Until We Meet Again

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Yes,’ said Tommy. ‘He intends to tell her tonight, after he’s seen his parents.’

  Tilly had enjoyed an idyllic springtime with Dominic. The liking and fondness that she felt for him had developed into what she knew was love; and the wonder of it was that he felt the same way about her.

  Their friendship had begun slowly, almost tentatively on Dominic’s part, which had surprised her a little. She had thought of him, at one time, as being brash and brimming with confidence, but she had come to realise that there was a gentler side to his nature. He had not taken liberties with her or tried to move things along too quickly, as she might have thought he would do, before she came to know him better.

  Their first outing together had been to a concert at the Spa Pavilion, where they had discovered a similar taste in light classical music. He had heard her play the piano at the church social and, following that, they had started to sit together for the morning service at the church which they both attended. This was not every week, however, as the Moon family attended more regularly at the Methodist chapel on the North Bay, where William and his children had long been active members, as had his parents and grandparents before him.

  Tilly had met Mr and Mrs Fraser for the first time when she was invited to their home for Sunday tea, a meeting which had put the seal of approval on the friendship of the young couple. It was only couples who were courting with a sincere intent who visited one another’s home for such an important occasion as Sunday tea. This had been in the December of the previous year, although Dominic had already taken meals with Tilly’s family several times.

  She had felt nervous because she knew that Dominic was inclined to be rather in awe of his parents. She had a feeling, too, that she might be considered ‘not quite good enough’ for their son, although Dominic had never said so. But there were certain irregularities in her background which she realised they might find difficult to overlook. She didn’t know how much Dominic had told them about her. They were a good few years older than her mother and stepfather, who were in their early fifties. Mr and Mrs Fraser had both turned sixty, having married quite late on in life, and Dominic was their only child. She knew that Joseph Fraser was an influential businessman in the town; a partner with his brother-in-law in the firm of estate agents Fortescue and Fraser, with an office on Northway.

  Mabel Fraser was silver-haired and stately, dressed in a lilac afternoon gown which might have been fashionable a few years earlier, with a flared floor-length skirt and a high stand-up lace collar of the style made popular by Queen Alexandra in the years of her husband’s reign. Mr Fraser appeared equally forbidding at first in his formal black suit, with a goatee beard and rimless spectacles, which he wore halfway down his nose.

  Appearances, however, could be deceptive; she soon realised that they were not quite as stern and unbending as they had at first seemed. They both made her welcome, though in a formal manner, and in a little while she began to feel more at ease. Their dining room and sitting room, which Mrs Fraser referred to as the ‘parlour’, were in keeping with their personalities, harking back to the Victorian era, overcrowded with heavy furniture and with knick-knacks and photographs in silver frames covering almost every surface.

  The large mahogany table with bulbous legs was covered with a white starched damask cloth, with matching napkins as stiff as boards; the china cups, saucers and side plates were decorated with pink rosebuds and were so fine and delicate that they were almost transparent. The meal was a typical middle-class Sunday tea: boiled ham and tongue served with salad – lettuce, tomato, cucumber and hard-boiled eggs in slices – and wafer-thin bread and butter, both white and brown, cut into triangles with the crusts removed. (Tilly’s mother had always made sure that they ate the crusts!) This was followed by tinned peaches and pears with fresh cream poured from a cut-glass jug. And to finish the meal there was a variety of cakes without which no northern tea would be complete; sticky ginger cake, rich fruit cake and almond tarts.

  Tilly was not fazed by any of this, nor by the maid – a girl of her own age, she guessed, in a black dress, white frilled apron and cap – who served them. Tilly had been brought up in more or less the same kind of environment in what was generally thought of as the upper middle class. Her father, Edward Barraclough, had been a bank manager – indeed, he still was, although she saw him very rarely – and her mother had stayed at home to look after her family of four. She must have had some help with the running of the house and the cooking, Tilly supposed. She did not remember them having a maid, though, as the Frasers did. In fact, she scarcely remembered the time when she had lived in York.

  What she remembered most of all from those days were the summer holidays in Scarborough, which had always been the highlight of the year and to which all the children had looked forward eagerly. And to be actually going to live there when she was six years old had been just too exciting for words!

  She had realised at the time, although at her tender age she would not have been able to put it into words, that the Barraclough family was a notch or two higher in the social scale than the Moon family, into which her mother was marrying. For instance, Patrick and Maddy had attended the ordinary council school, not very far from the Moons’ funeral premises, whereas Samuel and Jessie, and she and her twin brother, had gone to private schools in York, what Maddy would have called ‘posh’ schools. And they had continued with their private education in Scarborough, which she considered had been very generous and understanding of Uncle William. It might, of course, have caused a rift or jealousy between the children of the two families, but it had never done so. They had always accepted that this was the way it was; that it was best for them all to continue with what they had been used to. Samuel had been the only one who had been rather difficult and resentful of their mother’s new way of life.

  The important thing was that Mother was happy, and her obvious delight in being married to William Moon had made the rest of the family happy too. Faith Moon had started to work outside of the home, something which would have been frowned upon when she had lived in York. Although she had not worked in the undertaking business as William’s first wife had done, she had taken on the managership of the gown shop and had proved to be popular with both the staff and the customers. The only assistance they had ever had in the house was Mrs Baker, their cook cum housekeeper, and she was much more like a member of the family than a servant.

  Tilly was quietly amused at the way the Frasers’ maid bobbed a curtsy when she had served the meal; just the slightest bending of the knee, but a sign of the subservience which Mabel Fraser obviously expected.

  ‘Thank you, Lily, that will be all,’ she said, lowering her head graciously, for all the world like Queen Mary, thought Tilly. She was tempted to catch the girl’s eye and wink at her, but Lily kept her eyes lowered. Tilly could have no idea what the girl was thinking; whether she accepted that this was her station in life, to wait upon others, or whether she longed for a different way of living. As for Tilly, she realised how fortunate she was compared with many young women of her age. She had always had a carefree life and had never wanted for anything.

  Of the two of them, Tilly found Mr Fraser to be the more congenial, the one who tried the hardest to keep the conversation flowing and to make an effort to be jolly and amusing, although it did not come as naturally to him as it did to William Moon. Tilly was surprised at the broadness of his Yorkshire accent, which he did not attempt to disguise. His wife spoke in a more genteel manner, but her refined tones slipped from time to time, betraying her northern heritage.

  ‘I am so pleased that Dominic’s first girlfriend is such a charming young lady,’ Mabel Fraser remarked at their first meeting. ‘We are so pleased to meet you at last, my dear, although we have seen you occasionally at church, haven’t we?’

  ‘The first one maybe, but the only one,’ Dominic told his mother, to Tilly’s surprise. She had not expected him to contradict her, even slightly. ‘I certainly shan’t be l
ooking around, not now I’ve found Tilly.’

  Mrs Fraser looked startled at this remark, opening her eyes wide, and her mouth, too, in readiness to speak. But her husband forestalled her.

  ‘Good for you, lad,’ he said. ‘That’s just the way I felt when I met your mother. “That’s the only girl for me,” I said.’

  ‘But that wasn’t the same at all,’ retorted his wife. ‘I was hardly a girl, was I, Joseph? In fact, we were both much, much older.’

  ‘You’ll always be a young lass to me,’ said Joseph Fraser gallantly. He smiled fondly at his wife and Tilly could see that there was true affection between them, although Mabel Fraser was looking rather irritated at that moment. ‘That’s why I waited all those years for you,’ he continued, ‘all the time you were caring for your parents.’

  ‘Oh, be quiet, Joseph!’ said his wife. ‘Tilly doesn’t want to hear all about that. What I am saying is that Dominic is very young. He is only eighteen and he’s still at school. And so is Tilly, aren’t you, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Mrs Fraser,’ she answered meekly, feeling a mite embarrassed. She hadn’t expected Dominic to speak so forthrightly to his parents, although she knew that she and Dominic were both beginning to realise how much they meant to one another.

  ‘I’m old enough to know my own mind, Mother,’ he said now, ‘and who can tell how much longer I will be at school anyway?’

  Tilly saw Dominic’s father frown at him then and shake his head slightly. ‘All right, son,’ he said. ‘We know how you feel, but we don’t want to hear any more about it at the moment.’

  Tilly knew that Mr Fraser was referring to Dominic’s notion that he ought to be in the army defending his country. He had talked about it to her several times, although she was not sure whether he was really serious about it. In the first few months of the war she had tried to dissuade him, and she knew his parents would have done so, too. She wondered whether it might be bravado that Dominic was showing; at all events she was hoping against hope that the warring nations would see sense before long and bring the conflict to an end.

  ‘So you are William Moon’s daughter,’ Mabel Fraser said now, in what Tilly guessed was a way of changing the subject. ‘We know of him, of course. Such a well-established firm of undertakers.’

  ‘Yes, we shall know where to go if somebody pops their clogs, won’t we?’ said Joseph Fraser with a chortle, an attempt at humour of which his wife clearly did not approve. She frowned at him.

  ‘Actually, William Moon is not my father,’ said Tilly. She felt it would be best to be truthful. ‘He is my stepfather, but he’s just like a real father to me. He and my mother got married when I was six years old…so we’ve all been together a long time.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Mrs Fraser. ‘I didn’t realise that. Your father died when you were a little girl, did he, my dear?’

  ‘Oh no, my father is still living,’ replied Tilly. ‘He lives in York with his second wife… My parents were divorced, you see, and then we took my stepfather’s name.’

  ‘Oh…I see,’ said Mrs Fraser again, with a frosty edge to her voice. ‘I didn’t know that.’ Tilly realised that in families such as the Frasers’, divorce was not talked about and had certainly never been experienced. There was still a stigma attached to it, divorced people not being invited into gatherings of high society; even though it had been reported that King Edward the Seventh, the previous monarch, had been a bit of a bounder himself and was reputed to have been involved in a divorce case.

  ‘I had heard something about it,’ said Joseph Fraser. ‘But I’m not one to talk about folks. It’s their own business… And I’ve also heard that Mrs Moon – your mother, my dear – is a most highly respected lady in the town.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ echoed his wife, in a slightly condescending tone. ‘I believe she manages the clothing emporium on North Marine Road, doesn’t she? I must admit I have never purchased anything there; it’s at the other side of town, of course. But then I have my own dressmaker and I sometimes go to an exclusive little gown shop at the top end of Westborough.’

  ‘My mother and stepfather own the store,’ replied Tilly evenly. ‘It is part of the business. It used to be a store that sold just mourning wear, years ago; I don’t remember it. But now we sell all kinds of clothing.’

  ‘Yes…I see.’ That seemed to be Mabel Fraser’s favourite comment. She nodded her head thoughtfully, half-smiling at Tilly. ‘I must admit your – er – parents look very contented together… Your mother is a very beautiful woman,’ she added, a trifle grudgingly, and in a tone of voice which seemed to imply that beauty was not necessarily a worthy attribute. ‘I have always thought so. You have a look of her, haven’t you, Tilly? Your colouring, I mean; the shade of your hair and your height. I do believe you are almost as tall as Dominic, aren’t you?’

  ‘Just about,’ said Tilly, grinning at Dominic, who was looking rather bored at all this chit-chat. ‘But my mother’s hair is much darker than mine. I’m a proper red-head, like my brother, although he is even more ginger than me.’

  ‘Yes, we know Tommy,’ said Dominic’s mother. ‘He and Dominic are such good friends, aren’t they? We were rather surprised when he told us he was getting friendly with you as well… That is not to say that we weren’t pleased, of course. We have never been actually introduced to your parents, but we know them by sight. We have seen them in church, although they are not regular attendees, are they? Dominic’s father and I attend Matins every Sunday, and Dominic has been brought up to attend as well. He was confirmed when he was thirteen years old. Have you been confirmed, my dear?’

  ‘No…at least not in the Church of England,’ replied Tilly, feeling a little indignant. ‘Actually, I’ve been made a member of the Methodist Church, although I do still go to C of E services sometimes. That’s because Uncle William – that’s what I call him – has always been a Methodist. And when he took Mother and the rest of us along to his chapel we found that we liked it better. The services are livelier and the people are more friendly… At least that’s what we have found,’ she added, seeing Mabel Fraser’s mouth tighten with displeasure. ‘And since we’ve had the motor-car it’s been easier to get across to the North Bay. So that’s where we go most of the time now, to the chapel on Queen Street.’

  ‘I see…’ said Mabel Fraser unsmilingly, looking down at the floor and not at Tilly.

  ‘For goodness’ sake! Does any of this matter?’ said Dominic, with a show of exasperation. ‘Honestly, Mother! It’s like the Spanish Inquisition. What does it matter which church Tilly goes to? Anyway, all this so called religion and praying hasn’t done any good. It hasn’t had any effect on the war, has it?’

  ‘That’ll do, son,’ said his father. ‘There’s no need to be impertinent. You know you shouldn’t speak to your mother like that.’

  ‘Sorry…Mother,’ said Dominic, looking a trifle cowed. ‘But it’s true, isn’t it? Sometimes one wonders if God is listening.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ his mother rebuked him. ‘Your father has already told you, and now you are just being irreverent. We don’t want to hear any more about it, about the war or…or anything. You are still at school and then you are going to university. You’re far too young to be thinking about…anything else.’ It was clear that she was not referring solely to Dominic’s desire to join the army.

  No further mention was made of anything controversial as they left the tea table and sat at the fireside with a second cup of tea. Both of Dominic’s parents appeared to be making an effort to be friendly as they spoke of more trivial matters; the weather, and the play The Importance of Being Earnest, which Mr and Mrs Fraser, and Tilly and Dominic, had seen the previous week at a local theatre, but on different evenings.

  Tilly was relieved when she could make her escape. They both shook hands with her in a formal manner, and Mrs Fraser said, quite charmingly, that she hoped they would see her again soon. But Tilly had been far from happy as Dominic walked her
home.

  ‘Your mother doesn’t approve of me,’ she began, ‘for all sorts of reasons. To start with, I’m a Methodist. And then my parents were divorced; that’s disgraceful, isn’t it? And she thinks I’ve got my claws into her precious son, that I’m a gold digger…’

  Dominic drew her closer to him and kissed her cheek. ‘No, she doesn’t. I told you, though, that she was set in her ways, didn’t I? She wants everything to go the way she has planned it. But I told her, didn’t I, that you are the only girl for me. And I meant it… I love you, Tilly.’

  ‘I know you do, Dominic, and I love you, too,’ she whispered as they stood at the corner of the avenue where Tilly lived. ‘But I can understand how your mother feels about the war and you wanting to enlist… You won’t do anything foolish, will you? No… I know you don’t think it would be foolish,’ she corrected herself. ‘But what I mean is…you won’t go rushing into anything just yet, will you?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ he sighed. ‘Anyway, I should hate leaving you behind.’ He kissed her longingly as he did every time they had to say goodnight.

  They both knew by this time that theirs was more than a casual friendship. They began to see one another more often, as often as their schooling and other commitments would allow. As the winter gave way to spring and the daylight lengthened they spent many evenings wandering through the gardens and cliff-side paths on the South Bay, or the woodland walks of Peasholm Park at the other end of the town. Sometimes they rode their bicycles inland to the Forge Valley, or along the coast road to Scalby Mills.

  The kisses and the embraces that they shared in secluded glades or on deserted beaches became more and more ardent. Sometimes they would hold one another close, without speaking; there was no need for words. But Tilly knew without being told that the time would come, inevitably, when Dominic would decide that he could no longer ignore what his conscience was telling him he must do. They sat together on a bench in the Italian Gardens, one of their favourite spots. It was an early evening at the end of May, just a couple of hours after Tommy had broken the news to his family.