Dancing in the Moonlight (15 page)

It had been a magical night. For a moment Lucy wasn’t standing in the harsh light of day, supervising Flora and Bess at the basin so that they didn’t soak themselves. She was back to
an autumnal evening when the gas lamps were creating rings of blue light and turning the cobblestones blue too, and her father was smiling at her mother in that special way he’d kept just for
her. And then, just for a second, she felt a warm breath on her cheek and her mother’s voice whispering, ‘Don’t despair, hinny. It’s always darkest just before dawn.’
It had been one of her mother’s favourite sayings.

Lucy shut her eyes tightly and breathed out a slow sigh. She’d sensed her mother close once or twice in the last days and she didn’t care if that meant she was going barmy, she
thought painfully. She needed those brief moments of comfort.

‘Lucy, Flora’s got wet again.’ She was brought back to the present by John’s aggrieved voice. ‘I
told
her to press the button gently and then count to
three until she heard the pipe thump before she pressed again, but she pushed too hard, so it came out in a rush.
Tell
her,’ he added, as Flora found the energy to punch her brother
with one small fist before bursting into tears.

‘Here, lass.’ They had been standing a few yards from a hot-pie stall and Lucy hadn’t been aware that the owner, a stout matron of indeterminate years, had been watching them.
‘These were left over from last night and I can’t sell ’em in case they’ve gone off, but I dare bet you won’t be too fussy, eh?’

Lucy knew they looked a sorry sight, but even if she hadn’t, the look on the woman’s face as she handed Lucy the bag would have confirmed it. But the woman’s smile was kind and
Lucy took the bag gratefully, thanking her before they moved off to a quiet corner. The pies, one for each of them, were cold and broken, with congealed grease in places, but Lucy knew that to her
dying day nothing would taste so good again. They finished every crumb, licking their fingers over and over, and then half-laughing at each other.

It was a sign, Lucy told herself. Hearing her mam, and then the pies. It was a sign she would get work today. It had to be.

Enid and Aaron, along with their three other sons, were sitting round Jacob’s bed in the hospital. It was Jacob’s first day of sitting up, and although Enid had
waxed lyrical about how much better he looked when they had arrived at his bedside, inside she wanted to cry. Lying down he had looked dreadful, but sitting up he appeared even worse. His bruises
had turned every colour of the rainbow and his face was so swollen that his eyes were slits in the mounds of flesh. Every breath was agony for him, the nurses had told them that, saying that until
the broken ribs healed he would be in constant pain. And now and again he would shut his eyes and fall asleep for a few minutes. But he had recognized them all and spoken coherently for the first
time – a minor miracle, according to the doctor, although Enid didn’t think there was anything minor about it. Now she knew Jacob could hear and see and that his mind was his own, she
realized just how much she had prepared herself for the worst. The relief had caused a flood of emotion, which she was endeavouring to hide behind her usual forthright manner.

Jacob had just asked how long he’d been in hospital and Enid’s voice was brisk when she said, ‘A week, lad. And most of that time you’ve been away with the fairies and
worrying us all to death. The doctor said you can’t remember anything about what happened or who attacked you. Is that right?’

‘Aye.’ Jacob didn’t move his head as he spoke. Since regaining consciousness in the early hours of the morning he’d learned that if he stayed completely still the pain
was more or less bearable. Now he stared at his mother through aching eyes and repeated the question he’d asked twice before since his family had arrived: ‘When is Lucy coming in to see
me?’ They had palmed him off without really answering, but he was determined to know.

The doctor had told them he might repeat things for a while and his memory wouldn’t be up to scratch, but that it would improve each day, so Enid’s voice was patient when she said,
‘I told you, lad. Only family are allowed at the moment.’

‘Lucy
is
family.’

Dear gussy, he had a bee in his bonnet about the lass and it wasn’t surprising – they’d grown up together after all and were close, like brother and sister, Enid thought. But
they had decided to say nothing about the Fallows disappearing down south until he was well on the mend.

And then Jacob completely disabused his mother of the ‘brother and sister’ idea when he said, very clearly, ‘We love each other, Mam. We always have. She’s my
lass.’

Enid’s eyes opened wide. ‘Your lass? Oh, lad, I don’t think – I mean—’ She glanced helplessly at the others. ‘Don’t set too much store by what
might have been said in the past,’ she finished weakly.

Jacob squinted at his mother as best he could. His bloodshot eyes kept smarting and running. One of the nurses had said he was lucky not to have lost any teeth, and he’d made her giggle
when he’d wryly replied that ‘lucky’ was not the word he’d apply to himself right now. This particular nurse reminded him of Lucy. Not in her looks – Nurse Hardy was a
mousy little thing – but in her gentle manner and sweet smile. ‘All right, Mam,’ he said quietly, ‘let’s have it. What’s going on? And don’t give me any
soft-soap. I’m not a bairn.’

‘He’s right.’ Tom sat forward on his hard wooden chair, his face impassive. ‘Tell him.’

‘Tell me what?’ Panic curdled deep in Jacob’s stomach, but he fought from letting it show as his gaze moved to each face in turn. When no one replied, he said again,
‘Mam? Tell me what?’

It was Tom who answered. ‘The Fallows have cleared off down south. They scarpered in the middle of the night and left owing umpteen weeks’ rent.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Enid shot her eldest an angry glance. ‘And we don’t know they’ve gone down south for sure; that’s just surmising, because of what
Donald had said to one or two folk. They left a note and the furniture to pay off the back-rent, you know that as well as I do, Tom.’ She turned back to the figure in the bed, her voice
softening. ‘It don’t look like they intended to come back though, lad.’

He felt funny, odd. Jacob felt himself slipping back into the dark muzziness he’d lain in for the last few days as everything in him called ‘Lucy, Lucy’, but no sound passed
his lips. He was vaguely aware of his mother calling for help and of Nurse Hardy’s voice sounding firmer than usual as she ushered the family away, saying he needed rest, before returning to
him and drawing the curtains round the bed. Then the heavy blanket of exhaustion drew him down into the darkness and he went into it, the soundless cry echoing in his head.

‘What did you have to go and say it like that for?’ Enid glared at Tom as the five of them made their way out of the infirmary.

‘Like what?’

‘You know what I mean, so don’t come the old soldier, not with me. We’d agreed that when we told him about Lucy and the others leaving we’d break it gently.’

‘How many ways can you say it, Mam? Look, I know you’re worried about him, but some things are best faced head-on. He’d just have worried away at it like a dog with a bone, you
know he would. He sensed we were keeping something from him. Why do you think he kept on about her?’

It sounded reasonable and she wanted to believe he’d had Jacob’s best interests at heart, but had he? She had never been able to fathom why, but there had always been a strong
animosity between her eldest and her youngest. Not that it was all down to Tom. Jacob had disliked his brother from the moment he could crawl and had made it obvious, too.

Enid checked herself. Why was she making excuses for Tom again? She had to face it, there was a hardness in him that wasn’t in the others. Mind, with things as they were, that was perhaps
no bad thing. Tom had the will and determination to make something of himself and, as a family, they were reaping the benefit of it. No one could say different.

Why did she love Tom more than her other bairns? She had used to tell herself it was because he was her firstborn, or that she felt guilty he’d been conceived outside the sanctity of
marriage and had to make it up to him in some way. The truth of it was that from the first moment she’d looked at his bonny little face she’d been captivated, and as time had gone on
she’d realized she would never love anyone else in the same way. She knew he was no angel, but then what lad was? And he’d always looked after her – she knew she came first with
him. She’d only have to mention she’d got her eye on something and it was hers, although she’d had to be careful lately. Aaron had got the hump good and proper when Tom had bought
her the wireless. They had argued bitterly about that and she’d accused him of being jealous of their son. When Jacob had taken his father’s side, and Frank and Ralph had followed suit,
she had said too much, something she regretted now, because the house had never been the same since.

Quietly now Enid said, ‘Donald and Lucy and the bairns might come back anyway. The grass isn’t always greener, and the pull of your beginnings is strong.’

‘Aye, they might,’ Tom agreed with seeming disinterest.

Aaron and his other two sons said nothing; they rarely did in front of Tom. They might have him over between the three of them, but each held his tongue in Tom’s presence. They would have
walked on hot coals before they admitted the truth: that they were scared of their own flesh and blood.

Once outside the hospital grounds, Tom dipped his hand into the pocket of his fine tweed jacket, handing his mother a note. ‘Here, Mam, get a cab home.’

‘You’re not coming back for a cup of tea?’ Enid didn’t hide her disappointment.

‘Another time.’ Tom bent his head and kissed her brow.

It was something no one else did, not even Aaron. He only kissed her as a prelude to the sexual act itself, and then under cover of darkness in the seclusion of their double bed. Tom’s
caress never failed to warm Enid’s heart and she smiled at him.

‘I’ve some business to see to,’ Tom said quietly. ‘I’ve let things slip, coming in to see Jacob every afternoon.’

‘Oh, I understand, lad, course I do, and it’s been good of you to come every day.’ In fact Enid had been surprised at her eldest’s solicitousness, considering the way
things were between the two brothers. It just showed – blood was thicker than water.

Tom smiled at her, confirming the thought when he said, ‘I come as much for you as for Jake, Mam. Families needed to stick together at times like this. But you needn’t worry now, all
right? He’s on the mend and in his right mind, more than we could have expected.’ Turning to his father and brothers, he added, ‘I’ll see you three tonight. Nine
sharp.’

His tone could have been described as one giving orders to menials, and the muscles in Aaron’s jaw clenched. Nevertheless he nodded.

The four of them stood watching Tom for a moment as he strode off. He cut a fine figure in his tweed jacket and cap, the quality of his trousers and shining leather shoes evident at a glance.
Enid gazed after him fondly, before turning with the ten-shilling note in her hand. ‘We’d best pick up a cab at the corner.’

‘You go ahead, I haven’t lost the use of me feet yet,’ said Aaron flatly, ‘an’ if I want a ride, a tram’s good enough for me.’

Enid’s gaze sharpened. ‘What’s the matter with you then?’

‘What’s the matter with me? If you don’t know, there’s no point in me saying, is there?’

‘Just because our Tom gave us the money for a cab, is that it?’

‘Our Tom, our Tom. It’s always our Tom. The sun’s shone out of his backside since the day he was born, hasn’t it? An’ he gave
you
the money for the cab,
not me. Let’s be clear about that.’ He glared at his wife for a moment more before growling, ‘Oh, to hell with it.’ He stomped off, his hands thrust into the pockets of his
trousers.

When Frank and Ralph followed him, after a muttered ‘Sorry, Mam’, Enid stood gazing after them until they were out of sight. Sickness churned in her stomach. There was a time when
Aaron wouldn’t have dreamt of leaving her standing in the street, and not so long ago either. And Frank and Ralph couldn’t have made it clearer whose side they were on.
Sides.
She shook her head. What was happening to them?

Slowly she began to walk towards the corner of Chester Road where she could pick up a cab, and as she did so, she looked down at the note in her hand. They were better off than they’d ever
been, thanks to Tom, but they’d been a darn sight happier a few years back when Aaron and the lads worked at the shipyard. But times change. Would she want her menfolk standing in line at the
dole queue like so many of their neighbours or living in fear of the workhouse? She shuddered. Tom wasn’t stingy with what he paid out to Aaron and his brothers; it wouldn’t hurt them
to show a little gratitude rather than the moroseness that had settled on the three of them of late. They were in clover compared to some, and she’d tell them that. Look what had happened to
the Fallows.

Thinking of Lucy brought her mind to Jacob and what had transpired in the hospital. Again she shook her head. The pair were little more than bairns and to talk of love . . . Besides, even with
Lucy doing her bit and looking after the little ones, Donald was going to have his work cut out to feed and clothe them and keep a roof over their heads for the next umpteen years. There would be
no talk of lads or lassies for Lucy or Donald for a good long while, because who’d want to saddle themselves with their sweetheart’s brothers and sisters? It had upset her that Lucy had
left without a word, but if her Jacob had been thinking along the lines he’d spoken of, perhaps it was all for the best. Like Tom had said, some things are best faced head-on and at least
Jacob knew what was what now. Tom had been right to tell Jacob straight out, and she’d had a go at him for it, bless him.

Guilt was now added to the host of emotions swirling in Enid’s breast. Feeling that she couldn’t win or please anyone, no matter what she did, and – ridiculously –
suddenly missing her mother who had been dead for more than twenty years, she plodded on, blinking back hot tears and feeling very alone.