A Daughter's Duty (26 page)

‘Only thing is, Brian, you have to start the week after next. You’ll have to give in your notice today. But it’s all right, you can stay with me. Why not? I have a spare bedroom.’

Mrs Wearmouth sat down suddenly, as though her legs wouldn’t hold her. She looked to Marina for support. ‘But what about you, lass? You don’t want him to go so quickly, surely?’

Marina smiled. ‘We’re going to see the minister tomorrow, Mrs Wearmouth. I’m going to Easington with him, as soon as we’re married. I can get to my work at Shire Hall just as easily from that side of Durham City as this, can’t I?’

‘You’re going to work? After you’re married?’ Now her future mother-in-law did look shocked, but Brian laughed.

‘Oh, Mam, all the women work nowadays. Unless they have bairns, that is.’

His mother closed her mouth in a thin line. Young ’uns these days! her expression said as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud. Still, in her day there had been no work for women to do, not paid work that is, and certainly not in the pit villages.

The wedding was in the chapel at Jordan. Marina had wanted a small wedding. She felt she couldn’t bear to have folk commenting spitefully on the cost of the celebration when her dad had died owing money to so many men in the village. But Kate had been against its being too small. A ‘shabby wedding’ it would be called then, and contemptuously too, by the folk there about.

‘Get away!’ she had said. ‘You ask your mates from work, and Brian can ask his friends an’ all. I’ll not have it said my daughter had a shabby wedding. No, I will not.’

Where she got the money from, Marina didn’t know. Kate refused to allow Brian or his family to contribute except in the traditional way of buying the bride’s bouquet and paying for the taxi which was to take them on their honeymoon, a week in Scarborough. Fifteen shillings each per night, in a boarding house on the edge of Peaseholme Park, full board of course.

‘Honeymoon, is it!’ Kate had said. ‘By, things have changed all right from my day. But there, if Brian has the cash … still, it would make more sense to put the money to some decent furniture. But I reckon you’ll take no notice of me.’

Marina was quite looking forward to it, though she wasn’t looking forward to the wedding night. She still had a dread that Brian would find out she wasn’t virgin and turn nasty. Though she couldn’t really envisage him ever being nasty, he was so even-tempered normally. But goodness knows how a man would react if he found out someone else had been there before him.

She was so nervous about it that she left her bouquet on the bed at home and the service was held up while Jeff rushed away to fetch it for her. In the vestibule she kept glancing at the minister, sure he must be annoyed about the delay. After all, he was going straight to another wedding in the chapel in the next village. But he had seen it all before and his kind smile never left his face. He smiled down at her, patted her shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, Marina,’ he said. ‘Everything’s all right.’ Then, before him at the communion rail, she trembled and almost ran out of the chapel but Brian had hold of her hand and it was too late. Afterwards, when Alice and Mr Brown and the other girls from the office were throwing confetti, and Mrs Wearmouth, who cleaned the chapel, was saying, ‘Not on the chapel grounds,
please
,’ with no effect whatsoever, she knew it was indeed too late. The ring was on her finger, feeling strange. She couldn’t forget it was there.

It was when the reception in the schoolroom was over and Marina and Brian had wandered around the room and had a few words with all the guests, and the dainty white court shoes which she had bought in Doggart’s in Bishop Auckland were nipping her toes something awful so that she couldn’t wait to get home to change them, that it happened.

The bride and groom had left the guests to themselves, Jeff running them over to the house so Marina could change. As they got out of the car Alf Sharpe, drunk as a scuttle and twice as smelly, appeared from nowhere and put a hand on Marina’s arm.

‘Get off! Get your filthy, mucky hands off me!’ she shrieked and Brian pushed her behind him protectively.

‘What the hell do you want?’ he demanded, strong language for Brian, who never swore.

‘What’s the matter with her? I was just going to wish her happy, that’s all. Why does she have to go on as though I was something that just crawled out from under a stone? I’ve seen the way she looks at me.’

‘You are! That’s exactly what you are – something from under a stone!’ Marina shouted, trembling with disgust and hatred. ‘You drunken, filthy pig!’

‘Nay, lass,’ he whined. ‘You an’ my lass were pals when you were bairns …’ at the same time as Brian protested, ‘Hey, you’re going a bit too far, Marina.’

‘I’m not.’ She rubbed her arm where he had touched her as though she were rubbing away filth.

‘An’ now my lass is dead and gone,’ Alf was quavering, drunken tears starting to his eyes and threatening to overflow.

‘Dead? When? Who said she was dead?’ Jeff stepped forward, his face suddenly white, eyes blazing black as coal.

‘Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought I’d got rid of you altogether,’ Alf snarled, and Jeff stepped forward and caught hold of him by his lapels, bringing him up off the ground until he was on tiptoe. Alf looked startled, frightened out of his drunken haze.

‘What’s the matter with you, man? Leave me alone, don’t you touch me!’ he blustered. Jeff, a grown man now and strong, was very different from the boy he used to bully.

‘Who told you she was dead?’ Jeff repeated.

‘I mean,’ Alf quavered, ‘she must be. I haven’t heard a thing from her and she would have got in touch wi’ me. Her dad, I am. We were close, me and our Rose –’

‘Close?
Close!
She hated you!’ Marina shouted.

‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Brian. ‘Marina, go on inside, you’re upset and I won’t have it on our wedding day.’ He watched as she turned wordlessly and ran up the yard to the door, banging it shut behind her. Well, he would follow her in a minute, make it all right, he thought.

‘I should have told you. I forgot,’ he said, turning to Alf. He had too, in the excitement of the wedding and going over to Easington, his new job and everything. ‘Rose isn’t dead, Marina had a letter from her. She’s all right.’

‘She’s not – she’s dead!’ Alf cried. He had gone as white as a sheet, staring at the two younger men, his face working, spittle at the corners of his mouth. ‘I know –’

Jeff let go of him and Alf slumped, just catching himself from sliding into the gutter.

‘Aw, get lost,’ said Jeff. ‘You know nothing of the sort.’ He and Brian turned their backs and went into the house. After a minute or two, Alf walked unsteadily away. At the bottom of the street some children were playing hidey-go-seek but they stopped and stared at him.

‘Hey, look, that old geezer’s blubbing,’ one shouted and they followed him along the rows, shouting out, ‘Lassie lad, lassie lad! What’s the matter, mister? Lost your dummy?’

Alf hardly heard them. He arrived at his own door and fumbled for his key, finally managing to let himself in. The kitchen stank but he didn’t notice that either. He sank down into a chair and stared at the empty grate. Rose wasn’t alive, she couldn’t be! Why, she was almost gone when he’d left her in the dene, it could only have been a matter of a few minutes. The fumes of alcohol were clearing from his brain. He should have buried her there he realised. No one would have known, not if he’d covered the place over with branches and such. No, she couldn’t be alive, of course not. But why hadn’t there been a report of a body being found in the dene? He’d scoured the
Echo
every day but there was nothing. Mebbe she hadn’t been found yet, that was it.

‘Eh, man,’ he said aloud to the blank walls, full of self-pity. ‘What a bloody life this is! She turned on me and now I daren’t even get me own little ’uns back. Mary now, she would be a comfort. I have the right to Mary.’ Especially when he couldn’t have Rose any more, he thought dimly. And sniffed. Mind, she’d brought it on herself, none of it had been his fault.

I’ll go to Shotton the morn, his thoughts ran on. I will, I’ll go and see the bairns and have a word with Elsie. That bitch isn’t going to keep my bairns! Oh, no, she is not, I’m their father and I want them back.

‘That nice Dr Morris is keen on you, Lily,’ Alice observed with a knowing smile as she took the pile of mended linen which had kept Rose’s head down over the sewing machine for the whole of the day.

‘Don’t talk daft,’ she said easily, careful not to sound embarrassed though she turned her face away to hide the heightened colour in her cheeks. She had seen it with the other young girls. They were teased unmercifully by the older married women in the sewing room and she wasn’t going to let it happen to her.

Alice laughed, not easily put off. ‘I know what I saw,’ she said.

‘He’s just a friend, that’s all,’ said Rose, though she knew she would do better to keep quiet.

‘Oh, aye?’ Alice sounded sceptical. She looked round at the other women, all of them now beginning to finish up their work ready for a quick getaway at five o’clock. Lily was the only one not in a rush to get off, she was often the last to go.

‘What do you think, girls?’

There was a general chorus of laughing agreement.

‘You’d better not let my boyfriend hear you say that,’ said Rose, inspired, thinking that would shut them up.

‘Ooooh!’ said Alice, a long-drawn-out sound. ‘You have a boyfriend, have you, Lily?’

‘Yes, I have. Now will you shut up? I want to finish this theatre gown,’ said Rose, bending over her work.

‘Aw, leave it, it’ll be here tomorrow,’ said Alice.

‘You’d best not let Mrs Timms hear you say that.’

‘Oh, and are you going to tell her?’ Alice’s tone had changed, it wasn’t friendly any more.

‘No, of course not,’ Rose said, but Alice was obviously not mollified. Nor was she ready to give her victim a rest.

‘Lily has a boyfriend, girls, did you hear that? What’s his name, Lily?’

‘Jeff.’ Now why did she say that?

‘Jeff, is it? Did you hear that, girls? His name’s Jeff.’

But wishing it wouldn’t make it true.

It was five to five and the machines were all shut down except for the one Rose worked. The women wanted something to amuse them while the hands on the clock went slowly round to the hour.

‘Jeff, eh? With a G or a J?’ one of them asked.

‘Jeff with a J.’

Rose sighed as she finished the seam she was sewing and deftly cut the threads. She might as well shut down now, she thought. Then it was back to her single room in the lodging house. The evenings could be long and lonely and her library book was finished. But Alice wasn’t finished with her yet.

‘Does Jeff with a J know that Dr Morris is dangling after his girl then? Does he, Lily?’

Rose put the cover on her machine. She didn’t answer Alice. It was five o’clock anyway, the other girls had lost interest and were going through the door. There were just she and Alice left in the room and Alice was moving to the door too. But slowly, glancing back at Rose, who took her time about putting on her coat, taking a comb out of her bag and running it through her hair, all the time hoping the other woman would just go for she felt that Alice was going to probe and pry until her curiosity was satisfied. In this Rose was right.

When she could dally no longer and left the sewing room, Alice was dawdling outside in the corridor. ‘This Jeff then, tell me about him,’ she said, falling into step with Rose.

‘No!’ she was stung into replying. ‘It’s none of your business, Alice.’ She began to walk faster but the other woman simply adjusted her stride to suit.

‘Oh, hoity-toity, eh? What’s the matter, don’t you want Dr Morris to find out about him?’

Rose stopped and turned to face her. ‘Look, Dr Morris has nothing to do with it, I told you.’

‘I bet you haven’t told the good doctor about this Jeff, though, have you?’ Alice could read the answer in Rose’s face. ‘I thought you hadn’t.’

‘There was no reason to tell him. Alice, please leave me alone,’ said Rose. They were outside now, walking down the drive. Why had Alice turned on her?

‘Oh, leave me alone, is it? Little miss put-upon, I suppose. Well, was it because you were put upon that you ended up on the gynae ward … was it? Was it this Jeff that
put upon
you, or should I say put it in you? Is that what it was?’

Rose gasped. She stopped walking and swung round to face her tormentor. ‘What are you talking about? What? What do you mean?’ Her insides were churning up and she felt sick. The palms of her hands as she clenched her fists were damp and clammy.

‘Aw, come on, man, what do you think I mean? Do you think a lass can do what you did and it not get about? Especially in a place like a hospital. Why, man, it’s a little world on its own.’

‘Shut up!’ Rose said, her voice hoarse with emotion and Alice’s face went red, eyes closing to mere slits as she glared at the younger girl.

‘Oh, shut up, is it? Oh, aye, it would be. Getting off with a doctor now, aren’t you? Too good for the likes of us. But I know what I know an’ I’m telling you – you’re a nowt, that’s what you are. A bloody nowt! You should have been in Durham gaol, that’s where you should have been, doing what you did. You dirty little hoor!’

Rose started to run, rushing for the gate. For minute of absolute panic she imagined that Alice had found out about her and her dad, that that was what she was talking about, that was why she had changed towards Rose. Then reason told her that Alice must have heard why she had been in hospital, but how?

There were people around them hurrying down the drive, rushing for buses, anxious to get home before it rained, for the sky was overcast and lowering. But they paused in their hurry, mouths opening in surprise, gazing at the two women obviously having a row. Rose couldn’t bear it. She felt like a sideshow. Her run turned into a sprint.

Alice was close behind her, though, that hateful voice still in her ear. ‘Think you’re somebody, don’t you? Think if you get off with a doctor, folks will forget you mucky past. Well, I’m telling you, madam –’