Remember Me (15 page)

‘No,’ said Faith, quite firmly. ‘I really think it’s up to you to tell him.’

‘He’ll say I’m too young, won’t he, like you did?’

‘Yes, maybe he will. But he knows, as I do, that you’re a sensible girl and that we can trust you. All you need to say is that you met a nice young man in Blackpool and that he’s come to see you this weekend. And we’ll invite him to come and have lunch with us on Sunday, shall we?’

‘Poor lad!’ said Jessie. ‘What an ordeal, eh?’

‘No, we’ll all be very kind and welcoming,’ said Faith, ‘as we are with all our guests.’

‘I don’t think I’ll tell Father about him being a Catholic, and all that,’ said Maddy. ‘Not yet anyway. What do you think?’

‘No, perhaps not,’ replied Faith. ‘Don’t worry, dear. Leave that to me. I’ll try to explain to your father later on, about the – er – complications. First things first, eh?’

Her father and grandfather had returned by the time the tea was ready. William’s reaction was predictable. He didn’t say a great deal, apart from that he didn’t know that Maddy had a young admirer; she had kept it quiet; why hadn’t she mentioned it before? And she was, of course, only seventeen. But he agreed that the young man should come for what he preferred to call Sunday dinner, rather than lunch. William still thought of lunch as sandwiches that you carried to work in a tin box.

Maddy and Dan spent a happy two days
together. They lunched on fish and chips at a little café near to the harbour after the Saturday morning performance. This was a meal just as popular – and just as well cooked, Dan agreed – in Scarborough as it was in Blackpool. They walked back to Maddy’s home where Dan, for the first time, met Faith and Isaac. William was busy in the office on North Marine Road, as was Hetty; she was adapting well to her new position, but still required a little guidance now and then. Maddy was pleased at the welcome Dan received from her stepmother and her grandfather, and she started to feel a little less apprehensive about the family meal the following day.

Dan borrowed Jessie’s bicycle and they rode southwards, along the coast road that led eventually to Filey and Flamborough Head. They stopped on the clifftop near to Cayton Bay from where there were panoramic views to the north and the south. As they sat on the springy grass, listening to the sound of the sea as it lapped against the rocks far below, and the cry of the seagulls wheeling in the cloudless sky above them, Maddy felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. At that moment she was convinced that nothing could ever spoil the happiness she knew when she was with Daniel. He put an arm around her, kissing her softly on the cheek, and then, more daringly, on her lips. She responded to him and they shared several more kisses before drawing apart.

‘I love you, Madeleine,’ he told her. ‘I can’t believe I waited so long before coming to find out what was wrong. I’m trying not to think about what my mother has done,’ he went on. ‘I don’t want anything to spoil our lovely weekend.’

‘Are you going to ask her about it? And are you going to tell her where you’ve been this weekend?’

‘Of course I am. Don’t worry, darling. I’ve made up my mind that she is not going to control me anymore. I’m finding it very hard to forgive her, although I know I have to try. And the point is, she very nearly got away with it. I had almost convinced myself that you must have changed your mind. But she can’t – she won’t! – rule my life. And if it means that I have to move away, then…so be it.’

‘Leave home, you mean?’

‘Yes… Please don’t worry, Madeleine. Everything will be all right in the end, I promise.’

A small dark cloud passed, momentarily, over the sun, and Maddy shivered a little. ‘I do hope so,’ she said. ‘I really didn’t want to do anything to upset your family life. I know I would feel dreadful if it was me. I have had such a happy life with my family – apart from the time when we lost my mother, of course – and I wouldn’t want anything ever to spoil it.’

‘Neither did I,’ replied Dan, looking solemn for a moment. Then he smiled again. ‘Cheer up, love,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you, I’m not going to let anything spoil our time together now, and not in the future
either. Now…shall we see what your nice Aunty Faith has prepared for us? I thought I’d not be able to eat another morsel after those fish and chips, but the sea air is making me quite hungry.’

There were dainty salmon sandwiches, two small meat pies, and two pieces of Mrs Baker’s delicious fruitcake, and a bottle of home-made lemonade with two unbreakable bakelite cups. It was just enough, as Maddy could not sing well after a big meal. By the time they had cycled back, then walked to the promenade, it was almost time for the evening performance to begin. As the tide was in, it was held in Clarence Gardens that evening.

Dan, of course, was in the audience, in the second row this time. At his request, she sang once again, the haunting Somerset air, ‘O Waly, Waly’.

As her eyes met his, she wished so fervently that there would be a time when they would be together, for always.

The routine on a Sunday morning was that Mrs Baker would stay at home and cook the dinner whilst the Moon family attended church or chapel. Mrs Baker attended her own Methodist chapel in
the evening, and the arrangement suited them all very well. They usually alternated, week by week, between St Martin’s Church of England on the South Bay, quite near to where they lived, and the Methodist chapel on Queen Street, much further away, but the one that the Moon family had always attended before their move to the other end of the town.

As it was a Church of England morning, the family arrived home before twelve noon, and were greeted as they came through the door by the appetising aroma of roast beef, and what smelt like one of Mrs Baker’s specialities, rhubarb and apple crumble.

Maddy opened the door to Dan at twelve-thirty, and introduced him to the members of her family he had not met previously.

‘This is my father, William Moon… Daddy, this is Dan…’

William shook hands cordially, and laughed when Dan addressed him as sir.

‘Nay, we’ll have none of that, lad. I’m William, or Will, whichever you prefer. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

‘And this is my best friend, Jessie; my stepsister, actually. I’ve told you a lot about her, haven’t I, Dan?’

‘Many times,’ agreed Dan. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Jessie, at last. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel I know you already.’ Jessie blushed a
little, as she always did when she met someone new.

‘And the twins, Tommy and Tilly…’ They grinned and said hello, Tommy first and then Tilly following his lead.

‘And then there’s my brother, Patrick,’ said Maddy. ‘But he’s having dinner with his fiancée’s parents today. I expect you’ll meet him sometime.’ She didn’t mention Samuel, or Henrietta, although she had told Dan a little about them. The family was quite complicated enough as it was.

‘Now, tuck in, lad, and don’t be afraid,’ said Isaac, after Dan had helped himself from the china dishes to roast potatoes, mashed carrot and swede, and garden peas, to accompany the thick slices of roast beef with rich gravy and a touch of horseradish sauce. And a square-cut piece of Yorkshire pudding, golden brown and crispy at the edges.

‘Mind you, this is not the proper Yorkshire way of serving it,’ Isaac informed Dan. ‘When my wife made Yorkshire pudding – God bless her – she used to serve it before the meal on separate plates, to whet the appetite, you might say. But Mrs Baker allus does it this way, and we’re not complaining.’

‘I should think not,’ said Dan. ‘It’s delicious. This is the way we serve it in Lancashire, as part of the main meal.’

‘Aye, I reckon so.’ Isaac sniffed, but he grinned at Daniel as he said, ‘There are some Yorkshire folk who say that the only good thing to come out of
Lancashire is the road that leads over t’Pennines. But I think we can make an exception with you, lad. Aye, I’m sure we can. You’re very welcome and we’re right pleased to get to know you. Our Maddy’s kept it all very quiet, mind. But we’re real glad to have you here with us.’

‘Thank you; it’s very kind of you to say so,’ replied Dan. His eyes twinkled. ‘Lancashire folk say the same thing, you know, about the road leading from Yorkshire. But the Wars of the Roses are long gone, aren’t they?’

‘Aye, life’s too short to quarrel,’ agreed Isaac.

Maddy had guessed it was inevitable that religion would be mentioned, if only in passing. It came out in the conversation that Daniel had attended Mass that morning at a Catholic church in Scarborough.

‘Yes, Maddy told us about that,’ said William, although it was, in fact, his wife who had told him about the young man’s religious persuasion. ‘But we won’t hold that against you, Dan, you can feel sure about that. Each to his own is what I say, and I know that my father agrees with me. There has been a good deal of bigotry here in the past, though.’

‘Aye, Scarborough was a real hotbed of Methodism,’ said Isaac. ‘John Wesley preached here, you know, umpteen times; it was one of his favourite places for preaching the gospel. My own grandfather heard him preach many a time. And the chapel we attend, it can hold up to two thousand folk.’

‘Not that we get so many there now though, Father,’ said William, with a warning look at Isaac to tell him that that was enough.

‘What sort of a season are you having in Blackpool?’ asked Faith, to change the subject.

‘The town is crowded, as usual,’ replied Dan. ‘My mother’s boarding house has been fully booked all season. She’s very pleased because it’s her first full season there.’

All told, it was a comfortable meal time, and Maddy was relieved that it had all gone so well.

The rest of the day flew past, and Maddy was to look back afterwards at an idyllic time when every hour, every minute and second, was filled with joy; joy in one another and in their certainty that their love was growing and would last for a lifetime. Nothing had been said; neither of them had given voice to their feelings that this would be for ever. Maddy knew in her heart of hearts that it was too soon to speak of a lifetime commitment. Neither she nor Daniel could make such a pledge, not yet. She was still only seventeen, just on the brink of adulthood. It was only yesterday that she had been a young girl, not believing that she would soon fall so deeply in love. She knew now that what she had thought was love – her silly infatuation for Samuel – had been nothing at all; a foolish notion which embarrassed her even to think of it now.

They listened to a brass band concert at the Spa Pavilion on Sunday afternoon, then wandered
through the Valley Gardens, along the woodland paths that meandered up and down the cliffside of the South Bay; then they picnicked again in a quiet spot on the clifftop.

They strolled back to the town hand in hand, aware that their time together was fast dwindling away, but neither of them wanting to say goodbye to what had been a wonderful two days. Both of them felt sure, though, that there would be another time, lots of times when they would be together.

They stood eventually on the path looking down on the Spa Pavilion, just as the sun was beginning its descent behind the trees and the rooftops of the town above them.

‘I’ll come and see you again before very long, I promise,’ said Dan. ‘Shall we say in a month’s time? Mid-August or thereabouts. I shall write first, but you can be quite sure that your letters will not disappear again.’ He looked at her troubled face, drawing her close to him and kissing her forehead. ‘It will be all right, believe me. You and me…you know that I won’t let anything come between us, don’t you, Madeleine…my love?’

‘Yes, I know,’ she answered quietly. He kissed her tenderly and longingly, then they drew apart and started to climb up the last slope to the promenade, near to the avenue where the Moon family lived.

‘Will you come in and have a cup of tea, and say goodbye to my family?’ she asked. She was not surprised when he refused and she knew, too, that
she was relieved. She did not want their last moments together to be spent in the company of others. It was far better this way. He kissed her again by the gate, but neither of them wanted to linger; it was too painful.

She stood for a few moments on the doorstep before taking her key from her purse and letting herself into the house. ‘Hello there,’ she called, with an assumed gaiety. ‘I’m back…’

She knew they would talk about Daniel. It was unavoidable and she knew she must not react too much to anything they might say. She guessed, though, that he had already made a favourable impression. They were all there in the sitting room – her father, Aunty Faith, Jessie and Grandfather Isaac, all except the twins, who had gone to bed.

‘I thought Dan might have come in with you,’ observed Faith.

‘No… He’s catching an early train in the morning,’ said Maddy, although that, of course, was not a sufficient reason. Faith smiled and nodded and Maddy felt sure that she understood.

‘He’s a very pleasant young man,’ said her father. ‘Yes, we liked him very much.’

‘Aye, I must admit that he’s a grand young feller,’ agreed Isaac, ‘especially when you consider he’s a left-footer,’ he added with a grin.

‘Father, really!’ said William, and Faith, too, frowned a little.

‘What d’you mean?’ asked Maddy. She could
guess but it was an expression she hadn’t heard before.

‘I don’t mean any disrespect to the lad,’ said Isaac. ‘Keep yer hair on, all of yer. It’s just a nickname for a Catholic, that’s all. Don’t ask me why.’

‘A derogatory term all the same,’ said William. ‘Like the Catholics sometimes refer to us Protestants as Proddies. I suppose it all came from Ireland in the beginning. There’s always been a lot of bitterness there between the two religions.’

‘Aye, it dates right back to the battle of the Boyne,’ said Isaac. ‘When William of Orange defeated James the Second and his Irish army. T’Catholics have never forgotten it. Aye, the Irish have long memories. I reckon there’ll be more trouble there afore we’re done.’