He could feel the anger and despair pounding through him like an inferno, a volcano of panic and fear which he couldn’t allow to spill over and betray him.
He had known that this was likely to happen and he had thought he had prepared himself for it, but now that it had happened it was like being caught up in one of the frightening nightmares of his childhood when he was suddenly left alone and afraid in an alien landscape with no one to turn to.
He had prided himself always on being in control, on managing his life so that he never fell into the same trap as his father, so that he never had to live from day to day, dependent on the whim of others; but now all that was gone and along with his anger he felt a choking, killing sense of fear and aloneness.
All he wanted was to go home to Sally, to hold her and be held by her, to take comfort in her body and the security of her love, to know that she still saw him as a man… still valued him and his maleness and did not, as he did, feel that it was diminished by what had happened.
But these were feelings that he sensed rather than understood and analysed, knowing more that he needed the comfort of her body and warmth, her reassurance and her love than understanding why he needed them.
‘I don’t know how Mum’s going to manage now. She relies on me and my wages,’ Duncan was saying miserably.
‘You’ll soon get another job, son,’ Joel told him automatically, reaching out to reassure him even though he knew his reassurance was as worthless as the promises that Ryecart had made them about the success of the company and the security of their jobs.
* * *
‘Have you thought any more about what I said about working full-time?’
Sally paused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
‘I’m sorry, Sister, but I haven’t had the time to talk it over properly with Joel yet.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long; there are quite a few others here who would jump at the chance of the extra money. You’re a good nurse, Sally, and it’s a pity you never went on to specialise further. Still, it’s not too late.’
Sally stared at her. Sister O’Reilly was one of the old-fashioned sort, in her fifties, single and possessed of a lofty disdain for all members of the male sex above the age of twelve, excepting the Pope but including every male member of the medical profession.
‘She ought to have been a nun,’ one of the younger nurses had commented crossly when Sister had ticked her off for flirting with one of the interns on the ward, but Sally, who had shared night duty with her and knew a little more about her background than most, had told the girl not to be dismissive.
‘She’s forgotten more about nursing than you’ll ever learn; and she started learning by nursing her mother and taking charge of her family when she was ten years old.’
That family were all scattered over the world now, some married with their own children, others in the church, and it had been Sister O’Reilly who had taken unpaid leave from her job to go home and nurse the father she had never loved—who could love a man who gave a woman a child every year, even though he could see it was slowly killing her?—through his last illness.
She was one of the old-school nurses and any kind of praise or sign of approval from her was so rare that Sally could only stare at her.
Her, take specialised training, even expect to become a Sister? Just wait until she told Joel that. Joel… today was the day he would learn what was happening at the factory.
She knew that he was expecting the worst, but at least they wouldn’t be as badly off as some others. Why couldn’t Joel see that and be glad about it instead of… ?
When they had first been married he had wanted to help her with the chores, sliding his arms round her waist while they were washing up, kissing the side of her throat, insisting when she was pregnant with Cathy on carrying the vacuum upstairs for her, refusing to let her do any heavy lifting or moving.
And then, when she had first brought Paul home from the hospital and discovered how difficult it was to cope with an energetic toddler and a new baby, he had taken charge of not just the washing-up and the vacuuming but the washing and ironing as well.
She remembered how it had reduced her to silly emotional tears to see his big hands gently trying to smooth out Cathy’s little dresses and Paul’s tiny baby clothes as he’d struggled to iron them, the frustration and helplessness in his eyes as the fiddliness of the task had threatened to defeat him. But he hadn’t given up, and if his ironing had not been up to the standard of her own it had still moved her unbearably to witness his love and care for her and their children.
It had been after that that the first threads of tension had started to pull and then snarl up their relationship.
Paul had been a difficult baby, colicky and demanding, clinging to her and refusing to go to anyone else. He had even gone through a stage when he was two when he had actually screamed every time Joel went near him.
He had grown out of it, of course, but Joel had never been as relaxed or loving towards him as he was with Cathy, and that had hurt her.
Sometimes it was almost as though he actually resented Paul and his demands on her time and attention, seeming not to understand that Paul was a child and that there were times when his needs had to come first.
She knew Joel was worrying about his job and what was going to happen to them if he was made redundant, but why take it out on her and the kids? It wasn’t their fault.
At two o’clock, when her shift ended, her feet and back ached. The last thing she felt like doing was going home to tackle the housework and the ironing. No doubt Joel and the kids would have left the kitchen in its usual mess this morning. Wistfully she imagined how wonderful it would be to go home and find the kitchen spotless, not a dirty plate or cup in sight, the sink cleaned, the floor swept and washed, everywhere smelling fresh and looking polished.
Like her sister’s home? Only Daphne had a cleaner three mornings a week, a small, nervous woman whom Daphne bullied unmercifully and whom Sally privately felt sorry for.
‘I don’t know why I have her; she never does anything properly,’ Daphne had once complained within the woman’s hearing. ‘I’m constantly having to check up on her.’