Forty-Two
‘I now pronounce you man and wife!’
The vicar’s thin face lit up as Sis and Perce flung themselves joyfully into each other’s arms in the aisle of St Agnes’ Church. Jess felt a smile spread across her own face. She wanted to clap but that wouldn’t be right.
Sis, for all her passion to marry Percy, had been all nerves that morning. When they reached the church she’d come over wobbly and tearful and Olive had had to calm her down outside before they could go in, while Polly reminded an over-excited Grace that she was going to have to walk quietly up the aisle with her auntie Sis in their pretty dresses.
They’d all been on the edge of their seats as Sis and Perce took their vows. At the moment when the vicar asked did he, Percival James Bolter, take Louise Joan Beeston, Perce’s head shot round to look at her in astonishment. He’d forgotten Sis’s proper name – was he marrying the wrong woman? Little Grace had stood fidgeting and twisting round to receive encouraging looks from her mom, and they all thought Sis was going to get the weeps or the giggles again. But now she had got through it. She was married! She paraded back along the aisle on Perce’s arm beaming at everyone.
As the rest of them turned to follow the couple out, Jess saw Peter Stevenson standing a couple of rows behind them, dressed smartly in black, following Davey out from the pew. He was turned slightly away from her and she had a couple of seconds to observe him, dark eyes fixed on his son, his tall figure stooped to guide Davey. The sight of his large, gentle hands on the boy’s shoulders sent a sudden sensation through her, a kind of melting, a longing. What care, what kindness there was in the man, she thought. He didn’t look round at her, and following him to the back of the church she thought how little they’d seen of him recently. Last summer he’d been round, or out with them almost every week, had been so often by her side, but she had been so preoccupied with Ned she had barely noticed, had taken his presence for granted, oblivious of the feelings which Sis said he had for her. She realized that until today they hadn’t seen him for well over a month. Everyone was busy with new jobs and they no longer worked together. Peter had found another job as a foreman in a machine tool works. Perhaps he’s feeling better in himself now, Jess thought. He just needed company then, that was all.
‘Wasn’t it lovely?’ Polly was chattering down her ear. Grace, who had run to her the second the service was over, was in her arms. ‘And didn’t you look just like a princess, Gracie? You did them dresses lovely, Jess.’
Grace’s yellow, flowery frock matched Sis’s and the colours had looked warm and lovely in the dim light of the church.
‘It was perfect,’ Jess said absently. I miss him, she found herself thinking. Miss him being there with us.
After Sis and Perce had been duly showered with rice and congratulations, the families went down to the Ship Inn for a drink or two before going back to the house for some food. Jess hurried home with Olive to make sure everything was ready for them. Polly followed them more slowly, pushing John, Grace riding on his lap and Ronny running alongside.
‘Is, er – is Peter coming back?’ Jess asked.
‘Oh, I s’pect Sis’ll bring ’im along,’ Olive panted. ‘God, it’s warm today, ain’t it? I ’ope we’ve got enough, Jess, I want them all to ’ave a good feed.’
The tables were chock-a-block with meats and pies, sandwiches and cakes, and a vase of spring flowers stood by the front window. Olive whisked the cloths off the plates and set out as many cups and glasses as she could lay hands on, Marion Bullivant having provided her with all hers. When Sis and Perce and the rest of them arrived from the pub, full of jollity, everything was looking ready and welcoming.
‘Oh Sis!’ Jess kissed her, then Perce. ‘That was lovely. You look so beautiful, don’t she, Perce?’
‘Like my very own angel,’ Perce said quaintly, and Sis, still clinging to his arm, said, ‘Oh Perce, that’s lovely, that is. I ’ope yer’ll still be saying that when I’m an old lady and me teeth’ve all dropped out!’
Over their shoulders Jess saw Peter arriving. Her pulse picked up speed at the sight of him. I never thought this’d happen again, she thought, not for anyone. She waited for him to come to her, as he always had in the past, looking for excuses to be at her side. But instead he looked round the front room, his eyes skating over her, as if he was looking for someone else, and he went out, through to the back. Jess found herself feeling bereft.
Oh well, she thought. No point in me thinking about him. Sis was imagining things about Peter. He was just lonely. And anyway, I must seem almost like a child to him.
She moved round the room offering sandwiches, chatting to Perce’s mom, dad and sister, and his brother who had lost an arm on Vimy Ridge and had to stand next to the table to rest his plate on it or he had no spare arm to eat with. Jess liked Perce’s family. They were all relaxed and friendly and full of jokes, but all the time she was aware of where Peter was in the house. He chatted to John, to Polly, to Sis and Perce. He played with the children, helped Olive bring in water from outside. Once or twice as they passed one another he nodded and said hello with a tentative smile. But not once did he come to her as he used to do, to talk and spend time with her. If Peter had ever felt anything for her, she thought, he didn’t any longer. Now they were working apart that had changed. The chance was gone. By the end of the afternoon, happy as she was for Sis, she found herself feeling empty and disappointed.
They saw Sis and Perce off for their little weekend holiday with much cheering and kissing and good wishes. They were off into town to catch a train out to the country. Sis, her moods changing with great rapidity that day, was a bit tearful again as she embraced Olive.
‘I’m not really leaving ’ome, am I, mom? I’ll only be down the road!’
‘Go on with yer and enjoy yerself,’ Olive sniffed, giving her a watery smile. ‘Time to worry about all that when yer get back.’
‘Bye, Jess,’ Sis hugged her tight. ‘You next, eh, you and Polly?’
‘Polly maybe,’ Jess laughed. ‘I don’t know about me – I think I’m going to end up an old maid!’
‘Poll?’ John Bullivant called to her from where he was positioned by the table in the back room. Much of the afternoon he had been having a good chinwag with Bert and with Perce’s brother, the other old soldiers present. Now things had quietened down a bit, the light was beginning to die outside and he wanted a few moments’ privacy.
‘Take us out the back for a minute, will yer?’
Polly, thinking he needed to use the privy and didn’t like to say, tactfully opened the back door and manoeuvred the chair through it.
‘Close the door, wench.’
Obediently she fastened it and went to push the chair closer to the door of the privy.
‘No – I don’t want that. I wanted to talk to yer, alone like.’
John found his hands were quivering and he gripped the arms of the chair. Polly stood in front of him in the half light, thin, kindly, waiting to hear what he had to say. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the sight of her. How could he even be thinking of offering himself to this woman: injured, useless, half a man as he was? How could he even dare think it?
‘What did yer want to say to me, John?’
Best spit it out, he thought. Only way. ‘Polly – I’ll never be able to walk again. I can’t work. I’m next to useless. But I love yer. I want to ask you to be my wife.’
There was a long silence as she looked into his face. For a moment John could barely meet her eyes, but he looked up to see her lips trembling and she turned away from him, putting her hands over her face.
‘Yer can’t face it, can yer? Being saddled with a cripple for the rest of your life! For all yer fine words that’s what I am to yer – a lump of meat in a wheelchair, not a man!’
‘No! It ain’t that, John – truly!’ Slowly she moved round to face him again, hands still held in front of her as if to replace them over her face at any moment. ‘It ain’t you. I love yer, John – I do. You’re a lovely man and I’d give my life to yer with pleasure. But—’ She couldn’t put into words what was stopping her, was tearing her emotions apart. I’m still married: Ernie’s still with me as if it were yesterday and until I can believe he’s dead I can’t marry you with a clear conscience. I’m haunted by him and he won’t let me rest . . .
‘But . . .’ The grief and bitterness in John’s voice as he echoed her made her distraught. She went to him, kneeling to take him in her arms.
‘I do love yer – just give me a bit more time, sweetheart. That’s all. I want to be yer wife. I just can’t agree to it yet.’
John put his arms round her bony shoulders and his eyes met hers. ‘Don’t hide anything from me, Poll. I couldn’t stand that. Is there someone else yer want more?’
‘No! Oh John, no! I mean, not anyone like you mean. It’s Ernie. I know it seems stupid to you but I can’t marry yer ’til I’ve found a way to lay ’im to rest. Once and for all.’
Everyone looked up as they came back in. Perce’s family had all gone and the rest of them were sitting round the back room looking relaxed and happy. As they came in, Peter Stevenson got up.
‘Time we were off, Davey,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’ve outstayed our welcome already.’
The little boy groaned. He and Ronny were playing together on the floor. ‘Oh Dad – not yet!’
‘Course yer staying,’ Olive commanded. ‘There’s plenty more to eat and drink and we’ve ’ardly seen yer since Christmas. We’d thought you’d gone off us!’
‘Don’t talk daft,’ Peter said, putting his hat down again. ‘Course I haven’t. I thought you might just want to be family . . .’
‘You’re almost part of the family,’ Olive insisted, eyeing Jess meaningfully. ‘How’s that kettle coming on?’
‘Slow,’ Jess said. She was glad of something to keep her busy. All day she had felt an emotional pressure growing between herself and Peter Stevenson. She was sure now that he was not avoiding her by accident. But she hadn’t approached him either. She didn’t know how to be with him any more, what to say. She didn’t know what he felt and was just as unsure of her own feelings. She found herself struck dumb in his company.
As John and Polly came in Bert got up to help. He took in Polly’s emotional expression.
‘What’s up, Poll?’
Polly looked round the room, then down at John as if asking his permission. Jess saw him nod.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Yer might as well.’
‘John’s asked me to marry him—’ Polly held up one hand as the others began to exclaim at the news. ‘But I’ve said to ’im I can’t yet, things being as they are. You know ’ow things were for me after Ernie . . . after ’e were killed. I know you thought I were going off me ’ead, Mom. But it were the only way I could face things then. But the thing is . . .’ She began to get emotional again. ‘I still feel as if ’e’s about. As if it’s a mistake and ’e ain’t really . . . dead. I know it sounds daft, but it’s not knowing where ’e is or what happened . . .’
She stopped, looking round at them.
Bert spoke gently to her. ‘You don’t think ’e’s not dead? Don’t waste yer time thinking that, Poll. ’E’ll be dead all right – you know that, don’t yer?’
Polly nodded. ‘I do really. It’s just – if I could see his grave – you know, like you do with a normal death. I mean, even if we knew where ’e was, they ain’t going to bring any of them back over ’ere, are they?’
Jess listened, one hand on the warm handle of the kettle. She thought of all her visits to her mom’s grave, what strength she had taken from it. Things need finishing properly, she thought. For all of us.
Olive sat massaging her sore knuckles. ‘Well there ain’t no chance of that, Poll.’
‘There might be, you know.’
Everyone looked at Peter Stevenson.
‘What d’yer mean?’ Polly said.
‘People do go. Some even went before the war was over.’
‘Well I know
some
do, like with money and that, but I mean it’s right over there – across the Channel. It’s
France
.’
Peter smiled. ‘It’s not the ends of the earth. People do go to France.’
‘Not people like us.’
‘Well I went,’ John said. ‘For a start.’
‘But it’d cost the earth,’ Olive said.
‘There’s a fund started up, I think.’ Peter rubbed his forehead as if it would help him remember. ‘Some feller at the works was talking about it. Look – I’ll ask around, see if there’s anything we could do.’ He smiled suddenly, his gaze directed across at Jess who had not realized until that moment that she had her eyes fixed on him. It was as if each of them forgot for a second that they were not supposed to feel for each other. Shyly, she smiled back, instantly full of a warm sense of joy.
A few days later he called again, quite late in the evening, without David who was asleep at home. Polly let him in and Jess was startled at his sudden appearance, hat in hand, ducking his head to come through the door. For a second his eyes met hers, then he looked quickly away. Jess moved briskly across the room, finding things to busy herself with. He hasn’t come to see me, she told herself. He’s come out of kindness for Polly.
‘There is a fund, like I said. Just starting up.’
Polly was watching him, her expression full of misgiving.
‘If you go with a London travel company it’ll set you back thirty-five pound – more even. If you go through the fund it’s fourteen.’
