by Joan Jonker
Joan feasted her eyes on the happy crowd, lingering for a while on Billy, then finally coming to rest on Eileen. She could feel the rivulet of tears rolling down her cheeks on to her neck but made no effort to wipe them away. Oh, Mam, she cried silently, what have I done? You’ll never forgive me now, I know you won’t.
Mary and Vera had stayed behind to see to the tables and when they’d finished, they stood back to survey their handiwork. Eileen had borrowed two trestle tables and space had been made for them by moving all the furniture into Maggie’s room. They were covered in spotless white sheets, and groaning under the weight of food. Pride of place on one of the tables had been given to the one-tier, square wedding cake, which Maggie had made and Vera had iced. Vera had made a good job of it too, decorating it with little silver shoes, bells and white ribbon. Around it were plates of sandwiches, sausage rolls, meat pies cut in half and two large glass bowls filled with trifle decorated with hundreds and thousands. Lending a splash of colour were four cake stands filled with jelly creams in their stiff, white pleated cases. And where it was possible on the crowded tables, there were small vases filled with purple button daisies.
‘We’ve done a good job, even if I do say so meself,’ Mary said. ‘Not bad for beginners, eh, Vera?’
‘The tables look a treat.’ Vera’s eyes widened when a knock came on the door. ‘We cut that a bit fine, didn’t we?’
She hurried along the hall, untying her apron as she went. When she saw Billy sweep Mavis off her feet, she called over her shoulder. ‘Quick, Mary, you can’t miss this.’
The sheer bliss on Billy’s face was a joy to behold. ‘Before you say anything, I know it’s me own threshold I should be carrying me bride over, and I’ll be doing that later, all right and proper. But me mam’s house will always be a second home to me, and Mavis feels the same.’ With exaggerated groans, Billy staggered along the hall with his blushing bride giggling in his arms. But when he entered the room, he took one look at the tables and lowered Mavis to the floor. He struggled for the right words as he glanced from Mary to Vera. ‘I’m speechless.’ He gazed at the attractive way the food had been laid out, then gathered them both in his arms and held them close. ‘The Adelphi couldn’t have done us prouder! What do you say, eh, Mrs Gillmoss, Junior?’
‘Oh, lord, aren’t we the fine ones?’ Mary ran to Mavis and kissed her. ‘We were so busy congratulating ourselves, we forgot about congratulating you.’
Vera was pumping Billy’s hand when the first of the guests started to arrive and after that the peace of the house was turned into bedlam. Bill was the first to make a short speech and toast the happy couple, then it was Mr Radford followed by a very nervous Jacko. As he told his mates the next day, it was worse being a best man than it was to be a groom. More responsibilities, like, you know.
Then it was Billy’s turn. With a glass in one hand and an arm around his bride, he thanked everyone, leaving out not a soul. He looked so tall and handsome, every inch the gentleman, Eileen felt so proud she thought her heart would burst. And when he lifted his glass and asked everyone to drink to his mam and dad, the best parents anyone could ask for, she couldn’t hold back the tears, or her feelings.
She rushed to throw her arms round her son’s neck, knocking his glass flying and spilling beer on those unlucky enough to be standing near. With her hat pushed precariously to one side of her head, she cried, ‘I’m not ’alf goin’ to miss yer, son.’ She glanced sideways at Mavis. ‘Yer will look after ’im won’t yer? An’ make sure he gets enough to eat?’
With that, everyone burst out laughing and the festivities began.
‘Your Carol is so happy she doesn’t know what to do with herself.’ Arthur was standing next to Vera, a glass in one hand, a plate in the other. ‘She looks very grown up today.’
‘I’m keeping me eye on her. She’s stuffing herself with those jelly creams and she’ll be sick if she’s not careful.’
‘She can be a bridesmaid when we get married,’ Arthur said. ‘She’ll like that.’
Vera lifted her brows. ‘In a register office?’
‘What’s the difference?’ Arthur smiled. ‘I don’t care if we get married in a coal yard as long as you come out wearing my ring.’
Mary pushed her way through the crowds towards them. ‘It’s like St John’s market on Christmas Eve.’
‘Or the Grafton on a Saturday night.’ Arthur grinned.
‘Vera, I’ve just remembered the parcel that came for Billy,’ Mary said. ‘Did you give it to him?’
‘Oh, lord, I forgot.’ Vera put her plate down. ‘I’ll go and get it.’
She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a square parcel in her arms. ‘Billy, this came for you.’
Billy looked puzzled. ‘What is it?’
Talking stopped as everyone’s gaze focused on the parcel. ‘Where did it come from?’ Billy was tearing at the wrapping. ‘I thought we’d had all our presents.’
‘We don’t know who left it,’ Vera said. ‘Me and Mary were busy in the kitchen when we heard a knock. It only took me a few seconds to dry me hands, but when I opened the door there was no one there, just the parcel on the step. I looked up and down the road but I couldn’t see anybody.’ Billy threw the wrapping paper to the floor and with everyone gathered round, opened the cardboard box. Inside, packed in straw, was a six-piece tea service. Billy lifted out one of the cups and held it aloft. ‘This’ll come in handy, save us drinking out of jam jars when we have visitors.’
Eileen peered into the box. ‘Isn’t there a card with it?’
Billy handed the box to Mavis while he searched inside. After a few seconds he waved a white envelope. ‘Mystery solved,’ he grinned as he took out the greetings card. But his smile faded when he started to read the message inside. Mavis was looking over his shoulder and her gasp of surprise brought Eileen forward. ‘Who’s it from?’
Billy handed her the card. ‘Our Joan.’
Bill rested his chin on Eileen’s shoulder and read the words aloud.
‘Dear Billy, Sorry I can’t be with you today but I wish you and Mavis all the luck in the world. Joan.’
Without a word Eileen handed the card back to Billy and left the room. Bill saw all eyes in the room follow his wife and he shrugged his shoulders as though apologising. ‘She’ll be all right, you just carry on enjoying yourselves.’
Bill found Eileen standing by the bedroom window, crying softly. ‘Come on, chick.’ He held his arms out and Eileen walked into them. ‘Don’t cry, love,’ he whispered. ‘You know how it upsets me. And you don’t want to spoil things for our Billy on his wedding day. He should be able to look back on today as the happiest of his life.’
‘Just give me five minutes to calm meself down, then I’ll be all right.’ Eileen looked up into his face. ‘I’m glad Joan didn’t forget Billy’s weddin’, it’ll mean a lot to him. But if she could come to the ’ouse with ’is present, it wouldn’t ’ave hurt her to come to the church. What ’ave we done to ’er that she doesn’t even want to set eyes on us?’
‘I can’t even pretend to understand,’ Bill sighed. ‘But you know how young people do things they’re sorry for afterwards but wouldn’t for this world admit it. Perhaps that’s the way it is with Joan, she doesn’t want to eat humble pie.’
Eileen left the shelter of his arms to look at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. ‘I’ll swill me face and make meself presentable, then I’ll go down.’
‘Are you all right, Mam?’ Billy’s head appeared round the door. ‘You’re not upset over our Joan, are you?’
‘Not at all, sunshine,’ Eileen lied. ‘All mothers are entitled to a little weep when one of their children gets married an’ leaves ’ome. No, I’m very glad our Joan didn’t forget ’er brother on ’is big day.’ She picked up a comb and ran it through the fine, mousy hair. ‘You go an’ see to yer guests while I titivate meself up. I’ll be down in two shakes of a lamb’s tail to liven the place up. Give yer a party
yer’ll remember all yer life.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Blimey! I thought you’d be back in America by now.’ Eileen stood aside and pulled her tummy in to let Jean pass. Closing the door behind her, she said, ‘I’ve been callin’ yer all the names under the sun for not comin’ to say ta-ra.’
‘As though I’d do that to you!’ Jean put her carrier bag on the floor and sat down. ‘You know what it’s like, going to visit all the relatives and God knows who else. Me mam’s had me visiting aunties I’ve never seen in me life before. Florrie, Maggie, Lizzie, Nellie, Fanny . . . you name them and I’ve visited them.’
‘Terrible name that.’ Eileen dropped heavily on to the couch. ‘Fancy lumberin’ a child with a name like Fanny.’
‘She was christened Frances, and that’s a lovely name. But her Mum started to call her Fanny when she was a baby, as a pet name, and it stuck.’
‘How’s life treatin’ yer, anyway?’ Eileen asked. ‘Yer’ve been ’ome over a month now, aren’t yer missin’ yer ’usband?’
‘I’m missing Ivan, yes.’ Jean grimaced. ‘But I’m dreading leaving me family again. I wish America wasn’t so far away, then I’d be able to see them more often. I never thought I’d miss them, or Liverpool, so much.’
‘Well, yer would marry a Yank, kid, so yer stuck with it . . . like Fanny is with ’er name.’
‘To tell you the truth, Eileen, I’ve been seriously thinking of not going back.’
Eileen’s eyes opened in astonishment. ‘Yer can’t do that! Yer can’t just walk out on Ivan! That would be a lousy trick, kid, an’ I’m surprised at yer for even thinkin’ of it. You love ’im don’t yer?’
Jean nodded. ‘Very much. But sometimes I feel so homesick it makes me ill. I thought I’d get over it, but after five years I still feel the same.’
‘He’s a good ’usband, isn’t he?’ Eileen leaned forward, her chubby hands clasped between her knees. ‘Looks after yer well?’
‘He’s a smashing husband. Kind and gentle, and spoils me soft.’
‘An’ yer thinkin’ of walkin’ out on ’im? Well, I think yer want yer bumps feelin’. When the novelty of bein’ ’ome wears off, yer’ll be cryin’ yer eyes out for ’im, and it’ll be too late.’ Eileen clicked her tongue. ‘Listen to me, kid. If yer heart’s with Ivan, then that’s where yer home is. Yer’ve heard the old sayin’, “home is where the heart is”, well it’s true. So get back to ’im as quick as yer can an’ count yer blessings.’ She patted Jean’s knee. ‘Yer know the best thing for curing yer homesickness, kid? Start a family. Then yer’ll ’ave no time to sit an’ mope.’
Eileen remembered the times during the war when Ivan had helped out their meagre rations with weekly gifts of sugar and meat. ‘Tell ’im next time yer come over on holiday, I expect to see ’im with yer. He was a good mate to me, was Ivan, an’ I don’t forget me mates.’
‘You and Ivan think alike,’ Jean said. ‘He wants to start a family.’
‘Then get the next boat ’ome, kid, an’ get crackin’.’ Eileen grinned into Jean’s face. ‘You are goin’ home, aren’t yer?’
Jean nodded. ‘If you’ll come over and be godmother to our first.’
‘Not bloody likely! Bring it over here to be christened.’ Eileen wriggled to the edge of the couch. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Jean bent to take a Sayers cake box from her carrier bag. ‘I’ve brought us some fresh cream cakes to have with a cup of tea.’
‘Ooh, no thanks, kid! I ate enough food at our Billy’s weddin’ on Saturday to sink a ship. I can’t walk through the flippin’ door now without turnin’ sideways.’
Jean lifted the lid of the cake box to reveal four chocolate eclairs oozing with fresh cream. Her face fell and there was disappointment in her voice. ‘You mean you won’t have one?’
At the sight of cakes Eileen could feel her mouth watering. She snatched the box from Jean’s knee. ‘To hell with it, yer only live once!’ She patted her tummy and grinned. ‘What’s a pound or two between friends, anyway? Two each, is it, kid?’
Edna raised her brows in surprise when she saw Joan approaching the counter. Her sister had been coming in on a Wednesday to see her, but today was only Monday. Edna glanced down the long counter to where the senior assistant, Miss Connelly, was serving, and hoped the customer would take her time choosing the coloured braid. ‘You’ll have to pretend you’re buying something.’ She slid one of the shallow drawers out of the cabinet behind her and placed it on the counter. ‘These are very nice buttons, madam.’ She raised her voice for the benefit of Miss Connelly, who was now writing the bill for her customer. ‘For heaven’s sake, look as though you’re interested,’ she hissed, ‘otherwise you’ll get me the sack.’
Joan inspected the variety of buttons, saying, ‘I will buy some, they’ll come in handy for a dress or jacket.’
Edna’s eyes narrowed. Joan looked pale today and her nose was red as though she had a cold. ‘It’s not like you to come in on a Monday, what’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ Joan put a grey button back and picked up a gilt one to hold against her blue coat. ‘I just thought I’d ask how Billy’s wedding went off.’
‘If you were that interested, it’s a pity you couldn’t be bothered coming along to see it.’ Edna’s voice was sharp. ‘But then, he’s only your brother, nobody important.’
‘I did come,’ Joan said softly. ‘I stood in the side street.’
‘You what!’ Edna realised she was shouting and her eyes flicked the length of the counter. But, thank goodness, Miss Connelly was busy serving again. ‘You mean you went all that way and didn’t even have the decency to congratulate our Billy and Mavis? That’s lousy, that is.’
‘I didn’t think I’d be welcome.’ Joan handed the gilt button over. ‘I’ll take four of these, please.’ She kept her eyes averted but her tone of voice puzzled Edna. There was definitely something amiss here. Usually her sister looked cocky and full of herself, but today she was very subdued.
‘Have you got a cold or something?’ Edna asked as she dropped the buttons into a bag. ‘You don’t look well.’
Joan was about to say something when Miss Connelly appeared at Edna’s elbow. ‘Everything all right, Miss Gillmoss?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Edna stepped aside. ‘Would you like to write the receipt out, Miss Connelly?’
There was no excuse for lingering and Joan had to leave the shop without asking the questions she’d been rehearsing all morning, and with four gilt buttons she had no use for.
Eileen laid down the knife and fork and picked up the remains of her lamb chop. She could feel gravy running down her chin as she nibbled at the meat left on the bone, but she wasn’t in the mood to care. The silence around the table was getting on her nerves. The only sounds she’d heard in the last ten minutes had been the steady ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the occasional splutter from the coal fire. Tea time used to be such a happy occasion, with all the family round the table laughing and joking. Tonight it was like eating in a graveyard.
With a look of disgust on her face, Eileen threw the bone on to the plate and lifted the corner of her pinny to wipe the gravy from her chin. She gazed from Bill to Edna thinking how her family had shrunk in just a few weeks. There were only the three of them now, but surely to God that didn’t mean they had to behave like monks who had taken a vow of silence? She was used to Bill being quiet, he’d never been the talkative type. But not so Edna. Usually you couldn’t shut her up, yet tonight there was no getting a word out of her. Eileen had tried a few times to get them talking, telling them about Jean’s visit, and the cream cakes. Since then, though, there’d been no attempt at conversation.
‘What’s the matter with you tonight, sunshine? Have yer been gettin’ told off in work?’
Edna jerked her head round. She’d been miles away. ‘What did you say, Mam?’
‘Ye gods, she’s goin’ deaf as well as dumb!’ Eileen pushed her plate away and rested her
bust on the table. ‘I asked if yer’d been gettin’ told off in work? Yer ’aven’t opened yer gob in the last half hour, an’ that’s never been known before.’
A battle had been raging in Edna’s head about whether to tell her Mam about their Joan. She’d told her all the other times, but there’d been something different about her sister today and Edna didn’t know whether she’d be doing the right thing in mentioning it. Better not, she decided. It was probably only her imagination anyway. She’d wait till Wednesday and see if her sister came in again. She smiled at Eileen. ‘I was just thinking.’
‘Well, stop thinkin’ an’ talk to me. Tell me somethin’ funny, I could do with cheerin’ up.’
Edna put her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. ‘There’s not much happened today, it’s been very quiet. Except that a woman brought some ribbon back and wanted Miss Connelly to exchange it.’ Her face lit up. ‘I thought it was hilarious but Miss Connelly didn’t see the funny side at all. In fact it put her in a bad temper all day. The ribbon had been used to make a bow, anyone with half an eye could see that ’cos it was all creased, and Miss Connelly said she couldn’t exchange it. But the customer brazened it out, saying the ribbon hadn’t been used and was Miss Connelly calling her a liar? It ended up with the floor manager coming over to see what the fuss was, and he told Miss Connelly to exchange the ribbon.’ Edna picked up her fork and speared a potato. ‘So you see, Mam, in George Henry Lees the customer is always right.’
‘An’ has Miss Connelly been takin’ her temper out on you?’ Eileen asked, ready to defend her daughter.
‘No, but I think she felt like punching the floor manager on the nose for making a show of her in front of the customer.’
‘Who was in the right?’
‘Miss Connelly was, but you don’t argue with the boss. If he says jump, then you jump.’ Edna raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad if the customer had been nice about it, but she wasn’t. She gloated over Miss Connelly’s embarrassment and walked out of the shop with a smirk all over her face.’
