Down an English Lane (42 page)

‘Oh no; his wife and son – he’s eight years old – have come over here. He’s working at a farm Lowerbeck way, and they’re living in a little cottage owned by the farmer. But he’s got his own workshop there, so I’m told, and in his spare time he’s working at the occupation he had back in Poland before the war.’

‘And what was that? I thought he was just a farm labourer. Although he always seemed to be worth a bit more than that, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, he was.’ Anne nodded. ‘He had to take just a menial job when he came over here, as they all did. He had been brought up on his father’s farm, but then he became a skilled craftsman – a wood carver. He made all sorts of objects, useful as well as decorative ones, and he had a thriving business until the war started. He joined the Polish army… and afterwards he found that he had lost everything. So he came to Britain… And I suppose he was saving up to bring his family over here.’

‘And he told you all this, did he? But forgot to mention his wife and child?’

‘He told me a little at a time… They had a hard time with the regime in Poland and he knew he had
to get away. Apparently his wife and son went back to live with her parents, although I didn’t know that, of course, not at first. He told me in the end…when they were due to arrive. But by that time Roger and I had become friendly, as I’ve said, so I wasn’t as hurt as I might have been.’

‘I still think it was a rotten thing to do,’ said Maisie. ‘So…you’ve been keeping your friendship with the headmaster a secret, have you? You dark horse, Anne! Well, I hope you’re going to tell me all about it now.’

‘Of course I am. I know you’ll like Roger when you get to know him better. You don’t really know him at all, do you, Maisie?’

‘No, only as Joanie’s and Jimmy’s teacher at one time… And I’ve got to admit he worked wonders for them.’ To the surprise of many folk, certainly with regard to Jimmy, both children were now attending the Grammar schools in Lowerbeck. ‘I shall certainly look forward to getting to know him better. He must be OK if you like him, Anne.’

‘I do…very much.’ She blushed a little. ‘We’ve kept it quiet, mainly because of the children. You know what kids are like if they get hold of an idea. So we behave very circumspectly at school. It’s always Mr Ellison and Miss Mellodey, although I think the rest of the staff must have guessed. We have six teachers now, you know, including Roger, who still takes a class.’ Maisie had noticed how the once small village school had gradually
mushroomed in size, part of the playground now having been taken over for the new buildings.

‘You really are one of the first to know,’ Anne went on. ‘Roger gave me the ring on Friday evening, so I’ve only been wearing it for two days. We’ll break the news to the staff tomorrow, although I don’t think it will be any great surprise, and as for the children, I suppose they will get to know by degrees. We don’t want to make a big thing of it, but they’ll be sure to know by the end of the summer term. That’s when we plan to get married; the first Saturday in August, soon after school has finished.’

‘Gosh! You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you? So you’ll be back living in the schoolhouse. Well, just imagine that!’

‘So I will… But Roger intends that we should buy our own house as well. A schoolhouse is all very well, but it’s only yours as long as you have the post. We’ve realised we have to plan for the future.’

‘I’m amazed at your news, Anne. But I’m really pleased for you. I can tell you think a lot about this… Roger.’

‘Mmm… First impressions cannot always be relied upon. I must admit I thought he was self-opinionated, too sure of himself…but I’ve realised it was a front. He wanted to appear confident at the interview; he badly needed to be offered that job, to get back his nerve and his self-confidence, so he’s told me since. And he might have overdone it…’
She laughed. ‘The rest of us candidates didn’t get a very favourable impression, but fortunately the committee could see his worth. And, of course, they were probably swayed at that time – just after the war – by his war record. He was commended for bravery at Dunkirk; that’s when he was injured and invalided out. He is really a very kind and unpretentious sort of man, although he does have quite strong opinions about some things.’

‘So where is he now? Shouldn’t he be with you on a Sunday afternoon?’

‘We had lunch together at the schoolhouse after I left you. We haven’t attended church together yet… And I told him I was seeing you this afternoon. He’s heard a lot about you, Maisie, I can assure you. I want to ask you, you see, if you will be my bridesmaid?’

Maisie gasped with surprise, and with delight. ‘Me? Of course I will! I’d love to… But why me, of all people?’

‘Why not?’ smiled Anne. ‘I’ve no sisters or close relations. I can’t very well ask Charity, can I?’ Maisie giggled quietly, thinking of the former headmistress in a pink satin dress or something of the sort, carrying a bouquet. ‘I have one or two friends at school and a college friend I’ve kept in touch with. But who would I ask but you, Maisie? We’ve shared such a lot, you and I, since we came up to Middlebeck together.’

‘I would be delighted,’ said Maisie. ‘I do feel
honoured. Thank you so much for asking me.’

‘We don’t want a big “do”,’ Anne continued. ‘I mean, we don’t want lots of little bridesmaids and pageboys and so on. I was in two minds as to whether to have a conventional white dress – I shall be thirty-six by the time we get married – but Roger says I must. So I want you to be my sole attendant. I thought about asking Audrey and Doris as well, and then I decided against it. Anyway, Doris is pregnant again. I don’t know whether you knew?’

‘No, I didn’t actually.’

‘Yes, their second child is due in September. So that rules her out, doesn’t it? And I haven’t really kept in touch with Audrey lately, not since she went to college.’

And Audrey, too, would be very pregnant by the beginning of August, thought Maisie. But she knew that now was not the time to tell Anne of her friend’s dilemma.

‘And we were wondering, Roger and I, whether Arthur would put on a meal for us after the ceremony? Wedding breakfast they call it, don’t they, although it will be lunchtime, of course. Possibly about one o’clock if the wedding is at twelve, but we will have to make arrangements with Luke first.’

‘Do you mean in the new restaurant?’ asked Maisie.

Anne nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right…’

‘I’m sure he will; he’ll be delighted. It won’t be a very big place though, you know. I don’t know how many they will be able to accommodate, but you’ll have to sort that out with Arthur.’

‘I’m not sure yet how many there will be. As I said, we don’t want a big “do”, but it’s amazing how the numbers add up when you start to count. If you ask so-and-so, then you have to ask so-and-so as well…’

‘I can imagine,’ said Maisie. She had never seen her friend so elated – at least not since Bill, her fiancé, had been killed all those years ago – and she had a special radiance about her. It was obvious that she was very much in love with Roger Ellison; and Maisie hoped that the marriage would bring her all the happiness and fulfilment that she deserved. ‘I’ll leave it to you to tell Arthur what sort of a meal you will require and the numbers and everything. In fact, I won’t even mention it to them. It’s up to you to spread the good news; I’m sure everybody will be delighted.’

‘I hope so,’ said Anne, ‘but I am delighted, so that is all that matters.’

‘May I tell Audrey, though?’ asked Maisie. ‘Luke’s driving us both back to Leeds later tonight, and she might think it’s odd that I’ve not told her. She’s sure to find out about me being your bridesmaid; so, if you don’t mind…’

‘Of course you can tell her. She’ll be on the guest list; so will all the Rectory family. Do you think
she’ll understand about me having just you as a bridesmaid? She won’t feel left out?’

‘No, I’m quite sure she won’t,’ replied Maisie confidently. ‘Audrey has quite enough to think about… Her exams will be coming up soon, and her final school practice, so she tells me. I reckon she’ll be fully occupied, one way and another…’

‘How is Miss Thomson going on?’ asked Audrey as she and Patience were washing up after their Sunday lunch. ‘I noticed her in church, and when she was going down the path I saw that she was walking with a stick.’

‘She’s as well as can be expected for a lady of her age,’ replied Patience. ‘Nobody is quite sure how old she is. Amelia considers that her age is nobody’s business but her own, but she must be getting on for eighty, if not more.’

‘And she still lives alone over there, does she? She was on her own in church. Or does she have a live-in maid, like she used to have?’

‘No, not any more. She hasn’t had anyone living there since the land girls left at the end of the war. People keep telling her she should have a companion, but she’s as stubborn as a mule.’

‘So what’s changed?’ smiled Audrey.

‘Oh, she’s nothing like as crotchety as she used to be. Quite mellow in fact, in some ways. Having the land girls living with her did her a world of good,
and she still gives your father a run for his money on the church council! It’s difficult to get live-in maids these days. Girls have become much more independent since the war and they’re looking for other kinds of jobs; they don’t want to go into service any more. Daisy, of course, was one of the last of a dying breed.’

‘Yes, she was a treasure,’ agreed Audrey. ‘Miss Thomson didn’t realise just how valuable Daisy was until she left to join the ATS, did she?’

Audrey was remembering how the maid-of-all-work, Daisy Kitson, had taken her under her wing and mothered her when she had gone as an evacuee to live at Miss Thomson’s house. She had been scared out of her wits at first by the draconian old woman, but Daisy had made it all so much better… Until the time when the two of them, the maid and the evacuee, had displeased ‘Old Amelia’, resulting in Audrey going to live at the Rectory and Daisy joining the ATS. But that was all a long time ago, and Audrey felt sorry for the old lady now, living alone in that big house on the other side of the village green.

‘I think I’ll go across and see her this afternoon,’ she said. ‘What do you think, Mum? Or…does she not like having visitors?’

‘I think that would be very nice indeed,’ said Patience. ‘That’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Audrey. She will be pleased to see you, I’m sure. She has quite a few visitors. People don’t mind going
now because she’s not the cantankerous old woman she used to be. I’ll give you a pot of my raspberry jam to take to her, and a ginger cake I made yesterday…’

A few moments passed after Audrey knocked at the door, but she waited, feeling sure that Miss Thomson would not have gone out. Sure enough, the door opened eventually and the elderly woman peered out questioningly. ‘Yes…who is it?’ Her beady, almost black, eyes behind the rimless spectacles appeared as sharp as ever, but Audrey guessed that she probably did not see everything as clearly as she had used to do.

‘It’s me, Miss Thomson,’ she said. ‘Audrey… You know, Audrey Fairchild, from the Rectory.’

‘Audrey! Yes, of course it is.’ Miss Thomson smiled and her eyes softened as she looked closely at her visitor. ‘Come along in, my dear. How nice it is to see you. I noticed you in church this morning with your mother, and that friend of yours was there too, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes… Maisie,’ replied Audrey, following her into the lounge, which did not appear to have changed at all since the early days of the war. The old-fashioned furniture and the patterned carpet were the same, as were the velour curtains, partly drawn to keep out the sun, although there was little sun to be seen. It smelled musty, and Audrey remembered
that fires were very rarely lit in that room, although it was the one into which visitors were always shown. Miss Thomson stopped to switch on an electric fire, and two bars started to glow, which made the atmosphere a little more cheerful.

‘Maisie and I both decided to come home for the weekend,’ she said, sitting down on what was called an easy chair; it was anything but, being stuffed with horsehair. ‘We’re going back later today. My father is driving us to Leeds. Maisie works there now, you know, and I’m at college near Leeds.’