Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection. Josephine Cox

      ‘’Course I’m ready, woman!’ His voice sailed down from the upper regions. ‘All I need is a helping hand to get me down these blessed stairs!’

      A moment or two later, Emily and Aggie had the carriage-driver in to help the old fella down the stairs and out the door. ‘We’ll have you settled and tucked into your seat in no time at all,’ the carriage-driver pronounced assuredly.

      ‘Don’t walk so damned fast, you silly arse!’ To his horror, Grandad found himself being propelled down the path at an extraordinary pace. ‘We’re not in no bloody race, as far as I’m aware.’

      Inside the farmhouse the chaos continued. ‘Where did I put my hat?’ Aggie panicked. She wore a plain burgundy two-piece costume with a lemon-coloured blouse and a twiggy flower in her buttonhole that Grandad called ‘half a bloody tree!’. But she looked wonderful, and felt it. ‘Oh, look. There it is!’ Grabbing the hat from the dresser she plonked it on her head at a peculiar angle.

      ‘That’s not right, Mam,’ Emily told her. ‘It makes you look as if you’ve had one too many.’ She straightened the hat and looking in the mirror, Aggie was pleased to see how smart it was. ‘Money well spent,’ she said. ‘And the Lord knows we have to count every penny.’

      Gathering her daughter and granddaughter, she ushered them across the room. ‘We’d best get a move on,’ she said, ‘or Grandad will be giving that poor man nightmares out there.’

      ‘We forgot the flowers!’ Almost at the door, Emily ran back to retrieve the flowers; a posy for Cathleen, and her own pretty, discreet bouquet. Being December there was a small choice of flowers, but thankfully the florist had managed to inject a measure of colour and greenery, all tied up with a pretty pink bow.

      In a moment, to Grandad’s relief, they were climbing into the carriage.

      ‘There y’are, Dad – I told you it would snow.’ Aggie couldn’t resist saying I told you so.

      ‘It won’t last,’ he answered sulkily. ‘It’s nobbut a little shower.’

      ‘’Fraid not, sir.’ The carriage-driver folded the step-stool behind Cathleen, and prepared to close the door. ‘I reckon it’s in for the day, if not longer.’

      ‘Who the devil asked for your opinion?’ The old man gave him one of his probing glares. ‘Just get on and do the work you’re being paid for and mind your own damned business.’

      As the disgruntled man slammed shut the door, Grandad added under his breath, ‘It’s a bloody shower, an’ I should know!’

      As it happened, the snow tumbled relentlessly from the heavens for some considerable time. St Michael’s Church looked beautiful, although the path through the wych-gate and up to the big old oak door was treacherous.

      Looking smart and dapper in his dark suit and tie, Danny welcomed his bride at the altar of the dear old church where they would be made man and wife. The snow continued to fall all through the service which, according to the locals who attended was, ‘Not bad, considering the circumstances, an’ wi’ the bairn bein’ there an’ all.’ And it carried on snowing all the way back to the farmhouse, where Aggie and Emily had earlier prepared a celebratory meal.

      While the smell of roasting chicken filled the farmhouse and everyone enjoyed a glass of best sherry, Emily and Danny opened their wedding presents. There was a lovely timepiece from Grandad and Aggie, a pretty vase from Danny’s father, Bob, and from Cathleen an embroidered sampler with their names and the date stitched carefully in pastel colours. Aggie had found the right-sized frame in a Blackburn junk shop, and the little girl and her gran had cleaned the glass and frame with vinegar and beeswax until they both shone. She also gave them each a hug and a kiss, while she in turn received a small, silk-figured Bible from her mammy and her new daddy.

      Danny gave his wife a beautiful bracelet of marcasite and sapphire, and she loved it so much she asked him to put it on her wrist there and then. Afterwards, to his delight, she kissed him, hoping with all her heart she could learn to be the wife he wanted.

      Cathleen showed everyone the small Bible she had been given as bridesmaid, and Grandad told them all how proud he was of his beautiful young women. He then gave a formal little speech, in which he thanked Danny and his father for contributing to the festivities. ‘And we’re delighted to receive you into the family fold,’ he said affectionately. For a split second he thought of Michael, whose sacred duty it would have been to give away his daughter’s hand in marriage, but then he brushed the thought aside.

      Everyone clapped and it was time to eat.

      They sat round the table – Danny’s kind-natured father, Bob, a lean-looking man with soft eyes and a ginger moustache; then came Cathleen, pink-cheeked and over-excited, and Aggie bursting with pride.

      Danny was so content he couldn’t stop smiling, his fond gaze never leaving Emily’s face and his hand constantly seeking hers under the table.

      Then came Emily herself, feeling vulnerable and afraid, and not too certain what to expect from this new life she had embarked on. She tried hard to concentrate on Danny, but somehow John kept filling her mind and heart, and it was all she could do to smile at Danny with the look of a wife. But smile she did – as her mother noticed with approval.

      As for Grandad, he greedily tucked into the delicious chicken, served with their own farm-grown vegetables, and loudly complained about the fact that there had been very few local people present at the ceremony.

      ‘You’d have thought more of ’em might ’ave turned out to see one of their own get wed,’ he said, in between scraping the last of the food off his plate and into his mouth. ‘Miserable buggers, so they are.’ He gave Aggie a knowing look. ‘O’ course, I don’t suppose yer can blame ’em,’ he remarked, sipping at his ale and getting more inebriated by the minute. He glanced at Cathleen. ‘Folks don’t forget in a hurry, do they?’

      ‘That’s enough, Dad!’ Aggie cast a glance at Cathleen, who thankfully was so engrossed in counting the raspberries in her pie, she appeared not to have heard. ‘Aren’t you forgetting summat?’ She drew his attention to the child. ‘I reckon you should mind your tongue, don’t you?’

      ‘Oh, I’m sorry, lass!’ Realising he was out of his depth, the old man leaned over and gave Cathleen’s hand a fond squeeze. ‘Yer old Grandad talks rubbish sometimes.’

      When, without looking up, Cathleen replied innocently, ‘I know, Grandad, but it’s all right,’ everyone laughed and the atmosphere was good.

      ‘If your mammy will fetch my accordion we can have us-selves a bit o’ music,’ Grandad suggested.

      Without hesitation, and thankful that Cathleen was unaware of what had been said, Emily ran upstairs and found his cherished accordion.

      ‘By! I’ve not played this for a while,’ the old man said, making it screech and howl before he finally got to grips with it. ‘Come on, then. If you’ve all finished feeding yer faces, let’s see youse dancing till yer drop!’

      On Aggie’s insistence, Danny and Emily pushed the table back to make room while, also made merry by the plentiful ale, Danny’s father Bob clambered to his feet and began shaking about in a frighteningly weird manner. ‘My dancing’s not what it used to be,’ he apologised, and hoping they wouldn’t have to endure it for long, everyone assured him he was doing just grand and encouraged him, by clapping to the rhythm.

      After a while, Aggie got up to join him; more to stop him from falling over than anything else.

      It wasn’t long before the two of them had to sit down. ‘I’m bone-weary,’ Bob groaned, red in the face and fighting for breath.

      Laughing, Aggie told him, ‘We’re a pair of old crocks, you an’ me.’ Moreover, her feet felt like two raw pieces of meat where he had trampled them once too often.

      When a moment later Grandad slowed the music to a waltz, Danny took Emily