The Bobbin Girls (23 page)

He saw her hesitate, her lovely young face revealing a heartbreaking picture of fading hope, delight turning to dismay. Perhaps she saw his frown, heard his fierce whisper to James, but despite the fact that a deathly silence had fallen upon the assembled company and everyone was staring at them, she took a half-step towards him, his name on her lips. Brushing aside his father’s restraining hand, Rob strode purposefully forward to meet her.

Dear God, thank you, she murmured, releasing a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, for in that moment she knew that everyone had been wrong. The long empty years and endless lonely nights were vanquished by that smile, and he was a stranger no more. Rob was still hers.

They stood and simply looked at each other, not touching, not smiling, not even speaking. Nothing that needed to be said could be expressed in that magical moment of reunion. It was enough that they were together.

Then, as of one mind, they turned and walked away up the long drive, seeking the privacy of the woods. Several pairs of eyes watched them go, but no voices called to them, no protest came from Olivia or James, nor any sound from the fascinated guests. Not that either of the young people would have cared, or even noticed.

By instinct they chose the right path. Walking with the setting sun at their backs, their feet unerringly followed the path to their private childhood paradise. Yet each was only too aware that they were no longer children, that they had grown to adulthood, and that this might be the start of a journey for a man and a woman.

Chapter Twelve

The oak still stood, proud and noble. The rope they had swung from as children still hung from the crooked bough. Protected amongst the thick crown of leaves and branches, birds nested and reared their young, grubs turned into butterflies, beetles scurried and fungi bloomed. High in the trunk a red squirrel peeped at them before leaping to a branch and scurrying away in fright. It caused them both to laugh, but didn’t quite break the tension that was building between them.

They sat between roots which spread out over the green turf of the woodlands, like arms embracing them, exactly as they had done all those years before. Alena curled her feet beneath her and leaned back against the sun-warmed bark to gaze at Rob in wonder, unable to believe that at last he was here beside her.

‘I thought you’d forgotten Ellersgarth existed,’ she said, reminding herself how he’d clearly become so engrossed with his new friends and his new life that he couldn’t even find the time to write, let alone come and see her. She longed to ask why, but was too afraid of what the answer might be. Instead she pursed her lips, lifting her chin in that pert way she had, attempting to fool him into thinking she really didn’t care one way or the other. For a moment that was exactly what he did believe, and all his insecurities rushed to the surface as he hastened to defend himself.

‘It’s not my fault that it’s been so long since I came home on a visit. I longed to come.’

‘You were too busy playing on your new rugger pitch, or swimming in your new swimming bath, I suppose.’ she mocked.

‘No. I kept asking all the time, but the more I asked, the more Father refused to allow me. He thought it would unsettle me, that I was better off staying at school.’

‘I dare say you were - better than bothering to stand up to him.’ They were quarrelling again. This was their first moment together after nearly four years and they were squabbling, only the light inconsequence of their bickering had quite gone, leaving hurt and a dull emptiness in its place. If someone else had come along and made these accusations they would have united as allies. Now they seemed stuck on opposite sides of an insurmountable fence.

Rob was shaking his head. ‘I hated being away from the hills, the lakes and the forest, and from Ellersgarth.’

‘But not from me?’ she couldn’t resist provoking him.

‘Most of all from you.’ His voice was low and sounded suddenly angry. ‘You must have realised that, Alena. You said you’d wait. And I’ve written.’

‘I barely received a postcard this last year.’

‘I had exams and...’ He paused, not wanting to explain how there was little privacy in a boys’ school. ‘I thought you’d forgotten me.’ His father had taken great pleasure in telling him she was seeing Mickey Roscoe. Rob had hidden his hurt by pretending he was no longer interested. But looking at her now, at the smear of dust on her nose, her wayward curls, her wide defiant eyes, he knew he could never lose interest in her. Never. But he had his pride.

‘You’ve made new friends too, I hear.’

Alena’s heart quickened as she recognised in the dullness of his expression that he knew she’d been seeing Mickey Roscoe. All in the past now. Still, she hadn’t quite forgiven him, had no intention of letting him off the hook for his neglect too easily.

‘You don’t expect me to sit at home and mope, do you?’ But there was something in her eyes that told a different story, and, not for the first time, he began to doubt his father. It came to him then, the reason for her coolness. It was as if she had actually spoken her fears out loud or he could read them in her mind, and at last he smiled.

‘You look exactly the same, Alena.’ He wanted to say only lovelier than ever, but couldn’t quite manage it.

‘Huh, how would you remember what I looked like?’

‘With a fish-face like yours? How could I forget?’

She cast him a quick, startled glance and saw how he grinned, the flecks of gold that she remembered so well dancing in his eyes. And suddenly it was all right again. He was the old Rob, ready to tease and squabble, but his love for her clear in every word, every gesture, in the brightness of his gaze fixed upon her.

‘I can’t say I missed your horse-face either.’ And they smiled into each other’s eyes with perfect understanding.

‘I pictured you every night, but I forgot that you would have grown up and changed from the young girl I once knew.’

‘And you are no longer a boy,’ she added, a slight breathlessness in her voice, for it was true. This Rob, sitting so relaxed with arms resting on his knees, seemed different. The broad maturity of his chest and shoulders, the way his fair hair fell across a wide brow, the absence of freckles, and the shadow of stubble on his chin, all told their tale. He was a man.

On that first evening they talked as if they were in the midst of a conversation that had been interrupted for four minutes, instead of four years. The awkwardness between them had vanished as if it had never been, and the time apart was forgotten as stories were told, news exchanged, agonies shared. Rob finally admitted to the way he’d been bullied at his first school, and how in dealing with it he’d been suspended.

‘Father hated that. It hurt his pride that a son of his should be picked on in that way.’

She was outraged. ‘How utterly stupid! He should have been proud of you for sticking up for yourself, not blame you for being bullied. How unfair. It’s like blaming a poor hedgehog for being flattened by a great farm tractor.’

‘I’m still in one piece, thank goodness.’ But he was laughing at her anger, loving her fervour, her outraged sense of justice. He’d forgotten how very wound up and emotional she could become. Yet it was one of the things he loved most about her, her passions and enthusiasms, the way she lived life to the full and felt everything so keenly. Now he reassured her, saying he hadn’t liked the school much in any case. ‘I’m glad I left. He found me a better one, I’ll give him that. Nobody attempted to bully me there.’ Which mollified her a little.

A small silence fell, in which Alena suddenly felt oddly shy. ‘So now you’ll be looking for a job?’

He pulled a face. ‘Father still favours university. Battle lines will no doubt be drawn up yet again before I get my way, as I fully intend to this time.’ Which caused them both to smile.

‘Good for you. Do you know what you want to do?’

‘I mean to be a woodsman. I might go and see Frank Roscoe again, see if he knows of anyone looking for an apprentice. How about you? Are you happy, Ally?’

She felt her heart contract at the use of his pet name for her. ‘Of course I’m happy, though we’ve had our own troubles here.’ She told him then about her work at the mill, about Dolly losing the baby and Sandra’s accident, though glossing over its cause.

‘But the best thing is, I think Harry and Sandra are walking out. Isn’t that wonderful? Ma had almost given up hope of his ever finding a girl. Now we just need to find someone for Kit.’

‘Which, for all his good looks, with his father’s temper, won’t be so easy,’ Rob added, then saw her face fall. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘No, it’s not that. You’re right, he is like Dad.’

When Rob heard the true reason for her reaction, he expressed such sorrow at Ray’s death that tears sprang to her eyes. But she decided this was not the moment to tell him why, exactly, she grieved so deeply. She might break down entirely then. Alena dashed the tears away and asked him to tell her more about his future plans and ambitions. They became so utterly absorbed in their conversation and each other, that it was only when the distant church clock struck ten that she scrambled to her feet in a panic.

‘Heavens, I shouldn’t be here! I’ve got work tomorrow. I have to be up at six.’ The long summer day had beguiled them into thinking it might never end. As she turned to go, he grasped her wrist and pulled her back to him.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?’

Alena looked surprised, as if it were a foolish question to ask. ‘Of course.’ Then before she could change her mind, or think better of it, she kissed him full upon his mouth, soft and warm and sweetly beguiling, and for all it was fleeting and light-heartedly done, it came as no surprise to either of them that seconds later she was in his arms, and he was at last kissing her as she had always longed to be kissed. Childhood was over.

Following supper with Lizzie that evening, Dolly and Tom walked home in complete silence. This was such a common state of affairs that neither of them remarked upon it, or made any attempt to break it. The Lakeland night was warm and soft, a gentle breeze whispering in the boughs of the beeches, and Dolly tucked her arm in his, wanting any passers-by to be sure of whose wife she was. Relations between them may well have fallen into a distant, lacklustre tolerance, but that was no reason, she believed, to broadcast their problems. They’d developed a sort of truce in which each intruded as little as possible upon the other, but it made neither of them happy. This wasn’t at all how Dolly had imagined married life with the much sought-after Tom Townsen.

As they reached The Golden Stag, Tom jerked a nod vaguely in Dolly’s direction and, shrugging free of her arm, headed towards the open pub door.

‘Here, where you off to?’

He stopped, surprised. ‘For a pint, if it’s aught to do with you.’ Something in the casual way he disregarded her brought out all her carefully suppressed misery.

‘I’m your wife, in case you’ve forgotten. But then, I’m surprised you bother to stay married to me at all, since most of your time these days is spent in that flipping pub.’

‘And where is your time spent, Dolly? Or perhaps I should say, with whom?’

She stared at him, a sudden shaft of fear making her heart thump. Dolly knew she was losing him and hadn’t the first idea how to get him back, or even if she wanted to. She’d longed for the security he could give her, and the child she’d carried, within the respectability of marriage. They’d certainly been good together once, but she realised now that to make a marriage work there needed to be more than sexual gratification, perhaps even more than a bairn. There needed to be love. Did she love Tom? Did he love her? She felt she had too little experience to know for sure. Or else they’d never had the chance to find out. She certainly still fancied his fine athletic body, as he had once lusted for the round softness of hers. She could still recall the fierce excitement of those heady moments in the woods together. But then sex was easier to understand than love.

She tried to remind him of that now, exuding whatever sexual charm she could still muster, awkward as it felt to be using these feminine wiles on her own husband. She stroked a hand softly over his cheek and down over his broad chest while she pushed her face close to his, pouting her lips seductively. Tom gazed impassively into her eyes. His expression made her feel faintly foolish, yet she persisted, certain she could win back his interest if she tried.

‘Look, I know we’ve not been getting along too well recently, but I’d never - you know - go with another chap. You’re my man, always will be.’ She tried a tremulous smile, then ran the tip of her tongue over her rosy lips. Was that a spark of interest in his pale eyes? ‘Forget about having a pint, love. Why don’t we buy a couple of bottles of stout and go home? What d’you say, eh?’

‘Why?’ The coldness of his reply stunned her, and the seductive smile slipped a little.

‘How do you mean, why? Because we’re married, that s why, and it must be months since...’

‘A couple of years, actually,’ he calmly reminded her. ‘But then you wouldn’t be able to keep track, would you? Since you don t need my services any more.’

Dolly felt sweat break out beneath the fullness of her breasts. ‘For God’s sake, who’s been telling fibs about me?’

‘Nobody needs to, Dolly. I’ve got eyes in my head.’