Phil and Janice set off mid-morning to drive to Halifax for the wedding of Val and Sam. The mill town in the West Riding was only a short distance from Ilkley. They took the road to Bingley then drove through the outskirts of Bradford, finally dropping down to Halifax at the bottom of the valley.
As it was Saturday and some of the mills worked a five-day week the air was not as polluted as it might have been with the smoke from the factory chimneys. Away from the shopping centre with its busy market and the famous Piece Hall – where local merchants used to gather to display their various cloths – the town consisted of streets of terraced houses rising up from the valley floor.
Phil parked the car in a side street while they had a cup of coffee at Woolies and availed themselves of the amenities to make sure they were neat and tidy, ready for the wedding. Janice combed her hair, renewed her pink lipstick and made sure her pill-box hat was at the right angle before they drove to the church. Val had given clear instructions, and they found the imposing-looking steepled church on an incline just outside the town. The greystone building was soot-grained from the smoke of more than a century, but the small garden area was well-tended and the bright and cheerful noticeboard indicated that it was a thriving and well-attended place of worship.
There was room to park in an adjacent street, then they followed other guests up the path and through the oaken door. They were greeted by an usher in a morning suit, probably one of Sam’s friends, handed an order of service and asked whether they were ‘for the bride or the groom’.
‘The bride,’ whispered Janice, and they followed the young man who led them to a pew a few rows from the front. Janice bowed her head to say a little silent prayer, then glanced at the impressive-looking order of service. An ivory-coloured card with a gold silken tassel and gold writing proclaimed the marriage of Samuel James Walker to Valerie Anne Horrocks, surrounded by a border of flowers and leaves and golden hearts.
Janice didn’t expect to recognise anyone apart from Sam, whom she had met a few times. She guessed that it was him sitting in a front pew with another young man, and when he turned his head to look round she recognised his pleasant, open face. He saw her and gave a smile and a slight wave. The young man beside him must be his elder brother, Jonathan, who was his best man. When he also turned his head she could see the family likeness, but Jonathan’s features were sharper and he did not have the same friendly look as his brother. Or maybe she was just imagining that because of what she had heard of him.
He had been quite scathing about his younger brother’s relationship with one of their office workers. But Jonathan had needed Sam’s support when his fiancée, Thelma, was pregnant and he had to break the unwelcome news to their mother, Beatrice. Since then the brothers had become closer, and Val had been accepted as Sam’s young lady, the girl he was determined to marry.
Janice looked with interest at the couple who were now walking down the aisle. The grey-haired man in a morning suit seemed a pleasant sort of chap, smiling and nodding at the guests as he passed by them. But it was the woman holding his arm – a well-corseted figure in a pale blue chiffon suit with a large, matching feather hat – whom Janice recognised as Beatrice Walker, although she had never seen her before. But it couldn’t be anyone else. She smiled graciously, inclining her head in the manner of the Queen Mother as she made her way to the front pew.
When a demure-looking woman in a simple lilac suit with a small matching hat walked, far more self-consciously, down the aisle a few moments later, Janice made a guess that this was the mother of the bride. Her husband, of course, would be accompanying his daughter. The young man with her – presumably Val’s brother as there was a family resemblance – led her to the front pew then sat down beside her with his wife and small daughter. Janice guessed that Mrs Horrocks was not used to splendid occasions such as this but would make a valiant effort for the sake of her daughter.
There was certainly a good crowd of guests assembled in the church. It was half full of people, all ‘dressed to kill’, as Janice’s mother might have said, and others at the back of the church – probably friends and colleagues from Walker’s mill – who had come to watch the ceremony.
It was a Victorian church with high-backed pews, a stone floor and stained-glass windows through which the sunlight filtered, though not over brightly. Flowers, in shades of yellow, with leaves and ferns, decorated the window ledges and a large display graced the altar.
The organ was playing softly; Janice recognised Bach’s ‘Air on the G String’ then Mozart’s ‘Ave Verum’ before there was a sudden change of mood – an air of expectancy in the building. When the organist played the first bars of the ‘Bridal Chorus’ everyone stood, waiting for their first glimpse of the bride.
Janice realised as she watched Valerie, holding her father’s arm, and the two bridesmaids walk down the aisle that Val must have insisted on a certain amount of simplicity to counteract the showiness expected by some members of the bridegroom’s family.
Val was a beautiful and radiant bride. Her slim-fitting dress of heavy, cream-coloured lace was a simple design with long sleeves, a high neckline and a gently flaring skirt. Her short veil was held in place with a coronet of orange blossom, highlighting her dark hair and a complexion that was more sallow than pink and white.
Cissie, her best friend and bridesmaid, could not be more different in looks, as she was in personality. Cissie was now a little plumper than when Janice had first met her in Blackpool. Her dress, and that of the other bridesmaid, was buttercup yellow, simply styled in heavy silken material. A coronet of artificial yellow flowers sat on top of Cissie’s fair, fluffy hair. She was what might be termed a ‘dizzy blonde’, with a rosy complexion and big blue eyes. She noticed Janice as she passed by and grinned broadly.
The other bridesmaid, who Janice knew was Thelma, Jonathan’s wife, was blonde as well, but her elegantly groomed pageboy style was a sharp contrast to Cissie’s mop of unruly hair. Thelma’s classic features and regal bearing, with her delicate colouring, made one think of a snow princess in a fairy tale.
When they reached the steps leading to the altar Val handed her bouquet of golden and white flowers – a mixture of late spring and early summer blooms – to Thelma. Janice noticed the look of love that passed between Val and her bridegroom. She stole a sideways look at Phil; he was looking at her and smiling, too. She hoped it might not be very long before they also stood at the altar to make their own marriage vows.
A small choir, mostly of boy choristers with a few older men and women, had filed into the choir stalls and led the singing of the hymns. The first one was traditional: ‘Praise my soul the King of Heaven’, chosen by so many couples throughout the last hundred years. The service that followed was simple and meaningful. Sam gave his promises in a clear and confident voice. Val responded in a quieter voice but one that was just as sincere.
The psalm that was included in the service, ‘I will lift up my eyes unto the hills’, was sung by the choir with the congregation following as best they could. A tribute to the hills and valleys of Yorkshire, thought Janice, where both Val and Sam lived, and Phil as well. And she, too, would soon be starting a new life there. The countryside of the Fylde, where Janice lived, was flat and somewhat featureless by contrast, but it had been home to her for twenty years. There would surely be some pulling at the heartstrings when she left, from her father and brother and herself as well.
She collected her rambling thoughts as the vicar spoke the final prayers and the choir and congregation stood to sing another traditional hymn: ‘Now thank we all our God’.
The bridal party adjourned to the vestry and the guests settled back to chat quietly and to half listen to the choir as they sang ‘Sheep may safely graze’ followed by ‘O, for the wings of a dove’.
It was several moments before the organist struck up with the opening bars of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ and the bridal party reappeared. Val and Sam led the way down the aisle, both of them nodding and smiling happily as they passed their friends and family members. They were followed by Thelma and Jonathan. He smiled acknowledgement at everyone but in a more restrained way than his brother. The two were alike, Jonathan maybe a little taller and slimmer than Sam, with features that were sharper and bore a trace of superiority.
Cissie was grinning broadly, clearly enjoying the importance of her role as she held the arm of a pleasant-looking young man. Janice thought she recognised him as one of Sam’s friends who had been with him on the holiday to Blackpool when they had all met.
As was traditional, the bride’s mother, Mrs Horrocks, was paired with the bridegroom’s father. Janice knew he was the boss of the mill and that Val’s father worked there, as Mrs Horrocks had done at one time. She guessed that Val’s mother might still be a little in awe of him, but he looked friendly and cheerful, chatting with her as though to put her at her ease.
Beatrice Walker held the arm of Mr Horrocks. They, in contrast, both looked somewhat ill at ease. He was smiling nervously while she inclined her head with scarcely the glimmer of a smile, paying no attention to the man at her side. Janice pondered that she wouldn’t like to have Mrs Walker as a mother-in-law! What a contrast to Patience Grundy, who already treated her like a beloved daughter.
The guests and onlookers surged through the door then stood around in small groups on the path and the lawn, a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour as the sun shone on the bright summer clothes of the women and girls. They watched as a myriad of photographs was taken of the bridal couple by themselves, then with the bridesmaids, best man and groomsmen, family group shots, then one with all the guests crowded together. Janice stood at the back with Phil at the end of a row. The photographer adjusted his lens, trying to fit everyone in. There must be between sixty or seventy guests, Janice thought at a glance. It was doubtful if they would all be seen, hidden behind large hats and tall men.
Gradually, those who were not invited guests drifted away and the guests went to find their own cars. But not before Sam and Val had been showered with confetti – another photo opportunity – as they entered the bridal car to be driven to the venue for the reception.
This was a large country hotel a few miles outside of Halifax. It stood in its own grounds, with a well-tended lawn and flower beds and a wooded area to each side. When Janice and Phil arrived – having been given clear instructions on how to find the place – more photographs were being taken in a setting that was far prettier than that of the church grounds.
They all trooped into the spacious reception area, their feet sinking into a deep pile carpet with a rich red and gold design, and from there into the bar area adjoining the large dining room. The bar was open and a few folk were already enjoying a pre-luncheon drink. Janice and Phil stood to one side, not knowing anyone and waiting to see what would happen next. Janice paid a quick visit to the ladies’ room, another luxurious room with pink porcelain bowls and washbasins, pink fluffy towels and rose-scented soap.
In a little while the bride and groom appeared with their parents, the six of them standing in a line while the guests filed past them, shaking hands and saying words of congratulation – a formal tradition which meant little to many of the guests who had not met the parents before. Val, standing next to her mother, greeted Janice warmly, hugging her and kissing her cheek.
‘Mum, this is Janice,’ she said. ‘You know, my friend from Blackpool – and this is her friend, Phil.’
‘Oh, how lovely to meet you at last!’ said Mrs Horrocks. ‘I’ve heard such a lot about you. I’m so pleased you could come, and you as well, Phil.’
What a nice, genuine person, thought Janice, recognising another Yorkshire accent that was becoming so familiar to her.
‘See you later. We must have a chat and keep up with what’s happening,’ said Val hurriedly as she turned to the next person in line.
‘Good to see you again, Janice, and you, too, Phil,’ said Sam. ‘We both did well for ourselves in Blackpool, didn’t we?’ he added with a grin. ‘See you both later…’
They all found their seats at the tables, name cards having been placed by each setting. Janice and Phil were seated at a table with three more young couples, their own age or maybe a little older. They discovered as the meal progressed and they began to chat together more freely that the three young women, Susan, Jill and Pauline were friends of Val who worked with her in the office at Walker’s mill. None of the men worked at the mill; one couple was married and the other two were engaged.
Wine flowed freely – there was a choice of red or white – throughout the three-course meal. A starter of prawn cocktail was followed by breast of chicken with bread sauce, stuffing, roast potatoes and a selection of vegetables. The dessert was strawberry pavlovas with both ice cream and whipped cream. They were small works of art and the most delicious that Janice had ever tasted.
They heard various titbits of news from the conversation that went on during the meal. Mr Joshua Walker was a good boss, not that they saw him very much, but he was always friendly and approachable. They didn’t see much of ‘that wife of his’ but rumour had it that she was a real old harridan.
‘I don’t envy Val her mother-in-law!’ said Susan.
‘Nor her brother-in-law,’ added Jill. ‘Samuel’s ever so friendly, just like his father, but Jonathan’s a real stuck-up so-and-so. Mind you, he seems to have changed a bit lately.’
‘Val’s a lovely girl,’ said Pauline, ‘and we all hope she’ll be very happy with Sam. That’s what we call him, now, though we never used to.’
There had been a certain amount of surprise and gossip when it’d been revealed that Val had become friendly with the boss’s son. No one thought it would last.
‘But he obviously thinks the world of her,’ said Susan, ‘and she’s crazy about him. She doesn’t say much but you can tell. She says she’s going to carry on working for a little while, though we know she doesn’t need to.’
‘She’s in charge of the office now,’ added Jill. ‘Not because she was engaged to the boss’s son – it’s because she’s very good at her job.’
‘But we don’t think she’ll stay very long,’ said Pauline. ‘From what she’s hinted we think they’ll want to start a family quite soon. She thinks the world of her godson, Cissie’s little boy.’
The girls were interested to find out that Janice was from Blackpool and was the girl whom Val had met when she was on holiday there.
‘We all went dancing at the Winter Gardens,’ Janice told them. ‘That was when Val met Sam… and I met Phil as well that night.’ She smiled at him. ‘He was in the RAF, stationed near Blackpool. He asked me to dance and we got talking…’
Phil grinned. ‘We’ve never looked back, Janice and me. We’re getting engaged soon – next weekend, when I go over to Blackpool to see Janice’s father.’
‘Mum died last year,’ explained Janice, ‘so we sold the hotel and Dad will be on his own when I leave. Well, there’s my younger brother, but it’ll be rather a wrench for Dad.’
‘We thought you were a Yorkshire lad, same as us,’ said one of the young men to Phil. ‘Are you from round here?’
‘Not far away. I help to run a country inn near Ilkley with my parents. But Janice and I want to start up in a place of our own…’
Conversation came to a halt when the best man stood up and tapped his glass to indicate that he wanted their attention. The waiters were going round filling the glasses with champagne. It was time for the speeches and toasts. There were the customary speeches; the best man thanked the bridesmaids, then Sam replied on their behalf, making the usual remark about ‘my wife and I’, and how they were very pleased to see everyone there to share in their happiness.
The speech from the bride’s father was short and to the point: Mr Horrocks was clearly a little overawed by the occasion. Jonathan wished the newly married couple every happiness as they started their life together, saying that his younger brother was a true friend and a brother in a million, sentiments that some knew he had not always held.
In a slight break from tradition, Joshua Walker made a short speech saying how pleased he was to welcome Valerie into their family and how she had charmed them all with her grace and friendliness. His wife smiled and nodded her agreement. She could do no other but at least some of the guests hoped that she was sincere.
The three-tiered wedding cake was decorated with yellow flowers and a silver vase holding yellow roses stood on the top tier. The cutting of the bottom tier by the bride and groom was a chance for another photograph. The proceedings were then at an end and the guests began to leave their places to circulate and speak with others that they knew.
Val and Sam spoke with their family members first, but it wasn’t long before they came over to Janice and Phil with Cissie – Walter following close behind. Walter had been seated at a table with some of the other employees from the mill. Only a privileged few of the workforce had been invited but all were pleased to hear of Samuel’s marriage to Valerie Horrocks; they were both very popular with the workers. Cissie and Walter’s little son, Paul, had been left in the care of his parents for the day.
The three girls were delighted to meet again. ‘It’s been a lovely wedding,’ said Janice, ‘and you look beautiful. Both of you,’ she added, smiling at Cissie.
‘Oh… for a moment I thought you meant me!’ said Sam.
‘You as well, Sam,’ said Janice, laughing. He was, indeed, a nice-looking young man with pleasing rather than handsome features. His warm brown eyes were almost the same colour as his mid-brown hair. It was his candid, honest face that one noticed and which put folk at their ease.
Walter, Cissie’s husband, was the only one who had not been in Blackpool during that memorable week in the August of 1955. Janice had met him only once before, at his marriage to Cissie. He was dark and thin-featured with a slightly aquiline nose, and he could look quite stern and unapproachable. But it seemed that his marriage to Cissie had brought about a more friendly and easy manner.
Janice had formed the impression, when she had first met Cissie, that the girl’s feelings about Walter were lukewarm. They had been going out together for a couple of years but she had seemed glad to be away from him for a week. Cissie, too, had met someone that week: a lad called Jack; Janice seemed to remember, from somewhere in Yorkshire. But that, apparently, had not come to anything. Janice did not know the full story but the next news was that Cissie and Walter were engaged, then the marriage followed very swiftly.
‘How is your little boy?’ asked Janice. ‘He’s called Paul, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He’s a little treasure, isn’t he, Walter?’ she replied. ‘He’s nearly one year old, and… guess what? We’re expecting another one, aren’t we, Walter?’
‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ said Janice, thinking that they weren’t wasting much time.
‘It’s not for ages yet,’ said Walter. ‘We were supposed to be keeping it to ourselves for a while but Cissie can’t resist telling everyone.’ He was smiling, though, and seemed quite resigned to his wife’s impetuous ways.
‘I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Paul yet,’ said Janice, ‘but I hope it won’t be too long before I do. We have some news as well.’ She looked at Phil, smiling a little coyly. ‘We’re getting engaged… next weekend!’
‘Oh, that’s great news,’ said Cissie, flinging her arms round Janice. Then Val, also, added her congratulations, kissing her cheek and shaking hands with Phil.
‘So I shall be coming to live in Yorkshire,’ added Janice. ‘We want to find somewhere of our own – a restaurant or something of the sort for Phil to run… with my help, of course. Not too far from Ilkley, we hope.’
‘So we’ll all be within spitting distance of one another,’ said Cissie. ‘Isn’t that great, Walter?’
‘Yes, very commendable,’ he replied soberly. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’
‘We’d better move on, Sam,’ said Val, a trifle regretfully. ‘We’ve lots more people to talk to. We mustn’t leave anyone out. And thank you for the lovely wedding present. It was a complete surprise and so very appropriate. It will take pride of place in our lounge, won’t it, Sam?’
‘Indeed it will,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll never forget that week that brought us together, although I feel it would have been bound to happen, one way or another.’ He smiled lovingly at his new wife.
Janice and Phil’s gift was a limited edition print of a typical Blackpool scene: the promenade viewed from North Pier with the outgoing tide and a stretch of sand, the famous tower and the cream and green tramcars.
‘We thought you’d have enough toast racks and towels and tea services,’ said Janice. ‘It will bring back memories for you.’
‘We’re off to another seaside resort in a little while,’ said Sam. ‘We’re going to Scarborough, just for a few days because we want to get our new house ship-shape, don’t we, darling?’
‘Yes, so we do,’ said Val happily. ‘We’ll look forward to seeing you there before too long. Bye for now – we’ll keep in touch…’ The friends hugged again before the bridal pair moved away. Cissie and Walter stayed a while talking to Phil and Janice. Janice was surprised at how domesticated Cissie had become. She had not known her in her home environment but she had gained the impression that she would not be a natural housewife or mother. Her talk, though, was all of little Paul: how he was already walking, had cut several teeth and was trying to talk. Then she went on to talk about their little home and the improvements they were making.
‘Our parents have forgiven us now for having to get married all in a rush,’ she said with a laugh. ‘That was when the baby was born but they don’t know about the next one yet. I never got on all that well with my mam but it’s been better since Paul was born. Dad was always OK, though. You must miss your mam, Janice,’ she went on. ‘She was a smashing lady and I know you got on well with her.’
‘Yes, my memories are happy ones and I’m glad about that. I’m sorry, though, that she won’t see me married or have the pleasure of her grandchildren. She was taken from us too soon. But we have to look to the future, don’t we?’
Cissie didn’t appear to miss the companionship of the girls at work and was only too happy to stay at home. ‘Val and me are still good friends, though,’ she said. ‘She babysits for us now and again. She’s among the posh folk up in Queensbury.’ Janice sensed a faint hint of envy in the last remark and she remembered that Cissie had been quite worried when her friend had got friendly with Samuel Walker, the boss’s son. She had warned her that she was heading for trouble and that it could never work.
‘Sam’s OK, though,’ she said now. ‘I’m glad they’re happy together. I hope it won’t be too long before we’re both pushing our babies out in prams. Not that she is…’ she added hurriedly. ‘I didn’t mean that, but she’s hinted that they’d like to start a family quite soon.’
In a little while Val and Sam reappeared, ready to depart for their honeymoon. Val wore a smart but casual summer dress of bright pink with a white collar and a little white jacket. Sam, too, was casual in grey flannels and a sport’s jacket, just right for a seaside holiday.
Val threw her bouquet to the crowd and it was caught by Susan, one of the engaged girls from Janice and Phil’s table. She blushed prettily as she smiled at her fiancé.
The happy couple departed in another shower of confetti, driving off in Sam’s almost new Ford Anglia car.
‘So that’s that,’ said Phil, putting an arm round Janice. Everything had fallen a little flat after Sam and Val’s departure. ‘Never mind, love. It’ll be our turn next…’