The Brooklands Girls Page 15

  ‘I – I’m pregnant.’

  ‘And are you and Sam getting married, then?’

  Peggy stared at her. ‘You – you haven’t even asked me who the father is.’

  Henrietta smiled. ‘Well, I rather think I know the answer to that one. You’ve been walking out with Sam for over a year. The thought wouldn’t even enter my head, my dear, that your baby is anyone’s other than Sam’s.’

  Peggy hiccupped. ‘I wish his mother had your faith in me.’

  Henrietta put her head on one side. ‘Mrs Nuttall is not accepting that your baby is her son’s?’

  Peggy shook her head and buried her face in her hands. In a muffled voice she said, ‘Mrs Nuttall has taken to her bed and says that if he marries me, she’ll never get out of it again. She’ll die there and it will all be his fault.’

  ‘Ah, now I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Peggy. Clara Nuttall has done this once before, if you remember.’

  Slowly, Peggy uncovered her face and stared at Henrietta. ‘Oh yes. In the war. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘So, first of all, has Sam asked you to marry him? I presume he knows about the baby?’

  ‘Yes, he said straight away that we must get married. I mean, we want to get married. It’s not just because of the baby.’

  ‘So, apart from his mother, is there any other problem?’

  ‘The – the vicar. He’s refusing to marry us.’

  ‘Is he now,’ Henrietta said tartly. ‘Then you can leave the Reverend Stanhope to me, my dear.’

  Pips did not see or hear from George for two weeks, so, after the race meeting towards the end of September, when she only managed a fourth place, Pips travelled to Lincolnshire on her own and walked into a furore.

  ‘Whatever’s going on?’ she asked Alice. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mother so agitated.’

  ‘There’s to be a shotgun wedding in the village and your mother and the vicar are at loggerheads over it.’

  ‘Why? And whose is it?’

  ‘Peggy Cooper and Sam Nuttall.’

  Pips frowned and shook her head. ‘Why is there a problem? Sam will make a wonderful father for Luke.’

  Alice nodded. ‘Yes, he will. But Peggy’s pregnant with her second illegitimate child. The vicar isn’t taking kindly to the fact.’

  ‘Then why on earth did they tell him? Why didn’t they just arrange a wedding?’

  ‘Because they’ve left it rather late and she’s showing. And there’s more to it than that. Clara Nuttall is dead set against it and has taken to her bed vowing that if her beloved son marries that slut, it’ll kill her.’

  ‘Poor Sam,’ Pips murmured. ‘But why is Mother involved?’

  ‘Because she’s given the vicar a piece of her mind. She says it’s not for him to judge them. His job is to marry them in the sight of God.’

  Pips’s mouth twitched. ‘Good for her. For once, I quite agree with her.’

  ‘As she pointed out, we’re all lucky that Sam came back.’ For a moment Alice’s face was bleak as she thought about her three brothers lost in the carnage of the Somme, Luke’s father, Harold, amongst them.

  ‘What do your family think about it?’ Pips asked gently, guessing Alice’s thoughts from the expression on her face. ‘After all, Luke is their grandson.’

  ‘They’re quite happy for them to marry. They think it would be the best thing.’

  ‘And Peggy’s mother – Bess Cooper?’

  Alice gave a wry laugh. ‘She and Mrs Nuttall had a blazing row in the street by all accounts. That’s how the whole village got to know about it.’

  Pips grinned. ‘I wish I’d been there, but I can picture it. Anyway, enough of village gossip. Where’s Daisy? I’ve got a present for her.’

  ‘You spoil her, Pips. You bring something for her every time you come home. She’ll begin to expect it, if you’re not careful.’

  Pips shrugged. ‘Oh phooey! And why shouldn’t she?’

  Alice laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh Pips!’

  Pips had brought home a baby doll for the little girl. It had a porcelain head and a cloth body and was dressed in a yellow lace dress and matching bonnet.

  Daisy hugged the doll to her chest. ‘I’ll call her Matilda.’

  ‘That’s a very pretty name, but what I really want to see is how well you can ride your tricycle now. Are you going to show me on the driveway and then, perhaps, I’ll take you down the lane to visit your other grandma?’

  ‘I’ll get Daddy. I have to have a grown-up – or Luke – with me.’

  ‘But aren’t I a . . .?’ Pips began, but Daisy had rushed away. Pips smiled, thinking how much the whole family trusted Luke to look after Daisy.

  Moments later, Pips and Robert were standing near the front door watching Daisy pedal confidently down the drive as far as the gatehouse, turn competently and come back towards them.

  ‘My word, she does ride it well. Someone must have spent hours with her.’

  Robert laughed. ‘Not at all. She was riding like that after only minutes.’ He paused as he watched his daughter. ‘She’s like you, Pips, she seems to be a natural at anything she tackles.’

  ‘And how’s she getting on riding her pony?’

  ‘The same. She’s fearless.’

  ‘And Luke? Does he still come every Saturday afternoon?’

  ‘Never misses.’

  ‘Then I must take them both out while I’m here,’ Pips declared.

  ‘Which isn’t often now.’

  ‘You know I can’t sit about here doing nothing and, delightful though Daisy is, I can’t monopolize her. Besides, I’m helping out at Hazelwood House for a couple of days each week, remember?’

  ‘You should marry George and have babies of your own. He has asked you, I presume?’

  ‘Well, yes, but . . .’

  ‘You don’t love him?’

  ‘Oh I do, I do.’

  ‘I hope you’re not still hankering after Giles Kendall. If ever I was wrong about someone, it was him. I thought he was a decent bloke.’

  ‘He was,’ Pips said swiftly. ‘In many ways, he was a fine man. Never forget that he helped to save your life, Robert.’ She sighed. ‘But we were thrown together in such unusual circumstances; maybe it was never going to work.’

  ‘That didn’t excuse him for taking up with that nurse who joined the corps after Alice and I left.’ There was silence between them as they watched Daisy turn the tricycle around and pedal off again.

  ‘So why are you hesitating about accepting George? Is it the age difference between you? I know Mother is a little anxious about it.’ He chuckled. ‘Although I think her desire to see you safely married overrides even that. How old is he, by the way? Do you know?’

  Slowly, Pips said, ‘Not exactly. Somewhere approaching fifty, I’d guess. It doesn’t worry me unduly, it’s just . . .’

  ‘What?’

  She sighed. ‘I want to live life to the full. I don’t want to be – restricted. There’s so much I still want to do.’

  Robert was serious now as he said, ‘You think George will reach the pipe and slippers stage long before you’re prepared to live a quieter life. Which he will, if I’m honest.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever reach the “quieter life” stage. He’s promised he won’t stop me doing anything I want to do, but saying it and doing it are quite different.’

  ‘Oh, I think he’d keep his word. He’s a man of honour.’

  ‘But it might hurt him and I wouldn’t do that for the world.’

  ‘I think you’ll hurt him more if you don’t marry him, Pips. It’s obvious he adores you.’

  ‘And then there’s Rebecca.’

  ‘His daughter?’

  Pips nodded and went on to recount all that had happened between her and Rebecca. As she fell silent, all Robert could say was, ‘Ah, well, I think you do have a problem there.’

  They watched Daisy turn the tricycle round again and come hurtling back towards them, calling out a
s she neared them, ‘Aunty Pips! Grandma’s. Cake.’

  Pips and Robert laughed. ‘She’s a little minx,’ he murmured fondly. ‘She knows that today is Mrs Dawson’s baking day and there’ll be scones, fresh out of the oven and then smothered in cream and jam. Off you go. I’m sure you want to catch up on all the latest village gossip and there is certainly some to be heard at the moment.’ As he turned away, Robert said over his shoulder, ‘Oh, and by the way, I’m continuing my research into shell shock. It’s still hard, but getting easier.’

  ‘Now that is the best news I’m going to hear today.’

  Twenty-Two

  Ma Dawson was on her usual seat outside the front of the cottage, her pure white hair covered by her lace bonnet and a black shawl around her shoulders against the autumnal nip in the air.

  ‘Nah then, Miss Pips. Home for a while, a’ya?’

  ‘Just a few days, Ma. How are you?’

  ‘Not so bad for an owd ’un.’

  Pips put her hands on her hips as she smiled down at the elderly woman. ‘And just how old would that be, Ma?’

  Ma grinned. ‘Ah, now that’d be tellin’. Like I allus tell the young’uns. As old as me tongue and a little bit older than me teeth. Mind you, I ain’t got any o’ them left now.’

  Rumour had it that even Ma wasn’t quite sure exactly how old she was but she must be approaching ninety now, Pips reckoned. She’d married her sweetheart when he’d returned from the Crimean war and so she must have been born sometime in the mid-1830s at least. Her husband had learned the trade of wheelwright and carpenter from his uncle and had passed on the trade to his son, Len. It had been Len’s dearest wish to see the village industry, which now also incorporated the smithy and undertaker’s trade, pass in turn to his sons. But now, he focused all his hopes on his grandson, Luke.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’ Pips asked tentatively.

  ‘As well as they can be, Miss Pips. Poor Norah still seems to be expecting the lads to walk in through the back door, though I have to say, Len is coping better now he has little Luke to focus on.’

  ‘And what’s this I hear about Sam and Peggy?’

  ‘Ah well, now, that is causing a bit of a to-do.’

  ‘I can’t understand why Mrs Nuttall’s acting up.’

  ‘Funny woman, is Clara Nuttall. You mebbe won’t remember, ’cos I think you was away by then, but when Sam volunteered, Clara took to her bed. It was only your mam, me and Bess Cooper that persuaded her to get up and help out with the knitting and sewing for the troops. And she’s done the same again this time. Just taken to her bed and refuses to get up until Sam promises not to marry Peggy.’

  ‘And will he?’

  Ma laughed. ‘I dun’t reckon so, so it looks like Clara might have to stay there this time.’

  ‘Luke?’ Daisy tugged at Pips’s skirt. ‘Where’s Luke?’

  ‘Ah, bless her,’ Norah said, appearing round the corner of the cottage carrying a tray with three cups of tea on it. ‘She idolizes Luke. He’s with his grandpa, lovey. Shall I take you up there to see him?’

  Pips sat down beside Ma to drink her tea, her eyes still on her niece walking up the road beside her grandmother. ‘So, when’s the wedding fixed for?’

  ‘That’s just the trouble. Vicar won’t marry ’em. ’Specially since neither of them are regular churchgoers. Not since the war, that is.’

  Pips was solemn. ‘Yes, it’s tested a lot of people’s faith. I can understand that.’ There was a pause before she added, ‘They could always get married in the register office.’

  ‘Oh, now that would finish Clara off and no mistake.’

  ‘D’you think I could help in any way? Perhaps I could have a word with Mrs Nuttall.’

  ‘You can try, duck. We’ve all had a go. Even your mam went to see her. She managed to prise Clara out of her bed last time, but not now. She’s adamant. You certainly couldn’t make things any worse than they are now. That is a fact.’

  ‘Right. No time like the present, as they say. I’ll go this minute. Will you and Mrs Dawson look after Daisy until I get back?’

  ‘Luke’ll mind her.’ She nodded up the lane to where Norah, Luke and Daisy were walking back towards them. The boy was holding her hand. ‘He’s very good with her. Very protective.’

  ‘Well, they’re cousins, aren’t they?’

  ‘That’s true, but I don’t think they understand things like that at their age. They just know that they like each other and are friends.’ She didn’t voice Norah’s concerns about what might happen when they grew up.

  When the two youngsters were playing happily together in the Dawsons’ back garden, Pips walked further along the lane until she came to the cottage where Bert Nuttall, his wife Clara and their son, Sam, lived. Sam was safely at his work alongside Len Dawson in the blacksmith’s workshop – she had seen him as she had passed by – and Bert Nuttall would be working on the local farm where he was a wagoner.

  She tapped on the door and, when there was no answer, she opened it and walked in. The interior was dark, but Pips knew the layout. She stood for a moment in the narrow passageway.

  ‘Anyone home?’ she called.

  After a moment a querulous voice asked, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Pips Maitland. May I see you for a moment, Mrs Nuttall?’

  There was a pause before the grudging answer came. ‘If you must. I’m in me bedroom.’

  Pips opened the door to find the woman in bed, propped up against the pillows. The room was dingy, the curtains drawn against the daylight. Pips crossed the room and opened them. ‘How are you today, Mrs Nuttall? I’m sorry to see you’re not well. Is there anything I can do for you?’

  Clara glared belligerently at her visitor as if the entire blame lay with Pips. ‘You can tell that stupid son of mine that he’s not to marry that slut.’

  Pips arched her eyebrows. She perched herself on the end of Clara’s bed. ‘Now why would I want to do a thing like that?’

  ‘I reckon he left all his sense out in Flanders.’

  ‘At least he came back to you, Mrs Nuttall,’ Pips said softly.

  Clara avoided meeting Pips’s steady gaze and wriggled uncomfortably. ‘I know, I know, and I’m grateful. Truly I am. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank the Good Lord for his safe return. But . . .’

  Pips waited.

  ‘It’s him wanting to marry that Peggy Cooper, who had Harold Dawson’s bastard. You’d’ve thought she’d’ve learned her lesson, wouldn’t you? But no. She goes and gets herself pregnant again.’

  ‘It takes two, Mrs Nuttall,’ Pips said mildly.

  Clara glared at her. ‘How do I know this one’s my boy’s? It could be anyone’s, for all I know.’

  ‘Really?’ Pips widened her eyes as if enjoying a juicy piece of gossip. ‘Are you saying that Peggy is the village whore?’

  Clara winced. ‘Miss Pips, really! I never said that.’

  ‘You implied it,’ Pips shot back, though she kept her tone calm.

  Clara wriggled her plump shoulders again. ‘It’s just that I would have liked a nice girl for my Sam. Not – not someone who’s already got a kiddie and now another one on the way.’

  ‘Does Sam say the child is his?’

  ‘Well, yes, but he would, wouldn’t he? He wants to marry her.’

  ‘So, let me get this straight,’ Pips said, pretending to be confused. ‘After Harold was killed, Peggy has had several boyfriends, has she? And now she’s latched onto your Sam to be a father to her child – children, I suppose – even though you’re not sure this one is his?’

  ‘No, no, I never heard about her taking up with anyone after young Harold was killed – not until my Sam – but she wouldn’t let it be known, would she? She’d keep it secret.’

  Pips threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Mrs Nuttall. There are no secrets in this village. You should know that.’

  Clara plucked at the edge of the sheet. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I don’t think, I
know so.’ She leaned forward towards the woman, who was so obviously genuinely distressed. ‘Mrs Nuttall,’ she said seriously, ‘your boy – along with countless others – suffered untold horrors out there in the trenches. You’re extremely fortunate that he has come back unscathed. Even my brother, who was a doctor and shouldn’t have been anywhere near the danger area, didn’t escape injury, did he? And as for poor Harold – he was brought to our first-aid post. He was terribly injured, but we were able to tell him he had a son. He sent a message to Peggy saying that he was sorry that he’d shamed her and that he’d have married her if he could have got back home. But I think he knew – even then – that he wasn’t going to make it.’

  Clara bit her lip, but could think of nothing to say.

  ‘If Sam has found happiness with Peggy, then please, let him – let them – be happy. Believe me, he deserves it. And Sam and Harold were friends, weren’t they? I reckon Harold would be tickled pink that Sam is going to be a father to Luke.’

  ‘Vicar won’t marry them,’ Clara muttered, though Pips had the feeling that her defences were crumbling.

  ‘Ah, now, my mother’s working on him, but if he’s adamant, then what about a chapel somewhere or a register office?’

  Clara flinched as if the very idea was anathema to her.

  ‘Mrs Nuttall,’ Pips said gently, ‘I’m as sure as I can be that Peggy’s baby is your grandchild.’

  Clara stared at her as if that thought had never filtered into her stubborn head, so firmly had she closed her mind against the girl.

  And now, Pips played her trump card. ‘And you don’t want your grandchild to be born out of wedlock, do you?’

  ‘So,’ Ma greeted her as Pips walked back into their cottage. ‘How did it go?’

  Pips put up both her hands to show her crossed fingers. ‘Too early to say yet, but I’ve certainly given her something to think about. I think the main stumbling block now seems to be the vicar, but let’s hope my mother can work her magic.’

  Ma chuckled. ‘I have no doubt she will. Vicar’s only a man, after all, and even I wouldn’t hold out long against Hetty Maitland.’ Ma had known Pips’s mother since she’d been a little girl in pinafores and was the only one of the villagers bold enough to call her ‘Hetty’, apart from Luke, who had now been given special permission to call her ‘Aunty Hetty’.