Angel of the North (37 page)

Aunt Edie’s eyebrows went up slightly. George gave Marie a grim smile over Pam’s head. Alfie gave a contemptuous snort, and stared out of the window.

Marie looked at Pam in her new and flattering mourning clothes and thought how well the Stewarts had cared for her. They obviously had plenty of money, and few other demands on it. Pamela had
been treated like a fragile piece of Dresden china, since she’d been with them, and she’d loved it. Now there was nobody who needed Pam’s help, nobody who could be hurt by her
defection, and it was pointless for her to cut herself off from them and their cultured way of life, and all the good that they could do her and her family could not.

‘It’s too late, Pam. There’s nothing to keep you here now,’ Marie said. ‘Nothing! I can’t help you; I can barely help myself, and I’ve got no home to
offer you. Alfie can’t do anything. Uncle Alf and Auntie Dot would do their best, but there’d be no piano, and no music, and no music college, and you’d have to get a
job.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said, between sobs. ‘I don’t care about it any more.’

‘You say that now, because you’re upset. But stay with Uncle Alf and Auntie Dot for a while, until you make your mind up, and when you get there don’t mope about saying
there’s nothing to do. There’s plenty, so do your share, and think about things.’

Alfie whipped round to face her, eyes wide and expression horrified, probably at the thought of having his sister billeted with him. Uncle Alf and Auntie Dot’s eyebrows also rose slightly
at her presuming on their good nature, but Marie had no qualms of conscience about being so liberal with their charity. They wouldn’t be troubled for long. Now that her pangs of remorse and
sentiment had had a proper airing and the blame for her sorry showing as a daughter had been placed firmly elsewhere, Pam’s hard-headed self-interest wouldn’t be long in reasserting
itself. If she stayed with her rough relatives in Dunswell for even half a week it would be a miracle.

‘You know what somebody said to me, not very long ago?’ Marie continued. ‘He said, “Get your crying over, and then don’t look back.” So if you decide to go
back to Bourne go with a goodwill, and bear no grudges – they’re poison, and they’ll poison you. The Stewarts have treated you like a daughter, so be a good daughter to them.
You’ve got no other parents, now.’

Pamela was already drying her eyes. ‘You’re right,’ she sniffed. ‘They have been good to me. I think it would break their hearts if I didn’t go back.’

The sun was low beyond the Humber, gilding the ripples on its muddy waters. ‘I think we’ve seen the last of her. I don’t think she’ll ever come back,
now,’ Alfie said, as they stood together on Corporation Pier after the funeral, waving Pam off on the ferry that very same evening. The Stewarts had bought her a return ticket, and as Pam had
said, it would have been a pity to waste it. And she didn’t know anything about working on a smallholding, so she would just have got in everybody’s way. Would Marie and Alfie give her
apologies to Uncle Alf and Auntie Dot? Besides, Uncle Alec would be waiting for her in Lincoln, and missing the ferry would have meant having to telephone him.

Unlike Marie, Pam had no need to look backwards for a sense of comfort and security, and with the Stewarts her future looked rosy. The past had few charms now for Pam. Marie had no illusions
about her sister’s self-centredness, but she had given her a fierce hug before she boarded the ferry, and felt a terrible sadness at parting with her.

‘Just you and me then, Alfie,’ Marie said. ‘Out of a family of five, just a brother and a sister, still together.’

‘If you can call it together, with you in Hull and me at Dunswell. I think we should still get together every Sunday, though, and go and put some flowers on the graves.’

‘So do I. But I might not always be able to manage it. I’ll have to go back to work.’

‘Where? The infirmary’s been bombed.’

‘They’re still using it as a first-aid post. I’ll have to go and see Matron. There’s sure to be somewhere they can put me to use.’

‘You ought to go and spend a morning in the police court sometime when you’ve got nothing better to do,’ Nancy said, as they were walking to the pictures on
Anlaby Road the afternoon after the court case. ‘Some of the people you get in there, well, it’s an eye-opener. I was terrified when I first went in, but when you’ve sat through
hearings about somebody pinching two bottles of milk off somebody else’s doorstep, and people up on child neglect charges for not feeding kids when they’d no food in the house, and no
money to buy any, and then – hark at this – they get
fined
for it – well, it just puts things into perspective. I think Billy Pratt was the only real criminal they had in
there all day. Probably all week.’

‘I’ve already been to the police court,’ Marie said, as soon as she could get a word in edgeways. ‘They had me up for breaching the blackout, remember?’

‘Oh. Was that when I was in London? Anyway, I’d forgotten.’

‘Probably because you were too busy planning your elopement and worrying about Monty, as we knew him then.’

‘Don’t remind me. The judge more or less called me an absolute fool in front of everybody in the court, and George was sitting there looking like a terrier at a rat-hole. I was
really upset, until my mam said: “Well, that should make it easier for you to get maintenance money off him when he gets out of gaol,” and it will, so I felt a bit better about it,
then. I’m not going to wait until he gets out of gaol, either. I’m going to see about it as soon as the baby’s born. He pleaded guilty, so that made it a lot easier. Oh, yes,
he’s going to pay
me,
whether George ever gets a penny back or not, and frankly, I’ve stopped caring. Has he said anything about it – the court case, I mean?’

‘Not to me. I haven’t seen him. He was out with a woman called Eva last night, and he didn’t get in until after I’d gone to bed, and he was off to work just as I was
getting up this morning.’

Nancy seemed slightly taken aback. ‘Oh! He’s gadding about a bit lately, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘I suspected him of being after you at one time. I wouldn’t have
put it past him, just for one in the eye for me. But I’d have thought you’d have gone back to the Elsworths, now your mother’s gone.’

‘Well, Aunt Edie says I can stay with them as long as I like, so there’s no rush, and I’m still thinking about the Elsworths. If I went there, it would look as if it were a
definite thing between me and Chas, and I’m still not a hundred per cent sure. Anyway, I’ll be going back to work soon, so I’ll probably be living in a nurses’ home,
depending where they put me. But I expect George will be bringing Eva home to meet his mother before long, so it might be just as well if I’m somewhere else.’

‘Huh. Bloody good luck to Eva, then,’ Nancy said. ‘She can expect a good prying-into from his mother’s blind eyes.’ After a short pause she dismissed thoughts of
George with a shrug of her shoulders, and was back on the subject of Bill Pratt. ‘I’d love to see “Monty” in his new stage costume, trimmed with arrows! I hope he’s
breaking rocks by now.’

‘You said you wanted him sewing mailbags.’

Nancy’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth contracted into a grim little smirk. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Mailbags are too good for him. Oh, I’m glad it’s over and done
with, Marie. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but I’m glad it’s over with. I’m sorry about your mam, by the way. Sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral, but it
wouldn’t have done, would it? Not with George and his mother being as spiteful as they are. Did you give her a good send-off?’

‘Not as good as the one we gave you,’ Marie said. ‘There was no expense spared on that one. We just had a few close friends and relatives. Not the whole neighbourhood, this
time.’

‘You’re a sarky bugger, aren’t you? You do like to have a dig, now and then,’ Nancy said.

Marie and George walked home from the allotment on Saturday carrying two heavy bags of potatoes each. The days were shorter and cooler with the approach of October, and she had
wanted to get most of the potatoes up before she went back to nursing. When George nipped into the newsagents on Newland Avenue to buy a paper, she wasn’t sorry to put her burdens down and
rub her hands back into life while waiting for him.

Back at Aunt Edie’s, they deposited their bags on the kitchen floor, Marie feeling very pleased at being the giver, for a change, rather than the one accepting help. ‘There’s
enough to fill two more bags still in the ground, and cabbages, parsnips and turnips, as well, and Brussels later on. You should hardly have to buy any veg all winter. You’ll have to ask
George to get the rest up, once I’m back to work – if I have to live in, that is.’

‘Don’t live in, then,’ Aunt Edie said.

‘I might have to.’

‘Well, go and sit down, and I’ll make you a cuppa.’

The settee and the wireless were back in place in the front room. Although still crammed with furniture, it had a horribly empty feel now that her mother was gone, and her sickbed had been taken
back upstairs. Poor Mother. Marie switched the wireless on, for a bit of the cheerful music or banter from the comedy shows to banish the cloud of despondency descending on her.

George sat on the settee, and began avidly scanning his newspaper. ‘Here it is,’ he said, folding the paper at the page and jumping to his feet again to call his mother from the
passageway. ‘Hey, Mam! Come in here and listen to this.’

Auntie Edie came in, looking puzzled. ‘What’s up? What’s the matter?’

‘Sit down and just listen to this.’

She sat in one of the armchairs.

‘ “Defrauded Credulous Girl,” ’ George read.

‘Six months!’ he exclaimed. ‘When I heard the judge say that, I thought all my birthdays had come at once! Six months!’ and tossing the paper towards his
mother, he roared with laughter, rocking to and fro on the settee, and slapping his knee, relishing the memory of his victory. Aunt Edie read the column with a broad grin on her face, then throwing
herself back in the armchair she joined in the laugh, and soon had to pull a handkerchief out of her apron pocket to wipe her streaming eyes. Out of loyalty to Nancy, Marie restrained herself, but
it was impossible to suppress a chuckle.

‘Well,’ George gasped, as soon as he recovered the power of speech, ‘I caught the man that blighted my life, and I dislocated
his
bally life! I’d threatened it
for long enough, but I was never really sure it would come off. So now it has. I’ve got him! And I might still dislocate his jaw when he gets out of gaol.’

‘Pity you’ve not got your money, though,’ his mother said, suddenly serious. ‘The years it took your dad to save that eighty pounds he left you.’

‘Aye, poor old fellow, I think I’ve seen the last of that. She’s seen that off, and everything else with it.’

‘Huh!’ Aunt Edie snorted, ‘She’ll get what she deserves, don’t you worry about that. Pride goeth before a fall, it says in the Bible. She didn’t know when she
was well off, and now she’s having a bairn, and no man beside her. She’ll soon know what that’s all about. She’ll never be able to hold her head up round here
again.’

A look of anguish flitted across George’s face, and was gone.

Terry crooned words of love and romance in her ear as they glided across the waxed dance floor of Beverley Baths to the throbbing music of the band. It was Saturday night, and
the place was full of young people out to enjoy themselves: couples; girls out with their friends, dressed to the nines and confident of getting partners among the influx of foreign servicemen.

‘It really bucks me up, coming out with you, Terry,’ Marie told him. ‘You never seem to let anything get you down. Not for long, anyway.’

‘I’ll give you a tip,’ he said. ‘If you’re feeling low, don’t sit on your own feeling sorry for yourself. Get washed and brushed and get your glad rags on.
Get out among people – your friends, me, for example – and put a bright face on it. Laugh and joke as if you hadn’t a care in the world. In the end, the act will stop being an
act.’

‘Is that what I do? Feel sorry for myself?’

‘No, you get your glad rags on and get out with your friend. Now let’s see you laughing and joking.’

‘That might take a bit of practice.’

‘Start now. This should cheer you up: it’s nearly the end of September, and we’ve only had one air raid this month, and we only had two last month. Things are getting boring in
Hull, now that Hitler’s keeping the Russians entertained.’

‘No ill feeling, but rather them than us,’ she said. ‘Hitler’s sort of entertainment gives me the screaming abdabs. I’ve had enough to last me a
lifetime.’

‘Aye, well, joking apart, there might not be much more of it. He might have bitten off a bit more than he can chew, with the Russian winter coming on. It beat Napoleon, and I reckon
it’ll beat Adolf.’

They danced in silence for a while, then Terry asked: ‘How’s it going with your young man? Is he behaving himself?’

‘As far as I know he is. He writes nearly every day, and I’ve had a couple of requests played on the wireless. He can’t do much more, being miles away, can he?’

‘What about her? Has she had it, yet?’

‘Her’ and ‘it’ needed no explanation. Marie stiffened and frowned, not thanking him for dredging that Hannah business up, just as she was beginning to enjoy herself.
‘Not as far as I know,’ she said.