Dancing in the Moonlight (24 page)

This was the nature of her thoughts in the cold light of day and she meant every word. But on a cool night towards the end of May, a month after her birthday, which had gone unnoticed by
everyone, she stood shivering and shaking in the wash-house in the yard. She had filled the tin bath with plenty of warm water and had bought a tablet of scented soap for the occasion, and now she
forced herself to strip completely.

Half an hour later she couldn’t put off returning to the flat any longer. Perce raised his head from his paper when she walked into the sitting room. ‘All right, lass? You’ve
been a while.’

It was beyond her to do more than nod before she scuttled into the bedroom. After checking Daisy, who was fast asleep in the bassinet in a corner of the room, she sat down on the bed. She knew
Perce would go downstairs and have his nightly wash-down and shave shortly, and she waited until she heard him clomp down the stairs before she stood up and began to undress.

Instead of pulling on her old calico nightdress on top of her shift and drawers, she stripped completely. Then she reached under her pillow and drew out the new nightdress she’d made
herself with a roll of material she’d bought from the Old Market especially for the purpose. The soft white lawn had been a pleasure to sew and now, as she pulled the nightdress over her
head, she stood looking at herself in the mirror. The garment was sleeveless and quite plain, except for a wide blue ribbon which gathered the bust into a ruched effect. It showed off her new
curves in a way that caused hot colour to flood her cheeks and the trembling to begin once more.

Taking down her hair, she brushed the golden-brown waves until they shone and rippled in the light of the oil lamp. For the first time since her marriage she didn’t plait it, but left it
loose to flow over her shoulders.

The last thing she did was to unfasten the thin silver chain holding the little heart from around her neck. Very deliberately, she wrapped it in a piece of paper and placed it under her clothes
in the chest of drawers. She would never wear it again. From this night forth she was someone else’s wife. Some might say she had been Perce’s wife from the day she was wed, but she
knew differently. Inside, where her heart and soul lay, she had still been Jacob’s. What she was about to do tonight would alter that. It had to. And it was this last act, rather than
anything else that had gone before, which completed her transformation into a woman.

Instead of seeking cover under the bedclothes, she made herself sit quietly on top of the bed awaiting his appearance. The first move in this would need to come from her, she was aware of that,
and Perce being Perce, she would have to make her intentions abundantly clear, because subtlety was lost on him.

In spite of herself and the panic that was coursing through her, the thought brought a weak smile. Who would have imagined that, after nearly eleven months of marriage and with a baby daughter
to boot, she would be seducing her own husband? Not that Perce would take much seducing, she knew that. She understood the reason for his restless tossing and turning over the last months and the
odd burst of temper that his frustration caused.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs, then in the room outside. The bedroom door opened and still she sat on the bed as she looked across the room to where he stood surveying her, his face
stretched in comical surprise. His big arms hung loosely by his sides and he didn’t move, nor did he speak. Strangely, his bewilderment eased her shyness and fear of what lay ahead. Softly,
she said, ‘Why don’t you turn out the lamp and come to bed and love me?’

It hadn’t been anything like she had expected. In spite of herself and her desire to ease the craving of his body, she had become stiff and unyielding once he was in bed
beside her. When his arms had gone about her, the trembling of her body had increased. She forgot that this was Perce and that he cared about her, she was only conscious of feeling smothered and
helpless, but he had begun to talk to her, to stroke and pet her, his voice deep and unhurried.

Slowly, very slowly, her tensely held shoulders and limbs relaxed and her hands, which had been knotted against his huge chest, uncurled. She could do this, she told herself fiercely. It
wasn’t so bad. Perce wouldn’t hurt her more than he had to.

In the event, he didn’t hurt her at all. When he had at last nudged her thighs apart she had braced herself for the pain and discomfort, but there was only a brief sensation of tightness
as he entered her. And it had been over quickly.

Now she lay in the darkness listening to him snore beside her, knowing this was to be her lot from now on. It wasn’t what she would have chosen, but she had Daisy, and Perce loved her. Of
that she had no doubt. She had known so before tonight, but the things he had said under cover of darkness had confirmed it. And he asked so little of her in comparison to what he gave.

Her pent-up breath escaped in a tiny swoosh of sound.

She would make Perce happy and ensure their home would be a good place for Daisy and Matthew and the others. And, in doing so, she would be happy too – as long as she didn’t let
herself think of Jacob and that other life that could have been.

The summer was a warm one and Daisy flourished, growing more enchanting with each week that passed. Her cot was now in the girls’ room and, although Lucy missed having
her near, she felt she owed it to Perce to make their bedroom their own again. She had ceased inspecting her daughter’s baby features for any sign of Tom Crawford. Daisy was a replica of
herself, everyone said so, and Lucy was content. Perce was besotted with the infant – if Daisy had truly been his, he couldn’t have loved her more – and the flat above the
fishmonger’s shop
was
a happy place.

Summer mellowed into a crisp autumn with sharp white frosts and high blue skies, and the Wall Street Crash over the ocean in America at the end of October barely impacted on Lucy’s life.
The papers were full of the news that the bursting of the stock-market bubble meant the withdrawal of American loans to foreign countries and other such financial details, but Lucy, still only
sixteen years old, couldn’t drum up interest about such faraway happenings. By the time the weather worsened, though, both she and Perce had become aware that the domino effect of the
collapse of the American money market had plunged Britain into a recession that made the previous years look like a walk in the park.

November was a raw month of bitterly cold winds and fierce snow showers, and the queues at the end of the day for the cheap fish and odds and ends grew daily as the recession bit harder.
Inevitably at close of business there were folk who were turned away with empty baskets.

The amount of dole given to a family was supposed to be related to their ‘needs’, but Lucy knew this meant a standard of bare subsistence and inadequate diet. She hated to see the
thin, poorly clad men, women and children trudging out into the winter’s night empty-handed and desperate.

She was thinking about the problem as she sat with Perce in front of the fire one evening at the beginning of December, her hands busy with a basketful of darning, but her mind occupied
elsewhere. ‘We could provide hot soup,’ she said, out of the blue. ‘Just in the last couple of hours before you shut up shop.’

Perce’s newspaper lowered and he stared at her. ‘What?’

‘All the end-of-day bits and pieces that you sell cheap, we could use them by making soup. They’d go further and most, if not all, of the customers could have something. People could
bring their own bowls and pans and what-have-you; I don’t mean they’d eat in the shop, but they could take away something hot, to see them through the night at least. We could price it
at a quart costing a penny, or something like that. There’s room for a good-sized range in the back of the shop where you store things, so we keep it separate from here. It’d be another
kitchen so to speak, and you’d make more by selling soup like that than you ever do in selling the odds and ends to folk. What do you think?’

Perce shook his head doubtfully. ‘It’d be a lot of extra work.’

‘Not really. I could prepare it gradually throughout the day when I’ve time, and make sure it’s ready. With the Depression worsening it’d be another string to our bow,
now wouldn’t it? And we’d be helping people. I – I know what it’s like to be hungry and at your wits’ end.’

‘All right, all right, I’ll think about it,’ said Perce hastily. ‘Don’t get all worked up.’

Lucy smiled. She knew what that meant. Perce refused her nothing that it was in his power to give.

Over the next two or three weeks Lucy bought a good second-hand range and various pots and pans and utensils, and Perce transformed part of his storeroom into a working kitchen. He put his foot
down on delaying the new venture until after Christmas, however, feeling that with seven children in the house, six of whom were under ten years old, Lucy had enough to do over the holiday period.
She was happy to go along with this. The year before she had been feeling desperately unhappy about her condition and hugely cumbersome to boot; this year she wanted Christmas to be a time of
family fun and joy.

To that end, she and Ruby decided to take John and the little ones into the town to Fawcett Street, where all the big shops were lit up and sparkling with fairy lights and decorations on
Christmas Eve. It had been snowing on and off for the last week, but over the past two days no fresh fall had occurred and the snow was packed hard on the ground, making it easier to negotiate
Daisy’s perambulator through the streets. Just as they were leaving, Perce called Lucy into the shop where he was busy serving customers and slipped a couple of notes into her hand.
‘Take them to tea at Binns,’ he said, squeezing her arm. ‘An’ don’t rush back, neither. I can manage here. Enjoy yourself.’

She smiled at him, her eyes glowing, as excited by the little adventure as though she was going as far afield as Newcastle. On impulse she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, careless of his
grimy apron and the smell of fish. His round, rough face flushed with pleasure and, to cover his delight, he said gruffly, ‘Go on with you, they’re waiting.’

It was a merry little party that made its way into the main part of town as an early twilight began to fall. The festive season seemed to have infected everyone with its magic. Although most
folk were laden with parcels and last-minute shopping, they were, on the whole, bright-faced and jovial, and Daisy, sitting up in her perambulator clad in a small white furry coat and matching
bonnet that Lucy had made for her, drew many a smile and a nod.

They didn’t hurry as they wandered along in the bitterly cold, crisp air. The children were well wrapped up against the chill and John had the twins on either side of him, whilst Ruby held
tight to Matthew and Charley’s hands. It was the first time Lucy had come into the centre of town since Perce had taken them in and now she berated herself for not having the courage to do so
before. Hidden away at home with Perce close by, she had felt safe and secure, and for a long time that had been all she’d wanted. The fear of seeing someone she knew, of seeing
him
– Tom Crawford – had kept her in a kind of prison, she realized now, as she gazed at the crowds and the lights. And she was no longer the penniless young girl of yesteryear. She was a
married woman. She had a husband and a child, a whole family.

It was gone six o’clock when they left Binns, after a sumptuous tea of wafer-thin sandwiches, little pastries and cream cakes. Each of the children – even Ruby – was clutching
a small chocolate bell wrapped in silver paper with a picture of the store on it, which had been complimentary with the tea. Lucy had tried to prise Daisy’s away from her, fearing she would
try to eat the silver paper, but to no avail. Now Lucy smiled at her daughter as she wrapped her up warmly in the perambulator, which they had left just inside the entrance to the shop in the care
of the friendly doorman. Daisy might look like a tiny angel with her halo of golden-brown curls and huge blue eyes, but she had a mind of her own.

It was as they emerged as a laughing, chattering group into the icy-cold air in which the odd desultory snowflake was floating that a voice behind her brought Lucy spinning round.

‘Lucy, lass?’ Enid Crawford was staring at her, amazement stretching her face. ‘It
is
you, as I live an’ breathe. And Ruby and John and the twins too. Well, I
never.’

For a moment Lucy could only stare back. Her heart was pumping so violently it seemed to vibrate her ribs and fill her head.

It was Ruby who broke the awkward moment, her face beaming as she recognized their old neighbour. ‘Hello, Mrs Crawford,’ she said brightly, as though they’d only spoken the day
before. ‘We’ve just been to tea in Binns and it was grand.’

‘It was a special treat for the bairns, it being Christmas Eve and all.’ Lucy found her voice as she stitched a smile on her face. ‘How are you, Mrs Crawford?’

‘Me, lass? Same as ever.’ Enid answered her, but her gaze had become riveted on Daisy. ‘The bab?’ she said bemusedly, for no one could mistake who her mother was.
‘She’s yours?’

‘Aye, yes.’ They were blocking the path, causing people to step off the pavement to pass them, and now, as Lucy turned the pram, she said weakly, ‘I think we’re in the
way. It was nice seeing you, Mrs Crawford.’

Enid was not going to be dismissed so easily. ‘I’ll walk along with you a way, lass. Our Tom brought me in, he’d got a spot of business to see to, and I’m meeting him
shortly at the corner of Bridge Street. He’s got his own car now, you know. Doing nicely for himself.’

Lucy said nothing. The mention of Tom’s name made her want to take to her heels and run, but that was impossible.

‘But enough of that,’ Enid continued, looking back at the others who were trailing behind them. She smiled, then turned to Lucy once more. ‘How long have you been back,
lass?’

‘Back?’ Through the swirling panic, Lucy knew she had to stop and turn off into a side-street soon. She couldn’t walk on with Tom’s mother and risk seeing him.