She remembered sitting up in bed willing herself not to fall asleep, and then whilst it was still dark hearing him plod downstairs; she’d listened for his routine of picking up the bread and cheese that her mother always left ready for him, unhooking his coat from behind the door and his grunt as he pulled on his boots, then the wrench of the door bolt and the click of the latch. She’d waited five more minutes, listening to hear if her mother was rising, but then on hearing her rattling snore had scurried downstairs in her bare feet.
She had known for a long time where her father kept his money; she it was who kept the house clean, the floors swept and the little furniture that they had dusted and polished, and every morning she shook the mat that covered the loose floorboard under which he kept the tin box. She didn’t know where the money came from, but assumed it was from selling shrimps; she and her mother never saw any of it. She didn’t know if her mother knew about the hiding place. Her father paid any bills and handed out coins to buy groceries when they asked, and he always demanded the receipt.
‘I stole money from his secret tin,’ she confessed. ‘I knew he wouldn’t give me any and that my mother had very little, but I was desperate to get out of the district so that he wouldn’t ever find me and I could only do that by catching the train from Hedon to Hull.’
She wiped her eyes and gave a grimace. ‘There was more money in that tin than I’d ever seen in my life, but I didn’t dare take much in case he counted it and came after me.’
She’d wrapped the coins in a piece of clean rag that she used as a handkerchief, knotted it and placed it inside her bloomers, gone back upstairs to dress in her warmest clothes and gone downstairs again to eat her breakfast of bread and dripping. Her mother had come down too but didn’t speak to her, not even when she was putting on her coat and boots ready to leave, but then she had put her hand into her apron pocket and handed her a penny, and said it was all she had.
Jack listened quietly, and then began his own justification. ‘I – I’d – Susan told me that she was expecting,’ he stammered. ‘I hadn’t been – I mean, I’d never … well, it was cos of Ralph Pearce. I’d met him at Patrington hirings ’year before. He allus had plenty of money, his folks have a big farm somewhere round there, and I knocked about with him and we sometimes went to hostelries together.’
He looked down at the ground. ‘He used to tell me about ’girls he’d been with and how … you know, how they were allus willing. I didn’t really believe him, but he kept on about it every time we met, and—’ he swore to himself, calling himself a fool. ‘Well, I suppose I’d got all worked up, and then a bit later Susan was waiting for me; she told me that she’d been talking to Ralph Pearce and he’d told her that I was looking for some excitement.’
Delia turned in astonishment. Why was he telling her this? Where was it leading? ‘I don’t think you should—’ she began.
He ran his fingers through his thick red hair, making it stand up in tufts, and grunted, ‘It’s relevant, Dorothy. It’s relevant!’
She wanted to scream at him that she didn’t want to know about his sordid escapades, that it didn’t excuse what had happened to her.
‘Don’t you see?’ he pleaded. ‘She came to me! And I was green and inexperienced and – and it was so disappointing and I thought that it was supposed to be special, and then about a week later you called and there wasn’t anybody at home …’ He paused. ‘I liked you, Delia. I’d always liked you, but you were allus shy and quiet, and – and I took advantage of you that day, and I’m really sorry. I was sorry as soon as you’d run off home.’
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ He took a deep sighing breath. ‘And if I’d known about … well, I would have done ’right thing by you.’
‘Except that Susan got there first,’ she muttered. ‘Quite a Lothario, weren’t you?’
‘What?’ He gazed at her, not understanding her sarcasm. ‘So where did you go?’ he asked again. ‘How did you manage on your own? Did you get work?’
‘Yes,’ she said wearily, ‘I did.’ She was tiring of telling this story. There could be no end to it, no conclusion, and she was beginning to form the opinion that she was glad she hadn’t told him of her pregnancy before Susan told him of hers. Had she and Jack married, she would have had a loving family in Peggy and Aaron, and a comfortable existence, but would she have been happy in a marriage with Jack?
Delia slowly shook her head; her life alone had been very difficult, but she’d survived and had the constant love of her son to sustain her. She wanted nothing from Jack for herself, but she wanted a loving family life for Robin. He had missed out, just as she had done as a child, but she could do something about it: she could ask Peggy and Aaron if they were still willing to let him stay now that they knew the truth; to let him enjoy the security of a family around him until such time as he wanted to move on or return to an uncertain life with her.
‘I found work as a
