Until We Meet Again (29 page)

‘Tell me about your idea,’ she said, taking hold of his hand.

‘Well…my childhood ambition was to have a bookshop of my own. I’ve always loved books, as you know. Not just to read; I love the feel and the smell of new books, and old ones as well. That’s all I ever used to buy with my spending money. And then, somehow, the idea was shelved when I grew up and started to think of other things. But just recently it came back to me, and I started to think, Why not?’

‘It sounds like a splendid idea to me,’ Tilly broke in. ‘I’ve never heard you mention it before…’

‘It seemed like a pipe dream, I suppose. But the thing is, I’m due to inherit a legacy in September, when I’m twenty-one. It’s quite a sizeable sum, actually, that my grandparents left to me for when I come of age. So – if you think it is a good idea – I shall ask Father to look out for a suitable property, with living accommodation if possible… What do you think about it, darling?’

‘I think that’s absolutely wonderful!’ cried Tilly,
louder than she intended, as she saw Mabel Fraser turn to look at her and smile. ‘Yes!’ she went on, in softer tones. ‘It will give you something to occupy your mind, buying stock and everything. And you will be able to carry on with your writing at the same time.’

‘As far as the money’s concerned,’ Dominic continued thoughtfully, ‘I’m sure Father would be willing to loan me what I need, until my inheritance comes through. He’s not such a bad old stick!’ he whispered with a grin. ‘He’s been far more human and approachable – so has my mother – since I came back from the dead.’

‘They certainly seem to have accepted me,’ said Tilly. ‘I thought they might have disapproved of us planning to get married before we’re twenty-one.’

Dominic smiled wryly. ‘It’s only an age on paper. What does it matter whether we’re twenty or fifty? We’ve both grown up a lot over the last couple of years. We’re plenty old enough to know what we want. The miracle is that we’re together again.’ He leant forward and kissed her very gently on the lips. Mabel Fraser, still watching them with one eye, smiled fondly and reminiscently.

Dominic walked Tilly back to the home soon afterwards. She was on duty the next day, Boxing
Day – that was the day that the patients were to have their Christmas celebrations. They had all enjoyed a Christmas dinner on the correct day; this was to be an evening party, held in the communal lounge. A time for revelry and singing and a ‘knees-up’ for those who were able, with some of the men contributing ‘turns’; singing, reciting, or acting as funny men as seen on the music hall stage. Two of the more enterprising men had drawn up a programme of sorts, and Tilly had been asked if she would act as pianist for the event, which she had gladly agreed to. Dominic had been invited along to join in the fun.

Faith and William kept out of the way. Faith had no objections to the others enjoying themselves – she knew that the younger members of the family were duty-bound to take part – but her grief was still too raw for her to indulge in a great deal of merriment. She had managed to get through Christmas Day without too many tears, but it was always a time when memories and thoughts of loved ones – whether merely absent or no longer there – were most poignant. Faith now looked forward to the start of a new year. Please, God, may 1917 bring an end to this dreadful war, was her earnest prayer, and that of thousands of others.

Mrs Baker and her helpers had prepared a
buffet meal of sandwiches, sausage rolls, meat pies, trifles and home-made cakes, and the patients were each allowed a drink as a special concession. Beer, shandy or wine, or fruit juice for those who might be teetotal or whose medication forced them to be abstemious. They did not really need alcohol, however, to keep their spirits high. It was enough for most of them that they were alive and away from it all – if only for the duration – and able to let their hair down as they had used to do in those long-ago days of peace.

The men put on an entertaining show, but whether the acts were good, mediocre, or, quite frankly, boring – like the endless recitation of ‘The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God’ – they were all received with enthusiastic applause and shouting and cheering.

Seemingly they never tired of singing together the songs – old and new – that had become popular since the start of the conflict. ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’, ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’, ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’, ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World’…

Tilly looked away from the piano, catching Dominic’s eye as they sang the heartfelt words.

Priscilla had been persuaded to sing a solo. Dominic, watching her fondly, was amazed at how much she had changed since starting work
at the New Moon home. Gone was the self-effacing, downtrodden cousin he remembered of old. Now she had managed to break away from the restraints put upon her by her parents – and what courage it had taken for her to stand against them in the first place – she was a different person. Even his Aunt Maud and Uncle Cedric seemed to realise now that they could no longer dominate her. Priscilla had even confided to Dominic, albeit still rather shyly, that she was corresponding with a man called Jack Smollett, who had been in her care. And if the blush on her cheeks was anything to go by, he guessed that the young man might be rather more than just a pen-pal. She sang now, in her rich contralto voice, of ‘The Lark in the Clear Air’ and finished her song to the accompaniment of applause, cheers and shouts of ‘Good old Priscilla!’

One of the most moving points of the evening was Maddy’s solo spot. She, more than any of the others, was used to singing to an audience, and this particular one responded to her with fervour as she sang her old favourites from her days with the Pierrots and the Melody Makers; ‘Scarborough Fair’, and ‘I Know Where I’m Going’.

And even the toughest and least sentimental of the men could not avoid a lump in the throat
or even a tear in the eye as she invited them to sing along with her in the chorus of ‘Till We Meet Again’. Anyone parted from their loved one could not help but be moved by the longing the words suggested.

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
t the start of 1917 it was the trouble in other parts of the world, not only in western Europe, that was beginning to determine the course of the war. There had been a good deal of civil and military unrest in Russia, and in March the Tsar was finally forced to yield to pressure and abdicate. The royal family was sent into exile in Siberia; but it was not until much later in the year that Russia became a republican state, after declaring a truce with Germany and Austria.

In April, at long last, the USA declared war on Germany, provoked by the continual sinking of American ships by German submarines. It wasn’t until June of that year, however, that the first troop ships arrived in France. Subsequently the American troops started fighting alongside the Allies on the Western Front.

The early part of the year was a time of both joy and sadness for the Moon family. In mid-February a baby boy was born to Patrick and Katy amidst much rejoicing. They decided to call him Thomas Isaac, after Patrick’s stepbrother, and that grand old man, Isaac Moon, the grandfather of the family, who was still much talked about and revered. No one would ever forget how he had died, very suddenly, of a heart attack, on the very day that Patrick and Katy had been married. They had set off on their honeymoon and had not known of his death until they returned. It was fitting, therefore, that he should be remembered now.

But whilst they were still giving thanks for the arrival of this newest member of the Moon family, misfortune was to strike again. It was not, however, entirely unexpected. Hetty had known that Bertram was in a bad way when he returned home from the war with severe injuries. He had remained as a patient at the family convalescent home, visited regularly by the family doctor. After Christmas he had seemed to be improving a little, but at the beginning of March he was struck down with influenza and taken into hospital, for his own sake and for the sake of his fellow patients. The influenza developed into pneumonia and he died within the week. With his weakened
constitution and the damage done to his lungs by the poison gas he had not had the strength to fight the illness.

They were all saddened by this second death in their close-knit family. Hetty, of course, mourned him more than anyone. He had been a steadfast and loving husband throughout their marriage which, regrettably, had amounted to only eight years. Hetty had grown to love him dearly; at first she had been grateful to him for wanting to marry her when she was carrying another man’s child, but afterwards she had loved him deeply and unreservedly, for his own sake. He had been a wonderful father to Angela, as loving and patient towards her as though she had been his own daughter. Angela was heartbroken at the death of her dear daddy, although Hetty, knowing that he was very poorly, had tried to warn her that they might lose him. But life had to go on…

The photographic premises where the Lucas family had lived until Bertram joined the army had been vacant ever since that time. Hetty had moved to the South Bay to be near her place of work; she and Angela were still sharing the home of Jessie and her little son, Gregory. Hetty knew that it was time for the studio and the living accommodation to be sold; it was time, also, for her to look for a house – quite a modest one – for herself and
Angie. Jessie, however, hearing of this, persuaded them to stay at her home and keep her company until the end of the war. Hetty gladly agreed to do so; she and her stepsister had always got on very well together.

It was practical that the sale of the property should be given to the firm of Fraser and Fortescue, Dominic’s father and uncle. It was in a prime position on the North Bay, on North Marine Road; not too far from the centre of the town but far enough away not to demand the high rates of the properties on Newborough and Westborough, the main thoroughfares of Scarborough.

It was inevitable, also, that Dominic should seize upon the idea that this might well be the very place he was looking for. He had already approached his father about his plan to purchase his own bookshop, with Joseph Fraser’s full cooperation. So now, this property that had belonged to Bertram Lucas seemed to him to be an ideal proposition. But the first thing he must do was talk it over with Tilly.

‘What do you think, darling?’ he asked her that very evening. They met every day when she had finished her shift, usually in the family room at the home as she was often too tired to go out; nor did they want to very often, now they were together again.

‘Do you think Hetty would mind if I were to buy the property and turn it into a bookshop?’ he asked her. ‘Or do you think she might want to sell it as a going concern, as a photographer’s studio, with the equipment and everything?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ replied Tilly. ‘I suppose it would be up to your father and uncle to sort out the details with her. Didn’t you ask them what she had in mind?’

‘No… To be honest I haven’t mentioned it to my father yet. I wanted to tell you about my idea first, to see what you think about it.’

‘Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,’ Tilly told him. ‘It’s near to Uncle Will’s premises and my mother’s shop, and we’d be living near to Patrick and Katy. It couldn’t be better.’

‘So long as I have your approval, then that’s all I want,’ said Dominic. ‘I shall see my father about it tomorrow then. I shall tell him not to mention it to Hetty just yet, though, that there’s an interested party, especially with it being me.’

‘Whyever not?’ asked Tilly. ‘You’re one of the family, aren’t you? You very soon will be anyway.’

‘That’s just it,’ he replied. ‘I wondered if Hetty might think I couldn’t wait to snap up her husband’s property, while the poor chap’s scarcely cold in his grave…if you know what I mean. I
really liked Bertram, what I knew of him; a real first-rate sort of fellow. It’s a tragedy, the wicked waste of men that this bloody war is causing. Tommy, and now Bertram…I hope to God the rest of them get through it all in one piece, Freddie and Arthur, and your brother, Samuel. I hardly know him though, do I?’

Tilly shook her head. ‘No, I suppose not… Mother said she had a lovely letter from Samuel, after he’d heard about Tommy. She said it was so…well…so sympathetic and tender, as though he really cared deeply about all of us. She could scarcely believe that Samuel had written it. There’s been a certain amount of estrangement between them, you know, ever since Mother married Uncle Will, and especially since that business with Hetty. Mum was quite touched; she said it sounded as though Samuel had changed quite a lot. He’s even said that he’s become friendly with a fellow who’s a padre out there, and that doesn’t sound like Samuel at all.’

‘Hmm…war’s a great leveller,’ said Dominic. ‘It makes some chaps very bitter, though, makes them turn against God altogether, and who can blame them? But it sounds as though it’s changed Samuel for the better. Anyway, time will tell.’

‘Yes, I hope so,’ Tilly nodded. ‘What you were saying, though, about Hetty thinking you’re too
quick off the mark. I don’t think she will mind at all. She’ll probably be glad to see the property going to someone she knows, especially a member of the family. Why don’t we ask her and put your mind at rest, even before you mention it to your father?’

It turned out just as Tilly had said. Hetty was only too glad to know that her former home would remain in the family. She told them she had not intended to sell it as a going concern as it might have been too painful for her to see another photographer setting up in business in a place that had belonged to her husband. She intended to sell the equipment separately, and so the lights, cameras and all the paraphernalia would be moved to a spare room at Jessie’s home to await a buyer. Hetty kissed her stepsister fondly, and Dominic, too, saying how pleased she was and that she hoped they would be as happy there as she and Bertram had been.

Until it had all been snatched away, Tilly could not help but think. Please God, she prayed, may such a thing never happen again…

A truly joyous occasion in June was the wedding of Tilly and Dominic. It took place at the chapel on Queen Street where the Moon family, led by Grandfather Isaac, had worshipped for so many years. At Tilly’s request, however, the celebratory
meal that followed was held at the New Moon home, so that all the staff and patients could share in the happiness of the young couple.

Tilly looked radiant and beautiful, especially to Dominic’s eyes, in an ankle-length dress of pale cream duchesse-satin, very simple, with a fashionable three-tiered skirt and long tapering sleeves ending with a point at the wrist. With it she wore a hip-length silken net veil and a beaded headdress worn low over her forehead, decorated with wax flowers and ribbons.

She had not wanted too showy a wedding under the circumstances, with the war still continuing and the recent deaths of two members of the family. She had asked only one of her sisters – her real sister, Jessie – to be her bridesmaid, or more correctly, matron-of-honour. Jessie’s dress was of a similar style in a pale shade of blue, which complemented her blue eyes and ginger hair.

All the members of the Moon family attended the service, which meant that the staff at the New Moon home was sadly depleted for an hour or two. The auxiliary helpers and Faith, who was in overall charge, were missing, but fortunately there were no crises or emergencies. The rest of the staff and the patients eagerly awaited the return of the wedding party. They all gave a hearty cheer when the newly married couple stepped through
the door, and they were surrounded by crowds of well-wishers, shaking their hands, hugging and kissing them and wishing them all the good luck in the world.

It was probably Dominic, more than any of the others, who felt the absence of Tommy very keenly. His best mate – his new wife’s twin brother – would normally have been his best man. The honour had fallen instead to Patrick, Tilly’s stepbrother, who filled the position very ably. And it was Patrick, with his ready wit and sense of fun, who was able to inject a light-hearted feel to the proceedings, so that any poignant or sad recollections were soon set aside.

‘Please raise your glasses and drink to the health and happiness of Tilly and Dominic,’ he proclaimed at the end of the sumptuous feast.

The meal had once more attained Mrs Baker’s high standards, despite the wartime restrictions. Chicken, ham and tongue, purchased from an understanding butcher, made tasty sandwiches, accompanied by home-made chutney, salad and pickles. The huge trifle was topped with real fresh cream, which also filled the assortment of eclairs, meringues and fairy cakes. The pièce de résistance was the wedding cake; two tiers covered with royal icing, rich and dark on the inside, with an abundance of dried fruit that had been stored over
several months in the kitchen cupboards, awaiting this special occasion.

‘It was a happy and fortuitous day…’ Patrick told the guests, pausing for a moment to add, ‘That’s a big word, isn’t it? I had to look it up in the dictionary. I thought it fitted this auspicious occasion…and there’s another one for you!’ he said to the accompaniment of friendly laughter and shouts of, ‘Get on with it, Patrick!’

‘Now…where was I? Yes, I was about to say it was a lucky day – that’s what it means, really – it was a lucky day when my father married my lovely stepmother, Faith, and the Moon and the Barraclough families became one. I acquired a whole new family, no less than four brothers and sisters, one of whom, of course, is my lovely sister, Tilly… She’s called Matilda, really,’ he added in a loud whisper, ‘but she doesn’t answer to it. She is, quite simply, our wonderful Tilly, and I know that all you lads here have reason to be thankful for the skill and sympathy she has shown in nursing you.’

There were shouts of, ‘Hear hear!’ and ‘Good old Tilly!’ from all parts of the room.

‘And I know that Dominic has got himself a wife in a million. We are delighted to welcome Dominic, our new brother-in-law, into our family. And all I have to say now is…may all their
troubles be little ones!’ He concluded his speech to laughs and derisory jeers at the age-old, somewhat hackneyed joke. There was no honeymoon as such for the newly married couple, that is to say, they did not go away for a holiday. But they were to move, that very night, into their new home that had once belonged to Hetty and Bertram. Hetty had left the furniture and fittings for them to use for the time being. When Hetty moved, in due course, into a home of her own, Tilly and Dominic would furnish the flat with items of their own choice. For the moment, though, they were more than happy to have a home ready to move into without any worries.

The sale of the property had been completed speedily, but the proposed bookshop was not yet open. Dominic, at the present time, was busy ordering stock, whilst a firm of joiners was at work doing the necessary renovations.

Tilly, of course, would carry on with her nursing career, spending some of her nights with her husband in her new home, but continuing with her night duties at the convalescent home as before. She had insisted that she should be given no concessions, except for the couple of days they had all agreed she must have as a bride.