by Mary Wood
Megan did as she was bid, still unable to speak. As she entered the scullery the warmth that hit her only added to her already reddened, glowing cheeks, as she looked into those wonderful blue eyes again. He stood just inside the doorway, drying himself on a piece of towelling. Now that he wasn’t huddled against the rain, she could see his size and the strength of his body. She noted the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face.
Cissy’s mam had her back to them, stirring something on the stove. ‘Right, lad, these are girls as I told you about. This is—’ She turned around. ‘Where’s our Cissy? What’s she playing at?’
Cissy came sheepishly through the door. Jack looked at her and smiled. Cissy coloured and lowered her lids as he said, ‘You’ve a lovely voice, lass.’
‘Lovely voice! Where’ve you heard her sing, Jack? Don’t tell me – she’s daft as a brush, that one. I bet she were singing whilst rain soaked her?’ Issy looked over at Cissy. ‘You’ve got nothing up top, lass. I wondered how it were as you were twice as wet as Megan. You’ll catch your death.’ She nodded in Jack’s direction. ‘This is Jack, as I told you about in me letter.’ Her head then bobbed in their direction. ‘And this here is Cissy, me daughter, and her friend, Megan, as I expect you’ve gathered by now, lad.’
Jack looked over at Megan and she held his eyes for a moment, wondering at the sound of her name on his lips. ‘Hello, Megan. I’m pleased to meet you.’
She could only nod her head at him. She noticed that his eyes lingered for a little longer on Cissy, and she heard Cissy say something to him about folk who stare, and Jack’s head went back in laughter. The sound made her heart dance further.
It was a relief when Issy said, ‘Well, that’s a good start. I think as you’ll all get on fine. Now, get yourselves sat down before me stew is spoiled. By, it’s good to have you home, me lassies. Tell us all your news.’
The relief Megan felt at the activity of sitting down and the serving of the meal, and the general banter going on between Cissy, Issy and Jack, was short-lived. It was replaced by a feeling of something akin to heartbreak, because in the time it took to eat their meal it became painfully obvious to her that, even though they had only just met, Cissy and Jack were meant for each other.
‘You’ve been quiet all day, Megan. Are you all right?’
They were getting ready for bed when Cissy asked her this, after going on and on about how wonderful Jack was, and did she think he was taken with her?
‘Aye, I’m just tired and worried about Hattie,’ she lied. It sounded like a good excuse, and Cissy accepted it.
It was in the dark and the silence of the night that the tears flowed. She didn’t stop them; she needed to empty her pain. She asked herself over and over how she was going to bear it if Cissy and Jack took up together – or married! She knew without doubt that moving away wouldn’t be something she could think of doing. How could she live without ever looking on Jack? Without being near to him? And what of Cissy and Issy? She couldn’t imagine her life without them in it. Her last thought before falling asleep was: There’s always Bert . . .
PART THREE
Choices Lost
1920
17
A Proposal of Sorts
The wind brushed Megan’s hair away from her face. It would look like a mop when they pulled into the station, but she didn’t care. After all these years, her stomach still knotted with joy as the Breckton sign came into view. She leant a little further out of the window, trying to see over Cissy’s head. She caught sight of Bert. He was on the platform as usual, leaning against the wall at the bottom of the steps. Cissy turned and winked at her as she spotted him, and then turned back and strained her neck even further to see if Jack was coming.
As the train came to a halt, Bert stepped forward, and at that moment Jack came through the gate. Megan looked from Bert to Jack. An ‘If only’ came into her head, but she’d have none of it and banished it away. She’d found a place deep within her where she kept her feelings for Jack buried, and only in the dead of night did she allow herself to visit them.
‘Oh, Megan, it’s good to be home! Mind, I’ll tell you sommat: by the looks of Bert, you’ve to make up your mind. You can’t keep him hanging on forever.’
She didn’t answer. She just smiled and hoped that the smile had reached her eyes.
‘I mean it, Megan. I think as you’ve kept him waiting long enough. Mam says as Lillian Cole’s been at sniffing around of late. And Pauline Sedgefield. Thou knows – her from the back row as—’
‘You’ve not been at saying owt of this afore!’
‘No, I know. Me mam told me not to. She’s not for you taking on Bert. She has a feeling in her about him, only she didn’t want to be seen as if she were trying to make trouble between you. She says as you’ll do as your heart tells you, and that’ll be that. Anyroad, it’s bound to happen that lassies who have no man will go after Bert, him being the only unattached male in the town.’
‘Aye, I s’pose so, and I’ll think on. Now, let’s get off the train, eh?’
Jack overtook Bert and ran towards them. Taking Cissy’s bag from her and putting it on the ground, he lifted her up and twirled her round. ‘Eeh, me lass, I’ve missed you!’ He hugged her to him. Their happiness nudged at the dull pain Megan felt in her heart. ‘Hello, Megan lass.’ Jack had put Cissy down, but still held her close to him.
Megan drew on her inner strength and answered him as if she hadn’t been affected by his and Cissy’s love for each other. ‘Hello, Jack, you look well. The sun’s been at scorching you as brown as a berry.’
‘Aye, it’s been grand. You lassies need to get out in it whilst you’re home.’ He bent down and picked up Cissy’s bag and then, looking at her, he motioned with his eyes in Bert’s direction. ‘We’ll take your bag, Megan, and we’ll see you later, eh? Oh, by the way, Issy said to tell you as it’s cold ham and tatties for supper, and it’ll be on around six-ish.’
Megan watched them greet Bert as they passed by him, but he only nodded. He’d stepped back to his original stance and was leaning against the wall as if he’d no care as to her being there. His dark expression didn’t change when she walked over to him.
‘Hello, Bert. Are you all right?’
‘Aye, but not as good as the big fellow by all accounts, but then it isn’t often as the sun gets down in the bowels of the earth.’
‘Don’t be daft! You look fine.’
‘It’s daft that I am, is it? Well, I must be, hanging around for the likes of you!’
He turned and walked away from her. For a moment she thought she would let him go, but fear gripped her. Did she really want to lose him? Oh, she didn’t know what she wanted.
‘Are you coming, then?’
‘Where to?’ She stood her ground. ‘And why should I go anywhere with you in that mood? Some welcome!’
Even though he was a few yards in front of her, she could sense his anger. Bert had a funny way about him. It was as if she was to do his bidding at all times, or she’d know about it. But then he had another side that was sort of . . . well, vulnerable – like he didn’t think anyone could like him. It was this side she was attracted to. Not that it was the only thing about him that drew her to him. No, there was something else, something she couldn’t fathom. She knew it wasn’t love. Well, not love like she felt for Jack.
After a moment, when it seemed they’d stare each other out, he shrugged his shoulders and grinned. ‘I thought, seeing as it’s a nice afternoon, we’d take a walk across to the beck, and if you’re up to it we could take in Mire Hill.’
Her relief came from her in a sigh, which she covered up with a smile. ‘Aye, I’d like that. I need to go home and change me skirt and shoes, but I’ll not be long. I’ll bring some of Issy’s ginger beer and meet you at the ginnal in about fifteen minutes, eh?’
His grin widened, and he motioned to her to catch him up. She did as he bid, but left him at the corner and hurried down the lane to Issy’
s.
It felt good to be held in Issy’s arms. To feel the comfort and safety of her love. To smell the familiar fresh, clean-linen and home-baking smell of her. It was so good that the tightness Megan could feel coiled up inside her nearly broke.
‘Eeh, lass, it’s grand to see you.’ Issy held Megan away from her. A knowing look came over her face. ‘Bert?’
‘Aye, some. I feel I’m not being fair to him hanging him on, but I want . . .’
‘I know. You want what is the right of us all, and what so many are missing out on. It’s up to you, lass. Think on your choices, and when you decide which is the best for you, then that’s the path to take. Only don’t leave yourself regretting. Put your heart into what you choose and make the best of it.’
She hugged Issy to her again. She knew this wasn’t the advice Issy wanted to give her. She knew she’d sooner have told her not to take Bert on.
Bert still had a grin on his face when she met up with him a little later on. It settled her some, but she’d no knowledge of what she’d say to him if he did ask her to marry him, which is what she suspected he had in mind, with this walk he wanted to take her on.
They were standing at the side of the stream known as the beck, watching the cool water bubbling over the stones, when he reached out for her hand. She felt herself stiffen, but fought the feeling and let him take her hand in his. This hadn’t happened before. He’d never touched her. His hand felt hard and rough, and a tremble went through her. She looked up at him. His face was different; there was a longing there. A hunger. The feeling she’d had when she’d seen his vulnerable side earlier gripped her again.
‘I want to ask . . . well – thou knows . . .’
She couldn’t help him. Her mouth dried and words wouldn’t come to her. They stood awkwardly for a moment. Megan knew such moments shouldn’t be like this. Was it because it wasn’t right:
‘Look, let’s climb hill, eh?’
She just nodded.
It was a hot climb, and she felt grateful that it didn’t give leave for talking. Her thoughts battled on. Should she . . . ?
‘Here it is! This is the place I wanted to bring you to. It’s grand, isn’t it? Me half-sister were brought up round here and she were always on about it. Telling me tales on how it were good to come up these hills with her dad and our mam. She said as Mam lost a babby at birth, and as it hadn’t been baptized, priest wouldn’t bury it in the consecrated ground, so they brought it up here and buried it. She said as they held their own little service for it. I’ve often looked, but never found owt as could be a grave.’
‘You’ve not said anything of your family afore, Bert. Where does your sister and mam live?’
‘We lived down in Sheffield. Mam’d come from there – well, not originally. She were Irish by birth. Anyways, she moved back after she were widowed and then she married me dad. She’d known him afore she’d left. Me mam and me dad are dead now. Me sister lives somewhere in the Midlands, but I don’t bloody care about her. She’s nowt to me. She may as well be dead, for all I care. She left me with me dad not many weeks after me mam’d died, after her promising me mam as she’d take care of me and find a way of getting us out of it. I were just on six; she were ten years older than me. Anyroad, I got up one morning and she were gone. Never even said goodbye.’
He was quiet for a long time, but feeling that he needed to be with his own thoughts, Megan didn’t break into them with questions. After a while she poured him a mug of ginger beer and handed it to him.
He took a swig and then started his tale again. ‘I’d not heard of her for years, thou knows. Then suddenly I had a letter, a bit afore I came here. Said as she’d married some doctor and wanted to get together with me. She said as she’d known as me dad were dead and that’s why she felt she could now get in touch. She had things to explain. Ha! That were a laugh! How do you explain leaving a young ’un in that hellhole and saving your own skin! She were everything to . . . Anyroad, I wrote back and told her as she were no sister of mine and I’d sooner she kept out me life, and that me dad’d long since made me understand as she’d had what were coming to her when he beat her.’
Megan wondered about the bits of his story referring to ‘getting us out of it’ and about his sister being beaten, but thought better of asking. He’d said a lot more than he’d ever said to her before and she didn’t want to upset him by probing further. He’d most likely tell her in his own good time.
It was funny him choosing Breckton to come to, and him looking for the babby’s grave. It was as if he was trying to be near his mam again. A feeling of kinship grew in her – they were not unlike, in what they’d been through. ‘I’m sorry to hear of all that, Bert. You having no family as such is sommat as I can relate to. I’ve no family meself.’ She’d not mention her granny and granddad, not yet. ‘Me mam died giving birth to me, and that was in a convent for them as had no man.’
‘Well, we’re in same boat then, so that’s a good start. But what I’ve told you is just for you. I don’t want anyone else knowing. No one! D’yer hear? Especially not the likes of Issy Grantham. Because I know as me sister had sommat to do with her, when she was a young ’un. I don’t want any interference from that quarter. Me business is me own.’
This shocked her. To think that Issy knew of his mam and sister, yet knew nothing of them being related to Bert. She’d not to speak about them, either, but it wasn’t going to sit easy, keeping stuff from Issy. She was bound to ask. She’d always been curious about Bert.
‘You’ve gone quiet, Megan.’
‘I were thinking on me and you not having family as such. Have you pictures of your family?’ She hesitated. She thought of her locket, but no, she’d not tell of it. She’d kept her granny and granddad to herself for so long that sharing them would be like spoiling something special.
‘No, I did have. I had them in a tin, but when I come here I vowed I’d put it all behind me, so I chucked them out. I didn’t have a good childhood and it’s shaped me. Hardened me. I’ve no time for owt that has gone. You should do same, Megan. Don’t think on what’s in the past. Think on what future can be like.’ He’d moved closer to her. ‘I reckon as you must know what it is I want to say to you, Megan. Are you ready for it?’
‘I want to talk some . . .’
‘Talk? What’s there to talk of? We’ve an idea of each other now. Either you’re for being me wife or you’re not.’
So, that was it then? No going down on one knee. Oh, well, what had she expected of Bert Armitage? He wasn’t exactly known for being romantic, was he? Hadn’t it been on two and a bit years that he’d been showing his leaning towards her, and today was the first time he’d even held her hand?
A laugh bubbled up inside her, but she swallowed it back. It wasn’t right to laugh. Besides, it wasn’t a good laugh. More a feeling of – of anger. Yes, that was it. She was angry. Angry at her mam and Bert’s sister and Cissy and Jack; and, yes, she was angry with Bert. Bert more than any of them.
‘Well?’
She turned and walked away from him. It was all she could think of doing. She’d climb higher. There was still a way to go to the top.
‘Where’re you off to? Megan. Megan!’
He caught up with her and grabbed her arm and held it in a painful grip. ‘What’re you up to? You bloody knew how I felt! You bloody had me on, you bitch!’
‘Let go, you’re hurting me! I just want to think.’
‘Think?’
They’d reached a small thicket, and Bert pulled her in front of him and pushed her back against a tree. His hand was above her, leaning on the tree trunk. He was so near that she could feel his breath on her and smell his body. It smelled of coal dust and his brand of smokes, but mostly of freshly washed clothes tinged with sweat. This last was like Jack smelled when he came in from the stables. Her imagination always stirred up images of Jack. Something fluttered in her belly, and a tickly feeling between her legs sent a gripping spasm through her. The feeling s
urprised her. She dared not look up at Bert, in case he knew.
‘Megan.’ He lifted her chin. He was gentle, loving. The feeling inside her increased; she couldn’t breathe. His lips touched hers. She didn’t stop him. She wanted the kiss – wanted more. Wanted . . . ‘No! Not that! Not afore . . .’
The touch of his hand on her breast brought her back to reality. The shock it sent through her wasn’t unwelcome, but woke her to what might happen.
‘I’m sorry, Megan. I didn’t mean – you said “afore”! Afore what? Are you thinking on marrying me, Megan?’
‘I don’t know, Bert. Don’t get mad at me again. I just want to think on some. I know it isn’t being fair on you, but I’ve things I’ve to give up, and I’m not sure as I’m of the mind to give them up. Not altogether.’
‘What things are you talking of?’
‘Well, I’ve talked of them before. Thou knows. Me dream to have a place of me own, so as I can design clothes for folk and make them up. A place like where I work, only smaller. I’m good at it, Bert, and I could make a good living for—’
‘It isn’t a woman’s job to make a living! Not a married woman’s job. Besides, it’d make me a laughing stock. If you marry me, you can forget all that. I’ll be the only breadwinner. Look, Megan, I want a woman as’ll be a proper wife to me.’
‘I know, and it’s that as worries me. Would I be the one as could make you happy? Because I don’t know if I could be happy, giving up what I love doing. I’ve had me dream for so long and I’ve been at saving this good while.’
‘Aye, well, that’ll not go to waste. With what I’ve got an’ all, we could do the cottage up some. You’ll not like it how it is. It needs a good coat of distemper all through. And we’ll need some bits of furniture and stuff. Mind, it’ll take you a while to get it cleaned up – it’s in a bit of a mess.’
