Free The Jarrow Lass by Janet MacLeod Trotter Page B

smiling.
    â€˜I’d like that very much,’ he said, touching her lightly on the shoulder. ‘I’ll come after Sunday dinner - when my parents are taking a nap.’
    Rose grinned back at him. ‘Grand! I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ And she turned on her heels and almost ran into the dark, before he should change his mind and decline the invitation.
    So began Rose’s courtship with William, fanned into life by the gesture of the flowers on the doorstep. After the first successful Sunday afternoon visit, William called regularly for tea at the McConnells’ home at the top of Simonside. All through the autumn they strolled through the fields on bright, chilly afternoons, or sat round a cosy fire and made toast if the weather was too wet. They revelled in each other’s company, Rose enjoying William’s stories about history, while he delighted in her quick talk and observations about people in the town. After tea, they would sing together, and Maggie and her father would clap enthusiastically, calling for more.
    â€˜It would be canny to hear you at the piano,’ Rose suggested one day. ‘I wish we could sing around your piano.’
    They all watched William for his answer. Rose’s great happiness was only marred by the thought that he had avoided inviting her round to James Terrace. She wanted their courting to be official and acknowledged by his family.
    He hesitated, then nodded. ‘We’ll do that.’
    â€˜When?’ asked Rose in excitement.
    â€˜Soon,’ William promised.
    But the weeks wore on and Christmas came and went without any invitation to visit the Fawcetts. William made excuses that he was too busy at the church and they should wait until the New Year. Lizzie came home for a brief visit and spoke her mind.
    â€˜They’ve no right to treat you like they do. You tell him if he wants to carry on courting he’s got to take you home and do it proper, like.’
    Rose repeated this to William. ‘It’s as if you’re ashamed of me and me family,’ she complained.
    â€˜Never!’ William protested. ‘I care for you, Rose. I care very much.’
    â€˜Then show it,’ she challenged.
    At the end of January, William finally came with the invitation to call round on Sunday afternoon to James Terrace. Maggie spent hours helping Rose to get ready, combing out her hair and tying it up neatly, scrubbing her hands until they were raw and stinging.
    â€˜Put on the glass beads and Lizzie’s hat,’ Maggie said. ‘Wear everything fancy we’ve got.’
    Rose was in a turmoil of nerves and anticipation as she approached the house in the gloom of that January day. William let her in and steered her into the parlour with a nervous smile. His parents sat stiffly in chairs either side of the fire, while Florrie set the table for tea.
    Mr Fawcett asked after Rose’s father and sisters, and then the room fell silent. Rose turned to Florrie.
    â€˜I hear you’re courtin’, an’ all,’ she smiled.
    Florrie clattered the crockery and her mother gave her a sharp look.
    â€˜Careful, Florrie. You’re so clumsy,’ she scolded.
    Florrie seemed too flustered to answer the question, so William intervened to break the awkwardness.
    â€˜I’ll play something on the piano,’ he said eagerly. ‘Rose, would you like to sing?’
    Rose did not know if she could manage a squeak, so dry was her mouth from nervousness. But she nodded and stood up, keen to be near him. They sang ‘Linden Lea’ together and for a moment Rose lost herself in the beauty of the music, even though her own voice was nervous. At the end, William smiled at her in encouragement. But when he suggested another, his mother interrupted sharply.
    â€˜It’s time we had tea. Florrie, help me fetch it in.’
    They bustled about and brought in plates of beef sandwiches, a ham and egg pie and a sponge