The happy couple honeymooned in Torquay in the south of England. To ensure that the ride was easy on his bride, Ernest purchased a sidecar for his motorbike, and their luggage was stored in it, but leaving a little room so that Gerty could sit in it for a while if she tired of riding pillion. The days up to their wedding were very busy, so once they arrived in Torquay, they did some sight seeing and were glad to relax in the sea air under a sunny sky.
A month before the wedding, they had rented a small cottage on Stonebridge Lane in Old Farnley. It had been empty for some time, and smelled musty from disuse. Gerty had fallen in love with it at first sight. It was built around 1770, at the same time as its neighbour, the Nag's Head public house, which was just up the street from the Wesleyan Methodist Church. The outer walls of the dwelling were at least eight inches thick. A beautiful window with a wide ledge, deep enough to sit on, overlooked the corner where Hall Lane and Stonebridge Lane met. Primitive indoor plumbing graced the tiny bathroom and there was running water in the kitchen, but nothing else had been touched. The house was simply crying out for some tender loving care.
They enlisted the help of Ernest's brother Tommy and his girlfriend Lily, Ernest's sister Emily and her husband Harold, plus Gerty's sisters Beaty, Laura and Kathleen, and they all willingly joined in the painting, sweeping, scrubbing and polishing it required. Gerty made curtains for all the windows, Ernest's parents gave them one of their small carpets to lay over the stone floor, and Gerty's father brought fresh flowers from his allotment garden. A new double bed, a small oak sideboard with matching table and four chairs, and a living room suite took all of their savings, but everything was fully paid for. Much fun and laughter accompanied all this work, and they were both very grateful for the help--and very happy with the outcome.
Life continued apace for Gerty and Ernest. They continued to work hard, saved as much as they could for a house of their own "in the future," enjoyed their lovely little home, and discovered they had a knack for entertaining. Nothing fancy--but friends and family were always welcome and visited frequently. Gerty's cousin Agnes bought a house and lived just across the street with her husband Sidney and young daughter Norma.
One day, Lily, now Tommy's fiancee, sought out Gerty. "I just want to tell you that there's a woman who's nobbling Ernest," she said gravely. "I popped into Taylor's Chemist Shop yesterday, and there was your Ernest leaning across the counter talking to a blonde with a big bust, and she was flirting with him like mad. I understand this is not the first time, either--usually around 5 o'clock," she ended with a flourish. Gerty thought it over, and decided to follow up. A couple of days later, at 5 p.m. on the dot, she stood in front of Taylor's and looked through the shop window. Sure enough, there was Ernest laughing and talking with the blonde with the big bust. Gerty opened the door, and as the bell tinkled to sound the entrance of a customer, the blonde turned and looked at her, then said brightly, "I'll just step back so you can serve this lady, Ernest." And she smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. Throwing back her head, Gerty loudly declared, "I am no lady, I am his wife!"
The blonde's smile faded, and she hurriedly left the shop. Ernest blushed and stammered, but Gerty silently turned and went home. History once again has nothing to say about a conversation in which Gerty took an important part, but Lily told Thomas Ambrose, who read his errant son the riot act. He ended by pointing out that Ernest was very lucky to have a good wife like Gerty, and that he fully expected to hear no more about any such caddish behavior. Case closed.
A little over a year later, and on a beautiful summer day in 1938, Ernest and Gerty took a walk from Old Farnley to New Farnley along Lawns Lane. Across from what was then known as Quarry House, they saw the foundations of fourteen new semi-detached homes. The builder himself happened to be there, checking on his crew and the work they were carrying out. The young couple stopped to chat with him, and found out that each home would cost three hundred pounds with a ten percent deposit. Every few days thereafter, they walked by to watch the progress--with longing in their eyes. "You're a nice young couple," the builder remarked one day, "and I think you'd like to buy one, wouldn't you?" "Yes, sir," said Ernest eagerly, "But we hadn't planned on buying a house so soon, and besides, we don't have thirty pounds saved up yet." "If you're really keen," said the builder, "I will lend you thirty pounds, interest free, and you can pay me back at one pound a week for thirty weeks. Can you manage that?" After a hurried consultation about the state of their finances, Ernest whispered, "What do you think, Trudy?" "We can manage," she said, and so the deal was made--and kept--over a simple handshake.
In the autumn of 1938, Gerty and Ernest proudly moved into their brand new home, but there was an underlying apprehension in the air that was threatening to grow ever larger. The winds of war were beginning to blow in from the east. (to be continued)
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