‘Oh, Cissie, I’m so sorry, really I am. I don’t know what to say, except that I’m always there for you. Perhaps I could babysit sometime, then you and Walter could go out?’
‘It’s all changed so much, Val. This time last year we were looking forward to going to Blackpool. We said we’d go again this year, didn’t we? But look what’s happened. I’m married and I’ve got a baby, Mrs Butler’s died, and Janice didn’t go to her fancy college. And you’re going out with Sam Walker. At least one of us is happy … I’m sorry, Val,’ she said when Val didn’t answer. ‘I’m glad you’re getting on so well with Sam, honest I am. I’m not jealous, you know. Come on, tell me what you have been up to? You don’t need to tell me everything,’ she added with a sly grin, which was more like the old Cissie.
Baby Paul woke up then and screamed until he felt the teat in his mouth, then his cries stopped and he gulped noisily at the milk.
‘D’you want to hold him for a bit?’ said Cissie. Val took hold of the little bundle very warily. ‘He might be a bit smelly,’ Cissie told her. ‘I change him after his feed.’
‘No, he’s adorable,’ said Val, looking down at the misty brownish-grey eyes that seemed to be staring up at her. She had never really thought ahead to the time when she might have a child of her own. Cissie had been catapulted into this situation. Val hoped it would be different for her when it happened. Surely a baby was a precious gift, though, whatever the circumstances? She hoped that Cissie would soon get over her present feeling of resentment over what had happened.
By the time she left an hour later her friend had cheered up a lot. Val had promised to babysit one evening soon. She was still concerned, though, about Cissie’s state of mind.
Val was still seeing Sam regularly. They were growing closer, enjoying one another’s company more and more each time they met. Sam was tender and loving, but he kept within what Val considered to be the correct limits. She was very aware of what had happened to Cissie. Both she and her friend had been brought up to believe that you should wait until you were married before ‘going the whole way’, which was what girls usually called it. But Val understood now how easy it might be to overstep the boundaries.
It was in early July, whilst they were enjoying a meal at their favourite country inn, that Sam asked her if she would consider going away with him in August when the mill closed for their annual week’s holiday. She agreed that she would love to, although she was wondering what her parents would say.
‘Where are you thinking of going?’ she asked. ‘Blackpool?’ she added with a grin.
‘Er … no. I thought we could go touring in the car. Maybe up to Scotland. Have you ever been there?’
Val said she hadn’t but she would love to do so. She was also wondering about what he had in mind. What about the sleeping arrangements? Two single rooms? She guessed that Sam would be just as concerned as she was about the propriety of it all.
‘I shall have to ask my parents,’ she said. ‘I know that might sound silly and old-fashioned, but it’s what I must do.’
He smiled. ‘Of course, but I think they know me well enough now to feel that they can trust me. And you can trust me, too, Val. You know that I love you.’ He looked at her tenderly, reaching out his hand across the table to take hold of hers. ‘But it must be right for both of us.’
Her heart gave a surge of joy at his words. It was the first time that he had actually said that he loved her, and she knew she could not be the one to say it until he did so.
‘Yes … I know, and I love you, too,’ she whispered, feeling herself blush a little. ‘I shall tell my parents tonight about the holiday. Oh, Sam, it will be so exciting, won’t it? I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland …’
The summer season at the Florabunda was continuing successfully through June and July, as far as bookings were concerned. It was difficult to think of the hotel, though, without Lilian Butler at the helm. Janice went on resolutely from week to week, with Phil as her co-worker, and assistance from Freda, Nancy and Olive. They maintained the high standard that Lilian had always insisted on, but for all of them it seemed that the heart had gone out of the place.
Janice and her father had decided they would take no more bookings, and it became clear as the season drew on that the number of visitors was dwindling. They estimated that the hotel would be only half full in August, and by September the number would have decreased even more.
It was Alec who raised the question of whether they should continue to the end of the season, or try to find accommodation nearby for the guests who had booked, and close down the business. Janice had intimated that she could not run the hotel indefinitely no matter how much assistance she had. It was just not the same without her mother there.
Alec, Janice and Phil got together for a serious talk one evening. ‘It’s decision time,’ Alec began. ‘I know I’ve never had a great deal to do with the business, but the hotel is our home as well. Obviously we can’t stay here unless we keep the place running. And you don’t want to, do you, Janice?’
‘I can’t, not without Mum,’ she replied. ‘I started by helping out as a waitress last summer, and then … well … we know what happened. Mum was ill, and I said I’d try to keep it going.’
‘And you’ve done a grand job, you and Phil,’ said Alec. ‘It’s marvellous the way you’ve pulled together. But now there’s no need for you to carry on being involved in the hotel business at all, if you don’t want to, Janice.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she answered, ‘at least, not here. Like I said, it’s not the same without Mum.’
‘So I was wondering,’ Alec went on, ‘whether you could go to university, like you intended doing. I’ve been very concerned that you gave up your place to help out here, and I know your mum – God bless her – would be as well. You know how keen she was for you to go to university, and it isn’t too late. You could reapply, and go and get your degree, like you planned to do.’
Janice smiled at her father. ‘Thanks, Dad. I know what you mean, and I realize it’s what Mum wanted for me. But it’s too late. I would need to have applied much earlier than this. Anyway, I’ve given up on that idea. I would have gone and got a degree, but I had no idea what I wanted to do as a career, only vague notions about being a librarian or something to do with books.’
‘So what have you got in mind now?’ asked Phil.
He was wondering, too, about his own plans for the future. He had been happy working here in Blackpool because he was with Janice, and he enjoyed anything to do with catering. It had been a sad time, though, as well, as they had all been conscious that Lilian was no longer with them. Phil knew that his time here was soon coming to an end. He had grown very fond of Janice. Their friendship had progressed from just being friends to something more loving and tender. She had responded to his kisses and embraces, but their loving was still quite innocent. Phil had known how much she was grieving for her mother, and that he must be gentle and understanding with her. He knew, though, that he did not want their relationship to come to an end.
Phil was looking at her inquiringly and showing concern. She knew that her plans might affect him as well. They had not talked about a future together – she was not yet twenty years of age – but she felt that he would not want their friendship to end when he left Blackpool, and neither would she.
She looked from Phil to her father as she answered. ‘I’ve become very interested in the hotel business. I was starting to feel quite involved in it even before Mum was taken ill; but I knew that would have to end because I was going to college. But I didn’t, the way things worked out.’
‘You mean you’d like to continue in the hotel business?’ asked Phil.
‘But not here?’ added her father. ‘You’ve said you don’t want to carry on running this place?’
‘No, there would be too many memories,’ said Janice. ‘This was Mum’s hotel, and Gran’s before her. I was thinking I might do some more training for the catering business, every
part of it – cookery and baking, menu planning, keeping accounts and hotel management. And there’s a college right here in Blackpool. I wouldn’t need to go away. I would be here, Dad, to see to you and Ian and make your meals.’
‘Don’t worry about us, love,’ said Alec. ‘It’s important that you should do what you really want to do. You mustn’t feel that you have to organize your life to fit round us.’
‘I’m not, Dad,’ she insisted. ‘It’s what I really want to do. I’ll make enquiries about the college course, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to start there in September. They have students from all over, and I suppose they stay in digs, but I’d be able to come home every night.’
‘It sounds good,’ said Alec. ‘What do you think, Phil?’
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ he answered. ‘Janice is getting really proficient at cooking, you know. Aren’t you, love?’ he said turning to her.
She grinned. ‘If you say so, Phil. Yes, I enjoy it very much. I’ve been doing it because I had no choice, and it’s been sad with Mum not being there. But I think I’ve inherited some of her skills and I feel that it’s what I’d like to carry on doing … Somewhere different, maybe, sometime in the future.’
She and Phil looked at one another and smiled. Alec noticed the glances they exchanged and he felt pleased. Phil was just the sort of young man he would have chosen for his beloved daughter, and he knew that Lilian would have agreed with him. No one could tell what the future might hold, but he hoped that these two young people would plan a future together.
TWENTY-TWO
Val’s parents were quite agreeable about the idea of her going away with Sam in August. Her mother had looked rather doubtful at first, which was only what Val had expected, but she had come round at her husband’s persuasion.
‘Sam’s a grand lad,’ said Bert Horrocks. ‘I like him more every time I see him. Seemed odd at first, mind, to be calling him Sam, but he’s like one of the family now. I reckon she’ll come to no harm with Sam Walker, Sally. Anyway, she’ll be twenty-one in September, won’t you, Val?’
‘Yes,’ said her mother. ‘So she will. How time flies! We know we can trust you, Valerie love. Cissie got herself into rather a pickle, didn’t she? But it seems to have worked out alright for her and Walter.’ Val’s mother, of course, did not know the half of it.
She and her husband were full of plans for their own holiday. They had booked, this time, for a coach tour to Devon, staying at the popular resort of Torquay. It would be the first time they had ventured so far afield.
Val did not know whether Sam had told his parents of their proposed trip to Scotland. They had other things on their minds at the moment. Thelma had given birth to a baby girl during the first week in June, a few days after Cissie’s baby was born. Beatrice, apparently, had forgiven Jonathan and Thelma for their misdemeanour and was thrilled with the baby, her first grandchild. They were calling her Rosemary Jane, tactfully avoiding any family names so as not to cause offence. Val had seen her when she and Sam had been invited round to the couple’s new semi-detached house. She was a beautiful baby with Thelma’s fair hair and complexion.
To her surprise Val had been invited to the christening at the end of August. Sam was to be the child’s godfather, which was only to be expected, and so Val was included in the invitation. She was not asked to be a godmother, however, something she had not expected or wanted.
She had been asked to act as godmother to Cissie and Walter’s baby; they had finally decided on the name Paul Henry. That christening was the week before the one of Thelma and Jonathan’s child. Val was delighted at the honour although, as Cissie’s best friend, it was inevitable that she would be chosen.
Cissie was going through the motions, registering the birth of the child, arranging the christening, coping with the routine of changing, feeding and bathing the baby – this was becoming gradually less chaotic than it had been at first – but she knew, deep down, that she was not bonding with the child as she ought to be. She supposed she loved him and she would never want to neglect or hurt him, but there was still a feeling of resentment at the heart of her. She did her best to hide her feelings from Walter. He was very patient with her and her fits of moodiness. He guessed it was ‘baby blues’, the term that Valerie had used to describe the way mothers of new babies often felt.
Val, also, knew that her friend was still far from contented with her lot and she, unlike Walter, was aware of the real reason. She had no choice, however, but to tell Cissie about the holiday that she and Sam were planning.
‘How very nice,’ said Cissie, with a touch of sarcasm. ‘It’s alright for some, isn’t it?’
Val didn’t reply, and Cissie looked at her despairingly. ‘Sorry, Val … I didn’t mean that. I’m really pleased for you, you’ll have a great time … But it was you and me last year, wasn’t it, planning our holiday to Blackpool? What a long time ago it seems, and who would’ve thought all this could happen?’ She gestured towards Paul in his carrycot, the pile of baby clothes waiting to be ironed, and the bottle ready for when he woke up. He was starting to stir now, waving his little arms and making a faint noise like the mewing of a kitten.
‘He’s waking up,’ said Cissie. ‘D’you want to give him his bottle?’
‘Yes, I’d love to,’ said Val. ‘You pick him up, then I’ll take him.’
Cissie lifted the baby out of the cot and placed him on Val’s lap. He was starting to cry in earnest. She put her arms round him and he looked up at her, his cries stopping at once.
‘There you are, you see,’ said Cissie. ‘He knows his aunty Val, doesn’t he?’
‘He’s a bonny little lad,’ said Val, taking the bottle from Cissie and placing the teat in his wide open mouth. ‘I’m sure you’re very proud of him, aren’t you, Cissie? I know that Walter is. You should see him at work. I’ve never known him look so pleased with himself. The other girls have noticed it as well.’
‘Yes, he’s OK, I suppose – Paul, I mean. I know he’s a lovely baby, everybody says so. It’s being stuck here with him, day after day, and night after night, though I must say he’s getting a bit better at night.’ She sighed. ‘It’s bound to get better. It can’t get any worse.’
‘How about me coming to babysit again?’ suggested Val. She had done so once, a couple of weeks ago to give Cissie and Walter a break, and her friend had seemed better afterwards.
‘OK then, thanks,’ said Cissie. ‘It’ll make a change.’
They arranged that Val should come on the Tuesday evening in the following week. It was nearing the end of July and the nights were light until almost ten o’clock.
‘There’s a pub we like near Hebden Bridge,’ said Cissie sounding a little more enthusiastic. ‘If it’s fine you can sit outside in the garden.’
‘And you’ve got your own car now,’ said Val. ‘That must make things a lot easier for you.’
‘Yes, I suppose it does. We don’t have to rely on Walter’s dad any more. Walter says I should learn to drive meself, but it’s not possible at the moment. P’raps one of these days …’
Walter had managed to find enough money to buy the car. It was a Morris Minor, several years old, but Val could tell that Cissie regarded it as a symbol of affluence, and that would be a point in Walter’s favour. By the time she left, her friend was sounding much more cheerful.
When she arrived at their house again the following week Cissie was looking very pretty in a blue dress that matched the colour of her eyes. Her hair was newly washed and she had put on some blue eyeshadow and bright pink lipstick.
‘You look very nice,’ Val told her. ‘I hope you have a lovely time, and don’t worry about Paul. I’ll look after him.’
‘I know you will,’ said Cissie. ‘He’s had his bath and I’ve fed him and put him down, but he’s a bit restless. He’s not crying blue murder like he used to do, but he’s grizzling a bit. I hope he’ll be alright …’
She looked a little anxious, and Val knew tha
t she did care about the little boy despite her seeming indifference at times.
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Walter. ‘Give over worrying. You know he’ll be OK with Val, and we won’t be away all that long. Come on now.’ He rattled his car keys. ‘Let’s get going.’
‘I’ve left a bottle ready in the kitchen in case he’s still restless,’ said Cissie. ‘It might need warming up, just stick it in a pan of hot water for a minute or two.’
Walter smiled. Val had found him much more amenable lately. ‘Stop fussing,’ he said. ‘Val knows what to do. It’s very good of you to come, Valerie. We’ll be back about eleven or so, then I’ll run you home. Bye for now …’
Val settled down in the small living room at the back of the house. It was a terraced house, similar in style to her own home and the one where Cissie’s parents lived. There was a tiny kitchen opening off the back room, and two bedrooms and a small bathroom and toilet upstairs.
They had adequate furniture for their present needs, but Val knew that the front room was still unfurnished, and one of the bedrooms, which was to be Paul’s nursery, still held only a cot. The Parker Knoll chair that she was sitting on – one of a pair – had been a wedding present from one set of parents, and the G-plan dining table and four chairs had been bought by the other two parents. The curtains were a bold contemporary design of black, red and orange rectangles, matching the red fabric of the chairs and the red carpet square.
Val had just started reading her Agatha Christie book, engrossed in the doings of Miss Marple, when she heard the sound of crying. When she went upstairs she found Paul was red in the face and seemed hot all over as well. He had wrestled with his bed clothes which were in a tangled pile all around him. His mop of dark hair was damp and clinging to his scalp. He was crying furiously, the tears running down his chubby little cheeks.
‘Oh deary me! Whatever’s the matter?’ said Val. ‘Come along, let’s have a look at you.’ She felt a surge of affection for the little lad in such distress. She realized, though, that it was a novel experience for her. Maybe it did get wearisome if you had a child who was continually crying.
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