‘Yes, ’bye, Janice. See you very soon. Take care now. Love to your mum … and to you, of course …’
Janice went back to the kitchen with a smile on her face, the first real smile of the day. She had smiled at her mother, but it had been tinged with worry. The thought of seeing Phil again had suddenly made the future seem brighter.
FOURTEEN
Joshua Walker was well and truly flummoxed by the situation that had arisen. His younger son had fallen for a girl who worked in their office. So what was the problem? It was Joshua’s opinion that the lad could not have chosen anyone better. From what he knew of Valerie Horrocks she was a very nice well-brought-up girl, very good at her job and with a pleasing personality. Very pretty, too. He could see why Samuel was so taken with her. In fact the lass reminded him of Beatrice when he had first known her. Dark-haired and seemingly fragile, a fragility which disguised an inner strength.
The problem, of course, was Joshua’s wife and his elder son, who was very much influenced by his mother. What was that expression that folk often used? ‘More Catholic than the Pope.’ This was not a question of religion but the idea was the same. Beatrice, since she had been married to him had become more regal than the Queen! What astounded him was that she should have forgotten, or had pretended to forget – she had put right out of her mind – her own humble start in life and the one or two skeletons in the cupboard. But it was something about which he did not dare to remind her.
Did he still love her? he sometimes asked himself. Yes, he supposed he did. She had been a very good mother to their two sons, looking after them herself when they were young with hardly any extra help. Of course she had had the experience, as, being the eldest of a family of five children, the role of child-minding had often fallen to Beattie, which was the name by which she had once been known. They had not been a feckless family by any means, but had had a struggle to make ends meet, as so many families had done in the years following the Great War. Beattie’s father had not worked in a woollen mill as many of his generation had done. He had been a fireman on the railway, and his wife had gone out cleaning to boost the family income. Yes, a hardworking, industrious family, until one of the sons had disgraced them.
George Halliwell, always known as Georgie, had been employed at Walker’s mill ever since he left school at fourteen. He was the eldest boy, the nearest in age to his sister, Beattie, and the two of them, surprisingly for a brother and sister, were very good friends. He grew up to be a charming and out-going young man, but not averse to a bit of shady dealing should it come his way.
Joshua, in his early twenties, had been doing his training at the family mill. His father, Jacob, had insisted that he should start at the bottom – as he, Joshua, had insisted on later with his own two sons – gaining experience in all departments of the mill. He had been working in the warehouse when it was discovered that some bales of cloth had gone missing. The operation had been very cleverly managed between the warehouse and the store, so much so that at first the discrepancy was not apparent. But the thieving had been traced eventually to George Halliwell. He was sacked on the spot and Jacob Walker was determined to press charges and make an example of the lad.
Joshua well remembered the day in the summer of 1925 when Beattie Halliwell had come to Walker’s mill asking to speak to Mr Joshua who was in charge of the warehouse and who was, so Georgie had told her, a fair and reasonable young man. She wouldn’t have dared to approach the owner, Mr Jacob Walker, who had the reputation of being a tyrant.
Beattie had pleaded her brother’s case eloquently, saying that he was young and impressionable, had never been in trouble before and had been persuaded to go along with the theft despite his misgivings. Joshua had taken it all with a pinch of salt. He had summed up young Georgie as a wily character whose charm and easy manner of conversing with anyone and everyone could take him far. He had done wrong, but Joshua had a soft spot for the lad and so he promised he would speak to his father and try to persuade him to drop the matter.
Joshua had heard about the young woman, Beattie, from her brother who, it appeared, almost idolized her. Georgie had said that she was employed at Laycock’s mill at the other side of the town, a friendly rival of Walker’s. She had started in the weaving shed but her employers had soon realized her potential. She now worked in the office dealing with the accounts. She was eighteen years old, a few years younger than Joshua, and a bright and personable young woman. He found himself attracted to her immediately. She was a very pretty girl with dark hair that waved over her ears and her high forehead. Her features were well defined, quite aristocratic-looking, and her dark brown eyes had glowed intensely as she pleaded with him to overlook what her brother had, so thoughtlessly, been persuaded to do, and to try to persuade his father to drop the charges.
‘I’ll do what I can,’ he had promised. ‘Everyone needs a second chance, and your brother’s a bright lad. He could go far if he got on to the right path, but I don’t think my father will keep him on here.’
Joshua’s father had refused to listen at first, determined to bring the lad to justice. ‘What sort of a fool would I look if I let him get away with it?’ he argued. ‘It would encourage others to do the same if they think there’s no punishment. No, he has to be shown up for what he is, a common thief. It’s not all that long since they were hanging folk for sheep stealing. We can’t be seen to be turning soft.’
‘You can’t believe in that sort of treatment, surely, Father?’ Joshua was shocked at his father’s words. Surely they had moved on a lot since those times? And it had been the lad’s first offence. Until then he had appeared to be a conscientious worker.
Eventually Jacob gave way. ‘Alright, alright,’ he said. ‘I suppose I’ll have to let the matter drop. Your mother’s been having a go at me as well. But I won’t change my mind about sacking him; you must realize that. And he’ll get no reference from me. I refuse to tell lies, so he’d better clear off and do the best he can. I must admit he’s a bright lad and if he learns to keep his nose clean he might have a good chance elsewhere.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ said Joshua humbly. He had become quite friendly with Georgie, and this petty crime had come as a shock to him. He did not tell his father, of course, about his attraction towards the lad’s sister. She appeared to be a bright and sensible girl, as well as being very pretty, but he decided to wait a little while before making any advances in that direction. If he had assessed the situation correctly, however, he guessed that she might be just as attracted to him.
After a few weeks had gone by he approached her at her place of work and asked her if she would consider taking a walk with him in the park on Sunday afternoon. This first meeting led to many more. Much to Joshua’s surprise his father raised no objection when he was finally informed of the friendship, Jacob was as susceptible as any man to a pretty face and winning ways. Joshua’s mother, Isobel, was also very taken with the girl who was charming and suitably deferential to both herself and Jacob. The episode with George had been forgotten, or put to the back of their minds, and was not referred to again.
The courtship was a longish one as was usual at the time. The couple became engaged and planned to marry in the summer of 1928 when Beatrice – as she now liked to be called instead of Beattie – was twenty-one years of age. It was during the early summer of 1927, however, that Beatrice discovered she was pregnant. Their feelings had got the better of them, with the inevitable outcome.
Both families were shocked and vociferous in their condemnation of the couple for shaming them in that way, but they were all agreed that the matter should be dealt with as quickly as possible. The families did not, as a rule, meet socially, the difference between their social standing and their way of life being too great. But on this occasion they acted in accordance. The marriage took place at the church in Halifax where the Walker family worshipped. Beatrice’s family were Methodists, but Beatrice was adapting readily to the change in her status. She was married in wh
ite satin, to observe the proprieties – although her mother had castigated her for not being entitled to wear white, which was a sign of purity and virginity – with her sister, Hannah, as her only bridesmaid.
The couple moved into a small house, not far from where Joshua’s parents lived. Their first son, Jonathan, was born in October, 1927, five months after their marriage. If their friends and acquaintances noticed the discrepancy in the dates it was never referred to openly, and in time it seemed to have been forgotten. Beatrice, though, had been determined that Jonathan and then Samuel should never discover the truth. She persuaded Joshua to go along with the fallacy that they had been married a year earlier, in 1926, and for the sake of peace and harmony in the family he had done so.
‘But why, in heaven’s name?’ he had asked her. ‘Are you ashamed of the way we felt about one another? We were in love, Beattie. We weren’t the first to do that, and we certainly won’t be the last.’
‘I’m Beatrice now,’ she had reminded him. ‘That’s the name I was christened with, and it’s far more suitable. No, I’m not ashamed of loving you, Joshua. I still love you … but we have certain standards to maintain. I just think it would be for the best.’
‘What about our silver wedding, then, when it arrives? I’m damned if I’m going to celebrate it on the wrong date.’
‘So we don’t do anything, Joshua,’ his wife replied. ‘Least said, soonest mended.’
Joshua had been surprised, and disappointed as well, over the years, that Beatrice had lost contact with her family. It had been a gradual dropping away at first, but now she had distanced herself from them completely. All apart from her sister, Hannah, whom she saw occasionally. Hannah was married to a bank manager which was, of course, a highly respectable occupation.
As for Georgie, who had been dismissed from Walker’s without a reference, he had pulled himself up by his bootlaces and had done very well in a totally different sphere. He had found employment as a grocer’s errand boy, telling his boss nothing about his previous job except that he was tired of working at the mill and wanted to do something completely different.
He very soon made himself indispensable, serving behind the counter and charming the housewives who visited the corner shop almost every day, or sometimes more than once a day. Sid Bottomley’s little shop on the outskirts of the main town was one that opened from early in the morning until late in the evening to catch all the trade. They sold a bit of everything; newspapers, sweets and tobacco as well as household goods and groceries. All the commodities that housewives were continually finding they had run out of or forgotten to buy.
Ten years later the sign on the door had changed to Bottomley and Halliwell as the young assistant had been made a partner. Now, some twenty-five years after he had started as an errand boy, George Halliwell, aged forty-six, had a wife and three children, two grandchildren, and was the owner, not only of the original shop but of two more in other parts of Halifax.
Joshua had hoped that Beatrice might be proud of her brother who had done so well for himself, after all she was the one who had pleaded for him not to be convicted of theft. It would, of course, have been a slur on the family name. Joshua could see now that it might well have been her own reputation she was safeguarding, not just that of her brother.
As for the two younger brothers, Beatrice had heard from Hannah that one of them had joined the Merchant Navy, and the other one, after the war, had emigrated to Australia with his new wife. Beatrice’s parents, now in their late seventies, had saved up as much as they could over the years and had now retired to the seaside, which had long been their ambition, after their children had all left home. They had bought a small cottage, just big enough for two, near the sea at Filey where they had spent some happy holidays with the children, on the rare occasions when they had been able to afford the train fares. Hannah was the only one who visited them a few times a year, and Dick, the sailor, occasionally, when he was on leave. Beatrice and George had done well for themselves, in different ways, but it seemed that they now had little time for their elderly parents.
Joshua often brooded about the situation. His wife was very much the Lady Bountiful now, seen to be doing good works in the community. She was on the committee of several charitable organizations and the Chairman of the local Women’s Institute. Joshua longed to remind her that charity began at home. What about her parents whom she no longer visited? Her brother George no longer needed a helping hand, but the two of them had once been very close. But Beatrice had dismissed George’s wife as being common and flashy, not the sort of woman with whom she wished to associate.
And now her latest bone of contention was regarding the young woman that Samuel wanted them to meet. Her younger son could have done much better for himself than to take up with a girl who worked at their own mill. Joshua was convinced that she had forgotten her own humble beginnings. What had she been but a mill girl, then an office clerk? This was something that was never mentioned, and if Jonathan and Samuel knew, as he suspected they did, they had not heard it from him.
Thelma Young, however, Jonathan’s fiancée, passed muster with Beatrice. Her father was a well-known solicitor in the town, and her mother worked along with Beatrice on a few committees. Thelma had been to university and obtained a degree, and she was now a chief librarian at a branch library in Bradford, to where she travelled each day in her own small car. Beatrice understood that it was quite usual for girls of well-off parents to earn their own living now.
Nothing more had been said about the Masonic Ladies’ Evening at the end of October. Joshua knew that the invitation to Priscilla Forbes, along with her parents, would have to stand; but he also knew that Sam would remain adamant about his refusal to go along as her partner. The lad had not said whether he had actually invited his new lady friend, Valerie, or whether the matter was in abeyance. Sam was very quiet about his private affairs, but Joshua assumed that he was still seeing the young lady. All told, it was a tricky situation, made worse by his wife’s intransigence.
Val was aware that Sam was unusually quiet and withdrawn at times, although they still continued to spend one or two evenings together during the week as well as spending much of the weekend together. He had had Sunday tea with the Horrocks family a couple of times; and there was no indication that he was tiring of her company. He was still as attentive and loving towards her. His kisses, indeed, were more ardent and meaningful, although he did not stray beyond the bounds of propriety. She knew that he respected her, and that was good, although she guessed that he was aware, as she was, that there would come a time when they both wanted more.
She assumed that his preoccupation was due to the attitude of his family towards her. She had still not been invited to meet his mother although they had been friendly for seven weeks or so and it was now the beginning of October. When she plucked up courage to broach the subject Sam admitted that it would take a while for his mother – and his brother – to get used to the idea of his friendship with her.
‘My mother has very fixed ideas about how I should behave,’ he told her. ‘She has had one or two “suitable” girls lined up for me over the years, and refuses to see that her ideas are not mine. And I’m afraid my brother has been influenced by her. Jonathan’s girlfriend is considered highly suitable because her father is a solicitor. Yes, abject snobbishness I know, but that’s just the way she is. But she will have to change her tune in time. She may have Jonathan right where she wants him, but she won’t win with me.’
Val did not tell him what she had discovered about Beatrice and her family. She felt it would serve no purpose and might make her look like a telltale.
It was Val’s father, Bert Horrocks, who had recalled what had happened at Walker’s mill all those years ago. ‘Don’t you remember, Sal?’ he said to his wife. ‘No, happen you don’t because it was all hushed up at the time. I’d just started working in the warehouse meself, along with young Georgie Halliwell, and there were some bales of cloth missin
g. Anyroad, it turned out that it was Georgie who was the culprit and the boss, Mr Jacob, sacked him on the spot. He was going to take him to court, but then he changed his mind. George was never convicted, although he lost his job. And I heard tell that it was George’s sister, Beattie, who came and had a word with Mr Joshua, the boss’s son, to see if he could persuade his father to change his mind.’
Sally Horrocks nodded. ‘Yes, I seem to remember now, but it’s all such a long time ago, and folk have forgotten.’ She passed the tale on to her daughter. ‘I knew there was some sort of bother, but I couldn’t quite recall what it was.’ She gave a sly grin. ‘So Beattie Halliwell – Beatrice Walker, as she is now – doesn’t need to act so high and mighty. Her brother was nowt but a common thief, although it was all hushed up. And I’m remembering now that she worked in the mill herself, not Walker’s, one on the other side of town, but I reckon she’s forgotten all that now.
‘I know that Georgie was a real scamp, but he got on well with folks. He could charm the birds off the trees, as they say. And he’s done well for himself. I believe he’s got three shops now, dotted around Halifax.’
Val kept all this knowledge to herself. If Sam wasn’t aware of it – though she guessed he might well be – it was not her place to tell him.
It was one evening at the beginning of October when Sam heard a knock at his bedroom door. He was surprised to see his brother standing there as they very rarely visited one another’s rooms. He noticed the serious expression on Jonathan’s face as he said, ‘Could I have a word with you, Sam?’
‘Yes, of course. Come in,’ said Sam, very curious now. Jonathan rarely confided in him about anything.
His brother flopped down on the only chair and Sam sat on the bed. ‘So … tell me what’s bothering you,’ he said. ‘You look as though you’ve lost ten bob and found a penny.’
One Week in August Page 17