Women on the Home Front (118 page)

‘Best not let on,' Lucy agreed ruefully. ‘If any of me grandkids find out I've got a bit of a dodgy past they might not take a blind bit of notice of me when I tell 'em off.'

‘In that case, we'd all do well to guard our tongues about what we got up to as kids. Mind you, I wouldn't mind hearing your stories again, Luce. The antics you got up to!'

‘Best leave it for another time, Al,' Lucy answered with a wry chuckle. ‘But I
will
tell you …'

Alice gave a contented sigh, glancing about at the fire-daubed festivities where generations of their kith and kin were having fun. ‘We've got a smashing family, haven't we?'

‘Wish Dad was here to see it,' Sophy said.

‘Wish Chris and Grace were here to see it,' Lucy suddenly chipped in. ‘Where on earth have those two got to? Stevie's been waiting for them to turn up before he brings out his cake.' She grinned at the sight of Matilda, waltzing past with Jeannie Roberts.

‘Now I'm down here on this step, I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to get up again, Al.' Sophy stuck out an arm. ‘Give an old 'un a hand up, will you, sis?'

‘That is a beautiful bit of icing, Stevie. It's a real treat to have such a lovely surprise.'

Matilda was standing, arms akimbo, assessing the Coronation Day cake with a proud expression.

Stevie had decided not to wait any longer for his son and future daughter-in-law to make an appearance before unveiling his masterpiece. A short while after Shirley had arrived at the party, Faye had given him a whispered warning that Grace's mum was in high dudgeon because her daughter had stayed out with Chris. Since having accepted a few drinks, Shirley had mellowed and now seemed more willing to join in the fun. In Faye's opinion – and Stephen had agreed with his sister-in-law – the young couple were probably now sober and feeling a bit bashful about turning up and getting ribbed, and rebuked, because of what they'd been up to last night.

Stephen was disappointed to think the couple might miss the last ever Bunk celebration. He also thought his son's timing pretty bad, being as Chris had known for ages that this party was coming up. But he'd been young himself once, and knew that the urge to spend the night with an attractive woman could easily override good sense. It had happened to him, with Pamela, and had led to his beloved Christopher's birth.

‘'Ere, everybody come and take a look at this.' Matilda spun on the spot to holler that out.

People started to congregate around the table to admire the large cake Stephen had placed right in the centre.

He whipped out the gold-coloured crown that had been hidden behind his back and placed it gently on his aunt's silver hair.

‘Now, being as Elizabeth couldn't make it here today – I hear she's busy elsewhere but she don't know what she's missing …' Stevie gave a droll shrug. ‘You're our queen, Matilda, and you have to make the first cut in the ceremonial cake.' He handed his aunt a knife.

Matilda looked about. ‘Everybody ready?' Having received a chorus of yes, she called, ‘Three, two, one,' and plunged the knife into the sponge to an ear-splitting cheer.

‘You don't want to go eating too much of that or you'll lose yer figure.'

Jeannie Robertson had come up behind Matilda and given her ample backside a pat.

Matilda wiped her mouth of cake crumbs then screwed up her paper serviette. ‘Stevie do make a decent bit of cake, I'll give him that. I wouldn't mind another bit.'

‘Turned into a couple of fine men, your nephews Robert and Stephen, considering who their father was.' Jeannie glanced to where the two brothers were laughing with a group of people.

‘Took after me sister Fran, both of them,' Matilda said with gruff pride. ‘Nothing like that …' She swallowed the swearword, pursing her lips.

‘How you been keeping health-wise?' Jeannie knew about her friend's lucky escape from death. She also knew that Matilda's injuries had continued giving her gyp following Jimmy Wild's attempt to murder her.

‘Not bad, all things considered. Get a bit of arthritis in me legs …'

‘Me too,' Jeannie said on a chuckle. ‘And I never got shoved out a window. So you come out of it alright, didn't yer? Someone must've been watching over yer that night, Til.'

‘Jack … dear Jack was me guardian angel,' Matilda whispered. ‘He was with me, I know it.'

Jeannie heard the watery gurgle in Matilda's voice and gave her a quick cuddle. ‘Got a lovely family, ain't yer, Til. I've met a lot of 'em tonight. That's what I miss, having grandkids. I know Peter won't give me none.'

It was Matilda's turn to offer comfort. ‘You never know, now he's got this young lady, he just might surprise you.' She nodded at a young blonde woman who'd just arrived who was holding a baby in her arms. ‘That's my granddaughter Lilian there,' she announced proudly. ‘Looker like her mum, ain't she? She's Alice's gel. She's holding little Beryl, one of me great-granddaughters … just a few months old.'

‘Remember when Lilian was born in The Bunk, I do. Where's all them years gone, Til?'

‘Gawd knows, but I remember 'em all like it were yesterday.'

‘First sign yer losing yer marbles, ain't it, Til, when you can remember stuff that long ago?'

Matilda roared with laughter and wiped her streaming eyes. ‘Glad you come over, Jeannie, you always do give me a good laugh.'

Jeannie patted Matilda's back. ‘And there were times when we needed that laugh, Til, else we might have got found swingin' from them banisters.' She cocked her head in the direction of the houses.

‘No more talk about bad times,' Matilda said briskly, dusting herself down. ‘This is gonna be the best night to remember. I'm gonna jig about till me knees give out.'

‘Come on then … I'll hold you up, old 'un …' Jeannie said, linking arms with her friend and leading her towards the dancing.

‘We're gonna be in trouble, you know that, don't you?'

Grace turned in the circle of Chris's arms to see him smiling ruefully at her. ‘Yeah … we're going to get a rocket, no doubt about it,' she sighed out in agreement.

From beyond the shelter of the roaring bonfire, they were loitering, watching the Coronation Day celebration while garnering the courage to face their families and explain their absence.

‘Shirley's turned up. Look … she's over there dancing with Pearl.'

Grace bobbed her head, her eyes following Chris's pointing finger. She smiled at the sight of her mother doing what looked like the cancan as she was shaking her skirt and twirling an ankle. ‘Can't see my nan anywhere; I didn't think Mum would come along on her own.' She'd sounded surprised. ‘But I'm glad she's here and enjoying herself.'

‘I reckon the others must have told her that wherever you are, you're bound to be with me so you'll be alright.' A self-mocking smile tilted his lips. ‘Your mum's fine,' he reassured Grace, stroking fingertips on her flame-flushed cheek. ‘Look, she's jigging about fit to bust with a pint glass in her hand.'

‘Yeah, she's got a drink, so she'll have calmed down by now.' Grace didn't sound wholly convinced that was the case. ‘I should have warned her I wouldn't be home. She'll have been worried about me, Chris.' A tinge of guilt had entered her tone.

‘Do you regret what we've done?' Chris asked gently.

‘No …' Grace turned again to gaze earnestly at him. ‘No, not at all, it's just, I know we've disappointed people by being selfish. Perhaps it wasn't fair to go off like that.'

‘We've not been selfish,' Chris insisted. ‘We said, didn't we, we've been thinking about other people too much, for too long, and that wasn't fair on us. Now it's time to concentrate on our future and our happiness.' He emphasised his point of view by tightening his arms about her, and encouraged her to brighten up by dropping one kiss, then another, on her soft hair.

‘Can't see
my
mum anywhere,' Chris remarked. ‘But that ain't a surprise. She's probably gone out with Roger.'

‘Do you reckon poor Roger will stick around with you giving him the third degree all the time?'

‘'Course he will! If he's made of the right stuff.' Chris grinned. ‘Only natural a son would want to make sure his mum's not getting involved with a chancer.' He sounded serious when he added, ‘'Cos if he
is
a wrong 'un he'll have me to answer to.'

Pamela had been seeing her boyfriend, Roger, for a few weeks. She'd reassured her son that he was a regular in the café where she worked, and she'd grown to think him a nice enough chap over some months. Before she'd introduced him to Chris last week she'd agreed to a few trips to the pictures with Roger, just to make certain he was the kind of gentleman her beloved son would take to.

‘She could have brought Roger here with her this evening,' Grace remarked, looking up at him over a shoulder.

‘I knew she wouldn't come here, with or without him; she'd have felt awkward … an outsider … no matter how hard Aunt Tilly and the rest of 'em tried to welcome her. It's best to leave things be now.'

‘You're happy with the way things are between your mum and dad?' Grace asked, surprised. Over the past weeks they'd talked in depth about wedding plans and she'd picked up on Chris's frustration about the tricky relationship between his parents.

‘I'm happier than I've ever been, but that's because of you, not them. If me mum and dad can keep being a bit civil to one another it's enough for me. Can't expect things to be any better'n that between them considering what's gone on, I know that now. It was pie in the sky expecting the three of us to start playing happy families.'

‘Nobody would blame you for wanting that,' Grace replied huskily.

‘I've got what I want.' He turned her about to cup her face in his hands. ‘And if we'd waited and had a big do with all the trimmings and all the family, just to please them, I reckon we might not have been so happy as we are today.' He smiled wryly. ‘We'd have been broke, for a start. And it's said weddings and funerals can bring out the best, and worst, in people. I'm glad we went off and did it quietly, just the two of us, and didn't risk it all falling flat.' Grace still looked a bit subdued, so he added, ‘We didn't want any slanging matches, did we, about who sits where and who gets up and says what?'

‘No,' Grace said with a wry chuckle. ‘We certainly didn't want any of that.'

They had talked for hours during the past month or so about the cost of a wedding, and the organisation needed to get everything planned within a short time so they could be man and wife by the end of September. Finally, they'd realised that getting married and getting their own place was what they wanted, but everything else was negotiable.

Scrimping for a cheap do hadn't appealed to either of them; they'd sooner put their meagre savings towards a deposit on a house. Neither had they wanted to ask either of their families for financial help. And constantly niggling at them was the worrying thought that, once the drink started to flow at their wedding reception, bitterness might float to the surface bringing trouble with it. Chris knew very well that the Wilds were no strangers to blunt speaking, or family tear-ups.

So, caught up in the excitement of the imminent Coronation Day celebration, they had both simply agreed to do it, without telling a soul, because they realised people would try and talk them out of it and make them stick to tradition. They had arranged for the banns to be read and then yesterday had gone to the Town Hall and emerged at three-thirty as man and wife.

‘We had a perfect day, didn't we?'

Grace nodded then jokingly complained, ‘Not much of a honeymoon though … a couple of nights in a hotel.' After the brief wedding ceremony, with two strangers acting as witnesses, they'd had an elegant afternoon tea, followed by a wonderfully sleepless night in a Piccadilly hotel. They had a room booked there for this evening, but after that they weren't sure where they'd be staying.

‘Once we get sorted out in our own place, I'll take you somewhere really nice for a week.' The promise was whispered against her lips.

‘Where
is
our own place?' Grace asked with a frown. The practicalities of their situation were constantly niggling at her. She hadn't changed her mind about being reluctant to camp out with either of their families, and she knew Chris felt the same way.

‘We'll have to rent for a while,' Chris said on a sigh. ‘I'll get straight onto finding somewhere tomorrow morning. If we get a cheap room we might be able to keep on saving for a deposit. I don't want to waste too much on rent though. Dead money, is rent. I want us to buy our own house, with a mortgage.'

‘Me too,' Grace said emphatically. ‘You know I've always wanted to own my own little home.' She paused, staring at the revellers, and beyond. ‘If you think I'm talking rubbish go ahead and say so and I won't mention it again but …' She twisted about to face him. ‘How about if we set up home here, just while we save. Won't get anywhere cheaper to stay than The Bunk.'

Chris stared at her in astonishment. ‘You want to live here?' he asked hoarsely.

‘No, I don't
want
to, but I will for a few months if need be while we save for our deposit. If we're not paying out for our lodgings we can save almost everything we earn.' She sounded enthusiastic. ‘If your Aunt Matilda doesn't mind roughing it a bit, at her age, I'm sure I can do it.'

Chris's eyes were glimmering with a sort of wonderment. ‘You mean you really would live here … in one of those dumps … with me?' he croaked.

‘Live anywhere with you,' she said shortly. ‘And I know you'll tidy it up the best you can for us. I'll help,' she offered immediately. ‘I don't mind doing a bit of painting and decorating.' She started to giggle. ‘Besides, it'll suit you down to the ground. You've got no excuse to be late for work …'