It still gave her a thrill to walk through the doors and see the huge iron vaulted-glass roof high above her head, the smell of brewing tea, meat paste and fresh baking mingling with cardboard boxes, cheese rind, fresh linen and freshly-mopped tiles.

  There was no rush as the market was quiet on a Monday morning. Plenty of time for her to dust over the stock and chat over the football results with passersby.

  She drew back the canvas curtains and sniffed the familiar smells of dandelion and burdock, liquorice roots, cough linctus, linseed, herbal smells mingled with embrocation oils; a heady brew that filled her with nostalgia.

  Winstanley Health and Herbs was more than just an alternative chemist shop, it was a piece of Grimbleton history. Her grandfather, Travis Winstanley, was one of the first stallholders, a founder-member of the Market Traders’ Association. He had studied the science, kept himself up to date and advertised their cures far and wide in the district. He had patented his own ‘Fog and Smog Syrup’ to clear chests of soot and grime. In summer they made up elderflower skin cream and elderberry cordial.

  His son, Redvers, took over the business in due course and trained up his children to respect their calling. No one wanted to shell out for a doctor’s bottle, though there was talk in the future of a free health service that might affect them one day. So far so good, Dad said.

  Levi was always half-hearted about the business. Freddie had no interest whatsoever. The one thing that united all of the family was an undying passion for football, and devotion to Grimbleton Town United in particular. ‘The Grasshoppers’ were now making slow progress through the ranks towards the First Division.

  When they were doing well the whole town was on fire; when they slumped it was if a blanket of cloud hovered above the mill chimneys. A win was the best tonic for all. Lilian supposed it was because football and romance ran side by side in her family. Even Mother had been a team player in her younger days, playing for the Crompton’s Biscuits ladies team. They played a friendly on the town pitch and when Redvers and Esme eyed each other up across the turf, the dynasty was founded.

  She and Walt had met standing side by side to watch one of the special friendly matches laid on during the war.

  Sometimes when she drew back the stall curtains she half-expected to see her dad smiling, his wavy thick hair slicked back, his moustache waxed and with that twinkle in his blue eyes that charmed the ladies.

  How she had missed him over the years since a sudden stroke took him from them! Mother had taken to ailments and fits of misery since he had gone. She blamed his early death on the Great War and his time in the trenches.

  ‘It weakened him, took the stuffing out of him. Not that he would ever say a word about it, mind,’ Mother sighed. No one talked about the Great War much. She was glad he hadn’t known both his sons went into another war so quickly after the last.

  When she came to open the stall some mornings she could almost feel him beside her. Theirs was a special bond, built on his delight in having a girl in the house. ‘This one’s the sharpest blade in the knife box,’ he would say, as he pointed at her with pride. ‘She does it right first time, my Lily of Laguna. If you want owt doing, she’s the gal!’

  He would be proud that they never closed up for the duration of the war. Together with Mother, the two of them had kept the stall going against the odds when all the rules and restrictions came into force. Many herbal stores were forced to close but they decided to open half the stall as a temperance bar, serving juices, hot cordials, medicinal sweets and herbal home-made candy.

  She looked at her wristwatch, surprised that it was mid-morning already. The till was still half-empty but that was the usual pattern. Looking up from her tidying a welcome figure reached over to tap her shoulder.

  ‘Time for our cuppa?’ Walter was towering over her in his brown dustcoat, pointing to the café opposite her stall. She could sit down and keep her eye on the stall at the same time.

  ‘You bet,’ she smiled, pecking him on the cheek with her finger. ‘Where were you yesterday at the Armistice parade? I missed you at the cenotaph.’

  ‘I was there with Mam but you know it gets her all upset. We went home early.’ You can’t fault a man who is kind to his mother, but she had been hoping to invite him back for tea.

  ‘Hey, you missed a cracking match on Saturday, two-nil to the Grasshoppers. They’re on a roll this season.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been hearing reports all morning,’ she sighed. ‘I had to stand in for Levi again.’

  ‘Yes, I saw him in a box with all the hoi polloi, lucky beggar. He nearly made the first team in his day.’

  ‘I just wish he’d give me a Saturday off, once in a blue moon. When did you and I get to watch a match together?

  ‘It was the best game this season.’

  ‘So everyone keeps saying, so shut up,’ she snapped.

  She missed the crowds gathering, the noise and cheering, a chance to let off steam. Dad had taken them all as a treat and left them at home as a punishment.

  ‘When we’re married we’ll bring all our kiddies to see the game,’ she sighed, imagining a five-aside of gleaming faces.

  ‘Oh no, love, it’s not a place to bring youngsters with all that swearing and rough talk and there’s germs to think about.’

  ‘It never did us any harm,’ she replied, surprised by his attitude.

  ‘Mother says it’s all that standing that did my back in. I grew too tall for my bones.’

  ‘I thought the Doctor said you had a bit of a curved spine …’

  ‘It’s the same thing,’ he replied.

  ‘No it’s not. It means you’re born with a bend in your back,’ she continued.

  ‘Oh, you do like to go into things, Lil. All I know was it never bothered me until I was out of short trousers when my legs just sprouted like rhubarb. I bent over one day and couldn’t get up. Never bin right since.’

  ‘It’s never stopped you standing at the match,’ she quipped.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve no idea what it’s like to live with backache.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it must be a pain but I try to be interested, that’s all,’ she added, seeing the grimace on his face.

  ‘Anyway, could Mother have a few more liver pills? Her stomach’s playing up again.’

  ‘Has she thought of trying a lighter diet? She does like her pastry and chips,’ she offered, knowing that Elsie Platt was a little beer-barrel on legs.

  ‘A widow’s got to have a little comfort. We’ve no money spare for fancy diets,’ he said. ‘It’s alright for your family.’

  Money was always a sensitive topic between them. His wage was small but steady and her family had two wages, a war pension and shares from Mother’s business.

  ‘It must be hard,’ was all she could say. ‘Did you go and see that house for rent in Forsyth Lane, the old cottage by itself? It’ll need doing up. But it’s worth a second glimpse, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh no, love, Mam says they’re built over wells and damp and it’s too far for her to travel.’

  ‘You didn’t even look then?’ Lilian felt the flush in her cheeks. ‘That’s a pity because I thought it was ideal for us, half in the country, on a bus route. It was you who wanted to have fresh air and a nice view.’

  ‘Perhaps we should try for something bigger and bring her with us? She gets mithered when I’m not there.’

  And I shall go mad if Elsie Platt is on the other side of the wall listening to our sweet-talking, she thought. ‘It says in my Woman’s Own that a young married couple should be alone for a while to set up their home,’ she argued.

  ‘What about your Levi and his wife? They live with you?’

  ‘That’s different …’

  ‘No it’s not.’

  ‘It’s just that Waverley House has five big bedrooms. They have their privacy and a baby.’

  ‘So, we’ll be having babies and Mother can look after them for us so you can do all your gallivanting.’

  ‘I’m not gallivanting, just serving my community. I’d hardly call choir practice and Brownies gadding about!’

  ‘There you go on your high horse over nothing, it was just a suggestion,’ he snapped.

  ‘I’d like us to start off together on our own,’ she repeated, sipping her Bovril and noticing his shirt collar was frayed at the edge and needed turning round.

  ‘Then we’ll have to keep on looking until we find something that suits us both.’ His voice was hard.

  Lilian looked at her watch. There was still no sign of Levi. ‘I’d better get back. Are you coming for your tea tonight? We can look in the Gazette to see if there’re any more flats to rent.’

  ‘If you can give us a lift back home first and get my Mam’s washing. Now you’ve got that newfangled machine, she was wondering if you’d throw a few things in for us.’

  Word travelled fast and Elsie was not one to miss a trick. Would she expect the washing to come back ironed as well?

  Oh, don’t be mean, she sighed. Walt’s mother was widowed young in the Great War and her son was the sun, moon and stars to her. Be grateful you can help them out.

  They were just about to part company when Sam Parker from the upstairs office suddenly appeared round the corner waving to Lilian. ‘There you are … I’ve just had a phone call from Levi. Can you shut the stall and come home?’

  A flush of panic rushed through her body. ‘What’s happened?

  ‘I don’t know, he didn’t say, but he said you were to get back at once.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll get myself off. Business’s quiet this morning. I’ll not be missing much.’

  Her mind was racing with possibilities. Had Mother been taken ill? Had the washing machine blown up and left them homeless? Was it the one surprise they were all waiting for? Freddie was back at last! That was it. He had turned up without telling them. That was just like her young brother, giving them no time to make preparations.

  ‘Freddie’s come home, oh, Walt! He’s sprung one on us, the devil. Mother’ll be beside herself. What wonderful news! I haven’t got the van so I’ll call out Santini’s for a taxi.’

  Ten minutes later she was riding through the town with a grin from ear to ear. Just wait until she saw that cheeky monkey. Suddenly the whole town looked spruced-up and brighter. They rose up the cobbled street to the top end where the Winstanley residence stood four square on its own. It was at the point where the grime turned to greenery, the country met the town and houses were spreading out with gardens backing onto fields. Waverley House had four bay windows edged with cream bricks, a smart tiled porch and steps leading to a small path.

  She paid the driver and turned to face her home. Only then did she notice that all the curtains were drawn tight.

  Keep Reading …

  The ones you leave behind are the ones that stay with you forever …

  About the Author

  Leah Fleming was born in Lancashire of Scottish parents, and is married with four grown-up children and four grandchildren. She writes full time from a haunted farmhouse in the Yorkshire Dales and from the slopes of an olive grove in Crete. For further information on Leah Fleming, please visit www.leahfleming.co.uk

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.co.uk for exclusive updates on Leah Fleming.

  You can follow @LeahleFleming on Twitter and LeahFleming on Facebook.

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  Leah Fleming, War Girl

 

 

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