‘Aye, all right, lass.’ Joan smiled ruefully at the pair of them. ‘Looks like the men’ll be a little while yet. Why they have to start again on a Sunday is beyond me. You’d have thought they get enough union talk an’ such of a weekday, wouldn’t you?’
Neither of them made any reply to this. David said, ‘Goodbye, Mrs McDarmount,’ and Carrie smiled at her mother before they turned and made their way out of the church grounds. It wasn’t until they were approaching the Green that Carrie said, ‘What’s wrong, David?’
His jaw tightened. Carrie’s tone was casual, even offhand; he wasn’t to know that this was a defence against the vulnerability she was feeling. In view of the fact he’d had to visit the privy umpteen times before he’d left for church and still his bowels were threatening to turn to water, Carrie’s composure grated on him. Even walking at the side of her like this, her head just reaching his shoulder, he felt weak-kneed. He could hold his own with anyone, be they man or woman, his mam included, but when he so much as set eyes on Carrie he was suddenly all at sea. And he didn’t like that. Gruffly, and without any preamble, he said, ‘What’s wrong? It should be me asking you that from where I’m standing. And don’t say nowt either ’cos there’s something.’
Carrie stumbled but recovered herself instantly, her head still lowered but her voice firm when she said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She’d suspected it would be something like this when he’d asked to walk her home; it wouldn’t be so bad if she knew exactly what she was going to do, but her head was still spinning with the enormity of what had befallen her. The disgrace would break her da, her mam too, although somehow she knew her mother would come to terms with it in time. But not her da. A hasty wedding was one thing, jumping the gun happened more than folks admitted and her da might just cope with that, but to be taken down and left with a bairn? She couldn’t tell him, she had to get away, but how? And where to? She had no money and she wouldn’t be able to work for long anywhere before she began to show.
‘I don’t believe you, Carrie. I know something’s up.’
She forced a note of outrage into her voice, tossing her head as she said, ‘I don’t care whether you believe me or not, David Sutton.’ And then, as she caught sight of two figures some way ahead, Carrie checked her steps, saying, ‘Your mam and Lillian are up in front if you want to catch them up.’
‘I don’t.’
‘I think you should.’
‘Now hold on a minute!’ He swung her round to face him with one hand on her arm, but when he saw the terror in her eyes he let go of her immediately, his voice raw when he said, ‘For crying out loud, Carrie, don’t look at me like that. I’m worried about you, that’s all. It’s not a crime, is it?’
She didn’t answer but stared at him, unblinking, her face even whiter than the snowflakes which were beginning to fall more thickly. He recognised she was frightened, genuinely frightened of him. She was ramrod straight, and her expression caused him to gentle his voice. ‘Lass, that night. You don’t have to tell me the ins and outs, but someone hurt you, didn’t they? Was it a lad? Did he attack you, Carrie?’
Her face crumpled even before he’d finished speaking, and as his guts twisted, his mind yelled the confirmation of his worst fears. He hadn’t known till this moment how much he had been hoping he was wrong.
‘Carrie?’ It was soft, a whisper. ‘Talk to me, lass. This is David. We’re friends, aren’t we?’
She made a deep obeisance with her head, the only sign she gave that she could hear him.
‘Have you told anyone? Your mam? Renee?’
‘No.’ Her voice cracked, and he saw she had to swallow before she could say, ‘I . . . It started out as just a kiss and then . . . then he wouldn’t stop.’
‘Who? Who wouldn’t stop?’
She turned her face away, dipping her head so that her voice was muffled when she said, her voice thick now with tears, ‘I’m having a bairn, David.’
No. The word spiralled in his head, freezing the thought process, so it was with some surprise he heard himself say, ‘What does he say about that?’ as though she’d just admitted to something mundane and ordinary.
‘He doesn’t know. There . . . there’s no point. He doesn’t love me. It only happened because we had drunk too much.’
‘You have to tell him. You know that, don’t you?’
‘
No
.’
There was a ringing silence. Some children were playing on a makeshift swing attached to a lamppost on the north side of the Green, close to the Savoy Theatre which had bairns queueing for hours for the Saturday penny matinees, and in spite of the weather two little girls without coats were taking turns skipping with a piece of old rope, their hair matted, clothes filthy, chanting:
House to let, apply within,
As I go out, my neighbour comes in!
House to let, apply within,
A woman put out for showing her thing!
Carrie was little more than a bairn herself. David stared across the settling snow, the Green quieter than a weekday when the noise of the collieries, shipyards and factories guaranteed grime and toil and noise in all the surrounding streets, and tall black chimneys pumped out fetid thick smoke. She’d said this lad wouldn’t stop so she hadn’t been willing to be taken down, but willing enough for a kiss. ‘Do you love him?’ Considering the words were wrenched from somewhere deep inside him, it didn’t show in his voice. ‘You said he doesn’t love you, but do you love him?’
‘I thought I did, before . . .’ He saw the shudder she gave.
‘And now?’ He had to know.
‘I hate him.’ It was flat, definite.
David looked down at his hands where his fingers were rubbing against each other. He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach and had to swallow his bile. ‘He ought to take responsibility for what he’s done, for you and the baby.’
‘I don’t want anything from him.’
‘From who?’ he asked again. ‘Who did it?’
Her head came up and she wiped her wet face with the back of her hand before she took a deep breath. ‘I can’t tell you that. I
won’t
tell you that.’
‘And your mam and da? You’ll have to tell them, Carrie.’
‘Nor them.’ Her answer was vehement.
‘They’ll insist on knowing.’
‘It will cause too much trouble.’ She was fighting the tears. ‘And for what? He won’t marry me, he’d probably even say he’s not the father if he found out, and I couldn’t bear--’ She bit her lip. Her voice was more controlled when she said, ‘I couldn’t bear him to touch me ever again. And if he knew about the bairn, even if he wouldn’t marry me, it’s a link, don’t you see?’
He’d had his answer as to whether there was the slightest feeling left on her part. Knowing how she felt made it easier for him to say, ‘Actually, I don’t think I want to know his name after all.’
She was still looking at him, her long eyelashes spiky with tears and her mouth slightly open in surprise.
‘That way I can think of the bairn as yours, only yours. Carrie . . .’ He hesitated, his throat constricting so tightly he felt he was being strangled. What if she said no? What if she refused him? He swallowed before wetting his lips. ‘There’s a way out of this. You could marry me.’ He was hot, sweating, and he could feel colour flooding his face again. She was staring at him as if he was mad. She probably thought he was. He might be.
She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t understand. Why would you do that?’ she asked, amazement in every word.
He stared into her face for some moments before he said softly, ‘Can’t you guess?’
No, she couldn’t guess. How on earth could she guess? With anyone else she might have suspected it was some sort of cruel joke, but not David. David didn’t have a cruel bone in the whole of his body. Carrie stared into the face of the lad she had always thought of primarily as Alec’s brother. A nice lad, friendly, kind and quite good-looking in a rough sort of way, and again she wanted to cry. She bit the inside of her bottom lip hard, focusing on the pain to stop herself breaking down. She’d cried enough for one morning. But he hadn’t drawn away from her in spite of what she’d revealed and she was so grateful to him for that, knowing there were plenty more who wouldn’t be so generous.
For the first time since Alec had raped her, Carrie voluntarily reached out and touched a man other than her father, patting David’s arm once as she said, ‘Thank you for not hating me.’
‘Hating you? Oh, lass, I could never hate you.’ He stared at her, suddenly tongue-tied. The falling snow had coated her felt hat and the shoulders of her coat, framing her in a circle of white, and she had never looked so bonny. But she was carrying a bairn, another man’s bairn, and a bairn conceived in blind lust, from the little she’d said. But he couldn’t think of that now. If he dwelled on it he knew the feeling rising up in him, a feeling which urged him to force the name out of her so he could go and do murder, would take over. And that would ruin everything. It had happened. That was the crux of the matter. And although he wouldn’t have wished it this way in a million years, it had presented him with his one and only chance of ever meaning anything to her. He would have liked to do it properly. To start courting her, taking her out on his arm to the music hall or the cinema, showing her off to all his pals. Then, once they were engaged, there’d be kissing and clarting on somewhere secluded and private, up near the old quarries like as not where most of the courting couples went after dark. But he’d have waited for marriage and the bedroom before he’d have asked for more than kissing. For Carrie he would. But it was too late for all that. And the folk round here, the old wives and the not so old lasses who had always been a mite jealous of her looks and all would crucify her with their gossip and spite and cold-shouldering. Her life wouldn’t be worth living.
‘Marry me,’ he said again. ‘As soon as possible. That way no one can be sure that the bairn didn’t just come early when it’s born.’
Her hand had fallen to her side and again she was staring at him with great blue eyes. ‘David, that’s impossible, you know it is,’ she said haltingly. He must be feeling sorry for her.
‘No, it’s not. I . . . I think a bit of you, I always have.’
It was Carrie’s turn to flush now. He liked her? In that way? But he’d never said. She spoke the last thought out loud. ‘If that’s true why haven’t you ever asked me out?’
‘Because I knew I didn’t have a chance, I suppose.’
‘But . . .’ She paused, unable to fully take in what he had proposed. And it was a proposal, she told herself shakily. He’d asked her to marry him, even knowing about the bairn. For a second hope soared, for one blinding moment she saw a way out of it all. And then reality kicked in. How could she expect anyone to take her as she was now? He might think he liked her enough but lads always wanted to be the first, didn’t they? With the lass they married? And there was the bairn.
‘But what?’ he asked quietly. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘That you could have any lass you wanted.’
‘Maybe I don’t want any lass.’
‘But the bairn? It would always remind you of how we started.’
Aye, it would. ‘No it wouldn’t.’
‘It would, you know it would.’
She started walking again and he fell into step beside her. He wanted her, and if he had to stomach the bairn to have her, then so be it. Having Carrie as his lass had been a dream before this moment, a far horizon he’d always known deep down he couldn’t reach but which he couldn’t let go of. He played his trump card. ‘What are you going to do if you don’t marry me?’
‘I don’t know.’ They had reached the far end of the Green and again she stopped, pulling her coat collar up round her neck. There followed a silence during which their eyes met and held, and after a little while she said again, ‘It’s impossible,’ her voice trembling. ‘I . . . I don’t want to be anyone’s wife.’ And then, as his face changed, she said quickly, ‘It’s not because it’s you, David, really.’
And she meant that. She had never really looked at him before this day, not in the light of a lad anyway, but now she saw he was rather handsome. Well, not handsome. There was something too strong and rugged about his face for it to be called handsome, but his eyes were lovely. Deep brown and almost velvety; kind eyes.