Tangled Threads (36 page)

Mary sniffed. ‘Shouldn’t think so. Not if Harry’s not going. She wouldn’t dare. She’s all talk and no do, is your grandmother.’

‘She might surprise you,’ Eveleen said, but even she was not hopeful.

As the ponderous procession reached the village, Eveleen said, ‘The place seems deserted. There’s nobody about.’

‘They’re all staying indoors out the way so they don’t have to take their hats off or bow to the coffin.’ Mary’s bitterness went deep, very deep, Eveleen realized
sadly.

But as they turned into Ranters’ Row, Eveleen gasped. The narrow street was full of people, so crowded in fact that the driver had to halt the vehicle to allow the throng to part to let
them through.

Several of the women wore black bonnets and shawls and all of the men wore something black as a mark of respect. Whatever they could unearth among their own belongings, or beg or borrow from
neighbours, Eveleen suspected. One or two, perhaps unable to find anything else, wore black armbands on their sleeves.

As the horses’ hooves clattered on the cobbles the gathering fell silent.

‘Nosy beggars,’ Mary muttered as Eveleen helped her down from the trap. ‘Coming to gawp and revel in some poor girl’s downfall.’

Eveleen glanced about her. There didn’t seem to be much revelry. One or two women held handkerchiefs to their faces and all the men had removed their hats and caps and stood, solemn-faced,
with their eyes lowered. To the forefront, stood Gracie Turner, tears running down her cheeks.

As they stepped through the door of the chapel, even Mary’s eyes widened in surprise. Not another villager could squeeze inside. Only the Singletons’ family pew had been left empty
for the chief mourners. As Eveleen, carrying the child now, and her mother moved down the aisle they could see that only one person was sitting there already. Bridget.

Men, women and even children were squashed into every pew and those who could not find a seat lined the aisle so that the bearers, Andrew among them, had difficulty in carrying the coffin to the
rostrum. The door was left open so that the people who were still in the street could hear the service. It seemed that out of the whole village there was only one person missing.

Harry Singleton was not present at his daughter’s funeral.

Eveleen was quite unprepared for the warmth, the sympathy and the compassion that enfolded the family. The minister was a young man whom Eveleen had not heard preach before.
She was struck at once by his humanity, by the caring and forgiving attitude that was so evident in the way he conducted the funeral. As the service continued she was overwhelmed by his solicitude,
and when it came to his address and he spoke with such love and concern for the dead girl that Eveleen broke down and sobbed, burying her face in the shawl wrapped around the motherless baby in her
arms.

The service over, the four young men hoisted the coffin on to their shoulders and walked slowly out of the chapel and down the street. They made no move to slide the coffin back into the hearse.
They would carry their sad burden on their shoulders all the way to the cemetery. With one accord the whole of the congregation fell into step behind them. As they passed by the windows of the
cottages that looked out on to the street, Eveleen glanced up, straining to see beyond the glass and into the scullery of her uncle’s home.

Standing well back from the window, hoping not to be seen in the shadows but caught by Eveleen’s sharp eyes, Harry was watching.

Later, back in Eveleen’s grandmother’s house, Andrew tenderly took the baby from her arms. Holding her, he looked down into the tiny face, searching, Eveleen was
sure, for a likeness to the girl he had loved so much.

‘She’s a pretty little thing,’ he said and even managed a tremulous smile. ‘I thought she’d be all red and wrinkly, being so little.’

Eveleen shook her head. ‘No, she was even pretty when she was born. She’s been good this morning, thank goodness, but you should hear her when she’s hungry and starts to yell.
She’s a real little fighter.’

‘Good job,’ Andrew said soberly. ‘She’s going to need to be.’

‘And there’s something else she’s going to need too.’ Eveleen’s tone was a mixture of sadness at the mother’s death and bitterness at the father’s
desertion.

Andrew looked at her, a question in his eyes.

‘We’re going to have her baptized. I’m going to see the minister before we leave today. And I feel . . .’ Eveleen ran her tongue over her lips. ‘I think she ought
to have godparents. Andrew, would you be her godfather?’

Despite the sadness of the day, Andrew’s smile lit up his face. ‘I’d be honoured, Eveleen. Thank you.’ They seemed to Eveleen to be only the dregs of comfort yet as he
looked down at the sleeping infant in his arms Andrew said again, ‘Oh thank you,’ as if she had given him the moon.

Eveleen had not been to work since Rebecca’s death. On the morning following the funeral, there was a knock at the door of their home.

‘Who can that be at this hour?’ she grumbled, picking up the baby who was whining. Any moment now Bridie would open her mouth wide and start to yell lustily.

Carrying the infant in her left arm, Eveleen opened the door to find herself staring into Josh Carpenter’s face.

‘Oh!’

Eveleen had been so preoccupied for the past few days that she had not given a thought to letting her workplace know what had happened.

‘Please, come in, Mr Carpenter.’ She led him into the kitchen. ‘Do sit down,’ she invited. ‘You’ll excuse me if I get on with her feed. She’ll start to
raise the roof any minute now.’

Josh eased his large frame into the chair at the side of the range and watched, fascinated, as Eveleen deftly juggled with the feeding bottle and tube. In a few moments the infant was sucking
noisily.

Sitting opposite him, Eveleen said, ‘I am so sorry. I never thought to send word. Fred Martin would have told you for me if I’d thought to ask him.’

His gaze still upon the child, Josh nodded. ‘He did come to tell me that he thought you would be off work for a few days. But he was very evasive. Wouldn’t tell me exactly what was
the matter.’ He glanced up briefly at Eveleen but then his gaze went back to the child. ‘I thought you were ill, Eveleen. Of course, I should have guessed, but you never told me when
the baby was expected.’ He dragged his gaze away from the infant and glanced at Eveleen. ‘How is the mother?’ He gestured towards the child as if to say, Shouldn’t she be
doing that?

Eveleen was touched by his concern. He had taken the trouble to leave work and walk all the way to her home. She sighed, and when she had finished telling him the sad events of the past few
days, Josh shook his head in sympathy. ‘I wish I’d known what was happening, Eveleen. Maybe there is something I could have done to help.’

Eveleen hesitated and then took the plunge. ‘There is something I would like your advice about.’

Josh spread his hands. ‘Anything.’

She looked down at the baby. ‘I just want to do everything right by her. I want to know that I’m doing everything legally. That I can be her – what do they call it – her
guardian?’

‘You want to adopt her?’

‘I suppose so. You see, my brother is her father but his name can’t be on her birth certificate because they weren’t married. She’s had to be registered in her
mother’s name. Singleton.’

‘Leave it with me. I’ll find out about it for you.’ He frowned. ‘There is just one thing. I think you’re too young to adopt her yourself. It would have to be an
older person. Your mother, for instance.’

Eveleen nodded.

‘What’s her name? Just so I’ve got all the facts.’

‘Mary Hardcastle, now, but she was a Singleton before she was married. Rebecca’s father and my mother are brother and sister.’

Josh nodded and heaved himself up out of the chair. ‘Leave it with me,’ he said again. He stood a moment uncertainly, looking as if he wanted to ask something else but did not know
quite how to phrase it delicately.

‘I’m – er – afraid they will have stopped your pay at the factory for the time you’ve had off.’

‘Oh yes, I understand that.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Just so long as I haven’t lost my job altogether.’

‘No, no,’ he reassured her swiftly. ‘Mr Richard said I was to be sure to keep it for you.’

‘Mr Richard?’ Eveleen was so startled she let the feeding tube slip and Bridie yelled in protest. When Eveleen had popped the teat back into the little mouth and there was a
contented silence once more, Josh said, ‘Oh yes. That’s why I’m here this morning. Mr Richard sent me.’

‘Oh,’ was all a very surprised Eveleen could say.

Later that day, while the baby was sleeping, Eveleen climbed the stairs to the top floor where her mother was still sleeping in the makeshift bed that Jimmy had used.

Apart from the day of the funeral, Mary had not got out of her bed since the day after Rebecca had died.

‘Why don’t you come back down to our room? Win washed all the sheets yesterday. Everything . . .’ Eveleen felt the familiar lump in her throat swell. It seemed to have been
constantly in her throat for the past few days. She swallowed it determinedly. ‘Everything’s clean and . . .’ She hesitated to say bluntly that all trace of the poor girl, who had
given birth to her child there and then died, had been washed away.

‘I’m all right here.’ Her head buried beneath the covers, Mary’s voice was muffled. ‘Leave me alone.’

Eveleen let out an exasperated sigh and tried a different tack. ‘Mam, I need to go back to work as soon as possible. You’ll have to look after the baby.’

Mary burrowed even further beneath the covers so that Eveleen could hardly hear the smothered, ‘I can’t.’

For half an hour Eveleen begged, pleaded and finally got angry, shouting so loudly at her mother that even down two flights of stairs the baby began to wail. All to no avail. Mary flatly refused
to get out of her bed.

‘I don’t know what to do to get her up,’ Eveleen said helplessly to Win, who had arrived by the time she came back downstairs.

Picking up the baby, Win said, ‘You might try setting fire to the bed.’

‘Eh?’ For a moment Eveleen stared at her and then she began to laugh. After the sorrow of the last week, it was good to have an excuse to laugh. Eveleen held her side and spluttered.
‘Oh don’t, Win. It hurts.’

The older woman chuckled. ‘You go to the shops, Eveleen. I’ll stay with this little treasure.’

‘Would you?’ Eveleen said gratefully. ‘I do need a few things.’ She pulled a face. ‘Though how I’m to pay for them, goodness knows.’

‘I can lend you—’ the kindly woman began, but Eveleen held up her hand. ‘Thanks, Win, but I’ll manage.’ She frowned and murmured, ‘If only I could get
back to work next week.’

She saw Win glance at her, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Two hours later when Eveleen stepped back through the door with her shopping, she stopped in surprise. Mary was sitting in her chair by the fire, fully dressed with her hair
neatly pinned into a bun, and she was nursing the baby.

Win stood behind her chair and, unseen by Mary, winked at Eveleen above her head. ‘We’ve got it all arranged between us. You can go back to work on Monday morning, mi duck. I’m
going to bring my lace across here and between us, we’ll look after the house, the baby and each other.’

Eveleen stared at her in disbelief, glanced at her mother and then looked back at Win. Later as she put her shopping away, she whispered, ‘I don’t know how you did it, Win, but
you’re a miracle worker.’

Win grimaced. ‘I thought I’d gone a bit far at one point. I told her a few home truths and I don’t think she liked it.’ The older woman glanced shrewdly at Eveleen.
‘Seems your brother was her favourite. That right?’

Eveleen nodded.

Win gave an unladylike snort. ‘I thought as much. Well, I told her in no uncertain terms that you was worth ten of ’im and she was a very lucky woman that you hadn’t washed yer
’ands of her a long time ago ’cos it’s what she deserved.’

Eveleen gasped, startled by Win’s frankness. Yet it seemed to have worked. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am,’ she said.

The older woman chuckled. ‘Tell you the truth, it gets very lonely some days working at home when the young ’uns are at school. I’ll be glad of the company. Besides,’ she
added, a little sheepishly, ‘I love little babies. I just can’t stay away from ’em.’

‘Well, thanks anyway. I do need to get back.’ Eveleen held up her purse and shook it, adding, ‘I’ve exactly one farthing left to me name.’

She didn’t say any more to their neighbour but privately Eveleen thought, Hardly a sum of money that’s going to get us back home to Lincolnshire.

When Eveleen returned to work the following week, Helen was eager for news. ‘She’s had it then? Well, come on. What did she get and are they both all right? And
when can I come and see the babby?’

Soberly Eveleen said, ‘I thought you might have heard, with me being away from work so long.’

Now that she really looked at her, Helen saw Eveleen’s sorrow. ‘What’s happened? Nobody’s said anything.’

‘She had a baby girl. She’s a lovely little thing, but Rebecca died.’

‘Oh no!’ Helen whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

There was a murmur of sympathy around her from the women sitting nearby. In that moment, the last vestige of resentment against Eveleen, at least among those working closest to her, died
away.

‘What’s going to happen to the baby?’

‘We’re taking care of her. My mother, me . . .’ She couldn’t miss out the wonderful Win. ‘And Win, who’s been a very kind neighbour to us.’

At the look on Helen’s face and her earnest, ‘Oh, Eveleen, I am sorry. Me an’ my big mouth.’

But Eveleen found it a relief to be able to talk to someone about the baby and now the women with whom she worked were friendly again, she chattered about the child, what she looked like and
what they intended to call her.

The supervisor was standing over her. ‘They want you in the office,’ she said, sharply. ‘I don’t know who runs this place. You’ve been away over a week and now
they’re calling you out. If I had my way . . .’ The woman turned away muttering and grumbling beneath her breath.