Chapter Thirty-Two

Everything had been a whirlwind since Betsy’s announcement four weeks ago. And now, as if that was only yesterday, here they were on this late August day in the little Scottish Free Church.

Mags couldn’t believe this day had come. She stood behind Betsy and Angus, side-by-side with Susan and Ciss, who were dressed in identical lilac, long satin frocks to the one she wore. In front of them stood Daisy, Florrie and Rosie, dressed in the same colour but different designs, and, sat in her pram, little Beth, who hadn’t been left out, was clothed in a baby version of the same frock that the girls wore. Susan had made them all. She was a wonderful seamstress.

Betsy looked lovely in her long cream-lace gown and a huge hat of lilac – the hat was one of Mags’s that had started life as a plain straw summer bonnet, but was now swathed in the same lilac satin that the frocks were made of.

Angus stood proudly by Betsy’s side, dressed in a kilt of his family’s tartan, and had treated them to a little jig while they had waited outside the church for Betsy to arrive. Happiness and joy shone from him.

Mags sighed, as memories tried to assail her, and regrets of the wedding she never had to Montel, but she placed them in a compartment inside her heart for now. This was Betsy’s day – one she so deserved.

Susan, too, was planning a similar day in the future. Rory, on hearing of Angus proposing, had promptly gone down on one knee and proposed to her! So it was wedding bells all round. They weren’t having their day until Mags returned from France, but all four would be making the changes to the house that would suit them.

Mags thought of her own home: a five-bedroomed house standing in its own grounds on the Darwen road out of Blackburn, which her solicitor had found for her and was so convenient for the mill in Darwen. The house was in need of renovation, but there were some rooms that she and Beth could move into. At the moment these were being given a fresh coat of paint, and some of the furniture would be moved into them in readiness for her move.

Everything was now sorted, regarding the sale of her family home, and on her last visit to Blackburn, Mags had had productive meetings with her bank, and with the manager of the mill. The latter she’d found to be a very capable man, one she felt confident to leave in charge while she took her long-awaited trip to France – something that Betsy’s plans had delayed. Mags knew, though, that on her return she had a long, hard road to travel to get the mill solvent again, and she had been cautioned that the cotton industry was experiencing a slide, which she was already aware of, but her answer had been, ‘Those who survive will be all the stronger, and I intend to survive!’ But the best part of that trip had been making sure that Ciss knew of Betsy’s wedding plans, as Betsy had been anxious that a letter might not reach her in time.