Strolling With The One I Love

by Joan Jonker

  ‘That I couldn’t tell yer, lass. It’s what me and my Jack would like, but Margaret is being very tight-lipped about it. I might be wrong, but I’ve got a feeling they’ve discussed it between themselves and don’t want to say anything until both families are together.’ Betty drained her cup. ‘To tell the truth, I’ve said so many prayers, I’m hoping God has heard them and takes pity on me. No, that sounds selfish, as though I’m the only one going through the mill. I should have said, I hope God takes pity on all of us.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be lovely if they did get married, though?’ Kate could feel herself getting emotional, and not for the first time in her life wished she had more control over her feelings, like Monica did. But she couldn’t change the way she was made. ‘Just think, you and Jack would have a grandchild and a son-in-law. And the baby would have a real mam and dad.’

  Monica tutted as she shook her head. But there was affection in her eyes when she said, ‘Just listen to this one, Betty, she’s got it all worked out so everyone is happy. She’s me very best mate, and I love the bones of her, but she’s not half soppy.’

  ‘Well, if all her wishes are granted, me and Jack will be the happiest couple in Liverpool.’ Betty’s sigh was wistful. ‘But we haven’t got a magic wand to wave, or a fairy godmother to make all our wishes come true, so we’ll have to wait and see what this meeting with Greg’s parents brings. They may be in favour of them getting wed or they may be dead against it.’

  A picture of Greg flashed through Kate’s mind and she said, without thinking really, ‘I believe it’s up to the young couple themselves. Greg must think something of Margaret to have come back on the scene and admitted he lied. And if they both want to get married, then I don’t think the parents can stop them.’

  ‘Margaret would need our permission, being only seventeen, and the lad’s not yet twenty-one, so he needs his parents’ permission too.’ Betty wriggled to the edge of her chair. ‘I’d better be making tracks, I’ve to make sure the place is like a new pin. First impressions are very important, and I don’t want the Corbetts to think we’re as common as muck. I won’t be satisfied until everything in the room is shining.’

  ‘Even your feller’s bald head?’ Monica asked with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Ay, you, I’ll have yer know my Jack’s got a fine head of hair. There’s a couple of grey ones here and there, but not as many as I’ve got. Mind you, I’m surprised I haven’t gone pure white with the worry of the last few weeks.’

  ‘Keep yer pecker up, sunshine, and a smile on yer face.’ Kate nodded to emphasize the importance of her words. ‘If the Corbetts see that ye’re not worried, then they’ll feel better about it. A smiling face can work wonders. And who knows? In a couple of hours all yer worries could be behind yer.’

  ‘I’ve certainly been glad to have you two to talk to. It takes some of the weight off yer mind when yer can confide in friends.’ Betty couldn’t push herself off the chair with the first attempt, but managed on the second. ‘As soon as I know anything definite, yer’ll be the first ones to know.’

  ‘Come up in the morning about ten,’ Monica suggested. ‘Me and Kate usually have our morning cuppa around that time. We’ll be on pins, wondering what’s going on.’

  Betty nodded. ‘I’ll let yer know, I promise. But yer can throw me out now or my feller will be having a heart attack, thinking he’s going to be left to greet the Corbetts on his own.’

  Monica walked to the kitchen door with her. ‘Betty, me and Kate wish yer all the luck in the world. And I hope at ten tomorrow morning yer’ll be skipping up this yard with a huge grin on yer face.’

  Now the meeting with the Corbetts was getting closer, Betty’s nerves were playing her up. But she managed a shaky smile. ‘Thanks for listening to me troubles. I’ll see yer tomorrow. Ta-ra for now.’

  When Monica walked back into the living room, Kate leaned forward, her lovely face full of expectancy. ‘I think everything is going to turn out fine for her. Greg wouldn’t have plucked up the courage to do what he’s done if he didn’t care for Margaret.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I think I’ll pray to Saint Anthony tonight, to ask if he’ll put a word in.’

  ‘Don’t build yerself up for a let-down, girl! Try and put it out of yer mind until tomorrow, ’cos all the worry in the world won’t change things. I’ll put the kettle on for a fresh cup of tea for us, but I don’t want to hear a word about the Blackmores or the Corbetts. We’ll sit quietly with a nice cuppa, and pull everyone in the street to pieces. Now that should cheer us up, eh?’

  Chapter Nine

  Betty Blackmore was expecting a knock on the door at any minute, but she still jumped when it came. Her nerves were as taut as a violin string, and she had to struggle to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘I’ll go.’ Her eyes swept the room for the umpteenth time to make sure everywhere was neat, tidy and shining. ‘You can put the kettle on, Margaret.’

  Her husband Jack was concerned for her because she’d looked awful for the last few weeks. ‘Betty, love, stop worrying, they can’t eat yer.’

  ‘I’m doing me best, Jack, I can’t do any more.’ She shook her head as she walked into the tiny hall. Her husband was good, but like all men didn’t understand the things women worried about.

  When Betty opened the door it was plain to see that while Greg managed a smile and a greeting, his parents weren’t sure what kind of a reception they’d get or how they should act. ‘Come in, won’t yer?’ Her smile was stiff because her cheeks refused to move. It was understandable, really, because the last time she’d seen Greg’s parents there was shouting and screaming, and fists were flying. ‘Margaret’s putting the kettle on, she won’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll give her a hand,’ Greg said, leaving his parents standing in the middle of the living room watching his retreating back with surprise written all over their faces. Hadn’t they agreed that they’d see what the Blackmores had to say before getting too friendly?

  Jack Blackmore jumped to his feet. Someone had to make an effort to lighten the tension so he held out his hand to Greg’s father who was looking very ill at ease. ‘It was good of you and yer wife to come, Albert. Here, let me take yer jacket and hang it up.’

  Bert Corbett slipped his arms out of his short jacket and passed it over. ‘I don’t know why I had to wear the blessed thing anyway in this weather! But Maude insists she doesn’t like to see men in their shirt sleeves, and I learned a long time ago that it was pointless to argue with a woman.’

  Maude herself wasn’t wearing a coat, but looked very smart in a white cardigan over a cotton dress. In seconds her eyes had taken stock of the neat, comfortable room with its highly polished furniture. And while they’d been waiting for the front door to be opened, she hadn’t missed the shining windows and white as snow net curtains. The step and windowsill too had been scrubbed so clean you could eat your dinner from them.

  ‘Sit down, Mrs Corbett, please.’ Betty waved a hand towards the couch. ‘I’m sure Margaret won’t be long with the tea.’

  Albert bent his knees slightly, straightened the creases in his trousers, then stretched to his full six feet. ‘Her name’s Maude, and I like to be called Bert. There’s no need to stand on ceremony.’

  ‘That’s how it should be,’ Jack agreed. ‘There’s no sense in us being at daggers drawn, it won’t solve anything.’

  Maude nodded as she sat gingerly on the edge of the couch with her knees pressed tightly together and her dress pulled down to cover them. Her handbag stood on her lap like a sentry on duty, and her two hands rested on top. She looked for all the world like a woman who was ready to make a quick getaway if the need arose. ‘Yer shouldn’t bother going to any trouble on our behalf, Mrs Blackmore, we’ve not long had a big dinner.’

  ‘It’s first-name terms from now on, Maude, so call me Betty. And we haven’t gone to a lot of trouble.’ She glanced anxiously towards the kitchen. What on earth were the youngsters doing out there? It didn’t look good on Margaret
’s part, for Greg’s parents could be forgiven for thinking she was shunning them. ‘Just a few sandwiches and a cup of tea.’

  The words had hardly left her lips when Margaret came through carrying a wooden tray set out very nicely with matching cups and saucers, all with handles and no cracks, arranged on a hand-embroidered cloth with a pattern of flowers in the corners. She placed it carefully on the table before facing Greg’s parents. ‘Hello, Mrs Corbett, Mr Corbett.’

  Bert Corbett smiled back at her and said, ‘Hello, lass.’ But his wife merely inclined her head. That was until her son came through the kitchen door when her eyes widened in surprise. He was carrying a plate of thinly cut sandwiches in one hand, and a plate of iced fairy cakes in the other. And the cakes looked really inviting, sitting on a very fancy white doily.

  ‘Well,’ said Maude, ‘that’s something yer’ve never done at home. Waited on hand and foot yer’ve been, all yer life.’

  ‘Yer’ve never let me!’ Greg’s white face showed he was under strain, but he was doing his best to be friendly, hoping his parents would follow his lead. ‘Every time I go in the kitchen yer chase me out!’

  ‘The kitchen’s no place for a man, that’s why.’ Things weren’t going as Maude had anticipated. She’d had it all planned out in her head. Half an hour’s discussion of the coming baby, then home. But it wasn’t working out that way. She’d have something to say to her husband when they got home. He was sitting comfortably, with a smile on his face, looking as though he’d been friends with the Blackmores for years. She might have known she’d get no help from him. Typical man, he always looked for the easy way out.

  ‘Shall I pour the tea, mam?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘If yer would, love, and I’ll pass the sandwiches round.’

  Before Betty could pick one of the plates up, Greg beat her to it. ‘You sit down, Mrs Blackmore, I’ll do that. I may as well make meself useful.’

  Maude looked at her son and mentally shook her head. He seemed to be quite at home here, even though he could only have been over the threshold a couple of times. They’d probably fawned over him, making a fuss to get on his right side. Well, she’d make sure her beloved son wasn’t coerced into something he didn’t want. She wasn’t going to let him ruin his life because of one stupid mistake.

  ‘These sandwiches are very tasty, Betty,’ Bert said, ignoring the daggers his wife was sending his way. She wouldn’t accept that it was her son who had brought all this about. As far as she was concerned, the girl was the one who egged him on. ‘A touch of mustard makes all the difference to brawn, gives it more taste.’

  Maude was glaring at her husband as her hand went out to take one of the sandwiches offered by her son. Anyone would think they’d been invited for a social visit, instead of something which was going to affect all their lives. But after two bites she had to admit that the sandwiches were indeed very tasty, and didn’t hesitate to take a second when offered. Nor did she refuse another cup of tea, or two of the fairy cakes which were much lighter than the ones she made. These just melted in your mouth. Not that she was about to say aloud what she was thinking, she hadn’t come here to pay compliments.

  Bert was sitting in a fireside chair, facing Jack across the hearth, while Betty was seated on the couch next to Maude, who was keeping a close eye on her son. He was sitting at the dining-room table next to Margaret, their chairs too close together in his mother’s opinion. And they seemed happy to be in each other’s company, too, which didn’t please her. So she decided to broach the reason why they were here, and ask what the Blackmores had in mind. ‘We can talk while we’re eating and drinking, otherwise it’ll be time to go home before we’ve done what we set out to do. And that is to tell Margaret, and her mam and dad of course, that we’ll help her in any way we can. Greg knows his responsibilities, and he’ll not shirk them.’ There was a squaring of Maude’s shoulders and a slight shake of the head which practically told those watching that the Corbetts knew their duty. ‘He’ll continue to pay as much as he can afford each week while the child is growing up.’

  Betty’s heart sank. She knew her husband and daughter would feel the same. There was to be no wedding then, no making an honest woman of Margaret, and no father’s name on the baby’s birth certificate. But Betty wasn’t going to lower herself by saying that if Greg was as good as his mother was making out, he would marry the girl he’d got into trouble. Oh, there was a lot that could be said, but to what purpose? And why embarrass Margaret? The poor girl was feeling bad enough. No, her mother wasn’t going to see her belittled. ‘It’s good of yer to think of helping out, but we wouldn’t dream of letting you. Me and Jack can give Margaret and the baby everything they need. They’ll want for nothing as long as we’re alive.’

  Sensing victory, Maude was in a mood to be generous. ‘Oh, no, yer must let us help out. Never let it be said that we didn’t do our duty. And we can afford to help, having two wages coming in every week, can’t we, Bert?’

  Her husband’s face was like thunder. Wait until they got home! He’d have something to say about the way his wife was talking down to the Blackmores, as though they came from a lower class. In fact, it almost sounded as though she was saying they’d got themselves into this mess but her son was generously offering to help with a few bob a week. ‘I’ve nothing to say. Not yet, anyhow.’

  Maude was taken aback by her husband’s answer and began to flounder. ‘But yer said yer agreed we should help out?’

  ‘There’s no need for all this, Mam,’ Greg said softly. ‘Yer see, me and Margaret want to get married. And as soon as possible.’

  Maude looked as though she’d been dealt a body blow, but Betty had to force herself not to jump up and punch the air with happiness, while the two men, Jack and Bert, sat quietly with smiles on their faces. Even when Maude took off on her husband, he stayed calm and collected. ‘Have yer got nothing to say for yerself?’ she asked. ‘Don’t sit there leaving it all to me. Tell yer son he’s being crazy, that he’s not to get married, I forbid it.’

  ‘I’ll do no such thing, love! It’s only right and proper that he marries the girl after getting her in the family way. It’s his responsibility and I’m glad to see he’s man enough to admit it. But I would like to ask them both if it’s what they really want. How about it, Margaret?’

  ‘I’d like to get married, Mr Corbett, and not only because of the baby.’

  ‘What about you, son?’ Bert looked him in the eye. ‘There’s no going back once yer’ve taken the vows, yer know. Marriage is not a game, it means spending a lifetime with someone and raising a family. Yer can’t come running home to yer mam if yer don’t like it.’

  ‘I know that, Dad. Me and Margaret have had a long talk and gone through all the good things and the snags. Neither of us is stupid, we know exactly what we’d be letting ourselves in for. And we know it will be a struggle for a few years, until we get on our feet and can afford to have a home of our own around us. But it’s what we both want, and we’re looking forward to the baby and will give it the best start we can in life.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Maude cried. ‘Yer can’t get married at your age, ye’re too young! Anyway, yer need yer parents’ consent, and I certainly won’t give it because I don’t think yer’ve thought it through properly.’

  Bert banged a clenched fist on the wooden arm of his chair. ‘For God’s sake, woman, yer son is the one to blame for all this trouble, and if he’s man enough to try and right a wrong then yer should be supporting him, not treating him as though he’s weak in the head and can’t think for himself!’ He turned to Greg who was now holding the hand of a very tearful Margaret. ‘If yer need a parent’s permission to get wed, son, then yer’ve got mine.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad, I appreciate that ’cos we want to get married as soon as possible.’ Greg squeezed Margaret’s hand. ‘Before the gossip starts.’

  ‘Have yer all lost the run of yer senses?’ Maude was sitting forward now, her face set. ‘Where are th
ey going to live, and how will they manage for money? I don’t suppose anyone has thought about the practical side of things, have they?’

  ‘They can live here,’ Betty said quietly. ‘Margaret has a furnished bedroom and it’ll suit them nicely. So they won’t need to worry about where they’ll live, or about furniture, ’cos they can make this their home until such time as they can afford their own. There’s room for the baby’s cot as well, and my grandchild will be very welcome in this house. Margaret is only seventeen, but she’s a kind and caring girl who’ll make a wonderful mother.’ Maude Corbett’s face turned dark as thunder as she realized things weren’t going her way. Who the hell did she think she was? When Betty next spoke, it was in a strong voice. ‘I would like to see her married for the sake of the child, but we’d get along perfectly well if she didn’t. Me and Jack will always be here for her, and for our grandchild.’

  Maude sensed the battle was lost, but how could she redeem herself without looking foolish? The word ‘grandchild’ had suddenly brought her down to earth. She hadn’t really given the baby any thought, she’d been too busy trying to protect her son. The prospect of a child hadn’t meant anything to her as yet, except for the trouble it had caused. Now she was thinking of it in a different light. It was her son’s flesh and blood, and that meant it was part of her and Bert as well. The enormity of how much she could be throwing away came like a second body blow. If she didn’t watch it, she’d be excluded from her own grandchild’s life, and for that she’d never forgive herself. And she’d have Bert to reckon with because it was obvious he’d thought everything through while she was busy shouting her mouth off.

  Bert could almost see the way his wife’s mind was working. She’d got herself into a corner and was wondering how to get out of it without losing her dignity. And although he didn’t see eye to eye with her over this, it didn’t mean he didn’t love her dearly. ‘Oh, I think me and the wife can see that Greg is quite certain of what he wants to do, and we’ll go along with it, won’t we, love?’