Changing Patterns (15 page)

Mary sipped her tea. There was no point in talking about Tom’s part in Frank’s death. She needed to put it all behind in the past; just as her brother had wanted her to. But there was something she could do. So when she replaced the cup on the saucer she said, ‘I think it’s just with seeing Ellen and Jean go back to Ashford. Seeing the children, Linda especially, growing so quickly. She’s quieter than Jacqueline, more sensitive, I think, and such a lovable little girl. It set me thinking.’ She hesitated, wondering if she should carry on. But he had told her to tell him anything. She took the plunge. ‘There’s something else I’ve mithered about for a long time. It’s Nelly, Frank’s mother, I feel sorry for. Sometimes, when I get letters from her, I feel bad that I’m keeping it all from her. She is Linda’s grandmother after all.’

‘Why is it today you are thinking of her,
liebling
?’

Was there slight impatience in his tone? ‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ All they seemed to be doing today was apologising to one another.

‘You have not. But Linda is happy, I think. What good would it be to have her to meet …
diese Frau …
this Nelly Shuttleworth?’

Again Mary thought she heard underlying irritation, so unlike him. ‘Are you all right?’ A movement of his head should have reassured her but didn’t. Almost apologetically she said, ‘I don’t know really why it bothers me except I know she’d be a lovely grandmother – the only one for Linda since Mam died.’

‘Do you think Ellen would want that? Have you said this to her?’

‘No but…’ He was looking down. Mary tried to see his expression. ‘It’s just something that bothers me. Especially now I’ve found out how horrible Ted’s mother is.’ The thought of Hannah Booth saying or doing anything to hurt Linda angered Mary so much she was shocked by the depth of her hatred. ‘Still, you’re probably right. Ellen would hate Linda to be involved with Frank’s family.’ George Shuttleworth was a despicable man. He’d make Ellen’s life unbearable. ‘All hell could let loose.’

‘That is probable.’

‘Anyway, it’s not my place to tell Nelly.’ She put her hand over his. ‘I hate secrets but this is one best kept, I think.’

Peter’s voice sounded strained when he spoke. ‘Yes, sometimes it is better that secrets are kept,’ he said.

‘I’ve said nothing of the kind.’ Hannah scratched at the bandages on her leg.

‘You’ve called Linda,’ Ted ground out his words, ‘
my
daughter, a bastard.’

‘Never.’ Hannah scratched harder. A small patch of brown discolouration from the infection had come through the dressings. ‘One thing I will say though, your wife does neglect our William for the other one all the time. Poor little beggar can be screaming his head off and she just ignores him, when t’other just has to click her fingers.’

‘You’re lying.’ Ted walked back and forth in front of Hannah. He swung round to face her, almost overbalancing on his weak ankle. ‘All this nastiness about Ellen.’ He steadied himself, rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Why Mother?’

Hannah clamped her mouth together, pushing out her lips. The two metal rollers on her forehead quivered as she shook in indignation. ‘I’m not the one who’s lying to you. I’m not the one who’s told that many lies about herself in the past she wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked her in the face.’

‘Shut up.’

‘And you soaked them all up. You’re a fool.’

‘I won’t have you talking about Ellen like that.’ Ted turned away so he didn’t have to see her. ‘Ellen has been good to you. God above, she came to live with you, to help you, when you thought I was dead.’

‘Don’t give me that. She just knew which side her bread was buttered. She didn’t want to be in Henshaw Street the way things were there.’ Hannah’s voice rose. ‘You’re too soft.’

‘I’m too soft? I’m too soft?’ The heat of his anger towards his mother, dormant for so long, boiled to the surface. ‘I’ve listened to you, “Do this, do that, go here, go there,” telling me how to live my life. And I let you. And why? Because I thought you’d had it rough being left on your own to bring me up. When I was a kid I felt guilty, thinking Dad had left because of something I’d done.’ He pushed his face towards hers. ‘But it wasn’t, was it? I’d done nothing. It was you. With your nasty tongue and spiteful ways, your incessant carping and nagging. You drove him away.’ His breathing was shallow and strained. He noticed a fleck of his spittle on her cheek but he didn’t care. ‘Just like you drove me away in the end. Why do you think I volunteered? To get away from you. Did you think I didn’t know why you kept on and on about trying for the bakery at the Co-op? You knew it was a reserved occupation and if I got in you wouldn’t have to be on your own.’ He gulped in a quick breath. ‘When I got accepted into the RAF Voluntary Reserve in Manchester and left here I felt free for the first time in my life. All because I was away from you.’

Her jowls trembled with an anger that equalled his but she stayed silent.

Ted flung himself onto one of the kitchen chairs but in his rage he couldn’t keep still. His knee jerked up and down under the table, knocking against the drawer and jangling the cutlery inside. When he noticed what he was doing he swung himself around and faced her. ‘This is how it’s going to be from now on,’ he said firmly. ‘You’ll leave Ellen alone and…’

‘Oh, will I?’ Hannah finally found her voice. She pushed the loose sleeves of her black cardigan up her forearms.

‘Yes, you will.’ Ted spoke harshly. ‘And if I hear you’ve said anything else about Linda you’ll be sorry.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, oh! Any more nastiness, Mother, and I’ll have to ask you … no, I’ll tell you to leave and find somewhere else to live.’

‘Then I won’t be the only one who’ll be sorry, Ted, will I?’ his mother said. ‘I just hope you’ll be prepared to sell the shop and give me my money back.’

Nelly Shuttleworth licked the point of her pencil and hunched over the table, holding the edge of the paper down with her thumb. She printed out the letter she’d been composing in her head for days. It wasn’t easy; besides the physical effort of writing, she carried the burden of guilt for the way her eldest son had treated Mary. And the girl had been nothing but kind to her. In fact, Nelly thought, she’d treated her as a friend, keeping in touch all these years when she could just as easily, more easily, in fact, have refused to acknowledge any of Nelly’s notes. There wasn’t a day passed when she didn’t think of the horrible thing Frank had done to Mary. It haunted her. And, sometimes, even though she knew he would despise her for it, she went to the canal to say a little prayer for his soul.

Nelly stared down at the note, struggling to concentrate. The noise of the paddle in the washing machine, the stew bubbling in the pan and the loud voices from George’s wireless upstairs blocked her thoughts. Planting her stained worn-down slippers firmly on the floor and holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she formed each word with determination. She needed Mary to know how sorry she was that, yet again, she had grief in her life.

When she’d finished she sat back in her chair and, lifting up the hem of her skirt, she pulled back the elastic on the leg of her pink bloomers and scratched her knee, her lips moving silently as she read the letter in the pool of light from the bare bulb on the ceiling. When she’d finished she licked the pencil again and added a few more words:

… LIKE I SAID, THERES ALWAYS SOMEONE TO PASS ON BAD NEWS AROWND HERE. GEORGE SAW THAT BLOKE, ARTHUR BROWN, IN THE CROWN LAST NIGHT AND HE TOLD HIM ABOUT YOUR TOM BEING KILLED A MONTH OR SO BACK. I WERE THAT SORRY. WHY DINT YOU WRITE TO TELL ME. I WOULD AVE GOT IN TOUCH BEFORE. IM ALWAYS THINKING ABOWT YOU PET. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. DON’T FORGET WERE I LIVE WHEN YOU NEXT COME BACK HOME. ILL MAKE SURE YON BUGGER IS OUT.

YOUR FRIEND, NELLY SHUTTLEWORTH

The wireless upstairs became suddenly louder and heavy footsteps clattered on the stairs.

‘What’s for tea? I’m off out in ten minutes.’ Nelly’s son scowled at her. He squinted through his cigarette smoke as he stretched his neck to fasten the collar studs. ‘I told you.’ He ran a finger around his collar. ‘I’ve got a date.’ He smirked. ‘Taking Gloria Grimstead to the flicks.’

‘You want to watch yourself with that one. She’s got a right reputation.’

‘I’m not interested in her reputation, Ma.’ He shot a look at her, trying to see what was on the paper hidden under her arm. ‘What yer doing?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Give us a look.’

‘Mind your own.’ But before Nelly could move he’d snatched the letter from her and ran his eyes over it.

His face flushed with anger. ‘Why’re you writing to that cow?’

‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’

‘Our Frank’s dead because of her.’ George crumpled the paper and threw it towards the fireplace. ‘She had him murdered.’

‘He raped her.’ Nelly closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d said the words to her youngest son.

‘Crap. She asked for it.’

For a big woman Nelly could move fast. The chair crashed to the floor behind her.

With closed fist she hit the side of George’s head. ‘No woman,’ she panted, ‘asks for that.’

Didn’t she know it? She wouldn’t have been lumbered with a useless husband if that was the case. Four months pregnant she was when she married, her reputation in tatters. Hadn’t she paid ten times over for Alec raping
her
, with the beatings and abuse from the day they were married? Hadn’t he left her with two black eyes and a split lip when he walked out on her and her sons? And good riddance, she thought. She glared at George. ‘Now get out.’

He’d raised his fists in retaliation, but the look in her eyes stilled him. ‘Haven’t had me tea.’

‘I’ll be making no tea.’ Nelly picked up the chair and sat on it before her legs gave way under her.

He banged the front door after him, rattling the piled-up pots on the side of the sink. He’d left his wireless switched on; the voices droned to the empty room.

Nelly straightened her arms on the table in front of her. The muscles in her forearms bulged from the years of wringing clothes. Then she laid her head on them and dry sobs shook her whole body. She thought back to the days when her boys were little. If anyone had told her that they would turn out such cruel men she would have drowned them both at birth.

‘A stinking Kraut!’

The words hit Mary like a slap in the face as she passed the door of the laundry room. Two nurses had their backs to her as they pretended to arrange already folded towels piled on the shelves. Mary stopped, every impulse telling her to keep on walking, but she willed herself to stay, to refuse to creep away. Do nothing, she thought, and you might as well give in your notice to the Hospital Board.

‘I presume Sister Davies knows you two are in here?’ Without waiting for a reply from the two girls who spun around to face her, she continued, ‘And when I go on to your ward I also presume I will find it spotless?’

‘Yes Matron.’ The one who spoke had blanched so much that Mary thought she would faint and she had to prevent herself from reaching out towards her.

‘Good. Then I will tell her that, as you have carried out your duties so well on her ward, you will be continuing your training on Tudor Ward.’ They barely suppressed their dismay. The geriatric ward was the least favourite amongst all the student nurses. ‘I need not remind you that your role as nurses includes the hygiene and the social and psychological welfare of the patients, regardless of any difficulties you might encounter.’ Their heads were lowered so she couldn’t see their faces. ‘Nurses?’

‘Yes, Matron.’

‘Good. However I do not think I will inflict you upon the patients on the ward there.’ She didn’t miss the look of relief they exchanged. ‘No, you will be in the sluice room.’ It wasn’t relief on their faces now. ‘You will take over from the students in there, dealing with the bedpans. Now get along. Report to Sister Rees on Tudor, tell her what I have said. I’ll be checking on the two of you later.’

They glanced at one another. For a moment Mary thought they were going to challenge her. ‘Now!’ she snapped.

Waiting until she saw them go through the swing door to the geriatric ward she turned to go back to her office. She had a full afternoon of interviewing prospective student nurses and Bob Willis the Hospital Secretary would be waiting for her.

Vivienne Allott was standing at the side of the corridor, one foot flat against the wall, arms crossed.

Mary knew she must have been listening. ‘What are you doing, Nurse Allott?’

‘Nothing Matron.’ The girl met Mary’s stare.

‘That’s quite obvious, Nurse. I’ll rephrase the question. What should you be doing?’

‘I’ve just come off shift.’ She didn’t move.

‘Then I suggest you go home.’

Still no movement.

‘Stand up straight when I address you, Nurse.’

Vivienne Allott moved slowly. She straightened the front of her apron, adjusted her cap. Although she maintained the surly pout when she looked up to meet Mary’s stare, there was apprehension in her eyes.

‘You do realise I could report you to the Board for insubordination?’ Even as she spoke, Mary knew she couldn’t. She had no grounds other than Allott spreading rumours about her. And they weren’t just rumours, were they, she said to herself. She
was
with Peter. There would be problems if it came to the Hospital Board’s attention that she was living with him. They’d take a dim view of their Matron ‘living in sin’, let alone with a German. There were some mealy-mouthed old beggars on the Board.