by Maggie Hope
Tom gasped with pleasure and the rest of the conversation was dedicated to the relative merits of the various makes of car. Ada went to her room to write a postcard to Eliza confirming her visit for Saturday.
Saturday, when it came round, was a fine September day with just a hint of frost in the morning which soon burned off as the sun rose. The little party setting out in the pony trap were full of high spirits. There was enough food packed by Cook to last them for the whole weekend rather than one day. Mrs Gray came to the front door to wave them off and they set off down the drive and up the hill towards Neville’s Cross sedately enough.
Turning south onto the Great North Road, however, Tom drove down the hill at a spanking pace. The valley lay spread out before them with golden fields of corn interspersed with green pastureland and the even darker green of the woods. Smoke from a colliery chimney in the distance added a soft haze to the view.
The two girls chatted together happily, looking around them and pointing out anything of interest. It seemed barely a few minutes before they were going through Spennymoor, the little town busy with morning shoppers. Ada couldn’t help contrasting her situation now with that when she had last come through the town, and she was quiet for a moment as she thought how lucky she had been to meet Virginia.
‘Is something wrong?’ Virginia asked, having noticed Ada’s solemn expression.
‘No, nothing’s wrong, nothing at all.’ Ada smiled at her. ‘Oh, look at that, isn’t it pretty?’ She indicated a tiny front garden ablaze with late-summer flowers, thus successfully turning Virginia’s attention away from herself. Today was going to be a happy day with no time for thinking serious thoughts. As they neared the old market town of Bishop Auckland and climbed slowly up Durham Chare, turning into the marketplace by the arched entrance to the castle, the clock above the gate struck eleven.
‘I’ll run you into West Auckland, Ada,’ said Tom. ‘There’s still plenty of time before lunch. It’s not far and I can drop you at your friend’s house, then I will know exactly where to pick you up.’
‘No,’ said Ada swiftly. ‘There’s no need. I’d rather go on the horse bus. They run quite often on Saturdays.’
Tom was about to argue the point but he saw that Ada was determined and held his peace. He was becoming sensitive to her feelings and realised that she had a good reason for wanting to go alone.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He frowned slightly as he looked down at her. ‘Shall I pick you up then?’
‘No. The pony will have had quite enough by the time we get home. No, the horse bus will be quite all right.’
Tom bit his lip; he was reluctant to leave her but it was obvious that was what she wanted. ‘Righto,’ he said at last. ‘We’ll meet by the castle gates then. At five o’clock? Is that long enough for you?’
‘Five o’clock. Lovely.’ Ada took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. ‘Oh, Tom, you’re so good to me,’ she said softly.
Virginia gave them both a meaningful look. ‘Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?’ she asked archly. Ada shook her head and laughed; Virginia was incorrigible. Raising a hand in farewell, she took her basket from Tom and went off to catch the horse bus.
Front Street, West Auckland, next to the Rose and Crown public house; Ada repeated the directions in her mind as she stepped down onto the cobbles with her basket. She had small presents for the children and a fruitcake which Mrs Gray had pressed upon her in the basket, and she moved it from one hand to another as she looked around, searching for the inn sign. She wasn’t long in seeing the inn board swaying in the breeze and she was soon knocking on Eliza’s open front door.
‘Eeh, Ada! It’s grand to see you.’ Eliza came bustling through from the kitchen, looking slimmer than when Ada last saw her. Nevertheless she looked blooming with health. Her fair hair was pinned in a bun at the back of her head, her black dress was covered with a snowy white apron and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. She kissed Ada soundly on the cheek and led her into the room, turning to look her over critically.
‘I was just making a batch of teacakes. Bertie loves a teacake fresh from the oven, he’s just like his da in that. And you look as though you could do with a bite of something good to eat. Have you been all right, lass? Eeh, many’s the time I’ve thought about you. You do look a bit peaky, like.’
‘I’m all right, Eliza. I was poorly for a while, I was in the hospital. But I’m fine now and living with a lovely family. Oh, Eliza, I’ve so much to tell you, there’s so much to talk about. And I want to hear all your news.’
‘Well, we’ll have a cup of tea and a bite of dinner, then we’ll sit down and tell each other everything. Eeh, the hospital, though. You must have been bad for that. You’ll have to tell me all about it.’ Eliza was so obviously concerned for her and delighted to see her that Ada’s heart warmed.
She sat by the gleaming, black-leaded range where in spite of the heat of the day a fire blazed, stoked up to keep the oven hot enough for the teacakes. She watched Eliza as she brought in the baking tray with the teacakes and put it on the steel fender before the fire to prove. The heat from the fire matched the warmth in her heart as she watched her friend.
Eliza set the table with new bread, pease pudding and a ham shank which she proceeded to strip of its meat, carefully cutting away every scrap and placing it on a plate. Finally she lifted the kettle which was singing on the hob and made a big pot of tea. Satisfied with her preparations, she wiped her hands on her pinny and smiled across the table at Ada.
‘I’ll just bring in the bairns,’ she said. ‘Bertie doesn’t know you’re here yet. He’s in the back yard watching the cradle.’
‘Watching the cradle?’
‘Aye. Well, you know, we share the back yard with the pub and I don’t like to leave the babby out there on his own, though this early in the day there’s not many of them drunk. Later on they’ll be satless. But the babby does need the fresh air.’ Eliza sighed. ‘I wish I could afford a little house with its own yard and netty and everything.’
‘But this seems such a nice little house, Eliza, facing onto the green and all.’ Ada was surprised. It wasn’t like Eliza to be discontented, she was the kind who accepted things philosophically.
‘Aye.’ Eliza glanced out of the window pensively. ‘But wait until I’ve seen to the bairns and I’ll tell you all about it.’ She went off through the kitchen, leaving Ada mystified.
Soon she was back, carrying the cradle which she placed near the door, away from the heat of the oven. Bertie followed her and climbed up to sit at the table, staring gravely at the visitor. Obviously he felt strange with Ada, not quite sure if he knew her.
‘You remember Ada, don’t you, Bertie?’ Ada coaxed. ‘Haven’t you got a kiss for me, then?’ But Bertie bent his head shyly and looked at his plate.
‘He’ll come round. Howay and sit down at the table, Ada,’ said Eliza. ‘It would be nice to have my dinner before the bairn wakes and starts yelling for his.’ She smiled fondly at Bertie as he stolidly ate his meal; the visitor had evidently not put him off his food. After the ham and pease pudding Ada brought out the fruitcake and they sampled it.
‘Bye, it’s lovely and rich, isn’t it, Ada? Who did you say made it?’
‘The cook who works for Mrs Gray. She’s a grand cook.’
Eliza nodded her agreement as she damped her finger and picked up the crumbs on her plate with it. Ada watched. Not so long ago she would have done the same, she mused. How quickly you got used to good food.
Finally, as the baby started stirring restlessly, Eliza picked him up and put him to her breast, where he sucked contentedly. She watched Bertie’s face glow as Ada brought out the wooden engine Tom had given her for the boy. Tom had had it since his own childhood. There was also a tiny cap she had knitted for Miles, and Eliza tried it on him as he fed.
‘It’s lovely, Ada, just his fit,’ she said.
‘Too hot for him this weather,’ said Ada deprecatingly. ‘By the ti
me he needs it it will be too small.’
‘Get away! It could be blowing cold tomorrow, the weather’s so changeable.’ Eliza took off the cap and put it on the table. ‘Any road, now we can have a proper gossip. Tell me everything that’s happened since you went away to Durham.’ She appraised Ada’s dress, which was of fine linen. Ada had made it over from an outgrown one of Virginia’s. ‘I can see you must be getting along grand,’ she added.
‘No, you first, I’m curious. Why do you not like living here in this house? It seems quite nice.’
Eliza sighed and looked into the fire. ‘Eeh, I’m that glad to have you to talk to, Ada. I can talk to you and I know you’ll understand.’
Gradually the story came out. Eliza was uneasy living in the house next to the pub for more than one reason and she told Ada all about it as she sat nursing the baby and with her little boy playing happily with the engine on the clippie mat at her feet.
‘I’m not frightened of ghosts or anything, it’s not that. Poor Mary Anne Cotton is surely at peace now, and her bairns an’ all. No, it’s the pub, I wish we didn’t share a yard with the pub. An’ me being a widow woman an’ all.’
Ada’s quick sympathy was aroused as she looked at her friend’s unhappy face. She stretched out a hand to her almost involuntarily, then let it fall to her side.
‘It’s not safe to go out there,’ Eliza confided. ‘Drunks fighting and brawling on Saturday nights and sometimes on week nights. There’s always someone carted off to the police cells to cool off overnight. The noise wakes the bairns.’
‘Oh, Eliza, that’s awful!’ Ada hadn’t thought of the drawbacks of having a pub next door.
Eliza nodded. ‘Then there’s them that think a widow must be dying for it. They come knocking at the back door, shouting for me.’ Eliza’s voice was calm but Ada could see that she was deeply disturbed.
‘Can’t you find anywhere else?’ she asked, concern edging her voice.
‘Nothing I can afford.’ Eliza paused. ‘But there is one thing. Now the babby’s older I could maybe get a housekeeper’s job. My Albert’s brother, him that lives up by Hummerbeck, he’s got a little farm. He has offered me a home in return for working there.’
‘Oh, that sounds like the best answer!’ Ada exclaimed. Then she saw Eliza’s doubtful expression and continued, ‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. There’s things for it and things against. Albert never got on with him really, he thought he was too grasping.’
‘Well … surely you’ll still be better off than here, Eliza? It’ll be better for the bairns.’
‘Mebbe I will.’
Eliza fell into a thoughtful silence before shaking off her mood. Getting to her feet, she took the now sleeping baby and laid him in the cradle.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘what about you? Here I’ve been going on about my troubles and just made us both miserable. Did you hear from your Johnny? Auntie said he came looking for you a while back. Then I got a letter from him asking for your address. Did he get in touch?’
Ada whitened visibly, unable to answer for the sudden distress the question had caused her.
‘Oh, whatever’s the matter, pet? Did I say something wrong?’ asked Eliza.
‘He – he wrote to you?’
‘Yes, I told you. I thought it would be a lovely surprise for you when he came to see you. Wasn’t it?’
‘No. I mean he didn’t – I’m all right. It was just the shock of you mentioning him like that. No, he didn’t come to see me.’ And the story of Ada’s visit to Middlesbrough, of how she heard the news of Johnny’s death, came tumbling out.
‘Ada! I’m that sorry.’
‘Yes,’ Ada said simply. She went on to tell Eliza about what had happened afterwards, her illness and how she came to be with the Gray family.
‘They’re so good, Eliza, you wouldn’t believe. And Tom and Virginia Gray came with me to the town, to Auckland. I’m to meet them by the castle gates at five o’clock.’
Eliza glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was showing half past three. ‘Eeh, well, I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have another cup of tea before you go,’ she said and began to bustle about buttering teacakes and making tea, talking all the time as she worked.
‘I’m that sorry about the lad, Ada, you were always that fond of him even though you didn’t see him for so long. But you’ll get over it, pet, believe me, I know.’
‘Yes, of course you do, Eliza.’ Ada remembered Eliza’s widowhood and all the troubles which had followed on it. ‘I know, it was awful for you.’ Truly awful, she knew now. There were just not the words to express it.
‘Aye, well, that’s gone now. And I’m that pleased you’ve got such good friends, Ada, they sound grand, really, and I’m that pleased for you pet.’
Eventually, after mutual assurances of keeping in touch, Ada said goodbye to Eliza and the children and set off to walk the three miles to Bishop Auckland. She wanted the time to herself, she would still be in time to meet Virginia and Tom. The afternoon was warm and sunny so she took the short cut through the fields, past the Townhead colliery yard and up the hill to the hamlet of Woodhouses. The path ran through golden cornfields and green pastures and she enjoyed the walk immensely, though she did feel very tired by the time she reached the outskirts of the town. There was no doubt that she was still not perfectly fit, she thought ruefully.
Ada decided to avoid Tenters Street, just in case she should bump into her aunt and uncle, so she approached the market square by Bondgate. As she entered the square she saw it was ten to five by the Town Hall clock, she was in good time. Her pace slowed and she relaxed.
‘Where’ve you been, my girl?’ A hand clamped round her arm from behind and, as she was swung roughly round to face her assailant, her heart dropped to her boots. There stood Harry Parker, his eyes glistening with malice, his face triumphant, and beside him stood her Auntie Doris. After the first shock of seeing them, Ada struggled in his grip, but though he was a small man he held onto her with an iron fist.
‘Now, my lass!’ Auntie Doris moved forward and grabbed her other arm.
‘Leave me alone!’ Ada yelled desperately. ‘Let me go I tell you!’ People walking by turned their heads to see what was up and in seconds a small crowd had gathered to enjoy the commotion, but the Parkers didn’t care. Auntie Doris smacked Ada’s face with all the strength she could get into her free hand and hostile murmuring ran through the crowd.
‘Leave her be!’
‘’Ere, what d’you think you’re doing? Let the lass alone!’
Doris Parker turned on them. ‘Aye, I’ll let her alone when she behaves hersel’. She ran away from home, she’s only fifteen. She’s brazent fond, she is. She’s been going with lads!’ Auntie Doris was self-righteous, drawing herself up in defence.
‘I didn’t! I didn’t!’ Ada cried, her face already beginning to turn colour from the blow. Her dark curls tumbled down from their fastening as Harry Parker shook her viciously. The crowd looked at each other uncertainly. Lasses sometimes took some looking after and if they went wild …
‘Aye, well, if you didn’t, now’s your chance, I’m just the lad for you!’ One burly young miner winked and grinned at her suggestively.
‘Here! Make way there. What are you doing with Miss Leigh?’ The educated voice came from the back and the onlookers automatically gave way to it.
‘Tom! Thank God, Tom!’ Ada strained to break away as Tom strode up.
‘There! Do you see now?’ Auntie Doris said passionately to the crowd. ‘That’s what she’s like! I don’t mind telling you we have the devil of a time with her. You’d think she’d never had a decent bringing-up.’
They looked at the well-dressed young man and back at the couple struggling with the girl.
‘For shame, lass,’ a middle-aged woman said and folded her arms across her vast chest. ‘Putting a decent family to shame, get away and behave yourself.’
Harry and Doris Parker began movin
g away with Ada between them as Tom tried to get through to help her but the men in the crowd, mostly short, stocky miners with muscles hardened by years of underground labour, held him off. They had their own code of ethics and a toff messing about with a young working lass was not to be tolerated, not for a minute. Tom was manhandled roughly against the wall and the mood was getting uglier by the minute.
‘The polis!’
The warning cry came over the heads of the men and suddenly Tom was winded by an almighty blow to the stomach before the mob scattered into the alleys which went through to Back Bondgate and beyond. He bent over double, retching into the gutter, gasping for air.
‘Tom! What is it, Tom? I saw the commotion but I couldn’t see what it was. Oh, Tom, you’re hurt!’ Virginia climbed down from the trap where she had been holding the reins. Waiting for him by the castle gates, she had finally decided to drive to the opposite side of the marketplace to look for him. She hurried over to him but when she got there she was unsure what to do, so she hopped from foot to foot, watching him anxiously.
Tom straightened up at last and took hold of her arm. ‘Hurry! They’ve got Ada,’ he managed to find enough breath to pant. He rushed her back to the trap and climbed onto the driver’s bench. Picking up the reins he set off up Bondgate, deaf to Virginia’s anxious questions about who had got Ada. The best he could get out of the pony was a trot, but he could see the couple with Ada between them turning into Tenters Street as he rounded the corner. Too late to stop them, he saw, as she was dragged into a house and the door firmly closed. He even heard the key turned in the lock as he flung himself down from the trap and raced up to the door. He banged on the knocker and rapped on the window, beside himself with anger. Virginia sat, her hand on her mouth, unable to believe this was actually happening.
‘Go away! I’ll call the polis, mind!’ Doris Parker shouted through the letterbox.
‘Let Ada out then! You’ve got no right to keep her when she doesn’t want to stay! Let her go, I say!’
