‘A happy new year, darling,’ said Sam. He kissed Val lovingly as she opened her eyes on the first day of January, 1959.
‘Oh, yes, of course… A happy new year,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Let’s hope it’s a better year than the one that’s just gone.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t such a bad one, was it, all in all? There was our little setback, of course. I know how upset you were about the baby. But you got over it, didn’t you? And you’ve settled back nicely at work again.’
‘But I’m hoping I won’t be there for very much longer, no matter how much I enjoy the company of the girls,’ replied Val. ‘Maybe this year will prove to be… fruitful. Do you think it might be, Sam?’
‘I think it might well be,’ he replied warily. ‘Let’s hope so. And we can have a jolly good try, can’t we? What do you say?’ He put his arms around her and she snuggled close to him.
‘I say yes, that’s a very good idea,’ she replied.
The months went by, January, February and into March, and there was no sign of their hopes – particularly Val’s – being fulfilled. She started to feel worried and frustrated again, although she tried to tell herself that she must not get anxious as she had done before. She recalled that it had led to irritability between her and Sam and a certain constraint.
‘I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong,’ she suggested to Sam. ‘Why I seem unable to conceive a child.’
‘But you did,’ Sam reminded her. ‘You were pregnant for more than six months so we know that everything is OK there.’
‘Then maybe I’m just not as fertile as other women,’ she said. Or maybe it was Sam, she thought to herself, but did not give voice to her idea. What was it called? A low sperm count. But she would not dream of saying so and she knew that neither of them would like to go through the procedure of having tests to see if there was anything amiss with either of them.
She had even, tentatively, thought about adoption. Seeing Cissie with her children – one-year-old Holly at an adorable age and Paul who was now almost three, a bright and boisterous little boy – did not help. And looking after them before Christmas had increased her longing to be a mother herself. But Sam was adamant that adoption was not the answer.
‘You don’t really mean it, do you?’ he said. ‘I don’t think the authorities, whoever is in charge, would consider us. We’ve only been married for two years – that’s no time at all, is it? There are couples who have been waiting for much longer, who are unable to have children of their own. I know you’re getting anxious again but we must give it time, darling.’
And then in mid-March something happened to change the situation. A tragedy occurred, one that made the headlines and shocked the townsfolk as they read and heard about it. A young couple, not long married and out for the evening in a car that was not really roadworthy, had been killed in a head-on crash with a lorry on a moorland road near the town. They were the parents of a six-month-old boy who had been left at home in the care of young babysitters.
The grandfather of the girl who was killed – the baby’s mother – was employed at Walker’s mill: a sixty-five-year-old man nearing retirement age. Charlie Pearson had worked there since he had left school at fourteen. He worked in the packing department where Bert Horrocks, Val’s father, was also employed, and the two men had known each other for many years.
‘Aye, it’s a sad business, sure enough,’ Charlie remarked to Bert, ‘and the wife and me, we can’t do owt about the little ’un, not at our age. We never saw much of Shirley, mind you, not since she took up with that good-for-nothing lad. I knew no good ’ud come of it. At least he married her, I’ll say that for him. She was four months gone with little Russell when they got wed. And what sort of a name is that, eh? Russell, I ask you! Sounds more like an apple than a little lad. Bonny little bairn he is, though. Aye, it’s a sad do.’ Charlie’s eyes misted over as he told his story.
The management of the mill had been very sympathetic and understanding towards Charlie, giving him time off to make all the necessary arrangements for the funeral of his granddaughter. It was, as Charlie said, a sad state of affairs. There was a dearth of relatives in his family. Charlie and Alice’s only daughter – Shirley’s mother – had emigrated to Canada two years ago with her husband and their two younger boys. Shirley, aged eighteen at the time, had dug her heels in and refused to go. She had a good job as a shorthand typist and lots of friends in the area, and was old enough to know her own mind. But it had caused a rift between Shirley and her parents. She had not seen them since they left and they had scarcely bothered to keep in touch. They were informed of her death but were unable to come to the funeral.
‘Our Betty never had much time for Shirley, I’m sorry to say,’ Charlie confessed to his workmates. It seemed to do him good to talk about the situation. ‘She’d wanted a lad, she made no secret of that. Then she got two of ’em – twins – and she spoiled ’em rotten. No wonder Shirley felt as though her nose were pushed out.’
Shirley had shared a flat with two more girls when her family left. Then she had met Jeff Sykes who worked at a local brewery.
‘Oh, he was handsome, right enough, and he could talk the hind leg off a donkey. She was taken in by his blarney. I knew no good ’ud come of it. And there’s nowt we can do about the little lad…’
The child was put in the care of the local authority and then placed in a foster home.
‘I just hope he ends up with a nice family,’ said Charlie. ‘Folks who’ll love him like they would their own. And I’d like to think that me and the wife could see him sometimes. But I reckon that’s too much to hope for.’
Bert Horrocks listened to all this and felt sorry for Charlie and his wife and the little orphan child. It was ironic. He knew that Val badly wanted to start a family. She had told her mother that she felt very despondent at times and she had lost her baby – a boy – at six months. And there was this little lad who would be adopted and maybe taken to another part of the country. The couple who were caring for him were only willing to foster children with no thought of adoption.
Val had told her mother about her thoughts on adoption but that Sam did not seem very keen on the idea. Sam, of course, knew the sad story of the car crash and the orphaned child, and so did Val. They had been distressed at hearing about the accident and sorry for Charlie, who was a popular member of the workforce.
Sam was not surprised when Val said to him, timidly at first, that the poor little boy would need a good home and there they were, the two of them, badly wanting a child of their own.
‘Do you think that we could… well… that we could have the baby? Adopt him, I mean. You know we’d been talking about it before all this happened.’
Sam shook his head. ‘You mean you’d been talking and I’d been listening, and I wasn’t sure about it. I’m still not sure. It’s a big step to take someone else’s child. But I guessed what would be in your mind as soon as I heard about it. It would be better, though, to go through the correct channels for adoption, rather than taking a child so close to home.’
‘But just think how pleased Charlie would be,’ Val argued. ‘We’d be in the same town and he’d be able to keep in contact.’
‘And would that be a good idea?’ said Sam. ‘Wouldn’t it confuse the child?’
‘I don’t see why it should. Please think about it, Sam. I really feel it would be a great opportunity for us, as though it was meant to be.’
Sam said he would consider it and soon found himself coming round to Val’s way of thinking. He knew how badly she wanted a child and month after month they were disappointed. This child was six months old, already into a routine of sleeping and feeding, or so he imagined, but still young enough to get used to a new mother… and father, of course.
Having more or less made up his mind, he spoke privately to Charlie to see if the idea would meet with his approval. The tears of pleasure and gratitude that welled up in the man’s eyes were enough to convince Sam that they would be doing the right thing. It seemed that Charlie and Alice, in the absence of their daughter, were being regarded as the next of kin. Jeff Sykes and his parents had long been estranged, and so it was agreed that arrangements should go ahead for a private adoption. Only then did Sam and Val break the news to their respective families.
Bert and Sally Horrocks were pleased and not very surprised. Sally had guessed, with a mother’s intuition, what might be on her daughter’s mind.
Joshua Walker already knew about it. Sam had thought it was only right to tell his father, especially as it concerned one of his employees. But Beatrice Walker, as Sam might have expected, was the one to raise objections and to give voice to her feelings.
‘Adoption? Have you any idea what you might be getting into, taking on someone else’s child? What bad blood there might be in the child’s family? Babies can inherit all kinds of traits, you know, sometimes from way back. I would advise you to think very carefully about it.’
‘We already have done, Mother,’ said Sam, ‘and it’s all going ahead. We’ll be the official parents of the little boy in a few weeks’ time. He’s called Russell James. That’s the name that’s on his birth certificate and we see no reason to change it, do we, darling?’ He turned to Val, who nodded her agreement. ‘Russell James Walker. It has a nice sound to it, don’t you think so?’
‘It’s a name I’ve never heard of,’ said Beatrice. ‘You could just call him James, I suppose, seeing that you’re set on the idea.’
‘Do try to be pleased for us,’ said Val to her mother-in-law. ‘It’s what we both want, and don’t they say that nurture is more important than nature? That the way a child is brought up has more effect on him than anything he might inherit?’
‘Well, I only hope you’re right, dear. I know that you will be a very good mother.’ Beatrice’s early misgivings about Sam marrying an employee had long been set aside. She was fond of Valerie and knew that she and Sam were very happy.
‘And we know that Charlie Pearson is a decent sort of chap,’ said Sam.
‘But what about the baby’s father?’ said Beatrice. ‘He was a ne’er-do-well by all accounts, estranged from his parents and the girl was pregnant…’ She stopped hastily, no doubt realising that the least said about that the better, considering that the same thing had happened much closer to home.
Sam smiled. ‘Whatever his father was like I’m sure our influence will counteract all of that. Anyway, the poor chap’s gone, hasn’t he, and his wife? Their baby deserves a loving home. Please try to be happy for us, Mother.’
‘I only want what is best for you,’ said Beatrice. ‘And the best thing is to have your own child. But I know you’ve been disappointed a time or two, and if it’s what you want I suppose you must go ahead.’ In spite of her words she sniffed disapprovingly. ‘I just hope it all turns out well for you.’
‘It’ll be great, Beatrice, you’ll see,’ said Joshua. ‘A little grandson – how about that? We’ve already got a girl so we’ll have one of each, just to be going on with. I’m sure there’ll be more in a year or two.’
Beatrice made no further comment.
‘So is it all settled?’ asked Joshua. ‘When will you be getting the little lad?’
‘It’s more or less settled,’ answered Sam. ‘Just a few formalities to go through. We hope he’ll be with us around the middle of April.’
‘Well, we’ll look forward to it,’ said Joshua. ‘You’ll be finishing work, then, Valerie?’
‘Of course,’ she replied with a smile. ‘I shall finish next Thursday, when the mill closes for Easter. You don’t mind me not giving a month’s notice, do you?’
Joshua could see that her eyes were bright with happiness. ‘Not at all, lass. And we both wish you every happiness, don’t we, Beatrice?’
His wife gave a half smile and inclined her head in a queenly fashion.
Easter Sunday was on 29 March and the mill would be closed until the following Tuesday.
‘Let’s make the most of our last weekend of freedom,’ said Sam. ‘It’s all going to be very different with a baby in the house. It’ll be great, though,’ he added, just in case Val might think he was having second thoughts. ‘I’m just as happy as you are about it, now I’ve got used to the idea.’
‘That’s good,’ said Val. ‘That’s all I wanted to hear. What about a trip over to Harrogate at the weekend? Easter Saturday, maybe. What do you think? Then we can tell Janice and Phil our good news.’
‘Good idea,’ said Sam. ‘Do you want to stay there on Saturday night in a hotel?’
‘No, not really. We could go early in the morning, have our lunch there and possibly afternoon tea then come back in the evening. We’ve a lot to do, you know, before we collect Russell.’
‘Yes, I do know, darling, and I’m getting quite excited about it now. I shall make a start on decorating the little room when we’ve been to Harrogate. Let’s go and choose the wallpaper and paint on Thursday afternoon. You can finish a bit earlier, seeing as you’re leaving anyway!’
‘Oh, I’ve got your permission, have I? I don’t want to take advantage, you know!’ Val smiled happily, but she knew she would feel a slight sadness at saying goodbye to her friends in the office.
‘Do you ever?’ said Sam with a grin. She had managed to talk him round about the adoption and he hoped that it would work out well for all of them.
They drove into town on Thursday afternoon when Val had said her goodbyes. The girls gave her a cot blanket with a design of teddy bears having a jolly time. She shed a few tears, more in joy than sadness and said she would take little Russell in to see them quite soon.
They chose a yellow and white striped wallpaper, a warm shade rather than the more obvious ‘blue for a boy’ which might look cold in a small room, and the shade called magnolia for the paintwork. Val had never done much decorating but she said she would lend a hand.
‘That’s enough for today,’ said Sam. ‘We can go into Harrogate on Saturday and choose some of the other things we need.’
‘Yes, curtain material, cot sheets, nappies, baby clothes, bottles… goodness knows what else! And a cot, of course, and a pram. Isn’t it exciting?’
‘That reminds me,’ said Sam. ‘My parents said they would buy us a pram. I expect it was my father’s idea but you can be sure that Mother will choose the grandest one that money can buy!’
‘How very kind of them,’ said Val. ‘I do hope your mother will take to Russell. We will call him that, won’t we? Not James, like your mother suggested?’
‘She was just being difficult,’ said Sam. ‘No, Russell is his name and that’s what we’ll call him. I’m sure babies get used to hearing their names at a very early age. We mustn’t confuse the little chap!’
Val phoned Janice to say that they would be coming on Saturday and Janice said she would reserve a table for twelve thirty as they might be busy with it being Eastertime. They set off early and arrived in Harrogate by mid-morning. They found a parking spot then went off to do some shopping before lunch.
‘Curtain material first,’ said Val as they entered a large department store.
‘What sort of design do you want?’ asked Sam. ‘Nursery rhymes… or footballers and racing cars?’
Val laughed. ‘Not those – not just yet. I’m not sure, so long as it’s not little Noddy!’
‘Oh dear! Don’t you like little Noddy and Big Ears?’
‘I’m afraid not. Very trite and silly, I think. Mind you, I loved Enid Blyton when I was younger. The Faraway Tree, then the Famous Five and the Secret Seven. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll find something we like.’
Sam decided that this was Val’s domain and that the choice should be hers. There were several designs to choose from but, as it happened, none featuring little Noddy. Eventually, after much deliberation, she chose a fairly abstract design which Sam liked as well. Fluffy white clouds with a golden sun peeping through, rainbows and tiny birds fluttering above against an azure-blue sky.
‘It will tone nicely with the yellow walls,’ said Val. ‘My mum said she’d make the curtains for me. She’s got a sewing machine and I haven’t. Sewing’s never been my strong point but I shall have to make more of an effort now we’re starting our family.’ She always felt a glow of satisfaction when she made a remark such as that.
Then they bought some sheets and soft blue blankets which could be used for both the cot and the pram.
‘Don’t forget that you’ll get presents as well,’ Sam told her. ‘People like to buy things for a new baby.’
‘Do you think so? Our baby won’t be all that new but maybe you’re right. We can’t take gifts for granted, though, can we? Anyway, it’s fun choosing things ourselves.’
‘I think we’ve done quite enough for now,’ said Sam. ‘Let’s get off to Janice and Phil’s place.’
Their friends were both busy – Phil in the kitchen and Janice hovering near the cash desk. She was delighted to see them and led them to a table set for two by the window. They were surprised and pleased when Janice’s brother, Ian, handed them the menu.
‘How nice to see you again,’ said Val. ‘Helping out during your holiday, are you?’
‘Yes, I’ll be staying all next week. We’re very busy at the moment,’ he said with a proprietorial air.
Val did not make a fatuous remark about how grown up he was now. But she noticed how the lad had matured. He was a good-looking boy with glossy brown hair and warm brown eyes, and was much taller than she remembered him. She had heard from Janice that he had a girlfriend here, and she guessed it must be the pretty dark-haired girl who was also waiting at the tables.
They chose one of the more substantial snack meals: sausages with chips, tomato and mushrooms. Plain fare but well-cooked – plump sizzling sausages and chunky golden chips.
‘Come upstairs to our own room,’ said Janice when they had finished their meal. ‘Then we can have a chat. We don’t open till mid-afternoon for the teas so I have some time to relax – I’ll make sure of that – and Phil will be with us in a little while.’
By the time Janice had made the post-luncheon tea, Phil had arrived.
‘Good to see you both,’ he said. ‘Are you here for the weekend or is it just a flying visit?’
‘Just today,’ said Val. ‘We came to do some shopping and to see you, of course. Actually, we’ve got some news, haven’t we, Sam?’
She smiled at him rather coyly and he nodded and smiled back so intimately that Janice guessed what it might be… again. She hoped all would go well for Val this time.
‘Do you mean… you’re pregnant?’ she asked.
‘Well, not exactly,’ replied Val. ‘We’re going to have a baby. We’re adopting a little boy – he’s seven months old.’
‘Oh! That’s wonderful news.’ Janice, in truth, was astounded. ‘What a surprise! How did it happen? I mean, what made you decide…?’
Between them, Val and Sam told them the full story. ‘So he will be officially ours in a couple of weeks,’ said Sam. ‘Russell James Walker, that’s his name.’
Janice and Phil exchanged glances then burst out laughing. ‘We’d better tell them our news, hadn’t we?’ said Phil.
Val guessed at once. ‘You mean… you as well? You’re going to have—?’
‘Yes,’ Janice interrupted. She took hold of Phil’s hand. ‘We’re starting a family as well, aren’t we, Phil?’
‘We certainly are,’ he replied. ‘It was rather a surprise, mind you – rather sooner than we anticipated.’
‘Yes, we don’t really know how it happened,’ said Janice naively.
‘In the usual way, I should imagine,’ said Sam, winking at Phil.
‘Well, yes…’ said Janice, blushing slightly. ‘But it shouldn’t have happened – you know what I mean. It wasn’t planned.’
‘But we’re very pleased about it,’ said Phil. ‘These things happen sometimes and we’re very glad it did.’
‘So when are you due?’ asked Val.
‘Mid-September,’ said Janice. ‘It was Christmas, you see…’
‘Yes, we see!’ Sam laughed. ‘Our little lad will be one in September and you’ll be just starting out.’
‘Yes, isn’t it exciting?’ said Janice. ‘This calls for a celebration drink. Get the sherry, Phil, and we’ll have a little toast. I know I have to be careful now but a little glass won’t do any harm.’
They toasted each other and their future children with Harvey’s Bristol Cream.
‘So how is Cissie?’ asked Janice. ‘She’ll be pleased to hear your news, won’t she?’
‘Yes, so she was,’ replied Val. ‘She’s been saying for ages that she wanted us to push our prams out together. She’ll be pleased to hear your news as well. She said it made her feel broody again when she heard about Russell, but Walter is adamant that two is their lot, for now at least.’
‘And is everything OK now? She’s recovered from her injuries and all is well with her and Walter?’ Val had told Janice about all the troubles, not in a nasty way but because Janice, over the years since they had met, had become a close friend.
‘Yes, all seems to be fine and dandy again,’ said Val. ‘Maybe we could all meet when we’ve got little Russell with us. What about you, Janice? You’ll be able to carry on working for a while, won’t you?’
‘Yes, almost till the end, I hope. That’s the beauty of working for ourselves and living on the premises. And our staff are very good. We’ll see how it works out once the baby is born.’
Val and Sam went back to Harrogate to do some more shopping. Little vests and pants, trousers and jackets to fit a six- to twelve-month-old baby boy.
‘Don’t buy too many,’ said Sam, trying to curb Val’s delight at all the brightly coloured little clothes. ‘He’ll grow out of them in no time and he’s sure to get some as presents.’
‘But it’s all so wonderful,’ said Val. ‘I can’t wait to have him to ourselves.’
They went back to Grundy’s for afternoon tea before driving back to Halifax in the early evening, with promises that they would all meet again before long.
Russell James was a beautiful baby. Val knew that all babies must appear so to their parents but he really was – everyone said so – and she was so proud to be his mother.
He had put on a few pounds since they had last seen him. He was a sturdy boy, not fat, but with rounded limbs and a bonny face, brown eyes and mid-brown hair – quite a lot of it – with just a hint of auburn. They learnt from Charlie that Shirley, the child’s mother, had had ginger hair and brown eyes as well.
‘He might get called Rusty when he’s older,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t you think so?’
‘He may well do,’ said Val. ‘I shall always call him Russell, though. See, he turns his head already when he hears his name!’
Val could not help but be aware that she had missed out on the very early stages of babyhood. He had been bottle fed for quite a while now and it was good that his feeding times were established. He did not wake much in the night, and Val insisted that she should be the one to see to him as Sam was the one going out to work. She soon got into the routine of nappy changing and bath times, and the district nurse visited now and again to make sure that all was well.
He was a happy baby and very soon recognised them when they came near, smiling and gurgling and reaching out his chubby hands.
Both sets of grandparents were delighted with him. Even Beatrice held him, somewhat cagily, and admitted she thought he was a fine-looking boy. And Val and Sam took him to see his great grandparents, Charlie and Alice Pearson, who were thankful that everything had turned out so well and they were not losing the child of their beloved granddaughter.
‘What do you think Russell should call Charlie and Alice when he gets older?’ said Val. ‘They’re his real grandparents, well, great ones, so he’ll have three lots.’
‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Sam advised her. ‘There’s plenty of time to think about it.’
They had not made up their minds whether to tell Russell, when he was old enough to understand, that he had been adopted and was a specially chosen little boy… or not say anything. Neither of them were sure what would be the best thing to do.
The next event would be the christening. Val and Sam agreed that they wanted a simple service with just the godparents and close relatives present.
Beatrice remarked to Joshua that this was by far the best arrangement. ‘After all, it isn’t as if he’s their own child. It would be different if she’d actually given birth to him.’
‘Don’t you let Sam and Valerie hear you say anything like that,’ he chastised her. ‘That little lad is legally theirs. He’s got our name. He’s a Walker and we’re going to welcome him into our family.’
Beatrice sniffed. ‘Very well, Joshua. If you say so.’
‘I must have Cissie as Russell’s godmother,’ Val said to Sam. ‘I’m godmother to both her children. She would be hurt, I’m sure, if I didn’t ask her.’
‘Of course you must,’ agreed Sam. ‘Who else could there be? I know Thelma won’t mind. I shall ask Jonathan to be a godfather. The ruling is two godfathers and one godmother for a boy, isn’t it? Although I don’t suppose it matters too much. The royal family have umpteen, don’t they? Jonathan… and Walter. I thought we could ask him as we’re having Cissie and they’re very much a loving couple again, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, I’m sure they are. They’ve both learnt something with all the trouble they’ve had. Though I can’t see Cissie ever being meek and mild!’
It was a private baptism in the local church on a Sunday afternoon in late May. The two sets of grandparents were there, as well as Charlie and Alice, Cissie and Walter, Jonathan and Thelma and their children, who behaved well as if overawed by the proceedings.
Cissie proudly held the baby, wrapped in the fine crochet work shawl that Val’s mother had made. Baby Russell did not cry, just smiled at Cissie and at the vicar as though he knew what was going on.
Val had prepared a simple tea and they all went back to their home to drink a toast to the health and happiness of Russell and his parents and to have a slice of the christening cake, again made by Val’s mother.
Val had been a teeny bit anxious about having Beatrice and Cissie in such close proximity. The two had only met briefly at Val and Sam’s wedding but this was a much more intimate gathering. Beatrice, however, said very little and Cissie was happily engrossed with all the children. The afternoon passed without any discord, most of the guests chatting together happily.