A Family Christmas (17 page)

‘Oh I do, I do understand. It’s just that I thought we could enjoy some time together before we’re too old to enjoy it. What do you think, Nellie?’

Nellie blushed, thinking she was between the devil and the deep blue sea. ‘Well,’ she considered the question, ‘I think a few hours’ work won’t hurt. You can perhaps work in the mornings and relax in the afternoons. Of course that’s only my opinion.’

‘It’s a damn sensible idea.’ Mr Johnson was glad
Tom
had found himself a sensible girl instead of a lazy layabout.

‘Yes, but you could always give private tuition for a few hours to suit you,’ Mrs Johnson suggested.

‘Private tuition be damned. Sorry Nellie, but I never wanted to teach in the first place, only did it to suit my parents. I imagine I’d have been much happier in a job where I could wear dirty overalls.’

Nellie felt sad as she wished her dad had lived to enjoy his retirement, but remembering her mother she didn’t think he would ever have been allowed to retire. ‘So you were a teacher then, Mr Johnson?’

‘Headmaster. Never got a chance to mucky my hands in my life.’

Nellie smiled. ‘Unlike my father and my brother. I’m a miner’s daughter. My father died before he reached retirement.’

‘I’m so sorry. You can be proud, though. Where would we be without the miners?’

‘Where indeed?’ Tom squeezed Nellie’s hand under the tablecloth. Nellie wasn’t sure yet about Tom’s mother, but she had taken an instant liking to his father. All the same she was relieved when the meal was over and Tom suggested a walk along the promenade. ‘Put something warm on, Nellie. There’s always a cold wind on Blackpool front,’ Mrs Johnson advised.

‘Best air in England,’ her husband added. ‘Without exception.’

The salty Blackpool air was certainly bracing.
The
sun was just going down, turning the wide expanse of sea to liquid gold. They stood leaning on the sea wall and watched it change to orange, then crimson. ‘That’s even more breathtaking than the sunsets over Cragstone.’ Nellie was whispering, as though words spoken out loud might make the colours disappear and turn the water black.

‘Wait until it’s stormy; you’ll really see something then. We wouldn’t be able to stand here or we’d be washed away. The waves cover the prom at this point and reach the road at the other side.’

‘Goodness. I never thought the sea would be so frightening. I imagined it to be still like the reservoirs.’ Tom didn’t answer. He couldn’t imagine anyone never seeing the sea. The sun seemed to be sinking more rapidly now and then disappeared altogether. Still they stood hand in hand, feeling the magic of the night and being together.

‘I love you, Nellie Gabbitas.’ Tom turned her towards him and kissed her, filling her with a passion frightening in its intensity. ‘Will you marry me? Nellie?’

‘What? But you hardly know me! I mean, what would your parents say?’

‘You wouldn’t be marrying my parents, you’d be marrying me. Besides, they like you.’

‘How do you know? I mean, they’d hardly be ill-mannered enough to show their feelings in front of me.’

Tom laughed. ‘You don’t know my mother; she’d
have
found some way to make her feelings known. I know from past experience.’

‘So how many other girls have you invited home?’

‘Not many. Three, or maybe four if you count the spotty girl when I was fourteen.’

‘What about the others? Didn’t your parents find them suitable?’

‘No! And they were right, none of them were, until I met you. I dread to think what life would have been like if I’d married one of them instead of you. Fancy some chips?’

‘Yes please, they smell delicious.’

‘Best fish and chips in England.’ They ran across the promenade and then across the tracks, dodging the open-topped tram. ‘We’ll take a trip on that on your next visit.’

‘So I’m invited again, then?’

‘Well, you have to come again to give me your answer, haven’t you? Just one little word, yes, or no.’

‘Yes …’

‘You’ve decided already. Oh Nellie.’

‘No. I meant yes I have to come and give you my answer. Oh now I’m all confused.’ She began to laugh. ‘All right, yes, I will marry you Thomas Johnson, not in a rush though. We need somewhere to live.’

Tom bought two lots of fish and chips, oozing vinegar which dripped through the newspaper onto their shoes. ‘We’ll take a look on our way home. There are bound to be properties for sale.’

It was a long walk up the main street and after a while Tom turned off up a road where large houses stood in their own grounds. Nellie was relieved that none of them seemed to be vacant; she much preferred the ones near the shops and the sea front. Besides, it all seemed to be happening in too much of a rush. ‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Let’s not tell your parents just yet.’

‘All right.’ Tom pulled her closer, his arm circling her waist. ‘So long as you don’t change your mind.’

‘I won’t. I certainly won’t.’ Nellie only hoped his mother would approve, but even if she didn’t it wouldn’t make any difference. Like Tom said, she wasn’t marrying his parents.

Lucy saw Evelyn hanging out the washing. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ Evelyn nodded and finished pegging out the snowy sheets. She supposed Lucy wanted to cancel her washing now she wasn’t working regularly.

‘Come and have five minutes.’ Lucy poured tea into two pretty, rose-patterned cups. Evelyn was gratified to see her gift of a biscuit barrel had been put in use – it had been all she could afford.

‘First of all, thanks for your lovely wedding present,’ Lucy said.

‘Oh, it isn’t much.’ Evelyn blushed.

‘Well, I’ll tell you what, it’ll be used, and not stuck up in the cupboard like our Polly’s toast rack.’ The girls giggled and sipped their tea. ‘I wanted to
ask
you something.’ It was Lucy’s turn to blush now. ‘It should have been my monthly a week ago and it hasn’t come yet. Does that mean I’m expecting?’

Evelyn grinned. ‘By gum, that’s quick work. Well, to answer your question, probably. Do you feel sick in the mornings?’

‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

‘Well it’s a bit early for morning sickness. Do yer feel sore round ’ere?’ Evelyn touched her breasts.

Lucy blushed. She did, but had put it down to John’s lovemaking. She nodded.

‘And are yer weeing a lot?’ Lucy nodded again. ‘Well then, I should imagine you are. Oh Lucy, I’ll bet you’re thrilled.’

Lucy was too shocked to be thrilled. Then she looked at little Bernard munching away at a biscuit on his mam’s knee and decided that if she could bear a child like Evelyn’s son she would indeed be thrilled and she guessed John would too.

‘Oh I am. It’s just a bit quick, that’s all.’

‘Like me, the first time I suppose. Only in my case it was the only time.’

‘I don’t know. To tell you the truth we’ve been at it like rabbits.’ Lucy wouldn’t have spoken of that to anyone else but Evelyn. They giggled and Bernard laughed with them as though he understood what they were talking about, which made them laugh all the more.

‘You enjoy it, Lucy. At least you’ve a man who loves you and will be there for you.’ Lucy detected
sadness
in Evelyn’s voice. She looked at the little boy.

‘What happened to his dad?’ The subject had never been discussed before to Lucy’s knowledge.

‘Took off, didn’t he? As soon as he found out I was up the club. Never heard a word from him since. Not that I care. He promised me the earth. A child’s better off without a father like him.’

‘Well, Bernard’s certainly happy enough without him.’

‘I try my best, but it’s hard making ends meet. It’ll be easier when he goes to school. I might find a job to fit in with the school hours then.’

Lucy hadn’t the heart to tell Evelyn they would be doing their own washing from now on. She would keep Evelyn on for a while in case Mr Blackmore sent for her again. If she was expecting though, Evelyn would have to be told eventually. ‘I’ll tell you what.’ Lucy had an idea. ‘I’ll look after Bernard for you tonight and you can go out to the pictures. Or to the dance on Saturday if you prefer.’

‘Oh I don’t expect you to do that.’

‘Oh, go on. It’ll be experience for me for when I get my own.’

‘I’d love a night out, if you’re sure. Though I won’t go dancing or the gossips’ll have a field day.’

‘Let them gossip. There’s nothing they enjoy more.’

‘Oh well. Come on, Bernard. I’ve a tub to empty and the ironing to do.’

‘And your glad rags to get ready for tonight.’

‘Only if you’re sure.’

‘I am. John won’t be home until eleven. He calls at the Rising Sun when he’s on afters, only for one pint, mind.’

‘I know. He’s a good man, Lucy. Look after him.’

‘I will.’

Robbie had just finished patching up the roof of the hayloft when Dot climbed the ladder with a jug of homemade lemonade. ‘’Ave yer finished?’ she enquired as she offered him first drink from the jug.

‘Just.’ He threw the hammer and nails back into his tool bag. Dot flopped down in the hay and Robbie came to sit beside her. Her shapely legs glistened brown in the dim light and Dot drew them up beneath her summer dress, embarrassed at Robbie’s eyes on them. The strong scent of hay made him sneeze. ‘I hope I haven’t got hay fever,’ he laughed. ‘It would never do for a farmer’s son-in-law to suffer from hay fever.’ Dot knew he wasn’t serious but she blushed all the same. ‘Just joking,’ he said.

‘You’d better be; we’re far too young to be thinking things like that.’

‘Yes I know.’ Robbie took a gulp of lemonade. ‘But maybe one day, in a few years’ time.’

‘Oh yes, maybe then.’

‘I really like you, Dot.’ He had been trying for ages to tell Dot Greenwood how he felt about her,
but
had never found the courage before. ‘I know we’re too young now, but will you consider yourself my girl?’ Robbie sighed. ‘Oh, I’m no good at this. I just want you to know that I shall never ever want another girl, so if you’ll consider yourself my girl I shall ’ave something to look forward to in the future. I know I’m rambling on but …’ Dot interrupted him by putting her finger to his lips.

‘I already consider myself your girl, and I can’t see meself ever wanting anyone else either. We can plan for the future together, all right?’

Robbie relaxed. ‘All right.’ He grinned, then became serious again, drew Dot into his arms and kissed her, a long, sensuous kiss that stirred feelings in both of them, feelings Dot had never experienced before. It was fortunate that Boadacea’s voice interrupted the proceedings. ‘Dot? Robbie? Are yer up there?’

‘Yes, Mam. Just coming.’

‘Not far off,’ Robbie muttered to himself.

‘What?’ Dot straightened her dress and set off down the ladder.

‘Nothing, just muttering to meself.’ Dot wouldn’t have understood if he tried to explain. She might know about animals, but when it came to humans Dot Greenwood was an innocent girl, and would remain one until her wedding day if Robbie could manage to control his feelings; he made a vow that he would try. He loved Dot Greenwood and would prove it. Besides, the Grey brothers had been
brought
up to show respect for the opposite sex – he wouldn’t be the one to let his late parents down.

‘Tea’s ready,’ Boadacea called, in a voice fit to be heard all over Millington. The old dog started barking as the couple came into view. Boadacea glanced from one to the other. She hoped they hadn’t been up to owt. She’d keep an eye on those two. She’d seen a spark between them the first time they set eyes on one another, just like her and Little Arthur and she remembered all too well what they had got up to in that very same hayloft. She smiled to herself. He might not be very big in stature but Little Arthur was well enough endowed where it mattered.

Chapter Thirteen

‘POTATOES LOCALLY GROWN
and only picked yesterday.’ Will’s voice rang out across Millington market. ‘Lovely Bramleys. Come on ladies, make a pie for yer owd man’s tea.’ Lucy watched her brother proudly as he weighed out the goods and emptied the scoop into a woman’s shopping basket. ‘Who’s next then? Is it you, Mrs Sykes? How’s your Maisy? All right?’ Will picked out the largest turnip. ‘How’s this for a whopper? Only picked yesterday up at Barker’s Farm. Can’t get much fresher than that now, can yer?’

‘Eeh, yer’ll tell us owt, Will Gabbitas.’ The woman laughed and held her bag open for Will to drop the monster inside.

‘Now yer know I wouldn’t tell you owt that was untrue, Mrs Sykes. I mean, look at these oranges: picked ’em at three o’clock this morning, up’t Donkey Wood.’

The women in the queue laughed and Mrs Sykes gave Will a playful slap and giggled, ‘Eeh, you are a one.’

Will weighed out more potatoes for the next customer whilst Mrs Sykes fumbled in a worn
leather
purse to pay the boy. Two young women with a baby in a pram nudged each other and one of them called out, ‘Come on Will, give us a kiss for me birthday.’

‘All right, Jessie, but you’ll ’ave to wait yer turn like everybody else. How old are yer then? Sixteen?’

The woman giggled more than ever. ‘Sixteen? I’m twenty-four, I’ll ’ave you know.’

‘Twenty-four? Never, you’re ’aving me on.’ Into the bags went carrots, onions, rhubarb, lemons, fresh green beans from Mrs Barker’s vegetable plot, long and straight enough to win prizes at the annual show.

‘Your Will’s a natural,’ Evelyn grinned as she and Lucy joined the queue at the fish stall for herrings. The two women always shopped together these days, each enjoying the other’s company. John was also becoming fond of little Bernard, often keeping him occupied whilst his mother shopped with Lucy.

‘I know, and have you seen how he charms the ladies? He’s got them eating out of his hand.’ Lucy couldn’t believe the change in her brother now he had been freed from the threat of the mine. Will loved his job, especially the market at Cragstone. Cragstone was an old market town, the centre point being the parish church. In front of the church was the town square with the bank on one side and the Golden Eagle opposite, the Crown Inn in competition on the east side and a number of shops and a bus stop on the other. On Thursdays the square was
brimming
with shoppers, housewives on their way to the market and farmers to the cattle market, some to sell and some to buy. Some were just using market day as an excuse for a few hours in the company of other farmers, to be followed by a good booze up at one of the inns. Mr Brown had secured a stall in the best position, where everyone, housewives and farmers alike, had to pass by the stall as they entered or left the market. Even after just a few weeks Will had become well-known for his joviality. Other stallholders would come for a chat with the likable young lad. They would bring him a pot of tea and share a joke, some of which Will considered too coarse to repeat; others he would memorise and relate to customers the day after in Millington. Even in pouring rain Will would don himself up in an oilskin and sou’ester and could be heard belting out ‘On Ilkley Moor Bah’t ’at.’ The truth was William Gabbitas considered himself the most fortunate person in Yorkshire, if not the whole world.