The Jarrow Lass (7 page)

‘It's time to get Da home,' she told them brusquely. They knew from the look on her face not to argue.

A few minutes later they were out on the street, steering their maudlin father between them, as he sang snatches of half-forgotten Irish songs. John was still there, taunting her as she went.

‘Ta for the dance, Rose Ann, and for the kiss!' he shouted.

Lizzie and Maggie giggled.

‘Don't look back or say anything,' Rose ordered.

‘By, you've had a time of it!' Lizzie said in admiration. ‘Lads falling over themselves for you.'

‘That's all John McMullen's good for,' Rose snapped, ‘falling over.'

Later, when they had tucked their father into bed and climbed into the one they shared, the sisters talked about the day and who they had met and danced with.

‘Fancy our Rose Ann being courted by two lads at once!' Lizzie crowed.

‘I'm not courting either of them,' Rose protested. ‘John was drunk and won't remember the fool he made of himself - and you forced William to dance with me.'

‘We didn't force him to walk out with you,' Maggie reminded. ‘You'd like to see him again, wouldn't you?'

Rose sighed, ‘Aye, I would. But his family'll not allow it.'

‘That William has a mind of his own,' Maggie encouraged. ‘You shouldn't give up hope.'

Chapter 5

The next day, Lizzie went back to South Shields, promising to visit before the winter set in. Rose went eagerly to church with Maggie, but William did not seek her out after the service as she had hoped. The Fawcetts left together. William merely glanced in her direction, and allowed his mother to bustle him out of the church. Rose swallowed her disappointment and trudged back up the hill, determining to put William from her thoughts for good. Even Maggie could not think of anything to say.

That afternoon, while their father snoozed by the fire, the sisters went picking blackberries and stayed out until dusk. When they returned, they found a small bunch of flowers and twigs on the doorstep, gathered from the surrounding hedgerows. Rose picked them up, quite puzzled. Rushing into the house, half expecting to find a visitor, she saw only her father sitting staring into the fire.

‘Da, have you had company?' she asked. He looked up at her blankly. ‘Has anyone called while we've been out?'

He shook his head. ‘Have you been out?”

‘Aye, for hours, Da!' Maggie exclaimed. ‘We've picked a canny few blackberries. Have you been asleep all this time?'

‘Must have,' he yawned and stretched.

‘So you didn't see who left these flowers on the doorstep?' Rose asked in frustration. Her father shook his head again.

‘Are you courtin'?' he asked, suddenly suspicious.

‘No, Da,' Rose answered swiftly, but could not help a twitch of a smile. William must have come to see her after all. Only he could have made such a romantic gesture. Hope flared within her once more. She would encourage William to court her and help him stand up to his parents. Rose was convinced that they would be happy together.

All week, as they worked on the smallholding, Rose planned. On Saturday evening, she washed and dressed in the clothes she had worn for the wedding and set off for St Bede's, knowing she would catch William after evening benediction. To her relief none of his family were with him. She waited around, approaching him from the shadows in the entrance.

‘Rose!' he gasped in surprise.

She came straight out with her invitation. ‘We'd like to ask you up for tea tomorrow,' she gabbled. ‘Maybes go for a walk in the fields first - if it's fine. The blackberries are grand just now - we could pick some. Then you could stay for tea and maybe you could sing to us - me and Maggie would like that. And Da would like to meet you again. I just thought that after you had - well, you know...' She tailed off, her cheeks on fire.

William was looking at her in astonishment and she thought he was going to rebuff her like Florrie had done so often in the past. Then suddenly he was smiling.

‘I'd like that very much,' he said, touching her lightly on the shoulder. ‘I'll come after Sunday dinner - when my parents are taking a nap.'

Rose grinned back at him. ‘Grand! I'll see you tomorrow then.' And she turned on her heels and almost ran into the dark, before he should change his mind and decline the invitation.

So began Rose's courtship with William, fanned into life by the gesture of the flowers on the doorstep. After the first successful Sunday afternoon visit, William called regularly for tea at the McConnells' home at the top of Simonside. All through the autumn they strolled through the fields on bright, chilly afternoons, or sat round a cosy fire and made toast if the weather was too wet. They revelled in each other's company, Rose enjoying William's stories about history, while he delighted in her quick talk and observations about people in the town. After tea, they would sing together, and Maggie and her father would clap enthusiastically, calling for more.

‘It would be canny to hear you at the piano,' Rose suggested one day. ‘I wish we could sing around your piano.'

They all watched William for his answer. Rose's great happiness was only marred by the thought that he had avoided inviting her round to James Terrace. She wanted their courting to be official and acknowledged by his family.

He hesitated, then nodded. ‘We'll do that.'

‘When?' asked Rose in excitement.

‘Soon,' William promised.

But the weeks wore on and Christmas came and went without any invitation to visit the Fawcetts. William made excuses that he was too busy at the church and they should wait until the New Year. Lizzie came home for a brief visit and spoke her mind.

‘They've no right to treat you like they do. You tell him if he wants to carry on courting he's got to take you home and do it proper, like.'

Rose repeated this to William. ‘It's as if you're ashamed of me and me family,' she complained.

‘Never!' William protested. ‘I care for you, Rose. I care very much.'

‘Then show it,' she challenged.

At the end of January, William finally came with the invitation to call round on Sunday afternoon to James Terrace. Maggie spent hours helping Rose to get ready, combing out her hair and tying it up neatly, scrubbing her hands until they were raw and stinging.

‘Put on the glass beads and Lizzie's hat,' Maggie said. ‘Wear everything fancy we've got.'

Rose was in a turmoil of nerves and anticipation as she approached the house in the gloom of that January day. William let her in and steered her into the parlour with a nervous smile. His parents sat stiffly in chairs either side of the fire, while Florrie set the table for tea.

Mr Fawcett asked after Rose's father and sisters, and then the room fell silent. Rose turned to Florrie.

‘I hear you're courtin', an' all,' she smiled.

Florrie clattered the crockery and her mother gave her a sharp look.

‘Careful, Florrie. You're so clumsy,' she scolded.

Florrie seemed too flustered to answer the question, so William intervened to break the awkwardness.

‘I'll play something on the piano,' he said eagerly. ‘Rose, would you like to sing?'

Rose did not know if she could manage a squeak, so dry was her mouth from nervousness. But she nodded and stood up, keen to be near him. They sang ‘Linden Lea' together and for a moment Rose lost herself in the beauty of the music, even though her own voice was nervous. At the end, William smiled at her in encouragement. But when he suggested another, his mother interrupted sharply.

‘It's time we had tea. Florrie, help me fetch it in.'

They bustled about and brought in plates of beef sandwiches, a ham and egg pie and a sponge cake with jam filling.

‘Come and sit up, William,' his mother ordered. It was only as Rose stood up to come to the table that she realised it was only set for four. She hesitated in confusion. Mrs Fawcett glanced at her and pointed to the horsehair sofa where she had been sitting.

‘You're fine where you are,' she said brusquely. ‘No need for you to wait in the kitchen while we eat. Florrie, give the girl a cup of tea.'

Rose felt herself shaking as she sat down again. She stared at William, but he was sitting with his back to her, bent over his plate. Mr Fawcett was already eating. Florrie handed her a cup of tea with a look of embarrassment. Rose felt like hurling it at the table, but she merely took it with a mumbled thanks. Inside she was sick with fury and shame. Who did these people think they were? They were humiliating her for no reason other than pure snobbery!

To think how William had been welcomed into her home like one of the family, sharing as much food and companionship as they had to give. Why was he allowing his mother to treat her with such contempt? She glared at his back, but he did not look round. She attempted to drink the tea, but it stuck in her throat and she could not swallow.

Suddenly Rose could not bear to be excluded any longer. Abruptly, she stood up. William was weak and she would not have him if this was how little he thought of her! Stepping over to the table she slammed down the cup and flowery saucer, slopping tea on to the starched white tablecloth.

‘Mind the china,' Mrs Fawcett said in alarm. ‘And you haven't finished, girl.'

‘Oh, I've finished!' Rose glared. ‘And I'll not stop here another minute where I'm not wanted,' she said in a voice that trembled.

Mr Fawcett looked quite bemused, while Florrie's mouth fell open in shock.

‘There's no need for rudeness,' Mrs Fawcett tutted, the ribbons on her cap fluttering as she wagged her head in disapproval.

‘The rudeness isn't mine,' Rose replied, pulling her shawl tight about her. ‘We McConnells would never tret a visitor like this - keeping me from the table like I'm worse than muck. What are you afraid of- that I don't know how to eat from a plate?'

‘Really!' Mrs Fawcett said, going red in the face.

‘Well, I do. I used to envy Florrie living in a house like this, with fancy furniture and a piano in the parlour. But not any more. It counts for nowt compared to a house with love in it - however poor.'

‘Now, now...' Mr Fawcett said ineffectually.

‘How dare you speak to us like that?' Mrs Fawcett cried. ‘William, how could you bring such a girl here to insult us? I told you she was a common little thing.'

All this time, William had not looked round at Rose, but had sat, shoulders hunched, as if he could protect himself from the confrontation. Now he turned and she could see his lean face was quite ashen. Rose knew in that moment that she had lost him, that he would never stand up to his censorious mother for her sake. She swallowed the bile of anger that threatened to choke her and strode to the door.

‘Stop!' he said behind her. Rose checked her step but did not turn round. ‘Don't go,' William said more firmly.

‘She can't stay now,' his mother protested, ‘not after the way she's insulted us!'

Rose turned to see William confront the older woman, his face reddening.

‘We're the ones who've done the insulting,' he said quietly. ‘I'm ashamed to think you could begrudge her a bite of tea. And there's nothing common about Rose. She's got more kindness and decency than all the folk who live round here and think themselves better.' He looked at Rose at last and she thought she would faint at the smile he gave her. ‘I'm sorry. Please forgive
us
.'

Before Rose could answer, Mrs Fawcett was on her feet and shouting. ‘Forgive us? How dare you? She doesn't belong here!'

William did not take his gaze from Rose's. ‘Well, she will soon,' he said stoutly. ‘Rose and I intend to marry.'

This time it was Rose who was completely taken aback. She gawped at him, quite speechless.

Mr Fawcett let out a belch that went unreprimanded. ‘That's a bit sudden, isn't it? You hardly know the lass.'

‘It's out of the question,' Mrs Fawcett snapped.

William stood tall, his shoulders braced against their opposition. ‘I've known Rose for years - and I've seen enough of her to know she's the only lass I'll wed. She's a good Catholic and I'll have no other.'

Rose felt tears sting her eyes as she stepped swiftly to his side in support. He grabbed her hand.

‘You can't,' his mother gasped. ‘She's not good enough for you. You're too young - you need our permission.' She looked at her husband beseechingly. ‘Tell William he can't do this!' she wailed, then sank back into her chair and began to sob.

Mr Fawcett said, ‘Florrie, comfort your mother.' Turning to William he asked, ‘Have you asked Mr McConnell?'

William flushed. ‘I mean to - just as soon as I get the chance. It's just come a bit sudden.'

His father grunted. ‘So sudden, I think it's taken young Rose here by surprise an' all.'

Rose quickly spoke up. ‘I'm of the same mind as William. I'll be a good wife to him - just as he'll be a grand husband to me.'

Mr Fawcett nodded. ‘We'll see what McConnell has to say.'

‘So you won't stand in our way, Father?' William pressed.

‘I have no objection to the lass,' he replied, which provoked an increase in wailing from the other end of the tea table. ‘Pull yourself together, Mrs Fawcett,' he said in irritation. ‘If this is what William wants, you'll just have to learn to get on with the lass.'

Rose and William exchanged triumphant looks. He squeezed her hand tightly in his. She felt her whole body shaking with relief. Rose wanted to kiss him there and then, but thought the shock might send his mother into a fit.

‘Let's go and ask your father now,' William grinned, light-headed at their boldness.

Rose could not escape fast enough. Moments before she had been convinced she would leave alone with a heavy heart and never return. Now she had William beside her and the promise of a future together. She thought she would burst with joy.

They tumbled out into the dark evening, unable to contain their laughter. The street was lit by a bright moon that made the frozen cobbles sparkle like crystals, and clouds whipping past made it appear to move. Clutching her hand, William looked up at the full moon and cried out, ‘I'm so happy! Race with me, Rose!' He began to run, pulling her along behind.