Like Mother, Like Daughter

by Maggie Hope

  ‘Go on, take it, Cath,’ said Enid. ‘He’s sweet on you, isn’t he?’ Brian was holding it out and the other boys were taking notice, so in the end she took the ring and shoved it deep in her pocket.

  ‘You’re engaged,’ jeered Enid and laughed. ‘The soft lad.’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ said Brian.

  Really, he was quite handy, Cath thought as they crowded for the bus door. He got behind her and helped her push her way on so that she actually got a seat.

  ‘You’ll have to look after Annie today,’ said Aunty Patsy. ‘I’m going into Auckland for a day out. Your uncle Jim is working a full shift overtime so I might as well meet the girls.’

  The girls, Patsy’s friends, were middle-aged women but she still saw them as girls for she had gone to school with them. Sometimes they met and went to the pictures, and afterwards to the Co-op tearooms for tea and cakes.

  It was Saturday and Patsy had on her high-heeled shoes and her new utility costume. It had a short, tight skirt to save cloth and a close-fitting jacket. She also had a little hat tipped over one eye. Patsy had decorated it herself with a scrap of lace and a feather dyed red with cochineal.

  ‘How do I look?’ she asked, smiling. She patted her curls before the mirror over the fireplace.

  ‘Very nice,’ said Cath dutifully.

  ‘Is that all? Nice?’

  ‘Very smart, lovely,’ said Cath for Aunty Patsy was frowning now and Cath didn’t want a slap.

  ‘I think so,’ said Aunty Patsy as she picked up her handbag and gloves and, as an afterthought, a shopping bag. ‘I’ll bring something back for Jim’s tea.’

  An hour later, Cath and Annie were walking down the old railway path towards Eden Hope Colliery. Annie was getting bigger now; she was five and had started school. She skipped along happily, pleased to be out.

  There were buttercups growing in the grass at the sides of the line and dandelions and daisies. Annie picked them as she went along. ‘We’ll put them in water when we get home,’ Cath promised.

  At Eden Hope they walked up the side of the rows to the ramshackle house just beyond. Cath had a yearning to have a look, just in case her dad had come home or even her mam. There was somebody there all right, but it was a new family. A strange woman was hanging out nappies on the line in the yard.

  ‘What’s she doing in our house, Cath?’ asked Annie, her lower lip trembling. Cath took her hand and dragged her on to the end of the row and along the path to the woods.

  ‘It’s not our house any more,’ she said savagely.

  Chapter Eight

  The two girls sat down beside the tiny trickle of a stream, which ran into the Gaunless and which itself was a tributary of the Wear. Their backs were against a willow tree and the leaves made a moving, dappled pattern on their brown legs, stretched out before them on the grass.

  Annie was unusually quiet. She sat staring at the water, occasionally throwing in a pebble from the pile she had collected on the way. Cath brought out a packet of jam sandwiches from the string bag she had with her, and they munched in comparative silence with only the song of a blackbird sounding on the air.

  Cath had discovered the entrance to the path that led up to the back of Eden Grange Hall and on impulse had gone a short way along it. This was private land, she knew that now, the gamekeeper and his son had made that clear the year before. But she didn’t care. After all, what could they do to her and Annie? Nothing to Annie, and if they put her in a girls’ borstal she didn’t care about that, either. After all, it probably wasn’t any worse than a children’s home, and Cath had been threatened with that often enough.

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said aloud. Annie looked at her, a ring of jam around her mouth.

  ‘I don’t care either,’ she said, and Cath smiled.

  ‘Well, you jolly well should,’ a male voice said from the bankside behind them. Cath jumped up and stared at the two youths walking down towards them.

  ‘What are you doing here? Trespassers will be prosecuted. Haven’t you heard that term?’

  It was the other boy speaking, not the gamekeeper’s son, Jack. Jack recognised her about the same time as she did him.

  ‘Oh, it’s you. The miner’s brat. I thought I told you to stay off our land.’ He stared at her with his nose in the air. Annie moved towards her sister and buried her face in Cath’s skirt.

  The two boys had been walking around the estate, more to get away from the stifling atmosphere in the house than anything. It was almost two years since Jack’s older brother, Aiden, had been killed in the war but his mother was still in deep mourning. She was also desperate to stop Jack following in his brother’s footsteps.

  ‘You are going to Oxford,’ she had said. ‘Tell him, Henry,’ she had appealed to her husband. ‘By that time this dreadful war will be over and you won’t have to go.’

  Jack had no intention of going to university and what worried him was that the war would be over before he had a chance to go to the Front. He had glanced at his father who shook his head slightly, warningly.

  ‘Leave it,’ he mouthed.

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ Jack had said, and as soon as they decently could he and Mark, his friend from school, had escaped to the woods and green fields to talk of how they would go as enlisted men if there was no other way. The Allies were already in France. Soon they would be driving for Berlin and then the war would be at an end.

  ‘We’ll go to Newcastle to enlist,’ Jack said, warming to the idea as soon as it occurred to him. ‘We can alter our identity cards.’

  ‘Newcastle, yes,’ said Mark. He and Jack usually agreed about everything. He glanced down at the stream, the water sparkling in the sun. ‘Look, there’s someone there,’ he said. ‘Behind that tree.’

  ‘Poachers, I bet,’ said Jack. ‘Come on, we’ll send them packing. The miners around here are a menace, my father says, snaring rabbits and whatever else they can catch.’ He was quite ready for a scuffle with the poachers. It wouldn’t be a fight, not when the pitmen realised who he was. So he was disappointed when he saw the two girls.

  ‘We’re not hurting anything,’ said Cath. ‘Anyway, my dad says the land should belong to the people.’

  ‘Does he now? And what does an ignorant pitman know about it?’ asked Jack. ‘Sounds like a Bolshevik to me.’

  ‘He’s not a Bolshevik, he’s in the army,’ Cath replied. She wasn’t exactly sure what a Bolshevik was but it sounded like something shameful. ‘He’s in France.’ She put the hand not holding Annie behind her back and crossed her fingers. It wasn’t exactly a lie, was it? Her dad was likely to be in France with the army. That was where he’d wanted to go. Annie was crying in earnest now: ‘Cath, Cath!’ and Cath lifted her up and cuddled her.

  ‘You’re nowt but big bullies,’ said Cath. ‘Howay, Annie, let’s go home.’ She was halfway up the bankside when she turned.

  ‘Anyway,’ she shouted. ‘What’s so special about you? Your dad’s only a gamekeeper, he’s a nob’s lackey, that’s what he is!’ She began to run, fleeing along the path as the boys started after her. They didn’t go far; after a few yards they collapsed on the grass, giggling helplessly.

  Cath didn’t know why they were giggling but it was just as well, she reckoned. Little Annie had had enough running and was gasping and crying. And anyway, when she thought about it, she didn’t want to go to borstal after all. They decided to go down the line to Winton and get the bus to Shildon. It only came every two hours, ‘for the duration of the war’, the bus company said, but one was almost due. Cath made a game of it and they jumped from sleeper to sleeper, counting as they went. They ran faster as they passed the place where the track branched off to Old Pit, where there were ghosts. Some people said they were tommy-knockers, the ghosts of miners who were buried in Old Pit but Cath didn’t believe it. Well, their marras would have dug them out, wouldn’t they? Still, she hurried Annie past, just in case.

  They were walking past the rows in Winton when the gang of bo
ys came along, Brian among them.

  ‘Hey, Brian, here’s your sweetheart come to see you,’ one of them cried, and they all laughed. ‘Howay, now, give her a kiss, she’s come all the way from Shildon to see you.’ He guffawed.

  ‘I have not done anything of the sort,’ said Cath. ‘We’ve been for a picnic and now we’re going to get the bus home.’

  The boys surrounded her so that she had to stop walking.

  ‘I thought we were going to the trenches to practise fighting,’ said Brian. His face was bright red with embarrassment.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ said Cath to the boys. She was more worried about missing the bus than what they might do. What could they do, anyway?

  ‘Leave her alone,’ said Brian.

  ‘Ooh, leave her alone!’ a boy jeered. He was bigger than the other lads, fourteen or fifteen. Cath had seen him before about Winton.

  ‘If you won’t kiss her, I will,’ he said to Brian, grinning.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ Brian said again. But suddenly the lad caught hold of Cath and dragged her on to the field where the Home Guard had dug their trenches, and she fell to the ground and he jumped on top of her. She couldn’t believe it: he had his hands up her blouse, touching her small breasts, grabbing at them, hurting them. She opened her mouth but his mouth came down on hers, stifling the scream.

  She could hear Annie wailing in fright. The lads stood around them, egging him on. ‘Go on, give her one, Eric,’ she heard one shout. Then Brian was there, thrusting his way through the ring of lads, pushing and punching his way to her. He grabbed hold of Eric and pulled him off Cath and punched him in the eye.

  Cath scrambled to her feet and pulled her blouse down as a man’s voice shouted, ‘What’s going on here? Leave that lass alone!’ He was an old man but he waved his stick at them. The whippet by his side began barking and tried to get off his lead to get to them.

  Cath grabbed Annie and ran for the bus, which had just appeared along the top of the rows. She didn’t look up at all, she just ran, her head down, the tears spilling from her eyes. Humiliation filled her to overflowing; she couldn’t bear to look at anyone or for anyone to look at her. Her mouth felt bruised, she could still feel his teeth against her lips and her chest was sore; she was conscious of her breasts as she had never been in her life before.

  Annie ran after her, crying, ‘Cath! Cath!’ and after a minute the call penetrated Cath’s brain. She stopped and waited for Annie to catch up.

  The bus was coming along the top of the rows now, and she rubbed her eyes dry and caught hold of Annie’s hand. The stop was only a matter of feet away and they caught it easily. They stood in the aisle, for the seats were full. Cath looked down at her feet, for she would not look out of the windows at the scene of her humiliation. In the crush she hadn’t noticed that Brian had got on the bus too until they were alighting at the stop in Shildon. She turned her face away and hurried on, dragging Annie after her.

  ‘Wait, Cathy, wait,’ said Brian as he came after her.

  ‘I’ve brought your bag.’

  Cath turned; it was the string bag she used for the sandwiches. Stonily she waited until he caught up with her and took it from his outstretched hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cathy,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ll pay them back, I will.’

  ‘Don’t call me Cathy,’ she said coldly. ‘And go away. Why did you follow me? Get out of my sight.’ That had been a favourite expression of her mother’s.

  ‘Go away,’ said Annie, ranging herself beside Cath. The girls walked down the hill, then up the road to Bell’s Buildings. There was no one in so Cath got the big enamel dish and took water from the boiler at the side of the fireplace and washed herself, scrubbing at her breasts and making them more sore than ever, though she hardly felt it at the time. Annie sat on the sofa and watched her solemnly.

  ‘If my dad was here he would have gone after those lads, wouldn’t he, Cath?’ Annie asked her. ‘If he knew, he would come back and pay them out, wouldn’t he, Cath?’

  ‘Well, he’s not here, is he, and neither is Mam. So shut up about it, will you? And don’t you say anything to Aunty Patsy or Uncle Jim, neither. They’ll only say I led them on.’

  ‘I won’t, our Cath,’ said Annie, looking hurt. ‘I wouldn’t tell anybody.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Cath, but she pulled on a clean blouse and went to sit beside Annie and put her arm around her. ‘That’s all right then.’ Only it didn’t feel all right, she thought. It didn’t feel all right at all. Misery welled up in her. By, she thought, her mam and dad must think nothing of her or Annie, or they wouldn’t have gone off like that.

  After a while she got to her feet and stoked the fire and peeled potatoes and shredded cabbage and put them on to boil. Aunty Patsy would bring home some savoury ducks, not real ducks but minced offal and herbs and stuff, and they would have a proper dinner when Uncle Jim got home from the factory.

  The door opened but Cath didn’t look round; she was drawing the potato pan further on to the bar as it started to boil, carefully holding the handle with both hands.

  ‘By, our Cath, I’m bloody knackered,’ her mother’s voice said. ‘I had to stand all the way from London on the train. It was a good job I had me case to sit on in the corridor. Them soldiers couldn’t care less. Not a gentleman among the lot of them. Make us a pot of tea, for goodness sake, will you?’

  The shock made Cath lose her hold on the potato pan and it tipped on the bar, spilling boiling water over the steel fender and splashing it on to her bare legs. She jumped back and stared at Sadie, unable to believe it was really her and hardly feeling the scalding spots on her legs.

  ‘Mammy!’ cried Annie and flung herself on her mother.

  ‘Careful, pet, careful,’ said Sadie. ‘Don’t ladder me nylons. There’ll be no more where these came from, not now.’ But she lifted Annie and hugged her. ‘Go on, Cath, put the kettle on like I asked you,’ she said over the little girl’s shoulder. ‘I suppose our Patsy’s down Bishop Auckland with her friends, is she?’

  Cath nodded and picked up the iron kettle and shook it to check if there was enough water in it, then lifted the pan aside and put the kettle on. Then she went to her mother and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘Oh, Mam, I’m that pleased to see you,’ she said. And she was, in spite of everything.

  ‘Mind me make-up, our Cath,’ said Sadie. ‘Well, I’m pleased to see you.’

  Cath gazed at her as though at an apparition. Sadie looked smart in a red-flowered dress and a red jacket with a tiny, flower-bedecked hat tipped over an eye. She must have had the baby, for her waist was as slim as ever. She wore high-heeled, peep-toed shoes and, in spite of her complaining words, she looked as bright as a button.

  ‘Have you seen our dad?’ Cath asked. ‘Has he come home with you?’ Sadie’s look of incomprehension told her everything.

  ‘You mean he deserted you?’ Sadie demanded. ‘Why, the rotten sod! I thought it was funny when I opened the door and saw you. I was just calling on our Patsy.’ She saw Cath’s stricken expression. ‘Then I was coming down to Eden Hope to see you, honest.’

  The kettle boiled and Cath made tea and poured some into Aunty Patsy’s best cup. She and Annie stood together and watched Sadie add milk and look around for the sugar bowl.

  ‘There’s no sugar,’ Annie said.

  ‘Why not? You get your rations, don’t you?’

  ‘Aunty Patsy locks it in the cupboard so we don’t eat it,’ said Annie.

  ‘I’ll have to have a word with her,’ Sadie promised. ‘I bet she always has plenty herself. She always did have a sweet tooth, our Patsy.’ Sadie nodded her head. ‘She’ll be wanting your ration as well as her own, I know her.’

  ‘Are you talking about me, our Sadie? Anyway, where the hell have you been?’

  Patsy came in and stood, arms akimbo, staring at her sister. ‘You’ve done some funny things, our Sadie,’ she said. ‘But this one takes the bloody biscuit.’
/>   Part Two

  Chapter Nine

  1948

  The sun was hot on her back as Cath walked along South Church Road on her way home from school. Today she wore no school hat or blazer and this was the last time she would wear the checked cotton dress, which was regulation wear for the grammar school. Over her shoulder she had the old leather schoolbag she’d carried for five years but this was the last time she would carry it. Today was her last day at school.

  At the top of the gentle rise, by Wilson’s Forge, she paused and turned to look back. Behind the trees she could just see the roofs and chimneys of the school. She had never thought she would make it to the fifth year so that she could take her School Certificate.

  ‘A great girl like you still going to school,’ Mam had grumbled. ‘It didn’t hurt me leaving at fourteen, did it? You’re not natural, our Cath. Instead of having your head stuck in a book all the time you should be thinking of getting out and having a good time. You could help your mother out an’ all, me being a poor woman on her own.’

  Cath forbore to say that if she took the job in the cardboard-box factory her mam wanted her to have she wouldn’t get out much anyway. Not with having to tip her wages up to Sadie. That was what her mam was really after. Sadie wasn’t too often on her own, anyway; there was always a man in her life, usually a new one, for they didn’t last all that long. So she had resisted her mother’s threats and arguments, and anyway, Sadie never ever had the five pounds to pay the fine if Cath left the grammar school before she was sixteen, so it had made no difference in the end.

  Cath sighed and turned to walk on. When she came to a dustbin, which hadn’t been put away after the dustcart’s visit, she stuffed her hated school hat in it.

  ‘I saw that,’ said Enid. She had come up behind without Cath noticing, she was so deep in thought. Enid herself had her hat on, but a straw summer one with a green band and the school’s initials embroidered on the front. Cath had had to wear her winter gabardine hat because she didn’t have a summer one. Enid was staying on at school for another two years to take her Highers and Cath was desperately envious of her.