Down an English Lane

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘I think so…yes,’ he answered. He was dark-haired and of a slim wiry build, with bright, almost black eyes in a lean-featured, but peculiarly handsome face. ‘They were talking together when Ivan and I left the house. Mrs Tremaine was a little distressed, I believe. I do not know why. But I am confident that they will arrive. Not to do so would be impolite and they are the most courteous people.’ He spoke almost faultless and precise English, albeit with a guttural accent; but it was clear that he was an intelligent and probably well educated man. His colleague, Ivan, was taller and more well built, dark-eyed and dark-haired like Stefan, and they both had the gaunt, intense features that marked them out as Eastern Europeans.

  ‘Thank you, Stefan,’ said Ada. ‘Like you say, they’re sure to turn up sometime. Ne’er mind, there’s nowt much spoiling. I’ll give ’em another ten minutes or so, then we’ll make a start on t’ supper. They’ll not mind; I’ll keep a few sausage rolls and mince pies in t’ oven in case they’re really late… I do hope they’ve not had some bad news though. I know Rebecca was upset that Bruce couldn’t get home for Christmas…’

  Ada was talking more to herself than to anyone in particular, but Maisie was listening to what she was saying. Her thoughts, too, flew immediately to Bruce; to Bruce…and Christine. She would bet ten pounds – at least she would if she had so much money – that it was something to do with Christine that had upset Mrs Tremaine.

  ‘I’m feeling hungry, what about you?’ said Ted, putting an arm around her. ‘Mam’s been busy nearly all t’ day, and our Doris an’ all, getting it ready. What a spread, eh?’

  The table at one end of the spacious farmhouse living room was, indeed, almost groaning beneath the array of appetising food laid out on a pristine white cloth with a crocheted border. ‘That there cloth was a wedding present to Mam and Dad,’ Ted told Maisie. ‘It only comes out on special occasions.’ There were crusty loaves and pats of butter, slices of turkey, succulent pink ham, and pork with crispy brown crackling; pork pies oozing with jelly; pickled onions, beetroot and homemade piccalilli; a huge trifle topped with cream and glacé cherries; fruit cake, gingerbread, shortbread and chocolate biscuits; and, as Ada had said, sausage rolls and mince pies warming in the kitchen oven. The idea would be for everyone to help themselves then find a place to eat, informally, as at a picnic.

  The room was a large one, comfortably, if a little shabbily, furnished. There was an assortment of chairs; chintz covered armchairs and a matching settee, two round-backed Windsor chairs, beloved of farming folk, and several wooden ones of the ladderback type. An oak dresser on which Ada kept her day to day as well as her best china and crockery stood against one wall, and the Victorian sideboard with the mirrored back at the other side of the room was the depository for the detritus of everyday living – photographs, fruit bowl and matching biscuit barrel in a bold design of red, blue and gold; magazines and letters and unfinished knitting and sewing – but the clutter had been pushed back to accommodate the scores of Christmas cards. Others were hanging on strings fastened to the walls and, as it was not yet Twelfth Night, other evidence of the festive season still abounded. There was a pine tree, now shedding its needles, which scented the room with its tangy aromatic perfume. It was decorated with shining glass baubles and tinsel, with a lop-sided angel with a damaged wing on the top. Paper streamers of red, white and green were strung from corner to corner of the ceiling, and tissue paper bells, stars and a fat Santa Claus, which all opened out concertina fashion, adorned the walls and chimney breast. And a bunch of mistletoe, which Ted had already put to good use, hung over the doorway.

  So far the guests had just mingled, forming little groups and chatting together as they sipped at their glasses of dark brown sherry or orange juice, to the background of music from the wind-up gramophone; Bing Crosby, Glenn Miller and Joe Loss and his orchestra.

  It was dead on nine o’clock that there was a knock at the back door – the kitchen door, through which guests usually entered – then Ada ushered in Rebecca and Archie Tremaine.

  ‘I’m sorry we’re late,’ said Rebecca. Her eyes looked extra bright; it could have been with tears, or with the frosty air. ‘Oh dear! I hope you haven’t been waiting for us.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Ada. ‘Nine o’clock’s the time to serve supper, and it’s nine o’clock now, so you’re dead on time. Here, give me yer coats, and you go and have a warm by the fire. It’s a bit parky out tonight, it is that.’

  There was a glowing log fire burning in the stone hearth, and Archie and Rebecca stood together at one side of it. Everyone had fallen silent at the arrival of the last guests. Rebecca looked at her husband and gave a slight nod as if to say, Go on, you tell them…

  ‘We are late,’ said Archie, ‘at least, later than we intended being, and we do apologise for that. The reason is…we’ve had some rather disturbing news today. We’d like to tell you about it now, all of you here, because you’re sure to hear about it sooner or later… I suppose I shouldn’t really say disturbing news, because it’s supposed to be happy news, but it’s been a shock to Becky and me, hasn’t it, love?’

  His wife smiled at him sadly, but a look of love and understanding passed between them as she said, ‘Yes, a great shock…’ She took a deep breath, then she grabbed hold of her husband’s hand. ‘Bruce rang, you see – just a couple of hours ago – to tell us that…that he and Christine are married. They got married today, at the Register Office in Bradford.’

  Everyone seemed too stunned to speak. Indeed, what could they say? ‘You mean…you didn’t know anything about it?’ asked Ada, after a silence of a few seconds. ‘No, of course you didn’t,’ she added. ‘That was a silly thing for me to say. But I mean… Oh, you poor things! I can understand how you feel. But why? Did Bruce say why?’

  Maisie was shocked and bewildered, as was everyone else. But it was just as she had surmised; the Tremaines’ late arrival was due to Bruce and Christine, although she wouldn’t have guessed that they were married. She felt that Ada’s question about the reason for the hasty wedding was rather tactless. I bet she’s pregnant, she thought, and following this thought there came a stab of anguish as she envisaged Bruce and that girl together, like that.

  ‘He said they wanted a quiet ceremony without any fuss,’ said Archie. Rebecca, once again, seemed troubled and unable to say any more. ‘That’s all very well, I suppose; it’s their wedding when all’s said and done; I know our Bruce was never one for a great deal of fuss and palaver. But Becky here was looking forward to them having a nice big do. Christine hasn’t any relatives of her own, you know, and we felt we wanted to do what we could for the girl and to give them a good send-off, but…’ He shrugged. ‘It seems that it wasn’t to be. Anyroad, let’s try and make the best of it; there’s no point in us sitting around moping… Come on now, Ada. Let’s get tucking into this ’ere supper, shall we? Becky and I have come here to enjoy ourselves.’ He put a protective arm around his wife and, to everyone’s relief, she gave a smile and a little laugh.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said.

  Everyone tucked into the magnificent spread as though there were no tomorrows, several of the younger guests, including the two Polish men, returning for second helpings. It was all truly delicious. Ada Nixon was a bountiful hostess, not seeming to mind that most of the work was falling upon her, with a little help from her daughter; or that she was the only one of the gathering who did not have a partner for the evening. She seemed contented, quite happy, in fact, and Maisie was not the only one who had noticed that Ada had looked far less anxious since the death of her husband. There were several of her friends who had guessed – though they kept their own counsel – that it had not been the happiest of marriages…and that maybe she was not keen to embark on another one.

  Nobody was sure whether or not it was intentional that there was an equal number of men and women there, not counting Ada. But it became obvious as the evening progressed that the single, so far unattached people, had
paired off. Doris and Ivan appeared to be getting on very well together; his arm was around her as they sat with their heads close together in a corner of the room. And Anne Mellodey and Stefan, also, seemed to be enjoying one another’s company, although their behaviour was more restrained than that of the younger couple.

  When the carpet square had been rolled back from the wooden floor some of the couples danced together to the rather scratchy gramophone records of Joe Loss, Glen Miller and Geraldo. The two farming couples and the Tremaines were the first to take to the floor; Rebecca appeared to have brightened up considerably amidst the cheerful company, and maybe as a result of a few glasses of sherry.

  The bombshell that they had dropped had not been talked about. No doubt everyone was drawing their own conclusion, rightly or wrongly; but everyone showed themselves determined to rally round and to make sure that the popular couple, their squire and his wife, had a ‘reight good time of it’.

  They played a few party games; they did their best to instruct Stefan and Ivan in the intricacies of ‘My grandfather’s cat is an amiable cat; my grandfather’s cat is a beautiful cat, a crafty cat, a dangerous cat…’ and so on, all through the alphabet, to the accompaniment of much stuttering and puzzled frowns and gales of good-hearted laughter. Everyone was delighted when Rebecca won the ‘Pass the Parcel’ prize, a half pound box of Black Magic chocolates. Ted didn’t seem to mind that his record of ‘In the Mood’ became even more scratchy with the constant lifting and putting down of the gramophone needle.

  As midnight approached all the guests began to make moves towards departing. The farming folk knew that not many more hours remained before they would need to get out of bed again, and the three girls, Maisie, Audrey and Doris, had a busy time ahead of them. The pantomime, Cinderella, for which they had been rehearsing for the past few months, was to be performed on the following three nights.

  ‘Let me stay and help you with the washing up, Mrs Nixon,’ said Maisie, eyeing the mountain of pots piled up by the stone sink in the kitchen.

  ‘Bless you, no; I wouldn’t dream of it,’ replied Ada, ‘but it’s kind of you to offer, and I know that you mean it. We’ll tackle it in the morning, our Doris and me. No, you get along home now; our Ted’ll see you safely back. Goodnight, Maisie love, and God bless.’ She kissed her affectionately on the cheek. ‘It’s been a grand evening, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it has. I really enjoyed it,’ said Maisie, meaning it sincerely. In spite of the disturbing news, she had, indeed, enjoyed herself. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

  ‘Of course we’d invite you,’ laughed Ada. ‘You’re practically one of the family now, aren’t you? Now, off you go. See, Ted’s got your coat for you…’

  The clear night air was piercingly cold and there was a covering of fresh white frost on the ground. The bare branches of the trees and bushes sparkled silver in the moonlight and a sprinkling of stars shone in the midnight blue-black sky. It was a magical sight and Maisie felt strangely moved by it all, even though she had encountered similar scenes many times before. She felt very close to Ted; not just the closeness of his arm around her as they walked along the lane, but a feeling that she was growing more fond of him. He had been an attentive and cheerful companion all evening – she had never before enjoyed herself so much in his company – and she found now that the shock of the news about Bruce’s marriage had receded to the back of her mind.

  She allowed him to kiss her more ardently than usual, several times, as they said goodnight at her back gate, and she felt herself responding to him more than she had ever done before. But as she felt his hand move and tentatively touch her breast – although it was only gently, on top of her clothing – she pulled away from him. She did not rebuke him, but just said cheerily, ‘Goodnight, Ted. Thanks for seeing me home.’

  ‘You know I always do…’ He gave her an odd sort of look.

  ‘Yes, I know, but thanks all the same. See you tomorrow then… No, I mean tonight actually, don’t I? At the pantomime?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there every night. Goodnight then, Maisie. Sleep tight…’

  Lily had not waited up for her, knowing that she would be late, and knowing also that Ted would see her safely home. Her mother did not seem to mind so much about Ted now, or at least she did not say very much, engrossed as she was in the preparations for her own forthcoming marriage. Maisie knocked gently on the bedroom door, guessing that she would still not have gone to sleep.

  ‘I’m back now, safe and sound,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight, Mum…’

  ‘Goodnight love,’ said a sleepy voice. ‘Have you had a nice time?’

  ‘Yes, thank you; it was lovely.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then. See you in the morning.’

  Maisie did not fall asleep straight away. So Bruce was married… Well, that was the end of that little dream, and the best thing she could do would be to put him right out of her mind. But what of Ted? She did like him a lot. She was finding he was much more open and friendly now that they knew one another better, and she did enjoy having a boyfriend. A lot of the girls in her form at school had boyfriends, including Audrey, of course.

  But her thoughts were halted sharply by the memory of what Ted’s mother had said that evening. ‘You’re practically one of the family…’ Was that how Ada Nixon regarded her already, as a future daughter-in-law? The idea of that worried Maisie. She knew that she looked older than her years; folk who did not know her sometimes took her for eighteen or so, but the fact remained that she was still not yet sixteen. Both Audrey and Doris had had their sixteenth birthdays, and probably Ada would be only too pleased if her daughter were to marry at an early age, at seventeen or eighteen, maybe. This often happened in the farming communities when girls found a suitable partner, who was usually involved in the same occupation.

  But she, Maisie, was not of that ilk. Much as she was growing to like Ted, she could not see him as a future husband. Besides, that was years and years away. She had her exams to do, then sixth form, and possibly college… She must not let Ted or his mother get the wrong idea, and she must be careful that she did not get carried away by his kisses and embraces. There was a girl in her class who actually boasted that she had ‘gone the whole way’, although Maisie was not altogether sure that she believed her. But she knew that she must take very great care… She fell asleep eventually as her mind closed down against the maelstrom of her thoughts. She would think about it tomorrow…

  As Ted watched the pantomime from the third row of the audience all he could think about was Maisie. What an absolutely stunning girl she was, and how had he, Ted Nixon, managed to persuade her to be his girlfriend?

  He had felt, when he had first started seeing her, that she was in a completely different league from him; far cleverer and wittier and much more skilled in the art of conversation, and although she had come from a humble sort of background – a very disturbed and unsatisfactory one, according to his sister – she had made the most of her opportunities and seemed determined to forge ahead and really make her place in the world. And what would that be? What exactly did she want and what was she striving for? Ted did not know the answer to that; it was not something that they discussed, although they were getting along very well together in spite of their differences. But he feared that she would, one day, leave him far behind, not only in her thoughts, but in a very real sense as well. He could not imagine that the little town of Middlebeck would be big enough to contain Maisie Jackson once she achieved her aim.

  Unless he could manage to make her see things differently… After all, what did most girls – nearly all girls, he guessed – really want from life? They wanted to be married; happily married if possible with two or three children. He had been brought up to believe that that was the role of a woman; to care for her husband and children and to be a helpmate and partner rather than a leader in the marriage. Apart from the more eccentric women, of course, who became doctors or judges or members of
Parliament; professions that he believed rightly belonged to men. He had realised, though, as he grew older, that his parents’ marriage had not always been ideally happy, but his mother had been a devoted wife, and even now, a few years after his father’s death, she seemed contented with her lot in the world.

  As he watched Maisie, as Prince Charming, dancing with the little fair-haired girl – Celia James, according to the programme – who was playing Cinderella, he found it hard to believe that she was still only fifteen years of age. In fact, whenever he thought about this it gave him quite a jolt. She was a vivid contrast to the girl she was partnering; inches taller and more vivacious in her sparkling prince’s outfit, which had been made by her mother, she had told him, specially for this ballroom scene. The fitted tunic showed off the curves of her maturing breasts, and the short trousers revealed a pair of long and shapely legs; Ted had to force his eyes to look away.

  ‘This is a lovely way to spend an evening…’ they were singing as they twirled around the simulated ballroom, Maisie’s rich melodious voice contrasting nicely with the sweet and gentle tones of Celia. She, too, was a very pretty girl, Ted realised, in her silver and white ballgown, though in a less dramatic way than Maisie. He knew that soon the dance would come to an end and that she would run away and lose her glass slipper…

  A down-to-earth and commonsensical farm worker though he was, Ted was finding himself strangely fascinated by this romantic story, even though he knew it was only play-acting and that he was acquainted with most of the cast in their more workaday lives. His sister, Doris, was a scream and had had him laughing till his sides ached, as she danced and sang a riotous ‘Knees up Mother Brown’ number with the other ‘ugly sister’, the usually polite and reserved Brian Milner. They both wore huge coloured wigs, Doris’s orange and Brian’s yellow, blue and white striped stockings, and voluminous red bloomers showing beneath their garishly-hued dresses.