by Sally Wragg
‘John! What a lovely surprise!’ Adèle rose. ‘And Clifford, too! And it’s Harry, isn’t it?’
She didn’t dare to look at Silas. The boy was the spit of Ned at his age, and she only thanked the Lord Silas didn’t have the wit to guess the truth.
‘I half expected you back at Oxford already, John,’ she went on.
‘I’m off on Tuesday, as a matter of fact. Just thought I’d motor down and say cheerio. We picked this young shaver up on the way, didn’t we, Cliff?’
‘If you’d only come earlier, I could have taken you down the factory,’ his grandfather growled. ‘It’s about time you familiarised yourself with the place. You’ll be done at that grand university soon enough.’
John frowned, looking helplessly towards his grandmother.
Adèle knew he wanted to follow his stepfather into the motorcar business, and she’d tried to tell Silas, but he never had heard anything he didn’t like.
John turned the talk to next year at university, his second, while Silas fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a coin for Clifford. Then he gave Harry the same, ruffling the boy’s hair good-naturedly.
Harry looked anxious, so Adèle tried to put him at his ease, asking him about school and what he might want to do once he left.
‘I don’t want to go down the mines,’ was all he said, going red.
Silas’s mine or Silas’s factory – there wasn’t any other choice in Castle Maine for a boy of Harry’s standing. Good mining stock.
‘It was kind of you to tip Harry,’ Adèle remarked after the boys had left, tumbling out of the house as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving a strange quiet in their wake.
‘I don’t suppose the lad gets much, unlike young Clifford!’ Silas turned the conversation on to safer ground. Adèle saw too much, he thought. It would never do if she were to have the slightest suspicion about her precious son, Ned.
‘Cliff’s turning into a fine boy – he takes after Bertie! Only thank the Lord he’s too young for this lot blowing up.’
How many other couples, he wondered, were in their situation – having lost both boys in the Great War, and with a grandson of an age for this one?
He tried to reassure her about John, while she tried to tell him about John’s real plans after university. Silas turned a deaf ear, and was relieved when she finally went upstairs to dress.
That had been altogether too close for comfort. He couldn’t begin to imagine all the upset it would cause if Adèle ever discovered an off-shoot of her precious Ned’s was growing right under her nose, here in Castle Maine. That boy Harry! It was the biggest wonder she’d never seen the likeness, but there it was! Folk saw what they wanted to see, and that was a fact.
He’d done his best to help Daisy Bridges, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t owe her father enough already. Silas knew full well if it hadn’t been for William Oakes all those long years ago, the factory would never have got off the ground in the first place. Businessmen trusted William’s common sense – they hadn’t trusted Silas, not then.
This business with Ned – at last it had spurred him into doing what he should have done long since. Better late than never! William knew it, too; the knowledge had been there in his eyes when Silas said he was settling money on him.
‘I don’t want your money!’ he complained.
‘There’s others might have a right to it,’ Silas began, aware he was treading on dangerous ground. ‘It’s only right, William!’
‘You think money makes it right?’ William glared up at him from under shaggy eyebrows.
‘It is when it’s owed. As much as money can make a thing right.’ Silas blustered on, looking for the appropriate thing to say and failing miserably.
‘I need to do this, William.’ At last he stumbled on the right words. ‘Tell ’em it’s something long overdue from when we were young.’
The two old men had stood in that cramped little cottage, all pretensions stripped away. After all they’d been through, they were just two old friends doing what they could to right a wrong.
And if it gave Silas’s foolish old heart a lift, seeing one or the other of them when he was about his legitimate business in town – that girl, Maggie, for instance – Ned’s daughter! Well, he was pleased.
He knew he had to keep it to himself. William would never tell a soul – he appreciated peace and quiet too much, and all hell would break loose if this ever came out.
There was no denying Maggie was a fine girl, if ever there was one. A chip off the old block, Silas thought.
He’d done his best to put things right. Family was family, when all was said and done…
‘You had no business going anywhere other than straight home,’ Maggie said sharply.
‘Sorry, Mam.’ Harry hung his head, looking not one whit ashamed, and his mother bit her lip. This boy! Whatever should she do with him? He was getting to be a handful, and that was a fact.
‘I haven’t time for this now – it’ll have to wait until I get back!’ She knew as she spoke that she was letting him get away with too much – again! She’d tried her best, but he was of an age when he needed a man’s hand.
Shaking her head, she let herself out of the house, calling a hasty goodbye to Holly and Gramps and her mam, who’d just arrived, flustered, full of some tale about Mary in trouble at work.
Maggie had no time to listen, and felt guilty. Late as ever, she was still buttoning her coat as she ran for the bus.
The night was wet, the pavements shiny, almost translucent under the lamplight. There was a bitter wind, and the bus was late. She stared fretfully along the dimly-lit street, willing it to arrive.
Sister Aspen never listened to excuses about transport; her nurses were either on time or not on time. Woe betide one of them if she was late!
Women’s Surgical was a busy ward; Sister Aspen quite rightly had no interest in her nurses’ private life, only the standard of care to which they aspired. Normally Maggie got on well with her, but she’d still be in for a ticking-off if she was late.
She was a competent nurse, whatever mess she made of the rest of her life. Nursing was her one salvation.
A car drew into the kerb.
‘Do you want a lift in?’
Tony Blount stuck his head out of the window, grinning amiably. He was a good-looking man, a year or two older than Maggie. He’d been around, knew what was what, someone had told her when she’d asked about him.
Tony had chatted her up at a party which she’d left early, before things became too involved. Partly she regretted leaving, not returning his too obvious interest, but complications were the last thing she needed in her life.
Since Hughie, she’d tried going out with other men, nice men, men she liked. Things just fizzled out somehow. Who could compare to Hughie?
Her mother, in her forthright way, said Hughie hadn’t been a plaster saint and Maggie was still young; she should and ought to start living her life again.
She couldn’t help the way she felt.
All this went through her mind in an instant, but it was raining and she might have missed her bus.
‘Won’t it be out of your way?’ She stooped to the window.
‘I’ve business in Nottingham. Hop in.’
‘Thanks, then!’
She wasn’t really sure she should have accepted. There was something about this man, even though she’d only met him the once….
The party had been for one of the nurses, at a local hotel. Maggie had merely been dragged along protesting, though no-one took the slightest notice. The nurse in question complained Maggie never went anywhere, so she had to come to this party.
Maggie couldn’t argue with that. Normally her life was the hospital and home, caring for her grandfather and the children. She’d made some kind of life for herself, and did her best to shut her mind to anything else.
‘Why haven’t we bumped into each other before?’ Tony had said that evening, looking at her in a way Maggie recognised. He wante
d more than a casual acquaintance, she could see.
He’d stayed with her for the rest of the evening, and despite her reservations, she found herself responding. There was something very attractive about him. She enjoyed his company, which shocked her once she realised it. She was normally so wary of other men.
She couldn’t let herself go, that was the problem. He was a nice man and she had liked him….
Yet here she was, in his car. She pulled her cloak more closely round herself.
‘Don’t look so worried.’ He smiled. ‘I really have got business in Nottingham, and I pass the hospital on the way in. It’s too cold for hanging round bus stops.’
The car was warm, the wipers brushing the rain into smudges on the windscreen curiously restful. She wasn’t even going to be late for work.
Maggie began to relax at last, for the first time that day. She settled back against the seat, her mind wandering to Harry, and then the trouble Mam seemed to be having with Mary. There was so much going on in their lives.
Surprisingly, as the car sped towards Nottingham, Tony began to talk about himself, as if he was trying to put her at her ease.
She listened with half an ear to how he’d grown up in London, how he’d become a salesman, tired of the life and then, finding himself on business in this neck of the woods and deciding he liked it, made up his mind to stay.
He did this and that, he said, turning towards her and grinning. He made his living in any way he could.
His eyes often slewed sideways to watch her face. She wished he’d keep them on the road.
‘I’m pleased I did decide to stay,’ he added, and she frowned, disliking the implication, and the little smile he shot her as he spoke. She had no intention of getting involved with Tony Blount, nice as he seemed.
She forced her mind to the dark country road ahead, crowded by trees. Denuded branches, rattled by the wind, drooped and clunked on the roof of the car. Rain gusted against the windscreen, but inside was warm, safe.
A fox froze on the road, its eyes burning in the headlights, and then melted suddenly away. The countryside was alive. She was thankful when they came to the outskirts of Nottingham, and the hospital loomed.
‘It’s good of you,’ she said as the car turned through the gates.
‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ he answered. He’d pulled up in a quiet corner, turning to look at her, obviously thinking before he went on.
‘I mean I’ve enjoyed your company, Maggie. Look, I’d like us to go out together one evening.’
Maggie blushed, fumbling for her bag, her hand already poised on the handle of the door.
She’d been expecting him to ask her out. She realised now, too late, that was why she hadn’t wanted to get into the car. Tony was a perfectly nice man, but she had no intentions of going out with him – or anyone else, for that matter. She’d tried it before, and it didn’t work.
‘Wait! Maggie!’ He had an open face, handsome and perplexed.
‘I really should go. I’ll be late – Sister—’
‘Perhaps we could meet up after your shift? Go for a drink, or something?’
‘I’m sorry, I really am busy.’
He leaned back in his seat.
‘What are you afraid of?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Nothing!’ she protested.
‘Come out with me, then.’ He smiled lazily at her.
‘I can see you don’t know how to take no for an answer,’ she answered lightly, hearing the steel in her voice nevertheless. She managed a smile, and wondered why her heart was starting to beat so fast.
He leaned across the driving seat and his lips brushed hers.
Something long-buried in Maggie responded, met him halfway. She’d been so lonely. The joy of human warmth, of everything that had been denied her for so long, began to sweep her away.
Then she realised what was happening. On this day, of all days, how could she? Her hands pushed against his chest and thrust him away. She could see he was hurt.
‘Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen.’
She wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head. Blindly she pushed open the door and stumbled out, feeling the soft rain against her face.
She ran up the steps into the safety of the hospital.
Chapter Two
‘And consequently this country is at war with Germany…’
Neville Chamberlain’s voice trailed off into the ether, heavy with sorrow. The news he was imparting to the nation was hardly unexpected, but there was a sudden silence in the small back room where the family was grouped around the wireless.
Maggie was at the hospital, on the day shift, but Daisy had been up since dawn making a start, guessing what was coming and dreading it, too. She’d been to the early service at church. For some reason Billy hadn’t wanted to come this morning, but the church had been packed.
Peter shifted uneasily in his chair as Mary jumped up to switch off the set.
‘That’s it, then!’ Her face was full of an excitement she no longer took the trouble to hide.
Daisy was silent. What a difference ten minutes made! Her mind was listing the essentials she’d been stockpiling for weeks – tea, sugar, candles, tins of biscuits. Peter had scolded her, but there it was. Daisy remembered the last time only too well.
Her workforce had been stitching blackout curtains alongside their other duties, charging enough to cover overheads, for Daisy had balked at making a profit.
‘What did the blessed man say?’ Gramps leaned forward in his chair. He was becoming increasingly deaf. Daisy got up from her chair and knelt in front of her father, enunciating as clearly as she could.
‘We’re at war, Dad.’
‘Dashed if we are!’ The old man stared at her. ‘What a thing!’
‘Bang, bang!’ Harry used his fingers for the barrel of a gun. ‘Shall you go and fight, Uncle Billy?’
Billy went over to the window overlooking the small yard, turning his back on the room. It wasn’t much of a view.
‘Stop it!’ Daisy rose to her feet. ‘Your uncle will be needed where he is now, Harry. Just you wait until your mother gets home!’
‘Leave the lad alone.’ Peter took her gently by the shoulders, feeling her tension beneath his hands. ‘Be fair, love. He’s hardly old enough to know what this is all about.’
‘I do, Granddad!’ Harry protested. ‘We’re going to fight Hitler and lick him.’
‘Of course we are, lad.’ His grandfather smiled at him.
‘Oh, Peter. It’s really happening!’ Reality washed over Daisy in a tidal wave. ‘Even to the last, I hoped some miracle might happen to stop it.’
She pulled herself free, refusing to be comforted, and hurried off to the scullery, keen to busy her hands. That would stop her thinking.
She’d put the meat on earlier. She filled a pan with water, gathered the potato peelings into newspaper, and took it outside to the bin.
Putting the lid back on, she looked about. Nothing had changed.
Everything was exactly as it should be. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, she could smell Sunday dinner cooking from open windows along the row. It was the sort of beautiful day only memory conjured up.
These things had always made her feel safe, and now—
‘Are you all right, Mam?’
Billy had followed her outside, his eyes, so reminiscent of Peter’s, anxious. He’d been quiet all week, his head buried in one of the books he carried everywhere he went, crammed in his jacket pocket. He would have taken a book down the pit if he could.
She felt as if she didn’t know her son any more.
‘Don’t do anything silly,’ she said quietly.
‘Is that what you’re worried about?’ He thrust his hands deep in his pocket and rocked back on his heels, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Daisy longed suddenly to hold him, keep him safe.
‘Don’t join up. Miners will be needed now more than ever – you’
d be a fool!’
‘Stop worrying, Mam.’ His eyes snapped open. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen!’
It wasn’t the answer she needed from him, but she was suddenly afraid to ask more. She went inside slowly, and began to get the dinner on. She still had the family to feed, even if her mind was all over the place.
‘And where are you off to, lady?’ Daisy snapped. The shock must be wearing off. Mary returned her look mutinously.
The rest of the family were still at the table finishing their dinner, but Mary had bolted hers and run upstairs to change into one of her best frocks, and new shoes, with heels. Daisy hated to see the amount of make-up she’d plastered on her face, and on a Sunday, too.
‘You look nice, Auntie Mary,’ Harry said, just as Daisy opened her mouth.
‘I’m going out with Dora.’ Mary frowned at her nephew, unsure if the little monkey was teasing or not. ‘We’re going for a walk.’
Dora was her pal from work at the chemist’s shop in the centre of town. She’d been there six months now, a long time for Mary.
‘Mind you’re not late back for your tea,’ was all her mother said, to Mary’s surprise.
Rather shocked that she was getting away so easily, Mary grabbed her bag and said goodbye before Mam could change her mind.
‘Wait, Mary!’ Billy caught her up before she’d even got to the gate. She put her hand to the latch and waited, shot through with impatience.
She and her brother were hardly close – they had so little in common. Mary wondered sometimes how someone so serious by nature could actually be a brother of hers.
‘You’re seeing that Bertram bloke, aren’t you?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Billy Bridges!’ But she could feel herself blushing.
‘Cut it out, Mary!’ He shook his head. ‘It’s me you’re talking to, remember? I know perfectly well you’re meeting John Bertram. One of me mates saw the two of you together at Tony’s Place the other night. You’ve hardly taken the trouble to keep it quiet!’