Twisted Strands (5 page)

‘Of course not. There’s no immediate hurry. It’s not as if,’ she added sorrowfully, ‘I am already pregnant and have been advised to rest.’

Helen reached out and touched her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Evie. There’s plenty of time.’

But Eveleen, at thirty, felt the years were rushing by and though she smiled at her friend, the smile could not quite chase away the worry in her dark brown eyes.

Later that morning Eveleen walked to Foundry Yard and passed the door where she had lived when they first arrived in Nottingham, with a pregnant Rebecca fleeing from the wrath
of her father, an unrepentant Jimmy and a depressed and difficult Mary. If it hadn’t been for the help and friendship of the woman she was about to visit, Win Martin, Eveleen seriously
doubted she would have survived that time. As she drew near Win’s home she saw a cluster of women outside the door. She felt a moment’s stab of fear. Was something wrong in the Martin
household? Then she almost laughed aloud at her own foolishness as she realized what time it was. Win was a middlewoman for Reckitt and Stokes. She collected the lace from the factory and
distributed it to all the women homeworkers in her area. And this was the time of day when all the homeworkers arrived on her doorstep to receive their day’s allocation.

‘Don’t want her giving you more ’n me,’ they would joke to each other.

They needn’t have worried. Win was strict but fair, dealing out three dozen parts to each woman to take home and strip. The lace was manufactured in long strips joined by threads, which
were then drawn out by the homeworkers to separate the lengths. The women then ‘scalloped’ the lace where it needed neatening and wound the finished lengths onto cards. This operation
was known as ‘jennying’. They would bring the lace back to Win’s terraced house by eight o’clock the following morning, after they – and sometimes other members of
their families too, even children – had often worked well into the night. Over the years Win had built up a group of women workers who were conscientious and meticulous.

There was a strange, friendly rivalry between the homeworkers. Yet, if one of their number could not complete the required amount of finished yardage because of dirty or damaged work, the other
women would contribute a few pennies each to make up her pay knowing that the favour would be returned.

Each morning Win returned the finished lace to the factory on her handcart and collected a new batch and the whole routine started again.

‘Morning, Mrs Stokes.’ The murmur ran amongst them as they parted to allow Eveleen to approach the door.

She smiled and nodded, recognizing familiar faces. ‘Is Win home yet?’

‘She’s just sorting it out, then we’ll be on our way.’

At that moment the door opened and Win Martin beckoned the first woman to step inside. Eveleen waited until the last one had hurried away down the street, a bundle of lace in her arms, before
she stepped forward.

‘Evie, I didn’t see you standing there. Come in, come in. The kettle’s singing. I always have a cuppa when they’ve all gone. Eh, fair wears me out, it does.’

‘Oh dear.’ Eveleen stepped into Win’s kitchen. ‘And I’ve come to ask you if you can take on more.’ She pulled off her gloves and sat down without needing to
be asked.

Win eyed her shrewdly. ‘Summat wrong, love?’ Then her face brightened. ‘Don’t tell me you’re . . .?’

Quickly Eveleen shook her head. ‘No, no. I’m not. But that is the reason I’m here. I’ve been thinking that perhaps I’m doing too much. I mean . . .’ she
faltered, blushing slightly. ‘Do you think that could – could stop me conceiving?’

Win made the tea and set a cup in front of Eveleen before she sat down opposite. ‘I’ve got to be honest with you, Evie, I’ve never heard of that being the case.’ She gave
a wry laugh. ‘It’s never stopped any of the women round here falling, yet they work as hard as any I know. Meaning no offence, love.’

‘None taken, Win,’ Eveleen murmured and sighed heavily. ‘I suppose I’m just clutching at straws now.’

‘But that doesn’t mean to say it couldn’t be true in your case. We’re all different, love, and it’s worth a try.’

‘Anything’s worth a try,’ Eveleen said bitterly. ‘I’ll soon be too old. Oh, Win, I do so want to have a child. A son for Richard.’

‘Aye, I know, I know. Life’s unfair, in’t it? There’s me with six of ’em and though I love ’em all, I wouldn’t say they was planned, if you know what I
mean.’

The two women smiled at each other. Win reached across and patted Eveleen’s hand. ‘Don’t give up hope yet awhile. One thing I have heard tell is that if you worry too much
about it, get too desperate, like, then that can stop it happening.’

‘Really?’

Win nodded. ‘So just you put it out of your mind and enjoy yourself a bit more. And whatever it is you want me to do, the answer’s “yes”. I can manage it. Our
Elsie’ll help me.’ Win was referring to one of her daughters.

‘Elsie?’ Eveleen asked in surprise. ‘But I thought she’d just had a baby.’ Everyone, it seemed to Eveleen, could have children but her.

‘Oh, she has,’ Win replied airily. ‘But it’s high time she was back on her feet and working again.’

‘You’re a hard woman, Win Martin.’ The two women laughed together, both knowing that the exact opposite was in fact the truth.

Win’s tone was gentle as she said, ‘You take it a bit easier, love. Get out and about with that handsome husband of yours and let nature take its course.’

‘Darling? Darling, where are you?’

It was Richard’s voice calling from the hallway. Eveleen hurried from the bedroom and leant over the banister.

Looking down, she asked, ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’

He was smiling up at her and beckoning. ‘Come down, I’ve a surprise for you. Come on, Evie.’ He was as excited as a little boy.

Laughing, Eveleen ran lightly down the stairs. ‘What is it?’

‘You’ll see.’ He took her hand and led her into the morning room.

Eveleen gasped and her eyes widened. Lying across a chair was a warm coat with a fur collar and alongside it a hat with a long scarf.

‘Put it on,’ Richard said, picking up the coat and holding it out for her to slip her arms into.

‘It isn’t my birthday.’

Richard could not stop smiling. ‘Ah, but there’s a very good reason. That’s the second part of my surprise.’

‘You do spoil me,’ she murmured, believing that he had arranged all this just to take her mind off her disappointment. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, running her hands
down the soft fabric, whilst Richard fastened the buttons for her just as if she were a child.

‘Now the hat.’ Carefully he placed it on her head and then wrapped the long silk scarf across the crown of the hat and tied it under her chin. ‘Wait there,’ he instructed
and hurried out of the room, returning moments later dressed in a long coat and a cap, with a warm scarf wrapped around his neck.

He took her arm and led her from the room, out of the front door and down the steep steps to the street. Directly outside their house stood a motor car.

‘There!’ Richard was triumphant. ‘What do you think of that?’

For a moment, Eveleen was mystified and then realization dawned. ‘You’ve bought a motor car!’ Now, like a child herself, she clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Richard, how
wonderful!’

‘It’s a Model T Ford,’ Richard said proudly. ‘Come on, let’s go for a ride.’

They giggled like two schoolchildren playing truant as he handed her up into the front seat.

‘Are you sure you know how to drive it?’

‘Oh yes, I’ve been taking lessons. And I’ve got my licence.’ He reached up and kissed her on the mouth, not caring that they were in full view of the street. ‘Do
you think I’d risk endangering my lovely wife?’

It took several turns of the starting handle before the engine burst into life. Eveleen clutched at the side of the vehicle as the whole frame shuddered beneath her. But she was laughing, loving
every minute.

Richard climbed in beside her. ‘Hold on,’ he shouted above the noise. ‘Here we go.’

The sight of a motor car was not unusual in the streets of Nottingham, but once they left the built-up area and were bowling along the country lanes, they were amused by the stir they
created.

Workers in the fields paused to watch their progress. Women came to the doors of the houses and cottages, wiping their hands on their aprons, to gawk at the noisy contraption. Children ran
alongside the vehicle, shouting and laughing. ‘Give us a ride, mester?’

It was a warm, spring day, the trees just sprouting into leaf. Bright dandelions scattered the grass verges and daffodils danced in cottage gardens.

Above the noisy engine, Richard shouted. ‘Shall we go to Bernby and show your mother and Josh? And we’ll take Bridie for a ride. She’d like that.’

Preoccupied, Eveleen nodded. Richard glanced at her, amused. ‘Don’t tell me. You want to have a try at driving?’

Eveleen grinned at him. ‘How did you guess?’

Neither of them had any doubt about her ability to master the technique. Eveleen was a quick learner and she loved any kind of machinery. As a young girl she had learned to operate a
framework-knitting machine under the tuition of her uncle, Harry Singleton. Later, in Nottingham, she had by devious means learned the basic skills of a twisthand on the huge lace machines in the
Reckitt and Stokes’s factory.

It had been at a time when Eveleen was desperate to earn enough money to keep her family together. Thanks to the kindly Win and Fred Martin they had a roof over their heads and work for both her
and her brother, Jimmy as an apprentice twisthand in the factory and Eveleen in the inspection room. But then Eveleen had put pressure on her brother to do the decent thing and marry his cousin,
Rebecca, who was carrying his child. Jimmy had no intention of being tied down and had even been cruel enough to suggest that the child was not his. He had run away to sea, leaving Eveleen as the
sole breadwinner on a woman’s meagre wage.

At that time Eveleen and her brother had been remarkably alike, so much so that people often mistook them for twins. They had the same dark brown eyes, the same well-shaped nose, which on
Eveleen was maybe just a fraction too large for real beauty. Their mouths were wide and generous and usually stretched in ready laughter. They even had the same rich brown hair colour, so when
Jimmy had disappeared Eveleen had cut her own long tresses, dressed in his clothes and taken his place at the machine. She had been unlucky to be discovered, for she had the makings of a good
worker; as good as any man it was said of her later. She could have been sacked for such a deception but Josh, as factory manager, had safeguarded her job in the inspection room.

Now she and Richard could laugh about the incident, which had gone down in the folklore of Reckitt and Stokes, but back then it had been one of the worst times in Eveleen’s life.

Now she tucked her arm through Richard’s and pleaded winningly, ‘Go on. Let me have a go.’

‘Maybe. When I’ve got a little more used to it myself.’

And with that, for the moment, Eveleen had to be content.

Hens scattered, squawking in alarm, even the curly coat pig shambled away, grunting noisily, as they drove into the yard at Pear Tree Farm. At once Bridie was beside them,
jumping up and down in excitement. ‘Take me for a ride. Please,
please
, Uncle Richard.’

Mary appeared in the back door of the farmhouse and came towards them. ‘Richard, how lovely.’ She went to him and held up her face for him to kiss her cheek. Bridie, hanging onto his
arm, hopped from one foot to the other. ‘We’ll drive past the Dunsmores’ big house. Even
they
haven’t got a motor car.’

Laughing, Richard gently freed himself from Bridie’s clinging hands and moved towards the side of the motor to help Eveleen alight. Close to her, Eveleen saw the look of concern cross his
face at Bridie’s innocent mention of the name Dunsmore. But as she put her hand into Richard’s and stepped down, she said brightly, though with a hint of sarcasm not lost on her
husband, ‘
What
a good idea, Bridie. Mam, how are you?’

She kissed Mary’s cheek and then turned to see Josh lumbering towards them, his arms outstretched in welcome. ‘Eh up, mi duck.’

Eveleen smiled warmly and put her arms as far round his girth as she could reach and kissed his weathered cheek. ‘How are you, Josh?’

‘Fine, fine,’ he said as he always did but, drawing back a little, Eveleen looked into his face. His answer had been a little too swift and there had been tension in his tone.

‘You sure?’ she asked softly, thinking that perhaps there was trouble between him and Mary. Her mother had always been a difficult person to live alongside with her temperamental
mood swings. But it was unusual for Mary to quarrel with the man in her life. In Mary Carpenter’s world, men were the superior beings and it was a woman’s place to care for them, cosset
them and pander to their every need. It had been so for as long as Eveleen could remember. Firstly with her own father and her brother, Jimmy, who could do no wrong in Mary’s eyes. Now it was
the same with Josh.

But today Eveleen could feel that something was wrong and as her mother’s voice rose shrilly behind her, she knew the answer. ‘Bridie, stop behaving like a child and leave Richard
alone.’

Eveleen turned to see Mary grasping the girl’s arm and physically dragging her away. ‘Get back to the dairy and finish your work.’

For one awful moment, Eveleen thought Bridie was going to lash out at Mary. The girl’s face was like thunder, her eyes glinting dangerously. Eveleen held her breath and only released it
when she saw Bridie pull herself from Mary’s grip, turn and march towards the dairy, her head held high in defiance.

Though the incident was not funny, Eveleen had a job to hide a wry smile. It was the way she would have acted at the same age.

Richard, too, had felt the atmosphere for he called after Bridie, ‘When you’ve finished your work, love, we’ll take you for a spin.’

‘Don’t encourage her, Richard. I don’t know what’s the matter with her these last few days,’ Mary grumbled. ‘Threatening to run away.’