the weather stays fine this weekend I want to try and fly the Gull.’ The Gull was the name he had given to this, his new biplane. ‘It’s as good as ready, Clover, and Amos can borrow the horse and cart again so we can transport it.’
‘Are you going over Rough Hill again?’ she asked.
‘It’s the best hill facing south-west. And not much in the way of trees if I come down a bit sudden. Shall you come?’
‘’Course I’ll come. You don’t think I’m going to miss it after all the hours I’ve put in, do you?’ She laughed and pushed her hair away from her forehead that was bearing a sheen of perspiration.
‘I’m ever so confident it’ll fly, Clover, I’m thinking of inviting the Dudley Herald to send a reporter. I want local factory owners to take an interest. I want the world to know about my efforts.’
‘Good idea,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You deserve some recognition for all the work you’ve put in.’
‘That’s what I thought. Even the French get loads of publicity and they generally fall on their arses. What are you doing tonight, Clover?’
‘I’m going to stay in tonight. I’ve got some ironing to do.’
‘I just wondered if you fancied going out with me…If you’re going to be busy though, it don’t matter.’
They reached the Junction Inn with its rounded façade, said cheerio and parted. Holding her coat by the loop with which she hung it up, she flung it over her shoulder and walked briskly down Cromwell Street. She was hungry and wanted her tea. She hoped it would be ready when she arrived home. As she reached the bottom of Cromwell Street, she could see the rotund figure of Zillah Bache in her long skirt ambling towards her in George Street. She waved and smiled and Clover crossed the road at Brown Street to intercept her.
‘I’m just on me way home,’ Zillah announced. ‘It’s warm, int it?’
‘It is warm,’ Clover agreed. ‘Too warm. What’s for my tea, Zillah? I’m famished.’
‘I’n done yer a nice meat-and-tater pie, my babby.’
‘Ooh, lovely.’
‘It’ll be in the oven at the side of the grate. The others’n had theirs.’
As she made to continue her journey, Clover noticed a solitary bottle of beer frothing in Zillah’s basket; her daily reward for not helping herself. ‘I’d better go, Zillah. I don’t want anybody else pinching my pie. See you tomorrow.’
‘I er…heard your mother and that Jake talkin’ today, Clover…’
‘Oh?’ Clover checked herself.
‘He was on about ’em needing more money to finish what they’m a-doing in the brewery.’
‘God knows where they’ll get it. You know what Mother’s like about the banks.’
‘Well that Jake was saying as how they’ve got to the point where they can’t turn back. They’ve got to go forwards, he says. So he’s asked his brother Elijah to come in with ’em. He ain’t short of a copper or two by all accounts.’
‘Well, if that solves the problem, Zillah, all well and good.’
‘Yes, but you ain’t heard the best of it,’ Zillah gloated, bursting with this opportunity to impart even more astounding information. ‘He’s taking up lodgings with you. He’s moving into the spare bedroom. From next Sunday. I gorra spruce it all up and air the bed.’
‘You mean he’s coming to live at the Jolly Collier?’
‘That’s about the size of it, Clover, my wench.’ She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded once, her expression suitably grave.
‘Thanks for letting me know. I don’t suppose Mother will tell me till the last minute. She never tells me anything. I sometimes wonder if she knows I exist.’
‘Well, she seems a bit took with your stepfather Jake, and no two ways. I ’spect she can’t keep her mind on nothing else yet awhile.’
‘As long as she’s happy…I’ll go, Zillah. See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes, see you tomorrow, Clover. Keep out the hoss road.’
Clover carried on, smiling and acknowledging people who were walking in the opposite direction. As she reached the Jolly Collier, Tom Doubleday rushed out and almost knocked her over.
‘Oops!…God, I’m so sorry, Clover,’ he said full of remorse.
‘Oh, hello, Tom. Fancy bumping into you.’ Standing on one leg, Clover tried, hidden by the length of her skirt, to secretly rub her shin with the upper of her shoe at the spot where his foot had caught her.
‘I hope I haven’t hurt you, Clover.’ He placed his hand on her arm in a gesture of concern and the sensation of his hand, warm upon her, set her pulse racing. ‘I ought to start looking where I’m going before I wreak too much damage. I’m such a clumsy clot.’
‘It’s all right, Tom, I’m fine,’ she assured him.
He took his hand away. ‘Did I hurt your leg?’
‘Just my shin,’ she admitted and raised the hem of her skirt to reveal a well-turned ankle. ‘It’s nothing. Are you just leaving?’
He smiled with a warmth that churned her insides. ‘I’ve got work to do.’
‘Oh…Is Ramona all right?’ she asked awkwardly.
He turned his head momentarily as if to check inside the pub. ‘Yes, she seems all right. Why? Is something the matter? Are you worried about her?’
‘No, no…’ She shook her head, tongue-tied, and hoped he would be able to think of some comment to make, for she could think of none.
‘How’s your friend?’ he blurted, almost as dumbstruck as she was. ‘Isn’t his name Ned? I think that’s what Ramona told me.’
‘Oh, Ned…’ She nodded, flustered. There was no sense in denying Ned if Ramona had made it her business to mention him. ‘Ned’s all right…thanks.’
‘He’s building a flying machine, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, that’s his real passion.’ She smiled then looked abashed at her shoes that were poking out daintily under her skirt, silently cursing herself for blushing so vividly. ‘I help him. I help him build it. He’s going to fly it on Sunday morning over Rough Hill. ‘Tis to be hoped the weather stays fair.’ She looked up into the sky as if it would yield some clue.
‘Let’s hope so.’ He found it difficult to avert his eyes from her face. ‘Are you helping him tonight?’
‘Oh, no, not tonight. I’m having a night in tonight. Ironing.’ She uttered a little laugh of embarrassment and rolled her eyes.
He nodded. ‘Well, it’s nice
