Pastures New

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Just a fry-up,’ said Cissie. ‘I know you like that.’

  ‘So long as you’ve got some HP sauce!’

  He tucked into his meal and did not seem to notice that she had a small portion. When he had drunk a second cup of tea, Cissie decided she could not wait any longer.

  ‘Walter …’ she began, ‘… I’ve got summat to tell you.’

  He looked at her serious face. ‘What is it, love? Not bad news?’

  ‘No not really, just summat bothering me.’

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ He looked surprised, possibly a little alarmed, before going on, ‘Well, that’s nothing to worry about, is it?’

  ‘No, Walter, I’m not pregnant. It’s … summat that happened a good while ago. D’you remember that time when me and Val went to Blackpool?’

  ‘And she got friendly with Sam. Yes, I remember that.’

  ‘Well, I met a young chap an’ all, a lad from Bradford. He was called Jack … and we got friendly. It was only a holiday thing, Walter, ’cause Val was with Sam and I was on my own.’ That wasn’t strictly true, but it might make it sound more understandable.

  Walter was regarding her steadily, not smiling as she went on: ‘So I danced with him, like, at the tower, and then I went to Fleetwood with him one day, and to the pictures … An’ that was all. I never thought I’d see him again. We never said we’d meet, an’ it’s six years ago, Walter …’

  ‘So what are you trying to tell me, Cissie?’

  ‘Well, he came into the market the other day. He didn’t know I worked there an’ I’d forgotten all about him, but we knew one another an’ we got talking …’ She paused, looking at him speculatively. He was very quiet.

  ‘Go on, Cissie,’ he said.

  She decided not to tell him that she’d gone for a drink with him. ‘Well, we were chatting, like, an’ I suppose I might’ve been showing off a bit. I said that you’d got a good job at Walker’s. I might’ve hinted that you’re one of the bosses …’ She saw Walter give a wry smile.

  ‘An’ I said how we lived in a posh house at Queensbury. I wanted him to see how well we’ve done, Walter. An’ then … he told me he was hard up, that he’s got an ex-wife an’ a kid an’ he owes her some money an’ she’ll have him up in court. I suppose he thought it was too good a chance to miss, meeting me. He said I’ve got to give him some money – ten pounds, he said – or else he’ll tell you about us being friendly, like, in Blackpool. He knows we’re happy, y’see, Walter, an’ he wants to spoil it all. So I thought I’d better tell you myself …’ Her voice petered out.

  ‘Did you give him any money, Cissie?’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t! He wants me to meet him next Friday.’

  ‘Don’t worry; we’ll sort it out.’ Walter looked thoughtful. ‘And you never saw him again after you’d met in Blackpool, not till just now?’

  ‘No, I swear I didn’t, Walter. D’you remember, you’d gone off cycling that week an’ I’d gone on holiday with Val? I didn’t really know what I wanted, then when I got back home I realized I’d been messing you about for too long and that we should be together properly, like you wanted. It was good fun in Blackpool but I didn’t like it when I was standing around in the ballroom waiting for somebody to ask me to dance. That’s why I got friendly with Jack. Then … then I knew I wanted a steady boyfriend. I wanted you, Walter.’

  He remained quiet for a moment, recalling how it had been when Cissie returned from the holiday. He had been surprised and delighted when she agreed that it was time that they cemented their relationship. He had loved her for ages, waiting for her to make up her mind, but she had seemed so lukewarm. Had she told him the full story? She had had a very sudden change of heart … It didn’t matter, though. Their marriage was as solid as a rock now and he didn’t intend to let it be spoiled by some no-good scrounger.

  ‘What’s this fellow called?’ he asked. ‘Jack …?’

  ‘Jack Broadbent,’ replied Cissie.

  ‘What does he look like?’

  ‘He’s about as tall as you and about the same age. Fair hair, sort of scruffy … not dirty, just needing a comb. Round face and … oh, I don’t know, just an ordinary chap.’

  ‘And where did you say you’d meet him?’

  ‘I didn’t say I would. I never promised, but he said he’d be outside the market, the main entrance, next Friday at one o’clock.’

  ‘Right, I shall be there then. He’ll get a shock when he sees me, won’t he?’

  ‘Oh no, Walter! I don’t want any trouble.’

  ‘What else can we do? If you don’t turn up and he does what he’s threatening, I don’t want him looking for me at the mill, do I? This is our business, Cissie, just yours and mine, and I’m going to deal with it.’

  Cissie realized it was pointless to say any more. At least Walter had taken it quite well, much better than she had feared.

  As for Walter, he was a mite suspicious but he wanted to give Cissie the benefit of the doubt. Val would know what had gone on. She and his wife were as thick as thieves so there was no point in him quizzing her. He would turn up next Friday and scare the pants off this bloke.

  They said no more about it over the next week. Cissie was subdued, unlike her normal self, and Walter knew she was worried.

  Cissie, indeed, was wondering what might happen if Jack turned up. It would be dreadful if it turned into a fight, but she knew that Walter was not aggressive, and neither, she believed, was Jack. She guessed that he was really all bluff and bluster.

  When Walter arrived at the appointed place he was rather surprised to see that the fellow was there; he had thought it might be an idle threat.

  Walter approached him. ‘Are you Jack Broadbent?’

  Jack looked at him, a grin on his face and a curious look in his eyes. Walter could tell that he might be quite a charmer.

  ‘The very same,’ he replied. ‘And you are …?’

  ‘I’m Walter Clarkson, Cissie’s husband. She couldn’t make it today so I’m here instead, and all I have to say to you is get the hell out of here or I’ll tell the police about your little game.’

  ‘Hey, steady on now,’ said Jack, raising his hands. ‘I never meant no harm. I’m a bit hard up, that’s all, an’ I thought there were one of two things that your lovely wife might not want you to know.’

  ‘Cissie’s told me everything,’ said Walter, ‘and I trust her. So you’d best clear off, Jack Broadbent.’ Walter felt in his pocket, brought out a ten-pound note and handed it to him. ‘This is what you came for, and this is the last you’ll get. I’m sorry for your problems and I realize how lucky I am. I’ve got a good job and a nice house, and I’ve got Cissie. So just leave my wife alone.’

  Jack grinned. ‘Well, it was worth a try. Thanks, mate.’ He pocketed the money and made to walk away, then he turned back.

  ‘But have you never thought that that little lad of yours might be mine?’

  Walter laughed out loud. ‘No way; he’s the image of me. Now … scram!’

  Jack shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

  That was one thing of which Walter was very sure. Paul was his son, a real chip off the old block. He recalled, though, that he and Cissie had got married in a hurry, and what a fuss Cissie’s mother had made, insisting that her daughter must be married in pale blue and not virginal white.

  Had she tricked him, or had she really decided that she loved him and that it was he, Walter, that she wanted? He could question her, try to get to the truth, but was it worth it? As he had told Jack, they had a nice home and enough money to be very comfortable. They had two lovely children and he knew that Cissie loved him as much as he loved her. What more could he want?

  TWENTY-THREE

  Val was feeling much more contented now as summer changed gradually to autumn. She was happily occupied with the work she was doing for the store: bookkeeping and ordering and helping Sam with new ideas.

  The shop was doing well, and Sam and Colin had
no reason to think that they might have taken on too much. It had been a leap into the unknown but all seemed to be going according to plan. Christmas was not all that far away, and stores of all kinds had to start thinking early of new ideas to attract the customers.

  ‘It will soon be time to think about changing the window displays,’ Sam told Val, ‘but that’s largely Carol’s province. We thought we might have a snowy scene as the background; not just yet, though – better to wait until Halloween and Bonfire Night are out of the way.’

  ‘It’s difficult to play games in the snow, though,’ said Val, not very helpfully. ‘It’s a nice idea and Carol will make a lovely background, but … to what?’

  ‘A bit of snow and ice doesn’t put hikers and climbers off,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll order more winter clothing and a range of bright woollen caps and scarves. It’ll be time for winter sports as well – skiing and skating. Some of the more affluent folk fly off to Switzerland or Austria. I’m not suggesting we stock skis or skates – I know they often hire them – but a backdrop of snow-clad mountains will be a talking point. Lots of people have commented on our window displays.’

  ‘And it’s the football season as well,’ said Val. ‘I’ve got an idea … You know how Russell loves his little jersey and shorts? He’d wear them all the time if I’d let him. Well, what about a range of football shirts for children of all ages, from Russell’s age up to, say … eleven or twelve? And they could be red or blue, or black and white, depending on which team they support. I know you can buy that sort of thing at the chain stores but this might be more authentic.’

  ‘Brilliant idea,’ said Sam, ‘catering for children as well as adults. And what about a range of supporters’ scarves in the various colours? Could you take charge of all that, Val, love? Ring round a few suppliers and see what they come up with?’

  ‘Yes, I’d love to,’ she replied.

  Things were going well for Val. Russell had started at another playgroup, not very far from their home, and this time it was proving to be a success. She realized he might have been too young the first time, but now he had settled down very well and was enjoying it immensely. When she collected him he was always full of tales of what they had been doing.

  There was a dressing-up box and they could play at being fairies or witches – for the girls – or postmen, policemen, firemen or engine drivers. There was an engine big enough to sit in, building blocks, water and a sand tray. Val hoped he had learned to behave himself in the sand! He was now drinking his milk without making a fuss and the helpers said he was no trouble at all.

  They listened to stories and learned lots of rhymes and jingles. He could count up to ten and loved reciting the jingles about five little froggies or ten little mice. There was a toy telephone for imaginative play and to help them to learn the numbers. He became fascinated by the telephone at home, and Val explained to him that it was not a toy and he mustn’t play around with it. She did allow him, however, to dial his gran’s number – her own mother, not Sam’s! – and speak to her.

  ‘You dial nine three times – nine-nine-nine – to ring the policeman, Mummy,’ he told her, ‘or to get an ambulance if somebody is poorly.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, love,’ she said, ‘but don’t do it here, there’s a good boy. We don’t need a policeman and nobody’s poorly.’

  She was pleased, though, at the way he was learning basic facts, like saying his address and birth date and recognizing his own name from a card. He seemed to have a very good memory.

  Val had been relieved when Cissie phoned to say that the problem with Jack had been solved, that Walter had gone to meet him instead of Cissie and sent him packing.

  ‘Walter was really nice about it,’ Cissie told her friend. ‘I thought he’d go mad and want to know what I’d got up to in Blackpool. I don’t know if he suspected that I’d … you know … done that with Jack, but he didn’t ask, thank goodness. Anyroad, from what I can gather he sent him off with a flea in his ear. He gave him the ten pounds, though, to get rid of him. He said – Walter, I mean – that he felt sorry for him, seeing that he was down on his luck, and we’ve got everything we want, a nice home and a family, and we’re very happy an’ all.’

  ‘You’re lucky you came out of it so well,’ said Val. ‘You’d better be on your best behaviour now – mind your P’s and Q’s.’

  ‘Oh, I shall; don’t worry. I’ve learnt my lesson. Now, tell me how you’re going on with the shop, and Russell and little Lucy …’

  Cissie was certainly being a model wife. Walter could scarcely believe the change in her. She was even-tempered and agreeable, doing all she could to please him. He knew that a great weight had been lifted from her mind. He told himself that there was no point in worrying about what had gone on in Blackpool. He had ended up with Cissie, whom he had always loved, despite her frivolity and occasional truculence. She was a handful at times but she was his wife, for better or worse and, as far as he was concerned, life at that moment could not be better.

  The nights were longer, the days shorter and the weather was turning colder. Curtains were drawn by five o’clock as families settled down for a cosy evening by the fire with the radio or television or a good book.

  It was also the time for partying and merry-making for those who were so inclined, and the Changing Seasons venue at Grundy’s was doing well, better than Phil and Janice had dared to hope.

  They put on special meals for Halloween and Bonfire Night including pumpkin soup, Lancashire hot pot with tender lamb chops, traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, bangers and mash, toad-in-the-hole, treacle tart, ginger pudding and parkin served as a pudding with fresh cream.

  They were planning a special Christmas meal for each evening of the week before Christmas, and by the beginning of December this was booking up quickly. Christmas Day would be on a Monday, and as they always closed on Sunday they intended to take a longish break and reopen on 28 December. They knew they would be glad of a rest when they closed on 23 December and began preparing for their own Christmas celebrations.

  All was going well at Walker and Wyatt’s Sports Gear. The scene of snow-clad mountains with fir trees and skiers was a draw for window shoppers from early December. And not just for window shoppers. Many came in to choose items of clothing for husbands and wives, sons and daughters who were keen fell walkers or climbers. Or there were those who just liked something bright to wear during the winter. Fleecy lined jackets, colourful anoraks, striped scarves, gaily patterned woolly hats and sweaters; there was something to suit every taste and every pocket.

  The football supporters’ scarves were going well, as were the range of children’s football strips. There was a run on boxed games, too: Monopoly, Scrabble, draughts and chess sets, ranging from reasonably priced ones to more exclusive and expensive. (Janice had bought one of these for her brother who would be coming to help out again at Christmas.) There were the ever-popular Snakes and Ladders, Ludo and Tiddly Winks, sets of playing cards, dartboards and dominoes. Val was a little concerned that they might be encroaching on the toyshops or the department stores who sold similar products, but Sam assured her that all was fair in the retail trade, especially at Christmas.

  They would stay open quite late on Saturday, 23 December, the last shopping day, and then take three days’ break.

  ‘It’s my parents’ turn to entertain us on Christmas Day,’ Val told her husband one evening in mid-December. ‘Mum would like us to stay overnight if possible. Or would that cause trouble with your parents – well, your mother, I mean – if we don’t stay with them?’

  ‘I don’t see why it should,’ said Sam. ‘Anyway, you know that a little of Russell goes a long way with my mother, although I think she’s mellowing slightly towards him now. And they’ll be busy entertaining Jonathan and Thelma and Rosemary on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Yes, so they will. Thelma says she’s feeling very tired with this pregnancy, far more than she was with Rosemary. Do you think she might be h
aving twins?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Sam laughed. ‘We can pop over and see them, and my parents, the Sunday before Christmas if you like. Just a flying visit to take the presents. Then we’ll have a quiet Christmas Eve before we go to your parents’ on Christmas Day. OK?’

  ‘Yes, that sounds fine. Perhaps we could call and see Cissie and Walter as well … And how do you feel about having your mum and dad here for New Year’s Day, and to stay overnight maybe? They’ve only been for the day so far, and I really think we should make the effort. Or … will the shop be open?’

  ‘No, not on New Year’s Day. Colin and I have decided to have two days’ break. Neither of us is keen on all this sales fever, though we have to go along with it to a certain extent. There’s so much to learn about the retail trade; all sorts of things we knew very little about. For instance, as soon we’re into the New Year we shall have to start thinking about spring and summer sports. Tennis and cricket, and then there’s bowls for those who are rather more mature, women as well as men …’

  ‘Let’s get Christmas over first!’ said Val. ‘But I must admit, I love thinking up new ideas. I get really engrossed in those sports catalogues, Sam. I never thought it would be so interesting.’

  ‘And you’re doing a grand job,’ said Sam. ‘I’m sure we made the right decision in coming here … Now, are you sure you want to cope with my mother and father at New Year?’

  ‘Of course I am, especially as we won’t be seeing them on Christmas Day. I don’t think we’ll have a turkey, though. Everyone will have had enough turkey by New Year. I’ll think of something different, possibly a nice piece of pork loin …’

  ‘Dad likes roast beef and Yorkshire pudding,’ said Sam.

  ‘I know, he’s a true Yorkshireman! But I think I’ll do pork and sage and onion and apple sauce. And what about the pudding?’

  Sam laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it now. You’ve plenty of time to sort it all out.’

  ‘Yes, so I have, but I want to get it just right. You know how critical your mother is. I always feel as though she’s giving me marks out of twenty!’