Read Always I'Ll Remember Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Always I'Ll Remember (33 page)
‘You’ll go too far, girl, so be careful.’
Abby’s chin went up a notch. ‘Everyone loved him, do you know that?’
‘You know nothing about it. No one knows what I had to put up with.’
‘Don’t come that. You lived like Lady Muck compared to some round these parts. Da provided for us and well too, but more than that he loved us. He’d have done anything for any one of us, me and Clara and Wilbert, and we all knew it.’
‘You stupid little fool.’ Abby’s idolisation of Raymond was too much for Nora. Over the last weeks and months she had assuaged the guilt which attacked her now and again by exaggerating the direness of her life with her husband until now she believed the excuses she’d given herself. ‘Your da was a great lump of nowt, that’s what he was. He hadn’t got the gumption he was born with half the time.’
‘He was the best father in the world,’ Abby shot back, ‘and he only stayed with you because of us.’
‘Oh aye?’ Nora was red-faced with temper. ‘Then he was the biggest fool in the world because not one of you has a drop of his blood in your veins. Father the three of you? Don’t make me laugh. He was useless. Years he tried with no result.’
‘What?’ Abby stared at her mother. ‘What are you on about? He was our da.’
‘I’m telling you he wasn’t. Haven’t you ever wondered why none of you look like him or how it is that Wilbert doesn’t like the water? And not just being a bit windy about it but scared into a cold sweat at the thought of going to sea. I’m your mother whether you like it or not, but as for him, he was nowt to you, your precious da.’
Abby felt faint, but she held her ground rather than sit down as she wanted to. She scrubbed at her mouth before she managed to say, but weakly now, ‘I don’t believe you.’ But she did. Somehow she didn’t doubt her mother was telling the truth. ‘Who?’ she said at last. ‘Who was it?’
Nora’s eyes hadn’t left Abby’s white, stricken face. Grimly, she said, ‘Ivor, who else?’
‘No.’ Abby moved her head slowly from side to side. She put her hands to her cheeks, her eyes wide with shock. ‘No, Mam.’
‘Ivor’s your da and Wilbert and Clara’s an’ all.’
The only sound in the room now was the ticking of the clock on the shelf above the range, and as it started to get louder and louder Abby knew she had to get out of here before she did something terrible. She had never wanted to hurt anyone in her life the way she did right now. She picked up her handbag and walked past her mother and out into the hall, taking her hat and coat from the peg but not stopping to put them on. She had already opened the front door when her mother’s voice called behind her, ‘And you’ll get what’s coming to you afore too long, girl. You hear me? Don’t think you can come here playing the big I am because it don’t wash with me, madam. It never has.’
Abby almost fell out into the street, shutting the door behind her and cutting off the torrent of words from the kitchen but still hearing them in her head. She slipped on the snow on the step and ended up sitting on the pavement. She didn’t immediately scramble to her feet but sat motionless for a moment or two, her heart pounding fit to burst. Then slowly she pulled herself to her feet, her glance sliding from her own front door to the one next door.
Ivor and her mother. She swallowed against the rising nausea. It was horrible, dirty. All the years he’d pretended he didn’t like her mam, they had been . . . She swallowed again, harder. And her Aunty Audrey. She had seen her aunt and uncle carry on like a pair of bairns at times and she could have sworn they were happy together. Did her aunt know? And then she answered herself immediately. Of course she didn’t. Easy-going though her aunt was she would never have put up with that, not in a million years.
The snow was settling on her hair and shoulders but Abby was unaware of it as she stood staring at her uncle’s front door. How could he have gone with her mother, his wife’s
sister
? And to betray her father like that, all the time pretending to be his friend. It was wicked. She did so hope the priests were right and there was an afterlife, because she wanted him to rot in hell for all eternity. Her mam had said her da wasn’t her da, but he was. In everything that counted he was. Oh, Da,
Da
. How could they?
sister
? And to betray her father like that, all the time pretending to be his friend. It was wicked. She did so hope the priests were right and there was an afterlife, because she wanted him to rot in hell for all eternity. Her mam had said her da wasn’t her da, but he was. In everything that counted he was. Oh, Da,
Da
. How could they?
When the nausea was too strong to ignore, she forced herself to run to the end of the street, diving into the narrow back lane bordering Rose Street and Violet Street. She only just managed to reach it before her stomach came up into her mouth. Afterwards, although she felt shaky and weak, her head seemed to have cleared a little. The initial compulsion to confront Ivor and tell Audrey everything had gone. She just wanted to get away as fast as she could from these streets and the people in them, and she never wanted to come back.
She straightened and wiped her mouth on her handkerchief. She was shivering as she pulled her hat and coat on. They were damp from being thrown onto the ground along with her bag before she was sick but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Ike and Clara and her friends and the farm. They were her new life. Everything here was finished,
everything.
But she couldn’t go back to Yorkshire just yet.
everything.
But she couldn’t go back to Yorkshire just yet.
She reached into her handbag and fished out a small package. Three times Winnie had written to her parents enclosing a photograph of Joy, and three times the thick manilla envelope had come back unopened. Winnie was in no doubt that it was her father’s doing. The first two times she had been in a state for days, crying and carrying on. The third time the envelope came back Abby had seen something change in her friend. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what had happened but from that day Winnie only talked of her mother and never her father. When Abby had said she was coming to Sunderland to see Wilbert and find out how he was, Winnie had taken her aside and pressed the package into her hand. ‘Try and give it to my mam, would you?’ she’d pleaded. ‘We were all right, me mam and me, and I know she’d like to see her granddaughter whatever
he
says.’ The last words had carried great bitterness.
he
says.’ The last words had carried great bitterness.
‘Course I will.’ Abby had hugged her friend, her heart heavy. She would have loved to have shared the real reason for her trip back home with someone but she couldn’t. Clara seemed to have put the circumstances of their father’s death out of her mind since the night she had told her the truth, and Abby was glad of that, even though it meant she couldn’t talk about it with anyone. Once or twice she had been tempted to tell Ike, and several times she’d found herself on the verge of confiding in Winnie, but she never had. And she knew now she never would. It wasn’t something you could share with someone else. No matter who they were.
Tucking the package back into her bag, Abby glanced at her watch. It was exactly two o’clock which meant that, with any luck, Winnie’s mother would be home alone.
Mrs Todd was at home, but from her horrified expression Abby understood she wasn’t exactly welcome on her doorstep. But then Winnie’s mother disabused her of this idea when she reached out her hand and drew her into the house. ‘Whatever’s wrong, Abby?’ she said worriedly. ‘You look dreadful, dreadful. Come in, lass.’
The motherly warmth and bustle was almost too much for Abby’s overwrought nerves, but this was about Winnie and Joy, not her, and she found herself saying, ‘I’m all right, Mrs Todd, just a bit cold, that’s all.’
The range was giving off a comforting glow and the air was redolent with the smell of baking bread, but as Mrs Todd pushed her down into a rocking chair in front of the fire, grabbing a poker and stirring the red coals vigorously until they blazed, Abby was barely aware of her surroundings. She needed to say what she had to say before Mr Todd or any of the lads came home and she wasn’t sure what shifts they were on.
Winnie’s mother made it easy for her to start when she turned, dusting her hands on her pinny, and said, ‘I’ll get you a hot drink and a bite in a minute, lass, but first I must ask. There’s nowt wrong with Winnie or the bairn?’
‘No, no, Mrs Todd. They’re well, bonny.’
‘Thank the Lord.’ Mrs Todd crossed herself, her eyes filling up. ‘Was it a boy or a girl?’
‘A little girl. Here.’ Abby passed over the package. ‘There’s a letter and a photograph in there for you. Winnie had it specially done at a posh photographers in Scarborough,’ she added, aiming to lighten the moment a little as slow, painful tears were now coursing down Mrs Todd’s face.
‘Oh me bairn, me bairn.’
Abby didn’t know if Mrs Todd was referring to her daughter or her granddaughter as she stared at the photograph.
‘How was it for my lass? Did she have a bad time?’
‘Not at all, Mrs Todd. In fact, the phrase “easy as shelling peas” was bandied about, if I remember. And the baby is doing so well now, putting on weight and laughing all the time. You would love her.’ She stopped abruptly, aware this wasn’t particularly tactful.
‘She looks just like Winnie when she was born.’ Mrs Todd raised tear-filled eyes from the picture of Winnie sitting with the baby on her lap. ‘Happiest day of my life, that was, although I wouldn’t say it in front of any of the lads, of course. But I was longing for a little lassie. Mr Todd,’ she shook her head, glancing down at the photograph again, ‘he’s not a man who’s any good with bairns, never has been, and he had even less time for Winnie than he did the lads when they were little. It’s just the way he is,’ she added, her eyes pleading as they met Abby’s again. ‘He’s not a bad man at heart, just . . .’
Her voice trailed away and Abby made no effort to finish the sentence because she didn’t think Winnie’s mother would like to hear what she thought Mr Todd was. Instead she said, ‘The photograph is for you, to keep. Read the letter now.’
‘I will, lass, I will, but first let me make you a cup of tea.’
Mrs Todd wouldn’t be deflected from putting a plate of freshly baked girdle scones in front of Abby, with a small saucer of jam, and although Abby was sure these had been meant for the men’s tea and had used up precious rations, Winnie’s mother insisted she ate two with her cup of tea.
There were more tears when she read Winnie’s letter, and for a little while afterwards Mrs Todd sat staring at the photograph, her finger tracing the outline of Winnie’s face and that of the baby’s.
‘Winnie would love you to see her in the flesh.’ Abby’s voice was gentle. ‘She could bring her here or you could come to the farm.’
‘Oh no, lass. No.’ Winnie’s mother looked anxious. ‘Her da would never allow it. There were ructions here when she wrote and told us she was expecting and that the lad wouldn’t marry her.’
‘He’s a horrible man, Mrs Todd, and Winnie is better off without him.’
Winnie’s mother stared at her as though she was mad. ‘But she’s had a bairn,’ she said, as though that outweighed any other consideration.
Abby tried a different tack. ‘Winnie could come here on a day when Mr Todd and the lads wouldn’t be around, or you could meet her somewhere. She could pay for you to meet her at a point between the farm and Sunderland if that would make you feel better. It’s not too far by train. Hartlepool maybe, or even Whitby. You could see Joy and spend a bit of time with Winnie before you went home.’
‘I couldn’t, lass.’
‘You could, Mrs Todd. You want to, don’t you?’
Winnie’s mother’s face crumpled. ‘Oh aye, lass, I want to. I can’t tell you . . .’
‘Well then.’
‘But her da would go fair barmy. He . . . he’s washed his hands of her, that’s the truth of the matter.’
‘Does he have to know?’
‘Not tell him, you mean?’ For a moment a ray of hope seemed to shine, and then Mrs Todd’s face fell and she shook her head. ‘He’d find out, somehow he’d find out. I couldn’t take the risk, I wouldn’t dare. He’s been like a madman over it all, banning me and the lads from mentioning her name and saying he’s never had a daughter.’
‘But she’s your daughter too.’
Mrs Todd said nothing to this. She poured them both another cup of tea. Her hands were shaking slightly and she spilled tea into the saucers, clucking at herself as she did so. ‘You have to understand how things are, lass, for us,’ she said suddenly, passing Abby her cup and sitting down on one of the hard-backed chairs at the table. ‘Mr Todd is well thought of down the mine, looked up to, and if word of this got out . . . Well, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, that’s the thing. He’s a proud man, in fact there’s none prouder and before you say anything,’ she held up her hand as Abby went to speak, ‘he’s a good man an’ all. When we got wed I couldn’t read an’ write. With me being the eldest in a family of fifteen bairns there wasn’t time for any schooling, but he taught me himself and never was there a man so patient. She . . . she shouldn’t have done it.’
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