The Buffer Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  Josh grinned. ‘Sorry. I’ll go down on one knee, if you want me to, Amy. Only—’

  ‘What do you think, Dad? Ought I to marry this reprobate who leaves me for years without so much as a letter?’

  Before Bob could even open his mouth, Josh burst out, ‘I did write. I swear I did and your dad says you wrote to me, but I never received any of your letters. I wrote and Emily wrote too, but we never heard. They – they went astray.’ Maybe one day he would tell her the truth, but now was not the time.

  Amy blinked and stared at him across the table. ‘Oh. I see.’ But she didn’t really understand. Amy’s trusting nature would never believe anything bad about anyone, and especially not about Josh’s mother. But Bob would. Oh yes, he could believe it. Anyway, he told himself, that was all water under the bridge, as the saying went. Josh was here now. That was all that mattered.

  ‘I’ll have to go back and collect my things,’ he said and then he saw Amy’s smile disappear and fear come into her eyes. ‘I will come straight back, Amy. I promise you.’

  Amy looked down at her plate as she nodded, but now she could not meet his eyes. Josh turned to her father. ‘I mean it, Mr Clark. I’ll work a week’s notice and then I’ll come back and find work round here. On a farm, maybe, or . . .’

  ‘Your old house is still empty, lad. No one’s taken it and no one else in the village has set up making candles either.’

  Josh’s eyes gleamed. ‘Then maybe I could start up again.’ He turned to look back at Amy, but she was still sitting with her head bowed. She’d believe all this when she saw it happening. She’d lived on promises before that had not come true. Though, she supposed, now they had, albeit a little late. Slowly she raised her head and smiled tentatively, wanting so much to believe him but not quite able to – yet. But her father seemed to trust Josh, saying, ‘You could see the owner of the property. See if he’d grant you the tenancy.’

  ‘Do you know who it is? I never knew. Father dealt with all that and then Mam took it on when he . . . when he . . .’

  ‘How is your dad?’ Bob asked softly.

  Josh pulled a face. ‘Not good – worse, if anything, than when he was here. We should never have gone there. But my mother . . .’ He stopped, not wanting to sound disloyal and yet he was now seeing for himself what anguish she had caused all round. He sighed and came back to the topic of the cottage next door. ‘If the owner’s Mr Trippet, there’s no chance he’ll let me have it.’ His tone was bitter and both Bob and Amy noticed it. They exchanged a glance, but said nothing for the moment. ‘No – no, you’re in luck. Mr Osborne at the corner shop opposite is the owner. He owns one or two houses in the village.’ Bob chuckled. ‘An enterprising man is our Mr Osborne, and he always liked your family. He was a good mate of your dad’s – is, I should say. I’m sure there will be no problem there. In fact,’ he added, getting up and walking to the mantelpiece above the range, then lifting down a mug, ‘he entrusted me with a key so that I could keep an eye on the place for him, seeing as I’m right next door and attached to the property, and so that I could let him know if I saw or heard anything untoward.’

  Josh jumped up and held out his hand for the key. ‘I’ll take a look right now. It’d be perfect for us to live next door, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Aye,’ Bob said, swallowing his disappointment that his daughter and adorable grandson would be moving out. But, he consoled himself, they’ll only be the other side of the wall. For Heaven’s sake, man, get a grip on yourself. Josh is going to marry Amy and make an honest woman of her. He watched as Josh took Amy in his arms, not caring who saw. He kissed her forehead. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured, ‘but I will make it up to you, I promise.’

  Tears started in her eyes. She clung to him for a moment and then, releasing her hold, gave him a little push towards the door.

  Ruffling his son’s hair as he passed his chair, Josh walked out of their home and opened the door of the cottage where he had lived for most of his life. He pushed it open and was met by a stale, unlived-in smell. The whole place was thick with dust even though he knew his mother had left it spotless. But it was a long time now since anyone had lived there. He walked through the empty rooms, remembering. In the front room there were still traces of his candle-making business there, though his tools were still in Bob Clark’s safe-keeping. But soon, he vowed, they’d be back here and he’d be working once more at the bench in front of the window. And he’d be here with his wife and son. Josh smiled as he turned to leave.

  It was as he was about to step out of the front door that he heard a noise from an upstairs room. He hadn’t thought to check up there, assuming that all the rooms would be in the same state of neglect.

  Rats, he thought. I must be sure to get rid of them before we bring little Harry here. At the thought of the boy, Josh’s heart swelled with pride. He climbed the stairs to see how bad the infestation was. He’d get the local rat catcher in to clear it whilst he was away for the week. He reached the top of the stairs, confident that the only living creature he was about to encounter would be a four-legged animal with a long tail. He did not expect to see a person – a squatter – up there, but when he opened the door he saw the floor littered with the remains of some food, a rough mattress and blanket on the floor and a pile of clothes. He glanced round the room and saw, huddled in the corner, the shape of a man whom he presumed to be a tramp who had taken shelter in the deserted cottage. Josh paused for a moment, his heart constricting with sorrow that any human being should be in such dire straits.

  ‘Hello, old feller. I’m so sorry—’ he began and then gasped as the hunched figure unfolded himself from the corner and struggled to his feet.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Josh exclaimed. ‘Trip!’

  Thirty-Three

  Trip was in a dreadful state. He was painfully thin, his clothes dirty and dishevelled and the anguish in his face was pitiful to see.

  ‘Come with me. You need some food inside you, right now.’ Josh took hold of his friend’s arm and helped him across the room and down the stairs. Trip was frail, like an old man, and Josh was reminded poignantly of the many times he’d helped his father up and down these very stairs.

  Next door, Amy’s eyes widened as she saw the state of their friend and Bob helped Josh settle him in a chair by the range.

  ‘Whatever’s happened?’ he asked, and when Trip didn’t answer, Bob looked towards Josh. But, though his mouth was a grim line, for the moment, Josh said nothing. Amy bustled about the kitchen preparing a plate of food for Trip. Luckily, there was still a little stew left over from their meal, but Bob warned, ‘If you’ve not eaten properly for some time, Trip, don’t eat too much or too fast. Take it steady. Amy, love, get him a glass of milk – that’d be a good start.’

  After drinking and eating a little, Trip looked up at them and said hoarsely, ‘How can I thank you? I’ve nothing.’

  ‘Don’t even mention it,’ Bob said. ‘But whatever’s happened?’

  ‘My – father’s thrown me out. Out of my work and – out of the house too. He – he’s disowned me. He wouldn’t even let me speak to my mother. What on earth she must be thinking, I don’t know.’ He glanced up at them. ‘I’m sorry about breaking in next door. When I can find work, I’ll pay for the window. I’m sorry . . .’ He dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders began to shake.

  Trip – strong, merry, hardworking Trip – was sobbing as if his heart would break.

  ‘Look, Trip, don’t worry. No harm done. We –’ Josh glanced at Bob for approval and when the older man nodded, he went on – ‘will replace the window. Tell us – but only if you want to, of course – what brought all this on?’

  Slowly, Trip lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks hollowed, his whole face gaunt. Josh didn’t think he’d ever seen the young man – any young man, for that matter – look so awful.

  ‘I . . . don’t know if I should tell you.’

  ‘Then don’t, Master Thomas,’ Bob said swif
tly, still unable to address him in any way other than how he always had. His father, Arthur Trippet, had always been the acknowledged squire of the district and his son had deserved due deference. ‘Don’t tell us anything you don’t want to.’

  But now Thomas smiled wryly. ‘Please, Mr Clark, it’s just Thomas – or even better, Trip. That’s what all my friends call me. You’ve been my friend for years, I hope, and you’re certainly being a good friend to me now.’ He sighed and then looked up at Josh. ‘You see, it’s all to do with Emily.’

  ‘Emily?’ Josh was puzzled. ‘I know she’s been worried to death about you ever since you didn’t turn up to meet her in the park. When she knew I was coming back here to see Amy, she asked me to go to your home to see if you were there. But what can she possibly have done to have caused this trouble for you?’

  Trip shook his head. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s what I’ve done that my father doesn’t approve of.’

  Mystified, Bob, Josh and Amy exchanged glances; Trip was talking in riddles.

  ‘I’ve committed the cardinal sin of falling in love with your sister, Josh, and my father doesn’t approve. We had an almighty row in his office at the factory and he said that unless I promised to break all ties with her, he would disown me. So, I walked out there and then and I haven’t been back since. I came home, hoping to see my mother. Oh, not to get her to plead my case or anything like that – I wouldn’t dream of putting her in such an awkward position – but I just wanted to tell her myself what had happened. But he arrived back home before me and I haven’t been able to see her. He seems to have stayed at home a lot more recently – probably on purpose, to see if I turned up.’ He glanced at Bob. ‘I did think about asking you to take a message to her, but I didn’t want to involve anyone else. My father can be ruthless, and if he thought that you were helping me . . .’ He paused for a moment but his meaning was obvious. ‘I daren’t think what he’s told her.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose I acted a bit hastily. I wrote to Emily and told her that I was coming back to the village and asked her to write back care of the post office here, but . . . but I haven’t heard anything.’

  Nor will you, Josh thought resentfully, if my mother’s burned your letter too. Instead, he said gently, ‘Emily never got your letter, Trip. I can vouch for that. She’s half out of her mind with worry about you. She’s been to the park every Sunday since New Year’s Day and has been desperate to hear something from you. In the end, I went and talked to Mr Bayes. He told me about the quarrel with your father, but he didn’t know it was about Emily.’

  ‘Father had seen us at the Armistice Ball together and then he made some more enquiries and heard that we’d been meeting every Sunday.’

  ‘How did he find that out? He’s never in the city at the weekends.’

  Trip seemed to hesitate for a moment and then, making up his mind, decided to confide in his friends completely. ‘My father has a mistress in the city.’

  Josh gaped at him and repeated stupidly, ‘A mistress? Your father?’

  ‘Oh, it’s quite the done thing in middle-class society,’ Trip said bitterly. ‘They marry for money or influence and then take their pleasure where they can find it.’ He looked up. ‘I’m sorry, Amy.’ For the moment he had forgotten she was there. ‘I shouldn’t be talking this way in front of you. But you see, I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps in that way. I want to marry for love. And I love Emily,’ he finished simply. It was all so straightforward to the uncomplicated, truthful young man who, deep down, despised his father’s way of life. He wondered if his mother knew about her husband’s paramour.

  As if reading his thoughts, Josh asked, ‘Does your mother know about her, do you think?’

  Trip shrugged. ‘I shouldn’t think so. I hope not.’

  ‘But how does she – his mistress, I mean – fit into all this?’

  ‘My father was so furious, he spilled it all out – how he’d asked Belle Beauman to find out if Emily and I were still meeting. Evidently she’d been going to the city’s parks on a Sunday for months, until she saw us.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, Mrs Beauman. That was the name of the woman we met in the park. She pretended to be ill and me and Lizzie took her home.’ He had spoken Lizzie’s name without intending to do so, but he was so wrapped up in Trip’s tale that he forgot to guard his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy look at him, a question in her eyes, but now was not the time to get involved in lengthy explanations.

  ‘And then we met her with you, didn’t we?’ Trip went on.

  ‘Did you know about her before that day?’ Josh asked. ‘Because I thought at the time you stared at her a bit funny.’

  Trip laughed wryly. ‘I didn’t until I went to work at the factory. The other men took great delight in deliberately making snide remarks about my father’s fondness for music-hall dancers. So, I guessed that he had a mistress somewhere. And then, one day, one of the young lads let her name slip. Mrs Belle Beauman. But it was a bit of a shock to meet her in the park that day, I have to admit. It’s one thing to think that your father has a mistress, quite another to come face to face with her. But, of course, that was exactly what she was there for: to meet us – Emily and me – and report back to my father. Oh, how devious he’s been. He played a waiting game. He knew several weeks before Christmas, before my birthday even. I think that’s why he bought me an expensive motorcycle, just to make me even more – grateful to him. But it doesn’t work like that, not with me. It only makes me despise him even more.’

  ‘Where is your motorbike?’

  Trip’s mouth tightened. ‘I used it to get here and then I sold it to buy food, but I didn’t get much for it and the money soon ran out.’

  ‘Oh Master – I mean, Trip – why ever didn’t you come to us?’ Bob was reproachful.

  ‘I was too embarrassed, Mr Clark.’

  ‘Does your mother know where you are?’

  Trip shook his head. ‘I just daren’t show my face at the house. I don’t know what he’d do if he caught me there.’

  ‘Then I’ll go and see her,’ Josh said at once.

  ‘No, Josh,’ Trip said with more vigour in his voice. ‘It’s Sunday, isn’t it?’ He looked up at the others, as if he’d lost count of the days. ‘He’s always home at a weekend.’

  ‘I must go back tomorrow. I can’t risk not going into work on Tuesday morning. I don’t want to get the sack for a second time.’ Josh smiled wryly as he added, ‘Though I suppose it wouldn’t matter so much as I’m leaving anyway.’

  ‘Leaving? Why?’

  Now Josh’s smile broadened into genuine pleasure. ‘Because I’m coming back here to marry Amy.’ He turned and beckoned to the little boy, who had been hiding behind his mother’s skirts and whom Trip had not noticed. ‘This little chap is my son.’

  Trip stared at Harry, then rose unsteadily to his feet and held out his hand to Josh. His voice was husky as he said, ‘You’re a lucky fellow, Josh. And you, Amy, I’m delighted for you both.’ He held out his arms to her and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I just wish . . .’

  He said no more, but they all knew that he was longing to find the same happiness with Emily.

  ‘I’ll make up a bed for you, Trip, on the sofa in the parlour, if that’d be all right?’

  ‘Oh Amy, I can’t—’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ll stay with us until we get all this mess sorted out. And tomorrow, when your father’s gone to the city, I’ll go and see your mother, but you must tell me what you want me to say to her, though don’t worry about that now. You look as if you could do with something else to eat in a little while and then bed.’

  ‘What about Josh? Where’s he to sleep?’

  Josh looked embarrassed and Amy blushed, but it was Bob who came to the rescue. ‘I’ll see Grace Partridge. She’ll find you a bed for the night, though she might give you a bit of a telling off for having deserted Amy. And be warned now, lad –’ he wagged his finger in Josh
’s face, half in jest, half in seriousness – ‘if you stay away again, I’ll come and find you, armed with a shotgun.’

  They all laughed a little awkwardly, but then Amy said, ‘Josh, can you make a bed up on the sofa for Trip in the front room? Dad, will you look after Harry whilst I get Trip something else to eat? It’s time you stopped working anyway. You don’t reckon to work on a Sunday. It’s disgraceful. What will the vicar think?’

  ‘It was a rush job for a farmer. He needed a sturdy gate sharpish.’

  ‘One more day won’t hurt,’ Amy said firmly. All three men gaped at her and then glanced at each other.

  ‘My little Amy, all grown up,’ Bob murmured. Then he added teasingly, ‘Are you sure you still want to marry this bossy woman, Josh?’

  Josh’s answer was very serious as he said softly, ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.’ Though silently, he thought, How I’m to face my mother and Lizzie too, I don’t know.

  But if Amy has grown up, then so must he. He must become a man.

  Thirty-Four

  It was too late to talk to anyone when Josh finally got back to the city on the Monday night. He crept upstairs and into the attic, undressed quietly and got into bed. But sleep eluded him. He had so much to think about. First, he had to face tomorrow and all its difficulties but, at the end of the week, he would be hurrying back to Amy and his son. At the thought of the little boy, Josh smiled in the darkness and all his misgivings about telling his mother and explaining to Lizzie faded into insignificance. And there was an added bonus to all this; he would be escaping from Mick Dugdale’s clutches.

  Amy didn’t sleep well either that Monday night. She was torn by an overwhelming happiness that Josh had come back to her and that he had never intended to hurt her. It had all been a dreadful misunderstanding because their letters hadn’t reached each other. But disturbing Amy’s sleep, too, was the thought of facing Mrs Trippet. Now, she regretted offering to see Trip’s mother, of whom she’d always been in awe. Despite the childhood friendship of the four youngsters, invitations to Riversdale House had never been forthcoming. Amy had only seen Trip’s parents at a distance. Even when they wanted work done at the smithy, or candles from Josh, the orders were always brought by one of their servants. However, she took heart in Mrs Trippet’s kind gestures over news of Amy’s pregnancy. Aunty Grace had told her that Constance Trippet had been the leading force behind the villagers’ acceptance of the news.