Low Moor, late July 1916
A heart can only take so much pain
Ada lifted the latch of her front door. The smell of cigarette smoke told her Paddy was in. Her insides clenched. He had become a monster that she feared – and fear was one of the few emotions she felt these days, as most of the time she was devoid of emotion.
Life had become something to get through, rather than to live. Somehow she got up each day and went to her work at the munitions factory. Somehow she endured Paddy’s onslaughts on her body, and the pain of his and her sister’s betrayal.
Peering around the door, she saw the empty scullery. There was nothing out of place except a butt-end smouldering in the tin lid that Paddy used as an ashtray. He must be out the back, as she could see the back door was ajar. As she stepped inside, the sound of Paddy crying stopped her in her tracks. By the direction from which the sound was coming, she knew he was in their loft bedroom. Her body stiffened against the pain she could hear in his sobs. Afraid to ask, she waited. Hardly able to breathe, she clung onto the high-backed wooden chair.
‘Ada, me Ada. Oh God, how is it that I should give you this news? I can’t . . . I can’t. Christ! Why, why?’
Looking up at his haggard face, staring down at her from the top of the ladder that led to the loft, gave her heart a jolt, and an urge to scream at what she knew to be a truth. But no sound came when she opened her mouth. Her body crumpled. Barely making it to the fireside chair, she slumped into it. Vomit rose to her throat. She grabbed the empty coal scuttle and retched into it.
Paddy’s footsteps resounded around the room as he descended the wooden ladder. At the bottom he staggered. Was he drunk?
Picking up the stub of his cigarette, he threw it past her and into the empty fire grate. The thought came to her, as she wiped her mouth with her pinny, that she should get the blackening out and clean up the stove. It had been a long time since it had been done. But then she was working all hours God sent her, and her bones ached with tiredness. Some chores she just had to let slip.
Still ignoring Paddy, she thought about her stash. Now amounting to the huge sum of twenty pounds, she knew she would be able to leave soon and make a new life for herself. Twenty pounds! She couldn’t believe it, and felt rich beyond her dreams. But then the long hours of shift work and piece-work and her working in the most dangerous shop meant that she had netted just over six pounds a week. Paddy didn’t know. He tried to guess, but as he got a fair whack of it, he thought she was tipping up the lot. God knows what he would do if he found out the truth. But she hoped to be long gone before that day.
His cries penetrated her thoughts. Why had her mind gone off on such a tangent, when there was terrible news to face?
‘Tell me, Paddy. Tell me.’
‘I – I don’t know how to. Here, it is better that you read this for yourself.’
Taking the crisp paper from him, Ada let her eyes fall on the words: Tour son, James O’Flynn, has been killed in action.
Just that. No ‘We regret to inform you’, as had been written for Bobby and Jack. Nor did it say ‘He died bravely’, as it was said they had. Nothing – just ‘killed’. Her mind repeated the word over and over: ‘killed . . . killed . . . killed’! The last time turned into a scream that sounded as if it came from a mad woman, as her heart ripped in two. Tears didn’t come, though; this was too much for tears, but hatred came. Hatred and blame.
‘You killed him, Paddy! You, with your thinking he was his own man. I could have got him off – the bloody King said I could – but no, you said Jimmy should go. I hate you . . . I HATE YOU!’
Paddy didn’t move. His body remained bent over the table, but Ada hadn’t finished with him, because while she felt like this she’d give him all the pain that clutched at her chest.
‘But you don’t care, do you? You can spawn as many bairns as you want, can’t you? Beryl’s carrying one for you already. You’ve shagged me own sister! So what price me lads, eh? What d’you care.’
‘Will you shut your mouth? Care? Me strapping boys gone – all gone – and you are for saying I don’t care!’
The strength had come back into him, as now he stood at his full height. Anger flared from every pore of him. Snatching up the poker, Ada stood brandishing it in front of her, spitting out her guts at him. ‘You come near me and I’ll smash your head to pieces. Murderer! Vile, wife-cheating, wife-beating bastard!’
‘Enough, woman. A man can only take so much. Come into me arms and let me give comfort to you. It is together we should stand at such a time.’
‘Comfort! I’d as soon jump into the fire as into your arms, you murdering swine.’
The blow came without her seeing him move, he was that fast. His hand slapped her face, shocking her and rendering her unable to see what was coming. And so, before she was ready, a punch sank into her belly, taking the wind from her.
Paddy caught her sinking body and held her to him. His tears wet her hair and her face; his cries held the agony of grief. Gasping for breath, Ada could do nothing to stop him carrying her to their bed. But if she had the strength she would kick his proud manhood – kick and kick it till it lay, never to harden again. Instead, all she could do was lie limply while he stripped her of her knickers and entered her.
She had never been taken like it, and she never wanted to be taken like it again. Howling his sorrow with every thrust, Paddy gave her no pleasure, but only increased her heartache and grief. He had been her man, and now he had gone, just as those he’d sired had. He was nothing to her – nothing.
His groan and the stiffening of his body told her he’d reached his end. She took his weight as he slumped down on her. He remained still, causing her further pain with the heaviness of him on her bruised body. She hadn’t the strength to move him from her, but she had to, or she would suffocate. ‘Sh – shift yourself, Paddy, you . . . you’ve had what you wanted. You . . . beat it out of – of . . . me again. For God’s – s – sake, let me breathe.’
As his body rolled off her and he withdrew from her, he muttered, ‘You bitch!’
She took no notice of him as she gasped in deeply, trying to fill her lungs.
You drive me to do what I do, then you blame me and make me feel like I’ve raped me own wife. You give me nothing now. Nothing. It’s like shagging a rice pudding – and that’s for insulting the pudding me mammy used to make me. I’m telling you, I’m for taking up the offer I’ve had from that young widow up the road, Rosie Parfit. She’s after me giving her what she’s missing, now her Dean’s gone. And she ain’t a bad looker, and promises to be a good little shag.’
It surprised Ada how much this hurt, but she wasn’t going to show it. ‘By, she’ll soon ditch you. You’re past it. Any man as can’t keep his own wife happy ain’t worth a light. Eeh, they all know as you’re searching for sommat as you haven’t had in a long while. They say you go from woman to woman ’cause you’re trying to prove you’re still the man you were. Ha, they laugh at thee, Paddy O’Flynn!’
Paddy drew himself to his full height, but this stance only lasted a few seconds as he collapsed into a heap. His body hit the wooden floor with a thud.
‘Paddy, Paddy . . .’
A growl that could have come from an animal shuddered through him. With it, Paddy regained consciousness, looked up at her and released a strangled cry. ‘Our boys, our babbies – all gone . . . all gone. Gone, Ada. By Jesus, how are we to go on, Ada? How?’
She could not answer him. Her anger had gone. He only had two ways of coping: one was to hit out, and the other was to take a woman – any woman. She realized that. This crying and giving up wasn’t Paddy, but she couldn’t help him now. She needed her own release from the pain of her loss, and from the pain of the treatment Paddy had meted out to her. Rising, she left him lying there and ran from the room.
Once down the ladder, she ran out of the door, not caring that her hair was matted, her face bruised, her stomach hurt, and that between her legs she was wet and sticky and had no knickers on, because none of these things mattered. Nothing mattered. Jimmy was gone.
Reaching the beck, she waded in. How often had she brought her lads here with a bottle of water and some butties of bread and jam? They had fished with empty jam jars, catching tiddlers, and she had let the sun warm her and had dreamed her dreams as she lay on the grass. Now she stood in the middle of the beck, with the water swirling around her, and there were no cries of ‘Mam, I’ve caught one’ or ‘Mam, our Jimmy’s scaring the fish – he’s too noisy’.
There were no hungry lads stuffing themselves and leaving trails of sticky jam around their mouths. There were no quarrels breaking out over Jimmy’s crusts. Jimmy never liked to eat the crust of the bread, and the other two had vied for them, grabbing them from him, wrestling them away from the other. Eeh, I shouted at them to give over, or I’d clip their ears! ‘WHERE ARE YOU NOW, ME LADS! WHERE ARE YOU!’ Her screams assaulted her ears, and water sprayed over her as she thrashed the surface of the beck in her anguish. ‘I WANT ME LADS. I WANT ME LADS!’
‘Eeh, Ada. Ada, me lass.’
Arms that she knew held only kindness came around her. Through swollen eyes she looked into the gentle face of Joe. He – he’s gone, Joe. Jimmy: me lad. He’s gone, Joe.’
Aw, lass, lass.’
Help me, Joe. Help me!’
‘Come on, let’s get out of the water.’
Her feet squelched in the mud and her soft shoes came off. Realizing this when they reached the bank, Joe waded back in and retrieved them. Here, Ada, love. I’ve a flask just up the bank. I’d come down to do a spot of fishing. I allus bring a picnic with me when the weather’s nice. When I’m on late shift, that is. Come and sit down and have a sup. It’ll not be hot, but warm and sweet, so it’ll help you.’
With only her empty sobs to break the silence, they sat together on the bank. As if nothing could change it, the water in the beck babbled on over the pebbles and rocks that formed its bed. A shimmering light reflected the sun and dappled its surface. A breeze tickled the air, bringing everything around them into life, making the buttercups and daises nod to each other and the branches of the trees dip and sway.
Using Joe’s huge white hanky, Ada wiped her tears and snot, but more followed in a constant stream, emptying her of all emotion. She was like the beck, she thought, rolling along, bubbling up when hitting a rock, and calming when trickling over the smooth bits. But would there ever be any smooth bits ever again?
‘I’m reet sorry, lass. I know as that doesn’t help, and I have a lot more to give than just being sorry, but now isn’t the time to even talk about that. What will you do, Ada, love?’
‘I don’t know, Joe. I just want to end it all. Go to me lads and have done with the pain.’
‘Naw! Eeh, naw. That’s not the answer, lass. There is happiness in this world for you. You know how I feel about you, and I would work till the end of me days at making you happy again, if there was a way that I could.’
‘I’m leaving Paddy, Joe. I – I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I have to get away from him. He – he had me sister . . .’
‘Aye, I know. But stay a while, lass. You need to be with him through this. You brought young Jimmy into the world together, and you have to see his passing through together. If you don’t, there’ll be no end to it all. Then, when this lot’s done – the war, I mean – if you’ll let me, I’ll help you get away. I’ll take you away from it all.’
‘I can’t . . . He’ll kill me, Joe. He beats me and rapes me. It’s like he has to punish me for what he is. He blames me for his own weaknesses.’
‘Naw! God, Ada, I had no idea.’
A voice, scathing and angry, cut him off. ‘Is it a man you have behind me back, then? Get away home, you filthy whore!’
‘Paddy! Naw, it’s not what you think. This is Joe from me factory, he’s been helping me.’
‘Aye, and I can guess just how it is that he is helping you. You bastard!’ Paddy swung out at Joe, but Joe dodged the blow and caught Paddy’s arm and swung it in such a way that Paddy was flung to the ground.
‘Look, Paddy, it ain’t what you think it is. As Ada was saying, we work together. Aye, we’re friends, but that’s all. I were fishing, and Ada needed help. If you were any sort of a husband, you’d give her that help. She’s a grieving mother.’
Paddy had had the breath knocked out of him and struggled to get it back. In that moment Ada felt sorry for him. ‘Don’t be daft now, Paddy. You know you’re me man and there ain’t naw other. We’ve a lot on our plate, and fighting ain’t going to make it better. Let’s go home.’
‘And, while we’re on, Paddy.’ Ada held her breath at this from Joe, but let him continue, without protesting. ‘I don’t want to hear as you take it out on your missus again. I’m reet sorry for your loss, but beating her ain’t sommat as I’ll put up with.’
Shocked that Paddy didn’t answer, and that Joe sounded, well, so unlike Joe, Ada just stood there and waited. Something had happened here that she’d never seen before. Her Paddy had met his match; and for that match to be Joe, who was looked upon as a weakling, made her unsure how this situation would pan out.
As Paddy went to rise, Joe offered him a hand. ‘You’ve been through the mill, man. Both of you have. No one should have to bear what you two have had to. If there’s owt I can do, let me know.’ With this, he retrieved and replaced the cap that had fallen off his head in the tussle, picked up his things and walked away.
Ada stood, not daring to move.
‘How is it that you’re all wet, Ada?’
Paddy’s voice had a soft tone, and an almost ashamed note to it.
‘I ran into the water. I don’t know why, but me and the lads used to come here and . . .’
‘Aye, I know. Well, let’s go home. We’ll not find our lads here, or anywhere we look. We need to start to pick up the pieces.’
‘You’ve to change, Paddy. If I’m to stay, you’ve to change.’
‘Don’t you think I know that, Ada? Me ways are not how things should be, but it is as if I am driven. But I will try. I promise, I will try.’
‘There’s to be no going off with others and putting it about. You’ve to think on about doing sommat in the way of working for the war effort, instead of living in the bookie’s pocket. And the beatings and the rape have to stop.’
‘Are you accusing me of raping me own wife again? Huh! I’m entitled to have you when I want you, and no court in the land will have it otherwise, so think on. You give willingly to me, and stop making it that I have to force you. That sin is yours, Ada, and it is one as leads me to look elsewhere. But the beating of you – well, that isn’t something I like doing. I will swear on me lad’s deathbeds—’
‘Don’t!’ Shivering as if she would never stop, Ada looked up at him. ‘Don’t ever use our lads’ names to swear owt. I can’t bear it.’
‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I should have done. Damn it, woman! How many concessions do you want from me? Let’s go home, Ada. Come on, me wee lass, let’s go home.’
Taking his hand felt right, but the action deepened her confusion. A big part of her wanted rid of this man, but there was still a small part of her that couldn’t give up on him.