‘In what way?’
‘Well. If someone thinks enough of you to give you a gift, what might they think, if you can’t wait to give that gift back?’
Satisfied that her words had got Michael thinking, she deliberately changed the subject. ‘Come on!’ She clambered out of her chair. ‘I’ll get on with the baking while you get washed and changed. You look like the scarecrow outta the field. Besides, you’ve Danny to fetch home soon, don’t forget that.’
‘As if I could.’ He kissed her and went away, deep in thought. She had touched something in him, with her wise words about friendship and how Danny and John would feel if he threw it all back in their faces. ‘Happen she’s right,’ he murmured. ‘Happen pride doesn’t come before friendship, after all.’
When Danny limped through the door, early that afternoon, the cry went up. ‘Welcome home!’
Standing tall and straight, albeit throwing some of his weight onto the crutches, he beamed from ear to ear, his cheeks a slight shade of pink and a look of acute embarrassment on his face. ‘It’s good to be home,’ he said.
Aggie hugged him; Grandad shook him by the hand. ‘By! Yer a sight for sore eyes, so yer are,’ he exclaimed happily.
Cathleen held his hand and walked with him as he went to the armchair, and Emily watched the two of them with a strangeness in her heart. In her mind’s eye she could see John in her husband’s place and, for a little while, her thoughts were as muddled and painful as they’d ever been.
That afternoon, while the celebration tea was being set out, Grandad fussed about, wanting to wear this shirt, now that one. Then: ‘Why do I need to wear a smart shirt anyway – strangling mesel’ when I’d much rather be comfy? It’s only a party, after all.’
Aggie insisted he look his best. ‘We have company coming, Dad,’ she reminded him, ‘and I don’t want you showing me up.’ Throwing the clean shirt and trousers on the bed, she urged him to, ‘Get yourself washed and changed and make your way down the stairs. If you need any help getting ready, just give me or Emily a shout.’
‘I’ll do no such thing!’ he replied proudly. ‘When the day comes that I can’t swill my own face and put on a shirt, I’d sooner it was over.’ And so she left him to it.
Danny, too, was of the same mind. Having been set up a bed in the back room until his leg was easier to carry him upstairs, he graciously refused Emily’s help. ‘It’s my leg that is paining,’ he told her. ‘There’s nowt wrong with my arms.’ And she, too, was sent out of the room.
‘Let the buggers get on with it!’ Aggie laughed. ‘Michael an’ all. I’ve lost patience with him. The trouble is, none of his clothes seem to fit. He’s never put back the weight he lost when he were away, so I’ve had to nip and tuck his trousers and move a button or two on his shirts, and they still don’t seem to fit right. But I keep telling him, he’ll look right dandy, if only he’d stop his moaning and groaning!’
Emily sighed. ‘Men!’
‘But we couldn’t do without ’em, that’s for sure.’ Aggie had gone a whole ten years without her husband and she knew the loneliness in that. ‘Oh Lord. There’ll be your grandad an’ all, upstairs not washing behind his ears and wi’ a tidemark round his neck,’ she laughed. ‘He’ll have his shirt done up wrong, and his hair standing on end like he’s had some sort o’ terrible fright.’
Emily laughed at the image of Grandad, just as her mam described. ‘And there’ll be Danny hobbling about on one leg, trying to get the other leg into his trousers and falling over in the event. But he’ll not ask for help. He’ll roll in two hours late rather than do that.’
‘Never you mind.’ Aggie took a tray of cakes out of the range. ‘We’re here if they need us, so let’s get on with what we’ve got to do, and leave them to do the same.’ Turning the cakes onto a wire-rack to cool, she put the tin in the pot-sink and set about slicing the meat. ‘Where’s Cathleen?’
‘I left her upstairs getting ready. She’s been washed, had her hair brushed till it shines like new-spun silk, and now she’s trying on her dressing-up things to see which she might wear.’
‘I thought you bought her that nice pink dress with the big sash?’
‘I did.’
‘So, what’s wrong with it?’
‘Nowt. She’ll end up wearing it. When she shows her face downstairs, you see if I’m not right.’
While she was speaking, Emily was busy making the custard for the trifles. When that was done, she cooled it by placing the pan in enough cold water to cover the base. She stirred and stirred with a wooden spoon, keeping the custard free of lumps, and while it continued to cool, she thinly sliced the apples and taking the two cut-glass bowls of set jelly out of the larder, she arranged the slices all over the top.
Next came the helping of drained, bottled raspberries, and a layer of fresh-made sponge cake, and now, when the custard was cold enough, she poured it all over the two trifles, helping it to settle evenly with the back of the wooden spoon. Lastly she sprinkled grated chocolate all over the top, then popped a glacé cherry in the middle; a ring of half-cherries on the outside and they were finished.
‘There!’ Placing them on the pine-dresser, next to the other dessert of Aggie’s butterfly cakes, she stepped back to view the goodies already lined up. There were various platters of sliced cold meats and sausages, home-made savoury herb scones and bread rolls straight out of the oven, little pots of butter, wedges of cheese, and pickles of every kind, and a dish full of succulent, home-boiled beetroot.
The attractive-looking buffet was finished off with a selection of dressings made by Emily herself. The plates were neatly piled and the cutlery, all wrapped in white linen napkins, lay alongside. There were bowls of seasonal fruit and lashes of cream in large milk jugs, and now, as Aggie placed the sliced lamb next to the bread rolls, the feast was ready and fit for a king.
‘That’s a grand trifle,’ Aggie told Emily. ‘You allus were good at trifles.’
Dressed as Emily had predicted, in her flouncy dress of pink and white, Cathleen came running down from her bedroom. ‘What about my cake?’ she asked. ‘Do you think they’ll like it?’
Her cake had pride of place on a china cake-stand with a big paper doily beneath it. A misshapen thing with a sag in the middle and the ugliest marzipan-man uneasily straddling it, supposed to represent her daddy, the cake was an eyesore, and heartily amused all who looked on it.
‘It’s the best thing there,’ Emily told her lovingly. ‘You did well, sweetheart.’
‘You did wonderful!’ Aggie exclaimed. ‘They’ll be fighting over it, you mark my words, lass.’ She and Emily exchanged a smile and a wink.
‘I saw that!’ A canny child, Cathleen didn’t miss a thing, but she saw the humour of it and laughed with them. ‘I don’t think I’ll let them cut it,’ she said, ‘I think I’ll take it to school for the teachers to share.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they’d be delighted,’ Aggie told her, stifling a smirk.
‘You’ll close the school for a month if you give ’em that,’ Emily remarked tongue-in-cheek, and they all burst out laughing again.
The family were soon ready: Grandad looking smart in a new muffler, Danny seeming comfortable enough in his good brown cord trousers and green shirt, Cathleen in her party frock, and Aggie looking years younger in a slim-fitting brown skirt, wide belt and white blouse of her own making. Even Michael, who still complained that his shirt was too big and his trousers were falling down, looked ‘a real dandy!’ Aggie was pleased with her handiwork.
To greet her husband on his return from the infirmary, Emily had chosen a dark blue, ankle-length skirt with flouncy hem and dainty belted waist. With it she wore a rich blue blouse with boat-neckline and pearl-buttons at the cuff. Her marcasite bracelet completed the ensemble.
‘By! Yer look a treat, lass.’ Thomas Isaac had always appreciated a pretty girl.
‘I’ve allus liked that blouse on you,’ Aggie told her, ‘but we’ve no time to stand here admiring each other. There’s a table to set. Come on, our Cathleen. You do that, while me and your mammy make sure we’ve not missed anything. Grandad can wind up the gramophone, and Danny can sit himself down and rest his legs.’
‘I’ll do no such thing,’ he replied. ‘I’ll pour us all a drink – elderberry wine for us and a glass o’ sarsaparilla for our Cathleen. We deserve a fortifying drink, before the others start arriving.’ And he would not take no for an answer.
An hour later everyone was there and the celebrations were under way with a burst of accordion music from Grandad, and drinks all round. ‘Here’s to Danny!’ Thomas Isaac had got his second wind and was leading the cheers, while Danny blushed and fidgeted until they were over, then he thanked them and sat down.
It was a good party, with enough people to make it a happy one. There was the Ramsden family, the neighbouring farmer with his buxom wife and entire clan, and Danny’s father Bob and his new woman-friend Elspeth. Lizzie, seemingly over her bout of illness, had promised to come later, and two of Cathleen’s schoolfriends were there with their parents.
‘By! Our little farmhouse is bursting at the seams,’ Aggie remarked when she and Emily returned to the kitchen for more dessert plates.
‘Aye – an’ there’s four more to come yet.’
Both women turned, to see Michael standing at the door looking sheepish.
‘Four more – and who might they be?’ Aggie asked, all at sea.
But Emily had already guessed. ‘It’s John, isn’t it?’ she asked, her heart beating so unevenly she thought she might faint.
‘Well, yes it is, lass. He and his wife Rosie, and their pal Archie are coming, along with Lizzie. I thought he should be here, as he’s been such a good friend to me. The lad was coming to see his Aunt Lizzie, and I couldn’t miss the chance to ask him over.’ Looking from one to the other, he couldn’t understand why their mood had suddenly changed. ‘It is all right, isn’t it? I mean, we know him well enough, don’t we?’
Aggie had seen no reason to enlighten him yet about what had taken place between John and Emily. In fact, because it served best, she had deliberately said nothing. Now, she was quick to reassure him. ‘Of course it’s all right, love. Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘Tell him, Mam.’ Emily had been worried about the truth being kept from her father.
Michael frowned. ‘Tell me what?’
So while Emily left the room, Aggie told him most of the story, finishing, ‘So now you see how it could be a bit awkward?’ Whatever happened, she would never tell the truth of Cathleen’s parentage, not even to her own husband. Danny and John would each go on believing that the other was her father.
Michael nodded. ‘I suspected there might be a woman somewhere,’ he admitted, ‘from the way John spoke sometimes. But I never dreamed it was our Emily.’
‘It’s all right, Dad.’ Emily had returned. ‘I’m married to Danny now. He’s part of our family and I love him. All that with John – it happened years ago and it’s all water under the bridge.’ So why did her heart dance at the thought of seeing him again?
Michael had seen the look on her face and was unconvinced.
‘It will be
good
to meet up with John again.’ Emily put on a bright but shaky smile as she passed him. ‘We owe him a lot. Right – I’d best go and make sure Danny’s not overdoing it.’
With Emily gone, Michael asked his wife, ‘So was it really serious between them? I mean, had it gone as far as them planning to be wed and all that?’
‘It were just young love,’ Aggie answered lightly.
‘I see. But it fizzled out – is that what you’re saying? After she met Danny, and had his child, John was left out in the cold?’ After his own behaviour, Michael had never felt able to ask his son-in-law why he had waited so long before making an honest woman of their Emily. They were married now, and that was all that mattered. He himself was looking forward to seeing John and young Rosie again. They had been the saving of him.
As she walked about, seeing to the guests and making sure the wine and food kept flowing, Emily was as nervous as a kitten. When John walked through that door, how was she going to feel? How could she look at him and not show her true emotion?
During the course of the afternoon, Aggie managed to take Grandad aside. ‘Sit here with me awhile,’ she invited. ‘You look like I feel – worn out.’
‘I am,’ he confessed. ‘I’m an old dog trying new tricks, and I should have known better.’ He had been dancing with the farmer’s wife and now he could hardly walk. ‘Me back hurts, me arms ache and I need the lavvy.’
‘You’d best go down the garden then.’ The Ramsdens had an outside water-closet, like everyone else in Salmesbury, and made do with chamber-pots at night. Thomas Isaac had his very own armchair commode – the subject of many jokes, but an absolute godsend.
‘Not yet,’ he answered in a whisper, his gaze going to the farmer’s buxom wife. ‘If I so much as move, she’ll be on me like a ferret after a bunny rabbit.’
Aggie hid a smile. ‘What – you mean she’s been making up to you, is that it?’
‘Aye, summat like that.’ When he saw the red-cheeked buxom wench eyeing him again, he confided from out of the corner of his mouth, ‘She med a point o’ telling me how the old man doesn’t keep her satisfied … if yer know what I mean? What’s more, she calls me “Tommy-Izzie” an’ it’s drivin’ me potty.’
Aggie couldn’t hide her smile any longer, especially when at that moment she got a dark glare from the woman herself. ‘By! She’s a big ’un, isn’t she? I reckon she’d be too much of a handful for you, Dad,’ she said and, made merry from the elderberry wine, they broke into fits of laughter, which had the woman turning away in disgust and everyone else smiling, though they didn’t know the reason for it.
‘I’d best hobble down t’path now,’ the old man tee-heed. ‘It wouldn’t do to wet me pants in front of all and sundry,’ he cast a wary glance at the farmer’s wife, ‘especially not in front of
her
.’ Hoisting himself upright, he leaned on the wall for support. ‘She thinks I’m a virile, active fella, so she does.’
‘You’d best behave yourself,’ Aggie cautioned. ‘You’re not as young as you were.’
‘No, and I’m not so agile neither,’ he said, falling against the wall. ‘Me old pins don’t seem to carry me where I want to go.’