Twisted Strands (26 page)

‘You still love me. You know you do,’ he muttered, between hard, demanding kisses. She twisted her face away, but he buried his head against her neck, his hand now gripping her
breast.

With one almighty heave, she pushed him from her and they stood staring at each other, panting hard; he with longing, she with the sheer effort of resisting him.

‘How dare you?’ she spat, her eyes blazing. Gone in an instant were any tender memories of him. Now the recollection of his callousness, when she had needed him most, returned.

‘You loved me. You’ve just said so.’ His blue eyes were dark with desire.

‘That was then,’ Eveleen said harshly.

‘And now?’

Her voice broke at the thought of Richard. How could she have allowed what had just occurred in this room? ‘I’m very much in love with my husband.’

‘But he’s in a faraway land, isn’t he, Evie? Fighting for hearth and home. Whilst I,’ he came towards her again, holding out his hand in supplication, ‘am
here.’

‘Don’t touch me,’ she began, but at that moment the door was opened by the butler bringing a tray laid with a silver teapot and bone china cups and saucers.

He set it on the low table in front of the sofa and began to pour. Helplessly Eveleen smoothed her dishevelled hair. Escape now was impossible. The manservant straightened up from his task.
‘The boy has gone to fetch young Morton, sir. Will there be anything else?’

‘No. Get out,’ Stephen snapped. The interruption had come at precisely the wrong moment for him.

Eveleen looked at Stephen as the butler left the room. ‘Morton? Is that Ted Morton?’

‘No,’ Stephen growled. ‘His son – whatever they call him.’

‘Micky,’ Eveleen said. ‘But he’s younger than Bridie. What does he know about motors?’

Stephen shrugged. ‘He works with motors somewhere in Grantham.’ He glanced up at her and added testily, ‘Oh, do sit down, Evie. I promise not to lunge at you again.’

Eveleen sat down, but this time she chose an armchair so that Stephen could not get close to her.

They drank tea in uncomfortable silence until Eveleen said, ‘I thought Micky worked for you?’

‘He did. I sacked him.’

‘Why?’

For a moment, although Eveleen wondered if her eyes deceived her, Stephen looked ill at ease, almost embarrassed. Gruffly belligerent, he said, ‘Can’t employ all my workers’
offspring. Not enough for them to do.’

Eveleen stared at him. The Dunsmore estate was huge. Then she remembered that a few years back Josh had said something about Stephen selling off parcels of land. Perhaps . . .

She glanced around the room, noticing again the absence of a woman’s presence. ‘How are your mother and father?’

Stephen shrugged indifferently. ‘Hardly see them. They live in London. He’s a big noise in the government now. And with this war . . .’

With characteristic bluntness – a trait she had never been able to correct – Eveleen asked, ‘So, will you be volunteering?’

‘Me?’ Stephen laughed. ‘What on earth would I do a daft thing like that for?’

Torn between her own anger at Richard leaving her when she had begged him not to and a sense of pride that he had the courage to do just that, she stared at the man before her, seeing him
suddenly as he was now. His handsome face was puffy, probably from overindulgence in drink. Tiny red veins mottled his cheeks and his body, once so trim and firm and lean, had given way to fat. The
charm, which had once been boyish and attractive, was now more of a lecherous leer. For a moment she allowed herself to mourn the loss of his fair, Adonis-like, good looks and even had a fleeting
regret for the idyllic time of her youth when she had believed herself in love with him and he with her.

Realizing at last what a self-centred man Stephen really was, Eveleen said slowly, ‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’

‘Eveleen. How lovely.’ Josh came towards her across the yard at Pear Tree Farm. ‘We’d’ve waited dinner if we’d known you were coming
today.’

Eveleen climbed down and kissed his plump cheeks in greeting. ‘I should have been here in plenty of time, but my motor car broke down.’

Josh glanced at the vehicle and Eveleen laughed sheepishly. ‘I ran out of petrol.’

Josh stared for a moment and then laughed too. ‘Well, you’re here now. Come along in. I’m sure your mother has some food left.’

Whilst she ate they sat at the table with her, plying her with questions about Richard and Andrew, Bridie, and what was happening at Flawford.

‘The child has put me to shame,’ Mary admitted. ‘I really ought to visit, but Harry . . .’ She gave a shudder and said no more. There was no need.

Eveleen put out her hand and touched her mother’s. ‘We understand, Mam. But I think Gran would like to see you.’

‘We’ll go, Mary. Soon. I’ll be with you.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Mary agreed readily. ‘I should go. If anything happens to my mother, I’d regret for the rest of my days that I hadn’t gone.’

‘I’ll come to fetch you and take you in the motor car,’ Eveleen offered.

Josh chuckled. ‘I’ll bring a spare can of petrol.’

‘What? What’s that?’ Mary’s sharp ears missed nothing.

‘I ran out of petrol in the lane,’ Eveleen admitted, her face turning pink. ‘Micky Morton found out what the trouble was.’ She omitted to tell them about her encounter
with Stephen Dunsmore and skilfully turned the conversation away. ‘He seems very clever with mechanical things. He tells me he has a job in Grantham.’

Josh nodded. ‘Aye. Dunsmore sacked him – reckoned he hadn’t enough work to support all the Morton family.’

‘It’s to be expected,’ Mary put in. ‘Since Stephen Dunsmore’s selling up the estate bit by bit to finance his drinking. And gambling, so they say.’

‘The lad’s been working in the town the past couple of months,’ Josh went on. ‘Doing well, so Ted says.’

‘He soon found out what was wrong,’ Eveleen smiled ruefully. ‘Says it’s common with lady drivers.’

‘I think you’re very brave to drive it at all, Eveleen,’ Mary said. ‘I know I couldn’t.’

Picking up on his wife’s earlier remark, Josh said, ‘We’ve bought a bit more land off him, Evie. The field on the other side of the beck, right up to where the trees of Bernby
Covert start. So now we can get some more beast.’

‘It’ll make a lot more work for you, won’t it, Josh?’ Eveleen said worriedly. Although only in their fifties, the pair now no longer had Bridie’s youthful
vigour.

‘I shall just get beef cattle, so’s not to cause more dairy work.’

‘I’ve got Micky’s younger sister helping in the dairy now. She’s a good little lass,’ Mary said and murmured, ‘But I still miss Bridie.’

‘Then I’ll take you to see her. How about next weekend?’

Later in the afternoon Eveleen took Mary to Bernby church to lay flowers on Walter Hardcastle’s grave. They stood side by side, looking down at the place where
Eveleen’s father lay.

‘I’ve been a lucky woman, really,’ Mary murmured. ‘After – after my bit of trouble, running away from home and that, I was so lucky to meet your father. He was a
wonderful man. And now I’ve got Josh. He’s so thoughtful and kind, Evie.’

Eveleen squeezed her mother’s arm, but said nothing.

As they turned away and walked back towards the motor car parked near the gate, Mary asked tentatively, ‘How is Brinsley? Does he ever ask after me?’

Eveleen smiled. ‘Often, Mam. And he’s fine now. He wasn’t too well a few months back, but now he’s very much involved in our new plans.’

‘What new plans?’

‘I’ll tell you more over tea because I want Josh to hear about them too.’

A little later as they sat down to cold ham and tomatoes, Eveleen said, ‘You remember me asking your advice, Josh? Well, things are going very well. I’ve managed to buy several
knitting machines and Griswolds. Four boys, too young to volunteer, and three women have already moved out to Flawford and now we have a knitting workshop within the factory.’

‘I’m glad. Turning to war work should keep the factory going.’ His face sobered. ‘I wish there was more I could do to help the war.’

‘You are,’ Mary declared stoutly. ‘You’re supplying food.’

‘I know, but . . .’ Josh shrugged his huge shoulders and spread his hands. ‘It doesn’t feel like I’m doing much.’

‘There is something you could do,’ Eveleen said slowly, glancing from one to the other, ‘but it would involve both of you and it wouldn’t be easy.’

Swiftly she explained about Win’s son-in-law.

‘Bring him here, love,’ Josh beamed delightedly. ‘Good country air and Mary’s cooking will soon have him right.’

Eveleen glanced at her mother, half expecting Mary to protest, but instead there were tears in her eyes as she reached out and touched her husband’s hand. ‘There you go again, always
thinking of others.’

‘You don’t mind though, do you, Mary love?’

Mary pressed her lips together as if to trying to prevent more tears flowing. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘No. I just hope that perhaps somewhere someone is treating my Jimmy with
as much kindness.’

It was a merry little party that bowled along the country lanes from Bernby to Flawford the following weekend.

Josh and Mary sat in the back seat, whilst Helen, bravely trying to hide her own sadness, sat beside Eveleen. Mary held onto her hat, giving little squeals of alarm as Eveleen rounded the
corners. ‘Don’t go so fast, Eveleen. You’ll tip us over.’

By the time Eveleen turned the motor car into Ranters’ Row, Mary was pink cheeked and breathless. ‘Oh my!’ she gasped, patting her chest. ‘You’ll give me a heart
attack.’

Josh helped her down and Eveleen noticed that she clung to his arm as they went into Singleton’s Yard. There was no-one about, but from the workshops came the gratifying noise of busy
machinery.

‘My goodness!’ Eveleen exclaimed. ‘Uncle Harry’s even got them working on a Sunday.’

Then a joyful shriek made them all jump and Bridie was running towards them along the path in front of the cottages.

‘Gran. Grandpa Josh. Oh, how lovely.’ She flung herself against them, hugging them rapturously. Tucking her arm through Mary’s, she almost dragged her along the path towards
the end cottage, chattering delightedly. ‘Auntie Evie let me know you were all coming. Dinner’s ready and Great-Gran’s managed to get downstairs for the first time.’ Bridie
beamed. ‘Especially in your honour.’

Eveleen looked concerned. The last time she had seen Bridget, the old lady had looked too frail even to get out of her bed, let alone manage the steep staircase.

Catching the look, Bridie reassured her. ‘Mrs Turner helped me, Auntie Eveleen. Great-Gran’s all right.’

‘Oh aye,’ Mary remarked. ‘Gracie Turner’d have to have her neb in.’

‘She’s been very good,’ Bridie countered. She leant closer to her grandmother and dropped her voice to a whisper as they passed by the cottage in the middle of the row.
‘Lil – she lives in the cottage behind Andrew’s – she was supposed to be looking after Great-Gran, but she wasn’t making a very good job of it. Only came in when she
felt like it. Anyway, here we are, come on in.’

They clustered into the tiny front room to greet the old lady, who was sitting by the range as if she were holding court. At first the atmosphere was strained and awkward, but once dinner was
served on the snowy cloth and they sat around the table the conversation became easier.

At the end of the meal even Mary was obliged to say, ‘That was lovely, Bridie. You’re a credit to me.’

Everyone laughed, but Bridie said quite seriously, ‘Thank you, Gran.’ Then she rose from her place and began to pile a plate high with meat and vegetables. She also spooned bread and
butter pudding and custard into a bowl. ‘I’ll just take this along to me grandad.’

Eveleen smiled at her. ‘Will he eat it?’

‘Shouldn’t think so for a minute,’ the young girl replied cheerfully. ‘He hasn’t yet. But I live in hope.’

As the door closed behind her, Bridget shook her head and said, ‘He’s a stubborn old fool. That girl takes him a dinner every Sunday, aye, and sometimes in the week. But will he eat
it? He’d sooner starve than give in.’

When Bridie returned, Mary, Eveleen and Helen were already clearing away and washing up in the small scullery, whilst Josh sat across the hearth chatting to Bridget.

‘Do you mind if I go to chapel?’ Bridie said.

Mary turned to look at her in surprise. ‘You go to chapel?’

Bridie nodded. ‘It’s all part of the plan to win me grandad round, but don’t tell him I said so.’

‘I’ve no intention of saying anything to him,’ Mary replied drily and plunged a dirty plate into the bowl of soapsuds as if she wished it were her brother’s head she was
dunking.

Bridie grinned and exchanged a knowing glance with her aunt. Then she said, ‘You won’t go before I get back, will you? Only I don’t want to give him the chance to say that
I’ve missed a service,’ she giggled, ‘because of entertaining.’

‘No, no, we’ll still be here,’ Eveleen assured her. ‘Off you go.’

The preacher was one of the ‘fire and brimstone’ ministers who had given Ranters’ Row its local name. He stood on the rostrum and harangued the congregation
for their sinful ways. Bridie sat placidly watching his antics, whilst beside her Harry Singleton grew more and more excited, waving his arms and shouting ‘Amen’ at the end of each
sentence the preacher delivered. At the end of the service, Bridie waited by the door whilst Harry shook the man’s hand, pumping it up and down vigorously.

‘Grand sermon, Minister,’ he said. ‘We don’t get enough like you these days. All simpering do-gooders, that’s what the new breed is now.’

They talked for a few moments more before they both came down the aisle towards her.

She smiled and asked, ‘Did you enjoy your dinner, Grandad?’

‘I’ve told you not to call me that,’ he growled and made to push past her. ‘And you’re doing nowt but waste good food.’

The minister paused in front of Bridie and smiled down at her from his great height, his bushy sideburns bristling. ‘Is this your granddaughter, Harry?’ he boomed, his voice as loud
as if he were still addressing the full congregation. He held out his huge hand and gripped hers tightly, making the girl wince. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’