The Jarrow Lass (8 page)

‘You've gone mad!' Rose gasped, laughing in delight. ‘What are we racing?'

‘The moon, Rose, the moon!'

As they skidded along the road, clinging on to each other tightly, Rose thought she had never been so happy. She had William's love, and the moon - that angel-faced guardian of her childhood - was beaming down on them, blessing their union.

‘You're a madman, William Fawcett!' she cried as they ran like the wind after the elusive moon. What she meant, but was too bashful to say, was; I love you with every inch of my being.

Chapter 6

Rose and William were to be married that spring of 1878. Once Mrs Fawcett saw she was outnumbered, she accepted the situation with bad grace and tried to influence proceed-ings as much as possible.

‘Of course my William can't go and live in a workman's hut in the back of beyond,' she protested at the idea of them starting married life at the McConnells'. ‘She'll have to come and live here where I can keep an eye on her - teach her the ways of a good wife.'

It rankled with Rose that her future mother-in-law continued to speak about her as if she was not in the room and never referred to her by name. But she curbed her tongue for William's sake. It would be a temporary arrangement until they had saved enough to rent a place of their own.

‘Better this way than not at all,' William reasoned, trying to cheer her. ‘We don't want to give them the time to change their minds about us getting wed. And it will be handier for work living here.'

Rose found an unexpected ally in Florrie. She offered to move out of her bedroom and sleep in the narrow boxroom at the top of the stairs where William had been.

‘It's not much bigger,' said Florrie, ‘but it doesn't seem right, you starting off married life in a cupboard. It'll be hard enough living under the same roof as Mam.'

Rose was surprised by her frankness. ‘That's canny of you, Florrie; ta very much. I can make it nice and homely for the two of us.'

The other girl nodded. ‘Somewhere to escape to.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought you were happy here?'

Florrie gave a short laugh. ‘I'm counting the days till I can get married too. As soon as Albert has enough put by I intend to marry him and start a home of my own.'

Rose gave her a shy smile. ‘It'll be canny having you here until then. I hope we can be friends again?'

Florrie glanced over her shoulder before answering. ‘I always wanted to be,' she admitted in a hushed voice, ‘but it would have caused too much fuss. Mother never wanted me to visit your house - said I would catch some illness from all the muck and animals. And it was always easier not to invite anyone back here for tea in case she took a dislike to them.'

Rose felt sudden pity for William's sister. What a lonely upbringing she must have had in this stark, spotless house, imprisoned by her mother's censoriousness and obsession with order.

‘I'm sorry,' Rose said. ‘I was wrong about you. From now on we'll look out for each other, shall we?' The girls hugged in agreement.

The wedding was not as Rose would have planned it. Her father wished to kill a pig and lay on a meal for everyone they knew up at Simonside after the service. But the Fawcetts, being teetotal, shunned the idea of too much drinking and too many Irish.

‘Da, William's parents won't come if we hold the feastin' up here,' Rose tried to explain. ‘I can't fall out with them over it - I have to gan and live there. Please let them arrange it their way.'

‘I'll provide for me eldest daughter's wedding, so I will!' he blustered.

‘Me and William want it in Lockart's - just a quiet tea, and maybes a couple of dances,' Rose said stubbornly.

‘Dancing without the drinking!' he exclaimed, quite baffled. ‘No one'll come.'

‘We don't want many there, Da,' Rose said, tiring of the constant arguing. She had had enough of that with the Fawcetts. She silently agreed it would be a strange occasion, toasting their marriage with tea and cocoa, but if that was their way, so be it.

He shook his head. ‘Well, Rose Ann, I shall give a party for your wedding day whether you come to it or not.'

Rose sighed. ‘Just as long as you come to Lockart's first,' she pleaded.

‘Lockart's Cocoa Rooms,' he muttered. ‘Jezus, what's the world coming to!'

On a blustery spring day, Rose and William were married at St Bede's by Father O'Brien. Rose wore a white dress of material that Florrie had secured for her cheaply and Maggie had made up on the sewing machine. It was not the silk dress of her childish dreams, but Florrie had persuaded her mother to lend a small bustle of horsehair to make the dress fuller and more fashionable at the back. They trimmed it with lace and made a veil decorated with orange blossom, just as she had always wanted. The Fawcetts paid for a colourful posy of flowers.

At the church there was a large turnout of friends from the Irish community to wish her well, despite the Fawcetts' intention of keeping it a small, select affair. Rose noticed two rows of McMullens as she came down the aisle, but knew there would be no drunken behaviour from John to mar the day. Maggie had heard from Danny Kennedy that John had disappeared one day in January. A week later his mother had been given a message from the knife grinder that John had joined the army. He had up and left without a word of goodbye to anyone. No one knew why. Now nobody knew where he was. Rose thought it just confirmed what a strange and cussed man he was, and then put all thought of John from her mind.

Walking towards William, looking so handsome in his smart suit and shining fair hair, Rose felt she would burst with happiness. She wished her hard-working mother could have been there to see her a grown woman, marrying so well. And she knew by the proud squeeze of her father's arm and the glistening of his eyes that he was thinking the same thought.

The tea party at Lockart's Cocoa Rooms on Ormonde Street was pleasant, if a little subdued at first. There were two dozen guests, mostly friends of William's father from the steelworks and neighbours from James Terrace. But Rose's sisters, along with Florrie and Albert, Danny Kennedy and a couple more of William's workmates soon enlivened the afternoon. After a few stilted words from Rose's father and the cutting of the cake, the younger guests persuaded William to play the piano and they all gathered round for a singsong.

Rose liked nothing better than to stand at William's side and sing along with him, their voices mixing in easy harmony. It was something at which she could equal him, despite her lack of education, and it filled her with a sense of wellbeing and contentment. The more she heard his strong voice, the deeper her love for him grew.

But the room was only reserved for an hour and soon it was time for them to leave. Rose kissed her father and hugged her sisters goodbye, knowing they would be returning up the hill to continue the celebrations with others of their friends who awaited them there.

‘It's been the best day of me life, Da,' Rose told him, feeling suddenly tearful. ‘Ta for everything. You will come and visit, won't you?' she asked, worried that he never would.

‘You come and see us when you can,' her father answered with a gruff smile. ‘It'll be terrible quiet without you, Rose Ann.'

‘I'll stop by on me next half-day off,' Lizzie promised.

‘Aye, do that,' Rose smiled, then turned to Maggie, whom she would miss the most. ‘Take care of Da -I know you will. I'll be up often to see if there's owt I can do.'

‘We'll manage fine,' Maggie reassured. ‘You look to your new life - you deserve your bit of luck.'

They hugged again, Rose trying to swallow the tears that flooded her throat. How she would miss Maggie's company!

‘Come on, Rose,' William said, tugging gently on her arm. ‘My parents are waiting outside.'

They got into the small brake that the Fawcetts had hired to take them back to James Terrace in style. William had already loaded up Rose's small mound of possessions - a bag of clothes and the bundle of linen, including the patchwork quilt that her sisters had made her for a wedding gift. Wrapped inside was an old copper warming pan that had belonged to her grandmother, and secured inside this was a silver tea caddy spoon and set of bone-handled cutlery from her father that had been her mother's pride and joy. There were other household items gifted by the Fawcetts' more prosperous friends, which would have to be stored until Rose had a home of her own.

Ignoring Mrs Fawcett's sniffy remarks about looking like tinkers on the move, Rose sat close to William, waving to her family until they were out of view. It was only when they arrived and disembarked outside the house in James Terrace that Rose was seized with nervousness. From now on she was going to be living in this place under the rule of her critical mother-in-law, day in, day out.

She busied herself helping William carry her belongings up to their bedroom and took as long as possible sorting them out. There was a small chest of drawers, mostly full of William's clothing, and a washstand with his shaving brush and razor. The small wardrobe in the corner still held Florrie's dresses, for she had nowhere else to put them, so Rose hung her hand-me-down skirts and frocks over the end of the iron bedstead. She spent an age smoothing out the quilt over their bed, her insides somersaulting at the thought she would soon be sharing it with William. Feeling suddenly giddy, she sat down quickly.

She had an idea of what consummating a marriage meant; she had seen pigs rutting noisily and observed the fluttering fuss and commotion of birds mating. She could hardly imagine William behaving like that, but it was something they would have to do. The priest had told her it was her duty as a wife and a good Catholic to have babies. Rose liked the thought of babies - lots of golden-haired infants with sweet smiles and voices like William's. Conceiving these babies might take a few undignified moments of flapping and grunting, Rose was not entirely sure, but it would be over swiftly, that she knew.

Then she remembered the strange whispered wrangling from her parents' bed, protests from her mother to be left alone, that she would give her father no more bairns. Rose realised now that her mother must have been putting her immortal soul in danger for refusing to do her duty. With a stab of anxiety she wondered why her mother had found it such a hardship. Perhaps such urges were seasonal? Sitting on the bed, trying to regain her composure, she wondered how much William knew about these things.

‘Penny for your thoughts,' William smiled nervously, hovering by the door.

Rose flushed. She could not possibly tell him what she had been thinking. She covered her mouth to hide an embarrassed smile.

‘Nothing,' she murmured.

‘Florrie's made some cocoa,' he said.

‘More cocoa!' Rose laughed. ‘Don't tell me da.'

William grinned. ‘I'll bring it up, if you like - say you're tired.'

Rose gave him a grateful look. She had been delaying having to go down and sit with the Fawcetts in their dreary parlour, while up the hill her family and friends would still be celebrating her wedding day. She felt a pang of disappointment that they were missing out on the dancing, then remembered how lucky she was to have William. All she wanted was to be with him, whatever the circumstances.

‘Please,' she smiled at him. Then more coyly added, ‘Could you take the warming pan and put some coals in from the kitchen fire?'

William nodded, reddening at the hinted suggestion they should get to bed.

By the time he returned with two cups of steaming chocolate, she had drawn the curtains against the dusk, changed into her nightdress and got in between the chilly sheets. Her long dark hair was loose and draped around her shoulders like a shawl. He gazed at her, quite overcome by the sight.

‘Where's Granny's warming pan?' Rose asked.

William cleared his throat. ‘Mother says it's unsafe. Might set fire to the sheets.'

‘Doesn't want a speck of soot on her precious linen, you mean!' Rose said crossly. ‘I've used it for years without any trouble.'

William handed her a cup. ‘I'll buy you one of them china “pigs” to warm the bed,' he promised. ‘Any road, we'll soon warm it up,' he grinned bashfully. ‘Get that cocoa down you.'

Rose blushed, her annoyance instantly dispelled by his good humour. He was so good-natured, it was impossible to be cross with him for bowing to his mother's wishes. After all, it was the Fawcetts' house and she had to fit in with their ways. Things would be different once they had their own home, Rose determined.

As she sipped her chocolate William began to undress with his back to her.

‘Do you want me to look away?' she asked in alarm.

He glanced round and laughed. ‘Only if you can't bear the sight of me in long Johns.'

‘I could look at you all day long in whatever you wear,' Rose giggled.

William speeded up his undressing and quickly climbed in beside her. For a few minutes they lay there, well covered in underclothes and nightdress. He lifted the covers and looked at her.

‘By, you're wearing more than you did when you were dressed!' he exclaimed. ‘You're ready for a Russian winter.'

Rose laughed. ‘Well, it was always cold up Simonside - specially if you had to run to the privy.'

‘You don't have to do that here,' William said in amusement. ‘There's a pot under the bed.' Rose had noticed the gleaming china chamber pot with interest. Her father had always said it was healthier to go outside, so they had never had one. She was also looking forward to using the proper boxed privy in the backyard, which was emptied regularly by the midden men. There would be no more sodden earth closet or spreading of rank-smelling refuse on the fields for her.