The Railway Girl. Nancy Carson

me about yourself, young Arthur. I hope your intentions towards me daughter am decent and honourable.’

      ‘Oh, yes, Mr Piddock,’ Arthur replied vehemently. ‘I’m a churchgoing man. A regular worshipper at St Michael’s and at Mr Hetherington’s Bible class. I believe in honour and virtue and clean living, Mr Piddock. Lucy’s honour is safe with me. Safe as the safest houses. You need have no fears.’

      ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. ’Cause so sure as ever anything amiss happened to our Lucy, and it was down to thee, I’d separate ye from your manhood.’

      Arthur winced at the terrifying prospect. ‘Like I say, Mr Piddock. You need have no fears.’

      ‘Good.’ Haden lifted his tankard and emptied it. ‘Here, let me buy thee a drink now, just to set a seal on our understanding, eh? Same again, lad?’ In Lucy’s continued absence he called Ben Elwell’s wife to serve him. ‘What do you do for a living, young Arthur?’

      Arthur told him.

      ‘Goodrich, did you say your name was?’

      ‘Yes. Arthur Goodrich.’

      ‘Then you must be Jeremiah’s son?’

      ‘You know me father?’

      ‘I do, the miserable bastard.’

      ‘Oh, I agree with you a hundred percent.’ Arthur said. So there was some antagonism between Haden and his father.

      ‘I knew your mother, see.’

      ‘Oh? How d’you mean?’

      ‘Well, lad, I used to be sweet on your mother years ago, when she was Dinah Westwood.’

      ‘Honest?’ Arthur guffawed like a regular man of the world at the revelation. It was obviously the reason his father had such little regard for Haden Piddock.

      ‘Oh, aye. Not that your old chap had got much to fear from me. I was never high and mighty enough for your mother, being only an ironworker. Her father had a bit o’ property, I seem to remember, so nothing less than a stonemason, a skilled craftsman, was good enough for Dinah Westwood.’

      ‘Yes, she is a bit high-faluting, me mother,’ Arthur agreed amiably. ‘Puts on her airs and graces when she’s out.’

      Haden guffawed amiably. He quite liked this son of Dinah Westwood, despite who his father was. ‘And who wouldn’t put on airs and graces if they was used to owning property?’

      ‘Owning property is all well and good, Mr Piddock, but the inside of our house is nothing to shout about. Be grateful that me father got her and you didn’t, else you’d be forever tidying up after her, especially if you was of a tidy nature.’

      Haden laughed at Arthur’s candour, and Mrs Elwell put the two refilled tankards in front of them. Haden paid her and turned to Arthur.

      ‘Well … It done me a favour in the long run, young Arthur, and you’ve confirmed it. I started courting Hannah not long after that, and Hannah is a tidy woman. Very tidy. Hannah’s Lucy’s mother, you know.’

      ‘I hope to make her acquaintance some day.’

      ‘And so you might, lad. All in good time, I daresay. So I expect you’ll want to walk our Lucy home after, eh?’

      Arthur beamed. ‘If it’s all the same to you, sir.’

      ‘Aye, well just remember, I’ll be right behind thee, so no shenanigans.’

      ‘No shenanigans, Mr Piddock, I promise. Thank you.’

      Arthur was pleased with the progress he’d made in establishing himself so soon with Lucy’s father. That evening, he walked her home proprietorially, leaving Haden behind in the Whimsey.

      ‘I like your father, Lucy.’

      ‘I told you he’s a decent man.’

      ‘He is, and no two ways. Maybe I’ll meet your mother soon.’

      She chuckled. ‘Soon enough, I daresay, at the rate you’re going.’

      They were approaching Bull Street where Church Street levelled out like a shelf before commencing its long descent into Audnam, the stretch known as Brettell Lane.

      ‘Shall I come and meet you tomorrow after me Bible class?’

      ‘It’ll be too late, Arthur.’

      ‘But your father knows we’re walking out together.’

      ‘I’d rather wait till Sunday to see you, like we arranged.’

      ‘What about Friday? I could come to the Whimsey again and walk you home.’

      ‘I’d rather wait till Sunday, Arthur,’ she persisted.

      Arthur sighed. ‘I want to be with you, Lucy,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t put palings up around yourself as if you was some special tree in a park.’

      ‘I’m not,’ she protested mildly, but touched by his tenderness.

      ‘Well, it seems to me as if you are.’ He thought painfully of the young man with the confident bluster whom she’d served earlier. ‘Do you see some other chap some nights?’

      ‘No, I don’t,’ she replied, as if he had a damned cheek to suggest such a thing.

      ‘So why don’t you want to see me sooner than Sunday?’

      ‘’Cause I feel that you’re rushing me, Arthur. I don’t want to be rushed.’

      ‘You mean you’re not sure about me?’

      ‘Yes … No … Oh, I don’t know … I mean, I like you and all that …’

      Arthur sighed again frustratedly. ‘But?’

      ‘But I’ve only known you a few days. You can’t expect me to be at your beck and call when I’ve only known you a few days. It takes longer than that.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Lucy,’ he said pensively. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s just that I’m a bit impatient …’ He looked at her in the moonlight, his heart overflowing with tenderness. He reached out and took her hands, holding the tips of her fingers gently. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered whether your perfect mate would ever come along, Lucy?’

      ‘Many a time,’ Lucy answered quietly, content that it was the simple truth.

      ‘Well, Lucy, I feel that you’re my perfect mate … I know it’s a bit soon to be professing love and all that, and I’m not … not yet …’cause I might yet be wrong. But it’s what I feel at this minute. And knowing what I feel at this minute, I get impatient and hurt that you keep putting me off so as I can’t be near you.’

      ‘Oh, Arthur …’ Lucy realised right then what agonies he was suffering on her account, and felt ashamed that she should be making another person unhappy – another person who actually held her in high esteem. If the situation were reversed she would not relish being made unhappy. But she really was not sure of what she might feel for Arthur in the future that she did not feel now, and it was no good saying she was. She did need time to discover. Maybe, given time, she might grow to love him; he was a deserving case, he seemed a good man. But she didn’t fancy him enough, and she had to fancy somebody before she could commit herself. Why wasn’t he that man in the guards’ van on the railway? If only he was that man, she would want to be with him every night that God sent, especially if he was as gentle as Arthur.

      ‘But how can you feel like that, Arthur, when you’ve only known me five minutes?’ she asked. ‘You don’t know anything about me. I might not be worthy of your … your tender feelings.’

      ‘In the long run, Lucy, you might turn out to be right. I only said, it’s what I feel now.’

      ‘You’re a really nice chap, you know,’ she said