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by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘I would’ve done in time ...’ Catherine looked morose.

  Kate let out a long sigh. ‘Well, what’s done’s done.’ She wiped her floury hands on her apron. ‘A hard day’s graft gets rid o’ heartache, I always find. Work it out, lass, that’s the best remedy.’

  Catherine could not help a bleak smile at this homespun advice. It would take more than a day’s work to scrub away all her unhappiness.

  ‘That’s it, hinny,’ Kate encouraged. ‘Now get that tea poured and we’ll have a cuppa before your grandda wakes up and starts his rantin’.’

  As they sat around the worn kitchen table, sipping at hot sweet tea, Catherine told her about pleading to Father O’Neill.

  ‘A nun?’ Kate spluttered over her teacup. Her eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing. ‘A nun!’

  ‘Stop laughin’,’ Catherine chided.

  But Kate could not. She howled and rocked on her chair, until tears rolled down her puffy cheeks. Catherine scraped back her chair, offended.

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that—’

  ‘Eeh, sit doon, hinny,’ Kate cried, wiping away tears with her pinny. ‘Don’t mind me. That’s the best laugh I’ve had in ages.’ She looked at her daughter, her laughter subsiding. ‘You have to look on the funny side. I mean, haven’t the poor nuns got enough problems? You’d not give them a minute’s peace.’

  Catherine opened her mouth to protest, then stopped. She let out a snort of amusement. ‘Aye, maybes you’re right.’

  ‘And you’d hate the clothes.’ Kate giggled again. ‘How many nuns do you see with high heels and a fancy hat like you?’

  Catherine could not help laughing too.

  ‘No, lass,’ Kate declared, ‘God’s got different plans for you, I’m sure of it.’

  They smiled at each other and carried on drinking tea until the pot was empty. For once, Kate seemed in no rush to get on with chores. It was good to laugh again, and Catherine went away feeling better. If only it could always be that easy with Kate. Instead, these snatches of time alone when her mother was sober were like breaks in a storm.

  As summer came, Catherine’s restlessness at her situation grew. Despite the priest’s promise, nothing appeared to change at Harton. Davie came home from sea and Kate no longer had time for her. There was money again for whisky, and her mother grew loud and aggressive if Catherine dared to criticise her drinking.

  ‘Hark at Sister Catherine,’ Kate would ridicule, ‘the first nun in high heels! Don’t give me that look. I’ll tak a sip in me own home if I want to. You and your twisty face - I’ve had enough of it!’

  On a whim, Catherine went out and had her hair bobbed and permed, in an attempt to make herself feel better. Kate was immediately critical, as if she had done it to spite her.

  ‘Where’s all your bonny hair?’ she shrieked. ‘You look like a lad! And to think of all them hours I spent puttin’ in ringlets when you were a bairn.’

  Catherine did remember. The humiliation of a spiteful school mistress pulling out her ringlets and yanking her hair into plaits had been a daily source of torture when she was young.

  ‘Well, I’m not a bairn now,’ she replied, stalking out before her mother saw how upset she was.

  Catherine’s only happiness came in escaping for a few hours by bicycle with Lily.

  ‘If you could wish to be somewhere else,’ Catherine asked her friend as they picnicked beside a hayrick, ‘where would it be?’

  Lily shrugged.

  ‘Go on, choose,’ Catherine insisted.

  ‘Durham, maybes. Aye, Durham’s canny.’

  Catherine was disappointed. ‘No, somewhere we’ve never been before. A South Sea island or the heart of London.’

  Lily looked anxious. ‘Eeh, I wouldn’t want to gan anywhere foreign.’

  Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘I’d like to go somewhere that doesn’t smell of the gasworks, where you can see the stars at night, where the sea’s clean.’

  Lily joined in. ‘Aye, as long as it was next to the sea.’

  ‘And the houses are grand and standing in their own gardens,’ Catherine enthused.

  ‘And inside toilets,’ Lily laughed. ‘And canny lads with nice manners.’

  ‘Lads,’ Catherine snorted. ‘As long as we’re together, I don’t give tuppence for any lads.’

  Shortly afterwards, she went to Matron and declared, ‘Me and Lily want to work away. Please could you help us, Matron? I know you sometimes hear of jobs at other institutions.’

  To her surprise Matron Hatch did not dismiss her request out of hand. The older woman nodded.

  ‘Father O’Neill has been speaking to me about you. I think it might be good for you to get away - but I’m surprised Lily wants to go too.’

  ‘Oh, she does,’ Catherine was adamant, ‘where I go, she goes.’

  Matron nodded. ‘Let me look into it.’

  A couple of weeks later, just after Catherine’s twenty-third birthday, Matron called her in to her office.

  ‘There’s a position as head laundress at Tendring in Essex. I think you would have a very good chance. It’s smaller than Harton, but there’s work for Lily too as a checker. Would you like me to help you apply?’

  Catherine nodded quickly. She was unsure where Essex was, but it sounded historic and a little exotic.

  Lily was taken aback when told about the vacancies. ‘Essex? That sounds very far away.’

  ‘Matron says it’s near London - so we’ll spend our free time looking round the sights.’

  ‘Still, it’s a long way from the Tyne.’ Lily was dubious.

  ‘Haway, Lily, it’s what we’ve always wanted - get away from here and see a bit of the world before we’re old maids. Maybes you’ll find a rich lad down there. Say you’ll come if we get offered the jobs, please! I couldn’t go on me own.’

  Lily agreed. ‘Course I wouldn’t let you gan on your own.’

  Quite unexpectedly, two days later, Catherine ran into Gerald Rolland. The shock of seeing his handsome figure striding towards her left her winded.

  ‘My dear Kitty,’ he cried, as if she was the person he most wanted to see in the world. ‘How are you? You look so pretty and grown up with your bobbed hair.’

  Catherine stood shaking. It was two years since she had seen him, though it seemed a lifetime. He was just as good-looking.

  ‘I’m well, thank you,’ she said, trying not to betray her nervousness.

  ‘Would you like to go for tea somewhere?’ he offered. ‘There’s so much I want to ask you.’

  Catherine found herself agreeing, the bitter words she had saved for him dying on her lips.

  In the corner of a Shields cafe, she learnt that he had been working away in Middlesbrough.

  ‘But I’m back now,’ he smiled. ‘I wanted to see you - waited for you.’

  She looked him in the eye, her heart hammering. ‘Did you marry that other lass?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what madness came over me to write that letter. I feel so ashamed of it now.’ He reached across and took her hands in his. ‘It’s you I care for, Kitty, no one else. I’ve thought of you so often, but never dared write after the terrible way I treated you. And being away in Middlesbrough, I could offer you nothing until my return.’

  Catherine was unsettled and confused. She ought to hate him, but felt a surge of longing as they touched.

  ‘What do you mean, offer?’

  He leant closer. ‘Please forgive me for what I did. I want to court you properly this time - start again. There’ll be no half-measures - we’ll tell everyone.’

  ‘Even your mother?’ Catherine challenged.

  Gerald’s face clouded. ‘Mother died a year ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Catherine said hastily
, ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ he smiled wistfully. He squeezed her hands tighter. ‘But perhaps you’d allow me to meet your family?’

  ‘Third time lucky, you mean?’ Catherine jibed.

  ‘I don’t blame you for being unsure of me,’ Gerald said. ‘I just want another chance to prove my love for you. Please, Kitty?’

  Catherine turned up at her mother’s, head reeling from the encounter. She could not keep it to herself.

  John stabbed the fire with the poker. ‘That the bugger who never came to your party? Had me sittin’ outside like a sentry all afternoon, watching out for him.’

  ‘Trust you to remember that,’ Kate snorted, ‘when your memory’s like a sieve for owt else.’

  ‘He’ll have to come here crawling on his knees if he wants my blessin’,’ John grumbled.

  Kate faced her daughter. ‘You’re not serious about courtin’ him again, are you?’

  Catherine was surprised at her mother’s tone. She thought she would have been relieved that a man as well-to-do as Gerald was now prepared to offer her a future. Past indignities would soon be forgotten if Gerald was to slip a wedding ring on her finger.

  ‘I might be,’ Catherine answered defensively. ‘I thought I hated him - but as soon as I saw Gerald again, I knew I still cared for him.’

  Kate let out a cry of impatience. ‘Kitty McMullen, don’t be so daft! That man doesn’t deserve you.’

  ‘Thought you’d be pleased to have me off your hands,’ Catherine retorted.

  ‘Not for the likes of him. Talks through his backside - don’t believe a word he tells you.’ She marched across the room and took her daughter by the shoulders. ‘You’ve the chance of a good job and a new start down south - you tak it with both hands. Get away from here and mak some’at of yourself.’

  Catherine shook her mother off, speechless for a moment. Then she stuttered, ‘I might not get the job.’

  ‘You will.’ Kate was adamant. ‘If not this one then some’at better. Don’t settle for a second-class marriage with a man who blows hot and cold like a weathercock.’

  Abruptly Catherine laughed. ‘I don’t think weathercocks blow hot and cold.’

  Kate snorted and pushed her away. ‘You kna what I mean. We haven’t all swallowed dictionaries like you.’

  For a week, Catherine went around distractedly, trying to decide what to do. She told herself no choice needed to be made until she heard about the job in Essex. It might come to nothing and then she could pick up with Gerald and see where it led. She knew she still loved him; the way her heart raced when she saw him again told her that.

  Matron called for her at the end of the week.

  ‘I’m pleased to say, both you and Lily have been accepted at Tendring.’

  Catherine felt a surge of triumph, quickly swamped by doubt. It must have shown on her face.

  ‘Surely you wish to accept?’ Matron sounded impatient.

  ‘I - I need to talk it over with Lily first.’

  Matron said tersely, ‘Have a couple of days to think it over and I’ll write to the workhouse on Monday with your decision.’

  Catherine went into Shields and wandered through the town, tortured by indecision. She ended up by the boating lake near the promenade, watching children feeding the ducks and courting couples rowing across the water. Seagulls wheeled overhead and a dark-eyed boy selling ice cream winked at her as she walked by. Why was the town looking so dear and familiar just when she had this chance to escape?

  She and Gerald could have endless summer days here. How could she possibly want to throw such a future away for an uncertain one in a strange place so far from home? Lily would understand if she called it off. She would probably be relieved. Mrs Hearn had been crying for a month now at the thought of her daughter going away.

  Walking back into town, she made her way towards the cafe where she was to meet Gerald and give him her answer. She glanced in the window and saw he was not there. A familiar sensation of panic rose up inside, her throat stinging with bile. She hung about outside, pretending to look in the shop window next door. Perhaps Kate was right about him.

  A moment later, she heard Gerald call her name and turned to see him crossing the street to meet her. A wave of relief shook her. He had not disappointed her after all. Then it struck her. She would always be unsure of him.

  ‘Kitty, sorry to keep you waiting - the trams were full to bursting. Let’s go inside.’

  ‘They weren’t full,’ Catherine contradicted.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The trams. They weren’t full. So why were you late?’

  ‘Now don’t be silly. What does it matter? I’m here now,’ he laughed indulgently, steering her by the elbow.

  Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. Kitty McMullen, don’t be so daft! That man doesn ‘t deserve you.

  She shook him off.

  ‘It does matter. It all matters! You leave me in the lurch with that nasty cowardly letter - and two years later you turn up like a bad penny and expect me to forget it ever happened. Two years, Gerald! I’m not some toy you can pick up and play with when the mood takes you.’

  He gawped at her. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Well, for your information, I’m ganin’ down to Essex to work. Me and Lily. Head laundress. So you can shove that in your pipe and smoke it.’

  She spun on her heels and marched away. Her heart thumped at her recklessness. Moments later he was chasing her.

  ‘Kitty, come back. Don’t be a silly girl. You can’t go—’

  She picked up her pace. He caught up and tried to grab her hand.

  ‘I want to marry you! That’s what I was going to tell you today. I’ll ask your grandfather for permission, of course.’

  She shook him off. ‘You’ll ask him nowt. He’ll kick you into next week if you so much as darken his door. Now leave off us.’

  A tram trundled to a stop right beside them.

  ‘I won’t leave you - I need you, Kitty. I love you and I know you love me. Remember the times we had at Gilsland?’

  ‘Maybe I do, but I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Gerald Rolland. So get lost!’

  Two workmen jeered from the tram platform.

  ‘Got yoursel’ a wildcat there, lad.’

  ‘Don’t be hard on him, lass.’

  Catherine turned and gave them a mouthful. Then, just as the tram was moving off, she jumped on board. It was the only way of escaping Gerald and his embarrassing entreaties. She had no idea where the tram was going, just that it was taking her away from the pleading, whining man on the pavement.

  ‘Kitty, don’t go! I’ll change, I promise . . .’

  As he receded into the distance, Catherine breathed easy. The heckling men were eyeing her with amusement, but she stared back in defiance. She felt liberated. The world beyond Tyneside beckoned. Instinctively, she knew she had just avoided making the biggest mistake of her life.

  ‘Blows hot and cold as a weathercock!’ She laughed out loud.

  The men next to her shook their heads as if she were mad.

  Two weeks later, the arrangements were made; rail tickets bought and bags packed. Catherine went home for the final night and Aunt Mary and Uncle Alec came round for her farewell tea. Kate fussed about the kitchen, banging down pots and dishes, ordering her family out of the way.

  ‘Sit down and have a minute with the lass,’ Davie chided quietly. But Kate ignored him and carried on being busy.

  Mary patted the seat next to her. ‘Come here, Kitty. I’ve something for you.’ She flourished a box wrapped in green tissue paper and white ribbon.

  Catherine was glad of the distraction, unnerved by Kate’s frantic bustling. She savoured the moment of pulling the ribbon and carefully unwrapping t
he paper so it could be reused. Inside the box lay a soft blue woollen shawl. She picked it up and held it to her face, breathing in its new smell.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Aunt Mary,’ she cried. ‘Ta very much.’

  Mary smiled with pleasure. ‘My Alec says it can be cold as ice down there - winds come straight in from Siberia.’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ Kate was scornful. ‘She’s ganin’ to Essex, not Russia.’

  ‘It’s true.’ Mary was indignant. ‘Tell her, Alec.’

  Uncle Alec nodded bashfully. ‘It’s flat and in the winter the winds come whistling in from the east—’

  ‘We don’t need a geography lesson,’ Kate interrupted. ‘Now shift out me way - these dishes are hot.’

  ‘There’s no need to be rude,’ Mary huffed.

  Catherine touched her aunt’s arm briefly. ‘It’s champion. I’ll wear it no matter what the weather.’

  Swiftly she wrapped it and pushed it out of sight, not wanting the spat between the sisters to escalate. So often in the past, their jealousy of each other had led to arguments and falling out, each knowing how best to rile the other. Soon she would be away from it for good.

  John was helped to the table and insisted on sending out for a jug of beer.

  ‘Can’t let the lass gan without a toast o’ good luck.’

  ‘You can pay for it,’ Kate muttered.

  ‘I’ll fetch it,’ Davie offered quickly to avoid another argument.

  After ham soup and stottie cake, washed down by tea and beer, tempers improved. Kate brought out an array of scones, tea bread and cherry cake.

  ‘Me favourite,’ Catherine smiled, as Kate placed the cake triumphantly on the table.

  ‘Cut yoursel’ a big slice,’ her mother ordered. ‘If there’s owt left over you can have it for the journey.’

  The chatter around the table grew in volume as Davie topped up the teacups from a half-bottle of whisky.

  ‘I wrote and told Aunt Sarah I was going,’ Catherine said.

  ‘Don’t expect her to turn up to see you off.’ Mary was dismissive. ‘Never gets two minutes to herself with all those lads. But it serves her right for marrying a pitman.’