Marie hesitated, then answered very carefully: ‘Well, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.’
‘She can’t think much of me, can she? Not a glamorous actor from London, just a single lad, still living in Hull with his mam. She must think I was born yesterday.’
Marie made no comment, but continued with the washing-up.
‘Has she said anything to you?’ George demanded.
‘Yeah. She’s said there’s nothing the matter with her.’
‘Well, time will tell.’
‘It usually does, I can vouch for that. Have you heard about Charles and Hannah? It’s telling there, all right: five months.’
He nodded. ‘Nancy had time to tell me that, before she started chewing my face off.’ He paused, to put some of the dried crockery into the cupboard, then said, ‘I wouldn’t wish this sort of misery on my worst enemy, I really wouldn’t. And you’re a good friend. I’m sorry it’s happened to you, Marie.’
‘So am I. Don’t tell my mother. I don’t want her worrying.’
‘I won’t. But I’ll have that bastard actor. You just watch.’
‘I am watching. And you watch your language, George. Remember there’s a lady present.’
The opening bars of a nonsensical old comic song began to play on the wireless. George looked grim-faced. Marie stole a glance at him, and began to sing along, to the words of ‘The Spaniard That Blighted My Life’.
‘That’s not funny, Marie,’ he said.
Marie thought it was, and went on with the song in the most comical way possible, singing lustily about a dirty dog of a bullfighter had stolen the victim’s future wife when he’d gone out for some nuts and a programme during the interval of the bullfight.
A smile began to crease the corner of George’s mouth. He twisted the tea towel into a rope, and tried smacking her with it.
Laughing, Marie fended it off and snatched it out of his hand, missing a few of the lyrics and picking up the next, swearing revenge, and threatening all sorts of dire retribution, tra la la!
Having lost the tussle, George gave in, and joined her in the chorus, promising to dislocate the wife-stealer’s bally jaw.
‘I bloody will, as well,’ George ended. ‘He won’t know what hit him.’
Marie laughed and snatching up a pair of spoons to use as castanets she went on with the song. After it was over she was helpless with laughter. George laughed at her laughter.
Auntie Edie came through the door, and infected by it, laughed until she started coughing. ‘I bet they can hear you at the end of the street,’ she wheezed.
Marie’s mother stood in her nightie, peering over Edie’s shoulder. ‘Whatever are you laughing at?’ she asked, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.
That provoked more laughter, until George and Marie had laughed themselves to tears. When the merriment died away George leaned against the draining board, wiping his flushed face with his fingers and flicking the tears away. ‘I mean it, as well,’ he nodded. ‘I will have my revenge.’
Later, after he’d dropped her outside the Elsworths’ and roared back down the avenue on his motorbike, Marie remembered her words to him the day he’d lied to Mrs Harding to get Nancy’s address. Why not just let it go, George? It’s eating you away. What a bloody stupid thing to say to someone who’d had all their trust betrayed, and their fondest hopes smashed. Through no fault of his own the beautiful future George had planned for himself and Nancy in his little dream bungalow had vanished like a mirage in front of his eyes. Letting something like that go was a sheer impossibility, and the chances of her saying anything so idiotic to anyone, ever again, were beyond remote. She knew exactly what it felt like, now.
Chapter 24
George was looking pretty down in the mouth when Terry called for Marie the following night.
‘You don’t mind if he comes with us, do you, Terry?’ she asked, knowing that Terry could hardly object, since he’d agreed they were going as pals.
Terry’s face fell, just slightly. He had been signalling a pretty strong attraction to her, and Marie was determined to keep things cool. A third party would be no bad thing – there was safety in numbers. She’d had another letter from Charles that morning, swearing undying love for her, and she wanted no other entanglements until she’d talked to him, and heard him out. But that hadn’t stopped her from letting the Elsworths know she was going dancing with Terry, and she took considerable satisfaction in the thought of their telling Charles, and of his torturing himself about it.
George demurred.
‘Come on, it’ll do you good,’ Marie insisted. ‘You’ll be better off out enjoying yourself than staying in, dwelling on stuff that makes you miserable.’
George was adamant. ‘No, thanks. I’m not fit company for anybody. I’d only spoil your evening.’
‘What’s he got to make him miserable?’ Terry asked, when they got outside.
‘Woman trouble,’ was Marie’s terse reply.
Terry crooned the romantic words of ‘Night and Day’ in her ear to the music of the band, and Marie relaxed into his arms as they swung into a slow foxtrot.
‘This is not a bad way to mend a broken heart,’ she murmured, ‘although mine’s nothing near as bad as yours.’
‘I didn’t know your heart was broken.’
‘Honestly? I thought the whole of Hull would have known by this time.’
A spark of interest ignited in his eyes. ‘Not me. Has Charles broken your engagement?’
‘No. But he’s been doing his bit for the woman who cleans for his mother, while her husband’s on the convoys. She told me to tell him he’s going to be a daddy.’
‘That is bad,’ Terry said, after a long silence. ‘Both for you and for her husband. It’s worse than what happened to me, in a way.’
‘I don’t know how.’
‘Well, it’s awful going back to an empty flat, especially after having a good wife to make things comfortable, and Margaret was the best. But I don’t really feel as if I ever lost her, in spirit. She was always mine, absolutely, solid as a rock. This will sound barmy, but I still hear her talking to me, in my head. The way I feel, she’s mine still, even beyond the grave. I don’t feel a bit like people do when they get the push from somebody else. There’s really nothing left, then. In a way that’s a more final separation than death. In a way . . . well, I’m talking a lot of rubbish, so I’ll shut up.’
‘I don’t think you’re talking rubbish at all. I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. Margaret would never have left you, like Nancy left George. Charles didn’t leave me, he just chose to muck about with Hannah as well. I don’t know which is worse.’
She was struck by the blue of those eyes that gazed straight into hers. ‘I don’t think Mrs Elsworth’s charwoman will be much competition for you, somehow,’ their owner said.
Marie smiled at the compliment. ‘There’s something about her, though, something sort of primitive; I can’t explain it, but I can understand how a man might be led on.’
‘Like that duet,’ Terry said. ‘ “Will you come into my parlour? said the spider to the fly,”
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Yeah, exactly like that. And he might be trapped in her parlour for good, if he’s not careful. Her husband’s been reported lost at sea.’
‘He’s past caring, then. The husband, I mean.’
‘He must be, mustn’t he?’
Terry dropped her at the Elsworths’ house, after the best night out she’d had for months. He was a brilliant dancer, and they were absolutely on the same wave length. Being with Terry was deeply comforting; he was so easy to talk to. So easy that she’d almost talked too much. She’d almost told him of her crushing disappointment at being robbed of her right to present Charles with his firstborn child, and how obsessed she was with the thought of Hannah, and Hannah’s baby. Would it be a boy, or a girl? And which would her own firstborn be?
It was well past twelve o’clock when she let herself in w
ith a key Mr Elsworth had given her. The family were all in bed.
‘We’ve heard,’ Marie’s mother told her the minute she stepped into the front room late the following afternoon. Auntie Edie was looking on from the other armchair.
Marie’s heart sank. ‘Heard what?’
‘Heard about that Hannah. She’s having a baby to Charles Elsworth.’
‘How have you heard?’
‘From the neighbours. She’s been mouthing off to them about it. She evidently expects him to do right by her, now her husband’s gone. So where does that leave you?’ her mother demanded. She looked even more ill than usual, her face more pale and drawn.
‘I really don’t know where it leaves me. I’ll be able to tell you that when I’ve seen him, and heard what he’s got to say.’
‘Has he admitted it?’
‘He’s admitted it might be.’
‘My God. My poor lass.’ What little colour there was in her mother’s face drained, until she looked almost translucent, and Marie felt a stab of fear for her.
She sat on the bed and took hold of her hand, looking intently into her eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me, Mam. I’m a big girl now. I can look after myself.’
‘You shouldn’t have to,’ Auntie Edie said. ‘He should be looking after you, if you’re engaged. But if that baby’s his, she’ll make him pay for it. She’s not the sort to let him off scot-free. I’m just thankful George has finally seen the light about that Nancy. Finally.’
The two older women exchanged glances loaded with meaning, then her mother spoke up. ‘It’s a pity you and George can’t get together. He’d never do a rotten trick like that on you. He’d look after you. I never liked him. I never liked Charles Elsworth. Been to Hymers, and university, and thinks it gives him the right to look down on everybody else. They’re just full of themselves, that lot.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ Marie protested. ‘Chas doesn’t think he can look down on everybody, and his family have been all right to me. Anyway, can we drop the subject? I’ll decide what I’m going to do when I’ve seen him.’
Marie went to see Nancy after she left Aunt Edie’s, fully expecting to have the door slammed in her face on account of her unavoidably close contact with George, but Nancy seemed glad to see her.
‘My mother’s out, so we can talk,’ she said. ‘How’s George?’
‘All right.’
‘He hasn’t been to see me since . . .’
‘Since you scared him off when you told him to lock the door.’
Nancy’s lip curled in scorn. ‘Oh. He went tittle-tattling to you about that, then? I thought he might.’
‘I wouldn’t have known otherwise, would I?’
‘No, you wouldn’t. He’d make a better maiden aunt than a fiancé. And what did you say?’
‘As little as possible.’
‘Did he say whether he was coming back?’
‘I don’t think he will be coming back, Nance.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Nancy said. ‘I can’t believe he’d just chuck me like that, without a word.’
Marie couldn’t prevent her eyebrows twitching upwards, but she managed to keep her face deadpan. ‘Yeah, it is a bit hard to swallow, isn’t it?’
Nancy failed to detect the irony. ‘He’s a rotter,’ she said. ‘They’re all rotten. You can’t trust any of them.’
‘Well, I’m in no position to contradict you, am I? Considering what Chas has done. Have you heard anything from Monty?’
‘No.’
‘Try asking your mother’s lodgers. One of them might know where to find him.’
‘She’s already asking them, on account of the rent. Nobody knows him, or if they do, they’re not telling. Anyway, I’m not sure I really want to find him.’ She was silent for a moment, then said: ‘I went to see Matron at the Western Infirmary, to see if I could carry on with my training. So she asked for references, and I daren’t give her any, so she’s given me a job as an auxiliary. An auxiliary, when I was nearly ready to take my finals! What a mess. What a bloody mess I’ve made of my life, Marie.’ Marie didn’t ask her outright if she was pregnant. Nancy was denying it, but she would never have behaved like that with George unless she had been, and pretty desperate, too. Marie racked her brains to find a glimmer of hope somewhere in Nancy’s situation so that she could offer her a few words of comfort, but glimmers were thin on the ground.
At around three o’clock that night Marie woke to a hammering at the door. Her first thought was that an ARP warden had seen a light somewhere. She dashed downstairs in the dark, holding on to the banister for safety.
It was George, on foot because of the blackout. ‘Your mother’s taken poorly, Marie, and she won’t let us send for the doctor. She’s that breathless, it’s scaring the life out of my mam.’
‘I’ll come straight away,’ Marie said, and bolted back up the stairs to get dressed.
Mrs Elsworth appeared at the top of the stairs, and called to George to come in and wait in the hallway.
‘Dad would never pay the shilling a week to get on a doctor’s panel,’ Marie said, as she passed her on the landing. ‘That’s why she won’t send for one. She’ll be scared of what it’ll cost.’
‘I’ll send for Dr Thackeray. I’ll phone him while you get dressed, and tell him to send the bill to us.’
‘Thank you. Oh, thank you!’ called Marie. She threw her clothes on as quickly as she could, and then went with George down to Clumber Street.
‘If you don’t want to take money from them, I’ll pay the bill,’ he offered, as they hurried along.
‘I hate taking the money from anybody,’ Marie said. ‘I just wish Dad had paid to get us on some doctor’s panel. But he lost all faith in doctors, and Mam just went along with most of his ideas. He reckoned if you got a good meal down you three times a day, a decent night’s rest and plenty of fresh air, and a bit of fun now and then, you didn’t need doctors.’
‘I think your mother needs a bit more than that,’ George said. ‘She’s wheezing like hell, and sweating like a bull. It’s got my mother terrified – me as well, truth be known.’
When they got to Auntie Edie’s, Marie found her mother every bit as bad as George had said. She could barely speak, and they had an anxious time of it, waiting for the doctor. George went to bed at around four o’clock, and Marie and Aunt Edie sat dozing in the dark in the armchairs, opposite each other.
‘Can’t do anything,’ Marie heard her mother murmur, an hour or so later. ‘My poor bairn . . . Charles Elsworth.’
Marie was up and out of her chair in an instant, and standing by her bed.
‘What did you say, Mam?’
‘I can’t do anything,’ her mother wheezed. ‘Nothing . . . to help you.’
Marie squeezed her hand. ‘You just rest, Mam. I don’t need any help. I can look after myself – I’ve told you that.’
‘You can’t. Marry George . . . good lad . . . look after you. Better than Charles. Tell her, Edie.’
But Aunt Edie was asleep. ‘Don’t talk,’ Marie said, ‘it’s making you even more breathless. Close your eyes and rest. The doctor will be here soon.’
‘I’m not going . . . to hospital,’ her mother gasped.
‘We’ll talk in the morning, when you’re a bit better.’ Marie wiped her mother’s clammy forehead, and sat her forward to plump up the pillows, then left her to sleep, taking up her vigil in the armchair for the rest of that warm July night.
It was almost five o’clock before Dr Thackeray arrived, and Marie trusted him on sight. Middle height, middle-aged, solemn, calm, grey-haired and mild-mannered, here was a man they could have faith in. He took a brief history, and then did a thorough examination. Apart from gasping out an absolute refusal to go to hospital, Marie’s mother was in no position to resist.
‘Acute heart failure,’ he said. ‘People can recover from it, sometimes even without treatment. Keep her in bed. I see you’ve given her plenty of pillows. That’s good; keep h
er sitting up. And give her these pills. They’ll get rid of the fluid. These others are to strengthen her heartbeat. I’ve given you enough to last until you can get the prescription from the chemist tomorrow. I’ll look in to see her then.’
He saw Marie’s expression, and gave her a few words of reassurance. ‘It’s not hopeless. She might recover, with careful nursing. It’s amazing what people can survive, if they’ve got the will. Is she a fighter?’
‘She always was,’ Marie said, ‘although I think a lot of the fight’s been used up. How much she’s got left, I wouldn’t like to say. She’s taken too many beatings lately, one way and another.’
Chapter 25
George was up at seven to go to Dunswell on his motorbike, to tell the family there before he started work. As soon as the shops opened Marie left Aunt Edie watching over her sleeping mother and went to the chemist to get the prescription and then to the nearest public telephone box. Mrs Elsworth answered the ring.
‘Dr Thackeray’s been,’ Marie told her. ‘What a nice man. He says it’s not hopeless, but she’s pretty bad. It could go either way. I’ll be staying with her, until I know what the outcome’s going to be. And thanks for recommending him, not to mention offering to pay his fee.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Mrs Elsworth said. ‘And if there’s anything else we can do, let us know at once. By the way, there’s a letter from Charles in the post this morning.’
‘For me?’
‘Of course, for you. I’ll send Danny down with it.’
Next Marie rang Bourne, and left a message for Pam. The very thought of Bourne and the Stewarts brought Alfie and the Mortons into sharp focus in her mind, but she made no mention of them, and neither did Mrs Stewart, who sounded very sympathetic and promised to tell Pam the news about her mother as soon as she got in from school.
When Marie approached the corner of Clumber Street she nearly bumped into Nancy’s mother, coming out of the Co-op.
‘There’s less and less decent meat. All I could get was sausages. Links of mystery, I call them. I hope it’s not horsemeat; I’ve heard they’re passing that off on people now,’ she said, and hesitated for a moment before adding: ‘I’ve heard about Charles and that Hannah, by the way. I don’t usually stick my nose into other people’s business, and it might sound funny coming from me, with Nancy going off and everything, but I was tied to a bloke like that.’ A light suddenly seemed to come on inside Mrs Harding’s head. ‘That must be where she gets it from! She takes after him!’ she exclaimed, and nodding to herself she left Marie and walked on, without another word.
Angel of the North Page 23
