Down an English Lane (22 page)

‘You look lovely tonight, Maisie,’ Ted went on, very daringly holding her a little closer. At least, it seemed daring to Maisie; she had always considered him to be a rather shy young man. ‘But then you always do look lovely. I think you’re a very pretty girl.’

‘Well, fancy that!’ she replied, a little nonplussed. ‘And there’s me thinking you saw me as a bit of a kid, like your sister.’

‘Kid sisters grow up,’ said Ted, nodding towards Doris, dancing near to them with Colin, who was Irene’s brother, another farm worker. ‘… And so have you, Maisie. Do you think—?’ His words were cut short as the dance came to an end and the compère of the group, the drummer, came to the microphone.

‘And now our lovely Belinda is going to sing for you,’ he said. ‘Carry on dancing if you wish, ladies and gentlemen, or just sit and listen. The next dance is a foxtrot…and here is Belinda. Give her a big hand, everyone.’

A petite auburn-haired girl in an emerald green dress, sparkling with sequins, stepped up to the
microphone. ‘Let’s sit down,’ whispered Ted. ‘I’m not very good at foxtrotting.’

‘No, neither am I,’ replied Maisie.

They sat down on the little gilt chairs, upholstered in green velvet, that had been acquired with the make-over of the room. To Maisie’s surprise and slight embarrassment Ted took hold of her hand. The girl soloist, who had a pleasant, though rather tinny sounding voice, was singing about a ‘Paper Doll’ – it was a man’s song really – about a doll that other fellows couldn’t steal and who would always be faithful! Maisie had always thought it was a daft song when she had heard it on the wireless, but everyone clapped politely when she had finished.

The next one she sang, ‘Swinging on a Star’, was much better, a fairly recent Bing Crosby number from the film
Going My Way
; Maisie had seen it at the local cinema, the Palace, earlier that year. She sang along now – quietly though, under her breath – the words about carrying moonbeams home in a jar, and being better off than you are.

‘You’ve got a lovely voice,’ whispered Ted. ‘Much better than that Belinda.’

‘Shh…!’ she admonished him. ‘Of course I haven’t.’

‘Yes, you have. I’ve always thought so. I wanted to ask you, Maisie…would you go out with me? To the pictures or somewhere, happen next week? I’ve been wanting to ask you for ages. But I thought,
well…you’re quite a bit younger than me, aren’t you? Although you look very grown-up, you do really. And…and I do like you a lot, Maisie.’

She was quite at a loss as to what to say. She liked him well enough, but had never thought of him in…that way. Not as a boyfriend. But maybe friendship was all he had in mind, not boy and girl stuff; just going out with him as she might do with his sister. But somehow, knowing that Ted was five years older than herself, she did not think so. She knew he had already had one or two girlfriends; there had been a shop assistant at Woolie’s, and he had been friendly with one of the land girls staying at Tremaine House.

It would sound silly to say that her mother would disapprove; not of Ted himself, of course, but of the fact that he was several years older, and that Maisie was still at school…and only fifteen years of age. She knew very well that that was what Lily would say. She also knew that if it had been Bruce who, by some miracle, had asked her out, then she would have moved heaven and earth to persuade her mother to let her go.

‘I don’t know…’ she began. ‘Thank you for asking me, but I’m not sure. You see…’

Belinda had stopped singing and the compère was announcing the next dance. ‘Now, come along, ladies and gentlemen; I want to see everybody on their feet for the… “Palais Glide”!’

‘Oh…come on, Ted,’ cried Maisie, pulling at his
arm. ‘I love this. It’s great fun… I’ll think about what you said, honest I will,’ she added.

‘Yeah, OK then…’ Somewhat bemused, he followed her on to the dance floor as the band struck up with the opening chords. Then they linked arms in lines of five or six and pranced round the room, all joining in the familiar song, ‘Poor Little Angeline’.

Maisie felt quite carefree and merry as she stamped her feet and kicked up her legs in unison with the others in the line. It was good to be amongst friends; Audrey and Brian, Doris and Colin, who was still partnering her, and… Ted. She decided there could be no harm in telling him she would go out with him; just the once, maybe, then she would see.

The lively dance came to an end and they all took their seats again, laughing and in a jolly mood. Maisie was surprised and a little disturbed to see Bruce coming towards her, and she folded her hands in her lap, just in case Ted should reach for her hand again.

‘Maisie…’ Bruce began. ‘I wonder if you would do me a big, big favour?’ And again he smiled in the way that could so easily break her heart, if she would let it. But she wouldn’t; no, she would not!

‘I will if I can, Bruce,’ she said easily. ‘What is it? We’ll be serving the supper soon, you know.’

‘Yes, I know that. I wondered, just before the interval, would you sing for me? For us, all of us, I
mean; that song that you sang at the concert. It’s a favourite of mine, and of a lot of other people too. Would you…please, Maisie?’

‘“We’ll Gather Lilacs”, you mean…?’

‘Yes, that’s the one…’

‘Oh…no, Bruce, I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be right, would it? They’ve got a vocalist – a very good one – and she might be annoyed. Oh no, I don’t think so. Besides, they might not have the music and…no, no, I couldn’t.’

‘I’ve already asked them,’ said Bruce, with a satisfied little smile. ‘They’ve got the music; they sometimes play Ivor Novello numbers as requests. And the pianist will accompany you; you don’t need the drums and the sax. Belinda says she doesn’t mind at all. She’s a really nice young woman; she says it’s my party, and so I should call the tune.’

‘So you’ve got it all arranged,’ said Maisie, ‘before you even asked me.’ She felt a little peeved at that, but although her first instinct had been to refuse, she found herself wavering. Why not? she thought. She glanced around the room. Christine had not come with Bruce, but was sitting with his mother and father, and his two sisters and their husbands and children; it was quite a family occasion for the Tremaines. At least, Mrs Tremaine was talking, but Christine was looking fixedly and unsmilingly at Bruce.

‘Yes… I’m sorry about that,’ said Bruce. ‘I should
have asked you first perhaps. But, as you say, Belinda may well have objected…’

‘Oh, go on, Maisie,’ urged Ted. ‘Why don’t you? I remember you singing that song about lilacs at the concert. It’s one of my favourites an’ all.’

‘All right then,’ she said. She grinned at him; then, suddenly, a little spark of mischief made her say, ‘OK, Ted; if you want me to sing, then I will.’

‘Good for you,’ he replied, putting an arm around her and giving her a hug. Only then did she look at Bruce.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll sing for you. When? Before the interval, did you say?’

‘That’s right,’ he nodded. ‘Thanks a million, Maisie. Come with me now – there seems to be a lull in the proceedings – if you’re ready, that is?’

‘Yes, I’m ready.’ She stood up.

‘Good… I’ll get the compère to announce you.’ He squeezed her arm briefly as they walked up to the dais. ‘Thanks again, Maisie. It will make the evening…for everybody.’

After a few whispered words from Bruce, the compère stepped up to the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise item for you tonight. Here is your very own Maisie Jackson. And she is going to sing for us that lovely song from
Perchance to Dream
– “We’ll Gather Lilacs”.’

She did not look at anyone as she sang; not at Ted, certainly not at Bruce, but fixed her eyes on the
portrait of the King and Queen on the wall at the far end of the room.

The song contained such evocative words, and once again she thought of the country lanes around Middlebeck and the happy times she had spent there with Audrey and Tim, Doris…and Bruce. Only then did her eyes stray, but just towards her mother who was beaming at her, her smile full of pride and joy. And towards Audrey who was grinning and giving her a thumbs up sign.

There was enthusiastic applause when she had finished. She took a little bow and made to walk away, but Belinda stopped her.

‘Wow! What a voice you’ve got,’ she said, ‘and I thought I could sing. You’re terrific… Are you going to do it professionally, like?’

‘Oh no, of course not,’ replied Maisie. ‘Thanks for saying that; it’s real kind of you. But I’m still at school, you know. I sing in the church choir, that’s all.’

‘If I could sing like you I’d be after a job with the BBC,’ said Belinda. She laughed. ‘But I know my limitations, and I reckon Civvy Street is as far as I’ll get. It makes a nice change, though, from working at t’ mill.’

‘You’re very good,’ said Maisie, ‘and Civvy Street is a great little group.’ What a very nice girl, she thought, as she went to join the team of caterers in the little kitchen. It was time to serve the supper, time to put on her apron and leave behind her moment of glory.

The guests helped themselves to the ‘eats’ arranged on a long table at the back of the room, and Maisie and Doris circulated again, with larger trays this time, holding cups of tea or coffee. Lily and Flo were responsible for making sure that everyone had another glass of sherry, at the request of Archie Tremaine. Maisie smiled and said thank you as people congratulated her on her singing, but she purposefully kept away from the family group consisting of the Tremaines…and Christine.

When everyone was served she grabbed a few savoury items and a chocolate cake from the residue of the feast and went to sit with Ted again.

‘You were great!’ he said, reaching for her hand, but she forestalled him.

‘Let me eat my supper, Ted,’ she said. ‘I’m famished; I didn’t have time for any tea.’

She munched away hungrily – Arthur’s pies were certainly delicious – as she watched Bruce, with Christine at his side, walk over to stand at the table behind the birthday cake. Like a bride and groom, she thought, tormenting herself again, as they smiled at one another. But they were not a bride and groom; it was only a birthday cake.

Then Bruce started to speak. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, all my friends and relations,’ he began. ‘I want to thank you for coming here tonight to help me to celebrate my birthday, and for all the lovely presents. As some of you know, I am not much of a one for parties… This was my mother’s
idea.’ There was a ripple of quiet laughter before he went on. ‘But tonight is a very special occasion, both for me and for Christine. It is not just a twenty-first party, but an engagement party as well. I have asked Christine to marry me…and to my delight, she has said yes!’

There was an outbreak of clapping, and exclamations of, ‘Fancy that!’ and ‘Oh, how lovely!’ He turned to her and they kissed, but only briefly, before he said. ‘So Christine and I are going to blow out the candle, and cut the cake – our engagement cake.’ Together they blew out the flame, and then with their hands clasped together they plunged the silver knife into the icing, and Archie Tremaine rose to his feet.

‘This has been a surprise to Becky and me as well,’ he said. ‘We were only told about it today. But we are delighted, and I would like you all to raise your glasses and drink to the health and happiness of my son, Bruce, and Christine.’

‘Bruce and Christine,’ echoed everyone as they sipped at their sherry.

Maisie went through the motions mechanically. Although she was under age, she had been allowed a modicum of sherry, which she drank all in one gulp.

‘Good for them,’ said Ted. ‘I’ve always liked Bruce. There’s nowt stuck-up about him, even though he’s t’ squires’s son and has been to a posh school an’ all that. I dunno about her though. She
looks a bit snooty, like, to me, but he seems well suited with her. And I must admit she’s a looker… Not as pretty as you, though, Maisie, I don’t mean; not by a long chalk… Hey, what’s up? Has summat upset you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she answered. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to be asked to sing and it…well, it takes a lot out of me sometimes.’ Maisie suddenly realised that she was, indeed, very tired. ‘But I’m OK, honestly I am.’ She smiled brightly at him, hoping she had managed to blink away the stray tears.

What on earth had Bruce been thinking of, asking her to sing? She would never forgive him for that, then going on and announcing his engagement immediately afterwards… But if he had asked her now, instead of earlier, she most certainly would not have been able to do it.

Ted took hold of her hand and she did not resist. ‘Have you thought any more about what I said? You know, about going out with me? Will you, Maisie…please?’

‘Yes…of course I will, Ted,’ she replied gaily. ‘Where shall we go?’

Chapter Twelve

‘
S
o 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.’