Women of Wakefield
Book Three
Happiness
for
Hazel
By
Pearl A Gardner
Copyright 2018 Pearl A Gardner
The right of Pearl A Gardner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her by the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
eBook edition
ASIN: B07DGKS896
Print edition
ISBN-13: 978-1720902782
ISBN-10: 172090278X
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are purely fictitious or are the product of the author’s imagination.
Some places and settings may be real but have been embellished or expanded to aid the flow of the story.
Historical world events and figures are real, but any resemblance to other actual persons, living or dead,
historical or present day are entirely coincidental.
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More novels in the same genre
(With more information at the end of this book)
Women of Wakefield Series
Evelyn’s Fight
Peace for Gladys
Happiness for Hazel
Hardships for Hazel
Eunice finds Love
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The scent of Bluebells
A Snowdrop’s Promise
Lost in the Memories
Women of Verdun Series
Belle
Belle’s Girls
Nicolette
WW2 Women of Courage Series
Your Name is Jane
Hannah’s Conflict
Ingrid’s Mission
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Table of contents
Chapter 1 – Charmed
Chapter 2 – Family History
Chapter 3 – First Kiss
Chapter 4 – Cautious Flirting
Chapter 5 – Transformation
Chapter 6 – Careful Negotiations
Chapter 7 – Surprising Opportunity
Chapter 8 – Anticipation
Chapter 9 – Warnings
Chapter 10 – Disappointment
Chapter 11 – Passion
Chapter 12 – Guilty Conscience
Chapter 13 – New Friends
Chapter 14 – Cause for Concern
Chapter 15 – Having fun
Chapter 16 – Panic and Fear
Chapter 17 – Decisions
Chapter 18 – Consequences
Chapter 19 – Confessions
Chapter 20 – Unexplained Anger
Chapter 21 – One Secret Revealed
Chapter 22 – Another Secret Revealed
Chapter 23 – A Nervous Meeting
Chapter 24 – Making Plans
Chapter 25 – Wedding Bells
Chapter 26 – Honeymoon
Hardships for Hazel, Chapter 1– New Friends and Old
About the Author
More Published Work
Discover more
Chapter 1 – Charmed
Hazel had been on her feet since sunrise, but the morning rush was about to begin, and she would have no time to take a break until the endless stream of customers were all served. Market days were always the same, but the early spring sunshine had brought more people into town. She didn’t mind. Being busy, meant the day went faster.
When the breakfast dishes had been cleared, the late morning shoppers appeared. They ordered tea and cakes, and whatever else took their fancy. Cynthia Ward’s reputation for her baked goods was what kept the small café in business during the depression. With so many heavy industries laying people off up and down the country, it was a miracle that Wards’ café still thrived, but it did. Hazel was glad of it. She was grateful for the waitressing job.
A tall young man poked his head around the door. “What’s the pie of the day, love?” he called in a rich, deep voice.
Hazel glanced to see who was asking and yelled, “Corned beef and potato,” without needing to confirm with her boss. She’d seen Cynthia making the large tray of pie earlier. “Shut the door, love. Have a mind for my customers. It’s freezing out there.”
“Sorry.” He stepped inside quickly and closed the door. “Do you have a table free?” The tall young man glanced around the busy place, turning his cap in his hands.
“Over there in the corner will be empty soon, but can you give Mrs Turner a minute to get her coat on?” She called to the older woman. “You’ll be going to meet your Pat off the bus in a minute, won’t you, Mrs Turner?”
“Aye, lass. I’ll get out of your way.” The older woman stood and began to put her coat on. “I can see this hungry young fella wants my table.” Mrs Turner giggled at the stranger and struggled to find her coat sleeve.
The young man stepped closer and took the older woman’s coat to help her into it. “There you go, Mrs, Thanks for giving up your table. I wouldn’t have minded waiting a bit.”
“No trouble, love. As young Hazel said, I’m off to meet my Pat. We always do the market together on Thursday afternoons.”
Hazel opened the door for the woman. “See you next week, Mrs Turner.”
“Aye, lass. I expect you will, God willing.” She clutched her coat closer and stepped into the blustering wind. “Ta-rah!”
“Ta-rah, love.” Hazel shut the door on the cold wind and turned her attention back to her waiting customers. “Be with you in a minute,” she called to the newcomer. “I just need to get Mr Whitaker’s bangers and mash from the kitchen.”
Hazel knew all her regulars by name. She’d been working in the café since leaving school at fourteen almost five years ago. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about her regular customers, and new ones always intrigued her. She looked at the table in the corner where the young man had taken a seat. He was watching her, and she quickly averted her eyes.
She smoothed her hands down her crisp white pinafore and hurried to get Mr Whitaker’s dinner.
Cynthia was lifting the tray-baked pie from the steaming oven, her rolled up sleeves exposing strong capable arms. The older woman slid the tray on a counter top and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
“How you doing out there, love?” she asked Hazel.
“It’s getting busy. Two more fish and chips with tea but no bread and butter for table four, and Mr and Mrs Brown have asked for bacon and eggs. I told ‘em we finished serving breakfast half-an-hour since, but I promised I’d ask.”
“I don’t mind making an exception for the Browns.” Cynthia glanced through the serving hatch. “They probably can’t afford the dinner menu. He was laid off last week. I’m surprised to see ‘em in here at all.”
“My dad said the mines around here are still making money and shouldn’t be laying anyone off. Poor Mr Brown!”
“I think he was getting past it, love.” Cynthia spooned mash onto a plate and added some sausages from a frying pan. “Once you can’t pull your weight down them mines, you’re given the bullet, and that’s that.”
“He’s not much older than my dad. What will they do if he can’t get another job?” Hazel felt sorry for the old couple. She k
new they had family. One son was still at home, but wouldn’t earn much yet. The other was married with a wife and child of his own to support.
“Let’s hope they don’t have to resort to the workhouse, eh?” The older woman poured some gravy from a large jug onto the plate. “If they can afford to eat in here they can’t be too badly off. Now, Mr Whitaker is worrying me. He’s nothing but skin and bone these days, poor mite. I gave him an extra banger. He looks as if he could do with some fattening up.”
“I noticed he’s looking a bit off it.” Hazel took the plate of sausage and mash and leant closer to Cynthia. “Did you see the new customer?”
“I heard him. Can’t mistake that one, can I? Sends a shiver down your spine, that voice, doesn’t it?”
“He does have a lovely voice, Cynthia.” Hazel giggled, wondering what her boss meant about a shivery spine.
“I think he’s Bertie Bradshaw’s youngest lad. He works in a colliery over Ossett way. From what I can gather he’s a bit of a rogue.”
Hazel chuckled. “Is there anyone around here you don’t know?”
“Not many, love. It pays to keep in touch when you’re in business.”
“I think he wants the pie, but I’ll check.” Hazel took the recently filled plate to an old man sitting alone by the steamy window. “There you go, love. Cynthia put an extra banger on for you. She thinks you look peaky today and I have to agree. Are you feeling all right, Mr Whitaker?”
“Cheeky young madam!” The old man grabbed his knife and fork. “There’s nowt wrong wi’ me, but I’ll not be refusing her generosity. Tell her I said thank you.”
“I will.” Hazel hurried to the Brown’s table. “Cynthia will do you the bacon and eggs. She’s on with it now, so you won’t have to wait long.”
“Thanks, lass.” Mrs Brown fiddled with the bag on her lap. “We’re not very hungry today, and Mr Brown just fancied some bacon.”
The woman seemed ready to say more, but Hazel quickly got in first. “It’s no trouble, will you excuse me, please.”
She didn’t want to get into a conversation with the elderly pair. She was too busy for chit-chat. Another couple walked in and were looking for a table. She didn’t recognise them and thought it must be a day for newcomers.
She noticed the Walker sisters were gathering their things together and called to the newly arrived couple. “If you can wait five minutes, I can squeeze you in at the back.”
“Right you are, miss.”
She hurried to the young man in the corner and took out her notebook and pencil. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Was it the pie you wanted?”
He lifted his dark eyes to her, and she felt an unexpected buzz of anticipation in her tummy. She hadn’t really looked at him before, but now she could see how handsome he was. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and back but flopped over his forehead in a wave. She felt an irresistible urge to reach out and smooth it back from his face, but she held her pencil firmly.
“What would you have if you were eating your dinner here?” he asked in that rich baritone, his eyes never leaving hers.
He seemed to look right into her mind, and she felt flustered. “I’d err… I have my dinner here every day. The pie really is good. Cynthia works magic with the pastry.” She gave him the answer she’d given hundreds of times to many other customers over the years, but this time her voice held a slight tremble. “Will you want mushy peas with that?”
“Yes, please.” His mouth twitched into a smile. “A pot of tea as well. Do you make it strong here?”
“You can stand your spoon up in it,” she quipped, feeling suddenly carefree and reckless under his disturbingly enticing gaze.
“Then I’ll have a pot of tea as well.”
“Coming right up, Mr Bradshaw.”
As she moved away, he grabbed her wrist, and she was trapped. She glanced at his broad, dark hand wrapped around her slim, white arm and turned a puzzled frown to him. Her skin seemed ultra-sensitive to his touch. She could feel the warmth of him from every ridge of his fingers, and she found it an unnerving experience.
“How do you know my name?” he asked. “We haven’t met before, have we? I’m sure I would remember meeting such a pretty girl as you.”
“Oh, I see.” She breathed a small sigh of relief but blushed at his compliment. “Cynthia, I mean, Mrs Ward knows your family, I think. She wasn’t sure, but she thought you were Bertie Bradshaw’s youngest son.”
“Give the woman a medal. That’s who I am all right.” He released her arm and took her hand to shake it. “I am indeed, Glenn Bradshaw and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She smiled shyly and tugged her hand from his. Not wanting to seem unfriendly, she blurted, “I’m Hazel.”
“I know, the old lady said so when I helped her with her coat.”
“Oh.” Hazel felt her tongue freeze to the roof of her mouth with a bout of nervousness.
“That’s a lovely name for a lovely girl.”
His dark-green eyes held hers for a few seconds more, and she had to tear herself away. “I must get on, excuse me, please.” She turned and hurried away.
His touch gave her sizzling sensations, and she imagined that’s what flashes of lightning might feel like. She could still sense the tingling on her skin where his fingers had grabbed her wrist. What was happening to her, she wondered?
She went to settle the new couple at the table vacated by the Walker sisters. She automatically cleared the plates and gave the table cover a flick with her cloth to remove some crumbs. After taking their order she hurried back to the kitchen trying to remember what they’d asked for. Her encounter with young Mr Bradshaw had unsettled her mind, and her insides were still doing somersaults.
“Mr Bradshaw wants the pie with mushy peas.”
Cynthia cracked eggs into a frying pan and turned to begin plating the next meal.
“Chops, mash and cabbage for table six, I think.”
“You think?” Cynthia laughed. “Aren’t you sure what they ordered?”
“I’ll double-check on my way back.” Hazel couldn’t believe she’d been so careless as not to listen to the order. Her mind was too busy elsewhere.
Hazel reached for the plate piled high with pie and peas. Tucking some cutlery into her pinafore pocket, she carried the plate carefully to Mr Bradshaw’s table. Her hands were shaking as she placed the plate in front of him. “I hope you enjoy the pie.”
“What about my pot of tea?”
His eyebrows danced up and down, and Hazel couldn’t help giggling like a nervous schoolgirl.
“Sorry, I only have one pair of hands. I’ll bring it right out.” She rushed back to table six to confirm their order and then checked on a few more customers on her way back to the kitchen, trying to stay focused on her work.
“I was right. Table six both want the chops.” She poured a strong brew from the tea urn into a large mug and grabbed a small jug of milk from the counter. “I’ll be right back for the fish and chips for table four.”
She hurried back to Mr Bradshaw’s table with his tea. “Sorry for the delay.” She set the mug and jug down on the white tablecloth, but her hands were trembling so much, the tea slopped on the clean cover. “Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!”
She pulled a cloth from her pocket to mop up the spill. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I seem to be all of a dither.”
“No harm done, Hazel.” He touched her hand gently. “You do seem jittery. Are you feeling well?”
“Quite well, thank you!” she answered briskly and then thought she might have sounded rude. “I’m ready for a break, though. I’ve been on my feet since dawn.”
“When do you take your break?” he asked, with the warmth of his eyes melting her insides.
“When the dinner rush is over,” she answered without thinking. “I take a plate of something and sit at one of the empty tables, but if they’re all full, I sometimes sit outside if it isn’t raining. Cynthia takes over f
or ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes! Is that all the break you get?” He put his cutlery down and seemed genuinely concerned. “Even we take thirty minutes in the mine to eat our dinner unless we hit a good seam and then it’s all hands to the shovels.” He laughed, and his warm, throaty chuckle echoed around the small café, making people lift their heads to look at him.
His good humour warmed her heart, and she smiled at him. “I only need ten minutes. Cynthia works just as hard as me, and I don’t like to take advantage.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Do you have a sweetheart?”
The breath caught in her throat. She knew the other customers were staring at her, and she tried to pull her hand from his, but he held it tightly. “Please let me go. I have a job to do.”
“Not until you tell me if you’re available.”
“Available for what?” She tugged again but felt as weak as a kitten against his strength.
“To walk out with me, of course.” The young man also seemed aware of the other customers watching and played to his audience. He raised his deep voice to include the customers in his conversation, “Do you think I might be lucky enough to persuade this pretty lass to walk out with me?”
Gasps and nods of approval rippled around the café. “How romantic!” Hazel heard Mrs Brown say above the general hubbub.
“My dad wouldn’t allow it. I’m not old enough!” Hazel said firmly.
“In that case, I’ll have to wait for you.” He let go her hand, but his eyes held hers magnetically.
“These fish and chips are getting cold, Hazel!” Cynthia called from the kitchen, breaking the spell.
“I have to go.” Hazel reluctantly left his table. She felt her face growing hotter as she made her way through the tables to the kitchen. All the customers were grinning at her. Even grumpy Mr Whitaker was smiling and nodding.
“What on earth is going on out there?” Cynthia asked, placing two plates of food into Hazel’s hands. “I heard a lot of giggling.”
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