Bone Street/Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A DOUBLE WEDDING
The succeeding weeks were busy ones. The bottom drawer was nearly full, in addition to which under Mary’s bed was a tin trunk full of sheets, blankets, etc., while she had purchased, and made, her supply of household linen even down to tablecloths and towels. Jack had also been busy, for whenever he saw a piece of furniture to his liking, which was within the bounds of his meagre purse, Mary and himself inspected it, and if it gave mutual satisfaction, it was purchased and sent direct to Mr. Grimshaw to be stored in the spare room. Their plans regarding poultry were also being fulfilled, for they were soon the proud owners of a number of chicks, which were running in the enclosure attached to the new house.
They were happy days for both of them, and as their wedding day approached they were more than prepared.
Jack was giving every satisfaction at his work, and was now in receipt of the two shillings advance promised him. He had effected a few alterations at work, such as an improved method of booking wool in, so that any parcel could be traced immediately, without that needless searching he had experienced so many times. He was now on the staff, and was looked on by Mr. Meyson as his right-hand man.
At last they were within a fortnight of the happy day, and had obtained possession of the house. The rooms had been papered and whitewashed at nights by Jack, and the week previous to the wedding Mary spent entirely at the house, sleeping at Mr. Grimshaw’s. The day before the wedding she returned to Bone Street, leaving everything in apple-pie order and ready for them to walk straight in.
The wedding morn dawned bright, and two brides-to-be rose from their beds before six to assist Marthalice to prepare the wedding feast. There was a ham, boiled the night previously, a huge cold meat pie, pastries were made, in fact there was an abundance of everything. There was a lack of liquid other than pop, for Marthalice had decided that no “Lunatics’ Broth” was to enter the house, with which the four most interested parties were entirely in agreement. In the preparations Marthalice was boss. Ruth was nervous, while Mary was sedately complaisant. Marthalice bustled about, calling everybody “gormless,” which means without sense. “Nah come on both of you, we’ll not be ready for t’church if ye don’t buzz abaht.” But when the time arrived they were all ready.
An open carriage drove up to the door, the driver wearing a double-breasted coat with brass buttons, a top hat, and carrying a whip adorned with pink ribbons, for Marthalice insisted that everything should be done in style. Marthalice was to attend the ceremony, and The Imp was to be Mary’s bridesmaid, while Bella was to officiate for Ruth. Marthalice had previously arranged with a neighbour to look after things during her absence at the church, and proudly she opened the door to take her place in the carriage.
Up Bone Street the horses gently trotted, accompanied by the admiring looks of the neighbours, and on arrival at the church they found Jack and Albert already there waiting for their respective brides, and another carriage waiting to convey the happy couples home after the ceremony.
Jack heard the parson say, “John Newcome Bradley, will you take Mary Hinton to be your lawful wedded wife?” and he meekly answered, “I will,” and so the ceremony proceeded. That and the signing of names in the vestry over, Jack felt he had got through the worst, and slowly they proceeded down the aisle and into the street.
When the bridal party returned to Bone Street, Marthalice and the girls immediately doffed their fine clothes, and all hands were on deck laying the table for the wedding feast. By five o’clock everything was in order, and in retrospect they ofttimes wondered how they managed to squeeze them all in for tea in just one small room; but by adopting a policy of relays the difficulty was overcome. Some of the men on the waiting list sat on the bedroom stairs, and some on the hearthrug. Tea was over at last, the table reared up and pushed into a corner, chairs (some borrowed) were ranged round the house and then the fun commenced. Everybody had to sing a song or be fined: some sang, some tried, some paid forfeits, but all enjoyed themselves immensely.
By eight o’clock it was time for Jack and Mary to depart for their new home. All their goods, with the exception of wedding presents, were already there, and a party of twenty strong accompanied them to the station, including Ruth and her husband; but as if by consent, when arriving there the party left Jack, Mary and Marthalice alone till the train arrived.
“Ay, you two bairns,” said Marthalice, “you’re just starting, but try your best, an’ you’ll get on, an’ think on if ivver you want me, you mun call on me. Bless you both, I’ve no fears for ye. I’m sure you’ll get on together.” And as the train steamed into the station the tears streamed down her old face, while Mary hugged her, crying without shame; but now the others decided to take a hand, and as the young couple entered their third-class compartment showers of confetti were thrown at them; and while one tied an old boot to the carriage door, another chalked the door with various inscriptions, such as, “NEWLY MARRIED,” “DOOMED,” to the intense delight of the party, but eventually the train steamed out of the station.
“Don’t forget, Ruth,” shouted Mary. “You must both come over to tea to-morrow.” Mr. Grimshaw sat in the corner of the carriage humorously surveying the scene, and in due time they arrived at their new home tired but happy. Still the future was theirs alone, and what it contained would partly be their own making. Jack looked at his love and vowed at all events he would do all that lay in his power to make her happy. Then his eyes wandered to the wall over the fireplace where the picture of his mother hung. He fancied he could perceive a smile on the face, as though happy he had at last reached smooth waters.
Their first day in the new home was full of happy revelations for both of them. It was joy for him to rise early and light the fire, in preparation for his wife to cook breakfast. It was passing sweet to hear her pit-pat downstairs, and see her wash at the sink, and then busy herself preparing breakfast. He asked to help her, but no, she was the housewife, he was her very good comrade, and so across the table they helped each other to the eatables. Oh, the intense happiness for both of them, and the glorious vision of the future which lay before them. Jack’s mind went back to the squalor and privation of his childhood, then to his miserable experience in the lodging-house, and he felt he had indeed reached a heaven, for this and Mary was his very own.
Mary thought of the breaking up of her home, and her life with Marthalice, and while she realised that she was happy there, she was so very much more happy in this place of her own. Soon Jack’s arms were round her neck as he quietly asked:
“Do you think we’ll be happy, dear?”
“Happy,” she echoed. “Why, my lad, if we can’t be happy, no mortals can be.”
“Aye,” he said, with another West Riding idiom, “it’s all to try for.”
After breakfast there were the chickens for Jack to feed, while Mary washed up and set about her household duties. During the time Jack was attending to his duties outside, he could hear her singing snatches of the pantomime songs as she proceeded with her work. Later in the morning Mr. Grimshaw visited them, and together the three of them planned the field for the poultry. Jack’s idea was to breed a special strain for sitting, and Mary offered no objection to this. Then there was the kitchen garden to discuss, for the previous occupants had used a proportion of their land for the growing of vegetables, so Jack decided to do the same, and found later that it meant a considerable saving on the household bill. After dinner Jack went to the station to meet Ruth and Albert, and it was indeed a proud Mary who met them at the door and escorted the other girl upstairs to remove her outdoor clothes. The two men sat quietly listening to the feminine chatter upstairs, then grinned understandingly at each other as newly married men do.
Then tea. Mary had set in a store of provisions, in addition to which she had brought others in from Beckton. Of course Mr. Grimshaw must be invited, for had he not been the means of them securing this lovely house? Besides, he was alone, and during the time that Jack was away at work, he would be her protector and guardian. Tea over, a walk to the edge of the moors, a talk together in the cosy kitchen, and good-bye’s were said to Ruth and Albert, Jack accompanying them to the station.
“Tha’t nobbut short of one thing,” Ruth remarked as they wended their way.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Why, a piano,” she replied.
“Aye,” said Jack, “I’ve thought of that, and as soon as I can afford it I mean to get one, even if it’s only a second-hand one.”
And indeed Jack felt he would like to buy one, but he had only a few pounds, and that was required to stock his land; but it was no use sighing, perhaps it would come some day, and he recognised they hadn’t done so bad for a beginning.
His week of honeymoon and holiday went quickly, and Monday week came all too soon; but he had planned all arrangements. He would have to rise at six-thirty to get his breakfast, and catch the seven-thirty train, which would arrive at Beckton by seven-fifty. As it was only five minutes from the station to his place of work, he was sure to be there in good time. On Saturdays, Mary would meet him at noon, and together they would do their shopping in town, for they could get better value for money in town, and after spending a few hours with Marthalice they would return home.
As the days passed on, Mary was never lonesome, for there was always plenty of work to do. Her poultry were by now grown into big healthy birds with voracious appetites, the cockerels were eating theirs heads off, and almost ready for selling. By Christmas the pullets would be laying, thus producing revenue, so what with one duty and another, she could always find work to keep her fully occupied.
Mr. Grimshaw marketed their produce, or at least that which Jack did not take to be realised in Beckton, for Marthalice always required a dozen eggs each week. Ernest also had a standing order, while Mr. Meyson found that they were fresher and nicer than any he could get. Even Mr. Harman told Jack to let him know when the cockerels were ready for the table, as he could eat a chicken any time, so by one way and another their produce was sold, and their exchequer added to. Every time Mary was handed either two shillings and sixpence for the sale of a bird, or a shilling for eggs, she would say, “I can see that piano, Jack, I can see it coming. Keep your eyes open for the sales, for it’s sure to come.”
Marthalice simply had to visit them, they would have no other; she demurred at first, but no use, her house must manage without her sometimes, for were these not two of her bairns? so she came for an occasional half-day during the week. But their biggest pride was when she decided to spend a week-end with them. Several times they had tried to get her to agree to come, and finally they induced her.
On that memorable Saturday, Jack performed Mary’s commissions himself, later calling at Bone Street to accompany Marthalice to their home. One can easily realise the joy Jack felt in having for his guest the woman who had opened her home to him, when he was down and out. It was a gratified woman who divested herself of her cape, and sat installed in the best chair beside the fire, while the two young people fussed round her. She protested, but was warned that this was their house, and visitors had to do as they were bid. “Ay, you couple of bairns,” she said lovingly. “For ye’re nobbut bairns, and I expect you’ll hev your own way.” But without doubt she enjoyed it, as she did also her cup of tea in bed. Mary wanted her to have breakfast in bed, but she drew the line at that. A chicken was cooked for dinner in her honour, and though she rebuked them for such extravagance, they knew she appreciated it. When departing for home, she warmly kissed them both good-bye. That kiss was treasured by Jack, as she had only kissed him once previously, which was on that memorable day when she had found him patching his trousers in Bone Street.
“Bless you both, you make an old body feel young again.”
With this she departed, leaving a radiant Mary and a young man who was thanking Providence for giving him the opportunity to bring a little pleasure to the woman who, without desiring thanks, had done so much for him.