The Caxley Chronicles (24 page)

'God bless Grandpa Howard!' said Edward aloud, as he sank back again.

It was good to be living in Caxley market square where his
grandparents on both sides had built up their businesses. Here, in this house, of which he was now the proud owner, Bender North and his wife Hilda had lived for many years over their ironmongery shop. Edward could see his grandfather clearly now, in his mind's eye, a vast figure in a brown coat overall striding among the coal scuttles and patty pans, the spades and milking pails, which jostled together beneath the pairs of hob-nailed boots and hurricane lamps that swung from the ceiling above him. Soon afterwards, Bender and his wife had moved to Rose Lodge—a far more genteel address to Hilda's mind—and the glories of the great drawing room over the shop were no more. But Winnie, Edward's mother, and his Uncle Bertie North had described the red plush furniture, the plethora of ornaments and the floral arrangements of dried grasses and sea-lavender, with such vivid detail, that he felt quite familiar with the Edwardian splendour which had now vanished.

He knew, equally well, the sad story of the decline of Bender's business. It had been bought by a larger firm in the town and, later still, his grandfather Septimus Howard had taken it over. Sep still lived in the market square above his thriving bakery. The whole of the ground floor at North's he had transformed into a restaurant, almost ten years ago. It was, according to Caxley gossip, 'an absolute gold-mine', but there were few who grudged Sep Howard his success. Hardworking, modest, a pillar of the local chapel, and a councillor, the little baker's worth was appreciated by his fellow townsmen.

The business was to go to his son Robert, already a vigorous partner, when Sep could carry on no longer. Sep was now, in the early summer of 1939, a spry seventy-three, and there was
no sign of his relinquishing his hold on family affairs. The acquisition of Bender's old home and the growth of the restaurant had given Sep an added interest in life. It was typical of his generosity, said his neighbours, that he had given Edward the house which had been Bender's when the boy attained the age of twenty-one. The restaurant, on the ground floor, would be Robert's in time, and the more shrewd of Caxley's citizens wondered why Sep could not foresee that there might be friction between Edward and his young uncle in the years to come.

But on this bright May morning all was well in Edward's world. It had needed courage to tell his two women-folk that he proposed to set up his own establishment, and even now, when he looked back on the scene at Rose Lodge, Edward winced.

15 The Market Square, still generally known in Caxley as 'North's', had fallen empty at Michaelmas 1938. The Parker family, who had been tenants for several years, had prospered, and bought a house in the village of Beech Green a few miles away. The property had become Edward's that same year on his twenty-first birthday. It was the most splendid present imaginable, for the boy had loved the house as long as he could remember. The idea of living there one day had been with him for many years, a secret joyous hope which he fully intended to turn into reality.

'It's a big responsibility for a young man in your position,' Grandma North quavered, when the old home was first made over to him. 'I know your Grandpa Howard has arranged for a sum of money to keep the place in repair, but what happens when he's gone? You may have a wife and family to keep by then.'

'We'll all live there,' cried Edward cheerfully, 'and you shall come and tell us how badly we keep it, compared with your days.'

'Well, you may laugh about it now, my boy,' said the old lady, a little querulously, 'but I know what a big place that is to keep going. The stairs alone are a morning's work, and no one ever managed to keep that back attic free from damp. Your Grandpa Howard's never lived there as I have. He's no notion of what it means in upkeep.'

Hilda North had never liked Septimus Howard. She had watched him rise as her own husband had steadily declined. Old age did not mellow her feelings towards this neighbour of a lifetime, and the marriage of her darling son Bertie to Kathy Howard and the earlier marriage of her daughter Winnie to Leslie, Edward's ne'er-do-well father, did nothing to allay the acrimony which she felt towards the Howard family.

'Thank God,' she said often to Edward, 'that you take after the North side of the family, despite your name. Your dear mother's been both father and mother to you. Really, I sometimes think it was a blessing your father left her. She's better without him.'

Edward was wise enough to keep a silent tongue when the old lady ran on in this vein. He knew quite well that there was a strong streak of the Howards in his make-up. He hoped, in all humility, that he had something of Sep Howard's strength of character. He was beginning to guess, with some astonishment, that he might possess some of his erring father's attraction for the opposite sex.

He often wondered about his father. It was impossible to get a clear picture of him from either side of the family, and his
own memories were hazy. Leslie Howard had decamped with an earlier love when Edward was four and the second child, Joan, only a few months old. As far as was known, he flourished, as the wicked so often do, in a Devonshire town. He had never been seen in Caxley again.

'Too ashamed, let's hope!' said Edward's grandmother North tartly, but Edward sometimes wondered. What was the result of that flight from the family? He had never heard his father's side of the affair. It was as tantalising as a tale half-read. Would he ever know the end of the story?

Edward had dropped the bombshell on a mellow September evening, a week or two before Michaelmas Day, when the Parkers were to vacate his newly acquired property. The two women were sitting in the evening sunshine admiring the brave show of scarlet dahlias. Around them, the gnats hummed. Above them, on the telephone wires, were ranged two or three dozen swallows like notes on staves of music. Soon they would be off to find stronger sunshine.

It was too bad to shatter such tranquillity, thought Edward, pacing restlessly about the garden, but it had to be done. He spoke as gently as his taut nerves allowed.

'Mother! Grandma!' He stopped before the two placid figures. Sun-steeped, vague and sleepy, they gazed at him with mild expectancy. Edward's heart smote him, but he took the plunge.

'Don't let this be too much of a shock, but I'm thinking about living in the market square myself when the Parkers leave.'

His mother's pretty mouth dropped open. His grandmother did not appear to have heard him. He raised his voice slightly.

'At the old house, Grandma dear. I want to move in at Michaelmas.'

'I heard you,' said the old lady shortly.

'But why, Edward? Why?' quavered his mother. 'Aren't you happy here?'

To Edward's alarm he saw tears welling in his mother's blue eyes. Just as he thought, there was going to be the devil of a scene. No help for it then, but to soldier on. He sat down on the iron arm of the curly garden seat upon which the two were reclining, and put a reassuring arm about his mother's shoulders.

'Of course I'm happy here—' he began.

'Then say no more,' broke in his mother swiftly. 'What should we do without a man in the house? We're so nicely settled, Edward, don't go upsetting things.'

'What's put this in your head?' queried his grandmother. 'Getting married, are you?'

'You know I'm not,' muttered Edward, rising from his perch and resuming his prowlings. 'It's simply that the house is now mine, it's empty, and I want to live there.'

'But it will be far too big for you alone, Edward,' protested his mother. 'And far too expensive.'

'I've worked it all out and I can manage quite well. I don't intend to use all the house, simply the top floor. The rest can be let, and bring me in a regular income.'

'Well, I must say,' cried his mother reproachfully, 'you seem to have been planning this move for some time! I can't tell you what a shock it is! I'd no idea you felt like this about things. What about poor Grandma? How do you think she is going to like it when there are only women left alone to cope with everything here?'

Winnie produced a handkerchief and mopped her eyes. Her mother, made of sterner stuff, sniffed militantly and Edward prepared to hear the old lady's vituperation in support of her daughter. What a hornet's nest he had disturbed, to be sure! But a surprise was in store.

'Let him go!' snapped old Mrs North testily. 'If he wants to go and ruin himself in that damp old shop by the river, then let him, silly young fool! I've lived alone before, and I won't be beholden to my grandchildren. He doesn't know when he's well off. Let him try managing that great place for a bit! He'll soon learn. And for pity's sake, Winnie, stop snivelling. Anyone'd think he was off to Australia the way you're carrying on!'

It had been too much to expect an ally at Rose Lodge, but the old lady's impatient dismissal of the affair greatly helped Edward. After a few uncomfortable days, whilst Edward tried to avoid his mother's martyred gaze and the sound of intermittent argument about the subject between the two women, he managed to make them see that he was adamant in his decision.

'Dash it all, I'm less than a mile away. I shall be in and out of Rose Lodge until you'll probably get fed up with me. I can do any odd jobs, and Tom comes twice a week for the garden. He's promised me to keep an eye on things. And you'll see Joan as regularly as you always do.'

Joan, Edward's sister, now eighteen, was in London, training to teach young children. Her vacations were lengthy and just occasionally she managed to get home on a Sunday during term-time. Edward had written to her telling of his plans and had received enthusiastic support. There was an unusually strong bond of affection between the brother and sister, forged
in part by the absence of a father. Certainly, during the stormy period which preceded Edward's move, he was doubly grateful for Joan's encouragement.

As soon as the Parkers had gone to their new home, Edward put his plans into action. He decided to make the attic floor into his own domain, and the four rooms became a bedroom and sitting-room, both overlooking the market square and facing south, and a kitchen and bathroom at the back. He had papered and painted the rooms himself, and although the paper was askew in places and a suspicion of rust was already becoming apparent on the bathroom pipes, the whole effect was fresh and light.

Surveying his handiwork from the bath Edward felt a glow of pride. This was all his own. At times he could scarcely believe his good luck. The spacious rooms below were already occupied by a young bank clerk who had been at Caxley Grammar School with Edward some years before. He and his wife seemed careful tenants, likely to remain there for some time. Their first child was due in the autumn.

The future looked pretty bright, decided Edward, reviewing the situation. He enjoyed his work as an agricultural engineer at the county town some fifteen miles away, and promotion seemed likely before long. The family appeared to have come round completely to the idea of his living apart and no one could possibly realise how exciting he found his newly-won independence.

And then there was his flying. He had joined the R.A.F.V.R. when he was eighteen and had first flown solo on a bright spring day over two years ago. It was the culmination of an ambition which had grown steadily in fervour since he was ten. Now
most weekends were spent at the aerodrome west of Caxley and his yearly holiday was earmarked for annual training. He liked the men he met there, their cheerful company and their predictable jokes, but better still he liked the machines with their fascinatingly complicated engines and their breathtakingly flimsy superstructure.

In a few hours he would be in the air again, he thought joyfully, looking down on the patchwork of brown and green fields far below. For this was one of the blessed Sundays when he set off early in his two-seater Morris in his carefully casual new sports jacket and a silk scarf knotted about his neck in place of the workaday tie.

He stood up in the bath and began to towel himself vigorously. A pigeon cooed on the gutter above the steamy window. Edward could see the curve of its grey breast against the sky.

'Two rashers and two eggs,' called Edward to the bird, above the gurgle of the bath water swirling down the waste pipe, 'and then I'm off!'

A thought struck him. The car's spare tyre was at Uncle Bertie's garage. He must remember to pick it up on his way. The possibility of a puncture somewhere on Salisbury Plain, even on a fine May morning such as this, was not to be borne, especially on a day dedicated to flying.

He shrugged himself into his shabby camel-hair dressing-gown and went, whistling, in search of the frying-pan.

E
DWARD'S
Uncle Bertie was his mother's brother and now the head of the North family. He lived in a four-square red-brick house some yards from the busy High Street of Caxley where his motor business flourished.

One approached Bertie's house by way of a narrow lane. It started as a paved alley between two fine old Georgian buildings which fronted the pavements, but gradually widened into a gravelled track which led eventually to the tow path by the river Cax. Edward always enjoyed the sudden change from the noise of the street as he turned into this quiet backwater.

As he guessed, Bertie was already at work in the garden. Oil can in hand, he was bending over the mower when his nephew arrived. He straightened up and limped purposefully towards him, waving the oil can cheerfully. For a man who had lost one foot in the war, thought Edward, he moved with remarkable agility.

'You want your spare wheel,' said Bertie. 'I'll give you the garage key and you can help yourself.'

They moved towards the house, but Bertie checked suddenly to point out a thriving rose which was growing against the wall.

'Look at that, my boy! I planted it when your Aunt Kathy and I married. Just look at the growth it's made in these few years!'

Edward looked obediently, but he was already impatient to
be off to his flying. Catching sight of the expression on his handsome nephew's dark young face, Bertie threw back his head and laughed.