Twisted Strands (15 page)

‘Oh, darling, I’m sure she does. It’s just . . .’ Eveleen hesitated and then smiled. ‘It’s just she’s come from a different background to me.
She’s sophisticated and elegant and – and serene. I’m from working-class stock. I was nothing until you married me, as Bob Porter was quick to remind me.’

‘What?’

Eveleen tried to shrug it off, realizing too late that she had said too much. ‘I told you, we had a bit of a set-to.’

‘I didn’t realize he’d insulted you. What exactly did he say?’

‘It was nothing, honestly.’

‘Eveleen.’ Richard’s tone was sharp and adamant.

Sighing, she recounted the conversation, adding, ‘But I can handle it.’

‘I’ll speak to him . . .’

‘No!’ Now Eveleen was firm. ‘Leave it. Please. You’ll only make matters worse. I’ve got to be able to handle things while – while you’re
away.’

They stared at each other, until Richard capitulated, saying slowly, ‘Perhaps I’ve been wrong to get caught up in this war.’

Eveleen could not bring herself to contradict him. She could not lie, not even to save his feelings. Instead, all she could say was, ‘It’s done now and we have to make the best of
it.’

There was an awkward silence before Richard said, ‘Aren’t you even going to ask if we had a nice day?’

‘What? Oh, I’m sorry.’ The worried frown scarcely left her face as she tried to smile. There was silence and then she added, ‘Well, did you?’

‘It was wonderful,’ Bridie said in a small voice, joining in the conversation for the first time. Her tone belied her statement. She was sitting between them, halfway down the table,
pushing the food around her plate, hardly taking a mouthful. She had listened to the interchange between her aunt and uncle and had felt the tension between them. Then what was really distressing
her came tumbling out as she raised tormented eyes to Richard. ‘But – but now it’s over and you’re going away tomorrow. You and Andrew and – and . . .’ Her voice
died and her head drooped.

Richard reached out and covered her hand with his. ‘I know, love. I know. But we’ll soon be back. I’m sure we’ll get leave.’

‘But you’ll be going to France. How will you come back from there?’

He smiled. ‘They’ll have it all organized somehow, I expect.’ He was trying to reassure her, to give her hope, yet even the young girl could see that he wasn’t sure
himself of what he was saying.

Eveleen sat silently. It should be me asking my husband these questions, she thought guiltily. And it should have been me with him today. On his last day. She smiled at Richard, promising
herself that later, in their bedroom, she would make it up to him. But first there were matters that must be discussed. ‘Darling, I must talk to you after dinner. The factory . . .’

Richard stood up, his own meal hardly touched. ‘I’m sorry, Eveleen, but I must go to see Mother and Father to say goodbye. Don’t wait up.’ His voice was tight and it was
only when he looked at Bridie that he smiled. ‘Goodnight, my dear, and thank you for a lovely day. I shall treasure the memory of it.’

He turned and left the room whilst Eveleen stared after him in dismay.

Weary though she was with the day’s dramas at the factory, she was determined to stay awake until Richard came home, but when he returned after midnight Eveleen was fast asleep.

Eveleen woke with a start. The half-light of dawn filtered through the curtains, but the city was already awake. From the street she could hear sounds: the clip-clop of
horses’ hooves, the rattle of cartwheels and carriages. Even the sound of a noisy motor car, which sometimes still brought people rushing to their windows. The house, which Richard had bought
just after their marriage, was in a street of tall, terraced houses, fashionable yet still not too far from the city centre or the factory.

She turned her head cautiously, anxious not to disturb Richard, but found that he was lying next to her, wide awake, his hands behind his head, and staring up at the ceiling.

She cuddled close to him and put her arm across him. ‘Darling, I am sorry about yesterday. Forgive me?’

She heard his sigh and then his arms were about her and there was a sweet desperation in his kiss. Their love-making was tender, yet tinged with the poignant sadness of finality.

Later, as they were dressing, she asked, ‘What time does your train leave?’

‘Noon.’

‘I’ll just have to go into the factory first thing, but I’ll be back in good time.’

The disappointment showed clearly on his face. ‘I thought we might spend the morning together.’

Eveleen felt torn in two. ‘I’m sorry, but I must go in.’

‘I realize there must be a lot of adjustments to make, with several leaving today, but surely Bob Porter is quite capable of doing that.’

‘Well, yes,’ she said carefully. ‘But I know he doesn’t like me being more involved with the running of the factory now . . .’ her voice faltered. ‘Now
you’re going.’

‘I’ll come with you, then. Maybe I should have a word with him.’

‘No,’ Eveleen said sharply. ‘No. It’ll undermine my authority. I’ve got to win it on my own.’

Richard shrugged and all he said was, ‘Very well.’

‘But I’ll be at the station. I’ll be there to see you off. I promise.’

‘Miss Binkley, please may I have a little extra time at dinner? I’m going to the station to see Uncle Richard and Andrew off.’

‘There’s no need. Your aunt will be there and you had yesterday off to go to the fair.’

‘But they might be going away soon. Right away. To France.’

Helen’s face was bleak. ‘I know that only too well, Bridie. My – friend will be on the same train. But I can’t leave and neither can many of the girls and women in this
room who have relatives leaving today.’ She waved her hand to encompass the other workers. ‘Don’t you think we’d all like to go? I’m sorry, Bridie, but you cannot be
treated any different from anyone else.’

Bridie bit her lip but, as she took her place beside Mrs Hyde and picked up her work, her mind was scheming. I will go, she promised silently. She’s not going to stop me. Bridie knew she
was courting trouble, but she didn’t care. She had to see Andrew off. She just had to. And Uncle Richard too, of course.

All morning Bridie was in a fever of excitement, watching the crawling hands on the clock. It earned her a sharp reprimand from the usually even-tempered Helen.

‘What’s got into you, Bridie? That run you’ve mended looks as if you’ve used a knitting needle. You must do it again and I don’t want to be able to see where the
mend is when you’ve done it.’

‘Yes, Auntie . . . Miss Binkley,’ she said hastily. ‘Sorry.’

Helen moved away down the room, weaving her way amongst the workers, glancing at their work, checking and rechecking that all was as it should be. Bridie bent her head over her work. Tears
filled her eyes.

‘Here, let me do it.’ At her side, Mrs Hyde whispered, ‘Come on, ’and it over. You do this ’un of mine. It’s only a little run.’

By the time Helen turned round at the end of the room and began to walk back towards them, the kindly woman and the young girl had exchanged their pieces of work.

‘What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over,’ Mrs Hyde murmured softly and gave Bridie a huge wink.

The railway station platform was seething with soldiers, with volunteers still in civilian clothes and with all their wives and loved ones seeing them off. At one end of the
platform a brass band played military music. Banners and flags were waving and children ran about excitedly, unchecked by the adults, who were far too caught up in the drama of the moment to
bother.

Brinsley and Sophia Stokes stood with Richard, an awkward constraint between them, whilst Bridie clung to Andrew as if she would physically prevent him from climbing aboard the train. If her
strength had been enough, she would have done so.

Above the sound of the brass band playing, the cheering and calls of farewell and the hiss of steam from the engine, she shouted, ‘You will write to me, won’t you? I’ll write
every week and send you parcels. Mrs Martin says we’re allowed to. Auntie Evie says Mrs Martin’s getting a ladies’ committee together to organize knitting things for the soldiers.
I’m going to join it. I’ll send you some lovely warm socks.’

Andrew hugged her hard and tried to smile, but there was a catch in his voice as he said, ‘I can’t wait to wear them.’ He drew back a little and held her away from him, looking
down into her upturned face. ‘Listen, Bridie, I want you to do something for me. Something very important.’

She nodded earnestly.

Andrew glanced about him. ‘I’d hoped Eveleen would be here to see us off, but it doesn’t look as if she’s going to make it.’

A few feet away Richard’s anxious glance scanned the seething mass, his hopes fading with every second that Eveleen did not appear.

‘She’ll be here. I know she will. She wouldn’t miss Uncle Richard going. Or you,’ Bridie added hastily.

‘Well, you’re here,’ Andrew said softly and hugged her again, murmuring in her ear, ‘my little Bridie.’

Her heart swelled with love for him, blotting out for a brief moment her terrible fear for his safety. ‘What is it you want me to do?’

‘Remind Eveleen to go to Flawford to see her grandmother. I have asked her and she promised to see that they’re all right. I’m not sure what’s going to happen there once
I’ve gone.’ For a moment his face was bleak with regret. ‘I almost wish I hadn’t volunteered now. They need looking after. Her uncle – your grandfather – too,
though . . .’ A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. ‘He’d be the last to admit it.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ Bridie promised. ‘But she’ll get here in time for you to tell her yourself. I know she will.’

But when the whistle blew and there was a mad scramble to board the train Eveleen had still not appeared.

Bridie hugged Andrew and then Richard. ‘Can’t they wait? She’ll be here. She must have got held up.’

‘Oh yes, she’s got held up all right. Eveleen’s got far more important things to do now that she’s running the factory single-handed.’

Young as she was, Richard’s bitterness was not lost on Bridie. ‘Oh, Uncle Richard, she . . .’ The final whistle drowned her words of excuse.

Richard kissed his mother’s cheek, shook his father’s hand and then turned back to Bridie, giving her a bear hug that almost lifted her off her feet.

‘Take care of yourself, my little Bridie,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘And don’t eat too many toffee apples while I’m away.’

He set her down, turned and pushed his way through the crowd. And although she watched him until he disappeared into the carriage, he did not look back. The guard walked down the platform,
slamming the doors. Soldiers hung from the windows, waving and shouting. Bridie pushed her way to the edge of the platform, reaching up to touch Andrew’s hand one last time. ‘Take care,
oh, do take care. Both of you. Come back safely.’

All along the length of the train, the same words were being echoed.

‘Come back safely.’

As the train drew slowly out of the station, Bridie heard a cry close behind her and turned to see Eveleen pushing her way through the crowd, her desperate gaze on the moving train.

‘Oh no, no!’ she gasped as the train gathered speed. Standing on tiptoe, she waved wildly.

‘He’ll not see you,’ Bridie said harshly. ‘He was looking for you until the very last moment.’

‘I couldn’t get away and then the streets are so busy . . .’

‘Yes,’ Bridie said, twisting the knife even more, ‘that’s what Uncle Richard said. He said you’d far more important things to do now.’

She turned and began to follow the throng moving out of the station, leaving a forlorn and guilty Eveleen on the edge of the platform staring after the disappearing train.

Brinsley and Sophia were waiting near the station entrance. ‘Bridie, my dear, over here.’ She heard his deep voice calling her. ‘Where’s
Eveleen?’

‘Watching the train. She was too late to say goodbye.’

‘Oh dear,’ Brinsley said. ‘Never mind, they’ll soon be home on leave, I expect before . . .’ He cleared his throat and gruffly changed the subject. ‘Go and
fetch your auntie and I’ll take you both for a spot of lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.’

Bridie opened her mouth to protest. She would be in enough trouble already for having disobeyed Helen. Then she sighed. So what would another hour matter? She retraced her steps, to find Eveleen
still standing on the edge of the platform watching the train receding into a tiny speck. She did not move, not even when the train was gone from her sight.

Bridie, her anger dissolved by the look of anguish on her aunt’s face, touched her arm. ‘Come on, Auntie Evie. Mr Stokes is going to take us for lunch.’

‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ Eveleen murmured.

‘Nor me,’ Bridie said. ‘But Mr Stokes is right. We ought to try.’

Brinsley found a table in the restaurant of a local hotel. ‘Now, we’ll sit here in the window,’ he said, holding the chair for his wife. ‘We’ve a good
view.’

But the scene outside the window was only a further reminder. Would-be soldiers marched in ranks along the street, heading for the station to catch yet another train, whilst the pavements were
lined with well-wishers cheering them on.

The food was wonderful, but Eveleen and Bridie only picked at it. Sophia seemed unperturbed at having just waved her only son off to war and Eveleen found herself thinking that her
mother-in-law’s serene exterior went much deeper than the schooled outward appearance of a well-bred lady. She remembered Richard’s words at dinner the previous evening. Perhaps he was
right. Perhaps Sophia Stokes didn’t really care. But there was no mistaking Brinsley’s feelings. Whilst he tried to be jovial, tried to keep their spirits buoyant, Eveleen could see the
anxiety in his eyes.

‘Now,’ he said, when the meal was finished and the coffee served, ‘we need to have a board meeting.’

Eveleen looked startled. ‘A board meeting? But that’s only you and Mrs Stokes now that – that Richard’s gone.’ Was every sentence, everything they planned going to
remind her?