by Maggie Hope
‘Aye. But I’m their father, Elsie. I’m their legal guardian. I’ll take them if I damn well want to.’
‘No, you won’t, Dad,’ Rose said, lifting her chin, the dizziness receding.
Alf nodded. He scratched his stubbly chin and smiled, and somehow his smile looked far worse, Alf smiling looked far more menacing than Alf in a rage.
Rose looked down at the cheap linoleum with which Elsie had covered the cement floor, tracing the abstract pattern of red and blue on brown to where it disappeared under the clippie mat. She tried to gather her resources. She had to win this one, she had to.
‘You won’t take the twins,’ she said. Her voice sounded strong and calm in her own ears which was strange because she was quaking inside.
‘No, of course he’s not going to take the twins,’ said her aunt. ‘They’re far better off here. They’ve made friends, they’re happy here. Alf?’ It was a plea.
Her brother looked at her. ‘Pull yourself together, woman,’ he snapped. ‘If you want to keep them, talk to little Rosie here, it’s up to her. Well, Rose?’
‘Aunt Elsie, I’m sorry. I can’t go back, really I cannot.’
‘But why not? He’s your dad, for goodness’ sake. You owe him something, don’t you?’
‘Nothing at all. Nothing but misery,’ declared Rose. She folded her arms in front of her, holding herself; she was as tense as a coiled spring, her mouth dry.
‘What are you talking about?’ Aunt Elsie’s mouth was slack, the question came out in a wail.
‘I think you know what I’m talking about.’
‘I don’t! If you’re talking that filth you said when your poor mam died, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a word of it! I told meself it was because you were so upset over your mam but if you start saying such things again, I’ll never forgive you, I’m telling you!’
‘Whether you believe it or not, it’s true,’ Rose said and stared grimly at her father. All the times he had threatened her, all the times he had used her, even when her mother was in the house, all the misery she had undergone because of the evil that was her father, her own flesh and blood, the hell of it, the thought that it could all happen again with Mary … it all came to a head. She got to her feet and screamed at him, screamed at them both, brother and sister.
‘He wouldn’t leave me alone, not even when Mam was there! He still won’t, can’t you see? I only stayed because he said he would take the twins back. Dear God, Aunt Elsie, can’t you see what would happen to Mary if he did? I thought you loved her.’
She was standing now, legs astride and hands on her hips, her head thrust forward as she shouted at them both, for Elsie Sharpe had run to her brother, both of them braced as though facing an enemy. Alf was panting, fists opening and closing at his sides, Elsie as red-faced and furious as her niece. Then she spoke, or hissed rather, through her teeth.
‘Nothing is going to happen to Mary – nothing, I’m telling you. Nowt will happen because she’s staying here with me, isn’t she, Alf? Not that I’m saying anything would happen if she went back with her dad, because it wouldn’t. You’re a filthy-minded little bitch, Rose, and I wouldn’t mind betting you’re not Alf’s bairn at all, if the truth be known! You don’t take after the Sharpes, that’s for sure. I always wondered about your mother –’
‘I wish to heaven I wasn’t his!’ cried Rose. ‘Especially now. Most especially now. I cannot go back, I tell you, I cannot! I’m going to have a baby!’ She raised a finger and pointed it at Alf. ‘His baby it is. Ask him. If he denies it, he’s lying in his teeth.’
‘Oh, so that’s it, is it? You’re going to have a nameless brat and think you’ll blacken your dad’s name by blaming it on him? My God, you’re pathetic’ Elsie stepped forward and slapped Rose across the face so that her head rocked over to one side and her ears rang. When she’d recovered slightly, Rose turned to her father, filled with despair now. She had only one course left to her.
‘I’m going to the Welfare,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell them – I will. I swear I don’t care any more who knows. I don’t – I only care about the twins!’
Alf Sharpe stepped forward. He had said little so far and nothing at all to Rose; he now simply drew back his fist, hardened by years in the mines, and drove it into her stomach. She fell to the ground and her head hit the brass rail of Aunt Elsie’s fender and she was out like a light.
Chapter Seventeen
‘We don’t usually allow personnel to take an afternoon like this, especially at such short notice,’ said Mr Brown. He was manager over all the accounting machine offices in the Treasurer’s Department, the comptometers and the Burroughs, accounting machines besides the office where Marina worked.
‘But I’ll take it as a lieu day,’ she said. ‘And the work is up to date.’
‘Well, as Tuesday isn’t a particularly busy day,’ Mr Brown conceded, ‘go on then.’
Anyone would think he was doing me a special favour, thought Marina as she hurried into her outdoor things and raced along Old Elvet to the bus station. She hardly felt the sharp wind as she climbed the hill and on, down Silver Street. Her thoughts were of Rose and how she had got on.
Rose’s aunt would be sure to take her in, Marina told herself. Of course she would. She shuddered with revulsion as she thought of Alf Sharpe. The piece of slime! He wouldn’t have the nerve to go after Rose, of course he wouldn’t. Dad had said he was off work, but that was probably because he’d been on the beer last Sunday. Marina checked in her bag to make sure she had the letter from Jeff. It was her excuse for coming, really.
She ate the sandwiches Kate had prepared for her lunch as the bus ambled slowly through Sherburn and out into the country. The autumn sun shone through the window and warmed her and Marina began to feel quite optimistic. Rose was going to be all right. But, mind, if only there was some way of seeing Alf Sharpe got his just desserts without spreading Rose’s name all over the Northern Echo, Marina would be even happier.
Getting off the bus on Front Street, she easily found 14 West Row, the address Rose had given her. The back street seemed to be the best way in and she walked up the yard to the back door and knocked. There was no reply. Marina stepped back and looked at the window but the curtains were drawn. The upstairs window was the same, nothing to see there. She knocked again. Perhaps they were at the front. After a moment or two, she called through the letter box. Still no response. There was a string hanging inside, she felt its weight with two fingers, but there was no key hanging on it as surely there would be if Elsie and Rose had just slipped out to the shops.
Disappointed, Marina walked back to the gate before looking behind her at the house. There was no smoke from the chimney, it looked as though it was empty. Was it the wrong house?
‘Marina! Marina!’
As she stepped through the gate there were the twins, Michael and Mary, coming down the road hand in hand. Of course, it was half-past three. The infant schools would be finished for the day, she realised with relief.
‘Hallo, loves,’ she cried, stepping forward to meet them and kissing them both on the cheek, a gesture which Michael at least found not to his liking. He rubbed vigorously at the spot with a decidedly grubby fist. ‘I’m looking for Rose, but she doesn’t seem to be in.’
‘Why, no, she’s not, she went back to Jordan,’ said Mary, the smile leaving her face. ‘She didn’t even say goodbye, Marina. When you see her, tell her we’re not speaking to her for not saying goodbye.’
‘You might as well have stopped at home!’ chortled Michael. ‘Did you not see her? She went yesterday – last night after we’d gone to bed.’
‘But where’s your Aunt Elsie?’ asked Marina. Before the twins could answer a woman came out of the next-door house. ‘Come away in wi’ me, pets,’ she called to the twins. ‘I’ll give you your teas. Your auntie had to go somewhere.’ She was a tiny, thin woman, hardly up to Marina’s shoulder, her greying hair scraped back into a bun, nose red and sore as though she had
a cold. ‘An’ who are you?’ she asked, looking Marina up and down. ‘You’re not from round here, I’ll be bound.’
‘No, she’s not, Mrs Todd,’ cried Michael. ‘She’s come from Jordan to see our Rose but she’s too late. Rose went home.’
‘Aye, well, you two’d better get in by the fire, it’s a cold day.’ She waited until they had disappeared into the house. ‘You might as well go home, lass. Like they said, there’s nobody in next door. An’ I cannot stand here, I’ll catch me death of pneumonia.’
‘But didn’t Elsie say where she was going? I have come a long way,’ Marina protested.
‘I’m not one to pry,’ Mrs Todd said. She pulled the grey cardigan she was wearing tighter round her thin frame. ‘By, I’m nithered an’ all. I’d ask you in but it’s better you should go home, the nights are drawing in now, aren’t they? It’s a long way to Bishop Auckland. That’s right, isn’t it? Where the bairns come from?’ She turned away into her own yard but then came back. ‘Elsie’s brother was here last night, I saw him turn in to her gate. Mebbe your friend went back wi’ him.’
No! No, she didn’t, she wouldn’t, Marina wanted to shout, but she only stared at Mrs Todd in disbelief. After the woman had gone into the house Marina hung about irresolutely. Should she go on home as Mrs Todd advised? Or should she wait for Elsie Sharpe to come back from wherever she had gone, as she surely would? After all, she had the twins to see to. Mrs Todd didn’t look the sort to mind them for very long at a time. What a waste of her lieu day this was! And if Rose had gone back with her dad, she was no further forward. But no, she never would. Marina pictured the struggle on the fell on Sunday morning and shuddered. Dear Lord, don’t let her do anything silly.
Sitting in a cafe on Front Street as she waited for a bus, Marina sipped strong milky tea and tried to eat a tasteless scone with half a dozen currants in it and spread with lumpy yellow margarine. She took a couple of bites and then stared out of the window at the darkening street, crumbling the scone between her fingers, hardly knowing she was doing it.
Miners were walking past on their way home from the pit, their faces and clothes clean and shining, unlike the ‘black boys’ of home. Of course, there were pithead baths here, had been since before the war. There were at Easington too, she remembered Brian saying so. The pithead baths at Jordan were under construction at last, the men had even been issued with cheap bath towels. Her thoughts ran on inconsequentially, anything to ease her worry about Rose for a few minutes. She never realised that she hadn’t thought of her own troubles for days.
A bus drew up to the stop opposite and people got off and walked across the road, women with shopping baskets mostly and one or two children in school uniform – grammar-school kids, she judged. Looking up at the destination plate on the front of the bus, she read ‘Easington Colliery’ and on impulse jumped up and ran across to it, dodging a car which honked angrily at her, thinking the bus would set off without her if she didn’t hurry. She needn’t have bothered, there was a queue at the stop which had been hidden by the bus; it was slowly filing aboard.
She had to stand for most of the way, hanging on with one hand as they lurched around corners on the narrow roads, awkwardly looking for pence for her fare. When she finally got a seat she drew out the letter from Jeff to Rose. There was no address on the back, she hadn’t thought there was but checked just in case. Should she open it? She grinned at herself. No, of course she shouldn’t, but she was going to, she needed Jeff’s address.
Briefly she considered changing her mind and finding her way back to Jordan. Brian had Jeff’s address, she could get it from him. But she would have to tell him something of what was happening, he would wonder why she wanted it otherwise. Anyway she was practically there now, it would be daft to go back. She opened the envelope: 9, Greenwood Street. Well, that should be easy to find. She resisted the temptation to read further, though she couldn’t help noticing the beginning: ‘My Dearest Rose’. It made her feel better about what she was doing somehow. Jeff thought the world of Rose, always had, even at school. He would help her.
When Marina eventually found the house it was Jeff himself who answered the door and stared at her in surprise.
‘Marina Morland! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Hallo, Jeff. I’m looking for Rose. Is she here with you?’
‘Rose? My Rose? Why should she be here?’ He stepped forward on to the step, sudden anxiety sharpening his voice. Drops of rain fell on to his head and trickled down his face unheeded.
‘Can I come in, Jeff?’ asked Marina, dispirited. She began to realise how wet she was herself. The walk from the bus stop was quite long and had been made longer by her losing her way once or twice despite getting directions from people passing by. She shivered, feeling that if she didn’t sit down in the warm soon she would fall down.
‘Eeh, I’m sorry, come on in,’ he said and stood aside to let her pass. ‘The landlady’s out tonight, I have the house to myself. Come away into the kitchen, there’s a good fire on.’ He ushered her into a room very similar to her own mother’s kitchen, A range polished to a shine with black lead, the brass fittings twinkling in the light from the heaped-up fire. There was a bright flowery wallpaper on the walls and a settee with plump cushions. And either side of the fire, a pair of armchairs, deep and soft.
‘Now what’s this all about?’ he asked as soon as she had removed her soaking wet coat and sat down before the comforting blaze. ‘What made you think Rose was here?’
‘I didn’t really, it was just – well, I thought she might be.’
‘Come on now, tell me what it’s all about.’
And so Marina told him, not the whole story, not about what Alf Sharpe had done, not about Rose falling wrong. But how unhappy she had been living with her father, how she had cried about it on Sunday when they went up the fell, how she herself had advised Rose to go to Shotton. ‘She missed the bairns such a lot you see,’ she said.
‘But surely, she’d been there all this time since her mother died, she never told me she was that unhappy,’ said Jeff. ‘I mean, for her to up sticks and leave, without speaking to Alf, I don’t know.’
‘Yes, well, there was more,’ said Marina. But she couldn’t say it. In the end she simply added, ‘She missed you though, Jeff, you being so far away. And Shotton’s only a few miles from here, isn’t it? Likely she thought she would be near you.’
‘Did she? Did she really?’ He sounded delighted but only for a few seconds. ‘Aye, but she went back, didn’t she? When Alf came for her, you said.’
Marina bit her lip, looking puzzled. ‘You know, I can hardly believe it. If you’d seen her on Sunday … she was so upset, vowing she couldn’t stay in Jordan. And besides, what about Elsie? Where is she? The house is empty, like I said, the twins are being looked after by the neighbour.’
Marina sat back in the chair. It was so comfortable, and what with the heat from the fire … she felt suddenly exhausted, exhausted and despondent and filled with worry for her friend. She glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock already, the time had flown by and she hadn’t discovered a thing.
‘I’ll have to go, Jeff,’ she said, forcing herself to sit upright. ‘I’ll have to catch the number eighteen bus from Easington Lane, I’m not even sure how to get there. But if I don’t, I won’t catch the last bus to Bishop Auckland at Spennymoor.’
‘No, no, you don’t have to do any of that,’ he replied. ‘Sit a minute, I’ll make you some Ovaltine or something, it’ll make you feel better. Then I’ll take you home. I’ve got a car now.’ He said it all as if his mind was on something else, though he got to his feet and filled a pan with milk and put it on the bar. He brought a couple of cups from the dresser by the side of the fireplace and spooned Ovaltine into them, all the time working automatically but efficiently. ‘I’ll go to see Alf Sharpe,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this.’
Marina sank back into her chair, grateful for someone else to take over
. She looked at Jeff, doing a small domestic task, but obviously a man she could depend upon. Like Brian, she thought suddenly. Jeff would find Rose. She drank the Ovaltine when he handed it to her, felt her eyelids drooping. Next minute he was shaking her gently by the shoulder.
‘Come on, lass, wake up, we’re on our way,’ he said and she stumbled to her feet. They set off on the thirty-or-so-mile journey to Jordan, taking the Spennymoor road rather than that to Durham. At Shotton Colliery they did a short detour into the village to look again at Elsie Sharpe’s house, leaving the car at the end of the row and both of them walking down to the gate and looking in. The rain had stopped and moonlight lit the yard but there was no light from the windows. Jeff went in and knocked at the door but there was no response.
Marina stood at the gate, her arms folded together against the cold. She had hoped Elsie and Rose would be there, and have some simple explanation of where they had been earlier in the day, but there was no one. At least … she thought she saw a shadow move at the upstairs window, a flicker of something. But, no, it must have been a trick of the moonlight, the house was empty.
‘Howay, lass, back to the car,’ said Jeff. ‘You look absolutely nithered.’ He took her arm and hurried her down the back street.
‘The twins must be sleeping with Mrs Todd,’ Marina said thoughtfully, and Jeff nodded.
‘Very good of a neighbour to go to such trouble, isn’t it?’
It was too, thought Marina. Unless something terrible had happened, like someone in the family being carted off to hospital or dying. She didn’t mention her fears to Jeff. After all, he probably had his own.
They were very quiet as they drove on, through Coxhoe and Spennymoor and on to the Bishop Auckland road. It was almost ten o’clock when Jeff drew up before the Morland house.
‘Mam’s going to be furious at me being so late,’ said Marina, thinking of it for the first time. ‘She’ll be stotting mad.’