‘So there will be a wedding to arrange,’ said Rebecca, as she and Archie lay side by side in their double bed.
It had been a hectic sort of day, made even more so by the surprise announcement – sprung on them only that morning – of the engagement, and then the excitement of the party. Sleep was impossible at the moment, so she was making plans.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Archie. ‘You’re jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you, love? Anyroad, it’s up to the bride’s family, isn’t it, to see to everything?’
‘Yes, I know,’ replied Rebecca patiently, ‘but aren’t you forgetting that Christine doesn’t have any relatives? Her parents were killed in a car crash, poor girl, and the grandmother who looked after her died a few years ago.’
‘You mean…she has nobody at all?’
‘It seems so, apart from friends in Bradford. So it will be up to us to make sure they have a nice wedding. It would be a shame for her to miss out. She is such a pretty girl, and I’m sure she would love a big wedding with bridesmaids and lots of guests, and our church is such a lovely setting for a wedding, isn’t it?’
Archie chuckled. ‘You’re enjoying this already, aren’t you? But it’s for Bruce and Christine to decide what they want. Anyway, St Bartholomew’s isn’t her church, is it? And there’s some regulation or other about living in the parish, isn’t there?’
‘Oh, Luke will sort all that out for us. I’ve been thinking about our Maureen’s wedding, and then Angela’s the year after… They were such happy occasions, weren’t they, Archie? And now…well, I must admit I’m looking forward to arranging another one.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? Earlier today you were saying that it was all a bit sudden, like, and that you wished they’d told us earlier; and that Bruce was still very young.’
‘Yes… I know it was rather a shock at first. I suppose I still tend to think of Bruce as my little boy, with him being so much younger than the girls. But he isn’t. He’s a man now, and plenty old enough to be married, I suppose.’ Rebecca paused for a moment. ‘Sometimes I wish that he had… well…looked around a bit more. I mean, Christine’s his first girlfriend, isn’t she?’
‘As far as we know, yes. But she’s a nice enough lass, Becky. You like her, don’t you? Well, you must do, or you wouldn’t be thinking of arranging this big do for them.’
‘Yes… I like her. She’s polite and respectful to us, and quite friendly. And Bruce certainly seems to be very much in love with her. Yes, I’m sure she will be a very good wife for him.’
But there was just something about the girl that Rebecca was not sure about. She did not know herself exactly what it was, and so she had not admitted her slight misgivings to Archie. Maybe that was why she was planning an elaborate wedding, because she felt a mite guilty about the niggling little doubt that she felt concerning Bruce’s new fiancée.
‘Ask ’em about it in the morning,’ said Archie. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Goodnight, love. Get to sleep now. It’ll soon be morning, and I’m tired even if you aren’t.’ He turned round, humping the bedclothes over him.
‘Goodnight, Archie love,’ she said. As it happened, she fell asleep almost at once, only to dream of Bruce running away from St Bartholomew’s church, with Christine, wearing a vivid pink wedding dress and brandishing a silver cake knife, in hot pursuit of him.
Maureen and Angela, and their husbands and children, ranging in age from eleven to fourteen, departed soon after breakfast on the Sunday morning. They had a fair way to travel, one family to Warwickshire and the other to Norfolk. Rebecca was a little tearful. She did not see her daughters and her grandchildren as often as she would wish, but this time they had spent a pleasant few days all together, arriving on Wednesday, well in advance of Bruce and Christine on the Friday evening. Later that day Bruce would be returning to his camp and Christine to her flat in Bradford.
There was quite a mountain of pots to be washed, which Rebecca stacked together at the side of the draining board. Christine had helped her to clear away, which was a point in the girl’s favour.
‘I’ve asked Mrs Kitson to come in and give me a hand this morning,’ said Rebecca. ‘She’ll wash these while we’re at church. She’s a good worker; I’ve had her for years. Not usually on a Sunday, though, but this weekend has been an extra busy one.’
‘Yes, of course it has, Mrs Tremaine,’ said Christine. ‘Thank you for making me so welcome here. I really enjoy coming up to Middlebeck. It’s a lovely part of Yorkshire, much nicer than Bradford. I had never been very far from Bradford until I joined the WAAF; but it’s my home, of course, and I suppose I have a soft spot for it, in spite of the grime and the smoke from the mill chimneys.’
Rebecca smiled at her. ‘There’s always something special about one’s home town, isn’t there, wherever it is? My husband and I have been thinking, dear, as you have no family of your own… Well, we’re wondering if you and Bruce have made any wedding plans yet?’
‘Er…no, not really,’ said Christine.
‘Come and sit down then, and we’ll all have a little chat about it before we go to church,’ said Rebecca. She led the way into the sitting room where Archie and Bruce were reading the Sunday papers.
‘Now, you two,’ she began, ‘put those newspapers away and listen.’ She sat down on the settee and patted the cushion next to her, indicating that Christine should sit beside her. She leaned forward and smiled round at them all. ‘Now…we have some sorting out to do, haven’t we?’
‘Have we, Mother?’ said Bruce. ‘What about?’
‘Don’t be silly, dear; about the wedding, of course,’ said his mother. ‘Your father and I are so pleased about your engagement. Yes…I know it was rather a surprise at first; we didn’t realise your friendship had reached that stage. But we want you to know that we are happy about it. And we want to make sure that your wedding is a very happy day for both of you – well, for all of us – a day we can look back on and remember with pleasure.’
Christine and Bruce looked at one another, their expressions appearing quite blank. ‘We haven’t talked about it yet, Mother,’ said Bruce. ‘At least, not very much. We don’t even know when it will be.’
‘I don’t want a big fuss, Mrs Tremaine,’ said Christine, looking down at her hands, demurely folded in her lap. ‘I am only too happy to be marrying Bruce.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘But I think we would both prefer it to be a quiet sort of occasion. As you know, I have no relatives of my own, and so…’
‘And so that is why I want to help, Christine,’ said Rebecca. ‘I don’t want you to feel that I am trying to take your mother’s place. I know that nobody could take the place of your own mother, and I am so sorry about that, dear. But when you marry Bruce you will be a member of our family, won’t you, and we want to make you feel welcome.’
‘You already do, Mrs Tremaine,’ murmured Christine.
‘So…will you think about it then? We would like you to have a nice wedding here, at St Bartholomew’s. Luke does a lovely service, and I’m sure you both have lots of friends you would like to invite. And we could have the Market Room again for the reception. I thought Arthur Rawcliffe catered very well…’
‘Mother, will you give us time to think about it?’ said Bruce. ‘You have rather sprung it on us and, as I said, we haven’t really talked much about it ourselves.’
‘But you’re not going to have a long engagement, are you?’ asked Rebecca. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any point in that. It isn’t as if you need to save up, do you, like some young couples do?’
Archie spoke then for the first time. ‘Becky, you must let them sort it out for themselves. It’s not up to us to be making all the plans.’ There were times when he could not understand that wife of his. Having been of the opinion in the beginning that Bruce was too young to be married, she now appeared to be pushing him into it, willy-nilly. ‘Of course we want to make sure they have a nice wedding, a real slap-up do, if they like. There’s no need for those wartime economy weddings any more; thank God we’re getting back to normal. But it has to be what Bruce and Christine want to do… OK?’
‘Yes, of course, Archie,’ said Rebecca, somewhat deflated. ‘I wasn’t meaning to interfere…’
To her surprise Christine leaned forward and took hold of her hand. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Tremaine,’ she said. ‘I appreciate what you want to do for us. Bruce and I will think about it, I promise; won’t we, Bruce?’
‘Er, yes…of course,’ he replied, looking a little bewildered.
‘We will let you know what we decide,’ she went on. ‘We don’t want to wait too long anyway, do we, Bruce?’ She smiled at him coyly.
‘Er…no; definitely not,’ he replied.
‘It will be sometime next year anyway,’ Christine went on. ‘I’m sure we can promise that. A spring wedding would be nice; or June, perhaps,’ she said dreamily. ‘It would be lovely to be a June bride.’
‘Yes, I was a June bride…’ said Rebecca, equally dreamily. ‘A long time ago…’
‘Not all that long, love,’ said Archie. ‘Though I know it seems like it sometimes,’ he chuckled, with a mock frown at his wife. ‘Thirty-five years, isn’t it?’
‘Yes; fancy you remembering that, Archie,’ smiled Rebecca. She turned to Christine. ‘Thank you, dear. It will make me so happy if you can indulge me a little. I do so like these happy family occasions…’
‘Her and her happy family occasions!’ said Christine to her friend, Sadie Gascoyne, the following weekend. ‘Not if I can help it. Honestly, that woman! I’ve never met such an interfering busy-body in all my life. He’s not so bad, Archie, the squire, and he puts her in her place now and again. But she really does like to have her own way, and I just don’t want it, Sadie, all that fuss and carry-on, certainly not up there in Middlebeck with all those country bumpkins.’
Sadie had recently been demobbed from the ATS and they were in Christine’s flat, catching up on all the news. Sadie was due to start work again the next day, in the same mill office as her friend. ‘I’m surprised at you really, Chrissie,’ she said. ‘I thought all girls would want to have a nice wedding now that the war’s over. I’m looking forward to mine; ours, I should say; we tend to overlook the bridegroom sometimes, don’t we? But I must admit that my mother is quite over the moon, arranging it all; more excited than I am, really. I expect Bruce’s mother does like the idea of being in charge, but I’m sure she’s only trying to please you and make it a happy occasion. With your own mother not being here, I mean; she probably feels she wants to make up for it.’
‘Yes, that’s what she says, and I know she’s only trying to be kind. But I sometimes feel like a fish out of water up there. All those folk fussing around Bruce because he’s the squire’s son. And those girls that he knows; quite a harem he’s got, I can tell you! They look at me as though I’ve come from another planet.’
Sadie laughed. ‘You’re exaggerating. I’m sure they don’t. Haven’t people made you feel welcome?’
‘Ye…es,’ said Christine grudgingly, knowing she was being a little unfair. ‘Bruce’s family are nice to me, though I feel his mother’s trying a bit too hard… His father’s good fun, though, and his sisters and their husbands are OK, what I’ve seen of them. But then there’s that girl… I’ve told you about that Maisie girl, haven’t I? If she’s not in love with Bruce I’ll eat my hat. But he says she’s just a kid he’s known for ages.’
‘Well then, what are you worried about?’
‘I’m not… But he only went and asked her to sing at the party, didn’t he? I could’ve throttled him, honestly, but I didn’t say anything because the next minute he announced our engagement. That took the wind out of her sails all right.’ She gave a malevolent little grin, but, in truth, she hadn’t noticed much of a reaction from Maisie Jackson. The girl had seemed very engrossed with the farmer’s lad she had been dancing with for most of the evening. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to ask her to be a bridesmaid,’ she added.
‘Now you’re just being silly,’ said Sadie.
‘Yes, maybe I am…’ Christine laughed. ‘But I want to get right away from Yorkshire when we’re married. Bruce is different, somehow, when he’s up there with them. And I can’t wait to leave Bradford behind.’
‘I shall miss you, though,’ said Sadie. ‘I know I shall be leaving as well, when Roland and I get married, but we’ll still be friends, won’t we?’
‘Of course we will,’ replied Christine, and she meant it sincerely. Sadie was a good friend, one who brought the best out in her and not the worst; although there was a great deal that her friend still did not know about Christine’s background. And she would never need to, once they had left Bradford; it was in that city that the danger lay. ‘We will always be friends, I hope,’ she said. ‘Just because you and Roland are going to live in Germany, it doesn’t mean we’ll never see one another again, does it?’
‘Goodness, I hope not,’ said Sadie. ‘It’s not definite about Germany, yet, but there’s a strong possibility that Roland will be posted there in a few months. That’s why we’ve planned a February wedding. Rather earlier than we wanted, but you will be my bridesmaid, won’t you?’
‘Of course; I’ve said that I will.’
‘I was hoping to do the same for you, but we’ll probably have gone by the time you get married. Have you made any plans at all? What does Bruce say? Does he want to go along with his mother’s idea?’
‘No, not really… I’m working on him,’ said Christine. ‘A quiet Register Office do, that’s what I want. There’s no harm, though, in letting his mother live in cloud cuckoo land for a little while, but I’m getting Bruce round to my way of thinking.’ She gave a self-satisfied little smile.
‘You’re very lucky, you know,’ said Sadie, ‘and I hope you realise it. Bruce is a lovely young man and he thinks the world of you, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh yes, I do believe he does,’ said Christine.
‘Then maybe you could meet him – and his mother – halfway?’ suggested Sadie. ‘Just a small wedding, for family and a few friends, perhaps; a church wedding, I mean, here in Bradford, though, at your own church, not up in Middlebeck.’
‘But I don’t go to church, do I?’
‘Well, at your local church then; you know what I mean. I should try not to antagonise Bruce’s family, Christine. It sounds as though they’re a nice family, and they have accepted you.’
‘So they have,’ said Christine.
But Rebecca Tremaine would certainly not have approved if she had known how much time her son and Christine were spending alone together. She was not aware, for instance, that Bruce, instead of returning directly to his camp on the Sunday afternoon, as he had intimated, had gone instead to Bradford and spent the night in Christine’s flat, and in her bed, before going on to Lincolnshire the following day.
Now that they were not governed by the bureaucracy of wartime he was able to get away for at least twenty-four hours each weekend. The times they spent together were becoming increasingly passionate. Bruce was taking precautionary measures, as he had promised he would; but, unbeknown to him, Christine had other ideas.
Lily had been surprisingly obdurate when Maisie had asked if she could go to the pictures with Ted. She had broached the subject on the Monday evening, after Joanie and Jimmy, having been allowed to stay up to listen to Monday Night at Eight, had gone to bed.
‘Oh, Maisie, love, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘You know how I feel about you going out with boys. I’ve told you before; you’re not old enough, not until you’re sixteen. If you were just a bit older…’
‘But that’s ridiculous, Mum,’ retorted Maisie. ‘What difference will it make when I’m sixteen? It’s only a few months away, and everybody says I’m very grown-up for my age.’
Yes, and that is part of the problem, Lily thought to herself, but she did not voice her misgivings, except to say, ‘Yes, I know, love. I know you are quite grown-up in some ways…’ Lily knew that the circumstances of her life back in Leeds had forced her little girl to grow up early; that, and becoming an evacuee at the age of nine. ‘… But the fact remains that you are still only a child.’
‘A child! Of course I’m not a child,’ remonstrated Maisie. ‘Joanie and Jimmy are children. I’m not! So don’t treat me as though I’m a kid like them.’
‘I know what you are saying, Maisie,’ replied her mother, ‘and of course I don’t treat you like Joanie and Jimmy. But in the eyes of the law – that’s what I mean – you are classed as a child until you are sixteen. Besides, Ted is so much older than you, isn’t he?’
Maisie sighed. ‘I thought you’d say that. What about Audrey then? She’s been going around with Brian Milner for ages. I know she’s sixteen now – she’s older than me, worst luck! – but she doesn’t look it, and she was only fifteen when she started going with him.’
‘It is no concern of mine what Luke and Patience allow their adopted daughter to do,’ answered Lily, ‘but I’m sure they keep a strict eye on her, and Brian is still at school himself, isn’t he?’
‘Not like Ted, you mean? Ted’s been around a bit; that’s what you mean, isn’t it? What d’you think he’s going to do? Jump on me?’
‘Maisie, really…’
‘Well, if he does, I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid, and I do know what goes on. I thought you’d have realised that, Mum…’ She looked at her mother steadily, and Lily lowered her eyes.
‘Yes, love, I do know. I’ve not forgotten that awful time when you were a little girl. But that’s why I want to protect you, you see.’
‘From Ted?’ Maisie laughed. ‘But you know him, Mum, and what a decent lad he is. We’ve known him ever since we came to live in Middlebeck. Anyway, I don’t know why you’re making such a big thing of it. He’s only asked me to go to the pictures. He might not ask me out again. We just got friendly, like, at Bruce’s party, that’s all.’
Lily nodded, a little more understandingly. She was remembering her daughter’s former anguish about the squire’s son, from which, fortunately, she seemed to have recovered; and she decided to relent. ‘Very well then, Maisie. I suppose I will have to say yes, you can go. You were a good girl to ask me, anyway.’ She might easily have told a fib about it; said she was going with a girl friend, or to something at the church. ‘And I know I can trust you to behave sensibly. But you must be home by half past ten. I think that’s reasonable, don’t you?’
‘Yes, that’s great, Mum. Thanks for saying I can go.’ She did not fling her arms around her mother; that had never been their way. ‘Shall I go and make a cup of tea?’ she asked, ‘then we can listen to Valentine Dyall before we go to bed.’
‘You and your ghost stories!’ said Lily. ‘You’ll be having nightmares.’ Valentine Dyall, the ‘Man in Black’, told spooky stories on the radio quite late at night, and Maisie liked to stay up to listen to them.
‘No, I won’t,’ she laughed. ‘It’s only a story, not real life. It never disturbs my sleep.’
‘That’s all right then,’ said Lily. ‘Yes, thank you, love; we’ll have a cup of tea. And there’s some flapjack in the tin; Arthur brought it from the shop.’
No, it was not very likely that Maisie would be frightened by a ghost story, thought Lily as she listened to the clatter of cups in the kitchen and the sound of her daughter’s voice as she sang softly to herself. That was a good sign; she must be feeling happy. Lily felt glad that she had given in and said that she could go out with Ted Nixon. After all, she had not been all that much older herself when she had met Davey Jackson, Maisie’s father; only seventeen and Davey just a year older. At least this friendship would get Maisie’s thoughts away from Bruce Tremaine and his engagement. As for the ghost stories, the girl had had much more than that to frighten her in the past, and so had she, Lily.
Thank God that was all over. Lily knew she must make the most of the evenings she spent with her daughter, just the two of them, when the little ’uns had gone to bed. There had been a time when she feared that she and Maisie were growing apart, and she had been somewhat resentful of the influence that Patience Fairchild had had on the girl’s life. Even during the mid-years of the war, after Lily also had come to live in Middlebeck, Maisie had remained at the Rectory, whilst Lily stayed at Tremaine House in charge of the land girls who were billetted there. It had taken a while for the mother and daughter to regain the affinity they had shared when Maisie was a tiny girl – it had been damaged almost irreparably by Sidney and Percy Bragg – but now they were once again the best of friends; notwithstanding the occasional slight dispute, such as they had had tonight.
Quite soon – early in the coming year of 1946, in fact – there would be important changes taking place which would be sure to affect, to some degree, the present closeness that the mother and daughter shared. Lily and Arthur planned to marry in early March, but before that there were changes to be made to their respective living accommodation. Mr and Mrs Jenner, the owners of the draper’s shop – one day to become Lily’s – had been only too pleased to give permission for the wall between the upstairs premises to be knocked down and the rooms converted into one large apartment instead of two. There would be separate bedrooms for Joanie and Jimmy, who were sharing at present, and a larger room for Maisie, if she so wished. But Lily knew that her daughter was very fond of her attic room and her bird’s eye view, as from an eyrie. A larger sitting room, too, and maybe a separate dining room and a much larger, more modern kitchen. The builders were due to start work soon after Christmas and Lily was excitedly making plans.
This would be a good marriage, she was sure of it. There was no expectation of heady romance or intense passion, but she knew that Arthur loved her in a quiet, undemanding way, and that was how she loved him in return. The thought of spending the rest of her life with him filled her, if not with rapture, then with a feeling of contentment.
The films shown at the Palace cinema in Middlebeck were not new releases such as were seen in the Odeons and Alhambras in cities like Leeds and Bradford. A film from the previous year, Meet me in St Louis, starring Judy Garland, was on at the local cinema during the week in November when Maisie and Ted went out together for the first time. But as Maisie had not seen it, and as she remembered the star with a sense of nostalgia from her performance in The Wizard of Oz, she found herself looking forward to the outing.
The cinema had not changed very much from the time when she, with Audrey and Doris, had gone to watch the children’s matinee performances during the early war years. At that time, though, the children had sat on long forms at the front of the cinema, but these had now been replaced by red plush tip-up seats like the ones at the rear. But the orange silk curtain was the same, now even more faded, and Maisie was certain that the adverts for local businesses, flashed on the screen before the performance started, had scarcely changed at all.
Before the main film was shown they sat through a nature film about migrating swallows, a short Donald Duck cartoon, the trailer for the following week’s performance – a cowboy film starring John Wayne, which Maisie did not fancy at all – and the Gaumont British News. This showed the intensive building of council houses and ‘prefabs’ being undertaken by the new Labour Government; the King and Queen and the two princesses strolling informally in their grounds at Sandringham; and, on a more sombre note, a brief look at the German town of Nuremberg, where the trial of Nazi war leaders had just begun.
Maisie and Ted sat at the back in the slightly more expensive seats. She was relieved that he did not attempt to put his arm round her – she could see a couple kissing quite unashamedly further along their row – but he did take hold of her hand. At the interval he bought two small cardboard tubs of ice-cream, which they ate with tiny wooden spoons.
Ted, it seemed, was not much of a one for chattering; he had said very little at all since he had called for Maisie. She had never found it hard to engage in conversation with anyone, so she was rather fazed by this.
‘You’re very quiet, Ted,’ she said, when she had finished her ice-cream and placed the carton tidily on the floor; there was nowhere else to put it. ‘Is there something the matter?’ She wondered whether he was, in fact, having second thoughts about asking her out.
‘No, not at all,’ he replied. ‘There’s nothing the matter; what could there be? I’m only too pleased to be here with you.’ He smiled at her fondly. ‘I’m usually quiet; my sister’s the chatterbox in the family, as no doubt you know, and my brother has plenty to say for himself. I suppose I take after my mother, in disposition as well as in looks. I’m not much good at conversation, I’m afraid, not unless I have something important to say.’
‘That’s all right then,’ smiled Maisie, ‘so long as there’s nothing wrong. You’ll find I can talk enough for two people. So…how’s life on the farm?’ she asked, trying to draw him out. ‘Has your Joe settled down to working there again?’
‘Oh aye, I think he’s glad to be back home, especially with Irene, his fiancée. Her folks have a farm down Lowerbeck way.’
‘So are they getting married soon?’
‘I dunno; he hasn’t said so. I reckon they’re saving up for a place of their own. Unless he takes over our farm, of course…’
‘To buy it, you mean?’ asked Maisie.
‘Aye, mebbe so… The squire has said he’d like to sell it and he’s offered it to us, but our mam’s in two minds as to what to do about it. She’s getting tired, y’know. She’s taken over the running of the farm since our dad died, and she works as hard as any of us. We’re not right sure what’s going to happen at the moment. We’re having some extra help, though, so she’ll be able to take it a bit easier.’
‘Oh? Another farm worker, you mean?’
‘Aye, sort of. We had the land girls, as you know, all through the war, but they’ve gone back home now. We’ve been told we’re having some foreigners, two of ’em. Displaced persons, they’re calling ’em, from Poland. Apparently they’re not too happy at what’s going on over there, so a lot of ’em are coming here, and they’ve got to be found work. So they’ll be working on t’ squire’s land and helping us out an’ all, like the land girls did.’
‘And where will they live?’ asked Maisie.
‘I dunno for sure. Happen at Tremaine House, if Mrs Tremaine’ll have them. There’s plenty of room there and she’s always ready to do folks a good turn… Hey up; the film’s starting now; I’d best shut up…’
Maisie enjoyed the light-hearted film and the cheerful songs. She was singing the words of ‘The Trolley Song’ softly to herself as they left the cinema and emerged into the chilly night air.
‘You obviously enjoyed it,’ said Ted, taking hold of her arm.
‘Yes, I did, very much so,’ she replied. ‘Thanks for taking me, Ted.’
‘Don’t mench… We’ll go again soon. That is, if you’d like to…?’
‘Mmm…yes, I would. But not next week, if you don’t mind. I’m not keen on cowboy films.’
‘Nor am I for that matter. But we don’t have to go to the pictures, do we? There are other places we could go.’
‘Such as…?’ asked Maisie.
She knew she had stumped him there. Where else was there to go in a little town like Middlebeck? Dances and social gatherings were few and far between, and although Ted went to public houses sometimes, Maisie was not old enough to go. Besides, they were not really the sort of places that well-brought-up girls frequented. During the summer time there were lots of secluded country lanes where courting couples could walk; not in the winter, though, not unless you were up to no good. Anyway, she and Ted were not officially ‘courting’. She did not want to invite him to her home, nor did she expect to be invited to his, not as his girlfriend, although she had been there many times as Doris’s friend.
Ted scratched his head. ‘Aye, that’s a problem, isn’t it? Ne’er mind, I’ll think of something. I tell you what, let’s go and get some chips, shall we? It’s a bit parky tonight and they’ll warm us up.’
The fish and chip shop round the next corner was a haven of comfort and warmth, with the boiling fat sizzling away and the appetising smell of frying fish in crispy batter, and golden brown chips. They joined the short queue standing against the gleaming chrome and glass counter, and the pale blue tiled walls decorated with patterns of seashells and seaweed and multi-coloured fish.
‘Two penn’orth each, please, salt and vinegar,’ said Ted when it was their turn. ‘Unless you’d like a fish an’ all. Would you Maisie?’
‘No thanks, chips’ll be fine.’
‘Mushy peas?’ enquired the plump fresh-faced woman in a white overall and cap.
‘No thanks,’ said Maisie again. ‘Just chips.’
‘Go on,’ said Ted, ‘I’ll have some mushy peas, an’ I’ll share ’em with you, Maisie. Never let it be said that I don’t know how to treat a lady.’
The woman dished out two portions of chips on to greaseproof paper, with a sheet of newspaper underneath, and Maisie and Ted added their own vinegar, and salt from a large metal container. The bright green mushy peas were in a waxed carton and the woman provided them with two wooden spoons; the chips had to be eaten with fingers.
‘Thanks very much; come again,’ she called as they left the shop.
Chip shop chips were a treat for Maisie as her mother did not often buy them. ‘They’re yummy!’ she pronounced, blowing on the hot chunks of potato before savouring their delicious crispness. ‘And so are these,’ she added, taking a spoonful of the green gooey substance, as much liquid as solid. ‘My mum never buys these.’
‘No, nor does mine,’ said Ted. They stood against the wall at the back entrance to Lily’s shop, finishing off the remains of their snack.
‘Here, give me the rubbish, and I’ll put it in the dustbin,’ said Maisie, making to open the back gate. ‘Thanks ever so much for tonight, Ted. I’ve really enjoyed myself.’
‘So have I,’ he replied. ‘I can see you again…can’t I?’
‘Yes, of course…’ said Maisie.
‘When? Next week? Or this weekend…?’ asked Ted eagerly.
‘I’m not sure. The thing is… I’m rather busy at the moment. There’s all the practices, y’see, for the pantomime; you’ll know about that, with Doris being in it. As well as choir practice, and I’ve…all sorts of other things to do as well.’ She did not mention homework, as she thought it would make her sound like a schoolgirl, which, of course, she was… And the fact remained that she did have her homework to do. ‘I’m not making excuses, honestly,’ she said, realising that it sounded very much as though she was. ‘I would like to see you again…’
‘OK then…’ said Ted. ‘I understand.’ He looked at her a little plaintively, then he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘I’ll get in touch with you soon, Maisie…’ He nodded and smiled and then he was gone.
Maisie realised that it would be rather nice to see him again. He was an uncomplicated young man and she had enjoyed his company. She also realised that her thoughts had hardly strayed at all to Bruce Tremaine, except when Ted had mentioned the farm. She must be getting over it…