‘Yes, I do. There’s something that I know, y’ see, summat that I’ve been trying to keep to meself these last few months. It’s about Walter and that girl, Priscilla…’
Luke continued to watch her steadily. She seemed to have full control of herself and he guessed that she had done all her weeping for the moment. ‘What is it that you know, Ada?’ he asked gently. ‘Would you like to tell me?’ He feared the worst and he still had no idea how he should react or how much he should divulge to Walter’s widow.
‘They were carrying on together,’ she said, ‘the pair of them. I’d thought so for some time. I’d seen the way he looked at her, and then, when she was killed, he just went to pieces; he never got over it.’
Luke felt a deep sigh of relief escape him. What Ada knew – or thought she knew – was not what he had feared. ‘It was only natural that Walter should be distressed at her death,’ he said carefully. ‘Everyone was. It was such a dreadful thing to happen…’
‘Aye, well, that’s true, I suppose. But it was then that he started going on about joining up. And there was no need for it. He was in a reserved occupation; he didn’t need to go. But he wouldn’t listen, and I know that what he really wanted was to be sent overseas, to be in the thick of it all. We had some terrible rows, him and me. An’ I told him, an’ all, that I knew what was wrong. I said to him, “You were having an affair with that lass, weren’t you? And now you can’t get over it.” Well, he went barmy, shouting and swearing at me. But he swore blind that he hadn’t, that there had never been ’owt like that”, he said. He was just fond of her – he admitted that – and he wished they’d catch the bastard that did it… But they never did, did they, Luke?’
‘No…and the chances are that they never will now,’ replied Luke. ‘You made it up with Walter though, did you, before he went away?’
‘To a certain extent, yes, but I never really believed him about Priscilla. Walter and me, we’d not been – what you might say – husband and wife in the fullest sense, not for some time.’ She looked a little discomfited. ‘You know what I mean, Luke, and I suppose I realised he was only human. But we were closer again by the time he went, and he was very tearful, saying goodbye to me and the kids. As though he knew it was for the last time. At least, that’s what I’m thinking now…’
‘Ada…’ Luke leaned across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘I think that what Walter told you was true. I don’t believe he had an affair with Priscilla. He was fond of her, yes; but you must try to believe that that was all.’ Walter had been adamant, when he had confessed to Luke, that the friendship had not progressed so far, despite his wanting it to do so, and what Maisie had overheard pointed to the fact that it had not been in Priscilla’s mind at all. And so it made sense to Luke to reassure Ada on that point at least. ‘He was upset at her death, but who wouldn’t be, especially when he had worked so closely with her?’
Ada nodded. ‘Thank you, Luke. Yes…you may be right; I hope so. It’s just the thought that he might have killed himself – well, made sure someone else did – because of her. He was unbalanced though. I knew that when he went away. Not all the time, but it would come over him now and again, and then he didn’t seem to know what he was doing.’
‘It’s the effect of the war,’ replied Luke. ‘It has affected us all in different ways, some more than others.’
‘I’m trying hard to think of the good things about Walter now,’ said Ada. ‘We were real happy here on t’ farm, especially at first, and then when the boys and our Doris came along we were thrilled to bits to have a family. And the lads love the land just like Walter did. I dare say Joe’ll go back to farming when he comes out of the RAF. And Doris is showing no desire to do anything else.’
Luke smiled, feeling a sense of relief. The dark truth must remain hidden, but it was good that Ada was remembering the happier times of their marriage and not just the quarrels and distrust.
‘He could be a bad-tempered so and so,’ she went on, ‘and irritable with the kids as well as me. But he loved them, an’ they loved him an’ all. So did I…’ She stared musingly into space for a moment, then her expression changed. ‘I don’t want a big funeral, though, Luke. I don’t think I could bear it, and I’m sure our Doris and the lads won’t want it either. Could we just have a quiet family affair; no fuss and to-do?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ replied Luke. ‘Whatever you wish, Ada. But members of the congregation will want to pay their respects. Walter was well liked.’
‘A brief church service then,’ agreed Ada. ‘But no baked meats and funeral feast or what have you.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never liked that sort of carry-on. I’ll make a few sandwiches for the close family, but nothing else. Me and the kids, we just want to remember him quietly…’
And that was just what Luke, for reasons of his own, had hoped would be Ada’s decision.
The church was half full of mourners. Walter had been well known in the town of Middlebeck and the nearby farm lands and, on the whole, liked and respected for his fairness and reliability. At Ada’s request the choir had not been asked to sing, as sometimes happened at the funerals of members of the congregation. Luke was relieved, again, at this, and he conducted what he hoped was a dignified, but not too effusive service. He said that Walter would be remembered as a good and loving husband and father, a loyal member of St Bartholomew’s church and choir, and as a respected member of the community.
After the burial in the churchyard only the immediate members of the family, with Luke and the Tremaines, returned to the farmhouse. Joe had been granted compassionate leave for a few days, and he and Ted and Doris were seen to support their mother throughout the service and the commital at the graveside. It was evident that they were a close and loving family, and Luke had few worries about their future or about how they would cope without the head of the family. He knew that was how Walter had thought of himself, but Ada was a strong woman – he had discovered more about her strength during the past week – and she would be able to take up the reins without any difficulty.
Doris, that day, was subdued and thoughtful, though not unduly tearful. It was strange not to see her laughing and chattering in her usual carefree way; but she would come through it, he was sure, and remember her father with nothing but affection. She was not alone in having lost a beloved parent. Audrey and Timothy, too, had suffered the loss of both their parents, and as the war dragged on relentlessly there would be many, many others in the same situation.
Maisie had looked grave on hearing the news of Walter Nixon’s sudden death. It was Luke who had told her, before Audrey and Tim were informed, although Tim had scarcely known the man. He had anticipated Maisie’s question; it was the first time she had mentioned the matter since her disclosure several months ago.
‘Did he do it, Uncle Luke?’ she asked in a whisper. She sometimes called him that now, as did Audrey and Tim. ‘I mean…was it him that killed Priscilla?’
Luke nodded. ‘I think we can assume that was what happened, Maisie. But no one else knows… Oh no; Patience knows; she stumbled on the truth of it all. But it must never, never be talked about. You understand, don’t you, dear?’ She nodded soberly. ‘Yes, I know you do, Maisie; you are such a sensible girl. And you can resume your friendship with Doris without feeling awkward about it. I know it’s been difficult for you, knowing what you did. But Doris will need her friends now. Perhaps you could call round and see her sometime soon, you and Audrey?’
‘We haven’t seen her much lately,’ said Maisie. ‘She’s at a different school now and she’s got some new friends.’
‘But sometimes old friends are the best,’ said Luke, ‘and I expect Doris might think so too.’
‘OK; we’ll go and see her tomorrow,’ said Maisie. ‘She was real nice to me and Audrey when we first came here, when we were evacuees, and some of the others were horrid. I’ll see if Audrey’ll go with me after school tomorrow.’
‘Wait till after the funeral, dear,’
said Luke. ‘Mrs Nixon will be busy and…it would probably not be a good time.’ He guessed that the coffin containing Walter’s body might soon be arriving.
‘OK,’ said Maisie again, quite cheerily. She sounded as though a weight had been lifted from her mind.
Soon afterwards, the trio of friends were seen mooching around Woolie’s, their favourite store, or the market stalls. Doris, however, spent a good deal of her time, when she was not at school, helping her mother, either in the home or on the market stall; and Maisie, too, soon found that she was extremely busy.
She and her mother, and Joanie and Jimmy, moved into their new home above the draper’s shop at the very end of October. As this coincided with the half-term holiday from school she was able to spend the few days helping her mother to arrange the furniture, to sort out their belongings into the various cupboards and drawers and – most importantly – to get to know one another again, the mother and three children, as a secure and happy little family.
‘We’re so lucky, Maisie, so very lucky,’ said Lily on the first evening as the two of them sat companionably by the fireside. The ‘little ’uns’ were in bed and mother and daughter were enjoying a cup of cocoa and a Nice biscuit. ‘And haven’t people been kind to us?’
Lily had managed to buy the two easy chairs and a rather old-fashioned sideboard, and some essential bedroom furniture herself; but the red carpet and the matching damask curtains – both of which were only slightly worn – had been left by the Jenners. Their feet rested on a rag rug, donated by a customer at the shop, and the brown plush cushions and the plush tablecover by Rebecca. They even had a wireless set with a sunray design in the front, a glass fruit bowl – for the rare occasions when fruit could be bought – and a china biscuit barrel with a silver handle, all given by friends who wanted to wish them well in their new home.
‘Nothing is going to spoil it for us now,’ said Lily. ‘I hope we will be able to stay here for ever, even after the war ends…touch wood.’ She tapped the end of the chair’s arm. ‘Please God, I suppose I should say really,’ she added. She laughed. ‘I know your Uncle Luke might not go along with my superstitions.’
‘You are my family now, Mum,’ said Maisie. ‘You and Joanie and Jimmy. I do love Aunty Patience and Uncle Luke, but I’m back home again now, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, where you belong, love. And Sid Bragg’s in prison where he can’t get at us, thank the Lord.’ Lily smiled as she gazed into the embers of the fire. ‘Aye, we’ve been lucky,’ she said again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maisie was thrilled to be able to help in the shop. She dashed home from school each day so that she could take over from her mother whilst Lily got the tea ready. She soon learned to operate the till, and giving the correct change to customers was no problem to her at all. Sometimes she helped on a Saturday morning as well. This was a day when Mrs Jenner came in the afternoon – the shop was extra busy then because it was market day – but on Saturday morning Lily caught up with her housework, leaving Maisie in charge of the shop, but always on hand if her daughter should need assistance or if there was an emergency.
It was about eleven o’ clock on a Saturday morning in mid-November when Maisie heard the familiar tinkle of the door bell and looked up to see a young soldier entering the shop. This was quite an unusual occurrence; soldiers from the nearby camp were often seen wandering around the little town, but they did not often come into the draper’s shop.
‘Good morning; can I help you?’ said Maisie politely, as her mother had taught her to do. Then she stopped and stared at the newcomer. She cowered back against the shelves behind the counter, feeling herself turn cold and her hands begin to tremble. Because as he came closer to her she recognized the young man; his stocky figure, now dressed in khaki, his ruddy face and pale blue eyes, and his spiky blond hair which she could see more clearly as he took off his forage cap. It was Percy… She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was so terrified she could not speak, let alone scream, which was what she wanted to do.
But he was smiling in what seemed to be quite a friendly manner. ‘Hello…Maisie,’ he said, but a little unsurely, unlike the bold and nasty person she remembered. ‘That’s what you call yerself now, isn’t it? Much nicer than Nellie…’ Suddenly, he looked down, in some embarrassment at his shuffling feet.
She continued to stare at him, rooted to the spot with terror. He looked back at her, then half-smiling… but not sneeringly, she thought, almost as though he really might want to be friendly. But she did not trust him; never, never could she trust this awful lad who had done all those bad things to her. ‘I’m…I’m sorry, like,’ he muttered, ‘an…an, well, I meanter say…yer don’t need to be scared of me no more. I’ve just come to say…hello.’
‘Go away…’ she cried feebly, then again, more loudly, ‘Go away!’ as she found to her relief that her voice had come back. ‘I don’t want you here! Mum, Mum…’ she yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Come quick! There’s somebody here…’
It was a minute or two before Lily appeared through the door at the back of the shop, during which time Percy had made no move, but just stood regarding his step-sister with a resigned but sorrowful look. ‘I suppose it’s only what I can expect…’ he murmured.
‘What is it? Whatever’s the matter?’ cried Lily. She looked at the young soldier, then her mouth dropped open in shock and, at first, in fear. ‘Percy Bragg…you! Get away from my daughter! Don’t you dare try to come near her…’ She dashed towards him as if to strike him. He backed away, holding his hands up in front of him, in a gesture of defeat.
‘Lily…Lily, listen, it’s all right. I don’t want to hurt Maisie. Honest I don’t. I’ve just been trying to tell ’er, but she’s…she looks scared to death.’
‘Is it any wonder,’ retorted Lily, ‘after what you did…? What are you doing here anyroad? And how did you know where we were?’
‘I found out. I had to,’ replied Percy, hanging his head as though ashamed. ‘I could’ve come sooner – I’ve been up at Catterick camp y’see ever since I joined up – but I’ve been trying to get me head round things, sort meself out, y’know; an’ I wasn’t sure how you’d take me.’ His voice was quiet, and his words tumbled over one another, so that Maisie and Lily found it difficult to catch all that he was saying. ‘Well, I guessed as I wouldn’t get a reight warm welcome. Maisie…I didn’t mean to frighten yer, just now, I mean. I want to be friends with yer, and yer mum; well, as much as we can be. An’ I’m sorry an’ all for…well, you know what I mean, don’t yer?’ He looked down at his feet again.
Maisie continued to look at him in bewilderment. It was Lily who spoke first, but before doing so she went to the shop door and bolted it, turning the sign round so that it said ‘Closed’ instead of ‘Open’.
‘Are you trying to tell us that you’ve changed?’ she asked. ‘If so, then it takes some believing.’
‘Aye, I know it does,’ replied Percy, ‘but…I have changed, at least I’m starting to. It was living with me dad, y’know, all that time. He weren’t any good for me. He shook his head vehemently. He was a real bad lot, was Sid. I couldn’t see it when I were a kid. I were his favourite, y’see; God knows why, but I were, with me being t’ youngest, I suppose.’ He was speaking more confidently now.
Lily was watching him closely. It really did seem as though the lad might have changed somewhat. He looked different for a start, smarter and cleaner, and he no longer had that shifty and villainous expression in his eyes. He was sure to be smarter, though, being in the army, and maybe it had done him good in other ways as well. But she still felt that she could not trust him completely. She nodded. ‘I see…Yes, I know your dad used to make quite a lot of you. But you decided you’d had enough of him in the end, did you? Is that why you joined the army?’
‘Aye, that was t’ main reason, I suppose. But I wanted to do me bit an’ all. You might find that hard to believe knowing me but it’s true. An’ I was beginning
to see what a bad lot he really was. But you knew that, didn’t yer, Lily? You guessed what he was like soon after yer married ’im. I was always expecting you to clear off and leave ’im.’
‘How could I, Percy, with three children to look after?’ Lily surprised herself that she was even able to use his name.
‘Me mam did,’ he replied. She frowned at him, puzzled at the remark.
‘Your…mam?’
‘Aye, she cleared off and left ’im when I was – let’s see, about eight or nine, I think. I know he said he was a widower, like, but he weren’t. There were two more of us, me sister and me brother, older’n me, an’ me dad used to knock ’em about summat awful, and me mam an’ all; but not me.’ He was looking Lily in the face now, as he spoke, instead of staring down at the floor. ‘Anyroad, like I say, she upped and left ’im and took the other two wi’ ’er, but she left me with me dad… An’ I suppose – well – I got more and more like ’im, didn’t I?’
Lily, in spite of herself, was starting to feel that this put a different complexion on things. The poor lad, she was almost beginning to think, what sort of a chance did he have after all?
‘I see…’ she said again. ‘And…did you see them again, your mother, and your sister and brother?’
‘No, never a word from that day to this. I don’t even know where they are. Me dad told me, years later, that they were divorced, and good riddance he said. He had a few women friends over t’ years, but never a proper lady like you are, Lily. Then he met you, an’ I thought he might change, but it didn’t last long, did it? An’ as for me, well, I was jealous, like, I suppose. He’d got two more little kids, an’ he were fond enough of ’em at first, weren’t he? Aye, Joanie and Jimmy… Where are they, by the way?’
‘They’re upstairs playing together,’ said Lily curtly. She still could not tell whether this new and different Percy was trying to ‘soft soap’ her, or had he really changed?
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 42
