An Unbreakable Bond

by Mary Wood

  28

  The Wrath of Not Toeing the Line

  Megan stood on the steps of Cissy’s cottage and glanced up the lane. A thread of worry wove into her sorrow. It was nearly five-thirty and she should have gone home already. But how could she have left Jack and Sarah whilst the undertakers were putting Cissy in her coffin? She hoped, with all that was in her, that Bert would understand.

  An uncanny quiet had settled all around. The womenfolk had gathered at the top end of the lane ready to follow Cissy. They made no sound.

  Into the silence came the grating noise of wood sliding along wood, bringing her attention back to the cart and the long, thin wooden box. She held herself together as the undertaker coaxed the horses and the cart departed, taking Cissy away to lie in the church.

  It had surprised her when Jack had made that decision, but like he’d said, it was better for Sarah, and Cissy loved the church. She wouldn’t be alone. She and the womenfolk would take turns keeping watch over her when Jack couldn’t be there.

  The sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobbles, and the steel rim of the wheels rolling over the stones, echoed around her. A cry from one of the women broke the spell that held her. It brought into focus the sounds of the lane: the birds singing, the trees rustling and a gate swinging in the wind. Normal sounds that were part of a normal day, but today wasn’t normal. Would she ever again have a normal day?

  Without warning, Bert’s crude, threatening voice cut through the air. ‘You bloody can’t wait to fill her shoes, can you? After I told you to come home afore I were to leave, an’ all! Get yourself home and I’ll deal with you in the morning.’

  Megan’s breath caught deep in her lungs. She held her burning face cupped in her hands. Oh God. Oh God . . .

  ‘Leave it, Armitage.’ Jack’s voice held a desolate note.

  Bert didn’t respond. His glare burned through Megan, before he turned and walked away in the direction of the mine.

  Nobody moved until he’d rounded the corner, but once he was out of sight, the women’s pitying gaze came to rest on her. Her humiliation increased. She wanted to hide away, to disappear and for none of it to have happened. She dropped her head into her hands and ran towards the gate.

  Jenny broke away from the group of women following Cissy and caught hold of her. ‘Come on, Megan. Don’t worry – he’ll have forgotten about it by morning. You’ve had a long day, lass.’

  She slumped into Jenny’s arms.

  ‘Aye, come on, lass.’ A bigger pair of arms took hold of her and she looked up into Gertie’s kind eyes. ‘Run on ahead, Jenny, and get tea brewed. I’ll bring her along.’

  As Jenny did as she was bid, Gertie turned and called back to Jack, ‘She’ll be reet. Me and Jenny’ll take care of her.’

  Megan looked back at Jack. What would he think? Please, God, don’t let him have taken in what Bert’d said. She couldn’t bear the thought of him suspecting her feelings for him. It would be a betrayal of Cissy.

  The church clock had woken Megan every hour, and this time it struck five times. She didn’t want to open her eyes and let in the day, but the memory of Bert’s attack came to her and shame filled her body. But then, what did it all matter, compared to losing Cissy? Oh, Ciss . . . Ciss!

  If only she could go to Hattie – she’d be able to help. The tears welled up and filled her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Come on, lass, don’t start. Get up out of it and get yourself busy. Don’t give in.

  Flinging the grey woollen blanket back, Megan swung her legs out of bed. Her feet welcomed the feel of the cool boards. The thought came to her that she must finish the rag rug she was making before winter, as the boards wouldn’t be so welcoming then. She shook her head. It was as if her mind wasn’t right: thinking of rag rugs when she had so much on her plate, and Bert home in just under an hour! She would be better served making sure everything was just right, so as not to cause him to lose his temper, because if he did, he’d harp back on what had gone on, and that would make him worse. She would try to say she was sorry, but it would depend on his mood as to whether he accepted her apology. She should’ve thought on and fetched Gertie to stay with Jack and Sarah. Bert had asked her to come home and be with him before he went off on his shift. Cissy’s death had been a shock to him, too. He would most likely think she had put Jack’s needs before his. Oh God! This thought increased her fear, because Bert had a suspicion in him where Jack was concerned, and he’d had it for as long as she could remember.

  After doing all the chores she’d to do before Bert came in, dressing herself didn’t take long. Even on a warm morning such as this, washing in cold water was not something to dawdle over. She wouldn’t let Bert wash in cold water, though, as that would be a starting point for him.

  It didn’t take long to rekindle the fire, either. She had banked it up before going to bed, and the hob was still hot. On the back of it was the large iron pot that she kept topped up with water so that Bert always had enough for his wash. She manoeuvred it further towards the middle, to ensure it was piping hot – hot enough so that she could add some cold to it. Bert would have plenty for swilling himself then.

  As soon as it started bubbling, she moved it to the back of the hob and swung the grate plate with the full kettle on it over the heart of the fire. Fetching down a heavy iron frying pan from the top shelf, she melted some fat and fried off some sliced potatoes. She had just put them on the side to keep hot when the door was flung open.

  ‘Huh! I s’pose as you thought to soften me up by feeding me as soon as I come in, eh? Well, you bloody well thought wrong! I’ve had all night to think on how you took no notice of me telling you to keep away from that big-headed sod! Aye, I know he’s lost Cissy and, much as I hate him, I feel sorry for him, but you chose to do what others could’ve done for him, rather than come home to me. Me needs are nowt to you, Megan. Nowt! Well, I’m gonna change that once and for all. When I’m done with you, you’ll not go against me wishes again, I can tell you.’

  Terror gripped her heart. Bert unbuckled his belt and pulled its length from around his waist. ‘No, Bert. No! Not that . . . please, Bert. I can’t take it. I can’t!’

  Fear weakened her legs and caused her body to tremble. She groped behind her for the table edge. Finding it, she steadied herself.

  ‘Don’t do it. Please, Bert, please don’t.’ She edged round the table, trying to put something between them.

  Her pleas did nothing to stop Bert’s snake-like advance. His body curved around the corner of the table, his belt a serpent’s tongue snapping in the palm of his hand. With this sound came the knowledge that she would have to accept her fate, and her trembling came to a halt. He was so near to her that she could smell stale smoke, coal dust and the sweat of a night’s labour. Bile retched into her throat. She swallowed hard, her voice croaking with the effect of the stinging aftermath of the vile-tasting acid. ‘I’ll not go against you again, I promise. I – I’ve thought on and know as me action were wrong. I just wasn’t thinking straight when I did it.’

  The belt whipped past her face and cracked on the table.

  ‘Aye, you’re reet, Megan. You’ll not go against me.’ His voice lowered until it was no more than a whisper. His tongue slid over his lips, leaving them wet and shiny. ‘Come here.’ He dropped his belt and took hold of her, pulling her against his body. She could feel his arousal.

  Her disgust at how his need heightened when he beat her never lessened, but this time he hadn’t actually hit her. Was the thought of doing so enough to arouse him? His groping of her gave her the knowledge that it was.

  But the relief this gave her soon left her and a panic set up inside her as she thought, My protection! I haven’t got my protection in place!

  ‘Bert, I – I’ve everything ready for your wash, and I’ve fried off some tatties. Have them first, love.’ She kept her voice soft and let her breath fan his ear. ‘Then, after I get Billy off to his lessons, I’ll come up to you, eh? It’l
l be good.’

  He pulled his head back from her, eyes smouldering with renewed anger. ‘Does you want belt first? Is that what you want, eh? Does you have to push me as far as I’ll go, eh?’

  ‘No! No, I just thought – well, Billy might come down and . . .’

  Bert pushed himself forward, holding her body as if in a vice between him and the table edge. ‘Well, it’ll be more of a lesson for the lad than he’ll get down that bloody church hall then, won’t it?’

  She didn’t answer.

  Bert gave a small laugh and then sunk his mouth into her neck. She felt the wetness and then a deep, bruising sucking, as his hands fumbled with his trouser buttons.

  ‘No. No!’ She pushed with all her might, then lifted her legs and kicked him away.

  ‘You bitch. You bloody cock-teasing bitch!’

  The back of his hand stung her face and sent her body reeling backwards. She landed on the table, legs bent over the edge. Bert forced them open, pinning her down with his body. He pulled the elasticated leg of her knickers aside, the damp hardness of him brushing the top of her leg. She could do nothing.

  The harshness of the shove that pushed him deep into her rasped her back against the wooden tabletop. Her moan of pain joined his moan of pleasure.

  ‘That’s reet, lass, thou knows thou likes it. Well, you’ve got it now, so just relax. Ooh, Megan, lass.’

  The coarse material of his work trousers chafed the insides of her thighs and the pain in her back increased with every thrust, as did her anguish.

  ‘Stop, please stop, you’re hurting me. No! Bert, don’t . . .’

  His dirty droplets of sweat spattered her frock as his thick moans mingled with her cries of pain.

  ‘Good girl. I knows as you likes it rough.’

  She sank into despair. Tears flooded from her, some leaving their salty taste in her mouth and others trickling like beads of ice into her ears. A blackness that promised peace loomed in the distance, and she wanted to enter its depth. It was her own wretched cry that penetrated the blackness and drew her back. ‘Oh God! Oh God, help me!’

  The cry triggered the end. His body became rigid, his face contorted with agonized pleasure. A sound like an injured animal erupted from him and a warm wetness entered her. Her mind screamed, Please, please don’t let me be caught! When his body slumped, the weight of him was unbearable.

  There was a silence before she felt the relief of his weight being released from her as he shifted off her. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, love? You like to put up a fight, don’t you? It seems to make it better for you. Well, I’m pleased an’ all. Come here.’ He pulled her up, took her into his arms and held her close. There was a small comfort for her body in the warmth of him, but no peace for her mind.

  His hand stroked her hair. ‘Megan, we could go along together all right, couldn’t we? You only have to think on some. You can have it rough when you like, but there’s no need to rile me so as I do sommat as I regret, is there?’

  She couldn’t answer him.

  He pulled away from her. ‘Don’t think, though, Megan, as that’s changed owt. It were good – I’ll give you that – but I still want you to think on and put me needs first, not everybody else’s.’

  ‘I will, Bert. I told you I’d been on with thinking about me actions afore you came in.’

  He held her close again. ‘Eeh, Megan. You were moaning with pleasure all the while I were doing you. I liked that, love.’ He tapped her on the bottom. ‘Get yourself cleaned up, lass. I still might have you come up to me, when lad’s away.’ He winked, picked up his baccy tin and went out of the door.

  Megan eased herself across the kitchen, holding onto a chair to steady herself. She was near the sink when the room began to spin and her body fell forward onto it. The edge dug into her ribs, and she could only watch as red streaks of blood from her nose ran down the white surface and disappeared down the plughole. Nausea washed over her. Grabbing the bucket of cold water that stood on the side of the sink, she tilted it so that it splashed over her head. It went some way to clearing her senses, and her only thought now was to get Bert away to his bed so that she could see to herself. Maybe she’d be in time.

  His water was all ready for him by the time he came back in. The smug expression hadn’t left his face. She managed a smile that belied the hate she felt.

  He didn’t speak whilst he went about the business of washing, and only grunted something about the tatties being good, while he ate them. She poured him a second mug of tea.

  ‘Will you take it up with you?’

  ‘Aye, I will. I were going to have another smoke, but I feel reet done in. I’ll get forty winks whilst you get Billy off, but come up after, eh?’ His face took on the same smug expression. ‘I’ve some more in me for you, Megan.’

  His smile told her she was forgiven. She wanted to cry out that she’d done nothing that required forgiveness and that he should go on his bended knee to her, but she just smiled back at him.

  After Bert’d gone up, she stood a moment and listened for the sounds of him settling. When all was quiet, she dragged a chair to the stairs door and wedged it under the handle. Billy would be stirring soon, and if he tried the door he’d know she was washing herself. He’d wait till she finished.

  She lowered the bucket onto the floor, peeled off her coal-black knickers and stood astride the bucket. She douched herself, while praying she was in time to wash out his seed before it planted itself firmly in her.

  This done, she went to the bottom cupboard of the dresser and fumbled amongst the clean cotton towels for her cap. Once it was in place, she saw to her other wounds and prepared herself to get Billy up for his lessons.

  Billy couldn’t look at his mam. He didn’t want to see how hurt she was. It was a game he played: if he pretended he knew nothing, then there was nothing to know. But he did know, and he felt confused. The sound of his dad having a go at his mam had woken him earlier, and he’d crept down the stairs and opened the door just enough to peep through. It’d been a shock to see his dad going at his mam like the dogs in the lane did at the bitches. It’d scared him some, as his mam hadn’t liked it and was calling out to his dad, begging him to stop. He’d gone back to bed to try to pretend it wasn’t happening.

  He and Tommy Braithwaite had watched a couple of dogs once. Tommy had told him babbies were made like that, and when he was older he’d be doing it to some lass. The tale had made him feel funny and had made his willy go hard, like it did when he played with it or he needed to pee badly. Not that he was worried over his mam having a babby, as he’d heard his dad say she couldn’t drop any more young ’uns.

  At times he wasn’t sure whether he minded his mam getting a good belting from his dad. It did make him feel a kind of hurt inside, but it was mixed up with his anger. Cos, like his dad said, it was his mam’s fault that he got so mad and that must be right, as his mam always said she was sorry. And another thing: if I’m around when me dad gets mad, then I get a belting as well and that’s me mam’s fault, an’ all!

  ‘Right, son. Have you got your snap tin, then?’

  ‘Aye. Will I call in and get Sarah, Mam?’

  ‘Well, it won’t do any harm, though she might not be up to going. Look after her, if she does go with you, Billy. She’s very sad at losing her mam.’

  Billy pulled on his boots and grabbed his snap tin. He’d to get out before his mam talked some more about his Aunty Cissy dying.

  ‘Ta-ra, Mam. Eeh, gerroff!’

  His mam had tried to kiss him, but Billy still felt cross at her for making his dad mad. He had to get out as fast as he could.

  Once outside, he felt sorry. He decided to go back and give her a kiss, but as he turned to go back in, his mam was just going through the door that led to the stairs. He’d not bother to call out to her.

  29

  A Decision for Change

  ‘Shift up, Megan, you’re taking up all the step.’

  ‘Me? I like that! There’s
not much room for me, as it is.’ Megan dug a finger into Issy’s large frame, but squashed herself up some more nonetheless. She didn’t mind. Issy’s soft body was comforting, and having her close made up some for the loss of Cissy.

  ‘You’re cheery the day, Megan. Did Bert pop his clogs in the night?’

  Megan laughed out loud.

  ‘No, though I don’t mind saying as I’ve wished many a time as he would. And then at other times I wouldn’t wish him any harm. But I’m feeling glad because me bleeding started this morning and I’ve been at worrying.’

  ‘I s’pose, how you’re fixed, you’d have that worry every month.’

  ‘No. If I’m ready for him it’s all right, because I have ways of preventing owt happening. Mind, Bert don’t know of it. If he did he’d go mad, so say nowt about it in his company.’

  ‘Huh! Can you see me discussing having babbies with him? In fact, I’d not talk to him about owt as I could think on. Eeh, Megan lass, you took on sommat there. I always knew as he were a bad ’un, but he seemed that stuck on having you, I thought he’d change when he got you.’

  ‘Me too, but I should’ve known. The signs were all there. Anyroad, I’ve to get on with it. Is Bella all right?’

  ‘Aye, she’s sleeping. It were a lovely thought of Jack’s, to remember Ciss’d wanted to use me name for the babby. I remember telling her once a long time ago that me mam used to call me Bella, and that Issy were sommat as started when I got older. There’s only priests and folk such as that as’ve ever called me Isabella.’

  ‘It’s a lovely name.’

  ‘I wonder how things will turn out with little Bella? In the future, I mean, as Doctor were on with saying as Mongol children don’t live long lives. Oh, Megan. We’ve a lot to face.’