‘Thank you, Herbert,’ said Annabella as she took out her purse.
‘Tell ’im t’tek two tablets three times a day before meals.’
Annabella nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’
‘Mebbe you would like some, Annabella?’ asked Herbert, sensing another sale in the offing. ‘It strengthens nerves an’ gives you more energy … an’ metabolic tone.’
‘Metabolic tone,’ mused Annabella. ‘Sounds important.’
‘Just what y’need in these difficult times,’ added Herbert and placed a second jar on the counter.
As Annabella left the shop Herbert gave a self-satisfied smile.
In the General Stores Edna Trott was pondering over a special offer. With a tin of Cadbury’s Drinking Chocolate there was an opportunity to win free central heating.
‘That would do wonders in winter for m’arthritis, Prudence.’
‘I’m sure it would,’ agreed Prudence.
‘That school boiler will be t’death o’ me. One day ah’ll ’ave t’pass on m’job t’Ruby.’
‘Well, you’ve trained her well,’ said Prudence graciously.
‘Growin’ old is no fun,’ said Edna.
Prudence paused as she opened the till. ‘It comes to all of us one day.’
Edna considered this for a moment. ‘Ah keep thinking ’bout that Jackie Kennedy. It’s a cryin’ shame she’ll grow old wi’out ’er ’usband.’
‘Very true,’ said Prudence quietly and she glanced up at Jeremy Bear.
Edna saw the reaction and leaned over the counter and held Prudence’s hand. ‘We’ve still got a lot o’ livin’ t’do, Prudence,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s be thankful f’small mercies.’
Prudence gave a wan smile and squeezed Edna’s hand in response.
As she walked away from the counter, the shop bell rang and two excited eight-year-olds ran in. It was Stevie Coleclough and Shane Ramsbottom.
‘We’ve jus’ got our pocket money, Miss Golightly,’ said Stevie, ‘an’ ah were tellin’ Shane ’bout them new Animal Bars.’
Prudence smiled. ‘That’s right, Steven, and there’s a game on the inside of each wrapper.’
They put their coins on the counter, picked up their bars of milk chocolate with two different animals moulded into the surface and hurried outside.
Life goes on, Prudence thought.
It was lunchtime in Nora’s Coffee Shop and the jukebox had been switched off. Conversation was conducted in whispers and many sipped their hot drinks in silence. Rose was waiting to meet Freddie when Joy Popplewell appeared and sat down beside her. It was clear she was eager to impart information.
The assassination of the president had shaken everyone, but Joy had other momentous revelations on her mind. She took a magazine out of her shoulder bag and opened it to a well-thumbed page. ‘Look at this, Rose.’ It was an article entitled ‘Nice Girls Don’t’.
Retaining one’s virginity until marriage was a regular theme at Easington School and had been drummed into the girls by Miss Plumb, the head of girls’ games. However, since the pill had become available to the public, a sexual revolution appeared to have begun.
‘I’ve thought about it,’ said Rose. ‘What about you?’
Joy gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘We did it last night. My mum is away for the weekend.’
Rose stared at her friend. ‘What was it like?’
‘Bit painful the first time, but when we tried again it was fine. A bit quick but Sam reckons we’ll get better.’
Rose looked thoughtful. ‘I promised my mother I wouldn’t.’
Joy looked quizzical. ‘She wouldn’t know and it’s obvious that Freddie’s keen.’
‘My mother trusts me. We tell each other everything.’
Joy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Your choice, Rose, but you’re missing out. Most of the girls in the hockey team have done it.’
‘When it happens I want it to be right,’ said Rose firmly.
‘With Freddie?’
Rose shook her head. ‘Not sure. He would need to feel the same as me.’
‘And doesn’t he?’
‘We haven’t talked about it yet.’
‘You will,’ said Joy and stood up. ‘Must fly. See you later at the game.’
She rushed out, passing Freddie in the doorway. He came over to Rose’s table. ‘Shall I order coffee and a sandwich?’
Rose smiled. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Joy was in a hurry.’
In more ways than one, thought Rose.
It was just after half past one and the Easington rugby team had changed into their playing kit and were standing around uncertainly waiting for Mr Morris to appear. Freddie scanned the changing room, looking at the faces of his teammates. Tension and anticipation always mounted as he waited to lead them out for the most important game of the season.
However, today was different. There was none of the usual motivational shouting, no crashing of studded rugby boots on the concrete floor; no beating out a thunderous rhythm in their pre-match warm-up. Instead they stood quietly and waited for their rugby coach to arrive. The forwards rubbed Vaseline on their ears and the backs checked their laces.
To their surprise, Charles Morris walked into the changing room accompanied by the headteacher, Dr James Hinchcliffe.
‘Sit down, please, boys. Before we go out, the head wants to speak to you.’
Long wooden benches lined the walls under the rows of coat pegs and the fifteen boys sat down.
Dr Hinchcliffe waited for absolute silence. ‘Boys, listen carefully. Following yesterday’s news, today is like no other.’ His gaze was cool and determined and his words had gravitas. ‘When you go out you are representing the ethos of our school. Remember our motto, Honore debito – “Duty with honour”.’
All eyes were fixed on the headteacher.
‘I want you all to line up ten yards infield from the touchline, facing the school building. The Skipdale team will do the same on the other side of the halfway line. You’ll be separated by today’s referee and touch judges. At the sound of the whistle there will be a one-minute silence. We have a very large crowd today. Don’t be distracted by them. Bow your heads. When you hear the whistle again, take your positions for the kick-off.’
Don’t be distracted, thought Freddie. Today both Tom and Lily would be watching and Rose too would be there looking on.
‘Finally boys,’ continued Dr Hinchcliffe in a sonorous voice, ‘yesterday’s event in America has affected us all.’ He paused and scanned the room. ‘While this is a dreadful moment in the history of the world, it is important we put that to one side and focus on this important game. The team we face today are like us – unbeaten. When you walk out let us show the dignity the occasion demands.’ He paused and looked at the young men before him. Many appeared uncertain. ‘But when the game begins, play hard, play well … and win.’
Dr Hinchcliffe was a great believer in team sports and proud of the record of the school’s rugby, cricket, netball and hockey teams. As he walked out to the playing field he turned to his head of English. ‘Charles, I hear the Yorkshire selectors are here today.’
The afternoon game against Skipdale Grammar School in the Yorkshire Dales was important. Skipdale always had a formidable first XV with a stand-off tipped not just for Yorkshire but also for England.
Charles nodded towards two men in trilby hats on the far touchline. ‘Yes, it promises be a good contest between Sam Grundy and their number ten, Matthew Elliot. They’re the two best fly halves in Yorkshire. At the moment Elliot may have the better chance of selection.’
Dr Hinchcliffe smiled. ‘But Charles, we have Freddie Briggs at openside wing forward. He’ll knock seven bells out of him.’
The minute’s silence was destined to be an experience Freddie Briggs would remember for the rest of his life. In years to come people would recall where they were when John F. Kennedy, the thirty-fifth president of the United States, was assassinated before he had completed his
third year in office.
It was a poignant scene on that cold, blustery afternoon. The silence was held perfectly by the players and the supporters. It was as if the earth had stopped spinning on its axis. The stillness was absolute. Sixty seconds had never seemed so long. When the referee blew his whistle the two captains broke away from their teams to join him on the halfway line for the coin toss before the game began.
He shook hands with Freddie and Matthew. ‘Well done, boys – a fitting tribute. Now let’s have a good game and play to my whistle.’
‘Can we get on with the game now, please?’ asked Matthew a little ungraciously.
Freddie was surprised at his opponent’s cocksure approach. He had been taught always to respect the referee.
Meanwhile, in the crowd, after the minute’s silence Tom Feather offered Lily his thick scarf and Lily accepted it gratefully. He used his broad frame to protect her from the bitter wind. ‘Life goes on,’ she said a little wistfully.
‘Yes,’ replied Tom quietly, ‘but the enormity of what has just happened will take a while to sink in.’
Lily looked up into his blue eyes. ‘I understand,’ she said.
Tom shook his head in sadness. ‘I believe it’s the end of the world as we know it.’
The match turned out to be close between two excellent sides. Their fitness was extraordinary and the tackling ferocious. With five minutes remaining and the score level at three points each, Freddie tackled Matthew Elliot with the force of an express train. The ball bounced free and was pounced upon by Sam Grundy. After a mazy run, he passed the ball out and the speedy winger scored in the corner. At the final whistle Easington had won and Freddie, battered, bruised and covered in mud, sought out his opposition captain to shake hands. Matthew was limping badly and grudgingly accepted the gesture. He was a poor loser and it was there for all to see.
After Freddie had called for three cheers for the opposition and led the team off the field, there was applause from the Easington supporters. Dr Hinchcliffe suddenly appeared by his side. ‘Well played, Briggs. A fine game.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Freddie.
The headmaster walked back to join Charles Morris. ‘Briggs had an absolute stormer,’ he said. ‘Their stand-off didn’t get a look-in. Let’s hope the selectors were impressed.’
‘I’m sure they were,’ said Charles. The two men in trilby hats were striding towards them. ‘And I think we’re about to find out.’
As the boys trooped off towards the changing rooms, Lily could barely contain her delight. ‘Wasn’t Freddie simply wonderful?’
‘Best player on the field,’ agreed Tom, ‘and a born leader.’ He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, ‘Just like you.’
For a brief moment Lily felt bereft, lost in a reservoir of silence. Then she nodded and looked up at Tom. ‘We need to talk, don’t we?’
However, their reverie was disturbed. The crowd was drifting towards the car park and the McConnells, Brian, Mary and Rose, were next to them.
‘You must be pleased,’ said Brian. He shook hands with Tom. ‘Freddie was terrific.’
‘Thanks, Brian,’ said Tom. ‘Yes, best I’ve seen him play.’
Rose looked at her mother appealingly. ‘Can I invite Freddie back for tea?’
Mary McConnell sought out a reaction from Lily. ‘It’s fine by me, but you may have plans.’
Lily gathered herself quickly. ‘Mary, that’s kind, but it’s rather short notice for you.’
‘We’re fine. I’ve done the weekend shop. There’s plenty in and I guess your brother has a good appetite.’
‘In that case, thank you, so long as it’s no trouble. Shall I collect him later?’
‘I can drop him off back at your place,’ offered Brian.
‘Thanks,’ said Tom. ‘We’ll stay to say well done to Freddie and then head home.’
Freddie and Sam were sitting on a bench in the changing room and stuffing their dirty kit in a duffel bag. Side by side they appeared an odd couple. Freddie was tall and lanky with blond hair, while Sam was physically the opposite. At five feet eight inches tall he appeared short and squat in comparison. However, with shoulders like a lumberjack’s, ruddy cheeks and jet black hair with a straight fringe, he cut a striking figure.
As they walked outside Sam said, ‘I’m taking Joy to the Odeon tonight. Fancy coming?’
‘What’s on?’
‘The Birds,’ said Sam. ‘It’s a Hitchcock film.’
‘I’ve seen the write-ups,’ said Freddie. ‘Birds start attacking for no reason.’
Joy was walking towards them, her cheeks flushed in the biting wind. ‘Bit like the girls’ hockey team,’ said Sam with a grin.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Freddie with a knowing look. ‘I’ll check with Rose.’
Half an hour later Freddie had forsaken thoughts of a Hitchcock evening and was sitting on a sofa in the McConnells’ house sipping tea from a bone china cup. On the coffee table before him Mrs McConnell had pushed the boat out with plates of sausage rolls, chocolate cup cakes and meringues.
‘Thanks for this, Mrs McConnell,’ he said.
‘You’re welcome, Freddie.’ She strode out to the kitchen to collect a sponge cake. In a black pleated skirt and a poplin blouse, she cut a fine figure and it occurred to Freddie that this is how Rose would look in twenty-five years’ time. He smiled at the thought.
After tea he offered to help with the washing-up but this was declined politely. Then Brian and Mary McConnell, following a lengthy conversation in the kitchen, left the two teenagers in the lounge to watch television.
At a quarter past five Freddie and Rose settled down together to watch the first-ever episode of a new science fiction programme, Doctor Who. It was a four-part serial that saw the actor William Hartnell take the role of a time-traveller. At the end the Doctor’s police call-box hurtled off into another time and space dimension and Freddie held Rose’s hand. When Juke Box Jury began and the host, David Jacobs, introduced the panel, which included Cilla Black, they kissed. They barely noticed Jack Warner say, ‘Evening all’ in his role as Dixon of Dock Green. It was at that moment that Brian McConnell, recalling his own courting days, tapped gently on the door, opened it a few inches and called out, ‘Time to take you home, Freddie.’
Freddie blushed profusely and jumped to his feet. ‘Thanks, Mr McConnell,’ he said in a flustered voice, and Brian walked out to his car grinning from ear to ear, though his wife was less enthusiastic.
On Sunday morning Freddie was out for his early-morning run. He had built up his training schedule and it was now a ten-mile circuit via Easington market town, Ragley village and back to Kirkby Steepleton. He wanted to be at peak fitness for the Yorkshire trial in early December at Headingley in Leeds. Mr Morris had passed on the news that he had been selected following his outstanding performance in the game against Skipdale.
Last year he had watched The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, starring Tom Courtenay. The character in the film enjoyed running to escape the harsh reality of his existence. In contrast, Freddie was happy with his life but wanted to be fit enough to play rugby for the Yorkshire Schoolboys XV.
While he was running through Ragley he looked at the school where his sister had worked since he was a small boy. The railings had finally been replaced, having been cut down to help the war effort. The villagers were proud of their school and it had taken many church bazaars and jumble sales to achieve this restoration. Lily had been prominent in this work and he was pleased his sister was such a respected member of the community.
However, there was something that was clearly troubling her and he did not know what it was. He was aware of it from time to time when she was looking at him doing his homework or watching television and he presumed it was that since his parents had died she was the substitute for them.
In the sharp breeze he could hear the sound of branches chafing and the high-pitched keening of the telephone wires. It was a strange tone, al
most like the cry of a baby. Suddenly it was drowned out by a skein of geese, honking loudly, flying overhead in arrowhead formation towards St Mary’s Church. He gritted his teeth and ran harder.
The Revd Joseph Evans had begun the early morning communion service.
‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,’ he said gravely during his sermon. He asked the congregation to pray for the many who had suffered in recent weeks and ended his sermon with his thoughts about John Kennedy. ‘He was a man of vision,’ he said. ‘He said he would put a man on the moon before the end of the decade and one wonders if that will ever happen now.’
It was a sombre congregation that exited the church.
That evening Tom and Lily watched the news on television and went to bed earlier than usual.
‘I can see you’re troubled,’ said Tom quietly.
‘Just thinking.’
‘I guessed so … and not just about events in America – more about Freddie.’
There was a long silence. Lily was gradually coming to terms with the situation regarding Freddie. She was a traveller through time, a dissipated soul seeking salvation.
‘I’m not sure what to do or when to do it.’
‘There’s never a right time,’ said Tom. ‘You owe it to him to tell the truth.’
Lily looked up at him and felt the strength in this man. ‘I know,’ she murmured. There was a disconcerting steadiness in his honesty that she knew so well.
‘It’s for you to decide,’ said Tom. He knew Lily’s troubled past had caught up with her and the time was approaching when she would have to face the consequences.
‘Oh, Tom. It’s so difficult.’
She felt that her soul was an empty husk. The choice was no longer ambiguous. Soon it would be time to tell the truth.
‘In the new year,’ she said. ‘When he’s eighteen. I’ll do it then.’
Tom put his arms around her and stroked her hair tenderly. ‘It will be fine. He’ll understand.’
‘I hope so … but how will he cope?’
‘He’s a resilient young man,’ Tom spoke softly.
‘It’s how to begin,’ said Lily. ‘How to say it.’
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