The River Folk (40 page)

‘His ship got torpedoed,’ Bessie murmured again as if, only by repeating it, could she begin to believe what had happened to her beloved boy.

‘It’s a waste,’ Amy said, placing a tray of teacups and saucers on the table and picking up the teapot. ‘A tragic, senseless waste. That’s what it is.’ There was anger in her tone and even when she said, ‘Here, Bessie girl, drink this,’ it was said brusquely. She held out a cup of tea, but Bessie appeared not to have heard. Lizzie took it and gently patted her grandmother’s arm.

‘Mrs Hamilton’s made you some nice tea, Gran. Come on, try and drink it.’

‘Here you are, Bert.’ Amy was standing over him, issuing an order she would not allow him to disobey. ‘Drink this.’

Suddenly, Lizzie remembered and understood. This was the woman who had lost her husband and only son in the Great War. Lizzie felt her resentment towards Amy drain away. This woman, brusque though she seemed at this moment, was probably the only one of them around here who truly understood how Bessie must be feeling.

‘Am I going to have to feed you, Bert Ruddick? Come on, rouse yasen.’

Tears running unashamedly down his face, Bert looked across at Bessie, who was lying back in the chair, her eyes red in a face pale with exhaustion. He closed his eyes and groaned.

Lizzie watched as Amy bent down towards him. ‘Come on, Bert. You’ve got to be strong for Bessie.’

He shook his head. ‘She . . .’ he began haltingly as if even speaking was an effort. ‘She’s the strong one.’

Quietly, Amy said, ‘Not this time, Bert. Poor Bessie’s going to need you to be strong for her this time.’

Bert looked up at Amy and then slowly he reached out to take the cup of tea she held out to him. Though his hand shook and the cup rattled in the saucer, he picked it up and gulped the strong, hot liquid like a man thirsting in the desert.

Satisfied, Amy turned her attention to Bessie. ‘Now then, let’s be ’aving you an’ all.’ She smiled at Lizzie and her tone became gentle as she said, ‘You go into the scullery, lass, and get a bit of dinner ready. I’ll stay with them.’

At the sink in the scullery, as she peeled potatoes and washed vegetables, her own tears falling into the bowl of water, Lizzie could hear the low murmur of Amy’s voice, although she could not hear what was being said. A little while later, Dan arrived and Amy came out into the scullery.

‘I’m going now, lass, but I’ll be back.’

Lizzie turned and opened her mouth to express her thanks, but Amy held up her hand. ‘Don’t say anything, lass, ’cos I might not like what you’re be going to say.’

‘I wasn’t—’ Lizzie began, but Amy interrupted.

‘I lost me husband and son in the last lot and it was your gran who pulled me through. I’d have done for mesen for sure, if it hadn’t been for her. I might sound a bit hard, a bit unfeeling, but I’m only giving her a taste of her own medicine.’

Lizzie gasped, astonished to think that the woman could be so vindictive after all these years. But once more, Lizzie had to admit that she was wrong as Amy explained. ‘It’s medicine that’s hard to dish out and it’s bitter to take, lass, but it works. It worked on me. I thought Bessie Ruddick was the hardest, most callous bitch around, but she knew what to do. Oh, she knew how to shake me out of me self-pity. I’m still alive today only because of her, Lizzie. And I’ll never forget it. So, now I’m going to be here for her when she needs help.’

Lizzie’s voice was unsteady as she said, ‘Thanks. Thank you, Mrs Hamilton.’

If it hadn’t been for Amy Hamilton, Lizzie thought later, the Ruddick family might well have lost Bessie and probably Bert too.

For days and weeks, Bessie hardly ate. The weight dropped from her and loose skin sagged beneath her jaw. Bert tried his best. He cajoled and pleaded with her, but to no avail. Even the taciturn Ernie was heard to plead, ‘Come on, our Mam, try to eat something.’

Bessie retreated into a world of her own. Sitting beside the range, staring into the fire, she stirred only to answer the call of nature. She didn’t even undress at night or go upstairs to bed, and soon her unwashed grey hair was lank and greasy, her clothes stained and crumpled.

It was Amy who finally broke through the wall of misery. Once more she stood over Bessie. ‘Are you going to sit there, Bessie Ruddick, till you rot? You’re beginning to smell now.’

For the first time since they had received the dreadful news, Lizzie felt herself wanting to laugh. And yet she wanted to cry at the same time. Holding her breath, she watched as, slowly, Bessie raised her face to look at Amy. Suddenly, there was a spark of anger in her grandmother’s eyes. ‘What right have you to tell me what to do, Amy Hamilton, I’d like to know?’

‘Oh you would, would you? Well, I’ll tell you what right I’ve got.’ She leant down so that her eyes were on a level with Bessie’s. ‘Same right as you had to save my miserable life all them years ago. Remember?’

The two women stared at each other, a lifetime of memories between them. ‘And think about it, Bessie. You have got other family. There’s poor Bert here, and your other lads, to say nothing of this poor lass who’s bewildered and lost by it all. They’re all hurting, Bessie. I had no one left, no one to live for, and yet you still wouldn’t let me go, so I’m damned if I’m going to let you shrivel away and bring more grief to your family. You hear me, Bessie Ruddick. By heck, if you weren’t so big and fat, I’d shake some sense into that stupid head of yours.’

Amy straightened up and turned to Lizzie and Bert, who were standing by listening, first shocked and then amused by Amy’s antics.

‘Lizzie, see if Mrs Eccleshall’s at home. Tell her I need her help across here, but tell her to leave her tears at home. I don’t want her coming in here weeping and wailing and making matters worse. And you, Bert, get the tin bath, bring it in here and fill it with water. It’s time me and Min gave Mrs Smelly here a good bath. I’m just going to my house to fetch her some clean clothes.’

It had been the turning point and whilst the whole family still grieved, once Bessie started to recover, they all began to come to terms with their loss.

‘I miss Uncle Duggie so much,’ Lizzie told Tolly, who, their previous quarrel forgotten in the wake of such a tragedy, had been one of the first to arrive on the doorstep to offer his sympathy. ‘He was always so happy and cheerful.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I even miss him teasing me.’

They were sitting on the riverbank, watching the fish, but today neither of them had the heart to try to catch any.

‘I expect there’s a lot of people who miss him. Your uncle was what they call a lovable rogue. A bit of a lad with the women, but everybody liked him.’

‘Yes. Yes, they did.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose that should be a comfort, but it isn’t.’

‘No.’ Tolly reached out and took her hand. ‘Nothing’s a comfort really, because nothing can bring him back.’

‘We’re not the only ones to have lost someone, though, are we?’

‘No,’ Tolly agreed again. ‘But that doesn’t make it any easier either.’

She leant her forehead against his shoulder. ‘Oh Tolly, thank goodness you’re too young to be called up. Let’s hope it’s all over before you reach eighteen.’

He did not answer her and she could not tell him everything that was in her heart. Much as she loved Tolly – he was like the brother she had never had – she could not tell even him that with each passing day her fear grew that, before long, Lawrence would have to go to war.

‘Lizzie, I want to go to church this morning. Will you come with me?’

Bessie was standing in the kitchen, dressed in her best black hat and coat.

‘Of course, Gran. I’ll get my coat.’

‘And find a hat,’ her grandmother murmured. ‘Doesn’t do to go into church without a hat.’

The church was packed – every seat seemed to be taken.

‘What’s going on?’ Lizzie whispered. ‘I’ve never seen the church as full as this for a normal morning service.’

‘It isn’t a normal service,’ Bessie said. ‘It’s a special service for all those families who’ve lost someone. That’s why I wanted to come.’ She nodded towards the congregation in front of them as they squeezed into a pew near the back of the church. ‘Just look at all these poor folks who’ve lost loved ones. I’m not the only one and it’s time I realized it.’

‘Oh Gran,’ was all Lizzie could say as tears threatened to choke her. She put her hand through her grandmother’s arm and kept it there throughout the service. By the time it was over and the people were filing out, Lizzie wasn’t sure whether coming had been such a good idea. Throughout the prayers and the hymn singing there had been the sound of people crying. Even Bessie, usually loath to let strangers witness her emotions, had dabbed at her eyes and blown her nose vigorously.

‘Come on, Gran, time to go,’ Lizzie urged, when Bessie made no move to leave.

‘Hang on a minute, love,’ Bessie said. ‘There’s something I want to see when everyone’s gone.’

‘What?’ Lizzie asked, sitting down again.

‘Amy reckons someone’s embroidered a banner of some sort. It’s on the wall near that little chapel at the side there. She says it’s got Duggie’s name on it.’

‘Really?’ Lizzie said, intrigued too, now.

When everyone except the verger, who was still busy, had left, Bessie and Lizzie walked to the front.

‘There it is,’ Lizzie said, pointing to the wall at one side. They moved closer and saw, embroidered in silks and gold thread upon satin, the emblems of the Merchant Navy and the words ‘In loving memory of Douglas Ruddick, who gave his life in the service of his country, September 1941’.

‘Who do you think has done it?’ Lizzie asked.

‘I suppose,’ Bessie said slowly, her gaze never leaving the beautiful piece of work, ‘there’s only one person who could have done it.’

‘Miss Edwina?’ Lizzie suggested.

‘I suppose so,’ Bessie said, thoughtfully. Then, more briskly, she added, ‘Come on, time we were going.’

But just before they turned away, Bessie reached out and touched the name of her son worked in gold thread.

In the spring of 1942, Lawrence volunteered for the RAF long before his call-up papers came.

‘If you won’t marry me, Lizzie, I might as well die the hero.’

Lizzie turned pale. ‘How can you say such a thing to me? You know how difficult it’s been for me, losing Uncle Duggie and my gran and grandpa needing me.’

‘I need you too, Lizzie.’ There was a frown on Lawrence’s handsome face. ‘I’m beginning to think you don’t really love me.’

They were in the shadows of the woods, deep amongst the trees where no passing cyclist could see them and, this time, they would be more careful when they left their secret place. Meeting at all had still been difficult, yet since the awful news about Duggie, Lizzie’s grandmother had not once mentioned her involvement with Lawrence Marsh. The only time the matter had ever come to the surface again had been the time when Edwina had called at Waterman’s Yard to see Bessie.

She had knelt on the rug in front of the grieving woman and taken hold of her hands. ‘I’m not going to let a silly argument spoil our friendship, Bessie. I’m so very sorry about poor Duggie. You know, if there’s anything I can do, anything at all . . .’

But Edwina had gone away without Bessie saying a word to her, for she had called at a time when the older woman was so lost in her grief she was speaking to no one. Since that day, Edwina had not called again and Bessie, either too proud or not even aware that Edwina had been, did not make the first move to restore their former friendship.

Slowly, the old couple had begun to come to terms with their loss, though their lives were altered forever. Lizzie was able to go back aboard the
Maid Mary Ann
to cook and care for her father, but there were still times when she was not allowed on a particular trip. It was only on these occasions, when she stayed in Waterman’s Yard, that she had the opportunity to slip away to meet Lawrence.

‘You know that’s not true,’ she said now, winding her arms around his neck.

‘How do I know it’s not true? You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t run away with me to get married. What am I supposed to think?’

‘How could I leave my family after what happened?’

‘Most families around here have lost someone. They don’t all go to pieces. You have to get over it. Get on with your life. Our lives, Lizzie.’ He took her gently by the shoulders and looked down into her eyes. ‘I’m going away soon. I’ve joined up and I’m going to train to be a pilot, probably on bombers. I really want to be on Lancasters.’ His eyes were afire with a passion in which she had no part.

Lizzie drew in a horrified breath at the thought of the danger he would be in.

‘Before I go,’ he was urging her, ‘I want you so much. I want to make love to you so badly, it hurts. If you really love me, you wouldn’t send me away not knowing, not having tasted such happiness.’

‘Lawrence, I . . .’ she began, but he cut her short, pulling her against him and resting his cheek against her hair.

‘I know. I know what you’re going to say, Lizzie, and I’m trying to understand. Truly, I am. So . . .’ He paused and pulled back a little from her, looking down into her face once more, and now he was smiling gently. ‘So, I’ve found us this vicar, miles from here, who will marry us.’

‘Marry us? But he can’t. We’re not old enough to get married without parental consent.’

‘He’s a doddery old fool who hardly seems to know what day of the week it is, let alone still compos mentis enough to think to ask us our ages. All we need are some witnesses. I’m sure one of his church wardens would oblige and I thought we might ask Aunt Edwina.’

Lizzie eyes opened wide. ‘Miss Edwina?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh no, that wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Why not? She and your grandmother aren’t on speaking terms now. So she tells me. So what does it matter?’

‘Aren’t . . .? Oh no, you’ve got it wrong. Your aunt called just after my uncle was lost at sea, but it was at the time that Gran hardly knew what was happening. I don’t think she was even aware that your aunt had called.’

Lawrence shrugged. ‘Anyway, she might do it. Oh Lizzie, what do you say? Please – please, will you marry me?’