Just then Mam disturbed her reverie by knocking on the door. She came in carrying Evelyn’s hat. “Here we go, love,” she said. “Let’s get this on. My,what a hat! It really is the last word, isn’t it!”
Evelyn dipped forward and let Mam place the pine green velvet beret-style hat on her head. Standing with her daughter before the mirror, Mrs. Leigh fixed the hat in place with Evelyn’s “something old,” the pearl pin that had belonged to her own mother, and wiped a tear from her eye. Together they arranged Evelyn’s curls around the soft brim and primped the little bunch of white feathers that Mam had sewn onto one side under a white velvet bow.
Evelyn eased her toes into her new, dark green mockcroc shoes, and picked up her white gloves from the bed. Mam tutted and shook her head, and then smiled sadly.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mam,” Evelyn said. “But don’t fret, it don’t matter. It would have been a waste of money.”
Mam sighed and sat down for a moment on the bed. “Aye, but it were lovely, that little green bag.”
She was referring to the beautiful mock-croc clutch bag they had seen in Lewis’s that matched the shoes. It was small, elegant, and as Evelyn said, shockingly expensive.
“If your Da was still here there’d be more money,” her Mam sighed, “for a proper do. There’d be a bit spare, for the likes of that bag. If he was here, we’d be splashing out a bit,” she added, forgetting perhaps that the circumstances of Evelyn and Stan’s wedding would have provoked an altogether different reaction in Evelyn’s father.
“Now Mam,” Evelyn said sensibly,“you can’t say that. Look at all them’s that been laid off in’t last six months, there’s nothing you can take for granted these days. And anyway, we agreed. It was a beautiful handbag but there’s better ways to spend money, especially when I’ll not be working for a while and there’s more expense to come.”
Mam murmured agreement.
“And a little clutch bag’d be all very well for the Big Day, but what about afterwards?” Evelyn said, smoothing down her skirt. “It don’t hold hardly anything. Besides, it leaves you just the one free hand.”
“Aye, that’s true enough.” Mam chuckled. “Never thought I’d say it but you’re more practical-minded than me, Evelyn Alice Leigh.”
“Oh, a little clutch’d be all very well for Lady Muck. But Stan’s not exactly the gentleman, opening doors for me wherever I go, is he?” Evelyn went on.“I need both my hands, I do.”
“Aye, and your wits about you,” Mam said absently.“With a baby on t’way and a husband to look after.”
“Exactly!” Evelyn said, sighing happily. “Stan’s Mam’s not going to be much help to us, neither. She’s going to let us fend for ourselves, she says, it’s better that way. So there’ll be Stan’s tea to get, never mind seeing to the baby, and I’ll have to rise to more than toast and dripping, won’t I, even if he does get his canteen dinner. I can’t be lugging shopping and a baby on and off the tram with a clutch bag, can I?”
She laughed. “Anyway, all that’s as may be.” She fished in the breast pocket of her jacket and drew out a tiny pair of nail scissors. “Here, Mam, take these for me. I’ll need them later. Hang on to them till I ask for them, all right? And don’t look like that!”
Mam sighed and shook her head. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re up to, Evelyn Leigh. But if you say so, love,” she said.
“Thanks, Mam. Now I’m all ready, aren’t I? I’m wearing my locket and I’ve got my posy to hold. I’m marrying Stanley Ashworth today and there’s nothing more I need. I never wanted a big shindig, anyway. So let’s be going.”
27 Cardigan Avenue
Dear Ruth
Carole takes the view I should keep these letters going. She says undoubtedly not getting any reply is hard, but coming to terms with that can be part of the process.
Anyway, easier to fit in time for a letter as I’m off my feet, in general.
Also have plenty of time for reading.
Your pages made me think of our wedding. You never wanted a big shindig either, or so you said. It seemed quite big enough to me when it came to it, though. Looked out our Order of Service, here it is.
All right, I didn’t look it out, it just came to hand, unearthed from bowels of attic. Hadn’t seen it for years. It’s easier to put my hand on things, now stuff is down from attic and where I can get at it.
Order of Service
Wedding of Arthur and Ruth
St. Mary’s Church, Abbotsbourne
14 June 1972
The Procession: A Whiter Shade of Pale
Introduction: The Reverend Geoffrey Greene
Hymn: “Jerusalem”
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountain green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.
The Marriage
The Lesson and Reading
Hymn: “Lord of the Dance”
(see separate sheet)
The Prayers
The Apache Blessing
Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth.
The Signing of the Register
Hymn: “Blowin’ in the Wind”
(see separate sheet)
Reminds me what you were like in those days, not that you went the whole hog on the hippie front. But you and your Apache blessings and blowing in the wind and all sorts. Remember the arguments? I’m glad I won the day over Jerusalem. I’m glad you wore white, even if it was a kaftan, and at least the daisies in your hair didn’t start to wilt till after we were out of the church.
I’m glad I held my own and didn’t let you get me in a caftan-I won that argument, thank God, ditto matching daisies for a buttonhole.
A nurse has been. Mrs. M muttered something to the effect she’d called the doctor for me. Not a face I knew, the nurse, but she insisted she knew you. She’s attached to the community nursing team. I said oh, attached are you, so where’s the strings, but she was looking at my legs and didn’t laugh.