Beneath a Frosty Moon

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘I know that but it doesn’t change how I feel.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to. You can remember him as much as you like but whether you let it give you a barren future is up to you. I know you care about me –’ again he held up his hand as she went to speak – ‘and I know it’s not the same feeling you had for him, but that’s all right. The best marriages are built on friendship first and foremost. Remember what I told you about Jed’s mam and da? And we are best friends, lass. We’ve always been best friends, but, well, I love you in every way there is to love, that’s all. If you married me you would always come first and I would take care of you to my dying day, lass. Nothing would be too much for you—’

  ‘Don’t, Wilfred.’ She interrupted him shakily. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘No, don’t say can’t when I know you can and will.’ He aimed to appear cool and in control when inside he was trembling. But it had to be done. He couldn’t have gone on without speaking. ‘You’re the sort of lass who is meant to get married and have a home and family, and I could give you all that. And you’d grow to love me in that way, I’d make sure of it. Not as much as I love you because that would be impossible, but enough that you would be at peace and contented and happy. I’d never ask anything of you that you can’t give.’

  But he was, right now, she thought frantically.

  And then as though he’d heard the thought, he said, ‘All that would take time, I know that. Lots of time. But I can wait. For you I can wait, lass. We’re young and being best friends, being together, is all I ask. No one could love you more than I do, Cora. You have to believe that.’

  She did believe it but it gave her no pleasure. She moved her head slowly from side to side, then bit down hard on her lip as she looked at him again and read what was in his face. ‘It wouldn’t be fair,’ she whispered. ‘You deserve someone who loves you.’

  ‘You do love me,’ he said softly. ‘And I will make sure you love me more and more.’

  She felt helpless. Wilfred hadn’t been listening to a word she’d said; he was like a human bulldozer. His gaze was tight on her face and she saw now tiny beads of sweat on the faint line of stubble on his upper lip and the way his Adam’s apple jerked up under his chin and then fell again when he swallowed deeply. Tenderness replaced the exasperation that his doggedness had caused. He wasn’t as sure of himself as he was making out, she told herself, and it must have cost him a lot to bare his soul to her today, knowing how she felt about Jed. And she did love Wilfred, she couldn’t imagine him not being in her life. He had been wonderful over the last months since Jed had left. Left her. That’s what she had to remember. Jed had left her without so much as a goodbye. Wilfred would never do that.

  Again she whispered, ‘It wouldn’t be fair to keep you hanging on, just in case. I can’t promise anything, Wilfred.’

  ‘I know that.’ He had read her thoughts as though she had spoken them – her face had always been an open book – and he aimed to keep the exultation out of his voice as he murmured, ‘Just trust me, that’s all I ask, because I know you better than you know yourself. And don’t look so worried, else everyone will be asking why.’ He grinned at her, taking her hand and slipping it through his arm as they began to walk back towards the street. ‘And I promise you no more beer tonight, all right? I’m like a henpecked husband already, aren’t I?’

  ‘Wilfred—’

  ‘I know, I know, no promises.’ But the lilt in his voice told her that he was thinking the opposite. ‘And like I said, lass, I don’t need any, not where you and I are concerned. The war’s over and time’s on our side. Now, come and have at least one dance with me so I know you’re not mad at me? Please? And then we’ll round up the bairns ready for home and drag Mrs Burns away from her admirer.’

  It was indeed as though they were already married, she thought with a flash of panic, before she told herself to calm down and take a breath. This was Wilfred and she could trust him. He would never do anything to hurt her. They would be going home within the next few weeks and even in that he had proved his depth of love for her. Most lads would have jumped at the chance Jed’s parents had offered Wilfred, but because she hadn’t been for staying around these parts he had turned his back on what was a golden opportunity, even though she had tried to persuade him to reconsider several times.

  He was a good person. She nodded mentally to herself. An exceptional person, especially in the way he loved her, and bruised and sore as she felt about Jed’s rejection and her guilt that she had been the means of causing him to go to war, she had to acknowledge it was comforting to be loved the way Wilfred loved her. To know that she could trust him to always do what was best for her.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Oh, Gregory, they’ll be here soon. However are we going to tell them? What’ll they think? Especially Cora?’ Nancy shook her head as she added, ‘But then I know what she’ll think. Of me, at least. She’s made it quite clear in the couple of letters she’s written this year exactly how she views me coming home, and I can’t blame her.’ Nancy looked at her husband, at this dear kind man she had come to love in a way she wouldn’t have dreamed was possible before they’d become reunited. ‘I don’t understand how you could take me back and love me either.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, woman.’ It was a constant source of amazement to Gregory, this reassurance Nancy needed from him day in and day out. ‘There’s nowt to understand. I love you an’ I’ll die loving you and that’s that. As for our Cora, don’t forget she loves you, lass.’ And as Nancy shook her head, he said, ‘Oh, aye, she does, she does. And her letters have been all right, haven’t they?’

  Nancy had to smile. Only Gregory could fail to read behind the lines Cora had penned. Stilted, very correct lines. True, their daughter had said nothing out of place but it was more what she hadn’t written, than what she had, that stated Cora’s opinion about her mother’s behaviour very clearly. But like she’d said to Gregory, she couldn’t blame Cora.

  ‘I’ll just have to prove myself, won’t I?’ she said now.

  ‘No, you damn well won’t.’ Gregory reared up in his chair, nearly spilling the cup of tea she’d given him a minute or two earlier. ‘This is our house and what we decide is our business and if Cora, or anyone else for that matter, doesn’t understand it’s too bad. You have nothing to prove to anyone, lass, and I won’t have you thinking that way. We’re all right together, that’s all that matters.’

  It was a nice way of looking at things, but Nancy knew that once the children were home the dynamics of their going-on would change radically. Cora and Maria were essentially young women now as she had tried to impress on Greg, and Horace had been a little boy in short trousers when he had left Sunderland. She knew she and Greg would see a huge difference in all the bairns and already they’d had to rethink the sleeping arrangements. She had persuaded Greg that they must move into the front room so Cora and Maria had one bedroom and Susan and Anna the other, rather than the four girls top and tailing in one double bed as they had done in the past, with Horace on a pallet bed at the foot of it. Horace was now destined for a camp bed in the kitchen; it was the best they could do.

  Nancy sighed. It wasn’t the lack of accommodation that worried her but the prospect of the tension and difficulties that would arrive with the children. Of course families all over the country were facing the same problem – look at poor Beryl. Beryl Johnson as she was now, having married Ronald in the spring. When Archie had come home a few weeks ago there had been ructions, and the latest news was that Archie had run off in the middle of the night and had been brought home by a constable who’d told Beryl the lad was on his way back to the foster family he’d spent the war with. Beryl had been distraught, and when Ronald had attempted to reprimand the boy, Archie had punched him in the face. Nice things he’d learned while he’d been away.

  Nancy walked across to her husband and sat down beside him at the kitchen table. And now she and Greg were going to have another baby. At their age
! Greg insisted she was still young at thirty-six but she didn’t feel it, and she’d thought her childbearing days were over but no. Whatever would Cora say? It certainly wouldn’t help things. And yet, at the bottom of her, she had to admit she was thrilled. She’d felt she’d been given a second chance in life and this baby set the seal on it. How they would manage she wasn’t quite sure, but they would muddle through. Everyone was going on about the call for a period of austerity as the government encouraged folk to put up and make do, and there was no doubt the rationing was getting worse and not better despite the fact that they’d won the war, but none of that bothered her. What did worry her was the prospect of how the family would rub along together once they were living under the same roof again.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Gregory put his hand on hers. ‘You’re not still whittling about how Cora will react to this baby, are you? I’ve told you that you don’t have to tell her straight off. You can wait a while, pick your moment.’

  ‘I’ll still have to tell her, though.’

  He grinned. ‘Well, obviously. Nature has a way of showing these things up eventually.’

  ‘Oh, you.’ She pushed at him with her hand. ‘You’re not a bit embarrassed, are you? I mean about the fact we’ve fallen again, and us old enough to be grandparents.’

  ‘Very young grandparents,’ he said, laughing now. ‘Especially you. But no, I’m not embarrassed. I’m tickled pink, to tell you the truth.’

  She smiled. He had been over the moon when she had told him she was pregnant which had been a relief as she hadn’t been sure how he’d feel. A baby meant sleepless nights and more responsibility just when the other bairns were getting to an age when they were more independent.

  ‘Cora will be fine,’ Gregory said now. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Things were going to be difficult enough with her eldest, she knew that.

  Still, she told herself, the waiting was nearly over now and the bairns would be home today, thank goodness. She always thought waiting for anything – good or bad – was the worst part. She had written to Cora offering to meet the train if her daughter would let her know the time, but Cora had written back saying they preferred to make their own way from the station and it would be late afternoon or evening. It was now six o’clock so surely their arrival must be imminent?

  She glanced across to the kitchen window as she sipped her tea, Gregory having picked up his paper. It was a lovely June evening and the day had been a hot one. She had worked all day cleaning and polishing until the house was sparkling, not so much because she was concerned what it looked like but because she simply hadn’t been able to sit and relax. Her nerves were stretched as tight as piano wire, the more so because she had been trying not to let Gregory see what a state she was in. She so wanted them to be a family once more, and she wasn’t daft enough to think it would be plain sailing, whatever Greg might say.

  She let her gaze wander round the kitchen now, and as she had done many times in the last months, she marvelled that she was in her own home again, safe and secure. The time between coming round in the hospital in Newcastle and Gregory finding her was seared on her memory, a time of pain and aloneness and terror. She would never take the smallest thing about her home for granted again.

  The opening of the gate in the back yard brought her stiffening. Cora and the others walked towards the house, but as Gregory stood up, Nancy found she couldn’t move. She sat holding her breath, staring at the five strangers who came into the kitchen. She hadn’t expected Cora to express any gladness about being home, probably not Maria either because she had always followed her sister’s lead, but she noticed Horace was keeping to the back of the group and Anna and Susan were standing together, half-hidden behind their big sisters.

  Gregory’s voice broke the moment of acute silence, his tone over-hearty when he said, ‘Well, what’s this then? And about time too. Come and give your old da a hug then, your mam an’ all. We’ve been waiting for you. The kettle’s on and your mam’s got a fine tea ready.’

  Nancy watched as Cora pushed Anna and Susan forward, Anna coming hesitantly to her and Susan to her da, and she forced herself to say, ‘My, my, you’ve grown, you’ve all grown, and Horace, you’re a young man now. Are you too grown up to give your mam an’ da a kiss then?’

  Her words seemed to break something and in the next moment they were all kissing and hugging, all except Cora.

  Cora watched the others and it was with some effort that she kept her face expressionless. She wanted to turn round and run out of the kitchen, out of the yard, out of these mean little streets that seemed so closed in and confining after the wide open spaces she had come from. She wanted to keep on running until she found her way back to Rachel and the farm she now thought of as her home. Rachel had cried when they had left her at the train station, and even though Cora knew her friend now had Jack, the man she had met at the VE Day street party who had become a regular visitor to the farm, she had felt guilty at leaving her, partly because she had wanted to leave. Not because she’d desired to come home, to this house and to the two strangers looking at her over the others’ heads, but simply because she wanted to put as much space between her memories of Jed and what might have been as she could.

  She was shocked at the change in her mother now she really looked at her. The mam she remembered had always been young and vibrant and pretty; this woman was much, much older, far older than her actual years although still pretty in a sort of faded way. Her da, too, looked older but not in the same way her mam did, not even with his poor scarred face and eye patch.

  She held herself very straight as her father gently pushed the others away and walked round the table to where she was standing, still just inside the door. He stopped in front of her, his voice holding the tender note she remembered from old when he said quietly, ‘By, lass, but you’ve turned into a beauty, all right, but then I knew you would. Bonny as a summer’s day, my little lassie, eh?’

  It was something he had been in the habit of saying in those long lost days before the war, and as she felt the sorrow rising up in her she told herself she couldn’t, she mustn’t cry. And then as he pulled her in to him it was with just the one arm and she was choked with her love for him, for the fact that he had been so badly hurt and broken.

  As her arms went round him Gregory breathed a silent sigh of relief. For a moment or two there Cora had looked as though she was going to bolt and what would they have done then? Fine start to the homecoming that would have been. He held her to him with his good arm, letting her cry with her face in his shirt front, and his own eyes were wet when eventually she straightened away, fumbling for her handkerchief and dabbing at her face as she said shakily, ‘Sorry, Da.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, lass.’ He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Come an’ say hello to your mam then,’ he added, as though she had just been out for the day and was returning after a few hours away from the house. ‘She’s been a-cleaning and doing-on all day, barely sat down for more than a minute. Couldn’t have made more of a to-do if we’d had royalty coming, I tell you.’ He stopped abruptly, aware that he was gabbling.

  Cora stared at her mother and Nancy stared back. ‘Hello, lass,’ Nancy said softly.

  ‘Hello, Mam.’ It was cool, expressionless.

  Nancy stared at her daughter for one moment more, then she walked to the range, saying, ‘I’ll mash a fresh pot of tea and then we can eat. Go and wash your hands and tidy up the lot of you, and take your things up to your rooms. You girls have the two bedrooms, and Horace, you’ll be sleeping in here on that.’ She pointed to the camp bed propped against one wall. ‘I’ve cleared out a cupboard for you to put your things in, lad. I know it’s not the same as sleeping upstairs, but it’ll have to do for now.’

  Horace scowled, thinking of the comfortable bedroom he had shared with Wilfred at Appletree Farm. ‘What if I want to go to bed before anyone else?’

  It was Cora who answered, and sharply. ‘You ne
ver want to go to bed so don’t come that. And the kitchen will be lovely and warm in the winter, and cosy with the range.’

  Horace’s scowl deepened. ‘You sleep in here then.’

  ‘Don’t start, Horace.’

  Don’t start! Horace had never felt more aggrieved. He hadn’t wanted to come home. He liked farm work and he knew he was good at it. He’d asked Mr Croft if he could return to the farm when he’d left school, and he’d said he’d see. The painful feeling of homesickness for Appletree Farm which had been with him all day and which had grown stronger the further he had travelled overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to be here and he didn’t see why he had to be, but as one of his pals had said to him before he’d left Northumberland, once he was finished with school for good he’d have more clout for the argument of returning to Appletree Farm. For now he would have to bide his time.

  Tea was a somewhat stilted affair, not least because Horace, with a spectacular lack of tact, spread a slice of bread with what he thought was butter, took a bite and made a face as he said, ‘Yuk, what’s that?’ earning himself a swift kick from Cora under the table.

  ‘It’s margarine,’ said Nancy quietly, aiming to show no reaction. ‘I suppose you’ve been used to butter where you were staying?’

  Horace nodded sulkily, his shin stinging.

  ‘You too?’ said Nancy, looking at the girls.

  When Cora didn’t answer, Maria said uncomfortably, ‘It was a farm so . . .’

  ‘We had cream and butter and Mrs Burns made her own cheese—’ Susan stopped abruptly as Cora shook her head at her sister.

  ‘No, it’s all right.’ Nancy looked from one to another of her children. ‘I know it’s been very different where you have been living in many ways, your da and I understand that, but now we have to settle in together, don’t we?’ She forced a smile at the sea of doubtful faces. ‘We’ll all do our best.’

  Horace looked at the table. Tea at Appletree Farm had meant slices of ham, hard-boiled eggs, butter, cheese, crusty bread, Mrs Croft’s home-made preserves, warm scones . . .