Like Father, Like Son

by Diane Allen

  ‘I don’t know. Why? But yes, go on then. At least you are someone my age to talk to, and not nearly knocking on death’s door, like half my customers have been this morning.’ Polly sighed, but secretly she was smiling on the inside. She’d found a friend, and it was without the help of Maggie, who she knew would be furious with her, for making a friend without her.

  ‘See you tomorrow then, and if it’s raining I’ll meet you in the shop’s doorway. All right?’ Matt grinned.

  Polly nodded. ‘Yes, but let me go now, else I’ll be late, and I don’t want to suffer the wrath of Miss Swaine.’

  Matt watched as Polly turned the shop sign around and closed the door behind her. She was a grand lass, and that show of ankle had just enthralled him this morning, making him want to know Polly Harper a little better.

  ‘I turn my back one minute to go shopping with my mam, and you chat up the best-looking fella in the dairy. It just isn’t right, I’ve been after him since my father took him on, last month.’ Maggie was furious, and her faced showed it, as she scowled at Polly from the other side of the cheese counter.

  ‘It’s not like that. We are only going to meet and share lunch. Besides, you told me a whopper when you said you were going to be working here, so you needn’t look so innocent.’ Polly carried on with weighing out the butter she had churned earlier, slapping it down into the paper wrapper with force, as she started to lose patience with her friend’s annoyance over her new friendship with Matt.

  ‘Aye, but I had to tell you that, or else you’d never have left your mother’s apron strings. And I could see that you were slowly going mad on that godforsaken farm. So I was thinking of you, and then you go and nick my Matt!’ Maggie pulled a face at Polly and then placed a small square of cheese in her mouth, from the complimentary samples on the counter.

  ‘Hey, those are for customers! I haven’t nicked him, and besides I didn’t see a label around his neck saying, “I’m Matt, I belong to Maggie.”’ Polly was going to stand her ground on this one, as she knew just how jealous Maggie could get.

  ‘Listen to you. Only been here a day and a half and already telling me, the boss’s daughter, what to do! Anyway I’m not bothered. There’s plenty more fish in the sea, and he’s only a farm lad anyway, I need someone with their own business and money.’ Maggie leaned on the counter and idly placed another square of cheese in her mouth, smiling at the perplexed Polly. ‘There’s a dance at the end of the month in the market hall. Will your mother and father let you come, or will you have to stay at home like a good little girl?’ Maggie taunted her friend, and knew that her words would get the right answer.

  ‘I’ll do what I please. I might come. Now that I’m working, I’m old enough to make my own mind up. I don’t have to ask my parents for everything,’ Polly spat back.

  ‘Well, if Mummy and Daddy give you permission, you can stay at ours,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Then we can stay there until the band stops playing. They are blinking good. It’s the Beresford Band – they play all the best songs – and you could ask Matt!’ Maggie smiled sweetly at Polly. There was more than one way to catch her man, and Maggie knew exactly how to do it.

  ‘I’ll see.’ Polly wasn’t going to be bullied. The thought of going to her first dance excited her, but she wasn’t going to let Maggie know that. She could just wait. Besides, Maggie was only using her to get at Matt, and well she knew it.

  ‘When you young ladies have finished arranging your private lives, this floor needs a sweep, Polly. And while you are at it, clean the windows. You’ll find a cloth under the counter.’ Beattie stepped into the shop from out the back of the dairy and gave a disdainful look at Maggie, who was admiring herself in the reflection of the glass windows.

  Polly quickly picked up the sweeping brush and set to sweeping the floor, after acknowledging her orders.

  ‘And what can we do for you, Miss Sunter? Or have you just come to pass the time of day with us?’ Beattie gave Maggie a cutting smile, which told her in no uncertain terms that she was not welcome.

  ‘I was just on my way, Beattie. I’d just come to see how the new girl was doing. I thought I could report my findings to my father. I’ll be going now.’ Maggie smiled at the tartar of an old maid, before opening and closing the door behind her.

  ‘That girl is such a madam. Spoilt, that’s what she is. Calling me “Beattie”. You always respect your elders. I’m Miss Swaine to the likes of her. Think on, Polly. Manners cost nothing.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Swaine.’ Polly stifled a giggle as she watched Maggie pulling faces outside at Beattie, whilst she cleaned the window.

  ‘She’s common, that one is, just like her mother.’ Beattie looked around the shop and, finding all in order, stepped back into the dairy.

  Maggie pressed her nose against the shop window and shouted, ‘Don’t forget to ask your mother and father about the dance. It’ll be a right laugh!’

  Polly nodded as she quickly wiped away a smear. It would be lovely, but would her parents agree? She’d never been to a dance before – let alone out in Hawes of a night, without her parents. But it sounded exciting, and perhaps Matt would be there. And, even more enthralling, perhaps Tobias Middleton would be there, the charming dark-haired man who had taken her heart, from the day she’d talked to him along Mallerstang Edge.

  7

  ‘Aye, I don’t know, Father. She’ll be with that Maggie, and you know what her and her mother’s like.’ Ada stood at the kitchen sink, gazing out into the yard, worried to death about the fact that she and Edmund had given in to Polly’s pleas, and that Polly was to attend the dance in the market hall at Hawes that evening.

  ‘Now, Ada, how many dances did you attend when you were younger? I remember seeing you at many a village hall, dancing the night away. In fact we met at Lund’s School Hall. Do you remember? You’d only be a bit older than our Polly. Such a bonny lass you were, you caught my eye straight away.’ Edmund cast his mind back to his early years when things seemed simpler.

  ‘Aye, and my father warned me of you; said you were a wild ’un, and that I could do better for myself.’ Ada smiled as she wiped the breakfast pots and thought of the dances she’d attended and the hearts she could have had.

  ‘Aye, well, he would say that. Fathers always think their daughters should have better. Anyway, your father was an awkward old stick. I would do nowt, and even that would be wrong.’ Edmund supped the last dregs of his tea and passed Ada his cup.

  ‘And my mother worshipped you. That got my father even more narked, especially when you used to come to Sunday dinner and he had to sit and look at you holding my hand.’ Ada smiled, remembering how that had seemed so risky, in her parents’ company.

  ‘Aye, so you see, Polly has to start somewhere. And she’s a lump older than we both were, when we started going to dances. She’ll be right, our lass. Maggie and her will stick together, and Bill Sunter says it’s right that she stops with them the night.’ Edmund stood in the doorway, watching Polly hang out the washing in the summer sunshine in the small adjoining paddock. The sheets and shirts flapped in the wind, along with her long black hair. ‘I take it she’s learned to dance?’

  ‘Aye, we’ve hummed tunes together and I’ve taught her the basic steps. She’s quite light on her feet.’ Ada joined him at the doorway.

  ‘And a frock? Has she got a frock?’

  ‘She’s going in the one your Evie sent her from Liverpool. That green taffeta one that sets off the colour of her hair.’ Ada linked her arm through Edmund’s.

  ‘She’ll look right bonny in that. Our lil lass is growing up, Mother. Her first job, and her first dance. Next thing we know, a lad will be coming courting. It’s been on the cards for some time now.’ Edmund watched as Polly turned and smiled at them both.

  ‘I know. I just hope he doesn’t break her heart. Although you have to have your heart broken, before you know you have the right man for you. Mine was broken several times before you turned up, and it didn’t do me any
harm; just made me more determined to find the right one.’ Ada squeezed Edmund’s hand tight.

  ‘Give over, Mother. Anybody would think we were still courting, not married these last forty years.’

  ‘Edmund Harper, you never were one for showing your emotions. No wonder I nearly ran off with Fred Turner – you always were slow to kiss me.’ Ada pulled her hand away.

  ‘Whisht, Mother, our Polly’s coming back in. And besides, Fred Turner wasn’t up to much. Your father would never have put up with him.’

  ‘That’s what you think, Edmund Harper. Maybe I regret being married to a miserable old devil,’ Ada teased.

  ‘Nay, tha doesn’t. You wouldn’t have all this, if you’d have married him.’ Edmund held his hand out and looked around the homely kitchen.

  ‘And I wouldn’t have had the worry.’ Ada stopped in mid-conversation as Polly came into the kitchen, bringing the smell of the fresh summer’s day back in with her basket of washing.

  ‘What worry? You’re not both still worrying about this dance? I’ll be fine. How can I not be? I’m only stopping at the Sunters’.’ She put the empty wicker washing basket back on the kitchen shelf and smiled at her parents. She couldn’t hide her joy at the thought of attending her first proper dance.

  ‘Just as long as you’re careful, our Pol. Don’t let that Sunter lass turn your head. She’s such a devil for the fellas,’ said Ada.

  ‘She’ll be fine, Mother. She’s got a sensible head on her shoulders, has our Polly.’ Edmund patted her. ‘I’ll take you up to Hawes about six, Polly. I’m just going to weed some thistles out in the top pasture, before they flower and go to seed. I wish the hay-meadow was growing as quick as them weeds. Stuff never does as it should.’ Edmund left his two women in the kitchen. He knew that Ada would be feeding Polly with dos and don’ts all day. The poor lass would be glad to be out of earshot, by the time evening came along.

  The day couldn’t go quickly enough for Polly, but it was finally time to climb up beside her father, with her overnight bag on her knee, and set off in the horse and gig to Hawes. It was a beautiful summer’s evening as the old horse trotted at a decent pace along the open valley. The sun shone on the vivid green of the early summer leaves, and insects buzzed busily, collecting pollen before the onset of night.

  ‘By, you don’t often get many evenings like this, but when you do, it feels grand to be alive.’ Edmund flicked his whip, hardly touching the flanks of his faithful horse, Clover.

  ‘It is – it’s a lovely evening. The sun’s still warm on my face.’ Polly smiled and closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth of the day.

  ‘Aye, and there are you, all excited at your first dance, and looking as bonny as anything I’ve ever seen. Now, I know your mother will have lectured you all day, but you watch what you are doing tonight. It doesn’t take much to egg us fellas on and, before you know it, you are in trouble.’ Edmund felt embarrassed, but it was his duty to say something.

  ‘Father . . . I know! My mother’s never stopped telling me all day. I’m not daft, you know.’ Polly could feel herself blushing. Her father never talked of womanly things. Neither did her mother really, so she knew they were worried about her.

  ‘Well, you just have a good night then, and I wish I was as young and had a bit of a thing like you on my arm. I’d be as proud as punch.’ Edmund slowed Clover down as they climbed the slight incline into Hawes, passing the road to Dent Head and the school, making their way past an already busy market hall, down the cobbles to the house next to the new dairy where Maggie lived. ‘I’ll not come in. I’m sure you lasses will have plenty to talk about. Think on what I said, and I’ll pick you up in the morning.’ Edmund helped Polly down from the gig and watched as she knocked, heaving a sigh as she entered the house, giggling with Maggie. He knew they couldn’t keep her forever, but for tonight, Lord keep her safe.

  ‘Just look at you, Polly, don’t you scrub up well?’ Maggie added blusher to her cheeks and pulled at her neckline, revealing a little bit too much, as she admired herself in the mirror. ‘Where did you get your dress from? It’s not my colour, and the style is a bit . . . let’s say out of date, but it suits you.’ She squeezed her lips together and added another layer of lipstick while Polly sat on the edge of her newly made-up bed.

  ‘I don’t bother with all that stuff. You don’t need it, when you are our age.’ Polly watched Maggie preening herself. She wasn’t going to let her friend’s sarcastic remarks get her down tonight.

  ‘Clearly you don’t. If you want to attract the men, you’ve got to show them you are on the market.’ Maggie giggled.

  ‘I’m not on the market, and I’m not bothered about a man. I just want to have a good time.’ Polly played with the strings of her little drawstring bag, which held her purse and her essentials for the night ahead, and ignored Maggie’s comment.

  ‘Exactly, let’s show them men what they could have, Pol. I’m going to dance the night away with every man in Hawes. I’ll show that bloody Ralph what he’s missing, because he’s bound to be there tonight. Come on then, stop playing with that bloody bag and let’s go get ’em. It’s eight o’clock – the church clock’s just chimed. We’ve only got four hours of dancing.’ Maggie pulled on Polly’s hand, dragging her off the bed, and ran with her down the stairs, slamming the front door behind them as they both ran giggling up the cobbled street to the hall.

  Maggie and Polly ran up the small set of steps and reached into their bags for entrance money, as the man on the door asked for payment in return for a ticket. He watched the two girls impatiently, as they giggled and looked around the hall before passing over their money. The hall was packed full of Dales folk, who had all come to dance and listen to the local Beresford Band, who were popular with everyone. There was a division in the hall between the couples, the single women and the single men. The single men looked bashful, standing at one side of the hall, and the single women stood giggling at the other. Both eyed one another up, but didn’t dare make a move this early in the night.

  ‘Come on, Polly, let’s get a drink, and then we’ll sit over there and see who’s here.’ Maggie pulled on Polly’s hand, leading her across the partly empty dance floor, making Polly feel uncomfortable, as people on both sides of the room watched the two young women. ‘Did you see Matt? Matt’s here, he’s talking to Joe Fothergill. I saw him looking at us when we crossed the floor.’ Maggie dipped a small glass cup into a large bowl of punch and passed it to Polly.

  ‘What’s this?’ Polly looked at the cup of drink that had been given to her.

  ‘It’s like fruit juice, but it makes you giggle and dance better – you’ll enjoy it.’ Maggie grinned and sipped a big mouthful, while wiggling her bottom in time to the music, casting a glance over to Matt and his friend.

  ‘Uh! It’s terrible.’ Polly took a mouthful of the punch and shuddered at the taste of alcohol in it.

  ‘Don’t be such a baby. And drink up, the first mouthful is always a shock, and then it gets better.’ Maggie took another swig of hers and then waved candidly to Matt, who ignored her completely.

  Polly took another mouthful. It did go down better, but she still wasn’t convinced that she’d feel better for drinking it. She then looked over at Matt and his friend Joe, who were both looking at her, not Maggie. She felt herself blush as Joe smiled at her and then waved enthusiastically, before whispering something to Matt.

  ‘Suit yourself, snooty Matt, you’ll want me before the night is out.’ Maggie took another big mouthful of punch and pulled on Polly’s arm to join her. ‘Come on, we’ll stand halfway down the room, so we can see everything. Just look at the lead singer, isn’t he handsome in his dinner suit? I think he farms over in Hubberholme.’ Maggie flashed her eyes at the lead singer as he gently finished singing ‘The Boy I Love’.

  ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, to save my voice for the rest of the evening, would you kindly find your partners for the St Bernard’s Waltz.’ The singer made his way down from the st
age as the band played loudly and with style, and both sides of the room came alive in a frenzy to find a partner for the easy waltz.

  ‘May I?’ The singer from the band held his hand out to an eager Maggie, who giggled and left Polly without a second glance.

  Polly looked at the good-looking man, with his slicked-back black hair and small, dark moustache that turned upwards with his dashing smile, as he whisked Maggie onto the floor. She could hear Maggie laughing above the music, and the traditional stomp of the feet that the rhythm and dance determined. She knew this dance would be Maggie’s highlight of the night, and that she’d talk of nothing else the next day. She sat down in one of the hall’s little wooden chairs and watched the couples dancing. She felt like a wallflower; she hardly knew anybody here and her dancing skills were limited. Her mother had taught her the basics in the front room of home, but everyone looked as if they had been dancing for years, as she sat and watched the neat footwork of the dancers. She glanced up as she noticed Matt coming towards her.

  ‘Has she left you already? She’s a flibbertigibbet. Just look at her making eyes at Tom Beresford. He’ll have danced with every young lass in all the Dales – and he has a wife with three bairns at home.’ Matt bent down, squatting on his knees, as he talked to Polly.

  ‘She’s just Maggie – she’s always got her eye on a man.’ Polly took a drink of her punch and looked at Matt. He was a good-looking man, and even more so tonight, with a crisp white shirt tucked into his tweed trousers, and a brass collar stud that caught the light from the numerous candles around the hall. She blushed, as her thoughts for the man beside her got the better of her, and the warmth of the alcohol made her feel aglow.

  ‘You don’t want too many of them – you’ll feel sick as a dog in the morning. I’m sticking to my bottle of beer. At least I know what’s in it.’ Matt chinked his bottle next to her small glass of punch and smiled, before taking a long swig out of the bottle that he held in his hand.