so you might, lad. All in good time, I daresay. So I expect you’ll want to walk our Lucy home after, eh?’
Arthur beamed. ‘If it’s all the same to you, sir.’
‘Aye, well just remember, I’ll be right behind thee, so no shenanigans.’
‘No shenanigans, Mr Piddock, I promise. Thank you.’
Arthur was pleased with the progress he’d made in establishing himself so soon with Lucy’s father. That evening, he walked her home proprietorially, leaving Haden behind in the Whimsey.
‘I like your father, Lucy.’
‘I told you he’s a decent man.’
‘He is, and no two ways. Maybe I’ll meet your mother soon.’
She chuckled. ‘Soon enough, I daresay, at the rate you’re going.’
They were approaching Bull Street where Church Street levelled out like a shelf before commencing its long descent into Audnam, the stretch known as Brettell Lane.
‘Shall I come and meet you tomorrow after me Bible class?’
‘It’ll be too late, Arthur.’
‘But your father knows we’re walking out together.’
‘I’d rather wait till Sunday to see you, like we arranged.’
‘What about Friday? I could come to the Whimsey again and walk you home.’
‘I’d rather wait till Sunday, Arthur,’ she persisted.
Arthur sighed. ‘I want to be with you, Lucy,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t put palings up around yourself as if you was some special tree in a park.’
‘I’m not,’ she protested mildly, but touched by his tenderness.
‘Well, it seems to me as if you are.’ He thought painfully of the young man with the confident bluster whom she’d served earlier. ‘Do you see some other chap some nights?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she replied, as if he had a damned cheek to suggest such a thing.
‘So why don’t you want to see me sooner than Sunday?’
‘’Cause I feel that you’re rushing me, Arthur. I don’t want to be rushed.’
‘You mean you’re not sure about me?’
‘Yes … No … Oh, I don’t know … I mean, I like you and all that …’
Arthur sighed again frustratedly. ‘But?’
‘But I’ve only known you a few days. You can’t expect me to be at your beck and call when I’ve only known you a few days. It takes longer than that.’
‘I’m sorry, Lucy,’ he said pensively. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s just that I’m a bit impatient …’ He looked at her in the moonlight, his heart overflowing with tenderness. He reached out and took her hands, holding the tips of her fingers gently. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered whether your perfect mate would ever come along, Lucy?’
‘Many a time,’ Lucy answered quietly, content that it was the simple truth.
‘Well, Lucy, I feel that you’re my perfect mate … I know it’s a bit soon to be professing love and all that, and I’m not … not yet …’cause I might yet be wrong. But it’s what I feel at this minute. And knowing what I feel at this minute, I get impatient and hurt that you keep putting me off so as I can’t be near you.’
‘Oh, Arthur …’ Lucy realised right then what agonies he was suffering on her account, and felt ashamed that she should be making another person unhappy – another person who actually held her in high esteem. If the situation were reversed she would not relish being made unhappy. But she really was not sure of what she might feel for Arthur in the future that she did not feel now, and it was no good saying she was. She did need time to discover. Maybe, given time, she might grow to love him; he was a deserving case, he seemed a good man. But she didn’t fancy him enough, and she had to fancy somebody before she could commit herself. Why wasn’t he that man in the guards’ van on the railway? If only he was that man, she would want to be with him every night that God sent, especially if he was as gentle as Arthur.
‘But how can you feel like that, Arthur, when you’ve only known me five minutes?’ she asked. ‘You don’t know anything about me. I might not be worthy of your … your tender feelings.’
‘In the long run, Lucy, you might turn out to be right. I only said, it’s what I feel now.’
‘You’re a really nice chap, you know,’ she said sensitively, and meant it.
‘I am as I am, Lucy. I can’t help the way I am, no more than you can help the way you are. But I’ll heed your words. I’ll make myself wait till Sunday to see you again …’
‘It’ll be for the best,’ she agreed, and stepped forward with a smile and planted a kiss briefly on his lips. ‘I’ll see you Sunday then, like we arranged. Here at three.’
Arthur felt the use drain out of his very being at the touch of her lips on his as he watched her walk away, a silhouette in the darkness. It was such a fleeting but a blissfully tender moment, a moment he would never forget, whatever might befall them.
Jane and Moses Cartwright lived in a tiny rented house situated on a steep hill called South Street. It was no great distance from Haden and Hannah Piddock’s equally humble abode, but to visit his young wife’s mother and father was a trouble for Jane’s husband, since he had to do it on crutches. Moses had received a gunshot wound in his leg during the siege of Sebastopol, which had shattered the shin bone. His leg had consequently been amputated below the knee, and Moses was still not certain which had been the more traumatic of the two terrifying experiences, the shell wound or the amputation. But at least he had survived both, and he lived to tell the tale. Indeed, he loved to tell the tale. He told it well to Jane Piddock on his return to England. He had courted Jane before he went to war and she was heartbroken when he went. His returning minus half a limb did not deter Jane and she agreed to marry him, despite the fact that everybody said he would be unable to work. She still had her own job moulding firebricks at the fireclay works. She could keep them both on the little money she earned, with a bit of help from her father.
That Thursday evening, they ventured slowly to Bull Street, as they had begun to do on a regular basis since Moses had returned from the Crimea. The light was fading and, at each step, Moses was chary as to where he planted his crutch lest he found a loose stone on which it might slip and upset his balance. They arrived at the Piddocks’ cottage without mishap, however, and Moses was accorded due reverence and made to rest on the settle in front of the fire.
‘Our Lucy, pop up to the Whimsey and fetch we a couple o’ jugs o’ beer,’ Haden said when his older daughter and son-in-law arrived.
‘Give me the money then,’ Lucy answered.
