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

  Pearl had bought Colin one too, which he put on self-consciously. It was too small for his square head and perched like a hat on his thick red hair. Jo burst out laughing.

  ‘Well, you can’t talk!’ she exclaimed.

  As Colin whipped it off, Pearl said hastily, I’ll take it back and change it.’

  ‘No,’ Colin assured her, not wanting to sound ungrateful. ‘I’ll take it to school and swap it. It’s great.’

  They bolted their tea, anxious to be outside again. Jack made them wrap up in scarves and balaclavas and gloves, as well as their gabardines. But once they escaped into the lane, Jo whipped off her hat and stuffed it in a pocket so she could show off her plastic wig. She was delighted when Mrs Leishman failed to recognise her.

  Soon the bonfire was lit and their faces glowed hot in the heat from the blaze, while their toes went numb with cold. Jo did not care, for she was brimming over with excitement as the sky lit up with multicoloured fireworks and Catherine wheels spun crazily on yard posts. She ran around with the others, brandishing sparklers like swords, ignoring her father’s warnings to be careful. Matty Duggan came into the street waving a bottle of beer in either hand and called the men in for a drink. Pearl persuaded Jack to go in for one. ‘Colin will keep an eye on our Jo for a few minutes while we go into the Duggans’, won’t you?’ she asked the boy. ‘I want a chat with Norma.’

  When the fireworks ran out, they drifted into the surrounding lanes to criticise other bonfires and set off bangers outside the big houses near the Green. Mark shinned up one high garden wall at the back of a large villa belonging to a bank manager called Bewick. ‘Dare you to follow!’ he hissed and dropped out of sight. It was a long garden with an orchard from which Mark and Colin often stole apples. Grumpy Bewick, as they called him, had threatened them with the police if he ever caught them.

  Colin turned to Jo, saying, ‘Wait here and don’t wander off.’ He swung himself up on the overhanging tree.

  ‘But I want to come!’ Jo protested as he disappeared over the high brick wall. She could hear them rustling about in the undergrowth on the other side, laughing under their breath. Her heart began to hammer at the risk they were taking. Jo got a toe-hold in the wall and began to heave herself up.

  She had just pulled herself into the tree when she heard noisy footsteps echoing down the pavement and a girl’s throaty laughter. Jo froze on her perch as a couple stopped under the tree in the dark shadow of the wall. They were talking in whispers, sharing a cigarette. With her ears muffled by her Beatles wig, she could not catch what they were saying, but there was something intimate about the way they laughed together. Jo held her breath, not daring to make a move.

  In the dark it was impossible to identify them, then one of them flicked the cigarette into the gutter and the whispering stopped. For a moment, Jo wondered what they were doing, until she heard a sucking noise like someone eating an orange. She peered down and saw the two heads welded together and arms fumbling as if someone had put itching powder down their clothes.

  They’re snogging! Jo thought in horror. She had seen couples doing it in the park if the keeper wasn’t in view, but she had always looked quickly away in distaste. Part of her wished she was safely on the other side of the wall with the lads, but part of her kept watching in fascination. The boy’s arm seemed to be stuck inside the girl’s jacket. Maybe he’s keeping his hand warm, Jo puzzled. They were both making soft sighing noises as if they were slightly out of breath.

  Just when she was wondering how long the snogging could go on, there was a cry from Colin on the other side of the wall. ‘He’s coming out!’

  ‘When I chuck it, run for the tree!’ It was Mark’s command. A moment later there was an ear-splitting bang and a frantic scrabbling and giggling among the bushes. The girl snogger cried out, ‘What’s going on?’

  The boy snogger swore and pulled her away from the wall. ‘Haway, we’ll find somewhere in the park,’ he said, his voice deep and slightly breathless.

  As they stepped out of the deep shadows, Jo smothered a gasp to see who it was. She recognised Gordon’s broad denimed shoulders and his collar-length hair. He had his arms firmly clamped around the full figure of Barbara Thornton, who worked at the laundry and was at least two years older than him. Jo’s heart began to hammer even harder at the thought of having witnessed such an intimate moment in Gordon Duggan’s life. It made her feel quite peculiar, a touch excited.

  Then all hell broke loose behind her as Mark and Colin came crashing through the bushes beyond the wall, pursued by angry shouts down the garden.

  ‘I’ll wring your necks, you little buggers!’ a man hollered, and a rotten apple flew past Jo’s head. A second one caught Colin on the shoulder as he flung himself at the wall.

  Jo tumbled out of the tree almost on top of Gordon, skinning her knees. ‘What the bloody hell…?’ Gordon said, astonished. Jo tried not to cry out with the pain.

  ‘Eeh, that lad’s been spying on us!’ Barbara cried indignantly.

  Gordon pulled Jo roughly to her feet, peering hard. ‘It’s not a lad − it’s Joanne Elliot.’ He stared at her. ‘What’s that plastic thing on your head?’

  ‘It’s me new Beatles wig, of course,’ Jo answered, going red in the face.

  Suddenly Gordon laughed. ‘Looks more like a crash helmet than a wig!’ And then Barbara was laughing at her too.

  Jo felt tears of humiliation sting her eyes, but her words of protest never came as Colin scrambled out of the tree above. From over the wall they could hear Grumpy bawling that he was going for the police. ‘By God, I’ll get you this time!’ A moment later Mark appeared in the tree above, laughing helplessly.

  Gordon cursed him. ‘I might’ve known you’d be behind this.’

  Barbara started to pull him away. ‘Come on, Gordon, let’s gan before there’s trouble.’ They were already moving off down the street when another apple came whistling over the wall and hit Mark on the cheek. He leapt, slightly off balance, and landed awkwardly on the pavement.

  ‘Agh-ya!’ he cried, clutching his ankle.

  ‘Run!’ Colin ordered, pushing Jo in front of him.

  She resisted. ‘Are you all right, Mark?’ she demanded.

  Mark tried to stand up but his face creased in pain. ‘I’ve twisted me ankle,’ he gasped.

  Jo rushed to his side as Colin called up the street, ‘Gordon, wait on! Mark’s hurt himself.’

  There was a rattling of bolts on the other side of the garden gate. Grumpy was still in pursuit.

  Gordon turned round and shouted, ‘Serves the little bugger right.’ Then he carried on, disappearing into the dark with Barbara.

  ‘Get up!’ Jo cried. ‘We’ll help you.’

  Colin gripped Mark’s other arm. ‘Hang on to us and start hopping.’

  With groans from Mark and encouragement from Colin and Jo, the threesome began to hobble away as quickly as they could. But they had hardly got across the street when the garden door burst open and out pounced Mr Bewick.

  ‘Stop where you are!’ he ordered, lunging forward and seizing Colin and Mark by their coats. ‘Now which little beggar threw that firework into my garden?’

  ‘Ah-ya! I did,’ Mark admitted at once.

  ‘We both did,’ Colin said.

  ‘Your parents are going to hear about this!’ Grumpy barked. ‘Where do you live?’

  Jo began to feel sick. Nobody answered. ‘Do you want the police involved?’ he threatened.

  ‘Jericho Street,’ Colin mumbled.

  Grumpy grunted. ‘Might’ve known. Well, you’re going to take me there, so start walking!’ he ordered.

  They trailed ahead, a subdued trio, with Mark limping in pain and their captor prodding them in the back to be quick. As they approached the Duggans’ house, Mark began to panic.

  ‘We could come and do jobs for you after school, mister,’ he offered. ‘Tidy up your garden.’

  ‘Do you think I’d let your sort loose in my garden?’ he ans
wered with disdain.

  ‘Wash your car, then?’ Mark suggested. ‘Only please don’t tell me dad.’

  Grumpy gave a grim smile of triumph. ‘You should have thought about that before. Now tell me where you live.’

  His mother came to the door, looking flushed and slightly tipsy. She gawped in surprise at the solemn children and the irate bank manager, who was in full flow at their bad behaviour. As Norma fled to get her husband, Pearl suddenly appeared.

  ‘What are you doing here? Your father’s just gone home expecting you to be there,’ she exclaimed.

  Jo began to gabble. ‘It was just for a laugh, but we’re really sorry, and Mark’s hurt his ankle…’

  Pearl spoke quickly. ‘I’m sure the children really are sorry for what they’ve done.’ She smiled apologetically at Mr Bewick. ‘And I promise you, they’ll do nothing like this again.’ She gave them a warning look. ‘I’ll take these two home now to their dad. He’ll be wondering where they are.’

  The bank manager seemed slightly mollified. ‘Very well, as long as this is the last of it.’ He turned to go.

  Just then Matty barged past Pearl, his drunken face puce with anger.

  ‘What’s the little runt been up to now?’ he bellowed. And before Jo’s appalled eyes he seized Mark viciously by the hair. Jo could see the terror in her friend’s eyes. ‘Trespassing and thieving, were you? Showing me up again!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ Mark squealed. But Matty slapped the side of his head so hard it sent him staggering.

  ‘You will be by the time I’m finished with you!’ And he kicked his son, making him yell with pain.

  The bank manager looked startled at the violence. ‘I don’t think that’s necessary−’

  ‘You bugger off!’ Matty roared.

  Norma stepped forward and quickly ushered Jo and Colin out of the door, along with Mr Bewick. ‘Best if you go now,’ she said to Pearl. Jo thought she looked frightened too and did not want them to see any more.

  ‘I’ll come back, Norma,’ Pearl offered in alarm. Matty was swearing at Mark to get upstairs and the boy was hobbling as fast as he could to escape.

  ‘No you won’t,’ Matty growled, turning his drunken abuse on her. ‘You stop interfering and get back to your fancy man little Jackie Elliot,’ he sneered. ‘Turned him into a right doormat; can’t even drink like a man anymore.’

  ‘Don’t talk about Jack like that, and in front of his bairns,’ Pearl answered indignantly. ‘At least he can take his drink!’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Matty leered at her, threateningly.

  Norma tried to calm him. ‘She means nothing, Matty.’ She gave Pearl a pleading look. ‘Please go,’ she whispered.

  But Matty pushed her aside and swore foully at Pearl. ‘Get out of my house! And take Jack’s filthy brats with you an’ all. I don’t want to see any of you round here again, do you hear?’

  Pearl put a protective arm around Colin and Jo. ‘Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want them anywhere near a foul-mouthed drunk like you!’ She steered them quickly away, just before the door slammed on them.

  Jo was shaking. ‘But what about Mark?’ she asked in fear. ‘He’s got a twisted ankle.’

  ‘His mam’ll see to him,’ Pearl snapped. Then, seeing Jo’s anxious face, added, ‘I’ll check on him tomorrow when things have calmed down.’ She sighed. ‘If you hadn’t been where you shouldn’t, none of this would have happened.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Mr Bewick said from the shadows. Jo had forgotten he was still there. ‘I really think you should keep those children of yours away from such people. Like father, like son, they say.’

  Pearl bristled. ‘Mark’s not a bad lad, just high-spirited. But I’m sorry for the trouble that’s been caused tonight. Colin and Jo will come round tomorrow and clear up any mess they’ve made in your garden.’

  ‘Well, that’s not necessary…’ Mr Bewick blustered.

  ‘No, I insist.’ Pearl was firm. ‘And so will their father, when he hears of this.’

  They parted quickly and Pearl marched the children in silence down the street to number eleven. Jack seemed so relieved to see them home safely that they did not receive the scolding they’d expected, and they hurried up to bed without a word. Lying in the dark, thinking about Mark, Jo heard Colin whisper, ‘Are you still awake?’

  ‘Aye,’ she whispered back. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what might be happening to Mark.’

  ‘Me too,’ Colin admitted. ‘I’ve seen Matty give him a thumping before. He says terrible things to him an’ all.’

  ‘What sort of things?’ Jo asked in confusion. ‘And why?’

  Colin sat up in bed. ‘It’s to do with his mam. If I tell you, promise you won’t tell anybody? Not even Mark that I’ve told you.’

  ‘Promise,’ Jo answered, leaning closer to hear.

  ***

  Mark lay huddled under his bed, still fully clothed, curled up as small as he could. He had rolled under there to escape the kicking his father was giving him, until Matty had tired of hurling abuse at him and had staggered off to find his mother. His heart still hammered and his body ached all over. He could not stop shivering, yet he dared not come out. His mind was branded with horrible images of what had just happened.

  Soon after the row on the doorstep, the last of the neighbours had swiftly departed and he and his mother had been left to bear the brunt of his father’s temper. They were both to blame for the party ending too soon. The abuse had started in the usual way, with Mark being called worse than useless and constantly compared with Gordon.

  ‘At least Gordon takes after me,’ Matty had boasted. ‘He’s got my brains and brawn. That lad’s going to make something of himself; he’ll get a good job at the yards like I did.’

  His mother had made the mistake of answering back. ‘As long as he stays off the drink, you mean.’

  ‘What did you say, woman?’ Matty had shouted.

  ‘Well, when’s the last time you put in a full week’s work?’ she demanded. ‘It’s a good job I’m working. Cleaning offices might not be much, but we need it.’

  Matty lunged at her and struck her across the mouth. ‘Don’t you speak to me like that!’ Mark instinctively shrank back as his mother clasped her mouth in pain and tried to dodge her husband. But Matty pursued her into the bedroom. ‘And we all know what you do in those offices after hours, don’t we? Screw the bosses, don’t you?’

  Norma groaned in denial and shook her head. He had her pinned against the bulky wardrobe. ‘Slut!’ he shouted. ‘Just like you’ve always been.’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ she whimpered.

  ‘You like coloured men best, don’t you? That’s how we’ve got a little darkie bastard in the family. Whore!’ He seized her face in a vice-like grip.

  ‘No, I never!’ Norma wailed. ‘He’s your bairn, no one else’s. I’ve told you that a hundred times.’

  But Matty seemed to thrill at the power he now had over his cowering wife. He smacked her again. ‘You’d do it anywhere, wouldn’t you? On the floor, eh, is that where you do it?’

  ‘No!’ she screamed as he began to hit her with both fists, pummelling her to the ground. ‘Please, Matty…!’

  Mark watched in horror as his mother tried to protect herself with her thin arms, her pink crocheted dress riding up over her thighs. Matty tore at her tights. Mark wanted to run from the room like he usually did if there was a fight, hoping that Gordon would intervene. But Gordon was somewhere in the park with Barbara Thornton and he was the only one who could help his mother.

  His heart pounding in fear, Mark croaked, ‘Leave her alone!’

  He leapt at his father and tried to pull him away. But he had none of the strength in his slim shoulders that Matty had, and all he could do was cling on to his father’s broad back. Matty appeared not to notice until Mark sank his teeth into his shoulder.

  ‘Agh, you little bastard!’ Matty turned in shock and sent Mark flying. But it had the effect of diverti
ng his father’s drunken wrath on to him. Matty went after Mark, kicking him where he sprawled on the floor. Mark was too winded to scream as he tried to roll out of the way. ‘You’re a disgrace,’ his father shouted. ‘You’ve made a laughing stock of me round here! Just look at you – everyone can tell you’re no son of mine. You’ve a whore for a mother!’

  Sobbing, Mark managed to scramble out of the room and dive into his own bedroom. Behind him, he could hear his mother weeping and begging Matty to stop. Crawling under the bed he shared with Gordon, Mark knew he was out of range of his father’s blows. For a few minutes, Matty bawled at him to come out, but he was too drunk to reach him. Eventually he gave up and staggered out of the room. Mark lay, shaking and crying, listening to his mother’s protests. He covered his ears, wanting to block out the sound of her pain and his father’s violence.

  Finally the noises died down, but still he lay in his dark hiding place, as if paralysed. He thought he heard his mother quietly weeping and then a low rhythmic droning that was his father snoring. Just as he was considering whether it was safe to come out, he heard a banging noise downstairs. Someone was knocking on the back door, just below his window.

  With a huge effort, he crawled from under the bed and on to all fours. The knocking came again. He pulled himself up to the window and peered out, just in time to see Pearl retreating across the backyard, believing them to be all peacefully asleep. Mark tapped at the window, wanting to attract her attention but fearful of waking his father. He did not have the strength to run down the stairs and stop her. Then he thought of the brutal scene in his parents’ bedroom and the cruel words, and his paralysing fear turned to deep anger. Someone must know what his father had done.

  Just as she reached the lane, Pearl glanced back. She did not see him at first as she peered at the house. Then she caught sight of his frantic waving. He mouthed that the door was unlocked and beckoned her in. By the time Pearl had reached the stairs, he had limped on to the landing.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered.

  ‘Aye,’ Mark answered, his body throbbing with bruises. ‘But I’m worried about Mam.’ He saw Pearl hesitate. ‘Me dad’s asleep now,’ he assured her. Just as Pearl was about to mount the stairs, the front door opened quietly.