Angel of the North

by Annie Wilkinson

  ‘Not stupid,’ Mrs Elsworth said, carefully taking the bundle from her. ‘Just the last straw, after all the other disasters. The straw that finally breaks the camel’s back. Come on, let’s choose a nice bit of the garden for him.’

  More composed after tea and half an hour of Mrs Elsworth’s practical kindness, Marie sat down in one of the garden chairs, facing Smut’s last resting place, a little mound drenched in sunlight. The sun felt warm on her face and arms, and every now and then a gentle breeze lifted her hair. Fat bees flew idly and silently to and fro around a clump of tall purple flowers that had also escaped the victory digging. She sat watching them until her eyelids began to feel heavy. Peace, perfect peace. Nobody would know such a thing as war existed here, in this garden. That sun was so warm her eyes began to close. What charmed lives the Elsworths seemed to live, she thought. Oh, to be married to Charles, and safe, and at peace with herself and the world.

  The sun went in. She began to feel cold, and then she felt a shadow over her, and thought she heard a voice, very indistinct, and then another, a voice she recognized, though she could barely make out the words. Marie opened her eyes, and saw Mrs Elsworth, with Nancy. With a shock she sat bolt upright, straining to hear what Nancy was saying, watching her lips. She barely caught a word.

  ‘We’ve been bombed out, Nance. Two of my ribs are broken, I’m as deaf as a post, and my mam’s in hospital again.’

  ‘Jesus, Marie, you look terrible,’ Nancy shouted. ‘I’ve seen your house; it’s a miracle you’re still alive. And what have you got on? You look like the Ragman’s Revenge.’

  Nancy dropped into a chair beside her, still talking. Mrs Elsworth excused herself and went into the house, leaving them to talk freely. Nancy would raise her voice for a while, and then it would drop again, forcing Marie to ask: ‘Pardon? What? Eh? What did you say?’ until embarrassed by having to keep on asking for things to be repeated, Marie gave up in despair and let Nancy talk on, without interruption. There had been no apology in any of the talk Marie had managed to hear and, judging from her expressions and gestures, the idea that an apology was due had never even entered Nancy’s mind. She seemed to be completely oblivious to anyone’s claims but her own, and watching her performance had the same effect on Marie as the sight of the broken piano. The sheer incongruity of it made her want to laugh.

  ‘What do you think, then?’ Nancy eventually asked, just loud enough to be heard.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Monty and George, of course!’

  ‘I don’t think anything,’ Marie said. ‘I’ve hardly heard a word you’ve said.’

  Nancy couldn’t conceal her exasperation. ‘Well, why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to have to ring a bell and shout like the bloody town crier,’ Nancy shouted. ‘Come round to my mam’s tomorrow. Come for your tea. We’ll talk about it then.’

  ‘I can’t promise. Mr Elsworth’s taking me to Beverley to see my mother, and then to see Alfie at Dunswell. I’ll come if we get back in time. Does George know you’re back in Hull?’

  ‘How do I know? I haven’t been hiding. He might have seen me. Or somebody else might have seen me and told him.’

  ‘Do you want me to tell him, or not?’

  ‘Please yourself,’ Nancy shrugged. ‘He’ll know soon enough, anyway.’

  After tea Danny was dispatched to the Maltbys to tell them that Marie wouldn’t be back until late the following day. Marie’s ears ached, her head ached and her ribs and shoulder hurt. Mrs Elsworth ran her an illegally full hot bath, and after that packed her off to bed in a pair of Charles’s pyjamas, with a beaker of thick Horlicks and four aspirins. At the end of her emotional tether, too exhausted to resist even had she wanted to, Marie complied with all Mrs Elsworth’s directions, and finally sank into Charles’s comfortable bed and enjoyed the best few hours’ sleep that she’d had since the bombing.

  ‘She keeps telling us she’s dying, the Germans have finished her, but she is better than she was. We have got concerns about her heart, though,’ the houseman told Marie when she went to see her mother in the hospital. ‘The shock has certainly had a bad effect on it. Not surprising, after two hair’s-breadth escapes like she’s had. She must have as many lives as a cat.’

  Marie looked at her mother, lying pale, still and silent, her eyes closed. ‘She’s taken Smut’s nine, all at once,’ she said.

  The houseman looked puzzled.

  ‘Our little cat. He died in the raid that put my mother in here. How serious is it, the heart problem?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. It might get better, or she might go on for years with a weak heart, or . . .’ he grimaced.

  She heaved a sigh. ‘Hope for the best and prepare for the worst, then. I thought I might have seen Dr Steele. I’ve got some forms I wanted to ask him about.’

  ‘Dr Steele had a stroke.’

  Marie was stunned. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s in the hospital mortuary. Worked himself to a standstill, I think.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, more acutely sorry for the loss of the crusty old medic than she could have imagined. ‘I’m very, very sorry.’

  ‘So are we all. I think it got to him in the end. All the carnage, I mean.’

  Dr Steele’s dictum about other men’s pains being easy to bear sprang into her mind. Apparently they hadn’t been as easy as all that, even for him. And he’d worked himself to death for them all, never shirked, while she was idling about at the Elsworths’, being waited on hand and foot. As soon as her ribs healed, as soon as she could hear properly again, as soon as she could get her mother settled, she would have to get back into nursing. She wouldn’t be a spectator any longer than she had to be. She had to make some contribution to the desperate struggle going on around her.

  By the time she and Mr Elsworth had left her relations at Dunswell, Marie had reached the limits of her endurance. When they arrived back at Park Avenue she was fit for nothing but to creep upstairs to lie down and weep, crushed under the weight of it all, and completely forgetful of Nancy’s invitation to tea.

  She faced the ordeal of telling George of her decision to stay at Park Avenue later that evening. However she phrased it, Marie knew that he would take offence. She would just get it over with.

  ‘You’re not a burden at all. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,’ Aunt Edie said, after Marie’s explanations.

  George’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, we’ve done everything we could to make you feel at home, but as you say, they’ve certainly got a lot more space, and she does have help with the work. There’s no denying that, is there?’

  George was offended, no doubt about it. Unwilling to set him off on another one of his diatribes, Marie decided against any mention of Nancy, and after profuse thanks for everything he’d done for her she collected her pyjamas, gathered up her government forms, and moved towards the door.

  ‘You went to see your mam today, didn’t you?’ he asked, following her into the narrow passage. ‘How’s she getting on?’

  ‘Not very well. She’s got a weak heart, as well as everything else.’

  ‘I’d go up and see her myself, but I wouldn’t fancy going on the motorbike, and I don’t know how the buses run to Beverley. Give her my love next time you see her,’ his mother called from the front room.

  ‘I will,’ Marie promised, glad to get away.

  Now that Nancy was back, staying with the Maltbys would have been absolutely impossible. But staying with the Elsworths was going to bring her into unwelcome contact with Hannah, who was probably crowing over her misfortunes this very minute. Marie wondered how she would manage to disguise the fact. Knowing Hannah, she probably wouldn’t even try.

  Chapter 18

  ‘I’ve brought a couple of my frocks to lend you,’ Nancy said the following morning, loud enough for all Newland to hear. ‘Are you in on your own?’

  Marie nodded. ‘Mr Elsworth’s out at his car rep
air shop. Mrs Elsworth’s gone to the WVS. Danny’s at school.’

  ‘Good,’ Nancy said, stepping inside. ‘We’ve got the place to ourselves, then. Did you see George yesterday?’

  Marie nodded.

  ‘Did you tell him I’m back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I wish you had. My mother says he still loves me. She said he said he was going to write, but if he did his letter must have arrived after I moved out of the flat, and that foul so-called friend of Monty’s won’t bother to send it on. And I don’t think I even left my address for him, I was so upset. That’s a thought. I’ll write to Monty at the flat. He’ll get the letter when he gets back.’

  ‘Come through to the kitchen. There’s still tea in the teapot. It’ll be a bit stewed, but I’ll water it down. I don’t want to take any of the rations if I can help it. I haven’t got another ration card yet – I just haven’t had the time to go and get one.’

  ‘Oh, well, as long as it’s warm and wet . . .’

  Nancy slumped on one of the kitchen chairs, and Marie put the tea in front of her. She’d hardly sat down before Nancy began, and it was altogether too evident that Monty was the man foremost in Nancy’s thoughts.

  ‘You’d better go back to the beginning,’ Marie said. ‘I didn’t catch much of what you said before.’

  ‘The beginning is, Monty’s disappeared! I can’t understand it. He was so nice to me – that first week we had together at his flat was wonderful. We’ve got everything in common. We both love dancing, and the pictures, and he took me up to Pinewood Studios, he was so sure he could get me a job there. But just going for walks in the park and holding hands was enough for me. We even like the same food, the same sort of people – we had the same tastes in everything. And he was such a laugh. He said: “Now I know why I’ve never married; I was waiting for you. You’re the one. You’re the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.” ’

  ‘Pretty much the same things George must have said to you, when he gave you his ring,’ Marie said drily.

  ‘Oh, Marie! Monty isn’t a bit like George! I can’t even begin to explain it. I felt as if Monty really understood me, as if he was interested in me, and he was fun! And his kisses were . . .’ Her eyes lit up, she gave a little smile, drew her shoulders in, and shivered. ‘He was exciting! And to be honest, he didn’t have a mother hanging onto him for grim death. And George is so dull and dour and dreary, you’ve no idea. All he thinks about is work, work, work, and save, save, save, and scrimp, scrimp, scrimp. You just wonder when you’ll be allowed to start living. It’s always jam tomorrow, and never jam today, with George.’

  ‘You never said any of this before. You were happy enough to get engaged.’

  ‘I was happy enough before I met Monty, and saw another side to life.’

  ‘If it was all so jammy with Monty, why did he disappear?’

  ‘I don’t know! I can’t understand it, except it started after his friend Miles was so horrible to me in those studios. Looked at me like a piece of dirt, and kept asking me when I was going back “oop to ’Ull”, taking the mickey because of the way I talk and making me look stupid in front of everybody. I think he was just jealous of me and Monty. Then he started calling at the flat, even sleeping there, and Monty didn’t want to make him leave. He said he depended on him for work and things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘I don’t know! Just “things”. Then he turned really nasty, and said if I didn’t like his friends, I should eff-something off, out of his flat. That’s what he said, Marie, and he actually used that horrible word – to me! I said I wasn’t going anywhere, and when I woke up the following morning, he was gone. I asked his friend where he might be, and he said how should he know, he wasn’t his keeper, probably on tour somewhere. So I told him that under the circumstances he should leave the flat. It wasn’t decent for us to be there together, and he said not likely, the flat belonged to him! I couldn’t believe it. Now I haven’t a clue where Monty is. I waited a full week for him to come back, but by then I couldn’t stand it any longer with this other chap there every evening. He wrote plays, or he pretended to, and he was there every single night. It was awful, Marie. I think something must have happened to Monty. I can’t believe he could be so rotten as to walk out on me, just because of a few cross words.’

  After he’d told you to eff-something off? And after you’d walked out on George, without a single word, let alone a cross one, Marie thought, now realizing the futility of trying to impress the enormity of her betrayal on Nancy, and too weary to attempt it. ‘Haven’t you any idea how to go about finding him?’ she asked. ‘Has he got an agent?’

  ‘I don’t know. And they probably wouldn’t tell me where he is anyway, even if I did. You know what these people are like. Well, I’ll just wait a bit, and see.’ Nancy held her beaker of tea against her cheek, and gazed into the garden for a long time. ‘But if he’s going to be like that,’ she said finally, ‘I’m better off with George.’

  No doubt, but is George better off with you? Marie thought, and it must have shown on her face.

  Nancy looked askance at her. ‘You were living with them after you were bombed out, my mam said. So how’s he taken it?’

  ‘We had a funeral for you, Nancy; didn’t your mother tell you? We thought you were dead! He was absolutely devastated.’

  Nancy nodded, a spark of hope igniting in her eyes, but no sign of remorse.

  ‘Then he found out you’d withdrawn all his savings, and after that, your mother told us she’d had your letter.’

  ‘Yes, but how did he take it?’ Nancy demanded. ‘Mam said he’d told her he was desperate to get me back, but she wasn’t sure whether to believe him.’

  ‘He hasn’t taken it very well, to be honest. He was on about taking you to court to get his money back.’

  Nancy went pale, and paused for a moment. ‘Oh, well, I’ll talk him round.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it, if I were you. After all, you walked out on him without a word, and stole his savings into the bargain.’

  ‘I didn’t steal them.’

  ‘They’re gone.’

  ‘I didn’t steal George’s share of the money; I only borrowed it. Half of it was mine, anyway. I’d have thought you’d have been a bit more sympathetic.’

  ‘Nancy, you’d been engaged to George for months. He bought you a beautiful engagement ring. He thought the sun shone out of your backside, but you left him in the lurch for a man you’d known about a week and you took his savings, whichever way you look at it. But I don’t know why I’m having this conversation. What you do with Monty is nothing to do with me. Maybe we ought to christen him Minty, now he’s got all your money.’

  Nancy gave her an incredulous look. ‘Very funny. And you’re having this conversation because you’re supposed to be a friend!’

  ‘I am a friend, but that doesn’t turn black into white.’

  ‘Well, if I’ve been a bit naughty, I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last.’

  Marie’s mouth fell open. ‘I can’t believe it’s Nancy Harding talking like this. When we had that raid, and you were missing and he thought you’d been killed, he was running round everywhere, trying to find you. He went round all the hospitals, and then down to the mortuary they’ve set up in Albert Avenue Baths, and looked at a lot of corpses their own mothers couldn’t have recognized. Just let that sink in for a bit, Nancy. And then we had a funeral, a mass funeral, believing you were one of those people who’d had to be gathered together in bits. It was harrowing. And then he found out you’d gone off with that actor. It completely knocked the bottom out of his world, Nance. It knocked me sideways as well, if you want to know. That’s more than “a bit naughty”.’

  ‘Well, he’ll have his world back soon. I’ve decided. I’m going back to him.’

  ‘Good luck with that, then,’ said Marie.

  ‘You’re not exactly oozing sympathy, are you?’ Nancy snapped. ‘But you watch. He’ll be
all right. I’ll talk him round; I could always wind him round my little finger. A few tears, and that won’t be hard; I’ve hardly stopped weeping since Monty left! George won’t be able to withstand much of that. He’ll give in, and then I’ll make him happy, I swear I will. No more bloody lying, cheating actors for me.’

  Nancy certainly had full confidence in her power over George, Marie thought, as she closed the door on her. She had certainly seen a side to Nancy that she would never have believed existed. But there was something to be said for listening to other people’s troubles, even if you weren’t exactly oozing sympathy. It took your mind off your own, for a little while.

  ‘A visitor for you, Marie,’ Danny said, ushering Margaret’s husband into the drawing room later that evening.

  ‘Another one!’ Marie exclaimed, rising from her armchair to greet him. ‘Goodness, Terry, I never expected to see you! How did you know I was here? Mr and Mrs Elsworth, this is Terry. He married the best friend I ever had. You remember me telling you about Margaret?’

  Terry was clean-shaven and very smartly dressed, but the effect was spoiled by the three carrier bags he was holding.

  ‘I’ve just seen a ghost,’ Terry said. ‘I could have sworn I passed Nancy Harding when I was coming along Spring Bank on the motorbike. I heard she’d been killed when the hospital copped it.’

  He was turned slightly away from her, and Marie didn’t quite catch what he said. ‘Pardon?’ she said.

  Terry was distracted from repeating himself by Mr Elsworth’s enthusiastic welcome. ‘Come in and sit down,’ he said, drawing him to a chair beside the small fire, and shaking his hand enthusiastically as soon as he put the bags down. ‘I remember you. We’ve worked alongside each other once or twice, although I never knew your name. This is a surprise. Come in. Will you have a cup of tea? Bring another cup and saucer, Danny. How are things at Central Fire Station?’

  Terry’s face fell, and he shook his head. ‘Not good. There aren’t so many of us as there were, after the blitzing we got last month. We’ve lost some good lads. Terrible for them, and terrible for their families, and nearly as bad for us. Bloody Nazis. And the worst of it is a lot of it could have been avoided. Like the lads at North Bridge, for instance. If there’d been a firewatcher with a key to the warehouse, they wouldn’t have had to use the ladder, and they’d still be alive. But seeing as the Luftwaffe have given us a whole week’s holiday, we’re fit for action again, just about.’