Sing as We Go (3 page)

‘You hear me. You’ll do as I say.’ It was a demand, not a request, and in that moment, Kathy’s heart hardened irrevocably as he added, ‘You’ll go to the Robinsons’ this very minute.’

Briefly, she glanced down at her mother. ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ Kathy said softly. ‘So sorry . . .’

For a long moment, mother and daughter gazed at each other and then the girl saw the brief flicker of a smile on the older woman’s mouth. Edith gave an almost imperceptible little nod that told her daughter all she needed to know.

‘And so you should be,’ Jim growled. He sat down and picked up his knife and fork, confident that the matter was at an end, that now he would be obeyed.

Kathy moved round the table and knelt beside her mother’s chair. Edith clasped her hand and leant forward to kiss the girl’s forehead. ‘God bless you,’ she whispered so low that Kathy only just caught the words that released her, words that sprang the trap wide open.

She was free. Free to go, free to leave – and with her mother’s blessing.

‘You – you’ll be all right?’ Kathy whispered.

They both knew she wouldn’t be – not really – but Edith patted her hand, managed to raise a smile and say, louder now, ‘Off you go, love. You go to the Robinsons’.’

For a moment, Kathy leant her face against her mother’s bony shoulder and whispered, ‘I love you, Mam.’

‘I know, my darling, I know,’ the poor woman whispered back, ‘but off you go. It’s – it’s for the best.’

With a final squeeze of her hand, Kathy rose and moved towards the door into the hall and the stairs. She glanced back just once. Her father was eating as if nothing had happened, his whole attention on the food in front of him, but her mother’s gaze followed her.

Then Kathy turned and ran lightly upstairs to pack her battered suitcase.

Three

‘Hello, lass.’ Ted Robinson greeted her with a wave and began to cross the yard towards her. He was a big man, tall with strong, broad shoulders and a weather-beaten face that crinkled with laughter lines. ‘Going on your holidays?’

Kathy set the heavy suitcase down, straightened up and smiled at him as he neared her. ‘I’ve a favour to ask.’

‘Owt, lass, you know that.’

‘Could Morry take me to the station, please?’

The Robinsons had a dilapidated old truck that carried anything from pigs bound for market to the huge Christmas tree that Ted brought home every year.

‘Of course he can. But – but where are you going?’ Suddenly, the euphoria at her sudden freedom that had carried her this far faltered. ‘I – I don’t really know.’

‘Don’t know?’ For a moment Ted was puzzled. He moved closer, his gaze intent upon her face. ‘What’s been happening, lass? You’ve got a right old shiner coming up there.’ He frowned, already half guessing what had been going on in the Burtons’ unhappy household. He sighed and then said softly, ‘You leaving home?’

Kathy bit her lip and nodded. Then she blurted out, ‘Morry asked me to marry him and – and I said no. I’m sorry, Mr Robinson, truly I am. He’ll make someone a wonderful husband, but – but . . .’

‘But not you, eh, lass?’

She nodded.

The big man sighed. ‘I’m sorry too. Me an’ the missis would’ve loved you as a daughter-in-law, but if you don’t love the lad . . .’ He searched her face for a glimmer of hope that she might – just might – change her mind. Not seeing it, he murmured, ‘Aye, well, marriage is tough enough at times when you are in love, ne’er mind when you’re not.’ He glanced at her again, an unspoken question in his eyes.

She nodded slowly. ‘I know. I’ve seen the consequences at first hand. I don’t intend to make the same mistake. Not that I think Morry would be like that – like – like
him
, but . . .’

Ted put his huge, work-callused hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle, understanding squeeze. ‘Come along in,’ he said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘And we’ll see what’s to do.’ He picked up her suitcase and walked towards the back door of the sprawling farmhouse, leaving Kathy to follow in his wake.

‘Mother,’ he shouted to his wife as he opened the back door. ‘We’ve got another for dinner. Set a place at the table, love.’

Betty Robinson bustled forward tutting with disapproval as she saw the red mark on the side of Kathy’s face and the swelling already beginning around her eye. ‘Now, what’s that old devil been doing? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, cariad.’ Though Betty had been away from the valleys for many years, there was still a trace of the Celtic lilt in her voice. ‘Amy – Amy, come here.’

It wasn’t Amy who came into the kitchen, but Morry, his smile of welcome fading when he saw the telltale mark on Kathy’s face. For a moment, his benign, kindly face creased into anger. ‘Dad – we should go over there. We can’t let him get away with this.’

Before Ted Robinson could answer, Amy bounced into the room. ‘Kathy . . .’ she began and then halted, staring open-mouthed at her friend. ‘Wha. . .?’

‘You might well ask,’ Morry said grimly. ‘Been hitting her, that’s what he’s been doing.’

‘Now, now, let’s sit down and we’ll all have a bit of dinner together,’ Ted said. ‘You haven’t eaten, lass, have you?’

Kathy shook her head. ‘No—’ She smiled faintly. ‘It ended up on the kitchen floor.’

There was an awkward silence. No one knew quite what to say for a moment. Then Betty, ever motherly and sensible, said, ‘Amy, come and help me dish up. We’ll talk about it over dinner and decide what’s to be done.’

They ate in silence for several moments, even though not one of them had much appetite. Each was busy with their own thoughts, working out in their own minds what to suggest. Ted and Betty Robinson were ready to offer the girl a home. Amy was planning much the same, eager to have her very best friend as a sister, and Morry was determined to repeat his proposal. But Kathy had made her mind up and when she laid her knife and fork side by side on the plate, she cleared her throat and forestalled all their schemes by saying, ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving.’

The other four stared at her and then all seemed to speak at once.

‘Oh now, cariad, don’t be hasty . . .’

‘You can’t leave, Kathy. What’ll I do without you?’ Amy’s eyes filled with ready tears.

‘I meant what I said, Kathy . . .’

‘You stay here, lass. Stay with us for a bit. That’ll make the old bugger come to his senses.’

‘It’s very kind of you and I love you all for it, but I have to go. I – I’ve been thinking about it for some time anyway. The – the only thing that has kept me here this long is – is Mam.’ Her voice broke then and she covered her face with her hands. The Robinsons glanced at each other uncomfortably, lost for words now.

Kathy pulled in a deep, steadying breath and raised her face, even managing to force a tremulous smile. ‘But now Mam’s sort of – sort of given me her blessing. But it – it doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t bear to think what might happen to her left alone with him.’

Betty touched Kathy’s arm with her plump, comforting hand. ‘She’ll want what’s best for you, cariad.’ For a moment, her fond glance rested on her own son and daughter. ‘Mothers always do. She’ll cope and – if not – then she’s always welcome to come here. We’d look after her.’

‘You’re very kind,’ Kathy murmured and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I – I don’t deserve it.’ She glanced apologetically at Morry.

‘We know all about Morry’s proposal,’ Betty said cheerfully. ‘And we’re sorry it’s not to be. But there it is. I wouldn’t want you saying “yes” to him just because you want to get away from home. I wouldn’t want you using him . . .’

‘Mother, please.’ Morry’s face reddened as he protested.

‘You know me, Morry. I always speak my mind. And Kathy should know that by now.’

‘I wouldn’t ever do that, Mrs Robinson. Not to anyone, and certainly not to Morry.’

Betty nodded, her chins wobbling as she patted Kathy’s hand again. ‘I know, I know. Morry will find the right girl one day. We all wish it could be you, but like I say, if it’s not to be, then it’s not to be.’

Now it was Morry who, still red-faced, cast a look of apology towards Kathy.

Ted, tired of all the romantic nonsense, changed the subject to one of practicalities. ‘Where do you plan to go, lass?’

‘Lincoln.’

They all stared at her for a moment and then, almost as if given a cue, they all laughed and relaxed.

‘Lincoln. Why, that’s nowt. Only a stone’s throw away, lass. Ya not really leaving us at all. I thought you meant you were off to Lunnan or somewhere. Oh, that’s all right then.’

Amy clapped her hands. ‘I’ll be able to come and stay with you and we can go out on the town . . .’

‘Now, now, steady on, Amy. You hold your horses a bit,’ Betty said. She turned to Kathy. ‘Have you got somewhere to go to in Lincoln?’

Kathy shook her head. ‘No. But I’ve got a little money saved up. Though how I’ve done it I don’t know myself, since Dad never paid me a proper wage.’ The unfairness of her life was a bitter taste in her mouth and, despite her anxiety over her mother, hardened her resolve.

She was doing the right thing. She was sure she was.

Betty glanced at her husband and voiced her thoughts aloud. ‘D’you think your sister would put her up for a bit? Just till she finds her feet?’

Ted blinked. ‘Jemima? Ah, well now, I don’t know about that. Not the sort of place you’d want a young lass staying.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Betty was smiling mischievously. ‘Might do your Jemima the world of good to have a bright young thing like Kathy about the place. Might liven her up a bit.’

Amy was giggling uncontrollably and even Morry was smiling. Only Ted looked unsure as he glanced at Kathy. He cleared his throat. ‘My sister is a spinster and lives alone in a little terraced house with just her cat for company. She does work, though. In one of the big stores in Lincoln. She – er – never married. She – er . . .’

‘Such a shame,’ Betty murmured as husband and wife exchanged a glance and Betty gave a tiny shake of her head. Ted fell silent, but Kathy had the distinct feeling that there was more to Aunt Jemima’s story than either of them were telling.

‘You can’t send her there,’ Amy spluttered. ‘She’ll have to be in bed by half past nine every night and she won’t be allowed any “followers”. How’s Kathy ever to meet anyone? Make friends?’

‘Well, like I say, it’s only till she finds her feet,’ Betty answered. ‘Till she gets a job and can afford a place of her own. Then she can find a nice little bed-sit somewhere.’

Amy clapped her hands again. ‘And I can go and stay. What fun we’ll have, Kathy.’

‘Now, take your things upstairs. Amy’ll show you the spare room,’ Betty said, rising from the table. ‘You stay here the night and Morry can drive you into Lincoln in the morning. I’ll come with you and talk to Jemima. All right?’

Kathy nodded. ‘You’re – you’re very kind.’

‘Think nothing of it, cariad. That’s what friends are for.’

Ted stood up too and, as Kathy rose to follow Amy, she heard him say softly to his wife. ‘I’ve a mind to slip across to Jim’s and see how things are.’

‘Leave it for tonight, Jim,’ Betty whispered back. ‘You might make things worse. Let’s get her safely out the way and then you can go and see how poor Edith is.’

Kathy picked up her suitcase. The overheard conversation had eased her conscience and lightened her concern. The Robinsons would keep an eye on her mother, and now that she was to move in with a relative of theirs, Kathy would be able to hear if things were all right. The knowledge comforted her and assuaged her guilt – if only a little.

Kathy lay awake half the night, going over and over in her mind the events that had led up to the drastic action she’d taken. She lay in the Robinsons’ spare bed, tense and anxious, expecting at any moment to hear a loud banging on their back door. She couldn’t imagine that her father would let her go easily. For one thing, he would have to pay someone to do the work on the farm she did for nothing. And that was the last thing he would do. At any moment she expected him to arrive at the Robinsons’ to drag her back, by her hair if necessary.

Then another thought struck her. Perhaps he hadn’t realized she’d gone. She’d crept quietly out of the house while he was asleep in the battered armchair near the range.

Only Kathy’s mother had seen her go, had held her close for a few brief moments and then given her a gentle push towards the door. ‘Go now. Quickly – before he wakes up,’ Edith had whispered urgently.

But nothing disturbed the stillness of the frosty night; the only sound was Ted Robinson’s noisy snoring in the next room. If her father did know, it was obvious now that he wasn’t going to chase after her. No doubt he thought she would come back of her own accord like a whipped dog, contrite and begging forgiveness.

‘Fat chance,’ Kathy murmured aloud in the darkness. She turned over and, at last, fell asleep.

Four

‘Good heavens! Whatever brings you to my door this early on a Monday morning? Is something wrong, Betty? Is it Edward?’

Kathy hid her smile at hearing the use of Ted Robinson’s full and formal Christian name.

‘No, no, Jemima cariad. We’re fine. But we’re early because we wanted to catch you before you went to work.’

‘Come in, do. You’re welcome any time of the day, Betty. It’s good to see you.’ As the tall, thin woman ushered them into the tiny terraced house, she was still firing questions. ‘How
is
Edward? And Amy? Is my goddaughter behaving herself? Hello, Maurice, my dear boy, how nice to see you.’ She proffered her gaunt cheek for Morry’s dutiful kiss.

Then she turned her sharp grey eyes on Kathy. ‘And who is this?’

‘Kathy. Kathy Burton.’

Strangely, the grey eyes showed no surprise, not even when they glanced down briefly and took in the suitcase. ‘Jim Burton’s girl?’

When Betty nodded, Jemima’s only reply was a swift nod and a soft, ‘Ah.’

It seemed the woman understood without another word of explanation, for she led the way from the back door through the scullery and into the living kitchen. Remains of her half-eaten breakfast lay on the table set against the wall, but she made no effort to return to it, saying instead, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’