by Nancy Carson
‘Oh, I don’t mind that, Henzey. The hardship is Richard’s unfortunately, not mine. I’d love to meet your family. I think I should anyway. I’ve been looking forward to it. And your folks can make up their minds about me. I expect your mother wants to see the sort of man her best daughter’s starting to associate with.’
‘Well, what with this trouble with Alice and everything, she’s concerned about our well-being and our morality – or lack of it.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m not certain which way she sees it now. She’s always worried about us girls. It’d set her mind at rest to know I’m in good hands.’
He laughed. ‘Is that how you see yourself, then? In good hands?’
‘I trust you, Will. I don’t think you’d hurt me like that rat I used to go with.’
Chapter 14
1931 hosted deepening gloom. The number of people unemployed in Britain stood at more than two and a half million and the world seemed to be going mad again. In Germany, mobs supporting the increasingly influential Nazi party were attacking Jewish traders and their property and, in Italy, Mussolini and his Fascisti banned all Catholic youth organisations and all secret societies.
Oblivious to the rest of the world and its idiosyncrasies, John Cephas Harper, twenty-three, and Alice Kite, sixteen years old and with child, were married and witnessed the same before God on Whit Sunday, 25th May. They spent their wedding night at the dairy house where they were to continue to dwell, occupying Henzey’s cherished bedroom. Henzey gave it up reluctantly to share with Maxine.
In July, the most drastic reductions in state expenditure in Britain’s illustrious history were proposed, with recommended salary cuts for teachers, the armed forces and the police, all to help achieve economies. The German mark collapsed and their banks shut their doors in an effort to halt a run on funds. In August, Ramsay MacDonald’s Labour government fell, while the country suffered its worst ever financial crisis. A new cabinet, comprised of Labour, Tory and Liberal ministers, assumed responsibility for running the show. In September the King decided to take a pay cut of some fifty thousand pounds a year, but twelve thousand Royal Navy ratings mutinied at Invergordon over their pay cuts. Come October, and another general election, the National Government, as it was by this time known, remained in power after a landslide victory that routed Labour.
During this time, Henzey Kite and Will Parish developed their courtship, becoming increasingly caught up in each other. From the outset, this liaison was serious. Three times a week Henzey honed her cookery skills, preparing a meal for them both at Will’s house after work. She had her own key in case he worked late and he gave her carte blanche to make any changes she wished, that would make his home more comfortable. She altered many of the things Dorothy had established, and introduced many of her own ideas. Will’s life had changed, so his surroundings had also to change to reflect his new situation.
Back in Cromwell Street, Henzey found it a little embarrassing at first having Jack Harper, one of her old sweethearts, living in the same house, now married to her younger sister. Thankfully she was not at home so much, since she spent so much time with Will, but when she returned at night he was often sitting downstairs alone, reading the paper or listening to the wireless.
She returned home one night after the family had, with the exception of Jack, retired to bed. As she hung her hat and coat on the stand in the hall, she could see a light shining through from the sitting room and went to see who was still up, hoping it might be her mother.
‘Henzey!’ Jack greeted her from one of the armchairs in front of the greying embers of the fire. ‘Watcha. Fancy a drop o’ beer?’ He was nursing a glass in both hands and, on the floor at the side of the chair, stood a half empty bottle.
‘No thanks,’ she replied from the doorway. ‘I’ll put some milk on to boil for a cup of cocoa to take to bed with me.’
‘Why don’t yer stop and talk a bit? We could ’ave a chat, like. Like we used to in the old days when we was a-courtin’.’
‘Don’t you think it’s time you were upstairs?’ she suggested evenly. ‘How long since Alice went up?’ She turned to go.
He shrugged. ‘I dunno. Half an hour. An hour, maybe. Anyway, Alice is no fun now she’s got a big belly.’
‘I don’t imagine it’s much fun for Alice either, being eight months pregnant. You should give her more support, Jack. You could start by going to bed and giving her a cuddle at any rate.’
‘A cuddle?’ he scoffed. ‘What use is a flippin’ cuddle? Is that all you’ve ’ad tonight with that Will Parish? A cuddle?’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Henzey turned and walked out of the sitting room, and into the kitchen, irritated both by his innuendo and his immaturity. She poured milk into a pan and put it on the gas, then reached for the tin of cocoa from the cupboard behind her and spooned some into a mug. After a couple of minutes watching the pan of milk she sensed that somebody was watching her. Jack was leaning against the door-jamb, looking her up and down with a confident leer. In his hand was his replenished glass.
‘Yer can make me a cup, if yer like, Henzey.’
‘I’ll put some more milk into the pan for you, Jack.’ she answered calmly, ‘but you can make your own cocoa. I’m not waiting on you.’
As she reached for the jug of milk she felt Jack’s hands on her waist and his breath hot on the back of her neck. At once she twisted and dodged out of his reach, deeply disappointed that he should attempt such familiarity.
‘Yer never did that in the old days,’ he said, smirking. ‘Yer never shied away before when I used to put me arm round yer. In fact yer used to like me to.’ She turned to her milk again without answering. His leer turned into an open grin lightening his expression. ‘D’yer remember how we used to kiss in the entry afore I went ’ome, Henzey? Yer was a smashin’ kisser, yer know. I still miss kissin’ yer.’
‘Fancy,’ she replied, feigning a surprised smile.
‘What about that time we was kissin’ in the entry an’ the chimdey set afire? D’yer remember that?’
‘No, it’s funny, I don’t…’ She did, but she had no intention of admitting it to him. The milk came to the boil and she lifted it from the heat, filled her mug and gave it a stir. ‘There’s enough milk there for another mug of cocoa. Don’t forget to turn the light out when you’ve finished. Goodnight.’
What had she ever seen in him? She was sixteen when she met Jack Harper. At first she was taken with him, but she soon discovered that, despite her tender years, she could have him dangling on a string. Jack was no challenge, even then, so she just as soon lost interest in him. Even in those days she realised he had always been a little devious, though never dangerously so; it never mattered particularly, since she was always at least one step ahead of him. Now, marriage had bestowed on him a confidence he’d lacked before. His bright, alert eyes seemed to regard Henzey lately with a disarming candour that seemed to say that she was just the kind of woman he would choose as a mistress. Under normal circumstances she would not have resented it; she might even have found it amusing; but since the fool had been married to her own sister she could see how pathetic he was.
On 25th November, Alice gave birth to a baby boy, seven pound four ounces, at the dairy house. Her labour was not prolonged, and both she and the child were well. The proud father went to announce his good fortune to his own family and returned the worse for drink. He was made to sleep on the settee in the front room. Jack favoured the name Gary for his son, after Gary Cooper, but Alice and the rest of the family preferred Edward, after the Prince of Wales. They settled on the latter.
‘What’s Jack doing?’ Lizzie asked Alice one Sunday morning after Christmas. ‘Is he ever going to get up and come down for his breakfast? I want to get this lot cleared away.’
‘I expect he’s havin’ a swill,’ Alice replied, guiding her nipple back into Edward’s hungry mouth after he’d momentarily lost it. She was sitting in an armchair, still in her night-gown, the top butto
ns open so she could feed the child.
‘Then let’s hope he cleans the wash basin out. I’m sick of going in there after him and finding a ring of scum all round it.’
‘Why don’t you tell him?’ Alice suggested indifferently.
‘I think it’s up to you to tell him,’ her mother said, stacking crockery on the table to take into the kitchen. ‘It’s not just the washbasin, either. When he has a pee, he never pulls the chain after him. God knows how he’s been brought up.’
‘Well, he’s not used to usin’ a lavatory where you have to pull the chain,’ Alice defended him. ‘At their house they’ve got an earth closet up the yard.’ Her eyes met Lizzie’s. ‘He just forgets, I suppose.’
‘Well remind him, our Alice. Tell him that other folk would like to find the bathroom in the same condition he finds it in. I’ve got enough to do without going round cleaning and tidying up after him. And another thing…’ Lizzie saw this as an ideal opportunity to address Jack’s other faults that had been annoying her, ‘get him to hang his jacket up instead of leaving it lying about. Just look…Over there…He always leaves it draped over the back of that chair. And when everybody’s gone to bed he invariably helps himself to a bottle of Jesse’s beer out of the verandah and drinks it – never offers any money for it – then he has the cheek to leave his dirty glass and the empty bottle in the sitting room for me to clear up next morning. Well, I’m not having it, Alice. I’m not having it and it’s up to you to tell him.’
‘Why does everybody have to keep goin’ on all the time?’ Alice replied huffily. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Do this. Do that. Tell Jack this. Tell Jack that. Blimey, I’m sick of it.’ In her peevishness the child lost her nipple once more. He wailed again. ‘Oh, Edward,’ she sighed in exasperation and got up, fastening the buttons of her night-gown with her free hand. ‘That’s it. You’ll ’ave to wait.’
‘Finish feeding the child,’ Lizzie advised evenly. ‘He’s still hungry.’
‘You feed him. I’ve had enough. Besides, I’ve got to get Jack downstairs for his breakfast. You said so.’
‘Well if he doesn’t come down soon, he’ll get no breakfast.’
Edward continued to clamour at being so rudely deprived of his own breakfast, but, as Alice moved to hand the baby to Lizzie, Henzey intercepted and took the child.
‘I wish I could feed him,’ she said holding him close as Alice stormed out of the room. ‘Poor little mite. You know, Mom, I dread to think what might happen to this child if those two were left to their own devices. How could anybody be so indifferent to a poor helpless baby?’
‘It’s a certain fact she needs a few lessons,’ Lizzie replied. ‘A certain fact.’
‘I could never be like that if the child was mine. He needs a bit of love as well…See? He’s stopped crying now he can feel he’s being loved.’ Henzey continued rocking Edward gently in her arms, cooing and smiling as he gazed into her eyes. She wiped away his tears and marvelled at the beautiful clarity of his infant eyes and the softness of his skin. ‘If I ever get married I’d want half a dozen like him.’
‘Yes,’ Lizzie said knowingly, ‘but wait till you are married, eh?’
Henzey chuckled. ‘Oh, I know. It runs in the family, getting pregnant before you’re married, doesn’t it?’
‘Cheeky madam!’
Throughout 1932, things showed little sign of improvement.
‘I don’t know how you stand it, Henzey,’ Will said one evening just before Christmas, when Jack and Alice had cropped up in conversation.
‘I can’t stand it,’ she replied. ‘They’ve been told they’ve got to find somewhere else to live. It’s Jesse’s house after all and he wants a quiet life. He shouldn’t have to put up with all that hassle from Jack and Alice.’
‘Maxine told me she can’t even practise her cello nowadays without being interrupted,’ Will said.
‘I know. It’s true. And Herbert won’t take Sally back there when he knows they’re in – which happens to be most of the time.’
‘Well I’m not that keen on seeing them either if you want the truth, Henzey. I’d just as soon not go when they’re there.’
‘I know,’ she answered pensively. ‘You’ve no idea how much I appreciate being able to come here with you. I love the peace and quiet here.’
‘Well, you know the answer.’
She looked at him and smiled. ‘Do I?’
‘Yes…’
‘Oh? So what is the answer, then?’
‘Marry me.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, be serious. I’m not going to marry you just to get away from Alice and Jack. In no time now they’ll find somewhere to live and they’ll be gone.’
Will looked somewhat hurt. ‘Henzey, I am being serious. I’ve never been more serious in my life. I want to marry you, not just to save you from their nuisance, but because I love you. I want us to be together – all the time. You’re right, this place is a haven for us but it’s you that’s made it so. Don’t you see? When you’re not here, it’s never quite the same. It’s almost as if the house itself reacts to you. You’ve made it a home, Henzey – our home. It misses you when you’re not here, the same as I miss you. I want you here, in it, with me. What do you say? Shall we get married?’
His words touched her. She leaned over to him and their lips met. Gently she stroked the back of his head, then broke off the kiss and looked directly into his eyes, their faces only inches apart. Love was unmistakable in her eyes.
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ he persisted. ‘Kissing me won’t side-track me.’
‘Tell it me all again.’
He laughed. ‘Just say you’ll marry me.’
She smiled radiantly. ‘Oh, Will. Yes, of course I’ll marry you. How soon? Tomorrow? Saturday? Next week? Next month?’
‘I’ve been looking at the calendar…’
‘Oh, so you were sure of my answer?’
‘Optimistic. It pays to be prepared. And I always like to be organised.’
‘How soon can we start a family?’
‘Well, not straight away…’
She looked dejected.
‘…But soon.’
She smiled.
‘I thought it’d be best if we waited till you were twenty-one for the wedding,’ he continued. ‘Don’t you think? Then we won’t have to seek anybody’s permission. Your birthday falls on a Tuesday. The Sunday after that’s the second of April. Let’s do it then.’
She squeezed his knee. ‘I see it as a good omen that you didn’t suggest the day before.’
‘The day before? The day before is the first.’
‘That’s what I mean. April Fools’ day.’
Both families were informed of the forthcoming marriage, and the banns were duly published at St. John’s, Kates Hill, and at St. John’s, Ladywood. It was a very intense business choosing a wedding dress but, with the help and advice of Lizzie and Florrie Shuker, Henzey chose one. She and Will had to content themselves with waiting a further week for their wedding, however, till 9th April. Only immediate families were to be invited, plus a few close friends, and there was to be a party at the dairy house afterwards.
Ever since their first outing, that sunny April afternoon nearly two years ago in the castle grounds, Henzey had known she would marry Will Parish. There was much to do: Will wanted to make improvements to his home, one of which was converting the smallest bedroom into a bathroom. He intended to redecorate the entire house, and they agreed to buy new furniture, especially a new bed. Although it was the same house that Dorothy had lived in, all these introductions would render it a different home and thus help eliminate any memories of her. Not that Henzey resented her being remembered; far from it, but she wanted to stamp her own identity on it, since she was to be the mistress of it. So they worked hard getting it ready for the big day.
And before they knew it, April arrived…
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in t
he face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…’ The Reverend John Mainwaring thoroughly enjoyed officiating at a rattling good solemnisation of matrimony. As he delivered the rich phrases he loved and knew so well, he peered over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, taking stock of the congregation. He observed significantly more people on the bride’s side than on the bridegroom’s. ‘…and is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites…’ Henzey’s eyelids dropped, lest the vicar wondered whether any of this carnal lust business applied to her. ‘First it was ordained for the procreation of children…’ Henzey looked up at Will. Through her veil he saw the plea in her soft blue eyes. He was aware how much she wanted children. He smiled back non-committally. ‘…Second, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry…’
Will had been tempted to turn and watch his bride walk up the aisle on Jesse’s arm, but had resisted. Just in time he remembered he’d done exactly that when he married Dorothy. It was supposed to bring bad luck and look what had happened to her. So this time he waited till his bride glided to his side at the steps of the chancel, then caught his first glimpse of her and the first whiff of her familiar perfume.
Now, every few seconds she would turn to look at him and he could see her eyes, bright, happy, smiling through the white veil, which was crowned with a chaplet of orange blossom. She had refused to tell him beforehand what her dress was like, but now he could see for himself. It was a long, sheathed, satin gown overlaid with lace, with a trailing, white, satin train and long, tight, lace sleeves. The bodice was lace yoked with a high neck at the front, but cut low at the back. In her hand she carried a bouquet of freesias. She stood beside him, elegant, statuesque, her beautiful figure enhanced in this dress that fitted perfectly. ‘Thirdly it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity…’ He pondered how fortunate he was to have won the love of this girl, whom he had found irresistible from the start; this girl, who was breathtakingly beautiful today. But it was not just her looks, it was her whole self, her demeanour, her integrity, her gentle wit. Above all, it was the love she gave him in return; warm, unselfish. If he ever lost her life would surely not be worth living. If ever he had the gross misfortune to lose her as well to childbirth…
