‘Where is Dan?’ Ava asked, giving Millie a hard look. ‘Your letters never mentioned him. I suppose that means he’s not done as well as you hoped.’
Millie reddened. ‘He’s playing for a Yorkshire side – they’re doing well enough. He’s in lodgings, comes home as often as he can.’
Ava carefully unpinned her felt hat and shook out her tight brown curls. Millie could not help noticing how much the hairstyle suited her, giving shape to her thin face, while eyeliner made her small eyes seem bigger. ‘That must be difficult for you,’ Ava commented, raising her pencil-thin eyebrows. ‘I can’t imagine letting a man like Dan live away from home.’ She gave an irritating little smirk, implying so much more.
Teresa answered before Millie lost her temper. ‘Needs must. He’s got to go where the work is. He knows that Millie’s needed here to keep the hotel going, and it’s a better place for Albert to grow up. They’ve lost one child with living in bad housing; they’re not going to risk that again.’
That seemed to silence Ava, and she was persuaded by Grant to go to their room to unpack. Later, when Walter had arrived and given his cheerful greetings, they all sat round the kitchen table eating Millie’s tea, while Millie dashed in and out serving the two lodgers and trying at the same time to listen in to snatches of conversation in the kitchen. Ava talked a lot about America and going to the movies, as she called them. But she was evasive about what they had actually done for four years, or where they had lived. Grant muttered about working in a factory and then a garage.
‘I did a bit of carpentry on the side,’ he told Walter. ‘Would have liked to do more, but the work dried up. Things were getting really bad; we had to give up—’
‘I wasn’t keen on him doing work that no one was paying him for,’ Ava interrupted sharply, ‘so we moved to a better part of town. He got this very good job at a top department store.’
Grant looked uncomfortable. ‘Just a night-watchman.’ Ava’s glare was so fierce that he gave no more details.
‘So is that why you decided to come home?’ Walter questioned. Grant nodded. ‘Well, things are tough here too. Have you thought what you might do?’
There were anxious glances around the table, and Millie wondered how they were going to support two more mouths if Grant and Ava stayed on here.
Then Ava spoke. ‘Of course we’ve thought. We didn’t come back because life was too hard in America; we came back because of the hotel. Now that my father’s gone, we want to sell it.’
There was an intake of breath around the table. Millie put down her knife and fork with a clatter.
‘Why do you want to do that?’ Ella was the first to speak. ‘It’s Mrs Mercer’s livelihood – and Millie’s and the bairns’. . .’
Grant said quickly, ‘We hadn’t decided—’
‘Oh yes I had,’ Ava contradicted her husband. ‘It was my father’s and I can do what I want with it.’
‘No you can’t,’ Teresa said in a triumphant voice. Everyone looked at her. ‘Joseph put in writing that I was to have the hotel. He made a will.’
Millie felt her pulse quicken, thankful that she had made her mother act when she did.
Ava was furious. ‘My father would never have disinherited me like that!’ she cried. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Teresa gave her a fierce look. ‘It’s true, and I’ll not let you or anyone else throw me or my family out! Not after all the work we’ve put into this place.’
Ava stood up. ‘What about me? I need to live too! I can’t rely on him to provide for me.’ She gave Grant a contemptuous look. ‘It’s mine by right and I will have it!’ She stamped her foot like a child.
Millie was appalled by her outburst and at the way Grant just sat there submitting to her waspish tongue. The man who had once lectured them passionately on the rights of the working classes would never have sat mute with bowed head like this. His pride had been punched out of him, Millie thought. Whatever else had happened in America, he had lost all self-respect. Everyone was looking at him, and he gave his wife a bleak look.
‘We came back to sort things out, not throw people out,’ he said, his anger suppressed. He regarded Teresa. ‘We thought you’d be wanting rid of the place now that Joseph’s gone . . .’
‘No.’ Teresa was adamant. ‘It’s the only security we’ve got. I can manage here with Millie’s help and the wages Dan sends home. It’s not the best of situations – and it’s not what Millie’s been used to – but we get by.’ She turned her defiance on Ava. ‘This hotel would have closed down years ago if it hadn’t been for me – you wouldn’t have had anything to come back to at all!’
‘I don’t believe that for a minute!’ Ava shouted, losing her affected accent. ‘You’ve used me dad all these years, scrounging off him like leeches. Well, not any more. I want you all out!’
‘Ava!’ Grant protested half-heartedly.
‘Haway!’ Walter added in disbelief.
Ella cried, ‘You can’t mean it?’
Millie stood up, realising that neither her mother nor Ava was going to give ground. She was thankful that they had bundled all the children into bed before the meal so that none of them had to witness the savage bickering. Now she intervened. ‘Ava, the hotel’s not worth anything at the moment,’ she said, keeping her voice low but firm. ‘We’re in a slump. No one would buy it, and even if they did we wouldn’t get fair money for it. The best thing we can do is hang on here and make what living we can from it. You could do that too – live here, I mean. Couldn’t she, Mam?’ She gave Teresa a pleading look.
Teresa struggled a moment and then said, ‘Aye, of course.’
Ava, face puce with indignation at being outmanoeuvred, answered, ‘Well, that’s a cheek! You giving me permission to live in me own home! By, you’re a bit high and mighty for a pitman’s daughter from Craston,’ she sneered, ‘and an evicted one at that. This is my house – grew up here. My father saved you from the workhouse and destitution, remember?’
Teresa tried to rise, shaking with fury. ‘And that’s where you would have ended up, you spoilt bitch, if I hadn’t come here and saved your father from drinking himself into bankruptcy and death! I ruined myself for you and Joseph – ruined my health and my reputation.’
‘Reputation?’ Ava scoffed.
‘Aye!’ Teresa cried, unusually flushed. ‘Submitting myself to that weak, selfish man all those years – for Millie’s sake and for yours. It kept his attention off both of you! I deserve this house, and it’s mine—!’ She broke off, panting.
‘Mam, don’t upset yourself,’ Millie warned, seeing her agitation.
Ava was furious. ‘Don’t you dare speak about my father like that! You were nothing but his whore,’ she hissed.
‘That’s enough!’ Grant growled.
But Teresa struggled to rise again, livid at the accusation. ‘How dare . . . !’ Then she gasped in pain and sat straight down again.
‘Mam?’ Millie cried, rushing round the table. She just caught her mother as she toppled sideways off her chair, making a horrible gurgling sound as she fought for breath. ‘Mam!’ Millie gasped. ‘Help her!’
At once Grant and Walter were out of their seats. ‘I’ll go for Dr Percy,’ Walter gabbled and escaped out of the back door. Grant helped Millie lay Teresa on the floor, and Millie fumbled with the buttons at the back of her mother’s dress to loosen the collar, while Ella rushed for a glass of water. Teresa’s eyes stared at them in fear as she struggled to breathe.
‘Don’t try to speak, Mam,’ Millie urged gently.
Suddenly Teresa went limp, as if she had fallen instantly asleep. Millie felt for a pulse but could not find one.
‘I think she’s stopped breathing!’ she screamed.
Grant pushed her aside and bent over the collapsed woman, listening for her breath. He placed his mouth over hers and tried to resuscitate her. Millie watched in horror as Teresa lay quite still and unresponsive. Grant straddled her and pressed down hard on her chest with t
hree short blows of his hands, then repeated the breathing, blowing more air into her mouth.
Millie was aware of Ava hovering over them, frightened. ‘I didn’t mean . . .’ she whispered, nearly in tears. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ No one answered her as they fought to save Teresa’s life.
‘Please, Mam,’ Millie sobbed. ‘Please don’t die!’
Grant looked grim. ‘I don’t know what else to do, Millie,’ he confessed.
‘Try again!’ she demanded.
Grant leaned forward, placing his hands over Teresa’s ribs once more. Suddenly there was an exhalation of air from her mouth and she began a ragged, shallow breathing. Grant and Millie exchanged astonished looks.
‘She’s breathing,’ Millie gasped. ‘You’ve saved her!’ Instinctively she threw her arms round Grant’s neck and hugged him, shaking with relief and joy. ‘Thank you,’ she wept, ‘thank you!’
Briefly she felt Grant’s burly arms go round her in a comforting gesture, and then he pulled away. Teresa’s eyes opened, looking confused.
‘It’s all right, Mam,’ Millie reassured her, stroking her forehead, ‘the doctor’s on his way.’
Ella bent down with the glass of water and they helped Teresa to sip. Glancing up, Millie caught the look on Ava’s face and felt a chill go through her. The fear of moments before had given way to loathing. Ava stood alone, separated from them by the bitterness and resentment that plagued her. Millie felt a mixture of pity and anger at Moody’s daughter for throwing their lives into turmoil once more. At that moment she doubted whether they could ever live together in harmony.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Dan who finally resolved the situation. To Millie’s surprise he came rushing home in concern when he heard of Teresa’s heart attack and near-death. Teresa was kept under observation by the doctor and administered to by Millie, who tried to calm her mother about the cost of medical bills. Ava hung about the hotel or walked aimlessly around the shops, while Grant went out each day in a fruitless search for work, often walking miles to follow a rumour of a day’s factory work or labouring. But Ava perked up at Dan’s arrival, and Millie watched with a mixture of admiration and unease at the way he won her round.
‘You mustn’t blame yourself for the heart attack,’ Dan reassured her. ‘It could have happened any time. Teresa’s not been well for a couple of years now. But you’re a canny lass, Ava, you could put her mind at rest by dropping this thing about the will. No more talk of selling the hotel, eh?’
Ava looked nonplussed, confused by Dan’s words. They seemed to both flatter her and somehow imply she had an obligation to Teresa because of her ill-health. She had not seen the heart attack as her fault anyway.
‘We can hardly stay under the same roof after what’s happened,’ she pouted. ‘And I’ve got nowhere else to go. Why can’t you look after your own family and find somewhere for them to live down in Yorkshire?’
Dan laughed, then spoke confidingly. ‘Because the old woman would drive me crackers, that’s why.’
Ava smirked and glanced at Millie, who was across the kitchen kneading dough and pretending not to listen.
‘But you’ve seen how poorly she is,’ Dan continued in a low voice, offering Ava a cigarette. ‘She’s in no state to move next door, let alone down to Yorkshire.’ He lit Ava’s cigarette for her. ‘Mrs Mercer’s bed-bound, she’s not going to be in your way if you stay. It’ll just be you and Millie, you’ll be like sisters again.’ Dan raised his voice. ‘Isn’t that right, Millie?’
Millie looked up, biting back the retort that they had never been like sisters. Only in the early days had they ever got on, in the days before Dan had come into her life. Instead she nodded.
Ava looked over, blowing smoke in her direction. ‘Well, as long as she keeps those boys under control,’ she said to Dan. ‘Your Robert is so noisy, and the baby cries half the night.’
Millie expected Dan to defend them, but he merely laughed. ‘She will. Millie’s good with the bairns.’
Millie could no longer contain her annoyance at the way they spoke of her as if she was not there. ‘As long as Ava’s prepared to do her bit around the hotel,’ she warned.
Ava carried on smoking as if she had not heard, and Dan stood up, winking at them both. ‘That’s grand,’ he said brightly. ‘I knew you’d come to an understanding.’ Then he sauntered out, leaving the women staring after him, Millie vexed that he had pandered to Ava’s vanity. The hotel belonged to Teresa now and there was nothing Ava could do about it. Grant could not support her, so Ava had no option but to co-exist with them.
So after that there was no more talk of anyone moving out or the hotel being sold, and the women came to an uneasy truce. As Millie could have predicted, she was left with the responsibility of the day-to-day running of the boarding house, as well as caring for her mother and the boys and trying to eke out their modest budget, while Ava did the shopping and attempted to bring custom into the hotel. She had a new self-assurance that went with her change of hairstyle, looks and speech. Millie had to admire the way she managed to persuade a choral group and a dance teacher to use the hotel on a weekly basis.
But Ava was basically lazy and avoided doing any of the menial work, so Millie was thankful to have young Sarah’s help. The girl no longer lived in, but came three mornings a week to clean, lay fires, change beds and poss the washing. Grant, when he was not tramping the countryside for work, could be cajoled into helping around the hotel, and Millie came to rely on him for odd joinery jobs such as mending chairs and replacing rotting window frames. Yet Millie sensed that he felt such work beneath him, a man who had once been a skilled face worker in the pit. He had grown moodier and more irritable than Millie remembered him, and she found his surliness as trying as Ava’s constant nagging and criticism. Despite his help, he took no real interest in the hotel. The only time she saw his face light up was when he was making something for the small boys or listening to their chatter.
Millie was baffled and irritated by his indifference, thinking that he should be more grateful for the roof over his head and the meals that appeared on the table when he returned from his wanderings each day. It was more than many had, she thought impatiently. But even if Grant had not been blacklisted from the pits, there were no jobs on offer. Walter was back on short time, and there were families whose breadwinners were heading for the cities in an attempt to find work. Others were subjected to the new means test, with relieving officers prying into their affairs and ordering them to sell possessions before notifying the employment exchange of what relief, if any, they should receive.
The queues outside the labour exchanges grew, and business in the town slumped. To Ava’s humiliation, Grant attempted to sign on the dole, but was declared ineligible because of his wife’s involvement in the hotel. Millie watched with mounting concern as he struggled to fill the idle hours, drifting around the streets of Ashborough in increasingly half-hearted attempts to find odd jobs. He had pawned all the books he had ever owned and no longer seemed to find enjoyment in reading. Robert followed him around like a thin shadow, but he appeared not to notice. It suddenly dawned on Millie that Grant was beginning to give up like her father had. It appalled her to think that he might buckle under the weight of unemployment and depression in the same way. Ava appeared to despise him just as Teresa had Ellis. They squabbled constantly, and the hotel became a place of slamming doors and frosty silences, reminding Millie painfully of her last days in Craston.
Yet she did not like to interfere; she had enough to cope with as it was. She made an attempt to open up the temperance tea room once more, selling Bovril and hot soup through the winter, tea and scones during the summer. Gradually it became a popular meeting place again and brought in a steady trickle of income. But Ava complained at the number of unemployed men who hung around the converted bar, sitting for hours in the warmth reading old newspapers and making one cup of tea last an afternoon.
‘It’s putting respectable folks off,
having these idle men filling up the place,’ she told Millie, ‘and they make the tea room smell.’ Millie was glad that Grant was not around to hear her; he was one of the few jobless men who did not stay around the hotel if he could help it.
‘They’re not doing any harm,’ Millie insisted, darning under the electric lamp in the kitchen. ‘And no one’s complaining. They’re not going to criticise their neighbours when they might be next to lose their jobs.’ She quietly resisted Ava’s demands that she put up a sign discouraging people from bringing in their own sandwiches, and kept quiet about the number of times she had let someone off without paying for a second cup of tea, or slipped a hungry child an extra biscuit. Her mother would have done the same, Millie thought, if she had been in charge.
But Teresa had taken to life in bed once again and showed no inclination to get up. Whenever Millie suggested she try and walk further than the commode or mind the children in the kitchen, she refused, complaining about pains in her chest or aching in her limbs. She was content to let Millie run things while she listened to the wireless set that Dan had bought her and knitted ill-fitting garments for the boys or Marjory out of unravelled jumpers and socks. Occasionally, on warm summer days, she would emerge to sit in the sunshine, peeling vegetables and sparring with Ava. But mostly she left Millie to cope alone.
There were times when Ava’s carping about the jobless in the tea room became too much and Millie would argue back about Ava’s squandering of their precious income. She was furious when she discovered a hidden pile of film magazines and sixpenny romances in Ava’s room.
‘Where did you get the money for these?’ Millie demanded.
‘You’ve no right to go snooping around in my bedroom!’ Ava was equally outraged.
‘No one else cleans it, do they?’ Millie pointed out, throwing the offending magazines down at Ava’s feet. ‘We can’t afford these! I’m working me fingers to the bone trying to make ends meet, and what do you do? Spend a week’s housekeeping on nonsense like this.’
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 71
