Secrets to Keep (10 page)

Pat was incensed by the news her son had just hesitantly delivered. Pat herself had been born the ninth child of fourteen, to a family so poor she’d never had a pair of shoes until she was seven and only then cast-offs given to her by the kindly woman her mother cleaned for … before it was discovered that her mam had been thieving and was sacked from her job.

For Pat, though, the utter joy of experiencing her chilblain-riddled feet warmly encased in leather, something she’d only dreamed of before, was to be short lived. Cuddling the shoes protectively to her when she went to sleep that night on the bug-infested flock mattress she shared with four of her sisters, in a room so damp fungi grew on the walls, she awoke the next morning to find them gone. It transpired that her mother had pawned them to pay for the bread and margarine they all ate that morning for breakfast, food that Pat had to fight her siblings for in order to get her share. The loss of those precious shoes was devastating to her. It was to fuel within her an unbridled determination that, when she grew
up, never would she be in such dire straits she had to pawn a pair of children’s shoes in order to feed her family.

Unfortunately for Pat, though, she didn’t possess the basic intelligence to realise that working her way out of poverty was the way of securing a better way of life, not marrying the first man who showed an interest in her who had a regular job, and getting herself pregnant to make sure she landed him. Jim Nelson’s wage for his labouring job might have seemed a fortune to her while they were courting as, unbeknown to her, he only handed over to his weak-minded, widowed mother the smallest amount he could get away with, squandering the rest on his own enjoyment. In Pat’s eyes, anyone who could afford the price of a few drinks three nights a week was rich indeed, but when it came to funding the rent and paying for life’s necessities, Jim’s wage went nowhere near far enough.

To her utter dismay, marriage had brought no improvement in Pat’s life whatsoever. She was quick to realise there was not much hope of any change in it either. Jim Nelson rapidly proved he hadn’t got it in him to provide for her any more than he was already doing, no matter how much she screamed and bullied him. Visits to the pawn with anything she could lay her hands on were as much a part of Pat’s life as they always had been, as was begging for
handouts from benevolent people. Now, at the age of forty-three, her determination to secure a better life for herself than her parents had had was starting to fade.

But it was to be resurrected by the death of her youngest son’s mother-in-law.

This was her chance to leapfrog out of their paltry, two-bedroomed slum dwelling in the poorest street in the district, straight into Jessie’s well-maintained three-bedroomed family home. That would be a triumph indeed for Pat, and she was determined to achieve her aim, no matter what.

When making her offer, she had bargained on the fact that her daughter-in-law would be so bowed down by grief and faltering at the thought of taking on her siblings and grandmother, she would eagerly accept. Pat had not considered that her offer would be turned down by Aidy. How she detested that girl! Her two other sons had married the type of women who, on first introduction to Pat, had immediately allowed her to intimidate them. Consequently both had since danced to her tune, for fear of upsetting her and the consequences. But Aidy was not the sort to allow another woman to dominate her life. From the very start, she had proved a match for Pat. Their whole relationship was one long battle of wills and, much to Pat’s fury, it was Aidy who always managed to win out in the end.

But this move to Jessie’s might be Pat’s only chance of ever improving her lot, and she wasn’t about to give it up without one hell of a fight.

Fury blazing in her eyes, she banged one fist hard on the table, bellowing at Arch, ‘What d’yer mean, that wife of yours is turning down me offer?’

He took a deep breath, facing his nemesis the courage those two pints had momentarily given him rapidly vaporising. Tremulously he responded, ‘Look, Mam, it’s not like Aidy doesn’t appreciate the sacrifice you’re prepared to make for us. When I told her she was … well … speechless at your kindness.’ Which was true, she had been speechless, but at the gall of it. ‘But it’s like this, you see. She’d promised her mam that if anything should happen to her, then Aidy would make sure
she
took good care of her gran and the kids.’

‘And that promise means more to her than the promise she made you when she married yer, always to put you first?’ his mother screeched back.

‘No, ’course it doesn’t. But we promised to do right by each other through good and bad, so I have stand by Aidy through this bad time of hers, don’t I?’

Pat wagged one fat finger at him. ‘And, like I pointed out to you when I first put me idea to you, do you really want to take on the responsibility of raising someone else’s family? I’ll tell you again, as it seems that thick head of yours ain’t took it in …
you go along with this and you’ll never have any money to call yer own. By the time yer’ve forked out for keeping that lot out yer wage, you’ll have n’ote left, not even a few coppers for a pint each week. Those clothes yer wearing will have to last for years. You’ll never have any peace and quiet with them noisy kids, and Bertha Rider might get around all right on her pins just now, but what about when she can’t and is housebound? Then yer won’t even be able to speak to Aidy in private, except in yer bedroom, without
her
ear-wigging. And when she gets to that stage, Aidy will have to give up working to look after her, and then yer won’t have
her
wage coming in.

‘You was hoping to start a family of yer own some day. Well, yer can kiss that goodbye for the foreseeable future. By the time yer can afford to, you’ll both be too old. You’ll be expected to fork out for those two gels’ weddings when they get married …’ Pat stopped her tirade, having temporarily run out of obstacles to frighten her son with. Her mind whirled frantically. She had already given up the tenancy on this house, bragged to all the neighbours that the Nelsons were moving upmarket, so there was no going back. Thankfully a couple more obstacles then presented themselves ‘And what about …’

He snapped at her, ‘All right, Mam, you’ve made your point.’ And she certainly had. Arch thought the
world of his wife’s family and had been fully prepared to help Aidy support them, but now, thanks to his mother, it had really hit home just what he was about to undertake and he wasn’t at all sure if he really wanted to abandon his own plans for the future in favour of the bleak picture Pat had just painted.

Pat detested being interrupted when she was in full flight, and particularly in this instance when she was so very desperate to manipulate her son into doing her bidding. Before he had a chance to try to avoid her, she lunged at him and slapped him full force across his head, screaming at him, ‘Don’t you
dare
tell me to shut up!’

Rubbing his smarting head and fearing another slap was about to follow, Arch cried out, ‘I’m sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to.’

‘I should think not. Now, you get back to that fucking mouthy wife of yours …’

Before he could control himself, Arch interjected, ‘Don’t call Aidy that, Mam.’

The feared second slap came then, but much harder than the first, leaving a handprint on the side of his face. ‘I’ll call her what I bloody like! To me she
is
a fuckin’ mouthy bitch. She’s no respect for me at all as her mother-in-law, looks down her nose at me she does, and she ain’t no better than I am. Now go be a man for a change. Tell her you ain’t moving into her mother’s house and working your guts out to
keep them all, just to please her. I’m gonna get on with me packing while yer gone. I thought I told you to find the kids and send ’em round to help me … obviously you disobeyed me again. I’ll deal with you later over that. And make sure you hurry back so you can help get our stuff round there. I wanna be moved in tonight, not termorra.’

Pat flashed a scathing glance at her hotchpotch of shabby furniture. ‘New tenants can do what they like with this lot of old rubbish. I’ll be glad to see the back of it.’ She gave a malicious grin. ‘Me new house is fully furnished with better stuff than this so I don’t need none of this old crap, do I? That house is a palace in every way compared to this one. Oh, it’ll be like living in heaven! Folks around here better start showing me more respect or I’ll give ’em what for.’

The back door was heard to open then and seconds later the burly figure of Jim Nelson appeared in the doorway. He was visibly drunk. ‘We ready for the off then?’ He cast his bleary eyes over the filthy, cluttered room, and gave a loud belch. ‘Space to stretch me legs out in our new place. Yer can hardly swing a cat in here.’

Pat turned on him then. ‘If you’d ever got off yer fat, lazy arse and got yerself a decent job, we’d have had a house like we’re moving into years ago,’ she spat. Then she commanded, ‘Get that old trunk out
from the cellar so we can pack our clothes in it. Now, not termorra.’ She addressed her son next. ‘What you standing there for, like the village idiot? Order them kids to get their backsides round here to give us a hand, and tell that wife of yours what’s what. And don’t stand for no nonsense off her this time.’

A few streets away, cradling a cup of tea between her gnarled hands, Bertha issued a weary sigh as she sank down on a worn armchair by the range in the back room. She kicked off her shoes to reveal her misshapen feet and sighed, ‘Ah, that’s better.’

Marion, now changed out of her school clothes into shabbier playing-out ones, was sitting on the clippy rug by her gran’s chair absently staring into the fire. Leaning over, the old lady ruffled the top of her head. ‘You all right, chick?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Gran, I ain’t. Elsie took her doll back. She’s spiteful, so she is. I’m never talking to her again.’

Bertha wasn’t surprised to hear this. ‘What’s gone off between you both this time?’

‘She was mad ’cos I never took her some cake from Mam’s do. I told her there weren’t any left ’cos Mrs Nelson took the last bit.’ Marion turned her head and looked up at her grandmother, her own face filled with disgust. ‘She took the last
three
pieces, Gran. Mrs Mullet went to get a piece and Mrs Nelson
pushed her out of the way and put the three last pieces on her own plate. Arch’s mam is so greedy! Anyway, Elsie didn’t believe me that there weren’t no cake left, said I just forgot to take her some.

‘I don’t care she’s took her doll back, I didn’t like it anyway. It hadn’t got any eyes ’cos Elsie poked ’em out … her mam smacked her for doing that … and its hair was all tatty
and
its clothes, so I was gonna give it her back anyway.’

Bertha ruffled the girl’s hair again. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then. At least Elsie taking it back saved you doing that.’

Marion’s little face puckered. ‘But that means I won’t get to sleep, Gran. I always slept with Janet, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you did. Are you sorry you gave Janet to your mam now, to look after?’

Marion said with conviction, ‘Oh, no, Gran. I’m glad I gave Janet to her, to keep her company ’til she wakes up and comes home. I’ll get her back then, won’t I?’ She shot her grandmother a worried look. ‘But I just don’t know how I’m gonna sleep without a dolly to cuddle.’

‘Oh, I see.’ A vision of a long-limbed, threadbare rag doll, sprang to Bertha’s mind. ‘Oh, but what about Flossie?’

‘Flossie?’ Marion queried.

‘You can’t have forgotten about Flossie, love. Aidy
bought her for you the day you were born. You and Flossie went everywhere together until you got Janet a couple of Christmases ago.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, yes, Flossie!’ she cried, jumping up to clap her chubby hands in delight. Then her face fell. ‘I dunno where she is, though.’

‘I do.’

‘You do, Gran?’

Bertha grinned mischievously at her. ‘Your gran knows everything, doesn’t she?’

In all seriousness Marion responded, ‘That’s ’cos you’ve got eyes in the back of yer head, ain’t it, Gran?’

Keeping a straight face, Bertha answered, ‘That’s right. And you just keep remembering that when you’re tempted to do summat yer know yer shouldn’t. Your mam found Flossie, a few days after you got Janet, soaking wet in the old pram in the yard where you’d left her. What a sorry sight she looked too. Anyway, she gave her a wash, dried her off and sewed her where she needed sewing, and put her for safe-keeping in the bottom of her wardrobe, ’cos she knew one day you’d come looking for her.’

‘I’ll thank Mam when she comes back,’ said Marion, jumping up happily to bound off and retrieve her doll.

With a tear in her eye, Bertha uttered, ‘Yes, you do that, lovey.’

Aidy came through, drying her hands on a towel. ‘That’s the last of the pots put away.’

‘Yer should have let me help yer,’ her grandmother told her.

‘You’ve done enough today, Gran. Besides, the neighbours, bless them, did most of the clearing up before they all left, so there wasn’t much for me to do. Can I get you anything to eat? There’s a couple of egg and cress sandwiches left. I’ve put a damp cloth over them to keep fresh if you fancy those. Everything else is gone, I’m afraid.’ She eyed her grandmother in concern. ‘You had no breakfast this morning, and I never saw you eating anything at the wake.’

Bertha hadn’t. The food had all looked most appetising but she had had an emptiness in her stomach that food would not cure. It would just make her feel sick. Bertha wasn’t surprised that, except for a few sandwiches, all the food had disappeared. For many of the folks around these parts, the only time they had a decent feed was at either a wedding or a funeral. Ignoring Aidy’s last question so as not to lie to her, she just said, ‘I might have a peck at something later.’ Then she cast a querying look at the younger woman. ‘Come to think on it, I never seen you eat anything. Nor did you have any breakfast.’