Reach for Tomorrow (26 page)
‘Zachariah, what?’ He had turned away from her and now she reached out and cupped his face, meeting his eyes as she said again, ‘What?’ her voice insistent.
‘It reminded me of her that night you cried for Davey Connor.’
‘Oh, Zachariah.’ She didn’t know what to say.
‘I found meself thinkin’ it’d be worth dyin’ to have you cry like that for me.’
There was a wealth of pain in his voice and now it was Rosie who shook her head as she said, ‘Oh, Zachariah, don’t you see? I don’t want to cry for you, I want to live for you.’
Now they were clinging together and he was muttering against her lips, ‘I’ve money enough for us to live however you want, lass, however you want. Anythin’ you want, it’s yours.’
She drew back slightly, touching his mouth with her fingertips, and when he stilled, his vivid blue eyes half closing, she felt the shiver that passed through him. This was a complicated man. A man who had been deeply scarred by life and yet who still had the capacity for great compassion and tenderness. And she loved him. She didn’t know what the next few hours would bring, but she loved him. And her love told her that it was Zachariah who needed reassurance about the night ahead, not her, and she would give it to him.
When he took her into his arms she melted into him, her whole being striving to encourage and comfort and when he kissed her she kissed him back.
And it was later, much later, when she lay awake in her husband’s arms in the big soft bed and listened to his measured, rhythmic breathing, that Rosie allowed herself to think of Davey. Davey Connor had left her - say what you will, dress it up how you like, he had, he’d left her. All right, he was dead now and you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but Davey had made her think he cared about her in a hundred little ways that hadn’t needed words. He had made her love him and then, when she was at her lowest, he had gone. But Zachariah . . .
He had been so gentle tonight. She shut her eyes tight for one moment, then opened them wide again in the darkness. And after that first brief pain it hadn’t been so bad in spite of her shyness. Sally had been right, he had known what he was doing. A brief smile touched her lips. And now they had years and years ahead of them, years in which to have a family, to live peacefully with their friends and family, to travel a bit if they wanted, to do anything . . .
She was going to like being married.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Hold your horses, lass, hold your horses, I can’t take this in. You’re tellin’ me your Shane has always liked our Rosie?’
May the good Lord give her strength ’cos you needed a measure an’ a half of it when you were trying to talk to Jessie. Annie McLinnie took a deep breath before she said, ‘Aye, that’s what I’m sayin’, an’ it’s more than likin’, Jessie. He come in the night afore their weddin’ like a man possessed, we’ve never had such a do. He was rantin’ an’ ravin’ we should’ve let him know--’
‘Let him know?’ Jessie’s brow wrinkled. ‘You knew where he was then? I thought . . .’
‘We’ve had an address the last couple of years,’ Annie admitted, ‘but we had to keep it quiet like, our Shane didn’t want anyone to know. Apparently there was some trouble afore he went, somethin’ to do with his sideline, you know?’ Jessie nodded; she’d put two and two together years ago and made four. ‘An’ he still wasn’t satisfied they’d be off his back if he came back.’
‘But if you had his address why
didn’t
you let him know?’
didn’t
you let him know?’
How did she answer that? Annie hesitated. Her thoughts were one thing, but to malign her Shane to Jessie was quite another. If she answered truthfully she would have to say that she had been frightened to write Shane about the little lass’s news. And the way he had carried on that night a week ago had proved her right if nothing else. The fact that Rosie and Zachariah had wanted a quiet do with no fuss and that it had all happened so quickly had been to their advantage, added to which there had been no engagement, not official like anyways. It had been too late for Shane to do anything when he’d found out. Do anything? She felt her stomach turn over at the thought. She didn’t really think her Shane would have done anything, did she? Annie took a big gulp from the mug of tea Jessie had just handed her and sat down heavily at the wooden table covered with a clean oilcloth. Aye, she did. By, this was a rum do all round.
‘Annie?’ Jessie sat down opposite her and now her eyes were tight on this old friend of hers. ‘Why didn’t you let him know, lass?’
‘He likes her too much, Jessie. He always has.’ Annie’s voice was low and rapid but she needed to do this, she needed to put Jessie wise. Shane was back and according to what he’d screamed at them that night afore the wedding he intended to stay, and that meant . . . Jessie had to be put wise. She dare not let herself think beyond that. Jessie was better now, the last few months she’d been herself again which was strange really, with her Molly goodness knows where and Rosie marrying Zachariah and all, but she could cope with this now. She couldn’t have done before. And for her part she had never thought to see the day when she’d admit to being glad her boys had been laid off, but she wouldn’t have wanted to be in the house alone. Oh, what was she saying? She took another gulp of the strong black tea. May God forgive her. Her Shane wouldn’t hurt her, now then. But she’d spell it out to Jessie, you always needed to hammer something home with her. And then, if nothing else, her own conscience would be clear in that she’d done all that she could.
Jessie was silent for a long time when Annie finished speaking. She was staring at the other woman fixedly, thinking, For this to happen now when everything was going so well. Not that she hadn’t been knocked sideways when Rosie had first told her about Zachariah the night Molly had gone; she had to admit she’d wondered what the lass was taking on with his handicap and all, but when she’d seen them together the next day and the days thereafter she’d had her mind put at rest. It was love all right, and love covered a multitude of sins. The saying was one of Joseph’s, and now the thought of him again emphasized how life had taken a turn for the better.
Annie, who was always uncomfortable with silences, said, ‘When are they comin’ back off honeymoon anyway?’
‘What? Oh, tomorrow. But they’re not comin’ back here.’
‘Not . . . ?’ Annie’s face was perplexed.
‘It’s a secret, Zachariah didn’t want anyone to know in case they let on to Rosie an’ spoiled the surprise, but he’s bought a house in Roker.’ Jessie couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice.
‘Roker?’
‘Aye, overlookin’ the promenade. Lovely it is, an’ he’s had it furnished right grand, an’ there’s a run of garden at the front an’ a patch of nice lawn at the back. But don’t let on, Annie, not yet,’ Jessie added hastily. ‘Not a word, lass.’
‘You know me, pet, me lips are sealed.’ It said a lot for Annie that she didn’t speak her mind at this point, because if she had it would have been along the lines of, ‘Well, me lads have heard the odd tale about Zachariah, or his mam to be more precise, an’ it looks as though the stories about her saltin’ a packet away might be true, eh? Your Rosie has landed on her feet an’ no mistake.’ But it was none of her business, Annie told herself firmly, and any road, who was she to talk, with her Shane being in dirty dealings up to his neck? Them that lived in glass houses . . . ‘You goin’ with ’em to Roker, lass? You an’ Hannah?’
Jessie shook her head. ‘No, Annie. Zachariah’s quite happy for us to stay here as long as we want an’ I’m of a mind a young couple should have a year or two on their own if they can. There’s not many round these parts can run to that.’
‘You’re right there, lass, by you are.’ Annie thought of the groups of men visible at every street corner these days, their coats, caps and mufflers on whatever the weather, and the same dead hopeless look on their faces. The shipyards and the mines were cutting back by the week, and it didn’t matter if you were a labourer, a riveter, a trimmer or a miner, you swallowed your pride and joined the dole queue or you and your family starved, and even with the dole the hordes of bairns scavenging on the coaltips for buckets of cinders bore evidence to the desperation of some families. ‘It’s a luxury, so it is.’
Jessie nodded but her face was sober, her thoughts having travelled the same way as Annie’s. There was only Arthur in regular work now in the McLinnie household and they were feeling the pinch, no doubt about it. Since she had pulled herself together she’d tried to slip Annie the odd few shillings when she could, and a bit of this and that, but it was a drop in the ocean. The lads got the odd shift now and again, but although that might go some way to alleviating the soul-destroying hopelessness and bitter shame that was tearing the guts out of the men of Sunderland and Newcastle and South Shields and aye, the whole country, it didn’t pay the rent. There would be riots before long; they’d already started in some places, and the unions were nigh on useless. When she thought back to the wages her James had earned through the war and such she couldn’t believe what men were expected to keep families on now. Wages were supposed to go up, weren’t they? By, them days had been the heydays, even if each wage packet had been earned with blood, sweat and tears. The country was dying now.
‘I’d best be away, lass.’ It had been a sombre visit what with one thing and another and Annie wasn’t loath to end it. ‘My Arthur will be home soon an’ the lads’ll be ready for their dinner.’
Jessie nodded again and then, as the two women walked out onto the landing and Annie glanced down the stairs, she said, ‘You gonna move downstairs, lass, if they’re not comin’ back, an’ have these two rooms as bedrooms?’
‘No.’ Jessie smiled. ‘Zachariah suggested it but Sally an’ her Mick are livin’ with his lot in Salem Street, an’ there’s fifteen of ’em squashed in them four rooms accordin’ to Rosie. She’s bin sayin’ for months she wished they could have a place of their own. Me an’ the bairn’ll move downstairs an’ let Sally have these rooms. She’s a nice lass, an’ my Rosie thinks a bit of her an’ Mick, an’ rightly so.’
By, the difference a few months could make. And this thought was brought home again to Annie when Jessie followed her down the stairs to the doorstep where she thrust four ten-shilling notes into her hand.
‘What’s this, lass?’ Annie stared at the money as her throat closed and her eyes filled up. ‘You’ve given us more than enough the last little while, I can’t take all this now then.’
‘Oh aye, you can. Who was it who filled our bellies more than one night when James and the lads went, Annie McLinnie?’
‘But two pounds, Jessie.’
‘Aw, go on with you. Zachariah saw me all right afore he went away, he’s insistin’ we’re family now an’ Hannah an’ me won’t want for nothin’. Take it, lass. Please?’
The last was said in such a way that all Annie could do was nod as she indulged in a rare show of affection and hugged Jessie tight for one moment, before stepping down heavily into the hot dusty street. God was good. Oh aye, God was good. Here she’d been fretting how she was going to fill her men’s bellies the week, and He’d filled her cup to overflowing.
Annie was half talking, half praying, as she made her way down Benton Street, but as she reached the Dog and Rabbit on the corner and turned left towards the tram stop, the sound of a ship’s horn in the far distance barely registering on her consciousness, she suddenly stood stock still as her eyes alighted on the tall young man coming towards her in the muggy afternoon air.
Davey Connor?
It was, it was Davey Connor! She’d know him anywhere in spite of him being as brown as one of them from the Arab quarter down by the docks. She pressed her hand to her heart which had tried to jump out of her chest with shock and it was like that she watched him approach her. When he was within easy earshot she said, ‘Eee, eee, lad, is it really you? You gave me the gliff of me life! If I was after bein’ a lady I’d have had a fit of the vapours an’ no mistake.’
Davey Connor?
It was, it was Davey Connor! She’d know him anywhere in spite of him being as brown as one of them from the Arab quarter down by the docks. She pressed her hand to her heart which had tried to jump out of her chest with shock and it was like that she watched him approach her. When he was within easy earshot she said, ‘Eee, eee, lad, is it really you? You gave me the gliff of me life! If I was after bein’ a lady I’d have had a fit of the vapours an’ no mistake.’
‘Hallo, Mrs McLinnie.’ The first old face he sees and it has to be Shane’s mam. But he liked Mrs McLinnie, he always had.
‘I don’t believe it, after all this time. How are you, lad?’
‘I’m fine, Mrs McLinnie, and I see you’re still as bonny as ever.’ Davey grinned at the fat shapeless figure, his eyes twinkling.
‘Go on with you!’ Annie made a gesture with one hand as though flapping something aside, and then she said, ‘Where you bin the last few years, lad? We heard tell you’d copped it . . . oh, it must be four years or more now. Drowned, when your ship sunk.’
‘You heard that?’ The smile had been wiped off Davey’s face and now he said, his voice sharp, ‘Who told you that, Mrs McLinnie?’
‘Rosie. Rosie Ferry, as was, an’ she heard it from Flora. Flora works in the Baxter shippin’ office an’ there was a report of a ship sinkin’ with all hands lost. Your name was registered on the crew list.’
Davey flexed back on his heels as he let the breath out between his teeth. The
President
, it must have been the
President
. It looked as if he had something to thank Captain McGrathe for after all. But for his decision to jump ship he would have gone down to Davy Jones’s locker alongside the rest of the crew, the poor devils. But he didn’t refer to the doomed ship or his timely escape, instead he asked, ‘Rosie Ferry as was? She’s married then?’ his voice casual, as though he hadn’t just been on his way to Benton Street to find out that very thing.
President
, it must have been the
President
. It looked as if he had something to thank Captain McGrathe for after all. But for his decision to jump ship he would have gone down to Davy Jones’s locker alongside the rest of the crew, the poor devils. But he didn’t refer to the doomed ship or his timely escape, instead he asked, ‘Rosie Ferry as was? She’s married then?’ his voice casual, as though he hadn’t just been on his way to Benton Street to find out that very thing.
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