Jack didn’t need to consider Mr Whitaker’s offer. ‘I’d love to. Learn the trade, I mean. It always used to fascinate me watching my old man when I was little. There he would sit with the old cobbling foot and a piece of leather, cutting and shaping, while I passed him the nails.’
Mr Whitaker’s face broke into a thousand creases as he grinned. ‘Put on my apron, then. There’s no time like the present for beginning something new,’ he said, and so began Jack’s first lesson.
Mary was delighted, not only that Jack had something new to interest him, but that he was about to begin earning again. Not that they were desperate for cash, the shop was busier than ever, but Mary had learned her lesson and decided to cut her working hours and devote more time to Jack.
Accordingly, she had begun to stock more high-quality ready-made garments, and was surprised to find that trade hadn’t been affected in the slightest. There were still a few discerning customers who insisted on Mary Holmes wear, and she continued to make all her own bridal gowns, taking pride in knowing that each dress was an exclusive design.
No, it wasn’t the thought of extra cash which pleased Mary, it was the knowledge that Jack would feel independent once more, which would be another step towards his recovery. She was also relieved that he had at last been able to cease taking his medication. At first he had suffered sleepless nights and the tension had seemed to build up again, but with Rowland’s constant support and Mr Whitaker’s friendship the withdrawal symptoms had been overcome. Now, with yet another interest, she hoped her husband’s recovery would soon be complete.
After about a week of being supervised by Mr Whitaker, Jack was quite confident to be left to work on his own, calling on the older man for advice if he needed it, and becoming more proficient every day. He had been given back his self-respect, and was far less stressed now he had been relieved of the need to think about seeking employment. By the time Jacqueline brought Avril home for the summer holidays her father was almost back to his old self; indeed he looked fitter than his daughter could ever remember seeing him, and had taken over the shoe repairing completely from Mr Whitaker. The family were astounded at the amount of work it entailed, and some weeks Jack was earning almost as much as the wretched job at the brickworks had paid.
After the first few days Jacqueline spent little time at home during the day, and her friendship with Doug Downing seemed to go from strength to strength. On the pretext of painting a selection of nature studies she was off to Longfield each morning, wheedling a lift out of Alan before he left for work. Then, weather permitting, she would paint for a couple of hours, visit Grandma and Grandad Roberts for lunch, and spend the afternoon working alongside Doug in the greenhouse, recently named Gardener’s Rest. Jacqueline had painted the name on a sign and hung it by the roadside, and now she was busy learning the names of the various plants, and how to pot out the cuttings. Her artistic talents were put to good use in the arrangement of hanging baskets, and she took over the customer sales so that Doug could attend to the farm work.
Some days Avril would accompany her friend, but in general she much preferred to make herself useful in Mary’s shop, intent upon repaying the Holmeses’ kindness in inviting her to stay, and enjoying the company of Yvonne, who was now employed full time.
Jacqueline completed her set of pictures, a selection of seven by ten watercolours in various floral designs. One was of tall purple foxgloves, rising like sentinels against the blue of the summer sky; another depicted the meadow at Downing’s Farm, the wild flowers nestled against silvery shimmering grasses. Her favourite was a study of a wild rose, pale and fragile against a mossy green drystone wall.
Originally she had intended sending the finished pictures to a greetings card publisher for appraisal, but Doug persuaded her to exhibit them in Gardener’s Rest instead, and within a week Jacqueline was accepting commissions for her work.
‘I can’t believe how popular they are,’ she told Avril, completely astounded by her success.
‘People recognise a good thing when they see it,’ Avril pointed out. ‘I don’t think you realise the amount of minute detail you put into your work. I hope you’re charging their true worth,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Well, I didn’t really know what price to put on them, so I left it to Doug. I was sure he had overpriced them but he insisted if people wanted them they’d be willing to pay, and he was right.’
‘Good for him.’
Jacqueline looked thoughtful. ‘Why don’t you do some? Pictures to sell, I mean?’
Avril stared at her friend. ‘Me? Why, who’d want to buy anything of mine? You know my style is nothing like yours; everyone says I’m way ahead of my time.’
‘Well, I know they’re rather way out, but you never know, they might catch on. A lot of people are going for abstracts at the moment.’
‘Maybe in London, but can you honestly see them selling in Longfield? Now, be honest. Can you see one of my designs hanging on the wall amongst the polished copper saucepans in the Downings’ kitchen?’
Jacqueline began to giggle. ‘Well put like that, no, but some of the city dwellers might well be tempted. Doug’s getting a fair amount of afternoon car trade, some of it from select areas like Dore and Millhouses. They’re quite sophisticated, wanting shrubs and plants I’ve never even heard of.’
‘Maybe, but I’ll stick to dressing the windows for your mother if you don’t mind. Besides, I’m supposed to be on holiday. Unlike you I’m happy to see the back of my drawing equipment for a few weeks.’
‘You’ve made a very good job of the windows,’ Jacqueline said.
‘Mr Whitaker must think so. He’s asked me to do his shoe displays.’
‘Really? Have you agreed?’
‘Oh, yes. It’s all experience for the future. Besides, I’ve always been fascinated by shoes. My dream is to have a pair of shoes to match every outfit. Not that I’ve all that many outfits at the moment.’ She dimpled.
‘I hope your dream comes true one day.’ Jacqueline smiled.
‘It will,’ Avril said. ‘I’m not slaving my guts out at college for nothing. Just you wait – in a few years’ time I shall be planning the decor at Buckingham Palace.’
‘Oh, and what about South Africa?’
Avril blushed. ‘I’ve decided I’m not going after all.’
‘Oh, and why not? I don’t suppose my brother has anything to do with your decision?’
‘Of course not,’ Avril said, but the look in her eyes and the indignant tilt of her chin gave a different answer.
‘You can tell me, you know. After all, I’ve bored you solid with details of my love life in the past.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Avril turned away from her friend and began clearing the table.
‘Oh, so I must be imagining the way you look at each other, and the way you seem to spring to life the moment he walks in the room. And I’m not so dumb that I don’t notice the way you sneak downstairs the moment you think we’re all asleep. I’m not condemning you, Avril. In fact, I think it’s great – I just wish you weren’t so secretive. After all, I am supposed to be your best friend, aren’t I?’
‘OK, I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you’d approve; besides, I never thought things would turn out as they have. I thought we could just be friends. It was Alan’s fault. If he hadn’t been so damned attractive, and warm, and—’ Avril suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, Jacqueline, I’m sorry. I’d have given anything not to have fallen for your brother, but it just happened. It was sort of love at first sight, or at least that’s how Alan described it. I should have told you. I’m sorry.’
Jacqueline placed an arm round her friend and drew her towards her. ‘So, what’s all the weeping about? I think it’s marvellous. You could do a lot worse than fall for my brother, and he could do worse too.’
‘But he’s younger than I am.’
Jacqueline laughed. ‘So what? By how much? Eighteen months at the most. Oh, come on, what differ
ence does age make? Look at the difference between Doug and me, but it doesn’t stop me loving him. I would love him if he was twenty years older – I don’t know why I didn’t realise it sooner.’
Avril cheered up. ‘So you’re in love too. I thought as much but you never said.’
‘Well, it looks like it’s confession time.’ They both began to laugh, happy to have confided in each other, relieved now their secrets were at last disclosed.
Avril was in her element. The floor of the shoe shop resembled a bomb site, but the windows were so eye-catching that passing shoppers wondered if the place was under new management, and paused to admire the new displays.
Gone were the monotonous rows of footwear, placed like soldiers standing to attention, all facing the front in pairs, and instead of segregating the men’s, women’s and children’s in their own windows she had intermixed them, dressing each window by theme rather than age and gender. One displayed sandals, plimsolls and beach bags; she had even popped out to the Co-op and purchased a bucket and spade to use as a centrepiece. Another window was ultra-smart with high-heeled courts with matching handbags or evening purses, placed in colour groups of half a dozen, with only the outsides of each shoe facing the window, and the men’s styles similarly displayed, complemented by leather wallets. School shoes were set off by satchels, and toddlers’ by one of Jacqueline’s teddy bears.
The window in the centre was given over completely to such things as carpet slippers, wellies, football boots and sundries like stockings, inner soles and leather belts. Mr Whitaker almost had a seizure when he realised the pairs had been separated, wondering how on earth he would find the odd shoe in a hurry, but Avril had come up with the ingenious idea of sticking a red spot on the end of each shoe box containing only one shoe.
‘You’ll know immediately that one of the shoes is in the window,’ Avril pointed out. ‘And as I’ve only used the less popular size threes in ladies’ and sixes in men’s you’re not likely to have to disturb the displays very often.’
Mr Whitaker had to agree that the difference was remarkable, and spent a good ten minutes admiring his windows from the pavement. He even called Jack from his work to give his opinion. Jack was full of admiration. ‘It just goes to show what a bit of young blood can do,’ he said. But he couldn’t help wondering what would happen when the windows needed cleaning and the displays rearranging, although he decided not to voice his doubts.
Mr Whitaker offered to pay Avril for her work but she refused emphatically. ‘I enjoyed every moment,’ she said. ‘I love shoes so it was a pleasure to work with them.’
‘Then you must choose a pair. No, don’t argue, I insist.’ Mr Whitaker’s face resembled a walnut as it broke into smiles, and Avril didn’t argue. All day she had been admiring a pair of soft kid sandals with tiny straps and a high slim heel. She knew they were the kind of frivolous footwear she would never consider buying, but if Mr Whitaker was giving her a pair they were the ones she would choose.
‘You have excellent taste,’ the old man told her. ‘They’ll feel like gloves, I can assure you.’
Avril tried on the pale grey sandals and walked to the mirror. They really were comfortable and she couldn’t help noticing how slim her ankles looked, and the way her calves seemed more shapely. She would wear them with the new pencil slim skirt Jacqueline’s mother had made her for helping in the shop. Swirling in front of the mirror she wondered if Alan would notice and experienced a warm glow at the thought.
One day, Avril told herself, she would wear shoes like these all the time. She sighed as she looked round at the cluttered shop floor. Clearly, that day had not yet arrived. She changed her lovely new sandals for her old flat shoes and began to clear away the piles of tissue paper, sticky tape and shoe boxes, in order to leave the shop as she had found it. It had been a busy day, but it would be worth it to wear the lovely new sandals for Alan. She packed them carefully in their box and thanked Mr Whitaker once again.
‘Don’t mention it, my dear,’ he said. ‘You’ve more than earned them.’
‘That was a large sigh,’ Jack told Mr Whitaker after Avril had left.
‘Ah, yes,’ the old gentleman said. ‘It’s just that she reminds me so much of my dear late wife. She had the same imaginative streak about her. I’m afraid I’ve neglected such things as window displays of late.’
‘Well, it doesn’t seem to worry the customers.’ Jack grinned.
Mr Whitaker sighed again, even more deeply. ‘What year are we in now, Jack lad?’
‘Nineteen sixty-two. Why?’ Jack hoped the old man wasn’t losing his memory.
‘Ah, I think it’s all getting too much for me. Perhaps it is time I went into retirement.’
Jack frowned and began to worry as a panic attack threatened for the first time in weeks. He wondered what would happen if the shop changed hands, and a cloud seemed to enshroud him, though he tried his best to brash it aside. The two men carried on with their work in silence. Jack remembered the days when his old man could never have afforded a cobbler’s prices. He would come home from a hard shift at the pit and set to mending shoes and clogs. Jack couldn’t imagine Mary coping with hardship the way his mother had. He loved her dearly but sometimes she made him feel so inferior. He had an idea Alan felt the same. It was as though she had to prove something to herself. Make amends for something in the past. Still, she had been different lately, and hadn’t she proved her devotion to him throughout his illness?
Both men were deep in thought, each wondering what the future would bring.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It had been a hectic afternoon and Doug had finally closed the shop for the day. He had also completed the milking so as to give his father an early Sunday finish. Now it was time to change from work clothes to Sunday best in order to look smart for Jacqueline.
She had decided to take a day off from helping Doug in order to spend some time at Moorland House. She and Avril had worked all day in the garden, cutting back the dead flowers, weeding, and gathering raspberries and gooseberries in readiness for Grandma Roberts’s annual jam making.
Although Gladys now employed a woman to come in for a few hours a day, Jacqueline still worried that the house and grounds were becoming too much for the doctor and his wife. The young friends had brought over a selection of holiday brochures, hoping to persuade the couple to take a well-earned holiday.
‘You should treat yourselves as a retirement present,’ Jacqueline suggested. ‘How long is it since you last had a holiday?’
‘Twenty-odd years at least,’ Grandad Roberts mumbled from behind the Sunday paper. ‘That was when we went to Ruth and Richard’s wedding.’
‘Twenty-odd years?’ Jacqueline shrieked. ‘Why, you’re worse than my man and dad. At least they used to take us to the caravan.’
‘What do we need with holidays? Living here is one permanent holiday.’ Grandma Roberts stood by the open window. ‘Now you just tell me a place more glorious than this, or where the air is half as pure.’
‘I know that, but you need a change of scene just the same, and a rest from the housework. If you went now Avril and I could look after the house.’
‘I agree.’ Grandad Roberts suddenly sprang to life. ‘We haven’t had a proper holiday since our honeymoon. Now let’s have a look at those brochures.’ He picked one off the pile, placing it immediately to one side. ‘I don’t think Spain is quite us, do you, dear?’
‘Goodness me, no. What would I look like amongst all those bikini-clad girls? No, I don’t fancy a beach holiday at all.’
‘I’m sure you’d look every bit as glamorous as everyone else,’ Rowland said, glancing at his wife. ‘But no, I prefer more scenic surroundings.’
‘Italy, then.’ Jacqueline waved a brochure enthusiastically in Rowland’s direction. ‘Florence, Venice, Rome, Sorrento.’
‘Or Amalfi,’ Avril volunteered. ‘I knew someone once who had served in the forces, a friend of my father’s, and he said the Amalfi coa
st was the most beautiful place on earth.’
‘This is the most beautiful place on earth,’ Gladys said.
‘Yugoslavia.’ Rowland scanned through a leaflet. ‘Professor Jones visited Yugoslavia. Now what was the name of the place? Something to do with surgery, I’m sure. I know one of the nurses made a joke about its name. Something to do with blood.’
‘Goodness.’ Avril scowled. ‘I wouldn’t bother.’
‘Said it was like the Garden of Eden,’ Rowland mused. ‘Look, here it is – Bled. Lake Bled.’
Gladys left her position at the window reluctantly to look and was pleasantly surprised. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Almost as nice as Longfield.’
Jacqueline giggled. ‘It’s even better than Longfield,’ she said.
‘But we don’t have passports.’ Gladys at last seemed to take an interest.
‘That’s a point.’ Rowland frowned.
‘Oh, but surely that can be arranged? Surely you know someone who can hurry them through?’ Jacqueline was used to Grandad Roberts knowing a man who knew another man who could arrange anything.
‘Well, not today, seeing as it’s the Sabbath, but we’ll see.’
Jacqueline thumbed through the leaflet. ‘Wow, just look at this hotel – it’s out of this world. It even has a swimming pool fed by thermal springs, and a glorious view of the lake and mountains.’
‘Then we shall go there,’ Rowland announced.
Gladys read the details. ‘Have you seen the prices?’
‘No, and I don’t care. If we’re going at all we’re going in style.’ Rowland turned down the corner of the page and hoped the wretched pain in his chest wouldn’t be aggravated by the flight.
‘Goodness, Doug’ll be here soon.’ Jacqueline hurried up to the bathroom, collecting her cosmetic bag on the way.
‘And Alan,’ Avril said. ‘He promised to come straight from the garage.’
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