Open Writing

On June 30th, as they had planned, May and Muriel set off on their bikes for Perdiswell Church. The arrived there in less than an hour, leaving themselves plenty of time to clean up and rest before the 11 am service.

When that service had ended they waited patiently for John Day to complete his duties in church. John's brother, looking shy and awkward, was also waiting nearby. He was standing near two bicycles. Muriel was all for going up to him to start a conversation, but May held her back.

“Don’t scare him off,'' May murmured. "From his appearance I would guess he is not looking forwards to this day. Time enough to get to know him when John comes.”

They did not have to wait long. After five minutes John emerged from the church, indicating with gestures that he had to return the keys to the vicarage.

By this time, his brother, Harold, and the girls were the only ones left in the churchyard. Now Muriel and May felt that they had to start up a conversation.

“Hello,” said May in a friendly fashion. “We met you when we were last at church here in April, but allow me to reintroduce ourselves. I am May Stinton and this is my friend, Muriel King. We know you are Harold, but that is all we know about you.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Harold said softly, looking as if nothing could be further from the truth.

“I heard that Tottenham Hotspur beat Sheffield 3-1 in the FA Cup and that was the first time that a non league side had won it,” said May bravely. She had memorized that fact, thinking it might come in useful. She didn’t know anything about football, but thought it was the sort of thing boys would be happy to talk about. Luckily John returned before his brother had chance to respond.

“Very nice to see you girls again,'' said John amiably. "I have brought a picnic lunch, as promised. I suggest, unless you are already too tired from your long ride here, that we go to Ladywood for our picnic. It is about another mile up this road. There is a lovely spot near a brook where the ground is flat. We can spread out a blanket and eat in comfort.''

The girls readily aquiesced, and off they went. When they reached the picnic spot warm sunshine was making it look even more idyllic than promised. A blanket was spread, and a large meal laid out. There were sandwiches of cheese and ham, lettuce, cucumber and tomatoes. In addition there were apples and pears, and lemonade to drink. Besides the food and the blanket, John had also brought plates, glasses, silverware and serviettes.

“So what have you girls have been up to in the last few months?'' John asked when they were settled. "Muriel, did you find out any more about your ancestors of royal lineage?”

Muriel needed no further prompting. She went into great detail, giving an account of her correspondence with Eleanor Poulett. She said she had learned many things from Eleanor, yet she was no nearer to finding the relative who owned the ring she herself longed to possess.

Harold had remained silent so far. May had smiled in his direction in an encouraging way, but he was either too shy or disinclined to smile back. Now May resolved to bring him into the conversation.

"Are you also intending to study at Oxford, Harold?'' she asked.

“No, no,'' said Harold. "I am going to be a mining engineer. I will be leaving in September to study at the Camborne School of Mining in Cornwall.''

John, in a voice that combined both affectionate pride and frustration, added "Harold is very clever, and he is single minded in what he wants to do. He won prizes for being top of his class in physics and mathematics. He was allowed to choose his own books. He chose works on mineralogy. That to me seemed a waste of an opportunity to acquire some serious reading material.''

"All my life I have wanted to be a miner,'' said Harold with surprising determination. "I long to go to the far reaches of the world, to the places where tin, copper and gold are extracted from the Earth. First though I must get my qualifications. My younger brother, Mark, is also intent on following a similar path.'

“And what will you do, John, when you come down from Oxford?” Muriel inquired.

“I intend to teach,'' was the reply. "I am studying theology and hope to be ordained, but I have always wanted to teach. That being so I have many more years of study ahead of me. What about you girls? What are your plans?''

“We will continue to live at home until someone decides they would like to marry us,'' Muriel declared boldly. "That is what is expected of girls like us. Our parents allow us a good deal of freedom, but we have no plans to pursue careers. I hope to go next year to the Victoria Institute to learn more about art. They offer classes in painting, design and modeling. I am particularly interested in learning how to carve wood.”

May gave her friend a surprised glance, hearing for the first time about her plans.

“And what about you, May?” John asked.

"Oh I usually do whatever Muriel does,'' she replied with a hint of tartness. Then, keen to take the conversational initiative, she continued "Did Muriel tell you our news? We visited the Trees last week. That is, the home of Mr Tree, the solicitor. As you are probably aware, he is a member of the museum committee. He heard Muriel recite a poem, written by her great grandmother, at the the Queen’s Memorial Service in the cathedral. Mr Tree asked if the great grandmother had written more poems. If so, he said, he would like to read them, and if they were suitable persuade his uncle, James Arrowsmith, a Bristol publisher, to look at them and decide if they were worthy of being publsihed as a book.''

"An exciting prospect,'' said John. "And are there more poems, Muriel?”

“Oh yes. There were 50 poems in an album, though I don't think my great grandmother wrote all of them. Some are signed with different initials and names. My mother did not recognise any of the names. But I think at least ten of the poems were written by great grandmother Martha Trew. there are perhaps 50 poems in the album. I don’t think my great grandmother wrote them all, as many have different initials after them, and some have names. Mother has no idea who the people are from the names. I am sure that at least 10 of the poems were written by my great grandmother, Martha Trew. I certainly intend to send one of these to Mr Arrowsmith. It is about Guildford Castle, and she has done a sketch of the castle to accompany her words. There are other pencil sketches by her in the album, including a working of the word "Bible'' to include some of its important chapters.''

“I would very much like to see that,'' said John. "One day when I am in Worcester might I call on you at your parents' home?''

“Oh yes, indeed.”

May intervened. "Another meeting is proposed. The Trees have a wonderful garden. We thought that later this summer it would be just the place for a family picnic some Sunday. Your family, our families... Mrs Tree intends to write to your mother about it.''

“That sounds like jolly good fun,'' said John, genuinely enthusiastic. "Perhaps you could bring the album along to the picnic Muriel? I could then see some of the poems and pictures.''

“Oh yes, I could do that. What date would suit you?''

“Any Sunday. After Church. Mid to late summer would be fine.''

"Should we make it mid-August? I will contact the Trees and tell them to choose the date.''

So that was decided.

After the meal, the foursome walked beside the brook for a while, but rain was threatening, so they returned to their cycles and started back for home. When the rain began to fall the brothers invited the girls into their parents' house for tea. Muriel and May were introduced to Mr Day, whom they had not met before. He was a tall, thin man with a white beard which made him look older than his years. He was gracious and polite, but showed little enthusiasm for teatime conversation.

His wife Caroline more than made up for his silence. She asked question after question. She greeted with enthusiasm the proposed family get-together at the Trees.

May, noticing trophies on the mantelpiece, asked who had won them.

“Our Harold is quite a runner,” said Mrs. Day. “He wins most of the races he enters. In the spring term athletics at King’s Cathedral School he won nine of the ten events and was declared Victor Ludorum. His 'four' also did well in the rowing event.''

Harold, looking uncomfortable, made a point of changing the subject.

It was almost five o'clock when the girls took their leave to cycle the rest of the way home. They talked as they rode along. Harold had made quite an impression on them, but he was too young to be considered as husband material. They speculated on the fun of joint wedding ceremonies, but there was no mention of which of them would marry Harold, and which John.