Oh, David, David. All that love of nature, of life, couldn’t be buried in the tomb of the pit. When he died it ought to be as an old man, and then with the sun and wind on his face or the velvety darkness of a cool night.
They had made love lying on a fragrant bed of grass and wild flowers, and it had been the first time in seventeen years of marriage that she had seen him engorged and erect. She’d seen him naked before when he bathed in the tin bath in front of the fire, but never like that day when he had worshipped her with his body and his mouth. He’d had to persuade her to take her clothes off, but once she had succumbed she’d felt as giddy as a schoolgirl although terribly shy - until, that was, he’d begun to make love to her.
An expectant rustling among the crowd and her mother’s fingers tightening on her arm brought Carrie back to the present. Word had come. They had reached them, and at least one was alive.
She did not think or breathe or move - or so it felt - until one of the rescue leaders was standing in front of them. She knew this man; one of his sons had been in the same class as Matthew at school and another had recently married. The first battered body to be brought to the surface some hours before had been that of the second lad. Carrie stared into the exhausted face, and she couldn’t take it in at first when he said quietly to her mother, ‘Your husband is alive, Mrs McDarmount.’ Then he turned to her. ‘David too, lass.’
‘And Walter?’ It was Billy who spoke.
The man shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Walter would never have to be told about Renee now. Somehow Carrie could more easily comprehend that Walter was gone than that David was alive, perhaps because it was too miraculous, too wonderful to be true. ‘My husband . . .’ Her voice emerged as a croak and she had to clear her throat and try again. ‘My husband and Da. Are they hurt?’
‘Your da’s relatively unscathed, cuts and bruises and the like. David’s leg’s in a bad way and he has a nasty cut on the back of his head. He’s lost a lot of blood but he’s young and strong. He’ll pull through, lass.’
She was being given a second chance. Her world had exploded into hundreds of pieces but against all the odds she was being given a second chance.
And at that moment Olive said behind them, ‘Well! And no one thought to tell me what was going on then! If it wasn’t for them talking in the queue when we were waiting at the butchers I’d be none the wiser even now.’
Carrie heard her mother give an audible groan. She bit her lower lip before she turned and said, ‘Hello, Mam.’
‘Don’t you “Hello, Mam” me like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Why wasn’t I told about this?’ Olive’s head was poking forward, her green eyes, as round as aniseed balls, alive with hate as she stared at the object of all her venom. Carrie looked back steadily and for a moment she wondered if she should tell this terrible woman that the rest of the family, even her beloved Matthew, had agreed they didn’t want her at the pit gates. She shrugged. ‘Everyone knows. We assumed you’d hear and please yourself if you came or not.’
‘If? If? Why wouldn’t I want to be here? David and Walter are my lads, in case you’d forgotten.’
‘Do you want to know what the news is on “your lads”?’ It was Carrie’s mother who spoke, anguish for the loss of Renee making her voice sharp with the woman she saw as an unnatural mother.
Olive’s sallow face took on a pinker tinge. By, they were upstarts, the McDarmounts, every last one of them. She could remember a time when you could set your clock by Sandy McDarmount acting the cuddy on a Friday night when he’d had a drop. Dancing and singing enough to wake the dead, he’d be, and now here was Joan acting as though she was Lady Muck. She hoped Sandy had got his just deserts in this little lot; here’s one who wouldn’t miss him. Scumbags, the lot of them.
‘Well?’ Olive looked Joan in the eye. ‘What is the news?’
‘David and my da are all right,’ Carrie said quietly, ‘but Walter . . . I’m sorry, Mam.’
Olive blinked. So her firstborn was dead. She knew she would be considered odd if she admitted to the fact that she felt very little one way or the other. In truth Walter had irritated her from the moment he could toddle. He had been his da all over, that was the thing, and David perhaps more so. Maybe if she had married the sort of man she felt she had been destined for, someone who appreciated her taste for the finer things of life and who would have given her her own home, bought and paid for, and a good going on, she might have felt differently about her bairns. As it was, the more she had come to despise Ned for the weak-livered nowt he was, the more the feeling had rubbed off on his bairns somehow. Except Alec. Alec had been hers from the moment he had been born. Even after this little baggage in front of her with the angelic face and loose ways had beguiled him, Alec had still been her boy.
Olive raised her pointed chin, her eyes like cold green glass. ‘It’s no secret Walter and I didn’t see eye to eye,’ she said stiffly, ‘but he was my bairn, Joan.’ Then, glancing about her, she added spitefully, ‘And where’s your Renee? Shouldn’t she be here, at least playing at being the good wife?’
‘Don’t you dare talk about my sister like that.’ Carrie’s eyes were flashing now. ‘Renee can’t be here, there was a fire at the house and--’ She found she couldn’t go on; her heart was crying, oh, Renee, Renee. I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Renee had been so full of life, so vibrant. And then all other thoughts faded as she caught sight of her father in the distance. He walked out of the yard flanked by two of the rescue workers, and she and Joan flew to his side. He put an arm round each of them and said, ‘All right, all right, don’t take on so. Here I am, right as rain.’
Joan was sobbing into his chest, oblivious of the arid smell of sweat and coal dust, and over her mother’s head, Carrie said, ‘David?’
‘He’s coming, lass, but prepare yourself. His leg’s pretty bad. We thought he’d just broken it but it’s a bit of a mess. He passed out when we moved him and it’s probably the best thing. The doctor’s with him and they’re taking him straight to the infirmary. You can go with him if you want.’
If she wanted? ‘Oh, Da.’ She reached out and touched her father’s face. ‘I’m so glad he was with you if this had to happen. And poor Walter.’
‘Aye, poor Walter.’
‘Sandy, we’ve lost Renee.’ Joan hadn’t planned to tell him like this but she found she needed him to know and she couldn’t wait. ‘It was an accident, a fire in the home. They . . . they think it started in her front room.’
Sandy’s jaw bones worked against his skin before he said, ‘Our Renee? Oh, lass, lass.’
Carrie froze as a stretcher was carried through into the yard, with a doctor walking by the side. For a second she felt unable to move, and then she made to push past into the yard. A policeman who was on duty at the gates caught at her arm. ‘Sorry, lass, but you can’t go in there.’ She yanked her arm away with such force he had to steady himself as she slipped past him and ran to David.
The policeman must have followed her because she heard one of the rescue team say, ‘Leave her be, it’s her husband.’ Her whole being was caught up with the man lying so deathly still. It was David and yet not David, because even in sleep or when he was resting or reading one of his botany or wildlife books, life emanated from him. ‘He’ll be all right?’ Her voice was high as she looked at the doctor.
‘Yes, yes, don’t worry. I’ve given him something to make him more comfortable for the journey to the infirmary, that’s all.’ Carrie was kneeling in the snow beside the stretcher, stroking David’s hair back from his brow, the tears coursing down her face, and the doctor said, ‘Come along, my dear. The sooner we get him there, the sooner we can begin to mend that leg of his. I assume you’re coming with us.’
Carrie did not answer because David had begun to stir. He opened his eyes very slowly as if it was a great effort. He stared at her, almost as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing, and when she said, ‘Oh my love, my lo
ve,’ his reply bore this out because he murmured, ‘I didn’t think you were real.’
‘I’m real.’ Oblivious of everyone, she took his face into her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. Her tears wet his cheeks as she whispered, ‘I love you, I love you,’ over and over again.
He lifted his hand to her and she grasped it with both of hers, frightened by the whiteness of his face beneath its coating of coal dust. ‘I’m coming with you, I’m never going to let you leave my side for a second again,’ she whispered fiercely.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘That’s going to make for some interesting times ahead,’ he murmured. His heavy lids closed again although his hand continued to hold hers tightly.
Chapter Twenty-three
Olive Sutton sat rigidly in the ambulance, her gaze fixed on Carrie as she sat looking down at David. David had not opened his eyes again, nor had he spoken, but when Carrie had tried to withdraw her hand from his to climb into the ambulance, his grip had tightened until it hurt, and so they had remained joined together.
As for Olive, it wasn’t maternal feeling that had made her insist on being allowed to accompany her son and his wife to the infirmary. She had already worked herself up into a cold fury at being ostracised before she reached the colliery, but the altercation at the gates followed by the sight of Carrie and David’s reunion had maddened her. She was consumed by burning resentment and rage at her daughter-in-law. She had told herself so often that Carrie McDarmount was the cause of her losing her home and everything she had ever wanted that she now believed it totally.
Blubbing all over him as though she had never looked at another man in her life! Olive’s teeth were clenched together so tightly her jaw was paining her. And him, daft as a brush about her, the low, common, brazen hussy. Well, he wouldn’t have his rose-tinted spectacles on much longer if she had anything to do with it, Olive told herself grimly. She had always promised herself she would see her day with the McDarmount sisters, and it appeared God wouldn’t be mocked. He had taken Renee to her just deserts, and now it was up to her to do her bit and see Carrie got what was coming to her. And she would do it, by, she would. There was talk of the war ending soon and she wanted the baggage long since gone by the time Alec came home. David might be a fool, but when he knew Carrie had tricked him into marriage and that he had been playing da to his brother’s child for eighteen years, that would be the end.
The ambulance thudded over a pothole in the road, one of many caused by the intensive bombing last year. David stirred and moaned, and Olive’s eyes narrowed as Carrie murmured, ‘It’s all right, dear, it’s all right.’ She wouldn’t be ‘dearing’ him much longer if she did but know it, and once David had thrown the chit out, someone would need to keep house for him and Matthew.
Olive straightened her back, staring straight ahead now. And that would suit her, she’d had enough of Freda Browell to last her a lifetime. When she thought of the humiliations she’d endured at that woman’s hands, treating her employer’s own mother as little more than a skivvy. But she’d see her day with that one too, once her boy was home. Oh aye, Freda Browell would get short shrift all right. And what was the betting that with Margaret gone and Alec having no other bairns, he’d see fit to take Matthew into his home?
She sat picturing the years ahead. Once Alec was home from the war and had sent Freda packing, she and Matthew would leave David and move in with him. She would be mistress of her own home again, and what a home.
Time had a way of making truth out if you were patient enough, and she had been waiting for the right opportunity to speak her mind for more than a little while. Even if Carrie denied it, David only had to look at the boy with eyes unclouded by his obsession for the McDarmount girl to see Matthew was Alec all over. And weak and low as he was right now, without the physical side of his love for the chit paramount, he’d see all the more clearly. She’d have a word with him as soon as he was settled, she wouldn’t delay. And after all, it was kinder in the long run for him to know, wasn’t it? The truth never hurt anyone.
As it happened, it wasn’t possible for either Olive or Carrie to speak further with David that day. On their arrival at the infirmary, another doctor examined him while the two women sat on hardbacked chairs in the corridor outside, and he decided to operate immediately. Carrie just had time to kiss a drugged David goodbye before he was whisked out of sight. The first doctor remained with them just long enough to tell them to come back that evening although David might not be conscious by then.
He wasn’t, and the following evening, on the dot of visiting time, Matthew and Carrie stood waiting in the area outside the small side ward where David had been placed for the present, and Olive joined them.
‘Hello, Gran.’ Matthew smiled at his grandmother and Olive smiled back.
‘Hello, lad.’ Olive offered her cheek for a dutiful kiss and totally ignored Carrie, who stared at her mother-in-law for a moment before giving a mental shrug.
When the visiting bell rang, Matthew stepped forward and opened the door for the two women. As Carrie entered the dismal, green-painted room, her eyes went immediately to the bed. While they had been waiting they had been informed by a brisk, no-nonsense nurse that Mr Sutton was due to be moved to the main ward tomorrow if he’d had a comfortable night, and that Doctor was pleased with his progress. But when Carrie saw the cage over the bottom part of the bed, her heart came up into her mouth despite the encouraging words.
She walked over to the bed, Olive and Matthew following her. David appeared to be asleep. The face on the pillow was as white as the sheet beneath it, but then the eyes opened and it was David looking at her, his lips parting in a smile. ‘I’ve been waiting all day to see you,’ he said, his voice sounding the same as always.
Carrie did not speak because she was finding it impossible to form coherent words; with an unintelligible murmuring she bent over him and kissed him in a way which made words quite superfluous. His hands pulled her down on to his chest so she was sitting on the bed with her upper body on his, and they remained like this, their lips joined, until a sharp little cough reminded Carrie they were not alone.
She pulled away, saying, ‘Matthew and your mam . . .’ but David caught her again and placed one more hungry kiss on her mouth.
Colour was hot in her face when she turned to look at Matthew and Olive. Matthew was smiling somewhat embarrassedly, but she saw immediately that Olive had taken exception to the show of affection. Carrie continued to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand in David’s. ‘Come and say hello, Matthew, and bring that chair closer to the bed for your grandma.’ She turned back to David, her voice soft as she murmured ‘I thought I was going to lose you.’
‘Not me, lass. I’m built like a homing pigeon and my home is where you are. You couldn’t lose me if you tried.’
Matthew approached the bed and punched David lightly on the shoulder. ‘You all right then?’
‘It has to be said I’ve been better, lad.’ There was a remnant of a smile, but it faded when Olive came to the bedside.
She stared down at him for a moment before she said, ‘You pulled through then.’
‘Aye, Mam, I pulled through, thanks to Carrie’s da.’
‘Him? What did he have to do with it?’
‘He helped me with Walter. But for Sandy we’d have been back at the original fall or buried under the one that took the others. Either way I’d be a goner.’
Olive did not comment on this but her chin came down into her neck. Her hands were joined on the handle of her big black handbag which was resting on the slight mound of her stomach beneath the grey coat she was wearing, and she continued to survey her son silently for a moment before she said, without any preamble, ‘She’s made a monkey of you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Your lady wife with her fine ideas about going up in the world. She found herself in a fix all them years ago and then along came you, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and be
fore you knew where you were you were pulled in so fast it made your head spin.’
The look on his face cut off her flow of words but only for a moment. She had waited too long to have her say and nothing was going to stop her now.
‘Did you ever really believe he was yours?’ She gestured with her thumb at Matthew. ‘After he was born, I mean?’
‘Stop this. He’s ill--’
‘He’s Alec’s,’ Olive went on remorselessly. ‘Open your eyes, man, and see what’s in front of you. She was carrying on with your brother and that’s why she married you, to conceal the fact she was expecting Alec’s child. You were a means to an end, that’s all. That’s all you’ve ever been and ever will be to a woman like her.’
She had to deny this, she had to stop it. The command was in her head but Carrie was gripped by paralysing shock.
The Most Precious Thing Page 35
