The Bobbin Girls (42 page)

‘ I owe that man nothing since he has allowed his son to steal my bride.’

‘ I doubt he could have stopped him,’ Sandra felt bound to point out.

‘I desperately need to fill my time with something. Let me help. I’ll address envelopes, carry around a placard, stick up posters, whatever you wish, only give me something to take my mind off my troubles.’ He’d looked at her with such moist, beseeching eyes that Sandra, ever soft-hearted, and in dire need of all the help she could get, saw no reason to refuse.

Sandra was beginning to feel a prisoner in her own home. She gave comfort and succour on a daily basis to her aunt, she worked hard for Mrs Rigg at the village store, and was conducting this campaign on everyone’s behalf. She’d certainly stood by Alena through her troubles. It had been her own letter to Rob, apparently, which had sparked his determination to find out the truth, once and for all, and led to his finally coming to claim her.

But who was there to help her? Who was offering her comfort and succour, or helping her to find the happiness she craved? No one. Save for Mickey, of all people

As Mickey put his back into the campaign, she began to feel real sympathy for him. It wasn’t his fault that Alena had been in love with someone else and he’d been deprived of his bride. Just as it wasn’t her fault that Harry had lost his job and gone away. They were both victims, in a way, like poor King Edward who had now married Mrs Simpson but lost his crown.

She watched Mickey, seated at Aunt Elsie’s chenille-covered table, busily drawing up plans of which sections of the woodland James Hollinthwaite meant to clear and replant. He even sketched out a possible time-scale, attempting to explain the process to Sandra. In her chair by the fire Aunt Elsie softly snored, and from out in the hall came the loud tick of the grandfather clock. The huge old-fashioned house seemed suddenly to echo her loneliness, despite Mickey’s presence. She wished desperately it could be Harry here beside her. Where was he? Had he found a job in Liverpool? He wrote from time to time but made no promises, never even asked her to wait for him, though she always promised she would in the letters she wrote back.

How different her life would have been if she hadn’t suffered that dreadful accident and Harry hadn’t led the deputation against Hollinthwaite. Yet he’d been standing up for what was right, and nothing would make her back down from this campaign. What more did she have to lose? The rest of the village, however, was another matter. A few gave her their support, but in a secretive, back-door sort of way; the rest refused even to get involved for fear of ending up like Harry.

Mickey finished his drawing and turned it for her to see. ‘There you are. Devastate this village, he will. Quick cash crops, that’s what he’s going for, and to hell with the consequences.’

‘Yes, Mickey, but how do we stop him? How do I persuade everyone to stand against him?’

They were worrying over this problem when there was a knock at the door.

Aunt Elsie woke with a start. ‘My house is no longer my own.’ she grumbled. ‘No wonder I suffer constantly from a headache, with all this activity going on.’

Sandra glanced through the window, to see who was calling so late. ‘It’s only Lizzie. You like Mrs Townsen, Aunt.’

‘I don’t think she likes me,’ Mickey pointed out, getting up. ‘Time I went home in any case. There’s not much more we can do tonight.’

Sandra, suddenly anxious that Lizzie didn’t see Mickey or interpret her accepting his help as some kind of betrayal, agreed, and bustled him out through the kitchen door. Only then did she let Lizzie in, breathing rather fast and filled with unaccustomed guilt. ‘Oh, you are in then. I’d nearly given up hope.’

‘Sorry, I was upstairs and Aunt Elsie never answers the door if she can help it.’

Over a cup of tea, Sandra showed Lizzie the maps and plans of the proposed planting sites, without mentioning who had drawn them. Aunt Elsie sat in sulky silence by the fire with her own favourite china cup and saucer and a plate of Bourbon biscuits as the two chatted. Sandra prayed the sulks would continue for once, and she’d make no mention of Mickey’s having just left.

‘I’ve brought you a bit of news about Harry,’ Lizzie said and Sandra was instantly alert.

‘What? Is he all right? He isn’t sick or anything?’

Lizzie laughed, patting the girl’s hand fondly. ‘No, of course not. Strong as a horse, my Harry. He’s coming home. Only on a visit, mind, but I thought you’d like to know.’

‘Oh, Lizzie!’

She leaned close and put a gentle hand to Sandra’s cheek which had suddenly grown hot. ‘I’ll try and put in a word for you. I know he still loves you, if the fool would only admit it.’ They exchanged knowing smiles, and Lizzie shook her head. ‘Children, what a trouble they are! Even when they’re full-grown and should have more sense.’

She talked for a while about how happy she was that Tom and Dolly seemed content at last, and how Dolly had felt the baby quicken only yesterday; of Jim and Ruby’s brood, and how Kit had finally decided to go into market gardening.

‘Told him to do that years ago.’ Inevitably the conversation turned to Alena. ‘I do worry about the lass. The weather is kind at the moment, being June, but what will happen when autumn comes? They can’t stay in that hut, can they? And they could be hungry even now. Perhaps I should take them more food? What do you reckon? Would that be considered interference?’

Sandra raised her eyebrows. ‘You know where they are then?’

‘Of course I know where she is. I’m her mother. Would it hurt Rob’s pride, do you think?’

Sandra smiled. ‘Why should it? So long as you take the kind of food that the forest, or Rob’s hunting skills, cannot provide. Salt and flour, that sort of thing. They have to eat.’

Lizzie was looking brighter by the minute. ‘Oh, Sandra, you’ve taken a real weight off my mind. That’s exactly what I’ll do.’ And as Aunt Elsie’s snores rang out once more, she chuckled and said she’d take her leave so that the old lady could be put to bed.

Taking his ear from the parlour door, Mickey smiled as he slipped quietly back up the passage and let himself out once more through the kitchen and into the back garden and walked jauntily away.

Lizzie was excited as she set out with Jim in his old Morris van along the winding lanes into the forest. She had so much news to give Alena. The reaction of the village to the whole scandal would be discussed, of course. But on a more cheerful note, wouldn’t she be pleased to hear about Harry coming home, and that he’d found himself a job? Maybe there’d be two marriages in the family and a couple more grandchildren before long. Alena would be as pleased if Sandra could escape the clutches of her aunt. But, as yet, these were no more than daydreams.

Lizzie would like to have seen her own daughter safely married, but she wasn’t complaining. Everything came to those who had the patience to endure.

‘You can drop me here,’ she told her son as they rounded a bend and he dutifully drew the van to a halt, only to glance about him with some concern. Beyond the clearing where he was now parked the trees were thickly planted with little light showing between. ‘Will you have far to walk? It’ll be darker in the forest, particularly later on your way back. Have you a torch?’ Lizzie produced one and he grinned. ‘You seem to have thought of everything.’

‘I hope so.’ She indicated the basket of goodies that she carried. ‘Why don’t you let me come with you? I could at least carry that for you.’ But she shook her head.

‘I promised to say naught to anyone, not even family. Not till they’ve had time to get themselves sorted out. You’ll come back for me in two hours?’

‘On the dot.’

Jim waited until she was well on her way, smiling at his mother’s loyalty and resolve to keep the lovers’ hiding place a secret, before continuing along the road towards Hawkshead. He’d promised to do one or two errands for Ruby and the children while he was out. Had he turned the van around and headed home right away, he might have noticed another vehicle on the road, not too far behind.

Harry came the following Saturday. Sandra met him off the train at Lake Side, her stomach churning with nervousness as she waited. But she was determined to have a proper talk with him well out of earshot and sight of her aunt.

He seemed surprised to see her but, she thought, quite pleased, which came as a relief. She’d taken particular trouble with her appearance, choosing to wear a simple cotton print frock in saffron yellow which, as his admiring glances clearly indicated, suited her fair prettiness. For all the sun was beating down, she carried her straw Panama hat in neatly gloved hands, not wishing to cover her shining hair, which she knew he loved.

They sat on the small pier overlooking the lake and ate ice creams, laughing at a small flotilla of ducklings bobbing up and down in the softly lapping water. It was a perfect June day, a heat haze lying across the lake and making the mountains seem pale and distant.

‘I’ve found a job, Sandra,’ and her heart flipped over.
 

‘Where? What sort of job?’

‘In a forest, planting and felling.’

‘But you’re a skilled woodturner.’

‘I know about trees though. Anyroad, I’m young enough to learn new skills. And I’m strong and fit.’ He turned to her, excitement written plain in his face. ‘It’s a grand job, Sandra. In Canada.’ It was then that she thought her heart stopped beating altogether.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Harry went on talking, telling her what a fine country Canada was, how the forests stretched from one ocean to the other, more vast than anyone could contemplate. And how it was all going to be a bit of a rush because the ship sailed in exactly three weeks’ time. ‘Seems long enough but there’s all the passport and paperwork to sort out before then, gear to buy and preparations to make, so I’d have to be back in Liverpool by next Friday at the latest. But it’ll be a new life, Sandra. A new beginning. What do you think of it, eh?’

She stared at him, misery putting a wobble in her voice. ‘I’m not sure what to think. Or quite what it is you’re saying.’

He took her hands gently between his own. ‘I’m asking you to come with me, as my wife. I always meant to come back for you if I found a job, and now I’ve found a good one. The best. There’s a house goes with the job, and there’ll be other young wives for you to get to know. I’ll make sure you’re not lonely, Sandra.’ A hint of anxiety showed in his face now, his voice becoming deeper than usual. ‘You’ll not refuse me, will you? I’ve happen behaved a bit daft like, showed a bit too much pride, but I do love you, never doubt that.’

‘I never have doubted it, Harry,’ she shyly told him, and then his arms were round her and they were laughing and crying, he smoothing the tears from her cheeks and kissing her as if he might never stop. In that moment there was no room for doubt or fear of any kind, no need of any more words, for they both felt quite certain they’d discovered that dreams can indeed come true.

It was only later, as they walked home, that the problem at the back of both their minds was mentioned.

‘I’ll tell her myself this time. And I’ll not take no for an answer.’

Elsie Myers looked upon her niece with an expression close to hatred. She told Sandra that if she wanted to break her aunt’s heart, then of course she must leave; an argument that the girl found hard to swallow. Her aunt had cared for her in a practical sense, but there’d been little, if any, sign of genuine love. Sandra tried to explain she could find someone to take her place, but her aunt wasn’t listening.

‘It’s ingratitude, that’s what it is. I’ve devoted my life to you, madam, opened my home to you, and this is the thanks I get! If you go against my wishes in this, I shall expect you to pay back every penny I’ve ever spent on you.’

Sandra went pale. ‘You can’t mean that?’

‘Indeed I do. I’m not a philanthropic society. He’ll not make you happy, this young man. Marriage is a most distasteful business.’

‘I think I should be the best judge of that, Aunt. I’m sorry if you were afraid of men, or marriage, or intimacy,’ she bravely and perhaps recklessly added, ‘but I am not. I love Harry, and I’m absolutely sure he’ll make me
very
happy.’

Elsie Myers’s face had gone quite scarlet. ‘How dare you! Go and wash your mouth out this minute! Then up to your room and stay there. There’ll be no supper for you tonight.’

Sandra was now the one who flushed - with anger. But she was determined not to rise to her aunt’s malice. ‘No, I won’t. I’m not a child, Aunt. I’ll do as I please. Now, calm down or you’ll bring on one of your turns. I’ll go and make us both a nice cup of tea and bring you a Garibaldi biscuit.’

The arrangement was that Sandra should meet Harry at Birkwith Row at eight on Saturday morning. Unable to sleep from excitement, she was awake and in the kitchen some two hours before that. Aunt Elsie had subsided into one of her sulky silences, finally seeming to have accepted the inevitable. Sandra realised she would not be sorry to be free from her constant demands, or this gloomy mausoleum of a house. For all she was grateful for her aunt’s generosity in taking her in, she’d more than paid her way over the years. She certainly did not take seriously Elsie’s demand that she repay every penny of her keep. But Sandra had promised that when they’d made their way in Canada, she would send whatever money they could spare.