Down an English Lane (9 page)

Anne had been pleased when Maisie and Audrey had been placed in her class of nine to ten-year-olds at Middlebeck school, along with Doris Nixon, the girl from the farm, and Timothy’s sister, the girl who, so tragically, had returned to Hull and had then been killed in a bombing raid. A close little foursome they had been, she recalled. She had been fond of all four of them, but her affection for
Maisie had been foremost, although she had tried, as an impartial teacher, not to let it show.

She was glad that Maisie and Audrey had remained firm friends over the years, and Doris too, although the girl from the farm had drifted away slightly from the other two. After the scholarship examination Doris had gone to the local Senior school, now called the Secondary Modern, whilst her two friends had been awarded places at the Girls’ High School. Consequently, Doris had left school at fourteen to work on the family farm, whereas the other two still had years of study ahead of them.

Maisie had always seemed the most mature of the girls, and this was still the case. She and Anne had progressed beyond the stage of pupil and teacher and were now good friends. Anne had watched her progress with interest and affection. She could tell when she was happy and she was aware, too, when something was troubling her young friend.

And something was at the moment, she was sure of that. Moreover, she had a good idea as to what it might be. She had been pleased when Miss Foster had invited the girl for tea. It was good at times to unburden oneself to someone outside one’s own family. And if Maisie wanted to do that, then she, Anne, would be ready to listen.

Maisie knocked at the door of the schoolhouse at precisely three o’clock. The house did not adjoin the school, but was at the other end of the playground; a greystone building dating from over a hundred years ago, the time when the school was opened, when Middlebeck was still a village.

Anne opened the door quickly, looking bright and summery in a floral patterned cotton skirt and a white blouse, with Clark’s openwork sandals revealing her toes. Her bare legs and arms were brown and her dark hair shone as though it had been newly washed. Her blue eyes smiled welcomingly at her visitor; she did not look a day older than she had when Maisie had been in her class.

‘My goodness, you’re prompt,’ she exclaimed. ‘Right on the dot.’

‘Old habits die hard,’ said Maisie. ‘Aunty Patience used to make sure that Audrey and I were never late for school. We had no excuse, though, had we, living just across the green.’ She followed Anne into the living room which opened off the tiny hallway.

‘Sit down and make yourself at home,’ said Anne. ‘You have no coat or cardigan, have you? It’s such a lovely day again. We’ve lit a fire though, because we need it to heat the water, but we don’t need to sit too close to it, and I’ve opened the window.’

A vase full of roses and sweet peas, from the small garden patch at the rear of the house, stood
on the window sill, delicately perfuming the air, and the rose-patterned curtains lifted gently in the breeze. Maisie sat down in the chintz-covered armchair nearest to the mullioned window. The little room did tend to get rather warm at times, but it was a cosy and homely place with its oak-beamed ceiling and delft rack, along which was ranged a selection of blue and white plates. The wooden shelves on either side of the stone fireplace were filled with books belonging to Miss Foster and Anne, along with photographs, ornaments and holiday souvenirs. Maisie noticed an exotic creamy-pink shell, from Scarborough or Whitby, maybe; not found on the beaches there, but for sale in several of the gift shops; and a china model of a country cottage; Wordsworth’s ‘Dove Cottage’, she guessed; Anne had mentioned that they had visited Grasmere recently.

‘Where is Miss Foster?’ asked Maisie. Although she now called Anne by her Christian name she would not have dreamed of calling her former headmistress Charity, nor had she been invited to do so!

‘She has gone to have a rest,’ replied Anne. ‘At least that is what she said, but I think she is giving us a chance to have a little chat together, just the two of us. She will be reading I expect, certainly not sleeping. She is still as lively as ever. She will join us later when we have our tea. Now, Maisie, what’s new?’

‘Nothing much…’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘I told you we’ve been on holiday, and now…well, I suppose I’m looking forward in a way to going back to school. I know a lot of girls don’t say that, but…’

‘But you have never minded school, have you? That’s the right attitude to have, or else school can become such a drag.’

‘I’ve been helping my mum in the shop and trying to amuse our Joanie and Jimmy some of the time. But now, I must admit I won’t be sorry to see this holiday come to an end.’

‘It’s an important year for you and Audrey,’ said Anne. ‘School Certificate next June. I don’t need to tell you to work hard, because I know you will; you always do. You don’t find it hard to study, though, do you, like some girls do?’

‘No, I suppose not… I’ve managed exams and all that without having to do too much swotting. I like school well enough, but not enough to think of being a teacher, Anne, if you don’t mind me saying so. I don’t think I could ever do that.’

Anne laughed. ‘Why should you? We are all different, Maisie, and we all have to make our own choices. Is Audrey still sure she wants to be a teacher?’

‘Yes, she seems to be…’

‘And what about you? Have you any ideas about a career? You could go a long way with a good brain like yours.’

‘No, I’ve no idea at all.’ Maisie shook her head. ‘I feel sort of…lost and bewildered at the moment. I don’t know what I’m doing or even what I’m thinking.’ She suddenly knew that she had to confide in Anne. ‘That’s why I want to get back to school, to help to focus my mind.’ She looked across at her friend. ‘D’you mind if I tell you something, Anne? It’s sort of…personal, although some people do know about it – my mum and Audrey – but they think I’m being silly, I know they do. And I suppose I am, really… You see, I thought I was in love with somebody; I know I was. Well, I still am, but now I know that I’ve been a complete idiot.’

Anne nodded gravely, and Maisie could see the concern in her eyes. ‘Yes, by all means tell me about it; I’m glad that you want to. But I think I can guess… It’s Bruce, isn’t it?’

‘Yes…’ breathed Maisie. ‘Oh dear, is it so obvious? D’you think everybody knows? D’you think they’ll all be laughing at me? Or feeling sorry for me and saying, “Poor Maisie”?’

‘No, I don’t think so at all,’ replied Anne. ‘I guessed because I know you very well. I know you and Bruce have been friendly over the years, and you told me once that you were writing to him. But you haven’t had a great deal to do with boys, have you, Maisie? Bruce came along when you were feeling vulnerable and in need of friends, and he was kind to you, wasn’t he?’

Maisie nodded. ‘I know I’m only fifteen. That’s what my mum says, and I know it’s what everybody would say, that I can’t know what it’s like to be in love at my age. But I do, I really do…and I know, now, that he only thought of me as a friend; as a kid, I suppose. And it hurts, Anne; it hurts so much.’

‘I’m sure it does…’ Anne smiled sadly. ‘I know what it feels like to lose someone, too.’

Maisie looked at her in horror. ‘Oh, Anne! How dreadful of me! I’m so sorry; I was forgetting about you and Bill. Well, no, that’s not true; I hadn’t forgotten about it, how could I forget? But I’ve been so wrapped up in my own concerns that… I’m really sorry. I know this doesn’t compare at all with what happened to you.’

‘It’s all right, dear,’ said Anne. ‘Losing Bill was terrible and I thought I would never get over it. But the pain subsides to a certain extent. And although it’s an awful cliché, life has to go on. You’ll get over this. I know it’s painful… I saw Bruce last night with a young lady, and I guessed that you might be upset. But there will be somebody else for you. Maybe quite a few somebodies before you meet the right one.’

‘D’you think so?’

‘Of course I do. Bill wasn’t my one and only boyfriend. When I was in the sixth form I was madly in love – or imagined I was – with a lad I met at a dance hall. My parents didn’t like him, and they
tried so hard to convince me that he was not a suitable friend for me to have. He was an apprentice plumber. Not that that was what mattered to them; my parents were not snobs, although they did hope for someone – what shall I say? – rather higher up the career ladder. But they were right, not because of the job he did, but because they knew he was so wrong for me. I wouldn’t listen, though…’

‘And…what happened?’

‘He chucked me, to put it bluntly. He was two-timing me and I found out and that was that. I thought my heart would break, but I was going to college soon afterwards so I had other things to think about. I went out on a few dates after that – my friends’ brothers and that sort of thing – but I didn’t think seriously about young men again until I met Bill. Then we both knew that that was it.’

Maisie began to feel quite ashamed of her reaction to what she had regarded as Bruce’s infidelity, although it was really nothing of the sort. She knew that now. It was her first experience of heartbreak over a member of the opposite sex, and it hurt like mad. But Anne’s loss of her fiancé had been a tragedy, not to be compared with her own disappointment which, seen in that context, seemed quite trivial.

‘I’m sorry…’ she said again. ‘I shouldn’t have gone on like that. But I couldn’t tell Mum all about it…’

‘No, I realise that.’ Anne smiled. ‘And I’m very honoured that you wanted to share your problem with me. Now… I have something to tell you as well.’ She decided it would be good to get Maisie thinking about something else other than her own heartache. ‘Not the same sort of thing, but there are going to be a few changes of one sort and another round here, Maisie.’

‘Oh…you’ve not decided to go back to Leeds, have you, Anne?’ Maisie looked a little crestfallen, and it was gratifying to Anne to see the girl’s reaction.

‘No, not at all. I go back from time to time to see my parents, and I always will, but my home is here now, Maisie, as yours is. And I guess it always will be. No; the big change is that Miss Foster has decided to retire at Christmas.’

‘Oh goodness! That is a surprise,’ said Maisie. Then, thinking about it more rationally, she said, ‘Although I suppose she must be…quite old by now.’

‘Yes…well, elderly at least,’ replied Anne, laughing, ‘but I don’t think she would like to be told that. Anyway, she’s decided to go…and the other news is – guess what? – that she would like me to apply for the post.’

‘Of headmistress?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Gosh!’ said Maisie. ‘And…are you going to?’

‘I think so,’ said Anne, smiling in a confident
way. ‘Yes, I’ll have a try, but if it doesn’t work out, then I will realise it was not to be. There may be a lot of applicants.’

‘But you will be as good as any of them,’ replied Maisie staunchly.

‘Thank you for the vote of confidence,’ laughed Anne, ‘but I expect it will be a tough contest… It’s not a secret, by the way, about Miss Foster’s retirement, but she might want to tell you the news herself. If she does then…well, you can’t pretend that you didn’t know, but we can say that I just mentioned it casually.’

‘OK,’ grinned Maisie. ‘I’ve got it… Now, can I help you with the tea, Anne? Setting the table or anything?’

‘Yes, thank you. You can put the cloth on and the cups and saucers and cutlery. Charity and I prepared the food earlier…’

Miss Foster joined them for the meal of afternoon tea; thinly cut boiled ham with salad and triangles of bread and butter, followed by tinned peaches and evaporated milk, and finished off with homemade fruitcake and gingerbread. The cloth was Miss Foster’s best lace-edged one, with napkins to match, and they ate and drank from delicate china patterned with wild flowers, using silver cutlery that gleamed with recent polishing. It was all what Maisie termed very posh. She felt almost like a
Junior schoolgirl again, aware that she must be on her very best behaviour. But the two adults did not treat her as a child and the conversation flowed quite naturally. And as Miss Foster seemed to realise that Maisie would already know about her retirement, that little hurdle was surmounted.