“No way, Mary. The fun is just beginning” shouted Tess and she turned to laugh at a large florid man who had his arms flung around her ample waist.
Mary was feeling more and more uncomfortable as one of the men started to edge closer to her, and so she pushed her way out of the bar. Outside she gulped some air and felt better. She still felt light headed though as she walked up the street towards home. Luckily she didn’t have far to go and she soon pushed open the door to her flat.
“John my love. What you doin’ up sho late?” she slurred.
“I was worried about you Mary. There are a lot of nasty people around here you know” he said, glad she was home.
What did you think I’d be up to. We jusht had a couple of shing a longs in the pub”. Mary was drunker than she thought.
“Mary, I don’t think you realise what a beautiful woman you are. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you ever again”.
Mary laughed “Oh yesh, beautiful - with the grime of the mill machines everywhere. I can’t even get a gloss to my hair anymore.” As she said this, she leaned over John and kissed him. “Is the bairn asleep?”
John couldn’t believe what was happening and he quickly grabbed Mary onto his laps and started to kiss her urgently. Mary stumbled over to the bed, giggling all the way with John quickly following, and they made passionate love. Mary, her inhibitions lost with the alcohol, taking the lead and straddling John. However she soon passed out and John was left wondering what had happened. He had certainly enjoyed the attention Mary had given him, but he was also concerned that it had only been through the alcohol.
John’s misgivings were right, as the next night Mary was back to her usual wooden self. So they seemed to fall into a routine of Mary working in the mill during the week and falling into bed exhausted. Then at the weekends drinking, so she could perform her wifely duties.
Mary was soon pregnant again, and within the space of two years they had two baby girls, Jane and Annie. They had managed to move into a two roomed flat in Kemback Street as their family grew, with Mary returning to the mill a few days after each birth.
~~~
When Patrick was born, Mary had written to her mother and let her know she was a grandmother and that she was married. They had kept up a very infrequent correspondence as Mary had never got over the sense of betrayal she felt for everyone there. So she was surprised to see a letter one morning, with the Aberdeenshire postmark, but not addressed in her mother’s usual scrawl.
After quickly reading the letter from her father she looked up and said in a wooden voice “John dear. I must go up home to Aberdeenshire. My mother and sister are both dead.”
The letter explained that Beth had died in childbirth and her mother who had been sickly for many years had passed away two days later of a broken heart at the news. Mary felt a myriad of different emotions at the news.
She left immediately for Aberdeenshire as the funeral was the next day, and John was left, this time with 3 children to look after.
When Mary arrived back at the family cottage, late that night, her father seemed very angry and withdrawn, and so Mary went straight to bed. The funeral was the next morning and Mary would have to leave straight after the service, to ensure she made it back to Dundee that same evening, so she could start back to work the next morning. She was not allowed any more time away from the mill.
Mary had mixed feelings about being home. She thought again, how shabbily she had been treated by her mother and her sister Beth. She had never got to ask her sister - why? Why did she steal her sweetheart? As she lay in the darkened bedroom next to her sister Lizzie, Mary felt anxious about attending the double funeral the next day. However deep down she knew the real reason for her anxiety – the thought of seeing George again.
Early, the next morning her mother’s coffin was taken from the cottage and loaded onto the undertakers cart and the family walked closely behind as it made its way to the church and graveyard, where Beth’s coffin waited. The service was a blur to Mary, and at the graveside she steeled herself to look across at George as the coffins were being lowered. He was holding the hand of his daughter, his child with Beth, and looked totally grief-stricken. He was still as handsome as ever and Mary felt sadness so great that she moaned and a sob tore from her lips.
As soon as the service was over, Mary kissed her father on the cheek and said goodbye. She didn’t know when she would see him again and he grabbed her in a bear hug again, just like he had some 6 years before at the train station in Aberdeen. “I’m sorry, so sorry Mary” he cried.
As Mary hurried down the path out of the graveyard she heard someone running after her.
“Mary, please wait”. Mary froze on the spot. It was George.
He stood in front of her and took her hands in his.
“Mary I know this is not the time and place, but I have to tell you the truth. I was sworn to secrecy by Beth and your mother, but now you need to know.” He told her earnestly.
“Oh Mary you are still so beautiful. I never stopped loving you for one day. You need to know that. I was as good a husband as I could be to Beth, I cared for her. But there was always that portion of my heart that was never hers, and always yours” he poured out.
“Don’t be ridiculous, George” Mary replied angrily. “You couldn’t wait to jump into Beth’s arms as soon as I was sent away to Dundee. Your heart is fickle. Please leave me be, I need to get back to my family in Dundee”
“Mary, I’ll let you go now. But you need to know that my heart was never fickle; it was never steered from its course of love for you.” And George went on to explain to Mary that after she had left for Dundee Beth had got pregnant by a travelling farmhand, who moved on after the harvest. Mary’s mother had begged George to help them and make a legal union so the child would not be born out of wedlock.
“You know how it is around here Mary” he pleaded. “Beth would have been ostracised. Your parents told me that you had fallen in love with one of the valets in the house and were to be wed”.
And so Mary came to learn that George had sacrificed their love to help her sister.
“Oh George” she sobbed into his chest. “How unfair life is. I’ve always loved you and was torn apart when I got the letter from my mother about you and Beth.”
She went on to tell him about Edward and how John had saved her by marrying her. She then pulled herself together and steeling herself she told him that she must get back to Dundee. “My family are waiting for me there.”
George nodded sadly and let her go.
~~~
John had been worried about Mary meeting George again, and he knew his fears were not unfounded when Mary returned, very distant and lost in her thoughts most of the time.
However, John didn’t have long to dwell on these fears, as a week after Mary had returned from Aberdeenshire, she couldn’t rise from her bed. She had been coughing and wheezing for a few months. This had seemed to get better at the weekends when she didn’t work and worsen again during the week. Tess told her she had ‘Mill Fever’, the dust and heat from the machines affecting her lungs.
This particular morning Mary was having difficulty breathing and was coughing up mucus. John called the doctor and he was told gravely that Mary had bronchitis. John tended to her as her fever rose, and never left her side, except to get her some water to sip and something to cool her fevered brow.
Tess took in the children, and a week later Mary’s fever broke.
Mary recovered and carried on working at the mill to ensure the children were fed, but over the next two years she was constantly getting sick and having time away from work. She now seemed to have a permanent hacking cough.
One afternoon around three, Tess came running up the hill to batter on the front door of the little flat. John came running out at the noise.
“John! John! It’s Mary again” she cried out. “She collapsed in front of the machine at work. John, it’s a miracle she wasn’t caught up in the mach
ine and mangled. The supervisor isnae happy.”
“Where is she now Tess?”
“They took her to the doctors”
When John got there, the doctor took him to one side. “Your wife is seriously ill. Her lungs can’t take any more of the dust in that factory. If she goes back to work there I give her eight months. I’m sorry.”
When John saw Mary, he thought she was already dead. “Oh Mary, my love.” he sobbed. “I’m sorry. Please just get better and I will search and search until I get a job. There is no way I’m letting you step foot back inside that mill.”
December 1879
Mary was busy scrubbing the little flat from top to bottom. It didn’t matter how hard, or how often she swept and scrubbed, she could never seem to get rid of the layer of dust and grime that settled on everything. There was nothing she could do but keep cleaning it every day as the mill chimneys just kept pumping out their never-ending plumes of black smoke, up and out over the town.
She couldn’t wait until they moved into their new home across the water in Leuchars. She remembered John’s anguish when she had taken ill the last time.
Once she recovered, he had told her again how much he loved her and voiced his fears for her.
“You can’t keep working in that mill Mary. It will be the death of you.” he had cried “Look how many of your friends have been injured or are too sick to work with mill fever and bronchitis. We nearly lost you already. I’m going to find a job right away and you will get better and look after the bairns.”
John had been as good as his word and had found a position as head groomsman at a large house over in Fife. The position came with a small house for him and his family, which they were to be moving into as soon as the old, outgoing groomsman had finished up. John had started two weeks before and was learning the ropes from the old man. The older man was to be moving in with his daughter in Tayport, and the house would be ready for them next week.
So, every morning John was away at 6 o’clock to head to the train station and over on the train to Leuchars.
Mary thought back to Christmas Day, three days before. John had been given the day off, and to see the smiles on the children’s wee pinched faces had been a delight. They had managed to buy a little toy for each child; a spinning top for Patrick and a doll each for Jane and Annie. Then they had all walked up the road to the park where they had gone sledging in the snow. They had carried on to the “Swannie” Ponds which was iced over and watched some young people skating. There had been so much laughter, and for the first time since she had left her home in Aberdeenshire, almost ten years before, Mary felt contentment.
She had a husband who loved her and was now providing for her and her family, even although the lovemaking for her was still a problem. She was so happy that her children would soon be growing up in the fresh air and green fields of Fife. She knew she couldn’t have survived much longer working in the mill. The dust had take its toll on her health and lungs, and the wages were no longer enough to feed her growing brood. Her biggest fear had been for her beloved Patrick. He was now 7 years old and she had not wanted to see him following in the footsteps of the other children living around here and entering the mills to work at eight. The smiles soon wore off the faces of these children as they trudged each day to the mill.
Once she had finished cleaning, she saw the large, black rain clouds scudding over and she called the children in from the backies where they were out playing with all the local children. She noticed that the windows had started to rattle violently too as the wind started to get up.
As she put the children to bed later, she listened to the wind howling outside and thought of John travelling in such atrocious weather. He always caught the same train back arriving home around quarter to eight in the evening.
At ten o’clock the children were awake again and crying – the noise from the storm outside was deafening. Mary had never seen or heard a storm like it. She lay with the children on their bed and sang to them to help allay their fears until they all fell back asleep again. It was now half past ten and there was still no sign of John. She felt the worry pulling at her but she told herself that he was sensible. He had probably decided not to travel in such terrible weather conditions. The old head groomsman would have given him a bed for the night and he would make the journey back after work tomorrow evening. To take her mind from her worries she began to imagine them all living in the little house and she wondered what it looked like full of the children’s smiling faces. Green fields for the bairns to play in and fresh air. She fell asleep thinking of them all out walking and breathing in the fresh country air.
Mary was awakened in the morning by Tess banging away on her door.
“Mary! Mary! Wake Up! Look at this!”
She dragged herself to the door and it was flung open by Tess, as she rushed past her into the wee house. “Mary! Where’s John! Did he get home last night?”
Mary shook her head to waken herself up.
“Look at this” Tess urged, as she handed Mary the local morning newspaper. Mary took one look at the screaming headline and fell to the floor moaning.
Catastrophe on the Tay Bridge
Panic spread through the town of Dundee last night as a great part of the Tay Bridge blew down in the violent storm that .......
Tess fell to her knees beside her. “Mary, Mary, listen to me. Was John on that train?” Tess was shaking Mary.
“I don’t know, Tess.” she cried. “He usually arrives home around a quarter to eight but when he didn’t arrive I just assumed that with the terrible storm he would have taken shelter and not travelled. Oh Tess, what will I do?”
“Look Mary you know how John is. I’m sure you are right. He would not have travelled in that god awful weather. Get yourself down to the pier. You’ll see, he’ll come over on the steamer today.” Tess rallied.
Tess took the children with her and Mary quickly dressed and headed down the road towards the train station, where it was absolute pandemonium. She was told the train from Edinburgh due at Dundee yesterday evening at quarter past seven had fallen into the river when part of the bridge had collapsed. They didn’t know if there were any survivors.
Mary felt sick to the bottom of her stomach. If there were no survivors now – she knew that there was no chance of there being any survivors at all. No one could survive in the freezing water of the Tay in December for long. All she could hope for was that John had not boarded the train last night and had taken refuge somewhere, probably unaware of the tragedy unfolding here. She would give him a right belt around the ears when she saw him, for worrying her so much.
Mary walked towards the river. There seemed to be thousands of people there and when she looked towards the west, down the river, the sight she saw caused the colour to drain from her face, and she had to hold onto the wall to stop from falling over. About half a mile to the west, was the great Tay Rail Bridge opened only the year before with a great party that the whole town had enjoyed. And there, in the middle of the bridge, was a great, gaping hole. The high girders which had been so conspicuous on the centre of the bridge were entirely gone. All you could see were the stumps of the foundations standing desolate in the water. Mary’s hands covered her face and she stood and cried for a full ten minutes. Then she composed herself and headed towards the pier where the steamer was just leaving for Newport.
The guard who checked tickets was surrounded by people shouting “Has a Tam Milne come off the boat?” “Did an Elsie Hooper travel”?
Mary waited until the steamer had returned again from Newport and disgorged its passengers, and when John was not among them she headed back to the train station. She eventually spoke with an official and gave him all John’s details. She told him she was unsure if he had travelled on the train, and she gave her address in case there was any news. He told her divers would be going down later that day and she choked back the tears once more.
There were lots of rumours circulating. “I saw the
lights of the Edinburgh train enter on the bridge at quarter past seven and when it reached the high girders there was a sudden shower of sparks. Then the train dropped to the river...” she heard one man explain to a crowd of spectators eager for any titbit of news. There were other stories of mailbags being washed ashore at Broughty Ferry.
She slowly made her way back up the narrow dark lanes to the little flat in Kemback Street.
Mary carried on through a daze. She went to work at the mill while her neighbour Mrs Miller downstairs looked after the youngest two with Patrick still attending school. When the factory hooter went at dinner time, Mary would scoot out of the factory gates and down the hill to the train station, to see if there was any news. In the evening she fed the children and put them to bed. There were no songs or stories for them during this dark time.
Two weeks later, she was given the news that John had been added to the list of victims of the Tay Bridge Disaster. An inquiry would be held eventually making this official. But Mary realized, that she had to accept the fact that John had probably been desperate to get back to the family that evening, and had managed to get on the train to Dundee, where he had perished along with all the other passengers.
The gale had been so violent that night, that nobody had heard the noise of the great iron structure falling over the howling wind. The part of the bridge that had disappeared was that in which the lattice girders stood above the platform and so the train was enclosed in a huge iron cage at the time of disaster.
Mary grieved sorely for John, and each evening as she collapsed into her bed she did not know how she had managed to get through the day. The nights were the worst when the children were all fast asleep and she crawled into the little bed she had shared with John. She was filled with guilt for not being able to be a good wife to John. She knew he had adored her, and loved her, with all his heart. But Mary had never been able to return that love fully, and this had been especially noticeable in this little bed, where she had just lain down and put up with John’s lovemaking. Mary hated herself for the way she had treated him, and she wished with all her heart, that he would walk back in the door one more time and she would invite him lovingly and enticingly into bed. He had been such a good father, too. He had taken on Patrick as his own child. Not one of the neighbours knew that he was not the father. Although Patrick had Edward’s dark, brooding looks, while John and the girls were fair, Mary always told anyone that asked, that Patrick looked exactly like her father in Aberdeenshire. And they all seemed satisfied with that.
Trapped In She Town : A Romantic Novella (The Jute Mills Series) Page 6
