Like Mother, Like Daughter

by Maggie Hope

  ‘Alf!’ Sadie ran after him as he strode down the yard and grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Where are you going? I didn’t sell your bairn, man, it wasn’t—’

  Alf stopped and turned to face her. ‘Not mine, wasn’t he?’ he said and shook her off so roughly she fell to the brick-paved yard. His face twisted into a cold grimace. ‘You’re nowt but a whore,’ he said and walked out and on, down the street.

  ‘Is he coming back, Mam?’ Cath, who was standing in the doorway, asked, as Sadie got to her feet.

  ‘It’ll be your fault if he doesn’t,’ Sadie snapped and thumped her on the shoulder so that the little girl stumbled and almost fell. ‘What did I say to you? Not a word to your dad, I said. Get in there now and see to your sister or I’ll sell you next.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘What’re you drinking?’ asked Jack Lowe. ‘Pint, is it? Give the lad a pint, Lance, on me.’ He’d just walked into the bar of the Working Men’s Club and Institute, his close-cut hair still damp from his bath before the fire. He’d been on back shift all day and was late getting out to the club as the shift had been on a couple of hours’ overtime. He had been tired and drawn when he opened the door but seeing his old marra, Alf, sitting in the almost empty bar, he had cheered up immediately.

  ‘You not won the war yet, Alf?’ Jack asked as Lance put foaming pints of Federation brew before them. Alf shook his head regretfully.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Make the most of them, there’s not much more left,’ said Lance as Jack handed him a shilling and eightpence.

  ‘Aw, howay, man, the lad’s been two years in the desert,’ Jack protested.

  ‘Aye, well, I mebbe can spare him another one,’ Lance conceded. ‘But there’s a war on, you know.’

  ‘I should think he knows all right, you daft bugger,’ said Jack.

  During this exchange Alf had not spoken, simply nodded to the other men.

  ‘By, Alf, you look as miserable as sin for a chap as has just come home,’ said Jack. Both men lifted their glasses and swallowed deeply of the amber liquid. ‘You weren’t injured, were you? Is that why you’ve come home?’

  ‘Naa,’ said Alf. ‘I just got a spot of leave before we go on to – well, we’re not supposed to say where.’ The beer swirled round his empty stomach and he belched. He made an effort to be sociable though his thoughts were full of suspicions. If Sadie had been up to something, and mind, the worry had been with him for two years because of how she was, she needed a man; if she had, he’d murder her, he bloody well would. But could he take the word of his bairns? At least he knew they were his bairns: both of them looked like he did, with dark curly hair and brown eyes set in heart-shaped faces. His mam, bless her, had used to say he couldn’t get out of fathering them bairns even if he wanted to.

  ‘Well, you don’t look as though you’re enjoying it.’

  Alf looked up and smiled. ‘Aye I am, man, I am. I was just thinking about Sadie. It was a long time for a lass to be on her own with two little bairns.’

  Jack began to feel uncomfortable. He looked away; up at the ceiling, tobacco-coloured now, it hadn’t been painted since before the war. He gazed across at Lance, who was rubbing a glass with a tea towel, his fingers going round and round.

  ‘Quiet tonight,’ said Lance, glancing up as he felt Jack’s eyes on him.

  ‘Thursday,’ said Jack. ‘Any road, they’ll know you’re running out of beer. When’s the brewery wagon due?’

  ‘The morn,’ said Lance, and resumed his polishing. ‘Mind, it’s been known not to turn up.’

  ‘Hell’s bells,’ said Jack. All three men were quiet as they contemplated the weekend without beer, but Alf’s mind soon returned to worrying on about his wife. They were worried a lot of the men who fought with the Eighth Army in the Middle East had. And occasionally one of them got a ‘Dear John’ letter as the lads called them. Well, now he knew what that felt like.

  A couple of miners walked into the bar and ordered pints from Lance. Lance pulled them before pinning up a notice behind the bar. NO BEER LEFT, it said. The newcomers entered into a spirited conversation with the steward.

  ‘Have you heard anything about our lass?’ Alf asked Jack, now they had a degree of privacy.

  ‘What do you mean exactly?’

  ‘You know. Was there any talk? While I was away, like?’

  ‘Aw, Alf, I don’t listen to talk. There’s plenty of gossiping old wives in Eden Hope without me adding to them.’

  ‘Howay, Jack, don’t be so cagey. I have a right to know.’

  Jack sighed. ‘I told you, I know nowt,’ he said. ‘Living over the end of the rows as she does, your lass.’

  ‘Well, our bairns said something about a babby. Timmy, they called him.’

  ‘Oh aye, I did hear she was looking after her sister’s babby. The wife said something about it.’ Betty, his wife, had smiled knowingly as she remarked that Sadie said it was her sister’s child. Sadie had disappeared for weeks before coming back with the baby. Been over to Shildon to look after her sister, or so she said. ‘Our Patsy’s badly,’ she had said. Betty had seen Patsy in the queue for pig’s trotters at Manner’s, the butcher in Newgate Street in Auckland, and she hadn’t looked as though she was expecting.

  Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Dr Orton, who had come to deliver a lecture on ‘First Aid in the Mines’ to the off-shift deputies and aspiring deputies. He looked about and realised the bar had been filling up with men come to hear the doctor.

  ‘I’ll have to go now, Alf,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll see you before you go back.’ He looked relieved as he filed out of the bar to the back room after the others.

  Cath was lying in bed hugging Annie close to her for warmth. Annie slept with her now more often than not, and her little body was a comfort to Cath. Even though it was the beginning of June, the weather was still cold and damp.

  Cath was tired out but somehow she couldn’t go to sleep. Her dad had gone away again and it was all her fault. If she hadn’t said anything about Timmy, her dad would have stayed at least until he had to go back to the war. That was what Mam had screamed at her, and she knew it was right. Cath cuddled Annie and sobbed quietly. She didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the yard to the back door but suddenly the back door opened and he was there, she could hear his voice plainly floating up the stairs. She was filled with a wild gladness. Mam wouldn’t shout at her again, not while Dad was here, and she wouldn’t shout at Annie either. Cath dropped off to sleep as the voices downstairs became a dim murmur in her ear.

  ‘We’ll go into Auckland to the pictures, I think,’ said Alf. It was Saturday morning, and Sadie had Annie on her knee while she pulled on her socks and buttoned her sandshoes. Cath looked quickly at her mother.

  ‘Can we, Mam?’ she asked, and Sadie nodded.

  ‘Why not? If you’ve the money to pay, Alf, I’ve nothing to spare. The bairn needs shoes, these are getting a bit tight for her.’

  ‘Well, we’ll get some in Newgate Street,’ Alf said grandly, and Cath heard the chink of silver as he turned coins over in his trouser pocket. ‘You got enough coupons?’

  ‘Oh, man, it’s not the coupons I’m short of, it’s the money,’ Sadie replied. ‘I don’t get a living wage from the army, you know.’ For a second or two the smile disappeared from Sadie’s face as once again she made her old complaint.

  Alf was tempted to say that other soldiers’ wives seemed to manage on it, but he bit the words back. Today they were going to enjoy themselves. He had chosen to believe Sadie. He had nine days left of his leave and he was going to spend it with his family, he had decided. Cinderella was on at the Majestic once again and the kids would love it. And he and Sadie could sit holding hands in the dark. She’d like that.

  It was a magical day, thought Cath, as she sat in the darkened cinema. They had gone in out of bright sunlight and she couldn’t see anything at all when she first went in. Nothing except the screen and the flickering images and bri
ght colours, that is. She couldn’t even see her new sandshoes except for a light blur when she looked down. Both she and Annie had got new sandshoes and they were lovely. Annie had cried when Cinderella’s stepmother was on the screen, and Daddy took her on his knee and comforted her and she went to sleep.

  Outside the picture house once more the family walked down Tenters Street and along Newgate Street to the marketplace. Mam bought penny dips at the butcher’s and they sat on the low wall outside the church where the iron railing had been sawn off to go for the war effort. Grease and brown gravy ran down Cath’s chin from the penny dip but she pushed it up into her mouth and swallowed it. She didn’t want to lose a drop.

  They were still sitting there, listening to a stallholder who was making one last effort to sell his vegetables, when Cath’s Aunty Patsy came walking along, laden with bags and tottering on high heels on the cobbles.

  ‘Well, fancy seeing you lot,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you were back, Alf. On leave, are you? I’ve missed the bloody bus back to Shildon now, the next one doesn’t go for two hours.’ She plumped herself down on the wall beside Cath. ‘Give us a bite of your dip,’ she said, grinning at the little girl. ‘Go on, give us a bite.’

  Cath looked at the small piece of bread stained with gravy she had left in her hand before offering it sorrowfully.

  Aunty Patsy grinned even wider. ‘Why, thanks pet. But it’s all right, I was only funning. I already had one. Are you not speaking to me, our Sadie?’

  Sadie hadn’t said anything to her sister yet, just stared at her in alarm. ‘Hallo, Patsy,’ she said now. ‘We have to go, any road, the bus will be coming.’ She jumped to her feet, still holding half a penny dip.

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Alf interjected. ‘It’s not due for another fifteen minutes. We’ve loads of time to get to the bus stop.’ He looked from one sister to the other and knew there was something wrong. ‘How are you doing, Patsy? Sadie said you weren’t too good after the babby.’

  ‘The babby?’ asked Patsy, mystified. ‘What babby?’

  ‘Why, Timmy, I think Sadie said you called him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Timmy? But that was—’

  ‘Howay, we have to go for the bus,’ said Sadie. She grabbed Annie by the hand and began to back away. Turning to look back, she cast a murderous glance at Patsy. ‘Now, Cath, come on,’ she said and Cath ran after her. She knew better than not to when Mam spoke in that particular voice.

  ‘That was what?’ Alf probed.

  ‘Aw, nowt. I mean, that was a long time ago, I’m fine now,’ Patsy improvised. ‘Well, I’ll see you again, no doubt. Mind you don’t catch a German bullet over in Egypt or wherever.’

  ‘Aye. Ta-ra Patsy,’ said Alf and hurried after his family.

  ‘What was that all about?’ he asked Sadie in a low voice when they were settled on the bus. They each had a little girl on their knees for the bus was full, with people standing in the aisle packed like sardines.

  ‘What?’ countered Sadie.

  ‘We’ll talk about it when we get home then,’ Alf said. A stout woman was leaning over him and Cath, her basket pressed against Cath’s side. ‘Watch what you’re doing, missus,’ he told her.

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ she snapped, but pulled her basket away from Cath.

  When the bus reached Eden Hope Colliery they struggled to the front and alighted at the bus stop at the end of the rows. ‘You take the bairns home. I fancy some fresh air,’ said Alf.

  ‘But where’re you going?’ cried Sadie. She was terrified of the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching and the way he avoided looking at her directly. ‘The club isn’t open yet.’

  ‘No, well, I’m off for a walk, that’s all.’ Alf strode away along the path that led between a sandpit and the clay pit where the old brickworks used to be.

  ‘But it’s getting dark—’ Sadie started to say but he was already too far away to hear her, or if he did he made no response. The girls were tired and deflated as they walked up the slight rise by the rows and across to home. The late-evening sunshine shone golden on the old bricks of the outhouses, making the coal dust sparkle like stars where it had lodged between the bricks. Usually Cath liked to watch it but tonight she was too tired and dispirited, even though it had been such a lovely day.

  Alf walked through the play field, which bordered Eden Hope. In spite of the huge slag heap to one side, it was beautiful. On the other side of the valley, the bankside rose towards Shildon, the pastures still green and dotted with cattle; the hawthorn was in bloom, whitening the green with may. On the side he was walking the field gave way to woods and he walked on between the trees, coming out eventually by the rabbit warren, the Bunny Banks as the bairns called the place.

  He thought of the arid sands of North Africa; by, the searing heat. The Arabs, poor sods, caught between the Germans and the British. There were worse places to be than Durham, he reckoned, even Durham in the Depression as he remembered it before the war. Alf sat down with his back against the sun-warmed bricks of an old ventilation shaft, which stuck up in the middle of the field like a sore thumb. There weren’t just rabbits burrowing beneath this ground. His thoughts rambled on idly as the sun sank below the trees and a cool wind sprang up. And at last he allowed himself to think about Sadie and his girls.

  He had to go back, report for duty first to Durham City along with his mates and then they would all be packed off by train to the embarkation point, somewhere on the south coast. To North Africa first, then it would be Italy, probably Sicily he guessed. What old Churchill called ‘the soft underbelly of Europe’.

  Well, he didn’t mind that. He had been looking forward to having another bash at the Germans, and at least it wouldn’t be quite so hot as it was in Egypt. But Sadie couldn’t stand it, he knew, and she would go off the rails again. And in spite of everything, he didn’t want to lose her or the bairns. No, if he was at home he could keep an eye on her, couldn’t he? And hadn’t he done his bit, any road? The fighting Durhams, as Monty called them, were well respected in the Eighth Army for their courage. That’s what Captain Teasdale told them in his pep talks, any road.

  It was getting dark – it must be ten o’ clockish because of double summertime. Alf got to his feet and rubbed down the back of his trousers. Time to go home. He reckoned there was only one thing to do. When he reached the back yard he opened the coal-house door. His tools for the pit were hanging on nails on the wall; his large round shovel, his pick and his axe. He hesitated a moment, then took his pick and swung it before he could think any more about it.

  Chapter Three

  It hurt a lot, Cath could see by Daddy’s face it hurt a lot. Sweat ran down his face and he was breathing funny, gasping. Sometimes he groaned but he didn’t shout again, not after the first time. Cath stood at the bedroom window and watched him. She had to move the blackout curtain to do it but it didn’t matter, there was no light on in the room. But Mam had run out of the kitchen, leaving the back door open and the beam of light showed her daddy, on his back in the yard, leaning up awkwardly because his foot was pinned by his pick between two of the bricks of the brick-paved yard. Behind her Annie was crying, but for once Cath ignored her. She was crying herself.

  The ARP warden came to the gate and shouted, ‘Close that door, you’re showing enough light to lead the Jerries straight here!’ Mam shouted something and he came into the yard.

  ‘Oh, my blessed aunt!’ he exclaimed. ‘Don’t move him, missus, I’ll ring for the ambulance.’ He was almost out of the gate when he turned back. ‘Close that door, any road.’

  It was an age before the ambulance came and by then Marina’s mam had come and a deputy off-shift from the pit with his first-aid box. He loosened the bricks trapping the end of the pick and covered Alf up.

  ‘Get it out o’ me, please,’ Alf pleaded, but the deputy shook his head.

  ‘Nay, man, I cannot.’ He looked up at the window as a movement caught his eye. ‘Missus, go and see to you
r bairns,’ he told the shivering Sadie. ‘They shouldn’t be watching this.’ But she stood, unmoving.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Betty Lowe. She had come over to see if she could help as the news spread round the village. She went upstairs and lit the gas mantle on the wall above the fireplace in the bedroom. Both children were out of bed, sobbing hysterically. For all it was a summer night they were shivering, perhaps with shock.

  ‘Howay now, pets,’ said Betty, moved to compassion at the sight of their tear-streaked cheeks. ‘Into bed with you both and Aunty Betty will tuck you in.’

  ‘I frightened,’ Annie whispered.

  ‘Don’t be frightened, pet, it’ll be all right,’ Betty soothed.

  ‘What about me dad, Aunty Betty?’ Cath asked, reluctant to leave the window.

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ Betty repeated, though she couldn’t see how he ever could be. ‘They’ll take him to the hospital and mend his foot.’

  I only hope they can, she thought, as she lifted little Annie into bed and Cath climbed in after her. ‘Cuddle up, petals,’ she advised them. ‘Try to go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed.

  The children warmed each other and Annie fell asleep with her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth. Cath’s eyes were closing when she became suddenly alert at the noise of an engine outside. Just for a minute she thought it was an aeroplane like the ones there had been in the raids when the Germans tried to bomb the pithead up the street.

  ‘What’s that?’ Cath cried, with new alarm.

  ‘Nothing, go to sleep,’ said Betty. She got off the bed and went to the window and lifted the blackout curtain just enough so that she could see out. ‘Oh, it’s the Union ambulance come to take your dad to the hospital. They’ll soon make him better now.’

  The Union ambulance was only supposed to be used for miners hurt in the pit, but Alf was one of their own, wasn’t he? Even if he was a soldier now.