The only other person in the compartment was hidden behind a newspaper, for which Dominic was grateful as he stumbled again. He stared out of the window to avoid any eye contact. It was going to be a long journey. About eight hours, the stationmaster had told him. He looked at his watch. It was two thirty in the afternoon, English time, so he decided he’d have to find accommodation for the night when he arrived in Darlington. It would be far too late to go to anyone’s house, never mind that of a family he wasn’t even sure was expecting him. And anyway, he’d still have to get a train from Darlington to Bishop Auckland after this, which, according to his map, was a further twelve miles. Then a bus from Bishop Auckland to Evenwood, which was another five miles, and after that he had to find the house, Tom’s house. No, he definitely wouldn’t be able to do it that day. He’d speak to the ticket collector, maybe he could recommend a hotel. At least, Dominic thought, it means I’ll arrive at Tom’s house early, and I won’t be tired.
That decided, he laid his head back and attempted to relax. He gazed through the window. The steam had thinned now, and he could see endless tiny terraced houses and back gardens, where people were busying themselves earnestly, preoccupied by their own little problems. Like me, he thought. Remembering his meeting with Yvette, he wondered anxiously if they really would meet again, or if it had just been a pleasant little interlude.
He studied the other passenger in the compartment. It was an elderly man, whose head was already rocking sleepily from side to side with the motion of the train while his newspaper dangled loosely from his hand. Dominic was relieved that he wouldn’t need to make conversation. It meant he could allow himself to day-dream about Yvette. He conjured up her deep brown eyes, so sincere and warm, and the angular cut of her straight black hair, which framed her pretty elfin face so exquisitely. With a sigh, he remembered her full lips, painted in a deep red lipstick that matched her coat perfectly. He smiled, only vaguely aware of the hypnotic clickety-click, clickety-click as the train made its way along the lines, taking him closer and closer to Evenwood.
Chapter 11
Evenwood, England
Saturday, 1 December 1945
At the Scout hut dance, Jessie’s eyes didn’t leave Maisie for a second as she demanded, ‘Who’s this whore that yer’ve picked up, then? Yer don’t hang around, ah’ll give yer that! Now ah see why yer didn’t bother ter let uz know yer were back.’ Tom had no opportunity to answer before, in the brief moment of comparative quiet at the end of the band’s first set, Jessie yelled, her words booming out across the hut, ‘Cat got yer tongue, then? Yer selfish git!’
The band lurched straight into a Glenn Miller routine, which never failed to get everyone on the dance floor. Tom, with an apologetic glance at Maisie, seized on the opportunity to get Jessie out of there. Grabbing her hand, he practically dragged her across the hut towards the exit. He was so angry that he ignored her protests that he was gripping her wrist too tight.
When they were near the cloakroom he said in a dangerously calm tone, ‘You don’t change, do you? Bite first, ask questions after!’
‘What was ah supposed ter think? Yer didn’t even let uz know yer were back, then ah walk in ter find yer cosyin’ up to that … that whore!’
‘For your information, she’s no whore, she’s a clippie that I met on the bus bringing me from Bishop. And if you must know, I helped her out of a bit of trouble she’d gotten herself into, and that’s all it was. And d’you know what? I don’t care whether you believe us or not. And, what d’you mean I never let you know I was back? What about the note I left at your house?’
Jessie pushed a mass of curls away from her eyes and glared at Tom. ‘Oh aye, left me a note, did yer, and where exactly would that be, then?’ She leaned towards him for full impact. ‘Yer a bloody liar, Tom Dawson! Yer’ll say owt that comes inter yer head, ter get yerself out of trouble.’
‘Ask your mam where the note is, then,’ Tom interrupted calmly.
‘Me mam?’ Jessie looked confused. ‘What’s she got ter do with it?’
‘Ah,’ exclaimed Tom. The penny had suddenly dropped. ‘You didn’t get the note! That explains this warm greeting of yours, then.’
Jessie, impatient now, demanded, ‘What note? Ah don’t know what yer on about.’
‘The note telling you I was home, and asking you if you’d meet us here tonight! That’s what note.’
Jessie slumped down on a chair by the cloakroom, fumbled in her bag and pulled out a ticket, which she gave to the girl in charge of the coats. Then, lighting one cigarette, she absentmindedly handed another to Tom. Tom helped her into her coat before asking, ‘What are you gonner do now, then?’
Jessie, buttoning her coat, answered, ‘Ah’m goin’ ter see me mam, that’s what ah’m goin’ ter do. See what she’s got ter say about all this!’
At that she disappeared into the darkness, and Tom was left wondering whether he should follow her.
His dilemma was short-lived, though, as his old mate George turned up, pushing his way through the revellers and calling out, ‘Come on, man! What yer playin’ at with these lasses? Yer must be ready fer another pint be now. Get yersel’ in ’ere, some of the other lads are here now, and they’re keen ter see yer.’
So Tom, having briefly considered the alternative, went back in with George, who, noticing Tom glance around the hut said, ‘She left, mate. She must’ve gone out behind yer, when yer were occupied with Jessie, like.’
Punching George playfully on the arm, Tom answered, ‘Bloody hell, you don’t miss a thing!’
‘Well, we always did foller yer love life wi’ interest, and it seems nowt’s changed. We had a little bet on, like, as to which one ye’d be leavin’ with. An’ we all lost, cause they’ve both gone!’
‘Aw, man!’ Tom answered, just as they were reaching the other chaps. ‘It was neither nowt nor summat, all a bloody misunderstanding. You know what women are like.’
‘Ay, come on, Tom,’ his mates sympathized as he joined the group.
Harry said, ‘Ah thought the little blonde was all right, mind! ’Avn’t seen ’er around ’ere afore. Is she local, like?’
Tom grinned. ‘Ay, you talk about me! And you haven’t changed yourself, mind! Always were a one for the lasses, if I remember right, Harry.’
Harry laughed, but he was still waiting for an answer to his question, and gave Tom a nudge. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘She’s a clippie. I met her on the bus, but it’s a long story and I’d like to forget it for now, if you don’t mind. So come on, lads, what are you drinking? We might as well get stuck in, cause you can’t have a decent conversation with this din going on.’ Nodding with enthusiasm they followed him to the bar, where he bought the next round.
Meantime, Jessie, beside herself with anger and embarrassment, cursed as she struggled to fit her key in the front door. The house was in darkness, but she knew her mother wasn’t asleep, because she’d seen the bedroom light go out as she’d turned into the street. And anyway, she thought, what the hell was she going to bed at this time for? It could only be about nine or so. Unless, of course, she was keeping out of the way for some reason!
At that thought she ran up the stairs, barged into her mother’s room, switched on the stark light bulb, and stared at what appeared to be a pile of rags on the bed. Seeing a slight movement under the pile, she marched over and yanked at it, and said, ‘Ah know yer there, Ma!’
Her mother, eyes wide open, sat bolt upright holding the bedclothes tightly against her. ‘Ah know what yer gonner say, our Jessie,’ she said, ‘but ah did it fer yer own good.’
‘Did what, Ma?’ Jessie questioned. ‘Just what did yer do, Ma? Or, more ter the point, have yer any idea of what yer’ve done?’ she yelled, yanking the bedclothes from her and chucking them across the floor. ‘Call yerself a mother! All yer care about is yerself!’ Jessie held out her hand, thinking how pathetic her mother looked at this moment. ‘Show uz the note, then,’ she said.
‘Ah can’t show yer the note,’ her mother muttered.
‘Just tell uz where it is,’ Jessie said impatiently.
‘It’s on t’ fire,’ her mother shouted, and, seeing Jessie’s shock, she talked rapidly, hoping to extricate herself. ‘’Eee came round ’ere brazen as brass, ’ee did. Tellin uz ter give yer the note as if nowt was wrong. Huh! well ah knew different, and ah thought if ah got rid of it, yer’d be saved the ’artache.’
‘Saved the heartache, my arse! All you bloody want, is ter keep uz here at your beck an’ call. An’ yer have the gall ter call Tom a selfish git! Huh! Well ahve ’ad it with yer!’ Seeing her mother sitting shivering on the bed she felt nothing but disgust. She threw the bedclothes back. Then she ran down the stairs, stopping only to grab her bag before slamming out of the door.
When she looked across the road and saw the twitching curtains, it brought home to her, and not for the first time, how grim her life was. It was going to be like that for evermore, too. ‘Piss off, yer nosey bloody parkers, and get back ter yer own hovels behind yer filthy net curtains!’ she shouted in frustration. And then she stomped off down the street without a clue where she was headed. Having humiliated herself at the dance, she couldn’t face going there. So she kept on walking, pushing her way through the lines of damp washing still hanging across the darkened back streets.
She stopped momentarily to strike a match, then cursed when she realized that she’d got coal dust all down the sleeve of her coat, from brushing against a coal-house door. Taking a deep drag on her cigarette, she glanced down the street, irritated by the high brick walls enclosing the back yards of all the houses at Tom’s end of the village. The only real difference between these streets and ours, she thought, are the people who live in them. Cleaner curtains and scrubbed steps apart, they look exactly the same. Bloody snobs! she said to herself, throwing the cigarette stub on the ground and stubbing it out with a twist of her foot. She stood there, trying to decide what to do next.
‘I know the first place ah’ll go,’ she said, setting off at a faster pace now. Five minutes later she found herself in the Dawsons’ back yard. She reckoned it must be about a quarter to ten by now, so Hannah would likely still be up. Taking a deep breath, she knocked tentatively on the back door.
She heard Hannah scurry through the scullery, lift the latch and call, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s only me … Jessie!’
‘Oh, Jessie, what on earth’s the matter?’
‘Ah’m sorry, Hannah, but ah’ve ’ad such a row with me mother, ah’ve walked out, and ah didn’t know where else to go.’
‘Come on in then, pet, have yer seen our Tom, then?’ Hannah asked carefully.
‘Oh aye, ah’ve seen him all right. That’s how the trouble started.’
Hannah was at a bit of a loss as to what to do or say next, when Jessie reassured her, ‘Oh don’t worry, Hannah, ah know ah can’t stay ’ere, what with Tom back, and your Rene and young Jeannie due ter come back termorrer. Ah just need ter catch me breath a bit.’
Relieved to hear that, Hannah relaxed a little, and Jessie added, ‘Ah just couldn’t stay in the house with Ma. Ah’m sorry ter put yer out like.’ Then, thumbing over her shoulder towards the stairs, she whispered, ‘Is Jack in bed then?’
‘Oh aye,’ whispered Hannah in response. ‘Eee’s got an early start in the morning, so he thought he’d go up and get his beauty sleep while he had a chance.’ She added with a laugh, ‘Beauty sleep, indeed!’
‘Well, ah won’t keep yer any longer, Hannah. Ah’ll let meself out, but will yer let Rene know that ah called, and ah’ll see ’er termorrer? Apart from that, ah need ter explain somethin’ ter Tom.’ She was careful not to say that she wanted to apologize to him. She still felt that he was the one who should apologize, because he hadn’t written her any letters. She felt that was unforgivable. None of this would have happened if he’d kept in touch, she told herself. But she was willing to hear his side, now that she knew he’d at least told her the truth about the note.
She bade Hannah goodnight, and let herself out.
Chapter 12
Evenwood, England
Sunday, 2 December 1945
‘Ah’ll be glad ter get ’ome, mam, won’t you?’ Jeannie said, as she skipped along the pavement with one foot on the kerb, and the other in the gutter.
Rene looked at her daughter in despair. ‘Jeannie!’ she corrected, ‘How many times must I tell you it’s “home”, not “’ome”.’
‘Aw, mam, ah keep fergettin’. Anyway why der yer want uz ter talk all proper? Nobody else does round ’ere.’
‘I want you to talk all proper, as you so eloquently put it, because one day, when it helps you to get a really good job away from here, you’ll thank me for it.’ Jeannie was looking puzzled, so Rene smiled sympathetically before adding, ‘Oh, pet! I don’t expect you to understand right now, but when you grow up, if you speak nicely and go to the right kind of places you will meet the right people, and hopefully it will lead to a better life than you can expect if you stay here.’
‘But ah like me life ’ow it is right now,’ Jeannie protested, as she hopped along the footpath – on one foot.
Rene sighed with frustration. How was she ever going to teach this girl of hers the finer things in life while they still lived here? She looked around at the rows of terraced houses, and felt sick. Her affection for them had waned long before she’d gone to work in Bella’s, the new fashion shop in Bishop Auckland. But this new managerial post that she had just taken on had brought home to her just how much hung on how you acted and spoke. Not that she didn’t slip up herself, from time to time, much to the amusement of her friends – and sometimes even her family. They were all for her being ambitious, but couldn’t help finding her struggle to be posh a little comic. Even so, they all admired her for working hard, and even for going to elocution class. She had grit, and didn’t care who thought she was getting above herself.
What was she going to do about Jessie? she wondered. Right from the start, Jessie hadn’t wanted her to go on this managerial course in Darlington. What had she said? ‘Why, yer getting too big fer yer boots, man! Yer’ll be too good fer the likes of me be the time yer get back.’
Rene had to admit that that remark was prescient.
‘Mam?’ Jeannie broke her train of thought.
‘Yes, Jeannie? What is it?’
‘Will our Tom be back when we get ’ome? Er, ah mean home.’
Rene sighed again, but this time she smiled as she looked down on Jeannie’s dark bouncing ringlets, which had finally freed themselves from the restraint of the pink ribbon that had kept them in check during the bus and train journey from Darlington to Evenwood.
Jeannie, waiting for an answer, lifted her pretty face towards her mother.
‘Yes, pet, Tom should be back by now.’
‘Ah can’t wait ter see him. Can you?’ Jeannie questioned excitedly.
Rene turned to face Jeannie, put her case down, and took both small hands in hers as she answered, ‘No, I can’t, pet. Let’s hurry and get home, shall we?’
Tom, his hand pressed to his forehead, was wandering around the house looking for headache pills to stem his hangover. He’d drunk far too much with his mates at the Scout hut dance the night before. Suddenly the back door flew open with a bang, and in barged Jeannie, who jumped straight into his arms shouting, ‘Yer back, our Tom! Yer back!’
Tom didn’t know whether to laugh at her, or cry at the increased throbbing in his head. Holding her at arms’ length, he said with a grin, ‘Hold on, lass, give us a chance!’ He put her down and crouched down beside her, exclaiming in genuine surprise, ‘Eee, just look at you, all grown up since I last saw you!’
‘Ah know! Ah’m ten now, yer know,’ she confided, wriggling coyly. Rene, following behind, was hardly through the door before Jeannie was calling to her for confirmation, ‘Aren’t ah, Mam?’
Tom looked up to see his sister lugging her case in through the
door. ‘Rene!’ he called, grabbing her case with one hand and enfolding her with the other. ‘Aw, don’t cry, lass, else you’ll set me off,’ he said teasingly. He held her away from him. ‘Let’s have a look at you, too.’ Studying her pale-grey jacket and matching pencil skirt, he said, ‘Ay, aren’t you looking smart, our Rene! But how the hell you can walk in shoes with heels as high as that I don’t know!’ She smiled, and before she could answer he went on, ‘I’ve been hearing all about your new job, you know!’ He added with a sly grin, ‘I always knew you weren’t cut out for round here, like!’ Letting go of her now, and with an exaggerated bow, he beckoned her towards the living room. ‘Your ladyship!’
‘Aw, come on, Tom. You make me feel like a right snob. I do care about the people around here … well, some of them, anyhow, but I want more, both for me and our Jeannie, and it’s never going to happen if I stay here.’ Although she was trying hard, there was still a Northern softness to her speech, giving it a gentle charm.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve not lost all your local accent anyhow,’ Tom said. ‘It’ll always be there, our Rene, you know. Just mind you keep your feet on the ground, and you’ll be all right,’ he advised.
Giving him a shove she joked, ‘Aye, ah’ll do that all right, our Tom. Anyway, there’ll be no chance of doin’ otherwise, with you keeping yer beady eye on uz.’
‘Well, I’ve got better things to do than keep a beady eye on you, like looking for something to get rid of this bloody headache, for a start. Where’s me mam keep all the medicines and stuff, anyhow?’ he complained, opening and closing one drawer after another.
Rene went straight to the relevant drawer, and as she handed him the headache pills she asked, ‘You will try to watch your language in front of our Jeannie, won’t you?’ Then, realizing that what she’d just said might have sounded snooty, she added, ‘The cursing, I mean. Your accent’s gone a bit with the war, hasn’t it? I like it.’ And without waiting for a response she asked, ‘Where’s Mam and Da, anyhow?’
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