The Loom (19 page)

Leah began to feel uneasy. What on earth had she done? She wasn’t a hairdresser. They’ll kill me, she thought, especially Annie’s Dad, because she knew what a temper he had. She picked up the towel.

‘
Never mind, never mind,’ she said. ‘It’ll grow back in no time. Anyway, they say it does your hair good to have it cut now and then; makes it stronger.’

‘Try telling me Dad that. It’s all right for you to talk. Yours looks good. Mine looks terrible as well,’ May said, looking mournefully in the mirror and, like Annie, trying to flatten her hair.

‘
Ee, I’ll have to wear a headscarfe for six months with this.’ She licked her fingers, pressing on a tuft at the front, which stuck out. ‘Just look at that, it looks like a piece of hay. I look like a real peyseg.’

‘It’s no good bothering about it now,’ Leah said. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea and then we’d better go.’

Leah saw that Janey was having trouble keeping her face straight. Leah’s mouth twitched again.

Janey had watched the proceedings in almost total silence, fascinated at the accumulation of hair on the floor. She’d struggled not to laugh a number of times, she told Leah later. She’d wanted to go into hysterics at one point, especially when May and Annie ran to the mirror. Even the voluble Kathryn had been stunned into silence.

Annie picked up the towel and wiped her face, forgetting it was covered in hair.

‘
Uh…’ she spat. ‘Bloody towel’s full of hair.’ She tried to dislodge a hair on her tongue. ‘That’s all I need, a mouthful of hair and none on me head.’

Janey spluttered and Annie glared at her. ‘It’s not funny, either, Janey Hammond.’

Janey suddenly let out a yelp and began to laugh. She laughed until the tears streamed. Then they were all doubled over, ‘laughing fit to bust’, Leah told her mother later.

‘
Oh, stop,’ Kathryn said. ‘I’ll wet me knickers.’

Leah looked at the clock on the mantle.

‘
We’d better get going Janey or Mam’ll be sending a search party. And don’t worry about your hair,’ she said to the others. ‘It’ll soon grow back and we’ve had a good laugh.’

They rugged up again and set off home. It was even colder than it had been and they shivered as they left the warm confines of the small room. No one spoke. Leah was deep in thought, already forgetting the hair episode.

Tomorrow she would be back at the Hall. She had been there now almost two years. A lot had happened in that time, and after the episode in the library Raymond had been much more subdued. He was almost ready to go to Oxford, although from all accounts he’d no inclination for it. Just as Marion had wanted to go to university Raymond was just as adamant that he didn’t.

Leah had heard a lot of arguing going on about it between Mr. Townsend and his wife. Going at it hammer and tongs, she’d told her mother. Predictably Emma had told her to mind her own business with the see no evil routine. She’d taken notice of that!

She had been relieved when she heard nothing more about the library incident and another of her mother’s sayings had come to mind, let sleeping dogs lie, so she’d let them. She still enjoyed working at the Hall. Gertie Wicklow got on her nerves at times and lately she went around with a smug, I know something you don’t look about her. Leah avoided her if she could, another of her mother’s out of sight out of mind sayings.

Marion had attended some kind of finishing school in London and then been presented at court. Leah had found Marion Townsend to be an extremely kind girl. There was none of Jessica’s snobbishness in her, or her aloofness. Leah liked Marion Townsend a lot and she would be sorry to see her leave Hyndburn Hall. Now she was engaged to John Grentham and Darkie, now also in the Townsend’s employ, was to go with her to Cheshire when she and John were married. He was to act as chauffeur cum valet to John Grentham.

‘Don’t know whether I’ll like that or not,’ he said. ‘I won’t be able to come and see you as often, Mam.’

‘Aye, I’ll be sorry about that, but you never know what could come of a job with the Grenthams. It might lead to something better.’ What that might be Leah had no idea. She couldn’t see Darkie as a butler or some such thing, somehow.

What unsettled her was her continued infatuation with Stephen. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get him out of her mind. It was driving her mad because as far as he was concerned she might just as well live on another planet. He was friendly enough when they happened to bump into each other at the Hall, which wasn’t very often because he was always away on business. Then it was only as servant to master and she didn’t like
that.
Not that he tried to play lord of the manor. Just the opposite, he was always friendly to her and easy, smiled and sometimes chatted but that was all. Sometimes he might ask about her family. He was oblivious of her feelings. She was happy about that at least. She was always cool with him, probably too cool because he would look at her in surprise at times, especially when he’d seen her laughing and joking with Maud, a few minutes before. But she had her pride and would rather have died than have him know the true extent of her feelings where he was concerned.

He
had
noticed, though, when she’d had her hair bobbed. She was walking from the morning room carrying some curtains when she bumped into him.

‘
Sorry,’ he said, then stopped and looked at her in surprise, ‘your hair! Oh, you’ve had it bobbed. What a shame.’

Her face dropped.

‘
No, no, it suits you. But so did long hair.’

She’d looked after him perplexed. He did notice she was alive then. She put her hand to her hair. Had she done the right thing keeping it short? Perhaps she’d let it grow a bit longer.

‘Hurry up, Leah,’ Janey said. ‘You are a slow coach tonight.’ Leah lengthened her stride to keep up. Thank goodness they were nearly home. She wasn’t going to cut anyone else’s hair ever again. Tomorrow she’d be back at the Hall. Stephen would be home, too. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. He’d been in London for a month.

Leah remembered that wonderful trip to London with Mrs. Townsend. Bertha normally went with her but a bad bout of flu had created the opportunity for Leah to go. Leah had been surprised at the offer. Since the library incident Mrs. Townsend had been distant with her. But she had seemed quite genuine for Leah to accompany her and after discussing it with her mother, Leah had agreed. She'd had very little to do except escort Mrs. Townsend on her shopping expeditions, look after her clothes and this did not include the laundering, merely picking up

As easy as pie, she’d told Janey when she got back and not like working at all. Janey had been envious and although she still worked in the mill she was more determined than ever that one day she’d leave, not only the mill, but Harwood as well.

On her days off Leah had seen the sights of London, had tea in posh cafes, bought two dresses at Harrods (she’d used most of her savings). She had noticed the small dress shops as well and thought of the higgledy piggledy one in Harwood. If she ever had a shop that’s what she would do with it, she thought as she stared at the solitary dress tastefully arranged in a window. It was spread out and had spray of flowers on one side and on the other matching shoes, hat and bag.

Leah was particularly interested in the fashions. Under Miss Fenton she’d learnt to sew rather well and had a natural aptitude for it. She now made most of her own clothes, sometimes designing, because she could draft her own patterns. Miss Fenton was impressed with her skills.

‘
You could go far with your sewing,’ she said to Leah one day. What on earth had she meant by that, Leah thought?

Leah was sorry that Darkie was leaving, because she enjoyed him being at the Hall and sometimes he’d be in the kitchen when she went down for her morning cuppa.

The war had not scarred him as it had so many others, probably Leah thought, because it had almost finished when he’d joined up, but it had taken him a good year to get back to his normal self.

Darkie had taken her for a drive in the Rolls one day. She sat in the back, feeling like a Queen as he whisked her down the drive, turning to grin at her every now and then. He laughed aloud when she turned her nose up and said in a posh voice.

‘
Please carry on with your driving my good man and keep your eyes on the road.’

Yes, she was sorry he would be going to Cheshire.

Another thought niggled her: jealousy! Sometimes Stephen came home with a beautiful girl on his arm. Well he would have girlfriends, she’d told herself sternly after she’d seen them go into the sitting room where Mrs. Townsend was waiting for them with the tea tray all set up with small cakes, sandwiches and a large fruit cake. Of course he’d have girlfriends because he was so good looking and they were probably all falling over themselves to get him. Wouldn’t she if she could?

The last one had been extremely lovely, blond and blue eyed and groomed to perfection. Leah was crossing the hall with her sewing basket (looking like little Miss Muffet she thought crossly afterwards). They were talking animatedly and Stephen had given her a cursory nod and smile. The girl ignored her completely. She rushed into the library and had a crying fit, then wiped her eyes, pushed her chin up and told herself she was a complete idiot. She hadn’t a hope with him and she’d better just forget him and look to someone like Paddy O’Shea, who was still mad about her.

It would have made things so much easier if she’d had the feelings for Paddy that she had for Stephen. If only her stomach wouldn’t go into knots every time she saw Stephen. If only she could feel all swooney about Paddy, but there was no rhyme or reason to anything lately and she just wished she could get rid of her feelings for Stephen as easily as she’d bobbed hair tonight.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
he choices you made in life were crucial. They could make you or break you. Choices and decisions, Marion Grentham, nee Townsend, thought as she sat in the back seat of the Rolls and looked absently at Darkie’s capped head in front of her.

With this profound insight she realized the enormity of choice, the ‘what if’ syndrome. What if she’d never met Neil and there’d been no drama and her parents had been amenable about university. Would she be sitting here now, married? She didn’t think so. That ‘if’ word; such a small word, such a huge connotation. There was a slight frown on her face. She’d been sitting like this, without moving, right from Cheshire, oblivious to the fact that it was a glorious spring day, the sun shining from an unblemished sky and the countryside, once the grimy outskirts of the towns had been left behind, a verdant panorama of meadows and trees.

Darkie glanced through the rear vision mirror. She looks like death warmed up, he thought. She’d lost so much weight that her already small face was like that of a child under the cloche hat. The huge gray-blue eyes were clouded with misery.

He didn’t know why
he
was worrying. It was nothing to do with him that she looked down in the dumps. He couldn’t help it, though. I’m a bloody soft idiot, he thought. Sorry for the likes of her when she’s got everything money can buy? I must be wrong in the bloody head.

In spite of this he couldn’t help the way he felt, because she
always
looked miserable. To be honest he had never seen her any other way. He hadn’t been with the Grenthams long and he wondered if she’d always been miserable. Perhaps she was just a miserable person. Some people were. Never happy no matter how much they had.

He wondered whether she’d been happy before her marriage. There was something strange about
that
. Not that he knew much about marriage because he’d lived most of his life with only one parent, but he just had this gut feeling that things weren’t quite right with the Grenthams. They were too polite with each other. On the surface the household in Cheshire seemed peaceful enough. There were no arguments; never a wrong word in fact, which Darkie thought abnormal. How many people could go without an argument now and then to clear the air? It was all darling this and darling that, which sometimes set his nerves on edge. He probably wouldn’t have seen so much of this, but being Mr. Grenthams valet, he was inside the house quite a lot. Beneath all that politeness he sensed a smouldering unease.

He’d mentioned a bit of this to his Mam. As usual she’d told him that it was none of his business and that the ‘class’ were different. He should worry about his own affairs and be glad he had such a cushy job.

It was a cushy job, too. He’d been amazed when Stephen Townsend had offered it to him.

‘
I don’t know one end of a car from the other,’ he said to Stephen.

‘
Nothing much to driving,’ Stephen replied, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.