid.
One day as I was making a detour from the footbridge towards the hill, with a bag of groceries in each hand and Constance toddling by my side, a jeep drew up and the driver, leaning forward, said, "Hallo, there.
Would you like a lift?" I was on the point of saying, "No, thank you,"
when I recognized the man who had driven me to the hospital the night that Ronnie died. He was not young, near forty I should say, with a plain, ordinary face, relieved by two small, very bright eyes. Before I could say "Yes' or " No' he had jumped down and picked Constance up and placed her on the seat, and, taking my bags from me, he helped me up into the car. And that was my second meeting with Tom Tyler .
Tommy, as I came to call him.
He put me at my ease with regard to any ulterior motive of his kindness by showing me a photograph of his wife and two children. He was from Whitley Bay, which wasn't so far away, and he told me of some of the things he got up to in order to get long week-ends home. He said that Constance reminded him of his youngest, only, he added most generously, his youngster wasn't quite so bonnie. But having said, "They change as they get older," he laughed and added, "Not that yours will, missis."
It was the first time anyone had called me missis and it made me seem very old and reminded me forcibly that I was a mother. Little did I dream that day that Tommy was to have a finger in my destiny, that a suppressed lift of his hand was to be the signal for the second phase of my life to begin. But before this happened an incident was to occur that brought Sam and Don at each other's throats, to be followed by a pit disaster which cast a shadow on Sam's character.
The first happened when Sam came in one day and said, "Have you got such a thing as a sack, Christine? Old Miss Spiers has been after some coal. Me ma won't lend her our bucket and her's won't hold a shovelful. It would be easier for me if I could fill a sack and take it up."
"We haven't such a thing, Sam," I said, "I'm sorry."
At that moment the door opened and Dad came in, and he remarked, "What you sorry about? What haven't we got?" He stood taking off his coat and Sam said, "I was after a sack, Uncle Bill, to take Miss Spiers some coal along."
"We haven't got one, have we, Dad?"
Dad stood silent for a moment, then said, "Aye, we've got one, Sam, it's in the shed. I wrapped it up and stuck it back of the paint shelf thinking that one day it might give me a lead on Stinker. It's got a funny name on it, and I thought at the time, " You never know, if ever I see another one like that I'll know where this one came from. " But now you take it, Sam, it's no use worrying about things like that now, there's much more to worry about in the world the day, with people dying by the thousand. Aye, it's no use harbouring bitterness. You take it, Sam. Will I get it for you?"
"No, Uncle Bill, I'll get it. And thanks."
Our kitchen window looked down the length of the yard, and I saw Sam go into the shed and come out with a brown- paper parcel. I remembered the brown-paper parcel and my dad putting it there and saying, "Leave that be, Christine. It's only rags I've put away for when I start paintin'." I saw Sam take off the paper and shake out the sack, then I watched him spread it out on the yard, and from where I stood I could see the black painted marks on it, but not the words they made. Then I saw him turn and look swiftly up the yard. He saw me through the window and stared at me for a moment before picking up the sack and hurrying out. I heard his feet running up his yard and into the house, and within seconds his voice and that of Don's came through the kitchen wall, and to them was joined Aunt Phyllis's.
Dad and I looked at each other. Then Dad, going to the scullery, carefully opened our back door and stood listening. I joined him, and when Aunt Phyllis's kitchen door was pulled open the crack that it gave as it hit the wall sounded as if the wood had splintered. Then Don's voice filled the air, crying "You're bloody well mad!"
"Mad, am I?" I could not recognize Sam's voice, yet I knew it was he who was shouting, "All right, I'm mad, but you're insane. This explains everything. I've always had me suspicions, but now...."
"You're a bloody fool!" Don's tone had dropped and there was a conciliatory note in it as he said, "Get inside."
"Take your hands off me!"
"Come inside, will you, both of you, and stop that yelling!" It was Aunt Phyllis now, shouting from within the doorway.
"You bloody, dirty, mad swine!" I could not believe I was listening to Sam, Sam of the quiet voice and even temper, and when his words were cut sharply off and there came only the sound of scraping feet I knew that they were fighting. I clutched at Dad and whispered, "Oh, Dad, go on in and stop them, he'll kill Sam."
I saw Dad hesitate; then he said, "I dont know so much about that.
Sam's as strong as a horse, and the other's bloated with beer and. "
He stopped.
"But, Dad, he's only half his size."
As the sickening thud of blows and heavy breathing came over the wall.
Dad ran down the backyard, and the next second his voice came to me, shouting, "Break it up! Break it up! Sam! Sam, do you hear, stop it!
leave over! "
There was some more scuffling, and then Dad came into the yard again, pushing Sam before him. Sam's face was covered with blood coming from a split in his upper lip.
"Oh! Sam." I led him into the scullery, saying, "What's it all about?
What's happened? You should never have started on him. "
When I poured the water into the dish he swilled his face with it, then took the towel from my hand and pressed it over his mouth. But he didn't tell me what the row was about, nor did he tell Dad. And I didn't inquire further. Anything connected with Don I naturally shied from. It didn't occur to me to connect the row with the sack.
Three months later there was an explosion in the mine and four men died. Others were dragged out just in the nick of time, and one of these was Don. He was three days in hospital, and Aunt Phyllis haunted the place night and day. Sam, too, had been in the explosion, but had got out without any ill effects from the gas. Yet the experience had told on him, for he seemed to have changed overnight and was quiet, even with me and the child. He was usually quiet, I knew, with everyone else, but with me he had always been at ease, and we generally talked and jabbered together. But following the accident he said little.
Part of the wood was still standing, the remainder had been hewn down by the air force, to enlarge their camp. But I often took Constance to the first bay, the only one left, and there we would sit on the grass and she would play and romp while I knitted or just sat and watched her. Often Sam
M3
would come with us. He had today. Constance loved him to come along because he played and gambolled with her, but on this day he didn't play but sat by my side, his knees up, his hands hanging in their usual position.
"Aren't you feeling well, Sam?" I asked.
"Aye, I'm all right," he answered.
I said no more. It was well known that a man's first disaster always affected him. Some got over it quickly and used it as experience. But with others it left a mark, and I felt this one had done so on Sam. He had always been afraid of the dark, no matter how bravely he
faced it.
Constance, being tired after so much playing, he gave her a piggy-back home, and he had hardly dropped her from his shoulders on to the floor when, without any knocking, the back door through which we had just entered was burst open and Don stalked into the kitchen.
In lowering Constance to the floor Sam had bent over back wards, but now, as if released by a spring, he shot up straight, and I was not mistaken when I saw a look of fear flit across his face at the sight of his brother.
Ay. aye. We. ell! "
The two words were drawn out, and it seemed as if Don was singing them.
Sam did not speak, and Don, with no singsong inflection to his words now, said, "You pleased to see me?" He took a step forward, but Sam did not retreat, he only said, "What d'you mean?"
"What do I mean? You treacherous bugger! For two pins I'd brain you where you stand."
At the sound of Don's threatening voice Constance gave a whimpering cry, and I gathered her swiftly up into my arms before saying, "Now look, Don, I want no rowing in here."
"Do you know what he tried to do?" Don was speaking to me but he did not move his eyes from Sam and his face was convulsed with such fury that it looked as if it would burst at any moment.
"He tried to kill me!"
I could not stop my eyes flicking in startled inquiry to Sam. Sam's face told me nothing, but there was no vestige of fear on it now, and he exclaimed, quickly, "You're mad!"
"Mad am I? Well, you'll be a bloody sight madder by the time I've finished with you!"
"I dont know what you're on about."
"Oh, no? I was almost gasping me last when we reached the air door.
You didn't go through it and bang it shut, did you? Oh, no! If it hadn't been for Steve Moreton comin' back to see if we were all out I'd have been a gonner. And you told him you were the last, didn't you ?
Fenwick Houses Page 16