‘An’ ah’ll probably do an apprenticeship when ah’m fifteen or sixteen,’ said Dave confidently.
‘Well, good to see you are discussing it,’ said Lily.
‘Yes Miss,’ said Winnie, ‘an’ we were jus’ talkin’ about t’white lines.’
‘White lines?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Dave. ‘They ’ave t’biggest playground you’ve ever seen, but right down t’middle they ’ave two parallel white lines about ten yards apart painted on t’tarmac.’
Lily was pleased with the word ‘parallel’.
‘T’keep boys an’ girls sep’rate, Miss,’ explained Winnie.
‘I see,’ said Lily. ‘And does it work?’
Dave grinned. ‘We don’t like bein’ told y’can’t talk t’girls. Seems a daft rule – so we’re practisin’.’
‘Practising?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Winnie. ‘Jus’ in case we ’ave something t’say to each other when we get there.’
‘Ah’ve never really bothered before,’ said Dave.
‘Why is that?’ asked Lily.
Dave pondered this for a while. ‘Well girls are … different.’
‘Very true,’ said Lily. She smiled at Winnie. ‘We are.’
With that they both stood up, walked to the school field, sat ten yards apart and tried to conduct a conversation. Little Malcolm, puzzled at his cousin’s strange behaviour, wandered off to the playground to read Reggie Bamforth’s comic.
The familiar face of Anne Watson suddenly appeared on the other side of the school wall and she waved to Lily.
Lily went over to meet her. ‘Hello, Anne, how are the wedding plans going?’
‘Fine, thanks. It all seems to be happening so fast now.’ She leaned over the wall and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘And I’m definitely applying for the teaching post here.’
‘That’s excellent news!’ said Lily. ‘Good luck.’
‘My other half is not pleased, but I persuaded him it was for the best, as we would have two incomes. That seemed to swing it, particularly as he was on about buying a state-of-the-art workbench and lots of tools. I’ve noticed he’s started reading DIY magazines and has plans to transform our new home with cupboards and shelves.’
‘Sounds as if it’s working out for you,’ said Lily.
‘Hope so,’ said Anne. ‘Anyway, shopping to do. I’m catching the bus into York to try on my dress.’
She waved again and strode off confidently towards the High Street.
Lily was deep in thought when she was startled by the beeping of a motor horn. She looked up to see Stan Coe leaning out of the window of his Land Rover and leering at her as he drove past the school and round the village green. He gave a wave and shouted what might have been an obscenity before driving up the Morton road to meet his friends at the Pig & Ferret.
Lily trembled at the memory of his hands on her shoulders on Coronation Day and considered mentioning his continued attentions to John Pruett. She knew, eventually, this would reach Tom and hoped he might intervene.
It was after lunch in the staff-room that Vera mentioned Tom.
‘Sergeant Feather has been invited this evening, Lily,’ she said. ‘I thought you would like to know.’
John Pruett looked up cautiously from his Times Educational Supplement, while Lily’s cheeks reddened slightly.
‘Thank you for mentioning it,’ said Lily, but she did not progress the conversation.
During the afternoon John organized an extended playtime and the children gathered on the school field to play cricket and rounders. It was while Lily was supervising one of the outdoor sports that she saw Tom drive past in his police car and she wondered about the distance between them.
As they went back into school Reggie Bamforth was walking beside Lily looking thoughtful. ‘Ah’m not goin’ any more to Phoebe’s house t’watch television, Miss,’ he declared.
‘Oh dear, Reggie, why is that?’
‘Las’ time ah went with m’mother an’ we watched summat really scary.’
‘Scary?’
‘Quatermass, Miss.’
Lily remembered reading about The Quatermass Experiment, which had recently begun on BBC television. While it gripped the nation, many terrified children were hiding behind the sofa.
Reggie ran off to join in a cricket match on the school field while Lily leaned against the wall and watched a group of carefree five-year-olds playing ring-a-ring-a-roses in the sunshine.
At the end of the school day Lily and John met in the staff-room and enjoyed a cup of coffee together.
‘I don’t think Vera would approve,’ said John as he added milk to the two mugs.
‘Most certainly not,’ agreed Lily with a smile. ‘I suspect Vera will always serve us tea.’
John settled down in one of the chairs and sipped his coffee thoughtfully. ‘Thank you for all you have done, Lily, and I do hope you enjoy your holiday. Have you any plans?’
‘My mother mentioned a week in Whitby, but that’s all at present. I’m sure there will be days out. What about you?’
‘I’ll be in my garden, I expect. My sister occasionally visits, but nothing really apart from that. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. She’s very disruptive – enjoys tidying up.’
Lily could see the disappointment on his face and realized the headteacher probably led a lonely existence out of school. ‘You must come round for tea one day, John. My mother enjoys making a fuss of visitors. Call in when you’re passing and we can arrange a date.’
John became animated. ‘Thank you so much! That would be lovely.’ He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. He was also aware that Lily’s relationship with Tom Feather appeared to have gone strangely quiet and he wondered why.
As they parted, Lily felt as though she had gained a small insight into the life of her colleague.
When Lily pushed her bicycle down the drive Ruby was standing by the gate.
‘Hello, Ruby,’ said Lily. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine thanks, Miss Briggs. Ah’ve jus’ come t’say ’ello t’my Aunty Gladys. She’s a lovely lady an’ she ’as a great gift.’
‘So I heard.’
‘She’s got them sidekick powers.’
Lily nodded and smiled. ‘So did she tell your fortune, Ruby?’
‘Yes, Miss Briggs, she did. She told me ah’d meet a tall stranger an’ ’e would look after me an’ ah’d be ’appy an’ blessed wi’ children.’
Lily couldn’t think of an appropriate reply. ‘I see,’ she said.
‘But instead ah met Ronnie,’ said Ruby with a shrug. ‘Mind you, ah’ve got two beautiful children. So there are some blessings in life ah s’ppose.’
‘Miss Evans told me you had been invited to her evening soirée.’
Ruby looked puzzled. ‘Y’mean ’er party? Yes, ah’m goin’ wi’ Mrs Trott. She’s thrilled t’be invited. Sounds a posh do. Ah’m puttin’ on m’best frock.’
‘That’s lovely, Ruby,’ said Lily. ‘See you there.’
A small lady with colourful clothes appeared by the steps leading up to the caravan. ‘There she is now,’ said Ruby. ‘Come an’ meet ’er.’
They walked across the village green and Lily propped her bicycle very gently against one of the shafts of the caravan.
‘This is t’teacher ah were tellin’ you about,’ said Ruby.
‘Miss Briggs,’ said Gladys, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you. I know you are always kind towards my favourite niece.’
Lily was fascinated by her birdlike movements and bright-blue eyes. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said.
Gladys studied Lily intently. ‘Tell me, would you like to know a little more about your life?’
Lily was curious. ‘How would you do that?’
‘The simple way is for me to read your palm. It will only take a few minutes.’
Lily looked around her. The village green was empty and the High Street seemed strangely quiet. Why not? she
thought.
Inside the neat caravan there were two chairs on opposite sides of a small round table covered in a blue tablecloth. They sat down and Gladys reached for Lily’s hand.
‘May I?’ she asked and then studied her palm, tracing the lines with a delicate finger. ‘You will have a long life, my dear,’ she said, ‘and there is a strong love line.’
Gladys went very silent for a few moments. Lily realized in this quiet cocoon of space the outside world seemed far away.
‘What you seek is within reach, but only after you solve the problem that is troubling you,’ said Gladys softly.
Lily said nothing, but felt the import of her words. She thanked Gladys and a few minutes later said goodbye and cycled home.
Solve the problem that is troubling you, she thought. Easier said than done.
Back at Ruby’s house, Ronnie arrived with unexpected news.
‘Ah’ve gorra job.’
‘Flippin’ ’eck, Ronnie! Yer a wonder. Jus’ when we needed some extra money. What is it?’
‘Deliveries.’
‘What – in a van?’
‘No.’
‘’Orse an’ cart?’
‘No.’
‘What then?’
‘Mebbe a bike.’
‘A bike?’
‘Yes, but that would be provided as a perk.’
‘So what is this job?’
‘Communications.’
‘Communications – that sounds impressive!’
‘Yes, ah’ll be keeping t’public up t’date wi’ current affairs.’
‘So who’s y’boss?’
‘Miss Golightly.’
‘Y’mean Prudence at t’General Stores?’
‘Yes, an’ ah get paid ev’ry Sat’day mornin’.’
‘’Old on a minute,’ said Ruby. The penny had dropped. ‘Y’deliverin’ papers, aren’t you?’
‘In a manner o’ speakin’.’
‘Well what else is it?’
‘Ah ’ave t’go in early t’write address on t’top o’ each paper – an’ there’s magazines an’ comics as well. It’s a big job.’
‘Ah thought that young lad, Timothy Pratt, delivered papers.’
‘’E did, but he’s packed in t’concentrate on ’is dad’s ’ardware shop.’
Ruby looked at Ronnie and thought Ah’ve got a twenty-one-year-old paper boy for a ’usband. But she realized she needed to be thankful for small mercies. ‘Well, it’s a start, Ronnie … well done,’ and Ronnie drifted off to The Royal Oak to celebrate.
When Agnes arrived home from the chocolate factory Ruby shared the news.
‘Ronnie’s gorra job, Mam,’ she said.
‘Ah’ve ’eard it before, Ruby,’ said Agnes. ‘What is it this time? Road sweeper?’
‘No, it’s workin’ f’Miss Golightly.’
‘What, in t’shop?’
‘No, deliverin’ papers.’
‘Flippin’ ’eck,’ Ruby! When will ’e get a proper job? We’ve ’eard all this time an’ time again.’ Agnes shook her head in disgust. ‘Mark my words, Ruby, it’s that déjà vu all over again.’
Ruby simply looked sad. Whatever déjà vu was, it didn’t sound promising.
In Laurel Cottage Freddie was playing in the small sitting room while Lily and Florence tidied the kitchen.
‘Millicent is giving me a lift to the end-of-year party at the vicarage,’ said Lily, ‘so I’ll be leaving shortly after seven.’
‘I see,’ said Florence quietly. She seemed preoccupied.
‘What is it, Mother?’
‘I was wondering how you can sing in church knowing what you have done.’
‘That’s a hurtful thing to say, and you know I enjoy singing.’
‘Nevertheless it concerns me.’
Lily threw down her tea towel. ‘You see, Mother, that’s the difference between us. It doesn’t shock me and there will be a day when what has happened to me won’t be seen as a great sin.’
Florence looked at her daughter with utter disdain. ‘That can never be.’
Lily closed the door and spoke quietly but firmly. ‘Mother, understand this: I’m a different person now. That impressionable young Land Girl has grown up. You call it shame, but for me at that time it was my first taste of what I thought was love. That silly girl has gone now. I’m a woman who knows her own mind, while your generation are ashamed of an illegitimate birth.’
Florence recoiled in shock and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Don’t say that word.’
‘Oh Mother, can’t you see the world is changing?’
‘Not now, not ever. We have a chance of a new life here in Yorkshire. As you well know, down south the neighbours were beginning to talk about who Freddie’s mother might be. We had to move on.’
‘And we have – it’s fine here.’
‘Yes,’ said Florence bitterly, ‘a life without shame.’
The words were hurtful and cut like a knife. ‘I don’t see Freddie like that. He is not someone I associate with shame.’
Florence shook her head, white with rage. ‘Your father never recovered from the shock. It probably helped to end his days.’
Lily stepped back. ‘That’s a cruel thing to say. Father died of pneumonia. It was an illness that took him from us – not the so-called shame of which you speak.’
She left the room and went upstairs to get changed while Florence sat down, shaking with anger.
Lily and Millicent Merryweather arrived at the vicarage shortly before half past seven, both wearing their best summer dresses. Vera was a keen gardener and rambling blackberry canes and a riot of raspberries covered the walls of weathered brick. She was standing in the porch and came out to greet them.
As Lily walked across the crushed gravel of the courtyard her fingers lightly caressed the mauve flower spikes in a neat border of lavender and she paused to enjoy the scent.
‘My favourite,’ said Vera.
‘You have a beautiful garden,’ said Lily.
‘One of my passions,’ replied Vera with a smile, ‘and aren’t we lucky having such a lovely evening?’
There was still over an hour’s sunlight before darkness began to descend and everyone stayed outside enjoying the early-evening warmth. Albert Jenkins was talking to Valerie Flint and Elsie Crapper while admiring the fragrant honeysuckle and the bright colours of the climbing clematis. Irene Gubbins and Edna Trott were standing next to Ruby, who was pointing out a spectacular border of Victorian roses.
Ruby waved as Lily walked over to join them. ‘Ah love roses, Miss Briggs,’ she said. She looked happy and relaxed in a cotton dress and a straw hat covered in summer flowers. She sniffed a deep-yellow rose appreciatively. ‘An’ that’s a Bobby Dazzler.’
‘An’ ’ave you ’eard t’news ’bout that Stanley Coe?’ asked Irene.
‘That’s right, Miss Briggs,’ said Edna. ‘It’s all round t’village.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Lily.
‘’E’s gone an’ been arrested by PC Dew’irst,’ said Irene.
‘Arrested!’ Lily was shocked. ‘What for?’
‘’E got drunk in t’Pig an’ Ferret,’ said Ruby, ‘an’ ’e were boastin’ ’bout knockin’ you off y’bicycle.’
‘An’ t’landlord rang t’police,’ added Edna.
‘I see,’ said Lily cautiously, but secretly pleased. Everything comes to he who waits, her father used to say.
It was then that Lily saw Tom. He was wearing an open-neck white shirt and a lightweight grey suit and thoughts of Stan Coe getting his comeuppance were dismissed.
Tom was speaking with Captain Forbes-Kitchener and both were drinking warm beer. The captain, as always, was impeccably dressed in his regimental tie and three-piece suit; the vagaries of the weather rarely influenced Rupert’s attire. Meanwhile, Tom was aware of Lily. While he was driving to the vicarage he had decided what he must say to her.
Edna Trott pointed out Prudence Golightly. ‘Lovely t’see Prudence ’ere t’
night,’ she said. ‘She’s certainly been through ’ell an’ ’igh water, poor lass. It were terrible sad ’bout ’er Jeremy. Shot down in ’is Spitfire over t’Channel. ’E were a lovely man by all accounts an’ they were due t’get married. Ah doubt Prudence will ever get over it. She loved ’im t’bits.’
‘Y’right there, Edna,’ agreed Irene. ‘Ah can’t imagine what she’s thinkin’ on a lovely occasion such as this.’
Suddenly there was a tinkling of a spoon tapping a glass and, to Vera’s concern, Joseph appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of celebratory drinks. He placed it carefully on the old wooden table outside the kitchen window and proceeded to distribute a glass to each guest.
‘Time for a traditional end-of-school-year toast, everybody. As a special treat I’ve opened my home-made lavender wine.’ He looked around at the impassive faces. Everyone was aware of the reputation of Joseph’s winemaking.
‘Now, while this may not to be to everyone’s liking,’ he continued, ‘I can assure you it is perfect for a hot summer’s evening. Lavender is of course my dear sister’s favourite flower, so I do hope you will enjoy its distinctive zesty flavour. I’ve no doubt you will agree it certainly has the edge on my potato wine and I’m sure you will appreciate its fine bouquet. So, ladies and gentlemen, friends one and all, and with thanks for your support during another successful school year, the toast is – Ragley School.’
‘Ragley School,’ echoed the throng.
Sadly, Joseph was still a novice winemaker, unaware of the wild yeasts that can abound on fruit and taint the air with an unpleasant aroma. Consequently, a bouquet similar to rotting mushrooms and damp dishcloths swiftly met the nostrils of those assembled, and not surprisingly the generous quantities in the tall glasses found their way in rapid and surreptitious succession into a variety of flower beds and plant tubs.
Throughout the evening conversations ebbed and flowed until a relaxed and happy occasion came to its close. It was almost time to leave when Tom approached Lily.
‘I wondered if you had heard the news about Stan Coe? We’ve got him at last for dangerous driving and he will certainly lose his licence.’
‘Yes, I’ve just heard. Thank goodness. He deserves whatever is coming to him.’
Starting Over Page 26