Miss Purdy's Class

by Annie Murray

  They had nothing but rakes and forks to beat at the fire. Molly circled, barking shrilly.

  ‘Make a break round it!’ Frank was shouting. They were all beating down the stalks around the fire, trying to keep it from advancing any further. John beat at the flames with his pitchfork. Joey copied him. It frightened him hearing the crackling fire, feeling the heat of it on his face if he went too close.

  ‘Help us make a break!’ Frank yelled at him. ‘It’s no good doing that, you stupid fucker – get over here!’

  Joey could see Frank was right, but John just ignored him and turned his back, thrashing away with his pitchfork, mumbling angrily to himself.

  ‘Come and help us over here!’ Steven insisted, but John ignored him as well. The others saw he wouldn’t listen and left him. Joey joined them, beating down the crop in a semi-circle round the flames.

  It seemed an age until both Mr and Mrs Belcher came running, staggering under the weight of rolled-up sacks. Joey saw the sacks were dripping water. They threw the sacks over the edge of the fire, stamping it out, then moving on, eating into it until it got smaller and smaller. Joey saw quite soon that they were going to beat it.

  ‘What if we hadn’t been there and seen?’ Steven said as the last flames were stamped out.

  ‘We’d’ve lost the crop,’ Mr Belcher said. Both he and his wife wore sober expressions. Mrs Belcher wiped her puce face on the end of her apron. ‘We try and plant away from the edge but it only takes a stray spark like that . . .’ He looked round. ‘You saved it, though. You’re good blokes – thanks.’

  ‘’Cept for that feckin’ idiot over there.’ Frank nodded at John, who was standing, fully clothed as ever, in the heat. ‘What’s the matter with you, eh? Got a screw loose or something?’ He tapped his head. Something had got into Frank. He seemed wound up and tremulous, his body tense with the need to goad John.

  ‘Don’t, Frank,’ Steven said. ‘It’s over. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter,’ Frank shouted. ‘Except the man’s an idiot – just look at him!’

  Joey jumped as John launched himself abruptly from beside him and threw himself on Frank, punching him in the head.

  ‘I’m not stupid!’ he screamed. ‘Don’t call me an idiot!’

  Of the two, John was the bigger and he caught Frank off balance, knocking him to the ground. But Frank was full of crazed, wiry strength and in a few seconds he hurled himself out from under John and over on top of him, snarling into his face, his teeth bared.

  ‘Think you can push Frank Monaghan around do you? You stinking, shite-thick English bastard . . .’

  Joey felt himself shrink with dread. He backed away as Frank began to punch John and Steven and the Belchers went to pull him off. Joey turned, hearing the blows and ran up the field away, away to the tree and its shade. He lay curled under the hay cart, eyes screwed shut.

  Forty-One

  Gwen spent the days after coming back from Wales feeling truly miserable. For part of the journey from Aberglyn she had sat in a separate carriage from Daniel, utterly hurt, weeping tears of anger and frustration. When next they changed trains, Daniel found her on the platform.

  ‘Well, thanks for coming to find me!’ she erupted at him.

  ‘I just have come to find you,’ he said, exasperated.

  ‘I mean back there – on the train.’ She was trying to keep from crying, but barely succeeding. There were people milling about on all sides of them. She pulled her hanky from her sleeve and blew her nose, feeling pathetic.

  ‘But you told me to leave you alone!’

  ‘I didn’t mean actually leave me alone for the whole journey, I meant . . . Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything.’

  ‘Hey.’ He went to put his arm round her waist. ‘Come on – I don’t know what I’m s’posed to have done, but I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘That’s the trouble though!’ She flared up again. ‘You’ve no idea, have you? You ask me to come with you to Aberglyn and then you spend nearly all your time off at meetings and . . . I know it’s important but you could just show a bit more consideration.’

  Daniel sighed, pulling her closer. He looked dog tired and she began to relent a little.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Only – it’s what I do down there, see. Habit really. And it’s important.’

  And aren’t I important at all? she wanted to say, but she gave a stiff nod, swallowing her tears. Why do I always have to come second?

  ‘We need to get to the other platform.’ Daniel took her hand and she allowed herself to be led.

  She hoped it would be better now, that they would sit close, talk again. And they did sit holding hands, but it was hard to begin. She didn’t find the courage to mention the conversation she had overheard the night before. And very soon after the train left Hereford, Daniel’s eyes closed and he slept until they arrived. By the time they had got on the last train, Gwen herself felt low, and sleepy and past talking about anything. They parted in Birmingham with a quick hug and kiss in the dark street outside Millie’s and Lance’s flat.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Daniel said wearily.

  ‘Umm.’ He saw her into the house and she stood at the door watching as he walked off along the street. A deep sense of melancholy came over her. She felt so close to him sometimes, as if they inhabited the same skin, yet there he was, a stranger heading off into the night without turning round.

  I just need a good night’s sleep, she thought. I’m feeling tired and gloomy.

  She crept up the dimly lit staircase. At least Millie and Lance would be in bed by now and she wouldn’t have to contend with them.

  But she was wrong. As soon as she opened the door to the flat she heard Millie’s angry voice raised shrilly in the sitting room.

  ‘. . . but you don’t – you never do anything except go to work and come back. It’s bad enough now, but how are we going to get by once the baby comes?’

  ‘Oh, do stop going on, darling . . .’ Lance sounded plaintive and at the end of his tether. He evidently slammed something down on the table. ‘Let’s just go to bed – I can’t keep this up.’

  ‘No – that’s just like you. Run away, go to sleep – anything to avoid me . . .’

  Millie was crying. ‘I feel as if I live on my own all the time! Gwen’s never here and you have no time for me.’

  ‘I do have time for you. But you’re tired all the time – and so am I . . .’

  ‘Well, it’s not much of a life, is it? We haven’t even been married a year and all you do is ignore me already . . .’

  Their bickering voices went on and on. Gwen slipped quietly into her room, wishing the door would muffle the sound of their quarrelling completely. She was so tired she barely had the energy to get undressed before falling into bed, where she lay listening to Millie and Lance moving about, sniping at each other in an exhausted way before finally closing their own bedroom door behind them. She’d always felt sorry for Millie, but she didn’t half go on. No wonder Lance got irritated. And he was such a drip! What on earth had Millie seen in him in the first place? Gwen lay there, fed up with the pair of them, resolving that she would never, ever get into a situation like that. But then her spirits sank even further. Hadn’t she and Daniel sounded the same today? He had hurt her so badly by being blind to how she was feeling and she still felt sore about it. She thought of his parting words, ‘See you tomorrow.’

  No, you won’t actually, she thought, as her eyes began to close. Don’t you take me for granted like that.

  The party was working towards another big demonstration in the Bull Ring with the the BCPL the following Saturday, in support of republican Spain. Gwen knew Daniel would be totally taken up with it and that all hands were needed, but she woke the next day even more sure she couldn’t face going in. School would start again in a couple of weeks and she wanted a bit of time to herself. And – the thought that she kept trying to push away from her – that same Saturday she had been supposed to
be getting married to Edwin.

  In defiant mood she lazed around in bed with a cup of tea, then pottered about, doing her washing and catching up with odd jobs. Later in the afternoon she sat in the wicker chair in her room trying to read, but it was impossible to concentrate on the book. She found thoughts about her family and Edwin crowding into her mind. If the wedding had gone ahead, how would it have been? All out in the garden at the Shackletons’ house, where they had planned their reception, tables with food, the children running up and down to see the pony in the paddock and her in that dress Mrs Twining had been making. She could hardly bear to think about Edwin and, more even than Edwin himself, his parents, whom she felt so guilty about. She knew Mr Shackleton had had a genuinely soft spot for her and she thought of him caring for Edwina so gently and unselfishly. What must they think of her? What kind of person was she, the way she had behaved? And she had cut herself off from her family completely now. The thought of this was both sad and frightening, yet when she thought about how it would feel to go home, to be back in her parents’ house, with Edwin again, she felt the old sense of claustrophobia – panic even – wash over her.

  Leaning over, she picked up the framed photograph of Amy Johnson, her handsome, inscrutable face looking out from under the goggles on her forehead. How do you find freedom to fly in this world? she wondered sadly. Is it ever possible to do it without hurting someone else? She thought, painfully, about Daniel. Here she was, trying to take off and fly and she had immediately got herself tangled, tied to him.

  Impatient with herself, needing relief from her feelings, she put the picture away and went out, catching a tram into Birmingham. She went looking for books for Billy and, after a long time of musing along the shelves, found a translation of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. It looked the sort of novel Billy would like and it would certainly keep him busy for a long time. Sitting in the sun near St Philip’s Cathedral she wrote him a note to go with it, saying that she hoped he had not already read it.

  Two more days passed and it became almost a matter of principle to stay away from the party offices. Gwen felt guilty, knowing how busy they would be, but she wanted Daniel to come and find her, to show he cared about her as well as politics and the party. She knew it was childish, but her feelings were hurt. She sat talking idly with Millie on those warm afternoons, listening to all her woes, the windows open to the street, the sound of voices and passing traffic floating up to them. They drank homemade lemonade and made toffee in a pan, as it was the one thing Millie ‘just had to have!’ and ate it until their jaws ached. Millie seemed to want to do nothing except eat and sleep, although the baby was not due for a few weeks yet. She always left her hair loose now and wore a succession of billowy cotton dresses.

  By the third day there was no sign of Daniel coming to find her. I could be ill, she thought self-pityingly, and he wouldn’t know. She felt restless, unable to settle, and longing to see him. Was he missing her? she wondered. Probably not – he would be too busy. In the end she decided she was punishing no one except herself.

  If I want to see him, I should just go and do it, she thought. I’m being ridiculous!

  Instead of going to the offices, she did the next best thing and walked to Alma Street. The school, when she passed it, was all locked up, silent in the sunshine. There was something sad, Gwen thought, about a school without any children. There were plenty of them about, though, out in the streets, playing.

  Round the corner she found Lucy Fernandez sitting on the shop’s front step watching Rosa and her brothers throwing a small rubber ball to one another back and forth across the street.

  ‘It’s Miss Purdy,’ Gwen heard Rosa say as she approached. ‘Daniel’s not here, is he?’

  Gwen was struck once more by how beautiful the girl was. Lucy was smiling shyly up at her.

  ‘Hello, are you having a nice break?’ Gwen said.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Lucy had on a skimpy, pale pink frock, and sat with her good leg bent, the calipered leg stuck out awkwardly in front. She leaned aside to let Gwen into the shop.

  ‘Hello there, Gwen!’ Theresa called from behind the counter. Gwen felt cheered immediately. She was calling out a reply when she realized someone else was standing at the back of the shop. It took her a few moments to realize who it was.

  ‘Afternoon, Miss Purdy,’ the woman said. It was her soft, well-spoken voice that made Gwen realize.

  ‘Oh – Mrs Wilson! Good afternoon.’

  Alice’s mother was wearing a pretty floral dress in pinks and greens and her hair had grown since the last time they met and was tied back. Unlike the last time, her face was calm.

  ‘Mrs Wilson’s just popped in to tell me the good news,’ Theresa said.

  ‘Oh, what’s that?’ Gwen asked.

  ‘Well.’ Louise Wilson blushed. She seemed unable to meet Gwen’s eye. ‘Just that I’ve got myself a little job.’ She was going to be serving in a stationer’s, she told Gwen. ‘It’s not much, but it’s a start.’

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased for you,’ Gwen said carefully.

  ‘Alice can come round here after school, see,’ Theresa said. ‘Lucy’s pleased as anything.’

  Gwen repeated her congratulations and looked gratefully at Theresa Fernandez.

  ‘Daniel’s not here, I’m afraid,’ Theresa said. ‘Course, you can stay if you want . . .’

  ‘No, thanks, I’d better be getting along.’

  Gwen smiled and parted from them. Her smile faded once she was along the street. She had to go to the party offices or she was never going to see Daniel! Once more she went into town. As she did so her mood changed. Of course Daniel was busy! How could she be so self-centred? And she was supposed to be helping collect food and medicines for Spanish Aid, not sitting in Millie’s flat feeling sorry for herself! Ashamed, she shook off her mood of gloom and resentment. She had to put other things before her own feelings. They were working for a cause and Daniel was very committed, very adult, about it. She strode along, full of new energy.

  She was waiting to cross the street when she saw Esther Lane come out of the offices. Good, Gwen thought, at least she’s not going to be there. But then she saw Daniel coming out after Esther. She didn’t know why, but she shrank back, not wanting them to see her. In any case, they were not looking her way. Esther turned her head and said something to Daniel and Gwen saw him laugh. As they walked away, Gwen’s saw Esther lazily put her arm round Daniel’s waist. With equal casualness, he laid an arm across her shoulders. Then he reached down and kissed her in an easy, familiar way on the lips.

  Forty-Two

  It was like being punched. The breath seemed to have left her body. All she could do was stand at the kerb watching as Daniel and Esther went off along the road, wrapped round each other, talking away nineteen to the dozen, until they disappeared into the distance. Still she could not move, almost unable to believe she wasn’t caught in a nightmare and would wake up.

  ‘How could you?’ She found her lips moving. ‘How could you?’

  When she managed to move away she almost collided with several people. It was as if no one else existed. In a dream she caught the tram back to Hands-worth, but the thought of going home and facing Millie or sitting alone in her room seemed unbearable. Instead she wandered the streets until she found herself outside Ariadne’s house. Unable to think what else to do, she knocked on the door.

  It opened with a waft of cheap perfume and there was Ariadne, clad in a floaty frock, navy blue and covered in tiny white polka dots. Her hair was newly dyed and caught up in a loose chignon. Even in the state she was in, Gwen couldn’t help noticing how hard and lined Ariadne’s face looked in the bright light, all powdered and with her eyebrows pencilled in. But she beamed at the sight of Gwen, seeming quite overcome.

  ‘Gwendolen, come in! Ooh, I’m so pleased to see you. And I’ve just made tea! Fancy you coming to see me again!’

  ‘I did say I would,’ Gwen murmured. She felt quite disorientated. Ariadne im
mediately started complaining about ‘that strumpet’ Miss Hines and her perfume.

  ‘I’ve told her about it,’ Ariadne said, with a censorious sniff, leading Gwen into the back room. ‘“I don’t appreciate these odours,” I said, but she gave me that look of hers.’ The tea gushed out of the spout, narrowly making it into the cups. ‘Have a cake, dear?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Gwen said. ‘I’m sorry – I’m just not hungry.’ It would have been a good time to eat since the Eccles cakes were obviously shop bought, but she felt too queasy with distress even to attempt it.

  Ariadne sat herself down, smoothing her skirt under her in her affected way and proceeded to complain for some time about the indignities visited upon her by her lodgers. A travelling salesman called Mr Mealing had stayed for a couple of weeks with promises to be stable and long-term, and then upped and gone.

  ‘You can’t rely on people today – they’ve no staying power.’ She bit resentfully into an Eccles cake and looked across at Gwen, who was cradling the cup between her hands, trying to warm them.

  ‘You’re not cold, are you? On a day like this? Perhaps you’re sickening . . .’ She looked more closely. ‘You really look rather peaky, dear. Are you sure you’re all right?’

  Gwen had no idea it was going to happen. Afterwards she realized it was the look of real motherly concern in Ariadne’s eyes that had done it, but suddenly she was sobbing, so hard that the tea started slopping out of her cup onto her skirt.

  ‘Dear, oh dear!’ Ariadne leapt up and took the cup from Gwen’s shaking hands. ‘My dear girl, whatever is the matter?’

  Gwen shook her head, unable to speak. All she could feel was pain . . . Daniel, Daniel . . . In her mind was fixed the sight of him with Esther, so comfortable and familiar as if they had walked that way, intimately entwined, many times before. And she could hear Esther’s words, spoken in her superior tone when they were in Aberglyn, ‘poor old you . . .’ The sense of hurt and humiliation was so great, she couldn’t speak. She was beyond even embarrassment about having broken down in front of Ariadne.