It was a breezy October morning in 1936, and Cally was at the clothes line in the courtyard. Sykes, just back from the village, joined her there, newspaper in one hand and a packet of Senior Service in the other. Although Cally acknowledged his presence with a smile there was nothing in it of the lively, cheerful girl Sykes and Mary had grown to love. The Balmforths looked on Cally as a daughter and the miserable state of her marriage troubled them.
Sykes perched on a stone bench against the stable wall and lit a cigarette. ‘I see Oswald Mosley and his ‘Blackshirts’ are causing bother again,’ he said, flourishing the newspaper to attract Cally’s attention.
She gave a distracted nod and continued pegging. Sykes tried again. ‘That man’s vitriolic rhetoric against the Jewish community causes untold damage.’ He tapped the newspaper, ‘It says here that he thinks they’re a “malign influence” on society.’
Cally paused, peg in hand. ‘There were lots of Jews in Bradford. I only hope for their sakes Mosley’s words fall on deaf ears.’ She looked directly at Sykes for the first time since his arrival, her face lined with misery. ‘The world’s changing, Sykes; and not for the better.’
The coach-house door opened and Red stepped out. Giving barely imperceptible nods to Sykes and Cally he walked across the yard towards the paddock and his workshop. They watched him go, Cally murmuring, ‘Don’t men like that realise the harm they do?’
Sykes, unsure if the remark referred to Mosley or Red, decided on the latter. ‘Cally, this problem with you and Red needs sorting before it’s too late. You must—’
Cally grabbed the empty clothes basket, seeking refuge in the kitchen rather than stay and discuss her troubled marriage.
*
Autumn’s glory faded and died, Cally’s failing marriage and changes in the wider world boding ill for the future.
One miserable day in early November, Cally chanced to be in Huddersfield when the men from Jarrow marched through the town. The sight of these jobless, bedraggled creatures wrenched at her heart. Whilst she was aware of mass unemployment throughout the country she had not given it any deep consideration. Now she realised what a charmed life they led in Copley House. Admittedly, her marriage wasn’t perfect and business wasn’t flourishing, but they never went short of anything. These men were fighting for their very existence whilst she was contemplating buying a new winter coat.
Instead, she rushed into the nearest baker’s shop and ordered the assistant to fill lots of paper bags with teacakes, biscuits and buns. Back out on the street she ran along the line of marchers thrusting bags into hands, the grateful cries of ‘God bless ye, hinny’ and ‘Howay bonny lass,’ bringing tears to her eyes.
The new coat forgotten she returned home, diminished by the incident and determined to fight, not for a job – she had one – but for her marriage: faced with the plight of those poor men her problems seemed trivial – and she knew what she must do to address them.
‘We’ve only a handful of guests booked in from now until Christmas,’ she told Sykes and Mary, ‘so I’m taking a back seat for a while. Sally and Susan can do my job. I want to spend more time with Red and Richard.’
Mary and Sykes smiled at one another triumphantly: at last Cally was seeing sense.
By the time King Edward signed the instrument of abdication and renounced the throne on the tenth of December, Cally had gone some way towards healing the rift. More time spent with Red and Richard forged a rekindling of their relationship, although Red’s initial response had been cautious, for he knew once the Christmas season was in full swing he would, yet again, take third place in Cally’s affections. However, he was in for a surprise. Come Christmas week, Cally spent most evenings at home. On the night before Christmas Eve, as they were sitting on the settee close to the cosy fire, Red asked. ‘Shouldn’t you be over there?’ He meant Copley House.
Cally moved closer, snuggling into his side. ‘They can manage without me, there’s only a dozen guests, and anyway you’re my priority, you and Richard. Christmas is family time.’ Red placed his arm across her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek. She knew he was pleased. In return, Red spent every night at home instead of out with Barty and Wilf.
The year might have ended on a sad note as far as the rest of the population of England were concerned, but not for Cally and Red. Over the festive season and in the months that followed, Cally no longer put the demands of Copley House before her own family and Red no longer felt like a background player in the performance of her life. By the time Edward, Duke of Windsor as he was now titled, married Mrs Simpson and his brother, George, was crowned king, Cally was five months pregnant.
On that night before Christmas when Cally had told Red that he and Richard were her priority she’d meant every word, but come June, her words didn’t ring quite so true.
‘Of course I’m needed over there. We’ve a party coming in from Manchester and the ramblers are out in full force: it’s the busiest time of year.’ She made for the door, ready to cross the courtyard to the main house. ‘It can’t be helped. It’s my job to see to the guests. You take Richard and I’ll try to—’ She got no further.
‘You and your bloody job,’ yelled Red, ‘I knew it was too good to last. All you think about is Copley House and your own importance. “Madam Cally, the great I am”. The rest of us can go to hell as far as you’re concerned.’
Red grabbed his coat and slammed out, Richard forgotten. He flounced across the paddock cursing Copley House and everyone in it.
Once again Cally and Red were at an impasse, Cally treating him with cool disdain and he finding solace in Barty and Wilf’s company.
*
After yet another evening of racing between the main house and the coach-house, attending to guests and checking on Richard asleep in his cot, a heavily pregnant Cally listlessly oversaw the last of the diners. It was the 3rd of July 1937, the topic of conversation in the dining room, the royal wedding that had just taken place that day.
‘It must be wonderful to be loved by someone prepared to give up a kingdom for you,’ gushed an elderly dowager. ‘I do hope Mrs Simpson appreciates what he’s done for her.’
When Cally relayed the remark to the kitchen staff, Peggy snorted derisively. ‘Wallis Simpson! She’s only marryin’ him for his brass, an’ he’s more than likely given up the throne so he can act the playboy. We all know he likes the good life.’
‘He’s not the only one,’ thought Cally, and saying goodnight to the kitchen staff she made her way back to the coach-house, wondering where Red was and how much would he give up for the love of her: certainly not his own selfish desires – or his jaunts with Barty and Wilf. It did not occur to her that she also had some giving to do.
*
Marianne Blackstone had her mother’s features, her swarthy complexion and black hair. Richard adored her and kept her endlessly amused, much to Cally’s delight and relief. Red was also smitten. Apart from the two nights he worked at the cinema, he stayed at home, finally content to forego his outings with Barty and Wilf. Instead they took to visiting him. After a few drinks in Sykes’s bar they’d drop into the coach-house, Cally joining them when work was finished for the night. They were likable fellows and she did not object to their company.
Barty and Wilf were inseparable, and although Barty had been Red’s best man at their wedding, Cally had never really got to know either of them. Now, the more time she spent in their company the more she understood why Red had maintained this boyhood friendship. Whenever the four of them were together, conversation and laughter flowed freely.
Red kept them amused with his versions of scenes from the films he showed in the cinema, his action replay of Captains Courageous making them roar with mirth. Although Cally laughed at Red’s antics she couldn’t help but draw parallels between Red and the spoiled rich boy in the film.
Elephant Boy was another source of amusement; Barty’s bulk suiting the role of Kala Nag the elephant. And with Wilf’s slight stature reminiscent of that of Sabu they galumphed about the room, Wilf astride Barty’s broad back.
One evening, leaving Mary to babysit, they all went to the cinema. It was the first showing of Anthony Adverse and whilst Red worked in the projection room, Cally sat in the audience with Barty and Wilf. Afterwards, back at the coach-house, the film’s plot uppermost in their minds, they discussed hopes and dreams. Barty smiled quizzically as he asked, ‘What are yours, Cally?’
‘I think I’ve found mine,’ she answered, lightly. ‘I’m happy with what I have; Copley House and the kids are more than I ever hoped for.’
Red’s eyes fleetingly met hers then he looked away, a hurt expression on his face. Cally pretended not to notice. Barty, dissatisfied by her answer pressed her again. ‘Be honest now. What do you want most in life?’
‘The impossible,’ she quipped, jumping up to make a fresh pot of tea. She wouldn’t put a damper on the fun by admitting she’d like a man for a husband, instead of a boy. She set the kettle to boil, calling out, ‘Now it’s Wilf’s turn.’
Wilf sighed. ‘My dream would be to marry Myrna Loy. I fell in love with her when she starred in Manhattan Melodrama; I just wish I were Clark Gable.’
Barty hooted derisively, then said, ‘Your turn, Red. What’s it to be, old chap?’
Red didn’t reply immediately. When he did, he spoke wistfully. ‘Well, – if I’d endless pots of cash… and wasn’t tied down with a wife and kids… I suppose I’d explore the Amazon or maybe the rose-red city of Petra, filming everything I saw. Or maybe I’d buzz off to Hollywood and take my chances there.’
Cally couldn’t bear to look at him, the tone of his voice and the thoughtless words taking her from a bright, warm place and plunging her into chilling blackness. Without wishing any of them goodnight, she stormed off to bed.
Tied down! How dare he say such a thing? Fuming, she undressed and climbed into bed, thumping the pillow for good measure. She laid flat on her back staring at the ceiling, tears sliding sideways out of her eyes. Red was spoiled and selfish; he’d never change.
*
After that evening, Cally was so hurt by Red’s comments that when it was her next day off she refused to spend it with him. Instead, she took the children to visit her dad. Once there, she thought about telling George what Red had said, but not wanting to burden him with the unhappy state of her marriage and spoil the time they spent together, she kept quiet.
George loved his grandchildren and delighted in taking Richard to see his pigeons or playing hide-and-seek up by the ash pits; something he had never done with Cally when she was a child.
‘You’re a lucky lass,’ George said, as Cally and the children were leaving. ‘You’ve made a success of everything; a good marriage and two lovely bairns and a job for life.’
Cally forced a smile and drove away, thinking that at least two of the things George believed in were true.