Jarrow Trilogy 03 - Return to Jarrow by Janet MacLeod Trotter

Author:Janet MacLeod Trotter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: MacLeod Trotter Books
Published: 2011-06-21T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

1932

When Kate came back in the summer, which was the next time Catherine saw her, having spent Christmas and Easter in Hastings, she stayed for over a month. Davie had finally found employment, working on a cargo ship plying the Baltic.

‘There’s nowt for me to go back to,’ Kate kept repeating, ‘just an empty house.’

Bridie went to Ireland to see Maisie. Catherine would have liked to have gone with her, but she had Kate to look after. Instead, she took a fortnight’s holiday and they went for picnics and trips along the coast. Kate was not one for walking for the sake of it: she preferred to sit on the beach, observing and making comments about other people.

‘Everyone here has a motor car,’ she said in wonder. ‘Look at them all! Where can they all be going?’

Catherine laughed. ‘The same as those who don’t have cars - work, home, on holiday.’

‘Do you know what?’ Kate said, gazing out over a calm azure sea. ‘This is me first summer holiday ever.’ She turned to look at her daughter. ‘And I’m having the best time of me life, Kitty.’

So when Catherine went back to work, she found it impossible to send her mother home.

‘I can get everything shipshape for you - have the dinner on when you come home,’ Kate bargained.

‘I get dinner at the laundry, remember.’

‘Well, the tea then,’ Kate said with a pleading look. ‘You’re that tired when you get in from work. I can look after this place for you. Let me be some use to you, hinny.’

Bridie came back, subdued and resentful at having to leave Maisie again, and was an instant ally of Kate’s.

‘Let her stay as long as she wants,’ Bridie said on a trip to the tennis club. ‘She’s not a bad cook and she keeps the place spotless.’

Catherine was uncertain. ‘But without us around, she’ll have too much time on her hands. There’ll be nothing to stop her waltzing off to the pub.’

‘Has she tried anything since I’ve been away?’

‘No,’ Catherine had to admit, ‘but. . .’

‘But, you’re just looking for problems where there aren’t any,’ Bridie cried. ‘You’re such a little worry-head. She’s desperate to please you; I think you’re being too hard on her.’

Catherine was stung. ‘I can see how she’s got round you. She can be sweetness and light when she wants to, but it won’t last.’

Bridie gave her a hooded look. ‘I’d give anything to be with my daughter - and Kate’s the same. Give her a week or two and see how it goes.’

For the rest of August, Kate played housekeeper, walking to the shops and buying food, which she had ready cooked when they got in from work. Never once did Catherine smell whisky on her breath and she felt guilty at having begrudged her mother the extended holiday.

It was a postcard from Davie that forced the issue of Kate’s return. He was back on Tyneside for a fortnight and wanting her home.

‘Don’t know why he can’t manage on his own,’ Kate complained.

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