‘You’ve got it. He wanted me to stay the night, or part of it. I refused, of course. Rules are there for a very good reason and it’s a most foolhardy thing to do. Besides, I didn’t feel that way about him and I don’t think I ever would have done. He was just a chap I got friendly with; good fun at first but not somebody I could feel really close to. So that was that.’
‘Yes … I see. I’m glad you didn’t get too involved. He sounds a bit of a bounder, as they used to say in the olden days!’
Ian remembered very well a conversation that he and Sophie had had when they were going out together. They knew they were getting closer to each other; their kisses and embraces were becoming more ardent. Ian was quite an innocent lad but he knew very well where it could have led and he knew that he was not ready for that. And neither was Sophie. They had agreed that they were young, with all their lives ahead of them, and it was not time for their tentative lovemaking to go any further. There was far too much to lose.
Sophie had told him how some of the girls at school boasted about what they got up to with their boyfriends. She wasn’t sure that she believed them, but, even if she did, she thought it was foolish. She knew she had to wait until the time was right, and she felt that she would know when that time came.
Ian told her now that the same sort of thing had happened between him and Alison – that she had wanted more than he was prepared to give. He did not want, however, to tell Sophie the full story. He often thought about it, though, and he realized that it had not been a good idea to get involved with Alison in the first place. But he had lost Sophie and thought that Alison was a very attractive girl.
He had soon realized that she was given quite a lot of freedom at home. Her parents’ guest house was small and they did not take many visitors, just couples for bed and breakfast. Ian’s student friend, Darren, had a room there, which was a sort of study-cum-bedroom, and Alison’s room was similar. She entertained her friends up there, where they chatted and played records. She even had her own small television set. As the only daughter she was inclined to be indulged, if not spoiled. Ian was surprised that she was allowed to invite him up to her room as well.
They had indulged in kisses and embraces, but Ian was always aware that Alison’s parents were not far away. Later in the evening, her mother would knock on the door, bringing them tea and biscuits on a tray. It was all very cosy and Ian was content to go along with it.
Then, one night in mid-June, Alison had told him that her parents had gone out for the evening to a dinner and dance at her father’s Masonic lodge and would not be back until about one o’clock in the morning.
‘She won’t be disturbing us at ten o’clock,’ Alison had said with a knowing grin. ‘So you can stay longer; not all night, of course, but … well … we can make the most of it, can’t we?’
She’d sat on the bed and patted the candlewick cover next to her. ‘Come on, Ian. What are we waiting for?’ She’d begun to unbutton her blouse. ‘I know you want to, just as much as I do.’
Ian had felt himself going red and was completely at a loss as to what to say. He’d blurted out the first thing that came into his head.
‘No, Alison, we can’t. That’s not what I want at all. You’ve got it all wrong. We can’t do … that. It’s not right, not for us.’
‘But why not?’ She’d pouted, then looked at him provocatively. ‘I thought you liked me … a lot.’
‘I do like you, Alison,’ he’d replied, ‘but not like that. I’m not ready for all that and neither are you. I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you, but I can’t … do what you want. And I can’t stay any longer now.’
He’d grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair, bolted out of the door and down the stairs.
She’d jumped off the bed and ran after him. ‘Ian … don’t go. I’m sorry. I really thought you …’
But he’d already been out of the front door and dashing along the street. Fortunately, she hadn’t followed him. He’d leaned against a wall to get his breath back, then walked slowly home. If his dad or Norma asked why he was home early he’d say that Alison was not feeling very well. As it happened, they had not enquired. And neither had they asked the why and wherefore when he told them, a few days later, that he would not be seeing Alison again.
She’d phoned him, though, at home, a couple of days after the incident.
‘I’m sorry Ian. I know now that I shouldn’t have suggested … what I did, and I understand that you didn’t want to.’ She hadn’t sounded as though she was laughing at him or thinking he was prudish. ‘And … please, can I see you again? I don’t want it to end like this.’
But Ian knew that he didn’t want to see her again. ‘I’m sorry, Alison,’ he’d said. ‘I don’t think it’s right with you and me. It just wouldn’t work.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she’d said again. ‘It was the girls at school, you see. They’re always on about … what they do, and they keep asking if I’ve done it yet. And so I thought …’
‘I don’t care what you thought, Alison,’ he’d replied, trying not to shout, because he was really angry. The fact that she had been talking about him to the girls at school, comparing notes, made it worse. ‘You’d better find someone else to … do what you want, not me. And I don’t think the girls sound like very good friends.’ He’d been aware he sounded a bit stuffy and pompous but he hadn’t cared. ‘Goodbye, Alison. It’s best if we call it a day. I’m sure you know that.’ He’d put the phone down.
He had not seen her since then, nor had he heard much about her. He had not told Darren what had happened, only that he was not seeing Alison any more. Darren had not asked for any details. He’d told Ian that she seemed cheerful enough and had not said anything to him about their separation.
‘She doesn’t seem to be eating her heart out,’ he’d said. ‘Maybe she wasn’t right for you. I never really thought she was, you know. Is there anyone else in the picture?’
Ian and Darren were good mates, and the mistake that Darren had made regarding Ian’s sexual preferences was never referred to. Darren was inquisitive, though, and liked to know what was going on in the love lives of his friends, even though they were not of his persuasion.
‘No …’ Ian had replied, ‘… although I still keep thinking about Sophie. I’ve never really forgotten her but I know I should try to put her out of my mind. She had a fellow at college and still has, as far as I know. I shall no doubt see her when I go to Harrogate … unless she’s doing something else, of course.’
‘Well, there are other fish in the sea for a good-looking lad like you.’
‘Maybe so … What about you? You’ve not … met anyone?’
‘No, not yet, but I’m OK. I’ve enjoyed my first year here and I’ve got some good mates, like you. Maybe next year; there’ll be a new bunch of students in September. I’m still waiting for someone to share my digs, but I don’t want to make a mistake.’
‘No, of course not,’ Ian had replied. He’d reflected that some lads might not be as understanding as he had been about Darren’s faux pas. Darren might well have ended up with a bloody nose.
Ian and Sophie’s stroll had taken them along the Strand down the hill leading to the Valley Gardens. As they walked, he told her he had realized that he and Alison were not right together. He did not want to tell her the full story. Sometimes he felt hat he had behaved like an idiot, running off as he had done as though he was scared out of his wits. He had acted on the spur of the moment, surprised – shocked, even – at what she was suggesting so early in their friendship. The possible outcome of such an encounter was too awful to even think about.
‘Alison was too hot to handle,’ he said now with a laugh. ‘I didn’t think it was right to … you know what I mean, and I told her so. I think she had been egged on, though. I remember you telling me about the girls at your school and I rather think it was the same with her. She didn’t want to be the only one who hadn’t … but I had no intention of being used as a sor
t of trophy.’
‘She sounds quite immature,’ said Sophie, ‘and it’s stupid to take any notice of what the girls at school say. A lot of it is only in their minds; wishful thinking, you might say. I’m glad we’ve met up again, Ian … I’ve missed you, you know,’ she added, smiling at him warmly and not at all shyly.
He took hold of her hand, the first time he had done so that evening. ‘And I’ve missed you as well,’ he told her. ‘Would you like to come out again, perhaps to the cinema, or a coffee bar, or … somewhere? I won’t be working every evening and I’m here for a few weeks.’
‘Yes, I would love to,’ Sophie replied. She looked at him squarely. ‘I know where I am with you, Ian. We think the same way, don’t we?’
‘Yes, I think we do,’ he agreed.
They stopped for a moment on their walk through the colonnades, below a canopy of wisteria and trailing vine leaves. There was no one else in sight as Ian kissed her gently on the lips.
‘It’s good to be together again, Sophie,’ he whispered as she responded to his kiss.
EIGHTEEN
It was a hectic time for the Walkers and the Clarksons during the last two weeks in August as they prepared to move to their new homes.
Sam Walker was the busiest of all as he, together with his friend and partner, Colin Wyatt, dealt with the organization of the business they were taking over from the Bateson family.
There was a notice in the shop window. Opening soon under new management: Walker and Wyatt’s Sports Gear. We promise you the same excellent service as before and look forward to your custom.
The windows were now empty, but there was the remainder of the old stock, to be sold at reduced prices, in the stockroom, and new stock was already arriving daily. Thomas Bateson was proving to be a great help in every way he could to make the changeover as trouble free as possible. His assistant, Desmond, a young man about the same age as Sam, was staying on as chief sales assistant with Thomas’s firm recommendation. They were also advertising for a junior sales assistant, either male or female, not necessarily with experience, as Thomas assured them that Desmond would be a very good tutor, with all the patience and diplomacy needed in a salesperson.
As both Sam and Colin were keen golfers, they had decided to concentrate largely on what they knew and stock a wider range of golfing equipment than the shop had held in the past. The other sports were not neglected. There would be equipment for hikers and climbers, as the Yorkshire Dales were not far distant, as well as gear for tennis and cricket enthusiasts. Neither would indoor sports be overlooked: badminton, squash and table tennis, even darts and chess.
Val was very busy with all the household side of the removal. With the help of her mother and her sister-in-law, Thelma, taking down curtains, emptying cupboards and bookshelves, then packing everything carefully in tea chests – provided by the removal firm – and labelling each box accordingly: kitchen utensils, crockery and china, books, ornaments, household linen, etc.
Some of the curtains could be used again in their new home, while others would not fit the windows. After taking the measurements at the new house, Val had ordered fresh curtains to be made by a firm in Halifax market that she knew to be reliable and not too pricey.
Cissie was equally busy preparing for the move. Her mother had agreed to help but Hannah Foster did not do so with the same grace and willingness that Val’s mother had shown.
‘I hope you’re not getting ideas above your station, you and Walter,’ she told her daughter, not just once but repeatedly. ‘Going to live up there among the posh folk.’
Cissie knew that her mother was probably a little envious. ‘’Course we’re not, Mam,’ she replied. ‘Walter’s earning good money now, you know. He’s almost one of the bosses at Walker’s.’
Hannah sniffed. ‘Aye, he is. I know Walter’s a good lad.’ She had always had a soft spot for her son-in-law, and if anything went wrong between them she would always say that Cissie must be the one to blame.
‘I suppose you’ll be giving up your job at the market now,’ she went on, ‘seeing you’ll be living among the toffs.’
But Cissie had no intention of giving up her job. She loved working at the market, meeting different people each day, and it was pocket money for her, without having to rely on Walter to give her an allowance. She knew, though, that the move to Queensbury would involve some changes. A change of school for Paul, for instance, although she was sure that he would soon settle down in a new environment. He was a bright lad and seemed to be learning things very quickly. He was five years old and could already read the books about Janet and John that he brought home from school. A change of playgroup, too, for Holly – probably the one from where Russell had been banned, Cissie reflected – although she would be starting proper school before very long.
Cissie would also have further to travel to the market in the centre of Halifax, but she would deal with that problem in due course.
Before the move was due to take place, however, Val had a phone call from Hazel, the policewoman who had been involved when Lucy was missing. It was one evening during the second week in August.
‘Hello there, Val,’ she began. ‘It’s Hazel, your friendly policewoman. Do you remember me?’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ replied Val. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’
She knew, though, that there couldn’t be. Sam was at home, both children were tucked up in bed and Hazel sounded cheerful enough.
‘No, nothing wrong,’ said Hazel. She laughed. ‘Why does everyone assume it’s bad news when they get a call from the police? No, far from it. Do you remember Claire Dawson?’ she asked. Then went on to say, ‘Silly question! Of course you remember her. How could you forget her?’
‘Yes, I remember …’ said Val thoughtfully. ‘As you say, I could hardly forget her.’ Claire Dawson was the woman who had absconded with baby Lucy in her pram, causing a lot of worry and heartache but, fortunately, the problem had been resolved quite quickly.
‘How is Claire?’ Val asked. ‘Much more contented now, I hope?’
‘Yes, she was thrilled to bits when she rang me to say she had some good news. You can probably guess what it is. She’s expecting a baby – not till early next year, but she’s very excited and I thought you would like to know. I remember you were so kind and understanding with her, Val, and you did such a lot to help her get things into perspective.’
‘Well, I hope so, and it’s certainly good news.’
‘I think she would like to see you and tell you about it herself, but she feels rather hesitant about asking you to go round again. Do you think you might …?’
‘Yes, of course I’ll go and see her and tell her how pleased I am. Actually, I’m very busy at the moment but I’ll try and make time. We’re moving, you see, to Harrogate. My husband is going into business with a friend; they’re taking over a sports shop.’
‘You mean … he’s leaving the mill?’
Val explained that the time seemed to be right for a change of career because of the way things were going in the woollen industry. ‘So it will be a big change for all of us. We’re moving at the end of August and the shop will be reopening soon afterwards.’
‘Well, I wish you all the very best,’ said Hazel. ‘I’m sure your husband will make a success of it. He’s a very go-ahead sort of fellow, isn’t he? Now, shall I give you Claire’s phone number? You don’t want to call and find that she’s not at home, especially when you’re so busy. I know she’ll be delighted to see you.’
Val wrote down the number and said she would see Claire later in the week.
‘Who was that?’ asked Sam when she returned to the living room.
‘It was Hazel, the policewoman …’
‘What did she want?’ he asked, looking concerned. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’
‘No, not at all. She rang to tell me some news about Claire … Claire Dawson. You know who I mean?’
‘Yes, indeed I do – the woma
n who ran off with our Lucy. So … what about her?’
Val knew that Sam had not been so magnanimous in his attitude towards Claire as she had been. And who could blame him?
‘She’s expecting a baby now,’ said Val, ‘and she’s thrilled to bits, of course … I said that I’d go round and see her,’ she added tentatively, guessing what Sam’s reaction might be.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘So she’s having a baby, and I hope it goes well for her, but I don’t see what it has to do with us.’
‘Claire was pleased when I went to see her before,’ Val explained patiently. ‘She’d had a miscarriage and that was what led her to … do what she did. I told her that I’d had a miscarriage – more than one – and that it all worked out OK in the end. She’s rather an insecure sort of person, Sam. I just want to go and tell her how pleased I am.’
Sam smiled at her lovingly. ‘Yes, I see. You go ahead, darling. I don’t mean to be as heartless as I might sound but I can’t be as forgiving and understanding as you are. You’re such a kind and thoughtful person, Val. That’s one of the reasons I married you; that and the fact that I fancied you like mad! Don’t ever change, will you?’
‘Oh, come off it, Sam! I’m not all that wonderful. Come to think of it, you’re not so bad yourself … You don’t mind me going, then?’
‘No, I don’t mind. But you won’t take Lucy, will you?’
‘Of course not – don’t be silly! It would be embarrassing all round. And Lucy might possibly remember her. Who knows what children retain in their memories? I won’t take Russell either. He behaves a lot better now but he won’t sit quietly while ladies are talking.’
‘I don’t blame him!’
‘I’ll leave them with my mum. She always enjoys having them. She’ll miss them, Sam, when we move, and so will my dad.’
‘I know that,’ said Sam, ‘and that’s another thing, Val, that I love about you. You’ve agreed to this move and everything it involves with scarcely a murmur of complaint, although I know it will be a wrench for you, leaving your home town.’
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