‘Religious Education, eh? Couldn’t be better,’ said Luke. ‘We should get on like a house on fire. I’ll see if we can come to some arrangement about your… Physical Education you call it, don’t you? We don’t want you overdoing things in the early stages.’
‘And there’s Greek dancing as well,’ said Audrey. ‘Prancing around in those silly tunics. But that’s better than PE. I must admit I’d be quite glad to get out of that. But what would I say to the tutor who takes us, Miss Peabody?’
‘The truth would be best,’ said Luke, ‘but don’t worry; I’m sure we will be able to sort things out for you. Be a brave girl, and all will be well, I’m sure.’
Luke and Patience sat on their own for more than an hour after Audrey, and then Tim, had gone to bed. It was just turned midnight when they eventually retired, far later than usual on a Saturday night, considering that Sunday was Luke’s busiest day of the week; but there had been so much on their minds, so much that they needed to talk about on their own.
‘I’m stunned,’ Patience had said several times. ‘I’m finding it so hard to believe. Audrey, of all people! She was always such a shy, timid sort of girl.’
‘But isn’t that the sort that it often happens to?’ observed Luke. ‘And she told us she’d been drinking; I find that hard to take in as well, but I suppose they get up to all sorts when they get away from home.’
‘We tried to bring her up well, didn’t we, Luke? As though she was our own daughter. She always seemed to know right from wrong; I can’t understand it.’
‘There is no point in beating ourselves black and blue about it now, though, is there? What is done can’t be undone, and we will have to try and be positive about it. She needs us more than ever now, Patience.’
‘And we weren’t too strict with her either, were we, darling? I mean, it wasn’t as if she felt she had to kick over the traces when she left home. We never said too much when she was friendly with Brian Milner, because we felt we could trust her, and him as well, of course. He was – well, is – a very nice boy. Now if it had been him, Brian, I suppose it wouldn’t have been quite so bad. At least he was her boyfriend.’
‘But she was only a youngster at that time, Patience; it was before she left school. And then it all fizzled out when he went to university. Very sensible, really, although I’m sure they were never much more than good friends.’
‘You don’t think that she and Brian might have…?’ asked Patience. ‘I’m wondering now if we might have given them too much leeway.’
‘No, I don’t think so for one moment,’ replied Luke. ‘Brian was a very sensible lad. No; I think Audrey has just been unlucky; she has been caught the first time and, as I’ve said, that can happen to the nicest of girls.’
‘Or to the ones who haven’t as much nous…’ said Patience thoughtfully. ‘I can’t imagine it happening to Maisie, can you?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ agreed Luke. ‘She’s always had her head screwed on the right way, has Maisie. Still, you never can tell…’
‘Audrey is our daughter now, and we love her dearly,’ said Patience, ‘but Maisie was always the one who had the confidence and the common sense, God bless her… She will always be special to us, won’t she?’ Maisie had been their first evacuee, before Audrey and then Tim had joined the Rectory family, and she had a special place in both their hearts.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Luke. ‘But it’s Audrey who needs our love and support and our prayers. She has made a mistake, and she knows it, but mistakes can be rectified.’
‘Yes…all things work together for good,’ said Patience.
‘For those who love God,’ added Luke, finishing the verse. ‘But I’m sure He tries to help those who never think about Him, as well… Come along, my dear. It’s tomorrow already, if you know what I mean…’
Hand in hand they climbed up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maisie joined Patience, Audrey and Johnny in their pew near the front of the church on Sunday morning. Timothy was in the choir and Johnny was a somewhat reluctant churchgoer at the moment, but he had no choice in the matter.
‘I thought you might be singing in the choir,’ whispered Audrey.
‘Oh no; that wouldn’t be fair,’ replied Maisie. ‘I haven’t been to any of the practices and I don’t really belong to it now. Anyway, it’s nice to listen for a change. What about you? How are you feeling now?’
Audrey grimaced. ‘If you mean physically, not too good. I felt awful sick this morning. I’ve only had a piece of toast; I couldn’t face the rest of the stuff that the others were tucking into. Tim noticed…but I told him I’d got out of the habit of eating big breakfasts. He doesn’t know yet, you see.’
‘But how are you otherwise…you know? They were OK with you, were they, after I’d gone?’ Maisie spoke very quietly, although it was doubtful that Patience could hear her, or, to give her her due, would be listening. Johnny was between her and the girls and she was talking to the lady on her other side, one of the members of the Mothers’ Union.
‘Yes, of course they were. They’ve been great, Maisie, like you said they would be. So understanding; I don’t really deserve it.’
Maisie squeezed her arm. ‘Yes you do. I knew it would be all right. You seem much happier about…things.’
‘Yes, so I am. They’ve persuaded me to go back to college and face the music!’ She grimaced again. ‘I’m dreading that, but Dad says he’ll go with me. Oh yes; I’ve got something to tell you… Luke says he’ll take you back to Leeds at the same time, but we won’t be able to set off until after the evening service. Is that OK with you?’
‘Of course it is. I was thinking I would have to catch an afternoon train, but now I can have a bit longer here. That’s really kind of Luke…’ It was odd, she thought, or maybe it was understandable, that Audrey alternated between the names of ‘Dad’ and ‘Luke’ when speaking of the rector. He had been a loving father to her over the years, but there must be times when she thought about her real father, Alf Dennison, who had been killed when she was ten years old.
‘Shh… He’s here now, your dad,’ said Maisie, as the choir, followed by Luke, progressed out of the vestry. ‘We’d better shut up!’
They all stood to sing the opening hymn, ‘For the Beauty of the Earth’. The words were poignant, thought Maisie, when they came to the third verse.
‘For the joy of human love; brother, sister parent, child…
Lord of all, to Thee we raise, this, our grateful hymn of praise.’
She wondered if Luke had chosen the hymn specially.
After the service Maisie was pleased to see Anne Mellodey waiting for her on the pathway. Anne was just saying goodbye to Charity Foster, her old headmistress and friend, whom she often accompanied to church on a Sunday morning.
‘Maisie, how lovely to see you, dear!’ said Charity, still Miss Foster, of course, to Maisie.
‘And you too,’ she replied. ‘It’s only a flying visit though. I’m going back later today.’
‘And I must fly as well,’ said Miss Foster. ‘I’ve left a little lamb joint in the oven and I don’t want to find it burnt to a cinder. Cheerio for now…’
‘Fly is the right word,’ smiled Anne as the still sprightly lady hurried off down the path. ‘You should see her in that little car of hers, flying along the High Street. To be quite honest, I don’t accept a lift from her if I can help it. I make the excuse that I prefer to walk, which is quite true, of course.’
‘You have never learned to drive then, Anne?’
‘No; there’s never been any need to. I live near enough to school.’
‘You have to admire Miss Foster, though, learning to drive at her age. It couldn’t have been easy.’
‘She thought it was. She says she’s taken to it like a duck to water,’ laughed Anne. ‘But not everybody is of the same opinion.’
‘She’s not had any accidents though, has she?’
‘No, fingers crossed…
Anyway, Maisie, I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve got some news for you! If I hadn’t seen you soon I was going to write. I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while, but all sorts of things have been happening.’
‘That’s OK. I’ve been rather negligent, too, with my letter writing lately. So, what do you want to tell me?’
‘I can’t tell you right now.’ Anne gave a secretive sort of smile. ‘Could you come round this afternoon? Come and have tea with me, or are you going back early?’
‘No, not until this evening. Luke is taking me back at the same time as he takes Audrey to college.’ Audrey was standing with Patience, chatting to two of Patience’s friends. Maisie felt somewhat relieved that she had not come to join in the conversation with herself and Anne. A little selfish of her, perhaps, she thought, guiltily. But there were times when she liked to have Anne all to herself.
‘That’s lovely then,’ said Anne. Her bright blue eyes were glowing with animation, and Maisie thought she could guess what the news might be. ‘See you later then, about half past two?’
‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it…’
Lily had been pleased to see her daughter, but not over surprised at her sudden arrival, or over curious about the reason for the visit. Maisie explained that it had seemed like a good opportunity to pay a brief visit because Audrey had felt it was time she came to see her family. She gave no hint of Audrey’s real reason for coming. No doubt when the news broke, as it most surely would, there would be talk enough, although Lily, having suffered more than enough traumas of her own, would not be one to condemn.
Both she and Arthur were preoccupied with their plans for the new restaurant. The work was progressing well, according to schedule, and they were still hoping to open at the Easter weekend, in a few weeks’ time.
‘We’ve decided on a name,’ Lily told Maisie as they ate their Sunday lunch. ‘It’s going to be called “Arthur’s Place”. That’s all, just “Arthur’s Place”. Short and to the point and easy to remember.’
‘It wasn’t my idea,’ said Arthur. ‘It’s not just my place, is it? It’s Lily’s as well, and our Flo’s and Harry’s. But they seemed unanimous, the rest of ’em, so I’m not going to argue.’
‘Sounds OK to me,’ said Maisie. ‘I’m sure it’ll catch on. It was your bakery in the first place, wasn’t it, Arthur, and your idea to do the outside catering? “Arthur’s Place”… Yes, I like it. I must certainly try to be here for the grand opening. Yes, I’m sure I’ll be able to come. Our office will be closed Easter Monday…’
‘So you’re still here, Anne,’ Maisie remarked after she had settled down in one of her friend’s easy chairs, in the upstairs flat she had lived in for quite a few years. ‘You did talk about moving at one time, didn’t you? About buying a little place of your own…’
‘Instead of paying rent? Yes, I did, but I was nicely settled in here and near to school, so I never made the effort. And now… I won’t need to!’ Anne’s eyes were shining more brightly than ever as she put out her left hand, displaying the ring on the third finger; a cross-over style of an emerald and two diamonds. ‘I’m getting married, Maisie! Quite soon actually, although we’ve only just got engaged. I wanted you to be one of the first to know. I’ve told Charity, of course, and my parents.’
‘Gosh, that’s wonderful news!’ exclaimed Maisie, going over to give her friend a quick hug. ‘I did guess, though, that that might be what you wanted to tell me. You’ve been friendly for a good while, haven’t you, you and Stefan? Although nobody was very sure whether you would…’
‘Whether we would make it to the altar?’ smiled Anne. ‘I wasn’t sure either and…no, we didn’t make it, not Stefan and me.’ She laughed at Maisie’s incredulous face. ‘I’m not marrying Stefan Chevesky – I thought you would have known all about that. No, I’m marrying Roger – Roger Ellison.’
‘Roger Ellison? The army captain? Your…headmaster?’ To say that Maisie was surprised was not the half of it; she was flabbergasted. She stared at Anne in astonishment whilst her friend smiled back at her, clearly delighted that her news had made such an impact. ‘But…you didn’t like him. You said you were daggers drawn; in fact I was surprised you’d stayed at that school…so long.’ Her voice petered out. ‘I reckon you must have…changed your mind?’
‘You could say so,’ laughed Anne. ‘More than a bit. Roger and I have been friendly – very friendly, you might say – for about a year, although, before that we had been coming round to accepting one another’s point of view and realising we were not so very different after all. We always had the children’s interests at heart, deep down, both of us.’
‘Never mind about the children,’ said Maisie. ‘Tell me about you and Roger. How did it happen? And…what about Stefan Chevesky?’
‘I’m really surprised you didn’t know the tale about Stefan,’ said Anne. ‘I thought it was the talk of the village. I know you’re not living here now, but I thought your mother might have said something.’
‘Mum and Arthur are very busy with their own concerns at the moment, and she’s not one to gossip. She probably forgot she hadn’t told me, whatever it is. Do tell…’
‘Well, to put it in a nutshell, Stefan had a wife and son, back in Poland.’
‘No! Of all the deceitful cheating so-and-sos…’
Anne gave a wry smile. ‘I can’t really say that, Maisie. In spite of what a lot of people thought, we were never anything but good friends, and he never gave me any reason to think it might be otherwise.’
‘But he should have told you he was married, shouldn’t he? You must have wondered why…’
‘Why he didn’t take things further? Yes, maybe I did…but we enjoyed one another’s company and that seemed to be all that mattered. We had a lot in common; love of books and music and the countryside. And I suppose he was glad to meet a “kindred spirit”, as you might say, so far from home. He didn’t tell me he was married, for reasons best known to himself, and as the time went on I expect it became more and more difficult to tell me. But I’d started to get more friendly with Roger, so finding out about Stefan wasn’t the shock that it might have been.’
‘What happened to him, Stefan, I mean? Has he gone back to Poland?’
‘Oh no; his wife and son – he’s eight years old – have come over here. He’s working at a farm Lowerbeck way, and they’re living in a little cottage owned by the farmer. But he’s got his own workshop there, so I’m told, and in his spare time he’s working at the occupation he had back in Poland before the war.’
‘And what was that? I thought he was just a farm labourer. Although he always seemed to be worth a bit more than that, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, he was.’ Anne nodded. ‘He had to take just a menial job when he came over here, as they all did. He had been brought up on his father’s farm, but then he became a skilled craftsman – a wood carver. He made all sorts of objects, useful as well as decorative ones, and he had a thriving business until the war started. He joined the Polish army… and afterwards he found that he had lost everything. So he came to Britain… And I suppose he was saving up to bring his family over here.’
‘And he told you all this, did he? But forgot to mention his wife and child?’
‘He told me a little at a time… They had a hard time with the regime in Poland and he knew he had to get away. Apparently his wife and son went back to live with her parents, although I didn’t know that, of course, not at first. He told me in the end…when they were due to arrive. But by that time Roger and I had become friendly, as I’ve said, so I wasn’t as hurt as I might have been.’
‘I still think it was a rotten thing to do,’ said Maisie. ‘So…you’ve been keeping your friendship with the headmaster a secret, have you? You dark horse, Anne! Well, I hope you’re going to tell me all about it now.’
‘Of course I am. I know you’ll like Roger when you get to know him better. You don’t really know him at all, do you, Maisie?’
‘No, only as Joanie’s and Jimmy’s teacher at one time… And I’ve got to admit he worked wonders for them.’ To the surprise of many folk, certainly with regard to Jimmy, both children were now attending the Grammar schools in Lowerbeck. ‘I shall certainly look forward to getting to know him better. He must be OK if you like him, Anne.’
‘I do…very much.’ She blushed a little. ‘We’ve kept it quiet, mainly because of the children. You know what kids are like if they get hold of an idea. So we behave very circumspectly at school. It’s always Mr Ellison and Miss Mellodey, although I think the rest of the staff must have guessed. We have six teachers now, you know, including Roger, who still takes a class.’ Maisie had noticed how the once small village school had gradually mushroomed in size, part of the playground now having been taken over for the new buildings.
‘You really are one of the first to know,’ Anne went on. ‘Roger gave me the ring on Friday evening, so I’ve only been wearing it for two days. We’ll break the news to the staff tomorrow, although I don’t think it will be any great surprise, and as for the children, I suppose they will get to know by degrees. We don’t want to make a big thing of it, but they’ll be sure to know by the end of the summer term. That’s when we plan to get married; the first Saturday in August, soon after school has finished.’
‘Gosh! You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you? So you’ll be back living in the schoolhouse. Well, just imagine that!’
‘So I will… But Roger intends that we should buy our own house as well. A schoolhouse is all very well, but it’s only yours as long as you have the post. We’ve realised we have to plan for the future.’
‘I’m amazed at your news, Anne. But I’m really pleased for you. I can tell you think a lot about this… Roger.’
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