Pastures New

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by Margaret Thornton


  It was a double-fronted shop with one window concentrating mainly on golf and the other on hiking and climbing. One scene depicted a golf course, with men playing the game and others walking with trolleys or carrying golf bags. There were trees in the background and a blue sky above with fluffy white clouds.

  The other was a scene of rugged hills, such as one might see in Swaledale or Coverdale. On the peaks there were climbers with ropes. Sheep grazed on the lower pastures and a rippling stream flowed through the bottom of the valley. Walking along its banks were hikers with colourful clothing and rucksacks.

  One window held golfing equipment: bags, clubs, a specimen trolley and a pyramid of boxes of balls. Clothing, too: anoraks, waterproof jackets and trousers, gaily patterned Aran jumpers, caps and sturdy shoes.

  The hiking window displayed rucksacks, climbing boots, ice axes, ropes, a small tent, maps of Yorkshire and clothing for all weather. A small section of each window was devoted to other sports. There were tennis racquets and balls, cricket bats and balls but not the appropriate clothing. Sam had explained that different sports would be highlighted as the seasons changed, but golfing and hiking enthusiasts did not stop because the weather was inclement.

  In another section were darts and dartboards, table tennis bats and balls, chess sets, even Scrabble and Monopoly. Something to suit almost everyone, for outdoor activities or the more leisurely indoor pursuits.

  Val stood for a few moments, very impressed with the eye-catching display. It should certainly be an incentive to would-be shoppers. ‘Come along, Russell,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and see Daddy.’

  He was hopping on one leg then the other with impatience. He had looked in the window but there was nothing of particular interest to a little boy.

  ‘Yes, yes!’ he cried. ‘And Lucy.’

  ‘Oh, yes, we won’t forget Lucy,’ said Val. Never again would she leave Lucy outside in her pram after the frightening experience they had all endured. She didn’t mention it to Russell, though; possibly he had forgotten as he never mentioned it now, but his tolerance of his little sister had improved from that moment on.

  Val lifted the little girl out of the pram, thinking that she felt heavier each time she picked her up. She pushed open the door and Russell laughed at the strange jangling sound that the old-fashioned bell made.

  The shop was not crowded, but she had not expected it to be. There was a customer at each counter, one woman being served by Colin, who smiled and raised his hand in greeting as he saw Val come in. Desmond was serving the other man, and two people were browsing, but Sam was nowhere in sight just then.

  The lay-out was the same as it had been when they first saw the store. Russell made a beeline for the central display where things were near enough to touch, not out of reach behind glass.

  ‘Now, don’t touch, Russell,’ said Val, imagining a pyramid of boxes crashing to the floor.

  But Russell was staring at a row of footballs on a carpet of artificial grass.

  ‘Footballs, Mummy,’ he said. ‘Like the men on the telly.’

  He did not understand the game, of course, but he enjoyed watching a match – or part of it, until he got bored – with his daddy. He gave one of them a gentle kick, seeming to know that he mustn’t be too boisterous. It didn’t move very far and Val didn’t scold him. Balls were meant to be kicked and it was very tempting.

  Sam appeared at that moment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. I was busy in the stockroom. So … what’s your verdict?’

  ‘It’s great!’ replied Val. ‘The window displays are superb. I’m most impressed.’

  ‘Football, Daddy,’ said Russell. ‘I like that big football.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, but that one is too big and heavy for you, Russell. We have some smaller ones. Look – over here.’

  Russell followed him to the other side where there was a basket of smaller white and black balls, much lighter and not liable to make as much damage to windows and greenhouses.

  ‘I’ll bring one home tonight,’ said Sam, ‘then we can have a game in the garden before you go to bed.’

  ‘And Lucy?’ said Russell.

  ‘I don’t think Lucy’s big enough to play football yet,’ said Val. She had put her down as she was too heavy to carry.

  Lucy toddled round the display stand, holding her big brother’s hand.

  ‘Don’t touch, Lucy,’ he said.

  Sam and Val laughed. ‘It’s very tempting,’ said Val, ‘for grown-ups as well, I imagine. Have you had many customers?’

  ‘Quite a few. Not too bad,’ replied Sam, ‘considering it’s Monday morning and not a good day for shopping. A few came out of curiosity, I suppose, but they all bought something. The cut-price golf balls have nearly all gone but I think all our goods are reasonably priced. And we will take orders if the item is not in stock. Thomas said they did a lot of trade that way.’

  ‘Has Thomas been in today?’

  ‘No. A wise decision, I think. He’s been a great help getting us started but now it’s up to us. And Desmond has all the facts at his fingertips … Are you walking back home now?’

  ‘Of course – what else can I do?’

  ‘I meant … are you doing any shopping while you’re here in the town?’

  ‘No, not today. We’ve just come to see you. I know it’s quite a long way to walk but I’ve not much else to do. I’ll go and have a word with Colin, then we’ll set off for home.’

  ‘Good to see you, Colin,’ said Val. ‘I hope it all works out well for you and Sam. You’ve taken a great leap into the unknown but you’ve both got what it takes to succeed. And will you please tell Carol how I love the window display? It will certainly bring the customers in. What a talented lady she is.’

  ‘Yes, I must agree with that,’ said Colin. ‘You must come round and see her. She was asking about you. You can bring Russell to play with Seamus. He’s a bit younger than Russell but he’s been a bit lonely since we moved here. Carol’s sister and her husband and children lived near us in Halifax. I know we’ll miss them but I’m sure we’ve made the right decision. Carol’s busy with her greetings cards, so it might be better if you ring and arrange a meeting.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that. Bye for now, Colin,’ she said as another customer approached.

  Sam said goodbye to them all, then went to talk to a customer who was needing help.

  Val was thoughtful as she walked back home. It had occurred to her that she was the only one of her close associates who was not working. Carol, who, like herself, must have found it a great upheaval moving to another town, was happily engrossed in her art work, which she enjoyed and which earned her some money.

  Janice was busy in the Coffee Pot for a large part of each day, and Cissie, back in Halifax, was still enjoying her job at the market. Whereas what was she, Val, doing?

  Snap out of it! she told herself. She was looking after her children and supporting her husband – wasn’t that what she had always wanted to do? She remembered how she had been so depressed when she had wanted a baby and there had been no sign of one. They had adopted Russell and then, miraculously, Lucy had come along. What more could she want?

  The store closed at five thirty and Sam was home by six o’clock. He had deposited the day’s takings at the nearby bank just before it closed, bringing the remainder of the money, taken later in the day, home for safe keeping. He and Colin would take it in turns to do the banking. They were quite satisfied with the turnover for the day. Desmond, who had been in the shop with the previous owners, said that the amount compared favourably – slightly up if anything – for a Monday.

  So far so good, Sam and Colin agreed, and were confident that it would improve.

  Russell was waiting for his daddy to come home with the new football and insisted on a game straight away. The children had had tea, and Val was preparing the evening meal for her and Sam to enjoy in peace when they had gone to bed.

  Sam complimented Val on the braised steak and onion
s with fluffy mashed potato, followed by apple tart and cream.

  ‘Homemade, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I can tell the difference; it’s delicious, darling.’

  ‘Yes, a treat for your first day at the store,’ she replied. ‘It passed the afternoon nicely, doing some baking, and it’s a change from sorting out our belongings.’

  Sam looked at her, a little concerned. ‘Do I detect a hint of dissatisfaction or sadness, maybe? I know it’s been a big upheaval for you moving here and I do appreciate it that you’ve done it for me. Cheer up, darling. I know it’s all new and different but we’re all here together, you and me and Russell and Lucy.’

  ‘I am trying to be cheerful,’ said Val, ‘and I’ve told myself that I’m being silly. I’ve got you and the children, and a lovely new home …’

  ‘But you miss the old one? Is that it?’

  ‘Partly … I feel a bit lonely with only the children for company. There were lots of people to see in Halifax. Mum and Dad, of course, and your family, especially Thelma. And Cissie – we used to meet sometimes when she’d finished at the market, and there were the girls at the office. I don’t know anyone here.’

  ‘You know Janice and Phil …’

  ‘Yes, but Janice is busy. She works jolly hard at the cafe and she doesn’t get much time for socializing. And Carol’s busy, too. Colin suggested I should go and see her, but she’s so engrossed in her art work that I would have to arrange a time; I can’t just pop round.’

  ‘You’ll soon make new friends. You’re that sort of person, aren’t you? You don’t find it hard to get on with new people. Didn’t you say you would try Russell at playgroup again when he’s turned three? You’ll get to meet the other mothers there, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, no doubt I will. But I feel as though I should be doing something else as well as looking after the children. Janice is working, and Cissie, and Carol works at home. I know I can’t go out to work, nor do I want to, but I want to feel … useful. Oh, dear! It’s your first day at the shop and I’m doing nothing but moan! I’m sorry, darling.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I understand. But you’re such a good mother, and what would I do without you? We’re very happy, aren’t we?’

  ‘Of course we are. I’ve told you; I’m being silly. I’ll try to snap out of it.’

  Sam was thoughtful for a moment. Then, ‘How about you doing the bookkeeping for us,’ he said, ‘and being in charge of the orders? Thomas said his father used to take care of all that, especially when he got older and didn’t come into the shop as much. We really need someone to take it on. I suppose we thought we’d do it between us, but it would be great if you could do it. What do you think?’

  ‘I could try,’ said Val. ‘Maths is not my strong point but I did OK with it at school and I’m used to office work. Yes, why not?’ She found she was smiling with pleasure.

  ‘We’ll need an accountant, possibly a couple of times a year, to make sure that everything is in order. And we will pay you; we won’t expect you to do it for nothing.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Sam! I don’t want paying. It’s a family business – well, ours and Colin’s – and I’d like to think I’m a part of it.’

  ‘A small allowance then, so you can treat yourself to a new dress or something when you feel like it.’

  Val laughed. ‘OK, if you insist.’ She had been used to having a wage when she worked at the mill and hadn’t liked being dependent on Sam for everything, although he was very generous.

  ‘I’ll get started whenever you like,’ she said. ‘And, to change the subject, I’ve been wondering about Russell’s birthday. He’ll be three in a couple of weeks and I think we should have a little party …’

  TWENTY

  Cissie also found that she was missing her best friend. She and Val had not seen one another quite as much after they had both married and had their children, but Cissie had known that Val was always there, ready to listen and to offer advice if she was in trouble or anxious about something.

  They had been friends since they were four years old. They had lived in the same street of terraced houses near the centre of the town and had started school together. It had soon become clear that Val was the cleverer of the two, probably because she applied herself more to her school work and was keen to learn.

  When they were eleven years old they moved to the secondary school; there was no possibility of either of them going to the grammar school. They were put into different forms, being graded according to ability. Cissie had feared that Val would make new friends and not want her any more, but her fears were unfounded. They had both made new friends in their different classes. Cissie was popular because of her devil-may-care attitude and her cheerfulness, but at the heart of her there was insecurity and she and Val remained as close to one another as ever.

  They both left school at fifteen and found employment at Walker’s mill. Val, after passing the required test, was offered a post in the office as a junior clerk. She soon proved that she was a conscientious worker and was not the one who always made the tea and ran errands for long.

  Cissie worked in the weaving shed and proved to be competent at the job, so much so that she was offered a place in the ‘burling and mending’ room. This was where a team of women examined the finished cloth for faults and mended the mistakes as invisibly as possible.

  When their shifts coincided the two girls would walk home together and go out in the evenings, usually to the local cinemas a couple of times a week.

  In the August of 1955 they spent a holiday together in Blackpool. It had proved to be an eventful week. They had made a new friend, Janice Butler, who had been helping out as a waitress at the family hotel which was run by her mother. And Val had met Samuel Walker in the Winter Gardens ballroom.

  Sam had not realized, until Val had told him, that she worked in the office at his father’s mill. But that had not concerned him at all, and it had been, more or less, love at first sight for the pair of them.

  Cissie, though, had been anxious about the budding friendship, and, if she were honest, a little jealous and peeved at her friend hobnobbing with one of the bosses. She had warned Val that no good could come of it and it would never work.

  She had been forced to eat her words, however, when the couple became engaged and then married. Cissie, in the end, had been happy for her friend. The four of them, Val and Sam, and Cissie and Walter, had become firm friends. The girls had been bridesmaids for one another and godmother to the children that had followed.

  And then, suddenly, Val was no longer there. Admittedly she was not a thousand miles away and they could keep in touch by phone. They were close enough to visit, too; they could easily travel there and back in a day, and that would be happening very soon. Val had phoned and invited them all to Russell’s third birthday party.

  One great thing, of course, had come out of Val and Sam’s move to Harrogate: they had sold their house to Cissie and Walter. Never in a million years would Cissie have imagined she would ever live in the salubrious residential district of Queensbury. But here they were, she and Walter, living in a lovely semi-detached house at the top of the hill which led up from the town centre. There were wonderful views all around, and the air was fresher and cleaner up there.

  Sam had worked hard in the garden. Cissie knew he was regretful at leaving it, but Walter had promised to carry on the good work to the best of his ability. It was far larger than the garden they were leaving, which was more of a backyard with a tiny lawn and a simple flower bed. Here there were trees and shrubs, rose bushes and what Val called an herbaceous border. There was even a summerhouse, which delighted the children as well as Cissie.

  She thought to herself, however, that their new home was in keeping with Walter’s position at the mill. Since Sam’s departure he had been given more responsibility and a rise in pay. He was – almost – one of the bosses now, and Cissie was pleased and proud to tell people how well he was doing.

  So there were good things to c
ounteract the sadness at losing her best friend. Cissie had other friends, of course. There was Megan, who had lived in the same street. Their little girls, Holly and Kelly, were good friends and went to playgroup together. Cissie had thought that this might have to end when they moved, and that Holly would go to a different playgroup nearer to their home, but Megan had agreed to take Holly and collect her each day as she had always done. So Cissie travelled down to the town by bus each morning, left Holly at Megan’s home and collected her when she had finished her work at the market cafe.

  Cissie loved her job and had no thought of giving it up and becoming a lady of leisure, even though her husband had become rather more than a mill hand. She had made new friends while working at the market and had many a good laugh with the other waitresses; they helped to prepare the food and wash up as well as waiting at the tables. And most of the customers were friendly and easy to please. Some of them came in each day at the same time, and Cissie had a good rapport with several of the regulars.

  But Cissie knew she would always think of Val as her special friend. She was looking forward to the coming Sunday when they would be going to Harrogate for Russell’s birthday party. Sunday was the only day on which the adults were free. It would be good to see Janice and Phil Grundy again as well. Val and Sam’s new home was not too far from Grundy’s, and Cissie guessed that Val and Janice would be able to see one another quite regularly.

  She could not help but feel rather jealous at the thought of the two of them becoming more friendly. No, maybe jealous was too strong a word. So … what exactly did she feel? She recalled the time when she and Val had moved to the secondary school and been put into different classes. Cissie had worried then that these new girls Val was meeting – cleverer girls than Cissie was – might lure Val away from her. But this had not happened.

 

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