Jarrow Trilogy 02 - A Child of Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Such thoughts had plagued him while he waited to see if his father recovered. And all the time Polly had been a constant and thoughtful visitor, and he had been riddled with guilt at the humiliation he would bring her by breaking off their betrothal. Was he mad even to contemplate such a headstrong course of action? Yes, he admitted, mad with an obsessive passion for Kate.

  His father began to recover before Christmas and they spent the festival quietly together. Jeremiah had been delighted at Polly’s attentiveness.

  ‘Nothing will bring me greater pleasure than to see you two married this coming year,’ he told her as she departed home to her mother on Christmas Eve. ‘I thank God I have been spared to see such happiness.’

  He pressed Alexander to set the date as soon as possible and did not take kindly to his prevarication.

  ‘There’s no hurry.’ He tried to laugh it off.

  ‘There’s every reason to hurry,’ Jeremiah said querulously. ‘I’m not long for this world - and I will see you married, Alexander.’

  ‘But Polly is still in mourning, Papa. We cannot in all decency marry before the summer now.’

  ‘May at the latest,’ Jeremiah ordered. ‘You’ve had your fun, now you will face up to your responsibilities.’ Then his father had stunned him with a seemingly casual remark. ‘By the way, I heard that the chambermaid you were seeing at Ravensworth has left.’

  Alexander spun round. ‘Left? How could you possibly know?’

  His father gave him a satisfied look. ‘I make it my business to know. You’ll not find her there, so don’t bother looking. Taylor says she’s gone home to whatever slum it is she came from.’

  Alexander went crimson. ‘She’s no slum girl! Her parents were friends of Uncle Edward’s.’

  ‘Well, be that as it may, she’s returned to her own kind. And from what I gather, she should be married by now.’

  The words came like a blow to the head. Married! His worst fears were confirmed. He had left it too long. Why should she wait for him all this time, when he had made promises to her before that he had not kept? He looked at his father in fury. No doubt he would say anything to get him married off to the wealthy Polly.

  ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Don’t be such a fool, boy. Do you think I would let you throw away your future for the likes of a serving maid? She has shown more sense than you - gone back where she belongs. Now you can put her from your mind once and for all.’

  His father’s face was pale and drawn, but his words were iron hard. ‘Don’t defy me on this, Alexander. If you don’t marry Polly, I’ll cut you off without a penny. I’ve changed the terms of my will. If I die before you marry, my business and wealth will pass to my second cousin in Durham. I will not see you make a fool of either of us.’

  Alexander was dumbstruck. To think his father would go to such lengths to keep him apart from Kate. It would not surprise him to learn Jeremiah had paid the landlord to get rid of her. He was furious that his father should treat him with such distrust, and slammed out of the room. Later, a morose calm settled over him and he admitted that the old man was right to be suspicious. For had he not been harbouring plans to defy his father and elope with Kate? He had not really thought beyond the thrill of escape, but assumed his father would come round to the idea in time - once he had got to know how genteel Kate was.

  But he was in no doubt now that his father would carry out his threat. If he did not marry Polly, Alexander would be condemned to an uncertain, itinerant life living on his wits and his mediocre painting. At least with Polly he would have comfort and ease and a secure life of pleasure. Was he not a fool to throw it back in his father’s face, all for the sake of a simple maid? Besides, his love had not been returned. Kate had gone without a word, disappeared back to Jarrow to marry someone else, if his father was to be believed.

  In bitter disappointment, Alexander finally bowed to his father’s pressure and went along with the wedding plans for May. When he thought of Kate, it was with jealousy that she was probably already married to some other man.

  Alexander gazed out of the train window as it slowed into Lamesley station. Through the steam he caught a glimpse of the castle towers glinting in the April sunshine. He peered for a view of the inn and its blackened stone frontage. Now, seeing the familiar fields around the square-towered church at Lamesley from the train, he was filled with a wave of regret and longing for his lover, like a huge empty aching in the pit of his being. The whistle blew for the train to move on.

  All at once, Alexander sprang from his seat and yanked open the carriage door. As the train lurched and clanked into motion, he jumped down on to the platform and slammed the door behind him. His trip to the shipping agents in Newcastle could wait another hour or two. He would catch the next train. All he could think of at that moment was to discover what had happened to Kate and hear for himself that she was finally beyond his reach. Almost at a run, he left the station and took the road to the Ravensworth Arms.

  Bram Taylor seemed startled to see him.

  ‘Good day, sir,’ he said, ushering his customer into the parlour. ‘Have you business at the castle?’

  ‘I’m on my way to Newcastle on my father’s behalf- he’s been ill.’

  ‘Sorry to hear it, sir.’

  Alexander looked around. ‘Thank you. And you, Bram, are you well?’

  The landlord nodded, but seemed edgy. ‘I’ll get the lass to bring you in some refreshment,’ he said quickly.

  ‘Kate?’ Alexander said with a pang of hope.

  Taylor cleared his throat in discomfort. ‘No, sir, she’s been gone since Christmas.’

  So it was true! Alexander felt a thump of disappointment. He watched the older man hurry from the room as if he did not want to linger in his presence. A few minutes later he recognised the dark-haired girl with the slim face and bold eyes who carried in a plate of ham sandwiches and glass of beer.

  ‘It’s Mary, isn’t it?’ he exclaimed. ‘Kate’s sister?’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ she said with a wary look. Plonking the meal down and turning away swiftly.

  ‘Wait, Mary.’ Alexander smiled at her. ‘Please stay a moment. How is your sister?’

  She gave him a surly look. ‘Well as can be expected.’

  He was baffled, but nodded. ‘She’s returned home, I’m told.’

  Mary nodded. She was on the point of withdrawing, then decided to speak her mind. ‘Had no choice, did she?’

  Alexander felt uncomfortable at the girl’s accusing tone. ‘Why’s that?’

  Mary coloured. ‘Being in her condition.’

  Alexander frowned. ‘You mean, now that she’s married?’

  ‘Married!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Who’s gan to marry her the way she is?’

  ‘I don’t understand. Has something happened to Kate?’ he asked in alarm. ‘Please, Mary, tell me.’

  Mary began to retreat, flustered. ‘Not for me to say, sir. She’s that ashamed about it.’

  Alexander rose and strode over to stop her going. ‘What has she got to be ashamed about? I thought she had gone back to Jarrow to get married. Tell me, Mary!’ He seized her arms.

  ‘She’s expectin’!’ Mary blurted out, fearful of his look.

  Alexander’s heart jolted. ‘She’s with child?’

  ‘Aye.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘And the father?’ he rasped.

  She just looked at him with frightened accusing eyes and the truth hit him. Kate was carrying his child!

  ‘Why didn’t she get word to me?’ he cried angrily, shaking her.

  ‘How could she?’ Mary demanded. ‘You never came back for her like you said.’

  Alexander glared. ‘But I wrote!’

  ‘She waited till Christmas but you never came - so she had to gan home and face ‘em. Never said owt about any letters.’

  Alexander dropped his hold with a bitter exclamation. Mary stood clutching her arms.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he
apologised. ‘I must go to her. Is she at your mother’s?’

  Mary nodded.

  ‘Where can I find Mrs Fawcett?’

  Mary looked confused.

  ‘Your mother, Mary, where does she live?’

  Realisation dawned. ‘Mrs Fawcett! Is that what she told you? Aye, she would.’ Mary gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Me mam’s not been Mrs Fawcett since I was a bairn. She’s married to me step-da - John McMullen. But Kate’s ashamed of him and me mam, since she took up with you.’

  ‘She’s no reason to be,’ Alexander flushed.

  Something like relish gleamed for a moment in the girl’s eyes. ‘You’ll find them down Learn Lane in Tyne Dock - unless me step-da finds you first,’ she muttered.

  Alexander did not wait to hear any more. Throwing down a handful of coins on the table, he thanked her distractedly and rushed from the room. What terrible fate had he subjected Kate to? he accused himself savagely as he hurried back to the station. And why had she never mentioned her stepfather? Wherever she was, he would find her, before it was too late.

  Chapter 30

  Alexander was in a fever of agitation by the time the train drew into Jarrow station. He was tempted to jump off and explore the place of his childhood. But he could not put off facing Kate’s parents. He must get to her as quickly as possible.

  Staring out of the grimy window, streaked by heavy spring showers, he saw the solid buildings of the town hall and a large hotel dominate the streets of shops. The place bustled with people, delivery carts and trams, but none of it looked familiar. As the train pulled out, the prosperous heart of the town gave way to rows of soot-blackened terraces and the sprawl of steelworks, sheds and chimneys. He peered for a view of the ruined monastery and the old vicarage, but a blanket of smoke from the quickening train obscured all but a glimpse of crude fence and pale dead grass.

  The train disappeared into a cutting, then curved around a bend and picked up speed. Suddenly the smoke cleared to reveal a mass of rooftops marching down to the grey river and a web of cranes, gantries, masts and funnels. Out of the opposite window rose the pit wheels of South Shields and a glimpse of larger, grander houses in the distance.

  Then all about grew a network of railway sidings and slowly bumping coal trucks, as the train slowed and eased into Tyne Dock with a shriek of steam. Alexander was glad to be out of the stuffy, tightly packed carriage with its smell of bodies and damp clothing. The station rang with noise and shouts and the squeal of iron.

  He hurried out into a busy street and headed uphill. The streets around were made up of solidly built terraces, a mixture of houses and shops. He had a vague notion from something Kate had said that her mother lived on the edge of the countryside, where she had a little land and a kitchen garden. Mary had said Learn Lane, which sounded like a country road.

  After ten minutes of fruitless searching for a way out of the tightly packed streets, he asked a passer-by.

  ‘Learn Lane? That’s the other way, hinny. Doon there.’ She jerked a thumb towards the docks.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Aye. See that gas tower? Well, it’s right opposite.’

  Alexander thanked her and with sinking heart retraced his steps. As he descended the hill, the noise of the docks grew louder and the noxious smell of coal smoke and sulphur became tinged with a strong whiff of the river. Dismayed, he saw the streets of houses give way to an industrial muddle of factories, cobbled lanes, railway arches and towering warehouses. Squeezed between them were older cottages and truncated streets, some half built into the bank as if for shelter.

  To his disbelief, one such mean street clinging to the slope turned out to be Learn Lane. A public house with a filthy half-frosted window, grandly claiming the name of the Alexandria, was the only building of any note. He had a sudden strong recollection of standing outside similar tough bars in Jarrow, clutching the hand of his cousin Edward and gazing up in terror at the dirt-ingrained faces of the dockers who entered, shrugging off the rector’s attempts to offer them hot cocoa.

  Alexander felt his heart thudding as if he were that frightened boy once more. Surely Kate did not live among such squalor? He had imagined her living in genteel poverty in a picturesque cottage with her stoical widowed mother. But then her mother had remarried years ago - to an Irishman by the sound of it. How much else had Kate kept from him? Screwing up his courage, he went in to ask where the McMullens lived.

  ‘Old John?’ the barman grunted. ‘In trouble, is he? Owes you money?’

  ‘No,’ Alexander said, with mounting disquiet.

  The gaunt-faced man cleared his throat into a spittoon by the counter. ‘When he’s not in here, he’s next door. Downstairs house. Unless he’s found work the day. Likely still be down the docks - hooter’s not gone yet.’

  Alexander could feel the group of drinkers watching him as he quickly retreated. What sort of man was McMullen? A ne’er-do-well, by the sound of it. For several minutes he stood outside the door to Number Five and fought off a desire to turn and run. Its small door and worn step gave straight on to the street without a railing or patch of garden to relieve its grimy ugliness - not even a window box of flowers. He feared what he would find beyond.

  But before he could move, the door banged open and a stout old woman appeared with a rag mat. She banged it hard on the brick wall below the window and black dust flew up in a cloud, choking her. She stood on the step coughing, her large chest heaving for breath, her face the colour of putty under a severe bun of greying hair. Rose Fawcett? This woman bore not the slightest resemblance to the handsome woman he had known as a child. With a surge of relief he realised he must have got the wrong house, the wrong Leam Lane.

  At that moment, she glanced up and caught him staring at her. For a brief second he saw a look in her wide-set eyes and the curve of her broad mouth that reminded him of Kate. He felt a pang of horror. This was Kate in thirty years’ time. Then the woman frowned and the likeness was gone.

  Before his courage failed him completely, Alexander forced himself to step forward with his cane and raise his hat.

  ‘Mrs McMullen? Mrs Rose McMullen?’

  She stared at him in suspicion. ‘Who’s wantin’ to know?’

  He hesitated. ‘I’m Alexander Pringle-Davies - a friend of Kate Fawcett’s.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Have I come to the right place?’

  She gasped as if stung. ‘Mr Pringle-Davies!’ Rose buckled at the knees and grabbed the door post. Alexander reached forward to steady her. ‘Oh, the saints!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I know it’s a shock. Is Kate here? Can I come in?’

  She clutched her throat and nodded, speechless. Then with a darting look into the lane, she pulled him through the door and shut it behind them.

  At first he could make out nothing in the gloom, only aware of a musty smell and brownish light. Groping through a short passage, they came into a kitchen crowded with furniture that seemed to serve as bedroom and dining room too. Rose dumped down the clippy mat by the hearth and cleared a pile of mending from a chair.

  ‘Please, sit yourself down,’ she wheezed, hobbling towards the far door. ‘Kate. Kate, get up! There’s a man to see you.’

  Alexander’s pulse surged to think Kate was just beyond the door. Only the thought of her stopped him bolting from this terrible place. He sat down, stood up, unable to sit still. It seemed an age that he waited, wondering if his own sweet Kate would appear through the door. Half of him longed for her and half was repelled by this hovel, hoping it was all some hideous mistake.

  The door opened and a large figure lumbered through into the dingy light of the fire. At first he could not believe it was her. Kate’s once slender body was swollen like a balloon, lumpen and shapeless in a dirty brown dress. She moved with her hands pressed to her back, her belly huge before her. Lank strands of hair, indifferently pinned, stuck to her pasty cheeks. Her face was puffy, the once vital eyes dulled and dark-ringed.

  Alexander stood paralysed in shock, unable
to match this pregnant woman with the spirited girl he had lain with last summer. She gawped at him and mouthed his name, but no words came. Kate pitched forward, grabbing the table to stop herself falling. Rose steered her on to the hard wooden settle.

  ‘Sit, hinny, I’ll fetch a cup of water.’ She escaped into the scullery and left them alone for a few moments.

  ‘Alexander,’ Kate whispered in wonder, tears blurring her vision of him. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Mary told me - I came straight here. I had no idea. The baby - it’s - is it...?’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Aye, it’s yours,’ she nodded, her look hurt.

  He glanced away in agitation. Those eyes made him feel so guilty! The room stank of sour clothes drying over the fender and something rancid that had been thrown on the fire. Suddenly anger pricked him. She had lied to him about her circumstances! Her mother was no gentlewoman fallen on hard times. She was the wife of a common docker. The woman in the scullery could not possibly have been the friend or equal of his cousins. Kate had tricked him into loving her!

  ‘I waited for you,’ Kate whispered reproachfully. ‘You said you’d come back.’

  ‘I wrote to you,’ Alexander defended, ‘but not a word in reply. All I knew was that you’d left the inn. They said you’d got married.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘That’s what I heard,’ Alexander blustered, not wanting to say it was his father who had misled him.

  Kate pushed away tears and stood up. ‘Well, I’m not. Wouldn’t look at any other lad but you.’ She came towards him, arms outstretched, trying to smile. ‘It doesn’t matter, you’re here now, Alexander. You’ve come to fetch me -I told them you would. The things they’ve said to me - nearly sent me mental! Specially me step—’ She broke off.

  ‘Your stepfather, McMullen?’ Alexander accused crossly, holding himself away. ‘Never told me about him, did you? No, you made out you were a Fawcett - respectable - as good as my Liddell cousins.’

  ‘I am a Fawcett,’ Kate said in agitation, clutching her belly.

  Suddenly Rose was back in the room, banging a cup of water on the table. ‘Don’t you go upsetting her! My lass was respectable till you got your hands on her.’