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
‘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
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