Changing Patterns

by Judith Barrow

  When she stepped out of the carriage, Ted was waiting. He wore only a jacket and his overalls, his shoulders hunched against the cold. Drizzle from the mist glistened on his flat cap and the metal studs on his boots clinked on the concrete flags as he stamped his feet. When Mary kissed his cheek his skin was damp and icily cold.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ she said. ‘You look frozen.’ She fastened the knot of her headscarf under her chin.

  ‘I’m fine.’ His tone was grim but he managed a smile and a hug as he took her case from her. ‘Peter all right? He didn’t mind you coming?’

  ‘I’m here now,’ she said, avoiding the question. ‘Let’s get home.’ She gave an inward start; how easily she’d thought of Henshaw Street as home, even after all these years.

  They walked quickly, Mary barely giving a glance towards the derelict mill. The Granville belonged in the past, just as she was determined Peter did. The hurt and bitterness increased each time she thought about the last years with Tom. She knew Tom was quite capable of forgiving Peter for all the years of suspicion and Mary persuaded herself she would have as well, if only he had confessed as soon as he realised Tom was blamed. On the train she’d been determined to concentrate on what was happening in Ashford but it was impossible. Worried her face had given her away she glanced at Ted but he just gave her a brief smile, concentrating on getting back to Henshaw Street as soon as they could.

  They passed St John’s church, the serried rows of gravestones behind the wide stone. Mary automatically looked towards the middle of the cemetery where Frank was buried. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, drawing her coat closer and shutting out her thoughts. ‘How’s Ellen?’

  ‘Won’t get up.’

  They crossed the road and hurried through Skirm Park. Mary had avoided the place each time she’d returned to Ashford, since they moved to Wales. There were too many memories of childhood, of Tom, of being separated from Peter, of the time she thought happiness was an elusive memory. And now it seemed that was finally, irrevocably true.

  ‘Who’s with her now?’

  ‘Jean. She’s been brilliant. But she’s got more than enough on her plate without us.’

  ‘How are things between her and Patrick?’

  ‘Same.’

  ‘Well, I can stay as long as you need me to.’

  In the centre of the park the grey surface of the lake was ruffled by the wind that stung her cheeks.

  ‘The wedding?’

  ‘We’ve put it off for now.’

  ‘Not because of us?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Aw, Mary.’

  They’d reached the other side of the park before a thought struck her. ‘Ted, I’m sorry, I should have asked. How are you? With your mother…?’

  He brushed her concern away.

  She knew not to say any more. ‘How are the children?’ she said instead.

  ‘Linda hasn’t said anything. I think she knows my mother didn’t like her and now she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her.’

  ‘Thanks. William doesn’t understand. He’s been coming with me to the bakery, thinks it’s great.’ He looked anxiously at Mary. ‘I had to keep the shop open. We can’t afford to shut up, even for a few days.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’ll be shut for the funeral, of course.’

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘Friday.’

  ‘Everything’s arranged?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They walked along Greenacre Street and down the alleyway to the back gate of number twenty-seven, soaked through and breathless. It was obvious Ted couldn’t bear to be away from Ellen any longer than necessary.

  Linda was skipping in the backyard, Jacqueline holding one end of the rope, the other fastened to the joint of the drainpipe.

  Jelly on a plate

  Jelly on a plate

  Wibble-wobble

  Wibble-wobble

  Jelly on the plate

  Custard in a jug

  Custard in a …

  Their voices were quiet, subdued. They stopped and rushed at Mary, wrapping their arms tight around her waist. When Linda raised her face it was pale and wet with tears.

  Mary kissed her. ‘Let me go in and see Mummy,’ she said, ‘then I’ll come back down. You too, Jacqueline.’ She gave her a kiss as well. ‘Be good girls.’ She pushed open the door.

  Jean was sitting with William on her knee. She put her finger to her lips and then pointed to the ceiling. ‘She’s asleep. Got a bit upset when she found out you weren’t here,’ she said to Ted, ‘but quietened down when I told her you were meeting Mary.’

  Mary bent over to first hug Jean and then stroke William’s cheek. ‘Hello sweetheart.’ The little boy dipped his head, all at once shy of her. ‘Jean?’ Mary didn’t know what else to say. Jean’s eyes were difficult to see against the reflection of light from the window on her spectacles but her face was flushed and her voice trembled.

  ‘We can talk later. One thing at a time. I’ll get off with these three. You go up and see Ellen.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Mary smiled her gratitude. ‘I’ll pop over and pick Linda and William up later. You’re still at your mum’s?’

  ‘For my sins.’ Jean started to put the little boy’s coat on. He didn’t resist. ‘Little chap doesn’t know what’s hit him,’ she said, with a grimace.

  ‘I know.’ Mary stroked William’s head. She looked at Ted. ‘I won’t be a minute if she’s asleep.’

  Ellen was curled in a tight foetal position. Soft snores moved the strands of hair that had fallen across her face.

  Mary smoothed them back and let her hand rest on her sister’s forehead. It felt cold and clammy. ‘It’s going to be okay, sis,’ she whispered. ‘I’m here now.’

  *

  Ellen didn’t move until Mary left the bedroom and she heard the top stair give the familiar squeak. The nail marks dented into her skin stung. She unclenched her hands and rolled to face the wall, hunching the covers over her head. She wouldn’t talk, not yet. If she even tried to open her mouth the scream would escape. And she knew it wouldn’t stop.

  She wasn’t sure what had happened, why she was in bed when it was light, when it was obviously the middle of the day. All she knew, all she felt, was the sense of relief that Mary’s presence brought. It would be okay now. Mary would sort it, whatever ‘it’ was. With a long sigh she curled her hand against her cheek and relaxed.

  But a moment later a kaleidoscope of recollections and emotions gathered and splintered. Ted’s mother; the slap, the dead gaze, the panic; Frank Shuttleworth; that quick coupling years ago, his contempt. Mary, guilt; Ted, guilt; Linda, guilt. Ellen hurled herself from one side of the bed to the other, pushing and pulling at the covers, trying to escape the darkness of the memories crashing around her. At last she forced her eyes open, afraid that if they closed it would start again. She stared up at the jagged crack on the ceiling that split the whitewash just above her, drawing air into her lungs in short shallow breaths.

  Selfishness came at a price, she realised. And the people Ellen most loved had paid the price for hers in the past: Mary, Ted, Linda. Her thoughts were jumbled but the shame, disintegrating and assembling, finally came together in the one image – Linda. One emotion – guilt, for leaving her daughter with the foster carer when she was six weeks old; the memory of walking out of that grubby terraced house and moving faster and faster down the street until she was running. Running away.

  For the next two years she’d kept on running.

  So much to feel bad about, she thought. So many things she’d done wrong, so much fodder for Ted’s mother to torment her with and the old cow had made the most of it. Ellen turned onto her side, exhausted, and focussed on the photograph of her and Mary taken years ago. But it would all be all right now. Mary was here, she would help make everything be okay. Ellen was sure of that.

  Perhaps, with Mary n
earby, she would be strong enough to acknowledge the mistakes, the regrets in her life. It wouldn’t be easy but she’d try.

  Yet Hannah’s face, eyes blank but accusing, still stared into hers.

  Chapter 46

  ‘She’s asleep.’ Mary sat on the kitchen chair. ‘She looks awful, Ted, what the hell happened?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know. I think when Mother had her heart attack, she panicked. And it’s been rough for her over the last couple of years. I told Mother when we got back from your place to leave Ellen be. I even threatened that she’d have to leave if she didn’t. But she had a hold over us, the money, I suppose you know that?’ Mary nodded. ‘I should have had more guts, told her to get out but I didn’t. I just thought she be scared enough to stop being so vicious.’ He sighed. ‘And then there was the business with Patrick playing about with that woman. As far as I can work out, it’d played on Ellen’s mind for months that it was me messing about,’ he said. ‘I should have told her the truth but I’d no idea that’s what she was thinking. I wouldn’t do that to her, Mary.’ He flushed. ‘I love her too much.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself.’ Mary remembered how she’d dismissed Ellen’s complaints about Hannah, how she’d scoffed at the idea of Ted having an affair. All that time Ellen was driving herself mad with worry, and she hadn’t helped.

  ‘I do though,’ he said. ‘I swore the day Ellen said she’d be my wife that I’d look after her.’ He paused, looking straight into Mary’s eyes. ‘I haven’t.’ Ted rubbed his palms over his face. ‘I was the proudest man in the world the day she said she’d marry me. I was in a black hole when I came home from the war. She made me come alive again. But I’ve been selfish. Building up the business has taken a lot of my time.’ He stared into the fire. ‘And I know I get a bit moody sometimes.’ He placed his hand on his chest. ‘Like in here it’s all bottled up, what happened in the war. Ellen doesn’t want me talking about it so I don’t…’

  How could two sisters be so different, Mary thought? I wanted so much for Peter to talk to me about what happened to us, yet Ellen refuses to listen to Ted.

  ‘But it still haunts me, Mary.’ There was agonised pain in his eyes. ‘It’s only five years since it ended but everyone’s like, “It’s gone … so forget it.” You only have to listen to the news these days. It’s all about Korea now, as though what happened to all the men who fought, all the men and women who suffered, who died in our war are forgotten.’ He licked his lips, his mouth working, a habit Mary knew he had when he was trying to form what he wanted to say. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I know there are horrible things going on. Now China’s joined in the Korean War, God only knows when it’ll stop.’ His voice was harsh, bitter. ‘Six bloody years of hell, Mary, and still men are killing one another.’

  And some too cowardly to own up to it and only too happy to let others take the blame, Mary thought, her anger quick to bubble up against Peter.

  Ted leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his knees, hands clasped together. ‘All the time I was a prisoner, I told myself that when, if, I got home, I would woo Ellen and I wouldn’t give up till she agreed to marry me. I couldn’t do anything about what other people did to one another, but I could protect her. I knew it hadn’t been easy for her, what with having Linda and all the other stuff. She’s gone through a lot.’ He blinked hard. ‘I promised I’d look after her. I’ve failed.’

  ‘No you haven’t. She loves you, Ted.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have been so tied up with myself.’

  ‘You’ve done your best. That’s all any of us can do.’ We all have images that haunt us, she thought: seeing that van swerve towards Tom, seeing his crumpled body, his blood staining the road, the coffin going into the ground forever. Mary widened her eyes, knowing if she closed them, it would all be there, vivid against her eyelids. And we all bury things inside us, memories that turn into nightmares, returning when least expected. How many nights had she woken, sweating and fighting against the twisted sheets, with the sounds of her clothes being ripped from her body still in her ears, the taste of her own blood and tears in her mouth, the revolting sensation of a man viciously pushing himself into her, unwelcome, unwanted? How many times had she stared into the darkness hearing the heavy sounds of footsteps, of a brutal fight, the splashing of water, the screams of a dying man? How many times had she remembered and hoped for the relief of oblivion?

  ‘It’s hard,’ he said, ‘feeling guilty about something, when you know there wasn’t anything you could do about it.’

  ‘I know.’ Oh how I know, she thought, shuddering.

  She realised Ted was watching her. ‘Like I said, I’m here now.’ She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘And I’ll stay until it’s all sorted out.’ There was no point in telling him that she and Peter had separated. That she wasn’t going back to Wales. She hadn’t even told Gwyneth yet. She hadn’t plucked up enough courage to tell the old woman that she was throwing the gift of the cottage right back in her face. Because that’s how it would seem, Mary was sure. But she would have to eventually. She was dreading that.

  Chapter 47

  ‘Come on Jackie.’ Linda put her arm around her cousin’s neck. ‘You like hopscotch. It’s fun.’

  Jacqueline was shivering. ‘Don’t want to.’ She scowled.

  ‘You will.’ Linda jumped up from her cousin’s Granny Winterbottom’s front doorstep. She windmilled her arms, wishing she could make her cousin smile. She usually felt safe with Jacqueline, but lately it was as though she had to look after her and she didn’t know how to make things better.

  Jacqueline saw the yellow donkey stone on the back of Linda’s kilt but said nothing. She was feeling odd, sort of wanting to cry because she thought her dad might be lonely back home and because, try as she might, she didn’t like Granny with her scraggy arms, bony hands and a voice that hurt your ears. ‘Don’t you miss your Grandma Booth?’ she said.

  ‘No. She was horrid,’ Linda said airily. She twirled round, admiring the way her kilt swirled into a circle.

  Jacqueline’s lower lip trembled. She glanced behind her, making sure the door was closed. ‘I don’t think my granny wants us here. She shouts.’ She pulled her knees up under her chin.

  ‘Come to live with us.’ Linda crouched down to draw the squares for the game of hopscotch with a small piece of brick. ‘Your mummy could make our dinners with mine being poorly?’ Her face brightened when she looked up at Jacqueline. ‘That’d be good. Daddy makes yummy bread but he’s no good at tater hash.’

  ‘I think they’d still fall out.’ Jacqueline wrapped her arms around her legs. She wished she could make herself as small as William.

  ‘Hmm, you’re right.’

  The two girls looked at one another, cohorts in their opinions of the adult world.

  ‘Anyway, we might go home soon, we’ve been here a long time.’ Jacqueline tilted her head to think. ‘Two whole weeks.’

  Linda twiddled a piece of her hair around her finger, her mouth turned down. ‘I like you living close. I can come here whenever I want. At your house I’m not allowed. It’s too far.’ She stood up.

  ‘Well, we’ll be big soon and then they can’t stop us.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. Mummy’s very old and Grandma Booth used to boss her all the time.’ Linda put her hands on her hips. ‘I hated her and I’m glad she’s dead. And I don’t think she’s gone to Heaven either. I don’t think Jesus wants her there.’ When she spoke again she was nonchalant. ‘I think Grandma Booth is in Hell.’

  ‘Oh, our Linda!’ Jacqueline stood up with her back to the wall of the house. ‘God will hear you.’

  ‘I don’t care. He knows she was a nasty lady.’ Linda threw the flat piece of red brick on the first square and hopped onto it. ‘Anyway, you used to laugh at her as well.’ She jumped, two-footed onto squares two and three, glancing at Jacqueline. ‘We both did, remember, last Christmas?’

  ‘When we had to wait for her to come for
dinner?’

  ‘S’right.’ Linda hopped and jumped to the last square. As she turned she said, ‘Cos she was in the lavvy.’ She balanced on one leg, hopped up and down. ‘Then she just sat at the table and started eating without talking to anybody. And she made horrid sloppy noises.’

  ‘And her chin and nose bumped together when she chewed.’

  They giggled and Linda wobbled, her heel turning on the uneven stone flag. ‘Your mummy shouted at us. But I saw my mummy smile. She put her hand over her mouth but I did, I saw her smiling.’ She was glad she’d made Jacqueline laugh, it made her feel good.

  ‘It was a shame we missed our pudding though.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Linda made her way back to the start of the hopscotch. ‘Your turn.’ She handed the piece of brick to Jacqueline and flopped down on the step. She wet her finger and rubbed at the donkey stone and then examined her finger. It was satisfyingly yellow. ‘So I’m glad she’s dead. They’re going to put her in a hole in the ground today.’

  ‘In somebody’s garden?’

  ‘No, in some gravy yard or something.’ Linda paused. ‘I heard Auntie Mary say. She told the milkman they were burying her this afternoon. So, see, she can’t hurt Mummy anymore.’

  Chapter 48

  ‘I’ve arrived, and to prove it, I’m here!’

  ‘Turn that bloody rubbish off.’

  Jean twisted the knob of the radio. ‘I like it … and it’s not your house.’ The volume of the banter between Max Bygraves and the clipped high-pitched tone of Peter Brough’s ventriloquist’s dummy increased. ‘Well Archie…’

  Patrick reached past her and switched the wireless off.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Jean banged the iron down onto the board, holding it steady when it rocked. She much preferred to iron on a table but her mother insisted on ‘being modern.’ Her scalp was still prickling from the dismay of seeing her husband. She’d forgotten he had a key to the front door.