Tangled Threads (34 page)

Now there was puzzlement among some of the listeners. Someone shouted from the back, ‘So how come she ended up dressing up as her brother and working in there?’

‘I don’t know,’ Helen said, looking down now at Eveleen. ‘That’s the story as far as I know it. Will you tell us the rest yourself, Eveleen?’

‘I don’t want your pity,’ Eveleen said, tight-lipped.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t get it,’ someone snapped. ‘Just get on with it and tell us. I’ve got a home to go to, even if the rest of you
haven’t.’

‘All right.’ Eveleen was reluctant to tell her family’s secrets to these women who had treated her so harshly, yet she knew this would be her only chance to explain. She ran
her tongue over her dry lips and went on. ‘I tried to persuade Jimmy to marry Rebecca. I even went back to Flawford to get my uncle’s permission. She’s under age. They both are.
But – but then he ran away. He’s gone to sea and we haven’t heard a word from him since.’

The women stood quietly absorbing this information. She didn’t need to say any more. They could work the rest out for themselves. With her brother’s wage – the only man’s
wage – gone, there would not be enough to support three women and a baby.

Now they could understand, but whether they could sympathize and forgive was another matter. They shuffled their feet and murmured to each other, moving now towards the door. They would sleep on
it and only by morning would they decide.

As the room emptied, Eveleen glanced at Helen as she climbed down from the chair. ‘I don’t know whether to smack you or hug you,’ she said.

The girl grinned. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ll carry on as we did before all this happened. All right?’

Eveleen nodded and said a heartfelt, ‘Thanks.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ Helen said and moved towards the door.

Only as her gaze followed Helen across the room did Eveleen become aware of the person who had entered the room earlier.

Richard Stokes, leaning against the wall near the door, with his arms folded and looking directly at her, must have heard every word.

‘Well, well, well.’

He pushed himself off the wall and came towards her, his gaze never leaving her face. He stood in front of her and looked down at her. A small, amused smile played at the corners of his mouth
and then widened so that his eyes sparkled and the laughter lines deepened. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said very softly so that she had to strain to hear the words, ‘how glad I
am to discover that you are – and have been all along – Eveleen.’

‘I am sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. Mr Josh has given me another chance and I promise it won’t happen again.’ She spoke stiffly, already on her guard against this
handsome man standing so close to her and looking at her so intently.

Richard Stokes shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t mind if it did. Just,’ he added impishly, ‘so long as I know that underneath those dreadful boy’s clothes you really are
Eveleen.’ His gaze was roaming over her now. ‘The only thing that’s a real shame,’ he murmured, ‘is that you’ve cut off that glorious hair.’

Eveleen stiffened. Why did he have to start to get personal, almost flirtatious? Why couldn’t a young man just be friendly without . . . ? Eveleen sighed inwardly but her guard against his
flattery went a little higher.

‘I must go,’ she said, just short of sounding curt.

She side-stepped to go around him towards the door, but he put out his hand to touch her arm. He did not take hold of her but his gesture was meant to delay her. He was still looking at her
earnestly, his dark brown eyes now filled with concern. ‘It’s a sad story. If there’s anything I can do . . .’

‘I don’t want your pity,’ she snapped and he withdrew his hand swiftly, as if the touch of her burned him.

He gave a stiff, almost mocking, bow. ‘I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you, Miss Hardcastle.’

‘I just want the chance to work hard and earn a living. If you really want to help, you could think about the pitiful wages you pay your women workers.’

With that she turned away and marched out of the room leaving him staring after her.

Her anger carried her out of the factory gates and halfway home before she sighed and groaned aloud. ‘Now you’ve really done it. You won’t even have a job to go to by the
morning.’

Like her mother had always warned her, sometimes she was far too outspoken for her own good.

But the following morning she was not summoned to Josh’s office and she took her place in the workroom as usual. Only this morning there was a subtle difference in the atmosphere. Helen
greeted her cheerfully.

‘I don’t know about anybody else,’ the girl said in a loud voice so that most of the other women could hear her. ‘But I’ve decided to forgive and forget. What you
did was wrong, Eveleen, but I reckon you had good reasons.’

No one else said a word, but throughout that day and the days that followed, there was a noticeable shift in the general attitude towards Eveleen. Some of the other women followed Helen’s
example and gradually began to include Eveleen in their conversations once more. Only a few continued to ignore her completely and refuse to speak to her. She didn’t let this bother her but
what did sadden her was that Josh Carpenter now seemed very careful in his treatment of her. She had little reason to go to his office so there were no chances for private conversations. Though he
would nod to her when they happened to meet accidentally, there was wariness in his eyes.

Eveleen sighed inwardly. She hadn’t meant to hurt the big man who had shown her such kindness. Despite the jibes from others, she had never really felt threatened by his interest in
her.

But if Josh’s interest in her was waning, there was one whose attentions were becoming more noticeable.

It wasn’t long before Helen remarked, ‘Mr Richard’s coming to the workroom a lot more these days. I reckon he’s sweet on you, Eveleen.’

Eveleen shuddered. Uncannily, the girl had used the very same phrase that Jimmy had used about Master Stephen Dunsmore.

The very words that had started all the trouble.

Life continued in much the same manner for the following weeks and months. Eveleen brought home her pay from the factory while Rebecca worked hard, often late into the night,
at the stocking-machine. Mary helped in fits and starts. Some days she would be reasonably cheerful and would willingly contribute to what she regarded as their ‘going home’ fund. On
other days she would be sunk in depression once more and would sit by the fire all day, lost in self-pity and sobbing because there was no word from Jimmy.

‘I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead,’ she wailed. ‘Oh my baby boy.’ Then she would say harshly to Eveleen, ‘It’s all your fault. If you
hadn’t caused your poor father so much worry in the first place. And now you’ve driven Jimmy away. Now I’ve lost two sons.’ On and on the tirade would continue and always
ending with the same wailing plea, ‘Take me home, Eveleen.’

‘Get to bed, Rebecca,’ Eveleen said gently late one night when the girl looked pale and wan in the lamplight. ‘You look worn out and, besides, you can hardly
reach the machine now for the bump.’

She was trying to make light of the situation but she was becoming increasingly concerned about Rebecca’s welfare. While the girl never complained, there were dark shadows under her eyes
and her cheeks were hollowed. Although her pregnancy was obviously far advanced, the rest of her body looked thin.

Rebecca heaved herself up. ‘I will if you don’t mind. I’ve got the most dreadful backache—’

‘What?’ Mary spoke suddenly from her chair by the fire, making both girls start. They turned to look at her. ‘Backache, you say?’

‘Yes, I’ve had it all day.’

‘Hardly surprising,’ Eveleen remarked. ‘You’re having to sit at such an unnatural position now to reach the machine.’

‘It’s not that,’ Mary snapped. ‘It’s the baby. Lots of women start their labour with back pains. I did.’ For a moment both girls stared at her. ‘Get her
upstairs, Eveleen. I’ll go for Win.’

The most animated they had seen her for weeks, Mary was already reaching for her shawl hanging on a hook behind the door. ‘Go on. Don’t stand there all night. Get the girl upstairs
else she’ll be giving birth here on the hearthrug.’

Eveleen was to look back on the hours that followed as a nightmare. Win arrived only minutes after Mary’s first pronouncement that Rebecca must be in labour and followed
the two girls upstairs to the back bedroom.

‘Plenty of hot water, Eveleen, and towels.’

Eveleen hurried downstairs at once to carry out Win’s instructions, leaving the older woman to say comfortingly to the frightened young girl, ‘You’ll be fine, love. It’s
going to hurt a bit, but just think in a few hours you’ll have a lovely baby in your arms.’

‘I don’t want it . . .’ were the last words Eveleen heard Rebecca say as she left the bedroom. ‘I want my father. Please – I want Father.’

As she hurried down the stairs, Eveleen made herself another impossible promise. I’ll get him for you, Rebecca. I’ll bring him here if it’s the last thing I do.

By five o’clock in the morning, Win said, ‘You’ll have to get a doctor, Eveleen. The poor girl’s exhausted. She’s so tiny. I – I can’t
cope with it.’

‘Is there something wrong?’

Win looked helpless. ‘I don’t know. I’m fine at births if everything’s straightforward, but . . .’ She said no more but the unspoken words frightened Eveleen.

Eveleen pushed aside the thought that they could not afford the expense of a doctor and said, ‘Where’s the nearest?’

‘Go and knock my Fred up. Tell him I said we need a doctor. He’ll know then that it’s urgent. He’ll get one.’

It was two hours before a doctor arrived at the house. The moment he entered the bedroom, he took one look at the girl on the bed and opened his bag.

‘You’d better go downstairs,’ he said to Eveleen. ‘Mrs Martin can assist me.’ The middle-aged man with kindly, well-worn features, smiled briefly at Win. It was a
face that had seen all of life’s tragedies. ‘We’re old teammates, aren’t we? As soon as I get a message from Mrs Martin, I know I’m really needed.’

When he drew out huge forceps, Eveleen hurried away feeling sick and closing her ears to the girl’s screams. She was glad of the excuse to escape, yet she would have braved it out and
stayed if the doctor had needed her.

‘Will she be all right?’ was Mary’s first, anxious question as Eveleen sat down in front of the fire beside her mother. She was shivering, but from anxiety, not the cold.

‘Oh I hope so. I do hope so.’ Eveleen’s fervent whisper was like a prayer.

As if sensing the girl’s feelings, Mary held out her hands. ‘Come, kneel with me on the rug,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s pray together.’

Eveleen gave her mother a startled glance, but then she sank to her knees. It was strange, she was thinking. While her mother flatly refused now to attend services, there must still be a
deep-rooted faith in her. A faith that had been planted in her childhood and, though it might have withered, refused to die completely.

Eveleen closed her eyes and put her hands together and pictured the huge figure dressed in white sitting on his throne in the sky. His face, in her imagination, was etched with deep lines of
sadness and his eyes were fathomless depths of compassion. She pictured him reaching out with a huge hand, the hand that held the world in its palm. She imagined she felt him touching her head. So
vivid was the scene that she fancied she could feel his power flowing into her and seemed to hear him say, in deep comforting tones, ‘Be strong, child. Be brave and strong. I am here to guide
you.’

But however hard she willed herself to hear the words, the voice in her head gave her no promise that everything would be all right.

Later Eveleen made hot drinks as she and Mary sat together straining to hear sounds from upstairs.

‘It’s gone awfully quiet,’ Eveleen said worriedly.

‘At least she’s not lying in a stinking ditch with only an old gypsy woman to hold her hand,’ Mary murmured.

‘Oh, Mam.’ Eveleen reached out and took her mother’s hand.

Mary said no more. Now was not the time to be dwelling on that time and its tragic outcome. ‘Just so long as they both come through it this time,’ she whispered.

The baby girl came into the world at eight o’clock in the morning but in the same moment the mother’s life ebbed away.

When they had first heard the child’s cries, Eveleen and Mary had leapt up from their chairs and clutched each other in excitement. ‘It’s over. Oh thank God.’ But when
the doctor came down the stairs, his face was grave. At once, they guessed the worst.

‘I’m so very sorry.’ He stood before them, weary and dishevelled. ‘There was nothing I could do.’ The concern, the disappointment at his failure was written in the
man’s eyes and in every line of his face. He glanced from Mary to Eveleen and back again. ‘She – she was asking for her father. Is he not here?’ He glanced around him as if
looking for the man.

Not knowing the circumstances the doctor had perhaps presumed that Rebecca was Mary’s daughter and Eveleen her sister.

Stunned by the news, Eveleen could only shake her head, while Mary let out a wail and covered her face with her apron. She rocked to and fro in the chair.

‘The baby’s strong and appears quite healthy, though I’ll call back to examine her properly later today.’

‘A girl,’ Eveleen murmured. ‘She’s had a baby girl?’

The doctor nodded. ‘Have you a name for her?’

Eveleen realized that they had never even discussed a name for Rebecca’s baby. She glanced down at her mother but Mary was lost in her own misery. The years fell away and she was mourning
that other loss too.

Eveleen’s mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t think properly and yet the doctor was waiting for an answer. He seemed to want the child to have an identity before he left the house.

‘Bridget,’ Eveleen murmured, thinking of the old woman in the cottage – only a few miles away but separated by a deep chasm of bitterness. ‘After her
great-grandmother.’