Durham Trilogy 01. The Hungry Hills

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Naturally we were all agog to discover who the lover was - but she kept that one to herself, didn’t she?’ Rose looked disapproving.

  ‘Such a cold fish,’ the other woman murmured. ‘Who would have thought -’

  ‘Of course, I think it was that American, Bryce. She always allowed him to flirt with her in front of poor Reggie. The joke is that Bryce ditched her as soon as she made her move. Out in the cold - just like that. Burnt her bridges, poor old girl.’

  Eleanor wanted to laugh out loud at their speculations; they could not have been more wrong about the reasons behind her separation from Reginald. Tempted to turn and run from their wagging tongues, Eleanor steeled herself and mounted the final steps into the tea room. She walked straight up to Rose Fisher and greeted her warmly, relishing the woman’s embarrassed confusion.

  ‘I’m waiting for a friend.’ Eleanor smiled. ‘Perhaps I could sit with you until she comes?’

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ Rose managed a look of regret, ‘I really can’t stay. It’s been lovely to see you.’ The two women stood up quickly, gathering their bags and umbrellas as if they had just received a distress signal.

  ‘Another time then?’ Eleanor suggested calmly.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Rose’s painted face grimaced in a smile.

  ‘Regards to Libby.’ Eleanor could not resist flinging a parting shot. Rose and her friend fled downstairs without a backward glance. Eleanor had still been smiling over the incident when Ruth Spencer came to join her. She did not care that she was ostracised from county ‘society’, Eleanor realised with a new clarity; it was a relief to throw off its constraints and petty snobberies.

  The clinic, however, was not proving to be such an instant success. In March she opened premises in South Street, opposite the Memorial Hall, which could not have been more central for the population of Whitton Grange. Word soon spread about the birth control clinic, but for the first month only three women came for advice. One day Minnie Bell puffed her way cautiously upstairs to the stark waiting room. Eleanor immediately ushered her into a private room with a narrow dormer window and a hissing gas fire and helped lower the heavily pregnant visitor into a comfortable armchair.

  Minnie refused a cup of tea. ‘I’m right off it just now.’ They sat awkwardly eyeing each other, Minnie looking stranded and ill at ease in the deep seat.

  ‘I’ll have to go in a minute to collect the bairn,’ Minnie told her.

  ‘What is it you’ve come to ask about, Mrs Bell?’

  Minnie blushed furiously and looked down at her huge bump. ‘I would have thought it was obvious. I don’t want this to happen again, miss,’ she admitted. ‘It’s my second in two years and we can’t afford to feed the first one. You’ll think I’m daft being so ignorant about things, but no one ever tells you. The only thing I know is from that film you once showed at the hall, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask any questions. The thing is I don’t know how—you know …’ Her voice trailed off.

  Glad that Minnie had plunged in bravely and expressed her worries, Eleanor began to outline the various options for Minnie to consider once her baby was weaned. She talked about it in such a matter-of-fact way - as if they were discussing shopping - that Minnie began to relax and ask questions. At the end of half an hour, she was smiling with relief.

  “Course I shouldn’t be here,’ she laughed. ‘Mam would go light if she knew. Not that she disapproves of what you’re doing, but she’d make me confess to Father Monahan. He says it’s against God’s will for us to stop having babies - but then he doesn’t have to have them, does he?’

  Eleanor smiled with her, warming to Minnie’s open, animated manner. ‘I wondered why so few women had come to see me or Dr Joice,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve only come ‘cos it’s dark outside and no one saw me come in,’ Minnie told her. ‘But there’s plenty of lasses are desperate not to get pregnant.’

  ‘What would you suggest I do to reach them?’ Eleanor asked, crossing her legs in front of the fire. Minnie sucked in her cheeks thoughtfully.

  ‘You could make it more inviting - more social like. Tea and biscuits and a film like you had in the hall that time - that would get people along. And if you had advice on how to keep the bairns healthy too, then the priest can hardly complain if the likes of us come along, can he?’

  ‘You mean somewhere for young mothers to meet with their babies?’

  ‘Aye.’ Minnie’s green eyes grew animated. ‘There’s nowhere else except in folk’s houses. Then we could have a bit of chat - share our problems - have a moan about the men!’ Minnie laughed.

  ‘That’s an excellent idea. Thank you, Mrs Bell.’ Eleanor smiled. ‘You’ve helped me more than I’ve helped you today.’

  Minnie smiled, feeling important. ‘The name’s Minnie,’ she said as she left.

  Iris saw the light still on in Eleanor’s clinic, so pushed open the downstairs door and hurried in from the damp March drizzle. As she did so, she heard the heavy footsteps of someone descending the narrow stairs and waited in the hall to let them pass. In the dim gaslight it took several seconds to recognise the swollen girth of Minnie Bell, her pale face and dark hair obscured by an unfashionable large-brimmed hat. Iris’s first emotion was of horror at being confronted by Davie’s pregnant lover. This soon gave way to a perverse satisfaction in seeing how ungainly and dowdy she looked in a shapeless brown coat that would not meet over her belly, and with her pallid face blemished by a rash over her chin.

  Minnie gasped and stopped as she recognised the neat figure in the velvet hat, her red lips shining under the gas lamp.

  ‘Iris!’

  Iris nodded but did not reply. Minnie continued to descend, holding tightly to the banister.

  ‘Have you come to see Mrs Seward-Scott?’ Minnie asked nervously.

  ‘Obviously,’ Iris answered scornfully. ‘Looks like you’ve left it a bit late.’

  Minnie’s face went a blotchy red. ‘I’m sorry, Iris,’ she answered meekly. ‘I know it doesn’t change anything to say so - but I’m really sorry about Davie.’

  Iris did not know whether she was referring to her husband’s death or Minnie’s part in his infidelity. She had often daydreamt about meeting Minnie Bell and giving her a mouthful of abuse or slapping her cheeky face. If Minnie had said anything galling, like she had loved Davie too, Iris would not have hesitated in pulling her down the last flight of stairs. Yet now, as she looked at the young woman before her, weighed down by her cumbersome burden, Iris admitted to a feeling of pity.

  ‘None of us can change what’s happened,’ she replied stonily. ‘Now are you going to let me up those stairs or not?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Minnie repeated in a fluster and hurried down the last steps. Iris tensed as they came near to touching in the hallway. She watched frostily as Minnie hesitated, then spoke.

  ‘He never loved me,’ Minnie looked at Iris boldly, ‘I know that now. You and Raymond were everything to Davie. I just thought I should say that.’

  Iris felt her insides clench at the words. She swallowed hard to prevent the tears that welled up in her throat. Minnie turned and walked towards the door; Iris mounted the first step. Something made her call over her shoulder, before Minnie was halfway out of the door.

  ‘Take care of that baby, won’t you?’

  Minnie glanced back in surprise. ‘Aye - I will,’ she stammered in confusion. But Iris’s erect back was already turned, her high-heeled shoes tapping up the linoleum-covered stairs.

  ***

  Eleanor was taken aback to see Iris walk into the clinic just as she was preparing to leave.

  ‘I can come another time,’ Iris suggested hurriedly, clutching her coat about her.

  ‘No, stay,’ Eleanor insisted. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot.’

  ‘Surprised to see me here though?’ Iris smiled ironically.

  Eleanor laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose I am a bit. But pleased none the less. Do sit down.’

  Iris sat upright on t
he edge of the large armchair opposite the fire. Eleanor disappeared for a minute behind a wooden partition which separated off a small galley and poured out two cups of coffee from a pot on the stove. Returning, she offered one to Iris.

  ‘I thought you’d prefer coffee.’

  Iris smiled, touched that Eleanor should have remembered her tastes. She took a sip and placed the cup carefully back on its saucer.

  ‘I haven’t come for advice,’ Iris began, ‘but you did say if there was something you could do to help, I was to ask.’ She looked composedly at Eleanor’s concerned face.

  ‘I did.’ Eleanor nodded.

  ‘Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind lending me a bit of money.’ Iris rattled through her request. ‘Just a loan, mind, I’ll pay you back when I can.’

  ‘How much do you need?’ Eleanor asked.

  Iris took a deep breath. ‘About twenty pounds.’

  ‘I don’t mean to pry, Iris,’ Eleanor considered her, ‘but what do you intend spending—’

  ‘Oh, I’ll tell you that,’ Iris interrupted, keen to share her secret. ‘I’ve decided to leave Whitton Grange. There’s nothing here for me now that Davie’s gone. I’ve never liked the place much - it was Davie that I came here for.’ She cleared her throat and went on quickly. ‘The Kirkups have been canny and taken me and Raymond back in with them, but we can’t live there for ever. I need to find a job, then I can give Raymond a home of our own.’

  Eleanor nodded in understanding. ‘Will you look for something in Durham? Of course I’m willing to lend you some money while you find your feet, that goes without saying. But perhaps I could help secure you a position as a housekeeper or something?’

  Iris shook her head vigorously. ‘No, I’d be useless at that. You see, there’s only one thing I’m any good at, and that’s singing.’ Iris lifted her chin proudly. ‘I want to have a go on the stage.’ She looked at Eleanor, wary of ridicule, but saw none in the older woman’s face.

  ‘That’s very brave of you, Iris,’ Eleanor commented, ‘and certainly you have the talent. But where would you start?’

  ‘I know a man called Barnfather - travels with a company who do music hall. There’s a pub in Scarborough where I can get news of his whereabouts - I’ve sent a letter. He’ll give me a job if I can find him.’ Iris’s slim face was determined.

  ‘But what about Raymond?’ Eleanor voiced her concern. ‘He’s still just a baby - it would be very difficult travelling alone with him, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Iris sighed, ‘I wouldn’t be able to take him with me - not at first. I’d wait till I got something regular, then come back for him. The money would help keep him while I’m gone.’

  Eleanor saw the strain on the young woman’s face as she spoke. It was obvious what a painful decision it was to leave her son, her only child and her most tangible link with Davie.

  ‘You seem to have it all worked out. Your mother would look after him for you in the mean time, I suppose?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘No.’ Iris’s eyes glistened brightly in the electric light. ‘I’ve asked Louie to care for him, she’s his godmother. Raymond thinks the world of his Auntie Louie - and Louie would make the best mam for him I know.’

  Two weeks later, on a blustery April morning when the dene rustled with yellow-headed daffodils, Iris packed her bag to leave. Word had come from the Scarborough publican that Barnfather’s players were in Manchester for the week, so that was where she was heading. The previous Saturday, John had announced his engagement to Marjory Hewitson, and the parlour at 28 Hawthorn Street had resounded to Eb’s lively piano playing and Iris’s singing. There had not been such a happy family occasion since Davie and Iris had left the house on bad terms in the dying weeks of the strike.

  It was an emotional evening, with everyone silently thinking of the missing Davie who always enjoyed a good singsong and would urge his wife to repeat her whole repertoire of traditional songs. Louie struggled to keep her sorrow to herself as she joined in John and Marjory’s celebration. They sat close to each other on the small horsehair sofa, red-faced and beaming after the special tea that Louie and her mother had made. Louie could not remember John being so relaxed and talkative, as he took Marjory’s plump hand in his own and called requests to Eb.

  Her eldest brother was as quiet as usual, though Eb gave his wistful smile from time to time and occasionally shared a joke with Hilda, who was turning the music for him. Louie had to admit she was relieved that his liaison with Miss Eleanor had come to nothing. It was scandal enough that the mine owner’s wife had left her husband, and Louie was thankful her brother did not appear to be involved.

  Louie felt grateful now towards Eb and the rest of her family for giving her parents something to be cheerful about after the loss of their youngest son. Her father was joining in the singing in his deep bass voice, while her mother sat by the fire with her sewing, joining in snatches of song and smiling over at Marjory with approval. The cheerful Hewitson girl was just the daughter-in-law her mother longed for, Louie thought. They shared an interest in embroidery; Marjory’s family had been in the village for as long as the Kirkups; she was helpful and competent in the home and put up with John’s bouts of temper. In addition she was not over-pretty; Marjory had a pleasant, round-cheeked face, framed in soft brown curls, and an infectious giggle which made Fanny want to join in the joke.

  ‘Have another piece of Louie’s jam sponge,’ Fanny pressed Marjory to indulge. Louie smiled with satisfaction when her future sister-in-law did not refuse. She would be so much easier to get on with than the temperamental Iris.

  Yet watching Iris’s animated face, sparkling with life after painful months of grief, Louie felt a flood of affection for her sister-in-law. She could not look at Iris without being reminded of her favourite brother Davie, and she dreaded the moment when they would have to say goodbye. Louie was thrilled that Iris had entrusted Raymond into her care. She loved the boy as her own and having him to care for made her feel less wretched about her inability to conceive again. So she had done her best to muffle her parents’ criticism of Iris for abandoning her son to go on the stage.

  ‘It’s unnatural,’ Jacob had blustered behind Iris’s back.

  ‘What would Davie have said?’ Fanny had asked accusingly.

  ‘He’d have wanted Iris to be happy,’ Louie had argued, ‘and she’s doing this for Raymond’s sake in the long run. She’s promised she’ll come back for him.’

  ‘She won’t go,’ Fanny assured herself. ‘When she thinks it through, she’ll change her mind.’

  But Iris did not. Louie methodically cleared the breakfast dishes as Iris fetched her possessions and stuffed them haphazardly into her case. Sadie was off school for the Easter holidays and was distracting Raymond with a story about dragons that she was making up as she went along. Hilda had come over the previous evening from Greenbrae to say goodbye and John had said a gruff farewell and pecked her on the cheek before going on shift that morning. Only Eb had elected to accompany Iris to the station.

  Jacob sat studying the Bible as if he were reading it for the first time, while Fanny hovered over Iris’s packing until her daughter-in-law snapped at her to stop fussing.

  ‘I’ll take Raymond for a walk now, shall I?’ Louie asked quickly. It had been arranged that the boy should not see his mother leave.

  ‘Yes,’ Iris answered distractedly. ‘I’m nearly ready.’

  ‘Come on, Raymond,’ Louie called and held out her hand. ‘We’ll go and get Uncle Sam’s tobacco from the shop.’ The small boy got obediently to his feet and Louie dressed him in a coat and hat.

  ‘Dragon smoke baccy, Sadie?’ he asked his cousin.

  Sadie nodded. ‘All dragons smoke. You go and buy some baccy for the dragon.’

  ‘Sadie come too,’ Raymond insisted. Louie and Sadie stood either side of him holding on to his proffered hands. Louie hesitated as Iris regarded her son nervously.

  ‘Give Mammy a kiss,’ Louie ordered su
ddenly, unable to bear the thought of Iris leaving without touching Raymond again. Iris stood granite-like on the clippy mat. Raymond trotted over and put up his arms, and Iris picked him up and squeezed him tightly for a moment. The room seemed to hold its breath, but seconds later he wriggled to be free, impatient to carry out his errand. Iris fiercely kissed his auburn hair.

  ‘You be good for Auntie Louie, won’t you?’ she mumbled hoarsely.

  ‘Of course he will.’ Louie smiled at Iris and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Ta-ra then.’ She turned away hurriedly and added softly, ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘Ta-ra, Louie,’ Iris replied mechanically, not taking her eyes off the small figure clinging happily to his aunt and cousin. They disappeared out of the door and Iris resisted the urge to run after them and hug Raymond to her again. If he had made a fuss about leaving her, she might have relented and stayed, even at this late hour.

  But why should he? He thought he was merely going to Armstrong’s the tobacconists and that she would be at home on his return. Would Raymond at two years of age realise that his mother had left him? she wondered guiltily.

  Swiftly she pulled on her coat, arranged her hat in the parlour mirror and checked that half of Eleanor’s money was safely tucked into a pocket sewn into the lining of her coat. The other ten pounds she had given to Fanny to keep for Raymond, as Louie had refused to take it. There were stilted goodbyes to her parents-in-law as Eb picked up her case. She longed to tell Fanny and Jacob how much their friendship to her had meant over the past weeks, but the words clogged in her throat and she could only hug them silently.

  Tramping through the village, Iris viewed her surroundings as if in a film. Familiar streets flicked past, well-known shops that had taken her business; Lake’s the haberdashers, the fish and chip shop, the grand co-operative building in South Street with its treasures in drapery. Dimarco’s ice cream cart trundled by with a wave from the cheerful boy who pulled it; he must have recognised her face from the many times she had pressed Davie into buying her a delicious homemade ice.