by Diane Allen
‘Are we really going to live in the pub?’ Lizzie beamed. ‘And a whole room to myself? Can I help serve on?’ The questions came thick and fast and George’s imminent departure was forgotten as the move was discussed, and their imaginations ran wild redecorating and furnishing their soon-to-be home.
‘Best get yourself off to work, Lizzie, else Mr Ashwell will be docking your wages.’ Molly practically had to push the chattering Lizzie out of the door.
‘I won’t need Mr Ashwell before long, so it won’t matter!’ Lizzie yelled as her mother watched her running along the track.
‘Now, what are you going to do today, John Pratt?’ Molly put her arms around her man before she too set off to work.
‘First thing I’m going to do is make my way down to the vicarage and see the vicar, set us a date. The sooner the better – will that do for you?’
‘That’ll be grand, my love.’ Molly kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
‘After that, I’m going to pop my head in on the bonniest two women I know and indulge in a bit of serious flirting, while I’m still single.’ John grinned.
‘If I find you talking to anyone other than me, John Pratt, you can forget about getting married!’ Molly tossed her hair back as colour rose to her cheeks.
‘I meant you and Helen, you idiot. I’d hardly walk from seeing the vicar to another woman’s arms. Go on, get a move on, you’re going to be late now. There’ll be none of this when you’re in charge: it’ll be a twenty-four-hour job, I hope you know that?’ He patted her bottom and winked.
‘I do.’ Molly grinned and kissed him lightly on the cheek before closing the hut door and humming all the way to the Welcome.
‘You’ll have to come in early a morning or two, Moll.’ Helen, red-faced and sweating, was lifting loaves of bread out of the oven while her two youngest played around at her feet and her oldest teased the pet cat that was sitting on the back of a chair that had seen better days. ‘I’ll have to show you how to make bread and pastry. Once you’ve got the hang of that, you can’t go far wrong. Cake-making’s the extra earner, but without bread and pastry, job’s worth nowt.’ She wiped her sweaty brow. ‘Thomas – leave that cat alone, will you! Take Patsy and Henry into the other room. I can’t have them under my feet while I’m working.’
Young Thomas dutifully held the hands of his younger siblings and pulled them into the adjoining room without saying a word.
‘Aye, I’ve had a day and a half already. I’ve been up all night with young Henry, he’s cutting his back teeth, poor little bugger.’
Seeing how exhausted Helen was, Molly volunteered: ‘I’ll make us a brew, and then you can tell me what you want doing today and what you think I should know. John’s coming in later. He’s gone to see the vicar to book the church for our wedding. I still can’t believe how quickly everything’s happening.’
‘Believe me, you’ll be cursing me this time next year when you’re in my shoes – hardly any sleep, a baby round your feet and John sleeping it off ’cause he’s taken a liking to the ale!’ Helen watched as Molly took the kettle from off the hook above the fire and poured two mugs of tea.
‘It’ll still beat what I was doing this time last year: up to my armpits in soapy water, mucky laundry everywhere and hands that chapped with the cold and wet that I could hardly rub them together! If it means having a proper roof over my head and John and Lizzie by my side, I’ll gladly do whatever has to be done.’
Helen took a gulp of tea. ‘Right then, you can start by making a rabbit pie. There’s rabbits to skin and pastry to make. I’ll show you what to do and then you can get on with it. Doors open at ten and close when everyone’s gone home. We take no tick, and no one sleeps on the benches. You’ve to tell ’em how it is from day one, else they’ll all take advantage of you.’
Molly had always thought Helen was unsure of herself and easily dominated, but now she was beginning to see that her friend was an astute business woman and knew her trade well.
‘Any beer you want comes from Samuel Sedgwick on Lancaster docks – that’ll be John’s job. Henry used to go for it every Wednesday with his horse and cart, stop overnight and come back the following day. But since he’s buggered off, Sedgwick’s lad brings it over for me. I’ve to put him up for nowt, but he’s a grand lad so it’s no bother. Don’t go to the other brewery down there – they water the beer down and charge more, thieving buggers!’ Helen rattled on, issuing instruction after instruction until Molly’s head was spinning.
The rabbit’s innards had made Molly retch and Helen had tutted at her warm hands as she rubbed the lard into the flour before rolling the shortcrust pastry out and placing it on top of the steaming rabbit and potato filling. The huge enamel pie dish was now in the giant oven. Molly hoped that it would be well received by customers. The cooking side of things still filled her with dread and the ordeal with the rabbit carcase had only made her more conscious than ever that this was not her strong point.
Helen stood in the corner of the cold pantry going through all the contents of the stone shelves and telling her where to buy the butter and cheeses that were set out on the cool stone slabs.
‘Don’t forget to brush the salt off the bacon in a week or two and then hang it up to cure.’ Helen pointed at a big zinc bath filled with the two long flitches of bacon covered in salt. ‘There’s no need to cover them with a pillowcase like I have the hams, but watch for bluebottles later on in the year. They’re buggers for laying eggs in food.’
So that was what was in the pillowcases. Molly had been wondering ever since she spotted them hanging from massive iron hooks set into the ceiling. As she looked around her at the jars of pickles and jams Helen had made with loving care, she realized the size of the task she had taken on.
‘Anyone home?’
The shout from the bar had both women hurrying out of the pantry to greet John. He was red in the face with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Well, Molly Mason, we’ve got a date when we’re to be wed.’ He grabbed her waist. ‘Next Saturday, one o’clock. I told the vicar we were in a rush.’
‘You did what?’ Molly’s face looked like thunder.
‘I told him we were in a hurry. Well, we are, aren’t we? You want to get on with it, and Helen will want to be out of here.’ John was taken aback by Molly’s face and Helen’s fit of giggles.
‘John Pratt, have you no sense? He’ll think I’m . . . you know.’ His puzzled expression told her that he didn’t know, which made her even more exasperated. ‘He’ll think I’m having a baby, you silly bugger!’ She turned to Helen. ‘It’s no giggling matter, Helen Parker. I don’t want everybody to think I’m in the family way, ’cause I’m not!’
‘Oh, don’t you go bothering about that, Moll. You know it means nowt up here. And let’s face it, lass, you’re no angel!’ Helen squeezed her friend’s hand tightly. ‘Congratulations, pet. I’m invited, I hope?’
Molly muttered something under her breath, unheard by both John and Helen.
‘Now I know where Lizzie gets her sulks from,’ John whispered as Molly stalked off to check her pie. ‘Come on, Helen, show us out back and the stables. I’m thinking of doing them up. Happen I could rent them out, if it’s all right by you?’
Helen led him through the Welcome’s rooms and out to the back yard where the stables were.
‘By ’eck, what in blazes is that smell?’ John put his neckerchief to his nose.
‘That’s the privies. I’ve had no one to empty them since Henry run off, so they do smell a bit.’ Helen blushed.
‘A bit! Lass, it’s enough to knock a grown man down. I reckon that’s my first job. Is this where your horse is?’ He opened the stable door to reveal a fit enough horse, but its bedding was nearly a quarter way up the stable walls. ‘I can see I’ve some work to do here an’ all. You should have said long since that you were struggling. You know I’d have helped.’
John took his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up, lifting the bridle and harne
ss down from the stable wall and encouraging the brown mare out into the cobbled yard.
‘Leave me to it, I can manage this,’ he said. ‘You sort our Moll out.’
Having slipped the bridle over the horse’s head, he put her in harness and had her pull the small dirt cart out of the corner of the yard. Not the best job to start with, but the sooner it was done the better the place would smell. And then he’d take a dip in the beck, because by the time he’d finished, he’d certainly need one.
27
The sun shone down and the air was heavy with the scent of meadow grass and balmy herbs as Molly, Lizzie and her followers – an assortment of friends and patrons of the Welcome Inn, many of them already jolly with ale and singing at the tops of their voices – made their way down to the church in the glade. As they followed the trickling stream along the cart track, past the ancient dwellings of Chapel-le-Dale, Molly’s dress blew in the slight breeze. She hadn’t believed her eyes when Helen had pulled the beautiful cream dress out of a trunk and passed it to her, explaining that Henry had won it in a card game from somebody who was due to be married and it was of no use to her. Molly had tried it on and found that it fitted her perfectly. She’d stood in front of the mirror, gazing in awe at the layers of lace and ribbons, wondering what had become of the woman it was intended for. Had she worn it to get married in, or had her husband-to-be lost it on the eve of their wedding? In her hair was a sprig of wild mountain thyme, matching the pink flush in her cheeks. Lizzie’s bouquet was a bunch of bluebells. Their perfume filled the air, and the delicate flowers went beautifully with the cream of her dress.
When they got to the church, Molly stopped sharply outside the porch with Lizzie by her side.
‘Lizzie, I just want to say a word or two to your dad, to get his approval.’ She smiled at her daughter. ‘Stay here, love – I won’t be long. Oh, and give me a few of those bluebells, pet.’
Bluebells in hand, she lifted her skirts and walked through the long grass of the churchyard. When she reached the graves of her late husband and baby son, she bowed her head and stood in silence for a moment before tenderly dividing the bluebells and placing a bunch on each grave.
‘I love you, pet, I always will, but I need a man. Life’s too hard without one. You know me, headstrong and stupid.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. ‘And we won’t forget you, Tommy. I should have looked after you better, but I did what I could at the time.’ She sniffed hard and walked away, turning at the edge of the graveyard for a final look at the graves of her family, before retrieving her bouquet from a smiling Lizzie.
John’s head turned to watch his beautiful bride as the vicar stood and the organist played the wedding march. Helen smiled at him and her children giggled as they saw the bride come down the aisle.
Mike, who was best man, whispered into his brother’s ear: ‘This is a bit drastic for a bet, mate!’ He never could resist bringing up that conversation they’d had about Molly, back in the days when they used to dream about her hanging the laundry with her long red hair blowing in the wind.
John gave him a hard kick to shut him up and then Molly was standing at his side, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
The vicar, who had never forgotten the time he marched Lizzie home and found her mother drunk, was taken aback by the transformation. She might be a little older than most, but she was every inch the perfect bride. As the service progressed, he couldn’t stop himself glancing over the top of his prayer book to admire the happy couple. They blushed and smiled and fumbled with the wedding ring, and then embraced and exchanged a kiss when he pronounced them man and wife. As they left the church, he shook their hands and told them he would gladly perform a christening whenever they were ready.
This brought a glint to Molly’s eye, and he hastily retracted his words, stammering that of course they wouldn’t be needing him for a while yet.
The horse and cart trotted its way to the Welcome, with the wedding party waving at passers-by. The breeze blowing in their hair and the noise of laughter drowned out the cry of the nesting curlews and peewits.
John lifted Molly down from the wagon, grabbing her around her waist and kissing her hard on the lips. Lizzie giggled along with Helen’s children at the newly-weds’ behaviour.
‘Go on then, you big lump! Pick her up and carry her over the threshold, because from tomorrow this is your new home. I’m off in the morning and it’ll be all yours, but tonight Lizzie can stop on after the celebrations while you two have the hut to yourselves.’ Helen put her arm around Lizzie and held her close for a second or two.
Everyone cheered as John picked up his bride, pretending to struggle to carry her over the threshold while she screamed and giggled, feeling like a sixteen-year-old again.
They entered the pub, which, to Molly’s amazement, had been transformed. There were fresh meadow flowers everywhere and enough food had been laid out to feed an army. She turned with tears in her eyes to thank Helen, who was tearful too.
‘Well, I had to have a leaving do,’ she sniffed.
Molly kissed her closest friend on the cheek and whispered her thanks and ‘I’ll miss you.’ Before she had time to say more, John appeared and pulled her away as a fiddler started to play. Soon everyone was dancing and laughing, drinking toasts and enjoying the food Helen had laid on. The only ones missing were Gladys and the doctor, who had been conspicuous by their absence. John wasn’t surprised Roger Thistlethwaite had stayed away: he knew what Molly had meant to him.
The day turned into night and the night turned into early morning. Lizzie curled up in bed with Helen’s two youngest and listened as the last revellers set off to walk her mother and John to the hut for their first night as man and wife. This time tomorrow, the inn would be her home and she would be in her own room in her own bed. As her eyelids began to droop and her head settled back on the pillow, she replayed the day’s events in her mind. It was a day she vowed she would never forget.
The wedding revellers sang and teased the married couple all the way to their hut. There was raucous laughter as John failed in his attempt to lift his wife over the threshold a second time, and the couple collapsed in a giggling heap before closing the door on the world. As soon as they were alone, he pinned her to the wall and kissed and caressed every inch of her body before pulling her to the bed they had shared in previous nights.
‘Lizzie said the rats were playing dominoes last night, it’s a good job she’s not here tonight! Tonight I’ve got nothing in my hand to play except you.’ He kissed her over and over again and Molly responded. It had been a long time since she had been loved properly by a true loving man and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
28
‘Well, that’s it, I’m off. Everything’s loaded: bairns’ clothes, the dog, all our bits and bobs . . . all the rest is yours – and you’re welcome to it, the state that pub’s in this morning. I’d close until later on today, if I were you. You’ll not get much custom anyway, not after yesterday!’ Helen grinned at the hungover couple. They’d survive; a good drink of sweet tea and a bite to eat and they’d soon feel better. She did feel guilty at leaving such a mess behind, but when you ran a pub it was a case of in at the deep end or not at all.
Molly, feeling a bit delicate, filled up with tears as her friend held her arms out for a final hug. ‘You take care,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you and I’ll try not to let you down. The Welcome’s in good hands – providing I can manage the cooking.’
‘You’ll manage. Nothing’s ever beaten you yet, and you’ve a good man and Lizzie to help.’ Helen smiled. ‘And you, John Pratt, mind you behave yourself and look after this woman, else you’ll have me to answer to.’ She kissed John on the cheek. ‘And I’ve not forgotten you, Miss Lizzie. Here, I’ve got you something.’
Lizzie grinned and came forward.
‘Give us your hand then.’ Helen pulled out two florins from her purse. ‘That’s for looking after my brood.
You’ve kept your eye on them a lot lately.’
Lizzie’s eyes glistened. It would have taken her a whole month to make that at the offices of the Midland. ‘Thank you, I don’t deserve this much.’
‘Course you do, lass. Never say no to brass.’ Helen pulled her skirts up and hoisted herself up into the seat next to her brother. ‘Behave yourselves now. I’ll want my rent in two months’ time, so I’ll see you then.’ The cart jolted and the children cheered and then they were off. It was an uphill journey to Swaledale, so it would take them a while to get home.
Molly and John looked at one another and then stepped into the main room of the Welcome. It might be theirs now, but at this moment in time all they really wanted was bed and a few hours’ sleep.
‘You made a good mess of this spot last night,’ said Lizzie, surveying the shambles left by the wedding guests. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and then I’ll start on the bedrooms. I’ll leave it to you old married people to tidy up down here.’ She smiled to herself as she went out to the pump and filled the kettle. She was going to have first choice of the bedrooms while she had the chance.
‘What time did we get to bed, Moll?’ John sat with his head in his hands.
‘It was breaking light.’ Molly took a long sip of the hot sweet tea that Lizzie had brought her. She could hear Lizzie moving furniture about above her head. At least upstairs was getting straight. ‘Do you want to tell Ashwell that there’s two huts up for rent now and that Lizzie won’t be in for a day or two, just until we get straight.’ Molly stood up and pulled her hair back. ‘If you can take care of that, and empty our old homes, I’ll tidy up here.’ She started picking up the empty tankards from the tables and straightening chairs.
‘I’m sorry, lass. It’s not the easiest start to married life, but it’ll get better. I’ll take the horse and cart, and start bringing stuff over from the old huts as soon as I’ve seen Ashwell.’ He ran his hand down the length of her back and kissed her.
