Mrs Flannagan's Trumpet Read online

  Standing with his hands on the sill, he looked into the little square of backyard with its wash-house that was shared with the upstairs tenants, the two dry lavatories, and the two coalhouses, and it was as if he were looking on to a beautiful garden, so great was his reluctance to leave this house in which he had been born and brought up.

  Things weren’t fair, there was injustice somewhere, everywhere really. Why had his father to go and drop down dead two years ago? He was only thirty-eight years old and looked as strong as a horse. They said his heart gave out, but he used to thump his bare chest and take in deep breaths that expanded it four inches. Now if it had been his mother it would have been understandable, because she’d always had a weak chest. Bronchial they called it, bronchial asthma. She couldn’t get her breath at times, and since his father had died it had become worse and worse.

  He supposed he should be glad she had been given the chance to go to this place up in Northumberland, Hexham way. It was a big house on a hill, so he was told, and it was good for people with her complaint.

  He might have looked at things differently if everything hadn’t been arranged by his granny. It was funny, when he came to think about it, but he had only known his granny for two years, in fact since his father died. He had heard about her indirectly through listening to his ma and da talking at night. He could remember his da getting angry and his ma pleading with him, very likely to go along to see the old vixen. He was glad, oh yes, he was glad his da hadn’t given in.

  But it was long before his father died that he had seen his granny’s house, the place where his mother was born. Rock End they called it, and it was well named for it was perched high on top of the cliff with not a house or habitation in sight either way you looked. He had made it his business to go past it on one of his Sunday jaunts. There was a garden, or what should have been a garden around three sides of it, but it was so overgrown it looked like a jungle. In front of it, on the sea side, was grassland, and this ran level for about the size of a good paddock before sloping steeply towards the cliff edge.

  He had come into closer acquaintance with that slope the first time he visited the house. It was after a letter had come from his granny, when his mother had taken him and Penny on their first visit.

  The visits had become numerous, more so over the past few months, and with each one the dislike of his granny had grown, if that was possible. Yet he didn’t mind his grandfather. In a way he felt sorry for him because Gran-Flan seemed to have him under her thumb. And look at the way she worked Daisy Clinton, and her only a bit of a lass, just a year or so older than Penny. But then he hadn’t to forget that Daisy Clinton could take care of herself. She was pert, and cheeky. Oh aye, she was cheeky all right.

  And then there was Mr Kemp, Hal Kemp. His ma said they had to call him Uncle Hal. He disliked him almost as much as he disliked his granny.

  He turned abruptly from the window now and went to a chest of drawers, the top drawer of which he pulled open. From it he grabbed his clean linen and almost in the same movement threw it onto the bed. Then he set about parcelling up the belongings he would need for the next week or so. Only once did he stop his rough bustling to and fro; it was when a thought entered his mind, and the thought was like a voice speaking to him as it said, ‘You never disliked or hated anybody until your da died.’ And he listened to the voice for a moment before he answered it, saying, ‘Well, I hadn’t met me granny then, had I?’

  Chapter Two

  ‘Look, we haven’t time to stop stall gazing.’

  With a jerk of his head Eddie beckoned Penny away from the market stall which appeared to hold every variety of boiled sweet that had ever been manufactured; and when she came to his side she looked up at him and said, ‘I’d like to spend some of me threepence.’

  ‘Well, there’s no time, we’ve got more than a mile to go afore we get to the sands and the cart, and we’ll be lucky if we get to the house afore dark. Anyway, you want to hang on to your money, you never know when you’ll need it.’

  What was he talking about? What use was threepence! Why couldn’t he let her buy some taffy?

  ‘Go on’—he pushed her now—‘don’t take all day.’

  As he waited for her to be served at the stall he looked about him, at the milling crowds that filled the market. He loved the smell of the market, but as strong as the smell was it could never wholly blanket down the smell of the river just beyond it, the river that was alive with life, ships from all over the world sailing up and down it, and its banks covered with yards of all descriptions, mostly connected with the making of ships, iron ships. Everything was iron and steel now. But he liked iron and steel; they were the materials of an engineer. And that’s what he would be one day. By aye! If he had any say in it he’d be an engineer, qualified, with a certificate from technical school …

  ‘Look! Eddie, I’ve got a ha’p’orth of cinder taffy and a ha’p’orth of everlasting stripes; and those are for you, tiger nuts.’ She pushed a bag into his hand, and he looked at it for a moment before weighing it and saying, ‘There’s more than a ha’p’orth here.’

  ‘There’s a penn’orth.’ She turned away from him as she picked out a piece of cinder taffy from a cornet-shaped bag that had been fashioned out of a square of newspaper.

  ‘You shouldn’t have spent a whole penny.’

  She turned a bright face up to him now and pursed her lips before retorting, ‘Well, I did. And I bet, knowin’ you and tiger nuts, there won’t be any left when we get to me granny’s.’

  As he smiled widely at her now his face seemed transformed. The dark, sombre look that it had worn all day was momentarily replaced by a twinkling merriment, made partly self-conscious by the fact of his weakness for tiger nuts. Stuffing the bag of nuts into his coat pocket, he nudged her with his elbows, saying, ‘Come on.’

  As they made their way towards King Street, Penny moved the neatly wrapped parcel of her clothes she was carrying from one arm to the other as she said, ‘This is getting heavy. Do you think we could take the horse tram?’

  ‘What!’ His pleasant expression vanished. ‘Who do you think we are, millionaires? Anyway, when we get to the bottom of Ocean Road, Hal should be there with the cart, that’s if he’s remembered to pull himself out of a pub.’

  ‘Why don’t you call him Uncle Hal?’

  ‘Because he’s not me uncle, he’s me granny’s brother’s son. That makes him me ma’s cousin, so how can he be me uncle?’

  Penny was dragging her feet somewhat when they came to the end of Ocean Road and within sight of a neat looking small flat cart and an equally neat looking horse.

  A man was leaning against the side of the cart. He was of medium build but muscular; his neck was short and thick, making his head appear to be set in his shoulders. His hair sticking out from the sides of his hard hat was brown, and his face was of a ruddy hue. His features were not unpleasant, except that one eye was noticeably smaller than the other, but this gave an odd, merry quirk to his face.

  But his voice belied his expression as he hailed them with, ‘Well, you’ve got here then! You’ve taken your time. What do you think I am, a footman with your carriage and pair?’

  Eddie didn’t answer him but Penny, in a conciliatory tone, put in, ‘It’s a long way, Uncle Hal.’

  ‘It’s a long way, Uncle Hal,’ the man mimicked her now as, bending down, he put his hands under her oxters and lifted her up onto the back of the cart. There, still holding her, he put his face close to hers and again said, ‘It’s a long way, Uncle Hal.’ And at this she laughed nervously.

  ‘You said half past four and it is half past four.’ Eddie had thrown both parcels onto the cart and was now holding in his hand a big gold-cased lever watch.

  Slowly Hal Kemp turned his attention onto him and the watch and he jerked his chin up as he said, ‘My, my! We are somebody, aren’t we, supporting a gold lever? Where did you pinch that?’

  ‘It was me father’s.’ The words came slow and
distinct, and Penny, hitching herself back on the cart, said nervously, ‘Come on, our Eddie, come on, get yourself up.’

  Eddie had called their da, father. Whenever he spoke like that it always meant he was angry inside. Her voice high now, she cried at him, ‘Our Eddie! Come on, me granny’ll be waiting.’

  Eddie snapped the case of the watch closed, put it in his pocket, gave one last look at the man, then hoisted himself onto the back of the cart, and within a minute or two they moved off.

  They travelled by the sea road for some distance. To the left of them was the famous, or infamous, Herd Sands where so many boats had been wrecked and so many lives had been lost, and in sight too of the helpless watchers on the shore. Presently, veering right, they went along a rough track bordered by green fields; then, when almost opposite the Trow Rocks, they turned towards the cliff tops again. Away to the left of them was Trow Point, and close by Graham’s Sand.

  Now the track seemed almost to touch the edge of the cliff as it neared Frenchman’s Bay and although in fact it was still a good many yards from the actual edge, Penny put out her hand towards Eddie, and he, taking it, shook his head at her, signifying there was nothing to be afraid of.

  Once past the point where the coastline penetrated furthest inland, the track, as if tired of travelling along the edge of the cliff, turned abruptly away and dropped into a shallow valley, and when they had ridden up the other side of the valley there in the distance was the house, and to Eddie it looked as uninviting now as on the first occasion he had seen it.

  Even from a distance it looked a long, low house. It was two-storied and built of stone, with a slate roof. Its name, Rock End, signified strength, and it had lived up to it for the past hundred and twenty years, for the North Sea, which pounded the foot of the rocks on which it was built, battered it with its storms and deafened its occupants at least half the year with its thunder. For the rest of the time it made itself heard using different voices according to its moods.

  Hal Kemp turned the cart into the yard that ran by the side of the house. The yard was bordered by a stable, a coalhouse, a wood store, and a wash-house. The wash-house wall adjoined that of the kitchen quarters, the door into which was noticeable in that it was in two halves, like that of the stable.

  As they dismounted, the top half of the door was pulled open to show young Daisy Clinton’s pert face topped by a mass of fair hair. But she did not attempt to open the lower half of the door until Eddie and Penny were standing on the other side, and then, her face one large beam, she said, ‘Look what the tide’s washed up! Well, don’t stand there, come on in if you don’t want the wind to cut the nose off your face.’ And on this she quickly pulled open the lower half of the door and ushered them into the kitchen.

  ‘Here! Give me your bundles.’ She grabbed the parcels from their arms and, throwing them onto a wooden settle that was set at right angles to a huge black-leaded range with a fire burning brightly in the middle of it, supplying heat to the oven at one side and a water boiler at the other, she now turned to them again and with the flat of her hand she pushed Penny in the chest, saying, ‘Eeh! It’s nice to see you, and you gonna stay.’ Then flicking her bright gaze to Eddie, she looked into his straight face and said, ‘Hello, you.’

  Eddie could say that he liked Daisy, she was all right—for a girl—except at times, like now, when she had the habit of acting as if she were older than him, which annoyed him and made him want to put her in her place—sort of. But how did one go about it with someone like Daisy? Now if it had been Penny, or another lad …

  He was thinking up some sharp retort when Hal Kemp entered the kitchen and, going straight to the fire, stood with his back to it. Then bending slightly forward, he lifted up the back of his reefer jacket and rubbed his buttocks vigorously with the palms of his hands as he said, ‘Well now, here we are, delivered all safe and sound. And I hope you know how lucky you are.’ He seemed to be addressing himself particularly to Eddie, and he ended, ‘’Tisn’t everybody that’s taken from the slums into a house like this to be looked after and…’

  ‘What do you mean, slums?’ Eddie’s neck was stretching upwards, his chin thrust out. ‘We never lived in the slums. And this happens to be me grandfather’s and grandmother’s house, so who has more right to be here, eh?’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned! You cheeky young snot.’ Hal Kemp moved slowly from the fire towards the long kitchen table on which were two large trays piled high with tea crockery and surrounded by plates of food. Leaning his hands flat on it he looked across it towards Eddie and, his head now nodding slowly, he said, ‘I’d watch me tongue, young man, if I was you. You’ve hardly got your foot inside the door and you’re claiming ownership.’

  ‘I’m doin’ no such thing, I’m merely sayin’ if it comes to the point we’ve got as much right here as anybody else.’

  They stared at each other fixedly now. Then Hal Kemp, turning his head to the side and his eyes widening, nodded towards Daisy, saying, ‘Did you ever hear the likes of it? I ask you! Do you see what we’re in for? We’re a peaceable family, all of us together, at least we were, but I can tell you this much, Daisy, them days are gone.’

  Daisy’s face was unsmiling now and her voice quiet as she said, ‘I don’t think he meant any harm, Mr Hal.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Daisy, I hope you’re right for all our sakes.’ And on this he nodded at her as he buttoned up his coat and walked to the door and out into the yard again.

  ‘Eeh!’ Daisy’s voice was a mere whisper now. ‘You’ve got on the wrong side of him. Why had you to go an’ cheek him?’

  ‘I didn’t cheek him, I simply told him the truth. And who is he anyway? Me ma said nobody had heard of him for twenty years until a year ago. Anyway, whoever he is’—Eddie’s chin jerked from side to side now—‘he’s not gonna get the better of me…Where’s me granny and granda?’

  ‘They’re in the parlour.’

  ‘Come on.’ Eddie now thrust Penny before him and walked down the length of the long, narrow kitchen and through a door and into a dim square hall that looked at first glance as if it might be the cabin of a sailing ship, for where the wall space wasn’t taken up with doors it was covered with glass cases in which were models of all types of ships, old men of war, whalers, passenger ships, tugs, keels, and even little scullers. The floor was of stone and covered here and there with rope mats.

  Opposite the parlour door they stopped and glanced at each other for a moment before Eddie turned the handle and went in.

  It would have been no use knocking for his granny couldn’t hear him, and on the occasions when he had been here before, his grandfather had been asleep in the big leather chair.

  The difference between the parlour and the hall was striking in that the room was light, even though the twilight was deepening. Moreover, the atmosphere was one of homely comfort.

  As he expected, his grandfather was asleep in his chair. Whether his grandmother was awake or asleep, he couldn’t tell, for she had her back to them. But when she made a movement in the chair he guessed she was awake all right.

  Going ahead of Penny now, he skirted the little round table on which lay her black hearing trumpet, and then he was standing in front of her and marvelling once again that anyone so small and thin, and who looked so old, could contain inside themselves such a voice as hers.

  ‘Hello, Gran.’ He made his lips move widely as he shouted the words.

  ‘Oh, there you are! You’re late. I expected you this afternoon.’ Her big, round faded brown eyes set in their wrinkled pouches looked from him to Penny, then back again as she bawled now, ‘Well! Don’t stand there like a johnny-cum-canny, get your things off. That’s if you’re going to stay.’

  ‘W…hat! What! Oh…hello…hello there.’ They turned to see their grandfather sitting up in his chair rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and they both said, ‘Hello, Granda.’

  ‘Aw, it’s nice to see you.’ The old man put one arm out and drew Penny
towards him, and he extended his other hand towards Eddie, saying, ‘Well, well, now, isn’t this nice! But…but come on, get your things off…’

  Before he had finished the last word, Granny Flannagan bellowed loudly, ‘You gonna eat and sleep in those clothes? Now get your coats off, and out of those boots and into slippers. You don’t get past the hall in boots. Remember that…

  ‘Where’s that girl!’ She now screwed around in her chair. ‘The tea should have been ready ages ago. Don’t stand there, boy, go and tell her.’

  ‘Aw, Gran-Flan, here we go!’

  ‘What?’ The word resounded round the room. ‘What did you say?’ She now picked up her ear trumpet and, putting it to her ear, she turned her head to the side to enable Eddie to shout into it, ‘I said all…right…Gran…!’

  The ear trumpet was replaced on the table, the round eyes stared at him. ‘Did you?’ she said, and he mouthed at her, ‘Yes, Gran,’ before moving hastily away from her chair.

  She was a witch. He didn’t know how he’d be able to stand her for three months. And not only her. No, by the looks of things, not only her. There was that Hal Kemp too. He didn’t like the man. He hadn’t liked him before today but now he liked him less …

  Fifteen minutes later they were all sitting down in the dining room, which, like the parlour, was solidly and comfortably furnished.

  The meal was substantial, consisting of cold meats and pickles and a dish of boiled potatoes from which they all helped themselves. This was followed by large helpings of apple and custard, and it was unfortunate that Eddie wasn’t partial to custard.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ The bawl almost made him jump in his seat. What it actually did do was to cause him to choke, and he spluttered, ‘Aye. Yes, I like it.’

  ‘What did you say?’