The Stanford Lasses

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘Tell you what,’ Ruth suggested, ‘seeing as we’re all so happy, why don’t we sing as we go?’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Jack said. ‘And if we sing loud enough, Grandma and Sam might hear us and join in as well.’

  Mrs Dolan had refused Emily’s invitation to join the party, insisting that the family was quite big enough without outsiders shoving in. However, Jack had explained that old Sam had always joined the Dolans for Christmas Day and would continue to do so for as long as he lived. Actually the pair had enjoyed the peace, the roast goose and the wireless, and best of all each other’s company. Nevertheless, Mrs Dolan was pleased to hear the sound of voices approaching. Though she was loath to admit it, she would miss the lot of them now she had grown accustomed to their being there. She smiled at Sam on the other side of the fire. ‘Sounds like Christmas, Sam.’ Then she closed her eyes and drank in the sound of childish voices singing ‘Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem’ echoing across the yard. She rose to her feet and met them at the door. ‘Bring yerselves in,’ she said, ‘sit yerselves down and let’s all join in. Jack, bring out the bottle of sherry and let’s all celebrate Christ’s birthday.’

  Ruth stared at her mother-in-law, then took off Margaret’s siren suit and carried the sleeping child up to her cot. By the time she came down the others were tucking into huge slices of Christmas cake.

  ‘Right then, what shall we sing?’ Mrs Dolan enquired.

  ‘“Away In A Manger”,’ Sadie said. And they did. The old farmhouse was filled with song, with stories of the old days, and laughter. It’s like a miracle, Jack thought, a bloody miracle. Still, it was Christmas and Christmas was a time for miracles.

  Alice was disappointed when she hadn’t conceived after a few months, but her health was back to normal and she decided to find something to occupy her days instead of sitting about moping. Olive had already involved her in the war effort fund-raising and Alice had taken over the book-keeping for the local volunteers’ committee. Then out of the blue came the news that evacuees would be arriving in the West Riding from London.

  ‘What does tha think, Joe?’ she asked excitedly. ‘We could take two or even three, it’s up to thee.’

  Joe wasn’t too keen on the house being invaded by a trio of rowdy children, but thought it was an ideal way of taking Alice’s mind off her inability to have another child of her own. ‘Maybe two,’ he compromised.

  So it was arranged, though Joseph didn’t like the idea at all. ‘I’m not having them in my room,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Of course they won’t be in thi room. The spare room is all ready and waiting to be occupied.’ She didn’t add that it should have been a brother or sister who was to occupy it. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I thought tha’d be happy, seeing as all thi spare time is spent up at our Ruth’s or amongst our Lizzie’s lot.’

  ‘But that’s because of our Billy and our Harry. These’ll be babies most likely – crying, screaming babies.’ Alice almost told him that was what she was hoping for, but thought better of it. After all, Joseph had been used to having his own way for a long time. She wondered if she was being fair. But after all, if the evacuees were sent, she hadn’t any option.

  As it happened, the children who arrived at Alice’s were not babies, but a skinny little lad with a freckled face and carrot-coloured hair and his sister who was even more freckled and ginger. There they stood at the gate with a small, battered suitcase between them, and a gas mask over their shoulders. The little girl, although five years old, looked small for her age and ready to burst into tears at any moment. Her brother, two years her senior clung hold of her hand as though someone was about to separate them. He didn’t like the look of Mrs Jackson at all, in her severe black dress with her tightly coiled hair. Then she smiled and held out her hands. ‘Hello,’ she whispered, ‘I’m Mrs Jackson, but it might be better if you call me Auntie Alice. Shall we go in the house and find summat to eat?’ She took one grubby hand in each of her own and led them up the path towards the door.

  ‘We’ve got to bring our case. Our mam will belt us one if we lose it.’

  Alice cringed at the thought of them being hurt. ‘It’ll be all right. Nobody’ll take it.’ But the little girl looked so worried that Alice hurried back and brought the case in with them. Then she took off the little girl’s pixie hat and coat and retied the ribbon on the bottom of one of her plaits. ‘Now then, what about some hash and pancakes to warm us all up?’

  ‘I don’t like hash. I only like beans and chips.’ The little girl finally let go of the tears that had been threatening all the way from London.

  ‘There, there, there’s no need to cry. Chips and beans it shall be.’ Alice lifted Jennifer up on to her knee and cuddled her close.

  ‘I want my mammy,’ the little girl cried. Her brother moved close and stood with his elbows on the chair arm.

  ‘Don’t cry, Jenny. You know my mam couldn’t come wiv us so there’s no use crying.’

  Alice’s heart went out to the small boy, trying so hard to be brave. She gathered him up to her and hugged them one in each arm. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know you want your mam and your mam wants you too, but because she loves you she let you come to Yorkshire so you’ll be safe. It’ll make her sad if she thinks you’re unhappy, so shall we get a pen and paper and write her a letter? Tell her you’ve arrived safely and that she’s no need to worry?’ Alice spoke slowly and tried to curb her accent so as not to sound strange to the little ones. Jennifer wiped her face with her sleeve, leaving a patch of white slime on the faded navy blue jersey. Alice delved up her cuff, found a hanky and ordered her to blow her nose. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘let’s find some paper. Who wants to write first?’

  ‘I can’t write.’ Worried, Jennifer began to sob again.

  ‘Well, I’ll just have to help you then. What shall we say?’

  ‘Say I want to go home. Tell my mammy to fetch me.’

  Brian seemed more cheerful as he gazed round the room. It was a nice house, much cleaner than theirs, and it smelled better. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘I don’t want to go home. Just say you’ve got a garden and a pianner.’

  Alice smiled, relieved that at least the little boy was taking an interest in his new surroundings. ‘Do you want to have a go on the piano?’ she asked.

  Brian’s grey-blue eyes lit up. ‘What, me? Play a pianner?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll show you how, if you like.’

  Jennifer suddenly realised she might be missing out if she didn’t speak up. ‘Me as well?’ She searched Alice’s eyes hopefully.

  ‘Aye, we’ll all have a go. But you’ll have to wait – if I’m to start cooking chips and beans it’ll take longer than hash and pancakes.’

  ‘I don’t mind hash and pancakes.’ Brian decided he’d eat anything if it meant he could play a piano.

  ‘I don’t mind vem eiver,’ Jennifer said, ‘Well, just this once.’

  Alice gave her a squeeze. ‘Right then, I’ll just switch on the gas and it’ll be ready in two ticks.’

  She made a show of tossing the pancakes high in the air, enjoying the admiration on the faces of her new family. Then she set the piled-up plates in front of them. ‘There,’ she said, when the plates were emptied and cleared away, ‘you didn’t do too bad to say you didn’t like hash, did you?’

  ‘I like yours. My mam’s is all turnip and no meat,’ Brian volunteered.

  ‘And it’s all watery, instead of fick like yours,’ Jennifer added.

  ‘Right then, who wants to play first?’ Alice opened the piano lid.

  ‘Me.’ The voices came in unison. She lifted them both up on to the green velvet stool and proceeded with their first music lesson. Tomorrow she would begin teaching them some simple tunes, but today she allowed them to tinkle about on the keys, happier than she had felt for years.

  When the letter was finally written to Mrs Smith, in London, it was short and to the point.

  Dear mam, we like it ere. We ave a pianner, a garden and a field to
play in wiv goalposts. We ave a auntie alice and a uncle joe and josef oo as a train set and lets us play wiv it if were careful.

  love brian and jenny

  Mrs Smith read the letter hurriedly between applying her lipstick and sipping at her glass of gin and was easily consoled by the postscript from Alice.

  Dear Mrs Smith, the children are settling in happily. They were dreadfully upset at first but we are all doing our best to keep them occupied. Please don’t worry about them – the country air is doing them good.

  I’m sure it won’t be long before they are back home.

  Yours sincerely, Alice Jackson

  But please God don’t let it be too soon, Alice thought as she stamped the envelope. Then she asked for God’s forgiveness as she thought about George, away from his family, and the loneliness of Lizzie and her children. She thought of Mrs Smith, not only with her husband away in the war, but also without her children. And with London in the thick of persistent bombing and a million homes already destroyed, how could anyone wish for such carnage to be prolonged? Still, she might as well make the most of it whilst they were here.

  She sat them both in the long, white enamel bath, enjoying the wonder in their eyes. Aye, she would make the most of it whilst it lasted.

  Ruth had never been busier, or happier. She could see the truck arriving with the land girls; soon they would be at work in the fields. The farm had been expanded to almost twice its size now the extra acres towards the moors were being worked. She set out breakfasts for the children and Sam, and couldn’t help feeling slightly resentful at the thought of Mrs Dolan still lying in bed with so much to be done.

  ‘Come and get your breakfasts,’ she called. Billy was back in the yard, unloading the empty churns. ‘Come on, Billy, it’ll be cold.’ The twins clattered downstairs and perched at the table. ‘Hurry up.’ Ruth sliced the tops off their boiled eggs. ‘It’s almost time you were off to school.’

  ‘I’ve got stomachache. I’d better not go today,’ Frankie moaned.

  ‘No wonder, with all the blackberries you ate yesterday. I warned you what would happen.’ She cut a slice of toast into soldiers and placed them on each of the twins’ plates. ‘Anyway, if you’ve got a stomachache you won’t want to go to the concert tonight.’

  ‘The concert?’ they both piped up together.

  ‘Yes, the concert. Dad says he’ll take us, but if Frankie has a stomachache he won’t feel like going. Never mind – he can stay and keep Grandma company.’

  ‘It’s gone off. Are yer ready, Sadie? Can we take our pennies to the concert, Mam? The ones Grandad Stanford gives us on a Saturday?’

  ‘Yes, if you’ve saved them, though I don’t know what there’ll be to spend them on. Perhaps ice cream or crisps, if you’re lucky.’ Ruth caught hold of Frankie before he could escape and checked to see if his neck was clean. ‘Go on then, off you go, and watch where you’re putting your feet across the fields. Don’t go trailing cow muck into school. Come here and give us a kiss, then go say ta-ra to your grandma. It’s funny her not being up by this time. And don’t shout or you’ll wake our Margaret.’

  Sadie walked to the bottom of the stairs and called up to her grandma. Ruth rolled her eyes upwards in exasperation. She might as well talk to a stone wall. She could hear her mother-in-law answer, ‘Ta-ra, love.’

  ‘Ta-ta, Grandma,’ Frankie called even louder. ‘Do yer want to come to the concert with us?’

  The voice answered softly, ‘Nay, love, I’m too old for shows. Ta-ta, love – go on now or you’ll be late.’

  Ruth watched the children dodge between the hens and ducks and cross the yard to the gate. She waved until they were almost at the first stile and then prepared her mother-in-law a cup of tea. She knocked at the door of Mrs Dolan’s bedroom, thinking it strange that she wasn’t up and about by this time. ‘Ma! Are you all right?’

  ‘Aye, lass. I shall be up in a minute.’

  Ruth opened the door and entered the room. It was a beautiful room, with the best view in the whole house in Ruth’s opinion, and furnished with pieces which would raise a small fortune in any antique rooms in the country. ‘What’s the matter? Are you poorly?’

  ‘I had a funny turn when I tried to get up, that’s all.’

  ‘Shall I fetch the doctor?’ Ruth couldn’t help being concerned at the sight of the woman’s pallid face.

  ‘Nay, lass, I shall be all right. I’ve had a lot on me mind lately and there’s nowt meks yer badly as much as worrying.’

  ‘What are you worrying about? Is it since we’ve come? I hope we haven’t upset you. It’s just that the kids are so much happier up here and so much healthier I’ve all on to keep them quiet.’

  Martha Dolan heaved herself up and sipped her tea. ‘Nay, lass, it’s not you lot, it’s just that you’ve made me realise how wrong I’ve been, all these years, not telling our Jack about his father. We could ’ave been happy like you lot if I hadn’t been so full of guilt all these years. Seeing a family as happy as yours made me realise what I’ve been missing. I might even ’ave married again if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in meself. All these years wasted in bitterness and guilt.’

  Ruth gazed at her mother-in-law in astonishment. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Guilt? Nobody can accuse you of not being a good mother. Why, Jack thinks the world of you – in fact I don’t think he’d have married me if I hadn’t agreed to move up here.’ Ruth knew that wasn’t true, but hoped to lift Martha out of the misery which seemed to be encloaking her. ‘Look, I’ll fetch another cup of tea up, and then you can tell me all about what’s bothering you. That’s if you want to.’

  Ruth hurried across the creaking floor, leaving the older woman nibbling at her fingernails and muttering to herself, ‘Eeh, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. Perhaps I ought to keep it to meself.’

  The bed groaned as Ruth sat down on the edge of it and placed the hot milky tea in Martha’s trembling hand. She took a sip from her own cup and looked questioningly at her mother-in-law. ‘Well, are you going to tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘Eeh, I’ve never told a living soul all these years. And I don’t know if I’m doing right by telling you now. It’s just that I can’t go to me grave without easing me conscience. I daresn’t go to chapel nowadays. As soon as I set eyes on’t parson I feel that guilty. I can’t put up with it any longer. Do yer think it would upset yer, lass, if I were to tell yer?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know till you’ve told me, do I? But if it’ll make you feel any better then I can put up with a bit of upset. Come on now, out with it.’

  ‘I killed him, lass.’

  ‘Killed who?’ Ruth’s face drained of colour.

  ‘Arthur Dolan, our Jack’s father. It weren’t an accident. I killed him outright. It were’t best day’s work I’ve ever done.’

  Ruth couldn’t conceal her shock. ‘Why? Why did you do it? How?’

  ‘’E was always mocking me, about ’ow ’e’d only married me for me money. Me father had worked his guts out to build up the farm, out in all weathers, out on the cart an’ all. Then Arthur Dolan came along. To the lodging house over at Warrentickle, where I worked. Turned on all the fancy talk, about how lovely I was, and I admit I wasn’t bad, although I’m not one to brag.’

  ‘I know, I’ve seen your wedding photograph. It’s all fadey brown, but I could tell you were lovely.’

  ‘I thought I’d burned ’em all.’

  ‘Your Jack saved one, I suppose so he could look at his father.’

  ‘Aye well, it’s only natural, I suppose, seeing as I could never bear to talk about him. Anyway, he twisted me mother and father round his little finger, as well as me. They thought butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, until he got me wed that is, and then … eeh, lass, you don’t know what he was like.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  ‘Always taunting me about the women ’e was meeting up yonder, Manchester way. Spending money on drink and coming home all vi
olent. Then came the day ’e turned on me father, threatened to poison livestock if ’e didn’t hand over some money to straighten out a gambling debt. I was in bed at the time after having our Jack. I could hear him ranting so I got up.’ Her voice faltered and Ruth squeezed her hand encouragingly.

  ‘Go on love.’

  ‘I came on to’t landing, and shouted for him to leave me father alone. ’E staggered upstairs towards me. I were frightened and weak from childbirth. ’E put up an arm to hit me.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I shoved him, with all me strength, backwards, down the stairs. ’E bashed his head on’t wall at bottom. ’E were dead when we got to him.’

  ‘And a good thing too, by the sound of it.’

  ‘Eeh, lass, I didn’t want to worry yer. Do yer wish I’d never told yer?’

  ‘I don’t. And do you know something? If I’d had the courage I’d have done the same to Walter. God knows, I thought about it often enough. Fortunately the good Lord did it for me.’ Ruth giggled. ‘I’m sounding like our Alice now.’

  Suddenly Martha’s face bore the semblance of a smile. ‘Eeh, lass, I am glad I told you. I feel better already now I’ve got it off me chest.’

  ‘I can tell. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile except at Christmas.’

  ‘Eeh, I bet you thought I was a right owd misery. How do yer think our Jack’ll take it, though?’

  Ruth frowned. ‘Oh, you’re never going to tell him, are you? I mean, what good would it do? Why don’t you just mention that he fell down the stairs? Say he’d been drinking to wet the baby’s head. That he were in such a hurry to see Jack that he stumbled. I think he’d be pleased to know his father was eager to see him.’

  ‘Aye, perhaps it would be best. Besides, that’s what we told the doctor at the time. Eeh, I am glad our Jack married you, lass.’

  Ruth grinned. ‘So am I. It isn’t every woman who can share secrets with her mother-in-law, either.’