Far From My Father's House (15 page)

They went on to Seaton Town. Irene had never been there before and was becoming more and more anxious about going there now.

‘They live in Seaton? Are they the people you stayed with when you first came here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you working there now?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought Ralph worked at a mine.’

‘He does.’

They were walking through the snowy streets of the town now. Irene thought that she had never been anywhere more ugly. She wanted to turn and run. The houses, she estimated, were worse than her aunt’s for being in dark narrow streets. They looked little and mean. She stopped and he turned impatiently and stopped too.

‘Is that what you’re doing, working down a mine?’

‘I had to do something. There wasn’t a lot of choice.’

She was suddenly very tired, the initial excitement had worn off and he walked so fast all the time. She began to wonder if anything could be worse than what she had come from. She knew nothing of miners, only that people considered them a breed alone and maybe not quite human, digging in the earth like moles. Her father despised them for trouble-makers and when she looked at Blake now she could see that he was one of them.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’ll be all right. Are you tired? It’s not much further,’ and he smiled at her and put her hand through his arm.

She thought of her father and Simon and all the things she had taken for granted in her life and her steps slowed. She thought of this young man whom she thought she had known and now realised she didn’t and she was frightened.

He led her down the back street, unmade and muddy, where the houses had outside toilets and tiny yards and about halfway down he stopped and opened a little gate. Up the yard and in by the back door and into the warmth and light. There was the delicious smell of dinner just eaten. The people there, a man and woman, seemed surprised to see her but they were not hostile, in fact they were hospitable as though they had been expecting her.

Mary Ann took her wet coat and urged her near to the fire until Irene was warm enough to move back. They sat her down at the table with them and put good food in front of her and Irene was at once ravenously hungry. Mary Ann refilled her plate as soon as it was empty. She had hot tea and a comfortable seat and later there was a bedroom all to herself on the front so that it overlooked the street. The lights from the other houses beamed companionably as the curtains were closed and although the bedroom was cold the bed itself had been warmed for her. The sheets were fleecy and smelled clean and the bed was a mass of feathers. It was not long before Irene fell into a happy dreamless sleep.

*  *  *

Mary Ann barely allowed the door to close before she said softly, ‘What do you mean by bringing that lass here?’

‘She had nowhere to go,’ Blake said.

‘She must have come from somewhere,’ Mary Ann said reasonably. Blake smiled at that.

‘Her father put her out. She was staying with some old aunt in Newcastle. You should have seen it. I couldn’t leave her there.’

‘What did her father put her out for?’ Ralph said.

‘Because she . . . because I . . .’ Blake hesitated. ‘This isn’t going to sound good however I put it.’

‘I had a feeling it wasn’t.’

‘And her a lady,’ Mary Ann said. ‘Oh, Blake.’

‘They wanted her to marry some man she didn’t like and when she wouldn’t her father got hold of the wrong end of the stick and thought there was something between us.’

‘Was it the wrong end of the stick?’ Mary Ann said.

Blake looked at her.

‘I never cared for anybody but Annie and she wouldn’t have me.’

Mary Ann glanced at Ralph and shifted.

‘I know,’ she said.

‘I thought you did but then you took me in and after that I wasn’t sure. Irene’s nice. I couldn’t just leave her. I’ll find her somewhere to go, this was just until I could think what to do. I didn’t mean to put on you but I couldn’t think of anything else.’

‘The trouble is that she’s a lady,’ Mary Ann said.

‘I’ll pay for her.’

‘You already pay enough. Does she have other family?’

‘Not that I know of. I can ask her tomorrow.’

He went to bed.

*  *  *

Mary Ann listened to his feet on the steep stairs and then she turned to her husband.

‘What do you think, Ralph?’ she said.

‘I think somebody had better show her how to be a pitman’s wife, quick,’ Ralph said.

Eighteen

Alistair’s father got drunk on their wedding day. Annie was cross, she had wanted it to be perfect and it wasn’t. Tommy had quarrelled with Clara and since Clara was her bridesmaid and Tommy was Alistair’s best man it didn’t help when they weren’t speaking. Her other bridesmaids were her sisters and they both looked lovely in dark cream. Annie just hoped that she could be as happy as Frank and Madge so obviously were. She felt so humble starting her married life on a little hillfarm when Madge, her younger sister, had the Hall but Madge was not reticent when it came to talking about how much work there was at the Hall, how you were never done but Annie did not mistake her sister’s complaints for unhappiness. The two old aunts and Mr Harlington smiled all day on Annie’s wedding and she knew that the smiles were not for her. Madge was not like her, she was not afraid to be happy for fear of what might happen. Madge loved Frank wholeheartedly whereas Annie was always aware that Blake had taken a small part of her affection.

When she walked down the aisle of the small village church on her father’s arm Annie felt so near to everything which mattered, only a breath away from Grayswell and Sunniside. Only two minutes walk from her beloved river, only five minutes from Western Isle with the village behind her and the hills on either side, the waterfall just beyond. She knew that she would never love anywhere like she loved this place and that in order to survive she needed to be here.

All the family that she loved, all the friends that she had were gathered in the small church where she had been brought for her christening, her confirmation, her first communion. She had played around the churchyard as a child. It felt so right to be married here. She was wonderfully, gloriously happy.

She hadn’t been able to resist Frank and Madge’s invitation to have her reception at the Hall but she had worked hard so that they would not have to do too much and to her delight the day had a covering of snow, not too much to make the arrival of the guests a problem, just enough so that the photographs would be dramatic and the Hall would look exciting rather than shabby. The sky was a perfect blue. She hugged Madge in the kitchen at the Hall and thanked her and Madge told her not to be silly. Her mother came in and Elsie and even the aunties to help and when Annie looked over the valley and saw the village and the churchyard and the hill she thought that she had never been so happy or so lucky.

Charles Vane did not speak to anyone. He sat and drank and since he had paid for the drink nobody could say anything and Annie knew that he had been more than generous in giving them Sunniside so she kept a smile on her lips and determined that he should not spoil their happiness.

They were going to Blackpool for a week the following day but Annie had not wanted to go and leave her friends that day especially since Mr Harlington had said that they could have a dance in the evening at the Hall.

During the afternoon and early evening the sky changed until it was thick and still and snow began to fall and by the time Alistair suggested that they should go home to Sunniside there was a covering an inch deep.

The little house had looked so welcoming when Annie had last seen it but it was in darkness now except for the snow on its roof and around its buildings. A wind was getting up too and when they were safely inside and Alistair had put a match to the fires Annie shivered for how cool the little rooms were.

She was not at all afraid about her wedding night. Rose had, very sensibly as usual, Annie thought, smiling, told her.

‘Don’t expect miracles. The important thing is that you care for each other. Alistair’s not very old. He probably doesn’t know any more than you do. Bed is something that gets better. Just be kind and it will be all right.’

Her very new husband had turned into somebody she didn’t recognise since they had come home. He burned his fingers on a match, dropped the box and scattered the contents all over the kitchen floor and then stood around like somebody very embarrassed. She guessed that his parents hadn’t been kind to him about this. His father had probably been awful to him.

Annie wasn’t quite sure what to say or do to make things easier. They were so very alone in the house. From the front windows she could pick out other farms across the valley but their nearest neighbour was several fields away. She almost wished now that she had let Alistair make love to her when he had wanted to the last time they were here together. It was strange, she thought, how situations changed. Now they were meant to be close he looked as if he would have been happier running away down the fields.

The snow was getting worse with the wind behind it. She pulled the curtains shut in the sitting-room and then turned around to where he was standing in front of the fire.

‘We might not get to Blackpool tomorrow, if this keeps going.’

‘I’ll get you there,’ he said.

‘Would you like some tea?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘It would give us something to do.’

He stood for another moment with his back to her and then turned, smiling a little.

‘All right,’ he said.

Annie went off into the kitchen and he followed her after a moment.

‘I didn’t think it was going to be like this,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for years to have you to myself and now I feel so stupid.’

‘Years?’ she said.

‘Forever.’

‘Really, Alistair? You didn’t tell me.’

‘You didn’t want to know. Blake was always in the way.’

Annie went to him and kissed him briefly.

‘I never cared for him like I care for you,’ she said and he took her into his arms and as he did so the wind fairly screamed around the house.

They drank their tea and sat by the fire until the house had warmed up a bit and then they went to bed. Annie thought it would be uncomfortable and embarrassing and difficult but when he took her into his arms it was as though the little house wrapped itself around them and shut out the sound of the storm and the rest of the world. It was as though the place had come to life again with their lovemaking. She had never slept in a bed with anyone else and Alistair seemed to take up so much space that she couldn’t sleep. The room grew alarmingly cool and eventually when he was turned away from her, which she was grateful for because when he was turned towards her she found herself matching her breathing with his, she put an arm around him and cuddled in against his back and that was how finally she went to sleep.

In the night when Annie turned over she thought that she could hear a woman’s voice faint from the back door in the kitchen down below.

‘Davy. Davy.’

When she awoke Alistair was gone and it was daylight behind the curtains. She got up and went to the window and her heart fell when she saw the snow. It covered everything inches deep and there were great drifts against the barns.

She pulled on a dressing-gown and went downstairs and he was dressed and standing with the back door open and there was a huge drift which overnight had blown in there.

‘We’re not going to get to Blackpool, are we?’

‘Not today,’ he said.

‘Why don’t you come back to bed?’

‘I ought to dig us a way out.’

‘Whatever for? We’ve got a mile of track. It would take a week. Come back to bed.’

‘I thought you wanted to go to Blackpool.’

Annie started to laugh.

‘I don’t care about Blackpool but if you don’t take me back to bed this minute you’ll wish you were there or anywhere else in the world.’

His face was cold but his kisses weren’t.

‘I didn’t like to stay in bed. I wasn’t sure whether I’d hurt you and—’

‘Alistair, I worship and adore you. How many more times. Please, take me back to bed. I want you.’

It was the best day of Annie’s life. They stayed in bed all day, only getting up at teatime when the light was completely gone. They sat by the fire and ate from the supplies which Annie had got in for when they came home. These were mostly tinned or dried but she didn’t care.

The snow was so bad that they spent the week at home and it could not have been better. Completely cut off from the world they built a snowman and had a snowball fight and kept the fires burning brightly so that the little house would be thoroughly warm. By the end of the week Annie thought that she was twice as much in love as she had been when they were married. She had got this right. Alistair Vane was kind and unselfish. He made her feel as though she was the only person or thing in the world that mattered to him, he made her feel so womanly, so vital and free. She discovered the freedom of being able to grab somebody any time she liked and not be rejected, to know that he didn’t have moods but was always ready for a game or laughter or comfort and he knew how she wanted to be loved, when to insist and when to let go and he made the magic. Love, Annie thought, had turned her world around.

At the beginning of the following week when he had to go back to work the snow was not so bad, so he had no excuse but he went late and came back early. Annie spent all day firstly struggling with the shopping and then cooking but they didn’t eat. When he came home they went to bed.

Lying in his arms in the middle of the evening Annie said, ‘I don’t think I could have done this in your parents’ house.’

‘What, gone to bed at teatime? It would have looked a bit odd.’

‘No, I mean gone to bed with you at all.’

‘My father would probably come into the bedroom and tell me I was getting it all wrong.’

Annie laughed.

‘I don’t understand why you’re so unlike him. You’re intelligent and sensitive and kind and softly-spoken—’

‘This couldn’t be prejudice, could it?’

‘You know, Alistair, we don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.’

‘I thought you loved the dale.’

‘I love you.’

‘But you do want to stay. Besides, I wouldn’t let him win.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘One day Western Isle is going to be again the kind of place that it should be with people who care for it properly. It’s mine and I’m going to have it.’

‘P’raps not that sensitive,’ Annie said.

Alistair grinned.

‘Maybe not,’ he said.