Sheelagh Kelly - The Keepsake

‘How do you know?’ asked her amazed partner.

Her head still upon his shoulder, Etta wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, gossip, you know.’

‘It might be just that,’ offered Marty.

‘No, I followed him one day, witnessed his indiscretion for myself. I feel so sorry for poor Mother, who shows him such devotion – yet I deplore her weakness for allowing it to happen. I tried to tell her, but it was obvious she already knew and was turning a blind eye. I’d never countenance anything of that nature in my marriage.’ It was not merely a declaration but a warning.

Marty was quick to squeeze her and voice his own fidelity. She hugged him back, and to pass the time whilst they waited for the carrier asked about his brothers and sisters, whom he had named before but she had forgotten. He listed them: Louisa, Bridget, Mary and Anne, all of whom were older than himself and married, Elizabeth and Maggie still at school, Tom and Jimmy-Joe the youngest – and that was not to mention the dead ones in between.

Etta chuckled. ‘My word, do you think we’ll have such a clan?’

He wondered how to respond. ‘Would you want to?’

She toyed thoughtfully with one of his brass buttons. ‘Well, maybe not quite so many – and not for years. For now I’ve no desire to share you with anyone.’

He gave vigorous accord. ‘I’d never say anything of the sort to my parents, but too large a family drags you down. All your money goes on feeding and clothing them and there’s none left over to spend on things for yourself.’

‘And what would you like for yourself?’ Etta quizzed with a smile of interest.

Marty grinned, but bit his tongue upon cognising that he had painted himself into a corner: how could he confide his dream of a big house and servants with good-quality furniture and a suit of clothes that didn’t have to be kept for best? It wouldn’t matter that it was pure fantasy; Etta would think that her father had been right about him only being after her for her money, and that just wasn’t true at all. Knowing how touchy she was about her looks, he couldn’t even admit that part of his dream had been realised in a beautiful bride-to-be.

But then to his relief he did not have to speak. Alerted by the rumble of a cart, Etta jumped up to hail its driver. ‘Are you by any chance going near York?’

The grizzled waggoner tipped his hat. ‘All t’way there, lady.’

‘See!’ Etta turned to Marty, her dark eyes refilled with their usual sparkle. ‘Luck is smiling on us already.’

Belying his rough appearance, their saviour showed respect for the young lady’s dress and rubbed the seat clean with his hat. The sight of Marty’s bruised face caused a moment of doubt, but, a shrewd judge of character, the waggoner quickly weighed the situation and a quiet smile accompanied his invitation for the happy couple to board. It appealed to his anarchic nature that he might be helping them elope, their murmured conversation during the journey confirming his suspicions.

Martin wondered aloud if they would be in York before the register office closed, thus including the waggoner in their conspiracy.

‘I don’t want to dash your hopes, but old Snowy doesn’t walk much faster than a man these days. However,’ he gave a reassuring smile and tickled the horse’s geriatric rear with his whip, ‘we’ll give him a try – gerrup now, Snowy!’

‘Aye, gerrup, Snowy!’ Marty and Etta shared a loving laugh at their simultaneous command, even though it made no difference at all to the horse’s stride.

Against all odds, they did reach their destination just in time to visit the register office, the waggoner bestowing them a wink of good luck as they thanked him and rushed away to make an appointment to marry.

But at the last minute, Etta had a bout of nervous superstition and urged her suitor to enter alone lest all go awry. ‘When they see how young I am – oh, I feel so self-conscious, I can’t bring myself to go in!’

‘You’ll have to present yourself some time, they can’t marry folk by telegraph – I’m joking!’ He gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. ‘How can it go wrong? We’ve already been granted the licence.’

‘It’s all very well for you, you’re almost twenty-one.’

Blushing, Marty was forced to admit then, ‘I exaggerated about the couple of months, I won’t come of age till next year – but I swear to God I haven’t lied to you about anything else!’ He crossed his heart.

Forgiving him this trespass, she was finally persuaded that their visit was mere formality, and, with time ticking away, agreed to come in with him for support. Still, she braced herself for an interrogation.

The superintendent registrar was not at all pleased to receive their request so late in the day, and throughout the brief interview there was to be great suspense.

But then, ‘We’ve done it!’ Marty broke into relieved laughter as, wedding arranged, they rushed away before anyone could call them back.

‘Almost!’ Etta squeezed his arm excitedly. ‘Oh goodness, wasn’t it such luck he could fit us in so soon? I wish tomorrow afternoon would hurry! What are we to do until then?’

‘I don’t know about you but I’m famished!’ exclaimed Marty, who had not eaten since breakfast.

‘Let’s visit a restaurant!’ At his look of dismay a crafty glint came to Etta’s eye. ‘I’m not so penniless as I made out to Father. After the last debacle I thought to be better prepared and I’ve managed to accumulate eight sovereigns.’ She laughed at his gasp. ‘Don’t ask where from! I had Blanche sew them into my petticoat.’ Then, taking his arm, she hurried him into the entrance of a dark, ancient passageway that stank of urine. ‘Shelter me whilst I retrieve some of it!’

His stomach cramped by intense hunger, Marty was not about to rebuff her extravagant gesture and shielded her with his body whilst keeping a lookout for peeping Toms. He cast furtive glances as she hoisted her skirts and attempted to rip the coins from the petticoat’s hem, but they were too firmly stitched. She cursed and applied her teeth to the linen, making him laugh at her antics until frustration drove her to urge him, ‘Well, you have a go!’

Wondering what an onlooker might think of him lifting a young lady’s petticoats, he nibbled and picked at the hem, which, between the pair of them, was finally rent and the coins retrieved, Marty having to chase some of them down the pavement as they all spilled free at once.

Then, still delirious with laughter and excitement at the thought of their coming nuptials, off they went to find a place in which to gorge.

An hour later, bloated with sausage and mash, strawberries and cream, Marty bestowed an adoring smile upon his bride-to-be across the white table linen, hoping he didn’t have gravy round his mouth and admitting he had never been in a place as nice as this. Moreover, there was another bonus. ‘I’ve still got plenty of time to nip home before it gets dark – I mean to Ma and Da’s.’

Etta’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t possibly think to leave me alone! I know you regard it as living in sin, but –’

‘Do I look that holy?’ He reached for her hand, laughing. ‘We’ll only be jumping the gun for a single night, that hardly constitutes living in sin. No, I meant just to reassure them. I’ll take you to our new home first, get you settled – got to go there to collect my barrow anyway – then I’ll call on Ma and Da and tell them I didn’t have such a lucrative day as I thought so I’ll have to go out again. You know, lay it on thick as to how I feel guilty at not bringing any money home after all the trouble I’ve caused them.’

‘You’re used to this, aren’t you?’ accused Etta with a smile.