The Brooklands Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Miss Pips has been jilted – again.’

  Ma glanced up. ‘No! A’ you sure?’

  ‘It’s come from our Betty. Wedding’s off. Well, they’re saying “postponed”, but we know what that really means, don’t we? Fancy, I’d’ve thought that if anyone would have been able to hold on to a man, it’d’ve been Miss Pips. Even in these times.’

  Ma made no comment and Bess looked down at her. ‘You all right, Ma? You look a bit peaky.’

  ‘She’s not been herself for a few days now,’ Norah said anxiously. ‘I wanted her to stay in bed this morning, but she insisted on getting up.’

  ‘Have you seen the doctor?’

  Norah shook her head. ‘She won’t have him sent for, though . . .’

  ‘I am here, you know. Stop talking about me as if I wasn’t. If I tek to me bed, I’ll never get out of it again and I’ll tell you when I need a doctor.’ Her toothless mouth worked and her voice was unusually shaky as she said, ‘But I’ll tell you what I do need. I want to see William just one last time. I’m not long for this world and I want to see him afore I go. So there, now you have it.’

  Norah gasped and her eyes widened as she stared first at Ma and then at Bess. ‘Len’ll never allow it,’ she whispered.

  Bess stood for a long moment, looking down at the woman she had known all her life. The woman she’d always been able to run to with her troubles, who’d never shunned her like some of the villagers did. If Bess Cooper loved anyone outside her own family, then it was Ma Dawson and she felt a lump rise in her throat to think that soon, perhaps very soon, this woman would no longer be here.

  ‘You leave Len to me, Norah.’

  ‘Oh Bess, I don’t think . . .’ she began, but Ma raised a hand that trembled slightly to stop her.

  The old lady’s eyes were on Bess as she said, ‘Just don’t make trouble for Norah, Bess, that’s all I ask. She’s been the best daughter-in-law anyone could have wished for and she’s still got to live with him once I’ve gone. There’ll be nobody here then to stand between her and him. I know he’s my son and he’s been good to give me a home all these years, but I have to admit, he’s not the easiest of men to live with.’

  Bess squatted her huge frame down in front of Ma, took her hands and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I promise I’ll always watch out for Norah, Ma. When your time comes – and I hope it’s not yet – I’ll be a friend to Norah.’

  Ma nodded and a tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek. Both Norah and Bess were shocked. They couldn’t remember ever seeing Ma shed tears, not even when news had reached them that three of her four grandsons had been killed on the Somme. Now, only William, the black sheep of the family, remained and Ma wanted to see him once more before she died.

  Bess marched down the lane towards Len’s workshop. She could hear her son-in-law, Sam, at the anvil, but it was Len she wanted to see. She found him in the carpenter’s shop putting the finishing touches to a coffin. Luke was nowhere to be seen, though; at fourteen, he had left school at the end of the previous term and was now working full-time with his grandfather in the workshop that would one day be his.

  ‘’Morning, Len. Who’s that for, then? Someone round here?’

  ‘An old boy in Skellingthorpe. Passed away two days ago. Funeral’s early next week.’

  ‘Sad to say, Len, I think you’ll be making one soon for Ma.’

  Len stopped sanding down the oak and glanced up at her, frowning.

  ‘She’s not well. I’ve seen a change in her this morning.’

  ‘Has Norah sent for Dr Maitland?’

  Bess shook her head. ‘Ma won’t hear of it. Not yet. But, Len, there is something she wants before she passes and you’ll just have to accept it.’

  His frown deepened but he said nothing and Bess wondered if he had an inkling as to what she was going to say next. She took a deep breath. ‘She wants to see William one last time.’

  Len growled in his throat and turned back to start rubbing vigorously at the coffin again. ‘Never! I won’t have that coward in my house.’

  Bess folded her arms across her ample bosom and faced him fearlessly. There was no one in the village she was afraid of and there were only a few folk she respected enough to treat them with deference. Len was not one of them, though his mother was.

  ‘You’re a selfish man, Len Dawson, and stubborn as an old goat carrying on this feud all these years with the only son you have left, but I didn’t think even you would deny your own mother her dying wish.’

  Len continued to sand the woodwork, his mouth tight.

  ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Len. When the time comes – and I don’t reckon it’s going to be long, she’ll be lucky if she sees Christmas this year and that’s only a few weeks away – I’m going up to the hall to see your Alice and Mrs Maitland.’

  ‘You’d do best to mind your own business, woman, and keep your nose out of matters that don’t concern you.’

  ‘Ah, but it does concern me.’ She took a step forward. ‘Your mam has been a good friend to me all me life.’

  ‘More fool her, then. You’re nowt but an old gossip.’

  Bess laughed raucously. ‘Oh, I know that. You can’t insult me, Len Dawson. Anything you say has all been said before.’ She paused, giving him the chance to change his mind, but when he remained silent, she added, ‘So, if you’ve nothing more to say, then that’s what I’m going to do.’

  With that parting shot, Bess turned on her heel and marched back up the lane towards her own cottage, her mind firmly made up.

  Forty-Five

  Probably because of her own willpower, Ma lived to see Christmas, but in the New Year of 1930 she could no longer get out of her bed and downstairs to sit in her favourite chair by the range.

  ‘Well, Norah duck,’ Bess said, ‘time’s come. I told your Len afore Christmas exactly what I was going to do and now I’m going to do it.’

  ‘Oh Bess, please . . .’ Norah began, but Bess had already marched out of the scullery and into the lane towards the hall where she was sure of a welcome and a sympathetic ear. She knocked on the rear door and waited until the kitchen maid opened it.

  ‘Come in, Mrs Cooper,’ the young girl said politely. ‘Have you come to see your Betty?’

  ‘No, duck. I’ve come to see Alice.’

  ‘Come in, then. I bet Mrs Bentley’ll find you a cuppa.’

  As she stepped into the kitchen, Bess was greeted warmly by the cook. ‘Now then, Bess, what brings you here? Have you come to fetch Harry? He’s playing with Miss Daisy somewhere in the garden, but don’t ask me where. She’s keeping him amused now that Luke’s a working man, though they’ll both be back at school next week. I’ll send Jake to find ’em. You sit down at the table and I’ll make tea for us both. I could do with a sit down.’

  ‘No, leave ’em be. It’s Alice I’ve come to see. She needs to know that her grandmother isn’t well.’

  Mrs Bentley looked startled. ‘Ma? Oh my! I never thought to hear it. I thought she’d last all of us out. Has Master Robert or Dr Everton seen her?’

  Bess shook her head. ‘She refuses to have a doctor, but she has made one request and that’s why I’m here. She wants to see William one last time.’

  ‘I bet that’s set the cat amongst the pigeons in the Dawson house, hasn’t it?’

  Grimly, Bess nodded. ‘You could say that. I’ve had a go at Len, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. Says he won’t have William in the house.’

  Mrs Bentley shook her head sadly. ‘He’d even spite his own dying mother, would he?’

  ‘Seems like it.’

  The cook turned to the kitchen maid. ‘Rosie, duck, go and find Miss Alice and ask her to come down here, would you?’ She turned back to Bess. ‘We still call her Miss Alice, even though she’s now Mrs Maitland. We tried calling her that when she first married Master Robert, but it got so confusing, she herself suggested we just call her “Alice” like we always had, being as how she was once one of us, b
ut we all felt we should give her a bit of a title, you know. So, Miss Alice it is.’

  ‘I bet it was difficult for all of you, her being a servant like the rest of you and then suddenly becoming your mistress.’

  Despite the seriousness of Bess’s visit, Mrs Bentley chuckled. ‘We all thought it would be, but d’you know, Bess, the girl herself was so diplomatic. She still treats us like she always did – as her friends. Besides, none of the Maitland family have ever referred to us as “servants”. We’re their employees, certainly, but they treat us with kindliness and respect. Always have done.’

  Bess opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment the door opened and Rosie came into the kitchen followed by Alice.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Cooper. How can I help you?’

  Mrs Bentley pulled herself to her feet, murmuring, ‘I’ll get you some tea.’

  And as Alice said, ‘That’d be lovely, Mrs Bentley, thank you,’ Bess saw and heard for herself the easy relationship between the former lady’s maid and the rest of the staff.

  ‘It’s more I’ve come to help you, duck,’ Bess said. ‘I’ve been to your mam’s this morning and Ma’s not well, but before you say anything, she don’t want the doctor. Adamant, she is.’

  Though there was concern in her eyes, Alice said, ‘Well, we’ll see about that.’

  ‘There’s summat else, though. She wants to see William just one more time, she said.’

  ‘Ah, now I see.’ Alice sighed heavily. ‘I don’t think that’s going to be easy. I don’t expect my father . . .’

  She got no further as Bess shook her head. ‘I’ve been to see him and his answer was “never”. But you see, I thought that if you wrote to William, he’d come anyway and maybe – somehow – he could see her.’

  Alice chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully and then said, ‘I’ll need to talk it over with Robert – see what we can do.’

  As Mrs Bentley placed a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits on the table, she glanced at each of them in turn. ‘Well, there’s one person who could sort all this out.’ They both looked up at her, the same question in their eyes. Though not a word was spoken, Mrs Bentley answered it herself. ‘Miss Pips, of course. She’d go and fetch William home – and she’d sort that old devil out.’

  Alice and Bess glanced at each other and then smiled. ‘Of course,’ Alice said. ‘It’s Pips we need.’

  ‘But isn’t she – well – I mean . . .?’ For once in her life Bess was flustered. ‘We’ve all heard the wedding is off. Mebbe she won’t feel able to help us.’

  ‘The wedding has just been postponed, that’s all,’ Alice explained. ‘Poor Major Allender has some problems in his life, which need to be sorted out first. I can’t go into details – it wouldn’t be right – but believe me, they are still engaged.’

  Bess smirked. Now she had a fresh piece of news to impart and it was straight from the horse’s mouth, as she was so fond of saying.

  Mitch had been as good as his word and Pips flew his plane often. It felt glorious to be up above the clouds and being able to fly solo was even more liberating. She felt so carefree, but in January came news from Doddington that would mean she could put her newfound skill to good use.

  She wrote a swift note to George.

  I have to go home. Ma Dawson is evidently quite ill and as she’s in her nineties, we have to treat it as serious. Robert has suggested that I should go out to Belgium and bring William back. She’s asking to see him one last time. Take care, my darling, don’t worry and I’ll see you soon. P xx

  She arrived home late in the evening.

  ‘How is she, Father?’ Although Edwin had officially retired, Ma had asked for him to attend her.

  ‘Not good, I’m afraid. She’s failing fast but she must be a big age, Pips. I don’t know if there’s time for you to fetch William.’

  ‘I’ll drive back tomorrow and I already have permission to borrow a plane. Perhaps I should have gone straight away, but I wanted to come home and see for myself how bad she is.’

  ‘A – a plane?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Pips said airily. ‘Mitch Hammond’s. I can borrow it any time I want, so I can fly out to Belgium and bring William back.’

  Edwin shook his head. ‘You never cease to amaze me, Pips.’

  ‘Now, if Cook can find me something to eat, I’ll get to bed. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.’

  Her visit to the Dawsons’ cottage early the next morning left Pips feeling very sad. Ma Dawson had been a part of her life – an important part. No one – not even Henrietta Maitland – had Ma’s shrewd wisdom. She’d seemed indestructible, but now she was a frail old lady lying in her bed unable even to get down the stairs, though her mind seemed as sharp as ever.

  ‘Open the window for me, Miss Pips. I must get some fresh air even though I can’t get outside no longer.’

  Pips pushed open the casement window, which, despite its age, worked surprisingly easily. She guessed that Ma had it open every day.

  Pips stood looking down at her for a few moments. She cleared her throat and said, in the tone that brooked no argument, ‘Ma, I’m going to Belgium to fetch William home to see you. I know it’s what he’d want and I think it’s what you want too, isn’t it?’

  Ma’s rheumy eyes filled with tears and, not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

  Pips patted her wrinkled hand and left the room before she should break down herself. Pips never cried – at least that’s what she always told herself – but there were times when tears were very close and this was one of those times.

  Back in the kitchen, she met Norah’s gaze. ‘I’m going to Belgium to fetch William home to see his grandmother. And if you want me to deal with Mr Dawson for you, then I will.’

  For a moment, Norah hesitated and lowered her head. Then she straightened her shoulders. ‘No – no, I’ll tell him. For once in me life, Miss Pips, I’ll stand up to him. Surely . . .’ She shook her head as if unable to believe what she was obliged to say. ‘Surely he can’t begrudge his mother – his dying mother – the chance to see her only surviving grandson one last time?’ She met Pips’s gaze again as she added in a whisper, ‘Can he?’

  Pips shrugged then added, ‘William’ll have to come here to see her, of course, but he can stay at the hall with us.’

  Pips drove back south and went straight to Brooklands. Coming straight to the point, she asked Mitch, ‘Would you trust me to fly your two-seater to Belgium to pick up William Dawson and bring him home?’

  Without hesitation, Mitch grinned at her. ‘Of course. I don’t know of a safer pair of hands.’

  Pips smiled at the compliment. ‘Thanks.’

  His face sobered. ‘Besides, I remember William and what he did. He was the one who helped you pull me out of the wreckage, wasn’t he? When do you want to go?’

  ‘As soon as possible. His grandmother’s dying and it’s her wish to see him one last time.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Pips. Of course, I’ll be glad to help. Do you know of somewhere you can land safely over there?’

  ‘The area where he lives wasn’t badly shelled and his father-in-law is a farmer, so there should be a reasonably smooth grass field somewhere nearby.’

  ‘Right. We’ll get her ready for you and you can go whenever you want.’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing?’

  ‘Fine. I’ll make some contacts, sort out any permissions you need and get some maps ready for you.’

  The flight across the Channel was uneventful and she landed in a field not too far from Mr Dupont’s farm where William and Brigitta now lived. Farm workers stopped their work in the fields and hurried towards the plane as Pips climbed out. She greeted them in English and asked how far she was from the farmhouse. One fair-haired youth, with a hoe in his hands, began speaking to her in halting English and gesticulating. She understood a few words, mainly that he would take her there. She smiled her thanks and began to follow him across the field, leaving the other workers mi
lling around the plane.

  The boy led her out of the field and down a lane. After only a few moments the farmhouse she remembered came into view. He waved his hand towards it and said, ‘Here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she responded and, with a nod and a wave of thanks, entered the farmyard. At the far end, William, about to enter the house, paused.

  ‘My goodness,’ he said as he came towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘I never expected to see you here.’ He frowned as he added, ‘And you’ve no luggage. What on earth is going on, Pips?’

  ‘I’ve an overnight bag in the plane.’

  ‘Plane? Don’t tell me that was you just now flying overhead and landing over yonder?’

  Pips grinned. William hadn’t quite lost all his Lincolnshire sayings. ‘It certainly was.’

  ‘So why are you here? Just out for a joyride and got lost?’ He chuckled.

  Pips’s face sobered. ‘I’ve come to fetch you home for a visit, William. Your grandma is very ill and – to put it bluntly – not likely to live much longer. But she wants to see you one last time, she said.’

  Pain flitted across William’s face. ‘What about me dad?’

  ‘Never mind him. You’ll stay with us at the hall and visit your grandmother when he’s out of the way.’

  ‘If he finds out I’ve even been in the house, he’ll give my mother a hard time.’

  Pips pulled a face. ‘Possibly, but your mother even said that – this time – she will stand up to him.’

  William grunted. ‘She’ll suffer for it, if she does.’ He sighed heavily and was quiet for a few moments.

  ‘William, I am not going back without you, so you’d better get your bag packed.’

  William smiled wryly. ‘Well, there’s no argument then, Miss Pips, is there?’

  Pips laughed. ‘Not really, William, no. Now, where’s your lovely wife and those handsome sons of yours?’

  Forty-Six

  It was, quite literally, a flying visit, but Pips was made so welcome and the whole family pressed her to come again in happier circumstances, that she promised she wouldn’t let so much time elapse again.