A Family Christmas (37 page)

‘It’d be when I came tatie picking, Mrs Greenwood. That’s a few years since.’ Will could remember how back-breaking the work had been and he smiled as he remembered Little Arthur calling out to the pickers, ‘All reight lads, heads down and arses up.’ Apart from the money they had been given a bucket of potatoes for their efforts. Some of the lads had been too exhausted to carry them home and had refused them. Will had carried them home despite his aching limbs and his mother hadn’t even acknowledged them, let alone thanked him.

‘Where yer going, Mrs Greenwood?’ Boadacea was wearing a wrap-round pinafore covering her frock, wellington boots and one of Little Arthur’s flat caps. She was brandishing a stick in her hand.

‘Going ’ome, Will. Just been to tek cows onto’t long field. Are yer coming to ’ave a sup o’ tea with us?’

‘No, thanks all the same. Perhaps another day.’

‘Aye, Little Arthur’d be pleased to ’ave a bit of male company for a change. Our Dot prattles on a
bit
and gets on ’is nerves sometimes.’ The woman’s face clouded. ‘Though she’s not been ’er normal self since she and Robbie split up. It’s a right rum do is that.’

‘Aye, it is. Robbie’s not the same either. He really loves your Dot, Mrs Greenwood. And he’ll sort something out, don’t you worry. He’s in touch with a solicitor fellow all the time. Three letters he’s had in the last few weeks. Don’t know what’s in ’em of course – he doesn’t say – but summat’s happening.’

‘Well, if you say so.’ Boadacea perched herself on the rock next to Will. ‘And who’s this little love, then?’

‘One of our Lucy’s lot.’

‘Aye, he’s a Grey all right; no mistaking that dark hair and that skin.’ Until the split-up Boadacea had had visions of a grandson of her own looking like that. The pair sat in contemplation for a while.

‘My grandmother could remember when that road down there was just a dirt path wi’ foxgloves and honeysuckle growing on it. Oh aye, it was nowt but a path in her day. Blackberries, hazelnuts, eeh I bet it was a picture. Mind you, that was before the thick yeller smoke from the works killed ’em all and they widened it to mek the road.’

‘Aye, but you know what they say: “Where there’s muck there’s money.”’ Will looked out at the view. ‘It’s lovely up ’ere though, despite the works. I bet you’ve the best view in Millington.’

‘Aye, it’d take some beating. The works and reservoir might be a godsend now, but they could prove a danger in the not too distant future. Well that’s what my Little Arthur thinks.’

‘In what way?’

‘War, lad. He thinks there’ll be one before long.’

‘There’s already a war, Mrs Greenwood.’

‘Oh aye, the Spanish war, and that’s bad enough, but when that Hitler gets going we shall be in for it right. That’s what my little Arthur thinks, and ee’s not usually far wrong.’

‘I hope not, Mrs Greenwood.’

‘So do I, lad, so do I.’

‘I’d best be getting back.’

‘Aye, lad. Give my regards to yer family.’

‘I will.’

‘And tell Robbie we wish ’im well.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Will took the break off the pushchair and set off for home. It would be dinnertime when they got back. Then he was off to see Betty. They’d be going on about frocks and wedding cakes, her and her mam. It would all be worth it though when he and Betty were man and wife. He hoped Little Arthur was wrong, though. Once he’d got Betty he didn’t fancy having to leave her again, and that’s what would happen if there was a war.

Robbie was feeling much happier now he had heard the Goodmans had gone to visit Prudence. Surely they would try and persuade their daughter to end
her
marriage, or at least discuss the situation with Paul Tomlinson, or a lawyer of their own. Robbie had been touched when Mr Grundy had offered to pay for a divorce for him. He had refused his offer, pointing out that nothing could be done at the moment and that by the time a divorce could go ahead Robbie would probably be able to afford the expense himself. Mr Grundy said the money was there anyway, should it be needed.

He turned the corner of Top Row, where a young lad was throwing a ball at the wall and catching it. Two others were watching and willing him to drop it so they could have a turn. The lad was chanting to the rhythm of the ball-throwing.

‘Every day old Smiler Grundy

‘Hammers nails, except on Sunday.

‘How many nails does Smiler knock?

‘How many times does he play with his—’

‘Hey.’ Robbie stopped the lad just in time. ‘Have a bit of respect for Mr Grundy and the people who can hear yer.’ He wondered why Mr Grundy was made a figure of fun when he was one of the nicest people you could wish to meet.

‘Aw, Robbie, we were only ’aving a bit o’ fun. I only meant an owd crowing cock, not his …’ The lad realised he was making things worse and ran off round the corner with the others following. Robbie could hear them laughing and grinned to himself, wondering which of the three was the budding poet. On entering the house his eyes went
straight
to the mantelpiece, but there was no letter waiting for him. He glanced at the mirror and as always made a wish that he could be rid of Prudence and free to marry Dot. He must be going soft in the head to be wishing in a mirror, but Lucy believed it was a wishing mirror and who was he to deny it?

If John was on night shift and Will out courting, Robbie would take Baby out for her last walk. Tonight he found himself – as usual – taking the lane towards Greenwood’s. He could see a light shining in the window of the old derelict cottage. Dot had had such plans for the place. Perhaps she was in there now, thinking of him just as he was thinking of her. At times like this he was tempted to seek her out and tell her how much he loved her and longed to be with her, and most of all seek reassurance that she still felt the same about him. Would it be so wrong to meet her occasionally? Yet he knew he never would. He had her reputation to consider. He was still a married man, albeit not a normal one, but he would wait, only go to her when he was free to marry her.

Baby began to jump about with excitement as they neared the farm and old Bob ran barking towards them. Baby had taken a fancy to the old dog on their late-night walks. Robbie never failed to hope that one of these nights Dot might come out to the yard; just a glimpse of her would be something to be going on with, but she never did. They had to be satisfied with a few words on
Sundays
at church, which he supposed was better than nothing. Besides, Dot was there in his thoughts from waking in the morning to retiring at night. Every detail of her face was vivid in his mind. The light in the cottage had been extinguished. He wished he could extinguish Prudence as easily.

‘Come on, Baby. Let’s go home.’ The little dog ran slipping and sliding down the steep path, pulling Robbie behind her.

Chapter Twenty-four

IT WAS WHEN
Will went to collect his wages that he heard the news from Mr Brown. ‘I ’ear they’re selling your ’ouse, Will.’

‘What?’

‘Your ’ouse and t’other one.’

‘Which other one?’

‘I don’t know which one. I only know they’re the only ones the pit still own and they want rid.’

‘But I thought they owned the whole row.’

‘Eeh, no lad. Most of ’em ’ave been sold on to a private landlord over the years. Been ’anging on to the last two, hoping prices’d go up I expect. I suppose it’s all the talk of a war that’s persuaded ’em.’

‘But what’ll happen to us? We won’t be thrown out, will we?’

‘Eeh no lad. I’ll tell yer summat though, yer can bet the rents’ll go up. Whoever buys ’em’ll want to mek their money back.’

Will began to sweat at the thought of John having to fork out more, and just when Will was about to leave. His board had been a help towards household expenses, and then there was the new baby
expected
any day. He realised Mr Brown was still talking to him. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I was just saying, they’re good ’ouses. Eighteen-inch-thick walls they ’ave. Be a good investment for’t future, especially wi’ ’aving sitting tenants. They’ll not fetch as much as if they were vacant.’

‘When are they to be sold? I don’t think our Lucy knows.’

‘On the fourteenth, by auction. Saw it in’t
Cragstone Express
.’

‘How much do you think they’ll go for?’

‘Eeh, I don’t know, lad. Like I say, without vacant possession they won’t fetch as much. Depends who turns up on the night.’

Will was quiet as he collected his wages and set off for home. Being quiet was highly unusual for someone like Will. He didn’t say anything about the sale to Lucy or John. He didn’t want to worry them about who was likely to be their future landlord. Instead he went to see Jane; he would ask her advice before he did anything, but if she was agreeable he had a plan forming in his mind.

Andrew Grey was born on the seventh of September, a twelve-pound baby who caused Lucy three days of pain and a hell of a lot of stitches. Dr Sellars was worried for a time, but Lucy soon recovered from her ordeal and everyone was full of admiration for their fine son.

‘Now we’ve got Peter, Andrew, James and John
in
the family,’ Lucy told Mary, who had turned up once again to take charge.

‘All the saints,’ Mary remarked.

‘And me, don’t forget Bernard,’ the little boy reminded them.

‘No, we won’t forget you. You’re a nice cuddly Saint Bernard,’ Lucy laughed.

‘And don’t forget my sisters.’ Bernard idolised Rosie and Violet and everything had to be fair in order to keep him happy. Lucy hugged him close and wondered how she would cope if the adoption was refused. She changed her position so that Bernard had room to climb on the bed and winced at the soreness, causing Mary to warn the boy to sit still because his mam wasn’t very well.

‘That’s because baby Andrew came out of her tummy and it had to be stitched up like in the story about the wolf.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Nobody, I just guessed because your tummy was fat and now it’s all empty.’

Mary tutted. ‘He’s been here before has this one.’

Lucy nodded and smiled, but she wondered how long it would be before he began asking questions about what happened to Evelyn and who his real father was. When he looked at the picture of Evelyn these days he called her his old mam, the one before his new one. Lucy just prayed that by that time Bernard wouldn’t be with mam number three.

* * *

‘Of course I don’t want the money. Both our Lucy and me told you the money was yours. It’s in your name, Will. In fact I’d forgotten all about it. You do whatever you like with it.’ Jane frowned. ‘It’s a big step to take, though. Why don’t you ask our Ben what he thinks? Or Jacob? He’s the one to advise you about financial matters.’

‘Aye, you’re right. I’ll ask Jacob. What do you think, though?’

‘I think it’s a marvellous idea, so long as you don’t land yourself in debt.’

‘I shan’t; that wouldn’t be fair on Betty, but the money’s just stuck there doing nothing. Think of the peace of mind it would give our Lucy and John. I’ll never be able to repay them for keeping me out of the pit, and never once has she complained about all the washing and cooking she’s done for me over the years, so if I do this for ’em it’ll make me feel good. Besides, some of the money should be hers by rights.’

‘Then do it, but talk to Jacob first. I’m sure we shall all be relieved to know our Lucy and John have security for the future. With all their lot they’re going to need it.’

Will beamed at his sister. ‘Don’t tell her yet, though. I want it to be a surprise if I’m successful.’

‘All right, but don’t get too excited. Don’t forget there’ll be others with more money than you have.’

Will nodded and went off to Mary’s, hoping Jacob
would
be home by now. The precious bank book was secure in his jacket pocket.

The tap room at the Golden Eagle was packed and it was difficult to breathe in an atmosphere thick with smoke. Will’s heart sank at the sight of the crowded room. ‘We won’t stand a chance, Jacob.’

‘Oh stop worrying. Auctions always attract the crowds, mostly just here for the beer, or out of curiosity. Now just remember, don’t bid until I say so. And for goodness’ sake sit still, or you’ll have placed a bid inadvertently.’

Beside him, Ernest was trembling; he had never felt so nervous. He could feel the sweat dripping off his hair. It was the scariest thing he had ever considered doing in his life. When Will had told him of his plan to buy the house for Lucy he had thought it a crazy idea, but when Will told him about the money in the bank it hadn’t sounded so crazy after all. Then when he had realised their house was the other one to be sold he had put the suggestion to his father that Ernest might make an offer, expecting his father to ridicule his plan. Instead Mr Slater had worked out how much he could chip in, how much Ernie had to spare and had made enquiries about a loan. ‘It’d be a sound investment for’t future, Ernest. And it’d set me mind at rest knowing you’d ’ave a roof over yer head when me and yer mother’re pushing up daisies.’

‘No, Dad. I’m buying it for you and me mam. If I shift out it’ll be yours.’

‘Aye but yours, one day. And if yer do buy it it’ll be in your name or none at all.’ Ernest wished now he had never suggested it.

‘Right, it’s coming up next,’ Jacob whispered. ‘Ours first.’ Jacob waited, satisfied that there were only a couple of bidders. It was what he had expected. Mid-terraced houses weren’t expected to attract the property owners, especially with sitting tenants. The two men bid against each other and then Will nearly fell off the stool when Jacob nudged him. Will raised his arm. He had no idea what he was bidding – the auctioneer was going too fast for him and he couldn’t make out a word of what he was saying. He heard a cough from one bidder and saw the other nod his head. Jacob nudged him again and he raised his arm. The first bidder shook his head and the nodder made no response.

‘Going once. Going twice.’ The auctioneer thumped the table with such force Ernest thought he might suffer a heart attack.

‘Sold to the gentleman on the right.’