A Crimson Dawn (47 page)

Still, she managed to keep their household going, cheered by Barny's companionship and Mary's easy-going nature. Her baby was small but growing and nearly able to walk, giggling at the funny faces Barny pulled to entertain her as she tried to follow him around. Mary was dressed in cut-down clothes given by the Kennedys before they left in the autumn. Her eyes were the same piercing blue as Rab's, bringing Emmie joy and pain whenever she gazed into their intensity.

Laurie left for Gateshead, full of hope he would be re-employed as a postman, but was back in a week.

‘They won't take conchies,' he reported bitterly, ‘and the town's not safe. There're soldiers out on the streets ‘cos of the strikers.'

‘Strikers?' Emmie queried.

‘Aye,' Laurie nodded, wide-eyed, ‘dockers, pitmen, railways - all demanding shorter working hours and jobs for the demobbed.'

‘Finally we're standing up for ourselves,' Emmie said eagerly.

Laurie shook his head. ‘They're clamping down hard. Talk of rations being cut until strikes are called off.'

Emmie was outraged. ‘Land fit for heroes, is it? That's what they promised.'

Laurie was cynical. ‘They just said that to get re-elected. Nothing's changed for the working class.'

‘And your family?' Emmie asked in concern. ‘Did you find them?'

Laurie looked away. ‘No,' he said quietly. ‘Street was bombed two years ago, everyone's gone. Lad who runs the corner shop thinks they moved across the river, but he wasn't sure. I don't know where to start looking for them.'

Barny, who had been listening by the fireside, went over and climbed on Laurie's knee.

‘You can be in our family if you like, Uncle Laurie.'

Emmie saw Laurie's chin tremble. ‘Aye, course you can,' she smiled. ‘We'll take care of each other like we always have.'

As the winter waned, Emmie wondered why she heard nothing from Tom. He must be home by now. Had he washed his hands of her for good? Or was he ill? Influenza had been raging through crowded towns and villages for months and she was thankful her children remained isolated and healthy. At times the waiting was unbearable and she contemplated going to Crawdene to confront him and beg for her release. But the thought of seeing Tom again filled her with dread. Better to stay out of the way and hope he no longer wanted her as his wife.

Such hope was dashed by the arrival of a letter in late March from Barnabas. Her stomach turned to think he had found out where she was, but then Barny had told his grandfather about The Grove and Barnabas would have made it his business to discover their hideaway. The letter was abrupt and to the point. Tom was home and needing his wife and family. She should thank the Lord that he was safe. It was a disgrace that she stayed away instead of giving him a hero's welcome. If she did not return, they would send the police to fetch her.

In consternation, Emmie confided in Laurie and Philip.

‘I can't go back,' she agonised, ‘not without knowing what's happened to Rab. But what if they send the police?'

Laurie was doubtful. ‘They're just trying to frighten you. The police aren't going to chase round the county for a disgruntled husband.'

‘And it's not Tom that's asking for you to go back,' Philip pointed out. ‘Perhaps it's just his parents who feel so strongly. They have their pride - their reputation in the village.'

Emmie took heart from this suggestion. She still did not know how Tom felt. He would have to come and fetch her himself if that's what he wanted.

Philip encouraged her to stand firm. ‘I'll write again to Mr Calvert and see if he can do anything to lobby for Rab's early release.'

Emmie carried on as before, yet with the daily fear that the Currans might appear to bully her back to Crawdene.

A month later, Philip came hobbling down the track with a letter from Mr Calvert. He handed it straight to Emmie, his elderly face full of anticipation. She tore it open and read.

‘Rab's being released,' she gasped. ‘Next week - on the first. That's May Day!'

‘From Liverpool?' Philip asked.

Emmie read on. ‘No, he's in London,' she said in dismay. ‘No wonder he's never replied to my letters. Mr Calvert is offering to meet him and put him on a train north.'

‘That's splendid,' Philip cried.

‘I'll write straight away accepting,' Emmie said. ‘Ask him to telegraph with the time of his train.' She hugged the baby and rushed down to the river to tell Barny. ‘Rab's coming home,' she cried.

The boy whooped in excitement. Emmie felt light-headed with relief that the waiting would soon be over.

Spring was coming at last to the fell and she tackled the garden with renewed vigour. Laurie and Philip helped as much as they could, though both were frailer than ever. They had insisted on giving Barny and Emmie, who was breast-feeding, the main share of rations all the past year. Now Mary was beginning to take pureed vegetables that Laurie prepared for her. The kind man would occupy the baby while Emmie worked. The lethargy and breathlessness that had slowed her down these past months was lifting with the thought of Rab's imminent arrival. She sent a letter to Helen to relay the happy news.

On the day of Rab's release, Emmie got up early, unable to sleep. While walking down to the river, she heard a commotion of birds in the woods. She looked up to see rooks scattering into open sky and wondered what had disturbed them. Her heart leaped. Perhaps the Kennedys were returning early. How pleased they would be to hear of Rab's release. What a special day this was. But the birds settled and silence descended again. Glancing up during the day from weeding, Emmie did not see any telltale sign of smoke to show the camp was once again inhabited, nor did Ned rush down to seek out Barny.

Yet, that day and the next, she could not shake off the feeling that a presence was there, that she was being watched. With Mr Calvert away for so long, there had been poachers and scavengers over the months and it was possible other travellers or out-of-work drifters might have chanced upon the sheltered spot. She felt more vulnerable than ever before and longed for the day Rab would be back to help her shoulder the burden.

Though there was no sign of anyone camping in the woods, Emmie told Barny to stay closer to the cottages, for he was apt to wander upriver to make dens or observe the wildlife. Some day soon, she would have to think about sending him to school, perhaps down in Standale with Ned when he returned in the early summer.

Two days later, the telegram arrived with the news that Rab's train would reach Durham at two thirty on Monday the fifth. ‘Needs plenty rest,' it ended. Emmie had a pang of alarm at the state Rab would be in. The journey might exhaust him further. She abandoned plans to take Barny to meet him.

‘He might need to rest for a night before coming on here,' she explained.

Barny howled in disappointment, demanding to come too.

‘I need you to be a big lad and help Laurie with the fire and looking after Mary,' Emmie cajoled. ‘I'll be back as quick as can be.'

Barny continued to protest. ‘I want to see Rab! Want to see the train. It's not fair!'

Emmie was about to give in when Laurie intervened.

‘Haway, Barny, we'll go trapping in the woods, catch something for tea. Show Rab you're a proper huntsman, eh? Just you and me. He'll be that proud of you. And it's better than travelling all day - as soon as you're there you'll be turning round and coming back again.'

Barny was mollified. Yet he showed his annoyance with Emmie by refusing to kiss her goodbye or help Philip with Cobbles when he took her down to the station. Emmie cuddled Mary and handed her over to Laurie. She waved, but Barny turned his back and ran off down to the river. Emmie felt a stab of guilt for leaving him.

‘Don't worry,' Philip comforted, ‘things will be easier once Rab's back with us. You're not the only one who's missed him.'

Emmie smiled and slipped her arm through his. Her old friend had lost everything, yet had managed to rekindle his optimism. Now they could all look to building a new life with Rab and the children. Perhaps they could persuade Helen and Peter to join them.

Emmie's excitement grew as the train trundled down the valley to Durham. She arrived in the city with half an hour to spare. Wandering out into the town, she experienced a wave of nostalgia for the days before the war when she had marched through these streets at the galas and for women's emancipation, planning for a glorious future. Yet, at twenty-six she was still disenfranchised, and Rab and Laurie were denied a vote for five years because of their opposition to the war. As she hurried back into the station, Emmie was filled with a new restlessness. She had been in isolation for too long, just trying to stay alive. She should be doing more to help bring about a new society. Revolution was sweeping Europe and workers all over the country were agitating for better conditions. She and Rab must be a part of it.

Standing at the barrier, she watched the London train pull in. Doors clattered open and porters rushed forward to lift down luggage. Passengers swarmed up the platform and passed through the gate. She saw a thin elderly man being helped down from a carriage, clutching a cap and carrying a small cardboard case. As he turned, she caught the familiar outline of nose and chin. Her heart thumped in shock. It was Rab, grey-faced and head shaven. His ill-fitting suit hung loose around his shrunken frame. He looked twice his age.

Emmie gulped down her horror and waved. He came slowly, almost shuffling, his look anxious as he scanned the crowd at the barrier. When he came through the gate, they stood staring for a long moment, too emotional for words. Then Emmie put out her arms. Rab held on to the case as she hugged him, his body stiff and lifeless.

‘Rab,' she whispered his name, pained at the lack of recognition in his sunken eyes, ‘it's Emmie.'

‘Emmie?'

‘Aye, it's me,' she answered, tears brimming. She touched his face gently. He flinched.

‘Emmie,' he repeated the name like a talisman. ‘Emmie.'

She slipped an arm through his. ‘Haway, let's go for a cup of tea.'

She led him out of the station, hoping the sight of familiar streets would jolt his memory. But he became breathless quickly and she steered him into the nearest cafe, ordering tea and toast with precious money saved for an emergency. As they waited for their snack, Emmie took his bony hands in hers and caressed them. She spoke softly of the commune, of his old friends, of Barny and saw a flicker of interest cross his gaunt face.

He struggled to speak, but she could not make out his words.

‘Did you get any of my letters?' Emmie asked.

He looked at her blankly as if he could not remember.

‘Did Mr Calvert tell you anything?' she asked. Again he looked uncomprehending.

She squeezed his hands. ‘You have a daughter, Mary Helen. A bonny daughter, with dark hair like Barny's, but your blue eyes.'

For the first time, Rab's eyes focused properly and Emmie knew he understood.

‘M-Mary,' he whispered. His cracked, colourless lips curved into a half-smile.

‘Aye, Mary,' Emmie smiled back. ‘She had her first birthday last month. And she's already walking. Babbles away in her own language. I can't wait for you to see her.'

‘Me an' all,' Rab said hoarsely.

Emmie gulped in relief. Already she was seeing flashes of the old Rab under the guise of this confused, frail man. She abandoned any idea of staying longer in Durham. Rab needed to get home where she could nurse him and the liveliness of the children could lift his battered spirits. She watched him let his tea grow cold before he drank it. The toast he hardly touched, so she ate it hungrily.

Slowly they made their way back to the station and on to a train for Standale, choosing an empty carriage. Emmie talked to him all the way about what she knew of his mother and Peter, of Mabel dying and Laurie returning to them. She avoided mention of Tom or Barnabas Cullen's threatening letter. Rab seemed too fragile to take in that much so soon. Instead she talked of Barny and his firm friendship with Ned, and how the Kennedys would be returning any day.

‘The lad was that cross at not coming to see you,' Emmie said, ‘but I thought it might be too much for you all at once.' She eyed him cautiously.

Rab took her hand and studied it, as if it was something exotic. She saw the effort it took for him to speak.

‘I - love you,' he rasped.

Emmie's heart soared. She leaned over and kissed him in the empty carriage.

‘I love you too,' she whispered tearfully.

At Standale there was no way of alerting Mr Runcie to their return. A strong westerly wind had got up and Emmie feared Rab was too frail for the uphill walk to The Grove. But he brushed aside her concerns and took the path out of the village. He laboured up the steep fell, his breathing ragged, and Emmie made him stop to rest at frequent intervals and drink the water she had brought. The sun had dipped behind the hills by the time they reached the wooded overgrown drive.

Rab galvanised himself for one last effort, forcing himself on, driven by the thought of seeing Barny and his new daughter. They emerged from the woods on to the grassy bank above the cottages. Emmie listened out for the sound of her children's voices, but all was quiet.

‘Laurie must have them in bed already,' she grinned.

Rab did not move. He stood staring at the familiar scene of river, corrugated roofs and narrow gardens. With alarm, Emmie saw tears streaming down his face as he choked back a sob.

She took his hand. ‘Don't upset yourself.'

He shook his head. ‘This place,' he wheezed, ‘I saw it in my dreams. The colours - it's almost too much. I haven't seen grass - seems like a lifetime.' He stopped, exhausted by trying to explain.

Emmie leaned up and kissed his sunken cheek. ‘I understand,' she smiled. Slipping an arm through his, she led him down the bank towards their home.