no to ’im,’ Edie answered. ‘He’s like a bear with sore arse.’
‘Well, you know what some of these young men are like,’ Clara warned. ‘They only care about themselves. Things are different now to how they were before the war. A lot different. There are more girls than boys now, so to some extent boys can take their pick. Trouble is, because of it, the boys expect the girls to be easy. Well don’t be…You mustn’t be.
‘I remember years ago my mother telling me about one of her friends, Bessie Hipkiss. She was in service at a really well-to-do house in Birmingham. Anyway, she fell in love with the master’s son, and they had an illicit affair for a while. Long enough for him to put her in the family way, anyway. But when poor Bessie asked him what they should do about it, he said the child couldn’t possibly be his and sacked her for her trouble. She was broken hearted. All she’d got were the wages they sent her away with and the clothes on her back – and nowhere to live. As it happens, she remembered my grandfather and came straight to him for help. Her parents knew him well when they were alive, you see. She didn’t want to be a burden, though. She just wanted the chance to make her own way. It turned out that he’d got an empty house – he was quite well off and owned some property – and he let Bessie have it for nothing. It was only a little back-to-back in Flood Street, and you know what a slum it is down there. Damp as the Dudley Tunnel, it was, and overrun with vermin. But she was glad of it. The trouble was, when she gave birth, she didn’t have just one child, did she? Oh, no, not Bessie. She had twins – both boys, and like peas in a pod, my mother always said.’
‘Twins?’ Henzey exclaimed. ‘Just imagine being in all that trouble, then having twins.’
Clara nodded. ‘She did her best to rear them, but she was poverty-stricken. Anyway, she fell ill and, when they were just two years old, Bessie died of consumption, poor soul.’
‘Oh, that’s terrible. All because the father denied all knowledge…What a rogue! So what happened to the poor little lads?’
‘As it happens, Henzey, they were all right. My grandfather, being well respected in Methodist circles, found a nice family who took in one of them. Trouble was, they were poor, and they could only afford to take the one.’
‘You mean they were split up?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘So what happened to the other?’ Henzey’s eyes were misty with tears by this time. She was deeply touched by the story.
Clara shook her head. ‘We never knew for sure. My grandfather took him away, but he wouldn’t say where, though we’d got a good idea. He reckoned he was sworn to secrecy. He just said the boy was going to be all right. My mother was certain sure he took him back to the house Bessie came from – to the boys’ father – to make him face up to his responsibilities. Bessie had told him who the father was. But I never heard anything else about either of those two children since. Sad isn’t it?’
‘When did all this happen, Clara?’ Henzey asked. ‘How long ago?’
‘Well I was only a child meself when Bessie died. It’d be about 1902. Those twins would be about twenty-eight now if they’re still alive.’
‘Grown men. It’d be interesting to know what happened to them, wouldn’t it?’
‘I’d dearly love to know…But listen, I’ve told you girls this story to point out what can happen if you’re easy. Men will always take what they want, and then, when they’ve took it, they’ll be off like a shot unless you handle them right. Keep your man interested by being just a little bit elusive. That’s what I always say. Before you give yourself to a man be sure he’s in love with you. Or better still, wait till you’re married.’
‘“Elusive”?’ Edie queried. ‘What the bleedin’ ’ell’s that mean?’
‘It means, be a bit mysterious, Edie. Don’t be at his beck and call. Let him worry about what you’re up to. Let him think you’re up to no good sometimes when he’s not around. Give him a hint occasionally that you might be interested in somebody else. It works wonders.’
Henzey glanced from one to the other, trying to gauge the girls’ reaction to Clara’s sage advice. ‘You do seem to know a lot about men, Clara,’ she said. ‘I wish I did.’
‘I’m thirty, Henzey, and I know what I’m talking about. I’m not sixteen, like you. I’ve been married and I enjoyed married life, and no man will ever replace my husband. I loved him dearly – I still do.’
‘Are you saying we’re all too young to be messing about with chaps, Clara?’
‘No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying you’re too young to be doing what you do in the marriage bed, but see as many young men as you like. Have some fun, but save yourself for one.’
Henzey said reverently, ‘Oh, Clara, you are sensible.’
‘I try to be. But what about you, Henzey? Have you seen that Jack Harper since you told him you were going to that party?’
‘I’ve seen him, but only from a distance. He doesn’t speak to me now…Has he been in the shop?’
‘Why? You missin’ ’im?’
Henzey nodded glumly. It had been more than two weeks since that party; two weeks during which she had all but forgotten Billy Witts, dismissed Andrew Dewsbury and his petulant sister from her mind, and started thinking again about Jack Harper.
‘No, we ain’t seen ’im,’ Rosie said. ‘I’d ’ave noticed ’im. I think ’e’s bostin’. I think you’m daft, Henzey, for givin’ ’im up, just for the chance o’ goin’ to a party with some lads you didn’t even know. Just ’cause they was well-to-do.’
‘Yes, yer know what well-to-do lads’m like,’ Edie agreed. ‘Just remember the story Clara just told we about that Bessie and her twins. He was a well-to-do chap what got ’er into trouble.’
Clara bit into an apple, then said, ‘The tea’ll be cold. Who’s going to pour it?’
‘I’ll do it,’ Henzey volunteered, and got up from the charabanc seat.
Henzey had made a sad error of judgement in allowing Andrew Dewsbury to take her to his party. It had been as much to the detriment of Jack Harper too, her regular escort, as to herself. Jack had always mooned over her like a lovesick fool, but she’d been prepared to put up with that, since he was generally pleasant company. Maybe she should make the first move towards reconciliation. His absence was feeding her guilt, and her guilt was clouding her true emotions, like disturbed sediment muddies clear water. She was starting to believe she was in love with Jack. Her mood was cheerless, disconsolate. Evidently he was upset with her, and she could hardly blame him. And she missed him more than she thought possible.
‘Yo’ could always goo round to the Midland Shoe shop and try and catch ’is eye,’ Edie suggested. ‘He wun’t ignore yer there. Specially if ’e thought yo’ was gunna buy a pair o’ shoes off ’im.’
The others laughed at that.
‘Never,’ Clara said decisively. ‘Never run after a man, no matter how much your heart might be aching. Promise me you won’t, Henzey.’
Henzey
