‘Ah, to hell with him! Come on in, you look worn out.’
Mary smiled tiredly. ‘Oh, I suppose a few more minutes won’t make much difference. I get the height of abuse no matter what I do.’
Nellie shook her head as she carried the bucket and scrubbing brush inside. Frank McGann was the devil himself these days. Mary was a saint to put up with him; many women wouldn’t.
Mary put the washing in Nellie’s scullery, sat down at the kitchen table and tucked some stray wisps of hair behind her ears. Glancing up she caught sight of herself in the mirror on Nellie’s wall and really looked at herself closely for the first time in months. She was pale and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes and she was so thin that her collar bones stood out. Her hair seemed to have lost its colour and lustre and the drab, washed-out, almost thread-bare blue print blouse hung on her. Oh, how she’d aged! Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of the lovely cream pin-tucked blouse and russet-brown skirt she’d had for best when she’d first come back. And the smart brown cord jacket and small, jaunty brown and cream hat. They’d long since gone to Uncle’s and had never been redeemed. Rags were all she had now and the serviceable but unfashionable shawl. The uniform of the poor. All her money went on keeping a roof over their heads, food on the table and coal for the fire, although there had been times when there had been very little food and she’d been reduced to sending the children out to scavenge in the gutters for rubbish that could be burnt. By comparison to her own, Nellie’s kitchen was well furnished. Fred had regular work these days and most of her neighbours’ older children had work too.
‘Here we are, luv, good and strong and plenty of sugar.’ Nellie set the mugs down on the table.
‘Oh, Nellie, I just caught sight of myself in the mirror and I look so
old
!’
‘You’re wore out, girl, that’s what’s the matter with you and no wonder! I only said to Bella the other day, “That girl is killing herself.” ’
‘What else can I do?’
‘It might get easier when Katie and Tommy are old enough to leave school and get work.’
‘That’s not for another two years in Katie’s case and three for Tommy and you know Tommy does what he can selling papers and chips after school.’ He went out in all weathers selling the
Echo
and the small bundles of wood used to light the fires which were known locally as ‘chips’. She had once hoped that he would get a good job, maybe even some kind of trade so he wouldn’t become just another common labourer with an insecure future, but all hopes of that had gone. He would have to leave school at fourteen. There could never be any hope of him going to the Mechanics Institute, even after work.
‘Aye, he does what he can but he’s still not happy, is he?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. He’s tried to get something driving horses but they say he’s too young, he’s no experience, and no one will believe him when he says he can drive. Sometimes even I think he’s forgotten everything Sonny taught him.’
‘It’s been three years, Mary, and you have to admit that he has settled down and so has Katie.’
‘Oh, they have. I don’t know what I’d do without Katie, she’s such a help. She never complains. If only Lizzie had accepted it, though.’
Nellie nodded sadly. Lizzie was nine now and she went to school but seemed to learn very little. She was a withdrawn child who never smiled or laughed or even attempted to play with the other children. She just sat and watched them, lost in a world of her own that only Mary seemed able to penetrate with the strange hand signs that she herself was unable to fathom out. She knew Mary longed to do more for the child, to try to alleviate her unhappiness, but poor Mary had so little time for anything these days. She was exhausted.
‘Oh, Nellie! It . . . it seems a lifetime ago, another world.’
Nellie looked at her closely. Mary seldom complained, and only very rarely spoke about the life she’d left behind. ‘Do you still think of
him
, Mary?’
‘Every day. Every single day.’
‘I’m sorry, luv, I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘It’s all right, I know you mean well.’
Nellie didn’t want to probe further or open old wounds. ‘So, how is Frank today?’
‘Just the same. Bad-tempered, bitter, full of spite and hatred and accusations.’ Practically every day now there was a row when he shouted abuse at her, not caring who heard his vile accusations. She tried not to shout back but sometimes the things he said, the things he accused her of were too much for her to stand and her patience and her nerves snapped. But never once had she mentioned Richard’s name, never once had she betrayed her feelings for the man whose memory still haunted her day and night. Sometimes she had almost screamed that she wished she had done the things he condemned her for, that maybe she’d be happier if she had
some
memories to comfort her, but she always bit back the words. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d shouted and railed against God and wished he was dead and out of the hell he lived in and, Lord help her, she’d tried not to echo his sentiments.
‘Take no notice of him, girl.’
‘I try not to but there are times when it really gets me down, when I feel I can’t stand it another minute. I’m almost glad when it’s time for me to go out to work and I can take out my temper on scrubbing floors.’
‘God, Mary, I don’t know how you find the energy!’
‘Neither do I and sometimes . . . Oh, sometimes when I’m walking back I’m so tired and depressed that every step that brings me closer is harder and harder to take. I don’t want to come back
ever
, I just want to lie down and sleep and never wake up again. Oh, Nellie, I know it’s wrong, it’s a terrible sin to think like that but I can’t help it!’
Nellie got up and put her arms around the thin shoulders. ‘Oh, luv, I wish there was something I could do.’
‘You listen to me and it helps, it really does.’
‘It’s not much, Mary.’
‘It
is
!’ She struggled to regain control of herself. Breaking down in hopeless tears wouldn’t resolve anything. She knew that from bitter past experience. ‘Well, I’d better get back. This isn’t getting anything done. Thanks for the tea and the shoulder to cry on.’
‘This door is always open to you, Mary, you know that.’
She smiled resignedly, took the mug into the scullery and gathered up the washing.
The house was silent when she let herself in. Maggie had gone to do some shopping in Great Homer Street and wasn’t back yet. She’d better get the washing pegged out in the yard before she heated up what was left of the soup and then went and faced Frank and his complaints, she thought wearily.
Fifteen minutes later she carried the breadboard, which served as a tray, on which was a bowl of soup and a mug of tea, into the front room. She frowned. He was asleep. Now she would have to wake him or the soup and tea would be cold and he would complain. But he’d moan about being woken too.
She placed the board down at the foot of the bed below his wasted legs and shook him gently by the shoulder.
‘Frank! Frank, it’s dinnertime. I’ve brought you some soup. Eat it while it’s hot.’
He didn’t move and she bent over him. He was breathing deeply. She shook him harder but he still didn’t wake. Her gaze was drawn to the small dark green glass bottle on the chest beside the bed. He had trouble sleeping these days and because she didn’t want Tommy to be disturbed too much she’d gone to the Dispensary doctor and paid for a bottle of laudanum. A couple of drops in some warm milk helped. She snatched up the bottle and was horrified to find it was empty.
She shook him harder, half dragging him up in the bed.
‘Frank! Frank! For God’s sake, what have you done!’ she cried frantically. Oh, how long had she been out? Four, maybe five hours? Had it been too long? She tried to think calmly. What should she do? Should she keep trying to wake him or should she go for help? She shook him again and then turned and ran.
She fell into Nellie’s kitchen. ‘Nellie! Oh, God, Nellie, come quickly!’
‘Mary, what’s wrong?’ Nellie was startled and instantly anxious. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I can’t wake him! He . . . he’s taken all the laudanum! He must have done it when I went out!’
‘Oh, Holy Mother of God!’ Nellie pushed her out of the room ahead of her and the two women ran back to Mary’s house.
Frantically they both tried to rouse him but it was useless.
‘I’ll have to go for a doctor or an ambulance,’ Mary cried, half distracted.
‘Go for a doctor. Go to the Dispensary. Don’t call the ambulance.’
‘Why not? Wouldn’t it be better? The Dispensary doctor might be out.’
‘Mary, they’ll have to inform the police! It’s a crime to try to take your own life! A crime before God and man! Go for the doctor!’ Nellie cried.
Mary’s eyes widened in horror. She’d forgotten that.
She was out of breath and could hardly speak by the time she reached the Dispensary.
‘Please, where . . . where’s the doctor? I need him to . . . come . . . my husband . . .’
The nurse looked concerned. ‘I’m afraid he’s out, Mrs McGann.’
‘Oh, God, no! Where’s he gone? Please, please, I
have
to find him! He’s got to come
quickly
!’
The woman grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk. ‘His second call was number seven Athol Street; he should be there now. Is there anything I can do?’
Mary shook her head vehemently and left.
She ran all the way to Athol Street, pushing and elbowing people out of her way along Scotland Road, and it was with heartfelt relief that she saw his bicycle propped up outside the house. She burst in without even knocking.
The little group in the kitchen looked up in shock.
‘Doctor, I’m sorry but I had to come and find you. It’s . . . it’s Frank, my husband . . .’
The man knew her well enough. He’d been called out to see Frank McGann on a number of occasions, and she often came to the Dispensary for advice and medicine, but he’d never seen her so distressed before.
‘What’s happened, Mrs McGann? What’s the matter?’
Even in her distress she remembered Nellie’s words. ‘Can I . . . can I speak to you . . . privately, please?’ she begged.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Hepworth, I’ll be back to see to your mother-in-law as soon as I can. I fear this is an emergency,’ he excused himself.
‘Now, what’s the matter?’ he asked when they were both out in the street.
‘He . . . I came back from the washhouse and I couldn’t wake him, then I noticed that he . . . Oh, doctor, he’s taken all the laudanum!’
‘God Almighty! The fool! The bloody fool! How long ago?’
‘About five hours I think!’
‘You should have called the ambulance.’
‘I . . . I couldn’t. It’s . . . you
know
it’s a crime!’
‘You go back, I’ll cycle to the Dispensary. I need a stomach pump. I’ll be as quick as I can but I can’t promise anything.’
She broke into a trot as he cycled furiously up the street.
‘Where is he?’ Nellie demanded. She had been joined in the front room by both Maggie who had returned and Queenie who missed nothing that went on and who had seen Mary tearing up the street.
‘He’s on his way. He was out on a call in Athol Street but he’s had to go to the Dispensary before coming here.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What possessed him ter do it?’ Queenie asked, full of concern for Mary.
‘I don’t know! He . . . he was always saying he wished he were dead but I never thought . . .’ Mary sank down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands, praying the doctor would arrive soon.
He came rushing in the door ten minutes later but it had seemed much longer to the three women.
‘Would you put the kettle on, please? She’s had a shock, she could do with a cup of strong sweet tea,’ he asked of Maggie and Nellie and Queenie. He wanted them all out of the room. It was too crowded. Then he bent and examined Frank, took his pulse and listened to his heart.
‘Mrs McGann, I don’t think there is anything I can do. He needs to go to hospital, they have the equipment and the experience and the staff.’
‘No! Oh, please, no!’ she cried.
‘I can’t just leave him. It’s my duty. I took an oath to save life and apart from that I could be struck off and prosecuted myself and that would help no one! I’m sorry.’
‘If he goes and they . . . save him, what will happen?’