Tangled Threads (46 page)

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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

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BOOK: Tangled Threads
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And yet . . .

‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me,’ Eveleen confided in Dorothy one day when she had pushed the perambulator down the track to Furze Farm to sit
in the warm kitchen over a cup of tea.

‘I s’pect you’re missing the bright city lights.’

Eveleen laughed. ‘I didn’t get the chance to see any “bright lights”,’ she said. Then her smile faded. ‘But do you know, I do miss it. The noise and the
bustle.’

‘And the people?’ Dorothy prompted gently.

‘Well, maybe one or two,’ Eveleen said carefully.

There was silence between them, the only sound in the kitchen the settling of the fire in the range and the kettle singing on the hob, until Dorothy, changing the subject, said, ‘I
don’t expect you’ve heard.’ She was beaming. ‘Our Ted and Alice Parks have got engaged.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful news,’ Eveleen said sincerely.

‘Alice is so happy. Planning her trousseau and collecting bits and pieces for her bottom drawer.’ Dorothy cleared her throat and glanced at Eveleen. ‘They’re getting
married next month.’

Eveleen spoke without thinking, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. ‘Next month?’

Dorothy nodded. ‘Yes, it’s a bit sudden, but then Alice’s dad is holding a shotgun to our Ted’s head.’ To Eveleen’s surprise Dorothy was laughing as she
added, ‘If you know what I mean.’

Eveleen’s eyes widened and then she said tartly, ‘Well, I hope Ted doesn’t run off like our Jimmy.’

‘He won’t,’ Dorothy said firmly. ‘He’s really looking forward to being a dad, even though they are both a bit young.’

‘He’s changed then,’ Eveleen murmured.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Oh nothing,’ Eveleen said evasively. She could hardly tell Dorothy of the advice that Ted had once handed out to Jimmy. Obviously he was no longer following his own counsel.

‘You – you don’t seem to mind,’ Eveleen said hesitantly.

‘There’s not a lot me and Bill could say. Our Ted was born only six months after we were wed. And he was a full-term baby.’

‘Oh,’ was all Eveleen could say but the comical look of confusion on her face made Dorothy burst out laughing.

There was someone coming down the track that led to Pear Tree Farm: a slim young woman, holding up her skirt to pick her way daintily around the puddles. Eveleen, emerging from
the cowhouse, a bucket of milk in each hand, paused to watch her. The girl reached the gate, lifted her head and looked about her.

A wide smile spread across Eveleen’s face and she almost dropped the buckets to the ground in her haste to reach her visitor. Her arms flung wide, she ran towards the gate calling out a
greeting.

‘Helen! Oh, Helen.’

‘Eveleen!’

Their shrieks of joy, their laughter and the tumult of questions they fired at each other brought Josh and Mary out of the house. Linking her arm through her friend’s, Eveleen drew her
towards the house. ‘Mam, Josh, look who’s here.’

Josh came forward, smiling and holding out his callous-hardened hand. As Helen’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, Josh chuckled, ‘Yes, mi duck, it’s really
me.’

As she put her small hand into his, the girl said candidly, ‘You look marvellous. So – so . . .’

‘Much thinner,’ Josh beamed and they all laughed.

‘Come in, come in, love,’ Mary said. ‘We haven’t met before, have we? But I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘This is my mam,’ Eveleen made the introductions. ‘And the little madam who’s making all the noise is Bridie.’

They went into the house and Mary picked up the baby. ‘You’re hungry, my little precious, aren’t you? There, there,’ she crooned.

‘You sit down, love. I’ll make her feed,’ Josh said, heading for the scullery.

Eveleen could not hide her laughter at the astonished look on Helen’s face. ‘Well,’ the girl whispered, anxious not to cause offence. ‘Who’d have thought
it?’

Close to her ear, Eveleen murmured, ‘Who indeed?’

For a moment the two girls watched the happy, domestic scene, then Eveleen said, ‘I’ll show you round.’ She pretended to grimace as she said laughingly, ‘We won’t
get our dinner until mi lady there has got hers. I’ll take the milk into the dairy and then we’ll go for a walk.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘Unless you’re
tired.’

Josh came back into the room as Helen answered, ‘No, no, I’d love to see everything. I don’t get into the countryside very often.’

‘Dinner in half an hour then. If your mam hasn’t finished feeding Bridie, I’ll get it ready.’

The two girls exchanged another glance and hid their smiles.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ Helen fished in the bag she carried and pulled out a dog-eared postcard. ‘I’ve something for you. Win said this came to the house you had in
Foundry Yard.’

Eveleen took the card in her hand and turned it over. She drew in a breath sharply, making a little startled sound of surprise so that Mary and Josh looked up.

Eveleen raised her gaze to meet her mother’s eyes. ‘Oh, Mam, it’s from Jimmy.’

‘Jimmy!’

Eveleen nodded.

In Mary’s arms the baby squirmed and protested. She could see the bottle but it wasn’t coming to her mouth quickly enough.

‘There, there, my pet,’ Mary soothed and in a moment Bridie was sucking noisily. Then, quite calmly, Mary said, ‘Well, read it out then.’

‘It doesn’t say much,’ Eveleen looked down at the untidy scrawl. Schoolwork and her brother had never really been good companions. ‘Just “
Dear Mam and Evie, I am
well. Hope you are. I’m seeing the world. Love, Jimmy
”.’

‘Not a word of apology, I suppose?’ Mary asked.

Eveleen shook her head and smiled. ‘I can’t ever remember Jimmy saying he was sorry for anything. Can you?’

‘No,’ Mary said tartly. ‘But it wouldn’t have hurt him. Just once. He owes you that much, Evie, at the very least.’

For a long moment mother and daughter stared at each other. Then to Eveleen’s surprise, tears filled Mary’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Evie, I’m so sorry. So very
sorry. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me.’

Eveleen hurried to her side and put her arms about her mother. Quietly Josh took the baby from Mary, who now clung to Evie and sobbed against her shoulder. ‘I’ve treated you so
badly, even when your poor father was alive.’

Stroking her hair, Eveleen soothed, ‘It’s all over, Mam. All forgotten.’

Mary pulled back a little and smiled through her tears. She patted Eveleen’s shoulder. ‘You’re a good lass, Evie. And I do love you – very much.’

Now it was Eveleen’s turn to feel the tears spilling down her face. Then suddenly they were laughing and crying and hugging each other, until at last Mary said, ‘Go on, love. You go
for a walk with Helen.’ Her smile widened and her words included Josh and the baby. ‘We’re fine here.’

As Eveleen propped the card on the dresser, she murmured, ‘I am glad we’ve heard from him. At least we know he’s well.’

Again she and her mother exchanged a look. Eveleen knew that the arrival of news from Jimmy had completed Mary’s contented world.

‘It’s like something out of a picture book.’ Helen was ecstatic in her praise. ‘Blue sky, green fields, even a stream and trees. Oh I’ve never
seen so many trees.’

They were walking alongside the beck towards the bridge, where they sat on the parapet and watched the water bubbling over the pebbles.

‘Just look at the colours in that water,’ Helen marvelled. ‘Brown against the rocks but there’s blue and green. Even purple.’

Fascinated, she sat watching the rushing water.

‘You make it sound idyllic,’ Eveleen teased. ‘It’s not so lovely in winter, when there’s snow and ice and—’

Helen clapped her hands, ‘Oh, I bet it is. Everywhere covered in white. How pretty it must look.’

‘Pretty pictures, maybe, but not when you have to milk the cows with fingers you can’t feel and trudge through two foot of snow to feed the pigs and—’

‘Stop, stop. You’ll have me crying in a minute.’ They laughed, leaning against each other.

‘Oh it’s good to see you.’ For Eveleen the sight of her friend had brought the touch of the city again: the pavements seething with life, the lighted shops, the bustle and the
noise. She felt a sudden surge of excitement. ‘Tell me,’ she demanded eagerly, ‘what’s been happening?’

‘Well,’ Helen began slowly, with a coy glance. ‘All the women in the workrooms have had a rise in their wages and we’ve been promised a little extra at Christmas. Oh,
he’s so good to us. Any suggestions we want to make for improving our working conditions, he said, we’re to go straight to him.’

Eveleen swallowed and her voice was husky as she asked, ‘Who? Who is this “he” who’s doing such wonderful things?’

Before Helen spoke, Eveleen already knew the answer.

‘Why, Mr Richard, of course. He’s taken on the management of the warehouse now, while his father manages the factory side of things. But even he’s making improvements, they
say.’

So, Eveleen thought, another young man who had been given power over other people’s lives. And yet, from what Helen was telling her . . .

There was the sound of hoofbeats in the lane coming closer and, intrigued, Helen twisted round to watch the horseman approach.

Eveleen kept her gaze fixed steadfastly on the beck, her back turned towards the lane. The rider reined in and Eveleen heard him speak.

‘Good afternoon, ladies. I trust I find you well.’

She heard Helen’s soft chuckle at her side and almost laughed aloud as in a very haughty tone Helen said, ‘You do indeed, sir.’

‘And you, Miss Hardcastle?’

She felt Helen’s sharp elbow in her ribs and her whispered, ‘Evie?’

Slowly Eveleen turned round and looked up into the face of the man on horseback. With a grand gesture she inclined her head and said quietly, ‘I am very well, sir. Thank you.’

Stephen Dunsmore raised his hat and bowed his head towards them. He smiled his most charming smile and said, ‘I bid you good-day, ladies.’ Replacing his hat, he urged his horse
forward. They watched him canter along the lane and turn in at the gates of Fairfield House.

‘What a pompous, stuck-up little prig!’ Helen said.

Eveleen gasped and stared at her friend until Helen laughed and said, ‘Oh I know I’ve only just met him, but I’m pretty good at summing folks up. ’Specially fellers. I
wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was the last man on earth.’ Her merry laughter echoed across the fields as she spluttered, ‘Mind you, whenever I say that me mam always
says, “Don’t worry, you’d be killed in the rush”.’

Eveleen, her gaze still on the empty lane where Stephen had disappeared, said tentatively, ‘How – how can you tell?’

‘Tell what? What he’s like, you mean?’

‘Mm.’

‘He’s got cold eyes and a weak chin. I bet he can be a right charmer when he wants to be, but turn nasty if he didn’t get his own way.’

Suddenly Eveleen was laughing and crying all at the same time. She put her arms around Helen and hugged her close. ‘Oh, Helen, you’re wonderful. I do love you so.’

‘What did I say?’ asked the mystified girl in astonishment.

But Eveleen couldn’t tell her that when she had looked up into Stephen Dunsmore’s face she had felt neither love nor hatred. No swift beating of the heart or trembling at the knees.
No wanting to rush into his embrace or feeling the urge to scratch her nails down his petulant face.

At last she had been able to look at Stephen Dunsmore and feel absolutely nothing.

‘So, when are you going back to Nottingham for good?’ Mary, sitting contentedly by the fire with her pillow lace on her lap, her fingers deftly twisting and weaving
the threads, asked her daughter.

‘Trying to get rid of me, are you?’ Eveleen smiled fondly at her mother and winked at Josh sitting in Walter’s chair reading the newspaper. It didn’t hurt her to see him
in her father’s place. He was a good, kind man – just as Walter had been – and she felt sure that her father would approve of Josh.

‘Of course we are,’ Mary said, laughing. ‘What do I want with a nineteen-year-old daughter around when I’m about to become a blushing bride myself?’

Eveleen gasped and looked from one to the other and back again. Then she leapt to her feet and flung her arms wide, trying to embrace them both at once.

‘Oh when? Have you fixed a date?’

‘We thought next Easter.’

The conversation turned to their plans; plans, Eveleen noticed with a pang, which did not seem to include her.

Her own thoughts drifted. She thought about the city that she had grown to love and the friendly people there. Win and Fred and Helen in particular, but there were others too. She loved
Lincolnshire, the place of her birth, she always would, but she had seen something else now. She had witnessed another kind of life and it had twisted its way into her heart.

Her mother was home where she belonged and she had a good man to care for her once more. What did it matter how that had been achieved? That it had been accomplished was what mattered.

‘Of course if you do decide to go back, we . . .’ Mary hesitated and looked towards Josh who took up her words, ‘We want you to leave Bridie with us, love.’

In that instant Eveleen felt the burden slip from her shoulders. She was free. Free to live her own life.

And, now, she was free to love again.

‘Yes,’ Eveleen murmured and began to smile. ‘You’re right, Mam. My life is back in Nottingham.’

‘Right, that’s settled then,’ Josh said and added, mildly, ‘Give my regards to Mr Richard when you see him.’

From behind his newspaper, he winked across the hearth at his bride-to-be.

 
Tangled Threads

Born in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, Margaret Dickinson moved to the coast at the age of seven and so began her love for the sea and the Lincolnshire landscape.

Her ambition to be a writer began early and she had her first novel published at the age of twenty-five. This was followed by eighteen further titles, including
Plough the Furrow, Sow the
Seed
and
Reap the Harvest,
which made up her Lincolnshire Fleethaven trilogy,
Twisted Strands,
which continues the story begun in
Tangled Threads,
and her latest novel
,
Red Sky in the Morning.

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