Down an English Lane (33 page)

Maisie knew she looked older than her sixteen and a half years – she was always being told so – especially when she wore clothes of her own choice and not her school uniform. She was glad she had brought her beige wrap-around tweed coat with
her. It was a couple of years old and had been lengthened by her mother with fur fabric trimming at the hem, and also at the collar and cuffs, but it was still quite smart. With it she wore her best wedge-heeled brown leather shoes and shoulder bag, and a red felt beret which sat jauntily at an angle on her dark curly hair.

She felt that she looked her best and was determined to appear confident. All the same she could not ignore the stab of apprehension and a small voice inside her saying, ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’, as she opened the door and stepped inside. The shop – or was it termed an office? – was empty apart from a middle-aged man with grey hair and dark-rimmed spectacles who was standing behind the counter.

‘And how may I help you?’ he asked politely; the sincerity of his voice and the look of interest in his sharp grey eyes put her at her ease at once.

‘I’ve come about the advert in the window,’ she replied. ‘You are wanting an assistant…and I am wondering if I might be considered for the post?’

He looked at her appraisingly for a moment before he nodded and held out his hand. ‘Let’s introduce ourselves first, shall we? How do you do? I am Henry Galloway, and you are…?’

‘Maisie Jackson,’ she replied as she felt his firm handshake. ‘How do you do? Er… I expect you have had a lot of enquiries, haven’t you?’

‘No, not yet,’ he said. ‘There may well be, but the
notice has been in the window for only two days. And the two young women who have enquired about it so far were not at all suitable. Now… Miss Jackson, would you like to tell me a little about yourself, and why you think this particular job would suit you? Do sit down, my dear…’ He motioned to a leather-seated chair with arms on her side of the counter, then sat down himself on the other side. ‘What is your position at the moment?’

‘I am still at school, actually,’ she replied. There was no way she could be anything but honest. ‘In the sixth form – I am nearly seventeen…’ Well, she would be in a few months’ time. ‘Not here in York, though. I live in Middlebeck, up in the northern dales… I don’t know whether you will have heard of it?’

‘Of course…’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I am a travel agent. Middlebeck is a delightful little town. Do go on…’

She told him that she was on a school visit and that the advert in the window had seemed to shout out to her; she had known at once that she had to come and at least find out about it. Yes, she was studying for her Higher School Certificate, she told him, and – yes – her family had great hopes that she would continue with her education but…

‘But you feel that this might be your true vocation?’ enquired Henry Galloway, understandingly. ‘I must agree that education is important,’ he went on, ‘but sometimes the education that life has to offer can be
just as worthwhile as years spent at college or university; and it is vital that you should feel happy and secure about the choices that you make. Now, I must tell you all about our new enterprise here…’

She learned that the name ‘Galaxy’ was partly a derivation of his surname and that of his wife, Trixie, but had been chosen as well for the suggestion of far-away worlds which it conjured up. It was a family owned business, started only the previous year – just after the end of the war – when his wife had come into ‘quite a tidy inheritance’. As their home was in York he and his wife managed the York branch, and there was another office on the Headrow in Leeds. They hoped, eventually, to expand and open branches in other northern cities, maybe even across the border in Manchester and Liverpool.

They were concentrating mainly on coach tours and presently owned a fleet of six, which travelled to most parts of the British Isles. After six long years of war and austerity folks were starting to think again about holidays. They did day trips, too, to nearby beauty spots and places of interest, and tours of their own city, York, for those who wanted to learn about the history of the place. And who would be better equipped to act as a guide than me? thought Maisie, feeling a surge of excitement.

‘And we deal with all sorts of travel enquiries,’ said Mr Galloway. ‘I was a booking clerk on the railway before we opened up here, so I have the
railway network at my fingertips, so to speak. We have not yet ventured abroad with our coach tours, but we hope to do so within the next few years. Starting with France, most probably, as it is our nearest neighbour. Do you speak French, by the way?’

‘
Oui…mais un peu, seulement
,’ she said, grinning. ‘But I can improve, I know. I passed it with a credit.’

‘Very good. I admire your enthusiasm.’ He smiled at her. ‘Now, Maisie…if I may call you Maisie?’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Well, I feel already that you would be eminently suitable for the post. I have a sort of sixth sense about it. But I do have a few reservations, as I am sure you will understand?’ She nodded again.

‘You see, I would want to know that your mother and your…stepfather, you said, didn’t you? I would want them to be happy about this. You are not just wanting to get away from home, are you?’ He looked at her shrewdly.

‘Oh no, not at all,’ she replied. ‘Arthur – that’s my mum’s husband – and me, we get on famously, and I have a feeling he would support me. But I admit that my mother might need a bit of persuading.’

‘And your school? You have just started your sixth form course?’

‘We are not very far into it, though. And girls do leave…’ Oh dear, so many problems, she thought.

‘And I would need references, of course, from your headmistress perhaps, and your vicar? People who can vouch for your suitability. And a copy of your birth certificate. I know it sounds like a lot of red tape, but provided you can satisfy me that everything is in order, I don’t think I would need to look any further. And I know my wife will agree.’ He beamed at her. ‘She has taken the afternoon off to do her shopping as there is always a lull before Christmas, apart from people booking train tickets. So, my dear, I will take the notice out of the window and when I receive your references and the OK from your mother, we will consider that the job is yours.’

Maisie was starting to feel bemused; it was all happening so quickly. ‘Thank you…’ she gasped. She shook her head bewilderedly. ‘I can’t quite believe it…’ A thought struck her; how stupid she was not to have thought of it before. ‘I don’t know anybody here, though. I would have to find somewhere to live…’

‘Don’t worry about that. Trixie and I could sort that out for you. Comfortable digs that are not too expensive, eh?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Thank you…’ The enormity of it all was just starting to sink in. ‘And when…when would you want me to start?’

‘Oh, should we say early in January?’ He consulted a calendar. ‘Monday, the seventh of January; how does that sound? It would give you time to sort things out at home.’

A customer entered the shop and stood at the counter awaiting assistance, the first one there had been apart from a couple of women who had taken brochures from the pile and then gone out again. Maisie stood up and held out her hand. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Galloway. I’ll be in touch with you soon…and thank you for being so helpful.’

‘Not at all. It’s been a pleasure to meet you… See you soon, I hope; the best of luck! Goodbye for now, Maisie…’

She dashed along Stonegate to the little tearoom where she had arranged to meet Jill. Her friend was already tucking into a toasted teacake.

‘You’ll never guess!’ cried Maisie, her excited voice causing the customers at the other tables to turn and look at her. ‘I’ve got it! Can you believe it? He says I can have the job…’

‘Maisie, what on earth are you talking about?’ said her mother. ‘Of course you can’t go and work in a travel agency in York. What an idea! You don’t know anybody there. Where would you live? No, no…’ Lily lifted her hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘Let’s hear no more about it. It’s a silly idea, and you’ll come to realise it yourself when you’ve thought about it properly.’

‘But I have thought about it, Mum, really I have. Just like I’ve thought before about what I wanted to do…and you know that I hadn’t any idea. That’s
the only reason I went into the sixth form, to see if anything might appeal to me later, and now it has…’

Lily sighed. ‘You’re not thinking straight, Maisie. It would be a waste of your education, all those good marks you got in your School Cert. I wanted so much more for you than just working in an office.’

‘But it’s not just working in an office,’ Maisie argued. ‘I would have a chance to travel; Mr Galloway said so. And I could study French and learn to speak it properly and…and all sorts of things,’ she ended, a little lamely. She had been trying ever since her brother and sister had gone to bed to win her mother round to her point of view. She noticed Arthur giving her a sympathetic smile now, and then he winked at her, almost imperceptibly.

‘It might not be such a bad idea, Lily,’ he said, turning to his wife. ‘And I believe that Maisie has thought it through, haven’t you, love? You can tell me that it’s none of my business if you like, and maybe it isn’t. But it’s the first time the lass has shown enthusiasm for any sort of a career. And I think she could go far.’

Maisie smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Arthur,’ she said.

‘Education isn’t just to do with book learning,’ he went on, ‘as I know very well. She’ll happen learn more by experiencing things in the real world.’

‘That’s just what Mr Galloway said,’ added Maisie.

‘I can see I’m being got at from all sides,’ said Lily with a frown, although from the look she gave her husband Maisie surmised that she was not terribly annoyed. ‘But you must try and see it from my point of view. We know nothing about this man, and Maisie is very young to be thinking of going to live in another city… This has nothing to do with you splitting up with Ted Nixon, has it?’ She looked sharply at her daughter. ‘I know you were quite hurt when he started going out with Celia.’

‘Of course not, Mum! That’s a ridiculous idea,’ scoffed Maisie. ‘And it’s ages ago…’

‘All right then,’ said Lily. ‘You win…the first round, perhaps,’ she added, seeing Maisie’s elated expression, ‘but the battle is not over yet. I’ll phone this Mr Galloway and have a chat with him, but I’m not promising anything at the moment, mind…’

‘I wish you could try to persuade my mother to let me go,’ said Maisie the next day to Anne Mellodey. She had felt that she must go and talk the matter over with her friend who was several years older, not only in age but in wisdom and experience too. Anne might well think it was a foolish notion. But, to Maisie’s delight she encouraged her.

‘I can tell you are somewhat restless here, Maisie,’ she said, ‘and you do have a maturity
beyond your years. Compared with you, Audrey is still quite a child, in spite of her having a boyfriend; but don’t tell her that I said so.’

‘No, I won’t,’ smiled Maisie, ‘but I think that friendship might have fizzled out now that Brian has gone to university. So…you don’t think I’m completely round the bend?’

‘No, not at all. I think it would be worthwhile to give this travel agency a try, to find out if it is your “cup of tea”. But I don’t want to stick my oar in and talk to your mother; it has nothing to do with me and I wouldn’t blame her if she told me so. But if she does decide to let you go, then I might be able to help… Do you remember Jean Bolton? She was one of the teachers up here when we all came in 1939.’

‘Yes… Miss Bolton; I remember her.’

‘Well, she got married, you know, a few years ago and went to live in York. I still hear from her now and again. She gave up teaching, and after the war she and her husband took over a small guest house, just outside the city walls. I know they take long-term lodgers, and I’m sure their prices would be reasonable. It would set your mum’s mind at rest, wouldn’t it, if you were to stay there? It’s just a suggestion, of course.’

‘A very good one, Anne,’ said Maisie. ‘Thanks ever so much. Let’s just see how things go, shall we? But I rather think I might be winning… Now, what about you? How are things at school? And how
about Stefan? Are you still seeing him?’