Twisted Strands (10 page)

Bridie had said no more, but now, seated across the dinner table from her grandmother and Josh, she felt the fear rise in her throat.

‘Who will have to go? Will Micky?’

‘No, no, love,’ Josh smiled at her, though the anxiety did not quite leave his eyes. ‘He’s far too young. I don’t expect it will last very long. A few weeks at the
most.’

In a small voice she said, ‘Micky said his dad’s talking of going.’

‘Ted?’ Mary, in the act of spooning vegetables onto a plate, stared at Bridie. ‘Well, now I’ve heard everything. Mind you, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. He
was a right tearaway when he was young. It’s just the sort of thing he would do.’

‘It’s a very courageous thing to do,’ Josh said, pouring gravy over his food. ‘To volunteer to fight for one’s country. If I was a few years
younger—’

‘Thank God you’re not, then,’ Mary said tartly. Glancing at Bridie, she said, ‘Eat your dinner, child, and let’s have no more talk of war.’

But Bridie was staring at Josh, her eyes large with fear now as she calculated quickly. Her voice trembled as she said, ‘If Micky’s dad’s the right age to go, then – then
so is Andrew.’

Now the three of them stared at each other. Josh nodded soberly, ‘She’s right, y’know. And Richard too. He’s from the sort of family that would be one of the first to
volunteer. See it as their duty to defend their country.’ He reached out and covered Mary’s hand with his large one. ‘And you do realize, love, who might very well be caught up in
this, don’t you?’

She frowned thoughtfully, ‘Well, any of the young fellers. Even Stephen Dunsmore, I suppose.’

‘I was thinking more of someone who is already in the services.’

‘I don’t know who you—’ she began and then she dropped her knife and fork onto her plate with a clatter. Her hands flew to her face as she stared, wide eyed, at Josh.
‘Oh no! No!’

Slowly Josh nodded.

‘Who?’ Bridie asked urgently, her frightened glance darting from one to the other. ‘Who do you mean?’

Now both of them turned to look at her.

‘My Jimmy,’ Mary whispered hoarsely. ‘He’s at sea. In the Royal Navy.’

Bridie gasped. ‘My dad? You mean my dad?’

Sadly Mary nodded, whilst she gripped Josh’s hand so fiercely that her knuckles showed white.

When Richard drove the motor car into the factory, the yard was crowded with workmen. Even some of the women were there instead of in the warehouse at their work.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ Richard exclaimed.

‘We’ll soon find out,’ Eveleen said grimly. ‘There’s Mr Porter pushing his way through to reach us.’

They climbed out of the motor and waited until Bob Porter, the general manager of the factory – the position that had once belonged to Josh Carpenter – reached them.

‘Thank goodness you’ve come, Mr Richard. I can’t get ’em to start work. It’s all this talk of war. It’s got the young fellers that excited. I reckon half of
’em are off to volunteer this minute.’

Richard nodded. ‘I’ll speak to them,’ he said and pushed his way through the throng to reach some steps where he could stand above the crowd. Eveleen and Bob Porter followed in
his wake.

It was a few minutes before he could make himself heard above the hubbub and gain their attention. ‘I know that all of you will be anxious to answer the call of your country, but I would
ask you to continue your work until we hear more news—’

‘Oh aye, thinking it’ll hit your pocket, Mr Richard? That all you can think about?’

Richard regarded the man steadily. ‘It’ll hit us all, Jake, and not only our pockets. All I can say to you now is that, when the right time comes, those of you who wish to volunteer
will go with my blessing. And whilst none of us knows what the uncertain future holds for us, if the company of Reckitt and Stokes still exists at the end of it all, your job will be here for you
when you come back.’

There were mutterings amongst the crowd. ‘He can’t say fairer than that, Jake,’ one voice, raised above the rest, said. ‘Yer’ve got to admit that.’

Jake Morrison, one of the younger twisthands, had the grace to look ashamed.

‘And in the meantime,’ Richard was still speaking, ‘while you are away, the company will do its best to look after the welfare of your families.’

The comments grew louder at their employer’s generous offer. Only Bob Porter, standing beside Eveleen, muttered, ‘I ’ope he knows just what he’s offering.’

But Eveleen was smiling, her eyes bright with tears of pride as she gazed at the tall, handsome and authoritative man who was her husband.

As the men filed into the factory, Richard stepped down and came towards her. ‘Evie, go and talk to the women in the warehouse, will you? Try to reassure them that if their menfolk are
bent on enlisting, we will continue to employ them. The women, I mean.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But just warn them that they might have to do other jobs to keep the factory going.’

Even in this dark moment of uncertainty, Eveleen laughed, relieved even for a brief moment to be able to say with light-hearted teasing, ‘You don’t mean you’d have women
helping to work the machines?’

Richard smiled and touched her cheek and said softly, ‘It’s been done before, hasn’t it?’ He sighed and now he was very serious. ‘And it might very well come to it,
Evie, before we’re through with this.’

Eveleen’s task proved far harder than Richard’s. She was faced with a clamour of fear, even tears from some of the women.

‘My dad was killed in the Boer War. I know what war really means. If they go to war, we’ll never see any of them again.’

‘That’s right. My uncle was killed in that lot, an’ all. I don’t want my young man to go.’

But there were several voices raised in patriotism. ‘Well, I don’t want to be married to a coward. I’d be right proud to see my Bert in uniform. If he goes, I’ll wave him
off with a flag just to show him how much I love him and how proud me and the kids are of him.’

The hubbub grew louder and the arguments flew back and forth. Rather than try to stop it, Eveleen let the women have their say.

Joining Helen at the end of the room, she said, ‘Let them get it off their chests, then they might settle down to work.’ She glanced at her friend. ‘Are you all right, Helen?
You look very white.’

The young woman nodded but her voice quavered as she said, ‘I – I just don’t want Leslie to do anything daft like volunteering, that’s all.’

Eveleen smiled. ‘Leslie? And who,’ she asked pointedly, ‘is Leslie, might I ask?’

Helen’s cheeks turned a faint pink. ‘Leslie Holmes. He works in one of the machine shops with Luke Manning.’

Eveleen nodded. She knew Luke Manning well and now she remembered having seen a tall, serious-looking young man working alongside him.

Helen continued hesitantly, her blush deepening. ‘We – we’ve been walking out together. About two months.’

‘And you never told me?’ Eveleen pretended mock indignation.

Helen shrugged. ‘After what happened before, I suppose I was a bit frightened to say much about it. In case, well, you know?’

Eveleen nodded and put her arm about Helen’s waist. ‘I know, love, I know,’ she said huskily.

In the last few weeks she had observed the change in her friend. Helen was a pretty young woman with fair hair, a small nose and, usually, a laughing mouth. She had always been Eveleen’s
staunch ally, but since the untimely death of her fiance´, the once bright, vivacious Helen had been subdued, the grief haunting her. Lately, however, the mischievous sparkle had come back
into her blue eyes and Eveleen had secretly crossed her fingers that the cause of it was some nice young man.

But now the bleak fear was back as Helen said softly, ‘It’s just the sort of thing Leslie’ll do. I just know he will.’

As Eveleen hugged her friend, trying to offer what comfort she could, she was nevertheless thinking: Yes, and it’s what Richard will do too.

Andrew arrived at the farm the following Sunday.

‘I’m volunteering,’ he told them proudly. ‘I’m off to fight for my country.’

The colour drained from Bridie’s face as she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around him as if she would physically hold him there. ‘No, no. I don’t want you to
go. You don’t have to. I know you don’t. Josh said you wouldn’t have to go.’

Andrew was startled by her passionate outcry and even more surprised when her grandmother made no effort to restrain her. Instead Mary said, ‘The child’s right, Andrew. What on earth
do you want to go for?’ She glanced at Bridie. ‘She’s not got many of us in the way of family, poor kid. You’re family to her. As good as.’

Bridie lifted her head and stared at her. They were the kindest words she’d heard spoken about herself by her grandmother for a long time, indeed if not ever.

‘I feel I have to,’ Andrew said. ‘I want to. I want to get away from Flawford. I’ve lived and worked in that same little yard all me life. I want to see something of the
world.’

‘And you think going to war is a good way to see the world, do you?’ Mary countered.

‘I want to do something with my life. Something worthwhile.’

‘Oh aye.’ Mary was not going to give in. ‘Throw it away, more like.’

‘Well, wouldn’t it be a worthwhile cause? In the defence of one’s homeland?’

‘No, no,
no
!’ Bridie shouted and clung to him all the tighter. ‘I won’t let you go. I won’t. I won’t!’

‘Now, now, love . . .’ It was Josh who prised her clinging arms from Andrew. ‘Let’s sit down and talk about this quite calmly. You’ve got to respect a
fellow’s wishes. If Andrew feels it’s his duty to go—’

‘Duty! Pah!’ Mary was vehement. ‘It’ll be our Jimmy’s duty, I’d agree with you there. Though I wish it wasn’t so. But he joined up, signed on or
whatever they call it, into the Royal Navy and I daresay when you do that part of your pledge is to answer your country’s call if need be. But why you?’ She flung out her hand towards
Andrew. ‘Why civilians?’

‘They’re asking for volunteers,’ Andrew said. ‘There’s several of us going from the yard.’

‘What’s going to happen to my brother’s workshops then, if you young fellers all go rushing off to the war? Have you stopped to think of that, eh?’

‘Well.’ Andrew shrugged evasively. It was obvious that he had not. ‘There’ll be enough older men left. I expect the work’ll drop off anyway.’

‘That’s just where you’re wrong. What’s wanted might alter a bit, but you all make knitted garments, don’t you? Don’t you think there’s going to be a
heck of a lot of garments needed to clothe an army?’

Andrew blinked. ‘I hadn’t looked at it that way.’

‘No,’ Mary said shortly. ‘You wouldn’t. You’d be better off staying put and helping the war by making the clothing that’s bound to be needed.’

‘There you are, you see,’ Bridie said triumphantly. ‘You don’t need to go. You can be much more useful here.’ She put her arm through his and gazed up at him
imploringly. ‘Do say you won’t go. Please, Andrew.’

‘I don’t suppose,’ Josh said thoughtfully, ‘there’ll be much call for lace if the war lasts for long. I wonder how it will affect Reckitt and Stokes?’

‘Aye,’ Mary said. ‘I can’t see soldiers wanting lace trimmings on their long johns.’

No-one even smiled at her effort to lighten the talk and there was silence as everyone’s thoughts turned to Richard and Eveleen.

At that very moment a family conference was also being held in the Stokes’s household. Richard and Eveleen were at the home of Richard’s parents for Sunday
lunch.

Brinsley Stokes sat at the head of the table. At fifty-five he was an older edition of his son, Richard. Looking at her father-in-law, Eveleen could almost see what her husband would look like
in twenty years’ time. He was tall and still slim, though his once black hair was now liberally peppered with white. His features were still remarkably clear-cut; a long, straight nose and a
firm jaw. There were wrinkles around his eyes, but they were laughter lines rather than the signs of ageing. He was capable of looking quite stern, as he was doing at this moment, but his dark
brown eyes were always kindly and full of concern.

His voice was deep and, when he spoke now, not quite steady. ‘You must do what you feel is right, my boy, but like Eveleen I wish you’d give the matter a lot more thought before
rushing in headlong on a wave of patriotism, praiseworthy though it no doubt is.’

Eveleen’s glance went from her father-in-law to her husband, her eyes wide with fear, but for once she bit back the words on the tip of her tongue. Now that she knew Brinsley was on her
side, she was sure Richard would listen to his parents, for whilst his mother had not yet voiced an opinion, Eveleen was sure she would discourage Richard’s madcap proposal. What mother would
gladly wave her only son off to war?

Sophia sat at the opposite end of the table, a serene, sophisticated woman in her early fifties. Her hair was dressed in an immaculate, smooth chignon and her flawless face showed few signs of
ageing. Her figure was slim, kept so by a rigid diet. She ran her household with the same discipline. She was the perfect hostess and the perfect wife and mother of successful businessmen, although
she took no part in the life of the factory and, indeed, displayed little interest in the workings of the place that gave her a very comfortable lifestyle. But although Richard’s mother was
always friendly and kindly disposed towards her, Eveleen felt she was somehow distant, a little aloof perhaps. But surely, Eveleen thought, this time Sophia would intervene. This time she would
have some feelings on the matter.

Sophia did, but to Eveleen’s amazement they were not what she had imagined or what she had hoped for.

‘My dear, Richard must be allowed to decide for himself without influence from any of us.’ Her calm glance included Eveleen. ‘As he says, the factory can manage very well
without him. You are there to oversee everything and Eveleen,’ her smile was warm as she included her daughter-in-law, ‘if I understand it, has the warehouse running like
clockwork.’

Richard smiled and, for a moment, his brown eyes twinkled with their usual mischief. ‘What you mean, Mother, is that I am not really needed here at all.’