‘Promise?’
‘Aye, aye, I promise.’
Once she was alone again she stood quite still with her back pressed against the wall and one hand to her throat. What was she going to do? Her heart was thumping fit to burst. She couldn’t just carry on, she had to
do
something. And the answer came so clearly she suddenly realised she had been anticipating this moment for days, ever since the nausea had begun to make itself felt.
She had to tell Alec.
Carrie shut her eyes tightly, taking a gulp of the soupy grey air. If she told Alec she was having a bairn he would have to marry her, wouldn’t he? She began to tremble, the hand clutching her throat working convulsively and the other dropping across her stomach before she brought it sharply away, her whole being recoiling from the thing growing inside her. And that was how she thought of it, as a thing, something dirty and horrible brought about by an act that had been dirty and horrible. How could she ever have thought she loved Alec Sutton? She must have been stark staring mad.
The chill of the foggy air made her shiver but she felt too desolate to go back into the warm womb of the market. She had to tell him, there was nothing else she could do, and if they were married straight away no one would know about the bairn. Folk would just think it had come early and even if they suspected something they wouldn’t know for sure. But what would her mam and da say? She’d have to tell them. She moaned, deep in her throat. And if she was married she’d have to lie with Alec Sutton, let him . . . She swung her head to the side. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t be able to bear it, she’d rather kill herself. No, no, she wouldn’t. She lifted her head, gazing up into the opaque sky as her thoughts tumbled on.
She was scared by the thought of dying but she didn’t want to live either, not with this thing growing inside her and the thought of Alec being able to touch her whenever he wanted. Oh, if only she could just go back to Renee’s wedding day, to the person she had been then. That girl seemed like a stranger now. And whatever happened in the future, there would be some who would whisper she was a trollop who had gone to the altar with her belly full, even if they didn’t say it to her face.
When Lillian bounced out of the market a few minutes later, pleased as Punch by her bargaining prowess, she was slightly aggrieved at the lack of enthusiasm when she showed Carrie her purchases. Her tone reflected this when she said, ‘Look at these veg, lass, they’re still as good as when they were pulled, and there’s enough bacon bits here to make a couple of pans of broth and then some. Old Jimmy threw in the pig’s trotters for nowt an’ all, and they’re big ones.’
‘Thanks.’ Carrie took the bags and her change. ‘Thanks very much.’
Somewhat deflated, Lillian reminded herself that her friend was middling - you only had to look at Carrie to see that. Silently the two girls walked to the tram stop. This made it all the more surprising to Lillian when, having alighted from the tram in Cornhill Terrace before walking to the bottom of James Armitage Street, Carrie continued past her own house, saying, ‘I’ll just pop in and thank your mam and da for their card before I go in.’
‘What?’ Lillian had stopped at Carrie’s doorstep and she had to hurry to catch up. ‘Ee, you don’t have to do that, lass, not with you feeling bad. They won’t expect it . . .’ Her voice trailed away. Carrie wasn’t listening.
What was she going to say to Alec if he was at home? And how could she bear to be in that room where it had happened? Carrie’s mind went blank for a moment. When the blankness passed the first question she asked herself was, can you do this without letting Mrs Sutton suspect something’s wrong? She answered this immediately. What did Mrs Sutton matter now anyway? She couldn’t let more time go by, not now, not after tonight. Something had changed as she’d stood outside the market and the last vestige of hope had gone. She had to face this, she couldn’t pretend any more. And part of facing it was acknowledging that Alec Sutton didn’t care a fig about her; he hadn’t even tried to see her again or sent her a note asking if she was all right . . .
Carrie gazed ahead down the dark terraced street, the bricks stained by smoke and grime from the collieries and factories and hundreds of house chimneys, and her face was grim.
If he was in she would ask him, very politely, if she could have a word with him outside, and his mam could think what she liked. If he wasn’t home she would leave as soon as she could and wait on the corner of Collingwood Street. That way she would see him from whichever direction he came. But whatever, she
would
tell him. He might not care about her, and she felt she hated him, but with a bairn on the way everything was different.
Alec wasn’t in. When the two girls entered the aseptic environment Lillian called home, only Olive Sutton looked up from where she stood ironing, and again the smell of bleach was overpowering. She ignored Carrie, looking directly at her daughter as she said, ‘What time do you call this, miss?’
‘We waited at the market, you know, for stuff to come down.’
‘No need for that, we can afford to pay our way, I’m sure.’
Lillian’s mam was being nasty. Carrie stared into the sharp-featured face in front of her. Mrs Sutton knew full well her da was off sick and money was short and this was her way of rubbing it in. For a second the churning feeling the older woman’s antagonism always wrought in her was paramount, and then Carrie’s chin lifted and she mentally braced herself to speak to Olive.
‘I came to say thank you for the birthday card, Mrs Sutton,’ she said flatly.
Aye, and pigs might fly. Olive Sutton stared at the girl who had ceased to be merely an irritant years ago and was now a constant thorn in her flesh. Thought she was the cat’s whiskers, did Carrie McDarmount, and no doubt the chit had been hoping Alec or David would be at home. Man mad, like her sister, with the same come hither look in her eyes, but she would see her lads rot in hell before she let another of them marry a piece of McDarmount scum. But she knew how to get under this one’s skin.
Olive smiled thinly. ‘And how’s your da’s foot, Carrie? Surely he’s back at work now.’
‘Not yet, Mrs Sutton, no.’
‘Dear, dear. How long does it take for a bit of bruising to go down?’ There was no mistaking her meaning, and Olive noted the sudden flush in Carrie’s cheeks with some satisfaction. She’d bet her last farthing that the only thing wrong with Sandy now was his back - it stuck to the bed of a morning. But this dimwit standing in front of her, blue eyes ablaze, would never see it. The Pope, Archbishop and King all rolled into one, Sandy McDarmount was, according to Carrie.
‘My da can’t even get his boot on yet and he can hardly go down the pit barefoot.’ Carrie’s tone was such that if Lillian had spoken in the same manner Olive wouldn’t have been able to keep her hands off her. As it was, Olive contented herself with glaring her dislike before turning her gaze on her daughter. ‘You, get yourself to bed, and don’t think you’re going to the social after church tomorrow neither.’
‘Aw, Mam.’
‘And don’t “aw, Mam” me, madam, not unless you want to feel my hand across your mouth.’
Carrie knew she had better go. Mrs Sutton was just going to take it out on Lillian like she always did, and she didn’t want to get her friend into any more trouble. She turned on her heel, only to become still as Mr Sutton walked in through the scullery, with Alec and David behind him.
It had been bad enough to be in the room that carried memories of such abasement and Carrie had been stifling her panic through the altercation with Lillian’s mother. Now, as her gaze was drawn to Alec’s face, she became rigid with burning humiliation and bitterness. He looked the same lad she had always secretly loved and admired - handsome, smiling, carefree. How could he look the same after what he’d done to her? She stared at him but he was looking past her at his mother, and after a short, tense silence it was Mr Sutton who said, ‘What’s going on?’ and his eyes, like Alec’s, were on Olive.
‘Going on?’ Olive’s voice was sharp. ‘Nothing’s “going on” as you put it. I’ve just told your daughter I won’t have her coming in at this time of night, that’s all.’ She didn’t add, not that it’s any of your business, but the tone of her voice said it for her.
Ned continued to stare at his wife, his words slow, deep and flat when he said, ‘I thought she was doing some shopping for you.’
‘So? That doesn’t give her leave to stay out all hours, does it?’ And then, as Olive’s gaze moved past her husband to the two young men standing behind him, she said even more sharply, ‘I thought you and David were attending some union meeting the night.’
‘We met in the street a couple of minutes ago, Mam.’ It was Alec who spoke and his tone was one of appeasement. ‘I’ve been in town like I told you.’
‘Right.’ Olive nodded, her face softening as she looked at him.
Carrie sensed immediately this explanation had pleased Mrs Sutton although she didn’t understand why. It seemed to infuriate Mr Sutton, however, who muttered, ‘Aye, wouldn’t be seen dead with us, would you, lad?’ He took a deep breath but whatever he had been about to say was pre-empted by Lillian.
‘We went to the Old Market, Da,’ she chimed in, ‘me an’ Carrie, and waited till they started clearing up. That’s why we’re late.’
Lillian’s face was trying to convey what she didn’t like to put into words, and now Carrie said quietly, ‘It was my fault, Mr Sutton. I wanted to wait.’
‘Oh aye?’ Ned nodded at her, his face smiling even as he thought, of course, that’s what this is all about. Olive’s turning the knife as only she can. By, he’d swing for her one day, he would straight. ‘Makes sense to me, lass. I like a woman who’s canny with her money.’
She had to say something to Alec right now. Carrie wanted to put her hand over her heart which was beating so violently she was sure they would all notice, but before she could steel herself to look at him again, he spoke, a lilting note in his voice.
‘Want to know how my bit of business in town went then, Mam?’ And before Olive could respond, he continued, his gaze sweeping over all of them as he thrust his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat, rocking on his heels with mock dignity. ‘You are now looking at the fiancé of Miss Margaret Reed, spinster of this parish, although not for much longer if I have my way.’
‘You asked her?’ Olive’s face was alight, her voice high.
‘Aye, I asked her.’ Alec was laughing. ‘After I’d spoken to Mr Reed in his study, all very formal and above board.’
Miss Margaret Reed. Alec worked for a Mr Reed who owned a string of gents’ outfitters throughout Monkwearmouth and Bishopwearmouth. Only a few months ago Olive had been full of how he had been promoted to manager of his particular shop . . . Carrie’s mind was working after a fashion but curiously she didn’t seem able to feel anything. She knew she was staring at Alec but he was looking everywhere but at her. It struck her he hadn’t once looked her full in the face since he had walked into the house.
‘And how was he, Mr Reed? When you asked him like?’ Olive’s voice was bright, eager. It didn’t sound like her at all.
‘Said he’d been expecting it. He thought Margaret had made her choice some time ago, and of course they’ve always made me very welcome at the house.’
It didn’t occur to Carrie until some time later that none of the others present had said a word, and such was her state of mind she couldn’t have said how Mr Sutton and his other two children had taken Alec’s news. She felt strange, tingly, but when she moved, her feet seemed like lead and her head dizzily light.
You can’t pass out, not here, not with Alec Sutton looking on.
‘I have to go.’ Her lips felt numb as she spoke.
‘You all right, Carrie?’ It was David who spoke, and when she looked at him she saw his eyes were tight on her face.
‘No, she’s not,’ Lillian answered her brother. ‘She felt bad at the market, didn’t you, Carrie? That’s one of the reasons we were late back,’ she added with a sidelong glance at her mother.
‘Bad?’
‘It was nothing.’ Carrie brushed David’s concern aside with a flap of her hand. ‘And I really do have to go.’
‘Make sure you tell your mam there’s going to be another wedding soon, and a right grand one I don’t doubt.’ Olive made no effort to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. Walter might have married beneath him, but Alec had more than made up for his brother’s shortcomings. Alec and Mr Reed’s daughter! This would show the McDarmounts and some others hereabouts she could name that the Suttons were a cut above. By, it would.