books. “Jeanie’s proud and she’s stubborn,” she’d say. “Who do you think she gets that from?”
“I’ve been trying to trace her friends,” Vera said. “I’d like to talk to other people who knew her. There must have been girls at school ..
.”
“There were friends, I suppose. Lasses from school like you said. She’d go to their birthday parties and Peg’d invite them back to the Point for tea.” He remembered those days. The house had seemed full of them pretty little girls in party dresses who giggled and chattered and chased each other around the garden. “But I could tell Jeanie was never close to them. There was something solemn about her. She took life too seriously. I don’t know where she got that from. Peg and I always enjoyed a laugh.”
“What about boyfriends?”
“There was no one while she was at school. She said she was too busy with exams. Peg would tease her about it sometimes, tell her she couldn’t spend all her time working. And she’d say dead serious, “But I like work, Mum.” There might have been lads at the university but we wouldn’t know about that. She went away to Leeds. She kept in touch phoned her mother every week and came home every now and again for her Sunday lunch but she never mentioned a boyfriend.” He paused. “There might have been someone. She might have told Peg and asked her to keep it a secret from me. She thought I was always criticizing and perhaps I was. I should have made more effort to get on with her.”
“And she should have made more effort to get on with you,” Vera said gently.
“No. I thought so at the time. But I was too full of myself.”
“What do you mean?”
He struggled to explain. It was hard without boasting and this wasn’t the time for blowing his own trumpet. “I was someone in this village then. Parish councillor. Coxswain of the launch which takes the pilots out to the ships in the river. You’ll have seen the launches if you’ve been down to the Point. Moored by the long jetty.”
She nodded.
“There’s a buzz about that. An excitement. That’s why you do it, but all the same it’s a worthwhile job and you think you deserve some respect.” He hesitated again. “Peg thought children have no obligation to their parents. She said they don’t ask to be born. The obligation all goes one way. I didn’t see it then but now I think she was right.”
Vera didn’t express an opinion on the question. “I’ve never had any kids myself,” she said.
He would have liked to ask if she’d ever wanted children. He’d assumed that all women got broody as they got older. But although he felt close to the fat woman whose presence seemed to take up half his lounge, he thought the question was a bit personal.
“How did Jeanie meet Keith Mantel?” Vera asked suddenly, and he was glad the interview had moved on to surer ground. He was better with facts.
“Here in Elvet. In the Anchor. She’d worked there part-time since she was at school. Washing up, waitressing a bit of bar work when she got older. They thought the world of her. The most reliable student they’d ever employed, Veronica the landlady said.”
“You must have been proud of her’
“Aye,” he said reluctantly. “I was. And not just about her work at the pub. About the exams and the music and everything. I was too stubborn to tell her. Most people liked me then. Mike Long, life and soul of the party, holding the village together. She didn’t. I couldn’t understand it, couldn’t forgive her for not being taken in by me.” He shot her another look. “Sorry. Just talking daft.”
“Wasn’t Jeanie still at the university when she met Mantel? I don’t understand what she was doing here. She’d hardly have come back to Elvet from Leeds for a Saturday job.”
“She was on study leave before her finals. Home for a couple of weeks before the exams. Peg had persuaded her to come back. She said it would be quieter for her to revise.
“I’ve been trying to trace her friends,” Vera said. “I’d like to talk to other people who knew her. There must have been girls at school ..
.”
“There were friends, I suppose. Lasses from school like you said. She’d go to their birthday parties and Peg’d invite them back to the Point for tea.” He remembered those days. The house had seemed full of them pretty little girls in party dresses who giggled and chattered and chased each other around the garden. “But I could tell Jeanie was never close to them. There was something solemn about her. She took life too seriously. I don’t know where she got that from. Peg and I always enjoyed a laugh.”
“What about boyfriends?”
“There was no one while she was at school. She said she was too busy with exams. Peg would tease her about it sometimes, tell her she couldn’t spend all her time working. And she’d say dead serious, “But I like work, Mum.” There might have been lads at the university but we wouldn’t know about that. She went away to Leeds. She kept in touch phoned her mother every week and came home every now and again for her Sunday lunch but she never mentioned a boyfriend.” He paused. “There might have been someone. She might have told Peg and asked her to keep it a secret from me. She thought I was always criticizing and perhaps I was. I should have made more effort to get on with her.”
“And she should have made more effort to get on with you,” Vera said gently.
“No. I thought so at the time. But I was too full of myself.”
“What do you mean?”
He struggled to explain. It was hard without boasting and this wasn’t the time for blowing his own trumpet. “I was someone in this village then. Parish councillor. Coxswain of the launch which takes the pilots out to the ships in the river. You’ll have seen the launches if you’ve been down to the Point. Moored by the long jetty.”
She nodded.
“There’s a buzz about that. An excitement. That’s why you do it, but all the same it’s a worthwhile job and you think you deserve some respect.” He hesitated again. “Peg thought children have no obligation to their parents. She said they don’t ask to be born. The obligation all goes one way. I didn’t see it then but now I think she was right.”
Vera didn’t express an opinion on the question. “I’ve never had any kids myself,” she said.
He would have liked to ask if she’d ever wanted children. He’d assumed that all women got broody as they got older. But although he felt close to the fat woman whose presence seemed to take up half his lounge, he thought the question was a bit personal.
“How did Jeanie meet Keith Mantel?” Vera asked suddenly, and he was glad the interview had moved on to surer ground. He was better with facts.
“Here in Elvet. In the Anchor. She’d worked there part-time since she was at school. Washing up, waitressing a bit of bar work when she got older. They thought the world of her. The most reliable student they’d ever employed, Veronica the landlady said.”
“You must have been proud of her’
“Aye,” he said reluctantly. “I was. And not just about her work at the pub. About the exams and the music and everything. I was too stubborn to tell her. Most people liked me then. Mike Long, life and soul of the party, holding the village together. She didn’t. I couldn’t understand it, couldn’t forgive her for not being taken in by me.” He shot her another look. “Sorry. Just talking daft.”
“Wasn’t Jeanie still at the university when she met Mantel? I don’t understand what she was doing here. She’d hardly have come back to Elvet from Leeds for a Saturday job.”
“She was on study leave before her finals. Home for a couple of weeks before the exams. Peg had persuaded her to come back. She said it would be quieter for her to revise.
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