Joyce had decided to marry Gary. It was going to be a just-after-Christmas wedding.
Tom's girl was from Barrow. As all of his Barrow family had been killed and Jill, his wife-to-be, had a mother living in Morecambe, they decided to have their wedding at Joyce's. It was Joyce who decided that a double-wedding would be a good idea.
Tom's call-up papers had just arrived. After the wedding, there would only be the shortest of honeymoons and he would have to leave for the Army, at Catterick.
Gary could not expect to be stationed in Morecambe much longer. Soon, he would be posted elesewhere. Rumours were rife. One suggested that he might be going to the Far East.
Posters everywhere reminded them:
BE LIKE DAD, KEEP MUM!
KEEP QUIET
YOU DON'T KNOW WHO MAY BE LISTENING
DON'T SPREAD RUMOURS!
CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES!
Quick registry office marriages were decided on, one immediately following the other, and then back to the pub for a big, big party.
Gordon had a long leave over Christmas and it was quite a happy one. Margaret was more relaxed than she had been for ages. But, she still wanted nothing to do with Gordon in bed.
Christmas presents were not easy to come by. She'd managed to buy some second-hand toys for the children. There were a couple of annuals for them to read, a printed train-spotter's booklet for Michael, with all the L.M.S. numbers in it, a bangle and coloured hairslides for Gwyn.
The Christmas stockings which they found at the end of their beds, on Christmas Morning, were filled with all sorts of special goodies. There was an orange and an apple each, a packet of dates, some chocolate drops, a rubber, a note-pad, six colouring pencils, a pencil-sharpener and a bag of nuts.
The days of his leave passed quickly. Soon Gordon had to go back to his dreaded bombing missions. He was pessimistic about surviving much longer. So many others he had known had aleady died! He'd enjoyed his leave but his mental state had not improved. Something else that occurred did not help his state of mind.
One day, quite by chance, he met red-headed Beth again.
When his leave began, the children had two days left at school, before their holidays. He walked with them there in the mornings.On his first day, as they arrived at the main gate, Beth dismounted from her cycle, and began to push it down the drive, past the caretaker's house, to the school building.
Gordon could hardly believe he was seeing her. "What's that lady with the red hair doing here?" he asked the children.
That's my teacher, Miss Farrell," Michael responded proudly. "Like I've told you, she's super!" Gordon had never twigged that it was beth who was teaching his son.
Upset by the sighting of her, Gordon found a pretext to take the children earlier than usual, the next morning. He saw them safely down the school drive. They waved goodbye to him and he waved back. Then he walked in the opposite direction from home. He went towards Jack Matthews's house. His intention was to meet Beth, as she cycled along Torrisholme Road. He walked swiftly towards the railway bridge.
He waved as she came towards him. She slowed down but did not recognise him at first, in his uniform and forage cap. When she did, she dismounted and it was, "Why Gordon! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?"
"I've just seen my kids Michael and Gwyn into school. Michael, Michael Watson, he's in your class."
She was surprised. "No! Why it never occurred to me, he was yours."
"Well, it wouldn't would it? We never knew each other's surnames did we!"
Her laughter gushed out. "Well I never!" she said.
"That's what my Michael's always saying, ‘Well I never'. You must have caught it off him."
She glanced at her watch. "I'll have to go, Gordon. I mustn't be late. You know how it is. Time waits for no man. Or woman."
She held out her gloved hand and they shook hands. He held on to hers, as long as he dared, letting her know how it was with him."You look just the same," he said.
It was no good. Gordon got nowhere with her. "I'm sorry, but I feel just the same too! Bye Gordon." She took her hand away. She smiled. And cycled away from him. He'd got the message.
For him, it had been a brief but heart-rending encounter. "Daft as a brush that's what I am," he thought. "Daft as a bloody brush." He began counting and calculating how many chimney pots there were between the school and his home.
The day he went back off leave was very cold but Margaret insisted they would see him off. It was freezing waiting for the bus. Gordon felt melancholic leaving the family. He stamped his feet and blew some warm breath onto his cold fingers.
"Might as well have walked. Wouldn't be so cold walking as standing here. Do it quicker than the bus and save the fare!" he thought. He didn't say anything.
The station platform was a draughty place to be. But the train was on time. Gwyn cried when he climbed aboard the train. "Look after your Mam and Gwyn," he said when he hugged Michael. "Remember you're the man of the house. I'm relying on you." He always said that to Michael. Michael thought that his Dad looked very sad, even more than usual.
Michael felt like crying too. But people kept telling him, ‘Big boys don't cry!' Seeing an express train thundering through the station on the main line was exciting and took his mind of his father's impending departure. But not for long. He wished the family could be together again. Why were there so many disruptions in his life?
The double-wedding was a cheerful occasion. Everything went well. But a wartime wedding had a special poignancy. There was more hope than expectation for a happy future. There was the bitter sweet taste of union and parting. It wasn't so much, love you for ever and a day, as love you for a day and maybe for ever.
The reception was a huge success. There were over a hundred people there. Lots of Michael's aunts, uncles and cousins attended. Tom's Jill did not have many relations and friends but Joyce had loads, including some of her best customers.
Gary had nobody there. Weeks before, he'd written to his parents and told them about the wonderful woman he had met, and that he was going to marry her. He'd told them that she owned a pub and that she was a bit older than him. He had enclosed a photograph of Joyce. It was a snap which one of the lads had taken of her, in her Marlene Dietrich pose.Mr and Mrs Smythe of Cheyne Walk, Chelsea were not impressed.
Mr Smythe visited Morecambe one Saturday. He came by train to Morecambe Promenade Station. He and Gary had a meagre, tasteless meal, the kind available during wartime, in a British Restaurant. Then Gary took his father to the pub, to meet his bride to be. Mr Smythe was polite to Joyce. He quite liked her. She reminded him of his blonde mistress, the one before the one he had now, who was a brunette.
"Definitely not good enough for you!" he told Gary. "Are you mad? What are you thinking about? Women like her are two a penny!"
Gary had been a docile son. Dad had always known best. Mr Smythe could not believe it when Gary gave him a real mouthful.
"Dad, you are a snob! You've always been a snob and you always will be one. I'm marrying her and that's all there is to it. She has more real life in her little finger, than most girls have in the whole of their bodies. Like it or lump it! She's good enough for me and if she's not good enough for you, well hard luck!"
"She's a tart," said Mr Smythe. "I know one when I see one!"
Gordon stormed off without another word.
His father caught the overnight train back to London. Gary's parents, and his other relatives, ignored their invitation to the wedding. One cousin sent a telegram wishing them well.
At the reception, the duo who played on Talent Nights provided music. There was Old Tyme and Ballroom Dancing. Everybody, including the kids, joined in the Progressive Barn Dance, the Hokey! Cokey! and the Conga. Michael didn't dance it but he thought the Gay Gordons was the best, with all the marching that went on and the swinging and swirling round of the couples.
Gary's friend, Dennis, danced with his Mam a lot."Why does Dennis keep on dancing with you, Mam?"
"Because I'm your Aunty Joyce's Matron of Honour and Dennis is Gary's Best Man.
"Oh!" said Michael. He didn't understand all the rigmarole attached to weddings but guessed that it was a sensible reason that his Mam had given him.
After the reception ended, Margaret and the children were staying the night. There were plenty of spare rooms because some of the Airmen had taken their leave over New Year, instead of Christmas.
The children had been in bed and fast asleep hours before the evening ended. Margaret had checked them three times and they were fine, all of them well-settled, after their tiring day.
"Room Seven?" Dennis asked, as Margaret headed for the stairs.
She smiled back at him. "Room Seven!"
It was three o'clock, in the middle of the night. Michael had one of his nightmares and needed to needed to be with his mother. As quietly as possible, without putting the light on, and without waking anybody else, he left his bedroom and crept along the corridor to Room Seven.
He opened the door and went in. He did what he used to do when he was little boy. He went over to the bed and eased in beside Margaret. She was fast asleep so he did not disturb her. He was happy to be there alongside her. He nestled up close to her, felt comfortable and dozed off.
He was the first awake in the morning. He was thirsty so he thought he would go for a glass of water. Carefully, he pushed the bedclothes back and put his feet on the floor. He stood up, with warm feet on cold lino. There was light behind the curtains. He wondered what sort of a day it was.
He tip-toed to the window and pulled the curtains apart, about a quarter of an inch. The sun was up. It was a bright day but there was white frost on the roof-tops. He pulled the curtains together again and turned, to go and leave the room.
It was only then that he saw a man's head on the pillow beside his mother's. The man was sleeping on the opposite side, from where he'd been sleeping. He recognised Gary's friend Dennis, the one he'd seen dancing with his mother, at the reception, the evening before. What was he doing in bed with his Mam?
"Mam! Mam!," he cried , shaking her awake. "There's a man in your bed!"
Startled, she awoke suddenly, appreciated the situation and panicked. All she could think of saying was, "Michael go back to your room right away! Gwyn might be worried where you are!"
"But Mam!"
"GO!"
Michael went.
"Where've you been, Michael?" Gwyn asked.
Michael didn't say. He kept it to himself. He buried his face in his pillow. "It's not fair!" he said to himself. "But I won't cry! I won't! Big boys don't cry!"
He didn't know what that man was doing in bed with his mother. But he knew, he'd let his Dad down. "Look after your Mam....You're the man of the house..."
Huh!
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