Our Lizzie (28 page)

“Eeh, that looks a bit more cheerful, lass. I'll just go upstairs an' put a clean shirt on.”

It seemed strange to be so intimate with him. Lizzie watched him walk out, his back strong and muscular, the skin of his newly washed neck bright pink against the ginger of his hair. As his footsteps echoed up the stairs, she began to carry out the dirty dishes that were dumped here and there and pile them in the scullery. The fire hadn't had time to heat the water, so she put the kettle on the gas stove and when he came down again, she was washing up. Piles of stuff, there were. Everything in the place was dirty, it seemed.

“You can wipe up for me, if you like,” she called.

Sam came to stand in the doorway, frowning. “No.” His voice was very flat and emphatic. “I don't do stuff like that. Mrs. Wright from next door is supposed to come in and clean for me, but she's been ill.”

“What if I were ill after we'd got married? Would you do it then?”

“No. I'd get some other woman in. I'm a man, an' dishes are women's work.”

Lizzie stared down into the water. Well, she couldn't say she didn't know where she stood with him, could she? “I see.”

He came over to stand beside her. “I'll provide for you, lass, an' provide well, but I'm not a cissy an' I'm not doing the housework as well as bringing in the wages. Not even with the curtains closed.” They both knew of one man down the street who helped out in secret. Lizzie thought him a lovely fellow and his wife obviously thought so, too. Men like Sam scorned him.

She plunged another pile of plates into the water. “I see.”

He watched her busy hands as he talked, enjoying the sight of her working for him. “Percy said your mam wants to move to a smaller house?”

“An' she wants to get rid of me.” Lizzie blinked her eyes rapidly, but couldn't prevent a tear from rolling down her cheek and plopping into the water. Her hands were gripping the edges of a plate so tightly that her knuckles showed white. “I'll make sure my children always know they're loved,” she said with sudden savageness. “So if you aren't going to love our children, don't marry me, Sam, because I won't have a child of mine brought up like I've been since Dad died.”

“I want children an' I'll look after them properly.” His voice was husky. “I've been without parents myself an' I know what it's like.”

“Yes.” She looked at him, a long, steady look which made her seem older. “So—when do you want to get married?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Three weeks, it takes, I think. They have to call the banns and—”

“I were thinking more of a register office.”

She stilled and stared down at the water. “I know I won't have a fancy wedding dress, but Percy says we should get married in church and—I'd like that. A register office wouldn't feel quite as respectable, somehow.”

Sam thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Yes, she had a point. He wanted everything to be done properly too. “An' you
will
have a fancy wedding dress. Perhaps not one of them white things, because I can't see much sense in spending a lot of hard-earned money for one day's wear, but a good dress, one you can be proud of and wear on Sundays afterwards. I'll buy it for you as a wedding present.” He nodded, pleased with the idea of making a bit of a splash, showing folk that he was well set up. About time he got some enjoyment out of his money. He'd taken quite a few risks to get it, risks that soft sod Percy hadn't dared face. “And we'll have our photographs took afterwards, too. And I'll get you a bouquet of flowers to carry. Why not?”

He picked her up, wet hands and all, and swung her round, laughing as she squealed in shock. When she flung her wet arms round his neck to give him a hug, he kissed her. He felt gentle inside, for once, not raging with a need for sex.

When he set her down, Lizzie laughed and set to work on the dishes again, leaving them to drain on the wooden board at the side of the slopstone. She finished quickly, with him standing admiring her efficiency, then he led her through into the kitchen, to sit cosily together at the table, writing down all the things they'd have to arrange.

“Could we have my sisters as—not as bridesmaids exactly but, you know, as attendants, I think they call 'em, and—and could they have smaller bouquets?” she asked wistfully. “It'd make it so special.”

“Why not?” He'd had a good month or two lately.

“And Percy can give me away.” Lizzie was very definite about that.

“I wanted him for best man.”

They laughed.

“Can he do both things?” she wondered.

Sam frowned, then shook his head. “No, I'll have to ask Josh to do it instead. He'll jump at the chance.”

“Josh?”

“A mate of mine. I do a bit of business with him from time to time.”

“All right. Oh, Sam—”

“What?”

“Isn't it exciting?”

“Aye.” He smiled at her. Soon she'd be his. Then she'd find out what exciting meant!

Lizzie was to realise long afterwards that this was the closest they were ever to get; that it was as close as it was possible for anyone to get to Sam Thoxby. She was to realise a lot of things afterwards. But just then she thought mainly of escaping from her mother, and doing it in an honourable way, so that folk wouldn't talk about her afterwards and laugh at how she'd been thrown out and had to scramble into marriage.

*   *   *

The next evening they went to see the minister at her mother's church about getting married there and although he gave them both a lecture about not attending regularly, he did agree to marry them “for the sake of your poor mother.” But only on condition they attended church every Sunday from then on.

“Boring old sod!” Sam growled as they walked home.

“Wait till you hear his sermons. You'll have trouble staying awake!”

Sam let out a snort of laughter. “Well, if I drop off to sleep in church, don't give me a nudge till he's stopped spouting. And any road, it's only till we're wed. Damned if I'm going into one of them bloody places afterwards. Weddings, christenings and funerals, that's all churches are good for.”

“Oh? I thought you'd have me out praying every Sunday?” teased Lizzie.

It took him a minute to realise that she was joking again, then he gave her a perfunctory grin and changed the subject. “Are you doing owt on Sunday morning?”

“Nothing apart from going to church. We'll get it over with early, shall we, and then we can enjoy the rest of the day?”

“Good idea. And after church, I want to show you something.”

“I was going to come and give that house of yours a good clean-out afterwards. That neighbour hasn't given you good value for money and I can't bear to think of you living in such a tip.” And she was going to speak to Sam about them getting a new bed and a few other bits and pieces, too, before she moved in.

“I need to show you something first.”

“All right.” She peeped sideways at him, glad to see he was recovering his good humour. “What is it?”

“Wait and see.”

*   *   *

A state of armed neutrality existed in Bobbin Lane from then onwards. Meg was informed by Percy in no uncertain terms that if she wanted to get rid of Lizzie, she was to do right by the lass. And for a while, she even felt a bit warmer towards her—the first of her daughters to get wed. Especially as Sam was buying the bride's dress and the flowers, as well as taking all the family out for a meal afterwards, so she'd not have too much extra work to do.

When Percy gave his mother some extra money to buy herself a new dress and hat, and get Johnny a new outfit, Meg grew even mellower and decided that it was almost worth the fuss. And she was finding life a lot easier without the lodgers.

So Lizzie found her washing done without complaint and her meals more appetising for a week or two.

Meg had viewed and turned down one house, because it had a shared privvy, but Mr. Cuttler said another place would come up soon. They always did.

“Your Lizzie's wedding Sam Thoxby, isn't she?” he said as he was leaving. It didn't sound as if he approved.

“Yes, an' she can think herself lucky to get him.”

“Oh, like that, is it?”

“Like what?”

“Needs to get wed.”

“No, she does not! None of my daughters is like that, thank you very much.”

“Pardon me.” But he wondered as he walked down the street what that nice little lass was doing tying herself to such a shifty lout.

*   *   *

On the Sunday, Sam sat and scowled his way through a service he considered a load of claptrap, not even trying to mouth the hymns. But he listened with pleasure to the banns being called and enjoyed the stares as heads swivelled round.

After that, he got out as quickly as he could, refusing point-blank to answer Lizzie's questions about where they were going. He wanted it to be a complete surprise. He wanted to see her face when he showed her the house.

Stopping outside number one, Maidham Street, he waved one hand carelessly towards it. “There, what do you think of that?”

She stared at it in bewilderment. “What do you mean, what do I think of it?”

“Do you like it?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Of course I do. They're lovely houses. Emma Harper and her sister live in number seven now.”

“Yes, I know.” It was the reason he'd turned down number five and paid twenty pounds extra for the end house; that and the knowledge that he'd be able to come and go through the back yard at night with less chance of anyone seeing him. “Want to go inside?”

“Can we?”

“Of course we can.” Sam pulled a key out of his pocket with a flourish, opened the front door and gestured her inside.

“Where did you get that?” Lizzie was beginning to realise what this might mean.

“From Mr. Cardwell, where d'you think?” He gave her a little push inside.

“Ooh, isn't it lovely, all new and clean?” She tiptoed into the front room. “Look at that bay window. Doesn't it give the room a stylish air?”

In the kitchen, she voiced unqualified approval of the latest in gas stoves and marvelled at the thought of electric lighting, though it wasn't working yet. Then she turned to him. “Are you going to rent
this
house?”

“Not rent, buy.”

Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him as if she couldn't believe her ears. Sam enjoyed her surprise. In fact, he was enjoying everything about this visit. It almost made up for that old fart spouting on and on in church.

“
Sam!
” She flung her arms around him. “I didn't know you had that much money.”

“Well, I've been saving, like. I've allus done extra jobs for folk. An' Gran had a bit put by, too.”

Lizzie stood there, face aglow. “Our own house. Oh, Sam.” And she hugged him again.

After that, she had to rush upstairs, then go over everything in detail, bubbling with delight at the convenience of it all. “An inside lavatory and a proper bathroom! Oh, look at that big linen cupboard! And I'll be living close to Emma, as well.”

He jerked her to a halt. “You'll not have owt to do with them two stuck-up bitches.”

“You mean Emma?” Her joy began to fade.

“Aye,” he mimicked her softer voice, “bloody Emma Harper.”

“But—I thought—I thought you were friends with them, Sam?”

“Well, I'm not. They cheated me out of a bit of business an' I don't forget anyone as cheats on me. I'll get back at them one day, see if I don't.”

“Sam, I'm sure they'd never—”

“I don't want to talk about them, not now or ever, so just remember—I'm not having you going in and out of their house, tattling over tea cups and wasting your time.”

Lizzie swallowed a hot reply in defence of her friend. Something had upset him, so she'd have to tread carefully for a while. He'd get over it. But her joy in the house was tarnished, somehow, though she tried not to let that show.

*   *   *

Blanche Harper came into Dearden's on the Monday morning and waited for Lizzie to finish serving a customer. “When I heard the banns called in church, I was so happy for you, child.” Even if it was Sam Thoxby the girl was marrying. “We—Emma and I—wanted to congratulate you.”

“Oh.” Lizzie blushed. She still hadn't got used to all the fuss. Mrs. D had started the day in the same vein. “Yes, well, thank you.”

Blanche held out a parcel. “And we wanted you to have this.”

“Oh, Miss Harper, you shouldn't have!”

“It's the little picture you always liked.”

Lizzie's eyes filled with tears. “How kind of you!” On impulse she hugged the older woman, though it was Emma with whom she'd always been more friendly. “I wish—” She cut off the words. She wouldn't dare ask them to the wedding, not with Sam feeling the way he did.

Blanche gave her a wry smile. “It's all right, dear. We know that Sam's not best pleased with us at the moment. Or your mother. We'd have liked to come and see you married, but we shall be there in spirit. Now, I'd better buy something from the shop or your employer will be telling you off. A pound of sugar, please, and some of those caramels Emma likes.”

*   *   *

On the Tuesday evening, Sam called round and was allowed to sit alone with Lizzie in the front room. “I've made an appointment for you at the dentist's,” he said without preamble.

“At the dentist's?” She gaped at him. “But there's nothing wrong with my teeth. It's very kind of you, but—”

“It's to have your teeth out.”

She could only goggle at him, too shocked to form a single sensible word.

“One of the fellows was telling me—his wife had hers out before they were wed. Saves a lot of trouble and expense with dentists later.” He grinned.