buckets, that was all. There was no personal hygiene
problem.”
“Doesn’t matter Dennis. Anyway, she came from
Chapeltown and you know what they’re like down there, don’t
you?”
“It may be a working class area but good
people come from there too. For Christ sakes, she is a
botanist.”
“Maybe that’s why she smelt like a compost
heap. You can take the girl out of the ghetto but you can’t take
the ghetto out of the girl, dear.”
“She was one of the most polite and
well-mannered girls I’ve ever met.”
“Airs and graces, more like. Proper Lady
Muck. Acted like her poo didn’t smell. We saved you from her
clutches. Trust me, I only want the best for you.”
Weary of their interference, Dennis changed
tactics. What Bob and Lucy didn’t know was that for months he had
secretly been seeing a Yorkshire lass of his own choosing. They met
in his office in Leeds when she presented her father’s business
accounts at Illingworth Group UK. Maida’s father, who ran a busy
truck hauling business, lived in Shadwell, one of the most affluent
suburbs of Leeds.
Maida worked as a human resource manager in a
computer firm. At 34 and with a masters degree in psychology she
was already well ahead of her peers career-wise. Super smart, no
kids, great prospects and affluent family, Maida was perfect
marrying material. But Dennis knew his parents well enough though
not to tempt fate.
Maida, after all, was a Muslim.
Irrespective of coming from top Moroccan
stock, as far as Lucy was concerned “they’re all scrounging Pakis”
no matter what part of the globe a brown-skinned person came from.
“We don’t want no suicide bombers in this family,” Lucy would say.
“If she comes round bacon sandwiches for dinner with pork
scratchings as dessert!”
There was a gentleness coupled with a great
sense of humour, which attracted Dennis to Maida, whose name in
Islam meant ‘beautiful’. She certainly was that too, a head turner
everywhere she went. Tall, petite, with jet-black hair cascading
down her back, Maida’s mix of cultures blended well. She prayed
five times a day, observed Ramadan, did not drink or smoke, yet
wore Western clothes and enjoyed karaoke nights out, X Factor and
cups of tea with digestive biscuits.
Dennis lived in fine style by himself in
Headingley, a few minutes drive from the terraced house in Hyde
Park he grew up in; where his parents resolutely stayed, despite
Dennis offering to buy them a new one. Old fashioned to their
roots, Bob and Lucy thought and behaved like a couple from a bygone
era.
When Dennis was invited round for what Lucy
called “tea and chat” he knew what to expect. He would turn up
early evening and soon after a single, young woman would arrive “by
coincidence” for tea and chat too. Lucy trawled the shopping malls
around Yorkshire for a suitable wife for Dennis, carrying photos of
him to show prospective partners. The fact that she made a point of
mentioning he was a successful chartered accountant always got a
positive response. Single daughters and even granddaughters of
their friends were vetted for suitability too.
His parents knew that he was saving up to
reach a million pounds and very proud of that fact, but they never
let anyone know.
Bob was a steeplejack throughout his working
life. All three Illingworth children had done well; Sonia was a
store manager and Brian a joiner. Both happily married with kids.
Bob was thankful that his work ethic passed on to his kids. Lucy
wanted Dennis to settle down “to a nice Yorkshire lass who’ll give
you clever, beautiful children”.
Too timid to object to his mum’s clumsy
attempts at matchmaking, Dennis, the youngest sibling, just went
along with the occasional tea and chat sessions to appease Lucy.
Bob did not have a say in these matters. He was content to read the
Yorkshire Post and watch TV. Bob’s favourite viewing were travel
programmes to exotic, tropical places. Fed up of Yorkshire’s cold
and rain he
problem.”
“Doesn’t matter Dennis. Anyway, she came from
Chapeltown and you know what they’re like down there, don’t
you?”
“It may be a working class area but good
people come from there too. For Christ sakes, she is a
botanist.”
“Maybe that’s why she smelt like a compost
heap. You can take the girl out of the ghetto but you can’t take
the ghetto out of the girl, dear.”
“She was one of the most polite and
well-mannered girls I’ve ever met.”
“Airs and graces, more like. Proper Lady
Muck. Acted like her poo didn’t smell. We saved you from her
clutches. Trust me, I only want the best for you.”
Weary of their interference, Dennis changed
tactics. What Bob and Lucy didn’t know was that for months he had
secretly been seeing a Yorkshire lass of his own choosing. They met
in his office in Leeds when she presented her father’s business
accounts at Illingworth Group UK. Maida’s father, who ran a busy
truck hauling business, lived in Shadwell, one of the most affluent
suburbs of Leeds.
Maida worked as a human resource manager in a
computer firm. At 34 and with a masters degree in psychology she
was already well ahead of her peers career-wise. Super smart, no
kids, great prospects and affluent family, Maida was perfect
marrying material. But Dennis knew his parents well enough though
not to tempt fate.
Maida, after all, was a Muslim.
Irrespective of coming from top Moroccan
stock, as far as Lucy was concerned “they’re all scrounging Pakis”
no matter what part of the globe a brown-skinned person came from.
“We don’t want no suicide bombers in this family,” Lucy would say.
“If she comes round bacon sandwiches for dinner with pork
scratchings as dessert!”
There was a gentleness coupled with a great
sense of humour, which attracted Dennis to Maida, whose name in
Islam meant ‘beautiful’. She certainly was that too, a head turner
everywhere she went. Tall, petite, with jet-black hair cascading
down her back, Maida’s mix of cultures blended well. She prayed
five times a day, observed Ramadan, did not drink or smoke, yet
wore Western clothes and enjoyed karaoke nights out, X Factor and
cups of tea with digestive biscuits.
Dennis lived in fine style by himself in
Headingley, a few minutes drive from the terraced house in Hyde
Park he grew up in; where his parents resolutely stayed, despite
Dennis offering to buy them a new one. Old fashioned to their
roots, Bob and Lucy thought and behaved like a couple from a bygone
era.
When Dennis was invited round for what Lucy
called “tea and chat” he knew what to expect. He would turn up
early evening and soon after a single, young woman would arrive “by
coincidence” for tea and chat too. Lucy trawled the shopping malls
around Yorkshire for a suitable wife for Dennis, carrying photos of
him to show prospective partners. The fact that she made a point of
mentioning he was a successful chartered accountant always got a
positive response. Single daughters and even granddaughters of
their friends were vetted for suitability too.
His parents knew that he was saving up to
reach a million pounds and very proud of that fact, but they never
let anyone know.
Bob was a steeplejack throughout his working
life. All three Illingworth children had done well; Sonia was a
store manager and Brian a joiner. Both happily married with kids.
Bob was thankful that his work ethic passed on to his kids. Lucy
wanted Dennis to settle down “to a nice Yorkshire lass who’ll give
you clever, beautiful children”.
Too timid to object to his mum’s clumsy
attempts at matchmaking, Dennis, the youngest sibling, just went
along with the occasional tea and chat sessions to appease Lucy.
Bob did not have a say in these matters. He was content to read the
Yorkshire Post and watch TV. Bob’s favourite viewing were travel
programmes to exotic, tropical places. Fed up of Yorkshire’s cold
and rain he
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