When, on the night of the dance in the Church Hall Jude had said, ‘I’ll be seeing you, Amy,’ he had meant it, and so, on Monday morning he walked into the library. When he looked at Amy, he felt his heart float. Hers fluttered and she looked back with a smile that told him all he wanted to know. He was wearing the same black suit that he’d worn the night of the dance and under it a crisp, white shirt. Slender and sinewy, with eyes darker than the night and shining black curls caressing his forehead and swarthy cheeks, Amy wondered if he would be Mr Darcy to her Elizabeth.
‘Wait for me in Religion and Theology,’ Amy whispered, sending Jude to a secluded corner of the library that didn’t attract many borrowers. When she joined him there, they both quickly agreed that the altercation with Samuel made no difference to their friendship, and when Jude asked to see her after work, maybe go to the theatre or do anything to spend time together, Amy readily accepted. However, Jude was on ‘afters’ that week, working two till ten, so nights out would have to wait. Jude left the library feeling as though the world was a different place, and for the rest of that week during the long hours underground he willed time to fly, and was barely able to conceal his impatience to see her again. Amy found herself counting the days, each morning appearing brighter than the one before and every passing hour filled with pleasurable anticipation.
On the next Monday afternoon, Jude deliberately lingered between the shelves until hatchet-faced Phoebe Littlewood curtly told him it was closing time. When Amy stepped outside a short while later, she found him perched on the wall by the steps, waiting for her. It was a warm evening, and when Jude suggested they walk along the riverbank behind the library and past the church, Amy saw no reason to refuse.
Immediately, just as on the night of the dance, they felt a connection, and they only had to look at or listen to each other to see it and feel it. As they walked by the river, the melancholy sound of a violin drifted through the open window of a garret in one of the houses on its banks. The tender strains of ‘Love is the Sweetest Thing’ floated on the air. How apt, Amy thought. She glanced at Jude to see if he heard it too.
His head was cocked and his eyes on the garret’s window. When he stopped walking and lowered his gaze, Amy could tell his thoughts matched her own, and as their eyes met Jude leaned in to share their first kiss. Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, more ardently this time. Beneath his shirt she felt the steady beat of heart, but her own felt as though it was melting. When the kiss ended, they drew apart, breathless, and simultaneously gasped, ‘I love you.’
*
After that first evening by the river they met whenever time allowed, every minute precious for they knew they were meant to be together. Meetings flew by in a whirl of shared interests: books, politics of the day, natural history, and each other. They swapped stories from their respective childhoods, Jude neglecting to mention the truth about his parentage. These walks, too brief and infrequent for their liking, brought with them an understanding that neither of them had ever before experienced.
Jude had always loved poetry and, encouraged by his mother Jenny, he had read many poems. Now, for the first time he understood what it was the romantic poets were trying to say: it was love, pure and beautiful love. For her part, Amy was lost in the wonder of his company, the pleasure of seeing him never diminishing and her heart beating that little bit faster whenever they met.
However, Amy chose not to mention any of this to her family or to Freda although the latter was curious as to why she made excuses for not spending time together after work. Afraid of Samuel’s reaction, she took care to hide it from him. On the evenings she stayed out late for a trip to the theatre or simply sitting in the comfort of Lily Tinker’s parlour, she told Hadley and Bessie she was with Freda or Beattie. She felt guilty at the pretence but she dared not chance their interference spoiling her romance, not when it was so beautiful. But some secrets are hard to keep.
*
‘What’s this about me and you going to the theatre to see Hindle Wakes last Saturday?’
Amy froze midway between taking off her coat in the library’s storeroom, ready to start work. Her back was towards Freda so she was able to hide the guilty flush that sprang to her cheeks, but Freda’s accusatory tone had her desperately searching for an excuse. Finding none, she turned to face her.
‘Who said that?’ Amy tried to sound uncaring.
‘Your Samuel. He asked me had I enjoyed it.’
‘And what did you say?’ Amy heard the wobble in her voice and knew that Freda heard it too.
Freda smiled smugly. ‘Oh, I didn’t let on, if that’s what you’re thinking. I knew who you were with so I pretended I’d seen it.’ Relief flooded Amy’s face but before she could offer her thanks, Freda said, ‘But don’t think I’ll lie for you the next time.’
‘I didn’t ask you to lie this time,’ Amy said tartly, having recovered her composure.
Freda smirked. ‘No, you didn’t, but you’ve been lying to me. Your Sammy seems to think we’re never done gallivanting but we haven’t been out together for ages. All you’ve done this while back is make excuses, saying you had to go straight home.’
‘I’m sorry, Freda. I shouldn’t have used you like that but I’m not yet ready to tell Mam and Dad about Jude, and you know what Sammy will say.’ Amy gave Freda an appeasing smile. ‘He really took a dislike to Jude on that night at the dance.’
‘I wonder why?’ Freda said sarcastically. ‘Still,’ she shrugged carelessly, ‘if you’re that ashamed of him being a collier, I can see why you’re keeping it a secret.’
‘I’m not ashamed,’ Amy retorted hotly. ‘I’d never be ashamed of Jude. He’s the most decent man I ever met.’
‘In that case you won’t mind me telling your Samuel who you’re out with the next time he asks, ’cos it’s certainly not me.’ Freda spun on her heel and flounced out.
Amy stayed where she was. It now seemed despicable to have cut off her friendship with Freda after all the times they had shared. She should have been honest about Jude and how much he meant to her. But, Amy reasoned, Freda would have tried to talk her out of being with him. Poor Freda, thought Amy, I understand why she feels annoyed at having no one to go out with, and that she’s jealous of Jude, but I can’t let her, or our Sammy, rule my life.
*
And so Amy’s secret love was secret no more. She was almost glad Freda had found her out, but common sense ruling that her romance would not meet with Samuel or her mother’s approval, she couldn’t help but worry.
Since that night at the Easter dance, Samuel had raised the incident with Jude more than once. Amy felt hurt when he accused her of having loose morals, and furious to be told she was a poor judge of men. Of course, Bessie had taken his side, warning Amy of the dangers of dallying with low-class colliers who were only out for one thing. Samuel had told her she should set her sights on Albert Sissons and Bessie had agreed. Amy had laughed scornfully, declaring that Albert was an insipid, inarticulate bore with droopy eyes and big ears, and as for his money… ‘It’s you that finds his assets attractive, not me,’ she had told them forcefully, ‘and as for marrying him, I’d sooner be a nun.’
But, like any other young girl in love for the first time Amy yearned to shout it from the treetops and share this new and wondrous feeling with someone who understood what it felt like to wake each morning and see the future in a completely different light. Freda should have been the obvious person to confide in but Amy hadn’t done that, so whom could she tell?
Against her better judgement, Amy decided to tell Beattie. Growing up, they had never been close enough to share hopes and dreams or secrets, the age gap too great and Beattie’s surly manner discouraging. But the new, grown-up Amy needed to talk to someone about Jude, and who better than her older sister? After all, Amy pondered, Beattie must know something about love. She’d married Bert and given him five children. With this thought in mind, she left work and walked to Grattan Row.
Beattie was in the kitchen cooking Bert’s tea. Amy dumped a large paper bag on the cluttered table. ‘Apples and ginger snaps for the kids,’ she said.
For once, Beattie was pleasantly welcoming. She smiled her thanks and offered Amy a cup of tea. ‘Let’s have a natter before Bert comes in,’ she said, this friendly gesture sneaking its way into Amy’s heart. Cups of tea in hand they lolled against the sink, gossiping.
When Amy reflected on what next took place, she was undecided as to whether it was finding Beattie in such a good mood or her own pensive feelings that made her say what she did – without thinking.
‘I’m in love, Beattie.’
Beattie raised her thick, black eyebrows, her face lighting up in surprise. ‘Who with?’ Before Amy could answer she said, ‘Don’t tell me it’s Albert Bloody Sissons. He’s awful.’
Amy grimaced. ‘No, it’s not him,’ she squealed. The grimace became a dreamy smile as she said, ‘His name’s Jude Leas and he’s absolutely wonderful. He works at the pit and lodges with Lily Tinker.’
The house door scraped open and Bert Stitt walked in. ‘How do, young’uns,’ he cried, fondling heads and patting bottoms as he made his way across the living room and into the kitchen. He beamed at his wife and sister-in-law. Bert was unfailingly cheerful despite having a cantankerous wife, too many mouths to feed, and empty pockets for most of the time.
‘Our Amy’s got a chap, Bert,’ Beattie blurted out, her delight apparent.
‘By bloody hell! It’s taken you long enough to find one.’
‘I think you know him,’ Beattie said. ‘Didn’t you tell me you work with a fellow called Jude?’
Bert grinned. ‘Aye, Jude Leas. He’s a grand lad is Jude. Right educated but not pushy wi’ it, if you know what I mean.’
Amy flushed with pleasure at his words. Then, her surprise showing, she said, ‘He mentioned working with a Bert and Seth, but I didn’t think of you.’ She didn’t add that the industrious, efficient and highly skilled Bert that Jude talked about bore no resemblance to the Bert she knew. Jude credited Bert with having taught him all he had learned about mining coal. He’d said it was thanks to Bert’s excellent tuition that he had been promoted to hewing coal rather than loading tubs. Amy looked at her feckless brother-in-law through new eyes.
Bert continued to sing Jude’s praises then sat down to his tea. Amy joined Beattie at the fireside. ‘What do that lot up there think about it?’ Beattie’s sour remark let Amy know she referred to just their parents and Samuel. Thomas didn’t think.
‘They don’t know I’m seeing him,’ she said miserably. ‘I’ve had to keep it a secret because of our Sammy.’ She told Beattie about the night of the dance and Samuel’s ongoing animosity.
‘And no doubt our dear mother agrees with our Sammy,’ Beattie said scornfully.
Amy clamped her lips together and nodded her head. ‘Dad’s being supportive but he doesn’t say much, and when he does, they shout him down,’ she said despairingly.
‘Take no notice of ’em. It’s always been the same in that house; Mam and our Sammy calling the tune and Dad letting them away with it.’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ Bert called from the table. ‘When your Beattie married me, it got her away from that bloody lot up there. She couldn’t believe her luck. Now she’s got me an’ a nice little home an’ five bonny bairns to make her happy.’
Beattie gave him a look of utter disbelief. Then she burst out laughing, a bitter-sounding cackle that brought tears to her eyes. Amy went home wondering if Beattie’s enthusiasm for her romance with Jude was partly motivated by the notion that now she and Amy were more equal; they’d both earned Bessie’s disapproval.
*
‘Late again,’ Bessie said, as Amy hurried into the farmhouse kitchen. ‘I’ve kept this warming for over an hour.’ She slammed a plate of steak pie, potatoes and vegetables down on the table. ‘I don’t know why you can’t come straight home to eat with the rest of us.’
‘I do,’ snarled Samuel. ‘She’s been wi’ that collier I told you about; the one I gave a bloody good hiding that night of the dance.’
Amy widened her eyes at Samuel’s lie. ‘You did no such thing. You just made a fool of yourself. Jude’s too much of a gentleman to brawl with the likes of you.’
Samuel looked abashed then blustered, ‘Jude, is it? I should have wiped the bloody floor with him, what with him traipsing you outside to do God knows what once he got you on your own in the graveyard.’
‘Keep your dirty insinuations to yourself, Sammy. Not all men are like you.’
‘Now, now,’ Bessie reprimanded, ‘don’t speak to our Samuel in that tone. He was only looking out for you.’
‘No he wasn’t, he was doing what he always does; ruling the roost.’ Amy pushed the plate of dried-up food aside. ‘I don’t want any dinner,’ she said, storming to the foot of the stairs, ‘nor do I want him telling me who I can or cannot be friends with.’
Just then, Hadley came in from the yard. Hearing Amy’s angry words, he asked, ‘What’s to do?’
‘Ask him!’ cried Amy. ‘Our Sammy seems to think he has the right to tell us all what to do, and I’ve had enough of it.’ She looked beseechingly at Hadley. ‘Dad, I’ve met the most wonderful young man and I’d like bring him home to meet you, but our Sammy’s decided he isn’t good enough for me – even though he doesn’t know him.’ She stood tall, her clasped hands pressed against her chest as she spoke, her heart thudding and her expression begging understanding and approval.
Hadley’s eyes found hers, his half-smile conveying love and sympathy. ‘If you think he’s the one, I’d be happy to meet him.’ His smile broadened, and he had a twinkle in his eye as he asked, ‘Go on then, let’s be knowing. What’s he called and where does he hail from?’
Amy blushed, and directing her words purely for her father’s hearing, she said, ‘He’s called Jude Leas. He comes from Bird’s Well. His parents had a smallholding but they’re both dead so he came to work in Barnborough. He’s working down the pit at the moment to earn enough money to put himself through college.’ Her voice was tinged with pride.
Hadley nodded, pleased, but Bessie’s insides froze. Leas! Bird’s Well! Surely not! It couldn’t be – it mustn’t be. Cold sweat trickled down her spine and her hands shook so violently that the tealeaves she was spooning into the teapot scattered onto the countertop. She thought she might be sick.
‘He sounds like a grand chap,’ said Hadley. ‘Bring him, and welcome.’
‘Bring him here an’ I’ll give him another bloody good hiding,’ Samuel growled.
In another mood Amy might have fought back, but she had got her dad’s approval, and that was what mattered.
‘Our Samuel knows what he’s talking about,’ Bessie piped defensively, ‘so you think on, Amy…’
But Amy, sickened by the argument didn’t stay to listen. She ran upstairs to her bedroom, raging at her mother for always taking Samuel’s part.