by Katie King
Most of the children opted to stay together, even if there might not be much prospect of dinner – Peggy thinking of the saying ‘safety in numbers’ – and so she said to Jessie and Connie she would see them back at the rectory later for a late snack if they weren’t given something to eat very soon, and she thought she would let Mr Jones and Miss Crabbe and the others sort out how the Bermondsey children should spend the afternoon.
With that, Peggy decided to explore Harrogate a little on her own, as she wanted to look around as well as find a post office to send off all the cards to the anxious parents back in London.
As she left, she heard two of the teachers behind her saying there must be ‘a plan of action’ drawn up, to ensure that the pupils of the merging schools quickly settled down and stopped any antagonism of the other.
This proposal seemed easy to suggest, Peggy thought, but would it be harder to effect than to say?
‘What do you make of that?’ Connie asked her brother as they brought up the rear of the snaking line of children twenty minutes later as they plodded towards the countryside around the town.
She saw that Jessie was rubbing his arm, and so she guessed that somebody had thrown a sly punch at him as they had rushed past.
‘I’m not sure. It wasn’t great. They don’t really want us here at all, do they?’ said Jessie in such a dispirited manner that even Connie understood that he felt the bullying treatment meted out to him in Bermondsey looked very set to continue in Yorkshire, and perhaps in an even worse way.
‘No, I don’t think they do,’ Connie agreed. ‘But I rather liked the look of that tall boy with the red hair – did you notice him?’
‘I’m pretty certain he was the one that hit me,’ said Jessie. ‘Or it could have been that tall lad behind him. But I think it was the ginger one.’
‘Ah,’ said Connie.
And after they’d walked a little further, she added, ‘What a nuisance.’
Chapter Sixteen
The sun shone brightly and Peggy enjoyed herself exploring the town, strolling up and down the streets of Harrogate in a happily wayward manner.
For what seemed like the first time in an age she didn’t feel the pressure of having to do something specific or be somewhere she had to be, and as the sun swathed everything in a rich, orangey light, she enjoyed looking at the buildings set off to their best advantage in the sun and contrasting appealingly against a deep-blue, cloudless sky.
Harrogate was a grand and elegant town, she could see immediately. Compared to what they were all used to back home in Bermondsey, in many ways it looked a lot, a lot more… er, more… In the end ‘comfortable’ was the best word that Peggy could come up with that seemed appropriate for what she saw as she looked about her.
As she wandered, she spent a lot of time reading notices on church and school boards and trying to memorise where various important buildings such as the Pump Rooms and the library and the town hall and the train station were in relation to one another, and to Tall Trees.
Generally, she thought, people seemed to be more smartly dressed than she was used to seeing in Bermondsey on a weekday late morning, with lots of good-quality worsted clothing and some expensive-looking tweed skirts having been chosen for (presumably) everyday, as surely not everybody she saw could be heading off dressed up for important appointments? She saw that the houses were substantially bigger too, and quite often semi-detached, or even detached, and sometimes with large gardens in front and behind, which was something that just didn’t happen in Bermondsey. There, the most anyone could wish for was a small yard or garden at the back of the house.
The grey stone that comprised the majority of the buildings she gazed upon now looked austere and even quite hostile at first sight, but then Peggy noticed in the sunshine how the grey of the stone was really a palette of softer colours, sometimes even including shades such as a glittery lavender or occasionally a rich teal.
As she looked about her it became obvious how well the stone, which was likely to have been quarried locally to judge by the amount of it that had been used in all manner of buildings, from the modest to the ostentatious, contrasted with the sharp- and clean-looking white paintwork of most people’s window frames.
Nearly all the doorsteps she passed were neatly brushed too, with their brass door knockers and knobs highly polished, and many of the windowpanes were so clean and shiny that they acted as mirrors, reflecting back images of birds and trees and the occasional passing car.
Indeed, Peggy had never seen such a general gleam of windowpanes, even though here and there some people had started to apply tape crosses across the glass, presumably, as Ted had done, in order to keep any shattering of broken glass as safe as possible if a German bombing offensive were mounted.
All in all, there was a general impression of a very house-proud community. And the fact there were lots of flower beds and carefully mown grass that weren’t part of people’s gardens, and virtually no litter at all, suggested that Harrogate felt a strong sense of civic pride.
Peggy didn’t see many women wearing the floral wrap over pinnies that were such familiar weekday attire for the housewives in Bermondsey, and then she noted how substantial and prosperous-looking the houses were and so she thought she may be in one of the more affluent areas of the town.
She noticed that the men tended to greet each other with just a simple ‘How do?’, which sounded very odd to her, and as she began to listen more closely to what people were saying to their friends and acquaintances as she walked along, she thought that in general the natives of Harrogate very much liked the words ‘reckon’, ‘love’, ‘’appen’ and ‘thee’ as she heard them all used several times as she meandered about. She realised that she had never heard the word ‘thee’ used in ordinary conversation in Bermondsey, and neither had she been acknowledged in the way that was frequently happening this morning because, as she walked along, almost every stranger she passed nodded their head at her in greeting, sometimes accompanied by a strangely tuneful-sounding ‘Mornin’’ that had an upwards inflection on the second syllable.
Although she assumed she’d post the pupils’ letters in the post box beside Tall Trees, Peggy found a post box en route and so she was able to discharge her final duty to St Mark’s until after her and Bill’s baby was born. As she slipped the postcards into the gaping mouth of the red posting box, she sent with them a little wish of hope that all the mothers and fathers of the writers of the laboriously penned missives were well and safe, and were happy that their children were safely out of London.
She headed a bit further along the street in the rough direction of Tall Trees, but she then ground to a halt, realising she felt slightly at a loss. It really did feel very peculiar to be in a strange place without anything that she had to do.
Peggy turned involuntarily towards the ding of a bell above a door, and she decided to go into the pleasant-looking café that was served by the bell and the door.
A cheerful woman about Peggy’s age who had a crisply starched and spotless frilled apron tied about her waist indicated that she should sit at a table in the window that gave a good view of the street, and when Peggy asked for a small pot of tea and a toasted teacake, the woman said with a wise nod at her protruding belly, ‘Aye, yuill be wantin’ yer snap.’
Peggy wasn’t sure how to respond.
Then the woman smiled as she obviously could see that Peggy was new to the area and a bit confused by what had just been said, and she pointed at herself, enunciating clearly, ‘June.’
‘Peggy. Peggy Delbert. How do you do?’ Phew. She could manage that.
‘June Blenkinsop,’ the other woman said. And the pair of them smiled at each other.
The café was quiet as the late morning rush looked to have been and gone, and so June fetched Peggy’s tea and teacake, and then through a raise of a brow and her head inclined towards the empty seat opposite, asked if she might sit with her a while.
Peggy tried not to look ta
ken aback. She couldn’t imagine somebody behaving in this forward way in London, as down in Bermondsey strangers tended to keep themselves to themselves, and anyone being overfriendly on first acquaintance tended to be treated with suspicion. There, strangers were to be treated with caution, and people had to earn their stripes before the hand of friendship could be extended.
June had something very warm about her, though, and so Peggy smiled again and nodded.
As the two women began to chat, even though they had to speak very slowly to one another and sometimes try several words until the other one could give a nod of understanding, Peggy felt herself relax in the warm sunlight coming in through the sparkling window to the café, and as she stretched her neck from side to side with the cricks easing, she realised how very anxious and tense she had been feeling over the past week or two.
It was with some regret that she saw June stand up fifteen minutes later, saying it was time for her to get back to work as otherwise the cashing up would never get done, but if Peggy came in the next day a bit earlier then at least she wouldn’t be quite as ‘off-comed-un’ as today and June would rustle her up a tea and toasted teacake right quickly, or some nerks if Peggy fancied.
Peggy hoped that June meant that by tomorrow she wouldn’t look quite such a fish out of water in a strange area. Meanwhile, the nerks could wait for a day or two before she would worry herself about whatever they might be.
Chapter Seventeen
At Tall Trees, after tea that evening, Mabel had a brainwave.
Those from Harrogate would learn a song that had London slang in the lyrics, and the task would be reciprocated as then those hailing from London could be taught a song that contained some typical Yorkshire dialect.
Mabel asked Tommy to choose a song, and he decided that in the Yorkshire Corner it would be ‘On Ilkla Moor Baht ’At’.
Mabel smiled and claimed this an excellent musical opener as it was always a firm favourite with everybody.
Roger explained to the Londoners that it was a slightly saucy song about a man spotted returning from a lover’s tryst without his hat. And with that, Roger (with a deep bass), Tommy (shouting) and Mabel (not very tunefully as regards her singing, but with a good tune and timing being kept on the piano) launched with a lusty enthusiasm into:
Wheere wor ta bahn when Ah saw thee?
On Ilkla Moor baht ’at
Tha’s been a-courtin’ Mary Jane
Tha’s bahn ter get thi death o’ cowd
Then we s’ll ‘a’ ter bury thee
Then t’worms’ll come ter eyt thee up
Then t’ducks’ll come ter yet up t’worms
Then we s’ll come ter yet up t’ducks
Then we sill all ’ave etten then
Then we s’ll ’ave us ooan back!
On Ilkla Moor baht ’at!
On Ilkla Moor baht ’at!!
ON ILKLA MOOR BAHT ’AT!!!
After this rousing rendition, Roger explained in more detail what all of the words to the song meant, adding that it could be stretched out to last a very long time, with the refrain ‘On Ilkla Moor baht ’at!’ usually being bellowed out repetitively and in an increasingly lively manner.
Peggy and the London children shared surprised looks when they understood what the words actually meant.
They’d assumed that Roger would have encouraged them to learn a religious song, and so they’d been racking their brains without result to come up with something not too risqué or offensive, and yet that was a firm favourite when gathered round a piano in Bermondsey. Songs sung routinely in Bermondsey were often risqué and offensive, now they came to think of them.
But with the impish Tommy’s choice of ‘On Ilkla Moor Baht ’At’, they felt the gloves had come off, which meant they could make a choice based purely on what they knew everyone would really enjoy singing.
‘We’ll sing our Yorkshire song again and this time you three join in with us, and after that we’ll sing summat from your neck o’ t’woods,’ commanded Roger, and Mabel struck an even jauntier version of the tune on the keys of the piano and they all sang ‘On Ilkla Moor Baht ’At’ with, exactly as Roger had promised, the refrains becoming louder and more raucous each time.
Jessie and Connie quickly came to understand what Roger meant about the chorus being very boisterous, and soon everyone was laughing as they each tried to outdo their companions.
When it came to the turn of the Londoners to come up with something for them all to sing, Connie insisted that Jessie and Peggy follow her outside of the kitchen and into a coy huddle in the hall so that they could make their deliberations in private. Then she marched them back to where the Braithwaites were waiting, and announced in a voice that was deliberately more cockney-sounding than the one in which she would ordinarily speak (Barbara having been strict always about them speaking with as nice an accent as she could encourage from when they were wee tots, Connie proving herself to be quite the little actress, if she felt so inclined, which apparently right at this moment she very much did, signally by some extravagant armgesturing too), ‘We’re goin’ to ’ave a ding-dong inspired by the Pearly Kings an’ Queens of Lundun, with two popla songs, ladies an’ gents. ’Old on to yer ’ats as there’s gonna be a right ol’ knees-up!’
And with that, Connie, Jessie and Peggy launched as one into:
Any ol’ iron? Any ol’ iron?
Any, any, any ol’ iron?
You look neat
Talk about a treat
Looking so dapper
From yer napper to yer feet
Dressed in style
Brand new tile
An’ yer father’s ol’ green tie on
But I wouldn’t give yer tuppence fer yer ol’ fob watch
Ol’ iron, ol’ iron!
The second time they sang it, Mabel was able to bash out a tune in accompaniment on the long-suffering piano, and Connie led what some might say passed for dancing with a series of moves that Peggy joked apologetically to Roger and Mabel wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Victorian-era music hall in south London but weren’t quite what she would ever have been encouraged to do back at number five Jubilee Street.
‘An’ if yer thought that were fun, hold on to yer ’olly’ocks once more, fer it’s time fer “The Lambeth Walk”,’ shouted a clearly excited Jessie, who was panting and quite pink in the face. It was rare for him to be so forward, and especially with strangers, and so Peggy raised her eyebrows in encouragement.
Tommy obviously knew the song as he started to parade around as if he were drumming his fingers on pretend lapels as he stuck his elbows out. No one could fail to laugh.
Any time yer’re Lambeth way
Any evening, any day
Yer’ll find us all
Doing the Lambeth Walk
Oi!
It was very loud and not very tuneful as by now everyone, except for Mabel on the piano, was parading around doing silly walks and lifting their knees up as high as they would go on the ‘Oi!’ bits, and after a brief pause for Peggy to explain the meaning of the word ‘Lambeth’, they yelled it out again, before the sing-song was opened out to other favourites such as ‘Hands, Knees and a Bompsadaisy’ and ‘The Hokey Cokey’.
At this point Peggy had to sit down as by now the baby had woken up and was doing an energetic dance all of his or her own but with each move very uncomfortably choreographed in various parts of her tummy.
Meanwhile Gracie came over to the kitchen from across the yard to see what all the noise was about and she was soon busy teaching Jessie, Tommy and Connie the moves to the charleston, saying that nobody danced it these days, but her mother had taught it to her when she was about their age and it was time they knew what it was and how to dance it, even if they never did so again.
Peggy bit back a smile as Gracie was talking as if she were Old Mother Time passing on an honourable tradition, whereas in reality she was a mere five years older than the twins and Tommy, and probably she had spent
much more of her time dancing the big apple or the jitterbug than she ever had done shimmying to the charleston.
Tommy relieved his mother of the stool at the piano and proved to be a very able pianist, singing as he played ‘Happy Feet’, ‘Cheek to Cheek’ and ‘Yes Sir, That’s My Baby’. Roger danced with Mabel as Tommy played, and then Roger carried into the kitchen the gramophone from the parlour, and made a return journey with a generous box of records.
Their musical soirée ended over an hour later with Tommy standing up and singing an unaccompanied ‘Danny Boy’.
When he wasn’t larking around, he showed himself to have a beautiful singing voice, the sort that any choir would be pleased to have, and Peggy found herself with a lump in her throat that throbbed in time to the sheer beauty of what she was listening to.
Mabel nodded at her to acknowledge she had seen and understood Peggy’s welling up of emotion, and then she mouthed ‘church choir’ with a nod at Tommy.
‘You must be very proud,’ Peggy replied.
‘He has his moments,’ said Mabel, to which Tommy answered with an extravagant bow, sweeping his left arm right down to the floor.
That evening everyone went to bed in a much happier frame of mind than the previous evening, and no sooner had Peggy’s head hit the pillow than she was out for the count.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, which was a Wednesday morning, Peggy made sure she was up well before Jessie and Connie, as she wanted to walk them over to school on their first day of lessons. She thought they could probably find their way to the school unaided, as it wasn’t too far for them to go and the Harrogate streets seemed pretty straightforward, but Peggy thought too that her niece and nephew might appreciate a little moral support from their aunt. That could never be a bad thing, surely?
Jessie and Connie were both very subdued at breakfast, though, and so Peggy felt more than a little concerned about each of them, especially as they seemed only able to answer her with a quiet yes or no, no matter how chatty her tone or how open-ended she tried to make her questions.
