Jacqueline studied the perfection of the fragile wings, memorising every colourful detail for future reference. She would paint a butterfly picture tonight when she got home. She unscrewed the pierced lid, walked up to the top of the yard where the banking began and released the trembling butterfly. It fluttered uncertainly, then made its escape to rest amongst the moonpennies and clover. She heard the boy from the end house utter a swear word worse than any Grandad Holmes had ever used, but she didn’t care so long as the butterfly was free. Besides, just because he swore it didn’t mean she didn’t like him. He had liked her grandad enough to go and look at him when he was dead, and any friend of Grandad Holmes could be her friend too.
She ran down the yard and joined the queue for hopscotch.
‘You can have my best piece of slate if you like,’ she said to her new friend.
‘Wow, thanks, Jacqui,’ he said, and threw the heavy grey slate across to where it landed with a slight slither in number eight square. He grinned at the slightly built girl with the large brown eyes and the lovely smile. ‘I like yer ’air,’ he said.
She blushed to the roots of it, and a close implausible friendship was sealed; between the scruffy ragamuffin Freddie Cartwright, the youngest of a family of ten, and the immaculately dressed Jacqueline.
Freddie grinned, wiped his nose on the bit of sleeve which was still minus a hole, and set off with a hop from one square to the next, intent on showing off to his new friend.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pepper nuzzled his nose into Jacqueline’s hair as she brushed his mane perched on an old chair bottom which she had found in the shed. She was tempted to mount the docile old horse and trot along the lane, but Grandma Roberts had forbidden her to ride without a companion and she must wait for Douglas Downing. Douglas had taken over from his brother Cyril who had recently started work in the steel works in Millington. She was sorry for Cyril, who like his father was more suited to farmwork, but he had decided a steel worker’s pay was more adequate to his needs. No one except Jacqueline knew his ambition was to own a farm of his own one day, and he had confided not so much in the girl as in the horse, whom he conversed with as if it was human.
‘One day I’ll be grooming a horse or two of my own, just like you, owd boy,’ he had said. ‘And on me own farm and all.’ Then he had become all serious and sad. ‘But until that day comes I’ll ’ave to put up with it over yonder in’t sweatshop.’
Jacqueline had missed Cyril a lot until Douglas had begun to help at Moorland House. He seemed to be there every weekend and after school each day and had proved to be every bit as industrious as his brothers before him. Now being hay-making time and the school holidays he was working all day alongside his father, and Jacqueline would just have to be patient until he arrived. She wished he would hurry; she really liked Doug. She decided to climb the rocks above the house and walk even higher on the moor. The heather was purple and sweet and she trod the bracken into a path. As she walked she searched for insects, large lazy moths and scarlet ladybirds. She could hear the grouse calling, and worried when shots on the distant hill could be heard. She knew that each gunshot probably meant the death of another bird. Some of the boys from the village would be working as beaters, disturbing the bracken to send the birds fleeing into the air and almost certain death. Jacqueline knew none of the Downings would entertain such sport and that Douglas would be up here as soon as he could. She picked a handful of bilberries, large, juicy and almost black. She wondered if Grandma Roberts would use them to make a crumble for tea, but by the time she had slid down to the house again most of them had either been eaten or squashed into a purple pulp, so she finished off the rest of them and wiped her hands on the grass. She went in through the back, into the glass lean-to where the pungent heady scent of chrysanthemums tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze. Grandma Roberts was humming to herself and Jacqueline wondered if she would allow her to play the piano. ‘Can I practise my lessons, Grandma?’ she asked.
‘Of course, love.’ Gladys came from the kitchen, bringing her mending with her. ‘When you’ve washed your hands.’ Jacqueline did so, then followed Gladys into the lounge and sat on the velvet-topped piano stool. Gladys placed the music book on the rest, and Jacqueline opened it to the page on which the music started.
Gladys had led her through the first exercises and Jacqueline had already mastered the simplest pieces. She began the first one, saying to herself as she played, ‘Thumb two two thumb two two, one four four one two one,’ and so on until she finished the tune.
Gladys clapped and said, ‘Bravo,’ and the little girl flushed with pleasure. She began the second piece, and faltered as a breeze wafted in through the open window, mingling and enhancing the fragrance of flowers and Mansion polish.
‘Now now,’ said Gladys. ‘You’re losing your concentration.’
‘I couldn’t help it. I was just wondering.’
‘Wondering about what?’ Gladys knew that Jacqueline’s active mind was always wondering about one thing or another.
‘Well, Una says that in Heaven there are many mansions. I was wondering if they all have to be cleaned with Mansion polish.’
Gladys stifled a smile. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised,’ she said.
Jacqueline sighed contentedly, and thought that if Heaven was half as peaceful as Moorland House, Grandad Holmes must be a very happy man. In fact she wished she could live here for ever.
The school seemed eerie and unfamiliar without the bustle of normal everyday activities, and Jacqueline’s leather soles seemed to echo on the long marble corridor. She stopped at a door marked Examination Room and went in. The desks, which were normally placed together in rows, had been set apart so that a large space separated each from the next. Some early arrivals were already seated, most wearing expressions of extreme anxiety, others simply waiting for the day to end, knowing that even if they were lucky enough to pass it was unlikely their parents would be able to afford new uniforms and other grammar school essentials.
Jacqueline found a vacant place near the window, where she could look out at the tree tops and the clouds which were gathering, low and dark as though a storm was brewing. She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. Not that she had any qualms about passing the County Minor. She had found the attainment tests easy, and had no doubt she would end up at grammar school rather than moving up to the senior section. The only thing worrying her was that Pam might not pass, and it was inconceivable that she and her best friend should be parted.
The papers were placed face downwards on the desks and the signal was given to begin. Remembering Grandad Roberts’s advice she glanced through the papers from beginning to end, so that any problem she was unsure of could be left until last. Satisfied that she was capable of completing the lot she began at the beginning, finishing with time to spare. Jacqueline looked across to where Pam was crouched over the paper, her arm circling her work, her face set in concentration. If she didn’t pass it would be the English paper which let her down, and Jacqueline willed her to complete the paper successfully. She was growing restless waiting for the finishing time and began composing a poem about the scene outside. She could hear a blackbird’s song echoing, as though rain was on its way, which gave her inspiration. The problem was that after a few lines she had forgotten the beginning. If only she could jot it down.
‘Time’s up.’ The man’s voice startled her, and the shuffling of papers began. ‘Now you may go home,’ he said, after carefully collecting the exam papers, and the candidates hurried thankfully out into the corridor.
It wasn’t until they had descended the stairs and reached the playground that Jacqueline asked Pam, ‘Well, how did it go?’
Pam rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t ask,’ she groaned.
‘Oh, come on, it wasn’t all that bad, was it?’
‘I don’t suppose so, except for the second part of the English paper.’
‘Ah, the part about adverbs. I was uncertain about that at first.’
‘Really? Well, there isn’t much hope for me then, is there?’
‘What answers did you give?’ Jacqueline asked.
‘I can’t even remember the question now.’
‘We had to name three adverbs of time.’
‘Oh, yes. Now, Then and Yesterday, and I’m sure they’re wrong.’
‘Well, if your answers are wrong mine must be too.’
Pam cheered up. ‘Why, what did you put down?’
‘Soon, Then and Tomorrow.’
‘Do you think we were right, then?’
‘We’ll just have to wait and see, but I think so.’
‘Well that’s a relief.’
The friends linked arms and skipped down the school drive.
‘Shall we go to the flicks tonight?’ Pam asked.
‘I’m not sure I can. My mam is measuring Una and me for our bridesmaid dresses.’
‘Not another wedding. You’ve already been bridesmaids once, lucky things.’
‘Our Una’s been one twice already, and you know what they say, three times a bridesmaid, never a bride. Though I can’t see her being left an old maid somehow.’
‘Me neither. She’s certainly a beauty, your cousin.’
‘She’s thinking of entering the Miss Millington competition, though my mam seems to think she’s heading for trouble, and she might be right. I saw her down by the air-raid shelter the other night whilst I was walking Tittle Harry, and she was with a man. He looked ever so old, twenty at least, and you’ll never guess what he was doing.’
Pam was all ears. ‘What?’
Jacqueline whispered confidentially, ‘He had his hand inside her brassiere.’
Pam gasped. ‘What happened then?’
‘Why, she buttoned up her blouse immediately she saw me, of course.’
Pam giggled. ‘What did you do?’
‘Pretended I hadn’t noticed, but it made me feel all hot, like ... well, like when I see Gregory Peck on the pictures.’
‘I know what you mean. The new teacher has the same effect on me. Though I would never let anyone touch me,’ she hastened to add, ‘not even him.’ She climbed on to the low wall and balanced her way along its narrow surface, jumping the gates as she came to them. ‘Anyway, who’s getting married this time?’
‘Auntie Margaret. She’s only known him a few weeks but he’s lovely, almost as lovely as Gregory Peck. My mam says she’s never seen her so happy. It’s a case of love at first sight, she says. Oh, and you’re being invited, she’s promised.’
‘Really?’ Pam jumped down. ‘I’ve never been to a wedding.’
‘Never?’ Jacqueline was shocked. ‘If I’d known you could have come to Uncle Harry’s. Oh, that was a lovely wedding. Auntie Sally looked absolutely beautiful. She’s having a baby, though I’m not supposed to know, only Una told me.’
‘She’ll be having a baby herself if she keeps letting men put their hands inside her brassiere,’ Pam said knowingly.
The two friends paused when they reached the top of Pam’s street and Pam said, ‘It seems strange being home from school so early.’
‘Yes. We should have an exam every day,’ Jacqueline replied.
‘Oh, give over. It’s OK for you being the brainy one but I haven’t slept properly for ages.’
‘I’m sure you’ve passed. Anyway, if you haven’t I’m not going either.’
‘Oh yes you are. You know how determined you are to be a teacher. Grammar school is the only way you’ll make it.’
‘No it isn’t. We can both sit for the tech next year.’
‘Hmm, and what if I fail that too? No, you must go, you know you’ve set your heart on it. Besides, your mother’ll have a fit if you don’t.’
‘Well then, we’ll just pray we’ve both passed.’
‘Let’s go to the flicks. Can’t your mum measure you now? After all, we are home earlier than usual. I’ll bet if Gregory Peck was on you’d make the effort.’
Jacqueline giggled. ‘Well, I’ll try. If I can I’ll call for you at five. I quite like Dana Andrews too.’
Pam grinned. ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed then.’
‘Ta-ra then. I hope to see you later,’ Jacqueline called as the friends went their separate ways, one dreaming of having been lucky enough to scrape through the County Minor, the other to ponder on the attractions of Dana Andrews in comparison to those of Gregory Peck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In September Jacqueline and Pam began the new term at the grammar school several miles away. Pam’s parents had gratefully accepted the offer from Mary Holmes to run up school blouses and gym tunics free of charge, an enormous saving to a family whose income was small in comparison to a miner’s.
Grandma Roberts had treated the friends to new leather satchels as rewards for passing, and given Jacqueline a lecture on the theme of the harder she worked now, the easier she would find the road to university. But that seemed too far in the future to be important now. Nevertheless, the girl was naturally conscientious and seemed determined to do her best.
For Pam it was a different matter and she was to find the going much more difficult. Without her friend’s help and encouragement she would no doubt have been left trailing behind.
It was soon after this that Bill Bacon heard the rumours about Una. He had worried for some time about the change in his daughter. The amiable outgoing girl had suddenly become sullen and secretive. She had also taken to wearing scarlet lipstick and rouge, which according to Marjory made her look like a tart.
It was the landlord at the Rising Sun who had put Bill in the picture. ‘You ought to do summat about yon lass of yours, Bill lad,’ he said, as Bill had his tankard refilled during a darts match.
‘Our Una? Why, I didn’t know you knew her,’ Bill said, surprised.
‘I don’t, but there isn’t much that goes on as I don’t hear about over the bar.’
‘You mean they’ve been talking about my lass in here?’
‘I’m sorry to say they have, and it isn’t nice what they’ve been saying, especially a well brought up young lass like yours.’
‘Well, what are they saying? Out with it, man.’
‘Well, it’s a bit embarrassing like, seeing as she’s only sixteen, and ’im a married man.’
‘What?’ Bill made a grab at the man’s shirt front.
‘Ere, ’old on, lad, it’s nought to do with me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Bill let the man go. ‘Just tell me what you’ve heard, that’s all. Just tell me his name.’
‘Con Shaunessy, I think that’s the name he’s known as. Lodging down in’t prefabs by what I’ve heard.’
Bill downed his drink in one go, slammed a handful of change on the bar and left. He could hear the landlord calling, ‘Now don’t go mentioning my name, I’ve me business to consider.’ But he was on his way. He knew quite a few folks from the prefabs. They were mostly young married couples on the list for a council house, and eager to escape from in-laws. The prefabs were not the ideal accommodation but at least they meant privacy and were a step towards something better.
He guessed the lodger would be with one of the older occupants so that whittled down the search. The stench of stewing cabbage greeted him as he made his way down the rough track which served as a road. He knew Big Bessie lived at the far end, and she was the most likely to take in lodgers.
Big Bessie was built like a house side, as broad as she was long, but Bill always wondered if it was because of her size that she had been so named or because of her big-heartedness. After he knocked, the doorway was suddenly filled with an outsized wraparound pinafore housing a gigantic bosom, and Big Bessie let out a squeal of delight at the sight of Bill. Then she drew him into arms which would have been the pride of any male wrestler and cushioned him to her breast. ‘Why, if it isn’t me owd love Bill Bacon.’ She gave him a wet slobbery kiss and pulled him inside. ‘Don’t stand on the doorstep like a stone statue. Bring yerself in, lad,’ she said.
‘I’d better before you either swallow me or smother me.’ Bill laughed, forgetting for the moment the reason he was here.
‘Well this is a surprise. Why, lad, I don’t think I’ve seen you since the day yer owd mother was buried, God rest her soul. Eeh but we had some good owd chinwags, yer mother an’ me. Fifty years we lived next door and never ’ad a wrong word, not that we alius saw eye to eye, and we ’ad some right grand argumentations at times. Eeh, but we alius enjoyed ’em, and we was alius there when we was needed. Did she ever tell yer?’
Bill knew that once Bessie got going about the old days she would carry on for hours, and he decided to interrupt. ‘Bessie love, I’d love to stay and listen but I’m in a bit of a hurry and it’s getting late.’
‘Well then, lad, if you ’aven’t come for a bit of a chinwag an’ a pot of tea, what ’ave yer come for?’
‘I came to ask, have you a lodger here by the name of Shaunessy?’
‘Two of ’em. Depends if you want Cornelius or Patrick?’
‘Oh.’ Bill was taken aback. ‘Well, I guess it’ll be Cornelius if he’s known as Con.’
‘That’s ’im, the youngest: good-looking feller. Now if I was only forty years younger ... Mind you, I think ’e’s kissed the Blarney stone, talk about gift of the gab. I’ll bet ’is wife was glad of a bit of peace when ’e left.’
Bill could feel his temper rising. ‘Is he a married man then?’
‘Oh aye, an’ according to Paddy ’e’s a couple of kids an’ all, though it doesn’t stop ’im sowing a few wild oats over ’ere by all accounts. I could ’ear ’em last weekend, ’aving a right argumentation they were. Yer see, Paddy doesn’t agree wi’ all the carryings-on.’
‘Where is he, Bessie, do you know?’
‘At work, lad. On’y comes ’ome on a Friday, goes back on a Monday morning. Works on a new road somewhere or other. Now, did yer mother ever tell yer about when our owd men went to build the reservoir? They—’
Christmas Past Page 19
