‘Aye well, I reckon it’s time I was getting up. There’s work to do and them hens to feed. Their bellies’ll be thinking their throats have been cut. Then I might set to with me sewing. I’ve been thinking of making our Margaret a new frock with a bit of smocking on it.’
‘That’ll be lovely.’
‘And another thing I’m thinking is I might go to’t Sisterhood this afternoon.’
‘That’ll be a change. Our Alice’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘She’d be pleased to see you an’ all, lass.’
‘I couldn’t. I’ve far too much to do. Besides, she’ll only go getting ideas about the kids going to all those Bible classes and things.’
‘Aye, yer can have too much of a good thing, lass. I reckon Sunday school once a week should be enough.’
‘Yes. Mind you, the Lord certainly works in mysterious ways, the way the war’s landed her with Jennifer and Brian. They’ve really brought about a change in our Alice. Oh, and there’s another thing – that’s if you can keep a secret.’
‘I’ve kept one for nigh on forty years, lass.’
‘Well, unless I’m mistaken – and I’ve never been before – you’re going to be a grandma again.’
‘Eeh, lass, I’m not surprised with the way them bedsprings have been going. Why, it’s the best news I’ve had in years. Not that I don’t love the others, but it’ll be nice for our Jack to have one of his own flesh and blood.’
‘Don’t go telling him, though, not till I’m sure.’
‘Do yer know, instead of going to’t Sisterhood I might save me energy up and go to’t show with you lot tonight. I haven’t been to a show since I was a young lass. I reckon it’s time I made up for lost time and enjoyed meself a bit. Besides, it’s time I spent some money on me grandchildren; God knows they’ve transformed the old place. It used to be like a morgue, although I didn’t think anything of it at the time.’
Ruth gathered up the dirty crockery. ‘Your Jack’ll wonder what’s got into you.’
‘Aye, he’s a good man, Ruth. Takes after his grandfather.’
‘And his mother.’
Martha blushed and looked embarrassed. ‘Aye well, away with yer, let me get dressed and feed them hens.’
Suddenly a cry came from the next bedroom as Margaret called for her mama. Ruth hurried out to her little girl, calling as she went, ‘And I’ll get our Margaret dressed and fed, then I’ll start on the ironing.
The change in Martha that day was beyond belief. She fed the fowls, polished the furniture until it gleamed and did the vegetables – not an easy task with two land girls and Sam as well as the family to feed.
It was late afternoon when Jack returned from a meeting in Sheffield. A representative from the ministry of agriculture had been giving a talk, which was mainly to urge the need to increase the yield per acre of ploughing land, to make the best scientific use of fertilisers and to ensure the maximum of grain went into the flour. As every available square yard of his land was already producing, Jack considered the day could have been better spent. Nevertheless he had met a number of farmers, exchanged ideas over a drink and a cheese sandwich and discovered that the main problem facing most of them was that the extensive ploughing had left them with a shortage of food for the animals, which was aggravated by a lack of imported feeding stuffs. Jack was not as seriously affected as most, thanks to Sam’s foresight. Jack had taken the man’s advice and let meadowland to the west remain grass, another example of how indispensable Sam had proved himself to be.
Frankie heard the van long before it drew into the yard and was outside waiting for Jack to still the engine. ‘Dad,’ he called. ‘Come on, hurry up or we’ll be late for the concert.’
‘Nay, lad, let me get into’t house before yer start nattering.’ His eyes searched the room for his wife. ‘Hello, love. By gum, you look smart.’ He kissed her before washing his hands and sitting to the table.
‘Well,’ Ruth said, blushing, ‘I thought I’d better doll myself up a bit, seeing as we’re going out.’
‘Yer should go out more often, love. It’s nice for you to socialise a bit. It’s like the back of beyond up here with no neighbours to have a gossip with.’
Ruth laughed. ‘Ive got quite enough company with this lot. Mind you, it’s good to have the girls around. Some of their talk would make even you blush. There’s never a dull moment since they arrived.’
‘They’re a grand pair though, not afraid of work or a bit of muck.’
Ruth paused by the window and looked out. ‘I wouldn’t swap this for all the neighbours in Cottenly,’ she said. ‘I love the peace and quiet and it’s so beautiful at this time of year. Everything seems all golden somehow, the trees and the hills. It all seems so unreal. Even the rooftops down in town look lovely from up here.’
‘Wait till we get a hard winter.’
Ruth laughed. ‘We couldn’t possibly have one worse than the last. Why, I’ve never seen so much snow in all my life, what with the stable roof collapsing under the weight of it and the milk taking all day to be delivered.’
‘No, but last year we were still starry-eyed from our honeymoon.’
‘I still am. I’ll never regret coming up here.’ She placed a plate of hash and dumplings before him. ‘Get it down you before the dumplings spoil.’
‘I don’t want any. I want to go to the concert,’ Frankie announced.
‘If you don’t eat your dinner we shan’t go,’ Jack said. ‘If you want to grow up big and strong yer’ll need to eat properly.’
Frankie tucked in sullenly before muttering, ‘I am big and strong. I’ve picked two rows of taties after school, so I must be.’
Jack patted him on the back. ‘That’s a good lad. I can see I shall have to pay you a bit of a wage then.’
Frankie’s face broke into smiles. ‘Can I ’ave it today, then, for the concert?’
Ruth interrupted. ‘You’ll not be going if you don’t clear your plate.’ Then she added, ‘Our Sadie’s been a good help too. She’s put all the clean washing up to air and sewn some buttons on for her grandma.’
Jack put his head in his hands, ‘Oh, Lord. I shall be skint when I’ve done paying out. It’s a good thing I’ve got a removal tomorrow. It’s a pity there isn’t a concert every week, though, if it’s going to get all the family working.’ His mouth suddenly dropped open as his mother entered the kitchen. ‘By gum,’ he quipped, ‘I thought it were Queen Mary herself coming in.’
‘Aye, well, it isn’t often I go out so I thought I’d get dressed up a bit.’ She went back upstairs, leaving Jack dumbfounded.
‘Where’s she going?’
‘She’s coming with us to the concert,’ Ruth answered.
‘Bloody ’ell, things are looking up. What’s got into her?’
‘Dad, you swore,’ Sadie complained.
‘Sorry, love.’
‘Nothing’s got into her, she’s just decided she’d like to go with the kids to the concert. She says she’s never been to a concert since she was a little girl. And there’s no point in wasting our Billy’s ticket. I’ll go get Margaret changed.’
‘Are you getting changed now, Dad?’ Frankie asked.
‘Aye, I might as well, or I’ll never get any peace.’
‘Our Billy doesn’t want to come. He says people will laugh at him going with his mother.’
‘Aye well, perhaps they will, Sadie. He’s growing up now, love.’
‘He’s going out with Joan Sanderson. I heard them arranging, down the hollow field.’
Jack rose to his feet. ‘Maybe, but there’s no need to tell tales. It’s natural to fancy the lasses at his age.’
Ruth frowned as she entered the kitchen with Margaret looking a picture with her apple cheeks and blonde curls. ‘You ought to have a talk to our Billy, Jack, make sure he isn’t going to get in any kind of trouble.’
Jack threw back his head and laughed. ‘Who, our Billy? Nay, lass, he’s probably more knowledgeable than I
am, especially now he’s working alongside the land girls.’
Ruth looked shocked, ‘Oh Jack, you don’t think they’ve—’
‘No I don’t,’ Jack interrupted. ‘But I can imagine how they get a kick out of teasing a handsome young lad like Billy.’
‘Did you fancy the lasses, Dad?’ Sadie asked.
‘Aye, I fancied ’em, but I never loved one until I met yer mam. Then I fell in love at first sight.’
Ruth blushed. ‘Aye, and we know where I was at the time – scrubbing the step.’ Jack slapped her on her well-rounded rear and disappeared upstairs grinning, passing Billy on his way down.
‘Aye well, I’ll be on my way then, Mam. I promised our Joseph I’d meet him at the pictures.’
‘Ooh, Billy Wray, you liar.’
‘Sadie, another word out of you and you’ll stay home.’
Luckily Martha joined them at that moment, distracting everyone, dressed in a coat she’d never worn since her son’s wedding. She looked round at the children, all newly scrubbed. ‘Well, and don’t you all look nice?’ Jack joined them, sporting a dazzling white shirt and his best suit. ‘Eeh, but you make a grand-looking couple,’ his mother remarked. ‘Eeh, Jack, yer look fair smart. Still, yer father allus kept himself smart.’ She paused, then added, ‘I can remember how smart he looked the night he died. So proud he was to have become a father, he had been out celebrating. The trouble was, he celebrated a bit too much. There he was, in such a hurry to come up and look at yer that ’e went and fell downstairs. Eeh, it was a crying shame the way it happened. Still, he’d ’ave been right proud of yer all tonight. Oh well, are we going or aren’t we? I’m getting right excited.’
Jack was staring at his mother, a wondering look on his face, then he pulled himself together. ‘Aye, we’re going, Mother, and I’ll tell you this: me father’d have been right proud of you as well. You’re a grand-looking woman when you’re dressed up.’ He opened the door, allowing a flurry of feathers to enter the kitchen. Margaret screamed with delight, and Sadie shooed the old brown hen out into the yard. ‘Aye,’ Jack repeated as he ushered them all out, ‘you’re a grand-looking woman.’
Ruth grinned as the two women busied themselves strapping Margaret into her pushchair. ‘Oh, you’re a grand-looking woman right enough,’ she said. ‘And I’ll tell you another thing.’
‘What?’ her mother-in-law enquired with a smile.
‘You’d have made a bloody good actress too.’
Martha laughed. ‘Aye, well, as long as I’ve made him happy. He’s a good man is our Jack.’
‘Yes,’ Ruth agreed, ‘he’s a very good man.’ Then she trundled the pushchair across the yard and through the gate, taking care to avoid the cow muck.
The concert had been organised in aid of the local war effort, and proceeds on this occasion would be donated to the Star War Fund. Olive was one of the main organisers and was on tenterhooks worrying that it might all turn into a catastrophe. Tom Baraclough had volunteered to do the scenery, mainly to please Olive, and the couple had become almost inseparable over the past few weeks of rehearsals. Emily had made costumes for the girls who were to perform a dance routine, little Mary amongst them. Alice had agreed to provide accompaniment on the battered old piano. The Cubs and Scouts were to do a marching routine and various local artists consisting of a tenor, a comedian and an accordionist were engaged to perform.
The concert was a sell-out and by the time the curtain went up a packed audience was sitting to attention on the hard, uncomfortable chapel chairs. The comedian cum compère opened the show with hilarious impersonations of a host of famous comedy artists. Then came the dancing, during which Lizzie shed a few tears of both pride and sadness that George couldn’t be here to see his little daughter perform, especially as she was looking so much better. ‘We’re going to hang out the washing,’ sang the childish voices as they danced in and out of a washing line. Little Margaret, who until then had perched mesmerised on her mother’s knee, suddenly came alive. ‘Mary,’ she called, ‘Mary,’ to the amusement of the audience and the embarrassment of her performing cousin. Luckily the applause drowned the toddler’s enthusiasm, and fortunately, before Ernest Edward took to the stage with the Cubs, Margaret settled down and went to sleep.
When the audience applauded wildly at the end of the evening’s entertainment Olive was ecstatic, especially as the concert tickets and raffle had raised an amount far exceeding anyone’s expectations. Lizzie was proud when her daughter took centre stage to present a cheque to the Star representative and to ask him to do the honours of drawing the raffle. Prizes had been donated by most business people in Cottenly, including a bottle of spirits from the Rag and a voucher from the Co-op. A Fair Isle jumper had been given by Katie Swann, who hoped the winner wouldn’t notice that the front was slightly faded from when it had been left for too long as part of a window display. Jack had promised a fowl, to be collected on Christmas Eve, and he decided to make it two when Ruth pointed out that it had been won by one of the large families from the Twenty Row. The Star photographer had taken a picture of all the entertainers in the grand finale, and another of Olive handing over the cheque, looking so flushed and lovely that Tom Baraclough couldn’t resist kissing her, right there in front of everyone. This brought the largest cheer of the evening from the audience, and a shout from her brother Jimmy, ‘Ugh, he must be daft to want to kiss her.’ Everyone left the hall with a smile on their face, declaring it the best night out for years.
The show was still in progress in fact only halfway through, when Hubert Hancock paused on his way home from a board meeting to light his cigar. It was a grand night, with a huge harvest moon, and he was in no hurry; after all, there would be no welcome from Sophie. He was lost in self-pity when the shout came, ‘Hey, doesn’t tha know there’s a war on? Put that light out.’ Hubert wasn’t used to being told what to do and had no intention of taking notice, especially when he saw that his critic was Ruth Wray’s father, Isaac having joined the ARP after Harry complained about a shortage of local volunteers. He drew level with the man. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I asked thee to put thi light out.’
‘All right, all right, I was only lighting my cigar. Not that anyone’s going to take any notice of a cigarette lighter.’
‘Tha’ll be laughing at the other side of thi face if tha gets a two-pound fine,’ Isaac warned him, knowing that two pounds would mean nothing to a works manager.
‘It’s a grand night,’ Hubert said, attempting to draw Isaac’s attention from his burning tobacco. ‘A grand night for the concert. I gave my donation earlier.’
Isaac ignored the last sentence. ‘It’s a sell-out, I hear. All my lot are there.’
‘All of them? They’ll have half filled the place,’ Hubert joked.
‘Aye, every single one of ’em, except me. Still, my effort’s as important as theirs, I suppose.’ But Hubert Hancock wasn’t listening. He didn’t like anyone remotely connected to Ruth Wray, and just the thought of her was inflaming him with desire, not only for her body, but with a desire to get even. He left Isaac and quickened his step, still puffing frantically at his fat cigar.
The farm was in complete darkness, not a single chink of light sneaking through the blacked-out windows. So the ARP warden had been right, the family were all out for the evening. He looked up at the windows, imagining the slim, desirable body of Ruth Wray, even the thought of her sharing a bed with that Dolan fellow filling him with longing. The lass had fallen on her feet, so he’d been told. He wondered if she would have been so eager to marry the man if he had been without a few bob. Perhaps if the farmer hadn’t come on the scene the lass would have been a little more free with her favours. The anger seethed inside him as he peered through the darkness at the property. His eyes rested on the Dutch barn, looming eerily in the moonlight. He made his way crazily towards it. He would show that air-raid warden that if he wanted to light up the countryside he would do so. He would show Ruth Wray as well. The misery of the past y
ear, his wife’s indifference to his needs, and now that damned man all served to turn his mind to thoughts of revenge, to madness even. He moved towards the huge mound of stacked hay, flicked his cigarette lighter and held it to one of the bales.
Old Shep stirred and slunk to the door. Something was afoot. He barked, agitated, unused to being left alone. Sam prised himself out of his comfortable old chair and walked stiffly to the door of his cottage. Though he wouldn’t move to the farmhouse, he had taken to staying in the two-roomed outbuilding more often, and though the place should have been condemned Sam liked it just the way it was, with the few pieces of furniture from the house, not needed, but too good to be got rid of. He went out to investigate, deciding to let the old dog out, just as the stocky figure hurried out of the barn and across the yard. He grabbed a rake and made after the man, and then the smell of burning reached his nostrils. He stopped, and turned to see the glow. He panicked, but only for a few seconds, then hurried as fast as his arthritis would allow him across the yard and grabbed a bucket. He ran towards the trough, filled the bucket and rushed to douse the fire. To and fro he went, almost stumbling over half a dozen rats, scurrying to escape the flames.
‘O God,’ Sam prayed, ‘don’t let it get hold.’ He could imagine the whole barn, the stables and even the house going up in flames. The trough was almost empty when he remembered the thick canvas tarpaulin Jack used to cover the cart. He tugged the heavy sheet until it fell almost on top of him, sending a shower of rainwater into his face. Thank God for the heavy rain earlier in the week. He dragged the sheet with all his strength, his mind working continuously, telling him what to do next. He lifted the canvas with the outside towards the crackling hay, but wasn’t tall enough to reach. He knew he must cover the whole of the burning area in order to stop the air flow. Looking about him he made out the shape of the ladder and lifted it on to the edge of the fire. He knew the tarpaulin would take some lifting and didn’t think he could climb and lift at the same time. Twenty years ago he could have done a job like this blindfold.
The Stanford Lasses Page 22