A Daughter's Gift

by Maggie Hope

  It was ten days later when Elizabeth stood by the door of the farmhouse, Dorothy’s second-best shawl on top of her clothes, the sovereign which the farmer had insisted on lending her safely secured in the inside pocket of her skirt.

  ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing Dorothy’s plump and weather-worn cheek. ‘I promise you I’ll write to you, just as soon as we’re settled.’

  ‘Aye, do that,’ she answered. Then, unused to open expressions of sentiment, shouted over to the farmer, ‘Hey, Alf! don’t forget to fetch me sewing cotton from Stanhope, will you? One reel of black and one of white, think on, mind!’

  ‘Aw, woman, I said I would, haven’t you given me a list?’

  ‘Aye, well, see that you do. And mind yourself an’ all.’ It was their usual way of saying farewell.

  At Stanhope, Alf took Elizabeth and Jenny down the hill to the station, bought their tickets to Bishop Auckland and saw them onto the train. Elizabeth’s heart was beating painfully. At any minute she expected Peart to walk into the station and grab Jenny, if only as a way of forcing them both back to Stand Alone Farm. She felt like hiding on the train rather than leaning out of the window to speak to the kindly farmer, but she forced herself.

  ‘I’m grateful, Alf,’ she said. ‘You’ll never know how grateful for all you’ve done for us. I’ll write, I promise I’ll write.’

  The engine was getting up steam, the guard had his flag at the ready. Alf stood back, smiling broadly. ‘Aye, be sure you do, mind, Jenny an’ all. Or Dorothy’s going to be awful disappointed.’ The train began to move. He walked after it. ‘Mind yourselfs, you two lasses!’ he cried over the sound of the engine as it chugged away. Elizabeth could hardly see him for the steam which swirled around and enveloped him.

  They sat back in their seats, Jenny’s small face showing her excitement and delight. After all, this was the first time she had been on a train; she had never been further down the dale than Frosterley in all her young life.

  ‘It goes fast, doesn’t it?’ she said, and the two soldiers in the carriage looked at each other and grinned. A woman with a large basket on her knees took an apple from under the cover and handed it to Jenny who went pink with gratification. She sat, holding it in her hand, until Elizabeth told her she could go on and eat it.

  Elizabeth sank back in her seat and gazed out of the window. She had only a hazy idea of what she was going to do when she got back to Bishop Auckland, though she did want to see Jimmy. She refused to let herself think about Jack, though she was acutely aware that she was getting ever nearer to him. The familiar lump came into her throat as she thought of him. Jack, oh, Jack. Why had he acted the way he did?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE SATURDAY BEFORE Elizabeth and Jenny started their new life, Jack was standing on Darlington Station seeing Jimmy Nelson off on his great adventure. The train to London was late, the station crowded with men in uniform, tearful families gathered around them.

  ‘I don’t know why Elizabeth didn’t write back,’ said the boy. ‘I wrote and told her I’d got the scholarship to Dartmouth. I thought she would have written back.’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t get the letter? The post can be erratic these days when most of the real postmen are in the army,’ Jack replied.

  ‘It’s the only thing that worries me,’ said Jimmy. ‘It would have been nice to know how she was doing.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to find out,’ promised Jack. ‘I’ll go up to Bollihope Common and insist on seeing her, I promise you.’

  His emotions were mixed: excitement at having an excuse to go to Stand Alone Farm, actually see Elizabeth, and dread at seeing her married to that man, maybe with a baby in her arms and another on the way. At the thought he was filled with pure jealousy. How could he bear it if that was the case? He gazed along the platform to where the track curved on its way from Durham and Newcastle. He pretended he was watching for the train to cover up his emotions.

  ‘Another ten minutes, the stationmaster said,’ Jimmy reminded him. ‘A delay at Durham.’

  Jack turned and smiled at him. ‘Yes, I know.’

  Jimmy had been so keen to get the scholarship to the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth, and Jack had to admit he had worked all hours to achieve it. Only a few months after gaining entrance to the grammar school at Auckland he had taken the examinations and won the place. The school was enormously proud of him. At least he had made it possible for Elizabeth’s brother to get where he wanted, thought Jack. Something he had done in the first place for Elizabeth’s sake, though now he felt it had been totally worthwhile for the boy’s sake alone. Jimmy had proved himself not only to be above average intelligence but also to have an incredible capacity for hard work. It made Jack wonder if there were other boys in his mine who, given the chance, could go on to make their mark on the world. Perhaps he could award an annual scholarship, a modest one just to the grammar school. Say a hundred pounds a year.

  Jack sighed. He thought of his mother only that morning at breakfast, how she had done her best to denigrate the boy’s achievement.

  ‘Mark my words, it’s a waste of tax-payers’ money,’ she had said. ‘How could a boy from a pit family ever come to anything in the navy? Even if he does manage to graduate, the other officers won’t like it. Blood will out, I’m telling you. A pit lad does not make a leader of men and he’ll fall on his face. Then you’ll be sorry you helped him.’

  Jack did not bother to answer her, remind her of Peter Lee, the great miners’ leader. And there were others. There wasn’t time anyway, he had Jimmy to pick up to take to Darlington. He had to report to Dartmouth by six o’clock that evening.

  ‘Well, don’t forget I’ve invited Dolly Hope and her parents round for dinner this evening,’ said Olivia. ‘I expect you to be nice and talk to the girl. She just needs bringing out of her shyness, Jack. And don’t forget, she’s an heiress in her own right. Her grandfather left her those farms in Northumberland and people say she has ten thousand a year besides.’

  ‘I won’t forget,’ he said grimly. He had at last learned not to argue with his mother, just not to take too much notice of her either. It made for a quieter life. Now, travelling back from Darlington, he had to wait at the level crossing at Heighington; the local train from Bishop Auckland was coming through. He thought about going up to Bollihope Common. Perhaps he could go today, not go home, drive up to Stanhope now. Suddenly he was filled with a sense of urgency. Silly really, he told himself. How could it be urgent? Elizabeth had a husband to look after her, hadn’t she? Not much of one but a husband nevertheless. He glanced up as the train went rushing by, the windows of the compartments flashing in the sun. It was quite full, he noticed, but then they always were since the beginning of the war. He sat up straighter and blinked. There was Elizabeth! He had seen her plainly, sitting by the window, her face close to the glass, watching the vehicles waiting at the crossing: a pony and trap, a Thornycroft lorry with an open cab, the driver hunched over the wheel, and the Austin tourer. It was only a second and then she was gone. The train chugged off round the bend, heading for Darlington.

  He was really in a bad way, Jack told himself, if he was seeing her face everywhere he looked. Only a few days ago he had seen a girl with black hair walking down Newgate Street a few yards before him and had been sure it was Elizabeth. He’d run after her and touched her arm, and the girl had stopped, and of course it wasn’t Elizabeth but someone entirely different.

  The gate of the level crossing opened and he followed the lorry across. He drove on until he came to the turnoff which led up to Weardale. At Frosterley he bought himself a pie and a bottle of pop as he had done that day he and Jimmy had gone up to Stand Alone Farm. He sat in the car and ate the pie and drank a mouthful of the pop then set off to drive to the lonely farm on the moor.

  Earlier that morning, Elizabeth walked with Jenny from Bishop Auckland to Morton Main. It was just the same as it had always been, she though
t – the rows of miners’ houses, the chapel at the end of one row, the inscription above the door carved in the stone: Primitive Methodist Chapel, 1889. Beyond the houses the slag heap towered, with the engine house and winding wheel beside it inside the pit yard. It seemed like another life when she had last seen it.

  Walking down West Row to Mrs Wearmouth’s house, she could have sworn the same tea towels were on the washing lines, the same hopscotch bays marked out in the back street in yellow, for they were marked out with bits of sandstone as chalk was hard to come by. Even the children playing looked the same.

  They walked up the yard and knocked on Mrs Wearmouth’s door, Elizabeth wondering apprehensively if she would be welcome. After all, there was the old scandal of her abrupt departure from Newcomb Hall.

  She needn’t have worried. When Mrs Wearmouth opened the door her face broke into a welcoming smile.

  ‘Eeh, lass, you’re a sight for sore eyes!’ she cried. ‘Howay in and let’s have a good look at you.’ Opening the door wide she led the way into the kitchen. ‘I’ll have the tea made in a couple of shakes, the kettle’s just on the boil,’ she went on. With the teapot in one hand and the spoon in the other as she spooned tea leaves, she suddenly noticed Jenny, hiding behind Elizabeth’s skirts.

  ‘An’ who’s the little lass?’ She looked closer. ‘She reminds me of somebody, I’m not sure … Eeh, don’t tell me it’s little Jenny? It’s not, is it? Are you Jenny Nelson, pet?’

  Jenny nodded her head gravely, acknowledging that she was. She caught hold of Elizabeth’s skirt, as a timid toddler might catch hold of her mother’s. Oh, dear, thought Elizabeth. I’ll have to try to bring her out of her shyness and before she gets much older too. She spared a bitter thought for Peart. He had a lot to answer for.

  ‘I’ve got fairy cakes in the pantry, Jenny. I just made them yesterday but now Jimmy’s gone away I don’t know who’s going to help me eat them. Do you think you could manage one?’

  ‘Jimmy’s away? Where? I thought he must be on fore shift,’ she broke in.

  ‘Did he not write to you? I’m sure he did, he asked me for an envelope,’ Mrs Wearmouth said, her brow knitted. ‘Just a minute, I’ll see to the bairn and make the tea and then we’ll talk.’

  When they were settled round the table with Jenny nibbling at a sweet bun and Elizabeth barely able to contain her impatience, the older woman took a sip of tea and sat back.

  ‘A lot’s been happening since you went away, lass,’ she said. ‘Jimmy left the pit and went to the grammar school, did you not know?’

  ‘Left the pit?’ Elizabeth was stupefied.

  ‘It’s a shame you missed him an’ all, he just went to Dartmouth this morning. Away wi’ the larks they were.’

  ‘Dartmouth?’ Elizabeth repeated.

  Mrs Wearmouth looked irritable. ‘What’s the matter? Can you not understand or something? Repeating everything I say.’

  ‘I’m so surprised,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I came to see our Jimmy today and you say he’s gone to Dartmouth? Why on earth has a young lad like him gone there? Do you mean the Dartmouth in Devon?’

  ‘Where else? Eeh, I thought you’d be over the moon about it, I did an’ all. The lad got a scholarship to that Naval College, that’s why. I must say, I’m surprised he didn’t let you know.’

  ‘I … I moved. If he wrote I didn’t get the letter.’

  ‘Jimmy said you were married?’

  ‘No, I’m not married,’ said Elizabeth and blushed. She looked at Jenny, still nibbling at the edge of her cake. ‘I stayed up the dale for Jenny’s sake, she needed me.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  Mrs Wearmouth gazed thoughtfully at her. ‘You don’t look too clever yourself, pet,’ she remarked. ‘Have you been badly?’

  ‘I was but I’m better now. I’m looking for work. I thought I could stay here, if you’d have me. Find something nearby.’

  ‘Eeh, lass, I’m sorry, I’m giving this place up, going to live with my sister over by the coast. With Tommy gone, you know, and now Jimmy … I’m getting on. It’s lonely. Your aunt doesn’t come over to see me very often neither. Too wrapped up in your Kit, she is. I know Jimmy was bothered about leaving me but he’s done well, I wouldn’t stand in his way for the world. He was that excited this morning when he went for the train. By, you must be proud of the lad, eh?’

  ‘I am. Oh, I am.’ said Elizabeth, though she was still bewildered as to how Jimmy had even got the chance to go to the grammar school never mind be able to afford to take up a scholarship. The Naval College, for goodness’ sake? It was another world.

  ‘I tell you what, though,’ the older woman said suddenly. ‘I had a letter this morning from my niece in Darlington. She was saying how hard it was to get staff.’ She looked speculatively at Elizabeth. ‘She has a boarding house along Albert Hill way. I’m sure she’d jump at the chance of having you, there’d be a room an’ all …’

  An hour later, Elizabeth and Jenny were back on the station platform at Bishop Auckland, having caught the bus only by racing after it, a letter from Mrs Wearmouth to her niece, written in record time, clutched in her hand. This was her chance and she wasn’t going to let it go by, not if she could help it. Surely, with a recommendation from her aunt, the niece in Darlington would not go checking up on her previous employers? Jenny clutched her hand, looking white and bewildered.

  ‘Don’t worry, petal,’ said Elizabeth, trying reassure her. ‘Everything’s going to be fine now, you’ll see. You’ll like it in Darlington, I promise you will.’

  The train came and she quailed a little when she realised it had come down from Weardale but hurried the child into a compartment, telling herself that of course Peart wouldn’t be on the train and even if he was she could handle him. Before long they were on their way.

  It was only as she sat looking out of the window at the fields and villages flying past that she had time to think about Jimmy again. How had he managed to do what he had done? A scholarship was all very well and she knew he was bright enough to gain one, but he had to live in the meanwhile and Mrs Wearmouth only had her pension. They had left that morning, Mrs Wearmouth had said. Who were they?

  As the train puffed past the level crossing at Heighington, Elizabeth watched the queue waiting by the closed gates. A pony and trap, a lorry and … yes, it looked like the car which had been on the road above the farm one day ages ago. But there wasn’t time to check, the train had passed now, and soon they would be in Darlington and they could start their new life. Nothing was going to go wrong this time, she wouldn’t let it, she told herself fiercely. By her side, Jenny had fallen into a doze, leaning against her sister. Elizabeth cuddled her, made her head comfortable in the crook of her arm. The poor little lass was tired out. But it was worth it. Optimism rose in Elizabeth. They weren’t just going to be all right, they were going to be successful and happy, and Jenny too could go to the grammar school if she wanted to.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE ROOM ELIZABETH and Jenny shared was on the top floor of the boarding house in Albert Hill. There were views right across the town from the window and Jenny loved to sit on the deep window seat and gaze out towards the Cleveland Hills. She could sit and stare for hours, Elizabeth reckoned.

  ‘Do your homework, Jenny,’ she said one sunny evening when the hills in the distance were just dark shadows in a blue haze. ‘Come on. How about your French? I’ll sit with you, help you with your irregular verbs if you help me with the pronunciation.’

  The trouble was all her young life Jenny had been used to the moors with their endless horizons, the wide, undulating vistas which had been all around Stand Alone Farm. She fretted if she couldn’t see the far horizon.

  ‘Will you take me to Guisborough on Saturday if it’s fine?’ asked Jenny. ‘Oh, please. We can take a picnic, it won’t cost much, just the bus fare.’ She looked at Elizabeth with those big hazel eyes and Elizabeth felt her heart melting. ‘You know I have to work on Saturdays,’ she said
. ‘The shop is busy then.’

  ‘All right, Sunday,’ Jenny insisted and Elizabeth nodded.

  ‘After Sunday School. But mind, we can’t afford to spend any money. It’ll be just a walk and a picnic’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know,’ said Jenny, her eyes alight now she had got her way.

  Elizabeth smiled. Somehow the moors were part of Jenny; she knew that when they got to Guisborough all the girl would want to do would be to walk as far as they could up on to the North York Moors. They had been in Darlington for almost a year and Jenny was settled into the grammar school and doing well too, though she had had to work hard to get there. But Jenny was no stranger to hard work, thought Elizabeth now, as she watched her sister take her books from her leather schoolbag and set to work.

  She herself was learning fast too. Everything which Jenny learned at school, Elizabeth learned in the evenings, often sitting up late at night after her sister had gone to bed. But French pronunciation was something she couldn’t learn from books, not properly.

  Elizabeth got on well with Laura Hicks, her landlady. When she had first arrived at the boarding house she was grateful to be taken in on the strength of the letter from Mrs Wearmouth. She’d worked hard and long hours but it hadn’t taken her long to realise that she wanted more than working as a maid, of all work, in a boarding house catering mostly for working men.

  ‘I’ll work for you on my day off,’ she’d told Laura finally, ‘if that’s all right with you? But I really want to work in a fashion shop and now I have the chance of getting into Anderson’s.’

  ‘Eeh, don’t worry, pet,’ Laura had replied. ‘Now I’ve got Mona coming in from next door, I’ll manage.’ Mona had just left school. She was a big girl with plump cheeks and a permanently cheerful smile. ‘She hasn’t a lot on top,’ Laura went on, ‘but she’s willing.’ She’d looked thoughtful. ‘I tell you what, you work for me in your time off and you can have that room rent-free. I’d have a job renting it anyway, up at the top of the house like that. If I let it to one of the men from the factory, chances are he’d fall down the stairs one Friday night after they’d all been on the beer.’