The House of Women

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Yes, yes I did. Fancy you remembering that. And do you remember “Wee Willie Winkie” and “There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile”? Oh, and so many others. We played games, you and I. That was when your father wasn’t in. Oh dear me.’ She now lay back on the couch and, staring towards the fire, she said, ‘Been a funny house, this, held so many lives and hardly any of them happy, except my mother’s.’ Her voice took on a high, hard tone now, and again her head was nodding. ‘Oh, she was happy all right. And she’s been happy ever since, bossing everybody around, playing the queen of the castle. Yes, yes.’ She gave a short laugh now. ‘We used to play “Queen of the castle” on Shields sands. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, Gran, I remember.’ And Peggy now patted her grandmother’s hand, saying, ‘If one could only remember the nice things, the pleasant things, and let others go by; but it’s always the reverse: the unpleasant things grow like weeds and choke any nice memory you might harbour.’

  ‘I don’t like to hear you talk like that, Peggy. You’re too young to talk like that. On the twentieth of next month you’ll be twenty-two. You haven’t really started to live yet, and you’re talking like a woman who’s experienced life.’

  Yes, she was talking like a woman who had experienced life, because she had experienced life. Since she was sixteen she had experienced life, and none of it had been good, except that she had given birth to a daughter and also that she had found out what love was, but had experienced the painful futility of it.

  ‘There, that’s settled. You slip over now…well, as soon as you’ve seen Emma off to sleep, and tell May that you’ll be over later. But wrap up well before you go through that garden because it’s enough to freeze you out there. I’m sure we’re going to have snow. Later on, put your new blue frock on, the wool one; you look lovely in that.’

  Victoria now pulled herself to her feet and, looking down on her granddaughter, she said, ‘And not only in that, lass, you’re a lovely young woman. There’s nobody in the family had your looks. I think Emma might take after you. She’s got his hair, but that’s all. The main thing is, she’ll have your character. You know the saying, “Handsome is as handsome does”; that applies to men, but “Beauty is as beauty does”, that applies to women. When all’s said and done it’s the character that counts.’ She turned away now and walked to the fire, and there, looking at it, she stood with her hands joined below her waist like a penitent child and said, ‘I spoilt my life and those of others about me, especially my husband’s. And I blame myself. But then, when I come to think and ask myself what made me like this, I haven’t far to seek the answer. It’s sad, you know’—she turned about and looked at Peggy—‘It is sad when a mother outshines a daughter, and aims to do it to the extent of trying to fascinate her son-in-law. So the only way I seemed to be able to keep Arthur was to become dependent on him.’

  ‘Oh, Gran. Gran.’ Peggy had her arms around the elderly woman now, and they clung together tightly, and there was a break in Peggy’s voice as she said, ‘Why didn’t you talk about this before? You…you could have talked to Mam. Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Funny that, dear, I couldn’t talk to Lizzie, not to my own daughter. I suppose it was in a way because I knew she didn’t really love me. And, too, I always felt slightly inferior to her, if you know what I mean: Lizzie was clever, bright; I never was.’

  ‘Gran, I love you. I do, I do.’ And she knew she did, but it was only during this moment that it had happened, in this moment of revelation.

  They were both crying now and holding each other tightly, but when they flopped down onto the couch their tears turned to laughter and Victoria, wiping her face, said, ‘Do you know something, girl? I think this is the happiest moment of my life.’

  ‘Oh, Gran. Gran. Well, I’ll tell you something, if it is, we’ll have many more happy moments like it, because I feel I’ve just found you and I feel sorry for Mother that she never found you.’

  ‘No, your mother never found me, dear. No. It’s strange when people go through life lost to each other. They are living in the same house, eating at the same table, and, in the case of Lizzie, part of my own being. But as you say, she never found me. Oh, my dear Peggy, you know, I don’t think I’ll need any pills tonight, nor perhaps tomorrow either.’

  They again fell against each other, their laughter mingling, and Victoria, her voice firm now, said, ‘He’s bound to be on his way out, if he hasn’t gone already, and so go on up, do your duty and leave the rest to me.’

  Instinctively, in acceptance, Peggy took her grandmother’s face between her hands and gently kissed her; then they went out together.

  ‘May you come over here and see the New Year in? Lass, you may bring your bag and baggage and come over here and live for good.’

  ‘No, she can’t! I’m not having another female in this house; we’ve got enough.’ And May leant forward from her chair and stroked the cat and its kitten that were lying on the rug before the blazing coal fire. ‘Come over here and live and take the whole house from me? Huh!’

  ‘Well, let her come over here temporary, Mam, while I’m away. She may have my room, and you can arrange it between you what you’re going to charge her.’

  ‘Charge her?’ Frank Conway turned on his son. ‘Charge her! You know, you are a mean scrub. All you can think about is your mistress upstairs. For two pins I’d go up and slap your ukulele in the face.’

  There was a burst of laughter now and May fell against Peggy, spluttering, ‘Laugh, I nearly died. One of the cheeky monkeys from down the road called after him’—she pointed at Charlie—‘the other day, “Give us a tune on your ukulele, mister.” So that’s what he’s playing now, a ukulele.’

  Peggy looked from one to the other. There was so much love and companionship and understanding between these three people that she was hurt by it.

  ‘I won’t have to stay long,’ she said, ‘because, knowing Gran, she’ll likely fall asleep.’

  Yet even as she spoke she knew that her grandmother would not fall asleep, not tonight she wouldn’t. Poor Gran. At this moment she had the urge to fly back to the house, take her into her arms again and say ‘I’m going to make it up to you for all the love that I’ve withheld, and for all the love you’ve missed in your life.’

  May was saying, ‘This will be the first time in years that Lucy and Jim and the bairns haven’t spent New Year’s Eve with us. But she’s on her time and not feeling too good. I haven’t been long back. Good Lord! I’ll be a granny for the fifth time. It won’t be all that long before Susan marries and then I’ll be a great-grandmother. Oh, I’d hate to be a great-grandmother.’

  ‘You look as old as one now; and anyway, don’t be daft, woman, Susan’s only seven and in ten years’ time you’ll be in a wheelchair.’

  As Frank was talking his arm had gone round May’s shoulder and he was hugging her to him, and of a sudden Peggy felt she must get away from this family scene or she’d burst out crying. She rose to her feet, saying, ‘Well, I’ll be seeing you, that’s if you’re all sober enough to see me.’

  ‘Another cheeky monkey, suggesting we’ve been drinking.’ Frank stood up and, taking up an indignant posture, he placed one hand on his hip and pranced towards her, saying, ‘No alcohol ever crosses my lips, apart from cooking sherry.’

  ‘Get out of the way, you big goof!’ Charlie pushed his father to one side, then said, ‘Come on, Peggy; I’ll see you across.’

  In the hallway, as Charlie helped her into her coat, his mother’s voice came to them, shouting, ‘Half past eleven the recital starts with the Spanish Fandango.’

  Out on the pathway leading to the gate he took her arm, saying, ‘She gets dafter as she gets older,’ but there was such warmth in his tone that his words could have been translated as, ‘Isn’t she marvellous!’

  She stumbled off the edge of the concrete path, and immediately his flashlight was directed towards the ground and at the same time he pressed her arm more tightly into his
side, and like this they walked on until they reached the wood, and there their steps slowed and quietly he asked, ‘Where’s he gone tonight?’

  It was the first time any one of them had asked her reasons for wanting to come across and see the New Year in, and she answered, ‘Some men’s do, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, yes, some men’s do. He’s a big noise now; at least he imagines he is. How are things?’

  ‘Oh, as usual, except—’ She stopped and she turned to look at him, but she couldn’t make out his face in the darkness of the wood, so it gave her the courage to say, ‘I’m worried, Charlie. It’s about the child. He practically eats her up. There’s never a minute when he’s in the house that he’ll let her out of his sight.’

  It was a moment before he answered, ‘Well, in a way that’s understandable; she’s his daughter.’

  ‘Yes, in a way, Charlie, but…but there are other things.’

  ‘What other things?’

  ‘Oh.’ She moved restlessly and kicked at the crisp leaves at her feet. ‘I…I can’t explain.’ But then, her voice lightening, she said, ‘There’s one nice thing happened today; I mean, tonight. Just before I came over. Gran and I…well, Gran opened up and I know the reason for her succession of illnesses, real and imagined. She’s had a loveless life right from the beginning, a life domineered by Great-Gran. Maybe it’s late, but we’ve come to know each other, and, you know, I don’t feel lonely any more over there.’

  ‘Oh my God! Oh, Peggy, to hear you say that…that you’re lonely, cuts me to the bone. I lie up there night after night’—she felt rather than saw the motion of his head back towards his home—‘but I’m with you over here. I’m in that house, following your every move until you go to bed. And then I’m pulling you from the bed and him. Oh Peggy. What am I going to do about you? I’ve tried to get you out of my system. I have. Yes, I have. I even went to the length of taking Kitty McKenna to the pictures last week. But that was a mistake in more ways than one. She sent me a Christmas present; it’s a tie, one of those hand-knitted ones.’

  The note of laughter in his voice matched the rising gurgle in herself and it came over in her voice as she said, ‘Kitty McKenna? Oh, Charlie, you’ve done it now, because she’s been after you for years. Her mother teaches the piano, and, if I’m not mistaken, plays the fiddle. Oh no! The violin. She’s very refeened; it would never be a fiddle, would it? Oh, Charlie.’ She stopped; and they stood, each silent as if alone. The wind passed over them and rustled the bare branches of the trees and they still stood.

  Whose arms went out first they would never know, but suddenly they were holding each other tightly, their mouths hungry for each other. They swayed as if they, too, had come under the pressure of the wind.

  When it was over she leant against him, the side of her face pressed against his neck and she was muttering, ‘This…it shouldn’t have happened, Charlie. I told myself it must never happen.’

  ‘It happened a long time ago, my dear, when we were quite small, romping in the wood. The thing now is, what are we going to do about it? Mainly, what are you going to do about it? I’m ready any time. We could go away…’

  She straightened herself. ‘Charlie, Charlie, we…we could never go away; there’s the child,’ she said.

  ‘Of course there’s the child. We could take her with us; don’t be silly.’

  ‘He’d never let that happen, don’t you see? I’ve told you, he’s got this mania for her: not only would he take us to court but…but I think he’d kill anybody who dared to stand between her and him. That’s…that’s what I’m frightened of, this unnatural feeling. Well, it is unnatural because he’s not like an ordinary father at all. He doesn’t act like a father, not that I’ve got much to go on, remembering mine. But it’s as if I’d never borne her, it’s as if he himself had given birth to her. She’s all his, he has said so. Only tonight we had a row and said things. I stand up to him but underneath I’m frightened; scared to death really.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, something will have to be done. You can’t go on living like this, scared to death. Tell me something. If it wasn’t for her would you come away with me?’

  ‘Oh yes, Charlie; yes, like a shot. Oh yes, my dear.’ She kissed him again softly, tenderly. Then she said, ‘I’m afraid for her; in some strange way, I’m afraid for her. But, Charlie, please don’t mention this to your mother or dad, will you?’

  ‘No, no, I won’t. But me ma’s no fool. She took his measure years ago, as she did your great-gran’s.’

  ‘There’s another thing, Charlie: you’ve got your career and it’s going to be wonderful; London is only the start. And nothing must spoil that…’

  ‘Listen to me, Peggy. I love my music, but I can tell you it takes second place in my life. I think I concentrated on it only because you got married. In fact, I’m sure I did. Likely I would have dropped it and returned to the strumming.’

  ‘Never. Never.’

  ‘Well, that’s as may be; but no matter what line my career takes, you’ll always come first. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, there’ll be you always in front of it. Just remember that, will you? I haven’t got his looks or his stature. I’m five-foot six and I’ll likely run to fat later on because Ma says I’m the image of my grandfather, whom I can’t remember ever having seen. But when I think about how I feel for you, it turns me into a Hercules and I feel I can conquer the world.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘You were always flowery; you got it from reading so much poetry. I still have that little book of selected poems you gave me on my twelfth birthday. Do you still read poetry?’

  ‘Not very often; my ukulele takes up most of my time as you know.’

  ‘Your ukulele?’ They laughed together now. ‘Charlie.’

  ‘Yes, Peggy?’

  ‘I’m very fond of your mother; in fact, you could say I love her. She seems to have always been there for me to run to. And I know she likes me, but I don’t know how far her liking will stretch if she knows I’m the means of you…well, not marrying. You mustn’t let her know this has happened. And I should say I’ll forget it too, but I won’t. It’s something that will help me to go on. But Charlie, seriously, and I mean this, you’ve got to make your own life, and it must be a married life because I’ll be stuck in that house until Emma is old enough to look after herself. And all I can say is, God help me in the years between, because there’s going to be a fight and I don’t know if I shall be strong enough or clever enough to last out. But there’s one thing sure, Charlie, I’ll never leave her, not in his care.’

  The wind had an icy tang to it: it swirled about them right down to their feet, disturbing any loose leaves it could find; and for a minute or two its voice was the only sound they heard, until Charlie’s broke into it, saying, ‘Well, don’t worry, at least about me. I know what I’m going to do in the future. Oh, come on, come on. Oh Peggy, don’t cry. Please. I can’t bear it when you cry. Look, I’ll promise you one thing: I’ll not marry Kitty McKenna, not even if she sends me another tie.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie. Charlie. But…but I will worry if I think you are hanging on waiting, because it’s no good. I’ll be near forty by the time she’s ready for marriage, and that’s a lifetime away; and it’s your lifetime away, too. And you know something, I’m older than you by two and a half months.’

  ‘Yes, you are; and now let me tell you something: years ago I made up my mind never to marry a woman older than myself. So you see, you have nothing to worry about. Oh Peggy. Peggy.’ Again they were enfolded. But quickly now, she said, ‘I must go; but I don’t regret this, Charlie. Oh no; it’ll be something to hang on to.’ She didn’t add, ‘And to know you’re still there waiting,’ because, knowing Charlie as she did, she knew that that was what he would do, wait, hoping against hope. She had said he must marry only so as not to disappoint his mother; but should he come to her one day and say he was about to marry someone, that would assuredly beat her into the ground. He was all
she had to hope for. He didn’t know it and he mustn’t know it, but nevertheless it was true.

  ‘Happy New Year, darling.’ She had called Charlie ‘darling’.

  His reaction was not some other endearment but a tightening of his holding of her and saying again, ‘Oh Peggy. Peggy;’ then, ‘A Happy New Year when it comes.’

  Three

  Rosie Milburn was a joker; besides which, not only did she keep the house spotless but also she was a good cook. In short, Rosie was a treasure who had brought a lightness to the house. She hummed to herself when she was working and should you pass her when she was on her knees polishing the floor, or slapping dough on the board—she made bread for them all—she would come out with some remark that would either cause you to make a retort in similar vein or have you burst out laughing.

  Altogether she was a nice woman, was Rosie Milburn. She got on with Victoria like a house on fire; as for Mrs Funnell, she even chipped that old lady. ‘How’s your old wooden legs this morning? Mind the splinters!’ she would say to her.