Twisted Strands (29 page)

‘Why? What did he say?’

‘Just – just that he hoped you hadn’t taken the news too badly.’

‘Oh,’ Bridie said quietly. So she had been wrong. Richard did believe that Andrew had been killed.

Eveleen was watching her. ‘What about you?’

‘What – what do you mean?’

‘Are there any letters you haven’t shown me?’

Bridie smiled apologetically. ‘Only one. The very first he ever wrote to me. He – he talked about us going to the Goose Fair and – and I thought it would upset you.’

Eveleen smiled sadly. ‘We’ve both been trying to protect the other, haven’t we?’

Bridie nodded. ‘But I promise I’ve shown you all of them since. And I will in future, whatever’s in them.’

Eveleen held out her arms. ‘So will I.’

Bridie hugged her aunt and against her shoulder she murmured, ‘But I wonder why he hasn’t written lately.’

At the beginning of March there was a knock on the cottage door in Singleton’s Yard.

Bridie opened it to see a tall figure dressed in soldier’s uniform standing there. His back was to the light and for a moment she could not see his features. She drew breath sharply and
for an instant the name sprang at once to her lips. Andrew! But then she realized he was too tall. Her fleeting disappointment evaporated when she realized the visitor’s identity. She gave a
delighted squeal and flung herself against him.

‘Uncle Richard!’ She pulled him into the living room, firing questions at him without giving him a moment to answer. ‘Oh, you’re home! Is Auntie Eveleen with you? Are you
home for good? Is the war over? Great-Gran, this is Uncle Richard. Sit down, sit down. I’ll make a cup of tea. Oh, it’s wonderful to see you.’ And again, she hugged him. Richard
put his arms around her and held her so tightly he almost squeezed the breath from her. At last he released her a little, but still stood with his arms about her.

It was Bridie who pulled away and said, ‘Come and meet my great-grandmother.’

Richard bent and took the old lady’s hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Singleton.’ Then he sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth. For a moment Bridie
stood biting her lip and looking down at him. There was something different about him. He smiled at her in the gentle way he always had, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

‘What is it?’ she asked quietly. ‘What’s happened?’

He looked up at her, puzzled. ‘Happened? Er – nothing, as far as I know. Why?’

‘Oh, I just wondered. I mean . . .’ her voice faltered and she turned, murmuring, ‘I’ll get the tea.’ As she prepared the tray, she glanced through the open door
from the scullery. He was talking to the old lady, his head bend slightly to one side in that kindly, solicitous manner he had always had and for a moment Bridie thought she had been mistaken. He
was as he had always been, but when she carried the tray through, mashed the tea from the kettle on the hob, poured and handed him a cup, she could see again that there was something different
about him.

It was in his eyes. As he talked, there was no change of expression in his eyes. Even when he smiled, it was a merely mechanical stretching of his mouth and not an emotion he was really feeling.
His eyes were like those of a dead fish.

She sat down and, at a lull in the conversation, asked again, ‘Are you home for good?’

Richard shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. Just on leave. I’ve been very lucky to get back to England. Oh, we get leave in France, but there’s never enough time to get
all the way home.’

Bridie watched as he sat gazing into the glowing coals in the grate. ‘Is it very bad out there, Uncle Richard?’

As he turned his head slowly to look at her, Bridie could have bitten her tongue off for having asked the question. The look in his eyes that had replaced the vacant expression was far worse.
Terror, horror, even loss of faith – all were there.

‘Don’t ask me, Bridie,’ he said huskily. ‘You don’t want to know. Believe me, you really don’t. If there is such a place as hell, it couldn’t possibly
be worse than the trenches in France.’

She took him to the workshops, up the stone steps to meet her grandfather, and was gratified that Harry had the courtesy to shake his hand, although his manner was gruff and
unwelcoming.

As they stepped into the yard again, Bridie blurted out, ‘He doesn’t want me here. He never speaks to me or comes to Great-Gran’s cottage.’

Richard put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve done a grand job here, Bridie. Eveleen was telling me, but perhaps now that the old lady’s better it’s time for you to come
back to Nottingham.’

Bridie glanced towards Andrew’s home. ‘I want to stay here. At least, a while longer. I – I’m waiting for Andrew to come home.’

His fingers tightened on her shoulder. ‘Bridie, love, you must come to terms with the facts. Andrew isn’t going to come back.’

‘How do you know? Did you see him killed? Have you seen his body?’

‘No, but he went out with a raiding party at night. When they do that they have to remove all identification marks and badges. Two men didn’t come back. Andrew was one of
them.’

‘What happened?’

Richard shrugged. ‘No-one knows. The two of them got separated from the rest and in the dark they just disappeared. Maybe they got taken prisoner, but – but shots were heard, so . .
.’

‘So,’ Bridie took up his sentence, ‘it was just presumed that he – and the other feller too – had been killed.’

‘It’s all we can do, Bridie. We can’t go looking for them.’

The girl tried to imagine what a battlefield must be like as, haltingly, Richard tried to explain. There were lines of trenches, he said, on each side protected by barbed wire and a stretch of
ground between them called ‘no man’s land’. Was that where Andrew had gone missing? she wondered. Perhaps he had been lying out there, still alive but needing help.

‘Can’t you look for them in the daytime?’

‘If you so much as put your head above the trench parapet, a sniper will pick you off. We use a kind of makeshift periscope made with mirrors to look across to the enemy lines.’

Despite what they all said, despite even what Richard said, who knew better than anyone, Bridie refused to give up hope. She looked up at him, her eyes afire with determination. As if by the
strength of her will, she could make it so, she said, ‘He will come back, Uncle Richard. He’s not dead. I know he’s not.’

The following day Bridie went to see Gracie Turner.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, once they were sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea and freshly baked scones in front of them. ‘Maybe I should go back to Nottingham.
Auntie Eveleen is so busy at the factory. She works such long hours. Now Emily’s left her and Uncle Richard told me that Cook’s legs are bad now, maybe I should go back. I can always
come back here when Andrew comes home.’

‘’Course you can, mi little lass. The old lady’s a lot better and I can look after her now, if you want me to.’

Bridie beamed. ‘That’s why I’ve come to see you. I was hoping you would. I don’t want that Lil back in her house.’

It was all settled between them, even that Gracie should cook meals for Harry.

‘It needn’t be every day,’ Bridie said, ‘maybe just two or three times a week. Just so’s he gets a good meal now and again. You know? That’s if he’ll
eat them!’ she added wryly.

‘Oh aye, I know all right. He’s a fool to himself is Harry Singleton. Always has been. But if them at the chapel told him to jump in the river and drown himself, I reckon he would.
He takes after his father. Hardhearted old bugger, he was. No wonder your poor gran ran away like she did.’

Bridie’s eyes widened. ‘Me gran? Ran away from home?’

‘Oh aye,’ Gracie said, filling both cups for a second time and settling down to impart a piece of gossip, completely forgetting that she had once said it was not her place to divulge
family secrets. ‘She fell in love with a young feller and got herself pregnant. Denounced in front of the whole congregation, she was, by her own family. Well, by her father and her brother,
Harry.’

Bridie gasped. ‘What do you mean “denounced”?’

Gracie waved her hands vaguely. ‘It’s a very old custom. Gone long since in most places, but not here.’ She nodded her head. ‘Old man Singleton, that’s your
great-grandmother’s husband, he believed in all that sort of thing. If anybody did anything wrong, ’specially adultery and what they call fornication . . .’ Gracie grinned.
‘Doing what comes naturally, that’s what I call it. Anyway, they used to haul the culprits up in front of the whole congregation and make ’em confess their sins.’

‘They did that to Gran and her – her young man?’

Gracie shook her head. ‘They couldn’t get hold of him, else they would have done. He was from a well-to-do family in Nottingham. His family sent him away, so poor Mary was left to
face the shame alone. Then she ran away and we didn’t hear from her again until she and her family – your auntie and your dad too, of course – arrived on Harry’s
doorstep.’

Bridie was thoughtful, piecing together the rest of the story. That was how her mother, Rebecca, had met Jimmy Hardcastle and had fallen in love with him and become pregnant. And then she too
had been cast out by Harry Singleton.

‘Who was me gran’s young man?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Oh, well now, I’m not rightly sure.’ Gracie was avoiding meeting her direct gaze and Bridie had the distinct impression that the older woman knew far more than she was telling
now. Gracie stood up and began to clear away the cups and saucers, bustling about as if to avoid answering any awkward questions. ‘I’ve said too much already,’ Bridie heard her
murmur. ‘Me an’ mi big mouth. It’ll get me into hot water one of these days.’ Raising her voice, Gracie changed the subject. ‘Now, it’s all settled then.
I’ll look after your gran and you go back to Nottingham and help your auntie Eveleen.’

‘I’m so sorry, Evie. I – I can’t.’

They lay in the big bed together, holding each other close. Richard had not been able to make love to her, even though Eveleen’s body yearned to offer him comfort.

‘It’s all right. It doesn’t matter,’ she tried to reassure him, yet she knew he would feel his failure as keenly as she did. She kissed him tenderly and whilst he
returned her kiss, there was none of the passion, the sudden spark of fire, that had always been between them.

She mourned its loss, but understood. She had not questioned him about the conditions in the trenches, but she too had seen the dreadful look deep in his eyes.

‘We’ll go out tomorrow. We’ll go to the farm.’ She had been disappointed because Richard had made no effort to visit the factory, had displayed no interest in it at all
or in everything that she was accomplishing. Apart from his trip to visit Bridie in Flawford, he had been nowhere. He had sat in the morning room all day, each day, just staring into the fire.

‘A day in the country will do you good.’ She kissed his cheek and then pulled out of his arms. ‘Try to sleep now.’

She lay beside him staring into the darkness and slept only fitfully herself, disturbed by his restlessness and his mutterings. More than once he shouted out and she held him in her arms as he
trembled and buried his face in her neck, his tears wet against her skin.

Eveleen drove the motor car the following morning. At first Richard sat morose and silent beside her, but gradually he began to look about him. The day was cold and sharp, but
already there was a feeling of spring in the air. Lambs, without a care in the world, pranced in the fields and snowdrops dappled the grass verges.

As they drew into the yard, Josh came towards them, his arms stretched wide in welcome. Behind him was Sid, limping towards them but smiling broadly. Wordlessly he shook Richard’s hand and
then turned to Eveleen as Josh drew Richard away towards the house.

‘I can’t thank you enough, missis, for bringing me out here. Your mam and dad – ’ he was referring to Josh, not knowing that he was Eveleen’s stepfather –
‘have worked a miracle. It’s the countryside. It’s so calm and peaceful. It was the noise out there that got to me, missis. The shelling and the gunfire getting nearer and nearer
and never knowing when it was going to be your turn. It was living with the constant fear. And we was all afraid, missis, every man jack of us. It didn’t stop us doing what we had to do, but
anyone who tells you he wasn’t afraid is a bloody liar. Beggin’ yer pardon, missis.’ Eveleen smiled understandingly as Sid went on, ‘But I’m fine now, honest. I was
only saying yesterday, I’m ready to go back home now. I won’t be like I was, missis, I promise. How I could have treated my Elsie like that . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I
don’t know. I’m that ashamed.’

Eveleen touched his arm. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You were ill. But if you really feel well enough, you can come back with us this evening. We’ll take you home.’

Sid’s face brightened. ‘That’d be grand. Not that I’m not happy here, but I want to get back to Elsie.’ He pulled an apologetic face. ‘I’ve a lot of
making up to do.’ He glanced over his shoulder and nodded towards Richard. ‘He doesn’t look so good himself. Just got leave, has he?’

Eveleen nodded, but could not speak for the lump in her throat.

Mary fussed around Richard until Eveleen felt quite left out. But she smiled to herself – her mother had always been this way. The men in Mary’s life were paramount and girls and
women of little importance. And perhaps, Eveleen reminded herself, young men of Richard’s age were a substitute for the son she never heard from.

After dinner Richard went outside to walk around the smallholding with Josh. Mary, watching them from the scullery window, shook her head sadly. ‘Oh, Eveleen, he’s a changed
man.’

‘I know,’ Eveleen agreed, but tried to be positive. ‘But when the war’s over and he comes home then everything will be all right. I’m sure of it. It’s just
– well – knowing he’s got to go back and face it all again. It can’t be easy.’

‘Has he got to go back? I mean, he volunteered. He’s done his bit now. Can’t he be – well, I don’t know – be released or something?’