Our Lizzie

by Anna Jacobs

“You could get separate beds.” But he knew even as he spoke that it wouldn’t work.

  “No.” Then Meg’s mouth dropped open and a slow smile crossed her face. “But she could move out, of course. Then we’d not have to share.”

  “You’ll not throw her out.”

  She looked at him scornfully. “Who’s talking of throwing her anywhere? She and Sam are engaged, aren’t they? With a fancy ring, an’ all—she doesn’t deserve it, but he won’t be told what she’s like. So if they’re going to get wed, now would be the time for them to do it. That’d suit everyone. I know he wants to get wed quickly. Well, he’s a man, isn’t he? Can’t do without it, most of them. I’ve often wondered what’s wrong with you that you don’t run after the lasses.”

  Percy made an inarticulate noise of protest at this unfair gibe on top of everything else, but she didn’t even notice.

  “I’ve heard her saying ‘not yet,’ the silly little fool! She’ll lose him if she goes on like that. He needs a woman to look after him, doesn’t he, as well as needing the other thing? Though he’ll soon regret marrying her, by heck he will.”

  Suddenly Meg was eager to leave this place, glad the lodgers were going because it would mean she could get rid of Lizzie once and for all. She beamed at Percy. “You can tell Lizzie. Well, you should tell Sam first, I think. He’ll help you persuade her to get wed quick. Then I shan’t mind moving.”

  He was amazed yet again by her mercurial switches of mood. What she said did make sense in one way, but still he felt uneasy. He knew Sam’s feelings, but he also knew Lizzie’s reluctance. “I don’t know about that. She’s a bit young for marriage.”

  “She’s old enough. There’s many of ’em wed at seventeen.”

  “It’s one thing to get wed because you want to, Mam, but another thing altogether to do it because someone’s pushing you. I’ll have a talk with her, certainly, but I’m not forcing her. And you’re not to say anything to her till then.”

  But Meg wasn’t really listening. “It’ll be the best thing for all of us. Just me and my sons. Daughters let you down, but sons don’t. I’ll feel much better in a smaller house, I’m sure my health will improve.” She sat down on the sofa, tears and tantrums forgotten. “Pass me the photo album, will you, love? I want to look back at happier days. And then I’ll have to think about what we’ll be taking with us and what we’ll need to sell. We won’t get all this stuff into a smaller house.”

  He did as she asked, sighing, and left the room. When she started looking at photos of their father, she got very maudlin. She’d be weeping later. Again.

  Lizzie wasn’t in the kitchen so Percy went upstairs to her bedroom. She was asleep, looking very young and vulnerable in the light from the landing. She’d been looking tired lately, worn down by all the carping. She’d probably be a lot happier away from their mother and in a home of her own; happier than she had been here since their dad had died. Most women wanted their own home.

  A little voice whispered in his mind that Lizzie wasn’t most women, but he pushed that thought aside as he went back to his newspaper. Things couldn’t go on as they were, that was for sure. They’d all have to make concessions to sort this mess out. It could solve all their problems if Lizzie married Sam sooner than planned.

  But—he sighed again—he was going to miss Emma. By hell he was! For the first time Percy admitted openly to himself that he was a bit gone on their younger lodger. He knew he’d never have had a chance with her, of course he did, but that didn’t stop him enjoying her company, fancying her, dreaming a bit. But that was all he’d ever have: dreams.

  Suddenly he got up and went to fetch his cap and overcoat. He’d go down to the pub this very minute. Bound to catch Sam at one place or the other. He could have a quiet word. No time like the present. And he’d get out of the house for a bit.

  * * *

  Emma and Blanche moved out of Bobbin Lane the following Saturday, a fine sunny day. Mr. Cardwell helped them with the removal, bringing along his motor lorry. Percy and Harry Preston from across the road helped him carry their stuff down from the attic.

  Meg stayed in the kitchen with the door shut, angry that her son was wasting his time helping them. Trust a woman to take advantage of a young man’s strength. She nibbled on her fingernails, worrying about that. Percy hadn’t shown any signs of dangling after girls, so far, but you never knew, so she’d better keep a careful eye open from now on. She wasn’t taking a back seat to anyone. Percy was her son and it was his duty to look after her. That’s what Stanley would have expected.

  Polly came back to say goodbye to Blanche Harper, having begged an hour off work. Mrs. Pilby didn’t approve of this sort of laxness, but the housekeeper gave her permission. Modern maids insisted on all sorts of privileges and at least Polly Kershaw was a conscientious worker, so Mrs. Frost was determined to keep her happy.

  When the lorry had gone, Polly popped into the kitchen for a quick word with her mother.

  “Seen them off in style, have you?” Meg sneered. “Didn’t think of me sitting here all on my own, did you?”

  “Look, Mam, I have to get back to work. I just came in to say hello.”

  “I don’t know why you even bothered to come round today.” Her mother’s voice took on a whining edge. “Sucking up to them won’t do you any good now. You’ve had the last of those silly singing lessons—proper waste of time those were. Your voice is nowt above the ordinary. They won’t want to have anything to do with you from now on. See if I’m not right. They’ll find themselves some fancy new friends and ignore those who’ve looked after them all these years.”

  “I have to go now, Mam,” Polly repeated. “Will you be all right?”

  “What? Of course I’ll be all right. Especially now they have gone.”

  When the door had closed behind Polly, Meg wandered round the house. “Glad to have it to myself,” she said as she went into the front room and stared at the space where the piano had been. And, “A fine mess they’ve made of this,” she said scornfully in the attic, looking at the marks on the wall.

  Percy found her still up there when he came home a couple of hours later. She was standing gazing out of the windows, muttering to herself, and jumped like a startled rabbit when he spoke to her, staring at him wildly as if she didn’t recognise him.

  He put a hand on her shoulder, suddenly afraid. “Mam, are you all right?”

  She jerked and as she focused on his face, the strangeness left her eyes and she reached out to pat his cheek. “Of course I’m all right, son.”

  But on the way downstairs, she stopped again and told her reflection in the mirror at the top of the stairs, “And I’ll be even better when we’ve got rid of that young madam. Oh, yes.”

  Then he knew for certain that the best thing he could do for Lizzie was to get her free of their mother, not for Sam’s sake, though his friend was pleased at the thought of an earlier marriage, but for his sister’s own sake. And whatever the doctor said, he didn’t think this was just a phase due to Mam’s age. She was—he faced the fact squarely—not quite right in the head, especially about her eldest daughter. “I’ll talk to Lizzie tonight about Sam.”

  “Good lad.” Meg went to sit in front of the fire, staring into it and crooning to herself. It was a full half hour later before she started clearing up the kitchen and only when she looked more like herself did he dare leave her alone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  November 1913

  Lizzie stared at Percy and swallowed hard. “Say that again.”

  “I said, I think you ought to name a day now, love. You’ll be eighteen in four months. You’re engaged to Sam, so you must want to marry him. Why delay any longer?”

  She stared down at her hands, then stood up and went to look out of the window of the front room, into which he’d taken her after tea “for a quiet talk.”

  He was worried by the expression on her face. Surely that hadn’t been fear? Patiently he waited for her to respond. If she was
afraid of marrying Sam, or anyone else, then he’d have to find another way out of this situation.

  “Why are you saying this now?” asked Lizzie at last, walking over to fiddle with the ornaments on the mantelpiece. “When you’ve been telling me to take my time?” She put down the photograph of her father and turned to stare at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her clear green eyes which seemed to see deep into the uncertainties within him. “Because Mam isn’t up to looking after any more lodgers and really this place is too big for her, with her being so fussy. So I thought we’d move out—and Mr. Cuttler says he’ll keep an eye open for a nice place for us. But it’ll likely have only two bedrooms, not three, and so—”

  “So there’ll be no place for me?”

  “If you weren’t getting married, it’d be different. We’d either stay here or find somewhere with three bedrooms. I’d never see you thrown out of your home, love, you know that. But you’re engaged and—well, it seems sensible all round for you to get married now.”

  Lizzie’s voice was curiously flat. “Yes, I suppose it does.” Then she realised why Sam had been looking so smug and secretive for the last couple of days. “You’ve already spoken to Sam, haven’t you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  There was silence as she reflected on the way men stuck together and never told you anything. Then she said sadly, “And, of course, Mam would love to get rid of me.”

  Percy couldn’t deny it.

  Lizzie had the feeling she was hurtling towards the edge of a cliff. Terror filled her for a moment, then ebbed away. Sam wanted her, even if her own mother didn’t. She shrugged.

  “Does that mean yes?”

  She looked at her brother, his kind gentle face full of concern. She wasn’t the only one to have suffered since her father’s death. Percy didn’t complain, but he looked sad and worn sometimes. Just now, he couldn’t hide his relief.

  “You should be married yourself with kids by now, Percy. I’ve seen you stop and smile at babies in the street.”

  His laughter was shamefaced for he adored small children and had a way with them, he knew. “It’s that obvious, is it? I’ll have to be more careful from now on, then.” He went across and gave her a quick hug. “Eeh, lass, you’ll be better off away from her. She’s getting a bit—a bit—”

  “Strange. Yes, I’ve noticed.” Lizzie managed a smile. “I’ll have to talk to Sam, won’t I, sort out a date? We can have a quiet wedding, just us two, you and Polly, and—”

  “No. You’ll have a proper send-off and I’ll see she does the right thing by you—in public at least.”

  “Well, a proper wedding will stop all the old biddies thinking I’m having a baby, at least. I’ll go round and see if I can catch Sam in now, shall I?”

  Percy walked with her to the front door, where he held her back for a moment to ask, “You are sure, aren’t you?”

  “As sure as I’ll ever be.” Lizzie walked quickly away before he could see the doubt in her face. She knew she wasn’t really ready to marry Sam, but she had never been able to work out why.

  * * *

  Sam answered the door and beamed when he saw her. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

  He was still in his work clothes, looking tired and rumpled. She let him shepherd her inside and presented her cheek for a quick kiss, drawing away when he tried to capture her in his arms.

  “You sit down in the kitchen, love and I’ll just nip out to the scullery and have a bit of a wash. I’ve not long been home.” He’d stopped off at the Carter’s Rest for a sup of ale. He got thirsty after a day’s work.

  She sat and stared at the empty fireplace, thinking how lonely it must be to come home to an empty house, and how bad he was at coping with housework. Without taking a conscious decision, she started picking things up and then took the poker to the fire. By the time he came back, it was burning brightly. She had always had a gift for managing fires.

  “Eeh, that looks a bit more cheerful, lass. I’ll just go upstairs an’ put a clean shirt on.”

  It seemed strange to be so intimate with him. Lizzie watched him walk out, his back strong and muscular, the skin of his newly washed neck bright pink against the ginger of his hair. As his footsteps echoed up the stairs, she began to carry out the dirty dishes that were dumped here and there and pile them in the scullery. The fire hadn’t had time to heat the water, so she put the kettle on the gas stove and when he came down again, she was washing up. Piles of stuff, there were. Everything in the place was dirty, it seemed.

  “You can wipe up for me, if you like,” she called.

  Sam came to stand in the doorway, frowning. “No.” His voice was very flat and emphatic. “I don’t do stuff like that. Mrs. Wright from next door is supposed to come in and clean for me, but she’s been ill.”

  “What if I were ill after we’d got married? Would you do it then?”

  “No. I’d get some other woman in. I’m a man, an’ dishes are women’s work.”

  Lizzie stared down into the water. Well, she couldn’t say she didn’t know where she stood with him, could she? “I see.”

  He came over to stand beside her. “I’ll provide for you, lass, an’ provide well, but I’m not a cissy an’ I’m not doing the housework as well as bringing in the wages. Not even with the curtains closed.” They both knew of one man down the street who helped out in secret. Lizzie thought him a lovely fellow and his wife obviously thought so, too. Men like Sam scorned him.

  She plunged another pile of plates into the water. “I see.”

  He watched her busy hands as he talked, enjoying the sight of her working for him. “Percy said your mam wants to move to a smaller house?”

  “An’ she wants to get rid of me.” Lizzie blinked her eyes rapidly, but couldn’t prevent a tear from rolling down her cheek and plopping into the water. Her hands were gripping the edges of a plate so tightly that her knuckles showed white. “I’ll make sure my children always know they’re loved,” she said with sudden savageness. “So if you aren’t going to love our children, don’t marry me, Sam, because I won’t have a child of mine brought up like I’ve been since Dad died.”

  “I want children an’ I’ll look after them properly.” His voice was husky. “I’ve been without parents myself an’ I know what it’s like.”

  “Yes.” She looked at him, a long, steady look which made her seem older. “So—when do you want to get married?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Three weeks, it takes, I think. They have to call the banns and—”

  “I were thinking more of a register office.”

  She stilled and stared down at the water. “I know I won’t have a fancy wedding dress, but Percy says we should get married in church and—I’d like that. A register office wouldn’t feel quite as respectable, somehow.”

  Sam thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Yes, she had a point. He wanted everything to be done properly too. “An’ you will have a fancy wedding dress. Perhaps not one of them white things, because I can’t see much sense in spending a lot of hard-earned money for one day’s wear, but a good dress, one you can be proud of and wear on Sundays afterwards. I’ll buy it for you as a wedding present.” He nodded, pleased with the idea of making a bit of a splash, showing folk that he was well set up. About time he got some enjoyment out of his money. He’d taken quite a few risks to get it, risks that soft sod Percy hadn’t dared face. “And we’ll have our photographs took afterwards, too. And I’ll get you a bouquet of flowers to carry. Why not?”

  He picked her up, wet hands and all, and swung her round, laughing as she squealed in shock. When she flung her wet arms round his neck to give him a hug, he kissed her. He felt gentle inside, for once, not raging with a need for sex.

  When he set her down, Lizzie laughed and set to work on the dishes again, leaving them to drain on the wooden board at the side of the slopstone. She finished quickly, with him standing admiring her efficiency, then
he led her through into the kitchen, to sit cosily together at the table, writing down all the things they’d have to arrange.

  “Could we have my sisters as—not as bridesmaids exactly but, you know, as attendants, I think they call ’em, and—and could they have smaller bouquets?” she asked wistfully. “It’d make it so special.”

  “Why not?” He’d had a good month or two lately.

  “And Percy can give me away.” Lizzie was very definite about that.

  “I wanted him for best man.”

  They laughed.

  “Can he do both things?” she wondered.

  Sam frowned, then shook his head. “No, I’ll have to ask Josh to do it instead. He’ll jump at the chance.”

  “Josh?”

  “A mate of mine. I do a bit of business with him from time to time.”

  “All right. Oh, Sam—”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t it exciting?”

  “Aye.” He smiled at her. Soon she’d be his. Then she’d find out what exciting meant!

  Lizzie was to realise long afterwards that this was the closest they were ever to get; that it was as close as it was possible for anyone to get to Sam Thoxby. She was to realise a lot of things afterwards. But just then she thought mainly of escaping from her mother, and doing it in an honourable way, so that folk wouldn’t talk about her afterwards and laugh at how she’d been thrown out and had to scramble into marriage.

  * * *

  The next evening they went to see the minister at her mother’s church about getting married there and although he gave them both a lecture about not attending regularly, he did agree to marry them “for the sake of your poor mother.” But only on condition they attended church every Sunday from then on.

  “Boring old sod!” Sam growled as they walked home.

  “Wait till you hear his sermons. You’ll have trouble staying awake!”

  Sam let out a snort of laughter. “Well, if I drop off to sleep in church, don’t give me a nudge till he’s stopped spouting. And any road, it’s only till we’re wed. Damned if I’m going into one of them bloody places afterwards. Weddings, christenings and funerals, that’s all churches are good for.”