Twisted Strands (21 page)

That ‘poor little mite’ was me, Bridie was thinking. But she said nothing, allowing the frail old lady to come to the truth in her own time.

Bridie moved closer to the bed. ‘I can’t stay much longer today, but . . .’

Bridget’s bony hands were reaching out. ‘Don’t go. Stay and talk to me. Nobody comes to talk to me now.’ The voice was pitiful. ‘Please, don’t leave
me.’

‘Great-gran, I have to go.’ Bridie gave a nervous laugh. ‘My Aunt Eveleen’s going to skin me alive as it is for coming. She doesn’t know I’m here.’

‘Eveleen.’ The old lady said the name as if it had not been spoken aloud for years. ‘Ah yes, Eveleen. I always liked Eveleen. Strong, she was. Braver than all the rest of us
put together.’

Questions tumbled around Bridie’s mind. There was so much she would like to ask, so much that her great-grandmother must know. Instead, anxious that the old lady should not be upset any
more, she said, ‘I’ll make us both a cup of tea before I go.’

‘Aye, I could do with one.’ Her voice was stronger now, laced with resentment. ‘That Lil should have been in this morning but she hasn’t been near.’

‘Who’s Lil?’ Bridie asked.

Bridget tossed her head. ‘Lives in the cottage facing the street. She’s supposed to clean for us. Make our meals an’ that, but half the time Harry has to do it when he’s
finished work.’ She sniffed. ‘Still, there’s no-one else to do it, so I s’pect we’ll have to put up with ’er doing it when she feels like it.’

Several minutes later, Bridie helped her great-grandmother to sit up in the bed, plumping the pillows behind her. ‘Now, here’s your tea. Don’t spill it.’

‘You’d make a good nurse,’ Bridget said, slurping her tea thirstily.

‘Does my grandfather live here with you?’ Bridie asked as she perched on the end of the bed to drink hers.

‘No. He lives in the cottage at the other end.’

Bridie ran her tongue over lips that were suddenly dry. ‘So – so Andrew lives in the cottage next door? Between the two of you?’

The old woman squinted at her. ‘That’s right. But he’s not here. He’s gone to the war.’

Bridie nodded. ‘I know.’

There was silence between them as they drank their tea until Bridie said, ‘I can’t stay much longer. I must get the omnibus back to Nottingham. Will my grandfather be finishing work
soon?’

The old lady gave a wry laugh. ‘What? Him? No. Works all day and ’alf the night now.’

‘Really?’ Bridie was surprised. From what her aunt had told her, work at the factory was falling off. So why . . .? Her great-grandmother’s next words gave her the answer.

‘He’s pulled out the place with work, and no-one to do it now all the young fellers have gone off to the war.’

‘I don’t understand. Where’s all the work coming from? Auntie Evie says the Reckitt and Stokes’s factory is going through a bad time. No-one wants lace in
wartime.’

‘Well, no, they won’t. But what your uncle makes is knitted garments. Fine underwear – long johns, vests, socks. And all the officers’ families round here are climbing
over themselves to have well-made garments for their boys. We’re getting orders from Nottingham and even other places, now word’s spreading. And when Queen Mary appealed to the Empire
to knit three hundred thousand pairs of socks for the troops, well, Harry nearly had a heart attack.’

Bridie placed the empty cups on the tea tray and bent to kiss the old lady’s wizened cheeks. ‘I must go now, Great-Gran. I have to go back and face my aunt. But, whatever she says, I
will come back.’ She glanced around at the neglected room and thought of the state of the rooms downstairs. ‘You need me far more than she does,’ Bridie murmured.

As she passed Andrew’s cottage on her way out, Bridie peered through the windows. She could see little of the dim interior, but she laid her hand against the door and whispered,
‘I’ll be back. I promise I’ll be back.’

‘Emily, how is Miss Bridie?’ Eveleen asked as soon as she stepped over the threshold that evening at six o’clock. Although it was a Saturday and the workforce
usually finished at lunchtime, nevertheless Eveleen had remained at the factory.

Brinsley had visited that morning and, feeling much better than he had of late, had involved Eveleen in lengthy discussions on the seriousness of the current state of the order book. He had
insisted on touring the machine shops and talking to the men and women now working the lace machines. He had even climbed to the top floor of the warehouse to visit the inspection room and speak to
Helen. Then he had stopped at each floor on the way down.

When their tour was over, he had insisted that Eveleen should go to lunch with him in the city. By the time they had finished, it was three o’clock and Eveleen still had paperwork to
complete at the factory before going home.

‘I haven’t seen her all day, ma’am,’ the girl replied now, taking Eveleen’s coat and hat. ‘Dinner will be ready in half an hour, Cook says.’

‘Thank you,’ Eveleen said absently, but her mind was still on her niece. ‘Is she still in her room? Haven’t you been to see if she wanted anything?’

‘You said to leave her and she would ring, ma’am.’

Eveleen clicked her tongue against her teeth in agitation. ‘I know I did, but – all day! Surely you thought to go and check that she was all right?’ When the young girl looked
crestfallen, Eveleen said, ‘Oh, never mind. I’ll see for myself.’

She ran lightly up the stairs and, opening the door quietly in case Bridie was asleep, tiptoed into the bedroom. The bed was unmade but empty and, further along the landing, the bathroom showed
signs that Bridie had washed hurriedly. On closer inspection, Eveleen found that the girl’s clothes, including her outdoor hat and coat, were also missing.

Downstairs she rang for the young maid. ‘She seems to have gone out. Are you sure you heard nothing?’

‘No, ma’am. Mind you, I’ve been down in the kitchen for a lot of the day, so I wouldn’t have heard her going out of the front door.’

‘And you haven’t looked in her bedroom all day?’

The girl shook her head, easy tears starting in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, if I should have . . .’

‘No, no,’ Eveleen held up her hands. ‘It’s not your fault, Emily.’ More to herself now than to the maid, Eveleen murmured, ‘But I wonder where she can have
gone.’

‘Maybe she felt a little better and went to work?’ Emily tried to suggest helpfully.

Eveleen shook her head. ‘No, I’d have seen her.’

‘Maybe she’s gone shopping.’

Eveleen wrinkled her brow. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. But she’s never been into the city on her own before.’

‘Would she go home, I mean back to the farm, to see her gran?’

Eveleen stared at Emily. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘No, I don’t think she’d go there. But now you’ve made me think, I know exactly where she has gone.’

Emily still looked puzzled. ‘Where, ma’am?’

‘Never mind,’ Eveleen said, her mouth tight, ‘but just wait until the little madam gets back home.’

‘You deliberately disobeyed me.’

An hour later, Bridie was facing an angry Eveleen. ‘I’m sorry you’re cross with me, Auntie Evie, but I’m not sorry I went.’

Eveleen gasped and her eyes widened in surprise at the audacity of her young niece. But as the girl went on, her anger died to be replaced by her own guilt.

‘Andrew was right, Auntie. They do need help badly.’ Swiftly she explained all that she had seen in Singleton’s Yard. ‘My grandfather doesn’t want us there.
Doesn’t seem to want anyone, but poor Great-Gran, she needs looking after, Auntie Evie. She’ll die, else.’

‘Oh, I think that’s being a bit melodramatic, Bridie.’

The girl shook her head vehemently. ‘No, it isn’t. I called at Mrs Turner’s on the way back to catch the omnibus and . . .’

‘Mrs Turner?’ Eveleen searched her mind for the memory of the large, bustling woman who had been her mother’s childhood friend. ‘Gracie Turner,’ she murmured.

‘That’s her,’ Bridie went on. ‘Well, when I told her that Great-Gran thought I was someone called Lil coming up the stairs, Mrs Turner said there was no wonder they were
in a state. She said that this Lil is a right – ’ she hesitated, trying to remember the unfamiliar word – ‘a right slattern.’

Despite her growing anxiety, Eveleen had to smile, but it soon faded as Bridie stepped nearer her and put a hand on her arm. ‘Auntie Evie, I am sorry I disobeyed you, but they do need
help. Both of them. My grandad can hardly see, and the poor old lady, I don’t think she can get out of bed without help. And,’ she added pointedly, ‘there’s no one to help
her.’ Looking into the girl’s dark blue eyes, Eveleen could read her genuine distress.

She patted Bridie’s hand, ‘It’s all right. You’re forgiven.’ She pulled a comical face of contrition. ‘It’s me who should be saying sorry. It’s me
who should have gone.’ She was ashamed to think that it had been a thirteen-year-old girl who had undertaken what should have been an older person’s responsibility. ‘But I
didn’t think we’d be welcome there.’

‘Oh, we’re not,’ Bridie said airily. ‘But that’s not the point, is it? They need help, both of them, even if they won’t admit it. And,’ she grinned
impishly at her aunt, ‘whether they like it or not, they’re going to get it.’

‘Oh, Bridie.’ Eveleen opened her arms to the girl. ‘Give me a hug.’

They stood together holding each other close, drawing comfort from each other, united in their loneliness, in missing the menfolk they adored.

‘Come,’ Eveleen said at last, taking Bridie’s hand. ‘Let’s go and have the dinner that’s Cook’s been holding back for an hour and discuss what
we’re going to do.’

‘Do you think we should go to the farm and talk it over with your gran?’ Eveleen said as they reached the pudding course.

‘I’ve only ever heard her ask Andrew about them once or twice.’ Bridie’s voice hardened. ‘Do you really think she’s bothered?’

Eveleen sighed. ‘She harbours such a lot of bitterness about things that have happened in the past.’

‘What things?’

Eveleen regarded her steadily. ‘I can’t really tell you. Not just now, anyway. Maybe one day.’

‘About my mother and me, you mean?’

‘That’s part of it,’ Eveleen said carefully.

Sharply inquisitive, Bridie said, ‘But not all of it?’

Eveleen shook her head. ‘Oh no. Not all of it. Not by a long way.’

For a moment they were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts, before Bridie dropped a bombshell into the silence. ‘Why don’t I go and live there and look after them?’

Eveleen’s spoon clattered into her dish. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Your gran wouldn’t like it.’

‘Gran’s got nothing to do with it,’ Bridie said, once more sounding very much older than her years. ‘We’ve just decided that she’s probably not that
bothered.’

‘I don’t think we ought to say that . . .’ Eveleen began, but Bridie interrupted impatiently, ‘Well, you know what I mean.’

‘But I need you here,’ Eveleen protested.

Gently Bridie said, ‘No, you don’t, Auntie Evie. Not really. There’s dozens of young girls in Nottingham who’d leap at the chance to work in Reckitt and Stokes’s
warehouse. You don’t really need me.’

‘But I want you here, Bridie,’ Eveleen insisted. ‘You said yourself your grandfather doesn’t want you there. Doesn’t want any of us.’

Bridie laughed, her blue eyes glinting with a sudden steely resolve. ‘I know, but they need me, Auntie Evie. There’s a big difference, isn’t there, between being wanted and
needed. For a long time I didn’t think anyone wanted or needed me.’

‘That’s not true, Bridie . . .’ Eveleen began to protest.

‘I know. I know that now.’ The young girl, who was growing up so fast, almost before Eveleen’s eyes, said gently, ‘Gran and Josh must have wanted to keep me as a baby,
because they needn’t have. And Andrew . . .’ Her voice wavered slightly as she thought about him soon to be in a foreign, dangerous land. ‘I know he does love me. In his own
way.’

‘We all do, Bridie,’ Eveleen said softly.

The girl nodded and then, with words that tore at Eveleen’s heart, she said simply, ‘But for the first time in my life someone really
needs
me.’

‘If you’re really sure, then . . .’ Eveleen began.

‘I am. There’s no-one to look after Great-Gran. Grandfather is working all hours, even though his sight is bad. There’s only him, one other old chap and a young lad in the
workshops. They can’t cope with all the work that’s coming in.’ She laughed as she repeated the old lady’s words. ‘They’re pulled out the place.’

‘What?’ Eveleen was suddenly alert. ‘What work?’

‘It seems everyone’s after their knitted undergarments to send to the men at the Front. You know?’

Eveleen stared at her and slowly shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know. Explain it to me slowly.’

Bridie repeated all that her great-grandmother had told her. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’ she added. ‘You’ve got too many workers and not enough work and he’s got more
. . .’ Her voice faltered as she stared back at her aunt. Slowly her own mind began to realize what was going on in Eveleen’s. ‘He’s got more work than he can cope
with.’

‘Exactly!’ Eveleen sprang to her feet and held her arms wide. ‘My darling Bridie. I think you’ve just brought home another answer to help save your Uncle Richard’s
factory.’

‘But – but you can’t make those things on lace machines, can you?’

‘No, of course not. But we can send workers out to Flawford or bring the work into the city. There must be a lot of frames standing idle now since their operators have gone to war. Maybe
we could even bring some into the factory. We’re already making plans to turn over to curtain-making machines and with knitting machines too . . .’ Eveleen clapped her hands in delight.
‘Richard’s factory will survive. Oh, Bridie, I know it will.’

The strain of the past few weeks was lifted and Eveleen, despite the ever-present worry over all the men at war, looked happier than she had done for months.

Bridie smiled and asked impishly, ‘So I’m forgiven, then, for going to Flawford?’

Eveleen laughed. ‘Oh yes, Bridie, you’re forgiven.’

They hugged one another and danced around the room. They came to a breathless halt and leant against each other.