One Week in August

by Margaret Thornton

  Janice and Phil did not stay up late. Her eyes were closing despite her valiant attempt to stay awake and enjoy Phil’s company. It was so good to have him there with her. They had picked up the threads of their friendship with perfect ease.

  ‘Bedtime for you,’ he said, just after eleven o’clock. ‘Come on, Janice love. You can hardly keep awake.’

  The walked up the stairs hand in hand, stopping at her bedroom door on the first floor. Phil put his arms round her and kissed her on the lips, tenderly, then a little more eagerly. ‘Goodnight, Janice. Don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine.’

  ‘Yes … I know that now,’ she replied. ‘Thanks, Phil … for everything.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Sam told Val that she must not worry about her first visit to his home. ‘My mother’s looking forward to meeting you,’ he said.

  That was a slight exaggeration. Beatrice Walker had been forced by circumstances to climb down from her pedestal and remember that her own upbringing had not been far removed from that of Sam’s new lady friend. She had agreed, although a trifle grudgingly, that Val should come for Sunday tea.

  Val was relieved that it would be, as Sam had told her, a very informal occasion. They usually had their main meal of the day, which they called dinner, in the evening. But on Sundays they had a midday dinner. Afternoon tea was then served in the lounge rather than the formal dining room.

  Val had not yet seen the house where the Walker family lived. She just knew that it was at Queensbury, at the top of the hill leading out of Halifax.

  Sam called for her in his car at four o’clock, staying for a little while to chat to her parents. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he reassured her. ‘You already know my father and my brother …’ He had told her again that he and Jonathan were now getting along much more peaceably. ‘And Thelma has been invited as well.’

  Val was not as intimidated by her first sight of Sam’s home as she had thought she might be. It was a large house, as she had expected, set well back from the road, with a circular carriage drive and a large garden with laid out lawns surrounded by trees, now shedding their leaves. There was a magnificent copper beech tree, a horse chestnut, and others which, in the spring, would be covered in pink and white blossom. The house itself looked homely, in spite of its size. A typical greystone building with mullioned windows, the small panes of glass glinting in the rays of the setting sun.

  The sturdy oak door was opened at Sam’s knock by a woman dressed in black, a housekeeper or some such servant, Val assumed. She was cheerful and friendly, not seeming at all subservient. Was she what was known as an old retainer? Val wondered. Someone who had worked for the family for a long time? She was well past middle-age.

  Sam introduced her as Mrs Porter. ‘This is my friend, Val,’ he said. ‘Valerie Horrocks.’

  ‘Very pleased to meet you, Miss Horrocks,’ said the woman. ‘Mr Samuel told me you were coming. Let me take your coat, my dear. It’s a cold day, isn’t it? But there’s a nice fire in the lounge.’

  She hung Val’s coat on the mahogany hallstand, then opened a door to the right. ‘Here’s Miss Horrocks come to visit you, Mrs Walker,’ she announced.

  Sam took her arm as they entered the lounge. She felt her apprehension returning as a sea of faces turned to look at her. At least it seemed like a lot but there were, in fact, only four: Mr and Mrs Walker, Jonathan and Thelma.

  Sam led her forward to where an elegant dark-haired lady was sitting near to the fire. ‘Mother, this is Valerie,’ he said.

  The woman looked at Val appraisingly. She did not rise but she held out her hand, which Val took hold of gently. ‘How do you do?’ she said. ‘Samuel has told me about you. It’s nice to meet you, Valerie.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Val managed to utter. ‘How do you do, Mrs Walker?’

  Sam’s mother was wearing a fine woollen dress of mid-blue which matched the colour of her shrewd, all-seeing eyes; a simple style, but obviously not one from Marks and Spencer or C&A. Her only adornment was a single row of pearls.

  Val was glad that she, too was wearing a dress, the one she kept for ‘best’ in a small checked design of black and emerald green, rather than her usual attire of jumper and skirt.

  Mr Walker came to her rescue. ‘We’re very pleased to see you, Valerie,’ he said, getting up from his chair and shaking her hand. ‘Glad you’ve come to see us. And you know Jonathan, of course, don’t you?’

  Rather to her surprise Jonathan also came and shook her hand. He smiled at her, a little warily, she thought. He had, in fact, smiled and nodded at her once or twice when their paths had crossed in the course of their work.

  ‘Hello, Valerie,’ he said. ‘Yes, indeed I know you, you’re one of our valued office workers.’

  The young woman who had been sitting on the settee with him then rose and came over to her. ‘Hello, Val,’ she said in a friendly way. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come. I’m Thelma.’

  Val took her outstretched hand. ‘Hello, Thelma,’ she said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ She remembered then that she had heard somewhere that it was not really the correct mode of address. You were supposed to just say, ‘How do you do?’

  From her appearance one might imagine Thelma to be prim and aloof. Her ash blonde hair and light blue eyes made her look like a snow princess in a fairytale, so Val thought. She wore a pale blue twin set with a row of pearls at her neck, and a Gor-ray pleated skirt; casual wear but she looked the height of sophistication.

  ‘Come over here and talk to me,’ she said warmly, leading the way to a large settee upholstered in green velvet. Val looked towards Sam, and he nodded encouragingly at her. The three men stood by the fire talking together, and Mrs Walker seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring into the fire.

  ‘I expect you’re feeling rather bewildered, aren’t you?’ said Thelma.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I am,’ replied Val.

  ‘You don’t need to be. Mrs Walker’s OK when you get to know her. Or when she gets to know you, I should say. I found her very intimidating at first, but I learnt not to be in awe of her. She would be the same whoever her sons chose to marry. No one would be good enough, according to Beatrice.’

  They were speaking quietly, and nobody seemed to be taking any notice. Val was surprised at Thelma’s friendliness. She had expected a cool, if not unfriendly, reception. But the young woman was just the opposite.

  ‘I thought you would have been very acceptable as a daughter-in-law,’ she dared to say now. ‘Your father’s a solicitor, isn’t he? Not like my father, he’s employed at the mill as I’m sure you know. Not that there’s any mention of marriage with Sam and me,’ she added hastily. ‘We only met in August, but we get along very well.’

  ‘Sam’s a very honest and dependable young man,’ said Thelma. ‘He won’t mess you about, you can be sure of that. Jonathan has been influenced a lot by his mother, but he’s the one I fell in love with.’ She smiled. ‘We’re getting married soon. You’ll be invited to the wedding, of course.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Val. ‘That will be two weddings I’m going to very soon. My best friend, Cissie, is getting married at the end of November and I’m her bridesmaid. When … when will yours be?’

  ‘The second Saturday in December, at the Parish Church,’ said Thelma. ‘Actually, we’ve put it forward. It should have been next spring, but … well … I’ve discovered that I’m pregnant,’ she added in a whisper. ‘But I expect you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘No … no, I didn’t know. Honestly, I didn’t. Sam hasn’t told me.’ So what she had assumed was correct, but Sam had kept it to himself.

  Thelma nodded. ‘Yes, I said Sam was dependable. Good old Sam. He’s not one to gossip. And it doesn’t matter two hoots what your father does for a living, nor you neither. Beatrice worked in a mill before she married Joshua … and it’s come out recently that theirs was a hasty marriage as well.’

  ‘I knew she had been a mill worker,’ said Val. ‘Sam did tell
me that, and my mother remembered her from a long time ago. But I didn’t know about … the other thing.’

  ‘Apparently she raised the roof when Jon told her about us, until Joshua let the cat out of the bag! So she hasn’t said a word of reproach to me. My parents were rather shocked … well, disappointed in me, I suppose. But they’re all getting together to plan the wedding.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, the same thing has happened to my friend, Cissie,’ said Val. ‘Her mother went mad at her, but she wants her to have a proper church wedding, all the same.’

  ‘It’s always a nine days’ wonder,’ said Thelma. ‘People forget … I don’t suppose I would have chosen to start a family so soon, but that’s what’s happened. We’re looking for a house now. We’ve seen a nice semi that we like on the other side of the town but not too far from Jon’s place of work. I don’t want to be too near to my in-laws, nor to my own parents, either.’

  Sam and Jonathan had left the girls on their own as it seemed as though they were getting on well together. The two young men were deep in conversation, and Joshua had gone to talk to his wife. At exactly five o’clock by the silver carriage clock on the mantelpiece Mrs Walker rang a bell at the side of the fireplace, and Mrs Porter appeared promptly.

  ‘Will you bring in the tea now, please, Mrs Porter?’ said Beatrice. ‘We are all ready, and looking forward to sampling some of your excellent baking.’ She smiled graciously at the woman.

  ‘Certainly, Mrs Walker. It’s all ready.’

  The party rearranged themselves, coming nearer to the fire, the focal point of the room. Sam located a nest of occasional tables which he placed in front of the settee and the easy chairs. Mrs Porter returned with a tea trolley laden with what appeared to be quite a feast. She poured the tea from the silver pot into cups of delicate bone china with a pink rose design. Val wondered if they were Shelley or Coalport – they were certainly not from the pot stall in Halifax market – but she would not dare to turn a plate over to see the name of the maker.

  There were dainty sandwiches, cut in triangles without any crusts, of fresh salmon and cucumber, roast ham, and chicken; bite-sized sausage rolls and small slices of pork pie; buttered scones, almond tarts, and fruit cake, rich with sultanas, raisins and cherries.

  Mrs Porter’s baking, as Beatrice had said, was delicious, as was everything else that was served. Val was tempted to have two of everything, but she did not want to appear greedy so she had only one cake. She ate several sandwiches, though, as they were scarcely more than a mouthful.

  Conversation lapsed whilst they ate their tea, and Val took a surreptitious look around the elegant room. Green was the predominant colour, dark green velvet curtains, a thick-pile carpet in a paler shade of green, and what she thought was an Indian rug at the hearth, patterned in green, red and black. Water colours of Yorkshire scenes – the moors, dales and ruined abbeys – hung on the walls, and silver-framed family photographs stood on the mahogany display cabinet and bureau. She noticed a Crown Derby vase of blue, red and gold, and figurines that she thought were Royal Doulton. It was all so luxurious, but she tried not to look too openly, as though she had never seen such lovely things before.

  Joshua kept a conversation going by talking about Blackpool, where Sam and Val had met. He had happy memories of the place where they had gone for family holidays when he was a lad.

  ‘We had some grand times there,’ he reminisced. ‘Dancing at the Tower Ballroom, riding on the Big Dipper, and the Golden Mile … There was a carnival there – 1923, I think it was. I was on holiday with some pals. We had a rare old time … It was before I got married, of course, and settled down. Aye, there was no place like Blackpool, and I believe it’s enjoying a boom time again at the moment. We’ll have to give it a try, eh, Beatrice?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Joshua,’ she replied with a frosty half-smile. ‘I prefer Bournemouth or Torquay, and Southport is far more genteel than Blackpool if one has to visit Lancashire.’

  ‘Well, we enjoyed Blackpool, didn’t we, Val? said Sam. To her surprise he took hold of her hand, a gesture that his mother noticed with a slight tightening of her lips.

  ‘Yes, I had a good holiday there … with my friend Cissie,’ Val added. ‘A very nice hotel, and good weather.’

  ‘And then you met me, didn’t you?’ Sam looked at her fondly as he spoke.

  She nodded. ‘So I did,’ she said quietly. She knew that Sam was trying to show his mother that she, Val, was rather more than a casual acquaintance, but she didn’t want him to aggravate the situation.

  Sam changed the subject. He turned to his brother. ‘So … have you two decided where to spend your honeymoon?’

  ‘The Lake District,’ replied Jonathan. ‘We intend to tour around for a few days, Windermere, Grasmere, Keswick … Thelma’s parents know of some very good hotels, and it should be quiet at that time of the year. And by that time we hope we will be ready to move into our own home, don’t we, Thelma?’

  ‘Yes, we hope so,’ she replied. The look they exchanged left Val in no doubt that they loved one another. She had summed Jonathan Walker up as cold and aloof, although there had been a slight thaw in his manner of late, but he clearly had a romantic and amorous side as well.

  Val was relieved when the visiting time came to an end. Beatrice Walker glanced at the clock at six thirty, then summoned Mrs Porter to remove the remnants of the meal. The social gathering was over.

  Val shook hands with her hostess. ‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said. ‘It’s been good to meet … all of you.’

  Beatrice inclined her head. ‘I am pleased to have met you, Valerie.’

  It was Sam’s father who invited her to come again. ‘It’s been grand to get to know you better. And we’ll be seeing you in a couple of weeks, won’t we, at our Masonic do?’

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it,’ she replied.

  Once she was in Sam’s car she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Gosh! I’m glad that’s over! Did I do all right?’

  ‘You were fine, love,’ he assured her. ‘Mother could have been a lot worse, believe me! And you seemed to be getting on well with Thelma.’

  ‘Yes, she was so friendly and … normal, not as I expected at all. She actually told me that she was … she told me why she and Jonathan were getting married quite soon.’

  ‘Yes, it caused quite a rumpus at first,’ said Sam. ‘But then Mother had to eat humble pie, I’m afraid, because a few skeletons in the cupboard were revealed. It would have been a question of the pot calling the kettle black.’ He did not say any more, and Val, wisely, did not tell him that she already knew of the situation. She did tell him, however, that Cissie’s wedding had been brought forward for the same reason.

  ‘So she’s marrying Walter Clarkson after all,’ said Sam. ‘Didn’t she get friendly with a lad called Jack when we were in Blackpool?’

  ‘Yes, but that came to nothing,’ said Val hurriedly. ‘Then … well … this happened with Walter, so they’re getting married. I think she’s quite pleased about it now.’

  ‘Yes, he seems a steady sort of chap from what I know of him,’ said Sam. His opinion of Cissie, though, was that she was rather a scatterbrain, not an ideal wife for Walter. He liked her though, she was a good-natured girl and she was Val’s best friend, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  The Masonic Ladies’ Evening was Val’s first experience of what might be called a grand occasion. It was to be held at one of the high-class hotels in the town where there were the facilities that were needed, a large dining room, a room for dancing and a bar.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Sam told her. ‘I shall be there at your side all the time; and I was so proud of you when you came for Sunday tea. I believe my mother was quite impressed with you.’

  Beatrice, in fact, had said very little to Sam regarding his lady friend, but as she had made no derogative comments it indicated that she had been agreeably surprised. His mother had told him that Priscilla Ford, the girl she had intend
ed to invite as Sam’s partner – and whom she had earmarked as a suitable wife for her younger son – had asked if she could bring her ‘gentleman friend’ to the event. He was a young man who had recently joined the firm where she worked as a shorthand typist, and they had discovered that they had much in common. Sam could not tell whether his mother was relieved or disappointed, as she made no comment about the situation.

  Jonathan and Thelma were already in the taxicab when Sam called for Val at seven o’clock on the Friday evening. She had been given the afternoon off work – a privilege that did not go unnoticed by her colleagues, although they did not make any adverse remarks – giving her time to pay a rare visit to the hairdresser and to prepare for the evening ahead.

  Her dark hair had been trimmed and arranged in a modern gamine style which suited her dainty features. She had applied a little more make-up than usual; green eye-shadow and a touch of mascara, and a brighter shade of lipstick to match her dress of cherry red. When she looked at herself in the full-length mirror she was surprised at how different and elegant she looked. High-heeled black patent leather sandals and a small black satin evening bag completed her ensemble.

  She smiled at her reflection. ‘I think you’ll do, lass,’ she whispered, a remark that was reiterated by her father when he saw her in her finery. She felt that she might do Sam proud, and that Mrs Walker would not be able to find any fault with her appearance. She was sorry that she had only her winter coat to wear, rather than a fur coat or stole, but it was of woollen tweed, not at all shabby, and she would be leaving it in the cloakroom.

  She made sure she was ready when Sam knocked at the door, then escorted her in a gentlemanly way to the taxi.

  ‘Hello, Val,’ said Thelma. ‘Good to see you again.’ Jonathan smiled and nodded.