jauntily, ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.’
Maggie looked at him with suspicion, but took his hand briefly. It was warm and he tried to hang on to hers while he fixed her with deep-set hazel eyes.
‘Sorry I’m late, Susan,’ Maggie turned to her sister, ‘but I got you these.’ She handed over the lace and buttons and Susan gasped with pleasure.
‘They’re lovely. Look, Mam, pearl buttons. They’d look canny on your grey blouse.’
‘They’re for you!’ Maggie laughed in exasperation. ‘I’ve not spent all me wages to see you give me present away.’
‘Ta, very much.’ Susan blushed and pecked her sister on the cheek. ‘We’ve kept some pie for you and Mrs Smith’s currant loaf is delicious. You look worn out. Come and sit down. Mr Turvey’s just telling us about his travels on the Continent.’
‘You must call me Richard, please,’ he insisted. ‘I don’t suppose Maggie is the least bit interested in hearing about my touring days. I hear you’re very serious-minded, young Maggie,’ he laughed, ‘not one for idle story-telling.’
Maggie instantly disliked his smooth, patronising manner.
‘Don’t be daft! ’ she replied. ‘I’ve had a day of politics; I’d like nothing better than a bit of entertainment.’
Richard smiled. ‘Can’t think of anything worse than a day of politics.’ He pulled a theatrical face.
This brought giggles from Helen and the boys and a titter from Aunt Violet.
‘Heads down!’ cried Uncle Barny jovially. ‘The cannonballs are going to fly.’
But Maggie was too weary to spar with the aggravating young man and fell into a seat by the table, picking up a sandwich hungrily. Richard Turvey appeared disappointed.
‘Well, the least I expected was to be heckled,’ he laughed. ‘Isn’t that what you political ladies are best at? You’re a very disappointing suffragette, young Maggie. Of course, I don’t see why pretty young girls like you should want to bother with politics.’
‘That’s what I say,’ Violet nodded vigorously. ‘It’s not ladylike.’
‘I agree, Aunt Violet. Pretty girls don’t want to waste their womanly charms marching about and carrying banners,’ Richard said with a wink at Helen. ‘Marching and banners is for soldiers, eh, Uncle Barny?’
‘I love the sight of soldiers on the march,’ Helen giggled.
Maggie did not know if she was more irritated by his provocative manner or Helen’s simpering response. She put down her half-eaten sandwich and gave him a withering look.
‘With such an enlightened attitude as that, Mr Turvey, I’m surprised you’re not a member of the government. It’s such a pleasure meeting you and being reminded just how necessary the women’s struggle is.’
‘Bravo!’ Uncle Barny chuckled. ‘That’s you told, Richard, me lad.’
‘Maggie,’ Susan remonstrated, flushing with embarrassment. ‘I think you should apologise to Mr Turvey.’
‘No, no.’ Richard held up a hand, attempting to hide his annoyance at being snubbed. ‘No apology necessary. I was in the wrong for upsetting the little lady.’
Mabel broke in quickly, knowing Maggie’s temper was as short as her own. ‘Give us another tune, Barny,’ she nudged her brother.
‘But, Mam,’ Helen protested, ‘Richard’s in the middle of his story about the Russian prince.’
‘Well, he can give his lungs a rest for a few minutes. Sit yourself down, Richard hinny,’ Mabel shouted at her guest, ‘and stop your gabbing. And, Mary, pour me another glass before Granny forces me to drink her tea.’
Seeing that no one argued with Mabel Beaton, Richard slipped onto the sofa next to Helen, for once upstaged. As Barny struck up a lively jig and Mary Smith passed round the jug of beer once more, he contented himself with witty asides to Helen and winks across the room at Susan, while all the time being aware of how the darkly becoming Maggie Beaton ignored him.
The evening continued with rousing singing and Jimmy was sent
Maggie looked at him with suspicion, but took his hand briefly. It was warm and he tried to hang on to hers while he fixed her with deep-set hazel eyes.
‘Sorry I’m late, Susan,’ Maggie turned to her sister, ‘but I got you these.’ She handed over the lace and buttons and Susan gasped with pleasure.
‘They’re lovely. Look, Mam, pearl buttons. They’d look canny on your grey blouse.’
‘They’re for you!’ Maggie laughed in exasperation. ‘I’ve not spent all me wages to see you give me present away.’
‘Ta, very much.’ Susan blushed and pecked her sister on the cheek. ‘We’ve kept some pie for you and Mrs Smith’s currant loaf is delicious. You look worn out. Come and sit down. Mr Turvey’s just telling us about his travels on the Continent.’
‘You must call me Richard, please,’ he insisted. ‘I don’t suppose Maggie is the least bit interested in hearing about my touring days. I hear you’re very serious-minded, young Maggie,’ he laughed, ‘not one for idle story-telling.’
Maggie instantly disliked his smooth, patronising manner.
‘Don’t be daft! ’ she replied. ‘I’ve had a day of politics; I’d like nothing better than a bit of entertainment.’
Richard smiled. ‘Can’t think of anything worse than a day of politics.’ He pulled a theatrical face.
This brought giggles from Helen and the boys and a titter from Aunt Violet.
‘Heads down!’ cried Uncle Barny jovially. ‘The cannonballs are going to fly.’
But Maggie was too weary to spar with the aggravating young man and fell into a seat by the table, picking up a sandwich hungrily. Richard Turvey appeared disappointed.
‘Well, the least I expected was to be heckled,’ he laughed. ‘Isn’t that what you political ladies are best at? You’re a very disappointing suffragette, young Maggie. Of course, I don’t see why pretty young girls like you should want to bother with politics.’
‘That’s what I say,’ Violet nodded vigorously. ‘It’s not ladylike.’
‘I agree, Aunt Violet. Pretty girls don’t want to waste their womanly charms marching about and carrying banners,’ Richard said with a wink at Helen. ‘Marching and banners is for soldiers, eh, Uncle Barny?’
‘I love the sight of soldiers on the march,’ Helen giggled.
Maggie did not know if she was more irritated by his provocative manner or Helen’s simpering response. She put down her half-eaten sandwich and gave him a withering look.
‘With such an enlightened attitude as that, Mr Turvey, I’m surprised you’re not a member of the government. It’s such a pleasure meeting you and being reminded just how necessary the women’s struggle is.’
‘Bravo!’ Uncle Barny chuckled. ‘That’s you told, Richard, me lad.’
‘Maggie,’ Susan remonstrated, flushing with embarrassment. ‘I think you should apologise to Mr Turvey.’
‘No, no.’ Richard held up a hand, attempting to hide his annoyance at being snubbed. ‘No apology necessary. I was in the wrong for upsetting the little lady.’
Mabel broke in quickly, knowing Maggie’s temper was as short as her own. ‘Give us another tune, Barny,’ she nudged her brother.
‘But, Mam,’ Helen protested, ‘Richard’s in the middle of his story about the Russian prince.’
‘Well, he can give his lungs a rest for a few minutes. Sit yourself down, Richard hinny,’ Mabel shouted at her guest, ‘and stop your gabbing. And, Mary, pour me another glass before Granny forces me to drink her tea.’
Seeing that no one argued with Mabel Beaton, Richard slipped onto the sofa next to Helen, for once upstaged. As Barny struck up a lively jig and Mary Smith passed round the jug of beer once more, he contented himself with witty asides to Helen and winks across the room at Susan, while all the time being aware of how the darkly becoming Maggie Beaton ignored him.
The evening continued with rousing singing and Jimmy was sent
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