Twisted Strands (37 page)

It was a deliberate reproach to her mother-in-law and Eveleen could see that Sophia recognized it as such, but still she was not prepared to let her sick son interfere with her comfortable
existence. She stood up. ‘Keep me informed,’ she said curtly and swept out.

Brinsley, however, was very different. He could not do enough to help his son. ‘Do you think this is the right place for him, Eveleen? I mean, he doesn’t seem to be making much
progress. He just lies there all day, staring at the ceiling. I haven’t heard him speak yet. Have you?’

Eveleen shook her head. They were sitting together in the dining room over a dinner that neither of them felt like eating.

Brinsley reached out and covered her hand with his own. ‘My dear, do you think he should go into a nursing home where he could be cared for properly?’

Eveleen’s voice was high-pitched. ‘You think I’m not spending enough time with him. That I’m concentrating too much on work and not on him.’ She felt guilty enough
about the fact already, but to have her father-in-law point it out hurt indescribably.

‘No, no, my dear girl, I’m not criticizing you. You’ve done a wonderful job at the factory. But for you the whole business might have gone under. You’ve kept it going,
kept people in jobs. Even kept jobs open for the men to come back to, but—’

‘But I’m still neglecting my husband now,’ Eveleen finished, her voice flat. She gripped his hand and whispered hoarsely, ‘You don’t need to tell me. I
know.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Brinsley insisted gently. ‘To be honest . . .’ He paused, as if knowing what he was going to say would hurt her even more. ‘I think he
needs expert help that neither you nor I can give him. With the best will in the world we’re not medically trained, my dear.’

‘No.’ Eveleen was forced to agree. Her thoughts turned to Bridie. The girl was not yet a fully fledged nurse, but even she had known how to reach Richard far better than Eveleen had.
Eveleen knew it was the sensible thing to do, the right thing to do, but she had always been in charge of her family. It had been Eveleen who had taken the reins after the death of her father, she
who had moved the family to Flawford and then later to Nottingham, with the extra burden of an unmarried mother-to-be and coming baby too. Whether everything she had done had been right, she could
not say. All she knew now was that she was not ready to relinquish control yet.

‘A little longer,’ she pleaded with Brinsley. ‘Let’s try a little longer.’

A week later Bridie came to Nottingham to visit.

‘You go to work,’ she urged her aunt. ‘And you can give the girl a day off. I’ll look after him.’

Eveleen eyed her doubtfully. It was not that she questioned Bridie’s capability. Far from it. She was being unreasonable, she knew, but she could not help feeling jealous that her niece
was far more knowledgeable and efficient at dealing with Richard than she was. She tried, weakly, to protest. ‘But it’s your day off from nursing. Don’t you want to go into the
city? See the shops?’

Bridie shook her head. ‘I’d sooner stay here with Uncle Richard.’

Eveleen sighed inwardly, knowing herself defeated. ‘I’ll see you this evening, then. I’ll drive you back.’

‘No need.’ Bridie smiled. ‘I’ve got tomorrow off too. I can stay overnight.’ Her smiled broadened. ‘If you’ll have me.’

Eveleen felt a sudden rush of affection for the girl and guilty for her irrational jealousy. She hugged her. ‘Of course. It’ll be lovely to have you here.’

When Eveleen returned home that evening, Bridie had wrought a miracle. Richard was out of bed, fully dressed and sitting near the window overlooking the street.

‘Go and sit with him, Auntie Eveleen. I must change for dinner,’ Bridie urged. ‘Just talk to him. Tell him about your day.’

Eveleen felt strangely tense as she sat beside him. This was her beloved husband, the man she had lived with, had been so close to and yet he was a stranger to her now. As Bridie had suggested,
Eveleen began to talk to him, haltingly at first, but then the words began to spill out and she was chattering maybe too much in her nervousness. Suddenly she stopped mid-sentence. He wasn’t
listening. He was staring out of the window, yet he didn’t seem to be seeing the street below and the people. As she fell silent, he turned his head slowly to look at her.

His mouth worked as if he wanted to speak, but had forgotten how. ‘Where’s – ’ he mumbled at last – ‘B-b-bridie?’

‘It seems to be you he wants,’ Eveleen said resentfully, when she went to find her niece in the bedroom that was always called ‘Bridie’s’ now,
even when she wasn’t staying there.

Bridie stared at her aunt for a moment and caught some of the tension in her, the acute disappointment that her husband, though physically safely back home with her, was asking for someone else.
She crossed the room swiftly to where Eveleen stood in the doorway, her hand still gripping the doorknob. Bridie held out her arms and tried to embrace her aunt, but Eveleen stood stiffly
unresponsive.

‘It’s only that at the moment he looks upon me as his nurse.’ Bridie laughed, trying to make light of the situation, but at the same time trying to make her aunt understand.
‘We have the same trouble at the home. Sometimes when a patient’s family visits, they’ll hardly speak to them. Their little world is the home and the nursing staff.’

Some of the resentment left Eveleen’s face, but she said flatly, ‘Then you’d better go to him.’

‘Let’s have dinner first. Come on, we’ll go down.’ She took her aunt’s hand. ‘Just you and me. Then I’ll help him into bed. You can be with me and see
what to do.’

Eveleen felt like shouting back, I know what to do. Haven’t I been caring for my family for years? Didn’t I care for you from the time you were born?

But for once she bit her tongue to stop the words being spoken as she realized the truth. Eveleen had to admit that she had no idea how to cope with the injured and emotionally damaged man who
had returned from the hell of the trenches.

Bridie had to leave the following afternoon, and after she had gone Richard sank back into his silent, lethargic world. Eveleen could not even coax him to get out of bed, other
than to visit the bathroom, never mind get dressed. Once more he just lay, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

‘Please, Richard . . .’ Eveleen took his hand. ‘Won’t you get up and sit by the window like you did yesterday?’ Though the words nearly choked her, she added,
‘Like you did for Bridie?’

He did not look at her as he mumbled, ‘Bridie. I want Bridie.’

Eveleen sighed, straightened up and turned away. ‘I can’t cope with this,’ she muttered as she left the room. The man who had cared for her and looked after her was now lost to
her. Downstairs she pulled on her coat and put on her hat, ramming the hatpin viciously into place, anxious to be gone from the house. At least at the factory I know how to cope with all the
problems, she thought. Though there had been difficult times, Eveleen had faced and dealt with them all and now the factory, though vastly changed for the time being, was running comparatively
smoothly. She had earned the respect of all those who worked for her.

Eveleen decided to walk to the factory to work off some of the anger boiling up inside her. As she marched along with long, almost manly strides, her head held high, she was unaware of the
striking figure she made and the admiring glances she attracted.

Why can’t I cope with it? she castigated herself. Is it because I’m so used to him being the strong one? Or is it, she pondered, trying to be completely honest with herself, because
after years of coping with my mother’s weathervane moods I’ve just reached breaking point?

She had reached the factory gates and as she stepped through them she sighed. She was no nearer solving her problem, but at least, for a few hours, she could bury herself in a different set of
problems, but ones that she was now fully capable of dealing with.

‘I want to see my son. You’ve no right to stop me.’

Mary Carpenter stood in the hallway at Fairfield House, her voice raised in petulant anger, and faced the matron.

‘I’ll ask Jimmy if he’s feeling well enough,’ Dulcie said calmly. She turned and addressed Bridie, who was hovering in the shadows near the staircase. ‘Singleton,
will you inform Mr Hardcastle that his mother is here and wishes to see him?’

Bridie turned and began to run up the stairs, but as she did so her grandmother elbowed the matron out of the way and pushed past her. ‘All this nonsense. I’ve a right to see my son.
I don’t see why he can’t come home with me.’

‘The authorities—’ Dulcie began primly.

‘Damnation to the authorities. What do they care about my boy?’ Mary was climbing the stairs now, almost up to where Bridie stood looking down at the matron, uncertain what she
should do.

Dulcie nodded to her, capitulating to the determined woman with a sigh.

‘This way, Gran.’

‘I know where his room is, girl,’ Mary snapped, but Bridie insisted on leading the way along the landing and opening the door of Jimmy’s room.

She smiled as she entered and announced, ‘A visitor for you.’

As Jimmy, in his chair by the window, turned and saw his mother, Bridie almost laughed aloud at the look of horror on his face. As Mary hurried towards him, her arms outstretched, he cringed
back into the chair. But there was no escaping the woman’s tender caress, her kiss. As she sat down beside him, she took his hand and though he tried to pull away, she held it firmly in her
grasp.

Quietly chuckling to herself, Bridie closed the door.

‘So,’ Bridie asked Jimmy later, trying to keep her impish smile in check, ‘did you have a pleasant afternoon with your mother?’

Jimmy glowered up at her. ‘Who ses she’s me mam?
I
can’t remember.’

‘Well, she’s positive she is. Besides, you recognized your sister. So, if Eveleen is your sister and Mary’s your mother, then I’m your daughter.’

He was suddenly angry. His hands gripped the arms of his chair until the knuckles showed white. He thrust his head towards her, his eyes glittering. ‘You can’t prove that. No-one
can. It could have been anyone. It could have been Andrew Burns. He was like a lovesick puppy, always hanging round her.’

She stood staring down at him as he glared back at her. She brushed aside the implied insult to her dead mother as a slow smile spread across her face. ‘So,’ she said quietly,
‘you do remember, after all?’

Appalled, Jimmy glared up at her. ‘You little bastard!’ he muttered through gritted teeth. ‘You tricked me.’

‘Oh, I’m that all right,’ she said airily. The horrible name he had called her was nothing new to her. She had grown up with it being called after her in the schoolyard and
along the lanes near her home. Bridie the bastard, they had called cruelly after her. Only Micky Morton had ever stuck up for her, earning himself a bloody nose more than once in her defence.
‘You saw to that, didn’t you? Running away to sea instead of marrying my mother.’

‘I told you, you can’t prove I fathered you.’

‘No, I can’t, but from what Auntie Evie has told me about my mother and what I’ve seen now I’ve met her father and my great-grandmother I don’t reckon my mother
would have been the sort to have had a string of fellers.’

His head came up sharply. ‘You know them?’

His guard was down now. He was talking to her – really talking to her – for the first time. And now he was making no pretence that he had lost his memory.

Bridie nodded. ‘I went to help out. I got quite close to the old lady, but . . .’ Her eyes clouded. ‘He won’t have anything to do with me.’ Then suddenly she
grinned broadly. ‘But I haven’t given up yet.’

Jimmy snorted. ‘I wouldn’t count on him ever coming round. If he can cast his own daughter out, aye and his sister ’afore that, then you’ve no chance.’

She regarded him steadily, her head on one side. ‘I grant you Andrew was in love with Rebecca.’ Her voice faltered for a moment. So much in love with her, she was thinking, that he
still sees her in me. Pushing aside her own sadness, she concentrated on the man before her now. ‘But when you came along, she had eyes for no-one else. So I’m told.’

Jimmy shifted awkwardly in his chair.

‘So,’ she persisted, ‘why, exactly, won’t you at least acknowledge that you
could
be my father?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I admit I could be your father, but I’m just not saying that I am.’

‘Why?’

His lip curled. ‘I didn’t want to be saddled with a misery for a wife and a howling kid.’

‘If she was such a misery as you call her, why did you – want her?’

He shrugged. ‘She was there,’ he said callously. ‘And she was – available.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘And it was fun to take her away from poor old
Burns.’

Bride felt the urge to slap his face really hard. Instead, she controlled her anger to say with icy calm, ‘Do you know something? I think it’s you that’s the bastard, not
me.’

Sick with disappointment at finding out just what sort of a man her father was, Bridie turned away. She was halfway across the room before he said, ‘I suppose you’re going to report
all this to your precious matron and have me sent back to sea. Back to the war.’

She stood a moment, her heart beating fast. Then she turned and walked slowly back to him. She bent over him, her hands resting on the arms of his chair. She thrust her face close to his.
‘I’ll strike a bargain with you. I’ll not say a word about any of this.’ She paused and then added pointedly, ‘At least at the moment. But from now on you treat your
own mother with a lot more respect than you treated mine.’

He stared up at her and then there was a brief flicker of admiration in his eyes. ‘By heck, you’re a hard little bugger, aren’t you?’

She stood up, her face grim. ‘I can be when I need to be. I wonder who I get it from.’

Midway through the afternoon an urgent message from her father-in-law was delivered to Eveleen at the factory that she must return home immediately.

She went at once, knowing that Brinsley would not panic easily. Her heart in her mouth, she hurried home, opening the front door to a cacophony of noise. Jane, the girl Eveleen had employed to
watch over Richard during her absence, was standing in the hall in tears and wringing her hands helplessly. The sound of shouting and of breaking glass or pots, was coming from upstairs.