Amy descended the steps on feet that felt as though she was floating and, as Jude trod behind, his whole body became lighter and less substantial, as though caked mud was crumbling away, leaving him with a sense of total freedom.
To their delight, the basement seemed perfect. It required decorating and shelving, and a counter from which to serve, but other than that it filled Amy and Jude with such anticipation of how it could be transformed that they let their imaginations fly. After further discussion reassuring them that they had made a wise decision, Amy and Jude bade Noah goodnight and began walking back the way they had come, their homeward journey, unlike the outward one, lively with talk. Cresting the brow of the slope leading to their part of the town, Jude slowed to a halt. Amy turned questioning eyes on him. Was he having doubts? Had they been too hasty in accepting Noah’s offer?
Her excitement fluttered and began to fade, only to be revived as Jude pulled her into his arms saying, ‘Look up, Amy. Look up.’ He pressed his cheek against hers. ‘Do you see all the stars, Amy? They’re shining for me and you.’ Amy tilted her head, and Jude continued. ‘When I was in France I’d look up at ’em, knowing that the same stars were shining down on you and Kezia, keeping us safe for one another. They’ve seen us through good times and bad, always been there, just like you have for me, putting up with my crazy tempers and my foul moods. You’re as constant as the stars and so is my love for you.’ A passionate kiss sealed his words. In the warmth of his embrace, just at that moment, Amy believed that every part of her life was wonderful.
Arms linked, they resumed walking, a sudden flurry of snowflakes dancing in the light of the gas lamps and whitening the pavements. Amy’s eyes moistened and she couldn’t decide whether it was snow melting on her lashes or grateful tears seeking release. ‘This is going to be the best Christmas ever,’ she said, squeezing Jude’s arm as she glanced up at him. ‘We’ve weathered the storms and, God willing, we’re on our way to securing a bright future for Kezia and us.’
Suddenly, they were running hand in hand, slipping and sliding and cheering and laughing, chasing away the dark shadows and running freely into the light.
31
Christmas trade was all that Amy hoped it would be. On Christmas Eve afternoon Jude and Amy bade fond farewells to the market traders they had worked alongside, whilst Kezia and Maggie ran from stall to stall saying their goodbyes and buying last minute Christmas treats.
Amy smiled up into Jeb’s kindly face. ‘Thanks for everything,’ she said, ‘and if our customers come looking for us don’t forget to tell them we’ll be opening in Bankside Street early in the New Year.’
‘Don’t you worry, I’ll chase ’em up there if I have to,’ said Jeb, giving Amy a swift hug and then shaking Jude’s hand.
Back home in Wentworth Street, Kezia and Maggie finished decorating the tree in the parlour with the baubles Gertie had given them, Kezia declaring that it was the best dressed tree in Barnborough. ‘This is a special Christmas, isn’t it?’ she said, turning to Jude and Amy who were sitting at the hearth drinking tea.
Amy’s eyes glowed. ‘It is. It’s special for all of us, and the New Year will be even more special. We’ll be proper book sellers, and Maggie will be the prettiest receptionist that Dr Hargreaves has ever had.’ She didn’t tell them that it might be special for another reason; she just hugged the hope deep inside. After Christmas she’d make an appointment with Dr Hargreaves.
Maggie flushed and tossed her glorious mane of red hair before bestowing a smile on the couple who had given her a loving home and the confidence to apply for what she thought was a far superior post to that of shop work or going into service. Although she still missed Bert and Beattie she couldn’t have wished for kinder substitutes; even Jumpy Jude as she secretly thought of him. Silently, she made a solemn promise not to let them down.
*
On Boxing Day, Amy and Jude and the girls trudged through the snow to Intake Farm, stopping every now and then to throw snowballs, or for Kezia to plunge into the drifts blown against the hedges. They had spent Christmas Day at home, the house redolent with the smell of roast goose and mince pies as they ate a grand dinner and played games, everyone in high spirits and Amy basking in the shared love and happiness that permeated every corner. What a difference from last Christmas, she thought, as they arrived at the farmhouse door.
Bessie welcomed them fulsomely, Amy noting for the umpteenth time that her mother was mellowing with age. Albert and Fred whooped their delight at seeing the girls and wasted no time in persuading them to go out into the yard for a snowball fight. Jude sat talking over Noah Wiseman’s offer with Raffy and Samuel, and Amy talked babies with Freda. Now in her seventh month of pregnancy, Freda lounged like a beached whale revelling in Samuel and Bessie’s ministrations.
‘I hope to goodness it’s a boy, for Samuel’s sake,’ said Freda, patting her bump.
‘So do I,’ said Bessie, plumping the cushion at Freda’s back before handing her a cup of tea. ‘Sons are yours forever whereas daughters go off and marry and make their own families. I always wanted sons.’ She passed Amy her cup and then sat down.
Amy sipped and thought of Beatrice. Would Bessie have been kinder had Beattie been a boy? She contemplated sharing her own suspicions that she might be pregnant and then decided against it; Jude must be the first to know, and furthermore, the children had just trooped in from outside. Instead, she told Bessie and Freda about Noah Wiseman’s lovely house and the wonderful offer of the basement.
Bessie’s lip curled and her blue eyes sparked contempt. ‘I’m surprised at the pair of you, taking up with a Jew. They’re nothing but conniving moneygrubbers.’ She got to her feet to expound her opinions. ‘He’ll feather his own nest and rob you blind, mark my words.’ She looked pityingly at Amy. ‘I’d have thought you had more sense, even if your Jude doesn’t.’
Amy thought of Beattie again. What was it she used to say? Mother can rip the heart out of things quicker than you can bat your eyelids. Well, this time she wasn’t going to let her away with it. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mother,’ she cried. ‘Noah could have done that already but he chose not to because he’s a decent man. Just because he’s Jewish doesn’t make him bad.’
‘A lot of ’em are Germans, an’ all,’ remarked Samuel, adding fuel to the flame.
Jude, who had heard Bessie’s remarks, called out, ‘I fought alongside Jews in the trenches, Bessie. They were good lads fighting for king and country just like the rest of us.’
‘It’s not their country though, is it?’ Bessie retaliated. ‘They don’t belong here.’
‘Of course they do, Mother! Jews have lived in England for hundreds of years – this is their home. And let’s face it, there’s good and bad in everyone. I can think of some people not too far from here who are dishonest and manipulative, and they’re not Jews.’ Amy was generalising, not thinking of any particular persons, but a punch of fear hit her stomach as she realised what she had said.
The blood had leached from Bessie’s face. Her hand was clasped to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes as they met Amy’s. Amy jumped up, and eager to make reparation she threw her arms around Bessie. ‘Oh, Mam, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just making the point that Noah’s a good man.’
Bessie shook her off, and although the rest of the afternoon passed quietly there was a tension in the air that quelled the pleasure Amy and Jude had taken from their new venture.
‘What’s a Jew?’ Kezia asked, as they made their way home.
‘Somebody from Jerusalem,’ Maggie piped, and before Kezia could enquire further her cousin began singing, ‘There were three Jews from Jerusalem, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry-rusalem.’ Kezia joined in and, hand in hand, the girls skated on the snowy road carolling at the tops of their voices.
Amy raised her eyebrows and shook her head in disbelief as she caught Jude’s eye.
‘Trust Mam to stir things up,’ she said, and then shouted, ‘That’s enough, Maggie.
I don’t want Kezia learning songs like that.’ Surprised at the sharpness in Amy’s voice, Maggie fell silent. Kezia looked peeved.
Under her breath, Amy said to Jude, ‘I think we need to do some serious talking to both girls before we meet Noah again.’
‘Aye, we’ll sit ’em down one at a time and explain it, just to make sure they don’t cause offence.’
‘Why can’t we sing the song, Mam?’ Kezia whined. ‘Is it because Jews are bad?’
Amy let out an exasperated sigh. Jude chuckled. ‘It’s your fault, you know. You’re the one who nurtured her enquiring mind.’
Amy gave him a sharp dig in the ribs and pertly replied, ‘Aye, and you can be the one responsible for satisfying it.’
*
In the basement of Noah Wiseman’s house, a large square room with a smaller one behind, Jude and Amy surveyed their new domain for the second time. Barely able to contain their excitement they briskly set about sizing up the possibilities for shelves, a counter, and a few comfortable chairs and reading tables. Kezia danced about the empty space contributing ideas by the dozen.
‘We could have a shelf here for children’s books,’ she said, crouching low to the ground near the window. ‘It’ll have to be low down so that the little kids can reach it, and I can help you choose the books you’re going to buy because I know what little kids like.’ Her parents exchanged amused glances, acknowledging that their clever daughter knew what she was talking about; Kezia’s love for books almost equalled that of her mam and dad’s.
Back at street level, measurements and requirements recorded in Amy’s notebook, Jude paused to gaze in awe at a dream come true. Noah came out to join them.
Swinging on the iron railings, Kezia called out, ‘What will we call the shop? Will it have a sign with our name on it?’
Jude glanced at Amy. ‘We’ve not thought that far ahead,’ she said, turning to her daughter. ‘We could call it Leas’ Bookshop or—’ she aimed a deferential glance at Noah ‘—maybe Wiseman and Leas.’
‘You should call it the book cellar,’ Kezia said, ‘cos that’s what it is, a cellar where you sell books.’
‘That’s a splendid suggestion,’ Noah said. ‘I love a play on words – book seller, book cellar – that’s what you should call it.’ Glowing with pride at their daughter’s perspicacity, Amy and Jude agreed.
A week later a long, rectangular sign was fixed above the window of the basement, and a smaller, square one attached to the railings. Large gold lettering on a dark green background spelled out ‘The Book Cellar’ and beneath it, in smaller case, ‘Prop: A & J. Leas & N. Wiseman’.
A carpenter was hired to build shelving, and as the basement took shape Noah presented Amy and Jude with yet another surprise. They had been busily painting and cleaning all day and now, as Amy reluctantly prepared to make the journey back to Wentworth Street, Noah came down into the basement.
‘I’d really like to stay on and finish this,’ said Amy, pointing at the half-scrubbed floor, ‘but it takes me twenty minutes to walk home and I must be there for Kezia coming from school.’
Noah smiled understandingly. ‘If you’d be so kind I’d like to make a suggestion that would ease the situation.’ Intrigued, Amy nodded and Noah continued, ‘Only yesterday my friend Isaac Cohen left to go to Israel for a year and he’s charged me with the responsibility of finding a good tenant for his house. You could be the answer to my problem.’
Amy’s brow puckered. ‘How might we help?’
‘By becoming the tenants.’
‘Where is it?’ Amy asked, fearing it might be even further away from the shop than their present home.
‘Further along this street,’ said Noah, gesturing airily. ‘We could go and take a look at it now if you have time.’
‘Jude,’ cried Amy, ‘put that paintbrush in the turps. Noah has something to show us. Get a move on or I’ll be late for Kezia.’
‘What’s to do?’ asked Jude, hurrying in from the back room.
‘We’ll find out when we get there,’ Amy replied, pulling on her coat and hurrying to the door. A house in this street overlooking the river, she marvelled, her enthusiasm waning slightly when she wondered if they could afford the rent.
With Noah leading the way, Jude and Amy walked to the top end of Bankside Street, Jude somewhat bemused and Amy breathless with excitement as she explained why they were going to see Noah’s friend’s house. When they reached the part where the street met a grassy slope leading down to the river, Noah stopped at the gate of a small, square house surrounded by overgrown gardens. Its red pan-tiled roof and windows one either side of the door and three above came as a surprise in a street where all the other houses were tall and terraced. Amy loved it immediately. ‘Can we go inside?’ she urged.
Waving the key, Noah led them to the front door. ‘Don’t be too disappointed by the interior. Like me, Isaac is no housekeeper but he’s stored his personal belongings in one room upstairs so you can do whatever you want with the rest of the place. No doubt cleaning will be your first priority.’
Four rooms on the ground floor included a kitchen, two sitting rooms and a dining room. Up above three bedrooms and a box room, and to Amy’s delight a bathroom with a flush lavatory. Clapping her hands like a delighted child she tugged the chain, the gush of water mingling with her excited laughter. Noah and Jude joined in, their mirth echoing through the house.
‘And how much rent is your friend, Isaac, looking for?’ Jude asked cautiously.
When Noah named a modest sum, Amy threw her arms round him and pecked his cheek, and then did the same to a beaming Jude.
‘Am I to understand you’ve solved my problem?’ Noah said, his smile wide.
‘Yes, yes,’ Amy and Jude chorused.
32
The Book Cellar opened for business, Amy and Jude awed and delighted by the serried ranks of new books, purchased with their share of the money raised from selling the rare books. Other shelves contained clean, secondhand copies, Amy insisting they keep stock for less well-off customers.
‘We mustn’t forget them that bought our books from the market stall. It’s them we’ve to thank for getting us this far,’ she said, down on her knees emptying a box of books they had purchased from a house clearance.
In the first few weeks of trading, Amy and Jude took pleasure in helping their customers make their selections, but whilst their clients were loyal they were few and trade not as brisk as they would have liked. ‘It takes time to be established,’ Noah said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ But Amy and Jude did.
On a morning when trade was particularly slack, Amy kept her long-delayed appointment with Dr Hargreaves, although by now she was certain she was pregnant.
Walking back to the bookshop in a rosy glow, she suddenly recalled Jude’s shock and disappointment when first she told him about Kezia. The warm feeling evaporated. Surely he wouldn’t think that this child was detrimental to his ambitions, she asked herself. He had his bookshop, and although it wasn’t making much profit, they were still more affluent than they had been. Even so, he might think that another mouth to feed, and Amy’s time tied-up with caring for a new baby was an impediment they could well do without.
He’ll just have to like it or lump it, she told herself as she turned into Bankside Street. I want this baby, and so will Jude when he gets his head round it. Look how he was when he first learned I was expecting Kezia, and then when she arrived he fell head over heels in love with her. Feeling much more positive, she ran down the steps into the bookshop. Jude was serving one of four customers, and Amy decided to keep her news until later although she was bursting to share it with him.
*
At the end of the afternoon, they closed the shop and walked the short distance to their new home, Kezia skipping ahead. ‘Isn’t she just the most amazing girl?’ Jude said, having lost his grumpiness at the lack of trade. They had been quite busy in the afternoon. Kezia was now swinging round a lamppost chanting her seven times
table. ‘She was top of the class again in spellings and sums today,’ he added.
Hearing the love and pride in his voice, Amy saw her chance. ‘What would you say to having another one just like her – or maybe a son?’ she asked, her heart fluttering uncomfortably.
Jude took two or three more steps and then stopped dead as Amy’s words registered. She stopped too. He stared at her, his face crumpling, and she felt a sudden chill in her bones. It was happening all over again. She closed her eyes to stem the welling tears, and when she opened them she saw that Jude was crying.
‘Oh, Amy,’ he groaned, ‘I thought… I thought I’d never be able to father another child after me being…’ He let out a whoop. ‘That’s wonderful, wonderful.’ He scooped her up his arms and swung her round before planting a kiss on her mouth, which as it happens, was open wide in amazement. They clung to each other, rocking and laughing as Amy’s misgivings took wing like a flock of startled sparrows.
‘Hey, Kezia,’ Jude called out, ‘what do you say to having a baby brother or sister?’
Kezia stopped mid-swing and almost lost her balance. Her eyes grew wide. ‘What did you say?’ She ran back to them, her excitement palpable.
‘Your clever mam’s having a baby. What do you think to that?’
Kezia screwed her face thoughtfully and then said, ‘I think it’s smashing. It’ll make us a proper family.’ Jude lifted her into his arms, carrying her to their front door with Amy hanging on his free arm, and all of them chattering about the new baby. When Maggie arrived home from work, the wonderful news was repeated again. Whooping her delight, she threw her arms first round Amy and then Jude. ‘About bloody time,’ she crowed, before taking Kezia by the hand and jigging her round the kitchen singing, ‘A sister, big sister, a blister for a sister.’
‘I’m not a blister,’ Kezia protested.
‘No, you’re not,’ said Maggie. ‘It’s the only word I could think of that rhymes with sister. So, you think on. Be the best big sister in the world.’
The Collier’s Wife Page 27