Above the Harvest Moon Page 5

  The fact that his wife had been unable to give him a son or daughter did not worry Edward unduly. He had married Agatha because as the only child of a well-to-do shopkeeper, a shopkeeper who was reportedly in ill health, he’d thought he was on to a good thing. And so it had proved. His father-in-law had died within twelve months of their marriage and, Agatha’s mother having died some years before, his wife inherited the shop and flat and a nest egg into the bargain.

  He had been grateful to his wife for providing him with a living which had taken him out of the pit. It was a living he considered comfortable and easy, and one in which he could freely indulge his love of food and drink. Moreover he liked Agatha and she had always been obliging in the bedroom. Until the last miscarriage, that was, after which she’d become confined to bed most of the time.

  When Miriam had made it plain she was eager to provide what Agatha could not, he had gone into the affair willingly, for by then he had been desperate for the release only a woman could give and it had been either Miriam or visiting a brothel. He had wished many times since he had chosen the latter. Miriam had become like a leech and her body had started to hold less and less attraction for him. And with its demise, another desire had grown . . .

  Chapter 5

  ‘Ask your mam, just ask her. She might say yes.’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘You don’t know for sure if you don’t ask. And it’s not like her an’ your uncle an’ aunt ever do much on New Year’s Eve apart from having Mrs Mullen and Mrs Chapman over. Go on, ask, Hannah. I’d love you to come round. We always have such a laugh on New Year’s Eve at home.’

  Hannah stared at Naomi. She would like nothing more than to see the New Year in at her friend’s house, but her mother would never agree to it. As she heard her uncle coming through from the storeroom where he had been weighing sugar out of a sack into blue paper bags, Hannah pushed Naomi towards the shop door. ‘All right, I’ll ask but don’t expect me,’ she said under her breath. ‘You know what she’s like.’

  The shop bell tinkled Naomi’s departure as her uncle appeared. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Naomi. She called in on her way home from work.’ She didn’t say why. Her friend often stopped a few minutes for a chat in the evening.

  Her uncle nodded, turning and placing the bags of sugar in the box he was carrying into their appropriate spot on the shelves behind the long wooden counter. With his back towards her, he said, ‘She’s quite a young woman now - you both are. Has she got a lad yet?’

  Hannah swallowed. It was daft but she always felt funny when her uncle talked like this and he was doing it more and more often of late. Saying she was so grown up, that there must be lots of lads after her, things like that. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but . . . She couldn’t explain the ‘but’ to herself. Swallowing again, she said flatly, ‘Her mam said she can’t walk out with a lad until her sixteenth birthday.’

  ‘Very wise, very wise.’ He turned from what he was doing, a bag of sugar in his hand. ‘You don’t want to go messing about with lads, Hannah,’ he said softly.‘Take it from me, I know what I’m on about. Young lads won’t treat you right.’

  The creeping sensation in her flesh was making itself felt again, not so much because of what he said but the way he said it and the look on his face. She stared dumbly, her heart beating so hard she felt it in her throat. ‘I . . . I don’t. I mean I haven’t got a lad. I don’t want one.’

  ‘They’ll tell you one thing and do another. That’s the way it is with youth. And you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to find yourself in a pickle.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m talking sense, lass.’ He was red in the face and perspiring although it wasn’t warm in the shop - it was bitingly cold outside with a high wind blowing that spoke of snow. ‘And you’re worth more than that, all right? So you mind what I say and keep yourself to yourself. Will you do that for me, lass?’

  She nodded and then almost jumped out of her skin as the door behind her opened and her mother walked into the shop. She was carrying a bag containing her aunt’s medicines which she had fetched from the chemist.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Miriam’s eyes flashed from her daughter to Edward.

  ‘The matter?’The thick trembly note had gone from her uncle’s voice. Now he sounded faintly belligerent. ‘Why should anything be the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Miriam didn’t look at Hannah again but kept her gaze on her brother-in-law. ‘So there’s nothing wrong?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  Miriam slanted her eyes and inclined her head, a sharp movement. ‘Good.’

  ‘You got all Aggie’s stuff?’ Edward said heartily.

  ‘Aye, it’s all here.’ Miriam’s voice was expressionless.

  ‘I’ll be shutting bang on time, it being New Year’s Eve, so if you want to dish up for half eight we’ll be up then. And after dinner we’ll all have a nice little drink together, eh? See the New Year in in style. Now this young lady is nearly sixteen I reckon it’s high time we faced the fact she’s all grown up and treated her accordingly.’

  There was something in her mother’s face that made Hannah want to reach out and take her arm and for a moment she forgot her own concerns. She didn’t understand what was wrong but she hadn’t seen her mother look this way before. But she resisted the impulse, suspecting her mother would slap her hand away. Instead she found herself saying by way of a diversion, ‘Naomi has invited me round theirs tonight, Mam. Can I go?’

  ‘What?’

  As her mother brought her gaze away from her uncle and looked at her, Hannah said again,‘Naomi has invited me round theirs to see the New Year in. They always have a bit of a do. Can I go?’

  Miriam straightened her back. She looked at her daughter’s heart-shaped face, at the unlined, baby soft skin which carried the silky glow of youth. She was holding on to the shopping bag so tightly her knuckles were showing white and bleached through her flesh. As Edward began to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, lass,’ she cut in tightly, ‘Yes, you can go.’

  ‘I can go?’ Hannah thought she had misheard.

  ‘Aye.’ Miriam nodded, looking at Edward again as she said, ‘You’ll likely want to be with people your own age.’

  Hannah was so surprised it was a moment or two before she could say, ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Her mother’s voice was clipped, cold. ‘I’ll have dinner ready for half eight and you can go once you’ve eaten. I’ll sort out a plate of something for you to take round. You can’t go empty handed.’

  Hannah glanced at her uncle to see if he was as amazed as she was but he was staring at her mother. After a moment he turned back to the shelf behind him and her mother disappeared upstairs.

  ‘She let you come!’ It was Naomi who answered Hannah’s knock at the Woods’ back door later that evening, shrieking with delight when she saw her friend. Pulling Hannah into the scullery, she said, ‘Me an’ Mam are doing the sandwiches for tonight, the others are in the front room. You can help if you like. Oh Hannah, I told you to ask, didn’t I? You see?’

  They were both laughing as they entered the kitchen, but when Hannah saw that Naomi and her mother weren’t alone and Jake Fletcher was sitting at his mother’s kitchen table, she was taken aback. Nervously now, she said to Naomi’s mother,‘Mam sent this fruit cake round, Mrs Wood, and a tin of biscuits for tonight.’

  ‘Did she, lass? That’s right nice of her.’ Rose smiled at her daughter’s friend, thinking the while, how on earth did she manage to get out of that prison, poor lass? It had long been her private opinion that Miriam Casey was a nasty bit of work. ‘Grab a knife, hinny, an’ start buttering that stack of bread. Once everyone arrives these sandwiches’ll melt away like the morning mist before the sun.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me come, Mrs Wood.’ Hannah was painfully aware of the big dark man watching her. She hadn’t looked at him directly, she never
knew quite what to do if he was at Naomi’s. She didn’t want him to think she was gawping at him. He must have people do that all the time, poor thing.

  And then, as Jake said,‘Hello, Hannah,’ she did glance at him, forcing a smile as she answered, ‘Hello, Mr Fletcher.’

  ‘So you’re going to let your hair down the night?’ He turned his gaze to his sister. ‘Just you watch Naomi, that’s all I’d say. I have it on good authority she was tiddly last year.’

  ‘Oh you, our Jake.’ Naomi feigned indignation. ‘I wasn’t, was I, Mam? It was Adam and Joe who were three parts to the wind.’ Catching Hannah’s hand, she added, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. Jake is going to have the last kitten at the farm ’cos no one will take her. I said he’s got to call her Buttons because that’s what you and I named her. He’s taking Polly too’ - Polly was the kitten’s mother - ‘’cos Da told Mam to get rid of her now everyone’s on short time.’ She grimaced eloquently, letting Hannah know what she thought of her father’s hard-heartedness.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Hannah smiled awkwardly, wishing she could be herself in front of Naomi’s half-brother. She could normally converse with anyone but Jake Fletcher was different, and it wasn’t just his scars, bad as they were. It was only the left side of his face which was affected, the puckered lumpy skin emerging from under his hairline and running right down his face and into the collar of his shirt.The eyelid was half closed, giving his face a faintly malevolent expression, and the ear was badly distorted. In contrast, the good side of his face which was only marked with a couple of tiny scars was unusually handsome. Perversely this only increased the slightly sinister effect. But the main thing which always tied her tongue in his presence, certainly for the last little while, was that Jake Fletcher was such an altogether masculine man. Big, broad shouldered, powerful. Adam and Joe had their father’s slight build and Naomi’s four younger brothers were small for their ages. Jake was the odd one out in more ways than one. And he scared her.

  Her thoughts brought hot colour into her cheeks and she busied herself with buttering the slices of bread stacked on the table, her head down. The atmosphere in the kitchen changed abruptly a minute or so later when the door to the hall opened and Adam Wood came in. Glancing over them, Adam’s eyes narrowed on his half-brother. ‘You still here then?’

  ‘As you see.’

  The two men stared at each other for a moment longer and then Adam turned and spoke directly to Hannah. ‘The old witch let you out then? Never have there been such days.’

  Hannah forced a smile but she felt uncomfortable. Adam’s boyish good looks hid a tongue that could be as sharp as a knife on occasion, and although she might share her resentment about her mother’s treatment of her with Naomi, she didn’t like Adam calling her mam a witch.

  ‘You staying to see the New Year in then?’ he asked when she said nothing, reaching for a slice of the bread she’d buttered and folding it in half before biting into it. At her nod, he grinned. ‘That’s a turn-up for the book. What’ve you promised the old witch to persuade her to let you come then?’

  ‘Adam.’ Rose’s voice held a note of admonition.

  ‘What?’Adam’s blue eyes were laughing.‘We all know what Hannah’s mam is like. I’m only saying what everyone else thinks.’

  ‘Perhaps your mother is suggesting you’re embarrassing a guest.’ Jake had risen to his feet as he spoke. He reached for his overcoat and pulled it on.

  ‘Huh.’ The smile slid from Adam’s face. Flinging the half-eaten slice of bread on the kitchen table, he said to Hannah, ‘Have I embarrassed you?’

  His eyes like black marble, Jake said, ‘Shut up, Adam.’

  ‘Shut up yourself.’ Like David squaring up to Goliath, Adam glared at the older man. ‘Just because you come here playing the big man and bountiful benefactor doesn’t mean you own the place.’

  ‘I never said I did but I dare say you’re not above having your share of what I bring your mam, eh?’

  ‘Hark at him. Dead easy you have it compared to the rest of us, and you know it. You want a few shifts down the pit and you’d soon see what was what.’

  ‘You didn’t have to go down the pit any more than I did,’ Jake said quietly. ‘I looked for work elsewhere, you could have done the same, but you chose to follow your da. Don’t gripe about it now.’

  ‘Who are you to tell me anything, you freak?’

  ‘Adam!’ Rose had sprung in front of Jake as he made a sudden movement towards the younger man. Holding on to Jake but speaking to Adam, she said, ‘You talk like that again and so help me you’ll be looking for somewhere else to lay your head. And get out of my kitchen.’

  Jake’s face was bereft of colour, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing, but he could not push his mother aside without being rough, so tightly was she clinging to him. ‘I’ll see my day with you, boy,’ he ground out, the threat soft but deadly as he looked at his brother.

  ‘You and whose army?’

  The defiance in the words belied the expression on Adam’s face. Hannah had seen him jump when Jake had made to get to him and she knew he was frightened. She didn’t blame him. He was half the size of his brother. She lowered her eyes again, not wishing to add to his humiliation. Then ten-year-old Stephen came rushing into the kitchen, saying, ‘Mam, Mam, the Father’s just arrived,’ and she experienced a feeling of deep relief as the tension broke.

  As Adam left the kitchen with Stephen, Rose turned to Jake who was now pulling on his cap and muffler. ‘I shall have to go and say hello to Father Gilbert.’

  ‘Aye, you go, Mam. I told you I was only staying for an hour.’

  ‘Thanks for all the stuff, lad.’ Rose’s voice was low, apologetic. ‘And for dropping by. It wouldn’t have been the same if I hadn’t seen you although that’s daft in a way. New Year’s Eve is only a night like any other.’

  ‘Aye, mebbe.’

  ‘Lad, about Adam—’

  ‘Leave it, Mam.’ And then as though to make up for his brusqueness, Jake said quietly,‘It’s all right, don’t fret. I’ve had folk say worse and it’s water off a duck’s back. You go and enjoy yourself the night. If anyone deserves a bit of jollification, you do.’

  ‘You sure you won’t stay?’ And as her son lifted his eyebrows, she bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, lad.’

  The catch in his mother’s voice brought a tenderness to Jake’s face. ‘I’ve told you, don’t fret.’ Turning to Naomi who, like Hannah, was keeping her gaze fixed on the sandwiches they were making, he added, ‘You make sure your mam enjoys herself tonight. All right, lass?’

  ‘Aye, all right, Jake.’ Naomi’s face had brightened. The fight had been averted. Jake wasn’t going off in a strop which would have meant her mam would have been miserable the whole night long. All was well.

  Jake walked across the room but before he stepped into the scullery and left by way of the backyard, he turned. ‘Happy New Year.’

  Hannah added her voice to those of Naomi and Mrs Wood, but when after a moment or two Naomi said, ‘I wish Jake could have stayed for once, Mam,’ she remained silent. She was glad he had gone.

  In the back lane Jake stood for a moment breathing deeply with his eyes shut. Then he drove his fist into the brick wall with a sickening thud, not so hard as to break bones but enough to relieve some of the murderous rage inside him. At least, that’s what he told himself he was feeling - rage. Never for a moment would he allow himself to term it pain.

  The cocky little snot. He flexed his bruised hand, wiping the blood from his knuckles with his handkerchief. Showing off in front of the Casey lass.

  It was a fine night, the snow crisp with a coating of frost beneath his feet and the air as sharp as a blade. He looked up into the black sky. It was high and star filled, beautiful, and for once the stench of the privies was absent. Nevertheless, the sensation which always assailed him when he came into town to visit his mother, that of being hemmed in, enclosed, was as strong as ever.

  He hated the town.The gridir
on acres of Sunderland’s narrow streets with their back-to-back terraced houses and heaving humanity, and the tight-packed industries bordering the river were stifling, choking the life out of their inhabitants. As a lad he’d sometimes walked along the river bank, past the factories and workshops, roperies, glassworks, potteries, limekilns, ironworks and shipyards, all the time wondering what he was going to do when he was grown up because even then he’d known he couldn’t stomach the colliery.

  His mother had always insisted his fear of being shut in had come from the months he’d been in hospital as a little bairn. He unconsciously touched the left side of his face. He didn’t know about that. What he did know was that living in the warren that was Monkwearmouth was not for him. He didn’t fit in, in more ways than one. He smiled grimly. And he hadn’t wanted to fit in.