‘It’s not nonsense,’ Ava pouted, bending to retrieve her scattered belongings. ‘Life wouldn’t be worth living if I didn’t have the odd magazine to look at.’
‘Why can’t you go to the library like everyone else?’ Millie snapped.
Ava pulled a disdainful face. ‘I hate the library – it’s full of people who haven’t washed for a week. And the books are all grubby and used. I need my own. But you’ve no imagination; you wouldn’t begin to understand what a woman like me needs. I’ve travelled the world, I’ve seen things. You’re just a small-minded common pitman’s daughter and always will be, just like all the other village girls around here. I don’t know what Dan ever saw in you.’
Millie answered hotly, ‘He saw what he wanted – a lass who truly loved him.’
Ava gave her a withering look. ‘There’ve been plenty of them,’ she said waspishly.
Millie was outraged at the slur. ‘Maybe there were, but he chose me. And I’ve given him happiness, and bairns that he adores.’ She glared at Ava. ‘And it would be nice to treat the boys to some meat now and again instead of you wasting money on rubbish for yourself!’
But any mention of the children made Ava behave worse. She constantly complained about Albert’s messy eating and smelly nappies, or the way Robert bounded around after her, grabbing her second-hand American dresses with sticky hands. The more she shouted at the small boy, the more he sought out her company and gave her unwanted attention. Grant would intervene and try to distract the boy, but this just seemed to irritate Ava the more. He had endless patience for the boys, yet was short-tempered with her.
***
When Dan came home at the end of the season, the atmosphere improved. He dismissed Millie’s grumbling about Ava’s rows with herself and Grant, and her awkwardness over the running of the hotel.
‘She seems happy enough to me,’ he shrugged.
Millie eyed him suspiciously. ‘Aye, well it seems to have something to do with you being back. I don’t like the way you flirt with her,’ she blurted out.
Dan just laughed. ‘Come here, silly Millie,’ he said, mimicking her mother, and pulled her on to his knee. ‘Are you telling me you’re jealous of Ava?’
Millie flushed. ‘Should I be?’ she asked, remembering Ava’s insinuations about other women and feeling drab in her faded cotton dress and pinny. It seemed an age ago when she had strutted around Newcastle in fine new clothes with a figure like the women in Ava’s magazines. Now she was skin and bone, the bloom having gone from her face and the sheen from her dark curls. For the first time in her life her hair was dry and brittle, and she thought nostalgically back to the days when she had been able to afford to go to Laurie’s salon in Newcastle. But she had grown used to smaller portions of food in order to provide the boys with milk and eggs, going without so that they could stay healthy.
Dan squeezed her, seeming not to notice her thinness. ‘Course not,’ he grinned, and kissed her. ‘You’re the only one for me. And to prove it, I’ll take you dancing on Saturday night. A night out at the Egyptian, eh, like old times?’
Millie was reassured and ignored Ava’s resentful comments that she should not be spending money on dancing. She aired one of her old dresses to rid it of the smell of mothballs, and put on some lipstick. Dan paid for Walter and Ella to join them, and they had one of the best nights out Millie could remember in years.
That summer, despite the hardship, the town seemed buoyed up by Newcastle’s victory over Arsenal at Wembley.
‘The first time the FA Cup’s come back to Tyneside since 1924!’ Dan kept telling Millie. ‘Do you remember the grand time we had then?’ It lifted Millie’s spirits to see him so cheerful and to hear people talking happily about football rather than the lack of work. The back lanes were full of children playing the game until late in the evening, re-enacting the Wembley win. Wherever she went, there was a constant thud of balls against brick walls, shouts, and the occasional smash of glass followed by angry scolding and the sound of children running away.
They celebrated Albert’s first birthday with a party outside, stringing bunting across the yard and carrying out the kitchen table and chairs. Millie and Ella made potted meat sandwiches and a cake and invited in children from the surrounding terraces, while Albert sat in his high chair and banged his spoon in delight at the noisy tea party. Afterwards Dan organised games of Blind Man’s Buff and the Farmer’s in his Den, and gave out twists of barley sugar.
It was a happy summer, despite the worries over money, and Millie felt optimistic for the future. Dan was talking of a possible transfer to Teesside and a Second Division team, and she day-dreamed about him returning to Tyneside. He would never play for Newcastle now, she thought privately, but he might get a job in training or management one day. So often she had seen him coaching boys in the back streets, inspiring them with his passion and skills that she was sure he could have a role in the game for years to come. But she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing Dan still hankered after glory as a player.
For the first time in three years Millie felt real happiness again as she and Dan managed to escape the confines of the hotel for brief picnics or walks by the river, taking the boys with them. Albert was such a happy baby, with an engaging smile for everyone and an infectious chuckle. Dan doted on the boy, taking him everywhere with him and showing him off. Robert, who had been openly jealous and often lashed out at Albert, was beginning to find him more interesting. He would rock the pram too vigorously, but Albert would laugh out loud, thinking it a great game, and Robert would laugh back, feeling important. Gradually Millie noticed Robert’s aggression towards the baby wane. If he bothered with Albert at all it was to be protective and shout loudly at people who came near that the baby was his.
The only thing that saddened Millie was Dan’s refusal to visit Edith’s grave with her. He complained that she went there too often, while she was hurt by his ability to cut himself off from the past. She still grieved for her daughter deeply and there was an emptiness in her heart that she knew would never be filled by anyone else.
‘All I’m asking is for you to come with me, put a few flowers on,’ Millie urged.
‘No, I can’t,’ was Dan’s stiff reply. ‘It’s not healthy for you either. It doesn’t do to dwell, Millie. Maybe it’s time you moved down to Yorkshire with the bairns, got away from Ashborough,’ he said, fixing her with a hard look.
But Millie shook her head, swallowing her disappointment. ‘You know I can’t do that while Mam is so ill.’
Dan snorted. ‘That woman will outlive us all.’ So Millie never mentioned going to Edith’s grave again; indeed, they never talked of Edith at all. And Dan dropped the subject of moving. The summer ended all too quickly, and soon he was away again, returning only for snatched days or when he was playing in the north-east, and they slipped back into their separate lives as before. As the months sped by, Dan’s visits grew less frequent and Millie had to contend with Ava’s snide remarks about what must be keeping him away.
‘Football, of course,’ Millie protested. ‘Dan’s always put his job first; it’s just something I accept.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Ava replied. ‘A man as good-looking as Dan – I’d want to be near him all the time to make sure he wasn’t up to something.’
‘He isn’t up to anything,’ Millie said sharply, thumping the rolling pin onto the pastry and sending up a cloud of flour.
‘How do you know?’ Ava persisted. ‘You’ve never even been to see where he lives. You’ve no idea what sort of life he leads. Not like me, with a husband who’s under my feet all day long with nothing better to do than make stick-men for your boys. Mr Misery!’ When Millie would not be provoked, Ava added, ‘It’s just that I’ve heard stories – from lads like Kenny Manners. But if you’re not worried . . .’
Millie stubbornly refused to talk about Dan with Ava, but it did not stop the doubts from creeping into her mind. She remembered how partial Dan had been on Tyneside to a night
out drinking and fending off attention from admiring women. She knew he probably drank too much for his own good, but it did not appear to be the problem it had been in Kilburn. He had never been suspended again or got into trouble with his club, so there was no need to worry. But what did he do when he was not playing? Millie was increasingly plagued by the thought. So the next time he returned to Ashborough, she suggested that she took a trip and came down to stay with him.
‘But how will they manage without you here?’ Dan asked.
‘They’ll just have to,’ Millie answered. ‘It’ll only be for a few days. Ella said she’d take Albert, and Grant will help with Robert.’
She noticed his reluctance, but then maybe he was surprised at the suggestion after she had spent so long making excuses not to go.
‘Maybe it’s time I did think about joining you,’ she continued. ‘We could look for a house when I’m down.’
‘But your Mam,’ Dan reminded her, looking askance, ‘you’ve always said you couldn’t leave her.’
‘And you said she’d outlive us all!’ Millie reminded him. ‘Why are you against the idea now when it was yours in the first place? Have you something to hide down in Yorkshire?’
‘Of course not,’ Dan said quickly. ‘It would be grand to have you visit.’
‘Good,’ said Millie, satisfied. ‘And if we move down, Mam could always come with us. It might do Ava and Grant good to have the responsibility of running the hotel for a while.’
Eventually, just before Easter, Millie got her way and travelled down on the train, leaving baby Albert with Ella and a reluctant Ava in charge of Robert and the hotel. It was the first time she had been parted from the boys and she missed them at once. Dan met her at the station, but Millie was dismayed at the sight of the poky room that was his home. Yet the landlady, Mrs Dawson, was friendly, and the atmosphere congenial in the cosy parlour that the lodgers shared. They sat around after tea, playing cards and drinking bottled beer like in a men’s club.
Dan showed Millie around the industrial town and she went to see him play, taking her mind off fretting how Albert and Robert were doing without her. But it soon became clear that they could not afford the rents in the more well-to-do part of town and Millie would not contemplate bringing up the boys in the dismal rooms to which Dan’s modest wage would stretch. They might just afford a couple of rooms in one of the more respectable streets, but nowhere that would provide space for her mother as well. Millie was reminded of the damp house under the viaduct in Kilburn and realised that she could not go back to such an existence again.
She enjoyed her few days and parted from Dan at the station with a pang of regret.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he told her with a kiss, ‘and I miss the bairns. But I’ll be back soon for the summer.’
Millie journeyed home realising that she must be content with the arrangement they had. It was not ideal spending so much time apart, but she could see that Dan was happy enough and she had grown accustomed to getting on with her busy life in Ashborough and looking forward to their summers together. Others might think them strange, but at least they were not squabbling all the time like Ava and Grant, or like her own parents had. Even Ella and Walter had arguments, usually over lack of money. So at least when she and Dan were together they were happy, and that was proof to Millie that Dan was faithful to her. There was no reason for him not to be and she had found no evidence to the contrary. She returned to Ashborough resolving not to listen to any more of Ava’s spiteful gossip, and once she was home she had no more time to dwell on it. Having rushed first to Ella’s to be reunited with Albert, joy at seeing him again was overtaken by dismay at finding the hotel in chaos.
The tea room was closed. Grant was burning fried bread in the kitchen, muttering that Sarah had stomped out because Ava had treated her ‘like muck’. There was a group of singers practising in the dining room complaining that it was too cold and no one had come to lay a fire, Ava was nowhere to be found and Teresa was banging her stick against the wall demanding that someone come and see to her.
‘No one’s fed me for two days!’ Teresa wailed. ‘Not properly. And no one’s emptied the potty. That madam Ava’s upset everyone. Don’t ever leave me with her again, Millie, not ever!’
Millie calmed her mother down and helped her to the commode, nearly retching at the stench that came from it.
‘I’ll give you a bath, Mam,’ Millie promised, seeing how distressed Teresa was at her unkempt state. ‘And make you something to eat. Where is that Ava anyway? And where’s Robert?’
‘I don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me,’ Teresa said querulously, ‘but it’ll be up to no good. She’s got the bairn with her – been spoiling him rotten since you went, probably to get at you.’
Forcing herself to dump a clinging Albert into his pen, Millie got Grant to fill a tub of water in Teresa’s bedroom, and changed the sheets on the bed while her mother was in the bath. After she had brought Teresa a boiled egg and toast on a tray, she stormed back into the kitchen and confronted a morose Grant, who was sitting in his vest, smoking and staring into the smouldering fire.
‘Where’s Ava?’ Millie demanded, hands on hips. ‘And where’s my Robert?’
Grant did not answer, merely giving the ghost of a shrug. Millie advanced on him, prodding him on the arm. ‘Don’t ignore me! I asked you where your wife was. Or are you so sunk in self-pity that you haven’t noticed she’s not here?’ He looked at her slowly. His silence maddened her. ‘Does nobody care what happens round here? Look at the state me mam’s been left in – I’ve seen animals tret better! And why’s the tea room closed? We’ll have them singers walking out and not coming back an’ all if no one sees to them. What’s ganin’ on? You at least used to care about the bairn. Speak to me, you useless man!’
‘She’s gone out,’ Grant said quietly.
‘Where?’ Millie demanded.
‘Taken Robert to the films,’ Grant answered. ‘Wednesday matinee.’
Millie exploded. ‘That’s just typical! She’s left this place looking like a pig sty, we’ve got customers to look after, and where is she? At the flicks spending the housekeeping! Am I the only one capable of running this place? Doesn’t anyone else care whether we’ve got a roof over our heads?’ She glared at him, not knowing why she was taking her anger out on Grant, just that he was there. The dull look in his eyes told her that he had given up caring. ‘Look at you, sitting in your vest like a navvy! You’re a disgrace. What sort of man are you to let yourself go like you have? Have you no pride? Your mam would have been ashamed to see you like this, all your learning and fine words gone to nothing!’
For a moment she saw him frown, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving his face empty of emotion. In her fury and frustration, Millie drew back her hand, shouting, ‘You can’t even provide for your own wife – I have to do that!’ and slapped him hard on the face.
Grant reeled slightly with shock and Millie gasped at what she had done. They stared at each other for a moment, then Millie stuttered, ‘I–I didn’t mean to . . .’
Grant stood up, his eyes haunted. She expected him to be offended, angry, but his subdued manner was much more frightening. ‘I’m sorry, Millie, we’ve all let you down,’ he said, his voice weary and full of regret. ‘I’m no use to you. I’m no use to anyone.’
With that he walked to the door, unhooked his jacket and left the house without another word. Millie stood shaking, the smell of burnt food making her queasy and Albert’s plaintive cries from the pen growing more insistent. She instantly regretted her brutal words to Grant, ashamed at the way she had taken out her anger at Ava on him. She wanted to run after him, but knew she could not leave the hotel unattended. She waited until the singing group had left, then, bundling Albert into his coat and pram, hurried out to look for him.
Millie searched the town, the park and the back lanes, her fear increasing as she did not find him. She went round to Ella’s, but he had not gone there, and no
one she asked had seen him. She doubted whether he had gone to the Institute reading room, as he had not been there in months. If he was to do something impulsive or foolish, Millie agonised, she would never, ever forgive herself for the cruel words she had flung at him.
On the point of giving up, she turned into the cemetery, not expecting to find him, but thinking she ought just to look. Skirting round the trees, she caught sight of a figure crouched against the far wall, capless and hunched into his jacket. With a jolt she realised it was Grant, and he was squatting next to Edith’s grave, near the Nixon family plot. She hesitated, then continued to push Albert in his pram towards the solitary figure.
Millie spoke straight away. ‘I know you want to be on your own, but I came to say sorry for the terrible things I said. And I was worried about you . . .’ She glanced down, flushing.
Grant rose slowly to his feet and looked at her with fierce eyes. She had done the wrong thing, Millie realised in panic; he was even more angry that she had hunted him down, compounded his humiliation.
‘You,’ Grant said in a hoarse voice. ‘You!’
Millie backed away. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.’
But he stepped forward, leaning across the pram, and held her. ‘Don’t go!’ She saw him struggling to compose himself. ‘It’s been so hard for you,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve been through that much, ever since you were a lass. And there you are trying to make ends meet and keep everyone going and what do you get? Not a word of thanks from anyone, just Ava’s tongue and Mrs Mercer complaining and me worse than useless.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Millie protested, colouring with embarrassment. But he shook his head. Millie noticed how he was staring at Edith’s gravestone, at the loving words and stark dates marking her short life, adorned with a protective angel.
‘I think about your little lass sometimes,’ Grant rasped, ‘and remember how she sat on me knee. And I think how if I can miss her when I only ever saw her the once, what must it be like for you, Millie, as her mam?’ Millie felt a sob catch in her throat at his words. His eyes were swimming with tears, but she could not look away. ‘Yet you keep on going, carrying all that suffering inside and never complaining. It makes me feel humble, Millie, it makes me realise how worthless I am . . .’
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 72
