‘Will…will you tell them?’
‘One of us will have to, and I suppose it had better be me. But be prepared for Mother wanting to get rid of you, put you out or hide you in some way. You must look out for that reaction. But I’ve no idea what can prepare you for Father’s reactions. No, I haven’t.’
‘You…you could tell him that I…I’m going to be married.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly, Jessie. Don’t rely on that. All right, all right; don’t get on your high horse. But anyway, saying to Father that you, who are the apple of his eye, and in whom he considers he’s bred a lady, telling him that you hope to marry one of the Feltons, the quay Feltons. Oh, my goodness! He’ll go down there and fight the lot of them. He’ll be capable of doing murder. By the way, when do you expect…him back?’
‘In a fortnight’s time, or perhaps a day or so before; it all depends on the weather.’
Agnes sighed, then bit on the front of her forefinger before she turned to Jessie again and said, ‘Look; if you’re so sure he’ll turn up, we’ll say nothing for the time being. You can lace up tight for the next couple of weeks and try to act normal. And then if he’s serious in marrying you, my advice to you would be to skip off and do it. Once the deed is done Father couldn’t do anything about it, especially if you’re away from the town. Oh, yes, you’d have to be away from the town. Well, that’s all I can think of at the moment. But if he doesn’t come…’
‘He will. He will, I tell you.’
‘All right, all right; don’t get excited. Go and wash your face in the basin’—she pointed—‘and comb your hair, and do try to act as usual. By the way, have you any money saved up?’
‘About…about eight pounds.’
‘That won’t get you very far.’
‘Well, you know I only get five shillings pocket money; he pays for everything.’
‘Has that boy…that man any money?’
‘Just…just what he earns. I think, though his mother is well off; but…but she’s an awful woman, loud-mouthed.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No, but I went down to the quay one Sunday and I heard her. She was at a stall; they sell all kinds of things. She’s a dreadful-looking woman, big, fat, and her voice is more like a man’s.’
‘Well, you’ll not get much welcome from that quarter, will you?’
‘I don’t want it. Neither does Rob.’
A voice came from the corridor calling, ‘Agnes!’
Agnes pushed Jessie towards the basin, hissing, ‘Stay there!’ then hurried out of the room to meet her mother in the corridor, the while calling, ‘I’m coming. I’m coming.’
‘What are you up to? You know you are due down in the shop. And then there’s the linen to change in the house.’
‘Mother.’ Agnes stood directly in front of her mother now as she said, ‘Would it do you any harm either to go down into the shop or to go over to the house and change the linen? One or the other?’
‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Agnes. This is your duty. Your father pays you and pays you well for your work. Where would you get fifteen shillings a week and board and lodgings?’
‘My God, Mother!’ She put up her hand, palm vertical. ‘Don’t say another word, else I’ll go back into that room and pack my case and be away. Do you hear me?’
‘Well, that wouldn’t altogether surprise me because I know you’re up to something, buying second-hand clothes from those dotty old maids next door. And what good are they going to be to you? You can never wear them.’
‘You never know, Mother; I may one day move up into society. Surprising things happen.’
‘Don’t talk rot, girl. And I’m telling you, don’t speak to me in that fashion or I’ll have to have a word with your father.’
‘Oh, do that, do that, Mother. And he’ll have a word back at you.’
Alice Conway turned about and walked down the corridor, her hands spread out as if in appeal, her head bobbing as she said, ‘What’s come over people? What’s happening to this house?’ and Agnes, as she made her way to the linen cupboard, called back over her shoulder, ‘You’ve got the answer to that, Mother, if you dare to face up to it,’ which left Alice Conway open-mouthed and dumb.
A few minutes later Agnes was hurrying across the yard with the fresh linen in her arms, making for the house at the end of the square, when a man passing along the pavement glanced at her, then stopped and, raising his hat, said, ‘Good afternoon,’ and stepped towards her.
‘Good…good afternoon.’
‘I…I haven’t seen you in the shop for some time. Have you been unwell?’
‘No.’ She blinked her eyes, then shook her head before repeating, ‘No. But very often I’m…I’m in the factory.’ She pointed next door to the house in front of which she was now standing and said, ‘That is where we make most of our sweets.’
‘Oh, that’s interesting.’ Then he looked at the linen she was holding across her arms, and she followed his gaze and said, as she motioned her hand towards the door, ‘This…this is our house too. We let it for short terms to captains and such like.’
‘Oh really? You have quite an expansive business one way and another.’
‘Yes. Yes, we have.’ She hitched the linen further up into her arms.
‘It’s been wonderful weather of late, hasn’t it? Everybody is still crying out for rain; no-one is ever satisfied.’ He smiled broadly; and she smiled back at him, saying, ‘No; you can’t please everyone.’
When she again hitched the linen up to ease its weight, he said, ‘Well, I must be going. It’s been very nice meeting you again. I…I may see you in the shop one of these days.’
‘Yes. Yes. Good afternoon.’
‘Good afternoon.’
It was she who turned away first and when she rested her arm against the wall to support the linen whilst she put the key in the lock, he came forward, saying eagerly, ‘Let me.’ And she let him turn the key and open the door. And when she straightened up and went to take the key from the lock his hand was there before hers, and as he handed the key back to her, he said on a laugh, ‘I see you don’t intend to be locked in from the outside.’
She said nothing, but looked at him. His face was not more than a foot away from hers and his dark brown eyes were smiling into hers. She didn’t smile back, but said again, ‘Thank you.’ And as she stepped forward into the room, he stepped backwards into the yard and, raising his hat he again said, ‘Well, good afternoon,’ to which she also replied, ‘Good afternoon.’
After closing the door, she stood leaning against it, the linen now pressed against her body, her hands crossed over it. She found she was breathing deeply, almost gasping. Then, pulling herself upright, she moved across the little sitting room and to the stairs that went straight up from the corner of the room.
In the bedroom above she dropped the linen onto a chair; then, going to the window, she stood looking out, as she usually did, over the chimney pots towards the river. But she wasn’t seeing the chimney pots or the river; what she was seeing were the clothes in her wardrobe, those beautiful clothes. And she asked herself why she should be thinking about those now, which seemed to bring forth other questions: Who was he? What was his name? Where was he from? Some place quite near, she imagined. He had said he hadn’t seen her in the shop, so he must have called in on occasions when Nan would be in the sweetshop and Arthur Peeble in the tobacconist’s or her father was there taking Peeble’s place; he rarely served in the sweetshop.
Will he come again? When would he come again?
Oh, woman! She swung round from the window. Hadn’t she enough to think about? There was Jessie. Oh my God! Yes, Jessie. And whichever way she looked at Jessie’s case there was going to be trouble, deep trouble, awful trouble, frightening trouble.
Two
Tommy Grant placed the big, round, iron, copper-lined sugar pan on the side of the stove, straightened his back as far as it would go; then, turning to the bench, he
pointed to the five tin trays of liquid toffee, saying, ‘That should give us a fresh start in the mornin’, miss. At least those two imps of Satan will get their hands in straight away instead of wasting their time jabbering.’
‘Oh, Tommy, you know that Betty and Doris don’t get the chance to waste much time under you. And by the way, remember what we talked about the other day? That pan is getting too heavy for you. Now, now, now! No more denials. I’m going to talk to Father. You want a sturdy young fellow here not only to lift that but also those sacks of sugar and such.’
‘Miss, you listen to me. When the time comes an’ I can’t lift a hundredweight of sugar or me old black pan, then it’ll be time for me to retire upstairs for good.’
‘Well, you should have done it a long time ago; you need a rest.’
‘I’ll get a long, long rest when I get in me box, miss. An’ I’m not lookin’ forward to it, I can tell you, ’cos they won’t let me take me pan with me.’ He grinned at her.
‘Go on with you! Get upstairs. I’m going to lock up.’
‘I can do that, miss.’
‘Oh, I know what happens when you lock up. Look; it’s a quarter to nine now, you’ll be here till a quarter to ten fiddling around. Go on, get yourself away.’ She shooed him, and the old man, laughing now, obeyed her, saying, ‘You’re gettin’ as bossy as your da.’
She waited until he had passed through the door that led to the stairs; then she covered up the trays of now cooling toffee, put a saucer of milk down for the cat, stroked the animal’s purring head, saying the while, ‘Now you get to work, Flotsie, and put your score up tonight,’ then she went out, and locked the door.
The weather had changed. Earlier in the day it had been raining, now there was a high wind blowing. She bent her head into it as she crossed the yard, only to lift it up sharply as she heard a voice saying, ‘Psst! Psst!’ then, ‘Miss!’ and to see a young man stepping from the side of the coalhouse where he had evidently been waiting. As he came towards her her hand went to her throat, and he said, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s me, Robbie Felton. I only want a word.’
Her mind was galloping. Jessie was right: he had come back, but much sooner than she expected. Jessie had said a fortnight, but it was only nine days since she had broken the awful news to her.
He said, ‘You’re her sister, I know. She’s talked a lot about you. Can…can I see her, miss?’
He spoke in a thick Northern Geordie dialect and, listening to it, she asked herself how Jessie could ever have come to love this young fellow? In a rough kind of way he was good-looking, but he was heavily built and looked an aggressive type.
She heard herself gabbling now, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you know what you have done to my sister? She’s…she’s in a state. There’ll be great trouble for her. Do you know that?’
‘Aye, I know that, miss. And aye, I know what I’ve done to her. And I know what she’s done to me an’ all.’
‘What could she have done to you?’
‘Well, it’s hard to explain, miss, hard to explain. She’s made me think, think differently about…about gettin’ on an’ that, betterin’ mesel’. An’…an’ that’s why I want to marry her. Well, don’t just want to, I mean to.’
‘Have you thought what her father will say…and her mother?’
‘Aye, I’ve thought of that. I know they won’t consider me her kind, her havin’ been to a fancy school, an’ the typin’ stuff an’ all. But if she was marryin’ one of her own kind she wouldn’t get anybody to care for her any better than me. An’ anyway, miss, it’s a waste of time talkin’; I’m goin’ to marry her. So d’you think you could tip her the wink an’ tell her I’ve got back early? We berthed at Shields. I’ll…I’ll wait down here.’
‘Oh…oh, I don’t think so, not tonight.’
‘Aye well, miss, if I don’t see her the night on the quiet, I’ll only come to the shop the morrow, an’ I’ll put it plainly to her da.’
‘You mustn’t. You mustn’t do that. You’ve got no idea in what regard he holds her. He’s liable to…to—’ She looked at him before going on, for she had been going to say, ‘beat you up’, but she couldn’t imagine anyone attempting to beat this young fellow up.
‘I…I won’t keep her long, miss, just to sort of…to reassure her, like, that I’m back. An’ I mean to go through with it, we both mean to go through with it. I know how she feels about me an’ I feel bloody lucky she does. Excuse me, miss, but y’see I feel strongly about this.’
She looked to the side for a moment. Jessie was in love with this young man, this young bruiser of a fellow, because that’s the only name you could give him, at least by the look of him. His dress, his speech, his looks, everything pointed to the word. But then, as he had said, if he didn’t see her tonight he would come to the shop tomorrow.
She said in a whisper, ‘Wait here; but…but keep out of sight. I’ll…I’ll try to get her down. But don’t, please, don’t keep her talking.’
She turned from him now and ran to the door and up the back stairs. In the corridor she glanced first one way then the other before hurrying along to Jessie’s bedroom. She didn’t bother tapping on the door but pushed it open and straight away saw that her sister wasn’t in the room.
She hurried back down the corridor and opened the sitting-room door, more slowly than she had Jessie’s, thinking that her mother might still be there and not, for once, have retired early. But that room, too, was empty.
Dashing into the kitchen now, she found Jessie standing at the table and squeezing a lemon into a glass and she had almost pulled her from the table towards the door before she managed to say to her, ‘He’s…he’s downstairs in the yard. Go on; but don’t stay more than a few minutes.’
‘Rob?’
‘Yes. Who else, girl? But for God’s sake be careful; Father will be up in a minute, it’s on nine. As she pushed Jessie forward she hissed, ‘Go quietly; Mother’s got ears. No more than a few minutes, mind.’
She almost staggered back to the kitchen table and sat down and as she did so the kitchen clock struck nine. She looked at it. How long would it be before her father came up? Arthur would be gone on the stroke of nine, and Nan too, if it was possible. He had only to turn the keys in both doors, take the cash from the tills and then he would be upstairs. He did sometimes stay in the storeroom and check the day’s accounts. But would he do that tonight?
She got up from the table and poured herself out a glass of water, and then sat down again. The clock now said five minutes past nine. She glanced towards the door willing it to open and show her Jessie. It did open, at seven minutes past, but it was her father who entered the kitchen.
‘Hello, there. What’s the matter with you, drinkin’ water? Feeling faint?’
‘No. No; I was just thirsty. I’ve just come across from the factory; it’s windy out.’
‘Where’s Jessie?’
‘She’s…she’s in her room.’
He was making for the door when he stopped and half turned back towards her and said, ‘By the way, Aggie, very little escapes you, as I know only too well, but have you noticed any difference in Jessie of late?’
‘What?’ She swallowed deeply, then said, ‘What do you mean, difference?’
‘If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you, and if I didn’t know her inside out I would have said she was worried about something.’
If he didn’t know her inside out. She felt her head going back, then brought it forward again as she said, ‘It’s…it’s been pretty hot lately; it affects us all.’
‘It doesn’t usually affect youngsters like her; they revel in the heat.’ His eyes narrowed; then, stepping towards her and leaning his hands on the edge of the table, he said, ‘You’re not holding anything back from me, are you? I mean, you don’t know something that I don’t know?’
‘Nobody around here knows anything that you don’t know.’
‘Don’t be flippant. I’ve had an odd feelin
g of late, and I don’t like odd feelings.’ He turned abruptly from her and went out. She heard the door open and close, then his footsteps coming back along the corridor and go into the sitting room. She heard that door close; and then the steps hurrying now towards the bedrooms.
It seemed that the next minute he had thrust open the kitchen door and was advancing on her; and then he was gripping her shoulder, saying, ‘Where is she? Come on, out with it! Where is she?’
She swung her body away from him and upwards, remonstrating with him now, ‘Don’t you try any rough stuff with me, Father! You should know by now it won’t work. Where do you think she is?’
‘She’s out somewhere. What I want to know is where has she gone? And who with?’
‘Well, you had better ask her when she comes in, hadn’t you?’
‘You’re maddening me, aren’t you, Aggie? You know all about what’s going on; and it’s been going on under me nose. I’ve smelt it but couldn’t believe it. But by God! I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
As he stormed from the kitchen she cried after him, ‘Do that! Do that! And I wish you luck.’
Halfway along the corridor, he stopped. Wish you luck, she had said. He was standing in front of a narrow window, one of two that faced the yard. It was draped in a pair of thin gauze curtains looped at each side into a narrow brass clasp. The window actually overlooked the top of the yard where the lavatories and the coalhouses were situated, and it was the white material fluttering from the end of the coalhouse that attracted his eye. He thrust the curtains wider, pressed his face to the glass but still all he could see was the white material flapping backwards and forwards in the wind. It was enough, though. He almost sprang from the window and was down the back stairs and into the yard within seconds. Then he saw them. They came into full view; his daughter in the arms of what appeared a working man.
It was an actual roar he let out and it was mingled with Jessie’s scream as he tore her from the shelter of the coalhouses and the young man’s arms. His voice filled the yard as he yelled, ‘You dirty little hussy, you!’ And when he thrust at her, still yelling, ‘Get up into that house, there!’ and almost pushed her onto her back, the young fellow sprang forward and grabbed her; then, with one arm around her and the other fist doubled, forefinger pointing out straight at the man, he cried at him, ‘You lay another hand on her like that, mister, an’ that’ll be the last thing you do.’
The Wingless Bird Page 9
