Above the Bright Blue Sky

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Who told yer?’ asked Daisy in surprise. ‘It weren’t Miss Thomson, were it?’

  ‘No, of course not. It was young Maisie,’ answered Priscilla. ‘We had a good laugh about it, her and me. She’s a grand little lass, isn’t she?’

  ‘Aye, so she is.’ Daisy nodded. ‘Her and Doris – you’ll know Doris, of course; she’s Walter’s daughter – they’re going to be bridesmaids for me and Andy.’

  ‘We’ll come and see you get married, won’t we, Jennifer?’ said Priscilla. ‘We get time off on a Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘You can do more than that,’ said Daisy. ‘Why don’t yer come to the do afterwards in t’ church hall? The more the merrier, and I know you both now, don’t I?’

  ‘Well, that’s real nice of you,’ said Jennifer.

  ‘Thanks; we’d love to come,’ said Priscilla.

  There was a polite knock at the door. ‘Girls…I’ve made a pot of tea,’ said Miss Thomson, putting her head round the door. ‘Do come and share it with me.’

  ‘Well!’ said Daisy, as the woman departed. ‘I’ll go to the foot of our stairs! Just wait till I tell Andy. A cup of tea with ’er Ladyship! He’ll never believe me…’

  When the wedding of Daisy and Andy took place, as arranged, in mid-July, there were not two, but three bridesmaids in attendance.

  Patience and Luke had been increasingly worried by the news from Armley, passed on to them by Edith’s vicar, the Reverend Keith Armstrong. Then came the news, in the middle of June, that Edith had been taken into hospital again; there had been a recurrence of her former problem. Audrey was being looked after by a neighbour. The woman was not a close friend of Edith, but she was willing to do what she could to help out for the time being. But Audrey, understandably, was not happy. She was worried about her mother and, according to the vicar, she kept asking when she could see Aunty Patience and Luke again.

  The two of them were in a quandary. ‘Do you think we should have her back here again?’ said Patience. ‘That poor child! I hate to think of her being so unhappy. Ring Keith Armstrong, my dear, and tell him you will go and fetch her, provided he thinks it is a good idea, of course.’

  But the vicar in Armley did not think so. There was a short silence when Luke made the suggestion, then he said, ‘We are trying to remain positive, Luke, and we keep saying our prayers, of course, for Edith…but I have to tell you that the prognosis is not good. It would not be wise to take Audrey away at the moment. She is a sensible little girl, and I think she knows her mother is very poorly. It’s quite possible that she realises Edith will not get better. My wife and I have had her round at our home, and she has a nice teacher at school who is caring for her there. And Edith’s neighbours…well, they are doing their best.’

  ‘How very sad,’ said Luke. ‘Patience and I only want to do what is best for her. Please, please Keith, do keep us informed…’

  ‘Of course I will… By the way, Audrey misses her little friend; Maisie, isn’t it? She said to give her love to Maisie, and to you two as well. She knows I keep in touch with you. So…just keep on praying, Luke. It’s all we can do.’

  Ten days later Edith Dennison passed away quietly in her sleep. It had not been possible to do very much for her other than to alleviate the pain, as her illness had progressed too far for a further operation. Audrey was said to be heartbroken and quite inconsolable. The Reverend Armstrong and his wife had taken her to stay at their home until the funeral, to be held in a few days’ time, was over.

  ‘And after that, we just don’t know,’ the vicar told Luke. ‘The poor child is an orphan now. There is no way that my wife and I can care for her indefinitely, and I’m afraid that Edith’s neighbours have made it quite clear that they are not willing to do so. Anyway, why should they? They are a middle-aged couple, and Audrey has not been too happy there.’

  ‘Then she must come to us,’ said Luke without hesitation. ‘There is no question of it, Keith. I will come down for the funeral and take her back with me. I believe she was happy with us in Middlebeck, and we will do our best to make sure that she is again.’

  There was an audible sigh of relief from Keith Armstrong. ‘Well, I must say that is a weight off my mind, Luke. I was hoping you would say that, and I am not surprised either. You are a good man; one of the best men I know… It was only a short time arrangement before, though, wasn’t it? She was an evacuee… Now it will be much more of a commitment. How do you feel about that?’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ said Luke. ‘There can be no question of the child going into an orphanage and that is what would happen. Don’t worry, Keith; I will look into the legalities of it all, and Audrey will come and live with us, permanently, I hope…’

  He knew without asking her, that Patience would be in full agreement. She wept a little for Edith, and for Audrey, then she said quietly. ‘Are you thinking what I am thinking, Luke? That we could adopt Audrey – legally, I mean, officially – and she would be like our own child.’

  ‘Yes, that is what I thought,’ agreed Luke, ‘…eventually. We must give her a little while to settle down with us first. It’s not quite what we intended, my darling…’ The thought was there in both their minds that they had intended, after ten years of marriage, to have had at least two or three children of their own. ‘…but maybe this is the answer for us.’

  Luke brought Audrey back to Middlebeck when the funeral was over. He knew that it had been an ordeal for her, especially the part at the graveside; but she had seemed glad to have him there with her and he had kept her small hand in his all the time. The few mourners had gathered at the vicarage afterwards for sandwiches and tea provided by Mrs Armstrong. Then Luke and Audrey had set off in the mid-afternoon on the journey back to north Yorkshire. Luke had stayed overnight with Keith and his wife, but he knew it was imperative to get Audrey away from the place that held so many sad memories as quickly as possible.

  Patience had warned Maisie not to say too much to her friend about her mother’s death. ‘She will know how sorry you are,’ she said, ‘without you telling her. And you mustn’t tell her to cheer up if she cries. She needs to cry about her mum; but if you are there, just to be her friend, then that will help her a lot.’

  Audrey was subdued when she entered the rectory again, and on seeing Patience her eyes filled up with tears.

  ‘Hello dear,’ said Patience. ‘How lovely to see you again.’ She gave her a hug and a kiss.

  Maisie, too, gave her a bear hug. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. She looked at her and felt very sorry for her. How dreadful! Her dad and then her mum, both dead! ‘I know you’re a bit sad,’ she said, ‘but there’s lots of things been happening here. Wait till I tell you…’

  After a few days Audrey had shaken off some of her sadness and was ready to listen to her friend and to talk about the happenings in the little town. She was especially interested to hear about Daisy’s wedding, and that Maisie and Doris were to be bridesmaids.

  ‘Oh, how lovely!’ she said. ‘I would love to be a bridesmaid. I’ve never been one, you know.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ replied Maisie. ‘Daisy would’ve had you, y’know. She told us, didn’t she, Aunty Patience. But you weren’t here, you see…’

  Patience looked at Audrey’s crestfallen face and came to a decision. ‘There is no reason at all why Audrey should not be a bridesmaid as well,’ she said. ‘I know Daisy won’t mind. I’ll get in touch with Mrs Kitson, Daisy’s mother, and when she writes to her she can tell her she will have three bridesmaids instead of two. How about that?’

  Audrey’s face lit up with delight, and Maisie looked pleased, too. But then Maisie frowned a little. ‘But you’ve got the material, haven’t you, Aunty Patience, and you’ve started making the dress.’

  ‘No matter,’ said Patience. ‘I can easily get some more. There was still a lot of that material left on the market stall. And we’ve still got two weeks to go before the big day…’

  Maisie and Doris had decided on p
ale blue, not pink, for their dresses. It was what Patience called turquoise blue. It was a colour that suited them both, and now it suited Audrey as well.

  The wedding plans had to be arranged in the bride’s absence, as Daisy, and Andy as well, were to arrive home only the day before the wedding. Patience had made a fruit cake and iced it. Mrs Kitson, who admitted she was not much good at baking, had given her some dried fruit from her store cupboard, as had a few members of the WI; and Patience had a few ounces of ground almonds left for the marzipan. It was not a large cake, but Daisy was fortunate to be having one at all.

  The rationing of food was now starting to take effect. Dried fruit and butter and eggs were beginning to be regarded as luxuries, and future brides might not be able to have a wedding cake at all, or a very austere one. But the women of the WI had pulled out all the stops for Daisy and Andy, and they prepared a spread in the church hall which was, as Daisy’s mother declared, ‘a feast fit for a king’.

  Daisy was a bonny bride in her white silken taffeta dress. Patience wished she might have been with her, though, to advise her about the style. She was not sure that the puffed sleeves and the full skirt were quite suited to Daisy’s buxom figure, but it was the bride’s own choice and she supposed that that was all that mattered. The short veil of stiffish net and the coronet of silken orange blossom were perched on top of her dark curly hair like the icing on a cake. In fact that was what Daisy resembled; a fancy three-tiered wedding cake. But she was a very radiant bride as she came down the aisle after the ceremony, on the arm of her new husband, grinning broadly at all her friends and relations. Andy looked smart and handsome in his soldier’s uniform, proudly displaying his corporal’s stripes which he had recently been awarded.

  The three girls, Audrey, Doris and Maisie, smiled happily too, carrying their posies of mixed flowers. Like Daisy’s larger bouquet, the roses, lilies, sweet peas and sweet williams had been culled from the rectory and other nearby gardens, and fashioned into bridal arrangements by one of the women of the Mothers’ Union.

  It was a cheerful crowd who gathered in the church hall to make short work of the ‘banquet’. The salmon, corned beef and egg sandwiches soon vanished, as did the sausage rolls and meat pies; the trifle, sparingly covered with real cream; and the iced buns and jam tarts. And lastly, a small piece of the wedding cake, whilst Luke toasted the health and happiness of the bride and groom in sweet brown sherry.

  Daisy and Andy departed, after Daisy had changed into her ‘going-away’ outfit – her best pink summer dress and matching cardigan; she could not afford to buy anything new after the expense of the wedding dress – to catch a train to Whitby, the nearest seaside resort on the east coast. They were to spend a precious three days there before returning to their respective army camps. To prepare for…who could tell what might happen in the unforseeable future?

  ‘That was a really joyous occasion,’ said Patience afterwards to Luke. ‘Just what we all needed to cheer us up. Daisy and Andy looked so blissfully happy together, didn’t they? I do hope that everything goes well for them, that they don’t have to spend too much time apart. At least Andy will be stationed in England. She won’t need to worry about him being sent overseas again, not at the moment…

  For the war was now being fought in the air. What Winston Churchill was calling the Battle of Britain had started on the tenth of July with attacks on British ships in the channel and on the coastal ports. And the young pilots of Fighter Command – amongst whom was Bill Grundy, Anne Mellodey’s fiancé – were engaged continually in dog fights in the skies above Kent and Sussex. Every day there was news of more and more casualties.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Aunty Patience, how long do you think it will be before the war is over?’ asked Maisie. It was a warm evening at the beginning of September, 1940, on the day that the children had returned to school. And almost exactly a year since the evacuees had first come to Middlebeck, Patience remembered. She had gone upstairs to tuck the two girls into bed and to kiss them goodnight, as she did every night.

  ‘I mean, there are so many people dying, aren’t there?’ Maisie went on. ‘It’s so sad. There was Audrey’s dad and then her mum…although that was nothing to do with the war, was it, not really?’

  ‘No,’ answered Patience. ‘But I suppose it was because of the blackout as well as the fog that Audrey’s dad was knocked down.’ There had been more deaths caused by the blackout in the first few months of the war than by enemy action. ‘But her mum was very poorly… No, as you say; that had nothing to do with the war. You have been such a good friend to Audrey since she came back to us. I am very proud of you, Maisie.’

  ‘But she’s sad again now, isn’t she?’ said Maisie. ‘We both are. We all cried this morning – well, a lot of the girls did – when Miss Foster told us about Miss Mellodey’s young man. It’s terrible, Aunty Patience. Why does it keep happening? Why do they want to go on killing one another? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘No, you’re right, Maisie. It doesn’t make sense at all,’ agreed Patience. ‘Nothing makes sense in wartime.’ She found herself looking back to the Great War, which was now sometimes being called the last war, and the thousands upon thousands of young men who had died in the trenches, all to gain a few yards of territory either way. That had been pure carnage and utterly senseless. One would have thought that lessons would have been learned and remembered.

  ‘You say how long is it going to continue? Well, nobody knows, do they? We just have to keep on saying our prayers and hope that God is…that God will answer them.’ She had been going to say, ‘hope that God is listening’, but that was not a very wise thing to say to the child. One had to go on believing that He was listening, although Patience herself wondered about that at times. Or that He was on ‘our side’, as she had heard some people say. How could He be solely on our side, this all-powerful omnipotent God? He was the God of the Germans, too, wasn’t He? And no doubt they were praying to Him, just as we were. It was all too dreadfully confusing.

  ‘I know you are upset tonight, dear, about Miss Mellodey’s fiancé,’ she said to Maisie, gently stroking the girl’s hair. ‘Just think how sad she must be feeling, and Bill’s parents too. Perhaps you could say a little prayer for her now, before you go to sleep. I know how much you and Audrey like Miss Mellodey.’

  When the school had assembled for the first time after the summer holiday it was a solemn faced Miss Foster, the headmistress, who addressed them all. Miss Mellodey would be returning in a few days’ time, she said, but at the moment she was at home in Leeds with her parents. She had recently received the sad news that her fiancé, Bill, had been shot down in his plane and killed. There were gasps of shock from the children and, as Maisie had said, several of the girls had shed tears.

  ‘I know you are all very fond of Miss Mellodey,’ said Miss Foster, ‘especially those of you who have been in her class. She has been very popular with everyone since she came to join us here in Middlebeck. And she will know how sorry you are… That is why she doesn’t want you to mention it to her when she comes back. She wants to carry on teaching you just the same as she did before. And you can help her best by being…well, by behaving normally. In the meantime Miss Mellodey’s class will be divided up and taught by myself and Miss Bolton. It will only be for a day or two, and I am trusting you, boys and girls, to help us as much as you can…’

  Patience could not, in truth, give any comforting words to Maisie when she asked how long the war would continue. The prospect, indeed, was grim. On the twenty-fifth of August German bombs had been dropped, for the first time, on London; by mistake, it was reported. But Bomber Command was then ordered to attack Berlin, a move which infuriated Hitler. And so the ‘tit for tat’ raids had begun, the large-scale bombing – the ‘Blitz’ – of London and other major cities.

  Anne Mellodey returned to take up the reins again at the beginning of the next week. Maisie thought she looked pale and her eyes were sad when she smiled
at the children. She had a lovely smile, but now it was just her lips that smiled and not always her eyes. Maisie and Audrey had remembered that they were not to say anything to her, but Patience thought it would be nice to take her a bunch of flowers from the garden to brighten up her desk and, hopefully, to make her feel a little happier.

  ‘Thank you, girls,’ she said. ‘I find that flowers are such a comfort, and these pale yellow roses are my favourite of all. It is very kind of you…and I know that you are thinking about me,’ she added, smiling a little sadly.

  But there was work to be done by the children of Standard Four, the ten and eleven year olds. Miss Mellodey reminded them that this school year was the one in which they would sit for the Scholarship examination. The following summer they would be leaving the school in Middlebeck, and in September – a year hence – they would be starting at the Senior School at the far end of the town (quite near to the railway station). And those who had gained a scholarship would attend the High School – there was one building for the boys and another separate one for the girls – situated lower down the valley, between Middlebeck and the village of Lowerbeck.

  It was believed that Maisie and Audrey would be amongst that number, along with a few of the local children. And it seemed increasingly likely that the boys and girls who had at first been thought of as evacuees would still be there in a year’s time when the move to the senior schools took place.

  Doris entertained no hopes of passing the exam. She often, jokingly, told Maisie and Audrey that she was not a brain-box like the pair of them were. Besides, she had no wish to go to the High School. She would help her dad and her brothers on the farm, she declared, when she left school at fourteen. But that was a long time ahead.

  Gertie and Norma, also, no longer showed any animosity towards the brainier members of the class. They knew that they, too, would be attending the Middlebeck Senior School. It was in no small degree due to Anne Mellodey that the children of Standard Four got along so well together. She showed no favouritism and regarded all her pupils – the bright ones and the not so clever, the obedient ones and those who were less so – with the same impartiality and genuine affection.