A Daughter's Duty

by Maggie Hope

  ‘Nay, lass,’ he whined. ‘You an’ my lass were pals when you were bairns …’ at the same time as Brian protested, ‘Hey, you’re going a bit too far, Marina.’

  ‘I’m not.’ She rubbed her arm where he had touched her as though she were rubbing away filth.

  ‘An’ now my lass is dead and gone,’ Alf was quavering, drunken tears starting to his eyes and threatening to overflow.

  ‘Dead? When? Who said she was dead?’ Jeff stepped forward, his face suddenly white, eyes blazing black as coal.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought I’d got rid of you altogether,’ Alf snarled, and Jeff stepped forward and caught hold of him by his lapels, bringing him up off the ground until he was on tiptoe. Alf looked startled, frightened out of his drunken haze.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, man? Leave me alone, don’t you touch me!’ he blustered. Jeff, a grown man now and strong, was very different from the boy he used to bully.

  ‘Who told you she was dead?’ Jeff repeated.

  ‘I mean,’ Alf quavered, ‘she must be. I haven’t heard a thing from her and she would have got in touch wi’ me. Her dad, I am. We were close, me and our Rose –’

  ‘Close? Close! She hated you!’ Marina shouted.

  ‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Brian. ‘Marina, go on inside, you’re upset and I won’t have it on our wedding day.’ He watched as she turned wordlessly and ran up the yard to the door, banging it shut behind her. Well, he would follow her in a minute, make it all right, he thought.

  ‘I should have told you. I forgot,’ he said, turning to Alf. He had too, in the excitement of the wedding and going over to Easington, his new job and everything. ‘Rose isn’t dead, Marina had a letter from her. She’s all right.’

  ‘She’s not – she’s dead!’ Alf cried. He had gone as white as a sheet, staring at the two younger men, his face working, spittle at the corners of his mouth. ‘I know –’

  Jeff let go of him and Alf slumped, just catching himself from sliding into the gutter.

  ‘Aw, get lost,’ said Jeff. ‘You know nothing of the sort.’ He and Brian turned their backs and went into the house. After a minute or two, Alf walked unsteadily away. At the bottom of the street some children were playing hidey-go-seek but they stopped and stared at him.

  ‘Hey, look, that old geezer’s blubbing,’ one shouted and they followed him along the rows, shouting out, ‘Lassie lad, lassie lad! What’s the matter, mister? Lost your dummy?’

  Alf hardly heard them. He arrived at his own door and fumbled for his key, finally managing to let himself in. The kitchen stank but he didn’t notice that either. He sank down into a chair and stared at the empty grate. Rose wasn’t alive, she couldn’t be! Why, she was almost gone when he’d left her in the dene, it could only have been a matter of a few minutes. The fumes of alcohol were clearing from his brain. He should have buried her there he realised. No one would have known, not if he’d covered the place over with branches and such. No, she couldn’t be alive, of course not. But why hadn’t there been a report of a body being found in the dene? He’d scoured the Echo every day but there was nothing. Mebbe she hadn’t been found yet, that was it.

  ‘Eh, man,’ he said aloud to the blank walls, full of self-pity. ‘What a bloody life this is! She turned on me and now I daren’t even get me own little ’uns back. Mary now, she would be a comfort. I have the right to Mary.’ Especially when he couldn’t have Rose any more, he thought dimly. And sniffed. Mind, she’d brought it on herself, none of it had been his fault.

  I’ll go to Shotton the morn, his thoughts ran on. I will, I’ll go and see the bairns and have a word with Elsie. That bitch isn’t going to keep my bairns! Oh, no, she is not, I’m their father and I want them back.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘That nice Dr Morris is keen on you, Lily,’ Alice observed with a knowing smile as she took the pile of mended linen which had kept Rose’s head down over the sewing machine for the whole of the day.

  ‘Don’t talk daft,’ she said easily, careful not to sound embarrassed though she turned her face away to hide the heightened colour in her cheeks. She had seen it with the other young girls. They were teased unmercifully by the older married women in the sewing room and she wasn’t going to let it happen to her.

  Alice laughed, not easily put off. ‘I know what I saw,’ she said.

  ‘He’s just a friend, that’s all,’ said Rose, though she knew she would do better to keep quiet.

  ‘Oh, aye?’ Alice sounded sceptical. She looked round at the other women, all of them now beginning to finish up their work ready for a quick getaway at five o’clock. Lily was the only one not in a rush to get off, she was often the last to go.

  ‘What do you think, girls?’

  There was a general chorus of laughing agreement.

  ‘You’d better not let my boyfriend hear you say that,’ said Rose, inspired, thinking that would shut them up.

  ‘Ooooh!’ said Alice, a long-drawn-out sound. ‘You have a boyfriend, have you, Lily?’

  ‘Yes, I have. Now will you shut up? I want to finish this theatre gown,’ said Rose, bending over her work.

  ‘Aw, leave it, it’ll be here tomorrow,’ said Alice.

  ‘You’d best not let Mrs Timms hear you say that.’

  ‘Oh, and are you going to tell her?’ Alice’s tone had changed, it wasn’t friendly any more.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Rose said, but Alice was obviously not mollified. Nor was she ready to give her victim a rest.

  ‘Lily has a boyfriend, girls, did you hear that? What’s his name, Lily?’

  ‘Jeff.’ Now why did she say that?

  ‘Jeff, is it? Did you hear that, girls? His name’s Jeff.’

  But wishing it wouldn’t make it true.

  It was five to five and the machines were all shut down except for the one Rose worked. The women wanted something to amuse them while the hands on the clock went slowly round to the hour.

  ‘Jeff, eh? With a G or a J?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Jeff with a J.’

  Rose sighed as she finished the seam she was sewing and deftly cut the threads. She might as well shut down now, she thought. Then it was back to her single room in the lodging house. The evenings could be long and lonely and her library book was finished. But Alice wasn’t finished with her yet.

  ‘Does Jeff with a J know that Dr Morris is dangling after his girl then? Does he, Lily?’

  Rose put the cover on her machine. She didn’t answer Alice. It was five o’clock anyway, the other girls had lost interest and were going through the door. There were just she and Alice left in the room and Alice was moving to the door too. But slowly, glancing back at Rose, who took her time about putting on her coat, taking a comb out of her bag and running it through her hair, all the time hoping the other woman would just go for she felt that Alice was going to probe and pry until her curiosity was satisfied. In this Rose was right.

  When she could dally no longer and left the sewing room, Alice was dawdling outside in the corridor. ‘This Jeff then, tell me about him,’ she said, falling into step with Rose.

  ‘No!’ she was stung into replying. ‘It’s none of your business, Alice.’ She began to walk faster but the other woman simply adjusted her stride to suit.

  ‘Oh, hoity-toity, eh? What’s the matter, don’t you want Dr Morris to find out about him?’

  Rose stopped and turned to face her. ‘Look, Dr Morris has nothing to do with it, I told you.’

  ‘I bet you haven’t told the good doctor about this Jeff, though, have you?’ Alice could read the answer in Rose’s face. ‘I thought you hadn’t.’

  ‘There was no reason to tell him. Alice, please leave me alone,’ said Rose. They were outside now, walking down the drive. Why had Alice turned on her?

  ‘Oh, leave me alone, is it? Little miss put-upon, I suppose. Well, was it because you were put upon that you ended up on the gynae ward … was it? Was it this Jeff that put upon you, or should
I say put it in you? Is that what it was?’

  Rose gasped. She stopped walking and swung round to face her tormentor. ‘What are you talking about? What? What do you mean?’ Her insides were churning up and she felt sick. The palms of her hands as she clenched her fists were damp and clammy.

  ‘Aw, come on, man, what do you think I mean? Do you think a lass can do what you did and it not get about? Especially in a place like a hospital. Why, man, it’s a little world on its own.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Rose said, her voice hoarse with emotion and Alice’s face went red, eyes closing to mere slits as she glared at the younger girl.

  ‘Oh, shut up, is it? Oh, aye, it would be. Getting off with a doctor now, aren’t you? Too good for the likes of us. But I know what I know an’ I’m telling you – you’re a nowt, that’s what you are. A bloody nowt! You should have been in Durham gaol, that’s where you should have been, doing what you did. You dirty little hoor!’

  Rose started to run, rushing for the gate. For minute of absolute panic she imagined that Alice had found out about her and her dad, that that was what she was talking about, that was why she had changed towards Rose. Then reason told her that Alice must have heard why she had been in hospital, but how?

  There were people around them hurrying down the drive, rushing for buses, anxious to get home before it rained, for the sky was overcast and lowering. But they paused in their hurry, mouths opening in surprise, gazing at the two women obviously having a row. Rose couldn’t bear it. She felt like a sideshow. Her run turned into a sprint.

  Alice was close behind her, though, that hateful voice still in her ear. ‘Think you’re somebody, don’t you? Think if you get off with a doctor, folks will forget you mucky past. Well, I’m telling you, madam –’

  What it was that Alice was going to tell her was blessedly lost to Rose, for as she ran along the road a bus came and she jumped on it, caring not at all where it was going, wanting only to get away. She didn’t look back to see Alice standing on the pavement, mouth open, watching her prey escape.

  Rose sat down on the first empty seat on the road side, away from the pavement, her shoulders hunched, staring unseeing out of the window. Someone sat down beside her but she barely registered the fact.

  ‘Fares, please!’

  She heard the conductress but didn’t react.

  ‘Come on, I cannot stand here all night.’ The conductress was impatient now. Leaning over the person sitting beside Rose, she shouted in her ear, ‘Where do you want to go, love?’

  It brought Rose out of her stupor. She turned and saw the woman, hands ready on the machine clipped to her belt.

  ‘Sorry! Emm … how far do you go?’ Rose hadn’t an idea where the bus was going. A quick look out of the window showed her that the street they were on was strange to her.

  ‘Blackhall. Ticket to Blackhall, is it?’ The conductress wasn’t even looking at Rose but leaning over to ring the bell; the bus slowed to a halt and the girl next to Rose got off. Rose fumbled in her bag and took out her purse, handed over half a crown. ‘Yes, Blackhall, please.’ Though for the minute she couldn’t even remember where Blackhall was.

  Grumbling about change, the woman took her money anyway and handed back a handful of pennies and one sixpence. ‘You should try to have the right change next time, lass,’ she said, and went off down the bus.

  They were out of Hartlepool now, trundling along the coast road. Looking out of the window, catching glimpses of the sea, Rose suddenly knew where she was and that she must get off. Oh, yes, she wanted to get off here. More than anything else in the world she wanted to, yearned for it.

  She pushed her way out of the seat and hurried to the front, searched for a bell and rang it. The bus slowed and pulled into the stop by an underpass under the railway.

  ‘Hey, you said Blackhall –’ the conductress shouted but Rose had the door open. She jumped down on to an asphalt path and stood for a moment in the drizzle of rain before walking off through the underpass. ‘Some folk don’t know where they want to be,’ the conductress grumbled and rang the bell for the driver to set off. The bus was half-empty now and she sank down in the front seat, resting her weary feet. Only the journey back to the depot and her shift was ended, she told herself thankfully.

  Rose passed a noticeboard. She could just make out the words. ‘Crimdon Caravan Site’ and in capitals above ‘EASINGTON DISTRICT COUNCIL’. She passed by mostly empty caravans, lined up along deserted roads. A few were occupied. It was getting to the tail end of the season, she realised, the end of September. The site probably closed in October, after the school half-term holiday.

  Rose wasn’t really interested in the caravans, however; she was making for the edge of the cliff at the other end of the site, the steps leading down to the sands. The sea was loud in her ears, waves crashing angrily on the shore when she got down. It was going to be a stormy night, she thought dimly, but it didn’t give her pause. She walked on.

  When her shoes sank into the heavy sands she took them off and pushed one in each pocket of her coat, walking on in her stockinged feet. In her mind she was with Jeff, going along the shoreline to Blackhall Rocks. As the light disappeared her eyes became accustomed to the dark. She held Jeff’s hand. He smiled down at her, face full of love. She could see that plainly even in the dark. The water lapped at her feet, and over them. Unconsciously she was moving closer and closer to the bottom of the cliffs for the tide was half in, not half out. She moved towards him, put her other hand to his. She could feel the rough tweed of his jacket against the back of it.

  She told Jeff about Alice. How nice she had been to Rose when she first went to work there only a few short weeks ago; how nasty she had turned out to be now because she was jealous. That was it. Oh, yes, Rose knew why it was, should have realised it earlier. Alice didn’t like the fact that she was friendly with a doctor.

  ‘Oh, no, Jeff,’ she said aloud, in case he misunderstood. ‘I’m not so friendly as all that. I don’t want any lad but you.’ And she smiled up at him as the waves crashed and thundered by her side.

  She had no hat or scarf, her hair was dripping and the rain was coming down in sheets now, running into her eyes so that she could hardly see where she was going. But she was happy, walking with Jeff, her love. Then gradually instinct for self-preservation made her aware of how cold she was, bitterly cold, and soaked to the skin. She looked around her. Jeff wasn’t here, how could he be? She felt bereft, as though he had been with her at least in spirit and now had gone. She was going wrong in her mind, she told herself dismally.

  Rose pulled her coat close around her body. The strip of sand between her and the rocks was narrow now. She looked for a way up the cliff but she couldn’t make one out. There were caves, or at least indentations in the rock, but she couldn’t be sure the tide wouldn’t go that high. She had to make it to the top of the cliff.

  She began to hurry. What a fool she’d been, letting Alice get to her like that. As though she didn’t have enough to worry about. She must not be very well, she told herself, starting the flu or something. Bob Morris had told her she would have to be careful for a while, her body had been through a traumatic experience when she lost the … No, she wasn’t going to think about that either.

  At last she found a path, water lapping around the bottom now. Her feet were soaked. She began to climb the steep cliff, the rocks slippery with rain. She reached a patch of grass and stopped, catching her breath in deep painful gasps, and sat down precariously to stare out to sea. There were gaps in the cloud layer now. The moon came through for a fraction of a second, moonlight glinting on the pounding waves below, her own heart pounding with them. But she was almost at the top. She managed to scramble the last bit on her hands and knees and lay there panting, her eyes closed, the pain in her chest so bad she felt it would burst. She felt dizzy and fought to hold on to her senses. She had to get to shelter, get out of these wet clothes, drink something warm.

  Her heartbeat slowed. At last s
he was able to sit up, then stand. She looked about her but the night was black again, there was nothing to see except a string of lights in the distance. She made her way cautiously towards them, stubbed her toe on a stone and even though her foot was freezing cold the pain stabbed up to her knee, making her hop on one leg, holding her foot. The stocking was in shreds, of course. She remembered her shoes but there was only one in her pocket. She must have lost the other in the scramble up the cliff.

  Rose limped painfully on, once having to climb over a fence, towards the lights. It was the caravan site. She might find shelter there. But the line of caravans were all dark and empty, their windows shuttered. Spent, she leaned against the nearest, sheltered from the wind. The rain had stopped though there was a steady drip-drip from the sloping roof above her, hitting the steps before the door. She moved to them shakily and sat down, wet though they were. She couldn’t get any wetter than she was, she told herself wryly, and her legs were about ready to give out.

  Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky. The water dripped on her cheek and she moved her head to the side, leaning against the edge of the door and its jamb. Next minute she was sprawling back on a prickly doormat. The door lock must be faulty, she thought dimly, but what she mostly felt was a vast relief to be inside, out of the weather.

  The caravan was dark, she couldn’t see a thing, but she crawled inside and pushed the door to with her feet. She would pay the owner, of course she would, tomorrow. Surely he would understand, whoever he or she was?

  Magically, there was a carpet, quite a thick one. She felt her body sink into it. There would be a bed, she thought, or a bench at least. She tried to pull herself up, intending to explore with her hands, perhaps find a blanket, the prospect of warmth drawing her on. But she couldn’t, her legs were leaden and her arms collapsed under her. She lay down again on the carpet, the blessed carpet. Anyway, she was warm now, was her last thought. It was quite hot in fact, heat washing over her. Rose slipped into the blessed dark.