she took his hand again and they walked together along the lane.
Chapter Eleven
Jack was waiting outside the sweet shop opposite the cinema. His face lit up when Rowland and Gladys dropped Mary off on their way to spend Saturday evening with their friends
Ernest and his wife Celia.
They always enjoyed what usually turned out to be a musical evening, during which Ernest would play the violin accompanied by Celia on the piano. Then Rowland would sing, after which he would
look through any new sheet music available and see if any of it was suitable for the choir. Tonight however both he and Gladys were rather uneasy, troubled that Mary seemed to have fallen hook line
and sinker for the lad Jack Holmes. Not that they disapproved of the friendship, just that she seemed to have rushed into it rather suddenly after Tom’s death. Rowland said it would blow over
and she would probably have a number of romantic encounters before settling down, but Gladys could recognise a love affair when she saw one, and dreaded the day when Mary would break the news that
she and Jack were considering marriage.
With Tom it hadn’t bothered her; the chances of his ever taking Mary away from Longfield had been virtually nil. But if Mary married Jack, Gladys knew she would settle down over in
Millington, which might as well be a hundred miles away as far as Gladys was concerned. Oh, well, all they could do was welcome the boy into their home and that wasn’t difficult to do, seeing
as he was such a likeable lad.
Mary smiled radiantly as Jack handed her a box of Black Magic. They crossed the main road and joined the queue which stretched halfway round the cinema just as the first house was beginning to
trickle out. The ones who were too impatient to stand for the National Anthem came first, and then the rush.
Mary was excited. On the rare occasions she had set foot inside a cinema it had been for the afternoon matinee and she had been lumbered with Kathleen and Norah, not like tonight when Jack was
buying tickets for the circle. He led her up the marble staircase with the brass handrail, and on to the back row. Mary felt slightly embarrassed when she realised the seats were double ones with
no armrest in the middle, obviously designed with amorous couples in mind. She saw the funny side and began to giggle.
‘You’re a sly one, Jack Holmes,’ she said. ‘I wonder how many girls you’ve snuggled up to in these seats before tonight.’
‘Hundreds,’ Jack teased, then added seriously, ‘but not one of them as nice as you.’
‘Nice? What a romantic man you are. Not beautiful, not even pretty, just nice.’
Jack coloured. ‘Well, I’m not very good with words,’ he mumbled. ‘You are – beautiful, I mean – only I’m not good at fancy speeches. If you want all
that flattery you should be going out with our Harry.’
‘No thanks.’ Mary laughed. ‘I’ve heard about him at work. Mind you, all the girls seem to fancy him.’
‘Don’t you dare tell him that; he’s big-headed enough already. Besides, he seems to prefer the married ones, unfortunately.’
Mary didn’t know what to say to that so she opened the chocolates. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘I can’t eat all these myself or I’ll be as fat as one of Tom’s
pigs.’ She experienced the familiar churning in her stomach as she realised what she had said.
Jack put an arm round her shoulders, glad of the excuse. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind you talking about him. It wouldn’t be right to shut him out, and it
wouldn’t be good for you either. I know you were engaged; we can’t pretend it never happened.’
Mary smiled up at him, relieved now that she had mentioned Tom and so discovered that Jack wasn’t going to be jealous; little did she know what an effort it was for Jack not to show his
true feelings.
He looked down into the sun-freckled face and their eyes met. She reached her mouth up to his and Tom was forgotten along with the
Chapter Eleven
Jack was waiting outside the sweet shop opposite the cinema. His face lit up when Rowland and Gladys dropped Mary off on their way to spend Saturday evening with their friends
Ernest and his wife Celia.
They always enjoyed what usually turned out to be a musical evening, during which Ernest would play the violin accompanied by Celia on the piano. Then Rowland would sing, after which he would
look through any new sheet music available and see if any of it was suitable for the choir. Tonight however both he and Gladys were rather uneasy, troubled that Mary seemed to have fallen hook line
and sinker for the lad Jack Holmes. Not that they disapproved of the friendship, just that she seemed to have rushed into it rather suddenly after Tom’s death. Rowland said it would blow over
and she would probably have a number of romantic encounters before settling down, but Gladys could recognise a love affair when she saw one, and dreaded the day when Mary would break the news that
she and Jack were considering marriage.
With Tom it hadn’t bothered her; the chances of his ever taking Mary away from Longfield had been virtually nil. But if Mary married Jack, Gladys knew she would settle down over in
Millington, which might as well be a hundred miles away as far as Gladys was concerned. Oh, well, all they could do was welcome the boy into their home and that wasn’t difficult to do, seeing
as he was such a likeable lad.
Mary smiled radiantly as Jack handed her a box of Black Magic. They crossed the main road and joined the queue which stretched halfway round the cinema just as the first house was beginning to
trickle out. The ones who were too impatient to stand for the National Anthem came first, and then the rush.
Mary was excited. On the rare occasions she had set foot inside a cinema it had been for the afternoon matinee and she had been lumbered with Kathleen and Norah, not like tonight when Jack was
buying tickets for the circle. He led her up the marble staircase with the brass handrail, and on to the back row. Mary felt slightly embarrassed when she realised the seats were double ones with
no armrest in the middle, obviously designed with amorous couples in mind. She saw the funny side and began to giggle.
‘You’re a sly one, Jack Holmes,’ she said. ‘I wonder how many girls you’ve snuggled up to in these seats before tonight.’
‘Hundreds,’ Jack teased, then added seriously, ‘but not one of them as nice as you.’
‘Nice? What a romantic man you are. Not beautiful, not even pretty, just nice.’
Jack coloured. ‘Well, I’m not very good with words,’ he mumbled. ‘You are – beautiful, I mean – only I’m not good at fancy speeches. If you want all
that flattery you should be going out with our Harry.’
‘No thanks.’ Mary laughed. ‘I’ve heard about him at work. Mind you, all the girls seem to fancy him.’
‘Don’t you dare tell him that; he’s big-headed enough already. Besides, he seems to prefer the married ones, unfortunately.’
Mary didn’t know what to say to that so she opened the chocolates. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘I can’t eat all these myself or I’ll be as fat as one of Tom’s
pigs.’ She experienced the familiar churning in her stomach as she realised what she had said.
Jack put an arm round her shoulders, glad of the excuse. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind you talking about him. It wouldn’t be right to shut him out, and it
wouldn’t be good for you either. I know you were engaged; we can’t pretend it never happened.’
Mary smiled up at him, relieved now that she had mentioned Tom and so discovered that Jack wasn’t going to be jealous; little did she know what an effort it was for Jack not to show his
true feelings.
He looked down into the sun-freckled face and their eyes met. She reached her mouth up to his and Tom was forgotten along with the
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