Twisted Strands (24 page)

‘Auntie Evie?’ Bridie said in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Oh aye. When her father died suddenly, she carried that family. And they caused her a lot of trouble. But I expect you know all that.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then mebbe I should keep my mouth shut.’ The old lady gave a toothless grin.

Bridie laughed. ‘I was rather hoping you wouldn’t, Great-Gran.’

‘Oh well, maybe I’ll tell you all about it one day. When you’re older.’

It was the same answer that her aunt Eveleen always gave her. What were all these family skeletons, the girl wondered, and would anyone ever tell her what they were?

She bit her lip, watching the old lady. ‘Just tell me one thing, Great-Gran. How can I get Grandfather to talk to me?’

Bridget lay with her eyes closed and Bridie thought she had fallen asleep, but then, without opening her eyes, the old lady said, ‘You could try attending the chapel services on a
Sunday.’

On the following Sunday Bridie walked across the road to the chapel and stepped inside. She saw her grandfather sitting in the front pew, his head bowed in prayer. The
congregation now consisted mainly of women, old men and young boys. There were only one or two younger men of volunteering age and they looked wary and ill at ease as if, at any moment, they
expected to be challenged as to why they were not in uniform. Perhaps they’re expecting to be handed a white feather, Bridie thought, remembering the look on Richard’s face that day at
the Goose Fair.

She slipped into the pew beside Harry Singleton, knelt on the hassock, put her hands together and closed her eyes. When she heard his movement beside her, she sat up on the seat but kept her
gaze firmly on the lectern, where a huge bible lay open. When the minister came through from the room behind the rostrum, the congregation rose and the service began.

‘Well, what did he say?’ Bridget was impatient to know what had happened when Bridie returned to the cottage.

‘Nothing. I sat next to him. I didn’t even look at him. Not once. I didn’t speak and nor did he.’ Bridie grinned at her. ‘Two can play at that game.’

Bridget chuckled. She was sitting up in bed now, a lace shawl around her shoulders, looking much better and a good deal perkier than when Bridie had first visited three weeks earlier.

‘Now . . .’ The young girl began to bustle about the bedroom. ‘Let’s get you looking your best. Auntie Eveleen might come this afternoon.’

‘Do you feel like a little drive into countryside, Helen? I ought to visit Flawford today to see how Bridie is coping.’

It’s a lot for a young girl, she thought. She was surprised that Bridie hadn’t packed her belongings and come back to Nottingham long before now.

‘No, no. You go, though, Evie. I don’t want to be a burden to you.’ Helen’s eyes filled yet again with ready tears.

‘You’re not that and you never could be.’ Eveleen put her arm about her. ‘But I think you should come with me. I’d be glad of your company. I don’t quite know
what I’m going to find when I get there.’ Then she added persuasively, ‘And besides, it’s what Leslie would have wanted. He wouldn’t have wanted you to shut yourself
away from the world. It doesn’t mean you’re being disloyal or that you’ll stop thinking about him.’

‘I think about him every moment,’ Helen whispered. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to carry on without him.’

Life certainly had dealt poor Helen a double bitter blow, Eveleen thought, but aloud she said, ‘I know, love. But you’re going to have to be every bit as brave as he was when he
volunteered, when he went into battle . . .’ Her voice faltered as she added softly, ‘When he laid down his life.’

Helen was lost in thought for a moment. Then she raised her head, scrubbed away the tears from her face and tried to smile. ‘You’re right. He was brave, wasn’t he?’

Eveleen nodded.

‘Then I must be too. Yes, I’ll come with you.’

They set off after an early lunch, Eveleen driving the motor car along the city streets and out into the countryside. Helen sat beside her, well wrapped up, for the late summer day already had
the smell of autumn in the air. At first, she sat huddled in rugs and shawls staring straight ahead, but as their journey progressed she began to look about her. She glanced up at trees that now
and then formed a canopy above their heads as the road passed beneath them. Then she watched cows and sheep in the fields.

Eveleen breathed a sigh of relief. She had been right to persuade Helen to come. Already there was a pink glow in her cheeks, and she was taking an interest in the world around her for the first
time since she had received the dreadful news.

As they reached the village, Eveleen slowed the vehicle and stopped outside a row of cottages.

‘Is this it?’ Helen asked as the noise of the engine died.

‘No, but there’s someone I want to speak to first, if she’s at home. Come on, we’ll go and see.’

‘Are you sure you want me to come?’

‘Of course.’

They climbed out and walked up the narrow garden path towards Gracie Turner’s front door.

‘Eveleen!’ The large woman beamed with delight and flung her arms wide in welcome, as if to embrace them both at once.

Eveleen made the introductions as Gracie ushered them into her warm, inviting kitchen, which smelled of fresh baking bread.

‘That little lass of yours,’ Gracie launched straight in without preamble and Eveleen held her breath at what she might be going to hear now, ‘is a marvel.’ Eveleen
heaved a silent sigh of relief as Gracie continued. ‘The old lady’s looking grand. She’s still bedridden, but she’s perked up no end.’

‘What about my uncle?’

‘Oh, him!’ Gracie snorted derisively. ‘I don’t think even Bridie will be able to win him over.’ She laughed. ‘But do you know what the little minx
does?’

The two visitors shook their heads as Gracie’s double chin wobbled with laughter. ‘She goes to all the chapel services and sits beside him in the family pew. Never looks at him,
never even speaks to him, just comes and goes. She’s playing him at his own game and he can’t say ’owt ’cos she’s not doing ’owt wrong, is she?’

Eveleen shook her head wonderingly. This was a new Bridie she was hearing about.

The surprises continued for her when they arrived at Singleton’s Yard. As she opened the door of her grandmother’s cottage, the smell of roast beef met them.

‘Auntie Evie – and Helen too. How lovely. Come in, come in,’ Bridie greeted them as if welcoming them into her own home. ‘Dinner’ll be ready in a minute.’

‘Oh, darling, we’ve eaten. I never thought.’ For a moment Bridie’s face was crestfallen, then she brightened and smiled impishly. ‘Never mind, maybe me grandad
would like a plateful. I’ll take one along when I’ve taken Great-Gran’s up.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Eveleen said, pulling off her gloves. She turned to Helen, ‘Make yourself at home, love. I’ll just help Bridie in the scullery.’

Once in the back room, Eveleen hurriedly broke the sad news to the young girl of Helen’s loss. Though she did not cry, Bridie’s eyes filled with sympathy for Helen and sudden
terror.

‘Oh, Auntie Evie,’ she whispered. ‘What about Andrew and Uncle Richard?’

Eveleen squeezed her arm and nodded. ‘I know, love, I know. But we must keep our spirits up. Now,’ she said in a louder voice, ‘which do you want me to do? Take Gran’s up
to her or beard the lion in his den?’

‘You take Great-Gran’s,’ Bridie said. ‘She’s been reckoning on you coming. I’ll take his lordship’s, though I’ll probably get it thrown in my
face.’

Bridie walked along the path in front of the cottages, carefully carrying a plate heaped with meat, potatoes, carrots and cabbage and a well-risen, nicely browned Yorkshire pudding. She knocked
on her grandfather’s door, but when there was no answer she opened it and stepped inside. She blinked two or three times before her eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Then she could see her
uncle sitting in a chair by the range.

The table in the centre of the small room was bare, showing no sign that he had eaten a Sunday dinner.

‘Hello, Grandad,’ Bridie greeted him brightly. ‘I’ve brought you some dinner. Auntie Evie and her friend have come, but they’ve already eaten.’

‘Well, you can take it away,’ Harry said gruffly. ‘And don’t call me that.’

‘Why not?’ the girl said pertly, her head on one side. ‘It’s what you are.’

‘Not by my choice.’

‘We can’t always have the things we want in life,’ Bridie said, placing the plate on the table. ‘Can we? Now, where do you keep your knives and forks?’

Harry roused himself, rising to tower over her. ‘I thought I told you to take it away.’

Bridie stood still, undaunted, unafraid of his large figure looming above her. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. ‘Are you going to waste good food? There’s nowt
wrong with my cooking. Me gran – your sister – taught me.’

‘Oh aye? Did she tell you to put poison in anything you served to me?’

Bridie gasped. She was so shocked that for a moment she could think of nothing to say, then she blurted out, ‘Are you wrong in the head? Don’t talk so daft.’

‘Don’t you speak to me like that, you cheeky young wench.’

Suddenly Bridie giggled. She put her hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Grandad, don’t let’s quarrel. I wish you’d let me get to know you. I’d love us to . . .’

He snatched his arm away from her as if her touch had burned him.

‘I told you not to call me that,’ he thundered. ‘And get out of my house.’ He thrust his face close to hers. ‘You’re not welcome here.’

Bridie was trembling, but was determined to show no fear, nor let him see how upset she felt. She managed to shrug her shoulders. ‘Have it your way, then.’ She turned away and pulled
open the door, glancing back once to say, ‘Eat your dinner afore it gets cold. I’ll come back for the plate.’

Later in the afternoon, when she knew her uncle would be at the chapel, Bridie returned to the cottage to fetch the plate.

The untouched meal still lay on the table, where she had left it.

‘You wouldn’t think anyone could be so stubborn, would you?’ Bridie said, showing her aunt the cold, congealed meal later.

Eveleen chuckled. ‘You ought to keep heating it up and leaving it for him until he does eat it. It’s what was done to us as kids if we didn’t eat anything.’

‘Me gran still does,’ Bridie said, with feeling. She was thoughtful. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘I shan’t do that. I’ll just keep taking him nice meals. Every
day from now on. Until he gives in.’

Eveleen sighed. ‘It’s up to you, love. But you’ll be wasting your time and a lot of good food. He’ll never give in.’

Bridie raised her gaze to meet her aunt’s eyes, a glint of determination in her own. ‘Neither will I, Auntie Evie. Neither will I.’

‘Bridie seems to be managing very well,’ Helen said, shouting above the noise of the motor as they drove homewards. Helen herself looked better for the outing, but
Eveleen did not remark upon it. ‘And your grandmother’s a character, isn’t she?’

Eveleen smiled, thinking of the hour she had spent that afternoon with the old lady, whom she had not seen for over thirteen years.

Bridget had held out her arms to Eveleen when she had entered the bedroom, tears coursing down her wrinkled cheeks. ‘My dear girl. How I’ve missed you. Come and kiss me.’

Eveleen had bent and kissed her cheek and then had hugged her, alarmed to feel the bony thin body. She sat on the bed and took Bridget’s hands in hers. ‘You need looking
after.’

The old lady chuckled with delight. ‘Bridie’s doing a fine job of that. She’s a grand girl.’ Bridget put her head on one side and met Eveleen’s gaze with bright,
beady eyes. ‘Reminds me a lot of you.’

‘Me?’ Eveleen was startled. ‘But I thought she was more like Rebecca.’

‘Oh, to look at, yes. But she’s more spirit than poor Rebecca ever had. She’s – what’s the word I want?’ She thought for a moment and then said triumphantly,
‘Feisty! That’s it. She’s bold as brass, but for all the right reasons. Just like you always were.’ She sniffed. ‘Pity you didn’t get more support from that
rascal of a brother of yours. If it hadn’t been for him and Rebecca being so foolish, you’d all have still been here.’

‘Maybe,’ Eveleen said guardedly. ‘But Mam would never have settled here for long. She always wanted to go back to Lincolnshire.’ And, she was thinking, if we hadn’t
been forced to go to Nottingham, I wouldn’t have met Richard and Mam wouldn’t have met Josh. Aloud, she said, ‘My only regret is that we haven’t been able to see you in all
these years.’

The old lady sighed. ‘That’s partly my own fault, isn’t it? I should have been stronger. Stood up to my husband all those years ago over your mother, and then I should have
supported Rebecca and you against Harry.’ She sighed and added regretfully, ‘I’m all talk and no do, that’s me.’

‘Don’t blame yourself. We live in a man’s world, or at least,’ Eveleen added, prophetically, ‘we have until now. I think somehow this dreadful war is going to
change all that. You’ll never guess what . . .’ Skilfully turning the subject away from the old lady’s morbid and guilt-ridden reminiscences, Eveleen began to tell her how,
because of the war, women were now being employed in the Nottingham factory.

‘Who’d have thought it?’ Bridget said shaking her head. ‘It makes sense, of course, but I can’t see Harry ever having women working his frames.’

‘He nearly did once,’ Eveleen reminded her. ‘Remember? He taught me how to operate a framework knitting machine.’

‘I do,’ Bridget laughed, ‘But for goodness sake don’t tell Bridie, else she’ll be down that path and into the workshops before you can say knife.’

‘I’m afraid Grandfather won’t even acknowledge her existence,’ Eveleen said sorrowfully, ‘let alone let her help him in any way.’ And she told Bridget about
the uneaten dinner.

Bridget gave a very unladylike snort. ‘Then he’s even more of a fool than I thought he was.’

Eveleen smiled as she stood up, ‘Well, I need to talk to him and this time I just might have a proposition to put to him that he can’t refuse.’