by Pam Weaver
She fingered her dress. The warm deep cherry velvet echoed her mood, shaped her body, showing off her neat waist and full bust. She might be built square but everything was in proportion. Someone wound up the old gramophone and familiar tunes took on a whole new meaning. She wanted to seal all these precious moments in a jar to take out in the long months ahead.
Jack took her by the hand and whirled her around the room until she was dizzy. She could feel his breath, and the scent of him was sweet to her nostrils. He had lost that ingrained smell of hay and farm. They glanced up at each other and smiled, a brief exchange of eyes and meanings.
Tonight we’ll be as one. This is where I belong, she sighed, feeling the touch of his fingers like electricity surging through her body. She’d never felt this urgency before. This was no gentle courtship. This was raw naked hunger. She sensed the stirring in his body and drew back. There was more on the boil than the kettle!
If only this was Hollywood, he could be Rhett to her Scarlett, Heathcliff to her Cathy, Maxim de Winter to her Rebecca, but this was Yorkshire and romance was thin on the ground except at the Plaza Picture House in Scarperton. She sometimes skived off with the Land Girls to the afternoon matinée on market day, swooning at the fancy costumes and handsome heroes. Now she had one of her very own.
Anyone could see they were smitten, and Florrie didn’t seem to mind. Jack was family but not a blood relative. Gran was too poorly to notice much these days.
It was almost a relief when everyone started to make noises about going home but not before another serving of supper and toffees. Coupons and rations were forgotten for the day. Belts were loosened, ties undone, corsets unhooked when Cragside was having a blowout. Neighbours, children, soldiers on leave squashed together for one final singsong.
Jack saved Mirren a place on the floor as Grandpa began his ghostly monologue about the mysterious barghest, the white hound of the dale, omen of death and doom, and one of his sightings. As they crouched together she felt his hand reach out and squeeze hers tightly, his fingers caressed the inside of her palm so gently she felt herself flush with pleasure. If he had said, let’s slip away now and go to your bed, rip off our clothes and make love all night long, she would have risen, meek as a lamb and done his bidding, not caring what anyone thought.
His hand brushed her thigh lightly and she was transfixed by the sensation. It was now or never. They might never get another evening together but how was it going to happen if he went back to Scar Head?
By the time everyone lingered and chatted, it was time to take Gran up to bed and help her undress. Grandpa was tired and Jack came up with the perfect solution.
‘You have a lie-in in the morning,’ he said to the old man. ‘I’ll kip down with Ben for the night and see to some chores then. I’m good at taking orders,’ he smiled, winking at her.
Nothing more was said, just one brief exchange of nods as they parted at the top of the landing but she knew that for the first time in her life she would not be sleeping alone.
Lying in bed with not one wink of sleep in her, she waited for the house to go quiet. She had checked that Ben had finished the rounds of the yard, settled the dogs. She could hear Daisy banking up the fire, climbing the stairs to her bedroom above. She waited and waited until she was forced to rise and put on her dressing gown and make for the parlour, but it was in darkness too. She climbed back up the stairs with a sickening lump in her throat. She had got it all wrong. She didn’t put the light back on and sighed as she flung herself on the bed.
‘Ouch!’ whispered a voice. ‘You weigh a ton!’
‘What took you so long?’ she said, not quite believing he was here at last. Her arms were around him in a second and she cradled him tight.
‘I’ve come for my Christmas present,’ he whispered. ‘Hope I’m not too late?’
There was no time to reply, for he stopped her mouth with his kisses. There was no fear in how their bodies crushed together, strained to express all they felt, and what was happening was as natural as talking and breathing. Why waste precious moments in words when bodies can do such delicious things to each other?
There was no time for coyness, only the desperate seizing of the moment. All Mirren’s scruples vanished in the primitive surge to mate and surrender.
Jack’s breath smelled of whisky and cigarettes, a heady brew. She melted under his touch as his fingers sought out her nipples and flicked them into life. His hands moved downwards until she felt her blood turn into treacle. As he entered her she felt a searing pain and it was hard not to cry out. As he moved forwards and backwards deeper into her, the soreness fell away and then he withdrew and it was all over before she had begun to settle down and enjoy herself. There was so much to learn.
‘I’ve not taken any risks, love,’ he whispered. ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you too much but it’ll get better with practice when we’re wed.’
She pretended to hit him. ‘Is that a proposal?’ she said, her heart leaping at his words.
‘I suppose it is.’
How could something so wonderful be rationed to only those with wedding rings, she mused. Thank goodness lovemaking wasn’t on coupons. They’d have used up a whole year’s worth in one night, but who cared? Heaven knew when they would get some again but the thought of a honeymoon kept her awake all night.
Ben lay awake, seething. Jack’s camp bed was empty and he knew where he was and he was furious, jealousy and envy all mixed up. How dare Jack come home and ruin everything with his fancy talk? He’d seen them eyeing each other up all night. He was furious with Mirren for falling for such obvious charm.
He lay in the darkness, powerless, trying not to think what was going on down the corridor. What had Jack got that he hadn’t? Easy to answer that, he mused. Florrie’s son had a way with girls, a confidence and patter, but he was also a man’s man and could drink any of them under the table and still seem sober. He made Ben feel like a clodhopper, a homespun bumpkin with two left feet.
His mind was raging with scenarios of murderous revenge: sabotaging Jack’s motor bike brake cable, ambushing him in the dark–jealous fantasies that shocked him. It was Christmas and goodwill to all men was the order of the day. Mirren had made her choice and it was none of his business.
In the early hours, Jack crept back into the room and Ben shone his torch in his face. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘None of your bloody business.’
‘If you’re just messing about with our Mirren…’
‘What’s it to you? She’s your cousin, remember.’
‘She’s one of the best and deserves to be treated right. If you get her into trouble, I’ll kill you,’ Ben snapped.
‘You’ll do what? You and whose army? What do you know about girls? You’re too scared to lay a finger on any of them!’ Jack was mocking him.
‘Shut it!’ Ben leaped out of bed and pinned Jack by the neck. ‘You’d better be marrying her or you’ll have me to answer to. Don’t go breaking her heart. I heard about you and Doris Hargrave, last summer. She went to pot when you dumped her. Tongues wag in a small village.’
‘Get off me, Lanky…That was ages ago, nothing to do with how I feel about Mirren.’ Jack shrugged and smirked, which only made things worse.
Ben grabbed him and shoved him against the door in a stranglehold. ‘I mean every word. If you so much as—’
‘Hold yer sweat. What’s got into you, the parsnip wine? You never could hold your liquor. Don’t jump the gun. As a matter of fact I’ve just popped the question and she’s said, yes…so shut up. Needless to say I’ll not be asking you to be best man.’
‘That’s all right then,’ said Ben, releasing his hold, feeling sick at this news. ‘I only want what’s best for her.’
‘You want her for yourself but I got in there first,’ Jack laughed. There was a cruel glint in his eye. ‘I don’t need to explain, do I? First come, first served, so keep your filthy paws off her.’
‘I don’t think
of her like that,’ Ben replied.
‘You’re no man if you don’t. Believe me, she’s hot stuff under the sheets,’ came the boast.
‘Oh, shut the fuck up!’ Ben snapped. This was not the old Jack he used to muck about with as a lad. He’d always been easy-going. There was a cold edge to his tongue now, a cruel ruthless streak Ben had never seen on display before and he was worried.
‘Go screw yourself, boyo!’ Jack taunted.
Ben grabbed a blanket and took himself down to kip by the hearth. He didn’t want to be in the same room as Jack. His homecoming had spoiled everything and Ben wished he’d gone back to Leeds. He kept thinking about Bert, lying dead, broken somewhere, or caged up in a camp. The sofa was too small for him but this discomfort was nothing to what his brother would be suffering out there if he was still alive. It was a long restless night.
‘I’ve got some good news. Jack and me are thinking of getting wed soon,’ Mirren announced the next day as she sat perched on Gran’s bed.
All the Christmas excitement had been too much for Adey and she was staying in bed for the day under strict orders not to budge.
‘We want to do it quickly in case he’s sent abroad soon.’
There was silence for a second as the news sank in. Gran looked at Joe and back at Mirren. ‘Eeh, you’ve caught us on the hop there. I allus thought it’d be young…Are you sure? Jack Sowerby…Florrie’ll be chuffed but it’s a big step to take, lass.’
‘I’ve known him since I was eight. We’re well suited.’ Mirren was surprised that Gran wasn’t more excited.
‘But we thought you were staying on the farm like Ben for the duration,’ said Grandpa.
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ she said, puzzled. ‘Who said anything about leaving the farm? I’ll be going nowhere. I’m still a Land Girl and there’s a war on. It’s going to make no difference while Jack’s away.’
‘Once the war’s over, Jack’ll want to be making tracks to better himself. You know what Kerrs are like. He’ll never make a farmer and you’ll be going with him then,’ croaked Gran, her sharp grey eyes piercing into Mirren’s.
‘We’ll see when the time comes. Anyway, that’s a long way off. People change their plans. I thought you’d be pleased,’ Mirren added. It was not quite the joyous reaction she had hoped for.
‘As long as you’re sure, love. We just want you to be happy. If Jack is Mister Right who are we to gainsay it? Marriage takes two and Jack’s always been a wild ’un. Florrie will tell you that. I reckon it was not having a dad around when he was a kiddy. I allus remember him jumping off the foss straight down into that water, a right little devil with no sense of danger.’
‘That’s not his fault. I didn’t have a mother,’ Mirren snapped.
‘I know, but happen a wedding will help him find his roots. No one can say you aren’t a solid and sensible girl. Where would we be without you now?’ said Gran, stretching out her hand. ‘Congratulations! We were blessed the day the Lord brought you to our door; a second chance to put things right with Ellie. Love lists where it wills, lass, we know that,’ she sighed, looking towards her husband.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not Mam or Dad. No hole-in-the-corner wedding for me. War or no war, I’ve set my heart on him and a proper chapel do. He’ll make us proud no matter what the future brings.’
‘Then we’ll have to get our skates on and get cracking. A real chapel do means a choir, sit-down breakfast in the barn, if needs be. Let no one say the Yewells don’t know how to put on a show, but it’ll all have to be above board, no under-the-counter dealings or any alcohol. We’re not footing the bill for Satan’s brew.’ Gran sat up already looking brighter.
‘That’s more like it. Don’t you worry, I’ll see to it all. Ben can help me. You just get yourself fit again. A wedding is just what we all need to cheer us up!’
Ben couldn’t believe Mirren would go ahead with marrying that scumbag. Jack didn’t love Mirren as a man should with all his heart and soul. It was all sex. He wanted her body to keep him warm when he came home on leave. He’d make promises he’d never keep. It wasn’t in his nature.
Jack was not cut out for country life. He’d been one of the first to volunteer to see the world. Sooner or later he’d take his cousin far away from everyone she loved here, far from them into towns and cities. Then he’d get bored with her and drink too much. Mirren deserved better.
Now, if it were him going down the aisle with her he’d get that little house she loved so much shipshape, reroofed and made spick and span, new windows and floorboards, a lick of distemper. He’d build her a kitchen with cupboards and they could live on the tops content. Only it wasn’t him she wanted.
Not once had she looked in his direction with the sort of cow eyes Lorna Dinsdale was making at him when she called. Lorna was always hanging on his every word and lingering in the yard, holding him up from his jobs. Trouble was, when he looked at her there was no spark. It was a shame because she was a nice enough lass, nice figure, shiny hair and pleasant voice, and she’d just lost her brother in the RAF.
You don’t choose who you love, he thought, stretching his long legs under the table, disturbing the house dog who rested her head in his lap. Pity!
It was time to look over Mirren’s list. She might not love him but she knew how to make him jump to her bidding.
Mirren could hardly believe how quickly they could organise a wedding once the family got used to the idea. If Jack was going to go abroad it was better that they spent some private time together before he went, they argued. Everyone could see they were in love.
Auntie Florrie was a bit subdued at first, but then got into the swing of the arrangements in the time-honoured place of her own mother. Granny was failing but was determined to attend the wedding in the chapel on 21 March: the first day of spring.
Finding enough coupons to buy a wedding dress was out of the question so Mirren found a dressmaker in Scarperton who ran her up a lovely two-piece dress and jacket in pale turquoise wool crepe. She found a sharp black hat with a feather in the side and matching gloves and shoes. The girls in the hostel gave her some dyed parachute silk to make underwear and she felt like a princess in all her finery.
Only Ben ignored all the fuss as if it wasn’t happening, and every time she asked what was the matter, all he’d say was, ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? What’s the rush?’ which was no help at all.
Mirren assumed his indifference was because he thought she’d have to give up her work, but there was no possibility of her leaving Cragside, nor did she want to with Gran in such bad health.
The day dawned fine for a change; the first day of spring in all its glory. Outside, the daffodils were nestling in the shelter of the stone walls, the tired snowdrops flopping and the sky set fair for the day.
Mirren lay in bed gazing up at the ceiling. As from today she’d be Mrs Jack Sowerby, a proper married woman with a husband in the Forces. She was the envy of all the Land Girls, who took great delight in plying her with lurid details of what to expect on her wedding night. She’d sat wide-eyed, looking all innocence. It was nobody else’s business what they’d already been up to in bed.
Daisy helped her get dressed, fussing over the angle of her hat so it showed off her new shorter hairstyle. There was a small posy of spring flowers to carry and all the guests were given buttonholes and sprays, which Mirren and Daisy had sat up half the night putting together.
Yesterday Florrie, Daisy and Mirren set out the trestle tables with white starched linen cloths in the Chapel Hall for a stand-up buffet. No one was allowed to sit down to eat in case there was an air raid! Gran was overwhelmed with gifts of ham and pies and home baking. The wedding cake was a plain sponge sandwiched together with jam and frosted over with butter cream. It was the best they could do at short notice. Mirren was going to give Jack an old family signet ring and she was making do with a second-hand wedding band as gold was scarce.
This upset Florrie for some re
ason. ‘I hope you’re not tempting fate,’ she whispered. ‘It ought to be a new one. You haven’t even got an engagement ring.’
‘There is a war on,’ snapped Mirren, tired with all the preparations. What did it matter if someone had already got some joy out of the ring? It was the best Mr Soames, the jeweller, could offer at short notice.
She drove down to Windebank in Mr Bennett’s ambulance saloon cum taxi with Grandpa looking dapper in his preaching suit and Gran with her fox fur tippet and best hat. Lorna was the bridesmaid, wearing a borrowed tweed coat and hat and a new dress underneath. It wasn’t the most stylish wedding party in the dale but it was going to be one of the happiest.
It was a lovely family wedding. Jack brought a soldier friend, Eddie Minshall, to be his best man. Uncle Wes and Auntie Pam came from Leeds. They had heard that Bert was captured and safe at long last. Ben looked splendid in his Home Guard uniform, towering over everyone with a face like thunder. The reception went without a hitch until some of Jack’s mates got a little tipsy by tripping over to The Fleece to top him up. Grandpa was on his feet to toast the couple with elderberry cordial.
‘Raise your glasses to this brave couple setting out on the most exciting journey of their lives. May the Lord grant them the blessing of a happy hearth and the patter of tiny feet in due course. May He bring our Jack safely through the dangers to come.’ He turned then to Gran with a wink. ‘If they’re as happy as we’ve been these fifty years, I shall be content, eh, Mother?’
Mirren thought her heart would burst with joy and love. All she loved were sitting around them wishing them well. If only Paddy and Ellie, her parents, were here to share this precious moment…When she turned towards Jack she thought her heart would burst with pride. We’re so lucky, she smiled to herself. Soon it would be time to toss her bouquet, say her goodbyes and suffer the blizzard of confetti when they went to catch the train up to the Lake District for three nights in a hotel by the shores of Lake Windermere.
