‘Come along, come along,’ said Miss Thomson brusquely. ‘We haven’t time to stand here chatting, especially to these sort of…’ She became aware of Patience looking at her with slight annoyance. ‘Well, we haven’t time, that’s all. I have a lot to do at home, and so has Mrs Fairchild, I’m sure. Good-day to you, Mr Tremaine, Mrs Tremaine.’ She nodded at the two of them, then set off at a brisk pace up the main street.
Patience raised her eyebrows and Archie Tremaine grinned. They all knew Miss Thomson and her innate snobbishness. ‘Thank you both for all your help,’ she said. ‘We appreciate it very much.’ Then, in a quieter voice, ‘You will have your hands full, I can see, but I’m sure you and Rebecca will be able to cope beautifully. I must dash…or else the fat will be in the fire! Bye for now. Come along, girls.’ She seized hold of their hands and the three of them hurried along to catch up with Miss Thomson.
The woman sniffed audibly as they came near to her, looking down her long thin nose disapprovingly. ‘You two girls go on ahead,’ she said, ‘then we can see what you are up to, while I have a talk to Mrs Fairchild. Go along now, we haven’t got all day.’
‘Yes, you’ll be quite safe,’ added Patience. ‘There are no big roads to cross and we will be right behind you.’ She smiled encouragingly at them, pointing ahead. ‘This is Middlebeck High Street. Our little town is nowhere near as big as Leeds, of course, but it’s a nice friendly little place. I’m sure it will soon begin to feel like home…’
The High Street sloped up gently, passing rows of stone-built houses on each side of the road. They opened straight onto the pavement and had no gardens, and the short streets leading off had similar houses, not unlike the one Maisie lived in, in Armley. Very soon, though, the houses gave way to shops; a butcher’s, a newsagent’s, an ironmonger’s, a couple of shops with various garments for ladies and children in the windows, then a familiar name, a Maypole grocery store. The road then widened out to form a small square, at one side of which was a large building with a stone plaque over the door stating that it was the Market Hall. And there, in the square, was an assortment of stalls with gaily striped awnings, selling fruit and vegetables, cheeses, eggs and butter, boiled sweets, brightly coloured materials…
The girls’ footsteps slowed down, and Maisie started to think that maybe Middlebeck would not be such a bad place after all. She wrinkled her nose. ‘I can smell cheese, and fish an’ all… Ooh, this is dead exciting, i’n’t it, Audrey? And look…look what’s over there!’ Her eyes had alighted on a familiar looking red-fronted store opposite the market Hall. ‘Woolies! They’ve even got a Woolies! It’s only a little ’un, though, not like the big ’un on Briggate.’ Maisie had not often visited the large Woolworth’s store in Leeds, but she remembered it as a wonderland of colour and all sorts of exciting things to buy.
‘We haven’t time to stop and look at the market today,’ said Patience, before Miss Thomson had a chance to stick her oar in. ‘But you’ll be able to come here another time and buy something with your spending money. The stalls are here every Saturday, and Wednesdays as well, but the Market Hall is open all the time. Come along then; we haven’t much further to go. Look, you can see the church there, right ahead at the end of the street.’ She pointed to the building with a small tower where a Union Jack was flying, some two hundred yards away. ‘And that’s the rectory to the right, and the school on the opposite side. Now, best foot forward; we’ll soon be there.’
‘She’s real nice, isn’t she?’ said Maisie as they ran ahead to get out of earshot of the grown-ups. ‘I’m glad I’m going to live with her…but I wish you were coming an’ all.’
‘So do I,’ replied Audrey, looking at her friend so very tragically. ‘I don’t like my lady, not one bit. And she hasn’t even told me her name.’
‘Miss Thomson,’ said Maisie. ‘That’s what I heard Mrs Whotsit call her. Mrs…Fairchild; that’s a funny name, isn’t it?’
Audrey didn’t answer. She had not said much at all, leaving all the talking to Maisie as they walked up the High Street.
‘P’raps that old lady won’t be so bad when you get to know her,’ Maisie went on. ‘I ’spect she lives in a big posh house with servants an’ all that. You’ll be treated like…like Princess Elizabeth, I bet you anything.’
‘But I want to come with you,’ whimpered Audrey. ‘I don’t like it here at all. I want to go back home…’
To Maisie’s horror her friend was starting to cry again. ‘Oh, don’t cry!’ she begged. ‘Give over, Audrey! Don’t start crying again, or she really will be mad at you. You know what she said before, that you were a crybaby.’
‘I can’t help it,’ wailed Audrey. ‘I don’t like her…’
Maisie seized hold of her arm. ‘See here… Just shurrup! Stop crying right now! It’ll be all right, honest it will. An’…an’ if it’s really awful, then you tell me, an’ I’ll tell Mrs Fairchild, an’ she’ll do summat about it. I know she will… But you’re going to be OK; honest, Audrey.’
Already Maisie was starting to look to the lady who had taken her under her wing with trust and an immense liking. She was kind and friendly, and pretty, too, with dark gingery hair, all short and curly, and nice greeny-brown eyes. Maisie knew she was lucky to have been chosen by her, and she felt quite dreadful that Audrey could not be with her. That was why she was trying so hard to cheer her up.
Audrey took a deep, deep breath, dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged hanky she took out of her pocket, and, to Maisie’s relief, she had stopped crying by the time they reached a row of much bigger houses, next to the squat greystone building which was obviously the school. Miss Thomson stopped at the iron gate of the end one.
‘This is my house,’ she said. ‘Say goodbye to your friend now, Audrey, and I’ll go and ring the bell for Daisy to let us in. Come along now; quick sharp…’
Maisie was dying to ask who was Daisy, but she knew she mustn’t. Anyway, she guessed that Daisy would be the maid. Probably there was a whole tribe of maids. It was a big house, standing on its own, not joined on to another one. There was a tidy lawn in front of it edged with neatly trimmed rose bushes, and in the centre a bed of bright flowers in fiery colours of red, orange and yellow. Maisie thought they were called dahlias.
Audrey turned and waved forlornly as she reached the glossy black-painted door. She did not shout goodbye. Maisie guessed she was too choked up to trust herself to open her mouth. Oh heck! She hoped her friend would not start yelling as soon as she got inside.
‘Tara, Audrey,’ she shouted, waving cheerily. ‘See yer…see yer soon…’
Then the door was opened by a plumpish young woman dressed in black with a white apron and cap. Maisie knew she had been right; Daisy was a maid. Then the three of them disappeared into the hall beyond and the door shut behind them.
Chapter Six
The garden surrounding the rectory was a complete contrast to the one that encompassed Miss Thomson’s house. Neither Patience nor Luke was keen on the formal, spick and span type of garden favoured by their neighbour. They did not have the time to indulge too much in horticulture, or have the wherewithal to employ a gardener, other than very occasionally. They made sure that the lawns at the front and rear were kept tidy; people visiting the rectory must be given a good impression. Otherwise, their garden was a riot of perennial flowers and bushes that seeded themselves year after year and needed little tending. Marigolds, lupins, marguerites, golden rod, rambling roses, honeysuckle and a variety of heathers; and instead of a formal neatly trimmed privet hedge there were lilac and fuchsia bushes, spiky berberis and holly, and a laburnum bush which leaned gracefully over the front gate, a riot of cascading yellow blossoms in the springtime.
On the other side of the path was a rowan tree, and it was this that Maisie noticed as soon as she came through the gate. She stopped, gazing with delight at the abundance of bright red clusters of berries nestling between the pretty fern-like pale green leaves. ‘Gosh! That’s lovely!’ she ex
claimed. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen one of them trees before. What’s it called?’
‘It’s a rowan tree, sometimes it’s called a mountain ash,’ replied Patience. ‘My husband and I planted it when we came to live here ten years ago. It was just a little sapling then, but see how it’s grown. I’m glad you like it. It has given us a good deal of pleasure, watching it grow.’
‘I like your garden,’ said Maisie. ‘It’s all cheerful and busy, like, isn’t it? All them flowers falling over one another. I like it better’n her garden, over there.’ She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of Miss Thomson’s. ‘I say, Mrs…er…Fairchild, Audrey will be all right, won’t she, with that old woman?’
‘I’m sure she will, Maisie love,’ replied Patience. ‘Her bark is worse than her bite. Have you heard that expression?’
Maisie nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘It means that she appears stern and forbidding, but underneath she’s…well, she’s not so bad. She’ll look after Audrey well enough, but don’t you worry; and Daisy is there as well, of course.’
‘Daisy’s the maid, is she?’
‘Yes… She’s a nice lass. She lives there all the time now, so she’ll keep an eye on Audrey. The trouble is, Miss Thomson has never had a great deal to do with children. She has never married, so she has no children or grandchildren of her own. But Audrey is a lovely little girl. I’m sure she will be just fine when she’s settled down.’
‘What about you?’ asked Maisie now, quite out of the blue it seemed to Patience, although she supposed it was an inevitable question. ‘Have you got any little boys or girls?’
‘No…no, I’m afraid we haven’t,’ replied Patience, inserting her key in the lock and opening the door, then closing it behind them. She was somewhat taken aback by the forthright question. An adult would have been more tactful, but children she knew, were apt to speak ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’, as the saying went; and this child seemed to be more than usually outspoken. Not cheeky or disrespectful, though, Patience had already decided. Her bluntness would no doubt be explained when she divulged more about her family history. Patience realised that, as yet, she knew nothing whatsoever of her background, but she would ask her about herself in a little while. The main thing now was to familiarize the child with her new surroundings.
Maisie was staring around, a look of surprise and awe on her face, although Patience knew her home to be quite an ordinary, run of the mill, clergy house. It was spacious, to be sure, but at the moment it was badly in need of decorating, and it was not always as warm as it might be, especially when the winter winds howled around the hilltop house. She knew, too, that the carpet on the stairs and in the hall was shabby; a new one had been on the agenda until the imminence of war had made most people look again at their priorities. But it was clear that the little girl was impressed by the high coved ceiling and the rather splendid oak balustrade.
Patience felt she had answered the girl too abruptly. After all, Maisie was not to know that she and Luke badly wanted a child; that they had been hoping and praying for one ever since they had married and come to live here ten years ago, but to no avail.
‘No, dear,’ she said now. ‘There are no children living here; I wish there were… But you are here now, aren’t you? And I’m going to show you all around our house; where you will be sleeping and where we have our meals… Take your coat off, dear, and give me your bag to carry upstairs.’
‘Can I go to the lav, please?’ asked Maisie as they went upstairs. ‘I ’spect you’ve got one inside, an’ a bathroom an’ all, haven’t you? We haven’t, y’see. The lav’s down the yard, but we’ve got water what flushes it, and me mum keeps it nice and clean. Well, her and the lady next door; we have to share it. The houses where me mum goes to clean have got posh bathrooms though. I thought you would have one…’
Patience smiled to herself at her chatter. What a friendly and appealing little girl she was. ‘Yes, our bathroom is here,’ she said, pushing open the first door at the top of the stairs. ‘You go and make yourself comfortable and wash your hands, and then come in here. This will be your bedroom.’ She pointed to a door across the landing.
The bathroom was really posh, all gleaming white tiles with black edges, a huge bath with feet like a lion’s claws, and a lavatory with a polished wooden seat and lid, and a chain with a matching handle on the end. There was even a tablet of fresh sweet-smelling soap on the wash-basin, not that awful pink carbolic stuff that they used at home, and a fluffy white towel for Maisie to wipe her hands on. And another big towel hanging on a rail which, she supposed, was for when you had a bath. Gosh! Wouldn’t it be lovely to soak in a bath like that, and have nice clean water all to herself. Friday night was bath night, and Maisie had only just had one, but she hoped that Mrs Fairchild would let her have one soon.
This was just the sort of bathroom that Maisie had often heard her mother say she would like. Poor Mum… She felt a pang of sadness come over her for a moment. It had been an exciting day – a little bit frightening as well, at times – but she had had Audrey to look after, and then so many things had been happening that she had scarcely had time to think about all she had left behind in Leeds. Her mother, and her naughty little brother and sister. And… She shook her head, pushing the thoughts of them, those two awful males, away. No, no! She was not going to think about them, not ever again.
Her thoughts returned to the present very quickly when she set eyes on the bedroom that Mrs Fairchild had prepared for her. Well, not for her in particular, she realised, but for one of the evacuee children. The lady had not known until they all arrived who would be coming to live with her; but Maisie was so very very glad that she was the one who had been chosen.
It was not a very large room but, to Maisie, it was beautiful, the most beautiful room she had ever seen in her life. It was all blue, as blue as the sky on a summer’s day. Pale blue walls, a blue floral carpet on the floor, a bit threadbare in parts, but there was a woolly blue rug near the bed which covered up a worn patch. The curtains were a bright design of blue and sunshine yellow. It was a pity about the horrid black-out blind that she could see at the back, but she knew it was what they called ‘regulations’, another big word that had come into use recently. On the bed was a plump blue silky eiderdown, a little bit frayed and faded, but Maisie thought how comfy it would be to snuggle underneath it. And sitting on top of it was a teddy bear, almost identical to the one that was hidden away in her bag, except that Maisie’s was worse for wear, having put up with a lot of rough treatment from Joanie and Jimmy, despite her instructions to leave Barney Bear alone.
There was a little dressing table with a blue gingham frill all round it, just like she had seen in story books, but never anywhere else, a small oak wardrobe, and a white-painted set of bookshelves. When she had stared around for several moments she dashed over to the books which filled the shelves. ‘Ooh! You’ve got Angela Brazil, loads of ’em,’ she cried. ‘And there’s some I haven’t read an’ all.’
‘Yes, I didn’t think it would take you long to find those,’ smiled Patience. ‘You told me you liked them, remember? You are very welcome to read any of the books; they were mine when I was a girl, and I can’t bear to part with them. No Enid Blyton’s though; she hadn’t started writing when I was a little girl, but there are lots of old favourites… Anyway, come along now, Maisie; let’s get your things out of your bag. We’ll put them on to the bed, shall we? And there is my teddy bear, see, waiting to welcome you.’
Patience wondered, as she said it, about the appropriateness of the remark. Maisie seemed to be a very mature little girl in some ways – probably having had to grow up before her time, she surmised – and might consider she had outgrown such things as teddy bears. However, she was glad to see the child’s face light up with pleasure.
‘I’ve brought my teddy bear an’ all,’ she said, pulling out a somewhat battered and threadbare creature from the black bag. ‘See, this is
Barney Bear. Can he sit there with yours? He was yours, wasn’t he, Mrs Fairchild, when you were a little girl?’
‘Yes, he was,’ replied Patience. ‘Actually, though, my bear is a ‘she’, not a ‘he’. I know we always tend to think of teddies as being boys, but I always thought mine was a girl. I called her Betty.’
Maisie grinned. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? Barney and Betty. They can keep one another company. And Barney’s sure to feel a bit lonely at the moment. ’Course I should have known yours was a girl. He’s – I mean she’s – got a pink ribbon on, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, so she has. We will have to find a blue ribbon for Barney.’ Patience was pleased that the little girl could still find delight in such things as teddy bears, even to the extent of giving him a real personality. No doubt Maisie, too, like the teddy bear, was feeling a bit lonely, despite her chatter.
‘Your Betty is cleaner than Barney Bear,’ she went on, ‘an’ he must be much older. But my little brother and sister have been chucking him around, y’see. I’ve told ’em not to, but they take no notice. They don’t take no notice of me mum neither. They’re real naughty, Mrs Fairchild…’ She paused for a moment. ‘I don’t know how me mum’s going to manage…’
Without you to help her? thought Patience, but she did not say so. She felt she was beginning to guess at the picture. ‘I think most little brothers and sisters can be tiresome,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure your mum will be able to manage very nicely. You are sure to miss her, though, and the children as well, and your…your dad?’ The child had made no mention of a father, and she now shook her head vigorously.
‘I haven’t got no dad, not a proper ’un anyway. He died a long time ago, when I was little.’
‘Oh dear; I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Patience. She guessed she would have to tread carefully here. Maisie had clammed up, her mouth set in a grim line and her eyes were sad now instead of filled with enthusiasm as they had been a little while earlier. Patience feared for a moment that she was going to start crying. That was bound to happen, though, she supposed; sooner or later there were sure to be tears of homesickness and bewilderment at the strangeness of her surroundings. And it sounded, too, as though there might be a step-father, maybe not a very sympathetic one, in the picture.
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 9
