The Bobbin Girls (46 page)

One evening as they ate their supper by the fire, Rob told her that before they started the next burn, he must leave her for a little while. ‘No more than a day or two. Three at most.’

‘Why?’ The prospect of being alone again filled her with disquiet. She never thought about the strange rustlings, or the sensation of eyes watching her from the forest, when she was with Rob. Nor had she mentioned these fancies to him, not wanting it to sound as if she were complaining. But now she did think of them, and felt a shiver up her spine.

Rob was saying, ‘We need markets for our products. We’ve a good stock pile of pegs, besoms and hurdles. Now we must find a buyer.’

‘Can’t we ask Isaac, or Sam the carter?’

‘They’ve suggested one or two possibilities for me to try, certainly, but I need to go and get the orders, Alena. I can’t expect them to develop my business for me. It’s important I get out and see people myself. And there’s a meeting in Ulverston I should attend, concerning ship’s fenders. I need to find out exactly what sizes they want, how many the government will buy off me.’

Alena saw his point and began to make suggestions. ‘You could try some ironmongers while you’re there. See if they would be interested in taking our hurdles or clothes props, or if there’s anything else needed. And we could perhaps sell alder for clog soles to the shoe-maker.’

Rob nodded. ‘Then there’ll be the bark for tanning next summer. I need to find out about all these things. After that I must hurry back, because before winter comes we need to build a shelter under which we can work. There’s so much to do.’

‘Then I shall come with you and help.’ She was getting up, tidying away the supper things as if she meant to go that very moment. Rob put a gentle hand on her arm. ‘No, Alena. It’s difficult enough without our own transport, and we must rely on Sam for the moment. I can go much quicker alone. I’ll be back before you miss me, I promise.’

And since there was sense in his argument, she reluctantly had to accept it.

‘Go and visit Lizzie.’

She shook her head. ‘She’s coming to see me tomorrow.’

‘Then go home with her. Have a break for a day or two.’

Alena laughed. ‘You mean, sleep in a proper bed for once?’

‘And enjoy a proper bath. Why not?’

It seemed so much more preferable to staying alone in the forest, that she agreed. When Lizzie came the next afternoon, she found, to her delight, her daughter with a bag packed ready to come home on a visit.

At first it felt good to be back in Ma’s kitchen with its familiar smells of Lancashire hot pot and ginger cake, and Lizzie enjoyed spoiling her daughter, if only for a day or two. They talked endlessly, not least about Harry and Sandra, now married and settling to life in a new country. They drank gallons of tea, and even had a noisy family gathering with Jim and his family there, Kit - very much a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor now - and Dolly and Tom, proudly showing off their beautiful new baby daughter.

‘Doesn’t she have Tom’s eyes?’

‘And Dolly’s cheeky grin.’ It was good to see them all so content. But by the third morning of her short holiday, Alena was feeling almost claustrophobic. Missing the openness of the forest and the sweetness of their glade, she began to pack her bag.

Lizzie knew better than to try and delay her, seeing she was itching to be back with Rob again. Alena had scarcely talked of anything else since she arrived. At the door Lizzie enveloped her daughter in one warm hug. ‘You’ll come again if it gets a bit too cold?’

‘I will, Ma. But don’t worry. We’re very cosy in our hut, and we’re building up a good business. We’ll do all right.’

‘The end cottage is empty, the one old Edith had. She’s passed on, you know.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Edith was a good friend to me.’
 

‘She’d be right glad for you to take it on. You could get your old job back at the bobbin mill and Rob could still work in the forest, only nearer home.’

‘I don’t want my old job back. We like it in the forest.’

‘But you can’t carry on living in that once the bairn is born. Babies need special care. And I’d help you look after it.’

Alena gasped. ‘How did you ... ?’

Lizzie beamed with delight. ‘I’m your mother. Besides, I’ve a bit of experience in that department myself. I doubt anybody would say a word about your coming back to the village. Not even Mickey. All water under the bridge now, eh? He never mentions you. And it would mean we could be neighbours.’

Alena gripped her mother’s hand as, for a moment, she was sorely tempted. ‘I can’t make such a decision on my own, Ma. We’ll need to talk about it.’

‘You don’t mind my speaking up?’

‘Of course I don’t. I miss you too. Don’t worry, we’ll sort something out.’ Her mother having put her finger on Alena’s greatest concern, they parted on a somewhat subdued note. Jim ran her back as far as the clearing and she walked the rest of the way, almost running and jumping over fallen branches, in her eagerness to be back. She’d stayed with her mother longer than she’d meant to but hoped that Rob would be back by now, wondering where she was.

The glade was empty. The pitstead looked stark and cold with no burn in progress. The hut felt damp and smelt of mildew. A lump came to her throat, and in that moment Alena felt so lonely and painfully vulnerable that the thought of a cottage in Birkwith Row had never seemed more appealing.

Then she remembered the pat of butter, knuckle of ham, fresh bread and slab of fruit cake that Lizzie had packed. What was she worrying about? Rob hadn’t given her a definite time for his return. He could walk into the glade at any moment. It certainly wouldn’t do for him to find the place in a mess, and no supper to eat.

Singing loudly to combat the soft shush of the tree tops, she had the fire going in no time and the kettle singing. Outside, night was drawing in and she decided that he wasn’t coming tonight, so she sat on the bed to eat a crusty ham sandwich, a slice of the fruit cake, and drink a mug of scalding tea. Then, tired from the excitement of her short holiday, Alena fell instantly asleep.

When she woke next morning she found a hedgehog had eaten most of Lizzie’s butter, a badger had apparently walked off with the bread, and the ham had been knocked to the floor where it was all covered in dust. She’d forgotten to store everything away in their special tins before she fell asleep. It was then that she burst into tears, and found she had to run outside where she was promptly sick over a patch of nettles. Of course it was only the baby, making its presence felt, but somehow, without Rob, living in the forest was no fun at all.

It was as she was washing her face in the refreshing cold waters of the beck, that she heard the crack of a twig and a footfall behind her.

`Rob! She whirled around, eager to run into his arms. But it wasn’t Rob who stood behind her. It was Mickey.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘Aren’t you going to offer me a cup of coffee?’

Alena was staring at him as if he were a ghost, unable to believe her eyes. ‘I’ve only got tea.’

‘That would go down a treat.’ He grinned at her, at least she thought he grinned, remembering how his mouth curled naturally upward at the corners.

Mickey Roscoe was the last person she had expected, or wanted, to see here in their forest home. Alena felt so flustered she could hear her own heartbeat as she went to put the kettle on. What could he want? Why had he come? Her feelings towards him had changed completely since his outburst in Lizzie’s kitchen and his refusal to let her go. His feelings for her were certainly bordering on the obsessional. It stemmed no doubt from his longing for the stability his unsettled life had failed to provide. Alena had clearly been an essential part of his dream, as if he could possess her as James Hollinthwaite had once possessed Olivia.

He followed her into the hut and it had never seemed more cramped. ‘Best if you wait outside. There isn’t room to swing a cat in here,’ she said, trying to disguise her anxiety with a laugh, but it only came out forced and brittle.

‘I can see that.’ He eyed the rumpled bed that filled most of the space. Alena expected him to say how he could have offered her so much more, but he simply smiled, and said nothing.

They sat and drank their tea on the fallen log, though it was cool outside in the morning sunshine. Alena, struggling to suppress a shiver in case he should think she was nervous, offered him a slice of toast or Lizzie’s cake, anything to cover this increasing awkwardness.

‘It’s Rob I’ve come to see, in point of fact, he said, finally answering her unspoken question. ‘I’ve news of his father.’

For some reason she didn’t want him to know that Rob was away, or that she’d no idea when he would be back, so she volunteered to pass on the message. Mickey bluntly and concisely related how James Hollinthwaite had started on the felling. ‘I took over the campaign when Sandra left, you know.’

‘Yes, Ma told me.’

‘Not that anyone was interested in it then. But now even his own bobbin workers are up in arms, willing to risk their livelihoods to fight him. There’s dozens of ‘em in the forest with clubs, even air-rifles. There’ll be a riot if something isn’t done.’ He cast her a sideways glance, noting the shocked expression on her face and wondering if he’d overdone it. ‘But then, the woodsmen he’s hired have started in the most scenic place.’

‘Where?’ She hardly dared ask.

‘That ancient oak in Low Birk Coppice. Remember it?’

How could she ever forget? The old oak.
Their
oak. James Hollinthwaite had chosen it deliberately as revenge against them for their elopement. Having imparted his devastating news Mickey suddenly seemed anxious to take his leave. ‘You’ll tell Rob when he gets home, will you? Only we’re hoping he can talk some sense into his father.’ He set down the cup, thanked her for the tea and turned to go.
 

Alena found her voice at last. ‘When? When will the oak be felled?’

He frowned, looking anxiously over his shoulder, and she wondered if he was perhaps nervous of meeting Rob, and almost found the thought amusing. ‘Soon. Tomorrow, the day after, perhaps even this very afternoon. I’m not sure, but it’s vital young Hollinthwaite does what he can to stop it or his father will go through the entire woodland like a knife through butter.’

‘But what can Rob do?’

Mickey could feel himself growing impatient. Yet he smiled, for he knew it was important to hold her confidence. ‘He’s Hollinthwaite’s son, for Christ’s sake. He must still have some influence. No one else has.’ Then slicking back his hair in that familiar gesture she knew so well, he added in a softer voice, ‘You’re looking well, Alena.’ Her skin was pale silk against the fire of her hair and his fingers itched to stroke it.

‘Thank you.’

‘But this isn’t the place for you, not with winter coming on. What is that man thinking of to keep you here?’ He took a step towards her.

‘I’m very well, thank you. I’m sorry, Mickey - for the mess.’ He could see the soft rise and fall of her breast with her quickened breathing. Did he still excite her? He should have made her his years ago. He attempted a shrug. ‘That’s life, as they say. If you ever need help...’ He almost reached for her then but stopped himself in time. It was too soon. He must wait a little longer. After a moment’s hesitation, he thrust his hands deep in his pockets, pushed back his shoulders, jerked his chin by way of farewell and swung away, vanishing into the forest from whence he had come.

It took some time but in the end Alena persuaded Rob that he must go. He insisted on hearing, word for word, what Mickey had said, and what she had said to him; how she had felt when she saw him, whether he had commented on their elopement. Alena finally lost patience, not in the mood today for playing on his jealousy.

‘What does it matter? We have to stop James from destroying Ellersgarth Woods and Low Birk Coppice.’

‘He won’t listen to me.’

‘We must make him listen! We have to save our lovely old tree, and all the other trees that are neither dead nor dying. He can’t be allowed to get away with this.’

‘Then I shall go and try, one last time, to reason with him. But you must stay here.’ When she made to protest, he silenced her with the touch of one finger. ‘No, Alena. If there’s to be trouble, as there was the last time he attempted this, I want you safely here, not in the midst of a riot. So for once, be a good girl and do as you’re told.’

It was only after he had gone, sweeping the undergrowth aside and striding away like a young Lochinvar, that she realised her reason for not disagreeing had been the baby growing inside her, and she hadn’t even had time to tell him.

James knew he had lost the fight to separate his son from Alena Townsen, and to turn him into the kind of man he might admire, just as he had failed in the unequal task of moulding his wife into a woman who would give him the respect and admiration he deserved. He’d no intention of surrendering his ambitions as well. A man found evidence of his worth in his possessions. That had ever been James’s creed and he’d no intention of changing it now. He was destined to be rich, and would not tolerate any other course, certainly not one forced upon him by the rabble before him.

The men carried clubs and sticks, faces grimly set, and some of the women had even climbed up into the branches of the old oak, stubbornly refusing to budge. He knew them all. Jack Turner from The Stag; Arthur, who’d been a useless foreman; the Townsen brothers, of course; Bill Lindale, his own manager for God’s sake, heading a crew of sour-looking individuals. Annie Cockcroft, Mary Jane Linklater and Minnie Hodgson and their cronies. Dolly, who’d shared a whisky and other delights with him, her stupid mother, Maggie Sutton. Even Mrs Rigg in her floral pinny. The stand-off had lasted a day and a night and James was sick of it. He hated them all, every one.