The Bobbin Girls (29 page)

‘Not having had much of a family life myself, it’s important to me to marry and make one of my own. Can you understand that? I never knew what it was to be loved by a mother, but there’s no doubt in my mind, Alena, that you will make a good mother to our children. And I mean to be a good father.’

Put like that, how could she refuse? Her own family life had been so warm, and the love from her mother and four brothers so strong, it had helped her cope with the remoteness she’d felt from Ray.

Her brothers, of course, offered varying forms of advice. Harry, though anxious to wed himself, suggested she take her time, saying she was still young. Jim agreed he was more than ready to be an uncle as he jiggled his latest offspring on his knee. Kit, teasing as always, said he was surprised she’d found anybody willing to have her. Only Tom warned that she might live to regret it.

‘Marriage isn’t always easy,’ he told her, in that gentle voice of his, and her heart went out to him for, of course, it was his own situation he was thinking of.

‘Oh, Tom, I do wish you and Dolly could be happy. I wish I could help to put it right. But she has had a hard time, you know.’

His face twisted with bitterness. ‘Nobody seems to realise that it’s been pretty hard for me too. That bairn was my son too.’ And he walked away, shoulders slumped.

But if she didn’t marry Mickey, what would she do with her life? There were no other eligible males she liked half so much, and she’d no wish to end up a sour old maid like Sandra’s aunt.

Sandra’s reaction, however, went right to the heart of the matter. ‘Do you love him?’ A simple question with no simple answer. They sat beneath the oak, still a favourite place for thinking things through. Sunshine glimmered in the glade in brilliant waves of light, as if washed by a sea of green and russet. From the depths of the wood they heard the cough of a deer, while high above their heads red squirrels darted from branch to branch, showing off their acrobatic skills. Somehow, the intense beauty of this place, and Alena’s sweet memories of it, made the ache for Rob more painful than ever.

‘I don’t know.’ It was the only honest reply.

‘Then you mustn’t marry him until you do.’ The two girls had yet again bemoaned their respective difficulties, to come up, as usual, with no solution.

‘But if I can’t have Rob, what does it matter who I marry?’

‘It matters because marriage is a decision to spend your entire life with one person!’ Sandra’s face was solemn. ‘That’s why Harry and I are so sure. Even though I’m half-blind, he still wants me. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough for us.’

Alena was ashamed to feel a surge of jealousy. Harry and Sandra would eventually be able to achieve their dream, and sooner rather than later. There was no such possibility for her.

‘I can’t bear to think of spending my life alone. I always expected to marry, didn’t you?’

‘Doesn’t everyone? But that’s not a good enough reason.’

‘I do like Mickey. He’s a bit cocky, yes, but I think that’s a cover-up really, for shyness. Frank Roscoe, his father is such a larger-than-life character, and he left Mickey to his own devices when he was a boy. It must have been an odd sort of life being brought up in the forest, moving from place to place and never being settled. I think that’s why he longs now for a real home, a place to call his own. And he’s always been good to me.’

‘Then compromise,’ Sandra suggested. ‘Let him buy you an engagement ring and promise to marry him when you’ve both saved up.’

‘He’s adamant I should make up my mind soon.’

‘But you’re even younger than me. If he wants a date give him one twelve months from now, when you’ve reached twenty-one. That’s fair enough. And it’ll give you time to be sure.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, Sandra, you are clever.’ A long engagement seemed the perfect solution.

Sandra then spoiled her improved mood by asking about Rob, since she was privy to the whole, tragic tale. ‘Will you invite him to the wedding?’ Alena’s qualms came rushing back as the familiar pain pierced her breast. But, like it or not, life must go on and she must learn to live it.

‘No.’ she said. ‘I won’t even tell him.’

Mickey was not in favour of a long engagement but astute enough not to allow his irritation at the delay to show too much.

‘We need to save up, find a place of our own to rent. I don’t want to get married and find I’m still living at home with my mother. What would be the point?’

Since Mickey occupied a single room in fairly cheap lodgings, he could find little argument against that. He heaved a weary sigh, adopted a woebegone expression, put his hand to his breast as if his heart were broken, then gazed at her with huge soulful eyes.

‘How will I survive?’ which set her giggling.

Their courtship continued as before. He became a regular visitor to the house, almost one of the family. He was always ready to sit and argue with her brothers on whether Carlisle would go up in the league, or whether the unions could take action against the government for the huge rise in unemployment.

‘There’s talk of a march from Jarrow. They’ve been hit hard in the north east. Lot of hunger there.’

‘It’s bad enough here. I wouldn’t like to cross Hollinthwaite. Jim admitted, with the caution of a married man. ‘Where else would we find work?

When Mickey and Alena were alone, they talked of more personal matters. Of where they might live after they married and how many children they might have. Mickey loved to plan, and Alena was happy to sit back and let him. Talking saved all that undignified tussle in the back seat of his car. But he remained impatient, constantly dreaming up schemes to bring the wedding forward. When she felt his plans needed to be curbed, Alena would point out the benefits of delay, how she was still very young, and didn’t want to rush into anything.’ And I’d need Ma’s permission, after all.’

‘Your mother likes me, no problem there.’

Since this was true, she tried another tack. ‘We need more time to get to know each other.’

He pulled her close, running his hands over her slender body. ‘We’ve been friends for years, so we know each other pretty well already. But I’d be willing to get to know you even better. Haven’t I told you so a thousand times?’

Laughing, she’d slap his hand away.

Sometimes he accused her of being too missish, in spite of all the kissing and the way the windows steamed up in the little car. ‘Come on, Alena,’ he’d plead, sliding his hand inch by inch over her knee. ‘You know you’re panting for it really.’

‘Mickey Roscoe, I am not!’

He once suggested she should ask for a diaphragm. ‘It’s all right for us to go all the way now, since we’re to be wed, and it would save all this silly business of you trapping my hand every five minutes.’

When she’d expressed shock at discussing such a thing with the family doctor, he’d told her to find a clinic. He’d read about them in some newspaper or other, said they could supply everything necessary. But Alena flatly refused. She wouldn’t even consider discussing the matter with Lizzie.

‘You don’t mind if I keep trying?’

‘You really are a rogue, Mickey Roscoe.’

‘That’s why you like me.’

It was true, she thought, I do like him. He was strong, even masterful, with an impish sense of humour, and quite attractive for all his flashy style. And he carried about him a slight air of danger and promise of excitement, as if he were still a wild creature whom no one could ever truly tie down.

‘We’ll wait till we wed. Till then we’ll just go for long walks,’ she told him, settling the matter once and for all.

Petrol was expensive and Mickey was saving hard, first for an engagement ring, and then a place of their own. So if there were evenings when he didn’t call at Birkwith Row, Alena wasn’t surprised, was almost relieved, assuming he was doing overtime, or helping Jack Turner at The Stag which he sometimes did. He was his own man, after all, he told her, not chained to her leg, lovely as that leg was.

Even so, she was surprised how dull life became when he wasn’t there. She found she missed his Cheerful banter and positive way of looking at things. Perhaps, after all, he was a man after her own heart.

But then she’d given her heart to Rob, hadn’t she? Rob had always been there, her dearest friend, his quiet strength and thoughtful ways becoming an essential part of her life, a part of her. Mickey was at pains to remind her that Rob was still blindly following his father’s dictate, still believing every word James Hollinthwaite said. A part of her felt bound to protest at the unfairness of this accusation, yet she nursed it to herself like a defence, in the constant battle against a very real sense of confusion.

Sandra had got a job helping Mrs Rigg in the village store, thanks to that kind lady’s generous heart. On a Saturday, which was Mrs Rigg’s day off, or sometimes after Alena had finished at the mill, the two girls would sit together behind the counter and gossip, when Sandra wasn’t weighing out little blue bags of sugar or cones of sweets for her customers.

The pay was abominable, the hours erratic, but at least Sandra’s lack of complete vision was not a problem and if she should suffer a headache, as she often did, Mrs Rigg would pack her off home with instructions to go to bed with an Aspro. Sandra rarely managed to do that immediately, having first to prepare Aunt Elsie’s supper, but with luck she’d at least get a quiet sit down and cup of tea, followed by an early night.

Her kindly employer also permitted her a special discount on groceries, which pleased Aunt Elsie enormously, and Mrs Rigg would often give Sandra a bag of broken biscuits or a twist of tea to take home.

This afternoon, as with every other, the two girls had talked through Alena’s problems: how much she missed Rob, how she understood his feelings but a part of her felt despair, even anger, at his refusal to believe Lizzie’s version of events. If he loved her as he claimed to do, why couldn’t he take her word rather than James Hollinthwaite’s?

But then, if he did truly love her, how dare he take the risk?

It was a depressing merry-go-round that only stopped when Alena grew too tired or upset to continue. Fortunately, Sandra was openly sympathetic and in perfect accord with her friend’s misery, for wasn’t she suffering similar emotions over her own dear Harry?

‘To think we could be sisters by now, if it weren’t for Aunt Elsie.’

‘Will you marry when you turn twenty-one?’

‘We hope to wed on my birthday next month. We have it all planned.’

‘And what does Aunt Elsie think of that?’

Sandra’s pretty mouth turned down at the corners. ‘She refuses to discuss it, except to say that she will not be coming to the wedding.’

‘Why? I admit I may be prejudiced because Harry is my brother, but what on earth has she got against him?’

‘If you want my honest opinion it’s got nothing to do with Harry.’ Sandra concentrated on cutting a slice of cheese, mouth tightly pursed. ‘It wouldn’t make any difference who it was, she’d still be against my marrying. She needs me at home, you see. Aunt Elsie isn’t at all well and is afraid something dreadful might happen to her if I am not there. I do worry about that sometimes.’

‘She isn’t your responsibility.’

‘Yes, she is. Aunt Elsie gave me a home and brought me up. I’d have been sent to an orphanage or somewhere equally awful if she hadn’t.’

Alena nodded, understanding the sensitivity of the situation.

‘I can only hope she doesn’t have one of her bad turns on the day, or I’ll never get to that wedding.’ Sandra added the carefully wrapped packet to Mrs Bradley’s order.

Alena was outraged at the idea. ‘Don’t let her walk all over you, Sandra. She’s as fit as a flea really, if she would but admit it. It’s time you stood up for yourself and told her so.’

‘I could never do that,’ Sandra’s hands stilled over the blue sugar bag she was filling, shocked by the very idea. ‘What if she were to have a heart attack? It would be all my fault.’

‘That’s what she’s banking on, you thinking that.’

But Sandra shook her head. ‘I can’t take the risk. I keep looking at the frock I’ve made. Peach-coloured satin. It’s hanging in my wardrobe, and I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to wear it. This wedding might never happen.’

‘It will if you make it happen.’

‘And the nearer the day comes, the more I long to - you know - do
it
. I mean, how we’ve managed to hold back this far is a miracle. Or sheer will-power, more like.’ Sandra dropped her voice, in case someone should come into the shop and overhear this shocking admission. ‘But I do wonder what it’s like, don’t you?’ This was a familiar conversation that would bring on either giggles or tears, depending on their mood at the time.

Alena was not, strictly speaking, in a position to offer advice on the subject, since it was one she preferred to avoid. The fact that she and Rob had never consummated their love had been both a relief and source of regret to her, as if by making love they would have proved they could in no way be related. But the prospect of doing it with Mickey Roscoe had not, as yet, been fully explored. She’d blocked it from her mind.

Sandra said, ‘Do you think it hurts?’

‘Can’t much, can it, otherwise people wouldn’t keep on doing it.’ And they both collapsed into a fit of giggles, propping each other up on their stools and mopping tears of laughter from their eyes.