– she just didn’t want the girl to miss out. Office jobs were all very well but she couldn’t see how that would match the satisfaction of keeping a house, even a small one, and raising children.
Sighing, she thought of her youngest. Richie at fourteen was rock-and-roll mad. He drove them all crazy by playing his records at top volume, which meant they could be heard in every room and probably through the neighbouring walls too. There would be trouble with that one day. And the music was terrible, not what she thought of as music at all. She could only hope he’d grow out of it soon.
Well, she wasn’t going to let that spoil her plans. Gathering her pieces of paper together she decided the next thing would be to go through her lists with Hazel, Neville and Cora. Then she would really get to work. This was going to be an unforgettable day.
‘Kenny, you are going to lose your money, mate.’ Paul grinned wolfishly at his friend as they stood at the bar early that evening waiting to be served. They didn’t usually come to the pub on a Monday but Paul had had enough of the filthy flat. After a weekend of heavy losses his father was in a worse state than ever and was liable to fly into a violent rage at the least thing. Paul intended to put off going home for several hours by which time the old bugger would be asleep or in a drunken stupor – he didn’t care which.
‘You sound pretty sure of yourself.’ Kenny was convinced Paul was all mouth and no trousers when it came down to it. He’d been friends with him since they were at school and had never known him to have a proper girlfriend. It wasn’t for lack of trying but there was something about Paul when you got to know him that seemed to put the girls off. Maybe it was down to his mum dying when she had. He didn’t seem to know what to do with a girl beyond flirting – which, Kenny had to admit, he was quite good at. ‘So how is the ugly bird, then?’
‘She’s like putty in my hands,’ Paul said, signalling to the barman for two pints. ‘I don’t even have to try. She’s after me all the time. If I could only get rid of my boss for a bit I could have her against the storeroom door.’ He paused at the thought. That would be perfect – it would be dark enough not to have to look at her face and then every time he was sent to the storeroom he could remember what he’d done. He almost spilt the drinks at the idea.
‘You filthy sod.’ Kenny raised his glass. ‘To you getting the sack. Because you will. You said yourself that your boss never lets you alone for a minute, and a minute wouldn’t be long enough even for you, mate.’
‘Shut up,’ said Paul easily. ‘I’ll think of something. She ain’t worth losing a job over. I’m not prepared to go short of cash for her. But I won’t have to. She’ll follow me wherever I ask her. So maybe the storeroom will have to wait.’
‘And who said romance was dead,’ Kenny sniggered. He didn’t want Paul to lose his job – that would put the kibosh on their nights down the pub, which were more important than any stupid girl. ‘I’ll want a full report, mind. You seen what’s under her coat yet?’
‘Mind your own business.’ Paul had been certain he could have got beneath her horrible mac earlier in the day if his boss hadn’t called him. She’d been trembling in front of him. What a pushover.
‘That’s a no, then,’ said Kenny triumphantly. ‘Never mind, spring is round the corner. Be able to get a good look then, won’t you? All those lovely girls taking off their winter gear and going round in tight jumpers. Maybe the ugly bird will be one of those. Reckon she’ll wear one of those low V-necks? You can see everything that’s on offer with one of those. We said end of March, didn’t we?’
‘I won’t even need that,’ said Paul confidently. He didn’t intend to wait much longer. If she was as keen as she seemed he wanted to take full advantage of it.
‘Are you coming down the pub, Nev?’
Neville was so tired he was swaying on his feet. It was eight o’clock and after working all weekend, he’d just done more overtime. Now all he wanted to do was to get home, eat his dinner and then collapse into bed.
‘No, not this time,’ he said. ‘Mum always does a stew on Mondays and she’ll be keeping it warm for me.’
‘Seeing the lovely Hazel after, are we?’ asked Bill. ‘Maybe taking her down the Granada?’
‘Nah, staying in,’ said Neville, smiling weakly. They hadn’t been to the cinema for weeks. He knew he had to keep saving to come anywhere close to meeting Hazel’s high hopes.
‘Time enough for staying in when you’ve settled down,’ Bill teased him. ‘You know what they say, all work and no play …’
‘Makes Neville under the thumb already,’ Nobby cut in.
‘Leave it out, Nobby,’ said Neville, irritated. ‘It’s Monday night for God’s sake.’
‘Yes but when was the last time you came down the pub on a Friday?’ Nobby asked. ‘See what I mean? Dull boy, Neville. Don’t you go letting them women tell you what to do. Once they realise they can get away with that, there’s no stopping them. You have to be firm from the beginning. Show them who’s boss.’
As if you’d know, thought Neville. The only women Nobby went near were on the pages of the smutty magazines he kept in his locker. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads,’ he said. ‘But I don’t miss Mum’s stew for nothing. If you can’t keep your mum happy then what’s the point?’
‘True,’ said Bill. ‘Off you go, then. But maybe come with us on Friday or you’ll never hear the end of it.’
‘Good idea,’ said Neville, and headed for the factory gates. He missed going down the pub with his mates. It wouldn’t hurt to join them at the end of the week. He never said he would give them up completely and he was sure Hazel wouldn’t begrudge him one night off. All she wanted was for him to be happy.
Over a week had passed, and on Tuesday morning Cora pondered Jill’s ideas as she sat behind the newsagent’s counter. She’d been impressed by the level of planning her neighbour had suggested and was almost reassured they could afford it all. As long as everyone kept their jobs and nobody did anything stupid they should be all right and Hazel could have her big day almost exactly as she wanted it – although the wedding dress would have to be home-made. Jill turned out to be good at dressmaking as well, for which Cora was grateful. She could do it if she had to but her hands were so stiff and painful, any kind of sewing soon became agony. Jill had a Singer sewing machine. So that was sorted out.
Cora had volunteered to have a word with the local vicar as she knew him best. Hazel had been christened at his church but wasn’t exactly a regular member of the congregation, especially as Sunday was now her only day off. Cora went every now and again, more for the social side than anything else; it was a sure way of seeing people who didn’t come to the shop. As long as it wasn’t too cold and wet everyone would gather in the churchyard after the service, exchanging small talk, and Cora often picked up snippets that were invaluable. Thanks to one overheard conversation, she already had a good idea of what the going rate for the church hall was, and didn’t intend to be overcharged when the time came.
She looked up as Winnie Jewell came in. ‘Morning, Winnie.’
‘Morning, Cora.’ Winnie didn’t look like her usual
