The Girl From Penny Lane (46 page)

‘I ’opes as ’ow you ain’t got fleas, old gal,’ Kitty said absently, tugging at the ruff round Patch’s neck. ‘We can’t give you a bath today – we’re gonna be too busy gettin’ wed!’

The girl from Corwen, Alwenna, had not shared her bed, not last night. She had gone home, to prepare for the wedding. Kitty had told dear Mrs Bronwen that she wanted to spend her last night as a Drinkwater in her own bed, in her own room, and Mrs Bronwen, having given her a long steady look, had agreed it seemed sensible.

‘After all, girl, if you’d ha’ wanted to do wrong what need of a double bed when there’s the whole farm at your disposal?’ she said, with her usual practicality. ‘I’ll see to it that there’s no talk. Not that they’d dare say a word against you, not wi’ me an’ mine to contend with!’

So Kitty rubbed Patch’s ears absent-mindedly and was grateful for the sunshine and imagined Lilac, Nellie and the others in the hotel on the main street, waking to the country sounds of cocks crowing and cattle lowing instead of to the blast of ships’ sirens and the constant noise of traffic.

In the next room she could hear Johnny whistling as he dressed and sloshed water about. She sat up and prepared to swing her legs out of bed, wondering whose turn it was to milk the cows but deciding she would get up anyway. There were bound to be a hundred tasks which needed their attention and the wedding was at two this afternoon. Then there was the wedding breakfast, and after that she and Johnny were going off for their short honeymoon in Llandudno.

‘We’ll wed in the afternoon so we can get the work done, then we can enjoy ourselves,’ Johnny had said. ‘Mrs Martha’s bringin’ the grub over in ’er wagon at about noon an’ your posh friends will be arrivin’ soon after. I like that Joey, mind. A feller after me own ’eart.’

‘Yes, Joey’s grand, and the others ain’t no posher’n what we are,’ Kitty had said, looking contentedly round the glowing farm kitchen. ‘Oh Johnny, didn’t Joey love the farm? I can’t wait for Lilac an’ Nell to see this place, as well. I loves it, I does!’

Joey had arrived the day before yesterday. He had brought with him two presents, a green parrot which talked and a hand-embroidered tablecloth of such beauty and intricacy that even Johnny had been impressed. He had insisted that Joey stay with them rather than in town, once it had been revealed that Lilac didn’t actually know Joey was coming.

‘It’s a surprise,’ Joey said, looking rather hunted. ‘I wanted to tell ’er, but Nellie said a surprise would be best.’

‘Nellie knows Lilac better’n she knows ’erself,’ Kitty had observed. ‘Don’t worry, Joey, it’ll be awright.’

But right now the Day had arrived at last, their Day, and here was she, dreaming on the edge of the bed instead of getting up and getting going on the thousand and one things she had to do.

Kitty padded across the room and pulled back the curtains. Sunshine flooded in and through the open window wafted the familiar smells of a well-kept farm: hay, beasts; the tang of stables and byres came to her nostrils and over and above everything else the fresh country smell of meadow, brook and tree.

‘You up, Kit? Don’t forget, I’m milkin’ this mornin’, but you’re cookin’ us a decent breakfast. Joey’s downstairs, tryin’ to get the parrot to stop swearin’ an’ carryin’ on.’

Johnny’s voice came hollowly through the door. Kitty padded over and opened it. She grinned at him, then stood on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss.

‘Mornin’, Johnny! Glad Joey’s makin’ ’imself at ’ome. So this is it, eh?’

‘That’s right. Want me to put the kettle on as I go through? Then you can wash in ’ot water.’

‘No, it’s all right, I’ll have a cat’s lick an’ a promise now, then fettle meself up good before the others arrive. I wonder what me sisters will make of this place, eh Johnny? I reckon they’ll love it.’

‘They can come an’ stay next summer,’ Johnny said magnanimously. ‘Give us an ’and wi’ the ’ay ’arvest. Do ’em good to ’ave fresh country air.’

‘It would. I wish we could ’ave ’em ’ere all the time, but it ain’t on; still, we’re doin’ okay. One of these days . . .’

‘One of these days we’ll ’ave kids of us own,’ Johnny said practically. ‘Your sisters will make their own way, chuck, same as you an’ me.’ He took her shoulders in his hands and swayed her towards him. ‘Gi’s a kiss, pretty Kitty.’

Kitty complied and for a moment they stood there, she in her worn cotton nightgown and Johnny in his homespun shirt, corduroys and socks, totally relaxed and at ease in each other’s embrace. Then Johnny sighed, moved his mouth from hers, gave her one last squeeze and let her go.

‘Best get on,’ he advised. ‘Us’ll be sharin’ the same bed in the ’otel tonight an’ the big brass bedstead when we come ’ome, Kitty – we’ll ’ave the rest of our lives for kissin’ and cuddlin’.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s goin’ to be grand, ain’t it, Johnny?’

He nodded, smiling down at her.

‘Aye, grand. Don’t forget me breakfast, I’s starvin’ already and I ain’t started the work yet!’

Lilac had spent the night in her hotel room alone, with the Gallaghers next door. She had dreamed about weddings, about loss, about sadness, and had woken with a heavy heart and dark-rimmed eyes. She had borrowed Nellie’s scented talcum and tried to disguise the shadows, but without very much success – and what did it matter, anyway? She was only going to see country folk, no one she knew.

They were taken to church in the trap, Johnny having already left whilst Kitty, splendidly apparelled, waited nervously in the front room with Mr Dewi Jones, who was going to give her away. By the time they arrived the church was packed, but a pew had been reserved for them by a tall young man in a dark suit who saw them coming out of the corner of his eye and stood courteously to one side to let them slide past him to reach their seats.

Lilac went to pass him and stopped short.

‘Joey! Oh Joey, it’s so nice to see you, I wondered why you’d not been near us . . . are you all right?’

The surprise was total – she had refused to pass on the invitation in case he got ideas, but probably Kitty had written to him separately. And seeing him, dark-suited, handsome, smiling down at her as though they had never had a cross word – and they hadn’t, really come to think – gladness was her principal emotion. She smiled up at him and took his hand in hers, and when he would have pulled it away she wouldn’t let him . . . it was so very nice to see him again, such a marvellous surprise . . . she sneaked a glance at Nellie, next to her, but Nellie was finding her place in the Order of Service and showing little Elizabeth how to find the hymns and taking no notice of Lilac at all.

People were rustling behind her, turning. Lilac, too, turned. She could see Kitty’s small sisters in the pew with some farmers from further up the valley and smiled at the four little blonde girls, giggling together over an open hymn book, though she doubted whether the two smaller ones could actually read.

There was a commotion in the porch, then Kitty came floating up the aisle on Mr Jones’s arm. She looked slender and beautiful, and a good deal older than her sixteen years. Her dress was white satin with lacy panels and a small, upstanding collar, and someone had arranged her hair with a coronet of flowers around it.

Lilac smiled at her and Kitty smiled back; a blissful smile, Lilac thought enviously. And then Kitty’s eyes moved ahead once more and Lilac saw the expression in them soften and change as they fell on her bridegroom, his yellow hair slicked down, his dark suit immaculate, and his head turning, his eyes anxiously searching for Kitty.

Joey squeezed her hand. She looked up at him, enquiringly, and Joey leaned down towards her.

‘Doesn’t Kit look a picture? You can tell she’s goin’ to be so ’appy.’

Lilac nodded. She felt pretty happy herself, right now, but that was a transitory thing; Kitty’s happiness, she suspected, would be a way of life, a permanency. Love was like that, you might be miserable on top, over some small or large thing, but you had the happiness beneath all right, just waiting to break through. When you had someone of your own, that was.

The bride and groom were at the altar now, about to make their vows. Kitty looked so different, Lilac thought. Slim and regal in her lace and satin even though the gown had been lent by Mrs Ada Morris from up the valley, with her bright, red-brown hair coiled up into a knot on her head and a wreath of tiny white flowers holding her veil in place, she would have graced any wedding in the land. No one would have recognised the starved little waif with her bare feet and filthy, oversized shirt in this beautiful, healthy young woman who kept glancing adoringly up into her groom’s countenance. Even if she’d not known before, the wedding would have made it plain to Lilac that Kitty and Johnny were deeply in love.

‘With this ring I thee wed; with my body I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.’

Johnny’s voice, rich and deep and shorn of its usual accent for the occasion gave the words their full meaning and more. Lilac glanced at Joey and he was looking down at her, with such an expression in his eyes! She knew, at that moment, that Nellie had been right; if you loved a man you didn’t worry about your reputation or the rights and wrongs of it, you just wanted to belong to him, to make him happy. And suddenly she knew that she loved Joey and wanted him as Kitty wanted Johnny. But how could she be so shallow, so fickle? She had loved and wanted Art, his death might never have come about had he not come home to be with her for a couple of days . . . how could she even think about loving someone else?

And then, as though the thought had triggered her memory, she found herself remembering in detail her dream of last night. Earlier it had just been a vague, confused recollection but now it all became clear.

She had been walking along the Scottie in the dream, with Art strolling beside her, he a lad again, she a lass. They were talking idly, of this and that, enjoying the sunny day and each other’s company. And then, down the road towards them, came a young sailor with a rolling gait and a wickedly twinkling eye.

‘Art . . . that’s Joey Prescott, you know, the feller I telled you about,’ the young Lilac said excitedly. ‘Oh, ’e’s a nice feller – ’e rescued me, you know, when I run away from the Culler. I’ve gorra speak to ’im!’

She ran forwards and as she ran she grew up, so that by the time she reached Joey and held out her arms to him she was Lilac now, not Lilac then. And beside her was Art, grown up too, and he was smiling as well, smiling at Joey.

‘Nice to meet you, Joey,’ he said. ‘You’ll take care of ’er for me, won’t you? She’s a rare ’andful, but I wouldn’t want ’er no different.’

The two men clasped hands and Art turned to her and she saw, in his dear, familiar face, the truth, just for one marvellous moment.

Art had always wanted the best for her and he wanted it still, wherever he was. He was no longer able to take care of her himself so he was handing the job on and doing it willingly.

She had turned to Art, wanting to thank him for her freedom, but instead she woke up, and outside her window the birds were singing and it was Kitty’s wedding day and the dream had gone, leaving her bereft.

But now she had remembered, and all her stupid doubts and fears meant nothing. She felt as gay as the blackbird carolling away on the chestnut tree by the porch and as light as a puff of thistledown on a breezy day.

It was all right! She was doing the right thing, she knew she was. Art would be with her always, but not as a reproach for happiness or a spy for good behaviour. He would be, as he had always been, her friend.

The wedding march swelled out; Lilac looked at the faces of the young couple coming down the aisle, wreathed in smiles, and she felt hot tears rise to her eyes. But even as she mopped them carefully away with her small, scented handkerchief, even as she smiled mistily up at Joey and clutched his hand, she knew they were the right sort of tears: she was weeping, not for what might have been, but for joy.

‘You awright, sweet’eart? Not upset ’cos I’m ’ere, when you didn’t expect to see me?’

It was said in a whisper, but Lilac heard every word.

‘Upset? Oh no, dearest Joey, I’m so happy and relieved, I can’t tell you. And Joey?’

‘What, Lilac?’

‘I’m coming back with you when you go – to London, I mean. And I’m not going to let you leave me ever again.’

Joey squeezed her hand and then carried her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

‘With my body, I thee honour,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, Lilac Larkin!’