Family Pride Read online

  “We’ll think of something.” Another step towards the door.

  “How old are you?” she surprised him by asking.

  “Er – why d’you want to know?”

  “Will you marry, d’you think?”

  “If you were free—” he said with a sigh and giving her the full benefit of his dark eyes.

  “Pity help her, that’s all I can say. Whoever is stupid enough to marry you needs all the sympathy she can get.” His foot was in the air ready to take another step away from her, and when she got up suddenly he stumbled. She stood briefly staring at him with a quizzical look on her face. “What did I ever see in you, Gerry Daniels,” she said softly. “You aren’t worth the time of day.”

  “Come on, Marigold, we both enjoyed it. It was fun, and like most good things, we both knew it had to end.”

  “So that’s it? Now I’m in this mess, it has to end?” Flummoxed as to the best response, Gerry smiled, showing his even teeth, then pushed his moustache with a fore-finger and thumb. She continued to stare at him and eventually he said, “I have to think about the best way of dealing with it. I’ll come and see you when I’ve come up with a solution. Don’t worry, you’ll cope.” Marigold swung away and went out of the room. Without a pause, Gerry darted across the kitchen, up the garden path, through the gate, and out of her life.

  It was past five o’clock and safe to visit Fanny. The pretence that he was still at work was becoming more and more difficult. Surely something would happen soon to end the farce? He went into the bakers shop that smelled of soap and newly scrubbed counters and waved to Gilly, who was wiping the last of the shelves.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a small box of Dairy Box chocolates he had intended to give to Marigold. Waving aside her surprised thanks he went through the shop to the living room where Fanny was putting a roast rabbit back into the oven for browning. It was surrounded by potatoes, the smell reminding him he was hungry.

  “Stay if you want to,” Fanny offered, with a brief glance at Bessie, “there’s plenty.”

  “Thanks. You wanted to see me? Sorry I haven’t called before but I’ve had so much work to take home from the bank, us being short of staff – you know what it’s like.”

  “Dad’s ill again, I wondered, we wondered, if you could possibly spare us an hour in the mornings before you go to the bank?”

  Finger and thumb, rubbed his thin moustache. Perhaps this was the answer? “How ill is he?”

  Fanny raised her eyes heavenward. Whispering, she said, “Dr James doesn’t think he’ll do any heavy work again. How will we cope? We’ve got to keep the business going for when the boys come back after the war.”

  Gerry said nothing but he thought a lot and his silence was taken for concern by all but Bessie and Gilly. Sam sucked on an empty pipe, Vic sat drumming irritable fingers on his green woodbine packet and Victor sat silent and still, each knowing that their leave was almost over and they would soon have to return to the craziness of war. Whatever decisions were made by Fanny and Bessie, they really had no say.

  Fanny called in vain for Ivor to join them, he had gone missing again, off on one of his lonely walks. She shrugged and served the meal. While the others helped themselves she filled Gerry’s plate and coaxed him to eat as if he were a prize bull. Bessie hid the fact that he was not welcome and if she thought about her brothers and the thousands of others who fought for freedom and compared them to those like Gerry who were in safe and cushy jobs at home, she gave no sign of it. Gilly watched him, wondering what was going on in his sleek head that made a smile break out occasionally on his handsome face as he apparently considered their dilemma.

  It was later, as they sat, replete and relaxed, that he looked from Sam to Vic and then Viv and said slowly, “I can’t help fight because of my health, and it pains me to know that I am sitting in a comfortable, well-paid job while you three are facing daily danger. I’ve decided that I must do something or I’ll be shamed into an early grave. I’ve decided that, as making our daily bread is as necessary in winning this war as killing the enemy and is an honourable calling, I’ll resign from the bank and come and help you in the bakery full time.”

  Gerry’s announcement was met with silence. Surely he wouldn’t give up a career in banking just to help them out? Bessie chewed her lip and tried not to show her disbelief. You didn’t know how to take the man from one minute to the next! Joking he must be. Sam stood up, silently shook Gerry’s hand and the twins and did the same. Fanny sat and stared at him, her eyes bright with a suspicion of tears. It was she who spoke first, her voice breathless.

  “Gerry, we can’t let you do such a thing.”

  “There’s only one stipulation—” He looked around the room and smiled at the various reactions to his words, all waiting for the proviso which, he suspected, they were all prepared to refuse. “I want you, Fanny my dear, to come out with me on Saturday to celebrate my new role.” Relief showed on all their faces. The boys looked at each other, Bessie relaxed her frown a little and Fanny burst out laughing.

  “Gerry Daniels, you are a fool. Of course I’ll come. Bessie will mind Gilly and Ivor, won’t you, Bessie?”

  “I don’t need minding, I’m sixteen!” Gilly protested, unheard.

  “It’s the boys’ last night mind,” Bessie warned. “They go back off leave on Sunday the three of them.”

  “Go on, you,” Sam smiled, his large frame blocking the light as he stood and reached into the cupboard for the solitary bottle of sherry and the two flagons of beer that constituted their drinks supply. “Go out and enjoy yourselves, but Gerry, are you sure about this? I know we’re in difficulties but the war won’t go on for ever and what then? You won’t be content to make Jenkins’ bakery your career will you? Glad we’d be mind, don’t doubt that. You being a dab hand at figures we’d be glad to have you, specially as Dad isn’t so well. But be sure you know what you’re doing, man.”

  “I’ve decided. It’s my little war effort if you like. I can’t fight but I can help on the home front. And I’m joining the Local Defence Volunteers, or the Home Guard as it’s now called,” he added.

  “You’re never!” Fanny and Bessie said in unison.

  “The Germans accepted France’s surrender in June and in July they were in the Channel Islands. It’s a step closer and we all have to be ready for them.”

  “The LDV? The Look, Duck and Vanish brigade?” Viv laughed. “Armed with pitch-forks and broomsticks with a bread-knife tied on the end? Never!”

  “It’s different now, with uniforms and Enfield rifles, and besides, it makes a lot of people sleep more soundly knowing there’s someone prepared to take on the Germans if they dare to land. I’ll be proud to serve.”

  Gilly looked at him doubtfully. What he said was noble enough but disliking him as she did she couldn’t accept that his motives were pure. Perhaps he was only talking about it and had no intention of even applying. In fact, she mused, unless they promised to make him an officer he’d almost certainly refuse to wear the uniform. She glanced at the others to see if they were taken in by his words.

  Bessie looked at him quizzically, perhaps wondering had she misjudged him?

  Fanny’s eyes were glowing. Gerry had been criticised by more than a few of their friends for staying in a safe job while half the town were worrying about their sons and brothers and husbands and dads. Now he would be shown for the honourable man he really was. While the others discussed the details of his joining the firm, Fanny began to plan what she would wear on Saturday evening. Unnoticed by the others, Gilly stood up and went to talk to Granfer.

  “I’ve never liked the bugger,” Granfer said when Gilly had told him the news. “But this, well, it seems such a decent thing to do. I just wonder if there isn’t something behind it.”

  “What will he be doing, d’you think? Helping with the deliveries? Taking his turn to rise early and get the bread baked? I bet it’ll still be me who has to wipe and grease the tins and wash the floor!
And I can’t see him shovelling coke to fire the ovens, can you, Granfer?”

  “Not in his fancy dancing pumps for sure!”

  Gilly had doubts about Gerry helping in any way that meant soiling his clothes or his hands, he’d probably be just one more to tidy up after, but she said no more to Granfer. He looked red in the face again and she thought it best to change the subject.

  “Mam’s going out with Gerry to celebrate, on Saturday,” she said. “But first we’re going to buy my new coat.” But the old man wasn’t listening.

  “There’s all this going on, the boys off back to their ships, shortages beginning to change the way we bake, now having to fit Gerry into the routine. And he’ll be making damned sure he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and for the purpose there’s me stuck up here without a say. Damn me, girl, it makes me want to spit!”

  Chapter Two

  It was Saturday afternoon and Gilly was washing the bake-house floor. With the large metal bucket with its funnel-shaped place for squeezing out the mop she struggled to wash, rinse and then dry the stone-flagged area to Bessie’s satisfaction. Her mother was a hard task-master, but Bessie was worse where cleanliness was involved, once making Gilly do the whole thing over again; sweeping, soaping, rinsing and then rinsing again before drying the whole area. Even the steps down to the yard were treated as part of the floor, and the traditional half-circle of yard below them. The sides of the doorway were scrubbed with soap and disinfectant, too, in case a dog dared to come into the yard and widdle, although Gilly had never seen a dog in the yard. Puss, the cat, who shared the horse’s stable, was too fierce for any self-respecting dog to face. Puss liked to sit up high on one of the beams in the stable and she had a startling habit of jumping down and landing on someone’s shoulder. She had once jumped on the back of one rangy mongrel who had been bold enough to enter and had ridden it half way up the back lane. Gilly smiled at the memory.

  Standing against the wall watching her was her Uncle Ivor. Twice her weight, twice her age, he made no attempt to help her lift the freshly filled bucket from the sink and carry it across the room. Bessie came in to stack the tins and said;

  “Come on, Ivor, boy, give a bit of a hand.” Her voice startled him out of a dream to which he promptly returned. Bessie went to speak again but instead she sighed and addressed Gilly. “His mind is taking a day off again I see!”

  Ivor jerked his head around and smiled at her. No malice in his expression. “Hello, Bessie,” he said as if he had only just seen her. “I’ve been standing here wondering how to spend my day off tomorrow.”

  “There’s nice for you.” Bessie’s voice was sarcastic. “A day off indeed! A day off from what might I ask?”

  “It’s Sunday, a day when there’s no rushing about. I like a Sunday.”

  “What are you going to do then?”

  “I’ll go and talk to Granfer, then help our Vic and our Vivian clean their uniforms. They gave me a tanner last time.”

  “To go away I expect,” Bessie muttered.

  “Is Mam nearly ready?” Gilly asked her aunt. “We’re going to buy my new coat as soon as we’ve finished work.”

  “And I’ll be looking after the shop, yes, I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you and Mam do Saturdays turn and turn about. It was Mam’s turn, wasn’t it? Do you mind, Auntie Bessie?”

  “Mind? Of course I don’t mind, love. Time you had a treat and that coat is inches too short, although there’s not a brack in it. You go and enjoy yourself. Get your mam to buy one you really like, mind, don’t be palmed off with something practical. A girl your age shouldn’t have to think of practical.” She chuckled. “Besides, you’ll have out-grown it in weeks the way you’re going, so practical isn’t a consideration!”

  Sam drove the small cart into the yard and came into the bare, white-washed room with the unsold loaves. He called for Ivor to help unload them.

  “Grab a couple of these will you, Ivor, and take them into the shop while I see to the horse? I’m hoping to get to the match this afternoon.”

  Ivor stood unmoved, not a flicker of an eye to show he had heard. Sam shrugged and looked at Bessie before doing the job himself.

  “Leave them there, Uncle Sam. I’ll carry them through to the shop. I bet Mam won’t be ready for ages yet.”

  “Oh yes,” Sam remembered. “Going shopping to get that new coat, aren’t you? Here,” he felt in his pocket, “buy yourself a bag of cuttings as well.” Cuttings were the left-overs from the various jars of sweets in Macy’s sweet-shop. When the amounts in the jars were too small to sell they were gathered together; coconut flakes, fruit-gums, boiled sweets and fizzers and the occasional toffee, and the delicious assortment was sold at a reduced price and considered a great treat.

  “Bring some back for me, mind,” Ivor roused himself sufficently to plead. Sam added a second coin to the one in Gilly’s hand.

  “Some for brain-box, too.”

  Ivor heard the remark with his usual lack of response and wandered out.

  “He’ll be off to the school again, I expect,” Bessie said with a sigh. “Pity ’elp him. The school is the last place he ought to feel at home.”

  “Fuse his brain-box proper that would, our Ivor going back to school,” Sam agreed.

  “Why do you say things like that?” Gilly asked when Sam had gone back into the yard for more loaves. “It seemed unkind.”

  “Not really, love. We all know he’s simple and that’s how the family deal with having a dullard for a brother. People are unkind and the uncles only say first what others will say and pretend not to mind. We all care for him though and cope as well as we can.”

  There was a loud knock on the stable doors and Bessie looked at her niece with a wry grin. “We can guess who that is, can’t we? Come in, Mrs Moxon, the small door’s unlocked.”

  Puffing and making a real effort of getting through the small doorway in the sliding stable door, Gerry’s aunt came in with an empty basket on her arm. “Come for some stale bread supposing you have some,” she said. “To feed the chickens it is.”

  “For sure,” Bessie said, grinning at Gilly. “Coming on well are they, these chickens of yours?”

  “Coming lovely they are, thank you for the loaves.” Accepting the bread Bessie had put aside for her she squeezed back out of the door repeating her thanks.

  “Never got no chickens and how could she think we believe she has? Her living in one room and an upstairs one at that!” Bessie chuckled. “I bet you she uses it to feed herself all week and uses the money she saves to spend on drink. I suppose we shouldn’t help really but when it’s food we can’t say no, can we?”

  “And it is Uncle Gerry’s aunt,” Gilly agreed, “though he hates people knowing.”

  “When is Fanny’s Gerry starting to help us?” Sam asked, bringing in the last of the loaves.

  “On Monday week,” Bessie replied. “Got to give a week’s notice at the bank.”

  Gilly bent her head to hide her face, poking a tongue at the mop-bucket and imagining it was Gerry. What did Mam want him hanging around for? As useless as Ivor he’d be, for all his fancy talk and his smarmy ways! He’ll only distract Mam from her work and leave more for me and Auntie Bessie, she sighed. She finished drying the floor and looked at her aunt for approval. “Go on, that will do,” Bessie said.

  Gilly carried the mop and the bucket to empty in the drain outside then went back to the low sink and rinsed them out. Auntie Bessie never said “well done”, or “that’s good”, only “that will do”. With a tub of scouring powder she cleaned the sink that was used for what Bessie called dirty work and left it shining and dry. Thankfully she took off the sacking apron and hung it behind the door.

  In the yard Sam was cleaning out the small cart. Its shelves were brushed and the window in the side that was filled to display samples of the different styles of loaf, was cleaned until it sparkled. As he worked he whistled cheerfully. Then the inside was washed and carefull
y dried.

  Gilly stood at the doorway and watched him for a while. If only he didn’t have to go away again. His size and strength and his relaxed temperament was reassuring and he was needed here, especially now Gerry was coming to put his oar in, interfering with everything.

  “I wish you weren’t going back, Uncle Sam.”

  “So do I, but there it is, you have to accept what you can’t change.” He went on whistling as if without a care.

  “Want a bit of help, Uncle Sam?” Gilly knew her mam wouldn’t be ready for a while and she picked up the cloth and began to wash the large wheels of the ornate cart clear of mud while her uncle polished the high window.

  “Thanks, Gilly love. I thought I’d give it a good clean so Dai Smoky won’t have too much to do tomorrow.”

  “Is Uncle Dai coming to help again?” Gilly was pleased.

  “Dai’s coming after church to talk to us and see what we need to bake for Monday,” Sam explained. “Packed up the job he had in the insurance office, couldn’t stand being indoors all day, so he’s back to help us, for a while at least.”

  “Will you be coming to church with us before you go back?”

  “I suppose I better had. Your Auntie Bessie and your mam’ll be on to me if I don’t.” He stopped polishing the outside of the cart and said, “I suppose you’ll be wearing your new coat?”

  “If Mam lets me! You know how she is for keeping things new. Even church mightn’t be clean enough for me to wear a brand new coat!”

  “And a little brimmed hat?”

  “Oh no, Uncle Sam, not a matching hat!”

  Sam winked at her to show he was teasing and that he understood. She finished the wheels and went back into the bake-house.

  “I’ll take the loaves into the shop and then go to find Mam. All right, Auntie Bessie?” She lifted one of the wicker baskets down from its hook and filled it with the loaves and went out.

  “Don’t forget to scrub your arms proper,” Bessie called. “Can’t have you disgracing your mam by showing a tide mark when you try on new clothes, now can we?”