A Whisper to the Living by Ruth Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

Looking past me, he spoke to his mother. ‘See? I told Nancy not to tell her. I told her I wanted to do it in me own time and in me own way.’ He looked straight at me now. ‘Yes, it is true, Annie. I’m going, sooner or later.’
    ‘Why? Why, Tom?’ My voice was full of pleading as I choked back the tears. How many more people would I lose? Did I have to lose everyone I loved?
    ‘I’m going for a better life, Annie. There’s more chances over there, I’ll get a good job, better training . . . oh heck, how do I explain all this to a child?’
    Mrs Hyatt came to stand beside me, her aproned bulk filling the small space between dresser and table. She placed a fat, heavy arm around my shoulder, but looked at Tom as she said, ‘Nay, Tom. This is no child. This one were never a child, God love ’er.’ Then to me she said, ‘I’ll still be ’ere, you know. And Freddie. We’ll look out for you – you’ve only to bang on the wall.’
    ‘But Tom said he’d always be here, Mrs Hyatt,’ I sobbed. ‘He said he’d always look after me . . . and he tells lies, just like all grown-ups.’
    It seemed to me that this was the last straw, the final betrayal. My Dad gone, my Mam’s affections and attentions directed elsewhere, now Tom was going . . . I would be alone. Utterly, completely, totally alone, no adult on my side, nobody to turn to for comfort or love. Even Tom, my Tom, whom I had begun to trust, was deserting me.
    ‘Is it far to America?’ I gulped between tears. ‘Can I get there on the tram or a trolley-bus?’ But I knew the answer before it came and confirmation arrived in the form of a choking sound from Mrs Hyatt, who turned away quickly towards the dresser. But she was not laughing at me. There was no laughter in those sagging shoulders.
    ‘No, Annie,’ said Tom. ‘It takes a good few days on a ship to get there.’
    I ran to him, flinging my arms about his neck and he drew me gently into his lap. ‘Take me with you, Tom. I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Just take me with you – please.’
    Mrs Hyatt, who was weeping openly now, her wide back shaking with sobs, said, ‘You’re not the only one as’ll miss ’im, Annie. Nay, ’e’ll be very sadly missed, will our Tom.’ Then she went through to the scullery, clattering the pots and pans to drown the sound of her sobbing.
    ‘You’d want your Mam, Annie,’ said Tom gently. ‘You know you can’t leave your Mam. She’ll be needing you one of these days when you’re a bigger girl.’
    ‘She doesn’t need me, Tom. She’s got him.’
    ‘But you love your Mam, don’t you?’
    What a daft question this was. Even the best of adults seemed to ask daft questions. Of course I loved my Mam. But did she love me? If she had loved me, would she have needed that dreadful Eddie Higson, would she have married a man like that? And would we be moving up Long Moor if she loved me?
    ‘Yes, I love my Mam, Tom,’ I answered, almost wearily.
    ‘And if you ever need anybody to help you, or just somebody to turn to, Freddie and my Ma will be here to see to you.’
    Obviously, Tom didn’t know anything about the proposed move. Briefly, I wondered whether or not I’d get into trouble for telling the Hyatts our business, for Mrs Hyatt was, in my mother’s book at least, a busybody and a gossip. But I couldn’t keep it to myself, so, throwing caution to the winds, I blurted out, ‘We’re moving, Tom. Up Long Moor. They’re making me go with them. But if you’d stop here instead of going to America, then I could get back and see you and . . .’
    Mrs Hyatt bustled into the kitchen, drying first her eyes, then her hands on a corner of the capacious apron. ‘Long Moor, you say? When?’
    ‘I don’t know, Mrs Hyatt. Soon, I think.’
    ‘Well!’ She lowered her bulk into a chair. ‘Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stairs! What have I always said, Tom? What have I always said? Ideas above ’er station, that one. By! Next news, she’ll