Phil clenched his teeth. He would have strong words with Maurice over this. And the surprise he and Johnny had arranged would start as soon as the food was cleared whether Maurice was there or not!
‘Thoughtless, inconsiderate sod,’ he said aloud.
Bert Roberts’s head bobbed up prepared to argue. ‘Who, me? What d’you mean?’
‘Why, what you been up to then?’ Nelly asked.
Speculation on what guilty secret had made Bert think himself accused kept everyone entertained until Sidney took out his mandolin and the singing started again. Then, when Johnny gave him a signal, he strummed loudly to gain silence. Fay smiled at Johnny and raised an eyebrow in question but he shook his head, refusing to tell her what was about to happen.
‘Our visitor has arrived and Phil will go and welcome her,’ Johnny announced. Then Phil caused an uproar by pulling the chain on the gas light and putting it out completely. But Ethel had been forwarned and carried a small oil-lamp in from the kitchen where it had been lit in readiness. In its ghostly light they saw that the empty stool behind the draped table was now occupied.
A gypsy woman sat there dressed in flowing garments which smelt of mildew and damp. Her long hair almost covered the lean, long-nosed face, and when she spoke she had a high-pitched, wheezing voice.
‘Like she sat on somethin’ ’ot!’ Nelly said to Oliver.
‘I want you to pass this crystal ball among you and make sure everyone touches it,’ the woman said, handing a glass ball to Billie who was nearest.
Ethel watched as each person touched the glass ball and wondered what a psychiatrist would make of them all. Some held it lovingly, wrapping both hands around its cool surface, while others hurriedly passed it on, perhaps afraid to leave an impression on it and give away a secret. Bert refused to handle it at all, and in the indistinct lighting, Ethel was almost certain that Fay had her fingers crossed.
The ball was returned to the gypsy and as she was about to speak, Johnny whispered something to her, and gestured towards the front door. The gypsy stood and with a theatrical waving of arms, said, ‘I heard someone approaching, someone who will want to borrow a cup of sugar.’ They all looked at the door expectantly. There was a knock, Johnny opened the door and Milly Toogood was there. Inevitably, behind her was Sybil Tremain.
‘Come to borrow a cup of sugar?’ Nelly shouted.
‘No, a cup of flour.’ Milly stepped back from the gale of laughter and applause but was dragged inside by Johnny.
There was a re-shuffle to find room for the newcomers and this time Billie Brown was quick to sit beside Amy. He sat on the edge of his seat to protect her from the crush. Many of those who were lucky enough to have found a chair were regretting it, being sat on, leaned against and stifled under the press of people as the gypsy began again.
The room was quiet as the woman studied the glass ball intently, and some of her audience began to squirm uneasily, not knowing what to expect. But the mood was spoilt again when Delina and Maurice finally arrived. They were immediately hushed and stood in the doorway of the kitchen while the gypsy began to speak.
‘I see we have present a man who has just got a ring put through his nose.’ Everyone laughed and pointed at Maurice.
‘Somebody here is continually flouting authority,’ the gypsy continued, and in a pause, everyone looked at his neighbour for a clue. ‘This person defies someone wearing a uniform and representing the law. I see baskets of potatoes and carrots and even the occasional onion!’
The gypsy went on to tease most of the people present. Nelly was referred to as the football wife, with her husband sometimes home, sometimes away.
Nelly watched the gypsy for a hint of her real identity and when she rubbed the side of her nose with a gloved hand she stood up and laughed, pointing a finger, she called out ‘Phil Davies, you silly old fool!’
* * *
The crowd began to quieten down, splitting up into small groups, subdued by the food and drink and the heat of the overcrowded room. Fay struggled to reach Delina.
‘When are you and Maurice getting married?’ she asked.
‘Early in April, we think,’ Delina told her.
‘And we’re going to have a horse and carriage, what d’you think of that, Fay?’ Maurice shouted from where he was cuffing Phil and helping to dispose of the smelly clothes. ‘And a real splash do at the hotel in town.’
‘Splash do!’ Delina laughed. ‘A reception at the Royal Hotel!’
‘Bridesmaids?’ Fay coaxed.
‘There will be six, three from my family and three from Maurice’s we hope. I won’t tell you what colour though.’
‘You haven’t known him long,’ Fay said. ‘Are you sure you can put up with him?’ She joked, but there was a serious question behind the smile.
‘Oh yes. We both knew straight away.’
‘You’re different from how I imagined Maurice’s wife would be. Your education for a start,’ Fay insisted.
‘We’ll both change and grow together, I’m sure of it.’
‘Change Maurice you mean?’
‘Don’t we all choose a husband and then set about trying to change him?’ Ethel Davies laughed. But Delina shook her head firmly.
‘There’s nothing I’ve learnt about Maurice that I would want to change.’
‘For Gawd’s sake lock her up ’til April, Maurice, so she don’t find out what you’re really like!’ Nelly shouted.
Talk of the forthcoming wedding evoked memories of weddings past and the mood became maudlin, the occasional singing sentimental. Nelly tried to sing ‘By a Babbling Brook’ again and Billie shut her up with a glass of beer once more. More and more outrageous jokes were aimed at the engaged couple, and Maurice sang his own version of ‘Men of Harlech’, which began: ‘Men of Vigour grow much bigger…’
‘Are you sure you can cope with this?’ Fay asked Delina, who had blushed at the sauciness of the words.
‘There’s more than one way to live, it’s a mistake to expect everyone to behave the way you’re used to behaving.’
Amy listened to the hum of a dozen conversations around her and in the crowded room felt lonely. It was not that she lacked attention. Billie Brown seemed to spend all his evening making her comfortable and seeing that she needed nothing.
‘I’ll walk down home with you when you go, keep an eye,’ he said now, as she began to stir.
‘There’s no need, Billie, I’m used to looking after myself. Go you with Mary, you can’t let her walk home alone while you come with me!’
‘We’ve got the tractor, outside,’ he said and that caused a laugh.
‘That’s no vehicle for courtin’, Billie,’ Johnny said.
‘Who’s courting?’ Amy snapped. She hated it when people teased her about finding herself a man. It was a relief when the door opened and Vic Honeyman pushed his way in. Constable Harris went outside to the tp bach, the little house, at the bottom of the garden, and Vic slipped into his place beside Amy.
‘I came to see if Maurice was sober enough to walk Delina home,’ he explained. ‘I can’t have her wandering about at this time of night on her own.’
‘I’m not drunk, just a bit silly,’ Maurice called, having heard his words.
‘Then I can walk you and Margaret back,’ Vic said.
‘It’s all right, I just offered,’ Billie said and Amy was amused at all the attention she was getting.
Sidney brought out his mandolin again and, to everyone’s surprise, George sang ‘Bless This House’ in a wonderful bass voice. Nelly was overcome by the beauty of it.
‘What a voice,’ she gasped at Amy. ‘It’s like milky cocoa on a cold winter’s night.’
As a few people began to leave, the men settled to play cards. The crib board was brought out along with ha’ pennies and pennies. The women made tea and began to tackle the chaos in the back kitchen. At four, the house was finally quiet and Nelly and George, who were among the last to leave, wandered home through the lane,
stopping to go into the wood for a few last private moments, and singing all the way.
They opened the door and the dogs rushed out into the garden. Without bothering to close it again, Nelly climbed the stairs to bed and George sprawled happily on the couch.
Amy and Margaret and Oliver walked home accompanied part of the way by Billie and Mary on their tractor. Vic waved them goodbye thankfully at the end of Gypsy Lane and took Amy’s arm for the rest of the way. They too sang all the way, but Amy didn’t invite Vic into the house. Still singing, he wandered slowly back through the village and up the lane to the council estate. Passing Delina and Maurice in the porch, he called goodnight and went to bed.
* * *
The new year of 1954 began with everyone in a contented state. George was working regularly for Mr Leighton and apparently enjoying it. Oliver seemed much more relaxed and able to talk more easily with Evie.
The shock of his running away had only made a slight difference in her attitude towards him. She still felt a deep disappointment that he was not a brilliant student, but she did try harder not to let her regrets show. She spent more time with him and coaxed him to read without sending him to his room to struggle alone. She would never have admitted it to Nelly, but she had begun to allow him to choose simpler books to build his confidence. She praised him more, holding back the criticisms which still came too readily to her lips.
Amy was growing used to being without Freddy, who had written to tell her he would soon be home for a week’s leave. Billie called occasionally to see if she needed a strong arm, and Vic sometimes called with one of his sons as chaperone. Margaret had passed her first music exam and was already progressing towards the next. She seemed to call in to see Mrs French more often and Amy guessed the friendship was good for both of them and didn’t mind. The shop, although quieter than before Christmas, was doing well and with the extra income from renting the flat, Amy was well content.
Nelly worked three mornings each week, plus a few hours for Amy in the new house. The promised work in the Powells’ flat had not materialised. She had called a few times but had been told that the place was being decorated and would she call again, later, when things were straight? The money was not as urgent now that George was earning, but she still wanted the extra cash. She wanted to buy George a new bed.
‘Is that Mrs Powell in?’ she asked Amy one morning.
‘I think so. I heard someone moving about, but I don’t think it was Mrs Powell. Go and knock on the front door.’
Nelly ignored the suggestion. It was blowing a gale and cold enough to make your head feel as if it were splitting. Instead she went up the stairs inside the shop which Amy had once used to get to the flat above and raised her hand to knock on the door before shouting to see if there was anyone in. But a strange noise stopped her. She pressed her ear to the crack and listened, then crept back downstairs to Amy.
‘Come ’ere an’ listen to this. What d’you think it is?’
Amy listened then said, ‘Someone being sick by the sound of it. Perhaps Mavis is off work and ill. D’you think I should go up and see if she wants a doctor?’
‘No, I expect she went out on the razzle last night an’ is sufferin’ because of it,’ Nelly whispered back.
Amy smiled. ‘Don’t judge everyone by yourself, Nelly Luke!’
They crept back down.
A while later, Amy heard footsteps on the stairs and saw Sheila go out. The girl wore a lot of makeup as usual, but Amy thought she looked pale. She wondered if she should offer some help but Sheila walked across to the bus stop and a customer came in and the incident was forgotten.
When Margaret came home from school, Amy asked her to go and see her Auntie Prue. ‘She hasn’t sent me an order this week, and there’s no reply when I ’phone. Perhaps the ’phone is out of order. Go and see, will you love?’
When Margaret returned she looked puzzled.
‘I knocked at the back door and at the front, Mam, but she didn’t answer and I know she was in. I saw the curtains move.’
Amy, taking Margaret with her, went to see Prue as soon as she could close the shop. She shouted through the letterbox that she would not go away until the door was opened.
‘Prue? Answer this door at once!’ She banged loudly, knowing how Prue hated to attract attention or cause a scene. ‘Answer this door!’ She continued banging for several minutes. ‘I’ll get the police, mind,’ she warned. Her determination was rewarded at last by a pale and ill-looking Prue opening the door.
‘For goodness’ sake, Amy, be quiet. You’ll have everyone gawping at me!’
‘So what? Now, what’s the matter with you, locking yourself in and not bothering to answer the ’phone? Worried sick I was, thinking you were ill. Are you ill? You don’t look too good.’ Amy was shocked by her sister’s appearance but pretended not to have noticed the unkempt hair and the untidy clothes.
‘I’m all right. A bit depressed, that’s all. I haven’t felt like going out.’
‘You look as if you haven’t been eating either!’ Amy turned to Margaret. ‘Will you fetch me some fish and chips, love? Sorry to ask you, but I think it’s best if I stay with Auntie Prue. All right?’
‘All right,’ Margaret sighed, ‘if I must.’
Amy saw her daughter to the door and handed her some money. ‘I think she’s ill, love, and I might have to send for the doctor.’
‘You needn’t get any for me, I’m not hungry,’ Prue called, following them into the hall.
Amy stood over Prue while she ate the meal and then went upstairs to collect a few clothes. ‘You’re coming back with us, for tonight at least. No arguing. Either that or I’ll call an ambulance now this minute, and send you to hospital.’
Unusually submissive, Prue agreed.
She was packed into bed with hot water bottles and a couple of aspirin. Within minutes she was asleep. Amy was still undecided whether to ring for the doctor, but eventually judged it best to wait until morning.
‘Thanks for your help, love,’ she smiled at Margaret.
‘D’you think, if I kept my foot on the soft pedal, I could practice for a while?’
‘Of course. I doubt if Auntie Prue would wake even if you played as loudly as you can. I don’t think she’s been to bed for ages.’
At Prue’s house there had been blankets thrown on the couch in the normally orderly lounge, and upstairs the bed was freshly made up, but there was no sign of bed linen in the washing basket.
Prue stayed for three days, but when she heard that Freddy was coming home she insisted on leaving.
‘It’s nothing to do with not wanting to see Freddy,’ she explained, ‘but there are things I have to check on in the business. Maurice is doing well, but he isn’t experienced enough yet for me to leave him for days on end.’ Her voice was sharp and Amy thought her health much improved. Her previous weariness and tractability had been worrying.
‘All right, you can go home, but only if you promise to get someone to call in every morning to see if you’re all right. Mrs French will call, I’m sure. I’ll come every day after the shop closes. And, you must promise always to answer the ’phone.’
‘All right! All this fuss!’
‘Auntie Prue is near to being her normal self again,’ Amy said to Margaret a little later, ‘but she does need watching. Depression can be very dangerous.’
‘What’s depression, Mam?’
‘Not caring what happens to you and thinking you aren’t important,’ Amy replied. Saying the words aloud seemed to increase her anxiety about Prue. She wondered if things would be better or worse once the baby arrived. She thought she would close early one day and take her shopping for baby clothes. Perhaps that would cheer her up.
* * *
Through the coldest, wettest weeks of the new year, Delina and Maurice walked, talked, and delighted in everything they discovered about each other. New flowers shot up among the bedraggled grasses and rotting leaves and seemed a symbol of the new life
beginning for them: celandines and snowdrops and the spears of wild daffodils, and later, carpets of white and blue violets delighted their eyes in the wood above Nelly’s cottage.
They watched redwings finishing off the last of the berries and fieldfare in flocks on the ploughed fields. Finches worked in pairs in preparation for breeding and hunted for nest sites as leaves opened to give them privacy. Everything was so beautiful, Maurice could not believe it had all been there unnoticed all his life and it had needed Delina to show it to him.
They spent their evenings either with the Honeymans or with Ethel, but gradually they began to stay more often in Ethel’s small cottage, where every evening developed into a party, with half the village finding an excuse to call. Ethel’s open house was strange at first to Delina but, as she had opened his eyes to the countryside about him, so he had shown her the fun of being involved in a lively, happy neighbourhood.
Ethel had wondered at first about the expense of the large wedding Mrs Honeyman was planning for the young couple, but it gradually became obvious that Mrs Honeyman had come from a rich family and had married beneath her when she married Victor.
‘She keeps it all from Victor,’ Maurice had confided one day. ‘Now the wedding is a chance to show everyone what she’s made of. She put all her money aside for the children, apparently. They’re all very clever. The boys will go to university, like the mother did. Yes, they’re clever. Dull, mind,’ he added with a frown, ‘all except Delina and Vic, but clever.’ He sounded as if he was not sure being clever was a good thing.
‘So all the arrangements are going well?’ Ethel said one evening when Delina had brought the inevitable lists out of her handbag.
‘The only problem is where we’re going to live,’ Delina said. ‘I’ve made enquiries at school and looked in all the papers but the only thing I’ve found is a couple of rooms in a house not far from Mam and Dad. It’s not ideal, but it will do for a start.’
Valley Affairs Page 22