Maggie's Girl

by Sally Wragg

  He was right in one respect, though. She and her mother should have sorted things out long since. There wasn’t the same openness between them.

  ‘It’s time to let go,’ he prompted gently. ‘What is it with you two?’ He was looking at her like that again, and she glanced away, wishing he wouldn’t. She’d thought the time away in France would have given her a chance to sort her feelings out, yet here she was a year later, as confused as ever.

  An image of Hughie drifted before her eyes. She sipped her drink and tried to dispel it. Hughie had been a once-in-a-lifetime love – she shouldn’t expect it again with anyone else.

  ‘Maggie, I worry about you sometimes …’ She saw his face crease with concern.

  ‘Don’t, Tony, please.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he asked softly. ‘I love you, and of course I worry.’

  It wasn’t the first time love had been mentioned between them. Usually she managed to avoid getting too deep, but this time he had a glint in his eye.

  ‘Maggie, I need to talk to you.’ He beckoned to one of the men nearby to take his place behind the bar, and led her towards the door to the office. Already her heart was sinking.

  ‘What is it, Tony?’ Maggie was tired, afraid she couldn’t cope with much more.

  She let him take her hand, trying to muster her patience for whatever might be coming next.

  ‘This isn’t the place I envisaged asking you, once I’d finally plucked up courage.’

  Maggie’s heart began to thump. Too late to duck out of this now, and she’d known it must be inevitable.

  He took a deep breath and blurted it out. She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t close her ears.

  ‘Maggie, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?’

  Chapter Seven

  How odd it felt to Maggie to be walking in Castle Maine meadows early next morning, a bright sun already climbing the sky, the fields full of buttercups – a carpet of gold!

  She’d agreed to meet Tony first thing to give him her answer. How pale he was – on edge. She’d been chattering on, anything to avoid the subject, but at last she’d run out of things to say. The silence between them was growing painful.

  ‘My papers have come,’ Tony said at last. ‘I caught the post as I came out.’

  ‘Well?’ she demanded when nothing else was forthcoming. ‘Oh, Tony, for goodness’ sake! Are you going to tell me or not?’

  He stopped.

  ‘I’m to be Bevinned.’

  ‘Down the pit? Oh, Tony!’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly what I’d imagined, either. I shall hardly cut a dashing figure.’

  ‘But the miners do a wonderful job!’ She was desperate to reassure him. ‘And at least you’ll be safe. We couldn’t fight the war without coal. Will it be our Billy’s pit, do you know?’

  ‘Don’t know yet.’ He kicked a loose stone from the tow-path into the river, and water splashed up. A sparrow hawk hovered high in the sky, waiting to swoop, and he looked up at it, frowning.

  ‘I feel relieved, if you must know. I have to do something. You may think I don’t care just because I’ve never rushed to volunteer.’

  ‘Tony, that’s unfair!’

  ‘I’m doing my bit running the club,’ he burst out. ‘I shall have to get someone in to run things. I can’t do both.’

  ‘You’ll sort something out.’ She had every faith in Tony.

  She dawdled near the river, gazing down into the muddy water. Upstream, constrained by the weir, these slow, still waters would be angry and full of surging life, thanks to her grandfather’s factory.

  Glancing up, she saw in Tony’s eyes the desperation he was trying to hide. Her heart went out to him. He deserved better than someone incapable of coming to a decision.

  ‘I wish I could say yes.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’ He pulled a stalk of grass from the verge and twisted it between his fingers. ‘How long must you keep me waiting? You’ve been dithering since France.’

  Tony had never wavered, whereas she – she didn’t even know how to say it without hurting him.

  They’d never talked enough … not as she had with Hughie. Talking to Hughie had been like holding a conversation with herself. She’d told Hughie everything.

  ‘Hughie and I—’ she stumbled, feeling his name on her lips, longing suddenly, desperately to have him back. It was the meadows. Why had she arranged to meet here, of all places?

  ‘Maggie, please get it out of your head that I’m trying to replace Hughie! I know how much he meant to you …’ He took her by the shoulders, and would have drawn her close if she’d let him.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, sounding exasperated.

  ‘I know,’ she answered dully.

  ‘Oh, Tony—’ She stopped, dried up, struggled for words. ‘I do love you. I’m just not sure if I love you enough.’

  ‘But we could work at it!’ he said eagerly. ‘Why throw away all the good we have? I want to try and be a father to the children, Maggie! We could be a proper family.’

  ‘I can’t force my feelings,’ she answered quietly, and Tony let go of her hands.

  ‘You’re turning me down?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing. I will give you an answer soon, I promise.’

  ‘I can’t cope with this any longer, Maggie. I don’t know any man who could! I can’t eat … sleep … Have you any idea what you’re doing to me?’

  ‘I’ll tell you tonight,’ she said firmly. ‘I promise. I’ll get Mam to sit in, and call at the club later.’

  Holly walked slowly up her grandmother’s path. Usually she burst in full of some tale or other to entertain them with, school, her mam, what their Harry was up to, but today she was desperate to talk to Billy – alone.

  With a little luck Gran would already be at work, Granddad preoccupied with his garden, and she’d be able to catch her uncle before he left for his shift.

  Inside, following the smell of breakfast through into the kitchen, she found Billy alone, filling his flask with tea. Something in the way his face set told her he wasn’t pleased to see her.

  ‘I thought you might turn up.’

  ‘What else did you expect? What’s my granddad going to say when he knows you’ve joined the Peace Pledge Union? I bet you’ve never told him.’

  With great deliberation, Billy screwed the top on his flask and leaned back against the sink, folding his arms.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ he said firmly.

  ‘It is!’ She faltered. Why was he behaving like this? ‘Don’t you want to join up?’

  ‘Why should I? I’m down the pit, ain’t I?’

  ‘I’ll join up myself once I’m old enough. It’s right what Granddad says, sometimes you have to fight, though you don’t want to.’

  He was watching her warily, trying to take her measure, she supposed.

  ‘There’s no earthly need for this war, in my opinion. There’s plenty of other measures we could have taken.’

  ‘Like what?’ This wasn’t Billy talking. Who had put these ideas in his head?

  ‘There’s negotiation, for one!’ It sounded like a well-rehearsed argument. ‘Too many people wanted this war!’

  ‘No one wants war.’ She shook her head. ‘If Granddad could hear you now—’

  ‘Holly, drop it! You’re not old enough to understand, and why should I have to explain? I’m entitled to my own opinion!’

  She came further into the room and dropped her satchel on the table.

  ‘I don’t know you any more.’ She wanted the old Billy back, the one she could have a joke with, who took her to the football and helped her with her homework.

  At that moment, her grandfather opened the back door from the gennel and came into the kitchen. He looked from one strained face to the other.

  ‘Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, Granddad.’ Holly developed a sudden interest in her shoes, scuffing one against the oth
er, feeling Billy watching the two of them stonily.

  ‘Isn’t it time you were at school?’ Peter suggested, going over to the sink to fill his watering can. ‘Your gran’s already gone, if it’s her you’re looking for, love.’

  ‘I’ll catch her later.’

  Peter turned, and for the first time in her life Holly couldn’t look her granddad in the face. And it was Billy’s fault!

  ‘I’ll tell her you’ve been, then, shall I?’ Peter went out again, frowning.

  ‘You’ll have to tell him,’ she said as the back door closed, but Billy busied himself with the rest of his snap – bread, a twist of sugar wrapped in paper.

  ‘Do you think I don’t want to? You’ve only to mention the PPU and it’s a red rag. He’d never understand.’

  ‘You won’t know if you don’t try.’ She ran her finger along the table edge, wishing she could think how to persuade him otherwise. How could she bear to know and never say a word? It wasn’t right.

  ‘Is that why you’ve stayed down the pit? Because you don’t want to join up?’

  ‘I’m not a coward, if that’s what you mean!’ A fierce light burned in his eyes, and relief surged through her. She’d known he wasn’t a coward.

  ‘Then why?’ she implored.

  He fastened the straps on his bag.

  ‘Being stuck in the dark all day, that’s why. Not that I expect you to understand, but it makes a man think.’ He gave a short, dry laugh, without any humour in it at all. She saw only the pain in his eyes.

  How awkward it all was, and complicated – not at all as she’d imagined. Her heart went out to her uncle.

  ‘It’s made me realise how precious life is.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I can’t help how I think, Holly. Please try and understand me! I care about everything up here in the sunshine. I could no more take another man’s life than – well, than my own.’

  ‘Billy, I do understand.’

  ‘Do you?’ he asked roughly.

  She didn’t know. She wanted to comfort him – she wanted to shake him!

  ‘I’d best go,’ she said. ‘Or I’ll be late.’ She went out and left him to it, more confused than ever.

  ‘What’s the matter, Maggie?’ Andrew Hardaker followed her into the sluice room. How distracted she looked – her cap askew, hair untidy. Sister Aspen had kept up a constant barrage of criticism that day.

  ‘I don’t like my nurses looking harassed and under pressure, even if they are,’ she’d said.

  Maggie tipped a tray of bandages into the waste, giving herself time to think. She told Andrew most things, but could she tell him this?

  ‘I’m all right.’ She washed her hands at the sink and reached up to straighten her cap.

  This was Andrew, though. He knew her too well to be fobbed off with less than the truth.

  ‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘I felt so much better, too, after our talk yesterday.’

  That decided her.

  ‘Tony’s asked me to marry him,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to give him my answer tonight – if I ever make my mind up!’

  ‘No wonder you look worried.’

  Andrew’s eyes were full of an instant sympathy, and something else, too. Was he displeased?

  He probably thought her an idiot needing time at all. Suitors were hardly falling at her feet, a widow with two children.

  ‘It’s that obvious, is it?’ She tried to smile but some of her tension began to dissolve. Andrew was an exceptionally good listener.

  ‘Don’t rush things,’ he advised. ‘Make him wait if you’re not sure.’

  ‘I’m not sure, Andrew, and that’s about the top and bottom of it. Though I do like him a lot.’ She was suddenly weary of the whole subject.

  ‘Is like enough? Things aren’t always easy, or exactly black or white. It’s a big decision, Maggie.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’ She noticed the little frown of worry creasing his warm, good-natured face. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems of late, she’d scarce paid attention to anyone else.

  ‘Are you OK, Andrew?’

  He shrugged, smiling as if she’d found him out.

  ‘I have a decision to make as well,’ he confessed. ‘I’m thinking of joining up – if I can find someone to take the practice over. It’s been on my mind for some time.’

  ‘Oh, Andrew, I wish you’d told me! Though – I’m not surprised. I wondered if you might.’ She was upset, though. She enjoyed working with Andrew, and she’d miss him.

  Doctors like Andrew were few and far between, war or no war.

  ‘I suppose you must do what your conscience dictates, but – Sister Aspen?’

  ‘Sister won’t be happy,’ he agreed, managing a chuckle.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes!’

  ‘I’ve got some thinking to do.’ He looked down into her face, his heart contracting to see the weariness in her eyes, the dark smudges beneath that he wanted to reach out and smooth away.

  He stepped back instead, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

  ‘We’ve both got things on our minds, Maggie. You won’t do anything until you’re sure, will you?’

  Maggie shook her head. The problem was, Tony wouldn’t wait for ever. She was running out of time.

  ‘See what they’ve done now, Adèle! Mother’s figurine’s broken!’ There was outrage, disbelief and a world of regret in Silas Bradshaw’s voice.

  Adèle, who had just come into the drawing-room, found her husband on his knees picking up the pieces of a shepherdess whose usual station in life had been on the mantelpiece. By his side lay a leather football, and the French windows were open wide.

  ‘Oh, Silas,’ she chided gently, sorry to see him so upset. ‘I did warn you to move things.’

  ‘And I warned you what would happen if we allowed a horde of savages into the house!’ He was furious she’d been proved right.

  Adèle took the pieces from him and laid them carefully on the table.

  ‘They’re boys, Silas, that’s all. Boys sent far away from home because of the war, looking for a little fun.’

  Something in his face stopped her. Silas had been inordinately fond of his mother, and inordinately fond of this piece of china, too.

  ‘I’ll see if Stokes can do anything,’ she consoled.

  At that moment, a small boy appeared at the window, hopping from one foot to the other. Silas stooped down and scooped up the ball.

  ‘Yours?’ he demanded gruffly, proffering the offending article with the icy calm that used to quell an unruly boardroom.

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’ The boy came in, blushing fiercely. ‘Mr Perkins sent me to apologise, sir, and—’

  He looked across at the table, and spotted the broken ornament.

  ‘Anything else?’ Silas followed his gaze, and felt his loss anew.

  ‘No, sir. That is—’ He looked at Silas beseechingly. ‘Oh, can I have the ball back, sir? We’re having such a topping game! We’re only a goal behind, and Mr Perkins has gone in goal and – I never meant to break anything, sir!’ He stopped and hung his head.

  ‘I am sorry.’

  Adèle knew what the upshot would be, but watched her dear husband’s struggle with sympathy.

  His pain at losing a cherished reminder of his mother and his natural irritability came up against the innate kindliness, a child of his middle age, which flourished despite his best endeavours to stifle it. Knowing of its existence would have shocked his colleagues, factory employees and household alike.

  ‘Oh, take the thing!’

  Adèle bent her head to hide a smile as, hardly daring to believe his luck, the boy took the ball from Silas’s outstretched hand and ran back outside.

  ‘That was kind of you, dear.’ Adèle managed to straighten her face before she spoke.

  ‘Kindness be blowed! What did you expect? I should hang and quarter the boy? The damage is done. I told you there’d be trouble.’

  ‘So you did,’ she ag
reed amiably, ‘And how nice to be proved right.’

  ‘I never wanted the house overrun with boys!’

  ‘I know you didn’t, darling. But we didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘There’s a war on,’ they said together, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

  What would he say if he knew she’d seen right through him! She reached up to straighten his cravat.

  ‘I wish people could see you now,’ she murmured.

  ‘Meaning, exactly?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Meaning – I wish people could see you now!’ She smiled. ‘I’ll go and see what they’re up to out there.’

  She reached up and kissed his cheek, then went out. He heard her laughing. What a strange mood she was in this morning!

  ‘Dashed if I’ll ever understand women,’ he murmured.

  He rocked back on his heels, listening intently to the resumed noise of the robust game being played outside.

  That lad reminded him of Harry, his great-grandson. Maggie’s lad.

  John Bertram wasn’t interested in Bradshaw’s. Who else had he, other than this secret side of the Bradshaw family tree – little as they knew about it?

  Harry and Holly – and Maggie, of course.

  Silas chewed his lower lip.

  But Adèle knew nothing about it, so there was no more he could do. Yet.

  Straightening his shoulders, and settling his features back into their usual grimness, he cast a last sorrowful look at the shepherdess and followed his wife.

  *

  ‘It seems an age since I’ve seen John,’ Mary Bertram complained. ‘It feels as if I’m hardly married sometimes. No wonder I get lonely!’

  She wondered for the umpteenth time that evening why Laurence Templeton was so quiet.

  ‘John’s a good man, Laurence. I wish you knew him – you’d like him, I think. He’s loyal and honest – a decent man. He deserves better than me.’

  For Mary, it was a rare moment of truth. She was under no illusions. Perhaps she couldn’t love another person better than she loved herself, for if she could, she should certainly love John.

  They were walking home from Tony’s Place together, early for once. Laurence had to be back at the RAF station once he’d seen her home.