THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘The bairn’s come?’ she heard Dan gasp with disbelief.

  Dinah laughed. ‘Aye, she had her right here.’

  ‘A lass?’ Dan questioned. Millie tensed herself for the disappointment in his voice, but none came. ‘By, she’s bonny, isn’t she?’ he exclaimed.

  ‘A little picture,’ Dinah agreed.

  Suddenly it dawned on Millie that Dinah must be holding the baby, showing her daughter off to Dan. She felt a stab of resentment, excluded from the warm scene beyond the open door, where they laughed and cooed over her baby girl.

  ‘Do you want a hold?’ Dinah asked.

  ‘Aye, if you show me how,’ Dan laughed.

  ‘Careful now . . . that’s the way.’ There was a small, querulous wail, then a giggle from Dinah. ‘She’s letting her da know who’s boss.’ Dan’s laughter came again.

  Millie waited to hear him ask about her, but they carried on chatting and she could tell that he was moving around the room as he cradled the baby, for she soon quietened. Finally it was Dinah who mentioned her.

  ‘Millie’s been asleep for hours,’ she said. ‘She refused to call the doctor. I got old Mrs Hodges in instead. She wouldn’t take any payment.’

  ‘I’ll make sure she gets paid,’ Dan insisted. ‘Daft Millie. I wanted her to have the best. Ta for staying, Dinah.’

  ‘I was glad to,’ she said warmly. ‘I’d do anything for the pair of you.’

  Millie could not listen to any more. She pulled herself up, wincing at the pain between her legs and down her back, and called, ‘Can anyone join in the party?’

  There was a moment’s pause, then Dan pushed the adjoining door wide with his foot.

  ‘Millie!’ he cried, steadying himself on the doorframe before launching into the bedroom. She smelt a waft of stale beer as he wove towards the bed and plonked himself down, still clutching their daughter. This produced a wail, and Millie quickly reached to rescue the baby from his precarious hold.

  ‘Isn’t she bonny?’ Dan hiccupped. ‘You should have called the doctor, mind. What if something had gone wrong?’

  Millie glanced at Dinah. ‘Mrs Hodges was grand. The cord was tied around the baby’s neck when she was born—’

  ‘Her neck?’ Dan cried in shock. ‘Millie! You should never have taken such a risk with our bairn.’

  Dinah intervened. ‘Mrs Hodges knew just what to do, Dan,’ she reassured him. ‘She saved the bairn’s life.’

  ‘That doctor couldn’t have been any quicker, even with all his instruments,’ Millie added. ‘I was much happier having a woman with me – and Dinah.’

  ‘Aye.’ Dan smiled at their friend. ‘Ta for looking after my stubborn wife.’

  ‘Oh, I just sang a few songs,’ Dinah laughed.

  The baby’s whimpering grew more insistent, and Millie decided to feed her again.

  ‘What you doing?’ Dan asked in alarm.

  ‘What does it look like?’ Millie laughed. ‘Mrs Hodges told me how to do it.’

  Dan stood up. ‘Sounds like a saint, this Mrs Hodges. Let’s celebrate and drink to the woman. There’s some beer in the larder. I’ll go and get Bob.’

  He returned an hour later, having found Bob in the Waterloo just before closing time. By this time Millie was trying to sleep, the baby having dropped off at her breast. But both were woken by the shouts of the men, and soon Dinah was winding up the gramophone. After two hours of celebration, all the beer was drunk and the needle was wearing out on the gramophone. As the Fairishes called loud goodbyes to a drowsy Millie, Dinah said, ‘You still haven’t given the bairn a name.’

  Dan asked as he swayed in the doorway, ‘What’s that woman called?’

  ‘Which woman?’ Dinah giggled.

  ‘The midwife,’ Dan said. ‘Mrs Hedgerow or som’at.’

  ‘Hodges,’ Bob laughed. ‘Edith Hodges.’

  ‘That’s it then,’ Dan declared. ‘She saved me bairn, so we’ll call her Edith. What d’you say, Millie?’

  Millie grunted agreement, too tired to protest that a family name might be more suitable. Right at that moment she would have called the baby anything to get some peace and rest. As she drifted into an exhausted sleep, she comforted herself with the thought that once her mother arrived, the parties and drinking would have to stop.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Teresa came and stayed for nearly a month, revelling in her new granddaughter and in her first proper visit to Newcastle. Once Millie was back on her feet, they went out every day, proudly pushing Edith in her new pram up to the shops and round the park in the late-spring sunshine. Teresa loved it all: the wide, bustling streets, the myriad of shops, the ice-cream parlour on Cedar Crescent and the bands that played in the park. She made instant friends with Dinah and was persuaded to have her hair done at Laurie’s. Several times Millie and Dinah took Teresa into the centre of Newcastle to look round the shops and have tea at Fenwick’s or Tilley’s. On other occasions, Mrs Hodges minded the baby while Millie took her mother to the music hall and to a concert of touring American gospel singers.

  Bit by bit, Millie learned just how grim life had been in Ashborough over the past year; of the debt that saddled the hotel because of Teresa’s generosity to starving neighbours, and how little Marjory had nearly died of whooping cough that winter.

  ‘She’s better now, but they had a terrible shock. Ella won’t let her out of her sight. Walter’s quieter than ever, he’s a good family man. Ella’s expecting again.’

  Millie listened aghast to the tales of hardship, silently vowing that she would write to Ella. It pained her to be estranged from her oldest friend. She heard how Teresa had been forced to lay off Elsie, who had gone to work on a farm. But her greatest shock came with news of Grant and Ava.

  ‘He’s been blacklisted from the pit,’ Teresa confided one time when they were out and Dan could not complain of them speaking about his family. ‘I blame him for joining the Communist Party. Anyway, there’s no work for him around Ashborough. They’ve only got a roof over their heads because old Mungo is still working. We’d have taken them in at the hotel, of course, but Grant’s too proud to live off the likes of me and Joseph.’

  ‘Is Ava very unhappy?’ Millie asked, feeling sorry for her old rival.

  ‘Aye,’ Teresa sighed, rocking the pram with her hand as they sat on a park bench. They watched a boy run past rolling a hoop. ‘She’s got this bee in her bonnet about emigrating to America; thinks Grant could work in the mines out there.’

  ‘America?’ Millie gasped.

  ‘She got hold of one of Grant’s periodicals and read about it – Virginia or somewhere. Anyway, she’s set on this idea. She gives him a terrible time, never a minute’s peace. I think they’ll go. That’s why I’m making the most of this visit – it’ll be the last if Ava leaves. I’ll have no one to help me in the hotel.’

  ‘I could always come home for a bit and help out if you want,’ Millie offered at once. ‘You only have to ask.’

  Her mother gave her an odd look. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call the hotel home,’ she answered. Millie flushed, and Teresa put a hand quickly over hers. ‘It’s kind of you to offer, but your home is here now. You’ve got everything you ever wanted, haven’t you?’

  Millie looked into the pram at Edith’s sweet, soft, sleeping face and thought of their cosy flat full of sunshine and gramophone music and the way Dan would rush in cheerfully impatient to see them after a match. He was full of optimism these days, full of energy and fun. Even having Teresa around for a month, critical of his visits to the pub, his habit of leaving his crumpled clothes lying around and his occasional rash gamble on the horses, did not dampen his zest for the future.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got everything,’ Millie agreed. ‘I’ve never been so happy.’

  Teresa’s eyes shone as she looked at her daughter, plumper now but still pretty. ‘I’m glad for my silly Millie,’ she smiled, feeling a rush of relief that she had made the right decision in leaving Crasto
n all those years ago, and the two women hugged each other tight.

  ***

  The summer passed happily, with Dan and Millie taking their daughter on trips to the seaside and into the country in their shiny black Ford. She was too young to even sit up and admire her surroundings, but they laid her on a rug, shaded from the sun, while they picnicked and splashed in the river and collected bunches of flowers to place in Edith’s tiny bedroom. Sometimes Dinah and Bob would come with them and they would end up calling at some wayside pub on the way home, where the men would bring their pints to the door while the women sat in the car and Millie fed the baby.

  The men were ecstatic over Newcastle winning the League that season and chatted about football for hours. Dan began to talk restlessly about making a move from the Vulcans. ‘I’ve been with them two seasons now; it’s only a matter of time before I’m transferred to a bigger club,’ he declared to Millie. They were taking an evening stroll around the park in the late summer. Her heart sank at his words.

  ‘But we’re so happy here,’ she protested. ‘I love our flat – and the neighbours – and you’re doing that well at Gateshead. Can’t you just stop where you are?’

  He gave her an impatient look. ‘I can’t stop there forever, Millie. I’m nearly twenty-seven. I’ve got to get on while I can.’ He saw her disappointment and swung an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t look so sad. A transfer doesn’t mean we have to move, does it?’ he grinned.

  She knew he was thinking that if Newcastle United or Sunderland approached him, they could stay on Tyneside. But the season started again and no offers came. Dan hid his disappointment and went back to playing for the Vulcans, and Millie felt secret relief that life could go on as it was.

  Through that autumn, she heard intermittently from her mother. Ava had finally persuaded Grant to leave for America, and they were making preparations to go before the winter set in. Teresa confided that while Grant would be working his passage, Joseph was helping pay for Ava by selling his dead wife’s wedding ring and some of the furniture. He had been plagued by gout in one foot and was increasingly confined to his bed, worse at the thought of his daughter leaving. She had news that Elsie had married a shepherd, and that the Palace had closed, unable to compete with the newer, grander cinemas. Major Hall was looking for work.

  Then, a month before Christmas, Grant turned up unannounced one afternoon as Millie was decorating the sitting room with tinsel. She was playing ‘The Teddy Bears’ Picnic’ on the gramophone and Edith was sitting on the floor chewing paper decorations and gurgling to the music.

  Millie flushed and stammered with awkwardness when she went to answer the door. ‘I didn’t expect . . . Where’s . . . ? Dan’s not here.’ She clasped Edith to her hip.

  He stood in a worn suit and scarf, his broad face pinched with cold under an ill-fitting hat of Mungo’s. ‘I’ll not stop long then,’ he promised.

  ‘Sorry, come in,’ Millie said hastily, opening the door wide and leading him upstairs. She saw him glance around the cosy sitting room with its electric fire and comfortable chairs, its tidy surfaces and smell of polish. The record had come to an end and was hissing repetitively. Millie went over and lifted the needle. ‘You’ll have a cup of tea?’

  He nodded. She went into the tiny galley kitchen, still clasping Edith, who was making blowing noises to Grant. Millie was unnerved by his coming and wished Dan would hurry home from the club. She turned back.

  ‘It’s not bad news, is it?’ she asked tensely.

  Grant was still standing where she had left him, clutching his hat and loosening the scarf around his neck against the sudden heat. He shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. I just wanted to come and make me peace with Dan before we leave. You’ve heard . . . ?’

  ‘About America?’ she asked. ‘Aye, Mam told me.’

  He seemed to lose his nerve. ‘Listen, I’ll not stop. You can give Dan a message.’

  Millie felt guilty for making him feel so ill at ease. ‘No, stay, please, you must,’ she insisted. ‘You can’t come all this way and not tell him yourself. Sit yourself down.’ Impulsively she held out her daughter to him. ‘Here, this is Edith; you’ve never met your niece, have you?’

  ‘N-no,’ he answered, unsure. But the infant held out her hands to the stranger, intrigued by the large hat, and he took her tentatively in outstretched arms.

  ‘She won’t bite,’ Millie laughed. ‘Least not until nearer tea-time.’

  Grant gave a shy smile and held the child carefully, lowering himself into a chair and placing her on his knee. She smiled and made noises at him and tried to grab his hat. Grant let her inspect it, and when Millie came back through, Edith was trying to eat it while Grant spoke to her softly about how it belonged to her Grandfather Nixon.

  ‘Here, she can sit on the floor while you drink your tea,’ Millie said, placing a cup on a square table by his chair. But Edith protested when she was plonked on the rug, and she grasped Grant’s legs, attempting to pull herself up. He chuckled and hauled her up again. Millie had never heard him laugh out loud before.

  ‘I’m sorry you’re having to leave Ashborough,’ she said suddenly. ‘I can’t imagine you living anywhere else.’

  He gave her an appraising look. ‘I have been out of the place before, you know,’ he teased gently.

  ‘Yes, of course you have,’ Millie said quickly, recalling how he had spent most of the war away from home. ‘You’ve seen more than most. But America seems so far away – so final somehow.’

  They looked at each other in discomfort. She would have liked to ask him about the war, what it had been like and whether he had ever heard of her brother as they had both been fusiliers, but she did not have the courage. Effie had always told her not to mention the war in front of him, and so she let the moment pass.

  ‘It’s what Ava wants,’ Grant said quietly.

  ‘What about you?’ Millie asked, wondering how she dared.

  Grant shrugged. ‘It’s a new start for us. Things haven’t been easy.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, you’ve got a nice place here – and Edith’s a little charmer,’ he smiled, changing the subject. He ruffled the child’s honey-coloured curls and she gurgled in conversation. Millie had never seen her take so quickly to any man, except Dan.

  She smiled back. ‘Aye, she is. And how’re Ella and Walter and little Marjory?’

  Grant’s face fell. ‘They’re getting by.’

  ‘I hear they’re having another bairn,’ Millie said, sipping her tea.

  Grant gave her a sorrowful look. ‘Ella’s bairn was born too early. It only lived a few hours.’

  Millie put down her cup with a clash. ‘That’s terrible!’ she gasped. ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Maybes a fortnight ago,’ Grant said, allowing Edith to grasp his hand.

  ‘Mam’s not written for a month,’ Millie murmured. She gulped. ‘Was it a girl or a boy?’

  Grant shifted uncomfortably, unused to speaking about such things. ‘I don’t know. No one ever said — least not to me.’

  Millie’s eyes stung with tears. What agony for Ella to lose her baby like that, she thought. A baby dying after all the pain and effort of childbirth, slipping away without a name or a memory. ‘Poor Ella and Walter!’ Millie’s voice trembled, and instinctively she reached for Edith.

  ‘Here, I’ll take her while you have your cup of tea – it’s getting cold.’ She almost grabbed the girl from him and cuddled her firmly in her arms.

  After that they talked of Dan’s football, and she told him about their life on Tyneside and he spoke of the debating society and how her mother had helped so many people out during the lockout. He told her about the ship that would take them to America, where the economy was booming, and talked of American politics. ‘I’ll be working my passage, of course,’ he said with a proud jut of his chin. Only afterwards, when she was recounting the visit to Dan, did she realise that Grant had not mentioned Ava again.

  Eventually, when Dan did not
come, Grant took his leave. ‘I have to catch the train.’

  ‘You could stay the night,’ Millie suggested.

  ‘No,’ Grant said quickly, ‘I’ll be expected home.’

  ‘Aye, of course. I’m sorry you’ve missed Dan; I don’t know why he’s this late back. Maybe buying something in town.’ Millie made excuses. ‘He’ll be that sorry to have missed you.’

  They exchanged looks. ‘Aye, well, you’ll tell him I came. No hard feelings on my part,’ Grant said in his usual gruff way. He fixed on his hat and patted Edith once more on the head. ‘Ta-ra, pet,’ he smiled at her. ‘Ta-ra, Millie. I’ll see myself out.’

  They regarded each other, then awkwardly shook hands. ‘Ta for coming,’ she said, suddenly regretting that she had never made the effort to know Dan’s older brother better. ‘And good luck.’ He nodded and left. She looked out of the window, holding Edith, and watched him walk past the streetlamp. Something made him look up, catch sight of them both and wave. Millie saw he was smiling. Then he was gone into the dark and she was left feeling strangely sad.

  That night, when Dan finally returned with Christmas toys for Edith, Millie was tearful as she told him the news about Ella’s lost baby. But Dan seemed annoyed rather than pleased by Grant’s attempt to see him and make amends. Perhaps he felt guilty, Millie thought, because he had not been there to see his brother or because he had not thought of the gesture first.

  ‘You never told me he was serious about emigrating!’ Dan exclaimed. ‘I would have tried to see him.’

  ‘You knew as much about it as I did,’ Millie defended.

  ‘And fancy turning up here without any warning,’ Dan said indignantly. ‘He knew I’d be at the club working. I think he came at that time knowing he’d only catch you in.’