THE JARROW TRILOGY: all 3 enthralling sagas in 1 volume; The Jarrow Lass, A Child of Jarrow & Return to Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Catherine locked herself in her bedroom at night, ignoring Bridie’s nightly tirades or pitiful wailing at her door. It was a terrible few weeks, while she searched for a house she could afford. The world at large at odds with itself too, seemed to mirror the poisonous atmosphere at The Hurst. Hitler’s storm-troopers had marched into Czechoslovakia, his imperial ambitions growing. The fascists in Spain were gaining the upper hand. The fear of another Great War was brewing and nobody seemed certain of what to do.

  Catherine bullied Bridie into going to see a boarding house in St Leonards. It was more than she had wanted to pay, but she knew Bridie would like it, set as it was in a street they had admired on long-ago promenades around the resort.

  After the contract was signed, Bridie fell into sullen acceptance. She spoke to Catherine only through the other guests.

  ‘Ask her whether she wants the fire on tonight.’ Or, ‘Tell her I’m taking Tuppence for a walk with Maisie.’

  Embarrassing though this was, it was preferable to the weeks of emotional outbursts. But Catherine had not foreseen the consequences of Bridie’s insidious remarks. When it came for her and Maisie to move out, five of her lodgers gave their notice too.

  ‘She’s taking all my custom!’ Catherine wailed at Tom. ‘They think I’m to blame for it all. It’s so unfair!’

  Tom wrapped strong arms about her. ‘You’ve still got me and the major - and sweet Dorothy. We’ll soon build up the numbers again.’

  It was the way he included himself in tackling the future that gave Catherine the courage to get through the final days of Bridie’s presence. A van was hired to take furniture to the new house. Bridie loaded up extra pieces that had not been agreed on, but Catherine let them go.

  On the day of departure, Catherine returned from the bathroom to find Bridie in her room searching through drawers. She had amassed a pile of trinkets, handkerchiefs and scarves.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Bridie flicked her a look and carried on rummaging. ‘Taking back what’s mine.’

  ‘But you gave me those things,’ Catherine protested.

  ‘I gave them to a different Catherine - a caring girl I used to know.’

  Catherine was indignant. ‘Please don’t go through my things.’

  Bridie’s look was disdainful. ‘Don’t worry - I’m returning everything you gave me.’ She picked up a bag and emptied it on to the bed. Out fell clothes, hair combs and jewellery. Savagely, she stuffed in the reclaimed presents. Catherine gripped her dressing gown about her, biting back bitter words.

  Bridie advanced towards her. ‘The only things I’ve kept are the letters,’ she said with suppressed fury.

  ‘Letters?’

  Bridie’s face lit with triumph. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. All those letters you wrote to me when I was in Ireland telling me how much you loved me, how much you missed me - inviting me to live with you. Love letters, Catherine! I couldn’t throw those away now, could I? Wonder what your precious schoolboy would make of them?’

  Catherine looked at her in horror, struggling to remember. She had written to Bridie once or twice when she was lonely in Hastings - and on a visit to Jarrow telling her what she was doing. They were far from love letters. Perhaps over affectionate in retrospect, but then she had been young and hungry for friendship after falling out with Lily.

  ‘They weren’t love letters,’ she protested.

  ‘Yes they were - full of passion - better than anything you’ve written to the schoolboy, I bet.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  Bridie’s look softened. ‘Oh, girl, how have we come to this?’ Abruptly she dropped the bag and threw her arms about Catherine. ‘I don’t want to hurt you - I want to stay with you! Change your mind. We can rent out the other place. It’s not too late.’

  Catherine could hardly bear to be touched by her. Bridie felt her tense and slowly pulled away. Her blue eyes were brimming with tears. She spoke so quietly that Catherine struggled to hear.

  ‘If I can’t have you, he never will - I’ll make sure of that.’

  Before Catherine could ask her what she meant, Bridie was barging past her with her bag of possessions and out of the room.

  Shaken by the encounter, Catherine skipped breakfast and went off early to work without further goodbyes. She left a ten-shilling note in an envelope for Maisie and kissed the sleepy girl goodbye in the kitchen.

  ‘You can come back any time to visit,’ Catherine assured her, ‘and help me walk Tuppence.’

  All day at the laundry she felt faint with lack of food and sleep, but was too anxious to eat. Returning home that evening, her battered spirits lifted to see Tom coming out to greet her. Bridie would be gone with most of her business, but at least there would be peace and quiet at The Hurst.

  Tom kissed her openly, but something about his guarded look made her stop.

  ‘What is it? Surely she’s not still here?’

  Tom shook his head. A muscle throbbed in his tense face as he spoke.

  ‘She’s taken Tuppence.’

  Catherine looked at him in bewilderment.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll go over there and fetch him back. She’s just being spiteful to the last. Told Mrs Fairy that the dog was hers since she’d bought him - and that Maisie couldn’t live without him.’

  It was too much for Catherine. She crumpled against him and broke down weeping. Tuppence was like a child to her, full of unquestioning love. Tom hugged and comforted her with soft kisses, steering her back to the house. She could hardly bear to walk in the door with no dog bounding out to meet her.

  But Tom was resolute. He’d go over that very evening, if that’s what Catherine wanted.

  ‘Why would she do such a thing?’ Catherine kept asking, quite at a loss.

  Mrs Fairy shook her head in disbelief. ‘She was acting that strange when she left, I think she just did it on the spur of the moment.’ She pressed Catherine to eat her soup while it was hot.

  They ate in subdued silence, then Mrs Fairy said, ‘She left a message for you - not that it makes a ha’pence of sense. Said before you came demanding the dog back, think about the letters.’

  Catherine let her spoon clatter in the bowl. Mrs Fairy shrugged.

  ‘That’s what she said - “Tell her it’s the dog or the letters.” ‘

  Catherine stared at her bowl. How Bridie must hate her with a vengeance to make such a demand. Damn the letters! Let Bridie show them; Tom would see them as naively passionate, and still love her.

  ‘What does she mean, Kitty?’ he asked.

  His troubled face made Catherine decide. She would put him through no further worry or humiliation at Bridie’s hand. Catherine shook her head. ‘Means nothing. Let Maisie keep Tuppence. He’ll help her settle in.’

  Tom looked baffled, but let the matter drop. He was so happy to be free of Bridie’s relentless bullying that Catherine’s sadness over Tuppence soon lifted. For the first time they could sit and chat and laugh together without glancing over their shoulders. Tom was shaking off his shyness, his confidence increasing in their growing love.

  Catherine’s exhaustion after the turmoil of the summer lessened. She revelled in his company and did not care if the priest or anyone else disapproved. She was deeply in love.

  At times, she was so happy, that she almost forgot about Bridie’s existence.

  Chapter 44

  1939

  Catherine, Tom and Major Holloway sat tensely around the wireless, listening to the King’s broadcast confirming the country was at war.

  ‘We can only do the right as we see the right, and reverently commit our cause to God.’

  Tom turned it off. Outside it was a beautiful sunny September evening. They sat in silence for several minutes, then the major shook his h
ead.

  ‘I never thought I’d see another war in my lifetime. The war-to-end-all-wars, they said.’ He gave out a long sigh. ‘I’m too old to fight. What will you do, Tom?’

  Catherine was startled. She was thinking back to the first day of the Great War when, as a child, she had rushed outside to see if they were being invaded. Her grandfather had laughed at her foolishness. She had not thought of Tom enlisting.

  ‘You won’t go and join up, surely?’ she cried. ‘They’ll still need teachers.’

  Tom regarded her with troubled eyes. ‘If I’m called up . . .’ He shrugged.

  She went to bed that night full of foreboding. Their strangely tranquil year together was over. It was months ago that Catherine had given in her notice at the laundry. Tired out from trying to juggle her job with running The Hurst, she had decided to concentrate on building up her business once more.

  Money had been tight, but with the help of Tom, Mrs Fairy and Rita, she had attracted new custom and begun to make The Hurst viable again. She had bumped into Bridie twice; once in church at Christmas and once outside the cinema. The woman had been more like her old self, breezy and full of chatter as if the past rows and recriminations had never been.

  ‘I’m doing grand - turning away business, so I am,’ she declared. ‘Hear you’ve given up work at the laundry. Wasn’t I always telling you to do that? You look younger by years!’

  Catherine remembered her saying no such thing, but let it pass. She waited for Bridie to question her about Tom, but she didn’t. Nor did she say a word of thanks for the gift of the boarding house that was giving her such a good living. Catherine refrained from a caustic reminder.

  ‘Come round and see me and Maisie,’ Bridie encouraged. ‘I miss our chats.’

  Catherine ignored the invitation and did not mention it to Tom.

  The one incident that disturbed their peaceful existence was an emotional letter from Kate in the spring. Davie had been killed in an accident - fallen off the quayside returning to his ship and drowned. By the time the letter arrived the funeral was over. Catherine wrote her mother a long sympathetic letter, but stopped short of inviting her back to Hastings. She was not going to risk anyone coming between her and Tom again.

  When she heard nothing back from Kate, she wrote to Aunt Mary for news. Her aunt was quick to write back with the gossip. Davie had been drunk. They’d rowed over something. He’d stormed off to his ship and never returned. Body washed up in the Slake two days later weighed down with whisky bottles. Maybe he’d meant to step off the staithes; maybe he hadn’t. Whichever it was, Kate was blaming herself.

  Catherine discussed it with Tom. ‘I thought he was working the ferries?’

  ‘Perhaps he’d decided to go back to sea,’ Tom suggested. ‘Poor man. Poor Kate.’

  They looked at each other for a long time, but neither voiced what the other was thinking. Take Kate back and she’d be meddling in their lives just as before. Instead, Catherine sent money that she could scarcely afford. She heard nothing back for a month until a card came on her thirty-third birthday wishing her well. Kate had moved to a flat in Chaloner’s Lane and had a cleaning job at a doctor’s surgery. Catherine was thankful that her prayers had been answered.

  As for Tom, somehow the talk of marriage had slipped into the background. They were living quite happily under the same roof, sharing meals and conversation, going to films and concerts, reading to each other by the fireside like an old married couple. All that was missing was sharing each other’s bed.

  When she allowed herself to think about it, a wave of panic rose up inside. It reminded her of painful confessions to Father O’Neill as a growing woman. Sexual thoughts were sinful, he scolded, and she had come away feeling dirty. She was the product of sin and she must be doubly virtuous to make up for her bad beginning.

  Yet Catherine knew that Tom would not wait for ever to marry her. She had witnessed his slow-burning impatience over Bridie. These days, she felt it in his kisses. Now that the country was at war with Germany, the future was thrown into uncertainty. There was a spate of marriages that warm September as the town filled up with uniformed soldiers and sailors. Some of Tom’s pupils enlisted.

  Tom raised the subject of marriage again. ‘We could have a quiet ceremony. Half our neighbours and friends think we’re either secretly married or living in sin anyway,’ he teased.

  Catherine blushed. ‘Don’t joke about it!’

  ‘Well, then?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Catherine put him off. ‘The war could be over soon - and then we could do things properly.’

  But the news turned grim as ship after ship was sunk by German U-boats and supplies from abroad were disrupted. One day local officials came to The Hurst and asked to look around. Shortly afterwards Catherine received a letter.

  ‘I have to get rid of my lodgers,’ she told Tom gloomily. ‘They’re sending a group of blind veterans from London - say it’s not safe for them there.’

  ‘And you’re to look after them?’ Tom queried.

  Catherine nodded. She put out a hand. ‘You’ll stay, won’t you? I’ll make sure there’s room for you.’

  Mrs Fairy remained to help, despite her advanced age. Catherine said a tearful farewell to Major Holloway, who was moving to smaller digs in the town. ‘Invite me to the wedding,’ he whispered loudly.

  Dorothy cried and clung on to Catherine when her mother came to collect her, and they promised to stay in touch.

  When the men arrived from London, Catherine got a shock. As well as blind, they were mostly old and infirm.

  ‘I can’t manage them all!’ she protested to the staff who delivered them. ‘They need proper nursing.’

  ‘You’ll just have to try,’ they told her bluntly. ‘There’s a war on.’

  With the help of Rita and Mrs Fairy, and Tom in the evenings, Catherine threw her energies into caring for the displaced men. They had stories from the Great War that made her weep. Others had been blinded in accidents at work. Some were incontinent, one was senile, two suffered from nerves, and all were disorientated by the move. But she was amazed at their patience with her rudimentary nursing skills and humbled by their cheerfulness. It helped her to soldier on with the job without complaint.

  Early in 1940, Bridie erupted into her life again. On a chilly spring day, she appeared on the doorstep dressed in army uniform, holding Tuppence on a lead.

  Catherine leapt at Tuppence and hugged him in joy as the dog licked her in return.

  ‘And do I get a welcome like that?’ Bridie cried.

  Catherine looked at her warily. ‘Hello, Bridie. What brings you here?’

  ‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’

  Sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea, Bridie spoke.

  ‘Joined up. Maisie’s gone back to my sister in Ireland. Don’t want her here if the Jerries are going to invade.’ She pulled out a revolver and placed it on the table. ‘Look, I get my own gun.’

  Catherine stared at it in horror. ‘Put it away!’

  Bridie laughed, picking up the weapon and caressing it.

  Mrs Fairy sniffed in disapproval. ‘What about the boarding house Catherine bought you?’ she asked pointedly.

  Bridie’s look was dismissive. ‘If we win the war and it’s still standing - and I’m still alive - I’ll go back to it.’ She turned back to Catherine. ‘What’s happened to your lodgers? Place smells like a hospital.’

  Catherine grimaced. ‘That’s near enough what it is. Had to take men from a blind asylum in London.’

  ‘So you’ve had to get rid of the schoolboy?’ Bridie said with glee.

  Catherine reddened. ‘No, Tom’s still here.’

  Bridie showed sudden alarm. ‘Not married, though?’

  Catherine did not answer. Bridie gave a short laugh.

&n
bsp; ‘Can’t imagine what Father John has to say about you living out of wedlock with that man.’

  ‘We’re not,’ Catherine said indignantly.

  Mrs Fairy warned, ‘I think you should leave before Mr Cookson gets back and finds you here.’

  Bridie snorted. ‘Don’t think I’m frightened of that little mouse.’ She looked knowingly at Catherine as she pocketed the gun. ‘It’s him who should be in fear and trembling of me.’

  Catherine’s insides jolted. She stood up. She would not be intimidated. ‘I wish you good luck in the army,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘We can still see each other,’ Bridie said. ‘The training barracks are only twenty minutes away.’

  Catherine remained silent as they walked to the door. Tuppence padded beside them. Abruptly Bridie held out the leash.

  ‘I can’t have him with me - he’s yours.’

  ‘Mine?’ Catherine cried, breaking into a grin of delight. ‘Oh, thank you, Bridie!’

  Swiftly Bridie leant towards Catherine and kissed her on the lips. ‘Goodbye, my darling girl.’ She ran down the steps, leaving Catherine gasping.

  Behind, Tom was walking up the drive. He stopped and stared at Bridie. Catherine thought for one crazed moment that Bridie might pull her gun and shoot Tom. But she passed him without exchanging a word. Tom hurried towards the house and a bounding Tuppence. The dog jumped up to greet him. Catherine could not speak for the pounding in her chest, relief engulfing her after stark fear. While Tom was distracted fondling the dog, she forced herself to calm down.

  ‘What was she doing here?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘Came to give Tuppence back. She’s joined up.’ Catherine tried to hide the trembling in her voice. Had Tom seen the kiss on the doorstep?

  ‘So she’s leaving the town.’ Tom’s look brightened.

  ‘Not yet - the barracks are on the outskirts.’

  He tensed. ‘No doubt she’ll be calling here on her days off.’

  Catherine felt uneasy. She could not rid her mind of Bridie showing off her revolver. Tom walked past her without a kiss of welcome, Tuppence padding behind him.