Free A Whisper to the Living by Ruth Hamilton Page A

wrenched my arm free and began to run, coronet and veil slipping unheeded to the floor.
    ‘Aw, we missed it, luv.’ Mrs Hyatt enfolded me in her large heavy arms then Tom pulled me away from her, lifting me up, swinging me into the air just as my father had used to do.
    ‘You’ve not gone to America, then,’ I said happily.
    ‘Not yet, Annie.’
    ‘But you’re still going?’
    ‘Aye, he’s still going,’ said Mrs Hyatt before moving on to greet my mother.
    ‘Are you alright, Annie?’ Tom whispered.
    ‘Yes, I’m alright.’
    ‘Is he . . . good to you?’
    I looked over my shoulder at Eddie Higson who was standing a little way apart from my mother and Mrs Hyatt. ‘I don’t take any notice of him,’ I said. ‘I just keep out of his road.’
    ‘He doesn’t hit you or anything?’
    I shrugged. ‘Not much. When are you going anyway?’
    ‘Next week.’
    This news dropped like a stone into my stomach and I had to swallow deeply before I could say, ‘I wish you wouldn’t, Tom.’
    ‘Tell you what, Annie. You wait for me and I’ll come back and marry you when I’ve made me fortune. How does that sound?’
    ‘Daft,’ I said, but I knew I was blushing.
    My mother and Mrs Hyatt joined us now.
    ‘Will you come and have a cup of tea with us then, Florrie – and Tom, of course. And I’ve a scone or two and a bit of window pie left – come on back with us.’
    ‘Aye, we will that,’ answered Mrs Hyatt. ‘And I’m sorry we missed your Communion, Annie, but it’s a fair stretch from Ensign Street up here – more ways than one, eh, Nancy?’
    The walk back down Long Moor Lane was uncomfortable, for neither Tom nor Mrs Hyatt spoke to Eddie Higson after the initial greeting. My mother and he walked in front while I skipped along behind, one hand in Mrs Hyatt’s, the other in Tom’s.
    They were, of course, very impressed with the house – or at least, Mrs Hyatt was. Tom had little to say on the subject, but his mother oohed and ahed over every detail, especially when it came to the bathroom and the walk-in wardrobe.
    Eddie Higson, after drinking just one cup of tea, went out to collect money from his customers. In truth, I felt, he went to get away from Mrs Hyatt who, apart from casting the odd furtive glance in his direction, had ignored him almost completely.
    When there remained just the four of us, Mrs Hyatt, more relaxed now, said to my mother, ‘By, tha looks a bit weary, lass.’
    ‘Yes, well, it’s tiring at the mill. I’m starting evening shift soon, so it should be a bit easier.’
    Mrs Hyatt stirred her second cup of tea slowly. ‘And who’ll be looking after ’er while yer out?’ she asked.
    ‘Oh, Eddie’ll see to her.’
    ‘Will ’e now?’
    I felt Tom’s leg brush past mine as he kicked his mother’s shoe under the table. My mother, bristling slightly, spoke up. ‘He’s quite capable of seeing to the child, Florrie. Fact is, Annie can very near take care of herself.’
    ‘Aye, ’appen she might ’ave to an’ all from what I’ve ’eard.’
    In the silence that followed, you might have heard a feather, let alone a pin drop. My mother rose with exaggerated quietness, taking with her the teapot as a signal that the Hyatts were no longer welcome, then she said softly, ‘That, Florrie Hyatt, was all talk and you know it. And if you’ve come all the way from Ensign Street to cause bloody trouble, you can just damn well get back where you belong.’
    Tom, leaning an elbow on the table, put a hand to his forehead. ‘Cut it out, Ma. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again – no good can come of this.’
    But Mrs Hyatt, her colour heightening, jumped up from the table as fast as her bulk would allow. ‘Leopards doesn’t change their spots, Nancy Byrne – ooh, I’m forgettin’ meself, aren’t I? Nancy ’Igson, I mean. What can’t speak can’t lie an’ them as is dead don’t get up and talk for theirselves, do they?’ Her face was darkening to a purplish