‘It’s not as though we’re emigrating to Australia!’ said Val. ‘It’s the same county, not far away at all and Mum and Dad will be able to come and visit us, possibly stay for a few days. It will be a nice change for them. Anyway, you’re my husband, aren’t you? And where you go, I go!’
Val phoned Claire, and it was agreed that she should visit her on the following Friday afternoon. She was welcomed as though she were royalty and shown into the living room. It was very clean and tidy, as though Claire had made a special effort for her guest. Val mused that it would not be so tidy when the baby arrived.
Claire seemed a little ill at ease at first; no doubt the memory of her misdemeanour still lingered at the back of her mind. Val soon put her at her ease.
‘I’m so pleased to hear your good news,’ she told her. ‘You are looking very well; positively radiant. When is the baby due?’
‘The end of January,’ said Claire. ‘I’m only about three and a half months but I knew straight away that I was pregnant. I was usually so regular, you see,’ she said in a confidential tone. ‘Anyway, we went to see the doctor and he confirmed that it was so. I’m crossing my fingers and praying that all will go well this time.’
‘There’s no reason why not if you take care, especially for the first few months, and I know you will.’
‘Yes, I felt ill right from the start the last time but this time I feel fine.’ She smiled a little coyly. ‘Do you remember I told you that Greg was taking me with him on the trip to Austria? That’s when it must have happened. It was a wonderful holiday; well, a holiday for me, although Greg was working. I felt so relaxed and carefree and … here we are!’ She smiled happily.
‘I’m sure Greg must be pleased,’ said Val. ‘Is he away at the moment?’
‘Yes, he’s on a week’s tour to the Cotswolds. He’ll be back on Sunday. It’s all coming and going with that job, but he’s asked if he can do just the British tours from now on instead of the Continental ones.’
There was a pause in the conversation. ‘How is Lucy?’ Claire asked, a little diffidently, as though she had been plucking up courage to mention the little girl. ‘I expect she’s growing quickly, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, they don’t stay tiny babies for long. She was one in June; she’s walking now and trying to talk.’
Claire looked pensive but Val had no intention of bringing the little girl to see her. Enough was enough. She guessed that Claire was a shy young woman who probably did not find it easy to make friends and, having found a sympathetic person, she might be inclined to cling and become dependent. She was obviously pleased at Val’s visit but that must be as far as it could go. Besides, they were moving away so there was no possibility of an ongoing friendship. She knew she must tell Claire what was in store for them.
‘Actually, there are big changes ahead for us,’ she began. ‘We’re moving soon, to Harrogate. Sam and I, and the children.’
Claire looked bewildered. ‘But your husband is a manager at the mill, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, so he is, but it’s time for a change of direction.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry you’re leaving … I’ll just go and make a pot of tea, then you can tell me all about it.’
She arrived back in a little while with a tray laden with china cups and saucers in a design of pink roses, no doubt her best tea set, and a matching teapot, milk jug and sugar basin. She placed the tray on an occasional table.
‘Just a mo …’ she said excitedly. ‘I’ll get the cakes.’
She returned with two plates, one holding almond tarts, which Val’s mother always called maids of honour, and another with a large cake decorated with frosted icing and cherries. She placed them on the second of the nest of tables then placed the smallest table in front of Val. She poured the tea like a perfect hostess and invited Val to help herself to cake. Neither had she forgotten the napkins – freshly laundered damask ones rather than paper serviettes.
‘My goodness!’ said Val. ‘You’ve been busy. ‘Homemade, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, I make all my own cakes,’ said Claire with a hint of pride. ‘I know I won’t have as much time to bake when the baby arrives … Now, tell me about your move. When are you going?’
Val explained again, as she had done several times to different people, that Sam had decided it was time to leave the mill because of a slight downturn in the woollen industry, and the opportunity to take over the sports shop had come at just the right moment.
‘So you’ll be leaving all your friends and your family,’ said Claire. ‘You must feel rather sad about that?’
‘We’re not going very far away and we have some friends in Harrogate already. They have a restaurant there and we’ll be living quite near to them. Plus there are always new friends to be made wherever you go.’
‘Yes … and I’m sure you make friends easily,’ said Claire wistfully. ‘I’ve never found it all that easy, and since I gave up my job – when I was pregnant before – I’ve felt very much on my own.’
‘The last time I saw you, you were thinking of going back to work, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, but then this happened …’ she patted her stomach, ‘… so there would be no point, would there?’
‘No, none at all,’ agreed Val, ‘but you don’t need to feel that you’re on your own when the baby arrives. You’ll be able to meet other young mothers at the clinic. And before the baby arrives you’ll be going to the clinic quite regularly for check-ups, won’t you? I know they try to make it a sort of social occasion at some places.’
‘Yes, I shall be going there,’ said Claire. ‘They want to keep an eye on me because of what happened last time. Yes, I’ve a lot to look forward to, and a lot to be thankful for … I suppose.’
‘Indeed you have,’ said Val. It passed through her mind that Claire was the sort of person to whom the glass was always half empty rather than half full, a tendency towards pessimism rather than looking on the bright side. She had seemed on top of the world when Val arrived, but now, on hearing of her departure, she was becoming a little introspective again, even though she and Val were not close friends.
‘I really must congratulate you on your baking,’ said Val, changing the subject. ‘These almond tarts are delicious, as nice as any I’ve tasted, and may I try just a tiny piece of your iced cake? Never mind my waistline! I can’t resist it.’
This was not idle flattery; Val meant every word. The cakes compared admirably with the ones that Janice Grundy made, and she was regarded as a professional.
‘Thank you,’ said Claire, looking pleased. ‘I’ve always enjoyed baking and cooking.’
They chatted for a while about the move to Harrogate; Val told her about the house and Sam’s plans for the shop. ‘It will be a big change for us all but worthwhile in the end, I’m sure.’
Claire asked for her address, saying that she would send a card at Christmas and inform her when the baby arrived. It was a pleasant afternoon and they promised to keep in touch. But when all was said and done, Claire was only an acquaintance, not a close friend, and Val knew that she would never be able to regard her as one. The circumstances of their first meeting could never be entirely forgotten.
There was little time to think of anything over the next couple of weeks as they prepared for the removal. During her odd reflective moments, Val pondered that it would be a great upheaval for her, even though they were moving only a short distance away. She had never been away from her home town for more than a couple of weeks at a time, whereas Sam had done his two years of National Service. Val had always been close to her parents, especially since her twin brothers had moved away, and she had several good friends in the town.
There was Cissie, of course, and she knew that Cissie would miss her very much, although the separation would be somewhat mollified for her friend because they would be moving into the house that she and Sam were vacating. Val smiled to herself, knowing that her friend was looking on this as a step up the social ladder.
And Cissie had other friends in the town as well as the job that she enjoyed so much.
Val would miss her, and the girls in the office with whom she still kept in touch, and her sister-in-law, Thelma, who had become a bosom friend. But there would be Janice and Phil not far away, and new friends to meet in a new neighbourhood.
She and Sam sat in the lounge on the evening before the removal day, surrounded by stacked-up furniture and packing cases.
‘Well, we’re almost there,’ said Sam. ‘Only one more night in our first home, and I know we’re going to be just as happy in the next one.’
‘Yes, fresh fields and pastures new,’ said Val, musingly.
‘It’s woods, actually,’ said Sam.
‘What is?’
‘It’s fresh woods, not fields,’ he replied, ‘although it’s often misquoted. I know because we studied Milton for our School Certificate. It’s from a poem called “Lycidas”. “Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new”.’
‘My goodness!’ said Val with a laugh. ‘How lucky I am to be married to a grammar school boy! I bow to your superior knowledge.’
‘Well, whatever they are – fields or woods, mountains or valleys, we’ll travel them together,’ said Sam. ‘Come along, Mrs Walker. It’s time for bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.’
NINETEEN
They moved on a Friday morning. After watching all their possessions loaded into the removal van and seeing it drive away, they locked the door and set off in their own car in the wake of the van.
‘New house, new house,’ chanted Russell excitedly. He had been with them to the house in Harrogate a couple of times and was looking forward to living in his new home. Now he was a big boy he would no longer be sharing a room with Lucy. He would sleep in the back bedroom where he would have lots of room to spread out his toy cars and garage, and his railway track with the wooden engine and coaches. Sam was looking forward to the time when Russell would be old enough to appreciate the tinplate Hornby trains that he had played with as a boy and had kept in good condition for such time as he would have a son of his own.
Lucy would sleep in the small room, often called the box room, but it was quite a good size. It would all seem strange to her at first, but Val knew that she would soon settle down with the people she knew around her – her loving parents and her big brother, who now regarded her as his nice little sister, not the nuisance and the interloper he had once thought of her as.
They would have the weekend in which to get the house reasonably shipshape, although it would take ages to make it completely to their liking. Sam’s greatest sorrow was leaving his garden. It had been something of a wilderness when they’d moved in, and he had spent long and enjoyable hours getting it to its present state, with a smooth lawn, a rockery, well-tended bushes, flower beds and shady trees. Now he would have to start again, although the new garden was in pretty good shape.
They had had a summer house in Queensbury, which had been a fad of Val’s at the time. There was a small greenhouse at the new house with flourishing tomato plants and cucumbers, and other lesser known hot house vegetables. Val was contemplating taking this up as a new hobby. It was doubtful that Sam would have time to attend to it with everything else he had to do at home and at the store.
When they arrived late on Friday morning, Sam supervised the removal of the furniture while Val kept the children in the garden away from any possible danger. Fortunately it was a sunny day.
Everything in the kitchen was in working order, so they had a quick lunch of beans on toast before tackling the unloading of the packing cases. Lucy was ready for a sleep and Russell ‘helped’ by carrying unbreakable items such as kitchen utensils, but not knives or scissors – books, cushions and his own toys to their allotted places.
‘A place for everything, and everything in its place,’ was a favourite saying of Val’s mother. Val, had always tried to keep to it, but she reflected now on the amount of stuff – what other word was there to describe it? – that one accumulated in just a few years. And who was it who said that there should be nothing in your home that was not useful or beautiful? Or, as her own mother might have said, ‘Neither use nor ornament.’
Val thought about this as she looked at the teddy bear with one eye and a loose leg that had been a childhood favourite, and a pot cat with a red bow round its neck, a birthday present from Cissie many years ago. Surely there was such a thing as sentimental value as well?
They were exhausted by the time Friday came to an end. On Saturday, Sam was obliged to divide his time between his home and the store, which would be opening on Monday.
On Sunday, though, their good friends Janice and Phil came to help as their business was closed on that day. Russell was left ‘in charge’ of the two little girls, his own sister and Sarah, now almost two years old.
‘We can trust him now,’ Val assured Janice, sensing her friend’s slightly troubled air. ‘We couldn’t have done at one time but his behaviour really has improved such a lot.’
The three children played in Russell’s bedroom with his cars and Lucy’s dolls and cuddly animals, an adult popping in every five minutes or so to see that all was well.
Val made time during the afternoon to prepare a casserole – beef, potatoes and vegetables all in one large dish which cooked slowly in the oven. And at six o’clock, when the work was more or less completed and they were too tired to do any more, they all sat down to a a tasty ‘hot pot’, followed by an apple pie which Janice and Phil had contributed from their freezer.
Sam brought out a bottle of sherry after the meal, then it was Phil who proposed a toast.
‘To Sam and the success of Walker and Wyatt’s Sports Gear. And to Sam and Val in their new home. Good luck, good health and happiness.’
The children drank from beakers of orange juice, even Lucy in her high chair. They seemed to sense the air of excitement, although it was bedtime and the two little girls were yawning.
‘Thank you for your good wishes and all your help today,’ said Sam. ‘It is much appreciated, I assure you.’
‘And all the best for the grand opening tomorrow,’ added Phil. ‘I’m sure you’ll have lots of customers.’
‘I hope so,’ said Sam, but there’s no grand opening ceremony – we’ve not invited the mayor and the town council! We’re just going to open – well, reopen with new owners and a new name – and hope for the best.’
Sam could not help feeling, at the heart of him, a little anxious that it would all go well for himself and for Colin. He had given up a great deal – and so had Colin – to take a step into the unknown. Val, also, was leaving behind so much that was familiar and loved. He knew that the success of the new venture was in the hands of himself and Colin, but they were both ready for the challenge and looking forward to working together as partners as well as longtime friends.
‘Let’s go and see Daddy in his new shop, shall we?’ said Val to Russell on Monday morning.
Sam had set off bright and early while Val and the children were still having their breakfast. He had seemed cheerful and optimistic. Val had been aware of his air of preoccupation, which he had been trying to hide, the previous evening, but that seemed to have vanished. She had kissed him and wished him luck, and said that she would have a walk round later. Her thoughts had been with him all morning. It was now almost eleven o’clock, by which time they should have found their feet after the opening of the store at nine o’clock.
Val doubted that there would have been a rush of customers. It was not like a newly opened bakery or a butcher’s shop with fresh produce on sale. She guessed that most of the customers that day, or even that week, would come out of curiosity to see what changes had been made. It was, also, a specialized shop, of interest mainly to those who played a sport of some kind. If she were honest, it was not the sort of shop that would normally be of great interest to her. She had learnt to play tennis at school but had not kept it up, and had played table tennis at the youth club she had attended
in her early teens, but that, also, was a thing of the past.
Golf was Sam’s ‘thing’; she could not imagine ever playing it herself, nor had Sam ever suggested it. He had always regarded it as his recreation, something apart from his home and family and his job, and she had never objected to his absences. She knew how the sport relaxed him, and she had never been what one could call a ‘golf widow’. Now, though, Sam’s hobby would be part of his work as well as being his hobby.
Russell was excited. ‘Daddy’s shop!’ he shouted. ‘Daddy’s shop!’ He had been there once or twice and it was something else to interest him, as well as the new house and new friends, like Auntie Janice and Uncle Phil, and Sarah, another little girl for him to play with, although she was rather small.
It was a good walk along the Stray and then through the streets to the other side of the town. Russell trotted along manfully at the side of the pram, with Lucy sitting up and staring around curiously at everything they passed, especially the dogs on leads. Val had noticed before how she smiled and pointed to them, and she had wondered if it might be a good idea to get a dog as a pet for the children, and for her and Sam, of course. Or had she quite enough do with Russell and Lucy? It would be something to consider when they were more settled in their new home.
She could see as they drew near to the town that Russell was flagging a little.
‘Tired, Mummy,’ he said. ‘Ride on Lucy’s pram?’
‘All right then. Up you go.’ She lifted him on to the seat that was fastened to the front of the pram. He grinned and gave a chuckle.
‘See Daddy soon. Daddy’s got a new shop.’
Val was as anxious as anyone to see the display in the windows. She had seen the shop gradually taking shape but had not seen the final result. When she did she stood and stared in admiration.
Colin’s wife, Carol, had been an art student, and a very talented one. She had worked as a window dresser but there had not been much scope in Halifax. Then she had worked for a department store in Bradford but that had come to an end when their son, Seamus, was born two years ago. She now worked from home, designing greetings cards, and had a few outlets for her work. She had been delighted at the idea of designing a backdrop for the windows of the new store, and when she had taken the measurements she had set to work at home.
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