John and Jessie

Okay guys, this is an extract from part of a novel. To give you some context: John is a shy man in his twenties, and he met Jessie for the first time yesterday. It is set in 1890.

Mrs Fish/Helen: John's mother
Albert: John's father 

After church he would search for Jessie and hand her cloth back as promised. Suddenly with thought of her, he leapt from the bed, dragging sheets and duvet with him. Eagerly he pulled up his best Sunday clothes: a red shirt, black trousers and a battered, unpolished pair of shoes

Frosted with dirt, was the window in his bedroom, and through it he could see down the hill toward the village. It was a pleasant day outside, mild and dry; a typical Sunday morning. Muffled by the wooden floorboards came the clattered clanging of Mrs Fish as she busied about the kitchen. Every Sunday she would wake before the sun to begin preparing food for lunch. John battered the stairs as he clonked his way down them. The family ate breakfast together and exchanged morning greetings.

After finishing their meal and pottering about the home, they left the cottage and journeyed down the track which ran parallel to the field. Every step was a struggle for Mrs Fish as she battled to keep her long dress above her ankles as. Albert walked slowly with her, but John had other, more important things on his mind, like seeing Jessie, and so naturally raced on ahead.

Eventually, they arrived at the fork where the private farming track meets the main road. Near the gate, in the road was a carriage, its polished brown wood scoring the exterior while, from inside, gold shimmered through the clearest of glass. After looking more carefully, John could see a face in the window. It was Mr Merlin. Albert waved and smiled, which Merlin echoed before stepping confidently out of the carriage. He was dressed well, with a top hat complimenting his slick, trimmed hair. From his waistcoat hung a gleaming gold pocket watch.

“And will my good neighbours be wanting a lift?” Mr Merlin said, his voice deep and well spoken.

“That would be most good of you, sir,” Helen replied, smiling.

“Aye, that is brilliant. Thank you, Andrew,” Albert said, climbing into the carriage, taking a seat on the marvellous leather couch. Merlin held the door for Mrs Fish, his eyes flickering up and down her body as she bent to climb in. He winked slyly at John who stood behind his mother. John saw, but lowered his head to look down at his shuffling hands. He hated Merlin, if only Albert could see what he was: just a rich banker who ironically didn't have a clue what to do with his money; not once he'd found happiness in whores and beer.

Merlin climbed into the carriage behind Helen. John felt into his pocket for Jesse’s cloth. But it was empty except for his hand. Worry filled up in him like a cup of hot tar, as his cheeks reddened to suit his mood.

“I need to go back,” he said. “I've forgotten something.”

“Do you want us to wait for you, young man,” said Merlin.

“Well you should be quick or we'll be late,” Albert moaned.

“No, no. I'll walk down. I shouldn't be long.”

With that, John walked back briskly toward the cottage as the carriage moved away, its wheels crushing against the pebbled dirt.

Back at the cottage, John found the cloth safe and untouched in yesterday's trouser pockets. He left again in a hurry, now five minutes behind his parents. There was no need to lock the door, nobody ever came up this way; no one untrustworthy at least.

With augmented swiftness, John covered the track within a minute. And turning into the road, he saw a figure which made him bite his tongue and recoil with excitement. There she was, once again – Jessie.

“I thought I might find you up here,” she said as she widened her strides to meet with him quicker.

“Yes. How did you know?” he asked. Jessie stopped, running her hands through her hair

“Good morning, John,” she said smiling.

“How did you know where I lived?” John asked again, smiling as waves of excitement and embarrassment crashed against the walls of his skull.

“Oh, I asked at the post office,” she said, smiling

“Are you not going to church?” John asked, quizzically.

“No, I don't very often go. I thought I'd spend the day with you today.” At this, John's face seemed to grow into his eyes as his lips pushed his cheeks upwards.

“I'd love to,” he said enthusiastically. “But I'm expected at church soon.” Jessie's face changed to a look of disappointment as John finished. “I can meet you later?”

“No, John. I want you now. Let's take a walk somewhere and forget about...everything.”

“But church; my parents are expecting me,” he pleaded.

“Your choice,” she said bluntly, and turned away back down the road towards the village.

“Wait,” John said, running slightly to catch her. “I'd love to spend the day with you.”

“Great, come on then,” she said, grabbing his hand firmly, taking to a steady run. They took off down the track which led to Stanhope, with John tiptoeing around the many potholes in the ground. He could hear church bells sounding in the distance, their solemn clang swishing his ears with guilt.

The two arrived at the bottom of the track not ten minutes later, both panting, John's Sunday clothes like sponges under his arms, collecting the fear which poured from him. This was where Albert had departed from John the day previous.

“Where are we going?” John asked, trying to disguise his frequent pants under the canopy of a nervous smile as Jessie took his hand again.

“You'll see. Come on!”

They walked now, along High Street, which ran parallel with Front Street, but was quieter and more secluded. They continued for a couple of minutes, all the time John knowing the direction they were heading – towards the top end of the church, and yet they weren't going to the church. What was going on?

Jessie noticed John's slow in pace as they neared the top of Church Lane, the narrow passageway which ran down the side of the church on to Front Street.

“What if we're noticed?” he asked, trying to keep the fear from his words.

“What if we are. Stop worrying, John. I thought you were a man,” she replied.

“Well, I am,” John uttered defiantly.

“Prove it then. Let's go. Come on.”

They dawdled down Church Lane, with John stopping again half way down. But suddenly, he felt the need to impress her again. What was he doing being such a wimp? He was a man, and Jessie was the first girl to be interested in him. He started to move again, but not walk; run.

He ran. She ran. They ran, down the side of the blurry church. The bottom. Over Front Street they ran. Someone shouted John in the distance. He didn't know who it was. Sounded like his father. They ran down a side street, Jessie right behind, laughing and giggling. John could see water at the bottom: the river which ran around the village. And there they stopped.

“I can't believe you did that,” she said, smiling at John.

“Nor can I,” he replied, smiling, out of breath, laughing, grinning. She kissed him then, on the cheek, warm and wet against his sand-grainy skin. They smiled at each other; soft, happy smiles.

“Shall we take a walk along the river?” delicately taking hold of her hand, he asked. She paused.

“No, let's not. We should sit here for a while, let them lot go into church and then we'll take a walk around, just the two of us.”

They waited under the smooth sunlight for church bells to end, all the while John listening to every word that came from those precious lips as she talked about this and that. It really didn't matter to him what she was saying, just that she was saying something, talking to him.

Minutes passed; the bells stopped with a cloud of reverberation, reaching the two sitting on fallen trees by the river.

“Come on, then,” she said, jumping up from the tree.

“Come on, then,” John mimicked quietly to himself.

They walked back up the road towards the church, John watching intently for any sign of his parents still out looking for him. But they weren't. They would be so angry when he got home.