‘This time in three days it’ll be party time, we’ll be thinking of putting on some slap the minute we get home, then roaring up to Massingham Hall. The co-op will already be sorting the food, and Stevie from the Rising Sun will be supplementing Reginald’s wine from the cellar—’
Susan interrupted Beth, shouting from two seats in front as Bert roared along, ‘Wonder how Reginald’s plonk will stand up against Stevie’s elderberry. Reginald’s is French and I reckon it’ll be running for the hills, waving a white flag, the minute it sees the sharp end of the corkscrew.’
The whole bus erupted with laughter just as Bert drew up at the Massingham stop, and the three girls gathered up their knitting from the back seat. They had let it drift once the backs and sleeves were finished, but they’d made a start on the fronts today because last night they had wiped down every piece of the ballroom chandeliers and watched them being hoisted up to the ceiling and screwed in tightly.
Fran muttered, ‘Once these cardigans are in the nursery drawer, Mam has patterns for the robin, the manger and the shepherds for the Christmas tree.’
They sighed.
‘Last one off’s a cissy,’ bawled Bert.
‘I don’t mind being a cissy now you’ve made us happy girls, Bert,’ Fran yelled back.
‘Aye, well, you might be, but I don’t reckon I am. I just lost me mind for a moment, saying I’d be the front of the ruddy cow. And you listen to me, our Tilly Oborne. I’ll not have you pinching me bum while you’re tucked away in the cow’s arse. Tempting it’ll be, but behave yourself, you hear.’
Mrs Oborne clambered down the steps, grumbling, ‘I don’t know why I said yes, I really don’t.’
Beth tucked her arm through Tilly’s and waltzed her down the street to the sound of Bert’s toot toot, tooty toot. ‘It’s because you felt like being a star, Mrs Oborne.’
From the other side of Beth, Fran crowed, ‘Oh yes you did. And you will be, for at the end you’ll reveal yourself with a flourish and bring down the house.’
Tilly’s answer was indistinct, but they all knew the sort of thing she was saying as she peeled off down her back lane. She was clearer when she called, ‘Viola’s party arrangements are more or less in place? I have brown and red wool for the Christmas-tree robin decorations when we think of the pantomime evening.’
‘Oh aye,’ replied Sarah. ‘I thought someone would say they had. But on to other things: the food is sorted for Viola’s party, and Ralph says the drinks are. Seems the babe is on course for delivery soon too, as Sophia’s getting more and more uncomfortable, but the co-op have told her it can’t be born till Sunday at the earliest. But if she gets cracking after dancing the Highland fling, the Hall is big enough for a whole load of midwives to descend and not disturb the party.’
‘But it’s going to be a big ’un,’ Maisie called before heading towards her mam’s corner shop. ‘Fair bit of pushing and shoving’ll be needed, so we best make sure she’s on her back more than her feet at the party, and get her straight back to resting once it’s over.’
She stood for a moment. ‘I have to start cutting out the urchins’ costumes for the sewing workshop. Bolton and Swinton are happy for the ladies to use their breaks, and the new workshop supervisor, Cathy, is equally happy to check ’em. Mark you,’ Maisie turned to shout this, ‘Amelia started sounding off because she hadn’t been offered the part of the girl on the swing, saying that sewing shouldn’t be diverted from the war effort. They took no notice because Briddlestone’s had sent the sewing thread, zips and some camouflage so it was costing the factory nothing.
The girls carried on and Fran was eager to get home and see Lisa, who grew bonnier by the day.
‘I reckon Bolton is keeping a beady eye on Amelia,’ Sarah said, ‘so that he can have a cast-iron reason for forcing that Plomer buffoon to back down and take her away. The talk is she does little work in administration, just crosses her legs and pulls up her skirt while she takes shorthand in the boss’s office. But Mr Andrews takes no notice, being in cahoots with Bolton to get grounds to shift her out.’
‘Mam’s making the fairy costume, or cutting it out to be sewn by the workshop,’ puffed Beth, catching them up after easing a stone from her boot. ‘By, you’d never think it was a short panto. Imagine the work if it were a proper one.’
The other two nodded. ‘I don’t know how to stop me head from spinning,’ muttered Sarah. ‘What with the party and the panto, and the Christmas presents we have to find for under the tree. Oh Lord, I almost forgot. I have to pick up the cut-outs of Reginald’s bossy washerwoman from your mam, so I’ll walk with you.’
Beth linked arms with her. ‘I’m taking some of the other characters to me mam an’ all, to share amongst the Massingham women.’
They turned down the back lane, with Fran thinking of the co-op’s rugs for Briddlestone’s, which were now finished, as were the ones made by the bairns, which would give them some Christmas shopping money.
As they neared the rear of number 14, Fran had moved on and was telling the girls that she and her mam would have to devise a playpen as soon as possible to contain Lisa, or there’d be little done from dawn to dusk. ‘Mam wishes she’d kept the one Da bought for little Betty from the second-hand shop in Newcastle, but at the time she didn’t want to be remind—’
A shriek tore through the lane, and then a call. ‘No, no.’ It was Annie Hall.
‘Mam? Mam.’ They rushed down the lane just as Annie burst through the back gate with Lisa in her arms, pulling the blanket over the babe’s head as she tore towards them – but no, she passed them. The girls followed, catching up, Fran shouting, ‘What, Mam? What?’
Annie focused, tears streaming down her face. ‘I picked her up, having walked her round the block. She jerked, almost fell from me arms. She – she caught her head on the cart. I should have thought, I should …’
Fran pulled the blanket down. There was a bluish bruise already appearing near her temple, but apart from grizzling, Lisa seemed fine. Sarah and Beth also examined Lisa, who merely smiled and reached for them.
‘Oh, she’s as tough as the rest of us,’ Beth grinned. ‘She’ll have a right shiner, though.’
Annie Hall stepped back, still carrying the child. ‘Never mind that, I have to get her checked by Dr Dunster.’ She pushed on, rushing towards Main Street. ‘There now, bitty lass. There now. Let’s make sure, eh? Can’t have nowt happening to you – what would your mam say, eh?’
Sarah pulled at Fran. ‘Come on, she’s in a fret because Lisa isn’t hers. Let’s go with her, bless her.’ With Beth alongside, they caught up at Main Street and made Annie slow to a walk, telling her of their progress with the knitting as they passed a black canvas-sided truck with someone working under the bonnet. Instead of rollicking them about the fact they hadn’t even finished one of the fronts, Annie only said, repeatedly, almost wailing, ‘I feel so guilty. Oh, how could I do it? Look, she’s gone quiet.’
Fran just smiled. ‘Oh Mam, she’s asleep. Look.’ She touched Lisa’s hand. The babe moved, sighed, opened, then closed her eyes.
‘Howay,’ Beth pointed, ‘we’re nearly there.’
As they turned into Dr Dunster’s street, the truck roared past, waking Lisa. Beth and Sarah turned. ‘Damn, what a racket,’ Sarah said, but Beth was staring after the truck, shaking her head, frowning.
‘I saw that yesterday, whistling through, it was.’
Fran was watching it as well. She turned to Beth. ‘Not our business. Probably delivering goods.’
Sarah shrugged. ‘But what goods? one wonders. Black truck for the black market?’
The other two laughed, and even Annie said, her voice low and hushed as she rocked Lisa back to sleep, ‘By, you’re getting too sharp, lass. Black for black market, eh?’ They smiled as they approached the doctor’s house.
Annie hushed them as they chatted about their prospective joy at seeing Sid in his heron costume and laughed again. ‘Lasses, keep the noise down.’ She rapped on the door.
Mrs Dunster opened up. ‘Annie?’
‘It’s Lisa – I bumped her head.’
They were ushered in, with Mrs Dunster muttering, ‘She looks fine to me, but let the master have a dekko, eh?’
It was five o’clock before they cycled into Massingham Hall’s garage yard. Fran braked, unclipped Lisa’s cart, smiling down at the child, who had been given a clean bill of health by Dr Dunster. Her mam’s relief was all the thanks he needed, he’d said, waving away her money. ‘And stop worrying. It if had been Fran, you’d have seen it for what it was. Relax.’
Her mam had promised.
Looking around, Fran saw Alfie standing by the Rolls, his arms stretched wide. The others were parking their bikes as Beth called, ‘I’ll regret it, lad, but I have to ask why you’re standing there doing nothing, like a scarecrow that’s lost its post.’
‘No, you don’t, you really don’t have to ask, our Beth, just take yourself off to your man, eh. They’re in the ballroom and I’m supposed to be servicing Ralph’s roadster.’
Sandra came out from behind the Rolls, chewing a pencil. ‘But first I have to measure you for your doublet and legging things.’
The girls gaped, puzzled. ‘But Ralph’s the prince?’
‘Aye, but I’m to be his servant – that’s as well as a tree with waving branches, sorry, I mean me arms. It’s a tree that wears cardboard and camouflage, with branches stuck in me, and as my legs are even skinnier than Sid’s, I am now also the heron.’ Alfie’s face was a picture as Sandra measured his legs and wrote in her book.
‘Don’t be daft, lad, no one wants to know about your legs, and the branches aren’t stuck in you.’
‘Well, they’d better not be either.’
Sandra skelped his legs. ‘Stop fussing and stand still, you’re a right fidget.’ She looked across at the girls. ‘Have I got it right that Davey’s Norah has some costumes she’s sending? Thing is, our Alfie’s such a skinny rabbit—’
Alfie dropped his arms. ‘That does it, I’m not playing any more, for I’m sick of hearing about me skinny this and that.’ But he was grinning as he said it.
‘You’ll do as you’re told, lad,’ Madge called from the top of the kitchen steps. ‘As the poster says, England Needs You, so you’ll stand there to be measured, but we’ve just decided you’re only to be the heron and a tree, for there’s no need for a servant.’ She was making her way to Lisa’s cart. ‘We can’t have too many handsome young men in leggings, you know. We women will get too out of control.’
Beth and Sarah sniggered and joined Fran at the cart. Madge was pulling the blankets up around the sleeping child. ‘She’s such a pet. Not heard from Daisy, I suppose? When your mam arrived she told us what had happened today. Bless her, she must have pedalled like a mad thing to get here before you, all because she was so worried about letting the co-op down. She’s tired, Fran. Needs to change the pace a bit. Don’t disturb the babe. Alfie can keep an eye.’
Sarah also leaned over Lisa. ‘Look, see, Madge, it’s just a bruise. Dr Dunster told Mrs Hall to stop worrying after he’d checked her. Said babies bounce and she should know that, so relax.’
From the bottom of the steps, Mr Moran called, ‘We’re needed in the ballroom. Stan wants to make sure we’re all involved in the decision about the position of the stage when the sections arrive. They should be here in time for the party. Right, now I’m to tune the piano. Sophia says we can’t have that sounding strange or people’ll begin to think it’s Miss Walters, not the instruments she plays.’
Fran stroked Lisa’s hair, very gently. ‘You sleep, sweet babe. Our mam’ll be out to check on you.’
The girls pushed Fran towards the steps, Beth nagging, ‘Leave her, Fran, she just wants to sleep.’
‘I’ve me arms down now,’ Alfie yelled, ‘I’ll watch her. Get on and keep the lads happy, eh?’
They passed Mr Moran lingering at the top of the steps and muttering, ‘Get your mam into bed tonight, so she sleeps, eh? You and Ben get up for Lisa, leave her undisturbed. Although I know you and she share the shifts, a whole night off never goes amiss.’
Fran smiled. ‘Have a word with the woman herself, Mr Moran. Ben and I say it every night, but it’s because she feels Lisa is only loaned, so she’s more nervous and won’t leave her to grizzle as she would her own. Use your best schoolteacher voice, and she’ll maybe listen.’
Madge followed, and the girls heard her say, ‘There you go, find a schoolmaster’s voice, lad, for it’s all down to you now.’
Beth looked round and was sure she saw his eyepatch shrink under the pressure of his instructions.
They left their boots in the boot hall and tiptoed across the kitchen flagstones, waving at the co-op while Mr Moran followed them. Madge held him back. ‘Oh no,’ she hissed. ‘First the schoolmaster voice, and only then may you follow us.’
Madge tagged on behind the girls and chatted about the costumes as they headed to the ballroom. ‘I’ve sorted out the costumes for you three girls. You’ll look a picture in the extra camouflage Monty Moran’s found tucked away in the school cupboard. There wasn’t enough in the Briddlestone’s parcel.’
‘What?’ shrieked Beth, spinning round.
Madge was grinning. ‘Can’t you take a joke? You are to be spirits of the beck and have floaty green outfits, made of the gauze Sophia found tucked away in the attic. Then it’ll be a quick change into the washerwomen outfits. Sophia says we can use what we like, as long as she has pride of place in the audience. She doesn’t want to miss a moment.’
The girls had stopped. ‘Sophia? She’s been up in the attic? For the love of—’
‘She’ll not be doing that any more, let me tell you.’ They set off again and Madge asked how it had gone with Amelia today.
Fran shrugged. ‘We barely see the girl, but she can’t resist a dig when she passes us at mealtimes in her clickety-click high heels and her silk stockings. A present from Daddy, I heard her tell Rosie. She offered to sing at Viola’s party, which was met with a big no. I reckon it’d finish Viola off, what with Ralph’s old friends from Newcastle coming.’
Sarah was shaking her head. ‘Viola’s in a right tizzy, scared they’ll think she’s not good enough for Ralph, but Reginald met their fathers at some meeting and found himself inviting them before asking Ralph. It seems the lads are on leave.’
They kept going and Mr Moran caught them up in the corridor. ‘Job done. Mark you, I had the battalion of the co-op behind me. Your mother promised she’d stay in bed tonight, and also that she’d stop fussing.’
Beth noticed that he and Madge were wearing matching eyepatches and nudged Fran, whispering, ‘I reckon that’s sending a message to the rest of us.’
Fran nodded, whispering back, ‘Aye, a bit like you and Sid. There must be something in the air.’
They reached the ballroom and through the open double doors saw that the wooden floor had not only been cleaned, but polished.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Ralph asked, holding hands with Viola and stepping forward.
The girls grinned. Beth raised her eyebrows at Sid, who was waiting with the others. ‘By, I’d say it was perfect if I didn’t think it’d go to your heads.’
The lads looked at one another. Sid grinned. ‘We put cloths on our feet, stroked on the polish, then sort of skated over the floor to polish it.’
Fran crossed her arms. ‘Then what’re you doing in the pit? You could be floor polishers when the war is over.’
They just laughed and came over to stand with them.
‘So,’ asked Ralph, ‘where should the stage go – that end, or the top end?’
The girls all pointed to the far end. Mr Moran agreed. Fran took over, pointing around, ‘Then the seats can be here, with an aisle down the centre. But we don’t have to even think of that now. We have time, just, after the party. Best we sort out where to put the party food – this side, or in front of the windows?’
The girls looked around the room, but Mr Moran butted in. ‘The piano should be up there too, so that Miss Walters can bash out some tunes when William and Ben want a rest and your voices need a break.’
He pointed towards the piano, which was waiting in the corner. Madge pursued him. He ran, she followed, until he was backed against the piano, begging for mercy.
At that, the laughter began again.
They set off for home, after they had brought in the trestle tables and worked out where they would place the chairs. It was dark, but their slit lights lit the way well enough. The co-op rode with them, and Fran towed Lisa, who was now fed and watered, thanks to Mr Moran giving her a bottle after her cereal.
As they entered Massingham, the rest of the co-op peeled off, eager to get home, while the girls continued, talking about the song list for the party and wondering if Viola should really play her saxophone.
‘I reckon she should have a night off,’ Annie Hall called from behind.
‘It’s her party after all,’ Beth said as they cycled down Fran’s back lane, ‘and Ralph is planning something special, or so Sid thinks.’ They were cycling slowly, because although Lisa enjoyed being rattled and rolled, they were conscious she had a bruised head.
‘Aye,’ Sarah said, ‘Stan is sure he’ll propose too. He’s sorted a ring. It was his mother’s and he had it altered, I think.’
Fran laughed quietly. ‘There you go, there is something in the air.’
‘There’s what in the air?’ her mam called.
‘Good things.’
‘You’re probably right. That ballroom looked a right picture, the rugs are done, the costume-making has begun and our Lisa is fine and dandy.’
Ralph and Viola sat together in the sitting room. Reginald had joined Sophia, ready for an early night. Sandra was in bed, the children were settled and there was still a glow to the fire. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,’ Ralph murmured, pulling Viola even closer, if that was possible.
She laid her head on his shoulder. ‘There’s something wonderful about thinking of Christmas, Ralph, and making plans, bringing them to life, and it’s even better when a person is sitting with someone they love.’ For a moment Viola paused. Had she been too forward? Why couldn’t she shift these waves of doubt that still swept her from time to time? But, as she looked around, she knew it was because she couldn’t really believe she was sitting here, in this grand room, which she could only have dreamed of at home in her family’s backstreet terrace in Newcastle. What’s more, she was sitting with this man, the son and heir, whom she loved with all her heart. It was all too perfect. Aye, too perfect – so, would it crash?
She felt Ralph kiss her hair and he said, ‘Wonderful isn’t a big enough word. Amazing, spectacular, heart-stopping is more like it, because I can’t believe you love me, though let me tell you, Miss Viola Ross, it can’t be as much as I love you. I just don’t deserve you, because I’ve been such a toerag one way and another, and to have you beside me is perfection.’
They kissed; she stroked his cheek. There was a new cut above his eye. That would become a scar. She drew away. ‘The pitman’s brand,’ she murmured.
‘Something to be proud of.’ He kissed her fingertips. They sat back, quietly, with just the tick of the clock and the warmth of the fire. She wondered what he was thinking, but when he spoke, she nearly laughed. ‘We should have a Christmas tree in here, as well as in the ballroom. After all, the children will roar down to see if Santa has been – again – on Christmas morning.’
Viola raised an eyebrow. ‘Put it on Stan’s list, though it could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.’
‘Never, his back is broad and strong, or so I shall tell him when he moans. But I’ll brief Father. He’ll pick a few out, or Old Ted will, and we can all help. We have decorations in the attic, though we might have to take some off the tree in the ballroom too, after Bernie the Monster has done his stuff.’
They fell silent again. Midnight drew close, but neither wanted to move. Would they marry? Would they have children who would gather round the tree with Sophia’s bairn, who would be an aunt or uncle to them? Would the evacuees accept all these babies without feeling threatened? She knew they would. She shook her head free of her dreams. It was enough to be here, with him, her beautiful boy, her Ralph.