R
aymond stared at his wife, his face expressionless but for his eyes which were burning with loathing; so were Nora’s as she hissed, ‘Christmas! Who’s got time to think of Christmas but you? If you want to do anything for her, you do it by yourself.’
‘I was only saying Paddy can get hold of a little tree, that’s all, and a few stars and balls cut out of cardboard and covered in silver paper wouldn’t take much.’
Raymond was sitting up in bed, a jumper over his pyjamas and a book on the history of building ocean liners in his hands, and now, as Nora joined him under the covers, they both made sure no part of their bodies came into contact. The room was freezing, ice coating the inside as well as the outside of the window, but neither of them would have dreamed of seeking warmth from the other.
‘Put out that lamp. I need my sleep even if you don’t.’
Once upon a time he would have done what she ordered, but since he had been forced to live at home rather than escaping to sea for months on end, a stubbornness he hadn’t known he possessed had come to the fore. Although he wasn’t bringing in the wage he once had, it was enough to provide for all their needs, and with Wilbert and Abby still sending a few bob each week, they did all right. But all she ever did was moan and gripe. ‘We can afford a few things for her stocking,’ he persisted doggedly, ‘an’ I can’t see you haven’t got time to do some bits of decorations with her. It’s not like you’ve got a job outside the home, now is it?’
‘Oh, now we have it, that again.’ Nora sat up in bed and glared at him. ‘Any other man wouldn’t want his wife to slave away outside the house as well as in, but you! And that with my stomach trouble on and off.’
‘You have stomach trouble because you’re constantly getting yourself worked up about something or other. A job would take you out of yourself and there’s plenty of openings with the war taking men away.’
‘So you’d have me in a munitions factory or working on the railways or something, would you?’
For crying out loud! Every night, on and on. Her harping was endless. If ever a man endured hell on earth, he did. He gave thanks daily that Clara was still at home because if it wasn’t for her he’d have swung for Nora before this. Drawing on all his patience he said, ‘There’s other jobs besides the harder physical ones.’ It might have been all right if he had left it at this, but he went on. ‘If our Abby can be a land girl and her as slim as any I know, you could do something other than clean a house which doesn’t need cleaning and cook an evening meal for three each night.’
If he had pressed a button he couldn’t have got a more immediate reaction. ‘
Abby! Don’t you dare hold that little madam up in front of me.
’
‘Don’t shout, the bairn’s asleep. You know she’s been middling the last day or two.’
‘I’ll shout if I want to in my own house.’
‘Aye, well, you’ve never considered the bairns since each of ’em have been born so I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ll start now.’
‘And you’re a model father, are you? Is that it?’ The truth hovered on her lips, the longing to throw it in his face and see him shrivel away to nothing so strong she could taste it.
When Raymond swung his feet out of the bed, growling, ‘Oh to hell with you, woman. I’ve had enough of this,’ and grabbed his dressing gown, Nora shot after him.
‘Don’t you dare turn your back on me, you spineless nowt of a man. I’ve got something to say about your precious bairns.’
‘I don’t want to hear it. They’re good bairns, all three of them, in spite of having a mam like you.’
How dare he walk away from her like this! And preaching Abby at her, as though the little madam was the be all and end all. Her hands had been clenched into fists at her sides the last few seconds but now they shot out almost of their own volition, her rage needing the expression of physical contact.
Raymond had just reached the top of the stairs and was feeling for the first tread with the tip of one foot when his wife’s fists hit him square on his shoulder blades. His hands came out in a wild grab to save himself as he was catapulted forwards but they met thin air, and then he was hurtling downwards with no hope of saving himself.
Nora remained standing still, panting heavily as she stared down into the darkness where her husband had fallen. There was no sound from him. Although the lamp was burning in the bedroom behind her, its meagre light only gave slight illumination to the landing. The hall below was in pitch blackness.
A slight movement to the side of her brought her head swinging, and she saw her daughter standing in the doorway to the other bedroom, her eyes stretched so wide they seemed to be popping out of her head. She stared at Clara for a moment or two before she said, ‘Your da’s had an accident.’
Clara remained frozen to the spot. Her mother’s voice had sounded normal, but she’d pushed Da down the stairs.
The child’s utter immobility and the terror in the small white face told Nora her daughter had seen what had happened. Her hand shot out and pulled Clara’s head sharply back by her long plait of hair.
‘You get back in that bedroom and don’t make a sound if you know what’s good for you.’ Her mother’s face was within an inch of hers, and Clara stared full into the narrowed eyes. ‘You hear me, girl? Not a sound. And if anyone comes up, you pretend to be asleep, all right?’
It was only when Clara felt her head being shaken so hard she thought her hair was being torn out by its roots that she managed to stutter, ‘Y-yes, Mam.’ What had happened to her da? Why hadn’t he got up and shouted at her mam or something?
She didn’t resist when her mother thrust her into the bedroom and shut the door but once inside she remained standing exactly where she was. Her ears straining, she listened to her mother slowly descending the stairs. When a loud creak told her her mother had reached the second step from the bottom, she held her breath, waiting for voices to reach her. Her da would be mad with her mam, so mad. Da, oh Da.
When no sound penetrated the utter blackness that was the bedroom, Clara bit down hard on her fist, a new fear enveloping her, or perhaps the one she had been trying to keep at bay since she had watched her father fall. Her teeth chattered in the icy darkness and she felt the nausea rise in her throat. She just had time to feel her way to the bed and grab the chamber pot beneath before her stomach rose up into her mouth. It was some minutes before the retching subsided, and after pushing the pot back under the bed she wiped her mouth on the handkerchief she kept up the sleeve of her thick flannelette nightdress and crawled under the covers, her thin arms hugging Milly’s stiff unyielding body. When her frozen feet found the warmth of the oblong stone hot water bottle her father filled and placed in her bed each night, she began to cry . . .
It was Audrey and Clara who met Abby at the train station the day before Christmas Eve, and the moment Clara saw her sister she ran to her, flinging herself on Abby in a paroxysm of grief.
‘She’s been this way ever since it happened.’ Audrey’s voice was soft with worry. ‘We can’t get her to eat and she’s beside herself most of the time. An’ I’m sorry, lass, but we’ve had word Wilbert’s been refused leave.’
Abby nodded, closing her eyes for a second and sucking her lips between her teeth in an effort to stop her own tears falling. Clara needed her to be strong and that was what she had to be, regardless of the way she was feeling inside. The funeral was at one o’clock this afternoon and after the service there would be the ordeal of company back at the house and all that that entailed. She couldn’t afford to let go now but she wished her brother had been able to be with them. She took a deep breath, composing her face before she said, ‘Come on, hinny, I’m here now. Be a brave little lass for me, eh?’
Clara made no answer, merely tightening her grip on Abby’s middle and burying her face deeper into her sister’s coat. Audrey shook her head. ‘He’s made a fuss of her over the last couple of years, that’s the thing. And with the way your mam is . . .’
Aye, the way her mam was. Abby rubbed her hand over her face and then took hold of Clara’s bony shoulders. She knelt down in front of her. ‘Clara, look at me,’ she said quietly. ‘Stop crying and look at me.’
After a moment the eyes in the tear-stained face opened.
‘I’m staying over Christmas, hinny. I’ve got special leave and that means we can be together all the time, all right?’
Clara opened her mouth and then closed it before she said, ‘You promise?’
‘Aye, I promise. Aw, don’t cry, hinny. Don’t cry. There, there.’ She drew Clara into her and hugged her tight, the two of them oblivious to anyone else. ‘I know you loved Da all the world. I did too, but he wouldn’t want you to take on like this. He really wouldn’t. You know that, don’t you?’
When it became apparent that Clara was beyond answering her, Abby rose and lifted the thin little figure up into her arms. Clara wrapped herself round her sister like a baby monkey. And it was like that, with Audrey at their side carrying Abby’s big cloth bag, that they left the station.
Chapter Twelve
‘
W
ell, personally I think it would be the best thing all round if you took Clara back with you, but would these farm folk mind?’ It was Boxing Day evening and the Christmas spirit hadn’t even poked its nose into 12 and 14 Rose Street. Audrey and Ivor were sitting on two hard-backed chairs in front of the fireplace in Silas’s room; the old man was lying quietly in his bed, on the end of which Abby perched.
‘No, they wouldn’t mind.’ Abby answered her aunt’s question without a pause. ‘I put it to Mrs Tollett before I left, just in case things were bad when I got here. She said she’s quite happy for Clara to come as long as I saw to getting her to school and things like that. They had three evacuees at the beginning of the war apparently, a mother and two bairns, but they left within the month to go back to London.’
‘You said anything to your mam yet?’ Ivor had been gnawing on his thumbnail but now he stuck both hands between his legs as though to keep them out of reach of his mouth.
‘No, but she’ll be all for it, I should think, what with Clara crying all day and wetting the bed every night. To be truthful I don’t think I’d dare leave Clara with her anyway, not the way Clara is. Mam went mad last night when we changed the bed the second time; you’d have thought it was the greatest crime in history.’
‘Dear, dear.’ Audrey heaved a sigh. ‘What a to-do.’ She turned to her father who had said nothing for the last few minutes. ‘What do you think, Da? Do you think it’s best for Abby to take the bairn back with her?’
Silas didn’t answer immediately. He was lying back on his pillows but he hitched himself up a little, the movement feeble but enough to make him gasp for breath for a few moments. Then he said, ‘There’s two ways of lookin’ at it, I suppose. One is that if the bairn stays here she’s got her pals at school and everythin’ she knows, and her an’ Jed have always been very close, don’t forget. The other is that there’s no one like Abby for Clara, never has been, and maybe a change of scene from where it happened could work wonders. But overall,’ he directed his rheumy gaze on his granddaughter, ‘gettin’ away from your mam might be the best medicine for the little ’un.’
‘So you’re for it, all things considered?’
Silas nodded. ‘Aye, I’m for it,’ he said flatly. It would mean Nora was alone in the house and if he knew anything about Audrey, his youngest daughter would feel sorry for her sister, in spite of how Nora was. She’d ask her round for meals likely as not and it could get so Nora was never off the doorstep. He glanced at Ivor and knew the same thoughts were running through his mind. But the bairn came first in all of this and she needed to get far away for a time, it was as clear as day.
‘I’ll have a word with Mam then before I say anything to Clara.’ Abby’s gaze took in each of them and then she sprang to her feet. ‘I’ll go now.’
‘Aye, all right, lass.’ Audrey rose with her but Ivor remained in the room with Silas.
In the kitchen, Audrey said softly, ‘I’ll keep an eye on your mam so don’t fret about her once you’ve gone.’
Abby stared at her aunt for a moment. Audrey had lost weight since she had heard her son had died, and worry for the other two still in the thick of it had caused the pounds to continue to drop off. She looked tired and strained, which wasn’t surprising when you considered she had recently taken part-time employment in the munitions factory in answer to the government’s plea for more women to get involved in war work. She ran the home and the full load of caring for Granda invariably fell on her shoulders, Abby thought, and yet still her aunt put everyone else first.