Kate looked disappointed, then nodded. ‘I’ll swill the yard out and we can dance out there.’
Mary muttered loudly to Catherine, ‘You’ll not catch me dancing in her yard if the Pope himself were to come.’
Kate winked. ‘There’s a far more important guest comin’ than the Pope. Isn’t that right, Kitty?’
Mary smiled, ‘Aye, of course. Will we have to curtsy when he comes in?’
‘Stop it, the pair of you,’ Catherine laughed in embarrassment. ‘Just act normal. But don’t ask him lots of questions or make a fuss or tell him things about me as a bairn. And don’t say he’s the first lad I’ve brought home.’
‘But he is,’ Kate pointed out.
‘Well, just don’t say anything.’
Her mother and aunt exchanged looks. ‘McMullens not say owt? That’ll be the day,’ Mary said.
‘Aye,’ Kate chuckled, ‘Hell will freeze over first.’
Catherine gasped. ‘And don’t say things like that.’
The women burst out laughing at her consternation.
‘By, he must be special,’ Davie joined in, clomping in from the street where he was hanging bunting over the front door.
Aunt Sarah and four of the cousins arrived off the train from Birtley. The noise of chatter, clattering crockery and banging oven doors rose as everyone helped or got in the way. A chair was put outside for old John while Davie and two cousins went off to fetch some beer to quench their thirst. Not for the first time did Catherine wish her stepfather was far at sea. If he enticed Kate to get drunk and loudmouthed, she would never forgive him.
By quarter to four, the parlour was dusted and table beautifully laid with an assortment of sandwiches, scones and cake. The kitchen floor was scrubbed, the fender and fire irons gleaming, and more baking sat cooling by the open window, ready to replenish the plates. All traces of washing and ironing had been banished to the wash house, and flowers decorated the mantelpiece and windowsills.
Catherine wore a new pale blue dress, with clip-on earrings that Aunt Mary had given her. Kate had given her a garish scarf that she had tried to look pleased about, but would probably never wear.
She looked at her mother, still flushed from her marathon of baking, the sweat stains darkening her dress, her apron floury.
‘Haway, and get your pinny off,’ Catherine fussed, trying to calm her nerves. ‘I’ll help you pin up your hair again. You are going to change your dress, aren’t you?’
Kate blew out her cheeks. ‘You would think the King was inspectin’ the troops,’ she teased. But she allowed Catherine to bundle her into the bedroom and look out a clean blouse and skirt.
As she combed Kate’s thick brown hair, Catherine mused, ‘You haven’t a single grey hair. Lily’s mam has lots.’
‘It’s a miracle,’ Kate grunted. ‘Your grandda’s given me enough trouble to turn me white five times over. Not to mention the rest of you.’
She turned and put a rough hand to her daughter’s face. ‘By, but you’re bonny in your new frock.’
Catherine’s eyes pricked at her mother’s soft tone. How rarely she heard it, yet how much she had craved it in childhood. Now her girlhood was officially over and she could look this woman in the eye as an equal. Except she didn’t feel equal; inside she was still a child seeking Kate’s approval.
‘I hope you like him,’ Catherine said, suddenly seized with doubt.
‘Your mystery man?’ Kate’s look was reflective, wistful. ‘You’re a better judge of character than me. I’m sure he’s a real gentleman. As long as he does right by you, I’ll welcome him into this home like family.’
Catherine felt a surge of gratitude. She quickly hugged her mother. ‘Ta, our Kate. Ta for doing all this.’
Kate’s lip trembled. Catherine, thinking she was going to cry, pulled away. It would not do for either of them to be red-eyed for their guests.
Kate turned away. ‘Haway, let’s start the party,’ she said briskly.
Back in the kitchen, Lily and Amelia had arrived with presents of lavender water and handkerchiefs. Tommy and Peter brought flowers and a canary.
‘What in the wide world am I supposed to do with that?’ Catherine laughed.
‘Have it as a pet,’ Tommy said cheerfully.
‘Matron doesn’t allow pets.’
‘I’ll keep it for you,’ Kate said. ‘Bet it speaks more sense than old John.’
The laughter and noise in the kitchen grew. Kate shooed them into the parlour and told them to help themselves to the food.
‘Can’t we wait a few minutes?’ Catherine said, her insides taut. She kept glancing at the door, looking for Gerald’s arrival.
‘What time did you tell him?’ Mary asked.
‘Four o’clock - four-ish,’ Catherine stammered, ‘I think.’ Her mouth and throat were dry with nervousness.
She glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. Twenty past four.
‘We’ll not cut the cake till he comes,’ Kate promised. ‘Haway, Sarah and get the tea poured. Everyone’s parched.’
Catherine busied herself in the parlour, handing out sandwiches and chatting to the guests.
‘I’ll just take these round,’ she said, slipping out of the room. Lily followed with a plate of scones.
At the open front door they peered into the street. John was turning red in the June sun, mug of beer in hand.
‘I’m still on sentry duty,’ he said. ‘No sign of the enemy yet.’
‘Grandda!’ Catherine chided. Her heart sank. Two neighbours across the street stood cross-armed at their doors, watching. Catherine nodded and they waved back. How many of them were looking out to see whom Kitty McMullen was courting?
Catherine retreated inside again. Quarter to five. Panic began to seize her. Something had happened to him. He had promised to come; he wouldn’t let her down deliberately.
‘Maybes he’s waiting for a tram,’ Lily suggested.
Catherine nodded. But by five o’clock she knew that was unlikely. Gerald could have walked from his boarding house by the promenade to Jarrow in an hour. While she smiled and joked with her cousins and friends, her stomach heaved like a rough sea.
Doubts crowded in. How did she know where he lived when she had never been there? She had never met any of his friends or family. His precious mother did not even know she existed. Why was he so secretive? Why did she only get to see him when he decreed it? He was living a double life. Lily was right, he must be married. She was as foolish as Kate to be taken in by his sophisticated clothes and his cultured ways. But that was ridiculous. Gerald was a devout churchgoer, a man of honour, and he had given his word he had never been married. How dare she doubt him?
Half-past five. Catherine’s worry turned to anger. Gerald had discovered that her mother was a fallen woman and she was illegitimate. That was the truth of it. What other reason could there be for humiliating her in front of all her family? Kate’s sinfulness with her father had blighted her life yet again. Why was her mother so weak? She wanted to run out of the house, escape from the pitying glances, the worried looks.
Finally the cake was cut and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’.
‘Make a wish,’ someone shouted.
Catherine closed her eyes, knowing that her greatest wish, for Gerald to walk through the door, was not going to happen now. So she wished with all her might for escape from Number Ten William Black Street and the humiliation of being Kate’s daughter.
For the rest of the party she looked on like a bystander observing strangers. Uncle Alec played his fiddle and Tarn McGrath joined in on the tin whistle. The table was pushed back and dancing began in the parlour, the dancers knocking into John’s iron bed. Tea drinking gave way to beer and whisky. Tommy and the Birtley cousins arm-wrestled on the kitchen table while Sarah
and Kate grew louder with each drink.
Catherine was glad Gerald was not there to see her mother swaying on the hearth singing ‘Cushie Butterfield’ and bursting into tears when someone mentioned it was Jack’s favourite. What did it matter if Kate got drunk and took over her party? The spark had gone out of it the moment she realised that Gerald was not coming.
It was late when the last of the revellers staggered off into the night. Sarah and Ida were staying at Mary’s, while the boys piled into the parlour with the snoring John. Catherine lay down on the settle, drained of emotion.
‘Sorry, hinny,’ Kate said, lurching over her. Catherine felt queasy at the familiar reek of whisky.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she muttered, burying her face in her arm.
‘You deserve better than him,’ her mother slurred.
‘I’ll not find better round here.’
‘Course you will, Kitty. Don’t let one rotten apple spoil the what’s-it.’
‘Barrel.’
‘Aye, the barrel.’ Kate hiccuped.
‘Come to bed, woman,’ Davie called wearily from the back room.
Kate chuckled. ‘See, I found one in the end.’
Catherine snorted. She would never settle for a man like Davie, or a life like Kate’s.
Once Kate had gone, she got up and padded outside, a blanket thrown over her nightdress. The smell of the sea was strong on the night breeze, the clouds racing across the stars.
She felt bruised from Gerald’s rejection. She ached for him, yet he was a huge disappointment. Longing weighed her down. But for what? Maybe not just for Gerald, but for something out there under the stars, out of her reach. For the first time, Catherine thought of escape, real escape, of leaving not just William Black Street, but Jarrow itself. The thought wriggled in her mind, frightening and unsettling. There was a world out there beyond Shields, far from Tyneside, which people like her father inhabited.
She shivered in her bare feet. One day, she was going to find it.
Chapter 14
The following Saturday evening, Gerald was waiting for her outside church. Catherine brushed past him and stalked off down the street. He chased after her and caught her by the arm.
‘Kitty, wait. What’s wrong?’
She shook him off. ‘What’s wrong? You made a laughing stock of me in front of all me family, that’s what!’
‘When?’
‘On me twenty-first,’ she glared.
‘You mean your birthday party?’ He sounded bemused.
‘Aye, the one you promised to come to,’ she accused. ‘All me family were there and me friends - all waiting to meet you, and me looking at the clock every five minutes, fretting and thinking some’at terrible’s happened to you. And them looking at me as if I’ve made the whole thing up - you and me.’
Suddenly, Catherine was seized by a huge convulsion. A sob rose up from the pit of her stomach.
He seized her hands in consternation. ‘I’m sorry, truly sorry.’ Quickly, Gerald pulled her round the corner. He stared down at her, his dark eyes contrite. ‘I had no idea it meant that much to you. I was in Newcastle -Mother has been unwell again and I didn’t like to leave her. I didn’t know how to get a message to you. I knew you would understand once you heard my reason. And with all your other friends there - well, I didn’t think you’d miss me.’
She stared at him in disbelief, shaking and crying. How could he not know how much she loved him?
‘Please forgive me, Kitty,’ he begged, squeezing her hands in his.
She wanted to, but the humiliation of her terrible birthday was still too raw.
‘ Y-you d-didn’t even send me a card,’ she said miserably. ‘Nothing to show you cared even a little.’
‘But I do,’ he insisted, producing a handkerchief and dabbing at her tears. ‘I have a present for you, but it’s not one I could send in the post.’
‘What is it?’ Catherine sniffed.
‘Dear, sweet girl, please don’t cry any more. Come, let’s walk up Simonside - you’ll feel better for the fresh air - and I can explain.’
Her curiosity raised, Catherine allowed him to link her arm through his and march her briskly away from the town. Along the railway embankment, the smell of newly cut grass mingled with cinders from the track. The evening call of birds grew as the clank and din of the yards receded. Above the embankment, hidden by briars and hawthorns, Gerald sat her down on a rough bench made from an old railway sleeper. It was their favourite sitting place, sheltered and secluded, and Catherine was suddenly desperate that he would put everything right again.
He took her hand and began to stroke it. ‘I have a confession,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘My mother was ill, but I knew I should have made every attempt to come to your party. I hate myself for letting you down.’
‘I don’t blame you for your mam being ill,’ Catherine said generously.
‘It wasn’t just that,’ Gerald said, gazing at her intently. ‘I was afraid to come.’
‘Afraid? What do you mean?’
‘Your family. . .’
‘I knew it,’ Catherine trembled, withdrawing her hand. ‘You’re ashamed of us ‘cos we’re from the New Buildings and me grandda has no trade, and me stepda’s a common seaman. And you’ve been listening to gossip about me mother, no doubt.’
‘No,’ Gerald said, surprised by her outburst. ‘I don’t know much about your folk. But I’d heard the McMullens were a large family, a close family that looks after its own - doesn’t take to strangers easily. Quite frankly, I was worried your folks might get the wrong impression about us.’
‘What impression?’ Catherine asked in confusion.
‘That we might be courting.’
She felt suddenly leaden. ‘But I thought we were.’
He gently tilted her chin so she had to look into his dark brown eyes.
‘We don’t know each other very well,’ Gerald murmured. ‘We need to have time together - alone together - to find out if we are suited.’
Catherine’s heart began to hammer. ‘What do you mean?’
He smiled. ‘That’s my present to you, Kitty. We’ll go away on a holiday together, just you and me. No Mother, no McMullens, no nosy neighbours. I’ll pay for everything, of course.’
Catherine could feel an excited flush spreading up from her neck into her fair face.
‘Go away where?’ she whispered.
‘The Co-operative Hotel at Gilsland. It’s in Cumbria - beautiful countryside. We can go on long walks and the food’s very good. I’ve been before.’
Catherine eyed him cautiously. ‘Who with?’
‘On my own,’ he said. ‘The hotel caters for single working people.’
Catherine smiled in relief. ‘So we don’t have to pretend that we’re—’ She broke off, flushing deeper with embarrassment.
Gerald laughed. ‘Kitty McMullen, did you for a moment think I’d be proposing something improper?’
‘No!’
‘Well, I’m not. I’d never do anything to take advantage of your sweet, trusting nature. It’s what’s so appealing about you, Kitty. Your youthful innocence.’
He made her sound childish. ‘I’m a grown woman now,’ Catherine reminded him.
He leant forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Of course you are. You’re entitled to go to Gilsland of your own accord, as a working girl on a good wage. That’s what you must do. We’ll both go separately, so as not to cause tongues to wag, but once we’re there we’ll have as much time together as we want.’
Catherine felt a slight niggle. ‘Why should they wag when it’s all above board?’
‘You know what folk are like. We don’t want any tittle-tattle to the priest or your employers, do we? You can book in a couple of days before me an
d then I’ll join you. What do you say?’
Catherine yearned to go, yet the idea made her nervous. ‘When will we go?’
‘August would be best for me. Mother goes to stay with her half-cousin at the coast and I usually take my holiday week then.’ He leant close. ‘Say yes, Kitty.’
She had a strong urge to throw her arms about his neck and kiss him on his sensual lips. She would put up with the charade of not courting publicly so as to be with him at Gilsland. And perhaps after the holiday, he would officially be her intended. She felt a sudden surge of hope.
‘Aye, I’d like to go,’ she smiled.
Unexpectedly, Gerald leant over and brushed her lips with a brief kiss that left her full of longing.
***
The summer dragged on as Catherine waited impatiently for Gilsland. She had never been away from Jarrow for a whole week on holiday, let alone with a man. The thought made her insides churn with fear and excitement. She told no one but Lily that Gerald would be at the hotel too. Kate was surprised but pleased at her holiday plans.
‘I think it’s grand, you letting your hair down for once. But don’t you want to gan with Lily or Amelia?’
‘They can’t afford it,’ Catherine said with a shrug. ‘Anyway, I’ll meet other lasses there.’
Kate eyed her. ‘And lads. Find someone more your own age, eh? Not like that Mr Rolland.’
Catherine quickly turned away to hide her blushing. She had never told her mother about making up with Gerald.
‘Aye, find a lad that trets you right,’ Kate continued as she pounded bread dough. ‘Plenty more fish in the sea.’
Catherine managed to meet Gerald briefly on Saturday evenings for walks if the weather was fine, or to go to the cinema if it rained. She could hardly contain her excitement about the approaching trip but he would merely smile and pat her hand as if indulging a child.
Two weeks before they were due to go, Matron summoned Catherine into her office. Catherine was terrified word had somehow got out that she was holidaying with a man. Had Lily let slip her secret? She sat opposite Matron Hatch, clutching her hands to stop them shaking.
THE JARROW TRILOGY: all 3 enthralling sagas in 1 volume; The Jarrow Lass, A Child of Jarrow & Return to Jarrow Page 95
