Down an English Lane (15 page)

She had lost touch with her former schoolfriends, some of whom had known, or had guessed at, the truth about her background. But Sadie, Daphne and Vera, she was quite sure, had no idea. When she was invited to their homes she became even more aware of the difference between her circumstances and those of her friends. Their parents owned their own houses, which were in far more affluent districts. Sadie lived at Heaton and Daphne and Vera at Frizinghall, a little further away from the city centre.

It was Sadie’s home that Christine visited the most. It was situated on a leafy avenue near to
Lister Park, not far from the point where Manningham Lane, the long road that led out of the city centre, changed into Keighley Road. It was, in truth, quite a modest semi-detached house, but to Christine, after living in ‘two-up, two-down’ cottage type dwellings, first with her parents and then with her gran, in a far less salubrious area, this was luxury indeed. There was hot water whenever it was required from something called an immersion heater, even in the summer months, without having to keep the fire banked up on the hottest of days; gardens with lawns at both the front and the back; and a garage where Mr Gascoyne kept his Morris Minor car. He drove to Bradford each day to his job as an insurance clerk, and sometimes Sadie travelled with him. Christine was envious of her friend’s lifestyle, although she hid her feelings very well. She was determined, however, that one day she would do even better for herself. She knew, though, that as long as her grandmother was alive it was her duty to stay with the old lady who had been so good to her, and she never flinched from it.

She was, truly, broken-hearted when her gran died suddenly, after a massive heart attack, at the age of eighty-two. She had not really been ill, apart from the odd twinge or two, which, typically, Lizzie had tried to ignore; so it had been even more of a shock to the girl, who was now left, virtually,
homeless. She could have afforded the rent of the property, and she was, in effect, the sitting tenant; but she saw this as an opportunity to make her first move towards a better life. And so when Mrs Gascoyne, who had always been fond of her, invited her to share their home, she jumped at the chance. Besides, there was a family of six already waiting to move into the property that her gran had rented. Christine told the landlord that their need was far greater than her own, which was true. She soon moved her possessions, such as they were, and went to live in the district of Heaton.

There she had her own bedroom, the smallest of the three, but she preferred to have her own space rather than share with Sadie. There were comforts such as she had not known before; an interior spring mattress on her single bed, rather than the flock one she had been accustomed to; an electric fire to plug in when the weather was cold; and a bedside reading lamp. She paid Mrs Gascoyne for her board and lodgings and settled down to a comfortable existence.

But it did not last for very long. Both she and Sadie realised it was their duty to enlist and do their bit in the war, which was showing no sign of ending. They made the decision despite the fact that their mill was now manufacturing uniforms of khaki and airforce blue, and therefore their jobs could be said to be of national importance. But there were younger women ready to step into their
shoes; and so, in 1943 Christine joined the WAAF and Sadie the ATS. They were good friends, but did not live in one another’s pockets, and neither of them tried to persuade the other to change her mind about the choice of service.

Now, in the September of 1945, Christine had been demobbed, whereas Sadie was not due to return home for another few weeks. But Christine knew that this would not worry her friend. Sadie was now enjoying her reunion with Roland, her fiancé, who was an army captain. He had already been a serving officer in the Regular Army before the war began and had recently returned from Germany to the camp at Aldershot.

‘Yes, I think we will soon be hearing the chime of wedding bells,’ Sadie’s mother told Christine, in great excitement. ‘He’s a lovely young man is Roland. Bill and I have really taken to him. He will be staying in the army of course; it’s his chosen career. So I dare say he and Sadie will move into married quarters…’

The two of them were enjoying a chat over a cup of tea in Barbara Gascoyne’s cosy kitchen, Christine having arrived back in the mid-afternoon. ‘What about you, dear?’ she asked. ‘Have you and your young man made any plans yet?’ Christine could see the older woman casting a surreptitious glance at her left hand. She felt a trifle
annoyed, but she hid her vexation and smiled airily.

‘No…we have no definite plans as yet. We are not officially engaged, but it won’t be long before we are…’ At least not if I have anything to do with it, she added to herself. ‘We do have an understanding. The RAF is Bruce’s chosen career as well, like Roland’s in the army, although he is quite a few years younger than Roland.’ She had not yet met Sadie’s fiancé, who, she had been informed, was twenty-eight… A much more marriageable age, she mused; but she was determined that Bruce’s lack of years should not deter him. She was convinced she would be able to bring him up to scratch if he showed any sign of hesitance.

‘How old is your young man, dear?’ asked Barbara. ‘About the same age as you?’

‘Er…he’s twenty-one,’ replied Christine, adding on a few months. She had not been thinking what she was saying just then, telling Barbara that he was several years younger than Roland. ‘He’s a little younger than me, as a matter of fact, but it doesn’t matter. He’s very mature for his age.’

She knew that this was not strictly true. Bruce had led quite a sheltered and a privileged life until he had joined the RAF. The company of other men, many of them older than he was, had brought about the change from boyhood to manhood – he had told her that himself – but she knew that there was still a certain naivety and innocence about him.
At twenty-two, Christine was just a little less than two years his senior. But Bruce did not know that. He believed her to be the same age as himself, although why she had deceived him she was not altogether sure. From the fear that he might have been frightened off, she supposed… But she was sure enough of him now – with her fingers tightly crossed – to risk telling him the truth.

She, Christine, was old enough to be married without the consent of a parent or guardian. Did the same rule apply to men, she wondered? Did they, too, need to be twenty-one? She guessed they did, but no matter; in a couple of months’ time Bruce would be old enough to please himself. There was still that dratted coming-of-age party, though, that his parents were insisting upon. She must try her utmost to persuade him to wriggle out of it…

‘…that would be nice, wouldn’t it, dear?’ Christine suddenly realised she was miles away, and that Barbara Gascoyne had been telling, or asking, her something.

‘Sorry…sorry, Mrs Gascoyne.’ She came to with a start. ‘I was…daydreaming, I suppose.’ She smiled sweetly, apologetically at her friend’s mother. ‘What was it you were saying?’

Mrs Gascoyne laughed. ‘I could see your head was way up in the clouds, thinking about that nice young man of yours, I’ll be bound. I know dear; you must be feeling sad leaving him behind… I was saying that you will be able to be bridesmaids for
one another, won’t you, you and our Sadie? Although for one of you it will be matron-of-honour, won’t it? Oh, it’s such a relief that that dreadful war is over and we can look forward to happy times again.’

‘Have they decided on a wedding date then?’ asked Christine. She felt a little peeved that her best friend had not confided in her.

‘Not an exact date, no. But I think Sadie would like a springtime wedding. That would be nice… No doubt she will be full of plans when she comes home in a few weeks’ time…

‘That reminds me, there’s something I want to say to you, Christine. You know, don’t you, dear, that this is your home, for as long as you want it to be? Even after Sadie has left – and she’ll probably be the first of you to get married, won’t she? – you are welcome to stay, that is if you want to, of course. I’ve been talking it over with Bill and he agrees with me. And you’ll be going back to your job at the mill quite soon, I suppose?’

‘Yes, on Monday. They held it open for me; that was the understanding, although how long I stay there remains to be seen.’ Christine took a deep breath, then she continued. ‘It’s very kind of you to say that I can stay here, and I do appreciate it, but I really think it’s time that I started to look for a place of my own. Just to rent, I mean; a flat or a couple of rooms, just until such time as Bruce and I get married.’

Barbara looked a little put out. ‘There’s no point in paying an extortionate amount in rent when you can live here much more cheaply,’ she said. ‘And some landlords don’t half know how to charge, believe you me.’ Christine could see that she would need to be very tactful, but she would not allow herself to be dissuaded.

She nodded. ‘Yes, I dare say some of them do. But maybe not all of them. I’m sure I would be able to find somewhere quite reasonable… It isn’t that I want to leave – please don’t think that – but I feel it’s time I started to fend for myself a little more. My grandmother taught me to cook, and I did a bit when I lived with her, but not all that much. Gran always liked to be in charge…’ That was true, she recalled with an unexpected stab of sadness. ‘I must make an effort, and learn to run a household, even if it’s only for myself. I’ll soon have a husband to look after, won’t I?’ She crossed her fingers tightly as she said this. ‘I don’t want him to think that I haven’t a clue when it comes to housekeeping.’

Barbara smiled. ‘Most girls haven’t got a clue, at least not those that have been brought up like our Sadie. Oh aye, I tried to teach her a thing or two, but it’s often quicker to do it yourself than have somebody else messing about in your kitchen. Happen I’ve spoiled her, but she’ll soon learn; I feel sure of that… Yes, I suppose I do understand what you mean, Christine, and I admire you for it. There’s no rush, mind. You get yourself settled in
here again, and then, if you’re still set on it, Bill and I can help you to have a look around. There’re ads in the evening paper sometimes about places to let, but I reckon they’re snapped up pretty quickly. And I’ll ask round at the local shops… I’ll be sorry to see you go though, lass, especially as you’ve only just come back, but I know you’ve got your head screwed on the right way. Yes, I admire your guts…’

Would Mrs Gascoyne have been so full of admiration if she had guessed at her primary consideration – to have a place where she and Bruce could be alone, really alone, together – Christine wondered? She thought not.

There had been very little chance since their first meeting, at a dance in the Officers’ Mess earlier that year, to give full rein to their feelings for one another. Christine had known at once that this young man with the deep brown eyes – so warm and at times so soulful – and dark brown hair, was attracted to her, as she was to him. He was handsome, not devastatingly so, but with clean boyish looks which seemed to set him apart from some of the other flying officers, with their waxed moustaches and braying laughs. Bruce Tremaine was a polite and modest young man, not at all the sort of man that Christine had imagined she would go for. She had always set her hopes high. She had been convinced that one day she would meet a man who could keep her in the manner not to which she had been accustomed but to which she aspired.
There were other criteria as well, though. He must be passably handsome, and she must be as attracted to him, physically, as he was to her.

She had imagined someone with more verve and dash than Bruce, but she found herself coming to like him more and more for those qualities she had thought she might find wearisome; his honesty and serious approach to life – although he was not averse to a bit of fun as well – and his reliability. It was true that Christine knew a good thing when she was on to it, but it was also true that she was falling in love with him.

She soon discovered that, hidden beneath his initial shyness and the utmost respect that he always showed to her, there was a desire as passionate as her own. They danced, they visited the cinema in Lincoln, and they took walks in the country lanes near to the camp where they were both stationed. On the long balmy summer evenings, as the war was drawing to its close, they were able to find secluded spots; behind a hay barn or, once, inside it, in the lee of a hawthorn hedge, or a thickly wooded copse. But Christine guessed that Bruce found these trysting places somewhat furtive and sordid; as she did, too, if she were honest.

She guessed, also, that for Bruce it was his first experience of lovemaking, not that they had, as yet, fully consummated their love. He had told her that he had never met a girl like her. She doubted that he had known any girls at all, not in the way that he
knew her. He had told her, too, several times, in moments of passion, that he loved her; and she, also had said, ‘And I love you, Bruce…’ feeling sure that she meant it.

Christine had had one or two boyfriends, but, until she met Bruce, not anyone with whom she had felt she would want to spend more than a few days, let alone a lifetime. There had been a young man at the mill, one of the wool buyers, whom she had gone out with a few times until he was called up into the army. Then, soon after she had joined the WAAF, there had been a flight sergeant, to whom she had lost her virginity. It had not been a rapturous experience for either or them – in fact it had left Christine feeling rather ashamed and disgusted with herself – and he had soon moved on to someone else.