Playing With Fire Read online

  Susan sat, head bent, as the implications of what she had just heard penetrated her brain. It seemed to her that, in the circumstances, Jack would be unlikely to come back to Darlington. Not to live anyhow. Not in this house, with Donald renting the house next door. She recalled the old adage ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’. Did that mean there was hope for her? Would she be able to settle here and keep her shame a secret from those in Belfast? Oh, if only . . .

  ‘What about her parents?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Will they not be able to persuade her to return. Won’t she miss her family?’

  ‘Margaret’s parents died young and she was reared by her grannie. She died about a year ago. There’s nothing to bring Margaret back here. Nothing at all. Oh, God, why couldn’t she have married Donald Murphy and left our Jack alone? She has ruined all our lives. You hear such bad reports about life in London. For all we know, they might be living on the streets,’ wailed Edith.

  ‘Have they any money?’

  Edith nodded sadly. ‘The money we had saved for a van - Billy insisted that Jack take it. He accepted it on the understanding that he would pay it back when he was able. And I know he will, but it wasn’t all that much, it won’t last for ever.’

  ‘So long as they have some money, they’ll find some kind of accommodation, and if they really love each other, they’ll be happy no matter where they are. Jack has a trade, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He was a fitter in Cleveland Bridge, but will he be able to get that kind of work in London? I doubt it.’

  ‘A fitter can do all different kinds of jobs, Aunt Edith. There’s plenty of work in London. He will get into a factory or a garage. Have you not heard from him at all?’

  ‘Huh! One miserable letter to let us know they had arrived safe and well. One miserable letter. Not a word of regret or sorrow for all the trouble he’d caused.’

  ‘He’s been too ashamed, so he has. I know how he feels. It’s shame that keeps you from getting in touch. But he’ll write again, Aunt Edith, when he has some good news to tell you. Just you wait and see.’

  Edith wiped her eyes and said, ‘I hope you’re right. It’s great to be able to talk about him. Billy won’t let me mention his name in this house. He doesn’t like me worrying about them. But I can’t help worrying. It’s what mothers do best.’

  Rachel slowly replaced the receiver in its cradle, a worried frown on her brow. To her, Susan had sounded homesick, so why didn’t she come home? As she crossed the hall to the lounge the headlights of a car flashed across the windows as it turned into the drive. She changed course and went to open the door for Alison and her friend, surprised that they had come home by taxi. It was a terrible extravagance. Young people these days were hopeless where money was concerned. You would think it grew on trees.

  It was starting to rain. Rachel drew back the net curtain and peered through the window at the side of the door. Great spots splattered the car and she saw that it wasn’t a taxi but a comparatively new saloon car that stood outside in the driveway. Through the gloom she was amazed to see her daughter lean forward and kiss her companion, a young man, on the lips. A slow, sensuous kiss. He made to gather her close, but she laughingly broke away from him and, leaving the car, dashed up the steps and turned to wave him off.

  Rachel opened the door and Alison laughed. ‘That was good timing, Mam.’ She shook the loose raindrops from her short blonde curls and eyed her mother keenly. ‘Are you all right, Mam? You look a bit pale.’

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Just a boy I dance with in Leckie’s.’

  ‘You kissed him!’ Rachel accused her.

  ‘Just a peck, Mam.’

  ‘It looked more than a peck to me. I thought you were going to eat him. Alison, remember you’re practically engaged to Graham.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake. What he doesn’t know won’t harm him.’

  ‘That’s the wrong attitude to take when you’re contemplating marriage to someone, Alison. I’m surprised at you.’

  ‘Mam, things are different now from what they were in your day.’

  ‘Huh! Not all that different. You had better be careful, girl, or you will lose Graham.’

  ‘I couldn’t care less, Mam. There are plenty more fish in the sea. It’s Graham who’s pressing for an engagement, not me. I’m willing to wait.’

  Rachel looked at her beautiful, wilful daughter and could understand why Graham was in such a hurry. He was afraid of losing her.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘Hmm. I want to remember what a fool looks like when Graham says “Let’s call it a day.”’

  Alison pulled a wry face and headed for the stairs. ‘See if I care.’ And she didn’t! Life had suddenly become more exciting now that she was learning advanced ballroom dancing. Once she could go to the big ballrooms, the world would be her oyster. The young men were queuing up to dance with her as it was. But they were too young. She preferred the older, more sophisticated man. That was why she had started going out with Graham in the first place. He had prospects and money, but now he bored her. To be truthful, he didn’t seem interested in her any more either.

  Her mother’s voice halted her. ‘Susan has just this minute been on the phone.’

  She turned, her voice full of regret. ‘Oh? I wish I’d been here. How is she?’

  ‘She seems well enough, but I thought she sounded a bit homesick. Probably wishful thinking on my part. She certainly has no intention of coming home just yet.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. She’s probably having a whale of a time over there. I wish I had her nerve. Imagine taking off like that! I wish something exciting would happen to me.’

  ‘Is getting engaged not exciting enough for you?’

  ‘Catch yourself on, Mam! What difference will it make?’

  ‘You will have an exciting time planning your wedding and looking for a house.’

  ‘Balderdash! It will be years before we marry. Meanwhile, I intend to enjoy myself. Good night, Mam.’

  ‘Good night, Alison.’ Rachel watched her climb the stairs, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Sweet dreams,’ she whispered, ‘And I sincerely hope they are of Graham.’ Was their youngest daughter as innocent as they would like to believe? It was bad enough Susan proving difficult. Please God, let Alison behave, or life with Trevor would be unbearable.

  Susan made her aunt a cup of tea and insisted on adding some of the precious whiskey set to one side for medicinal purposes.

  ‘Oh, you really shouldn’t, Susan. That’s for emergencies. ’>

  ‘This is an emergency. You need a good night’s sleep, Aunt Edith. After all this reminiscing you won’t be able to settle without a little help. Here, drink up.’

  Edith sipped at the hot liquid and felt the warmth spread throughout her body, easing the tension from her limbs. ‘You really are a blessing in disguise, Susan. I’m glad you came over. Although I wish for your sake the circumstances were different. Did your mother not demand that you go home?’

  Susan grimaced. ‘She did indeed, but I put her off.’

  ‘I worry about you, Susan.’

  ‘Don’t, Aunt Edith. The last thing I want is to be a burden on you.’

  ‘Never that, love. You’ll never be a burden. I’m so glad you’re here.’

  They sat in silence sipping their tea and pursuing their own thoughts. The heat of the fire and the effect of the whiskey took their toll, and soon Edith rose to her feet, her eyes heavy with sleep.

  ‘I think I’d better go to bed before I fall asleep here. I’ll see you in the morning, Susan. And thanks for everything. If you’re going to bed, love, don’t bar the door. Remember Billy isn’t home yet. It would never do to lock him out.’

  Susan also retired early. She had a lot to think about. If she could just manage to stay here in Darlington until the baby was a few months old, she could claim that it was conceived over here. That way no one would ever guess who the father was. She was glad she had met Donald Mu
rphy tonight. The subsequent conversation with her aunt had made her future look brighter. She hoped that Jack did well down in London and had no desire to return to Darlington. If he should happen to return for the Christmas break, then she would persuade Donald to rent the house next door to her.

  Feeling more secure about her future, she fetched a writing pad and pen and, sitting propped up in bed, commenced to write to her friend Ruth Vernon. It was about time she let her best friend know her whereabouts. But she would not mention her reason for coming to England, oh no! If she could help it, no one would ever know the truth. Still, it would be nice to hear from Ruth and be kept up to date on what was happening back home. She bit on the end of her pen for some moments, sorting out in her mind what she wanted to say. Then, happily, she put pen to paper and soon had covered several pages, without giving any secrets away.

  Chapter Three

  A few days after posting the letter Susan received a reply from Ruth.

  Dear Susan,

  How mean of you to leave without letting me know. I always thought of you as my dearest friend. I couldn’t believe my ears when I phoned and Alison told me you’d gone over to England. I was devastated! However, I do understand and accept your apologies. I know you were in the doldrums since you split up with Jim Brady. You shouldn’t have let him get to you like that! There’s no man worth all that emotion. By the way, he has also disappeared from the scene. He isn’t, by any chance, over there with you? Eh? Only joking. Life over here is dull at the moment. I sure as hell miss you and I’m looking forward to seeing you at Christmas. Darlington sounds like good fun, but don’t you go getting too fond of it. Your place is back here in Belfast, with or without Jim Brady. At the moment I’m seeing Dougie Smith, remember him? He’s all right, I suppose, but the earth doesn’t move when he kisses me. Is that important? Did it move when Jim kissed you? Do people just drift into marriage, Susan? Oh, how I wish you were here, so that I could discuss all my problems with you, face-to-face.

  Goodbye for now, please write soon.

  Your true friend

  Ruth

  Susan read the letter over and over and the tears rolled down her cheeks. There was no way she could have told Ruth she was leaving Belfast. Ruth would have wheedled the truth out of her, and no one - but no one at all - must know that the baby was conceived back home. How she wished that she was footloose and fancy-free like Ruth. She missed her friend dearly. Wait until Ruth heard she was not coming home for Christmas. She smiled grimly at the idea. The air would surely be blue. She would wait until nearer Christmas before answering this letter and send Ruth a small present. She folded the letter carefully and placed it under her pillow. It brought her best friend and the past close to her, and she had a restless night thinking of what might have been.

  Edith was quick to notice Susan’s pallor the next morning. ‘Do you feel ill, love?’ she inquired anxiously. ‘I suppose it’s time you saw a doctor. Shall I try and get you an appointment with Dr Allen today?’

  ‘No. Time enough for that after Christmas, Aunt Edith. I feel fine, so I do.’

  ‘Well, you sure as hell don’t look it! You don’t want to risk losing the baby, so you don’t.’

  Susan turned away to hide her expression. Didn’t she just? If only she could miscarry, it would be relief beyond belief. She would do nothing to harm this baby, which at the moment she just knew was there. A couple of mornings of queasiness and a missed period had alerted her, and the pregnancy kit she bought had proved positive. But other than that it wasn’t real to her as yet. If the baby was to voluntarily leave her body, she would look on it as an act of God.

  However, she felt so well in herself that it was unlikely to happen. She explained to her aunt, ‘That letter I received yesterday was from my best friend. It made me a bit homesick, that’s all. But I’ll get over it. Come on, we’d better get a move on or we’ll be late for work.’

  Still worried, Edith hesitated. ‘Look, you go back to bed. I’ll tell Vera you’re feeling poorly. She’ll understand.’

  Shooing her gently towards the door, Susan assured her, ‘You’ll do no such thing. I’ll be fine.’

  At her newly acquired job, in the stall next to her aunt’s in the market, Ruth’s letter played on Susan’s mind throughout the day. Ruth had said that Jim was also missing. But then Susan hadn’t set eyes on him since he had rejected her advances and walked away, without even so much as a backward glance, so what was new? Was he involved with someone else? No matter! Even if he still cared for her, he wouldn’t have anything to do with her now. As far as he was concerned, she had certainly burnt her bridges good and proper. She must look to the future.

  A blanket of snow covered the ground as far as the eye could see, turning the town into a winter wonderland. In a happier frame of mind than she had been for some days, Susan picked her way carefully along the slippery footpath, along Albert Hill and on to North Road, stopping cautiously to look in the shop windows. There was nothing of particular interest to her in these shops and, after a lot of near tumbles, she arrived breathless on Northgate. Here the big-name stores were prominent and her attention heightened. The pavements seemed safer and she stepped out more confidently. She stopped at the windows of Marks & Spencer to admire their wares, before moving along to British Home Stores, which was vying with M&S in its endeavours to outdo their Christmas displays. She was looking for suitable presents to send home. Already some goods were marked down in price and she saw a couple of bargains that would come in handy, particularly a pink sweater that she knew would suit Ruth. During the week she would hunt down these bargains when her employer granted her the few promised hours off work. She bypassed John Collier and Alexandre, not being interested in the latest fashions for the male sex. There was no special man in her life to buy for, and the others would receive aftershave.

  A glance down Crown Street showed there was nothing of interest to her there. At the General Post Office she crossed the road and backtracked a bit to view the fashions in the windows of Doggarts’ store. She gulped at the price tags, which at the moment were well beyond her pocket. Still, it was a store that seemed to stock just about everything and she had heard good reports about the quality of their goods. She silently resolved to have a look inside when she had some spare time.

  Reaching the junction of Northgate and Bondgate, Susan hovered close to the Midland Bank on the corner of Prospect Place, to shelter against the flurry of snow blowing down Bondgate. The heart of the town stretched before her, dominated by the market clock tower, and she paused to admire the view slumbering in a virgin-white mantle. Any other day and this vast white mass of snow would already be broken and slushy, but it was early Sunday morning and so far hardly a footprint marred the scene. Glancing behind her, she saw how her own isolated footprints were already obliterated beneath the fresh fall of powdery snow. It was as if she was in a world of her own. Even the sky was a thick white cover capping all this beauty. The snow muffled all sounds and a peaceful hush seemed to embrace the scene. A calmness settled in her soul at such tranquillity.

  When she awoke early that morning and saw the thick layer of snow on the rooftops she decided that the time had come to do the window shopping she had been promising herself. The stall next to her aunt’s in the market sold greeting cards and wrapping paper. The owner had bought in toys and novelties for the festive season and had been looking for someone to help out with the Christmas rush. Her aunt had put in a word for Susan and an interview was set up. To her great delight, the owner, Vera Crabtree, and she had hit it off right away and the job was hers.

  The idea of earning some money and being able to pay her way without breaking in on her savings had come as a great relief. Also, she had not much time to brood and found that she was settling in nicely. It did, however, mean that her days were taken up - even Saturdays - and she had no time to do her Christmas shopping. Only two weeks to Christmas and she still hadn’t bought all her presents.

  She loved the sno
w and now, as she gazed at the scene before her, she realised how much at home she felt here. Darlington was an old Quaker town and the architecture of the buildings appealed to her eye. The Pearl Assurance building on the corner of High Row and Bondgate, in particular, was very imposing, especially this morning when snow covered its ornate domed roof and high chimneys, which towered above the roofs of the smaller buildings. Close by, Dressers, the stationer, also looked very attractive with its colourful name sign and posters calling attention to its wares. Jackson’s Dry Cleaners and Dunns separated it from two more imposing structures housing the Yorkshire Penny Bank and Barclays Bank.

  Standing majestically on an island at the junction, the statue of Joseph Pease stood in all its glory as he silently surveyed the town he had helped to fashion back in the 1800s. She had been reading a lot about this man in a book that her aunt had lent her. To all intents and purposes he had been a spectacular figure, becoming the largest coal merchant in the North-East and generously donating the land for South Park to be laid out for the pleasure and recreation of the people of Darlington. He became the first Quaker MP, entering the House of Commons in 1833 - a pursuit that he had carried on, in spite of opposition from his father and the Society of Friends, of which he was a dedicated member.

  The statue itself was weather-beaten and today had a white hat of snow, becoming higher by the minute. This served to make Pease look very formidable. Becoming aware that her toes were beginning to go numb in her thin-soled patent boots, Susan stamped her feet and headed for the Saxone shoe shop on the far side of the road next to the King’s Head Hotel. She was reluctant to trespass on the virgin-white carpet, but consoled herself with the knowledge that the falling snow would soon fill in the gaps. It would be trampled anyhow, by church-goers and the like, she reminded herself.