The Railway Girl. Nancy Carson

the Piddocks’ cottage after walking her back.

      ‘Oh, Arthur, I don’t know …’

      ‘What d’you mean, you don’t know? Don’t you want to?’

      ‘I need to set one or two things straight …’

      They were standing about a yard apart and Arthur was itching to get close to her, to take her in his arms.

      ‘About what?’ he said quietly, dreading hearing what she was about to say.

      Lucy shrugged, sighing profoundly. ‘It’s just that … I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on, Arthur,’ she whispered guiltily. ‘I know that you’re keen on me …’

      ‘I am keen on you. So?’

      ‘Well … I think you’re keener on me than I am on you.’

      ‘Then you should be flattered,’ he said, outwardly undaunted by her reticence, but inwardly agonised.

      ‘But I don’t want to hurt you, Arthur. It’s the last thing I want. You’re such a decent, gentle chap.’

      Arthur emitted a great sigh. ‘Well, you’re hurting me just by saying such things. If I’m such a decent, gentle chap why are you holding back from me? I don’t understand, Lucy. I think the world of you …’

      ‘I know you do, Arthur. That’s what makes it all so difficult … But I think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a bit.’

      ‘Why?’ he protested. ‘I only see you a couple of nights in the week and Sunday afternoons as it is. It’s not as if I get the chance to get fed up of you … or you of me, come to that.’

      ‘But it might be best for you,’ she said, his best interests at heart. ‘If I find myself missing you, I’ll know I’ve only been fooling myself. I’ll know better how I feel.’

      ‘Are you sure there ain’t somebody else you’m seeing on the quiet, Lucy?’ he said perceptively.

      ‘I swear, Arthur. I ain’t seeing anybody but you.’ It was actually no lie, but how could she confess she was preoccupied with another man who actually knew nothing about her devotion, and possibly cared even less. She would seem so stupid.

      He plucked up his courage and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him. To his relief and encouragement she snuggled to him like a kitten, laying her cheek on his shoulder.

      ‘You poor, mixed up madam,’ he said softly, accidentally tilting her bonnet as he nestled her to him.

      ‘Careful, Arthur,’ she complained. ‘You’re knocking me bonnet askew. Oh, that’s typical of you.’ She straightened it, tutting to herself at his unwitting clumsiness, which marred even his feeblest attempts at romance.

      ‘Sorry.’ He could have kicked himself for his ineptitude. ‘I didn’t mean to knock your bonnet over your eyes. Are you all right now?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said stepping back from his awkward embrace.

      ‘Good … Well, if you ain’t seeing anybody else, what do you do on Saturday afternoons?’ he asked, returning to the problem in hand. ‘I mean, even Saturday afternoons you don’t want to see me.’

      ‘I generally see my friend Miriam …’

      ‘I don’t know this Miriam, do I?’

      ‘Not that I know of, but you might.’

      ‘What do you do when you see her?’

      ‘We go somewhere. Generally Dudley. We went to Wolverhampton today on the train.’

      ‘Wolverhampton? What’s the point of going there?’

      ‘To have a look round. I bought a new Sunday frock in Wolverhampton.’

      ‘Oh, a new Sunday frock.’ He grinned hopefully. ‘Then you’ll have to meet me when you’re wearing it, so’s I can have a gander at you.’

      He caught her flattered smile in the spilled light from a window, and was again heartened.

      She shrugged resignedly. Arthur was not going to be easy to shake off. ‘But what about your poorly back?’ she asked.

      ‘It don’t stop me walking, does it? Nor will it stop me working next week either … more’s the pity.’

      ‘All right,’ she agreed softly, relenting.

      ‘And you’ll wear your new frock for me?’

      ‘Yes, all right. Where shall we go?’

      ‘Depends on the weather, I expect. If it’s fine we could walk to Kingswinford over the fields.’

      ‘But not if it’s cold and raining.’ There was a plea in her voice.

      ‘Then I’ll take you to a few graveyards so you can see what it’s like working there in the cold and wet.’

      ‘No, you won’t,’ she declared emphatically. ‘So where will you take me?’

      ‘I’ll think of somewhere.’

      Arthur spotted an opportunity to inveigle himself into Lucy’s heart as he sat in the Bell Hotel after church the following Sunday morning. A man, whom he knew vaguely, was showing a very young mongrel pup to another customer, and they were bartering for it.

      ‘I’ll give thee a shilling,’ Arthur heard the second man say.

      ‘Two and a tanner and the mutt’s yourn,’ replied the first man.

      ‘Two and a tanner for a mutt? No, a bob’s me limit.’

      ‘But it’s mother’s got a lovely nature.’

      ‘So’s mine. But what d’you know about it’s fairther?’

      Arthur stood up with his tankard of beer and made his way towards the men. ‘Excuse me, but if this gentleman don’t want the pup, I’ll give you a florin for it,’ he said hesitantly.

      The second man looked at him curiously. ‘If yo’m saft enough to pay that much for a mutt, then yo’m welcome.’

      ‘Two and a tanner is what I’m asking,’ the seller reaffirmed, instantly able to recognise somebody bent on making a purchase. ‘I’ll not budge on that.’

      Arthur sighed. Two shillings and sixpence was just too much, especially in view of the extra expense he was committed to because of the two wrongly inscribed headstones he’d had to pay for. Besides, he would look a fool if he bid higher when the other man was only prepared to spend a shilling. ‘Ah well,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’m prepared to pay.’ Disappointed, he moved away from the two men to resume his seat.

      ‘Fair enough,’ the seller called after him. ‘I’ll tek the little bugger home with me then and drown it, like I drowned the other four out the litter. I kept this’n ’cause it was the strongest, but if nobody wants it …’

      Arthur turned around, a look of astonishment on his face. ‘You wouldn’t drown it, would you?’

      ‘It’d cost money to keep it. Course I’d drown it.’

      ‘But then you’d have neither the pup nor any money for it,’ Arthur argued logically.

      The man shrugged. ‘That’s up to me. Why should it concern you?’

      ‘Because there’s no logic in it. I’ve just offered you two bob, but rather than accept it, you’d rather drown the poor little mite. I hope you can sleep in your bed at night,’ he added indignantly

      ‘I hope you can sleep in yourn,’ the man replied with equal resentment, ‘when for an extra tanner you could have saved it.’

      Arthur smiled in acknowledgement of the way the owner of the puppy had turned the tables on him. He felt in his pocket