up, Nev!’
The news had got out about his engagement and all his mates from the paint factory who weren’t on the late shift had insisted on taking Neville to the pub to celebrate.
‘Commiserate, more like,’ said Dennis Banks, one of the older ones, who loved to tell them all about his success with different women every weekend. Neville grinned. He didn’t believe half the tales – some of them sounded physically impossible. But he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of a free pint.
‘Yeah, what d’you want to get yourself shackled for so young?’ demanded Nobby. Nobby was prematurely bald and had slightly bulging eyes, so Neville reckoned he hadn’t had too many chances of being shackled himself.
‘Nobby, ain’t you seen her?’ said Bill Stevens. ‘You should be so lucky. She’s a real looker, is Nev’s bird. Oh, she’ll tire him out, she will. He’ll be a shadow of his former self. But he’ll be happy with it. Won’t you, Nev?’
‘Never happier,’ beamed Neville. It was true. He’d had two and a half pints, he was engaged to the most beautiful woman in Battersea, and here were all his mates, wishing him well. They were in the smoky public bar, and things were just beginning to get raucous, but he didn’t mind. He felt as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Do you know what to do on the big night?’ Dennis went on. ‘Shall I give you some tips? I got lots of those …’
‘Yeah, like don’t let your sister go down a dark alley with Dennis,’ interrupted Bill, setting down his glass on the worn wooden counter. ‘Another, young Nev?’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Nev ignored all the nudging and tried to focus on the pint before him as all the lights from the bar and brass from the surrounds seemed to be shining extra brightly. He wasn’t really worried about his wedding night, even though he hadn’t had much experience. His mates assumed because he was a good-looking bloke that he’d had plenty of women but it wasn’t true. He’d been cooped up sharing a bedroom with his younger brother for most of his life and there hadn’t exactly been many opportunities to break away, and God alone knew there wasn’t a spare inch of space at Hazel’s house. Even though she had a room to herself there was no chance of a bit of slap and tickle with her mother and sister living in such close quarters. Still, he loved her and she loved him, so what could go wrong? He certainly wasn’t going to be asking Dennis for tips.
‘Not in a hurry to get married, are you?’ Nobby asked. ‘No big rush, is there? You ain’t expecting the patter of tiny feet?’
‘Get away, Nobby.’ Nev pretended to be offended. ‘My Hazel’s a respectable girl. There won’t be no hurried wedding for her. She wants the best. And I’m going to give it to her.’
‘Oh, we’d all give it to her,’ Bill laughed. Some of the others joined in, especially those who appreciated Hazel’s finer points.
‘That’s enough, boys,’ said Frank Dalby, their foreman. ‘Leave the lad to have his drink. No call for insulting the lady. Time enough for insults when you’re married, and I should know.’
Frank’s wife was famous for giving as good as she got, but nobody really had a bad word to say about Marian Dalby, who had been known to bake fruit cakes for her husband to take in to the lads on late shift, in case they got hungry as the hours of the night wore on. Nev thought that if his marriage was as happy as Frank’s then he’d have no cause for complaint. Even so, he couldn’t quite see Hazel cooking for his workmates.
But that didn’t matter. Here was Dennis giving him a new pint, there were all his friends raising their glasses to him, and Hazel was going to be his wife. Neville Parrot was on top of the world.
Hazel was on her lunch break from the café where she worked. She wasn’t really hungry, as she’d had a huge bacon sandwich after the breakfast rush had died down. ‘Can’t have you wasting away before your big day,’ her boss had said. Not much danger of that, thought Hazel. Still, she knew Neville liked her curves, and it was up to her to make the most of them.
Now she found herself wandering towards the street market, which was busy with shoppers out for a bargain. Housewives crowded round the food stalls, some with small children. One boy, whose socks were falling down, reached for an apple and his mother immediately smacked him on the ear. ‘I’ve told you before,’ she shouted. ‘Put that down now.’
Hazel shook her head and walked on. She hadn’t had many apples as a kid, or at least not ones to eat as a treat when they were out shopping. Cora made apple crumble, eking out the fruit with lots of oats, but there hadn’t been the money to spare for much else. Not that there had been much else available, thanks to the war and food rationing. She hurried away as the boy began to cry.
There were several stalls selling clothing and bolts of material, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to one of them. ‘Morning, Hazel,’ said the stallholder. It was Joe Philpott, who’d known her family for years. ‘Is the good news true, then? You and Neville are getting hitched?’ He was a big man with a round face, and she’d never seen him anything other than smiling. How he did it, she couldn’t imagine, standing out here in all weathers, dealing with grumpy customers, half of which were always trying to get something for nothing. It was bad enough in the café but at least you were indoors, and always had the kitchen to escape to. Out here, there was no avoiding anyone.
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘He popped the question and I said yes.’
‘Has he given you a ring then?’ Joe wanted to know.
‘Not yet, we’re going to choose something together,’ Hazel said hurriedly. She didn’t want anyone thinking Neville was too cheap to buy her one. ‘He didn’t want to risk getting the wrong size. I’d have been really disappointed if he’d done that.’
‘Quite right too,’ Joe agreed. He stamped his feet on the cold ground. ‘Will you be looking to do a spot of dressmaking before the day itself? Who’s doing your dress? Are you having bridesmaids?’
Hazel bit back her irritation at his persistence. She was careful to keep her temper in check in public and liked to present a respectable front. There was no point in being rude to Joe, particularly if she might have to come to him for cut-price material in the near future. She desperately wanted a proper long white dress from a shop but since Alison had failed to get that blasted job, letting them all down, she knew it might not happen. Yet again she cursed her sister for being so useless.
‘Not sure yet,’ she said blithely. ‘We only just got engaged. We haven’t decided on many of the details. But I expect we’ll be needing something. Will you keep your eyes out if anything good comes along?’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ Joe assured her, smiling more widely than ever. He watched as Hazel turned and made her way further along the market. What a fine-looking young woman she was. That Neville was one lucky sod. He’d better treat her right. God knows that family had been through terrible times when the girls were little. Still, look at Hazel now. It just showed that even if life dealt you an unfair hand, you could still come out fighting. That’s what he believed himself. It’s what kept him coming back to his stall on the coldest days of the year.
Hazel paused at the hardware stall, trying
