Maisie joined Patience, Audrey and Johnny in their pew near the front of the church on Sunday morning. Timothy was in the choir and Johnny was a somewhat reluctant churchgoer at the moment, but he had no choice in the matter.

‘I thought you might be singing in the choir,’ whispered Audrey.

‘Oh no; that wouldn’t be fair,’ replied Maisie. ‘I haven’t been to any of the practices and I don’t really belong to it now. Anyway, it’s nice to listen for a change. What about you? How are you feeling now?’

Audrey grimaced. ‘If you mean physically, not too good. I felt awful sick this morning. I’ve only had a piece of toast; I couldn’t face the rest of the stuff that the others were tucking into. Tim noticed…but I told him I’d got out of the habit of eating big breakfasts. He doesn’t know yet, you see.’

‘But how are you otherwise…you know? They were OK with you, were they, after I’d gone?’ Maisie spoke very quietly, although it was doubtful that Patience could hear her, or, to give her her due, would be listening. Johnny was between her and the girls and she was talking to the lady on her other side, one of the members of the Mothers’ Union.

‘Yes, of course they were. They’ve been great, Maisie, like you said they would be. So understanding; I don’t really deserve it.’

Maisie squeezed her arm. ‘Yes you do. I knew it would be all right. You seem much happier about…things.’

‘Yes, so I am. They’ve persuaded me to go back to college and face the music!’ She grimaced again. ‘I’m dreading that, but Dad says he’ll go with me. Oh yes; I’ve got something to tell you… Luke says he’ll take you back to Leeds at the same time, but we won’t be able to set off until after the evening service. Is that OK with you?’

‘Of course it is. I was thinking I would have to catch an afternoon train, but now I can have a bit longer here. That’s really kind of Luke…’ It was odd, she thought, or maybe it was understandable, that Audrey alternated between the names of ‘Dad’ and ‘Luke’ when speaking of the rector. He had been a loving father to her over the years, but there must be times when she thought about her real father, Alf Dennison, who had been killed when she was ten years old.

‘Shh… He’s here now, your dad,’ said Maisie, as the choir, followed by Luke, progressed out of the vestry. ‘We’d better shut up!’

They all stood to sing the opening hymn, ‘For the Beauty of the Earth’. The words were poignant, thought Maisie, when they came to the third verse.

She wondered if Luke had chosen the hymn specially.

After the service Maisie was pleased to see Anne Mellodey waiting for her on the pathway. Anne was just saying goodbye to Charity Foster, her old headmistress and friend, whom she often accompanied to church on a Sunday morning.

‘Maisie, how lovely to see you, dear!’ said Charity, still Miss Foster, of course, to Maisie.

‘And you too,’ she replied. ‘It’s only a flying visit though. I’m going back later today.’

‘And I must fly as well,’ said Miss Foster. ‘I’ve left a little lamb joint in the oven and I don’t want to find it burnt to a cinder. Cheerio for now…’

‘Fly is the right word,’ smiled Anne as the still sprightly lady hurried off down the path. ‘You should see her in that little car of hers, flying along the High Street. To be quite honest, I don’t accept a lift from her if I can help it. I make the excuse that I prefer to walk, which is quite true, of course.’

‘You have never learned to drive then, Anne?’

‘No; there’s never been any need to. I live near enough to school.’

‘You have to admire Miss Foster, though, learning to drive at her age. It couldn’t have been easy.’

‘She thought it was. She says she’s taken to it like a duck to water,’ laughed Anne. ‘But not everybody is of the same opinion.’

‘She’s not had any accidents though, has she?’

‘No, fingers crossed… Anyway, Maisie, I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve got some news for you! If I hadn’t seen you soon I was going to write. I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while, but all sorts of things have been happening.’

‘That’s OK. I’ve been rather negligent, too, with my letter writing lately. So, what do you want to tell me?’

‘I can’t tell you right now.’ Anne gave a secretive sort of smile. ‘Could you come round this afternoon? Come and have tea with me, or are you going back early?’

‘No, not until this evening. Luke is taking me back at the same time as he takes Audrey to college.’ Audrey was standing with Patience, chatting to two of Patience’s friends. Maisie felt somewhat relieved that she had not come to join in the conversation with herself and Anne. A little selfish of her, perhaps, she thought, guiltily. But there were times when she liked to have Anne all to herself.

‘That’s lovely then,’ said Anne. Her bright blue eyes were glowing with animation, and Maisie thought she could guess what the news might be. ‘See you later then, about half past two?’

‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it…’

Lily had been pleased to see her daughter, but not over surprised at her sudden arrival, or over curious about the reason for the visit. Maisie explained that it had seemed like a good opportunity to pay a brief visit because Audrey had felt it was time she came to see her family. She gave no hint of Audrey’s real reason for coming. No doubt when the news broke, as it most surely would, there would be talk enough, although Lily, having suffered more than enough traumas of her own, would not be one to condemn.

Both she and Arthur were preoccupied with their plans for the new restaurant. The work was progressing well, according to schedule, and they were still hoping to open at the Easter weekend, in a few weeks’ time.

‘We’ve decided on a name,’ Lily told Maisie as they ate their Sunday lunch. ‘It’s going to be called “Arthur’s Place”. That’s all, just “Arthur’s Place”. Short and to the point and easy to remember.’

‘It wasn’t my idea,’ said Arthur. ‘It’s not just my place, is it? It’s Lily’s as well, and our Flo’s and Harry’s. But they seemed unanimous, the rest of ’em, so I’m not going to argue.’

‘Sounds OK to me,’ said Maisie. ‘I’m sure it’ll catch on. It was your bakery in the first place, wasn’t it, Arthur, and your idea to do the outside catering? “Arthur’s Place”… Yes, I like it. I must certainly try to be here for the grand opening. Yes, I’m sure I’ll be able to come. Our office will be closed Easter Monday…’

‘So you’re still here, Anne,’ Maisie remarked after she had settled down in one of her friend’s easy chairs, in the upstairs flat she had lived in for quite a few years. ‘You did talk about moving at one time, didn’t you? About buying a little place of your own…’

‘Instead of paying rent? Yes, I did, but I was nicely settled in here and near to school, so I never made the effort. And now… I won’t need to!’ Anne’s eyes were shining more brightly than ever as she put out her left hand, displaying the ring on the third finger; a cross-over style of an emerald and two diamonds. ‘I’m getting married, Maisie! Quite soon actually, although we’ve only just got engaged. I wanted you to be one of the first to know. I’ve told Charity, of course, and my parents.’

‘Gosh, that’s wonderful news!’ exclaimed Maisie, going over to give her friend a quick hug. ‘I did guess, though, that that might be what you wanted to tell me. You’ve been friendly for a good while, haven’t you, you and Stefan? Although nobody was very sure whether you would…’

‘Whether we would make it to the altar?’ smiled Anne. ‘I wasn’t sure either and…no, we didn’t make it, not Stefan and me.’ She laughed at Maisie’s incredulous face. ‘I’m not marrying Stefan Chevesky – I thought you would have known all about that. No, I’m marrying Roger – Roger Ellison.’

‘Roger Ellison? The army captain? Your…headmaster?’ To say that Maisie was surprised was not the half of it; she was flabbergasted. She stared at Anne in astonishment whilst her friend smiled back at her, clearly delighted that her news had made such an impact. ‘But…you didn’t like him. You said you were daggers drawn; in fact I was surprised you’d stayed at that school…so long.’ Her voice petered out. ‘I reckon you must have…changed your mind?’

‘You could say so,’ laughed Anne. ‘More than a bit. Roger and I have been friendly – very friendly, you might say – for about a year, although, before that we had been coming round to accepting one another’s point of view and realising we were not so very different after all. We always had the children’s interests at heart, deep down, both of us.’

‘Never mind about the children,’ said Maisie. ‘Tell me about you and Roger. How did it happen? And…what about Stefan Chevesky?’

‘I’m really surprised you didn’t know the tale about Stefan,’ said Anne. ‘I thought it was the talk of the village. I know you’re not living here now, but I thought your mother might have said something.’

‘Mum and Arthur are very busy with their own concerns at the moment, and she’s not one to gossip. She probably forgot she hadn’t told me, whatever it is. Do tell…’

‘Well, to put it in a nutshell, Stefan had a wife and son, back in Poland.’

‘No! Of all the deceitful cheating so-and-sos…’

Anne gave a wry smile. ‘I can’t really say that, Maisie. In spite of what a lot of people thought, we were never anything but good friends, and he never gave me any reason to think it might be otherwise.’

‘But he should have told you he was married, shouldn’t he? You must have wondered why…’

‘Why he didn’t take things further? Yes, maybe I did…but we enjoyed one another’s company and that seemed to be all that mattered. We had a lot in common; love of books and music and the countryside. And I suppose he was glad to meet a “kindred spirit”, as you might say, so far from home. He didn’t tell me he was married, for reasons best known to himself, and as the time went on I expect it became more and more difficult to tell me. But I’d started to get more friendly with Roger, so finding out about Stefan wasn’t the shock that it might have been.’

‘What happened to him, Stefan, I mean? Has he gone back to Poland?’

‘Oh no; his wife and son – he’s eight years old – have come over here. He’s working at a farm Lowerbeck way, and they’re living in a little cottage owned by the farmer. But he’s got his own workshop there, so I’m told, and in his spare time he’s working at the occupation he had back in Poland before the war.’

‘And what was that? I thought he was just a farm labourer. Although he always seemed to be worth a bit more than that, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, he was.’ Anne nodded. ‘He had to take just a menial job when he came over here, as they all did. He had been brought up on his father’s farm, but then he became a skilled craftsman – a wood carver. He made all sorts of objects, useful as well as decorative ones, and he had a thriving business until the war started. He joined the Polish army… and afterwards he found that he had lost everything. So he came to Britain… And I suppose he was saving up to bring his family over here.’

‘And he told you all this, did he? But forgot to mention his wife and child?’

‘He told me a little at a time… They had a hard time with the regime in Poland and he knew he had to get away. Apparently his wife and son went back to live with her parents, although I didn’t know that, of course, not at first. He told me in the end…when they were due to arrive. But by that time Roger and I had become friendly, as I’ve said, so I wasn’t as hurt as I might have been.’

‘I still think it was a rotten thing to do,’ said Maisie. ‘So…you’ve been keeping your friendship with the headmaster a secret, have you? You dark horse, Anne! Well, I hope you’re going to tell me all about it now.’

‘Of course I am. I know you’ll like Roger when you get to know him better. You don’t really know him at all, do you, Maisie?’

‘No, only as Joanie’s and Jimmy’s teacher at one time… And I’ve got to admit he worked wonders for them.’ To the surprise of many folk, certainly with regard to Jimmy, both children were now attending the Grammar schools in Lowerbeck. ‘I shall certainly look forward to getting to know him better. He must be OK if you like him, Anne.’

‘I do…very much.’ She blushed a little. ‘We’ve kept it quiet, mainly because of the children. You know what kids are like if they get hold of an idea. So we behave very circumspectly at school. It’s always Mr Ellison and Miss Mellodey, although I think the rest of the staff must have guessed. We have six teachers now, you know, including Roger, who still takes a class.’ Maisie had noticed how the once small village school had gradually mushroomed in size, part of the playground now having been taken over for the new buildings.

‘You really are one of the first to know,’ Anne went on. ‘Roger gave me the ring on Friday evening, so I’ve only been wearing it for two days. We’ll break the news to the staff tomorrow, although I don’t think it will be any great surprise, and as for the children, I suppose they will get to know by degrees. We don’t want to make a big thing of it, but they’ll be sure to know by the end of the summer term. That’s when we plan to get married; the first Saturday in August, soon after school has finished.’

‘Gosh! You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you? So you’ll be back living in the schoolhouse. Well, just imagine that!’

‘So I will… But Roger intends that we should buy our own house as well. A schoolhouse is all very well, but it’s only yours as long as you have the post. We’ve realised we have to plan for the future.’

‘I’m amazed at your news, Anne. But I’m really pleased for you. I can tell you think a lot about this… Roger.’

‘Mmm… First impressions cannot always be relied upon. I must admit I thought he was self-opinionated, too sure of himself…but I’ve realised it was a front. He wanted to appear confident at the interview; he badly needed to be offered that job, to get back his nerve and his self-confidence, so he’s told me since. And he might have overdone it…’ She laughed. ‘The rest of us candidates didn’t get a very favourable impression, but fortunately the committee could see his worth. And, of course, they were probably swayed at that time – just after the war – by his war record. He was commended for bravery at Dunkirk; that’s when he was injured and invalided out. He is really a very kind and unpretentious sort of man, although he does have quite strong opinions about some things.’

‘So where is he now? Shouldn’t he be with you on a Sunday afternoon?’

‘We had lunch together at the schoolhouse after I left you. We haven’t attended church together yet… And I told him I was seeing you this afternoon. He’s heard a lot about you, Maisie, I can assure you. I want to ask you, you see, if you will be my bridesmaid?’

Maisie gasped with surprise, and with delight. ‘Me? Of course I will! I’d love to… But why me, of all people?’

‘Why not?’ smiled Anne. ‘I’ve no sisters or close relations. I can’t very well ask Charity, can I?’ Maisie giggled quietly, thinking of the former headmistress in a pink satin dress or something of the sort, carrying a bouquet. ‘I have one or two friends at school and a college friend I’ve kept in touch with. But who would I ask but you, Maisie? We’ve shared such a lot, you and I, since we came up to Middlebeck together.’

‘I would be delighted,’ said Maisie. ‘I do feel honoured. Thank you so much for asking me.’

‘We don’t want a big “do”,’ Anne continued. ‘I mean, we don’t want lots of little bridesmaids and pageboys and so on. I was in two minds as to whether to have a conventional white dress – I shall be thirty-six by the time we get married – but Roger says I must. So I want you to be my sole attendant. I thought about asking Audrey and Doris as well, and then I decided against it. Anyway, Doris is pregnant again. I don’t know whether you knew?’

‘No, I didn’t actually.’

‘Yes, their second child is due in September. So that rules her out, doesn’t it? And I haven’t really kept in touch with Audrey lately, not since she went to college.’

And Audrey, too, would be very pregnant by the beginning of August, thought Maisie. But she knew that now was not the time to tell Anne of her friend’s dilemma.

‘And we were wondering, Roger and I, whether Arthur would put on a meal for us after the ceremony? Wedding breakfast they call it, don’t they, although it will be lunchtime, of course. Possibly about one o’clock if the wedding is at twelve, but we will have to make arrangements with Luke first.’

‘Do you mean in the new restaurant?’ asked Maisie.

Anne nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right…’

‘I’m sure he will; he’ll be delighted. It won’t be a very big place though, you know. I don’t know how many they will be able to accommodate, but you’ll have to sort that out with Arthur.’

‘I’m not sure yet how many there will be. As I said, we don’t want a big “do”, but it’s amazing how the numbers add up when you start to count. If you ask so-and-so, then you have to ask so-and-so as well…’

‘I can imagine,’ said Maisie. She had never seen her friend so elated – at least not since Bill, her fiancé, had been killed all those years ago – and she had a special radiance about her. It was obvious that she was very much in love with Roger Ellison; and Maisie hoped that the marriage would bring her all the happiness and fulfilment that she deserved. ‘I’ll leave it to you to tell Arthur what sort of a meal you will require and the numbers and everything. In fact, I won’t even mention it to them. It’s up to you to spread the good news; I’m sure everybody will be delighted.’

‘I hope so,’ said Anne, ‘but I am delighted, so that is all that matters.’

‘May I tell Audrey, though?’ asked Maisie. ‘Luke’s driving us both back to Leeds later tonight, and she might think it’s odd that I’ve not told her. She’s sure to find out about me being your bridesmaid; so, if you don’t mind…’

‘Of course you can tell her. She’ll be on the guest list; so will all the Rectory family. Do you think she’ll understand about me having just you as a bridesmaid? She won’t feel left out?’

‘No, I’m quite sure she won’t,’ replied Maisie confidently. ‘Audrey has quite enough to think about… Her exams will be coming up soon, and her final school practice, so she tells me. I reckon she’ll be fully occupied, one way and another…’

‘How is Miss Thomson going on?’ asked Audrey as she and Patience were washing up after their Sunday lunch. ‘I noticed her in church, and when she was going down the path I saw that she was walking with a stick.’

‘She’s as well as can be expected for a lady of her age,’ replied Patience. ‘Nobody is quite sure how old she is. Amelia considers that her age is nobody’s business but her own, but she must be getting on for eighty, if not more.’

‘And she still lives alone over there, does she? She was on her own in church. Or does she have a live-in maid, like she used to have?’

‘No, not any more. She hasn’t had anyone living there since the land girls left at the end of the war. People keep telling her she should have a companion, but she’s as stubborn as a mule.’

‘So what’s changed?’ smiled Audrey.

‘Oh, she’s nothing like as crotchety as she used to be. Quite mellow in fact, in some ways. Having the land girls living with her did her a world of good, and she still gives your father a run for his money on the church council! It’s difficult to get live-in maids these days. Girls have become much more independent since the war and they’re looking for other kinds of jobs; they don’t want to go into service any more. Daisy, of course, was one of the last of a dying breed.’

‘Yes, she was a treasure,’ agreed Audrey. ‘Miss Thomson didn’t realise just how valuable Daisy was until she left to join the ATS, did she?’

Audrey was remembering how the maid-of-all-work, Daisy Kitson, had taken her under her wing and mothered her when she had gone as an evacuee to live at Miss Thomson’s house. She had been scared out of her wits at first by the draconian old woman, but Daisy had made it all so much better… Until the time when the two of them, the maid and the evacuee, had displeased ‘Old Amelia’, resulting in Audrey going to live at the Rectory and Daisy joining the ATS. But that was all a long time ago, and Audrey felt sorry for the old lady now, living alone in that big house on the other side of the village green.

‘I think I’ll go across and see her this afternoon,’ she said. ‘What do you think, Mum? Or…does she not like having visitors?’

‘I think that would be very nice indeed,’ said Patience. ‘That’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Audrey. She will be pleased to see you, I’m sure. She has quite a few visitors. People don’t mind going now because she’s not the cantankerous old woman she used to be. I’ll give you a pot of my raspberry jam to take to her, and a ginger cake I made yesterday…’

A few moments passed after Audrey knocked at the door, but she waited, feeling sure that Miss Thomson would not have gone out. Sure enough, the door opened eventually and the elderly woman peered out questioningly. ‘Yes…who is it?’ Her beady, almost black, eyes behind the rimless spectacles appeared as sharp as ever, but Audrey guessed that she probably did not see everything as clearly as she had used to do.

‘It’s me, Miss Thomson,’ she said. ‘Audrey… You know, Audrey Fairchild, from the Rectory.’

‘Audrey! Yes, of course it is.’ Miss Thomson smiled and her eyes softened as she looked closely at her visitor. ‘Come along in, my dear. How nice it is to see you. I noticed you in church this morning with your mother, and that friend of yours was there too, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes… Maisie,’ replied Audrey, following her into the lounge, which did not appear to have changed at all since the early days of the war. The old-fashioned furniture and the patterned carpet were the same, as were the velour curtains, partly drawn to keep out the sun, although there was little sun to be seen. It smelled musty, and Audrey remembered that fires were very rarely lit in that room, although it was the one into which visitors were always shown. Miss Thomson stopped to switch on an electric fire, and two bars started to glow, which made the atmosphere a little more cheerful.

‘Maisie and I both decided to come home for the weekend,’ she said, sitting down on what was called an easy chair; it was anything but, being stuffed with horsehair. ‘We’re going back later today. My father is driving us to Leeds. Maisie works there now, you know, and I’m at college near Leeds.’

‘Maisie…yes, I remember.’ Miss Thomson sniffed, a little disapprovingly. She and Maisie had crossed swords right at the beginning of the war when the little girl had stood up for her friend and, Audrey recalled, had referred to her as a ‘nasty old woman’. And after that, ‘Old Amelia’ had never really warmed to Maisie as everyone else had seemed to do, believing that the child was cheeky and too forward by half. ‘She’s working in a travel agency, isn’t she? In charge of it, so I’ve heard.’ There was clearly not much wrong with the woman’s grasp of the facts. ‘That should suit her down to the ground; she always had a lot to say for herself, that one… And what about you, Audrey? You’re still at that college are you, training to be a teacher?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I finish though, at the end of June.’

‘So you’ll be coming to teach here, I suppose, at the village school?’

‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ replied Audrey. The possibility of that had not occurred to her; she was not sure that she would want to teach in her own town. And under the circumstances it would be impossible. Just for the moment she had almost forgotten her predicament, at least it had receded to the back of her mind; but now the awfulness of it all was taking hold of her again. ‘No…’ she said. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea. I’m not sure what I shall do. I’ll probably get a post…somewhere else.’

Amelia was looking at her keenly. ‘I can see you in charge of our village school one of these days.’ She nodded sagely and smiled. ‘You were always such a clever little girl, and so sensible…’

Audrey began to feel confused and anxious again. Whatever would the old lady say when she discovered the truth? What would they all say? The enormity of it was threatening to overwhelm her, and she had thought she was coping so well after unburdening herself to her parents. She could feel her hands starting to tremble and she clasped them together, staring down at the carpet. Change the subject, please, please…she said silently. You don’t know what I’m like; I’m not sensible at all…

Her eyes lit on the bag at the side of her chair and she grabbed hold of it. ‘My mum has sent you some jam,’ she said, ‘and a cake. She says she hopes you’ll enjoy them.’

‘Thank you, dear; how very kind of her,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘I don’t bake any more now, so that will be a real treat. Mrs Kitson does some baking for me now and again. You remember Mrs Kitson, don’t you, Audrey; Daisy’s mother? She cleans for me a few mornings a week and does my washing and ironing, and the baking occasionally. People keep telling me I should have somebody to live with me, but I like my independence. I do my own shopping, although it takes me longer than it used to do.’

Audrey recalled that it was always Daisy who had done the shopping, along with all the other jobs, but the war had forced everyone, even genteel old ladies like Miss Thomson, to do more for themselves.

‘How is Daisy?’ she asked now. ‘Do you hear from her?’ Her moment of panic was passing, but she knew she must steer the conversation to other people and away from herself. She might have realised, though, that Miss Thomson would ask questions about what she was doing; old ladies were always nosey.

‘Oh yes, Daisy keeps in touch with me now and again. She and her husband – Andy, isn’t it? – they went to manage a farm in Worcestershire. They have two children, a boy and girl. She always sends me a Christmas card…’

Audrey refused the offer of a cup of tea, knowing that that would force her to stay a good deal longer. For the next half hour or so they chatted about this and that; about the work that was going on at Arthur Rawcliffe’s new restaurant; the numerous market stalls that had sprung up in the last year or so, all selling the same sort of produce; ‘new brooms’ on the church council who wanted to change everything…

When there was a lull in the conversation Audrey decided to take her leave. What would be Miss Thomson’s reaction to her the next time they met, she wondered? Luke had said she must hold her head up high, but it was not going to be easy.

She was glad of Maisie’s company on the journey back to Leeds. They chattered away in the back of the car – although it was Maisie who was doing most of the talking – leaving Luke to concentrate on the road ahead. He had acquired the second-hand Ford Anglia a couple of years before, to assist him in his parish work and his visits to his bishop and rural dean.

They stopped at Maisie’s flat, and she departed with a cheery smile and a wave. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘It’ll all be OK, you’ll see. Thanks for the lift, Luke, Be seeing you…’

How confident she always is, thought Audrey; she could not imagine her friend getting into this sort of a predicament. She was starting to feel nervous again; scared stiff, in fact. However would she be able to face Miss Montague and Miss Peabody and everybody?

‘Come and sit at the front with me now,’ said Luke. He looked at her anxious face and smiled confidently at her. ‘Be strong and of a good courage,’ he said. ‘All will be well. We’ll face this together, you and I…’

The words of one of Luke’s favourite hymns flashed into her mind.

Yes, it would be all right. Luke had always been able to make things right…