The Dressmaker’s Daughter. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ put her hand to her ear. ‘What say, our Lizzie?’

      ‘I said, is it true that cousins can marry? I mean, for instance, Stanley and me might start courting by the looks of it. Could we marry? He says we could.’

      ‘Our Stanley?’ Eve’s expression was one of concern. ‘Stanley Dando?’

      Lizzie nodded.

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want you to marry Stanley, our Lizzie. I definitely wouldn’t want you to marry him. You can do much better for yourself than Stanley.’

      Lizzie was disappointed at her mother’s response, so decided it best to say nothing more. At least not yet. She picked up a flower and broke an inch off the bottom of its stem before stooping to replace it in the vase. She did another. Then another. Thinking about Stanley and what might come of a romantic interlude with him, it was some time before she stood up and spoke again to her mother.

      She said, ‘Why did we come here to Father’s grave so soon? It was only Friday after tea we came last time and put some flowers on.’

      ‘I didn’t fancy going to The Shoulder of Mutton with your Uncle Tom and Aunt Sarah.’

      ‘Oh.’ Lizzie pondered the lost opportunity with bitter regret. ‘I’d have liked to have gone,’ she pouted. ‘I’d have loved to have gone.’

      Eve did not hear, but she saw the disappointment in Lizzie’s eyes. Silently, between them, they rearranged the carnations and Lizzie picked up the ends of the stems she’d broken off, then stood up again. She read to herself the inscription on her father’s headstone; an inscription she knew by heart.

      ‘In loving remembrance of Isaac Bishop who died tragically and unexpectedly 15th March 1902, aged 59 years. They have sown the wind. Thy Will be done.’

       Chapter 2

      Sunday’s fine weather continued into Monday. Lizzie Bishop walked to work without her coat, her head swimming with dreams and fantasies. The brief, romantic adventure last evening with Stanley Dando was devouring her. It had been so unexpected, but she had relished every minute. In a flash, her emotions had been relentlessly stirred like leaves in a gale, and it was heart-stopping. Now she could hardly wait to see him again, especially after they’d been so abruptly parted when the families went their separate ways. If only she could summon the patience to wait till Wednesday, when they would walk together across the fields by the Oakham farms to the Dingle, where it would be quiet and secluded. She hoped more than anything that he would have the courage to kiss her.

      Stanley had set something in train that excited her beyond all expectations. Now she was determined that nothing could stop them or divert them. Strange, she thought, how she’d known Stanley all her life; but not until recently had she thought of him as anything other than family. His dark curls, his even teeth, and his lovely, lovely lips would surely break the hearts of a good many girls. It was up to her to make sure no one else had a chance. Stanley was drawn to her, too, just as surely as a buck is drawn to a doe; that much was obvious. And her eager appetite had been whetted enough.

      The clatter and whine of an electric tram travelling through the Market Place roused Lizzie from her daydreams. Stall-holders were loading their trestles beneath the red and white awnings with everything from fruit, vegetables and rolls of velvet, to brass fenders, lamp oil and crockery. Horses clip-clopped over the cobblestones, drawing rumbling carts, and a motor car spluttered as it passed circumspectly in the direction of St. Thomas’ tall spire at the top of the town. A man riding to work on a bicycle took pains to avoid getting his narrow wheels caught in the tramlines. Already, awnings were out over many of the shop fronts and Lizzie could see others being drawn down. A hawker was selling fly papers outside the front door of E. C. Theedham’s, Ironmongers and Cutlers, where she worked, and bid her good morning.

      She saw May Bradley walking towards her from the opposite direction, and waited. They entered the shop together and headed for the passageway at the rear where they generally hung their coats. Today, they had only their baskets to deposit before entering the small back-room to titivate their hair. May looked at herself in the mirror and rearranged a wayward wisp. Despite their age difference the girls got on well. They first met when Lizzie started this job, some couple of years ago, and soon they began to meet socially.

      May was down-to-earth, with a ready smile, and a wit that was at first beyond Lizzie. She was an attractive girl with a slender waist and an ample bosom, and she had an abundance of dark, wavy hair that framed a pleasant but hardly striking face. When Lizzie invited May home to tea one Sunday afternoon to meet her mother, it was Joe Bishop, her brother, then twenty-two and looking more like his late father every day, who monopolised the conversation, amusing May with his humorous quips. Later, when it was time for May to leave, Joe offered to escort her home, since it was dark. He insisted there was no need for Lizzie to trouble herself accompanying her friend. May accepted bashfully, thanked Eve for her hospitality, and that was the beginning of their courtship. Eve was hopeful that Joe had found himself a nice, homely girl, at last.

      May turned away from the mirror to speak to Lizzie. ‘When you was at church last night with your mother, me and Joe went for a drink in The Junction, and while we was in there, we saw Arthur Dowty, your next door neighbour. He says as how him and Bella am flittin’. He says it’s ’cause of Jack Hardwick’s pigs. Anyroad, when we got back I said to Joe as we ought to think about rentin’ that house ourselves. If we could have it, we’d get married. That way, we’d still be close to your mother.’

      Lizzie fastened the ties of her pinafore behind her. ‘Wouldn’t the pigs bother you as well?’

      ‘Oh, I’m used to pigs. Me father always kept pigs. He’s a pig himself. Anyroad, if the pigs was there afore we, we couldn’t rightly complain.’

      Lizzie shrugged. ‘I suppose not. But how soon are Bella and Arthur flitting?’

      ‘As soon as they find somethin’ else, they said.’ May continued to fiddle with her hair in the mirror. ‘There’s plenty houses to rent. It shouldn’t be long.’

      Lizzie’s smiling eyes lit up her face. ‘Another wedding to look forward to. Oh, I’m that happy for you, May. I’m sure that our Joe’ll make you a lovely husband, though I say it myself.’

      ‘Yes, and if you get him a big enough piece of wood, I daresay he’ll make you one, Lizzie.’ May tried to keep a straight face.

      ‘Oh, I think I’m a bit too young yet, May,’ Lizzie replied innocently, not having caught the humour in May’s comment. Then she said coyly, ‘I think me and Stanley Dando might start courting, though.’

      ‘Oh, young Stanley, eh? What’s brought that on?’

      Lizzie sat down and explained excitedly how Stanley had all but abducted her to the back pew in church, even held her hand, and told her that cousins could marry. But she failed to say that her mother seemed not to approve.

      ‘Well, he seems a pleasant enough lad. He’s nice lookin’, an’ all, there’s no two ways. But remember you’m only sixteen, Lizzie. It’s no good courtin’ serious at sixteen.’

      ‘I know that. But when I’m eighteen, I’ll be old enough to get wed. That’s less than two years off. A good many girls get wed at eighteen.’

      ‘Not if they’ve got any sense they don’t. It’s generally СКАЧАТЬ