‘Do you think there’ll have been any developments in Yorkshire this weekend?’ Margaret asked.
‘Developments? Of what nature?’
‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re not waiting for news too.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Henry’s eyes sparkled. ‘Unless you’re thinking wedding bells at last.’
‘What do you mean, at last? She’s the first girl he’s brought home who’s been suitable. I just hope he doesn’t leave her alone all those miles away for too long, or someone else might find her.’
Henry laughed. ‘Perhaps he daren’t become too serious about the girl in case you frighten her away like you did the last one.’
‘Oh, Henry, you surely didn’t want our son to marry that silly scatterbrain of a girl.’
‘No, I didn’t, and I don’t think Tom had any intention of marrying her anyway. But you shouldn’t have interfered all the same.’
Margaret blushed. ‘I know, but I did it for the best. I’m sure Tom must realise that now.’
‘Well we’ll see, but you can’t blame him if he doesn’t include us in his plans this time.’
‘Oh, Henry, I do hope he marries Nellie. She’s exactly right for Tom.’
‘What, a miner’s daughter who cooks for a living?’
‘Yes, she’s all I ever wanted. She may be a working girl but she’s had a good upbringing, I can tell. Tom could take that girl anywhere and she’d do him proud.’
‘Well, just don’t interfere this time. Let him tell us in his own good time. That’s if there’s anything to tell. After all, it’s early days, and we’ve only met the girl a couple of times.’
‘Ah, but look how much time he’s spending travelling to Millington and back. What time do you think he’ll be home?’
‘Not until we’re both fast asleep in our beds.’
‘Oh, surely we can wait up and see if there are any further developments.’
‘There you go again, interfering. Curiosity killed the cat. He’ll let us know in his own time if he decides to marry the girl. Now I’m going to my bed with that very good book I’m reading. Coming?’
‘I suppose so.’ Margaret went to the window and lifted the curtain but there was no sign of the car. She sighed and followed her husband up the stairs. Henry was right as usual; she was an interfering busybody. She would curb it this time though – she had no desire to frighten Nellie away. She smiled to herself, proud of the fact that she had played a part in keeping her son free for the likes of Nellie Gabbitas.
Prudence Goodman was all sugary sweetness and light. ‘Your shoes are covered in sawdust, Robert. Take them off and I’ll clean them for you.’ Before he could refuse she had knelt down and was undoing the laces of his shoes. He could see down the bodice of her dress, of which she had left the buttons undone again. Robbie didn’t know why she bothered – there was hardly anything to see and what there was didn’t interest him. He wondered what it was about the girl that made his skin crawl. Fortunately he needn’t spend much time in her company, what with his work, and time spent at the farm. Robbie’s savings were gradually accumulating in the bank. He wished he was older so that he could marry Dot Greenwood, but of course they were too young and must wait until they could afford a home of their own.
The news that his brother James was to leave the vicarage as well as John had filled Robbie with dread. Although he was treated as a son by Louisa and Herbert, Prudence’s thoughts towards him were definitely not those of a sister and he felt uneasy at the thought of being without the protection of James. It was only when Prudence caught him alone that her feelings came to the fore. In the company of her parents she would humiliate him by treating him as an inferior being. A common, working-class woodworker was how she once described him. Of course Herbert had retaliated by saying that Jesus Christ was the son of a carpenter, but she had just stuck her nose in the air and looked at Robbie in that disdainful way she had. Robbie did his best to ignore her but it led to an uncomfortable atmosphere from which he couldn’t wait to escape. Secretly, Robbie thought Prudence was slightly unstable and seemed to be getting worse.
When she brought back Robbie’s shoes Prudence said, ‘I’ve done a sketch of you, Robert. Would you like to see it?’
‘All right.’ He couldn’t very well refuse without being ill-mannered.
‘It’s in my room.’ She set off for the stairs. ‘Come on.’ Robbie stood on the landing and waited.
‘Come in, I won’t bite.’
‘No, I don’t think it’s right for me to come in. You bring it out.’ Prudence’s attitude changed dramatically. ‘You wouldn’t refuse an invitation into the whore’s room, would you?’
‘Don’t call her that.’
‘I shall call her whatever I like. This is my house; you’re only the lodger.’ With that she slammed the door of her room, the sketch forgotten. Robbie wondered if she had ever done one. If she had it was never mentioned again.
Lucy was minding Evelyn’s child more and more these days. Little Bernard Smithson was like a ray of sunshine with his ready smile. He had brought his wooden farm animals to play with and kept Lucy entertained by mooing like a cow, baaing like a sheep and quacking and snorting in the manner of ducks and pigs. When his eyes became heavy and he struggled to stay awake, Lucy undressed him and put on his pyjamas, then she rocked him in her mother’s old chair, his cheeks becoming rosy with the heat from the fire. Lucy’s breasts were becoming heavy now and she wondered what it would be like feeding her baby.
She sang softly, ‘Twinkle twinkle, little star,’ bringing back a fleeting memory of her mother’s voice. She wished her child could have a grandma and a grandad, but even the wishing mirror couldn’t grant a wish like that. Instead she made another wish; that her baby would be as healthy as little Bernard. She cuddled him closer. If her baby was as lovable as this little boy she wished for lots of babies. Lucy smiled to herself. She had better be careful; the wishing mirror might give her more than she could cope with. She closed her eyes. She would cope – with a lovely man like John by her side she would cope with as many children as God gave her and enjoy them all.
Mary and Jacob were the only ones who couldn’t feel any enthusiasm for the forthcoming events. Whereas Jane’s house should have had Mary discussing wallpapers and paint colours, all she could think about was Lucy’s pregnancy. She tried not to be envious and bought a few ounces of white wool to begin knitting a matinee coat for the baby, but Jacob saw the tears begin to flow every time she began to knit and confiscated the pattern and knitting rather than watch his wife become depressed. ‘It’ll happen, Mary, if we stop worrying. Besides we haven’t been trying as long as Jim at work and now they’ve got twins.’
‘Oh, Jacob, I know it’s silly to worry but I can’t help it. I so want to give you a child, and there’s our Lucy only been married a couple of months and already expecting. Perhaps there’s something wrong with me.’
‘Aye, and perhaps it’s me there’s something wrong with, and perhaps there’s nothing wrong with either of us except that we’re too impatient. So let’s forget about babies and discuss what you’re going to wear for these two weddings.’
‘All right. I expect it’ll have to be something posh for our Nellie’s. Oh Jacob! What if she gets married in Blackpool where she’ll have none of us to support her?’
‘What are yer talking about? It’ll be a damn good excuse for a bit of sea air and a couple o’ days away.’
‘Really?’
‘Mary, do yer think I’d let yer miss yer sister’s wedding?’
Mary cheered up at the thought of a few days’ holiday, babies forgotten for the time being, but Jacob knew the problem would only be postponed until another day. He prayed that Mary would become pregnant before that day arrived.
Ben and Emma Gabbitas were enjoying life to the full. Working alongside her mother in the shop suited Emma. The customers had mainly become friends over the years and because Mrs Scott had allowed them t
o put things in the book each week until payday, they had resisted taking their custom to the Co-op or other larger stores. Emma was quite capable of running the shop without her mother’s assistance, but the busy atmosphere and the gossip meant the elder woman found it difficult to keep away. ‘What on earth should I do if I retired?’ she asked Emma for the umpteenth time.
‘Take it easy, go into town for the day, take a holiday.’
‘Oh I expect I will one of these days.’ But they both knew she was at her happiest pottering about weighing sugar into blue bags and pats of butter from the huge round block. The shop sold everything from vegetables, which were stacked outside each morning and brought in at night, to donkey stones, candles, wrap-round pinafores and socks. Various tobaccos and jar upon jar of sticky toffee, liquorice sticks and sugar mice filled the shelves behind the counter away from little fingers. Sweeping brushes, shovels and floor mops stood to attention beside the door and in a glass case, gorgonzola cheese, potted meat and a side of bacon tempted the palates of customers. The smell of green soap, moth balls and lavender bags filled the air, vying with the aroma of crusty bread, sticky buns and savoury pies.
Emma loved the shop almost as much as her mother did and now she had Ben she considered herself the most fortunate woman alive. She wished Ben would leave the pit and join her in the business – it was a thriving concern and she knew it would be even more successful if Ben began visiting the wholesaler’s instead of the salesman visiting them. With a van they could begin deliveries too, but Ben declared he was happiest at the pit doing a real man’s job. Emma didn’t argue; she adored the man in her life and had no desire to change him. Her mother was relieved in a way. She would have felt like an interloper if Ben had taken over the shop. Much as she was fond of her son-in-law it was nice to have her daughter to herself during shop hours. Besides she would be embarrassed if Ben saw her in one of her fits. If Ben did decide to join Emma however, she would retire; the shop was Emma’s now and she had no wish to interfere between husband and wife. For the time being, the three of them were content.
Robbie Grey was extremely proud of himself. Mr Grundy had allowed him to make and fit a new front door for Mr Rawlings. Robbie had measured, made and fitted the door all on his own and when his boss went to check on the work he declared the door a perfect fit and a job well done.
‘I can see me sen being done out of a job soon,’ he told a very satisfied customer. ‘He’ll be a better joiner than me before long.’
‘Well it’s you who’s trained me.’ Robbie blushed at the compliment, which was soon followed by another.
‘Aye, tha’s found thi sen a good lad theer. If ever tha wants to get rid of ’im ee can come and work for me.’ Robbie had no desire to take a job humping bags of coal, but he grinned and shook his head. ‘I like being a joiner,’ he said to Mr Grundy’s relief. The only worry Robbie had at the moment was that his brother’s wedding was looking closer, and he didn’t like the thought of James leaving the Goodmans’ one little bit.
The wedding took place on a lovely Saturday early in March. It was a quiet ceremony with only Jane’s family and the Goodmans present. Jane looked adorable in a short white dress made by Mary. She had had her hair cut short and waved, which made her large brown eyes look even larger. James Grey couldn’t take his eyes off his bride throughout the ceremony and Robbie was just as entranced by Dot in her dress of powder-blue. Lucy felt like an elephant with her huge pregnant figure, but John said she had never looked lovelier with her clear, unblemished skin and glossy hair. Actually she felt wonderful but wondered what she would be like in a month’s time. The flowered smock Mary had made a few weeks ago was already stretched across her belly and the skirt beneath it held together with a huge safety pin. She hoped by the time Nellie’s wedding took place in May her baby would be born and her figure back to normal. Kitty had a new boyfriend who had been invited, which was only right, Jane said, with Kitty being a bridesmaid. Only Prudence Goodman put a damper on the party with her constant glances at Robbie and glares at Dot. Jane and James never noticed: they had eyes for no one but each other and couldn’t wait to begin life together in the school house.
* * *
Evelyn Smithson had a regular night out once a week now, thanks to Lucy. Evelyn and a friend from school days usually went to the pictures, but on this occasion were going to a dance at Cragstone. Lucy was allowing Bernard to be put to bed in the cot Robbie had made for the forthcoming baby and spend the night with Lucy and John. Evelyn was to see a man friend she had met last week and was nervous about the first date she had had since Bernard was born. ‘How do I know I can trust him, Lucy? Frank seems nice but so did Bernard’s dad. I thought he really loved me, Lucy. He was all sweet talk and then he would change without any reason. He really scared me sometimes. I don’t ever want him near Bernard again. How could I trust another man after an experience like that?’
‘Evelyn, you can’t go through life mistrusting everyone. Just don’t take things too seriously until you get to know him better.’ Lucy hoped things would work out for Evelyn; she deserved some happiness and little Bernard would benefit from a man in his life. Lucy felt a little bit envious of Evelyn – she looked so pretty when she set off for Cragstone.
The two girls had a lovely time. Frank was attentive to both of them but it was Evelyn he really liked. After the strains of the last waltz faded he set off to Millington, escorting Evelyn’s friend safely home before carrying on with Evelyn to Top Row. ‘Can I see you tomorrow, Evelyn?’
‘Oh I don’t know, I can’t leave Bernard again. In fact I won’t be leaving him anymore because Lucy’s ready for having her baby almost.’
‘I didn’t mean you to leave your little boy. I meant perhaps to go for a walk if it’s fine. I thought he might like that.’
‘Well, yes I’d love to,’ Evelyn smiled. ‘If you’re sure? It isn’t everyone who wants lumbering with a child.’
‘It wouldn’t be lumbering me; it would give me pleasure. I think you’re so brave, Evelyn, bringing your son up on your own. You’re not only brave, you’re lovely.’ Frank took Evelyn in his arms and kissed her, a kiss that left them both longing for more. Evelyn drew away, vowing not to rush into anything she might regret. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.
‘Goodnight, until tomorrow. I’ll meet you by the clock at two.’ Evelyn nodded and actually skipped along the row, feeling happier than she could ever remember. Maybe Lucy’s mirror had worked for her.
The row was in darkness apart from the Murphys’ kitchen. Mrs Murphy never seemed to go to bed. Evelyn wondered if the poor woman was afraid of becoming pregnant again and was avoiding her husband. She let herself in and decided not to bother lighting the gas and go straight up to bed. Then the knock came at the door. She wondered if it was Frank, who had changed his mind about tomorrow. It was most likely Lucy to say Bernard wouldn’t settle.
She unlocked the door and the figure came out of the dark night into the darkness of the kitchen. Evelyn was too surprised to cry out. Then the voice said ‘Light the bloody gas.’
Her heart froze. Now of all times he had turned up. The times she had prayed he would come back and give her and their son the support and love Evelyn had craved … Now, when she had got over him, realised what a rotter he really was, he had turned up. ‘What do you want?’ She fumbled with shaking hands to put a match to the gas, sending it through the flimsy mantel.
‘My kid.’
Evelyn began to tremble. ‘What kid?’ she forced herself to laugh.
‘The kid you were ’aving.’
‘There wasn’t a child. I lost it.’
‘Lost it?’
‘Miscarried at four months. I thought you would have heard.’
‘How could I ’ave ’eard? I wasn’t ’ere.’
‘No, so it was a good thing I lost it then, wasn’t it?’
‘I wanted that kid. She can’t have one.’
‘Who?’
‘The missis.’ So he was marr
ied then? Evelyn had asked him once but he had denied it. ‘She’s ’ad her bloody womb took away, growth of some description.’ He walked over to the line over the fire and plucked off one of Bernard’s little vests. ‘So what’s this then?’
‘It belongs to one of my customers. I wash for folk on the row.’ Evelyn began to cry, and pray he wouldn’t go into the front room and see the second-hand pram which was waiting to be handed down yet again to Lucy’s new baby. ‘I lost my job when they found out I was pregnant. I also lost my reputation so that no one else would set me on, and all for nothing. I wanted that baby so much.’ She would lie as much as she had to rather than hand over her son. ‘Even though it had a bastard for a father.’
Evelyn saw his fist coming towards her face, then felt the blow that knocked her backwards, but then she knew no more. She didn’t feel herself falling; she didn’t feel the metal fender as her head hit the sharp corner of it. She didn’t feel her life’s blood seeping away onto the hearth. Evelyn Smithson was dead. Just when she had found somebody to cherish her in the way she deserved.
Mrs Murphy had been full of condemnation when she heard the male voice coming through the wall. Would Evelyn never learn? The lass had been caught once and would be again if she weren’t careful. Not that she wasn’t a good mother to little Bernard, but nobody knew better than Mrs Murphy how hard it was to make ends meet with a house full of kids, or how easy it was to get them. That was why she often slept in the chair by the fire instead of enduring the fumblings of her husband, who always wanted it but couldn’t always manage it. Then when he finally tired of trying and fell asleep the snoring would start. No, it was easier to sleep in the chair. She relaxed a little when she recognised the voice as that of Bernard’s father. Perhaps they would get together again. Not that she’d be happy about that; she had never liked him. Or he had come to offer some financial support? She became concerned when the voices rose and she heard him demanding the child. Mrs Murphy was relieved the bairn was out of the way and thought Evelyn was right in denying his existence. The man had forsaken her when he was needed – who would give up a child to someone like him?
A Family Christmas Page 15