Ragamuffin Angel (53 page)
‘Aye, lass. You take Kitty upstairs and make her a nice cup of tea.’
Connie could feel Kitty shaking as they entered the flat again and the sensation was reflected in her own body. It wasn’t that she was sorry Edith Stewart was dead; she wasn’t, she couldn’t be, and she wasn’t going to be hypocritical, but the suddenness of it . . . One minute here in this world and then the next . . . And whatever had gone on in the past Kitty’s whole life had been wrapped up with Edith and the rest of the family. This must be terrible for her. And the sight of that face . . . Connie found she had to sit down very suddenly as her legs failed her and take several long deep gulps of air before she could rise again and see about making the tea for Kitty.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The wedding took place eight weeks later, and Father Hedley was aware of the opinions of some of the more conservative members of his congregation as clearly as if they had voiced them.
‘What have things come to? That lad’s poor mam barely cold an’ him gettin’ wed! Never should the Father allow it.’
‘An’ did you know the lad wasn’t of the true faith even? Admittedly he’s not a Hallelujah – even the Father, liberal though he seems to have gone, wouldn’t allow that – but a Protestant and a Catholic? Now what sort of marriage will that be?’
‘Mind, meself, I blame it on the war. Don’t know their place any more, the young. It’s all changed. Start of the end this is, you mark me words. Aye, start of the end.’
Connie and Dan were oblivious to the murmurings, but even if they had put themselves in a position where the gossip was repeated it wouldn’t have made a scrap of difference. They wanted to be married at once, and they didn’t intend to let narrow prejudice or blind convention or anything else stop them. And everyone who really mattered saw it their way – Mary and Wilf, Gladys and the children, Kitty, Ann, even the twins and their wives surprisingly. Funnily enough it had been at Edith’s funeral that the twins’ wives and Ann – who had become close friends in the aftermath of the separation when Doreen and Ruth had refused to follow Edith’s edict to ostracise John’s wife – had made it plain where their sympathies lay, and Gilbert and Matthew had been unable to do anything else but follow suit.
The wedding ceremony was conducted by Father Hedley at twelve o’clock, and although it wasn’t a grand affair, everyone agreed they had never seen such a beautiful bride.
Connie had expected to be taut with nerves, but instead, once she had entered the church on Wilf’s arm and caught sight of Dan, tall and handsome although still painfully thin, waiting for her, she had floated for the rest of the day on a bubble of happiness.
Dan had turned to watch her walk up the aisle, and on his face there showed such joy and naked adoration that there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Connie’s wedding dress was a simple, close-fitting, full-length affair, in a fine, delicately woven linen material, the ivory dress covered by a full-length cape edged with fur with a large soft hood that fell about Connie’s head and framed her face, and matched the fur muff in which her hands were tucked. The muff had served a dual purpose; to keep her fingers warm in the bitter cold of the February day, but also to conceal the small box she was carrying, in which reposed a tattered and frayed piece of cloth. But it was precious. More precious than all her success and wealth. They were still with her . . . Connie smiled as she approached Dan and took his hand. Her mother, her granny, her darling Larry, and Lucy too – all the people she had loved and lost. They were still with her, their images engraved on her heart and her soul.
Can you see me, Mam? she asked silently as she took her place at Dan’s side in front of the smiling figure of Father Hedley. I love you, please know how much I love you. You made it possible for me to stand here today. You didn’t give up, you fought every inch of the way for us all. I love you, Mam. And Larry and Gran. Kiss them for me, tell them how precious they are . . . And for a moment, just for a moment, she could almost see them over Father Hedley’s shoulder, and they were smiling, her mother’s and her grandmother’s arms resting on Larry’s small, thin shoulders and their faces soft with love and pride:
And then Dan’s arm went round her waist and he squeezed her close for a moment, and Connie raised her golden head to his dear face. The intensity of his love reached out to enfold her in a warm protecting shield and she relaxed against him for a blissful moment, before turning and handing her muff to Mary who was her matron-of-honour and looking very pretty in pale pink.
Dan’s kiss was swift but passionate as the service ended, and it lit within Connie a desire equal to that of her husband. It continued to burn through all the laughter and fun of the celebrations that afternoon and evening at the restaurant, the tea-rooms having been cleared of chairs and tables for dancing, and then came the moment when all their guests had gone and Mary and Wilf and the baby had retired to their own rooms above the bakery.
Connie and Dan had decided to have their wedding night at the flat before they left for a few days’ honeymoon at a very grand hotel in Newcastle. Now they were alone at last, and Dan turned from locking the shop door, walked across to where Connie stood waiting, and took her into his arms. His kiss was hard and passionate and free of all the restraints he had shown thus far, and by the time he led her upstairs she was trembling and moist.
He was gentle, incredibly gentle as he tenderly peeled away her bridal dress and the silk underwear which had cost as much as the dress, and all the time he undressed her and then himself, he was raining kisses upon her upturned face.
‘You’re not frightened of me, my angel, are you?’ he asked softly when, their clothes gone, he drew her over to the brand new double bed they had bought the week before.
Connie was trembling, she couldn’t help it, yet it wasn’t with fear-at least not any fear she recognised. The sight of his naked body had aroused so many different emotions in her that she couldn’t name them. Compassion, as the full extent of his suffering was revealed in the lean angular lines of his body; regret and a touch of erroneous guilt as her eyes took in the angry red scar at the bottom of his shoulder where John’s bullet had been dug out; apprehension and not a little awe at her first sight of a fully aroused, naked man; concern that she wouldn’t know how to please him, and many, many other feelings all came together to make her briefly stiff and unyielding.
And then he began to stroke her and again shower gossamer soft kisses on her face and throat before slowly working downwards to her collarbones, the exposed peaks of her full breasts, her small waist and flat, taut stomach, and by the time he slid up the bed again to take her mouth she was ready to receive him.
He became still the moment before he entered her, and then he said, his voice a whisper against the hot flushed skin of her cheek, ‘Don’t be frightened, my angel, I won’t hurt you.’
And he didn’t.
Instead he took her into a soaring world of love and light and belonging, a world where she was indelibly printed with the knowledge of what it felt like to be loved and to love back. And it was ecstasy.
Epilogue
Father Hedley was tired, very tired. The pews in front of the confessional box were still a third full, and yet he felt he must have seen every one of his flock three times over . . . bless them.
He shouldn’t have enjoyed himself quite so much at Connie’s wedding reception the other day, he told himself soberly, as he sent Mrs O’Flaggerty off to say the first Joyful Mystery of the Rosary after her act of contrition. He was too old for such high jinks, aye, he was. But it had been a blessed day.
He allowed his mind to rest longingly on his armchair and the vision of a steaming cup of tea and a shive of Mrs Clark’s seed cake before the sound of another penitent groping their way into the confessional box brought a long, silent sigh.
‘Pray, Father, give me your blessing for I have sinned.’
It was Kitty McLeary. He moved his face closer to the grid to confirm the thought and then leant back again. He had been pleased when Kitty had started attending church again round about the time the war started. It did that to some people, drove them closer to God, but of course there were others that went a different way. Mind, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her in church for a few weeks, not since Mrs Stewart’s accident in fact, after which Kitty had moved in with Ida. Still, the lass had had a lot on her plate and she’d obviously taken heed of his admonition at the wedding.
‘Make your confession, my child.’
Make your confession. Kitty shut her eyes tight for a moment. She could have gone into Newcastle or Gateshead to do this, but it had seemed . . . dishonest. But the Father was going to be shocked, horrified, and she valued his good opinion. She hadn’t realised how much she had valued it until the last eight weeks. Not that she regretted what she’d done or even thought it was wrong, but still . . . You couldn’t expect the Father to see it like that, him being a priest and all.
‘Father, I’ve . . . I’ve done something . . . bad.’
‘Yes?’
‘Really bad, Father. At least, most people would say but then they don’t know.’
What on earth had she done? Father Hedley settled himself more comfortably and said encouragingly, ‘It’s only the good Lord Himself, child, that was able to withstand the temptation of sin in this earthly realm. Make your confession.’
‘I’ve . . . killed someone.’
There was an abrupt movement on the other side of the grid and the sound of the Father clearing his throat some number of times before he said, ‘You mean literally? You have committed murder?’
‘Aye, yes.’
‘Are you sure?’ That sounded ridiculous and Father Hedley quickly qualified it with, ‘We can all feel guilty when someone we dislike dies, and remorse can make us believe all sorts of things.’
‘Oh I disliked her, Father, but it was nothing to do with that. And . . . and I don’t feel remorse. At least, if I was faced with the same situation again I’d do exactly the same, so that can’t mean I feel remorse, can it?’
Dear God, dear God.
‘I . . . I knew she was going to destroy someone I loved, this woman, and she was bad, Father. Really bad. It would have gone on and on, the hatred and the wickedness, and they are young, Father, they’ve got the whole of their lives before them. Why should she be allowed to go on wrecking lives?’
Connie and Dan. She was talking about Connie and Dan. Father Hedley drew his lips into his mouth and breathed out heavily through his nose before he said, ‘You say she was going to destroy someone?’
‘Aye, Father, and with lies. Terrible, wicked lies. He . . . he’s been through enough, the lad. And so I pushed her. It was just a little push with the flat of me hand, but it was enough to. . .’
Kitty was telling him she had caused the accident which had killed Edith Stewart. Father Hedley sat in stunned silence for a moment before he managed to say, ‘You’re aware this is the greatest of sins, to take a mortal life?’
‘Well, the way I look at it it was one life to save two – no, more than two, because you can be sure she would have hounded their bairns an’ all. She was vicious see, you don’t know how vicious, Father. It was her that provoked John to set about Jacob all them years ago, and she was behind the firing of the cottage an’ all. And she wrote letters, filthy letters, about the lass. She would have followed them and then it would’ve been their bairns that suffered too, and there’s been more than enough of making the bairns suffer for the sins of the parents, if you know what I mean, Father.’
Father Hedley ran his hand about his face. A little while ago his feet had been as cold as ice and he had been feeling chilled to the bone, but the last few minutes had brought on a hot sweat that was causing the perspiration to flow from every pore of his body.
‘An’ there’s my Mavis stuck in that godforsaken place down south and now John’s a raving lunatic, worse than her. No, I don’t feel sorry, Father, I don’t. I can’t say I do in all honesty. And rightly or wrongly I feel God understands why I did it. It wasn’t for me. I’d have put up with things, I’ve put up with things for years, but they are young. The future is theirs. He came through the war and I was blowed if I.was going to stand by and see him destroyed by his own mother.’
‘There is no justification for cold-blooded murder if that is what you are saying happened.’
‘It wasn’t exactly cold-blooded, Father. I didn’t plan it or anything, but after what I heard her say to the lass I knew she was hell bent – sorry, Father – I knew she was determined to hurt them and go on hurting them. And then there she was in front of me and me hand just sort of came out like.’
‘You’re saying you were momentarily unhinged?’
‘Unhinged?’ There had been what was almost a pleading note in the priest’s voice, and now Kitty considered the word for a second or two before she said, ‘Aye, well I suppose you could look at it like that, Father. I’ve peace about it anyway.’
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