by Pat Posner
She glanced round the garden but couldn’t spot Jilly.
“I think she went round to ours with Susan a few minutes ago,” said Mary Clayton.
“Sounds like they’re back now,” Doreen said as the sound of high-pitched voices reached them.
She frowned as she heard Jilly say, “She won’t be cross. I’m sure she won’t, Susan. I’ll do it if you want.”
“Do what, young lady?” Doreen asked as her daughter and Susan got close.
“Tell Natasha something,” Jilly said. “Susan’s scared to tell her,” she added loudly.
Susan pushed Jilly to one side and walked up to Natasha. “Is this your ring?” she asked. “I found it in our garden, the one with the rockery and hens, last week. I didn’t know it was special, honest, I didn’t. I thought it was a toy one like you get in Christmas crackers. It’s ever so tiny. I put it on my big walkie-talkie dolly’s finger when I was playing going to a party with her.”
“Natasha’s got the teeniest fingers you ever saw,” said Gloria. “Almost as thin as a darning needle.”
“Oh, yes, it is my ring,” Natasha said joyfully. “And it isn’t a real diamond, nor real gold neither. But it is special. So, so special,” she added, smiling as she took it from Susan and slipped on her third finger where it belonged.
“Well,” said Connie. “This calls for more than a cup of tea. I’ll nip round and fetch a bottle of the blackberry wine me and Flo made last autumn.”
“And that sounds like the ice-cream van,” said Natasha as a tinkly tune rang out. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a half-crown. “Go and buy a block of ice-cream to share with your friends, Susan. A treat for finding my ring.”
The Wedding Day: Problems and Plans
“Mam, hasn’t Auntie Flo told you anything at all about the dress she’ll be wearing to get married in?” asked Pearl, glancing up from the book of wedding traditions and superstitions she’d borrowed from the mobile library. “You’re her sister for heaven’s sake, she must want to discuss it with you. Remember how me and Ruby were? We chose material together, made different paper patterns, went here, there and everywhere looking for buttons, ribbons, lace and such-like and—”
“It was different then what with you getting wed in war-time and our Ruby just after war ended,” Connie said. “It weren’t easy to get stuff so you needed to work together on your dresses.”
“We’d have done that even if it hadn’t been hard to find something right for our wedding dresses.”
“Yes, but you were making them yourselves. Flo isn’t. She’s bought one. Why don’t you read the tea leaves tell you what she’s wearing?”
“It’d be Auntie Flo’s tea leaves I need to read and she never seems to want a cuppa when she comes round. Likely she knows the tea leaves would tell me all about her wedding.”
“I expect Auntie Flo thought she was going to be an old maid, Mum,” said Babs, walking into the prefab’s kitchen. “I think that makes her wedding extra special and she likely doesn’t want anyone at all to see the dress before she walks down to aisle to marry her Sam. Me and Felicity are her bridesmaids and she hasn’t even told us anything about it except when she took us to choose material for our dresses, she said the colours on the material we liked best would go perfect with her dress.”
Pearl groaned. “And that material is pale green with flowers on. So Auntie Flo is likely to be wearing a green dress to get married in.”
“Probably,” Babs agreed. “It is her favourite colour.”
“But it says in this book it’s unlucky for a bride to wear green,” said Pearl.
“We’ll just have to have loads of things what bring good luck to cancel out any bad luck, Mum. There must be something about good luck in that book as well.” Babs went over to look at it and turned a few pages. “See,” she said, pointing, “it says it’s lucky to give the bride something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a silver sixpence in her shoe. We can do most of that and you could make sure of the silver sixpence in her shoe, couldn’t you, Nana Connie?”
“Yes, I reckon I could manage that somehow.”
“What about this an’ all?” Babs pointed to a picture of a chimney-sweep kissing a bride.
Connie nodded. “Seeing as Amos Whittaker is being Sam’s best man, I’ll ask him to make sure there’ll be a chimbley-sweep standing by the lych-gate to shake Sam’s hand and give my stubborn sister a kiss.”
“At least getting wed on a Monday means she’ll be healthy,” Pearl said. “Shame it won’t be a Wednesday, though. That’s meant to be the best day of all to get married.”
“Does it say anything about bridesmaids in the book?” Babs asked. “Only Maisie Butterworth showed us some patterns so Felicity and me could decide what style we wanted our dresses. There was a lovely one with a round neck, no sleeves and a sort of floaty skirt. Felicity said we couldn’t have one with no sleeves ’cos that was unlucky for the bridesmaid.”
“Can’t see anything about bridesmaids, Babs,” Pearl told her. “Shouldn’t reckon it’d be unlucky, though, not in June when it’s likely to be warm and sunny. Be different if it were winter, you’d get goose bumps on your arms in a sleeveless dress. But it’s Auntie Flo’s dress I’m worriting about. There mightn’t be enough lucky things to cancel out the bad luck if she’s wearing green.”
Even though she didn’t believe in superstitions and such-like, Connie didn’t like to see her daughter so worried. “I’ll go home now and have another go at trying to find out,” she said, standing up. “I won’t ask her outright, I’ll chat about other things to do with the wedding and see if she gives anything away. But,” she added, “if I find out she is going to be wearing a green dress, I don’t know what you think we could do about it.”
“We could appeal to Sam,” Pearl said. “Get him to say he don’t like the colour green or something. Auntie Flo wouldn’t do anything to upset him.”
*
All this flustering about Flo’s dress is taking all the fun and pleasure out of things, Connie thought as she came out of Pearl’s garden gate and closed it behind her with a little bang. Maybe it’d be best to come straight out with it to Flo and tell her how bothered Pearl is. After all, Flo thinks the world of Pearl, always has done, right from the start. Bonded with her much more than she did with our Ruby even though Ruby was her first-born niece. And…
Connie’s musings were interrupted by Felicity running out of the Nobles’ gate. “Auntie Connie,” she said – she’d started calling Connie that as soon as she’d known her grandad Sam was marrying Flo, saying Flo would be her grandma so that made Connie her auntie-by marriage. “Auntie Connie, can I tell you about my big problem? Only it’s to be a secret from Babs and the others. Mum says I’m being silly but I’m not.”
Connie could see the young lass looked upset and wondered what on earth could be wrong. “Tell you what, Felicity, let’s go for a little walk in Broome Park, likely we won’t be disturbed there.”
Felicity nodded and a few minutes later they turned into Broome Avenue and made their way to where it curved so they could go over the stile into the park. They stopped under an elder tree, admiring the clusters of white blossoms and Connie stayed silent, waiting for Felicity to talk.
“The blossoms are sort of silvery, aren’t they?” Felicity said. “I expect my grandma-to-be would like some in her wedding bouquet if they’re still blooming ’cos she says her wedding will be all silver and gold. That’s because one of her and Grandad’s special songs is Silver Threads Among the Gold. She said they’ve both got lots of silver threads in their hair.”
“And they’re having the hymn: Daisies are our Silver, Buttercups our Gold,” said Connie. “If Flo’s calling it a silver gold wedding, I wonder if those are the colours she’s chosen for her dress.”
“’Might be. There’s daisies and buttercups on the material for our bridesmaid’s dresses and she said the colours go perfect with her dress. But, Auntie Connie, m
y big problem is my dress.”
“Don’t you like daisies and buttercups, Felicity?”
“Yes, they’re really pretty. My problem is this,” Felicity blurted out, pulling up the puffed sleeve of her blouse and pointing to a little mark near the top of her shoulder. “It’s a birthmark, see, Auntie Connie, and it’s so big and ugly I don’t want anyone to see it and start laughing so I can’t possibly have a bridesmaid’s dress with no sleeves even though everyone says it’ll be a warm day and a sleeveless dress would look right nice. And I know Babs really, really loves the picture of the sleeveless dress on the pattern Maisie showed us.”
Connie really wouldn’t have noticed the birthmark if Felicity hadn’t pointed it out. But she knew it would be no good saying that to the lass. Even though it was many, many years since she’d been a young lass she could remember how sensitive and worried a blemish or not looking right could make you feel. Like the time she’d had a pimple on her wrist – above the glove line – and she’d…
“I might have an idea, Felicity,” she said. “But I need to talk to your mum about it. Would that be all right?”
“Yes, ’cos she knows about this horrible thing, it isn’t a secret from her.”
“Trouble would be,” Connie said, “if your mum will let me go ahead with my idea, I’d have to do it on Babs as well and she might want me to do it when the pair of you are together.”
“So you mean she’d know about my birthmark then?”
“It might be best if you told her. She is your best friend and best friends shouldn’t have secrets from each other, should they? Babs wouldn’t laugh about it and she wouldn’t tell anyone either.”
“All right. But only if Mum lets you do whatever your idea is.”
*
Two days later, Felicity and Babs chattered happily as they sat at a small table in Flo and Connie’s prefab and watched Connie squeeze some yellow paint out of a little tube onto a tiny paintbrush. When Connie had finished with them, they were going round to Maisie Butterworth’s to be measured for their bridesmaid’s dresses.
Felicity’s mum had been more than delighted when Connie told her she’d thought of a way to stop Felicity worrying about her birthmark showing if she wore a dress with no sleeves. Now, Connie was about to use paints to make the little mark look like part of a daisy.
“I’ll do the centre part first,” she said. “And I know the centre part of the real flowers isn’t such a bright yellow as this paint but this will look good and when I’ve done the white petals and they’ve dried, I’ll paint pink tips on them.”
“Bright yellow’s better for the middle bit ’cos it’ll hide my birthmark more,” Felicity said as Connie set to work.
“Your daisy will probably look nicer than mine ’cos Nana Connie can just paint over your birthmark but she’ll have paint the centre of my daisy free-hand,” said Babs.
“I’ll have you know, I won prizes for my paintings of flowers when I was painting pictures more regular-like. And I’m thinking of starting doing it again once Flo’s married. I can use her bedroom for a studio. Right, Felicity, that’s the centre bit finished. Sit still while it dries and I’ll do Babs’ centre.”
Half-an-hour later, Connie was about to paint pink tips onto Felicity’s daisy when Flo came in. “Flo! I thought you’d be out for ages yet,” said Connie.
“I found the right pair of shoes for my wedding day in the very first shop I went into,” Flo told her, putting her shopping bag down on the floor. “But whatever are you doing, Connie?”
“I’m er…” Connie couldn’t think what to say without giving Felicity’s secret away.
“It’s all right. I’ll tell her,” Felicity said. “She’ll be my grandma in a couple of weeks so I don’t think I mind her knowing.”
“And I know what gave my big sister her idea,” Flo said when Felicity had finished explaining about the birthmark and how Babs was having a daisy painted on, too, so they’d match each other. “It was something that happened around sixty years ago.”
“Wasn’t that many years back, Flo.”
Flo laughed. “Near as makes no difference. She was eighteen or so, Felicity, and she were going to a dance with the lad who was courting her. On the day of the dance she got a whacking great pimple on her arm. And… and…” Flo broke off laughing again and Connie took over.
“I painted a bright red rose on my arm to try and disguise the pimple,” she said. “So, yes, remembering that is what made me think of painting a daisy on you, Felicity.”
“And,” said Flo, going closer to look at Babs’ arm, “my dress is all silver and gold so the colour of the daisies will match my dress, too. Oh, heck,” she added, “I were trying to keep that a secret.”
“We won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell why we’ve got daisies painted on,” said Felicity. “It won’t actually be these ones. Auntie Connie will be painting new ones on us on the morning of the wedding. These are for me and Babs going to be measured for our dresses so Maisie won’t see my birthmark only a daisy.”
“But listen, Auntie Flo,” said Babs, “Mum’s been that worried in case you were going to wear a green dress so can we tell her you aren’t? And, Nana Connie, even though we know Auntie Flo won’t be wearing green, can we still do all the good luck things we decided to do?”
“I hope you will,” Flo said. “Not that me and Sam will need good luck but I do like all the old customs.”
Connie hid a smile as she wondered what Flo would think of being kissed by a chimbley-sweep. She’d likely be happy about it seeing as she liked the old customs.
“Look,” Flo continued, “I got this for Amos to sneak into Sam’s jacket pocket.” She opened her handbag and pulled out a tiny horseshoe. “And I bought some wrapped sweets as well,” she said, “for me and Sam to throw at the kiddies when we come out of church.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for the day,” said Felicity, “it’ll be a lovely memory to take with us when we go to Australia. And, all right, I’ll try not to get sad about that again ’cos me and Babs will still be best friends even when we’re miles and miles apart.”
“And when we write to each other, we can paint pictures of daisies on our letters so we never forget our last day together,” Babs said, sniffing a bit.
Connie met Flo’s eyes and smiled. She knew her sister and Sam were going to open a bank account for Babs and Felicity and put some money in as a present for their bridesmaids. Money the girls could add to so, when they were old enough, they’d be able to visit each other. Flo and Sam’s wedding day certainly wouldn’t be the last time they spent together.
Blackpool Blues
“What a bit of luck,” said Jessie, glancing down Blakeley Road as she stood at the garden gate. “Rob Cole has just turned out of Broome Avenue. He’ll be able to tell me if his gran’s in. I know she tries to be around in case he calls in on his way home from work. She doesn’t always manage it, though.”
“It won’t be so bad you walking round there and chancing bringing your rheumatics on if you know Connie’s in.”
The response was mumbled. Jessie sighed. Ted must have taken his teeth out again. He’d never get used to his new set if he didn’t persevere. And the few minutes it took to get to Connie’s was hardly likely to give her even a twinge of rheumatism.
Earlier on, Ted been worriting about the wooden yoyo he was making for Douglas Green next door asking her if it was really a suitable present for a ninth birthday. Then wondering if the yoyo might hit Douglas’s spectacles – reminding Jessie of how the lad’s mother kept a supply of Elastoplast especially for making temporary repairs on the nose bridge or the side pieces because her son was always damaging them.
“You know,” Ted had said, “I won’t be that popular if anything happens while Douglas is playing with his yoyo.”
So, as much as Jessie loved her husband he was in a negative mood today both on his own behalf and hers as well and right now she felt like she needed a bit of a break from the daft h
’aporth. She really hoped Rob would say his gran was home.
“Rob’s almost here. You’d best put your teeth back in quickly, Ted,” she hissed.
“Oh, heck.” He sighed then turned his back to the gate and rootled in his pocket.
“Hello, Mrs Bailey. Hello, Ted.”
“My, you look gloomy, lad,” said Jessie after returning Rob’s greeting.
Rob nodded. “Gloomy, fed up, down in the dumps. You name it and that’s me.”
“What me and Jessie would call feeling bobbins,” said Ted turning round.
To give Ted his due, he didn’t let on that he, too, had been feeling out of sorts all day.
“And why would that be?” Jessie asked Rob. “You didn’t go and paint a door blue instead of green, did you?”
Rob was an apprentice painter and decorator. But, Jessie thought, he doesn’t usually get too upset about mistakes. Maybe he’s made a big one this time. The ones he’d told them about so far had been funny rather than serious.
“No, work’s OK. It’s the coach trip to Blackpool on Saturday. That’s all Nana Connie went on about while I was there just now. She’s so looking forward to it. She loves going to see the lights.”
So that’s answered my question, Jessie thought. Connie is in. “I think we’re all looking forward to seeing the ’luminations, Rob,” she said. Though to be honest, because of the problem with his teeth, she wasn’t that sure Ted was.
“She’s including me in her plans,” Rob continued, “and I didn’t know how to tell her summat’s happened and I don’t want to go.”
Jessie noticed Rob’s furtive glance towards the prefab next door and wondered if a falling out with Sylvia Green was what had happened. She knew the two of them had being going round together.
“Want to talk about it, lad?” Ted asked Rob.
Rob shrugged and glanced quickly at Jessie.
Jessie hid a smile. Her Ted had become a sort of agony uncle – or seeing as he was nearer eighty than seventy perhaps that should be agony grandad – to the lads in the village. She guessed Rob would feel better talking to him on his own.
