Christmas Past (10 page)

‘No.’

‘It’s not like you to stay in on a Friday.’

‘No.’

‘Are yer spent up? yer can always ’ave a couple of bob if yer are.’

‘Mother, it’s pay day. How can I be spent up on a Friday?’

She gave it up as a bad job; she knew she would get nothing out of her lads if they didn’t want her to know anything.

‘I’m off to bed, Mother,’ Jack said.

‘At this time, when yer haven’t to be up in the morning? Are yer sickening for something, lad?’

‘No, I’m just tired, that’s all. Don’t forget I’ve been up at five all week.’

‘Aye, lad. Well, as long as yer not badly, I don’t suppose an early night’ll do yer any harm.’

‘I’ll fetch coal up for morning, then I’ll be going to bed then.’ He went to the cellar door, picking up the coal bucket on the way.

Mrs Holmes watched him out of her eye corners. He was a good lad, their Jack, not as headstrong as Harry, and thoughtful. It wasn’t like him not to confide in her if anything was bothering
him. Perhaps she was just imagining things.

‘Goodnight then, Mother. Tell our Harry not to make a noise when he comes in.’

‘Nay, lad, I shall be in bed mesen by the time he comes home. Yer might as well lock door – whoever’s next in knows key’s on’t string through’t letter box.
Knowing our Harry, yer dad might well be in off night shift by the time he comes rolling home. Where he finds to go till all hours o’t morning I’d like to know.’

Oh, no, she wouldn’t like to know, Jack thought. In fact she’d have a seizure if she knew he was down at Ada Banwell’s whilst her old man was away in the Navy. It was a miracle
his brother hadn’t been caught before now, with all the married women he seemed to become involved with.

If it wasn’t one of the husbands it would be his dad who found out one of these days, and despite his age he wouldn’t put it beyond the old man’s capability to give his brother
a damned good hiding.

Oh, well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned.

Jack couldn’t sleep. In fact he wasn’t at all tired; he just wanted to be able to think about Mary O’Connor without interruption. He wondered if he had waited a reasonable
length of time before approaching her, and if Madge had mentioned to her that he had been thinking about her. If he weren’t on afters next week he could have gone to meet her out of work; now
it would be another ten days before he could see her.

He wondered what she did at the weekends. She certainly never came over to the pictures or the dances at the Victoria Hall. If only she didn’t live miles from anywhere it would be easier.
Anyway, he made up his mind that a week on Monday he would meet her from work. He hadn’t considered yet what he would say to her, but he would come up with something before then. He felt a
stirring in his loins and turned on his stomach, aiming to relieve himself just by thinking of Mary O’Connor. He hoped Ada Banwell kept their Harry occupied for a while. He wanted the bed to
himself.

Madge had warned Mary that Jack Holmes meant to look out for her, but she was unprepared all the same when she came out of work on the Monday. She found herself blushing as he
came across the road.

‘Hello,’ he said, cap in hand. ‘I’m, er, sorry about the bad news.’

‘Oh,’ said Mary, staring at the ground.

‘I wondered – well, I know it’s a bit soon and I don’t want to rush things, but I wondered if you’d like to go to the pictures one night?’

‘Well, it’s a bit awkward. I mean, it would mean me walking back to Longfield on my own.’

‘Oh, I’d see you home all right.’ He laughed nervously. ‘Why, you don’t think I’d let you walk all that way on yer own, surely?’

‘Well, I don’t know. I couldn’t let you walk all that way and then have to come back again.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry about that. I must walk so far every day of the week, once I get underground. All the way to the pit, and then all the way back again underground. Daft,
isn’t it?’

Mary laughed. As they set off walking up the hill, he took hold of her bike and wheeled it for her.

‘You’ll have to get a bike like me,’ she said.

‘Aye. We could go a ride together,’ he said, looking at her hopefully.

‘Well, you could come over to Longfield then,’ she said.

‘I could come over anyway,’ he said eagerly. ‘I can easily borrow a bike, that’s no problem at all.’

Mary smiled. She couldn’t help liking Jack. She had liked him since the dance – her face changed suddenly as she began to feel guilty – but not as much as Tom. She’d
never like anyone as much as Tom. Even so, Jack was well mannered and nice. Besides, she couldn’t shut herself away like the nuns in the orphanage. As Tom said, she was young.

‘I shall be going bilberrying on Saturday afternoon if it’s fine. You could come with me if you like.’

‘It’s a date,’ Jack said, his pleasure showing on his face. ‘What time?’

‘How about two? I’ll meet you outside the school and we’ll walk along the lane to the moor.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he said, grinning like a half-moon.

Bessie and Lucy appeared from the works yard.

‘Are yer coming, Mary?’ Bessie called.

‘Yes, I’m coming,’ she replied. ‘Well, I’ll see you Saturday then.’

‘Yes. I won’t be late.’

Mary joined the sisters as they set off pedalling along the main road.

‘What did Jack Holmes want?’ Bessie asked.

‘He just wanted to say how sorry he was about Tom.’

‘I bet he wanted to go out with yer,’ Lucy said.

Mary felt her face growing hot.

‘It’s OK, you’ve no need to feel uncomfortable. Nobody expects you to live in misery for ever,’ Bessie said. ‘Besides, he’s nice is Jack Holmes.’

‘I know,’ said Mary. ‘It’s just that I keep thinking about Tom all the time. I’ll never feel the way I did about Tom with anyone else, so perhaps I shouldn’t
see Jack Holmes after all.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Lucy. ‘Our Tom wouldn’t expect any of us to turn all morbid and miserable. Besides, you might be able to put me a good word in with his
brother.’

‘Oh no she won’t,’ retorted Bessie. ‘You’d be the talk of Milington going out with him. They’re as different as chalk and cheese are Harry and Jack.
He’ll fall over anything in a skirt will Harry Holmes, and he seems to prefer the married ones from what the girls at work say.’

‘So he should be more experienced then.’ Lucy grinned cheekily.

Bessie almost fell off her bike as she turned the corner up the hill. ‘Lucy Downing, just you be careful of your reputation.’

Mary felt a weight lift from her. She hadn’t known how Tom’s sisters would react to the news of her seeing Jack, but she should have known she could count on them remaining friends.
That was the way the people of Longfield were. It must be the result of living in such a clean, beautiful village; it seemed to make them less small-minded than city people, or perhaps she was just
lucky in her choice of friends. She began to look forward to Saturday and said a silent prayer that it wouldn’t rain.

Mary’s prayer was answered. She dressed carefully in a thin cotton dress and set off at quarter to two for Longfield school. Jack was already waiting and she
couldn’t help thinking how handsome he was in slacks and white cricket shirt open at the neck. A little on the lean side, perhaps, and rather pale, but she supposed that was the result of
working in the pit away from the sunlight. Well, today he could make up for it. The sun was hot on her arms and Jack marvelled at the brilliance of her hair as she approached him.

‘Have you been waiting long?’ she asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

‘About ten minutes,’ he said, taking from her the basket which Gladys had insisted on her bringing. It was filled to the brim with a selection of sandwiches, a fruit pie, a tin box
in which to collect the bilberries and a bottle of nettle beer, which Mary had found quite pleasant once she could be persuaded to sample it.

They walked in silence along the lane, past the church and old stone cottages and out on to the moor. There was a slight breeze which swayed the bracken and a lone oak sapling; one day it would
lend shade to weary walkers, but now it struggled bravely to survive out here in the elements. The heather was young and vivid purple and the bilberry bushes hung with lush, juicy berries. Mary
climbed a path away from the lane towards the shade of a row of rocks where, out of breath, she flopped down on the grass with Jack beside her.

‘This is absolutely my favourite place,’ she said, looking out over the valley to the distant hills. ‘I don’t think anywhere in the world could be more
glorious.’

‘It’s certainly beautiful,’ Jack said. He stretched out his hand and broke off a sprig of heather and, stroking Mary’s hair away from her face, placed it behind her ear.
‘But not as beautiful as your hair. It makes me want to run my fingers through it.’

Mary felt her face colouring. She hated it when she blushed, and turned away embarrassed.

‘We’d better start bilberrying,’ she muttered.

‘I bet I can pick the most.’ Laughing, Jack rose to his feet, taking a blue two pound sugar bag from his pocket.

They picked steadily for about an hour, until the bag and the tin box were almost full, and their hands stained almost black from the juices.

‘How many do you reckon we’ve picked?’ asked Mary as they walked back to the basket.

‘At least enough for a couple of jars of jam,’ Jack estimated.

‘I’ll make you one, and give it to you next time ...’ She paused mid-sentence. Perhaps there wouldn’t be a next time.

‘That’ll be something to look forward to.’ He grinned, relieved that he would be seeing her again.

Mary unwrapped the sandwiches and a couple of hard boiled eggs.

‘Hey, you certainly eat well out here,’ he said. ‘Are you immune from rationing in Longfield?’

‘Of course not,’ said Mary. ‘It’s just that Mrs Roberts grows all her own salad stuff, and the chickens reward me for feeding them every day, with a good supply of
eggs.’

‘Well, now I know why you’ve got skin like a peach. It’s all the fresh food you eat.’ Jack ran his fingers along her arm, causing a sensation Mary had only experienced
with one man before. She drew away. It was too soon; it was unfair to Tom.

Jack knew he was going too fast. He hadn’t intended to, it was just that he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He picked up the nettle beer and took a drink, then lay back in the sun,
unbuttoning his shirt to allow the sun to reach his chest. A covering of dark curly hair glistened in the sunlight, which Mary had an urge to reach out and caress. What was wrong with her? It must
be the nettle beer. She ought to have provided some less potent refreshment.

She lay down beside Jack, feeling drowsy in the heat. A lazy moth landed on her face and she brushed it away, returning her hand to her side, where it touched Jack’s. He entwined his
fingers in hers and they lay as one, joined by a current too strong for either of them to resist. Jack rolled towards her and, leaning over, kissed her, tenderly at first; then, feeling her
respond, more fiercely, until their passion threatened to overcome them and they broke apart, content to wait until another day, confident that this special thing between them was worth waiting
for, and must be allowed to grow in its own time.

Mary heard a grouse calling. ‘Go back, go back,’ it seemed to say. She knew she couldn’t go back but it was also too soon to go forward. She was confused about her feelings for
Jack. Her feelings for Tom were still paramount. She had thought Jack could be a friend but it was obvious things were moving beyond friendship and she was not ready. She released her hand from
his. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘I like you a lot but I need some time to think about Tom, just to remember our time together. So I won’t see you for a few weeks.’ She blushed.
‘Well, you might not want to see me again anyway.’

‘Of course I do, but I understand. Just don’t make me wait too long, that’s all I ask.’

‘I won’t.’ Then she took his hand again and they walked together along the lane.

Jack was waiting outside the sweet shop opposite the cinema. His face lit up when Rowland and Gladys dropped Mary off on their way to spend Saturday evening with their friends
Ernest and his wife Celia.

They always enjoyed what usually turned out to be a musical evening, during which Ernest would play the violin accompanied by Celia on the piano. Then Rowland would sing, after which he would
look through any new sheet music available and see if any of it was suitable for the choir. Tonight however both he and Gladys were rather uneasy, troubled that Mary seemed to have fallen hook line
and sinker for the lad Jack Holmes. Not that they disapproved of the friendship, just that she seemed to have rushed into it rather suddenly after Tom’s death. Rowland said it would blow over
and she would probably have a number of romantic encounters before settling down, but Gladys could recognise a love affair when she saw one, and dreaded the day when Mary would break the news that
she and Jack were considering marriage.

With Tom it hadn’t bothered her; the chances of his ever taking Mary away from Longfield had been virtually nil. But if Mary married Jack, Gladys knew she would settle down over in
Millington, which might as well be a hundred miles away as far as Gladys was concerned. Oh, well, all they could do was welcome the boy into their home and that wasn’t difficult to do, seeing
as he was such a likeable lad.

Mary smiled radiantly as Jack handed her a box of Black Magic. They crossed the main road and joined the queue which stretched halfway round the cinema just as the first house was beginning to
trickle out. The ones who were too impatient to stand for the National Anthem came first, and then the rush.

Mary was excited. On the rare occasions she had set foot inside a cinema it had been for the afternoon matinee and she had been lumbered with Kathleen and Norah, not like tonight when Jack was
buying tickets for the circle. He led her up the marble staircase with the brass handrail, and on to the back row. Mary felt slightly embarrassed when she realised the seats were double ones with
no armrest in the middle, obviously designed with amorous couples in mind. She saw the funny side and began to giggle.