Contents
Cover
Recent Titles by Margaret Thornton from Severn House
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Recent Titles by Margaret Thornton from Severn House
CAST THE FIRST STONE
FAMILIES AND FRIENDSHIPS
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
LOVE AND MARRIAGE
OLD FRIENDS, NEW FRIENDS
ONE WEEK IN AUGUST
PASTURES NEW
PASTURES NEW
Margaret Thornton
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First published in Great Britain and the USA 2017 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.
This eBook edition first published in 2017 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Trade paperback edition first published
in Great Britain and the USA 2017 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD
Copyright © 2017 by Margaret Thornton.
The right of Margaret Thornton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8716-0 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-823-1 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-887-2 (e-book)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
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ONE
‘What did I tell you? I knew they would rue the day they adopted that child. But would they listen? Oh, no! Mind you, I think it was Valerie that was keen on the idea and Samuel just went along with it.’ Beatrice Walker was in high dudgeon, but her husband, Joshua, was used to her ways, knowing she was always determined to be proved right.
‘Leave it alone, Beatrice,’ he replied. ‘I don’t suppose the little lad is worse than any other child of his age. Damn it all! He’s only just two years old. He’s got plenty of time to improve. He’s just a bit jealous, like, with the new baby coming along. Thinks his nose is being pushed out; it’s only natural.’
‘Yes, and that’s another thing …’ Beatrice would not be stopped. ‘They didn’t need to have adopted a child so soon. They’d only been married two years; no time at all, but Valerie was so determined to go ahead with it.’
‘She’d had a miscarriage and one or two disappointments, though, hadn’t she?’
‘Yes, I know that, but no sooner had they adopted the child she finds she’s pregnant again.’
‘Well, she wasn’t to know that, was she? I’ve heard that often happens and we were delighted about it, especially when she came through it all right this time. And she’s a jolly good mother to both of them – you know that, Beattie.’
Beatrice bridled, as she always did when her husband used the name she had tried so hard to forget, the name she had been called when she was a girl. She had been known as Beattie Halliwell before she had married Joshua Walker, the mill owner’s son, and taken a step up the social ladder. She had been an employee at a rival mill at the other side of town but had tried to forget her humble beginnings.
‘I know she’s a good mother, Joshua,’ she replied. ‘I’ve become fond of Valerie; she’s a good wife to our Samuel as well.’
Beatrice had objected strongly at first when their younger son, Samuel, usually known as Sam, had told them that he intended to marry a young woman called Valerie Horrocks who was employed in the mill office. Sam’s brother, Jonathan, had shown his displeasure, too, but he had changed his opinion since then and now agreed that Val was a most suitable wife for Sam. Beatrice, also, had been forced to eat her words when she was reminded that she, too, had married a mill owner’s son and gone up in the world.
This conversation was taking place one evening in the September of 1960, at the home of Joshua and Beatrice in Queensbury, the rather select residential area of Halifax, at the top of the hill which rose from the town at the bottom of the valley. It was a substantial detached grey-stone house in its own grounds, and had been the home of the mill owners for three generations. When his father, Jacob, had retired, Joshua had taken over as the mill’s manager and had gone to live at the family home. His parents, now in their late eighties, lived nearby, as did their two sons, Jonathan and Samuel, with their wives and children.
During the spring of the previous year, Val and Sam had adopted a little boy, Russell James, then seven months old. He was a local child who had been tragically orphaned when his young parents, only recently married, had been killed in a car crash. The people of the town had been saddened by the tragedy – none more so than Val, who had persuaded Sam that this was an ideal opportunity for them.
In the end he had not needed much convincing, as the child’s great-grandfather, Charlie Pearson, was a valued employee at Walker’s mill, having worked in the packing department ever since he was a lad. Charlie was now retired, and he and his wife, Alice, had been delighted at the turn of events. They were still in touch with their great-grandchild as Sam and Val took the little boy to see them regularly. This compensated, to a great degree, for the loss of their beloved granddaughter, and her parents, who had emigrated to Canada some years previously.
And then, in the autumn of 1959, when Russell was one year old, Val had discovered that she was pregnant again. She had believed that she would never be able to carry a child to full term, but this time she had done so. Their baby daughter, Lucy Elizabeth, had been born on the first day of June, 1960, a most welcome addition to the family.
The child’s christening, a private baptism service at the local church, had taken place the previous Sunday. Beatrice had been shocked at the behaviour of Russell during the service, and afterwards at the little party held at the home of Sam and Val.
‘Our little Rosemary behaved beautifully,’ said Beatrice. ‘I was so proud of her.’ Rosemary was the daughter – the only child, so far – of Jonathan and his wife, Thelma.
‘She is four years old,’ said Joshua, ‘and she’s learnt that there are times when you have to be quiet. It’s done her a world of good going to that playgroup. You can’t compare her with a two-year-old. They’re into
everything then. Our Jonathan and Samuel were a handful at that age, if I remember rightly.’
‘Then I don’t think you remember rightly at all,’ retorted his wife. ‘They were very well-behaved little boys. I could take them anywhere; people used to say how good they were and what a credit to us.’
‘Aye, maybe so. I’ll grant that they behaved themselves pretty well when we took them places but they could be little tearaways at home, both of ’em. And Jonathan used to egg Samuel on. I remember then pulling up the flowers in the garden, saying they were helping Albert with the weeding. And you must recall the time they got into your make-up drawer. What a mess!’
‘Mischievous, that’s all,’ countered Beatrice. ‘They grew out of it.’
‘And so will Russell. He’ll settle down and get used to baby Lucy being around. He had their undivided attention until the new baby arrived and they probably made even more of him because he was adopted, to make sure he knew that he was loved and wanted.’
‘And what will happen when he finds out he’s not their child? Not their birth child, I mean. Isn’t that what they call it? I know they refer to birth mothers nowadays. And there’s a school of thought that believes you should tell the child the truth; tell him that he was a special baby because he was chosen by them. How would he react to that?’
Joshua sighed. ‘Goodness me, Beatrice! I don’t know. It’s up to them, isn’t it, what they decide to tell him? Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. They will have to sort something out because Charlie Pearson and his wife are taking an interest in the little lad. Only natural they should.’
‘Maybe so, but it’s a complication we could do without, if you ask me.’
Joshua longed to tell her that nobody was asking her but he held his tongue. ‘I admit he’s a lively lad,’ he said, ‘but I dare say that other little lad that was there – Walter’s kiddie, Paul – was a handful when he was that age. I remember Walter saying so, but he’s four now and he behaved very well at the christening. And so did the other children.’
‘Yes, I forget who they all are,’ said Beatrice. ‘So many children, all over the place.’
‘You know very well who they are,’ said Joshua. ‘Walter and Cissie have two children: Paul, and Holly – Holly is nearly three. A bonny little lass, the image of her mother. Cissie used to work at our place, you know.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard you say she worked in the burling and mending room,’ said Beatrice dismissively. ‘Rather a … common sort of girl, I thought. I’m surprised that she and Valerie are such good friends. Chalk and cheese, aren’t they?’
‘Maybe so; I know Cissie isn’t as ladylike as her friend but she’s a grand lass and her heart’s in the right place. The two girls have been friendly since they started school together when they were four years old. It’s a long time. That’s why Val asked her to be godmother to Russell, and to Lucy as well. And Walter is godfather to Russell; you remember that?’
‘Yes, Walter Clarkson. He’s one of your protégées, isn’t he?’
‘He’s a good worker; been with us since he left school, apart from his National Service, of course. He’s in charge of the weaving sheds now – a very responsible young man. And the other little girl belongs to Janice and Phil, the couple from Harrogate; Sarah, they call her. Val says she’s just one year old. Nice little lass; Val and Cissie are her godmothers.’
‘Janice; she’s the girl from Blackpool, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s from Blackpool but she and Phil have a restaurant in Harrogate now – Grundy’s, they call it; that’s their surname and it’s nice and easy to remember. I believe they’re doing very well. Perhaps we could go over and have a meal there sometime?’
‘Maybe we could.’ But Beatrice did not sound too enthusiastic. ‘I must admit that Janice seems a very pleasant girl – friendly, in a quiet sort of way. Not as loud and raucous as that other one, that Cissie!’
‘Well, it takes all sorts,’ replied Joshua, ‘and the three lasses are good friends, despite their different backgrounds or whatever. They’ve got more friendly since Janice moved to Yorkshire, of course. That’s a holiday friendship that has lasted.’
‘And it’s not the only one either,’ said Beatrice feelingly. ‘I must admit, though, Joshua, that it’s turned out all right with our Samuel and Valerie – much better than I expected. It’s a good thing it was Valerie he fell for and not the other one, Cissie!’
Joshua laughed. ‘You’re right there. I don’t know how I’d fancy Cissie as a daughter-in-law!’ Secretly, though, he liked Cissie. She reminded him of Marilyn Monroe, with her mass of blonde hair, big blue eyes and frivolity. He agreed, though, that his son had made the right choice with Valerie. ‘Samuel’s got good taste,’ he added. ‘And it’ll work out all right with little Russell an’ all. Sam and Val are good parents.’
He remembered only too well what Beatrice was referring to. It had been in the August of 1955, when Walker’s mill closed for a week’s annual holiday, that the two girls, Val and Cissie, had gone to Blackpool, staying at the boarding house – more of a private hotel by that time – run by Janice’s mother. Sam had also gone to Blackpool with two friends for a golfing holiday, although they had sampled the attractions that the resort had to offer as well.
Sam and Val had met at the Winter Gardens ballroom when he had asked her for a dance. He had not recognized her as an office girl from Walker’s mill but she had known him at once. She had told him that she was one of their employees but it had made no difference. The two young people were immediately attracted to one another and Sam had known that this was the girl he wanted to marry. There had been opposition, as he had expected, from his mother and his brother, but he had stood firm and they had married in the spring of 1957. And Valerie Horrocks, after a frosty reception from some members, had been accepted wholeheartedly into the Walker family.
In their semi-detached home, a half-mile or so from his parents’ home, Sam and Val were also talking about Russell’s behaviour. Not only at the christening, but the way he was behaving most of the time, especially since the arrival of baby Lucy three months ago.
Both children were in bed now, at seven o’clock. Fortunately Russell usually settled down to sleep when he had had his drink of milk and a biscuit and a bedtime story. By that time, of course, Lucy had been bathed and settled in her cot and he had his parents’ undivided attention, which was what he wanted and expected at other times as well.
It was the Wednesday evening following the christening, and he had been particularly troublesome that day when Val had taken the two of them to the local shops.
‘He hates having his reins on,’ said Val, ‘and I don’t like it much either. He pulls like mad and I feel as though I’m taking a puppy for a walk. But he won’t hang on to the handle of the pram. He just goes tearing off ahead and I can’t let him do that, especially near the main road. And he’s a nuisance in the shops. I feel embarrassed when I have to keep telling him not to touch the fruit or the sweets, and not to race around. I can see people looking at him and thinking, What a badly behaved child! I have to let go of his reins in the shop, and no way could I leave him with the pram while I go inside. I hardly ever take my eyes off the pram, of course. I see ladies peering in and smiling at Lucy. You never know, do you? You hear of babies being kidnapped but there’s nothing else I can do while she’s so small.’
‘You worry too much, darling,’ said Sam. ‘Drink your sherry and try to relax.’
The two of them were enjoying a few moments’ peace and quiet before they started their evening meal. It was a hectic time between five thirty and seven: Russell’s tea time, then Lucy’s feed and bath, then bedtime for the two of them. Sam shared the chores with his wife, knowing that she was not finding it easy with the two small children.
‘I know you take very good care of Lucy,’ he went on to say, ‘but I think you’re getting far too worked up about Russell. He’s only just two. Haven’t you heard parents talk about the �
��terrible twos”? I remember you told me that Cissie’s little boy went through that stage, didn’t he?’
‘For a time, maybe, but he never seemed jealous of little Holly. You should see Russell’s face when ladies look in the pram and say what a lovely baby Lucy is. He scowls and jumps up and down and starts jiggling the pram.’
‘But it’s rather foolish of people to admire the baby and ignore the little boy, isn’t it? They should have more sense.’
‘I don’t suppose it occurs to them … I don’t know, Sam.’ Val shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Cissie seems to be making a much better job of motherhood than I am. And to think what she was like before! A real flibbertigibbet – that’s what my mother used to say. But look how she’s settled down to it.’
‘Nonsense! You’re doing splendidly,’ said Sam. ‘You must try not to get so upset.’
Val sighed. ‘I suppose so. Anyway, let’s have our tea, shall we?’
She still called the evening meal ‘tea’, as they had done at her home, even though it was always a cooked meal of some sort. Sam took sandwiches to work for his midday snack, while Val made do with a sandwich or a quick toastie.
That evening it was a chicken casserole with mashed potato and carrots, the sort of meal that could be left in the oven to cook slowly once it was prepared. Apple tart was to follow with fresh cream. Val admitted that the tart had been bought from a local bakery.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else,’ Sam told her. ‘Goodness me! I don’t expect you to bake as well as looking after these two. They’re a full-time job.’ He tried to assure her again how well she was coping while they enjoyed the meal.
‘He was dreadful in church, though,’ she said, harking back to the christening again. ‘Shouting and running up and down the aisle, then I think the penny dropped, somehow. You managed to restrain him and he seemed to realize that he had to be quiet. It might have been the way your mother glared at him! I could see she was horrified. “And our little Rosemary was so good,” she said afterwards. I suppose we’ll never hear the last of it. And Paul seemed to know how to behave as well.’
Pastures New Page 1
