A Daughter's Duty (13 page)

He had risen to his feet and taken a couple of steps towards Marina as though drawn to her. Kate looked back at her daughter and frowned slightly. Marina was wearing a smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes, rather like the day she had expected a pot doll from Father Christmas when she was little and had received a knitted one instead.

‘Come on then, Brian,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to miss the bus now, do we?’ And he went to her eagerly.

‘Put your big coat on, Marina,’ said Kate. ‘It’ll likely be cold when you come out. And mind, the eleven o’clock bus or your dad’ll have something to say about it.’

‘Oh, Mam, I was just going to wear me swagger,’ Marina objected, but Brian picked up her top coat from the back of the chair where Kate had laid it ready and held it for her to put on. ‘Come on now, Marina, your mam’s right,’ he said, surprising both women by his firmness. He
was
growing up, thought Kate. Marina wouldn’t have it all her own way with him, even if she thought she would.

Marina wasn’t thinking anything of the kind as she sat beside Brian on the top deck of the Darlington bus. She stared out into the night, unspeaking, and Brian was content to sit quietly by her. Neither he nor Charlie was on Marina’s mind just then, she was thinking of the afternoon she had just spent with her old friend Rose. Alf Sharpe wasn’t in when she called. Of course she hadn’t expected him to be which was why she’d picked a time when she knew he would be down the Club.

Rose’s face had lit up when she saw Marina, which made her feel guilty yet again for not coming more often. But the house was so gloomy somehow, even though Rose kept it spotlessly clean.

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she had suggested. Her friend had looked doubtful but Marina had persuaded her, and they had gone up on the fell beyond Jordan and walked along a deserted narrow road strewn with rocks from the outcrops which stuck through the bracken and dried yellow grass by the sides. Even Rose’s pale cheeks soon glowed red as they walked in the teeth of a freezing wind until they came to an overhang; it was the place where they had always gone when they were younger and played house. Marina had sat down on the dried bracken, in the hollow which was sheltered from the wind and even warmed by pale afternoon sunlight, and Rose took the shelf of rock which stuck out unexpectedly about a foot from the ground. In the old days it had been their picnic table.

They had talked of those old days like two old women at a yard gate. Carefully, Marina skirted round the subject of Rose’s home life though she was dying to ask why she didn’t go out to work now she didn’t have the twins to see to. Instead she told her about her date with Brian and about Jeff going to work at Easington Colliery.

‘But why did he go?’ Rose asked, and then suddenly, as if stricken, ‘It wasn’t because of me or my dad, was it?’ She felt as though a great hole had opened up in her life. Even though she had seen Jeff so rarely since she left school, he had been
there
, and now he was not.

‘No, of course not, don’t be so big-headed,’ Marina said lightly. ‘Why would he go because of you? No, he wasn’t happy at the pit …’ Her voice faded away as she realised that she had revealed more than she thought, for hadn’t Alf Sharpe been Jeff’s overman? Marina gazed out over the wintry fields to where a group of jackdaws were squabbling noisily over something unmentionable in the grass. To her horror, when she looked back at Rose her friend was sitting with tears rolling down her cheeks, making no sound and no attempt at all to stem the flow.

‘Here, Rose, don’t take on like that. I didn’t know you liked Jeff that much,’ she said, and began rooting in her handbag for a clean handkerchief. When she found one she handed it over and Rose mopped her face. Marina put an arm round her shoulders and then Rose was hiccupping and saying she was sorry and crying some more until at last the tears stopped and she blew her nose and sat quietly, apart from an occasional sniff.

‘Sorry,’ she said again but in a more normal tone of voice. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Well,’ said Marina, ‘I think I would be howling if I’d had to go through what you’ve been through. And the twins going away. I say, Rose, why don’t you go back to your old job? You’d get out of the house –’

‘Dad wouldn’t let me.’

‘Oh, rubbish! You’re old enough to do what you like,’ said Marina, the one who fibbed every day about her own movements in case her mam found out something she wanted to keep secret. ‘Anyway, you could go and live with your auntie too. Surely she’d take you in? You don’t have to live with your dad, you know, not when you’re over sixteen, you don’t.’

‘I do. I can’t get away.’

‘But why?’ Marina was genuinely puzzled, couldn’t think what it was that was holding back her friend, when she was so miserable.

Because then he would bring the twins back. And Mary at least wouldn’t be safe. Because he would do it to get at me, Rose thought. In fact the words seemed to ring in her head, but she couldn’t say them. Instead she twisted Marina’s handkerchief in her fingers.

‘I’ll wash this and give it you back.’

‘No need. I’ve got loads. People buy me hankies for Christmas and birthdays when all I want is Chanel No. 5.’

Rose gave a watery smile. ‘Oh, Marina, I’m sick of my life!’ she burst out. And then, shockingly, for the first time confiding in another person: ‘I hate my dad!’

Marina hugged her. ‘Eeh, I don’t know, pet, I don’t. Does he hit you? Is that what it is? Is he cruel?’ He would be cruel, vicious beggar that he was, she thought. Sometimes she felt she didn’t like her own dad, especially when he gambled away his pay and made Mam miserably unhappy, but she couldn’t hate him, the thought was shocking.

‘No, he –’ But Rose couldn’t say it so she carried on: ‘Yes, that’s it. He hits me.’

‘Bloody sod! And that’s swearing.’ Marina’s own troubles seemed paltry compared with Rose’s. Why, even if her dad found out about what she and Charlie had got up to, he wouldn’t hit her, she was fairly sure. Though Mam might. Dear God, how could she even think of herself when Rose was in so much trouble?

‘Listen, Rose, I think you should go and live with your aunt. Never mind what he says. If you tell her what he does she won’t let him take Mary and Michael back. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.’

Rose imagined telling Aunt Elsie what her dad did to her. But no, her aunt hadn’t believed her before so why should she now? To Marina it was all so simple. She saw what she should do and did it, or at least that was how it looked. Rose shook her head regretfully.

‘No, I don’t think that would work.’

Marina pondered, accepting what Rose said. After all, her friend knew better than she the situation at home. ‘Well, I tell you what, you like Jeff, don’t you? I’ll get his address from Brian tonight and you can write to him. He doesn’t live far from Shotton, does he? Easington isn’t far from Shotton. Then when you go to see your aunt you can meet him. Isn’t that something to look forward to?’

‘Dad would go mad if I got a letter from a lad, Marina. Talk sense, for goodness’ sake.’

‘Yes, but he can address them to me at our house, can’t he? And I’ll give them to you. Isn’t that a good idea?’

Marina was so obviously carried away with the idea that Rose smiled and nodded. She got to her feet and walked away to the edge of the fell, looking out over the rough grass and small hillocks which had once been spoil heaps for the bell pits which dotted the area in the eighteenth century. Now they too were covered in dead vegetation. As dead as she felt inside. It was no good, Marina could never understand. The winter afternoon was closing in, the jackdaws flying in a noisy black cloud towards the barn where they roosted. The wind was biting. Rose turned back.

‘Well then, we’d better be off before we freeze to death, Marina. Thanks for coming with me anyroad. And for listening.’

Marina linked arms with her as they set off for the village. She looked at Rose from time to time, anxiety in her expression. No, Marina couldn’t begin to understand and what was more it was unfair to ask her to try to.

‘I’m all right, Marina. I just had the hump, that’s all,’ Rose assured her. And even though nothing was resolved she felt a little lighter of heart because she had talked with her friend, almost as they had shared their secrets when they were at junior school. Ever since the day they had both started in the infants’ class they had done that. They had been seated next to each other then and had played together in the school yard. They would always be friends even though she would never tell Marina the whole truth.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Brian asked. Marina started. She had been so immersed in Rose’s troubles that she had forgotten where she was. The bus was approaching Bondgate, she saw, on the outskirts of Darlington.

‘Oh, nothing,’ she said, debating whether to tell Brian all her worries about Rose. He was so sensible, surely he would think of something to help her? But no, she couldn’t do that, it would be betraying a confidence. She smiled at him, trying to keep her mind on tonight and the dancing ahead of them. A good night out was what she needed.

Later, as they came off the dance floor and sat drinking coffee at the refreshment bar, thoughts of Rose returned to haunt her. How sad she was, and what a miserable life she was leading. Marina turned to Brian and asked, ‘Do you think Jeff would like to write to Rose?’ At his look of surprise she went on, ‘I mean, she’d like to write to him and I know he likes her.’

‘Yes, but there’s her dad. He wouldn’t like it at all, would he?’

Marina leaned towards him eagerly. ‘Jeff could write to my house, I would give her any letters. Why not? Will you give me his address?’

‘All right.’ Brian made no further objection. It was yet another surprise to Marina that he had a pen and tiny notebook in his pocket. He tore off a leaf and wrote Jeff’s address on it. Marina slipped it into her bag. There wasn’t much she could do for Rose but this she could and would.

Rose sat before the fire knitting pullovers for the twins, a deep blue one for Michael and a light blue one for Mary. At least the knitting was done, she only had to sew them up ready to take through to Shotton tomorrow. The twins were growing so fast now, or so Aunt Elsie had said in her last letter. Soon they would be seven. They had been gone for four months now, four months and eleven days. They went to school in Shotton and Aunt Elsie said they were on the Sunday School anniversary tomorrow. Rose wanted the pullovers finished to take with her, then if it was cold the children could wear them over their anniversary clothes. Mary had a pink broderie anglaise dress with a full skirt and Michael grey shorts Aunt Elsie had bought at the Co-op Store and a white shirt and blue dickybow tie. Oh, her aunt had told her everything.

Please God, let them stay at Shotton with her until they were grown. No, longer than that. Until Mary was married and out of her dad’s reach altogether. Rose couldn’t bear it if … but her thoughts shied away from that.

She finished the seam she was working on and folded the work up carefully and put it aside. Dad would be in soon, she had to start the supper. She peeled potatoes for chips and sliced corned beef, all the time listening for his step in the yard. Let him be sober, I can handle him when he’s sober, she repeated over and over, a silent chant in her mind.

Since that night after the twins went away, she had done it every night and sometimes it worked. She brought the chip pan down from the shelf and settled it on a bar of the fire to heat. The fat began to crackle and sizzle and she put the chips in the wire basket and plunged it into the fat. The sizzling heightened for a few minutes so that she didn’t hear his steps in the yard, not until he opened the door and came in.

‘Supper ready?’ was all he said by way of greeting. Alf hung his overcoat on the hook on the back door and sat down on the chair by the side of the fire, crossing his legs, looking up at her as she bent over the chip pan to test a chip.

‘Just a few more minutes,’ replied Rose, keeping her back to him, watching the bubbling fat. He sat for a minute then began humming to himself and swinging his leg until it hooked under her skirt, lifting it. She moved sharply away and he stretched out his leg again, hooking the toe of his shoe just under the hem of her skirt and lifting it again. He giggled.

‘Let me alone, Dad!’

Rose turned to face him. He smelled of beer, she realised, a sour repellent smell. The chanting hadn’t worked this time.

‘Oh, come on, Rose, it’s only a bit of fun.’

She eased the chip pan off the fire on to the bar but kept her hand on the handle. She didn’t look at him. ‘Let me alone, Dad, or I swear I’ll tip this over you,’ she said evenly.

‘No, you wouldn’t!’ he cried, but she could hear uncertainty in his voice.

‘Oh, but I would,’ she warned.

Alf got to his feet and went to the table. He drew out a chair and sat down, picking up the knife and fork she had set out for him. ‘Come on then,’ he said harshly, ‘where’s me supper? A man could starve waiting for you.’

She put his meal before him in silence. By, how she wished it was tomorrow and she was nicely away from this house, if only for one day.

‘Rose! Look, Michael, Rose has come. I told you she would come,’ shouted Mary as she met her sister halfway down the street and flung herself upon her. ‘Rose, where have you been? You promised you would and we’ve been here
ages
and you didn’t.’

‘I’m here now,’ said Rose, hugging the small body to her, burying her nose in Mary’s nape and breathing in the clean little-girl scent of her, feeling the tickle of her fine straight hair on her face. Mary began to wriggle.

‘Put me down, Rose, you’ll crease my dress. Isn’t it lovely? Aunt Elsie bought it for me. And look I’ve got shiny shoes to go with it.’ Mary pirouetted on the pavement, delighting in the way the skirt of her pink dress swung out, showing the lawn petticoat beneath.

‘Oh, it’s grand, Mary, it really is. Pretty as a picture you are.’

‘Like Shirley Temple?’

‘Yes, just like Shirley Temple in
The Little Princess
.’