In June 1938 I met George Brookshaw. He lived at Shavington. The house was only small, but there was an enormous piece of land surrounding it, where they grew flowers and vegetables, kept two pigs, lots of hens, and George’s father grew prize-winning sweet peas. Their sideboard was overflowing with silver cups and trophies of all kinds that he had won at various shows.
I went to Shavington one night when Mr. Brookshaw had just finished cutting the choicest blooms to take to the Royal Show next day. They were all in large glass jars, stacked on tiered shelves in a shed kept for the purpose. Each jar contained one colour. Lavender, pale pink, deep rose pink, white, salmon pink, and a very deep red, which looked almost, black. The flowers were an enormous size, and the perfume from them was glorious. They were a magnificent sight and he well deserved the first prize, which he won with them. Even now when I smell sweet peas I’m seventeen again and standing in Brookshaw’s shed!
Both Mr. Brookshaw and George worked on the Railway. George did not like it much and would have preferred to work outside with the flowers, but there was not much money to be made doing that, so it had to remain a hobby. He had two older sisters and two younger brothers. It was a coincidence that the elder sister, Hilda was married to a ‘Noel Clarke’; they lived in Carlisle at that time, but seemed to move around a lot.
The other sister Beatty, was married to a chemist, John Williams, he worked in Boots. They lived in a modern bungalow on the main road at Shavington. They had a little boy, Brian, and seemed to be happy, but a few years later I heard that Beatty had left John, and they were being divorced. George and I used to go to the pictures, and for walks around Shavington, which was very pretty then. It seems now to be almost totally covered with new houses and bungalows, even the land where Brookshaw’s grew the lovely flowers is now part of a modern estate!
I was very fond of George but was not ready to think seriously of settling down with anyone, furthermore I was spending all my days with Stan and I was also very fond of him too. Whether the feeling was mutual, I did not know then.
We sometimes went for a drive round Maer and Blackbrook, calling at the Sheet Anchor at Whitmore on the way back, where Stan would go in and bring two small ports out to the car. Nice girls were not taken into pubs those days! We did not often have trips out though, there was never much time, the shop was so busy, and there seemed so much to do after the shop had closed. We had quite a varied staff. Joyce Shaw was one who came at that time, and though she did not stay very long, it was a friendship that was to last, and we still meet, from time to time even now that we are retired. She is three years younger than me. She went to live in the Isle of Man with her aunty who had a business there, and in fact she spent all the war years there. Then came Marjorie Henshall, Joan Clews, and Mary Twemlow. We were a good team and worked well together and had a lot of fun.