The Fifteen Streets by Catherine Cookson

Author:Catherine Cookson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 1952-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

8

New Year’s Eve

It was a good thing New Year’s Eve fell on a Saturday, John thought, for it meant one day less holiday. They would start work on Tuesday, the ones, anyway, who were sober enough. He wanted work, and more work. If he had his own way he’d carry on, night and day, for three parts of the week; he’d make them throw the stuff out of those holds as it had never been thrown out before. He wanted money. God, how he wanted money.

He sat before the fire, dressed in his working clothes, tense with thinking. Shane sat opposite him, sober and sullen; he’d been drunk only once during the holidays. This was a record. Was he turning over a new leaf? John wondered, or was it because he was forced to realise that the more he drank the more he twitched? But twitching or not, tonight he’d likely have a skinful. What would she say to this house and the lot of them? Would she take them as she took him? That was too much to ask. Whereas last Saturday night he thought he’d never known a moment in his life without her, now, across the vast space of time since he last saw her, he could not even recall her face clearly. Again and again he tried to visualise her; but always her face ran into a blur. Even when he attempted to recapture the wonder and the ecstatic feeling of achievement as, with her on his arm, he walked past the fifteen streets, huddled and sleeping under the star-carpeted sky, the feeling would slither away. It was strange, too, but he could not actually remember how he left her. What did they say to each other? Nothing much. They were quiet on the journey back; all the laughter and fun had been left in Shields market. As they walked up Simonside Bank, he had asked if she were tired, and she had replied that she’d never felt less tired. Yet she sounded sort of sleepy when she said it . . . But there must have been more than that said. One thing he knew he hadn’t said: ‘Can I see you again?’

Why hadn’t he, when it was foremost in his mind during those last few minutes with her? But foremost, too, had been the thought of money. He couldn’t really ask her out unless he intended taking her somewhere. Well, he could have taken her out tonight.

All this morning he was hoping he would run into her as he came home from work. And when he didn’t, he told himself it was the best thing that could have happened; there were many things he could do with those extra few shillings—his mother would know what to do with them. So perhaps it was all for the best—he moved impatiently in his chair. Perhaps . . . there was no perhaps about it. What was he aiming at, anyway? Was his brain softening, just because

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.