Sadie had recently been demobbed from the ATS and they were in Christine’s flat, catching up on all the news. Sadie was due to start work again the next day, in the same mill office as her friend. ‘I’m surprised at you really, Chrissie,’ she said. ‘I thought all girls would want to have a nice wedding now that the war’s over. I’m looking forward to mine; ours, I should say; we tend to overlook the bridegroom sometimes, don’t we? But I must admit that my mother is quite over the moon, arranging it all; more excited than I am, really. I expect Bruce’s mother does like the idea of being in charge, but I’m sure she’s only trying to please you and make it a happy occasion. With your own mother not being here, I mean; she probably feels she wants to make up for it.’
‘Yes, that’s what she says, and I know she’s only trying to be kind. But I sometimes feel like a fish out of water up there. All those folk fussing around Bruce because he’s the squire’s son. And those girls that he knows; quite a harem he’s got, I can tell you! They look at me as though I’ve come from another planet.’
Sadie laughed. ‘You’re exaggerating. I’m sure they don’t. Haven’t people made you feel welcome?’
‘Ye…es,’ said Christine grudgingly, knowing she was being a little unfair. ‘Bruce’s family are nice to me, though I feel his mother’s trying a bit too hard… His father’s good fun, though, and his sisters and their husbands are OK, what I’ve seen of them. But then there’s that girl… I’ve told you about that Maisie girl, haven’t I? If she’s not in love with Bruce I’ll eat my hat. But he says she’s just a kid he’s known for ages.’
‘Well then, what are you worried about?’
‘I’m not… But he only went and asked her to sing at the party, didn’t he? I could’ve throttled him, honestly, but I didn’t say anything because the next minute he announced our engagement. That took the wind out of her sails all right.’ She gave a malevolent little grin, but, in truth, she hadn’t noticed much of a reaction from Maisie Jackson. The girl had seemed very engrossed with the farmer’s lad she had been dancing with for most of the evening. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to ask her to be a bridesmaid,’ she added.
‘Now you’re just being silly,’ said Sadie.
‘Yes, maybe I am…’ Christine laughed. ‘But I want to get right away from Yorkshire when we’re married. Bruce is different, somehow, when he’s up there with them. And I can’t wait to leave Bradford behind.’
‘I shall miss you, though,’ said Sadie. ‘I know I shall be leaving as well, when Roland and I get married, but we’ll still be friends, won’t we?’
‘Of course we will,’ replied Christine, and she meant it sincerely. Sadie was a good friend, one who brought the best out in her and not the worst; although there was a great deal that her friend still did not know about Christine’s background. And she would never need to, once they had left Bradford; it was in that city that the danger lay. ‘We will always be friends, I hope,’ she said. ‘Just because you and Roland are going to live in Germany, it doesn’t mean we’ll never see one another again, does it?’
‘Goodness, I hope not,’ said Sadie. ‘It’s not definite about Germany, yet, but there’s a strong possibility that Roland will be posted there in a few months. That’s why we’ve planned a February wedding. Rather earlier than we wanted, but you will be my bridesmaid, won’t you?’
‘Of course; I’ve said that I will.’
‘I was hoping to do the same for you, but we’ll probably have gone by the time you get married. Have you made any plans at all? What does Bruce say? Does he want to go along with his mother’s idea?’
‘No, not really… I’m working on him,’ said Christine. ‘A quiet Register Office do, that’s what I want. There’s no harm, though, in letting his mother live in cloud cuckoo land for a little while, but I’m getting Bruce round to my way of thinking.’ She gave a self-satisfied little smile.
‘You’re very lucky, you know,’ said Sadie, ‘and I hope you realise it. Bruce is a lovely young man and he thinks the world of you, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh yes, I do believe he does,’ said Christine.
‘Then maybe you could meet him – and his mother – halfway?’ suggested Sadie. ‘Just a small wedding, for family and a few friends, perhaps; a church wedding, I mean, here in Bradford, though, at your own church, not up in Middlebeck.’
‘But I don’t go to church, do I?’
‘Well, at your local church then; you know what I mean. I should try not to antagonise Bruce’s family, Christine. It sounds as though they’re a nice family, and they have accepted you.’
‘So they have,’ said Christine.
But Rebecca Tremaine would certainly not have approved if she had known how much time her son and Christine were spending alone together. She was not aware, for instance, that Bruce, instead of returning directly to his camp on the Sunday afternoon, as he had intimated, had gone instead to Bradford and spent the night in Christine’s flat, and in her bed, before going on to Lincolnshire the following day.
Now that they were not governed by the bureaucracy of wartime he was able to get away for at least twenty-four hours each weekend. The times they spent together were becoming increasingly passionate. Bruce was taking precautionary measures, as he had promised he would; but, unbeknown to him, Christine had other ideas.
Lily had been surprisingly obdurate when Maisie had asked if she could go to the pictures with Ted. She had broached the subject on the Monday evening, after Joanie and Jimmy, having been allowed to stay up to listen to Monday Night at Eight, had gone to bed.
‘Oh, Maisie, love, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘You know how I feel about you going out with boys. I’ve told you before; you’re not old enough, not until you’re sixteen. If you were just a bit older…’
‘But that’s ridiculous, Mum,’ retorted Maisie. ‘What difference will it make when I’m sixteen? It’s only a few months away, and everybody says I’m very grown-up for my age.’
Yes, and that is part of the problem, Lily thought to herself, but she did not voice her misgivings, except to say, ‘Yes, I know, love. I know you are quite grown-up in some ways…’ Lily knew that the circumstances of her life back in Leeds had forced her little girl to grow up early; that, and becoming an evacuee at the age of nine. ‘… But the fact remains that you are still only a child.’
‘A child! Of course I’m not a child,’ remonstrated Maisie. ‘Joanie and Jimmy are children. I’m not! So don’t treat me as though I’m a kid like them.’
‘I know what you are saying, Maisie,’ replied her mother, ‘and of course I don’t treat you like Joanie and Jimmy. But in the eyes of the law – that’s what I mean – you are classed as a child until you are sixteen. Besides, Ted is so much older than you, isn’t he?’
Maisie sighed. ‘I thought you’d say that. What about Audrey then? She’s been going around with Brian Milner for ages. I know she’s sixteen now – she’s older than me, worst luck! – but she doesn’t look it, and she was only fifteen when she started going with him.’
‘It is no concern of mine what Luke and Patience allow their adopted daughter to do,’ answered Lily, ‘but I’m sure they keep a strict eye on her, and Brian is still at school himself, isn’t he?’
‘Not like Ted, you mean? Ted’s been around a bit; that’s what you mean, isn’t it? What d’you think he’s going to do? Jump on me?’
‘Maisie, really…’
‘Well, if he does, I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid, and I do know what goes on. I thought you’d have realised that, Mum…’ She looked at her mother steadily, and Lily lowered her eyes.
‘Yes, love, I do know. I’ve not forgotten that awful time when you were a little girl. But that’s why I want to protect you, you see.’
‘From Ted?’ Maisie laughed. ‘But you know him, Mum, and what a decent lad he is. We’ve known him ever since we came to live in Middlebeck. Anyway, I don’t know why you’re making such a big thing of it. He’s only asked me to go t
o the pictures. He might not ask me out again. We just got friendly, like, at Bruce’s party, that’s all.’
Lily nodded, a little more understandingly. She was remembering her daughter’s former anguish about the squire’s son, from which, fortunately, she seemed to have recovered; and she decided to relent. ‘Very well then, Maisie. I suppose I will have to say yes, you can go. You were a good girl to ask me, anyway.’ She might easily have told a fib about it; said she was going with a girl friend, or to something at the church. ‘And I know I can trust you to behave sensibly. But you must be home by half past ten. I think that’s reasonable, don’t you?’
‘Yes, that’s great, Mum. Thanks for saying I can go.’ She did not fling her arms around her mother; that had never been their way. ‘Shall I go and make a cup of tea?’ she asked, ‘then we can listen to Valentine Dyall before we go to bed.’
‘You and your ghost stories!’ said Lily. ‘You’ll be having nightmares.’ Valentine Dyall, the ‘Man in Black’, told spooky stories on the radio quite late at night, and Maisie liked to stay up to listen to them.
‘No, I won’t,’ she laughed. ‘It’s only a story, not real life. It never disturbs my sleep.’
‘That’s all right then,’ said Lily. ‘Yes, thank you, love; we’ll have a cup of tea. And there’s some flapjack in the tin; Arthur brought it from the shop.’
No, it was not very likely that Maisie would be frightened by a ghost story, thought Lily as she listened to the clatter of cups in the kitchen and the sound of her daughter’s voice as she sang softly to herself. That was a good sign; she must be feeling happy. Lily felt glad that she had given in and said that she could go out with Ted Nixon. After all, she had not been all that much older herself when she had met Davey Jackson, Maisie’s father; only seventeen and Davey just a year older. At least this friendship would get Maisie’s thoughts away from Bruce Tremaine and his engagement. As for the ghost stories, the girl had had much more than that to frighten her in the past, and so had she, Lily.
Thank God that was all over. Lily knew she must make the most of the evenings she spent with her daughter, just the two of them, when the little ’uns had gone to bed. There had been a time when she feared that she and Maisie were growing apart, and she had been somewhat resentful of the influence that Patience Fairchild had had on the girl’s life. Even during the mid-years of the war, after Lily also had come to live in Middlebeck, Maisie had remained at the Rectory, whilst Lily stayed at Tremaine House in charge of the land girls who were billetted there. It had taken a while for the mother and daughter to regain the affinity they had shared when Maisie was a tiny girl – it had been damaged almost irreparably by Sidney and Percy Bragg – but now they were once again the best of friends; notwithstanding the occasional slight dispute, such as they had had tonight.
Quite soon – early in the coming year of 1946, in fact – there would be important changes taking place which would be sure to affect, to some degree, the present closeness that the mother and daughter shared. Lily and Arthur planned to marry in early March, but before that there were changes to be made to their respective living accommodation. Mr and Mrs Jenner, the owners of the draper’s shop – one day to become Lily’s – had been only too pleased to give permission for the wall between the upstairs premises to be knocked down and the rooms converted into one large apartment instead of two. There would be separate bedrooms for Joanie and Jimmy, who were sharing at present, and a larger room for Maisie, if she so wished. But Lily knew that her daughter was very fond of her attic room and her bird’s eye view, as from an eyrie. A larger sitting room, too, and maybe a separate dining room and a much larger, more modern kitchen. The builders were due to start work soon after Christmas and Lily was excitedly making plans.
This would be a good marriage, she was sure of it. There was no expectation of heady romance or intense passion, but she knew that Arthur loved her in a quiet, undemanding way, and that was how she loved him in return. The thought of spending the rest of her life with him filled her, if not with rapture, then with a feeling of contentment.
The films shown at the Palace cinema in Middlebeck were not new releases such as were seen in the Odeons and Alhambras in cities like Leeds and Bradford. A film from the previous year, Meet me in St Louis, starring Judy Garland, was on at the local cinema during the week in November when Maisie and Ted went out together for the first time. But as Maisie had not seen it, and as she remembered the star with a sense of nostalgia from her performance in The Wizard of Oz, she found herself looking forward to the outing.
The cinema had not changed very much from the time when she, with Audrey and Doris, had gone to watch the children’s matinee performances during the early war years. At that time, though, the children had sat on long forms at the front of the cinema, but these had now been replaced by red plush tip-up seats like the ones at the rear. But the orange silk curtain was the same, now even more faded, and Maisie was certain that the adverts for local businesses, flashed on the screen before the performance started, had scarcely changed at all.
Before the main film was shown they sat through a nature film about migrating swallows, a short Donald Duck cartoon, the trailer for the following week’s performance – a cowboy film starring John Wayne, which Maisie did not fancy at all – and the Gaumont British News. This showed the intensive building of council houses and ‘prefabs’ being undertaken by the new Labour Government; the King and Queen and the two princesses strolling informally in their grounds at Sandringham; and, on a more sombre note, a brief look at the German town of Nuremberg, where the trial of Nazi war leaders had just begun.
Maisie and Ted sat at the back in the slightly more expensive seats. She was relieved that he did not attempt to put his arm round her – she could see a couple kissing quite unashamedly further along their row – but he did take hold of her hand. At the interval he bought two small cardboard tubs of ice-cream, which they ate with tiny wooden spoons.
Ted, it seemed, was not much of a one for chattering; he had said very little at all since he had called for Maisie. She had never found it hard to engage in conversation with anyone, so she was rather fazed by this.
‘You’re very quiet, Ted,’ she said, when she had finished her ice-cream and placed the carton tidily on the floor; there was nowhere else to put it. ‘Is there something the matter?’ She wondered whether he was, in fact, having second thoughts about asking her out.
‘No, not at all,’ he replied. ‘There’s nothing the matter; what could there be? I’m only too pleased to be here with you.’ He smiled at her fondly. ‘I’m usually quiet; my sister’s the chatterbox in the family, as no doubt you know, and my brother has plenty to say for himself. I suppose I take after my mother, in disposition as well as in looks. I’m not much good at conversation, I’m afraid, not unless I have something important to say.’
‘That’s all right then,’ smiled Maisie, ‘so long as there’s nothing wrong. You’ll find I can talk enough for two people. So…how’s life on the farm?’ she asked, trying to draw him out. ‘Has your Joe settled down to working there again?’
‘Oh aye, I think he’s glad to be back home, especially with Irene, his fiancée. Her folks have a farm down Lowerbeck way.’
‘So are they getting married soon?’
‘I dunno; he hasn’t said so. I reckon they’re saving up for a place of their own. Unless he takes over our farm, of course…’
‘To buy it, you mean?’ asked Maisie.
‘Aye, mebbe so… The squire has said he’d like to sell it and he’s offered it to us, but our mam’s in two minds as to what to do about it. She’s getting tired, y’know. She’s taken over the running of the farm since our dad died, and she works as hard as any of us. We’re not right sure what’s going to happen at the moment. We’re having some extra help, though, so she’ll be able to take it a bit easier.’
‘Oh? Another farm worker, you mean?’
‘Aye, sort of. We had the land girls, as you know, all th
rough the war, but they’ve gone back home now. We’ve been told we’re having some foreigners, two of ’em. Displaced persons, they’re calling ’em, from Poland. Apparently they’re not too happy at what’s going on over there, so a lot of ’em are coming here, and they’ve got to be found work. So they’ll be working on t’ squire’s land and helping us out an’ all, like the land girls did.’
‘And where will they live?’ asked Maisie.
‘I dunno for sure. Happen at Tremaine House, if Mrs Tremaine’ll have them. There’s plenty of room there and she’s always ready to do folks a good turn… Hey up; the film’s starting now; I’d best shut up…’
Maisie enjoyed the light-hearted film and the cheerful songs. She was singing the words of ‘The Trolley Song’ softly to herself as they left the cinema and emerged into the chilly night air.
‘You obviously enjoyed it,’ said Ted, taking hold of her arm.
‘Yes, I did, very much so,’ she replied. ‘Thanks for taking me, Ted.’
‘Don’t mench… We’ll go again soon. That is, if you’d like to…?’
‘Mmm…yes, I would. But not next week, if you don’t mind. I’m not keen on cowboy films.’
‘Nor am I for that matter. But we don’t have to go to the pictures, do we? There are other places we could go.’
‘Such as…?’ asked Maisie.
She knew she had stumped him there. Where else was there to go in a little town like Middlebeck? Dances and social gatherings were few and far between, and although Ted went to public houses sometimes, Maisie was not old enough to go. Besides, they were not really the sort of places that well-brought-up girls frequented. During the summer time there were lots of secluded country lanes where courting couples could walk; not in the winter, though, not unless you were up to no good. Anyway, she and Ted were not officially ‘courting’. She did not want to invite him to her home, nor did she expect to be invited to his, not as his girlfriend, although she had been there many times as Doris’s friend.
Down an English Lane Page 20