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 revival of Albert’s spirits after their talk that night helped Millie through the anxiety of seeing him off to the pit each day, yet she never completely relaxed until she heard him coming stamping through the back door at the end of his shift. With Grant’s help, he trained harder than ever, consumed by his determination to gain a second chance with Newcastle. It was just before the end of the season that a postcard came from St James’s Park inviting Albert to play in another trial. He went sprinting round to Grant’s house to share the news.

  On the day of the trial, Millie cooked him a massive breakfast, using up her ration of eggs and bacon to do so. Grant and Jack went with him and Millie spent a tense day waiting for their return, unable to settle to her work.

  ‘I was wrong being so against him playing,’ she confessed to Ella as they changed the bed sheets in a lodger’s room. ‘I was still that bitter at Dan, I couldn’t see how much it meant to Albert. I thought I was protecting the lad, but all I was doing was standing in his way.’

  Ella stopped and looked at her. ‘And you’re not so bitter now?’ she asked.

  Millie plumped a pillow as she thought. ‘No, I don’t think I am. More sad than angry. Sad that Dan couldn’t tell me the truth all those years ago – and for the heartaches we’ve had along the way. But I’ve got the boys to comfort me; Dan – if he’s still alive – is left with no family to grow old with.’

  They stood for a moment in silence, then Ella said quietly, ‘Remember how happy we were when we both started courting the Nixon lads? Going to Wembley . . . ! Who would’ve thought we’d have lost them like we have?’

  Millie saw the tears slip down Ella’s cheeks and went to her at once, putting comforting arms around her friend.

  ‘It’s as well you cannot see into the future, else you’d end up too frightened to do anything. And they were good times at the beginning, weren’t they?’ Millie encouraged. ‘You wouldn’t have swapped your happy years with Walter even if you’d known how it would end, would you?’

  ‘No,’ Ella sniffed, ‘not for anything.’

  Soon afterwards Millie was called to the telephone in the station office next door to find Grant on the line. ‘The lad’s done it, Millie,’ he shouted into the receiver excitedly. ‘He’s got a game for the reserves next week!’

  Millie shrieked with pleasure and rushed around telling everyone she could think of, so that by the time Albert returned, all the neighbours were out to congratulate him.

  ‘You would think I’d played in the Cup Final or som’at,’ he said, embarrassed but delighted at the fuss being made.

  ‘And I’m going to see you play,’ Millie announced. ‘Ella will run things here for the day.’

  Albert and Grant gawped at her. ‘By!’ Grant chuckled. ‘This must be the biggest conversion since St Paul’s!’

  Millie swiped at him playfully. ‘Don’t be so cheeky! I’m not going to miss one of the proudest days of my life.’

  Albert played twice for the Newcastle reserves before the end of the season, and Millie went to watch him both times, joining the enthusiastic crowds and making a day out of it with Jack, Grant and Charity, who proved the most vocal supporter of them all. The summer came, and with it the offer of a full-time contract with the club. Albert and his family were ecstatic. Millie made him go straight to the pit management and hand in his notice.

  ‘I’ll sleep easier in me bed to think you won’t have to go down there again,’ she told him.

  That summer was one of optimism after the tragedy in January and the hardships of the past years. Millie would often pack up a picnic and chase the young ones out, telling them to go to the seaside or along the river with their friends. Charity finished school and to Millie’s delight secured a place at teacher-training college, having set her heart on becoming a PE instructor. Millie noticed how she increasingly spent time in Albert’s company and was secretly pleased. Millie revelled in the activity around the hotel all that summer as her children and their friends congregated in her new cafe. Ella had helped her decorate the dingy, down-at-heel dining room which had not seen a fresh coat of paint since the early years of the war. They had run up new curtains of bright-red gingham check and invested in a freezer chest to sell ice-cream. A telephone was installed in the hall at Teresa’s insistence, so that Robert could ring home from far-away places and for which he helped pay.

  ‘Maybe with petrol being de-rationed we’ll get more people stopping on days out to the coast,’ Millie said brightly to Ella. ‘I’ll get Grant to make a sign to put outside saying we’re selling ice-cream.’

  ‘Nothing ever gets you down for long, does it, Millie?’ Ella smiled.

  ‘Well, that’s som’at we always had in common,’ Millie grinned. She knew how much her friend grieved for the quiet, genial Walter, but she also noticed how frequently Grant called at the hotel for a friendly word and to see if there was anything he could do for Ella. When Marjory came home for weekends, Millie would send the three of them off on the bus to the coast or out to the pictures to a new Gary Grant film. She often caught herself wondering if the friendship between Grant and Ella might grow into something more.

  Teresa, who had spent much of the winter confined to bed with arthritis, revived with the warmer weather and a brief spell of leave that brought Robert home from sea. Millie was gladdened to see her mother doting so fondly on her son, her enjoyment only marred by Robert’s announcing that his ship was to sail for the Far East to help the Americans in Korea.

  ‘Don’t fret over him, Mam,’ Millie said gently. ‘Look how happy he is these days. To him it’s all just a great adventure; don’t spoil his leave with worrying.’

  Teresa gave her a wry look. ‘And that from the lass who used to be the world’s worst worrier!’

  ‘Aye, well, not any more,’ Millie assured her. ‘The future can’t frighten you if you just live for each day.’

  ***

  Come the autumn, Charity was seen off at the station for her new college and Albert travelled in each week to play for Newcastle reserves. Millie could hardly believe she had a son who had done so well and was so feted around the town. But he was far more modest than Dan and did not lord it around Ashborough as his father would have done. Neither did he drink too much, and he was bashful with girls. Only when Charity came home did he go out to dances or the cinema. The rest of the time he kept himself fit with long runs around the countryside, or spent time working in Grant’s garden.

  In early October he was picked to play for the first team away against Aston Villa, and Millie could not help recalling that great day at Wembley when she had watched Newcastle beat the Midlands club. How ironic that Albert should play his first-team debut against them, and how proud Dan would have been of him, she thought with a pang. To Albert’s disappointment they lost, three-nil, but he was full of the experience of playing in front of a crowd of over forty thousand and alongside men like big Frank Brennan and ‘Bobby Dazzler’ Mitchell. Just before Christmas, he was given another game on the first team in place of the injured McMichael, home against Stoke City. All the family, apart from the frail Teresa, went to watch, and Millie marvelled to see her own son playing on the famous Gallowgate pitch. To everyone’s delight, Newcastle won three-one and afterwards they went for a celebratory tea in the city, goggling at the displays in the shops and the Christmas decorations. Millie and Ella gazed and gasped over displays of fashionable coats and winter dresses and felt dowdy in their old utility outfits. But it did not spoil their enjoyment of the day, and Jack must have listened to their envious talk because he and Albert presented both women with colourful silk headscarves for Christmas.

  ‘You can’t afford this, you’re still at school!’ Millie gasped.

  ‘No, but our Albert can,’ grunted Jack, pleased at his mother’s surprised delight. She smiled in affection at her dark-haired son. He was a self-contained thinker, content to read or do crosswords when he was not posing questions about the world. With Grant he would argue politi
cs and economics and football, but always with a slight detachment, never losing his temper as his uncle did, to Millie’s amusement and Grant’s annoyance. Occasionally she would chase Jack outside for fresh air and exercise, but usually he would slope back in and be found squatting on his haunches hiding behind a newspaper or reading a library book.

  That Christmas was quieter than for years. They all mourned Walter and tried their best to comfort Ella through the difficult time. Robert was at sea and Patience and Charity had been pressured to spend Christmas with their father and Ava, who was still badgering Grant for a divorce. Millie noticed with concern that Albert seemed unusually withdrawn and preoccupied, but he brushed off her questions and she put down his subdued mood to dwelling on the awful pit accident. The young women returned on Boxing Day, earlier than expected, complaining they had been left to make the Christmas dinner while their father and Ava went out drinking.

  ‘And it’s like living in a fog,’ Charity said disdainfully, ‘both of them puffing away on cigarettes all day long. I told them it would give them lung cancer, and they said they’d never heard anything so daft, but it’s true. There’s been a study in America.’

  Patience, amused by her sister’s censoriousness, added, ‘Ava just said she smoked Craven A to keep her throat healthy. You can imagine what Charity said to that!’

  ‘So not a very happy visit then?’ Millie guessed.

  Charity slid a look at Albert, whose mood had suddenly brightened at her return. ‘I’m just thankful to be home again.’

  ***

  Nineteen fifty-one came, and with it the painful anniversary of Walter’s death. Millie went with Ella to put flowers on his grave and spent the day with her friend. ‘I ought to think about the future more,’ Ella murmured, contemplating her husband’s headstone sadly.

  ‘Not today,’ Millie answered gently. ‘And you mustn’t think of moving out of the hotel. Not unless you want to,’ she added, a little less sure. She suddenly wondered whether Ella had plans that she had kept secret and was trying to tell her. Maybe she had hopes of marriage to Grant; they seemed to have become closer this past year, Millie thought.

  Ella shook her head. ‘You’ve been that good to me, Millie, I couldn’t have coped this last year without you. But I can’t just stay at the hotel forever.’

  Millie slipped her arm through Ella’s. ‘You stay as long as you need to. It’s grand having you there and you’ve been such a help to me too.’

  Ella wiped her tears with a large man’s handkerchief, one of Walter’s. ‘By, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for,’ she whispered and they hugged each other in sympathy.

  As winter turned to spring, Millie noticed Ella’s spirits revive, while her own pride in Albert soared. He played three more games for the first team at left back, including the fourth-round match against Bolton Wanderers in the FA Cup. Millie went along to see him, overawed by the vast crowd of over sixty-seven thousand. She was squashed in beside Jack, Charity and Grant, her arms pinned to her side, at the mercy of the swaying, heaving mass. The only time she saw the ball was when it soared into the air, and at one point she was swivelled round and carried off her feet. She only knew what was going on by what was reported around her, but the tension was contagious. At half-time the Wanderers were leading two-one, but the fanatical support of the massive crowd seemed to lift the team and Millie screamed herself hoarse when the heroic Jackie Milburn scored twice to bring the home side to victory.

  ‘Well, he comes from round our way,’ Millie said proudly afterwards to a thrilled and exhausted Albert, while she shook with relief that they had all survived the bruising crush on the terraces.

  ‘I’ll never forget the noise of the crowd,’ he told his mother with shining eyes. ‘It gave us such a lift – like a roll of drums.’

  Excitement mounted as Newcastle won the next two rounds. Then there was a tense semi-final against Wolves that resulted in a replay. When Newcastle won it, the town was at fever pitch at the prospect of a Wembley Cup Final against Blackpool. To Albert’s frustration, he was kept out of the first team by the more experienced Bobby Corbett.

  ‘You’re just young,’ Grant encouraged, ‘and there’ll be plenty more chances. It just shows how much talent there is to choose from at Newcastle at the moment.’

  Millie, seeing how disappointed her son was, declared they should go to Wembley anyway, as there was always a chance of Albert replacing an injured player nearer the time. But he remained so strangely down in mood and edgy that Millie wondered if there was something else worrying him. He avoided her questioning so she persisted in making plans for the family to travel down to London for the event at the end of April. It was just then that Albert was injured in a reserves match. He was carried off the pitch and Millie got a call that he would be put on a train if someone could meet him at the other end. The muscles in his knee were torn and he would have to rest up for several weeks, she was told.

  As Albert lay nursing his bandaged knee in agony, sunk in despondency at the thought that he no longer had a chance of going to Wembley, one of the trainers, Bob, came in to console him.

  ‘Listen, lad, you’re young and keen,’ he said. ‘This seems like the end of the world now, but there’ll be other moments of glory. Newcastle’s standing at the dawn of a new golden era – I can feel it. With players like Milburn and Cowell and Crowe and young lads like you coming on, it’ll be like the old days again, when Stan Seymour and Hughie Gallagher were playing; you’ll see.’

  Albert fiercely blinked away the tears that threatened to spill down his sweaty face. At that moment he could not share the older man’s enthusiasm. He thought about how disappointed his family would be, how they had all planned to travel to London. He had so wanted to make them proud of him; his mother, Uncle Grant who had encouraged him since boyhood, Charity whom he loved but could not bring himself to tell.

  ‘Here’s a funny thing,’ the trainer said, helping to gather up Albert’s kit. ‘There was that man hanging around outside asking for you again.’

  ‘What man?’ Albert said, feeling himself tense despite his grogginess from the pain.

  ‘That old tramp that hangs around, half drunk he was. Got a bit aggressive when he was told to push off.’ Bob laughed. ‘He still insists he’s related! So it shows you’re already famous when complete strangers claim you as their own – even if they are down-and-outs. He was probably just after a bob or two for his next drink.’

  He turned to go, but Albert felt thumped in the stomach. ‘What did he look like?’ he asked, beginning to shake. This was the third time this had happened. Just before Christmas someone had spotted the tramp, and again more recently after the semi-final. Each time he had asked for Albert.

  Bob shrugged. ‘Couldn’t really see under all that beard. And he was wearing a dirty old fedora – the type that used to be fashionable between the wars.’ He caught the young man’s shocked look. ‘Haway, don’t worry about it. We weren’t going to let him in.’

  By the time Albert had made the uncomfortable journey home, he was too exhausted to think about the mystery man. He was probably just some drunk like Bob had said, he decided, and there had been no sign of him outside the ground when he had left. Why should he keep worrying over these strange incidents? As before, he decided to keep quiet. It was not worth upsetting his mother with the tale, and he allowed himself to be put to bed to sleep off his pain and disappointment. By the next day he had dismissed the matter as unimportant, for all he could think of was the Cup Final that he was now missing. Then Charity came home for the weekend to see how he was and he forgot about everything else.

  On the day of the Cup Final, Teresa and Millie were thrilled by the sudden appearance of Robert, whose ship had docked on the Tyne for several days. Robert helped Millie and Ella decorate the café in black and white bunting and Grant came round with some bottles of beer for the afternoon. They all gathered around the wireless to hear commentary on the match and were soon caught up with the
excitement of it all.

  ***

  Marjory was hurrying across Gallowgate, already late for meeting a group of friends at the Haymarket, where they were planning to see the new Vivien Leigh film, A Street Car Named Desire. It was mid-afternoon and for once birds could be heard twittering above the hum of light traffic. The town was half deserted, with thousands having travelled to Wembley and many more at home listening to the match on the wireless. As she crossed the road, she was aware of a figure stumbling down from the direction of St James’s Park football ground. It was not unusual to see drunks congregate in this part of town to share bottles of gin or methylated spirits. But something about this man caught her nurse’s eye. He was pitching forward slowly, a choking sound rattling in his throat. He was having a heart attack, she was sure of it. Instinctively she rushed to help him, narrowly missed by a bus that honked at her furiously. The man collapsed at Marjory’s feet, a crumpled heap of old tweed coat and worn-out boots tied up with string. Her nostrils flaring at the waft of his stale smell, she turned him over and quickly loosened his scarf. To her surprise he was wearing a threadbare tie and a collar with studs. She wrested at them frantically to try and relieve the pressure on his throat. His eyes stared at her in fear out of a jaundiced face.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ she soothed. ‘I’m a nurse. I’ll get you help.’ She tore off her coat and put it under his head, then ran into the nearest shop, shouting for them to ring for an ambulance. She got back to find the man had stopped breathing. She felt for his pulse but there was none. Kneeling down on the pavement, she gave him artificial respiration and, locking her hands together, thumped on his heart to get it beating again. He regained consciousness with a sigh just as the ambulance arrived.

  Shaking with relief, she picked up her coat and the old man’s hat as he was lifted into the vehicle. Something in his terrified eyes made her decide to accompany him. She could not sit through a film now without worrying what had happened to him. Her friends would assume she had been delayed at work and would go in without her, she decided.