Tangled Threads
Authors: Margaret Dickinson
Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #General
Margaret Dickinson
PAN BOOKS
1900
‘I saw you with him near Bernby Covert,’ Jimmy Hardcastle teased his sister when he brought the cows into the byre for evening milking. ‘Wait ’til
I tell our mam.’ He paused for greater effect and then added, ‘and Dad.’
Eveleen grabbed hold of him, her fingers digging into his skinny arm. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she hissed.
Jimmy laughed disdainfully as he twisted free of her grasp. ‘Stephen Dunsmore’ll never marry the likes of you. Oh, he might get you into trouble, but then he’d be off like a
rabbit with a ferret on its tail.’
Eveleen’s eyes narrowed. ‘What about you getting some poor girl into trouble? I’ve heard about you chasing after Alice Parks. I don’t think Mam’ll be best pleased
to hear about that either.’
‘She wouldn’t believe you.’
The brother and sister glared at each other. They were remarkably alike. Seeing them together for the first time, strangers could be forgiven for mistaking them for twins. They were equal in
height, even though Jimmy, at sixteen, was a year younger than his sister. They had the same dark brown eyes and the same well-shaped nose that on Eveleen was maybe just a fraction too large for
true beauty. Their mouths were wide and generous and usually stretched in ready laughter. They even had the same curly hair, a rich chestnut colour, but while Jimmy’s was cut short,
Eveleen’s was a cloud of tangled curls about her face. Though she brushed it one hundred times every night in front of the speckled mirror in the privacy of her bedroom, she could never quite
tame it into neatness.
‘But I have got nice eyes,’ she would murmur. Eveleen’s soft and gentle eyes, fringed with long dark lashes, belied a mischievous spirit which her mother, however hard she
tried, could not quite quell.
‘Besides,’ Jimmy went on, ‘if anyone said I’d fathered a child—’ he stepped back out of her reach as he added, ‘I’d say it wasn’t
mine.’
Eveleen gasped. ‘You wouldn’t!’
‘’Course I would. It’s what all the lads’d do. Ted told me.’
Ted Morton was twenty and, in Eveleen’s opinion, not a good influence on her brother. Ted flirted with her, but Eveleen kept him at arm’s length. Literally, for he had never been
able even to steal a kiss. She never gave him the chance though she always managed to answer his saucy comments with good-humoured teasing. She had no wish to fall out with Ted. They had grown up
together and their fathers, living and working on the same farm estate, were good friends. But Ted Morton was not for her.
Now Stephen Dunsmore, she was thinking, he’s a different matter. Her knees trembled at the mere thought of him.
Jimmy’s voice broke into her daydreaming. ‘It’s different for a girl. If you got in the family way, Mam’d go daft. ’Specially if it was with
him
. You know
what she’s like about “knowing our place”.’ The youth gave a fair impression of their mother’s prim tones. ‘And she wouldn’t think you walking out with our
employer’s son was “seemly”.’
‘Why ever not?’ Eveleen flashed back. ‘Stephen’s father and our dad used to work side by side in the fields and their fathers before them.’
‘I know all about Dad’s tales,’ Jimmy mocked. ‘But now we work
for
’em, not
with
’em.’ There was resentment in Jimmy’s tone and it
deepened as he went on. ‘You don’t see Mr Dunsmore getting his hands dirty nowadays and as for Master Stephen, all he’s good for is riding about the estate all day in his posh
clothes handing out his orders. I bet he doesn’t even know
how
to milk a cow. He’s never had to work from morning ’til night like our dad.’
To that, Eveleen had no reply. What Jimmy said was true. Ernest Dunsmore, his wife and their son Stephen lived in a large mansion, Fairfield House, just across the fields from the
Hardcastles’ home. They had live-in servants and all the men employed on their farm lived in tied farmhouses or cottages. And yet Eveleen had always thought of Stephen as one of them. As a
young boy, home for the holidays from boarding school, on warm summer evenings he had joined the games of the children living on his family’s farmland. In the field behind the big house
leading down to the beck he had run races with them and played tiggy-off-ground, leaping onto tree stumps or hanging from the branches of trees to avoid being caught and tigged. Then, as the balmy
evenings had shadowed into dusk and the younger children had been called in, he had held Eveleen’s hand and walked her home.
But now they were grown and when they met he held her in his arms and kissed her. He did not walk her home any more in case they were seen. By mutual, silent consent, their recent meetings had
been secret.
Until this moment.
‘We were only talking,’ she said now to Jimmy, mentally crossing her fingers.
‘Oh aye?’ Jimmy sneered. ‘Why were you hiding in the trees then?’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, a swagger in his step. He called back over his
shoulder. ‘You wait ’til I tell ’em at suppertime.’
His shrill, nonchalant whistling echoed round the yard as he walked towards the barn.
Eveleen stared after him. There was nothing she could do. If Jimmy carried out his threat then she was going to be in trouble.
At the supper table, Eveleen pushed the food around her plate. Her appetite had deserted her. Was Jimmy really going to carry out his threat?
‘What’s the matter, love?’ Walter Hardcastle asked his daughter. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
At their father’s tender concern for her, Eveleen saw the spark of jealousy in her brother’s eyes and before she could answer, Jimmy said, ‘She’s in love. That’s
what’s up with her.’
Mary, coming in from the scullery carrying a plate of buttered plum bread, heard only her son’s remark. ‘What’s that? Some girl got her eye on you, Jimmy?’ She sat down
next to him and nudged him playfully. ‘Well, I’m not surprised. A handsome young man like you. She’ll be a lucky girl to get you for a husband.’
Eveleen, despite her growing fear, exchanged a glance with her father and they both had to control their laughter as they saw the horrified expression on Jimmy’s face. ‘Married?
Me?’ he spluttered.
‘Give the lad time, Mary,’ Walter said.
Mary smiled at her son, reached out and smoothed back the hair from his forehead. ‘I’m only teasing, love. I don’t want to lose you yet a while.’
Playing up to her as always, Jimmy said artfully, ‘I’ll never find anyone who can cook as good as you, Mam.’
‘Oh, go on with you,’ Mary said, but her cheeks were pink with pleasure. It was only as she turned to her daughter that her tone sharpened. ‘Eveleen, eat your
supper.’
Beneath the table, Eveleen swung her foot to kick his shins, but Jimmy kept his feet tucked under his chair. He said no more and, as the meal ended and she began to clear away the dishes,
Eveleen thought she had escaped.
With the sigh of a weary man at the end of a long working day, Walter Hardcastle lowered himself into the wooden chair at the side of the range. He leaned his head against the back of the chair
and closed his eyes. Eveleen watched him for a moment, concern in her dark eyes.
Her father was a tall, thin man with a slight stoop. At forty-three his once dark hair was prematurely grey and deep lines gouged his weather-beaten face. He had removed his heavy boots but
still wore the striped shirt, black trousers and waistcoat that were his working clothes. As he warmed his aching feet against the fender, he gave another sigh, but this time it was one of
contentment.
Eveleen smiled fondly and quietly began to stack the dishes.
Mary fussed around her husband, setting his pipe and tobacco tin within easy reach before she took off the long white apron she had worn all day and sat down opposite him. Then she picked up her
pillow lace and bent her head over her work.
Mary looked much younger than Walter although only three years separated them. Her brown hair, pulled back into a neat bun, had only wisps of grey at the temples. The blue and black striped
blouse fitted her still slim figure, assisted to even greater shapeliness by her tightly laced corset, and her neat waist was accentuated by a wide belt fastened with silver clips. But there were
lines of strain around her blue eyes and her mouth was often pursed with disapproval. Eveleen, carrying the dishes out into the scullery, knew she was often the focus of this disapproval.
As she passed Jimmy, still hovering near the door, Eveleen hissed, ‘Well, go if you’re going.’
Jimmy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. ‘When I’m good an’ ready.’
‘Jimmy,’ came Mary’s voice. ‘Close the door, dear. There’s a draught round my feet.’
‘I’m off out, Mam. To Ted’s.’ He knew there would be no objection to him visiting the Mortons just down the lane.
Mary glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the range. ‘Half an hour, then.’ She smiled indulgently at him. ‘Make sure you’re home by ten.’
Jimmy would take no notice. Eveleen knew she would hear him creeping up the stairs at midnight or later, but she would not tell tales of him. She was holding her breath now, willing him to say
no more and go. But her brother was not so loyal.
‘I reckon Master Stephen is sweet on our Eveleen,’ he said into the comfortable peace of the room. ‘Can’t think why. I’ve seen better clothes on that scarecrow
Ted’s put up in Ten Acre Field.’
Mary’s fingers were suspended, momentarily idle, above the pillow lace. Eveleen held her breath as her mother glanced at her. Mary’s mouth was suddenly tight.
Eveleen laughed nervously and said quickly, ‘He’s teasing, Mam.’
‘I hope so.’ The creases between Mary’s eyebrows deepened.
‘So why’s this part of the farm suddenly needing a great deal of Master Stephen’s attention these days?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Could be he’s keeping an eye on you,’ Eveleen countered. ‘Just making sure you’re not slipping off to flirt with one of the milkmaids. Alice, for
instance.’
‘You’re the only milkmaid in our crewyard,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘And it’s not me doing the flirting.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ Eveleen muttered. He had deliberately ensnared her in a web of trouble.
‘I’m off,’ Jimmy said airily. ‘I’ll let you know, Evie, if he’s lurking about the cowhouse waiting to catch sight of you.’ Then he was gone, slamming
the door behind him. They heard his whistling fade as he walked across the yard and out into the lane.
Walter opened his eyes and lifted his head. ‘Dun’t that lad know how to shut a door quietly?’ he murmured, but without real irritation. He began to close his eyes and lean back
again, but Mary had no intention now of letting him rest.
‘Did you hear what Jimmy said?’ she demanded and then snapped at Eveleen. ‘And just you put those plates down, miss, and come back here. I want an explanation.’
Eveleen set the plates near the sink in the scullery and, taking a deep breath, returned to the kitchen.
She heard her father’s deep sigh as he said, ‘What’s the matter now?’
‘Jimmy says Master Stephen’s sweet on Eveleen.’ The words were repeated scathingly, as if such a thing could not, should not, be possible. ‘I won’t have it, Walter.
I won’t have her getting ideas above herself. It’ll all end in tears.’ Mary leant towards him, her gaze holding his as she added meaningfully, ‘You know it will.’
Walter leant forward in his chair, his kindly, concerned glance upon his daughter. ‘Has Stephen Dunsmore been bothering you, Eveleen?’