Pastures New

by Margaret Thornton

  She did not say, ‘And you too,’ unsure of how she was feeling. She didn’t think she believed his story.

  ‘So you’re not in the same job, Jack?’ she asked as they started to eat their sandwiches. ‘You used to work at the mill, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye, so I did, but I were made redundant about a year ago. A sign of the times; things are not what they were in the woollen trade. But I reckon you know that. You worked at the mill an’ all, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but I finished when … when I got married. It’s the same at Walker’s now; the orders are not coming in like they used to. But it worked out quite well for my husband and me. Walter – that’s my husband – was the chief overseer, but he’s been promoted an’ he’s one of the managers now.’ Cissie knew this was not strictly true but it sounded good, and Walter was thought so highly of now that it was quite possible that he would be, one day.

  ‘You probably remember Sam?’ she went on. ‘The mill owner’s son; he got friendly with my friend, Val when we were in Blackpool. Well, Val and Sam got married and went to live in Queensbury. But Sam decided, not so long ago, to get out and do something else. Like you said, the times are changing. Sam’s got a sports shop in Harrogate now and Walter has stepped into his shoes at the mill.’

  ‘I see. You’ve done well for yerself, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I have.’ Cissie could not help her smile of satisfaction. ‘We live up at Queensbury now; we bought Sam and Val’s house. There’s a lot more room there and a big garden.’

  ‘So you’re not exactly working to make ends meet, not if you’re married to one of the bosses?’

  ‘No, I do it because I enjoy it. Both the kids are at school – well, playgroup for Holly – like I said … I’ve not seen you in here before, Jack. What brings you to this neck of the woods?’

  ‘I’m a driver for one of them mills that’s gone on to synthetic fibres. I’ve only been with ’em for three weeks an’ it’s the first time I’ve been in this area. I go all over Yorkshire and Lancashire, and into Cheshire an’ all. I was with a haulage firm before but I didn’t care for the long distances. I like to get back to me own bed at night.’

  Cissie had already learnt that he was not married; whether he shared his bed or not was another matter.

  He was looking at her keenly, half smiling, and, somewhat discomfited, she looked away.

  ‘I must say you’re looking well, Cissie,’ he remarked. ‘Married life must suit you. You didn’t say ’owt about having a feller, though, when I met you in Blackpool.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t tell you everything, did I? But Walter was my … boyfriend.’

  ‘When did you get married then?’

  ‘Oh … later that year, November.’

  ‘And yer little lad’s five? When were he born?’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you? OK, so Walter and me might have jumped the gun a bit. So what? It’s not a crime, is it? We’re very happy, me and Walter.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. It’s just that you didn’t say ’owt about him.’

  No … Well, I was on holiday with a friend and he’d gone off cycling with his club. But we’d been going out for ages and it was time we got married.’

  ‘These sandwiches are good,’ said Jack, adding a little more mustard. ‘I shall come here again. Like I was saying, I’m in this area all week. How about meeting me again, eh?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Jack …’

  ‘Why not? Just for a friendly chat, like. We could drive a bit further out and have a drink. I’m really sorry I couldn’t get in touch with you. I want to make up for it.’

  ‘I told you, I have to pick up my little girl.’

  ‘Just for an hour or so. Your friend won’t mind, will she?’

  ‘Er … no. She sometimes has her a bit longer when I go shopping.’

  Jack was smiling at her, and she found herself remembering the fun they had had that time they went to Fleetwood. Walter wasn’t much fun lately; he was taking his new responsibilities very seriously. And what harm could it do? She would make it clear that it was just for a drink together and nothing else.

  ‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘That would be nice.’

  ‘Jolly good! Shall we say next Friday? I’ll meet you outside the market at one o’clock. I’ll be off now; I’ve a few more calls to do before I head back home. ‘Bye for now, Cissie …’

  Was she being a fool? she asked herself. Perhaps she was, but it would be the very last time she saw him. Cissie hated lying; it was not one of her failings but this time it was necessary. When she collected Holly she told her friend, Megan, that she had a dental appointment on Friday that she had only just remembered. She wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone about Jack, not even Val. She could imagine what Val would say …

  TWENTY-TWO

  As Jack Broadbent drove back to his poky flat in Bradford at the end of the day, his mind was buzzing with all that Cissie had told him. It had been good to see her again, although he had not thought about her for years. He remembered she had been a jolly, good-natured girl, and she was still a good looker. They’d had fun together, but it had only been a holiday fling and he’d had no intention of seeing her again, despite what he had said. He had hoped that she would forget about him and carry on with the life she had in Halifax.

  He knew he might have gone a bit too far but they had both had too much to drink, she was a pretty lass and she had not seemed unwilling. It had come as a shock to him, though, that it must have been the first time for her. He had thought, rather, that she might have been around quite a bit. He had felt somewhat guilty afterwards and had seen her into a taxi and safely on her way home.

  His mind was busy now, though. She had a little lad, five years old, and she said she’d got married in November, three months after their meeting in Blackpool. And the kid had been born … when? She hadn’t said exactly, only that he was five. She’d been flustered, though, and had admitted that she and Walter might have jumped the gun.

  But what if the child had been his, Jack’s? And what did her husband know about it? Nowt at all, he suspected, and she wouldn’t want him to know, either. He liked Cissie and might have wanted to get friendly with her again if the circumstances were right. But they weren’t; she had a husband. Happen he could scare her a bit, though; get her to part with some of that dosh she and her husband were earning. Big posh house in Queensbury, manager at the mill … She could afford a bob or two.

  He’d told her that he was not married – at least, he had given that impression. But he had been married. He was divorced now and his ex-wife was hounding him for maintenance for his three-year-old son. He was a few weeks behind and living from week to week, almost from day to day. Yes, it was worth a try, and he was seeing her again on Friday.

  She was waiting for him outside the market, as they had arranged, looking very fetching in a bright red coat with lipstick to match. He would have to go gently with her at first and not let her suspect anything. She was a nice lass and he didn’t want to do her any harm, but it was too good a chance to miss.

  She seemed pleased to see him, anxious to get in the van, though, and on their way. He drove out of the town and along the road towards Hebden Bridge, then stopped at a little wayside pub that he knew. She said she’d have a shandy, a sausage roll and a packet of crisps when he insisted she must have something to eat. He had his usual pint of bitter and a meat pie.

  They were quite relaxed and chatted together as though they were friends, not as though there had been a period of six years since they last met. She told him about Janice, her other friend who had worked at the Blackpool hotel and now ran a thriving restaurant with her husband.

  ‘She met Phil that week an’ all, when Val met Sam.’

  Jack grinned at her. ‘And you met me.’

  ‘Yes … so I did.’

  ‘And you went back home and married your boyfriend.’

  ‘Yes, I did. I told you; Walter and me had bee
n going together for ages.’

  ‘But he didn’t know you got friendly with me in Blackpool, did he?’

  ‘No … why should he? You keep quiet about some things, don’t you, then nobody gets hurt?’

  Cissie was starting to feel alarmed. Jack had been nice and friendly, but there was a calculating gleam in his eye now that she didn’t like.

  ‘I’ve been doing some sums in me head,’ he said. ‘That little lad of yours; when did you say his birthday was?’

  ‘I didn’t say, but it was the first of June. Like I said, it were a bit too soon, but these things happen, don’t they?’

  ‘He could be mine, couldn’t he?’

  Cissie’s heart started to beat faster and there was a panicky sensation in her chest.

  ‘Of course he’s not yours!’ She tried to laugh, but it sounded forced. ‘He’s the image of Walter. I’ve got a photo of him; I’ll show you. Paul looks like Walter and Holly looks like me.’

  She rummaged in her bag and handed him a snapshot. It had been taken in the garden of the old house and showed a blonde-haired, chubby little girl and a dark-haired boy with rather more sharp features.

  ‘Bonny kids,’ said Jack. ‘But that doesn’t mean a thing. Kids are sometimes a throwback to a previous generation.’

  Cissie shook her head vehemently. ‘He’s Walter’s. There’s no doubt about it. Everybody says he’s like his daddy.’

  ‘Maybe they do, but “Daddy” wouldn’t be pleased to know that his girlfriend had been playing around not long before they were wed, would he? And that his little lad might not be his?’

  ‘Stop it, Jack!’ she said. ‘I know … what we did, but it was wrong and … and I want to forget about it.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ He gave a wolfish grin. ‘But what is it worth? Happen a few quid, eh? I’m hard up, Cissie. I don’t like to admit it, but I am, and you’re living in the lap of luxury. Come on now, how about a tenner? That’s not much.’

  ‘Ten pounds! I haven’t got ten pounds, Jack. I don’t carry much money around with me, an’ I don’t earn all that much either.’

  ‘No, but your hubby does an’ I’m sure he doesn’t leave you short. I don’t mind waiting. I’ll be round here again next Friday. That’ll give you plenty of time.’

  Cissie could feel tears threatening and she tried to blink them back. ‘I can’t, Jack,’ she said, the words catching in her throat. ‘Anyroad, why d’you need it? You’ve got a steady job and you said you weren’t married.’

  ‘Aye, but I was, an’ I’ve got an ex-wife an’ a little lad. She’ll have me up in court soon if I don’t cough up with what I owe her. Come on, now, Cissie; it’s just between you and me an’ I won’t say ’owt.’

  She could feel her hands trembling and she clenched them tightly together. Walter must never find out what she’d done, how she’d tricked him into marrying her. He’d never forgive her. She knew she had to give Jack the money to keep him off her back.

  ‘I’ll have to go now, Jack,’ she said, as composed as she could manage. ‘I’ve to pick Holly up and then collect Paul from school.’

  ‘Okey-doke,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Let’s get going then.’

  They spoke very little on the way back as Jack sped along the country road. He stopped near the market where he had picked her up.

  ‘Same time next Friday, then?’ he said. ‘Remember what I’ve said. I’ll say nowt if you do as I say. You’ve a hell of a lot to lose, Cissie.’

  ‘All right, Jack; I’ll see you then.’ She opened the van door and stepped out on to the pavement.

  He grinned. ‘Good girl! You know it makes sense. Ta-ra, Cissie.’

  He drove off at top speed as she stood forlornly staring at the disappearing van. She remembered then that she was supposed to have been to the dentist and she hurried off to Megan’s house.

  ‘You look a bit worse for wear,’ said her friend. ‘Was it awful?’

  ‘Not too bad really, I suppose,’ lied Cissie. ‘Only a filling but I hate going to the dentist. Come on, Holly, love. Say bye-bye to Kelly. Thanks for looking after her, Megan.’

  They took a bus back home, then it was time to collect Paul. Cissie tried to calm down, helped by a cigarette and a tot of brandy, before Walter came home.

  But what on earth was she to do? She decided almost straight away that she would do what she always did when she was in a dilemma – she would ring her best friend. And there was no time like the present. She would ring Val at once.

  Paul and Holly were watching a children’s programme on the television. It would be almost two hours before Walter came home.

  She crossed her fingers that Val would be there as she picked up the phone in the hall and dialled the number. Val answered almost at once.

  ‘Hello, Val. It’s me, Cissie. Have you time to talk?’

  ‘Of course I have. What’s the matter, Cissie? You sound a bit strange. What is it?’

  ‘Oh, Val, I’m in the most awful trouble! D’you remember Jack Broadbent?’

  There was a pause, then Val said, ‘Do you mean the lad you met in Blackpool? Oh, Cissie, don’t say …’

  ‘Yes, he’s turned up again. I never thought I’d see him again. I’d forgotten all about him – well, nearly – and then there he was in the market.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Val. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

  So Cissie told her friend how they’d got chatting and she’d had a cup of tea with him and he’d seemed OK, quite friendly, like. And how she’d agreed to go for a drink with him today …

  ‘He turned nasty, Val. Not violent or ’owt like that, but he’s been putting two and two together and he asked if Paul was his child. I told him no, of course he isn’t. He’s Walter’s; he’s the image of him an’ I showed him a photo. But he still said that Walter wouldn’t want to know what I’d been up to in Blackpool.’

  ‘So he’s blackmailing you?’

  ‘Well, I suppose he is really. He says I have to give him ten pounds next week or else he’ll tell Walter that Paul might not be his son. But he is Walter’s! I know that, Val, and so do you, and so does everybody.’

  ‘Yes, we do now, but you remember the time when you were not sure who the father of your child might be? You didn’t know until he was born, did you?’

  Cissie, indeed, had been in a quandary following her escapade in Blackpool. Her periods were irregular and she hadn’t known for ages that she was pregnant. And Walter had been there, still wanting her to do what she had refused to go along with so many times. But she had known then that this was the solution to her problem. If she did what he wanted then she would be able to say that the child was his if she did happen to be pregnant.

  Walter could scarcely believe her change of heart, and in due course Cissie knew that she was, indeed, pregnant. They had married in haste and she had waited on tenterhooks to see who the child resembled. When Paul was born there was no doubt about it; he was Walter’s. The same nose, the same dark hair, the image of his daddy. And Walter had known nothing about her misdemeanour.

  ‘You mustn’t give in to Jack,’ said Val. ‘This wouldn’t be the last of it, believe me. The next time he’d want more money – that’s what blackmailers do. You must tell Walter what has happened.’

  ‘Tell Walter!’ cried Cissie. ‘Tell him that I tricked him into getting married? He’d never forgive me. He’d leave me; he’d take the children …’

  ‘Don’t start panicking, Cissie,’ said her friend. ‘I don’t think for one moment that that would happen. Maybe you don’t need to tell Walter … everything.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, when you met Jack in Blackpool you weren’t engaged to Walter, were you?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t make up my mind about him. I was getting a bit fed up, I suppose, an’ he was going off cycling with his mates so we decided to go on holiday, didn’t we, just you and me?’

  ‘Well, then, I don’t suppose you were doing much wrong, were you, spending s
ome time with Jack? It wasn’t as if you’d promised to marry Walter.’

  ‘No, I see what you mean. Happen I could tell Walter that I’d met this lad in Blackpool, and we got friendly, like – I shan’t tell him what happened, though – and now he’s turned up again. I’ll tell Walter that he’s threatening me, that he’ll tell him we got … friendly, like, if I don’t give him some money. D’you think Walter might swallow that? I don’t want to say ’owt about Jack thinking Paul might be his.’

  ‘No, don’t mention that, but you have to tell him something. Like you said, though, there was no understanding between you and Walter – you’d just had a bit of a fling in Blackpool. You know that Walter loves you … And he’s not always been a saint, has he? You remember that little incident with the girl in the cycling club?’

  ‘Oh, yes, ’course I do. And that was after we’d had the children. It would be the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t it, if he started making a fuss?’

  ‘Make him a nice tea, Cissie, then tell him you’ve got a problem … And try to keep calm.’

  ‘OK, I’ll try. I’ll tell him tonight before I have time to change my mind. Thanks for listening, Val. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I do miss you, you know.’

  ‘And I miss you, too. We’ll meet up again soon.’

  ‘Bye then, Val. I’ll let you know what happens. Keep yer fingers crossed for me!’

  ‘Will do. Bye, Cissie …’

  A nice meal for Walter. She hadn’t done any shopping because she’d been too worried about the meeting with Jack. What had she got in the fridge? There was bacon, sausages and eggs and a tin of beans in the cupboard. Walter liked a fry-up and she could make some chips. And there was a couple of small apple tarts from the market cafe. She would get the kids’ teas sorted out earlier, then she could spend some time with Walter on his own.

  He was home soon after six and the meal was ready.

  ‘Something smells good,’ he said, sounding in a good mood.