by Maggie Hope
This evening, as every other, she went home knowing sadly that the reason he didn’t come was that he’d had enough of her, was finished with her, had just faded out of sight instead of telling her. Well, she would simply put him out of her mind too, concentrate on doing well at Shire Hall. Doris was leaving to get married and Marina had been promised promotion to the tabulator. After that, who knows? She could become supervisor, Margaret wasn’t going to go on for ever. She could take more night classes to qualify to work her way up the Treasurer’s Department. Her prospects were good, very good.
So why did she not feel more excited about it? Oh, never mind, she told herself crossly. She wasn’t alone, she still had Brian, faithful old Brian to go with to dances and the pictures. And she was fond of him too, liked going out with him, wasn’t just making use of him. What’s more, it was nice to have someone to go out with, someone she could rely on. They were going out tonight as it happened, they were off to the Majestic to see Tom Brown’s Schooldays.
All thoughts of Brian or the picture or anything else were driven out of her head when she saw the letter on the side table as she went into the kitchen at home. Her eyes were drawn to it. At first she thought she must be imagining it, but no, there it was, a thick white envelope and Charlie’s strong handwriting on it in black ink: ‘Miss Marina Morland’.
‘Hallo, pet. We’ve got some news,’ said Kate. ‘An invitation to a wedding no less. I bet you can’t guess who from?’ She was full of pleasure at the idea of a day out at a wedding and Marina’s absent-minded response was disappointing.
‘What?’
Her daughter wasn’t even listening to her but staring at the letter which had come for her in the morning post along with the invitation.
‘Oh, yes, there’s a letter for you too. Looks like a man’s writing. Mind, you’ve kept him dark, whoever he is. Does Brian know a man’s writing to you?’ Kate grinned then forgot about the letter. ‘Don’t you want to know who’s getting wed?’
The letter was in Marina’s hand, she was aching to take it upstairs to her room. Oh, it was all going to be all right! Charlie would never have written to her if it wasn’t. Her heart pounded. She forced herself to look at her mother as the sense of what Kate was saying finally got through to her.
‘Who?’
‘Penny! Penny’s going to marry that Charlie … emm, hang on a minute, I have the invitation here.’ Kate reached up to the mantelpiece and took down a silver-bordered card. ‘Oh yes, Charles Hutchinson. You know, I think we met him on Durham Day once. That time directly after the war.’
Marina snatched the card out of her mother’s hand. Charles Hutchinson. Yes, it definitely said Charles Hutchinson. He was going to marry Penny two weeks come Saturday, the first Saturday in October. But it had to be another Charles Hutchinson, of course it had to! Marina stared from the card to the envelope in her hand.
‘Don’t snatch, Marina,’ Kate admonished mildly. Then, looking puzzled, ‘Aren’t you pleased?’
She turned her back and fumbled with the buttons of her coat. She mumbled something which could have been a yes.
‘Are you out of sorts, Marina? A bad time with your monthlies?’ Marina shook her head. ‘Well, come on and eat your tea. I’ve got a nice bit of liver –’
She hardly heard what her mother was saying, all she wanted to do was escape to her bedroom, be on her own.
‘I have to get changed,’ she said and fled.
Kate stared after her. She looked down at the plate in her hand; good food spoiling, that was what it was. She couldn’t abide good food spoiling. Sometimes she didn’t know what was the matter with her daughter, she was that temperamental. Maybe it was giving her such a posh name, but she’d taken such a fancy to Princess Marina when she’d married the Duke of Kent, God rest his soul. She put the plate back in the oven and hung the cloth on the rail. She’d just have to insist Marina ate it before she went out.
Upstairs, Marina opened the letter and drew out the single sheet. It was all a mistake, she knew it was. After all, Charlie had written this letter, hadn’t he? She sat down on the bed and began to read.
Dear Marina,
How are you? I’m sorry I have not written before now, but the truth is, I’ve been so busy. Did I tell you I had secured a post at York University? Well, I start in October, we are very excited about it. By ‘we’ I mean your cousin Penny and I. We’re going to be married at the beginning of October and then we are going immediately to York.
I will always think fondly of you, Marina. How sweet you are, and the good times we had together in Durham. But that is all in the past now. It has been understood ever since we were children that Penny and I would marry one day. Her mother was so good to me when I needed help. I know you will wish us every happiness, Marina, and be glad for us.
Yours affectionately,
Charlie
‘Yours affectionately’. Marina ran her thumb over the words. Charlie didn’t love Penny, of course he didn’t. It was just that he had an obligation to Aunt Hetty, that was all it was.
‘Marina? Are you coming down to eat this tea I made for you or not?’ Her mother was becoming annoyed.
‘Yes, Mam.’
Marina stuffed the letter in her drawer underneath a pile of clean undies and went down. She sat at the table and ate the meal which Kate put before her, every last scrap.
‘We’ll go into town on Saturday and buy dresses for the wedding,’ her mother said happily. ‘I have the money put away in the Co-op.’
‘Always supposing Dad doesn’t get to it first,’ said Marina sourly. She felt scratchily irritable, ready to take on the world. But when the smile on Kate’s face was replaced by a look of hurt reproach, she wished she had kept quiet.
‘He won’t do that, Marina. He’s stopped gambling, you know he has.’
‘Yes. And anyway, he can’t get dividend money, can he? You have to sign for it.’ Dad would never stop gambling, it was in his blood, a disease like the measles, she thought.
Why was she being so nasty? Marina pushed away her plate and rose to her feet. She put one arm around her mother.
‘Sorry, Mam, I’m just in a bad mood tonight. Of course he won’t touch the money. Look, I’m off to see Rose for a minute or two before I go out. I promised her I’d pop in and she hasn’t been for that letter which came yesterday.’
That was true, there was a letter from Easington for Rose and it wasn’t like her not to call in on her way to the shop on the off chance of there being post. It was safe enough, Alf would be at work.
‘Your dad’s not so bad,’ said Kate. ‘He’s a sight better than some folks I could mention.’
‘Yes, Mam, I know.’ Marina tried to be conciliatory.
‘He brings me his pay packet every Friday, unopened an’ all,’ she went on and Marina’s nerves began to jump.
‘I’ll have to go, Mam. See you later.’ She escaped into the street, calling, ‘If Brian comes before I’m back, tell him where I am.’
‘Aye, and I’ll tell him you’re getting letters from strange men.’
Marina turned back. ‘Brian is not my boyfriend,’ she snapped. ‘It’s none of his business who writes to me.’
Kate sighed. ‘Oh, go on. I wasn’t going to say anything anyway.’
Rose was alone, of course, she was mostly alone these days. The light was on in the kitchen and the curtains undrawn and Marina was jolted as she saw her friend through the window, sitting knitting by the fire. She looked so pale and wan. Not well at all. She was too thin and her dark hair needed washing and cutting. Marina doubted if it had seen a comb that day. Rose started up from her seat, dropping the knitting when Marina knocked and opened the door. She glanced about the kitchen as she came in, just in case Alf Sharpe was off work, ready to go in a minute if he was. But no, the house was empty. In the corner the wireless was on for the news. Rose walked over to it and turned it off.
‘I can only spare a minute, I’m going to the Majestic with Brian.’
/>
‘But you can sit down, can’t you?’ Rose moved her knitting bag from a chair.
‘Oh, yes.’ Marina brought out the letter and handed it over and even in her own misery took delight in the way her friend’s face lit up.
‘It came yesterday. We thought you might have come round.’
Rose’s expression dimmed slightly. ‘I couldn’t come yesterday, I was busy.’
Marina looked around the spotless kitchen, spotless and cheerless, not a thing lying about but the knitting bag. Rose may neglect herself but she never neglected the house. And she endlessly knitted for the twins. As soon as one garment was finished, another was cast on the needles. Rose clutched her letter, compulsively looking down at it every few seconds.
‘I don’t know what keeps you so busy,’ Marina commented. ‘You have an electric washer now, haven’t you?’ That was one good thing, Alf Sharpe never seemed to mind paying for things for the house. And he was making a lot of money now, of course.
‘I had to go out.’ Rose was staring at her letter.
‘Oh, go on, open it. I know you can’t wait.’
But she just held the letter so Marina waited for her friend to tell her where it was she had to go. Rose never went out, unless it was to the shops or on one of her rare visits to see the twins. She stayed silent.
‘Of course, you don’t have to tell me, I’m only your best friend,’ said Marina, sounding huffy.
Rose thought of the doctor’s surgery where she had sat on a form by the wall in the waiting room, then her humiliation as the doctor examined her.
‘Haven’t you brought a friend with you?’ he had asked. ‘I don’t usually do this when a patient is alone.’
She almost poured out everything to Marina, felt she would go mad if she didn’t tell someone, and there was no one else but Marina, was there? Rose’s joy in the letter was dead as darker things crowded in on her. She stared at it again and slipped it into her knitting bag. Jeff. For a minute or two when she had first seen the letter she had forgotten that he would not want her now. Definitely would not. So what was the good of writing? She would have to break with him, that was all.
‘I’m so miserable, Rose!’
She looked across at Marina in surprise, the words mirrored her own thoughts so exactly. But what had Marina to be miserable about? She had begun to cry.
‘Why? What’s the matter? Oh, Marina, I’m so sorry! I’m a selfish pig, I am. I should have noticed how upset you were. I’m so full of my own troubles. Tell me all about it.’
‘I’ve been such a fool, Rose. I –’ Marina got no further for just then there was a knock on the door. ‘Oh, God, it’s Brian. We were going to the pictures. Oh, I don’t want him to see me like this!’
‘Go and wash your face, I’ll talk to Brian,’ Rose said, and waited until Marina was out of the room before answering the door. What she would do if her dad came home now she had no idea. She opened the door only halfway, holding on to the handle and peering out at Brian.
‘Hallo, Rose. Mrs Morland said Marina was here,’ he greeted her.
‘She won’t be a minute, Brian. Look, go and wait at the end of the street, will you? I’m nervous, me dad –’
He nodded, knowing what she meant immediately and backed off, but as he walked out of the yard his face was hard. That bloody man! What right had he to keep the lass in such a state that she was frightened of simple, everyday contact with a lad? By, one of these days that swine would get his comeuppance and he and Jeff might be just the ones to see to it.
‘Come back and tell me all about it,’ said Rose as Marina returned to the kitchen, looking pale but dry-eyed. And I’ll tell you all my woes, she thought as her friend went off. She smiled wryly as she imagined Marina’s face if she told her. What would she do? Run a mile, probably, horrified. Maybe she wouldn’t believe it, would think it was all lies. Or maybe she would think it was Rose’s own fault. After all, she had stayed with her father, hadn’t she?
Rose picked up the knitting bag and took out the letter from Jeff. Before reading it she closed the curtains at the window and turned the key in the lock, just in case he came home.
‘We’re too late for the pictures now,’ said Brian. ‘Where shall we go?’ He caught hold of Marina’s hand and held it, his fingers warm and strong and comforting. ‘There’s the pubs,’ he suggested. ‘The Wear Valley Hotel is open.’ So they sat in a corner of the almost empty lounge in the hotel opposite the railway station and Brian ordered brown ale for himself and a shandy for Marina. The publican looked sideways at her, unsure if she was old enough to be there, but he said nothing.
If Marina was unusually quiet, Brian didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was too sensitive to say anything about it. He watched her as she sat, looking pensive, taking an occasional sip from her glass. She began to make an effort to be sociable, talk a little about the girls at work, how Doris was leaving to get married and she herself expected to be promoted to her place on the tabulator. How she was taking extra courses at night school.
‘You’ll get on,’ said Brian confidently. ‘You’re clever, you can do anything you set your mind to.’
‘Oh, you!’ said Marina, but she smiled warmly at him and he was encouraged to say what was on his mind. This was a good place with no distractions, they could talk here.
‘I’m going to night school too. I won’t be a hewer all my life,’ he said, and she gazed at him in surprise. Somehow she hadn’t thought of Brian as being ambitious.
‘Won’t you?’
‘No, I will work my way up. In good time take my under-manager’s ticket – if I stay in mining, that is. I wish now I’d started in surveying. I could have done, you know.’ He said it as though she might doubt him and impulsively she put her hand on his.
‘I’m sure you could have, Brian.’
He sighed. ‘Of course, it might mean I would have to move away from Jordan.’ The touch of her hand on his made him feel good, he never wanted to let her go. Yet for all they were going out together quite regularly now, there was still something elusive about her.
Marina wouldn’t want to move away from her family, he knew that. And if she didn’t marry him and go with him wherever he had to go, what was it all for?
‘Would you like to get engaged?’
There, he couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words. His heart beat faster in trepidation, he was sure he’d spoiled his chances now, she would refuse him, of course she would. The silence was broken by the clink of a glass as the barman put it down and crossed over to the juke box and put in a coin. Brian watched as the steel arm behind the glass moved and took a record and placed it on the turntable. Coloured lights flashed in the console. Frank Sinatra started to sing, albeit a little scratchily, a wailing love song.
‘Engaged?’
Marina withdrew her hand and turned her head away from him, finding something totally absorbing in the juke box.
‘Look, forget I said it. I know you’re not ready. I –’
She turned back to him, her smile brilliant. ‘When? When will we get engaged?’
Brian was nonplussed for a second or two. ‘Tonight. Tomorrow. Oh, anytime you like.’
‘Will I have a ring?’
‘Why not?’ He thought of his savings in the Trustees Savings Bank. Every week since he had been working the bank clerk had come to the pit office on payday. He’d had a pound taken from his wages at source and had never withdrawn a penny. He wondered how much a ring cost. What the heck did it matter? He was just beginning to realise that Marina had actually said yes!
Chapter Fourteen
‘You’re too young to get engaged, let alone married,’ said Kate. ‘Isn’t she, Sam? You both are.’
‘I don’t know, you were just eighteen yourself when we were wed,’ said her husband, and Kate turned on him in a fury.
‘Aye, and look how that turned out!’
He looked shocked, turning first pale and then red as fire. ‘It turned out all ri
ght, woman! Haven’t we got three fine grown-up bairns? Haven’t I worked for you and them all these years? Why, I bring my pay packet home every week wi’ nowt out of it but me union dues, don’t I?’
Marina blushed and looked sideways at Brian, ashamed he should hear her parents squabbling like this. He appeared to be absorbed in a calendar hanging on the wall.
‘Oh, yes. Until the day you decide to bet all we’ve got on a dog or a horse or the cards. You’re a gambler, Sam Morland …’
‘Stop it, Mam, leave him alone!’ cried Marina and Kate turned on her.
‘Don’t you tell me to stop it, young lady. You’re the first one to moan about him when –’
‘I think we should go for a walk, Marina,’ Brian intervened. He took hold of her elbow and drew her towards the door.
‘But it’s late and we haven’t settled anything yet,’ she protested.
‘Yes, we have, pet. Tomorrow we’re going into Bishop to buy the ring. Now come on, put your coat on, it’s a bit chilly out there. Just a turn around the streets. Goodnight, Mrs Morland, Mr Morland.’ He nodded his head and they went out, Marina with barely time to fasten her coat.
There was a short silence in the kitchen. Sam reached up to the mantelpiece and took down a packet of Woodbines. He tore a strip of paper from the edge of his newspaper and twisted it, using it to light the cigarette. His fingers trembled slightly and as the first smoke entered his lungs he coughed, a harsh, laboured sound. Then he sat back and met his wife’s gaze.
‘You never back me up,’ she remarked with the resigned bitterness she often used with him.
‘Not when you’re wrong I don’t.’
‘Our Marina’s just a bairn. Only today she insisted Brian wasn’t her boyfriend, they were just going out together sometimes.’
‘Well then. She just fancies being engaged, the lad asked her and she thought she would like it. It’ll all fizzle out eventually. Marina’s too sensible a lass to marry someone she doesn’t care for.’
‘But that’s what I’m telling you! Why, do you know, she had a letter from another chap only the day. She doesn’t know what she wants, that’s the trouble.’