Eliza's Child (15 page)

She had to admit she would like to have a baby to look after again. Thomas was the only grandchild she had and a grandmother had a right to see her grandchildren. She laid the letter down on the tablecloth and tried to think it through.

Oh, she had had enough of being a servant in her own house, she had indeed, she was sick of it. Amelia had turned the little skivvy off and said she and Annie could manage the housework but in truth it was usually Annie who bore the brunt of the work. Annie began to plan what she could do to get her own way. She had sworn she would not take Jack back but there was no reason why she could not let him think she might. Just while she got her hands on the lad. By, she would bring him up to be different from his father, she would an' all.

There was a little house on the edge of Alnwick that would just do her lovely, especially if she had the lad. John Henry had left her a bit of money an' all.

BY LATE AFTERNOON
Eliza was dropping with fatigue. She had trudged round every carpenter's shop in Durham that she knew of and a few that she did not but was told of by workmen. There were the outlying villages, of course, but she was not hopeful of these. She walked up the hill to Neville's Cross. Someone had told her there was a carpenter's shop there; a small factory, in fact, and she supposed Jack could have taken temporary work there. She had a compulsion to try everywhere, however unlikely.

‘Nay, lass, we've no one of that name.' A man in shirtsleeves and a brown apron covering his protruding stomach answered her anxious question.

‘Thank you anyway,' she said and turned away, her shoulders drooping. As he walked back into his office he wondered about her. A young lass let down by a man, he reckoned. And now she was chasing after him. Aye well, it was a common occurrence.

Halfway along the road back into the city, Eliza sat down on a low wall by an ancient, stone-built water pump put there for the benefit of horses mainly. She cupped her hands and took up water from the basin running round the tap and drank thirstily. The water was cold and delicious on her tongue and throat. She dampened her kerchief and dabbed her cheeks and brow, enjoying the feel of the water evaporating on her skin in the slight breeze. She wasn't thinking straight, she realised. Of course Jack wouldn't be working in a factory. Hadn't she already decided he was not even likely to be working for someone else?

Weariness threatened to overwhelm her but she fought it off. She had to get back to Claypath. First, she thought, she would call in at a butcher's shop and get a pie to eat. She could not expect Peter to feed her again. For a moment or two she closed her eyes and allowed herself to think about Thomas. Then she got to her feet and walked on down the steep bank towards the city.

After a while, she was very close to the little house where she had lived with Jack and Thomas in happier times. It seemed a very long time ago now. On impulse she turned off the main road and walked along the small street. The front door of the house was closed, unlike the doors of most of the rest of the row. There must be no one at home. She peered through the window but couldn't see much because of a net curtain, which she recognised as one she herself had hung when she lived there.

‘It's Mrs Mitchell, isn't it?' The voice came from the doorstep of a house a few doors down the street. Eliza turned to see a woman standing there. It was the same woman who had watched with avid curiosity the day the candymen had come to evict them a couple of years ago. ‘Mind,' the woman – Dora her name was, Eliza remembered – went on, ‘you've just missed your man. He went off in a cab just half an hour ago. Carrying the bairn, he was. By, the little lad's grown, hasn't he? A fine bairn he is, though he looked a bit pale and he was crying an' all. I hope he's not sickening for something.'

Eliza stared at her. ‘He had Thomas? Did you say he had Thomas?'

The woman looked surprised. ‘Aye, he had. Did you not know? Eeh, I thought—'

‘Did he say anything? Jack, did he say anything?' Eliza interrupted her. ‘I mean, did he say where they were going?'

‘No, he didn't say nowt. He had enough on his hands with the lad. Men haven't got much idea when it comes to bairns, have they?'

‘You didn't hear what he said to the driver?'

The woman shook her head. ‘No, I didn't. I don't listen to folk when they're talking. None of my business, is it?'

Eliza started to turn away but then she turned back. ‘You're sure it was Jack? He's been living here?'

Dora stepped forward eagerly. ‘Is something the matter? Have you been away, like? I thought I hadn't seen you about.'

‘No, there's nothing. I've just missed them, that's all,' Eliza replied. She hurried off, breathing a sigh of relief when she turned the corner away from the curiosity in Dora's eyes.

She arrived at the house Peter Collier rented at the same time as he himself returned. On the way she had bought two pork pies and a cabbage she had cheap from a stallholder in the market place who was closing up for the night.

‘You didn't find them then,' Peter said as he sat down in the chair by the fire and took off his boots. He sighed heavily and lifted his feet onto the fender. Now he was off them they ached sorely.

‘I just missed them, Mr Collier. Can you believe it? He was in the house where we used to live. A neighbour told me that he called a cab and went off with Thomas.'

He began to lay the fire while Eliza cleaned the cabbage and laid out the pies. She filled a pan from the bucket of water he brought in and put it on to boil. Not that she felt like eating now but she knew she had to keep up her strength for the search.

‘I will go round there again tonight and wait for them. Jack will come back; I'm sure he will. And I will get Thomas from him. I know Jack cannot be so cruel as to keep him from me for long.'

‘I'll come with you,' said Peter. ‘There may be trouble.'

‘No, it's best if I'm on my own,' said Eliza. ‘I'm grateful for the offer, though.'

They sat silent for a while, watching the flames lick round the pan on the fire. She ought to be with her family at a time like this, he thought. And he had the cause to think about. It occupied all of his time. There was talk of the yearly bond being abolished.

Eliza got to her feet and took the pan from the fire and out to the back yard to drain the water from it. Coming back in, she took a pat of the pork dripping she had been given by the butcher and chopped the cabbage and mixed in the fat and salt and pepper. She was still not hungry but she felt she had to force the food down. It was a sin to waste food and she needed to eat to be able continue the search.

Surprisingly, after the first few mouthfuls her appetite returned and she was able to finish what was on her plate. Peter made a pot of tea and there was sugar to go into it. Eliza began to revive a little. A restless energy filled her now she had eaten; Jack might be back home and Thomas with him.

‘I should come. I promise I'll keep out of the way. It would be safer,' said Peter and Eliza sighed.

‘Perhaps you're right.'

It was almost dark by the time the two of them set off. All the way there Eliza was buoyed up by the thought that she would see Thomas soon; he would be back. But as they approached the house she saw that it was quite dark within, no light shone through the net curtain and she was plunged into disappointment.

‘How will you get in?' Peter asked her.

‘The back way. The gate to the yard will be open and I can get in the window, it doesn't lock.'

‘Are you sure? Only I can't afford to be caught helping you, it could be considered an offence. How the mine owners would love it if I were caught committing a crime! It would discredit the union.'

It was true and Eliza knew it. ‘I'll be fine, don't worry,' she replied. ‘I'm so grateful to you for what you've done for me already.' They were speaking in low tones just above a whisper. ‘Go now,' she went on. ‘I can get in. And Jack will come back, I know it. I'll have Thomas back with me, I will.'

‘If you don't, think about going to your parents,' he said as he handed her the basket box he had been carrying for her, before turning away. ‘Promise me you will think about it.'

Eliza nodded and watched as his tall figure disappeared into the smoky dark that had descended. She slipped down the narrow back street until she came to a gate leading into the tiny back yard of the house, glancing up at the neighbouring windows. The bedroom windows were still dark, though within half an hour the residents would be going to bed, she knew. Then she tried the small sash window by the door.

It wouldn't budge at first but after a moment or two it gave an inch then stuck. She heaved at it to no avail, then looked round for a piece of wood or anything that would provide some leverage. There were some logs in the corner but nothing suitable for what she had in mind and in an agony of frustration she forced her fingers through the gap at the bottom and gave it one last heave. The window flew up with a cracking noise and she paused for a moment in case anyone came to investigate, but no one did. She heaved her basket box inside. Hitching up her skirts, she climbed over the sill and at last she was in.

There was usually a candlestick on the shelf near the door that connected to the living room, she remembered. She felt around the wall with her fingers until she came to it. There was even a box of lucifers beside the candlestick and she struck one and lit the stub of candle.

The room was bare; only a small deal table and a few packets of dried food on the shelf. There was a cold-water tap on the wall at about knee height and a bucket beneath it. Eliza faltered for a moment for it reminded her of how happy she had been when she and Jack were living there, how he had had water piped into the house for her. No good thinking about those days.

She carried the candle through to the main room. The furniture had changed since she had lived in the house but there was a sofa and a comfortable-looking armchair that was actually padded. A table and four dining chairs stood in the middle of the room. They didn't look like Jack's work so he must have had enough money to buy them from a furniture shop. He must have had at least one good win, she thought cynically.

She sat down on the sofa and loosened her shawl. She would wait. Wait until hell froze over if she had to. After a while she blew out the candle and put her feet up on the sofa. She spread her shawl over her hips and legs and closed her eyes.

Jack took the train to Alnwick, changing at Newcastle. He bought a cup of milk for Thomas from a vendor on the station but the little boy refused to drink.

‘Please yourself,' said Jack shortly. He was heartily sick of playing nursemaid and couldn't wait to see his mother and get her to take over from him.

Thomas no longer cried. His little face was white and pinched-looking. ‘Mammy?' he asked Jack. ‘Tot wants Mammy.' But he appeared to have lost hope that his request might be answered.

‘Aw, shut your mouth about your bloody mammy, will you?' Jack said savagely and Thomas whimpered then relapsed back into his silence.

When they finally arrived in Alnwick it was almost midnight and Jack had to walk to the house carrying the child, who was at last asleep. He had sent a post message to his mother so there was still a light at the back of the house. This was what he had been expecting and he walked round the side and in through the door leading to the kitchen. His mother had been sitting at the kitchen table and now she rose to her feet.

‘Give me the bairn,' she said and held out her arms. ‘And keep your voice down, I don't want Henry to wake up.'

‘He's bound to know in the morning, Mother,' said Jack. She had given him no greeting and so he gave her none.

‘Aye, but you'll be gone by then and he won't throw the lad out. Any road, I'm taking the cottage down the road for me and Thomas. I'm not going to be a skivvy in this house, indeed no.'

‘I'll be coming back for him at the end of next week, Mother,' said Jack.

‘Aye, I know. But you can take your time. I can look after a little lad, can't I?' She gazed at her oldest son. By, he had been a disappointment to her and to John Henry. His gambling let him down every time. Well, she reckoned she would be able to turn it to her own advantage.

‘You can't sleep here yourself,' she snapped. ‘Go in the barn if you like. Or I'll give you a sovereign, you can get lodging in the town.'

‘Mother! By, you're a hard one, you are.'

‘That may be. But I'm having no more upset than I have to over the bairn. You're best out of the way.'

Jack was so angry he didn't even look at his son as he turned away and opened the door. ‘Keep your flaming sovereign,' he hissed. ‘I'm not completely destitute.'

‘No? That is a change then,' his mother replied. ‘Don't forget,
if
you come back it'll be the cottage just down the lane.'

She watched as Jack disappeared into the dark then put out the lamp and carried Thomas upstairs to her room. He would have to sleep in her bed tonight. Tomorrow she would get the old cradle out of the attic. After all, though John Henry had left the house to his second son he had left her the furniture. She would take what she needed to furnish the cottage. Any road, she thought, it didn't look as if Henry and his sour-faced wife would be in need of the cradle.

Eliza woke as the first rays of the sun penetrated the window of the living room. She sat up, disorientated, and looked around before she realised where she was. The sunbeams through the window were hazy for the window was mottled with dirt and the net curtain was grey around the sides. It probably hadn't been washed since Jack came back to the house. Obviously there was no woman coming in to help him, then.

Where was Thomas? Why had Jack taken him away? The familiar desolation filled her. She had to find her boy, she had to. But she couldn't go out and look for him in case Jack came back with him and she missed him again.

Restlessly, Eliza went into the back room. The larder in the corner was about empty but there was a packet of porridge oats on the shelves and a bag of sugar. She lit the fire and cooked some oats in water and sweetened them with a spoonful of sugar. She put the kettle on to boil while she ate the porridge, forcing herself to finish it for she needed the stamina it would give her. The tea caddy was empty but an opened packet of Rington's tea was on the table. She drank a cup without milk for there was none.

There was no clock on the wall; the candymen had taken the one that used to hang there and no doubt the tenants who came afterwards had taken theirs when they went. But the bells of the churches of the city told her it was already nine o' clock. Perhaps Jack would come back soon. She stood looking out of the window. The street was just about empty for the men were already at their work and the women would be cleaning the houses. Only a couple of children bowled a hoop up and down the flagged pavement outside, laughing and shouting.