Down an English Lane

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Mmm… First impressions cannot always be relied upon. I must admit I thought he was self-opinionated, too sure of himself…but I’ve realised it was a front. He wanted to appear confident at the interview; he badly needed to be offered that job, to get back his nerve and his self-confidence, so he’s told me since. And he might have overdone it…’ She laughed. ‘The rest of us candidates didn’t get a very favourable impression, but fortunately the committee could see his worth. And, of course, they were probably swayed at that time – just after the war – by his war record. He was commended for bravery at Dunkirk; that’s when he was injured and invalided out. He is really a very kind and unpretentious sort of man, although he does have quite strong opinions about some things.’

  ‘So where is he now? Shouldn’t he be with you on a Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘We had lunch together at the schoolhouse after I left you. We haven’t attended church together yet… And I told him I was seeing you this afternoon. He’s heard a lot about you, Maisie, I can assure you. I want to ask you, you see, if you will be my bridesmaid?’

  Maisie gasped with surprise, and with delight. ‘Me? Of course I will! I’d love to… But why me, of all people?’

  ‘Why not?’ smiled Anne. ‘I’ve no sisters or close relations. I can’t very well ask Charity, can I?’ Maisie giggled quietly, thinking of the former headmistress in a pink satin dress or something of the sort, carrying a bouquet. ‘I have one or two friends at school and a college friend I’ve kept in touch with. But who would I ask but you, Maisie? We’ve shared such a lot, you and I, since we came up to Middlebeck together.’

  ‘I would be delighted,’ said Maisie. ‘I do feel honoured. Thank you so much for asking me.’

  ‘We don’t want a big “do”,’ Anne continued. ‘I mean, we don’t want lots of little bridesmaids and pageboys and so on. I was in two minds as to whether to have a conventional white dress – I shall be thirty-six by the time we get married – but Roger says I must. So I want you to be my sole attendant. I thought about asking Audrey and Doris as well, and then I decided against it. Anyway, Doris is pregnant again. I don’t know whether you knew?’

  ‘No, I didn’t actually.’

  ‘Yes, their second child is due in September. So that rules her out, doesn’t it? And I haven’t really kept in touch with Audrey lately, not since she went to college.’

  And Audrey, too, would be very pregnant by the beginning of August, thought Maisie. But she knew that now was not the time to tell Anne of her friend’s dilemma.

  ‘And we were wondering, Roger and I, whether Arthur would put on a meal for us after the ceremony? Wedding breakfast they call it, don’t they, although it will be lunchtime, of course. Possibly about one o’clock if the wedding is at twelve, but we will have to make arrangements with Luke first.’

  ‘Do you mean in the new restaurant?’ asked Maisie.

  Anne nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right…’

  ‘I’m sure he will; he’ll be delighted. It won’t be a very big place though, you know. I don’t know how many they will be able to accommodate, but you’ll have to sort that out with Arthur.’

  ‘I’m not sure yet how many there will be. As I said, we don’t want a big “do”, but it’s amazing how the numbers add up when you start to count. If you ask so-and-so, then you have to ask so-and-so as well…’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Maisie. She had never seen her friend so elated – at least not since Bill, her fiancé, had been killed all those years ago – and she had a special radiance about her. It was obvious that she was very much in love with Roger Ellison; and Maisie hoped that the marriage would bring her all the happiness and fulfilment that she deserved. ‘I’ll leave it to you to tell Arthur what sort of a meal you will require and the numbers and everything. In fact, I won’t even mention it to them. It’s up to you to spread the good news; I’m sure everybody will be delighted.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Anne, ‘but I am delighted, so that is all that matters.’

  ‘May I tell Audrey, though?’ asked Maisie. ‘Luke’s driving us both back to Leeds later tonight, and she might think it’s odd that I’ve not told her. She’s sure to find out about me being your bridesmaid; so, if you don’t mind…’

  ‘Of course you can tell her. She’ll be on the guest list; so will all the Rectory family. Do you think she’ll understand about me having just you as a bridesmaid? She won’t feel left out?’

  ‘No, I’m quite sure she won’t,’ replied Maisie confidently. ‘Audrey has quite enough to think about… Her exams will be coming up soon, and her final school practice, so she tells me. I reckon she’ll be fully occupied, one way and another…’

  ‘How is Miss Thomson going on?’ asked Audrey as she and Patience were washing up after their Sunday lunch. ‘I noticed her in church, and when she was going down the path I saw that she was walking with a stick.’

  ‘She’s as well as can be expected for a lady of her age,’ replied Patience. ‘Nobody is quite sure how old she is. Amelia considers that her age is nobody’s business but her own, but she must be getting on for eighty, if not more.’

  ‘And she still lives alone over there, does she? She was on her own in church. Or does she have a live-in maid, like she used to have?’

  ‘No, not any more. She hasn’t had anyone living there since the land girls left at the end of the war. People keep telling her she should have a companion, but she’s as stubborn as a mule.’

  ‘So what’s changed?’ smiled Audrey.

  ‘Oh, she’s nothing like as crotchety as she used to be. Quite mellow in fact, in some ways. Having the land girls living with her did her a world of good, and she still gives your father a run for his money on the church council! It’s difficult to get live-in maids these days. Girls have become much more independent since the war and they’re looking for other kinds of jobs; they don’t want to go into service any more. Daisy, of course, was one of the last of a dying breed.’

  ‘Yes, she was a treasure,’ agreed Audrey. ‘Miss Thomson didn’t realise just how valuable Daisy was until she left to join the ATS, did she?’

  Audrey was remembering how the maid-of-all-work, Daisy Kitson, had taken her under her wing and mothered her when she had gone as an evacuee to live at Miss Thomson’s house. She had been scared out of her wits at first by the draconian old woman, but Daisy had made it all so much better… Until the time when the two of them, the maid and the evacuee, had displeased ‘Old Amelia’, resulting in Audrey going to live at the Rectory and Daisy joining the ATS. But that was all a long time ago, and Audrey felt sorry for the old lady now, living alone in that big house on the other side of the village green.

  ‘I think I’ll go across and see her this afternoon,’ she said. ‘What do you think, Mum? Or…does she not like having visitors?’

  ‘I think that would be very nice indeed,’ said Patience. ‘That’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Audrey. She will be pleased to see you, I’m sure. She has quite a few visitors. People don’t mind going now because she’s not the cantankerous old woman she used to be. I’ll give you a pot of my raspberry jam to take to her, and a ginger cake I made yesterday…’

  A few moments passed after Audrey knocked at the door, but she waited, feeling sure that Miss Thomson would not have gone out. Sure enough, the door opened eventually and the elderly woman peered out questioningly. ‘Yes…who is it?’ Her beady, almost black, eyes behind the rimless spectacles appeared as sharp as ever, but Audrey guessed that she probably did not see everything as clearly as she had used to do.

  ‘It’s me, Miss Thomson,’ she said. ‘Audrey… You know, Audrey Fairchild, from the Rectory.’

  ‘Audrey! Yes, of course it is.’ Miss Thomson smiled and her eyes softened as she looked closely at her visitor. ‘Come along in, my dear. How nice it is to see you. I noticed you in church this morning with your mother, and that friend of yours was there too, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes… Maisie,’ replied Audrey, following her
into the lounge, which did not appear to have changed at all since the early days of the war. The old-fashioned furniture and the patterned carpet were the same, as were the velour curtains, partly drawn to keep out the sun, although there was little sun to be seen. It smelled musty, and Audrey remembered that fires were very rarely lit in that room, although it was the one into which visitors were always shown. Miss Thomson stopped to switch on an electric fire, and two bars started to glow, which made the atmosphere a little more cheerful.

  ‘Maisie and I both decided to come home for the weekend,’ she said, sitting down on what was called an easy chair; it was anything but, being stuffed with horsehair. ‘We’re going back later today. My father is driving us to Leeds. Maisie works there now, you know, and I’m at college near Leeds.’

  ‘Maisie…yes, I remember.’ Miss Thomson sniffed, a little disapprovingly. She and Maisie had crossed swords right at the beginning of the war when the little girl had stood up for her friend and, Audrey recalled, had referred to her as a ‘nasty old woman’. And after that, ‘Old Amelia’ had never really warmed to Maisie as everyone else had seemed to do, believing that the child was cheeky and too forward by half. ‘She’s working in a travel agency, isn’t she? In charge of it, so I’ve heard.’ There was clearly not much wrong with the woman’s grasp of the facts. ‘That should suit her down to the ground; she always had a lot to say for herself, that one… And what about you, Audrey? You’re still at that college are you, training to be a teacher?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I finish though, at the end of June.’

  ‘So you’ll be coming to teach here, I suppose, at the village school?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ replied Audrey. The possibility of that had not occurred to her; she was not sure that she would want to teach in her own town. And under the circumstances it would be impossible. Just for the moment she had almost forgotten her predicament, at least it had receded to the back of her mind; but now the awfulness of it all was taking hold of her again. ‘No…’ she said. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea. I’m not sure what I shall do. I’ll probably get a post…somewhere else.’

  Amelia was looking at her keenly. ‘I can see you in charge of our village school one of these days.’ She nodded sagely and smiled. ‘You were always such a clever little girl, and so sensible…’

  Audrey began to feel confused and anxious again. Whatever would the old lady say when she discovered the truth? What would they all say? The enormity of it was threatening to overwhelm her, and she had thought she was coping so well after unburdening herself to her parents. She could feel her hands starting to tremble and she clasped them together, staring down at the carpet. Change the subject, please, please…she said silently. You don’t know what I’m like; I’m not sensible at all…

  Her eyes lit on the bag at the side of her chair and she grabbed hold of it. ‘My mum has sent you some jam,’ she said, ‘and a cake. She says she hopes you’ll enjoy them.’

  ‘Thank you, dear; how very kind of her,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘I don’t bake any more now, so that will be a real treat. Mrs Kitson does some baking for me now and again. You remember Mrs Kitson, don’t you, Audrey; Daisy’s mother? She cleans for me a few mornings a week and does my washing and ironing, and the baking occasionally. People keep telling me I should have somebody to live with me, but I like my independence. I do my own shopping, although it takes me longer than it used to do.’

  Audrey recalled that it was always Daisy who had done the shopping, along with all the other jobs, but the war had forced everyone, even genteel old ladies like Miss Thomson, to do more for themselves.

  ‘How is Daisy?’ she asked now. ‘Do you hear from her?’ Her moment of panic was passing, but she knew she must steer the conversation to other people and away from herself. She might have realised, though, that Miss Thomson would ask questions about what she was doing; old ladies were always nosey.

  ‘Oh yes, Daisy keeps in touch with me now and again. She and her husband – Andy, isn’t it? – they went to manage a farm in Worcestershire. They have two children, a boy and girl. She always sends me a Christmas card…’

  Audrey refused the offer of a cup of tea, knowing that that would force her to stay a good deal longer. For the next half hour or so they chatted about this and that; about the work that was going on at Arthur Rawcliffe’s new restaurant; the numerous market stalls that had sprung up in the last year or so, all selling the same sort of produce; ‘new brooms’ on the church council who wanted to change everything…

  When there was a lull in the conversation Audrey decided to take her leave. What would be Miss Thomson’s reaction to her the next time they met, she wondered? Luke had said she must hold her head up high, but it was not going to be easy.

  She was glad of Maisie’s company on the journey back to Leeds. They chattered away in the back of the car – although it was Maisie who was doing most of the talking – leaving Luke to concentrate on the road ahead. He had acquired the second-hand Ford Anglia a couple of years before, to assist him in his parish work and his visits to his bishop and rural dean.

  They stopped at Maisie’s flat, and she departed with a cheery smile and a wave. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘It’ll all be OK, you’ll see. Thanks for the lift, Luke, Be seeing you…’

  How confident she always is, thought Audrey; she could not imagine her friend getting into this sort of a predicament. She was starting to feel nervous again; scared stiff, in fact. However would she be able to face Miss Montague and Miss Peabody and everybody?

  ‘Come and sit at the front with me now,’ said Luke. He looked at her anxious face and smiled confidently at her. ‘Be strong and of a good courage,’ he said. ‘All will be well. We’ll face this together, you and I…’

  The words of one of Luke’s favourite hymns flashed into her mind.

  ‘No lion can him fright,

  He’ll with a giant fight…’

  Yes, it would be all right. Luke had always been able to make things right…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Maisie was surprised to see Henry Galloway entering the Leeds office late one afternoon, towards the end of May. She smiled and nodded at him, then carried on with the booking she was engaged upon whilst he spoke to Barry and Olwen. They were not in awe of their boss, knowing that he trusted them all to run the office competently.

  Galaxy was still primarily a family firm with Henry as the managing director, but there were now other shareholders as well as family members, and Maisie was proud to be one of them. Henry had presented her with the shares as a reward for her loyalty and ability, and for the hard work she had done for the company. And when she turned twenty-one in the May of next year he intended to give her a place on the board.

  ‘Hello there, Henry,’ she said when the wealthy lady, one of their best clients who had been booking an airline ticket to New York, had departed. ‘Checking up on us, are you?’ She grinned at him. ‘It’s a while since we saw you in our neck of the woods.’

  ‘No, I know I don’t need to do that.’ He looked round appreciatively. ‘Everything appears to be running very smoothly. No problems?’

  ‘No, none at all. And we are having a good season. Bookings are well up on this time last year.’

  ‘Good, good… Actually, Maisie, I’ve come to ask you a big favour. I would have rung you, but I thought it might be best if I talked with you, face to face… Olwen, could you make us a cup of tea, please, there’s a love?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Galloway…’ Olwen disappeared into the room behind the office, and Henry drew up a chair.

  ‘Sit yourself down and I’ll tell you what I’ve got in mind, Maisie. You don’t have to say yes, but I’d like you to at least consider it, as a temporary measure…’

  ‘You’re transferring me to Timbuktu,’ she laughed.

  ‘No…no, not quite; we haven’t got so far yet. But we will, one of these days, we will…’ He nodded, steepling his fingers and tapping them together. ‘W
hat I was wondering is this… Would you act as a courier for us for the next few weeks? On what we call the “cultural” tours; you know, of course, you’ve done them before. The fact is, Thelma has been forced to give up much sooner than we expected. She’s pregnant – you probably know that – and she would be leaving us at the end of the summer anyway, but she’s been suffering with high blood pressure and she has to stop work immediately…’

  ‘So you want me to take over…? Mmm…yes, of course I’d love to.’ Maisie knew without any hesitation that she wanted to do so. ‘But…what about my position here? I’m not suggesting I can’t be replaced; I know I can, but I thought that this was what you wanted me to concentrate on; running an office rather than doing the courier’s job. I used to love doing it, of course, but I thought you wanted me to stay here.’

  ‘The thing is, Maisie, that you are a veritable Jack of all trades…’

  ‘And master of none?’ she smiled.

  ‘Oh no, not at all. You are the master of whatever you set your mind to… Thank you, Olwen.’ Henry broke off as the tea arrived. ‘Come and have a cup with us, Olwen, and you too, Barry. I don’t think you will have any more customers today.’ He checked his watch. ‘Five minutes off closing time. You have my permission to turn the sign round to Closed. Then you can listen to what I have to say to Maisie. It will affect you both, of course…’

  Galaxy ran three cultural tours now for the ‘more discerning travellers’, those who wanted to learn something of the history, environment and culture of the places they were visiting. These were a five-day tour to London; another five-day tour to Stratford-upon-Avon; and a seven-day tour visiting the city of Edinburgh for three nights, followed by three nights in Callander. These tours ran alternately, each one taking place every three weeks or so. Galaxy’s fleet of coaches was gradually being enlarged, but was insufficient to run every tour on a weekly basis, as some of the larger coach companies did. The tours to seaside resorts, which required only a driver and not a courier, had been extended to include places further afield, in Cornwall and the Isle of Wight, in addition to the old favourites such as Bournemouth, Torquay and Eastbourne.