Pearl was standing outside the town’s railway station on Athenaeum Street. She had put her one piece of luggage down by her side on the pavement just outside the main entrance. Even though she didn’t have many belongings, she had enough to make her battered brown and green suitcase heavy for someone of her stature. She had managed to steal out of the house without anyone seeing her, which hadn’t been difficult as there was only Agnes at home and she was clearly on a mission to get a record amount of laundry done before it was time to prepare the lunch.
The loud hissing and chuffing of a steam train champing at the bit to begin its journey was just sounding out, drowning out all other sounds, when a harried-looking young woman, swinging a small leather vanity case, rushed past Pearl and accidently knocked into her.
Pearl staggered a little but managed to steady herself. Victor’s letter, however, fluttered free from her hand and a gentle gust of wind blew it into the side of the road.
‘Watch it!’ Pearl shouted to the back of the girl, now disappearing into the crowds that were crushing to get through the station barriers, eager to get down on to the platform to the waiting train.
As Pearl swung her head back, she caught sight of her letter and watched it flutter about before it landed in the gutter. She didn’t move, but instead remained rooted to the spot, watching, slightly mesmerised by the sight of the single sheet of white paper as it flitted further along the gutter with the passing of each motor vehicle that trundled along the road.
Was this a sign? she wondered.
Did this mean she should stay here? Or should she just leave?
Go. And not look back?
Her gaze remained fixed on the letter, and on the messy, spider-like scrawl that had been scratched on to the paper in blue ink.
What the hell was wrong with her? Why didn’t she just get her backside in there, buy her ticket and get on the soddin’ train?
Pearl dipped her hand into the deep pocket of her old blue trench coat and felt for her purse. In it she had enough money for the journey, but not much more. She had managed to siphon off a shilling here and there from those a little worse for wear when she was working at the Tatham.
Bel, forever the eagle eye, had been justified in accusing her of keeping back change from the chores she had done for Agnes, and from her trips out with Lucille, but it hadn’t amounted to much. What she had secretly stashed away would pay for her train fare, but what was left would barely buy a bag of groceries and a packet of fags. She had hoped that Bel would give her some of her own money, or would have borrowed some from the family, but she should have guessed she wouldn’t. That girl had a hard streak in her when she wanted.
Chip off the old block, Pearl thought, pleased that her daughter had at least learnt something from her.
Well, she would deal with being skint and the debts when she was down there. There would be some way round it. But, more than anything, Victor wanted her back, didn’t he? They had been together for a few years, had made a home of sorts for themselves in their little rented room …
The squeal of the stationmaster’s whistle made Pearl jump.
Why was she so jittery? Get a grip, woman! she chastised herself.
Even thinking about staying was sheer madness. She should be in there now, buying her ticket and sitting on the platform, waiting for the train that was going to take her back down south.
For pity’s sake, she had only come up here because Victor had chucked her out, and now he wanted her back. She would be mad not to go. Wouldn’t she?
‘Train approaching platform one, the twelve o’clock service to Portsmouth, calling at …’
A stab of panic coursed through Pearl’s body, making her heart beat faster. God, she needed a drink.
She clumsily got out her packet of Woodbines; her hand was trembling as she pulled out a cigarette and sparked it up, inhaling deeply, hoping it would give her some comfort or, better still, an answer.
If she was honest with herself, she had been in the doldrums since the night she had gone in to see Isabelle in her bedroom and asked her for a sub.
Her daughter’s distraught face and angry words had grazed her conscience. She hated to admit it, but Isabelle had actually been right when she had said that she’d thought Pearl was actually starting to enjoy a normal family life. She had surprised herself, but it was true – she did like it. She had never had family meals around the table before, and she had made a few friends round the doors. Ronald was kind with his cigs and they enjoyed a good chinwag over a smoke. She had even quite enjoyed working in the Tatham; she had got to know some of the regulars quite well, and the perks of the job were good – the wages, the free booze, as well as the compliments and attention she received from the older blokes.
But it was her little granddaughter who always brought a smile to her face. At first she had thought the little girl would get on her nerves, like most children did – but she hadn’t. She was such a lovely bairn – full of fun and cheek. In some ways Pearl saw a little of herself in the child.
‘Train standing on platform one is the Portsmouth service. All aboard.’
Hearing the crackling voice of the tannoy speaker sounding out from inside the railway station, Pearl panicked. She tossed her cigarette to the side. She felt nauseous. Spotting Victor’s letter, she automatically went to pick it up, but another slight gust of wind blew it out of the gutter, into the middle of the road and under a passing double-decker.
Would she end up like the man in the story she’d read to Lucille the other night, and throw her last chip into a life with Victor, only to lose everything if he chucked her out again, ending her days homeless and freezing to death?
As she moved forward, Pearl accidentally kicked her suitcase over and it fell on its side, causing the metal clasp to spring open. She stepped back and bent down to try and stuff some of her clothes that had escaped free back into the case.
Angrily, she tried to force it shut. Fighting back the tears.
‘Don’t turn on the waterworks!’ she told herself. Words her mother had shouted at her, which she had then repeated to her own daughter.
She jammed the case shut several times, but the catch was broken; each time it rebelled and sprang open again.
‘Come on!’ Pearl argued with her luggage, but it was no good, the case flopped back open, allowing blouses and skirts to once again break free.
And it was then the dam behind Pearl’s eyes burst forth, allowing tears to pour unhindered down her face.
But what if Isabelle wanted shot of her? Sometimes she thought her daughter looked at her as if she hated the very ground she walked on. She had even told her to her face that she thought she had been a terrible mother.
So, why not just go? Get on the damned train!
Pearl knelt on the ground next to her suitcase and put her hands to her face and cried.
And then she cried some more.
As she did so, a picture of her granddaughter’s giggling little face filled her vision, and Pearl felt an unusual pull in her heart. It was a feeling she seldom had, and rarely allowed herself to feel.
After a few moments Pearl stood up and turned round.
Leaving her broken suitcase on the ground, she marched purposefully into the station.