A Child of Jarrow (32 page)

Chapter 38

Kate took Catherine away from Simonside School the following week. For the rest of the summer term she had to go to a local school in East Jarrow until there was room for her at St Bede's Infant School in the September. Catherine appeared to take this sudden upheaval in her stride and spent the long holidays roaming the lanes and fields that bordered East Jarrow with her friends.

Kate tried to keep her occupied with jobs close to home: pounding the washing in the poss tub, carrying basketloads of other people's washing back to their houses, running to the shops for soap or flour or matches. But even at seven years old, the girl was fiercely independent, disappearing on adventures and returning triumphantly with nuggets of coal from the cinder tracks or pieces of driftwood for the fire.

‘Look what I've got you, Kate,' she reappeared one day, dragging in a huge plank of wood and dropping it like a cat its prey.

‘You've not been down the Slacks, have you?' Kate fretted.

‘No,' Catherine said, her pretty hazel eyes all innocence, crossing her fingers behind her back.

‘You have,' Kate accused. ‘How many times have I told you it's dangerous to play down there? You could fall in and drown and we'd not find you - just like Jobling's body disappearin' into thin air. It's a bad place - you stay away.'

Catherine's look turned sullen. She kicked the plank. ‘I was just trying to help.'

Kate felt a flash of remorse. ‘Aye, well, we'll say no more about it. Tak it out in the yard and I'll chop it up later.'

When Catherine came back in, Kate went to the tin on the mantelpiece and took out a halfpenny. She thrust it at the child.

‘Here, gan to the shop and get a twist of sweets.'

Her round face brightened. ‘Ta, our Kate.'

‘Be quick about it, mind. I need you to help me fold the sheets.'

Kate was not surprised when Catherine skipped back in clutching a comic instead of black bullets, and squatted down on the fender at Rose's feet. The girl had begun to read anything she could get her hands on. Mrs Romanus from upstairs had lent her a fat book by Charles Dickens that Kate had thought would give her a headache with all its words. But Catherine followed the words with her finger in deep concentration. Catherine would pester Aunt Maggie to look at her books too.

Best of all, the girl seemed to like comics and annuals with pictures. To Kate's annoyance she could sit by the fire for hours lost in a story world, oblivious to her pleas for help and blocking the way to the oven. Maybe old John was right and the Catholic teachers would knock some discipline into her dreamy head.

Once Catherine started at the Jarrow school, Kate's limited budget was stretched even further. The girl needed money for tram fares and, as it was too far to come home for dinner, she had to take food with her. As the autumn wore on, the family began to slip into debt.

Kate tried to make ends meet with odd jobs: cleaning, mending window frames, taking in washing. But it was not enough. Her hands and arms were red raw from the scrubbing and possing and wringing of heavy linen through the wooden mangle. Her shoes were rotten and feet sodden and itchy from standing in rivers of filthy water in the wash house. At nights she could not sleep for the burning in her arms unless it was dulled by drink.

This was the only help she got from her stepfather, money towards ajar of beer or whisky, when he had not spent his pay in the pubs on the route home. Jack was little better, for he was drinking hard after his shifts unloading from the ships, and did not see the housekeeping as his problem. At home he was lazy and Kate resented the way Rose always made excuses for her son.

‘He grafts hard all day; he deserves a bit beer money. He'll pull his weight when he's got a wife and bairns to feed.'

‘He's taking his time about it,' Kate muttered.

‘That's his business, not yours,' Rose snapped. ‘You're the one with responsibilities, so it's up to you to keep a roof over our heads. Me and your father have done it for long enough.'

At times Kate felt overwhelmed with the burden of providing for them all. She avoided the rent man for weeks on end and began regular trips to the pawnshop in Tyne Dock. She dreaded these trips down to Bede Street and having to pass all the neighbours with her bundles on a Monday morning. It brought back memory of the shame of begging in the streets as a child, the hostile or pitying stares of the better off. She, who had been courted by a gentleman and worked at Ravensworth, was now reduced to trading the clothes off her back at the ‘in and out'.

But there was no one else to go. Rose was an invalid, the men would have thumped her had she suggested such indignity and Catherine was too young. Desperate women did send their children, but they had to pester an adult to put goods in for them as by law they should be fourteen. She would save her daughter that humiliation.

As the days darkened early and Kate saw no end to the drudgery in her life, she deadened her pain with the searing golden liquid in the earthenware jar she brought home from the Penny Whistle. Fortified with whisky, she forgot the aching in her limbs and the worries over money. When John lashed her with his tongue or struck out with his fist, she answered back. Many was the time she woke in the morning with a sore head and tender bruises on her body and struggled to remember how she had got them. Then vague memories of late-night drinking degenerating into violent rows would flash through her mind.

Each morning Kate dragged herself out of the warm bed she shared with Catherine and steeled herself to face another day. Sometimes Jack would be impossible to wake and he would miss his chance of work for the day. Her parents blamed it on Kate rather than his heavy drinking.

They all saw Kate as their skivvy, even Catherine, who turned to Rose for a cuddle and night-time story by the fireside while Kate washed up and kneaded bread by the dim gaslight.

Only when her sister Sarah made rare visits from Birtley with her young children did Kate feel a glimmer of self-worth. Her niece Minnie was a year younger than Catherine and never hid her delight at seeing her aunt. She would throw herself at Kate's skirts and Kate would lift her up and twirl her round.

‘My, look at the size of you! And your bonny hair. Come with me - I've made you a gingerbread man.'

That summer, Kate had even managed a trip to the new playing fields in Jarrow with Sarah and the children.

‘You look knackered,' Sarah had said bluntly.

Kate dropped her cheerful front. ‘I am. It's that hard at home. They treat me like dirt. I cannot see an end to it, our Sarah.' She looked at her sister in despair and whispered, ‘I see me life running away down a dark hole - like water down the drain.'

Sarah had put an arm around her in comfort. ‘Find a man,' she counselled. ‘Get yoursel' away from there - from that old bastard. As long as he's alive, you'll never be free.'

Kate stared in misery. ‘How can I when Father doesn't even let me speak to lads? And who would have me anyhow? I'm over thirty and worth nowt.'

Sarah had shaken her roughly. ‘That's what they want you to think! But you are. You've a loving nature and you work like a slave. Course some lad'll want you. You just have to find him!'

So partly from need and partly from Sarah's urgings, Kate decided by the autumn that they should take in lodgers. They were desperate for the money and maybe one of them might be fool enough to want to marry her and be a father to her child. She told Jack to put the word out around the docks. He seemed disgruntled at the idea of sharing, for Kate told him he would have to sleep with the men. But when she promised there would be more food and drink if he did, he soon found workers in need of a bed.

Kate and Catherine gave up their bed for Jack and two men working on the grain ships. The girl went into the parlour with Rose and John, while Kate slept on the settle. It was often late into the night before the men tired of drinking and playing cards around the kitchen table and Kate dozed off on the settle, too exhausted to care.

One night she fell asleep and dreamt that Alexander came back. It was a sweet dream from which she did not want to wake. She saw again vividly the piercing look in his handsome eyes and felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he kissed her. She felt the touch of his hands caressing her and the strength in his arms as he lifted her and carried her around the side of the lake.

‘My beautiful nightingale, why didn't you come back to find me?' he asked. ‘I waited for you, but you never came.'

And then he disappeared and Kate awoke with tears streaming down her face, engulfed in a terrible sense of loss. The following nights she tried to recapture the dream and the feeling of being loved, but could not. She struggled even to remember her lover's face clearly. It seemed so very long ago.

A week later, lying on the settle, she woke with a start. There was someone leaning over her in the dark, breathing hard. Hands pulled at her shoulder.

‘Alexander?' she murmured in confusion.

‘Kate,' the man slurred. His breath was warm and sour. He shook her more urgently.

Kate came fully awake. ‘Jack?'

‘Can I lie with you, Kate?' her brother mumbled.

‘Jack, man, gan to bed!' she answered impatiently.

He plonked down heavily beside her.

‘Do you remember when we used to climb that tree?'

‘Aye,' Kate sighed, ‘what of it?'

‘Canniest time of me life - ‘fore you went off to Ravensworth. Carved your name in the tree, I did.'

‘You never!'

“Why d'you have to leave and spoil it all?' he said morosely. ‘I could've looked after you, Kate. Not like that fancy man who caused you nowt but bother. I love you, our Kate. Do you love me?'

Kate sat up in astonishment. ‘Course I love you.'

His head slumped forward. ‘No one else does - no other lasses look twice at me,' he mumbled, ‘only you, Kate.' Then, to her consternation, he burst into tears. Jack, who prided himself on being as hard as his father, was blubbering like a child. Kate reached out and hugged him to her. He shook and sobbed in her arms, clinging on to her.

‘Here, lie down,' she comforted him, ‘just for a bit.'

He curled up beside her under the blanket, as he had often done as a boy. ‘You won't leave again, will you?' he sniffed.

‘Not much chance of that,' Kate sighed, stroking his head.

‘Good,' Jack whispered, then leaned towards her and kissed her on the lips. Kate was taken aback. There was something unsettling about such a kiss. She swivelled away. Jack was drunk and would probably be embarrassed by such a show of affection come the morning. She would not remind him of it.

Chapter 39

In the morning she rose early and left Jack sleeping. When he woke he was as grumpy as usual and hardly looked at her. But over the following days she caught him watching her, then he would glance away awkwardly, as if he remembered.

A week later, he rolled home senseless with drink and shook her awake again.

‘Give us a kiss,' he pleaded.

Kate pushed him away. ‘Leave us be!' she whispered.

‘Haway, Kate,' he wheedled, fumbling at her, ‘I just want a cuddle, nowt more.'

‘No, Jack, it's not right,' Kate told him firmly. ‘Gan to your own bed.'

He sloped off and did not bother her again, but Kate could not sleep. She lay awake worrying over Jack's sudden interest, wondering where it might lead. She knew that deep down he would not wish to hurt her, but he was also John McMullen's son. For too long he had seen his father treat her with lecherous contempt; she could not bear for Jack to go that way too. She wondered if she should tell her mother of her concern. But what would she say? There had only been that one kiss on the mouth and some drunken fumbling. Rose would never believe Jack capable of any impropriety; Kate would be blamed for leading him on. She decided to do nothing.

But a few nights later on his way back from the privy, Jack pestered her again. This time she did not bother reasoning with him, but scrambled out of his reach and escaped to the outhouse.

The next day, worn out with lack of sleep, she made a decision. She would save Jack from making a fool of himself, and herself from sleepless nights. She asked around the Penny Whistle. Yes, there were men putting in new boilers at the timber yard who needed cheap bed and board. Kate went home and told her mother.

‘We've three more lodgers the night. They can share the bedroom with the others. Jack can have the settle.'

‘What about you?'

‘I'll gan up to Mary's. She's plenty room.'

Rose snorted. ‘You'll not last long there.'

‘I'll tak the bairn with us,' Kate declared. ‘Mary'll curb her tongue in front of the lass.'

‘As long as you're back sharp in the morning to feed the men,' her mother grudgingly agreed to her plan.

Catherine seemed quite happy to stay at Mary's. She fussed over baby Alec and padded around after Mary, touching and marvelling at the beautifully polished furniture and china ornaments. By the time Kate came in late at night, having seen to the evening meal and cleared up, Catherine was tucked up peacefully in the spare feather bed and asleep.

Alec was reading the evening paper. ‘Sit yourself down, lass. Mary'll get you a cup of tea,' he smiled.

‘She can get it herself,' Mary pouted. ‘I'm off to bed. And you should be too.' She gave her husband a warning glare. Alec shuffled his paper in embarrassment and stood up.

‘We'll see you in the morning, then.'

‘No we won't,' Mary contradicted. ‘She'll be down the road to see to them lodgers, won't you? You can't expect me to feed you as well as give you a bed,' she sniffed. ‘I've enough to see to with my own bairn.'

‘Aye,' Kate said, too weary to argue. Her sister's carping was a small price to pay for keeping away from Number Ten at night-times.

But Mary quickly resented the attention Alec paid Kate, and after a fortnight had tired of showing off her house to the inquisitive Catherine. She caught her going through her dressing table one day. Kate came in to find her daughter tearful and subdued. Mary had beaten her with a hairbrush for handling her things.

‘I want to gan back home,' Catherine whined. ‘I miss me mam.'

‘And I'm tired of having you round here,' Mary snapped. ‘Me and Alec want the place to ourselves.'

‘Why you have to gan and spoil things?' Kate accused. ‘Let us stay a bit longer,' she pleaded to her sister.

‘Why should I?' Mary demanded. ‘Those boilermen have left.'

‘I'm taking in more,' Kate said quickly. ‘You've got room, we haven't.'

‘Aye, that's typical of you. Jealous of me and what I've got. Just ‘cos I've got a good man and canny things. But I've saved up—'

‘And I don't have owt to save up!' Kate said, losing her temper. ‘Never will have as long as I've always got to put a roof over the bairn's head. Do I have to be punished for that for ever?' She stopped, glancing warily at Catherine. But the girl was staring at her, perplexed by the shouting. She did not understand Kate's anger.

Kate snatched the child's arm. ‘Haway, we're not wanted here. We'll gan back to your precious mam!' She stormed into the bedroom and grabbed their nightclothes. Pushing Catherine ahead of her down the stairs, they almost collided with Alec at the bottom.

‘Missed your tram?' he joked.

‘We're not stoppin' where we're not wanted,' she said brusquely. They left him standing open-mouthed. Halfway down the street, Kate regretted her harsh words and hot-tempered departure. Alec was a kind man who did not deserve her sharp tongue. Damn her family for making her act this way!

That night she made Catherine sleep on the settle with her, uncomfortable though it was. The next day at the Penny Whistle she asked for her wages in liquor and drank half of it before she reached home. She wandered the streets in a mellow daze, smiling at the Saturday shoppers, putting off returning to the New Buildings.

Just as she turned the corner into Leam Lane, she caught sight of a familiar figure running out from under the vast railway arches.

‘Kitty!' she cried. ‘Hello, hinny.' She lurched into the child's path, catching her foot on the uneven cobbles. She fell against Catherine and they both bumped against the slimy wall leading into the tunnel.

‘Sorry, pet,' Kate said, steadying herself. ‘Where've you been, eh?'

The girl averted her face and would not look at her.

‘Whas a matter?' Kate slurred, pulling her round. ‘Been gettin' into bother?'

The girl muttered, ‘No, I've been to the pictures with Belle.'

Kate focused on her. She became aware of another small figure in the shadows. Catherine's friend hovered behind.

‘Hello, hinny,' Kate said expansively, waving her forward. The girl stayed where she was. Kate turned back to her daughter. ‘That's canny of Belle to treat you to the pictures.'

‘She didn't.'

‘Oh. Where d'you get the money then? Not been thievin', have you?'

Catherine shuffled her feet. ‘Our Jack give us it.'

Kate felt her stomach twist at the mention of her brother. It maddened her that he should spoil the girl when she could afford to give her nothing. She felt suddenly belligerent.

‘Well, it's all right for some! You shouldn't be playing round here, any road,' she shouted. ‘Gerr off home, the pair of you.'

Catherine darted under her arm and was gone, leaving Belle to catch up. By the time Kate had swivelled round on unsteady feet, the girls were already out of shouting distance. But that did not stop her yelling, ‘If I catch you down here again, I'll skelp you!'

She felt sick and dizzy as she toiled up the bank, filled with a rage she could not name. It was something to do with the shame of the half-drunk bottle of whisky that weighed so heavily in her coat pocket and the look of panic on her daughter's face when she caught sight of her under the arches. How Catherine had turned away, pretending she had not seen her or did not know her. The girl was ashamed of her. Even in her befuddled state, Kate knew this. And the lass did not even know she was her mother.

The following week, the lodger, Bill, came rushing back early. ‘Been an accident down the docks,' he cried. ‘Two lads. I heard one was called McMullen.'

‘Accident?' Kate's insides jolted. ‘What sort of accident?'

‘Falling timber - legs crushed.'

Rose gave out an anguished cry. ‘Not Jack? Not me bairn! Mary Mother, not the lad.'

Kate's heart began to pound. ‘Are they all right?'

Bill shook his head. ‘Been taken to the infirmary - that's what I heard. Don't know any more, but thought you should know.'

Rose was whimpering in her chair, half praying, half babbling.

‘Don't fret, Mam,' Kate tried to calm her. ‘There's dozens of McMullens down the docks - could be any one of them.'

Bill gave a sorrowful look. ‘Said he was from the New Buildings.'

Rose gave out a wail of distress. Kate threw her arms around her.

‘Father'll be back soon. He can gan down the infirmary and find out.'

It frightened her to see her mother this upset; she was usually so strong and never shed a tear. But as they waited and Kate busied herself to stem her nervousness, she could not silence the voice in her head.

What if it's Jack? If he loses the use of his legs, he'll not be able to pester me ...

What was she thinking? He was her brother and she still loved him. Besides, she did not want another invalid on her hands, tying her down to this place for evermore.

No. If only it had been her father. If only he would never walk through that door again, making her life a misery.

Catherine returned from school and evening came, but John did not.

‘Maybes he's at the infirmary,' Kate suggested as she served up the tea to the lodgers and her daughter. Rose and she did not have the stomach to eat.

‘I'll go over if you like,' Bill offered.

Kate nodded. ‘That would be kind.'

Catherine kept asking questions. ‘How did it happen? Has Jack lost his leg? Will he get a wooden one? What'll happen to his old leg?'

Kate could bear it no longer. ‘Shut up! Can't you see the state Mam's in without your daft questions? Gan outside and make yoursel' scarce.'

Catherine scrambled off her chair and escaped into the street. Kate watched her skip over to the streetlamp where her friends were gathered. They swarmed around to hear her news. Judging by their wide-eyed looks she was exaggerating the tale.

Kate went back to clearing the table. She was carrying dishes through to the scullery when she heard her mother's cry.

‘Mary Mother, it's you!'

Kate dropped the plates with a clatter and hurried into the kitchen. Jack stood there, large as life, his face still grimy from work but unharmed.

‘We thought you'd had an accident,' Rose gasped, holding out her arms to him.

‘Not me,' he grunted. ‘Me da. Keepin' him in for the night. Leg might be broken.'

Rose heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank the saints it's not you!'

‘So old John's all right?' Bill asked.

‘He'll live,' Jack muttered. ‘Shoutin' at the nurses for baccy and beer when I left him.'

Kate could not speak, as disappointment engulfed her. Yet she was seized with guilt at wanting harm to come to either man.

Catherine came running in. ‘Is me da dead?'

‘No, hinny,' Rose said. ‘He's in the hospital. Be back the morra more than likely.'

Catherine fell into her lap. ‘I'll pray to Our Lady for him to get better, Mam. He mustn't die with his sins unwashed.'

‘Aye, you do that,' Rose agreed, stroking her head. ‘There's a canny pile to wash.'

‘Time for bed,' Kate said abruptly. ‘I'll sleep with you the night, Mam. Kitty can go on the desk bed.' She avoided Jack's look. ‘We'll not leave Mam on her own, will we, lass?'

‘Can I sleep next to you, Mam?' Catherine pleaded. ‘Our Kate can gan on the desk bed.'

‘You'll sleep where I tell you.' Kate was sharp.

Catherine's look was stubborn. ‘I want to sleep with Mam. She doesn't smell of whisky like you do.'

Kate reddened. ‘Watch your tongue—'

But Rose intervened quickly. ‘She can come in me bed -just while Father's not here. Now off you go, Kitty, before I change me mind.'

Catherine scampered off with a triumphant glance at Kate. Kate swallowed her humiliation and stalked back into the scullery.

***

The next day, John was brought home in an ambulance. The whole of the street came to their doors to gawp. One trouser leg was ripped to the knee and his leg was heavily bandaged. He groaned and winced as he was helped into the house, but Kate suspected he was enjoying the fuss.

‘Fought the bloody Afghans and marched with Lord Roberts,' he cried, ‘but I've never had pain like this. Shouldn't have let the bloody doctors near me. Fetch me whisky, lass.'

‘You'll drink tea,' Rose told him firmly. ‘Get him on to the settle. He can give his orders from there.' Her look was unsympathetic.

Over the next few days, John held court from the high-backed bench. Drinking friends came in with bottles of beer and tots of rum, and sat around listening to the story of the accident. It grew in length and seriousness with each telling.