THOUGHTS STOP PRAYERS WITH YOU STOP ARRIVING THURSDAY ONE O’CLOCK TRAIN STOP LOVE JEAN
Mary was tense waiting at the station, walking first one way towards the bridge that arched over the single line of tracks, and then the other, until she reached the end of the platform where old wagons were shunted together, their steel wheels rusted to the sidings. There she turned her face to the sun; the mix of warmth and the slight breeze felt good on her skin and for a few moments she relaxed.
Then the signal juddered and clanged upwards and she heard a faint high-pitched shrilling. Shielding her eyes she turned, seeing only a trail of smoke at first. And then, all at once, with a great rush of noise the black barrelled engine steamed alongside the platform, followed by three carriages and the post wagon.
She was sure Patrick wouldn’t be with Jean. Even so, Mary couldn’t help looking beyond her when she saw the familiar plump figure bustle off the first carriage and drop her suitcase onto the platform. To Mary’s relief there was no sign of her brother. She watched Jean help Jacqueline to jump from the step of the carriage and when the little girl ran towards her holding out her arms Mary lifted her and hugged her. Jean walked towards her in her usual manner, the slight waddle, worse in recent years, with feet planted outwards in what Winifred used to call her ten-to-two-feet march.
The two women hesitated as if unsure of each other, then hugged.
‘Look at you, skin and bone,’ Jean said, pursing her lips, her head to one side. ‘Doesn’t suit you.’
Mary noticed the short sleeves of her friend’s yellow dress cutting into her upper arms and the roll of flesh around her waist above the belt but said nothing. In spite of everything she was glad Jean was here. She missed her and, regardless of their split loyalties between Peter and Patrick, she realised she needed her friend now. ‘Thank you for coming.’ She had to shout above the sudden loud hiss of steam from the locomotive. She kissed the top of Jacqueline’s head. ‘Lovely to see you too, love.’ Grabbing hold of the little girl’s hand she pulled her away from the hot spray that shot out from between the coupling rods. ‘Come on, let’s find that bus.’
It took Jean until they had settled on the single-decker before she said, ‘Patrick says sorry he can’t get away. He’s too busy. One of the women who works the stall for him in Bradford is sick so he’s having to run between there and Rochfield all week.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Mary said, doubting he’d ever think of apologising for anything. Her younger brother – her only brother now she realized with shock – was such a bigot. Jean didn’t need to make excuses for him. Mary’s resentment, that even Tom’s death wouldn’t bring him to see her, was exacerbated by knowing Patrick wouldn’t come because of Peter. And Jean knew that as well.
‘Ellen?’
‘She’s struggling.’
‘Hmmm. I went to see Ted. He was really upset about Tom. He couldn’t come – his mother had a turn and he couldn’t leave her.’
I’ll bet she did, Mary thought. ‘It’s a shame he couldn’t find someone to stay with her,’ she said. Holding onto the back of Jacqueline’s seat as the bus driver changed gears with a grind and stutter of the engine, she had to raise her voice above the rattle. ‘Ellen could do with him here.’ She stopped, not wanting to talk about Ellen’s problems.
Jean wagged her head. ‘Ted’s going mad without her in the shop. He told Patrick his bread orders have gone right down – right down.’
‘I thought the girl who’s moved into Mrs Jagger’s house was helping him?’
‘Doreen Whittaker? Hmm, yes, well, she’s neither use nor ornament as far as I can see. And a right flighty piece if you ask me.’
‘Flighty? How do you mean?’ Mary tried to sound unconcerned.
‘What I said. She’s not been in the town much above six months and from what I hear she’s worked her way around quite a few of the local men.’
‘Ellen says she’s married.’
‘Doesn’t seem to stop her. He’s in the Territorial Army and in Nottingham a lot, so they say.’
The bus picked up speed and the noise made it impossible to talk for the next few minutes. They swayed in their seats as the vehicle swung around the bends and twists of the narrow, hedged-in road.
When the bus stopped accelerating and quietened slightly, Jean spoke again. ‘How Ted puts up with that mother of his I’ll never know. Twice last week he didn’t open the shop because she said she was having a funny do and couldn’t be left. He says only Ellen can deal with her when she’s like that.’
Perhaps it was as Ellen said. Perhaps Ted didn’t want to know what problems his wife had with his mother. Mary kept quiet.
‘I offered to look in on her but she was having none of it. It had to be Ted or nobody with her,’ Jean said. ‘She’d do better if she didn’t eat as much. She’s enormous now – just sits all day in that corner like a great fat spider, watching everything that goes on.’ She leant forward as the bus stopped and a line of people scrambled up the steps. ‘Jacqueline, come and stand by your Auntie Mary.’
The little girl squeezed onto Mary’s knees instead and Mary gave her a cuddle as the bus lurched forward. ‘All right, love?’ She savoured the way the little girl snuggled trustingly against her but was troubled by the sadness in her eyes. ‘You okay?’
‘No Uncle Tom, Auntie Mary?’ Jacqueline’s chin quivered. ‘I wish he was back from Heaven.’
‘Me too, sweetheart, me too.’ She kissed her. ‘Linda’s really looking forward to seeing you. She’s so bored with her little brother. She said we had to hurry up so she could have someone proper to play with.’
Jacqueline giggled. ‘I’ve brought my John Bull printing set with me, Auntie Mary.’
‘Oh, she’ll love that. Did Mummy buy you that for your birthday?’
Jacqueline nodded, her thumb tucked into the corner of her mouth.
Jean pulled at her daughter’s hand. ‘No thumb sucking,’ she said. ‘I can’t stop her doing that.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Mary smiled at Jacqueline.
‘Linda missed Jacqueline’s birthday party because Ellen brought the kids down here,’ Jean said.
‘Then we’ll have to have another party, won’t we?’ Mary hugged her niece. ‘Two birthday parties, all thanks to Auntie Ellen. Not bad eh?’
Jacqueline cuddled closer. ‘Smashing!’
Mary watched the conductor making his way towards them, stopping at each passenger and leaning against the metal poles as he turned the handle of his ticket machine and dropped the fares into his leather satchel. She searched in her handbag for her purse. ‘Ellen sent a telegram to Ted to say she was staying here for a while to help me.’ Holding up a shilling she said, ‘Two and a half, please,’ and waited until the man gave her two pink tickets and a blue one and moved past them before she said, ‘but, to be honest I’m not sure she should stay. Peter and I don’t think it’s doing her any good being here. She cried all the way through the inquest and now she says she can’t go to the funeral, even though Gwyneth’s offered to have the kids.’
‘Some support.’ Jean’s mouth twisted. She didn’t acknowledge the mention of Peter. ‘How is Gwyneth by the way?’
‘She’s struggling as well. It’s brought everything that happened to Iori back. She lived for him. All she’s said is that Tom and Iori are together now. She has her faith.’
‘Hmm.’
Mary could tell Jean was embarrassed. Stubbornly she continued, ‘We all knew Tom loved him, Jean. We’re just not allowed to say.’
‘Well,’ Jean faltered. ‘Well, that’s as maybe.’ She sniffed, her mouth turned downwards. ‘That’s as maybe.’ They travelled a while in silence. When Jean next spoke she sounded defensive. ‘I did try to make Patrick come, Mary. He’s not an easy man, you know. He’s a past master of bad moods.’
‘You’re telling me. But you can hold your own on that score, I know. I’ve been on the receiving end of your moods many a time.’ She leant towards Jean, touching her forehead with her own, noticing at the same time a small bruise on her friend’s cheek. ‘What did you walk into this time?’ She smiled. Jean was very short-sighted but sometimes her vanity stopped her wearing her glasses.
‘Cupboard door.’ Jean dismissed Mary’s question with a flick of her hand. ‘Moods don’t work with Patrick, though.’
‘So what does?’
Jean shrugged. ‘Not a lot. You were always the one to handle him, Mary.’
‘Hardly. I’ve watched you with him over the years. You’re perfectly capable of keeping a tight rein on him.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Jean fidgeted, looked uncomfortable. After a moment she nodded towards the window. ‘I always think how lovely it is round here,’ she said, ‘but not home though, is it? Not home.’
‘I know what you’re getting at,’ Mary said, ‘and even with Tom – even with what’s happened, I won’t be coming back to Ashford.’ She watched Jean. From her sister-in-law’s frustrated expression it was obvious she was struggling not to argue.
Mary held her hand up. ‘I’m glad you’re here. And this little one.’ She stroked Jacqueline’s hair as she dozed against her shoulder.
‘So am I.’ Jean pushed at the bridge of her glasses with her forefinger and settled further into her seat, her hand on her daughter’s knee. ‘So am I. She’s as exhausted as I am.’
‘How’s she been?’ Mary whispered.
‘Upset, not sleeping well. And she’s wet the bed twice since I told her about Tom.’ Jean hesitated, her voice quiet. ‘But that’s been going on a while now, thinking about it. Patrick and me – well, we’ve been arguing a lot lately. I’m hoping she’ll be all right when we get to your house.’
Patrick would argue with the devil, Mary thought but instead only said, ‘It’ll help Linda being there.’
‘Hmm.’ Jean paused. ‘Ellen shouldn’t have come rushing down here. I’m sure it hasn’t helped you.’
‘I’ve got Peter.’
‘Yes, well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.’
Whatever opinion Jean had about Peter Mary didn’t want to hear. ‘Look, here’s our stop,’ she interrupted, gathering Jacqueline into her arms. She reached up and pressed the bell on the nearby rail, waiting for the bus to slow down before standing.
Peter was at the gate watching for them. He took Jacqueline by one hand and the suitcase in the other, in spite of Jean’s protests. When he bent to greet her, she stiffly offered her cheek and murmured, ‘Hello,’ before walking up the path to the cottage and adding, ‘you smell of pipe tobacco. Mary said you’d taken up a pipe – revolting habit.’
Mary and Peter exchanged wry expressions. This was going to be a difficult visit.