The Girl with the Creel (55 page)

Putting on her shoes, Lizann asked, ‘Where are they taking him?'

‘Round about to let folk see him.' Gladys shoved her boots under the bench and straightened up. ‘It's called the feet washing, for it started with just blacking their feet, but you know men, they weren't content with that.'

‘He'll have to wash more than his feet when he does get home,' Lizann giggled. ‘He'll have an awful job getting that lot off.'

‘I've heard some of them saying their faces still had black streaks when they were standing in front of the minister. Still, it's all good clean fun.'

This unintentional witticism made them both howl with laughter.

The journey from Plymouth to London was bad enough, but on the train to Aberdeen, Peter thought his stamina would never hold out. Luckily he had a few hours to wait in the Joint Station, which gave him the chance to walk around, to relieve the stiffness of his good leg and persevere with his artificial one. When he eventually arrived in Buckie, he was surprised by the wave of homesickness which swept over him; he hadn't felt like that once while he was away.

Slinging his kitbag over his shoulder – it did help to steady him – he set off towards the Yardie. He had decided to go there first, before he went to see his in-laws, because he was afraid that the sight of his three children might knock him back a bit. His nerves were still quite dodgy. He hesitated when he came to Jenny's door, wondering if she would be upset at seeing him, if she would resent the fact that he was alive when Mick was gone, then, bracing himself, he lifted his hand and gave three gentle taps.

‘Peter!' Jenny cried, when she saw him. ‘Oh, it's good to see you!'

Limping over to the fire, he sat down and looked at her anxiously. ‘How are you, Jenny?'

‘Not too bad now. It was an awful shock, and I don't think I'll ever get over it, but I had to keep going for the kids.'

‘Aye, of course.' He said nothing more, and guessed that she too was lost for words.

‘You'll have a cup of tea?' she asked suddenly.

‘Thanks, I wouldn't mind.' He watched her as she filled the kettle and set out cups and saucers. She had always been a bonnie girl, with red hair and rosy cheeks, and she had hardly changed at all – maybe a little paler. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, which was only natural, but she also had a peace about her, as though she had accepted her fate and was getting on with her life as best she could.

It occurred to Peter that this might be a good time to speak about his wife, when he didn't have to look at Jenny and see the pity he might not manage to handle. ‘Elsie's mother wrote and told me what happened,' he began, staring into the heart of the fire and so missing her alarm.

‘I'm awful sorry, Peter,' she murmured.

‘There's no need to be sorry for me,' he said. ‘Maybe you'll think I'm a callous blighter, but we were never suited, and I knew she had other men. Her mother tried to play it down, but I'm sure she'd been up to no good in Elgin.'

‘I don't know what to say, Peter,' Jenny said sadly.

‘I wasn't expecting you to say anything, or tell me anything. You were chums with her, so you likely knew what was going on, but I don't want to know. I don't care, it's as simple as that.'

Jenny filled the cups, and waited until she sat down again before she said, ‘I couldn't help noticing you were crippled. Was that at the same time as Mick …?'

He heaved a deep sigh now and turned towards her. ‘Yes, Jenny, I lost a leg, and I often wished I'd …'

‘No, Peter, don't say that! You're walking quite well. Did you get an artificial leg?'

‘I didn't want it. I didn't want to be able to walk. But … will I tell you something, Jenny? It was remembering I'd promised Mick to see you were all right if anything happened to him that made me fight back.'

‘I'm glad, but you don't need to bother about me, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. Are you going to live with the Slaters? Have you seen them yet?'

He shook his head. ‘I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't seem to plan ahead. I want to see my kids, but that's as far as I can think.'

Jenny laid her cup into her saucer. ‘Things'll get clearer to you once you've seen them again.'

‘Maybe.' He twirled his empty cup by the handle. ‘Jenny, can you tell me how you kept going when you must have thought there was nothing worth living for?'

‘It was different for me. There was nobody else to look after Georgie and little Lizann. Besides, I'd my health, and you still haven't got over what's happened to you.'

‘It's the boys and Norma … I can't see how I can be father and mother to them if I take them back to Main Street.'

‘The Slaters'll maybe not let you take them back, and there's nothing coming over them, they're being well looked after. And maybe you'll be asked to move in there with them.'

‘It wouldn't work. I've still got my dark times … you know, when I wonder what I'm good for like this.'

‘Don't let it get you down, Peter. Think things over properly before you come to any decisions.'

He put his cup and saucer down and stood up. ‘You amaze me, Jenny, you're always so … sensible.'

‘Not always. There's times I give way and have a good cry. Besides, it's easy for me to give you advice, I'm an outsider.'

‘You'll never be an outsider to me, Jenny. Mick and you have been the best friends I ever had. No, don't get up, I'll see myself out.'

‘You'll let me know what you decide on?'

‘I'll do that.'

Peter would have been horrified to know how his visit affected Jenny. She burst into tears when he left her, tears of pity for him and of longing for the husband she had loved so dearly, and she went to bed that night wishing that Peter had never come. She wasn't sensible, as he had said, she was living a lie, pretending she was coping when she often felt like taking her two children by the hands and walking into the sea with them. Walking, walking, walking … until they were swallowed up.

Her morbid thoughts came to an abrupt end as she pictured two small faces distorted from long immersion in the water. She couldn't do that to them; they had a right to live, whatever the future held for them. And she wasn't as bad as Peter. At least she had her health, and two good legs. Mick wouldn't have wanted her to give up. She would manage without him. She had to manage.

In the morning, Jenny rose determined not to slip back into the Slough of Despond which had nearly claimed her again. At thirty-three she had many years ahead of her, years she would devote to Georgie and Lizann. She was blessed compared to those widows who had nobody; she had a son and a daughter to buck her up when she was tired, to care for her when she grew old.

For the first time in months, Jenny whistled blithely as she made the breakfast.

It was two weeks before Peter returned to the Yardie. He shrugged when Jenny asked him if he had made up his mind yet. ‘The kids don't want to leave the Slaters,' he said, mournfully, ‘and the Slaters want to keep them. I've been sleeping on a camp bed in the same room as the boys, but I'm about round the bend with Chae and his jokes, for he keeps on till I feel like throttling him. Pattie and Tommy think he's great, and Norma clings to her grandma like she was terrified of me.'

‘She won't remember you,' Jenny soothed. ‘And the boys'll feel strange with you, they haven't seen you for so long.'

‘No, it's me, Jenny. I can't summon up any fatherly feelings for them. Oh, don't get me wrong, I still love them and I want them back, but to tell the truth, I'm quite glad they won't come.'

‘You're still all mixed up, Peter. You've been through an awful lot, and it's going to take you time to get over it.'

‘The thing is, sometimes I feel so down I don't think I'll ever get up again, and I can't expect folk to put up with that. No, I'd be best to live in Main Street on my own. Would you think it was awful cheek if I asked you to come and help me to sort out Elsie's things?'

The thought of him sitting night after night by himself, and getting more and more depressed made Jenny burst out, ‘Sell your house, Peter, and come and live here with us. We'd be company for one another.'

His eyes brightened a little. ‘Do you mean that?'

‘Yes, I do. I'll help you to clear it out, and you can take whatever you want with you … within reason.'

‘Have you room for me, though?'

‘Well, I shifted downstairs to give my two a room each, but you can have my bed, that'll save you having to climb the stairs, and I'll go in with little Lizann.'

‘Will she not mind?'

‘She's easy-going. Now that's settled, so go and tell the Slaters, and I'll move my things upstairs. We can start on your house tomorrow.'

Peter shook his head. ‘I was supposed to look after you, Jenny, not the other way round.'

‘We'll look after each other. Besides, I could be doing with an extra bob or two, so I'll expect you to pay something for your keep.'

‘Yes, of course.' They stood up at the same time and at the door he clasped her hand. ‘Oh Jenny, you've taken a weight off my mind.'

Going inside, she thought wryly that the weight was on her mind now. She had offered him a home on the spur of the moment and she couldn't back down, but what would people say about a widow and a widower in the same house with only two young children as chaperones? The more Jenny thought about it, however, the less she worried. Her neighbours all knew he had been Mick's pal, and it should seem as natural to them as it did to her that she should take him in. Robbie Chapman had told her to share someone else's troubles and who better than a disabled ex-serviceman who deserved a decent place to live and decent food to eat?

Next morning, when Peter arrived with his kitbag, Jenny went along to Main Street with him, and while he packed his civilian clothes into a case, she took Elsie's things out of the wardrobe and chest of drawers, her eyes widening when she came across the provocative nighties. Her cheeks were deep scarlet when she asked, ‘What do you want me to do with … this lot?'

He too coloured, with mortification as well as embarrassment. ‘I'll burn them. I … I don't suppose you want any of her other clothes?'

‘They're not the kind of things I'd wear.' Pity for him welled up in her again. He was such a nice man, it was awful to think that his wife had set herself out to attract other men with these short skirts and low-necked blouses.

Peter made a big bonfire on the shore, starting with Elsie's clothes and piling on other items Jenny said he should dispose of. While he was thus occupied, she inspected all the cupboards, and finding them clean and tidy, she guessed that Mrs Slater had been busy. She had likely been appalled at the state of things when she came to collect the children's clothes after their mother died. It suddenly crossed Jenny's mind that there must be quite a few young couples who would be glad to walk into a fully-equipped house like this – there were only ‘utility' furniture and bedding to be had now, and some household items weren't available at all – so before beginning on the mammoth task of packing Peter's belongings into boxes to be sold, she went out to talk to him.

He seemed relieved when she made the suggestion that he should rent out his house as it stood, and promised to see about it the following day. She left him tending to the fire and went home to prepare a meal. Babsie Berry was looking after Georgie and wee Lizann to leave her free to help Peter – at least her nearest neighbour hadn't been shocked by her taking in a lodger. Recalling how black Georgie had got from just standing beside a fire, Jenny boiled kettles and pans of water ready for Peter, but when he came in and she said she would fill the enamel bath for him, he shook his head. ‘I couldn't … not in front of you and the kids.'

‘Why not? Mick often did.'

‘That was different,' he mumbled, uncomfortably.

It
was
different, she realized suddenly. Mick had been her husband, the children's father. Noticing her confusion, Peter said, ‘I'll wash my face and hands just now, and change my clothes, and I'll have the bath when you're all in bed.'

‘That's a good idea.' While she set the table, she realized that it wasn't going to be easy living in the same house as a man she had known practically since the day she learned to walk. Her house had been across the street from his, and they had played together even before they went to school. But they were man and woman now, not bairns. She couldn't come down in the mornings in her nightie like she'd done with Mick. She would have to be more circumspect.

In spite of the blackout and the frequent air raids, Lizann was happier than she had ever been before. Even when she was married to George, she had always had the worry of him being at sea, and her mother to contend with. She was in charge of her own life for the very first time. There was a camaraderie amongst her fellow fish workers that made her set off for Sinclair Road every morning looking forward to the day ahead. The men teased her light-heartedly, as they did to everyone, and the other women couldn't be more friendly, though Gladys Wright was still her closest pal. They swapped lipsticks and powder compacts, they went to each other's homes and tried out the latest hairstyles, Gladys settling on the long page boy bob with up-swept sides which she found easier to man-age than the slinky, one-eye-covered hairdo which film star Veronica Lake had made popular. Lizann, however, found that the metal curlers just made her black curls frizzy, and she ended up like a golliwog.

At work, all the females wore headsquares knotted so that their hair was completely hidden. As Gladys observed one Saturday afternoon, while Lizann wielded a pair of curling tongs on her, ‘Goodness knows why I suffer this torture. Nobody sees what our hair's like under our turbans. Oucha! Watch what you're doing, Lizann, you burnt my scalp just now.'