‘Jenner and Jackson’ read the sign in gilded letters over the door of the draper’s shop in the High Street. Lily had been the manageress there for four years, following the couple of years she had spent working at Tremaine House, helping Rebecca Tremaine with the land girls. Formerly, the rather faded sign had read ‘Jenner’s High Class Draper’s’, harking back to a time, twenty or more years before, when many shopkeepers had described their businesses in such terms. In truth, the little shop and living premises above still belonged to Eliza Jenner, an elderly lady in her mid-seventies, but not, in appearance, looking much more than sixty.
It was in 1941 that Lily, anxious to find a home where she could have all three of her children with her, had first become acquainted with Mrs Jenner. They had got on well together from the start, and Eliza had been only too happy to have the little family living above, with Lily taking charge of the shop. They lived there rent free and Lily was paid a weekly wage for her services, but the property and its proceeds belonged to the Jenners, Eliza and her husband, Cyril.
The elderly couple had gone to live in a small house near the railway station where Cyril could tend a small patch of garden to the rear; this had been his chief occupation since his Home Guard duties had come to an end. Eliza, until very recently, had gone into the shop two or three mornings a week, anxious not to let go of the reins entirely. And it had been at her insistence, last year, that the sign above the door should be changed. Lily Jackson’s name should be included, she maintained, as the woman had proved to be worth her weight in gold.
Lily had been happy there right from the start, but more so, on a personal level, since she had become friendly with Arthur Rawcliffe, the man who owned the bakery next door to the draper’s shop. She had first met him when she had gone in to buy her bread and cakes; they had chatted about the restrictions and how they were affecting both their businesses. Bread had never been rationed throughout the war, but the only loaf available was what was called a National wheatmeal loaf, made from unrefined flour; somewhat unpalatable to those used to pure white crusty loaves and cobs. Arthur had told her how he was having to make do with dried egg in his cakes, when he could not get what had become known as the shelled variety. Dried fruit, too, had been in short supply, and so cakes – wedding cakes in particular – were darkened by gravy browning, made moist with grated carrot, and flavoured with rum essence.
Arthur had had his hands full running the shop and caring for his wife who was ill with tuberculosis and never left the room upstairs. He had been helped, however, by his elder sister who served in the shop and his brother-in-law who worked in the bakehouse.
Mrs Rawcliffe had died early in 1942, and it was then that Arthur had decided to join up. He was just over the compulsory call-up age of forty; nevertheless he had felt that he wanted to do his bit. There had been nothing to keep him at home after the death of his wife – they had had no children – and Flo and Harry, his sister and brother-in-law, had offered to take over the running of the shop in his absence. The upstairs flat had been rented to a young woman with two children who had come to the country town to escape the bombing in Hull; and when Arthur came home on leave he stayed with Flo and Harry.
It was during one of his early leaves that Arthur had decided to further his tentative friendship with Lily, the attractive young woman who ran the draper’s shop next door. Bertha had been dead for more than six months and he could not go on mourning her for ever, especially as he was still in his early forties.
Their relationship had developed slowly at first. Arthur had come to learn something of Lily’s disastrous marriage and had realised he must proceed with caution. Lily, moreover, was a very moral sort of person, and until her divorce from Sidney Bragg had been made absolute, she had not permitted anything other than a chaste kiss or two. Nor would she admit, until she was a free woman again, that she was fond of Arthur – extremely fond – as he was of her.
And now at the end of August, 1945, Arthur was coming back home for good. His wartime service had not taken him very far; no further, in fact, than to Catterick Camp near Richmond, less than twenty miles away. He had enlisted in the Army Catering Corps and his talents had been put to good use in the Officers’ Mess.
Lily looked at herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece with a critical eye, patting her short dark curls into place, and fingering the stray silver hairs by her temples. There was nothing she could do to disguise them nor did she want to. She applied a touch of pink lipstick, the only make-up she needed to wear. Her skin had taken on a natural healthy glow since she had been living away from the grimy city, and her brown eyes had begun to shine again as they had done in her youth. She was not dissatisfied with her appearance, especially when she recalled the way she had looked at the start of the war when she had been married to Sid: dull of complexion, with greasy lack-lustre hair and dark-rimmed eyes that had lost their sparkle. But those days were long gone, and now, at last, the future was full of promise.
She sat on the settee, idly turning the pages of a magazine, awaiting Arthur’s arrival. It was fortuitous that Maisie was out, having tea with the ladies at the schoolhouse, and Joanie and Jimmy were at a birthday party. They were going home after Sunday school finished with one of Jimmy’s pals and would not be back until after six o’clock. Joanie had been invited as well because she and the boy’s sister were in the same class at school. Lily had not planned it that way; it had just so happened that she was on her own. Arthur seemed kindly disposed towards the children and she had never tried to hustle them out of the way when he was there. If he wished to continue their friendship and if it should lead to a more permanent relationship, then he must know that her children could not be ignored.
A knock at the back door, the entrance used when one was not entering through the shop, told her that he was here. With a final pat at her hair and a straightening of the seams on her new nylon stockings, she hurried down the stairs. Arthur stood on the threshold with a bunch of red roses in his hand.
‘Hello, love,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ve brought you a few flowers, see. Best get ’em in water, quick; I want ’em to last.’
‘Oh, Arthur, they’re lovely,’ she exclaimed, kissing his cheek in return. It was the first time he had brought her flowers and she was very touched. He was not one for sentimental gestures or for throwing his money about. She read into his words that he had spent good ‘brass’ on those roses and, like a true Yorkshireman, he wanted value for his money. ‘And how nice it is to see you again. Come on in…’
‘Grand to see you too, love.’ He wiped his feet cursorily on the doormat and followed her through the stockroom and up the stairs. ‘You’re looking real bonny today; a sight for sore eyes. Where are the children?’ he asked as they entered the living room.
‘Er…they’re at a party, and Maisie has gone out to tea.’
‘All the better! Come here then…’ He put his arms round her and kissed her more thoroughly on the lips. ‘I’ve missed you, Lily. Aye love; it’s grand to be home for good.’
‘It’s only three weeks since you last saw me,’ she said, smiling. ‘But I agree. It’s good that you’re back to stay.’
They stood, fondly appraising one another. ‘You look…different, Arthur,’ she said. ‘It’s odd to see you in civvies.’
‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ he chuckled. ‘I couldn’t wait to get rid of that there battle-dress. Talk about itchy!’ He was dressed in grey flannel trousers and a checked sports jacket, with a cream shirt and striped tie. He looked smart and, somehow, younger. ‘This lot feels a bit strange, I must admit, after wearing uniform for so long. But wait till you see my demob suit!’
‘I’ve already seen a few of them around,’ said Lily. ‘Is it a grey one with white stripes?’
‘No; I could’ve had one like that, but they make you look like a ruddy spiv! No, it’s brown… I thought it’d match my eyes.’ He grinned at her. ‘An’ it’s sort of checked. Not exactly Savile Row, but at least it’s free. I mustn’t grumble, I suppose. I can’t wait, though, till this lot grows again.’ He ran his hands through his regulation army haircut. ‘I feel like a bloomin’ convict.’ Lily realised that it was just a figure of speech, but she could not help her thoughts flitting to her ex-husband, not long out of gaol.
‘Don’t they all,’ she smiled. ‘Never mind, Arthur. It’ll soon grow.’ Before he joined the army he had sported a fine head of light brown wavy hair which he had worn rather longer than was usual. His crowning glory, she supposed, and maybe he had been deservedly proud of it because it was his only outstanding feature. Arthur was short in stature, no taller than Lily herself at five foot five or so, and inclined to be corpulent. His stomach, protruding slightly over the waistband of his trousers, his toffee-brown eyes and the kindly expression on his unremarkable face put her in mind of the teddy bear that Maisie had once owned.
‘Come and sit down, Arthur,’ she said, taking hold of his hand and leading him to an armchair, ‘and I’ll go and make us a cup of tea.’
‘Ne’er mind the tea,’ he said. ‘I reckon I’ll be staying to a proper tea, like, won’t I? Boiled ham and best cups and saucers an’ all that? It’s what I’ve been looking forward to.’
‘Of course,’ she laughed. ‘Just you and me, as the children are all out. We’ll have it in a while. Well, if I can’t make you a cup of tea I’d best go and get these flowers in water.’ She buried her face in the deep red petals, breathing in the sweet fragrance. ‘They’re beautiful, Arthur. Thank you so much.’
‘Well, special occasion, isn’t it?’ He laughed. ‘Don’t expect ’em every time, mind.’
Feeling very light-hearted she went into the kitchen and reached for a glass vase from the top shelf of the cupboard. Not real cut glass; she had never been able to afford that. But this one was not too bad as a substitute – Woolie’s best – and the long-stemmed roses looked just right in it. She placed it in the centre of the sideboard and sat down in the chair opposite to Arthur.
‘So…what’s the news?’ she asked. ‘You’re staying with Flo and Harry, are you, for the moment? And what about the bakery? You’ll be taking up your former position there, will you?’
‘Hey, steady on; one question at a time.’ Arthur held up his hand. ‘Aye, I can’t wait to get back to the bakery. I suppose you mean will I be in charge again, don’t you? It was always my business as you know – well, mine and Bertha’s – and Harry worked for me for a wage; so did Flo. But he’s been such a godsend while I’ve been away, and Flo too, of course…so what I’ve done is this. I’ve asked ’em if they’ll go into partnership with me, equal shares in the bakery and the shop.’
‘And…they’ve agreed?’
‘Yes, they have. They were surprised, like, but they didn’t need much persuading.’
‘It’s very generous of you, Arthur,’ said Lily, ‘but it’s no more than they deserve. They’ve worked their socks off while you’ve been away. And it can’t have been easy for Harry, leaving home at five o’clock in the morning to get the ovens going. It isn’t as if they’re living on the premises, like you were. I suppose it’ll be just as difficult for you, though, won’t it, whilst you’re staying with them?’
‘Ah well, I’ve got news on that front an’ all,’ said Arthur. ‘Pamela’s given me notice; she’s leaving next week.’ Pamela was the young married woman with two children who had been renting the upstairs premises ever since Arthur joined the army. ‘I’d never have asked her to go, you know, and she’s not been under any pressure. I know she liked it here and there was some talk of them staying here permanently; well, in Middlebeck at least. But her husband’s being demobbed quite soon, she hopes – he’s been in the Far East, poor devil – and her mother’s not been too well, so they’ve decided to move back to Hull. She’s going next week, so everything’s hunky-dory, as you might say.’
‘So it is,’ agreed Lily. ‘It’s worked out just right for you. So…you’ll be moving back next door, of course?’
‘Yes…for the moment. There’s nothing definite, not just yet.’ He was looking at her intently. Then he moved across the room and perched on the arm of her chair. ‘Lily, I’m not much good at this sort of thing. I’m just an ordinary chap…you know that, don’t you? But you and me, we get on well together, don’t we? And I want us to have a future together. But I sometimes wonder how you really feel about me. Y’see, I know how I feel about you…’
She turned and looked at him, into his warm brown eyes, alight with affection, but holding a question, too. ‘I’m very fond of you, Arthur,’ she said. ‘And – yes – we do get on very well.’ She had an idea what he was going to say and was trying to make it a little easier for him. She knew it was often hard for him to show his true feelings, except in a jokey kind of way.
‘Lily…’ Suddenly he moved from the chair arm and knelt on the carpet in front of her. He took hold of her hand. ‘Lily… I think I love you… Well, no, that’s not right, is it? That’s not want I meant to say. I know I love you and…and I want you to marry me.’ He looked at her almost pleadingly. ‘Will you…will you marry me, Lily?’
She was taken aback for a moment, although she had realised what he was leading up to, and she had known, too what her answer would be. When she saw the look in his eyes changing to one of puzzlement and uncertainty she answered at once. ‘Yes, Arthur,’ she replied simply. ‘I will marry you.’
He did not kiss her at once, as she might have expected. Instead he breathed a small sigh of relief. ‘Whew! I thought for a moment that you were going to say no. It would’ve served me right, I dare say, for taking it for granted. Not that I shall ever take you for granted, Lily love. That’s not what I meant… Oh heck! I’m getting meself all tongue-twisted now.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a small black box. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘I’ve got you this. I hope it’s the right size and that you’ll like it. Happen I should’ve waited and let you choose your own, like, but I wanted so much for you to say yes that I just couldn’t wait.’
‘Oh, Arthur…’ She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘You are such a kind, lovely man…’ She opened the box to reveal the ring, his choice of ring, nestling on its cushion of white satin. It was small, but exquisite; a diamond encircled by tiny sapphires, like the petals of a flower. ‘It’s beautiful…’ she gasped, not having to feign her delight at all. It was just what she might have chosen for herself. She held out her left hand. ‘Put it on for me, please, Arthur.’
He fitted the ring onto her third finger, which had been ringless since she had discarded Sidney’s worthless band of gold. It fitted perfectly and Arthur sighed again. ‘Well, that’s a relief, I must say, although they did say at the shop as I could have it altered… Eeh, Lily love; you don’t know how happy you’ve made me.’ He did kiss her then, long and hard, and she found herself responding to him more fervently than she had done before.
It had been difficult for her at first, when their friendship had developed to the holding hands and then to the kissing stage. Memories of Sidney – dreadful memories – would loom into her mind unbidden. She had been almost afraid to return Arthur’s affection. She had believed there would never be anyone else for her; her experiences with Sidney Bragg had put her off men for ever, or so she had thought. Then, too, there had been the sweet and loving memories of Davey Jackson, Maisie’s father; her childhood sweetheart and young husband. Nobody could ever replace Davey in her heart and mind. She was not sure, even now she had agreed to marry him, that she loved Arthur. But she felt she had done the right thing in accepting him. Her fondness for him would grow. He was a good man and worthy of her care and affection. The two of them had to look to the future now and leave the past with its memories, both the happy and the sad and torturous ones, behind them.
She had not told him she loved him, though, and he had not asked her. He had not said the words, ‘Do you love me, Lily?’ She guessed he had the wisdom not to push her too far at the moment; perhaps it was sufficient for him to know that she cared enough to want to marry him. She had every confidence that it would be a successful marriage. She surmised, too, that he would not want to wait too long before they tied the knot.
‘Let’s go and sit on the settee, shall we?’ he said, getting up and pulling Lily to her feet. ‘I reckon I’ve been on me knees long enough. We’ll make ourselves comfy, eh?’ They sat down and he put his arm around her. ‘About me moving in next door,’ he said. ‘Yes, I shall be doing that before long. But it’ll seem odd, won’t it, you here and me there, with only a wall between us, and us planning to get wed?’
‘What d’you mean, Arthur?’ Lily asked with a puzzled frown. ‘We can’t very well… I mean, we can’t knock the wall down.’
‘Oh, I’m not suggesting anything improper, love. But I don’t want us to wait too long, if you see what I mean. There’s no point, is there? It’s a bit of a problem, though. Er…shall I come and live here? After we’re wed, I mean?’
She smiled. ‘That would be the usual thing to do, surely. You don’t want to go on living next door on your own, do you?’
‘No, of course not. But this is your home, see, and I wouldn’t want to presume. What I mean is this…it’s up to me to provide a home for my wife, isn’t it?’
She patted his hand. ‘I know full well what you’re getting at, Arthur. But this is my children’s home as well as mine, you know. And we haven’t mentioned them yet. How do you feel about Joanie and Jimmy? They can be a couple of scallywags, you know. Maisie’s never been much trouble. Actually, she was asking about you earlier today.’
‘Aye, your Maisie’s a grand lass. And I don’t forsee any problems with the other two. They never seem to mind me being around, do they? Bertha and I wanted kids, you know, but it wasn’t to be…’
‘The little ’uns have got their attic bedroom,’ said Lily, ‘and so has Maisie. And…my bedroom is quite big enough for two,’ she added, feeling just a little embarrassed. ‘And the living room and kitchen are adequate. Your place is pretty much the same as mine, isn’t it? There wouldn’t be any more room than there is here.’
‘It’s a pity we can’t combine the upstairs accommodation,’ said Arthur thoughtfully. ‘You know, make it all one. Like I said, there’s only a wall between us. But I know this property belongs to the Jenners, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does,’ agreed Lily. ‘I’m just the tenant, really… But I’ve had some other good news this week, Arthur. It’s been an amazing week, one way and another. I was going to tell you… And then, well, you took the wind out of my sails good and proper, didn’t you?’
‘I certainly did,’ said Arthur, kissing her cheek. ‘Go on, tell me then. What’s your good news?’
Lily took a deep breath. ‘I can hardly believe it really,’ she said. ‘It’s so amazing…Mr and Mrs Jenner are going to leave this property to me – the shop and the living accommodation – after they have…gone, of course. I know that might be a long time ahead, and it’s something I don’t really want to think about. I’ve become very fond of Eliza, and both she and Cyril, they’ve been so good to me.’
‘That’s great news,’ said Arthur. ‘And it’s no more than you deserve, like you said about Flo and Harry and the bakery. The Jenners couldn’t have kept the draper’s shop going without you. I take it they’ve no family then, no close relatives to inherit their worldly goods?’
‘No…they have no children. Cyril had a sister and Eliza had a brother, apparently, but they’re both dead now, and from what I gather the nephews and nieces don’t bother to keep in touch.’
‘Hmm…’ Arthur nodded thoughtfully. ‘They’ve made a will, have they, stating what they want to do?’
‘Yes, so Eliza has told me. I argued with her, of course. I said I certainly hadn’t expected anything of the sort; that I’m not a relation and they must think carefully about it. But she assured me that they had done so and that it was what they both wanted. And that I was to regard this as my permanent home.’
‘You know what they say though, love, about a will. Where there’s a will there’s relations. Those nephews and nieces may very well come crawling out of the woodwork if there’s any sign of money or property, especially if it’s not going their way.’
‘Don’t be such a Job’s comforter, Arthur,’ laughed Lily. Like many Yorkshiremen she knew he had a sceptical streak, unwilling to take everything at face value. ‘There was no mention of money, just this property. And they have their little house that they live in as well. I’ve no idea what they intend to do with that; so maybe the relations are included, who knows? Anyway, as I’ve said, it could be years and years before I inherit.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Goodness, that’s an amazing word. I never expected to inherit so much as a brass farthing, not from anybody.’
‘Well, it just shows that you never know what’s round the next corner. How old are Mr and Mrs Jenner? Seventy-odd, I suppose?’
‘Yes; they’re both seventy-five or thereabouts, but very hale and hearty. They could well live till they’re ninety; I hope they do. At least I know that my future’s secure, mine and the children’s. Even more so, of course, now.’ She stopped suddenly; she must not give Arthur the impression that she was marrying him just for the security he could give her. She stretched out her hand, admiring the floweret of tiny gemstones twinkling on her finger. ‘It’s lovely, Arthur, really lovely…and I’m so very happy.’
It would be her third marriage, she was thinking, with a feeling of incredulity, but the first time she had had a real engagement ring. Davey had given her a token ring of semi-precious stones, all that he could afford, but she had cherished it as if it were worth a thousand pounds. It was too small now, but she sometimes wore it, when she was feeling sentimental, on her smallest finger. Sidney Bragg had not bothered with an engagement ring at all, and the wedding ring, she had guessed, had been the cheapest he could buy. Always supposing it had been bought at all…although she didn’t think he had been into thieving at that stage. That had come later.
‘Are you going to tell your three our good news when they come in?’ asked Arthur. ‘We’re not going to keep it a secret, are we?’
‘Of course we’re not…going to keep it a secret, I mean. I shall wear this with pride.’ She waggled her fingers, seeing the light catch the stones. ‘But let me choose my own time to tell the children, Arthur, if you don’t mind. It won’t make any difference to Joanie and Jimmy. I doubt if they know what an engagement is, but I shall tell them that we’re going to get married quite soon and that you will be coming to live here. As for Maisie…well, she’s going through something of a crisis at the moment, at least it seems like it to her.’
‘Oh, what’s up with Maisie then?’
‘Calf love, I reckon, although she thinks it’s more than that. She’ll get over it, no doubt, but she thought she was in love…with Bruce Tremaine; you know, the squire’s son?’
‘Oh aye? Well, there’s nothing like aiming high, I suppose.’
‘She’s been friendly with Bruce ever since she was a little girl,’ replied Lily, a shade indignantly, ‘and there’s nothing snobbish about the lad, nothing at all. Bruce Tremaine is a grand young man. But she’s just a kid really, Arthur; she’s only fifteen and he’s nearly twenty-one. Anyway…he brought his lady friend to the concert last night. And from all appearances it looks as though the two of them are quite serious about one another. And Maisie…well, she was upset to say the least. So I don’t want to make matters worse by flaunting my happiness in her face.’
‘Oh dear, poor Maisie! Yes, I see what you mean. She’s quite grown-up for her age, isn’t she? I can imagine how it hurts. Poor kid; I’ll try to be extra nice to her.’
‘Don’t say anything about it, though, will you? About Bruce? I think she’s realising that she’s made rather a fool of herself.’
‘Don’t worry; my lips are sealed. Now, let’s start thinking about you and me, shall we? We’ve got a wedding to plan.’
Maisie dashed in soon after five-thirty, seemingly in a much more cheerful frame of mind.
‘Good to see you again, Arthur,’ she said. He had told her when they first met to call him by his first name, although her younger sister and brother referred to him as Uncle Arthur. ‘You’ve finished with the army then now? Back to Civvy Street, eh?’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ he said, smiling at her and shaking her hand. He did not attempt to hug or kiss her; Lily had told him a little of her experiences with her stepfather and his son and he knew he must tread carefully. ‘Back to the old routine. I’ll be starting at the bakery again tomorrow.’
‘My goodness! No rest for the wicked, eh? So… I suppose we will be seeing quite a lot of you, will we?’ Maisie raised her eyebrows, smiling impishly at him.
‘You can be sure of that, Maisie,’ he chuckled, casting a glance at Lily by his side. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Lily love?’ She just nodded serenely.
‘That’s good then,’ said Maisie, grinning at them. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and get ready for church.’
She was on her way again within half an hour, like a gust of fresh air breezing in and out. ‘Bye, Mum, bye Arthur… See you soon I expect…’
Arthur laughed. ‘I thought you said she was upset,’ he remarked as the sound of her footsteps on the stairs died away. ‘She seems OK to me.’
‘Putting on a brave face maybe,’ said Lily. ‘Anyway, time will tell…’