A Family Christmas (16 page)

Chapter Twelve

IF JOHN GREY
was the happiest man in Millington, Will Gabbitas was certainly the proudest as he clambered in and out of the brand new lorry, selling the fresh greens to both old and new customers. Mr Grundy had fashioned a series of shelves on the back of it so that customers could see everything on display. Will went up and down the streets knocking on doors. ‘Anything today?’ Most of the housewives would come out and see what was on offer – even if they didn’t buy much it was an excuse for a gossip and Mr Brown would pass on any news he picked up on the way. Will would weigh out the fruit and vegetables with either the large black weights or the small brass ones. He would then carry the merchandise back to the doors for the ladies. Most would enquire about how the weddings had gone, or how their Mary or Nellie were keeping these days. One even had the audacity to ask, ‘Not got a bun in the oven yet, your Mary, then?’

Will thought the new council houses were ever so posh with the big gardens and lavs just inside the back door. Back in the truck he thought about what the woman had said. Evelyn Smithson had
told
Kitty that she had got caught with a baby the first time she had done it. Kitty had told their Albert and Albert had told Will. So why hadn’t their Mary got a bun in the oven? Perhaps she and Jacob didn’t do it. Maybe it wasn’t as much fun as everybody made out. Perhaps it even hurt. He decided to ask James when they had their talk.

‘We’ll put the plums down to ’alf price now Will. Them bloody wasps ave been at ’em so we’d best get rid.’

‘All right, Mr Brown.’

‘Tha’d better start calling me Fred if we’re to be working together.’

‘All right, Mr Brown. So long as yer don’t think I’m being cheeky; our Lucy warned me about that.’

‘No, I won’t. I just thought it’d be more friendly, like.’

‘All right, Mr … I mean Fred.’

‘’Ow does tha feel now tha’s nearly got first week over? Are tha going to like it?’

‘I love it, especially the markets. I’ll try not to mek a mistake next week.’

‘Mistake? Why, did tha mek one this week?’

‘Aye. I sold a whole bag of onions at a penny a pound too much. It were yer writing, yer see. I mistook a five for a six.’

Mr Brown let out a guffaw of laughter. ‘Did anybody complain, lad?’

‘No. Mind you, I made ’em all laugh with me jokes so I don’t suppose they noticed.’

‘Tha can mek a few more mistakes like that, lad. I shan’t complain.’ He looked at his gold pocket watch. ‘Right then, we’ll do the four rows now and then we’ll call it a day. I like to finish early on a Saturday. Tha’s worked ’ard enough this week so I’ll sort lorry out today. I think we’re going to do well me and thee, lad. Once we get into a routine we’ll be grand.’

‘Thanks Mr … Fred.’

By the time they reached Top Row the truck was almost empty. There wouldn’t be much left for the greengrocer to sort out by the time he’d given stuff to the poor families. At present there were about fifty children living on the row and by the look of it, all of them were out in the yard on this lovely August afternoon – girls playing hopscotch or skipping, boys playing football. The Holmeses and Murphys against the Marshalls and Cartwrights. When the truck trundled along the row the game was forgotten as they all came to take a look at the brightly painted vehicle. To celebrate Will’s first week on his new job Mr Brown gave every child an apple. He knew the mothers would appreciate his generosity; besides, they were almost past their best anyway. He’d start on a new box on Monday.

William went off to join the Marshall team. ‘We’re losing two nil,’ Ernie Slater moaned.

‘Oh, it’s only a game,’ Will consoled him. Nothing could upset him today. He had done well on his
new
job, and that meant he would never again have to worry about going to work down the pit.

Lucy was also brimming over with gladness after her first week of married life. Mary had prepared her for what would happen on her wedding night, but she hadn’t told her how exquisite lovemaking would be. There again, perhaps it wasn’t like that for everyone, only her and John. Lucy giggled at some of the things they had got up to in the privacy of their bed. And not only in bed. On the pegged rug in front of the wardrobe mirror where they could see themselves. She blushed as she remembered how their nudity had excited them. The only problem had been the lack of sleep. John, who had been on morning shift and had to be up at five, couldn’t possibly have had more than a couple of hours’ sleep. Oh well, he could make up for it this week on afternoon shift; he could stay in bed in the mornings. Lucy had officially finished work now, as all married women were expected to do.

However, a large order had come in and Mr Blackmore had asked Lucy to stay on until the order was completed. She was happy to do so but John wouldn’t like it when he was on night shift and she was on days. They would hardly see each other, but would no doubt find time to make love, between John coming to bed and her getting up. Lucy wondered what her mother would have thought of her. She thought Annie would have considered
it
sinful to be thinking about making love all the time the way Lucy did. She smiled to herself as she imagined Annie calling her a brazen hussy. Lucy thought she might be, but she didn’t care; she loved John and he loved her and she considered herself the most fulfilled woman in Millington, or maybe the whole county of Yorkshire.

The house was looking attractive. The atmosphere also seemed lighter now that Lucy had decided to throw out the old cracked crockery and use some of the new. She had replaced the faded tablecloths and frayed towels and placed a vase bought by the Goodmans in the centre of the dresser where it was reflected in the mirror. She had gathered a bunch of purple heather and arranged it in the vase, adding a few springs of lavender to scent the room. Upstairs their bed had been dressed with new linen and a lovely gold eiderdown, which reflected the morning sun. The carnations from her bridal bouquet were beginning to fade; when they died she would press them between the pages of her bible – her Sunday school prize when she was twelve. She would give the Gabbitas family bible to Ben on his next visit and her mother’s hymn and prayer book to Will.

Lucy combed her hair in front of the wishing mirror, took off her apron and took a chair outside. She sat in the sun, watching her husband and brother kicking a ball about in the yard. Dustbins were being used for goal posts and by what she could make out the Holmes team were winning by ten
goals
to two. Kitty came and brought a stool to join Lucy, laughing as her brother aimed for the goal and missed. ‘They haven’t a chance against the Holmeses; young Harry’s scored all ten.’

Lucy sighed. ‘I reckon Mrs Holmes’ll have trouble with that one. He’s too good-looking for his own good.’

‘Aye, and he’s after the lasses already. He is handsome though. He’ll be a right charmer in a few years’ time.’

‘So will his brother.’ Not as nice-looking as my John though, thought Lucy, already thinking about bedtime.

Mary felt the familiar crampy pain and knew that once again she had failed to become pregnant. Jacob would be just as disappointed as she was, but would hide his feelings as usual and tell Mary it didn’t matter. They both knew it did, not only to them but to Jacob’s parents who were yearning for a grandchild. If Mary looked a bit tired they would take it as a sign that a baby was in the offing. If she put on a few pounds they would notice and become excited. Sometimes she thought it might happen if only everyone would forget about it. She knew Jacob was on the verge of telling his mother to back off and Mary would hate to fall out with her in-laws. She looked at the crowd of ragged children who lived down in the shadow of the steelworks. She knew the families down there had all on to
make
ends meet, yet God blessed them with one child after the other. Jacob, a hard worker, would feed his children well, dress them warmly and be the best father in the world, yet it seemed as though it wasn’t to be. She put on her coat ready for work. Like Lucy she was back working on the urgent order for parasols. The wealthy ladies wouldn’t like their delicate skins to be spoiled by this bout of hot weather. Mary couldn’t believe people still had time to bother with parasols in this day and age. When she had a daughter she would buy her the best Millington parasol she could afford. In the meantime, work would help distract from her inability to conceive. She had Jacob, the kindest, most caring husband she could wish for. What more did she need?

Thomas Johnson had been captivated by Nellie’s family and astounded at the number of wedding guests. He had been overwhelmed at first, but as first one then another relative had introduced themselves he had realised, as an only child, just what he had been missing all these years. Oh, he knew how fortunate he was to have been left a legacy by his maternal grandfather. Enough to start a garage just when motor vehicles were proving to be the transport of the future. Not only was the filling station thriving but he had orders for a number of cars and motorcycles. However Tom had realised during his time in Millington that he would forfeit
all
his wealth for a family like Nellie’s. He wondered what Nellie would make of his parents and the grand house in the most select area of Blackpool. It never entered his head to wonder what his parents would think of Nellie, a working girl from a mining family. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Thomas had already made up his mind that Nellie Gabbitas was the girl he was going to marry. The following week he invited Nellie to Blackpool to meet his parents. Tom offered to fetch her on Saturday and bring her back on Sunday, but Nellie told him she was quite capable of travelling by train. She knew Tom had a couple of men working for him, but as he had mentioned Saturdays could be quite busy she knew he would be more useful working than trailing all the way to Millington and back. ‘You don’t mind me taking a weekend off, do you?’ she asked Mrs Cooper.

‘Course I don’t mind. Not a day’s holiday ’ave yer taken in all the time you’ve been ’ere.’ Mrs Cooper had every intention of encouraging the friendship between Nellie and Mr Johnson. It wasn’t nice living the life of a spinster with neither child nor chicken to call her own, and besides Mr Johnson was nice, with no side to him despite his wealth. ‘Theer’s nowt special ’appening anyway. I expect it’s the time of year they all pop off on their ’olidays.’

Nellie was apprehensive about meeting Tom’s parents; they sounded ever so posh. She hoped she didn’t embarrass him in any way. When she voiced
her
concerns to Mrs Cooper, the housekeeper said, ‘Embarrass ’im? They’d ’ave all on to find anybody better.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ Nellie wasn’t convinced. She packed her bag and decided to wear her new costume in a lovely fawn colour; she had bought a hat from Daniel Evans in Sheffield to match the brown velvet collar. Nellie had spent more in the last couple of months than in all her working life, but she really did want Tom to be proud of her. If he was she knew it would have been money well spent.

He was waiting for her when she left the train. He held out his arms and gathered her to him, revelling in the scent of her. Nellie had never been to Blackpool before – or any other seaside resort. She didn’t see much of it as he drove through the back streets. She could however see the tower looming tall and straight in the opposite direction from where they were heading. ‘We’ll go to the tower later,’ Tom promised. When they drew up outside the large detached property set in the colourful, well-kept garden, Nellie blushed as she wondered what Tom’s parents would think of the house on Top Row.

Tom felt the trembling of her hand as he helped her out of the car. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said, concerned for her. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about. I daresay my mother’s even more anxious than you about making a good impression.’ Nellie doubted it. Then they were in the hall where Tom’s parents were waiting to greet them.

‘So you’re Nellie. We’ve heard so much about you.’ Margaret Johnson held out a pale, smooth hand, at the sight of which Nellie already felt at a disadvantage. Still, she supposed there were servants to do all the rough work in a house like this.

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Nellie smiled and the woman returned the smile, entranced by Nellie’s beauty. Mr Johnson placed a kiss on Nellie’s cheek. She thought she detected the smell of petrol on his clothing. He took her hand and led her into a large, well-furnished room. ‘Welcome to Oak House,’ he said.

‘It’s a lovely house,’ Nellie said. She could hardly resist staring round at the furnishings but managed to concentrate on the feel of the thick pile carpet and the warmth of the fire, which she suspected had been lit more for her pleasure than from the need of it on this August afternoon. ‘I’ll show you to your room, then we shall have tea.’ Mrs Johnson led her back into the hall and up the stairs. ‘You have a view of the park from this room.’

‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ Nellie answered truthfully, but thought she had a much better view from her room at the manor, of the moors and Cragstone. Nothing, in Nellie’s opinion, could compare with the stark beauty of the Pennine moors.

During tea, Tom sniffed at his father, ‘You’ve been at the garage again, haven’t you?’

‘Aye, how do you know?’ Henry Johnson looked puzzled.

‘Because you smell like a petrol tank,’ Tom laughed.

‘What did I tell you?’ His wife shook her head. ‘He’s supposed to have taken early retirement in order to relax a little in his old age and he’s gone and found himself another job, helping out at the garage.’

‘It isn’t a job, it’s a hobby.’

‘What did you find to do this afternoon then, whilst my back was turned?’ Tom laughed.

‘Served a few customers, polished that Morris in the showroom. Watched Fred fit a gasket on a bike. I’m learning all the time.’

‘Look, Dad, if you enjoy it so much I’ll put you on the payroll, part time.’ Tom watched his father’s eyes light up.

‘Oh I don’t want paying, son. But I would like to work regular hours. It would give me a purpose in life.’ He looked across the table at Nellie. ‘I’m not cut out for retirement, Nellie. Margaret doesn’t understand that a man needs to feel useful.’