100 Tiny Threads

by Judith Barrow

  He met her thoughtful gaze. ‘You’ve summat to say?’ he tilted his head to one side, challenging her.

  ‘You obviously know this place mostly belongs to my daughter.’ Her voice had a hard edge to it. ‘You’ll know that in his will her father left his half of the shop to her and his mother. In turn she left her share to Winifred.’ She spat out the name. ‘So it will be sold. And you’ll profit from that.’ Ethel narrowed her eyes, studied him. ‘After all, why else would you want to tie yourself down with such as her?’ Ethel’s nostrils flared again. ‘You’ll be well and truly set up when you marry her, won’t you? You’ve landed right on your feet.’

  Bloody hell. Bill struggled to keep the shock off his face. Yeah, one day, when this old cow had dropped off her perch, he’d thought the shop would be Winifred’s. And it could be a decent little earner. He’d even planned for some time in the future when he could give up working in the mine and take over in the shop. That’s why the idea that Winifred would want to move away had baffled him at first. But why the hell hadn’t she told him she owned most of the place? Why hide it?

  Ethel didn’t see the turmoil in him; she was looking around. ‘All this is mine by rights. I’ve slaved in this shop for years. But apparently, according to the solicitor, I have no rights. She can sell the shop and house from under my feet because she owns most of it. She’s kicking me out.’

  By God, she’s well and truly browned off, he thought. Bill hid the grin behind his hand and coughed. The niggle of resentment stirring in him, because Winifred hadn’t told him, vied with the excited realisation that her money would be his once they were wed. That’s how it went, wasn’t it? What’s hers would then be his. Isn’t that what the old bitch meant when she said he’d be set up?

  He cleared his throat and smiled. ‘Well you’d better pack your bags then, missus. No point in ’anging around.’

  ‘Yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Ethel glared at him. ‘Well I’m not leaving until I get what I’m owed. I’ve watched you and I know your type and what you’re after. I know you’re not the man you pretend to be. You knew she had this place behind her from the start; you played it clever.

  ‘My daughter thinks she’s got the better of me, but she’ll get her comeuppance.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘Married to the likes of you, she’ll get her comeuppance.’

  Chapter 79

  ‘All done, then.’ Bill grinned at Winifred, running his fingers around his collar. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead.

  They stood blinking in the strong sunlight. Winifred’s eyes hurt. After the gloom of the Registry Office with the brown paintwork and grimy walls, the brightness made the steps and walls of the small courtyard flicker.

  Beyond the gates the High Street was quiet. Wednesday was half day closing for most of the shops in Morrisfield. When her eyes had adjusted, Winifred looked beyond the gates. There were few people around: a woman pushing a bike, her long purple skirt sweeping the floor, a shiny black motor carriage, with four people, sitting upright on the seats, chugged by, a couple, the man pushing a perambulator, the baby peeping out from under a parasol. Winifred watched them all with detachment thinking back to the night before.

  She’d not slept well. The familiar rhythmic march of the miners passing the house roused her. Through the open window drifted a faint smell of cigarettes and muttered voices. For once, Bill wouldn’t be joining them.

  The room was already warm and perspiration ran between her breasts. Her eyelids were thick and heavy. If she didn’t force them to stay open they would close; a screen to replay all the images that had haunted her all night. Images of everyone she’d lost: Conal, Honora, her father. Granny.

  Granny. How any times had she cried for her grandmother? Especially about missing the hasty funeral her mother had arranged without telling anyone. Horace’s mother had told her how angry the people in Wellyhole Yard had been when they found out. Too late.

  Winifred lifted her head off the pillow and looked across the room. Tom was still asleep, arms and legs flung out at angles to his body. His pyjamas were now too small for him. Already his limbs were thickening with muscle, the skin showing a covering of hair. Next would be his jawline. She looked away. He was growing up. He was going to be tall like his father.

  Stop it.

  She rolled onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest, holding on to her shoulders. The curtains, moving in the slight breeze, let the sunlight in where they met, made a pattern on the ceiling.

  Stop it. These were words she used often to prevent the memories, to bring herself back to reality. Bill was going to be Tom’s father from now on and he would be a good father. He was a hard worker, a good man. He’d be a good father and a good husband.

  And she’d be a good wife.

  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ Bill repeated, still tugging at his collar.

  ‘Take your tie off if you want.’ Winifred smiled at him. ‘Though it’s a shame; you look so grand. Grand enough for any woman to marry.’ From the moment he’d stepped into the kitchen two hours ago she’d thought how smart he’d looked in his three-piece suit and collar and tie. Even now, his face shining with sweat, his tie askew, he looked handsome.

  ‘You think?’ Bill smirked.

  ‘I do.’ Winifred pulled at the long sleeve of her cream dress and touched the oval amethyst brooch, surrounded by pearls that Granny had given her. The fleeting sadness passed and she straightened her shoulders, looking around, now hoping someone would see them; knowing they made an attractive couple.

  On the pavement outside the gates of the Registry Office an elegant woman, parasol held high above a large feathered hat, passed by.

  ‘Hey, missus,’ Bill called out. ‘Fancy marrying me?’ He held out his arms and spun around on one foot in a full circle. ‘Well, you can’t, cos I’m already wed to the most beautiful woman in the world.’

  ‘Shush.’ Winifred giggled.

  The woman ignored them.

  Bill tucked Winifred’s arm through his.

  ‘Come on, Mrs H,’ he said, ‘Time to move on. We’ll celebrate with a swift ‘alf at the Wagon and ‘Orses. Then we’ll pick up your – our – Tom from school, get out of this fancy clobber and get on with our new life.’

  She squeezed his arm, grateful that he’d acknowledged her son as his. She’d made the right choice. It was going to be all right.

  Chapter 80

  The first night was a disappointment to Winifred. They’d moved Tom’s things into Bill’s room after he’d gone to school and before they set off for the Registry Office.

  Winifred was conscious that her son wouldn’t understand why he had to go in there, and that her mother was in the next room. But Bill had insisted that it was right that, on their wedding night, they should be in the same bed.

  It was almost twelve o’clock before they finally went upstairs. Tom had been restless and Winifred had spent all evening trying to get him settled.

  ‘I wish I could have watched you being married, Mam.’ Tom’s eyes were swollen from crying. Winifred knew it just wasn’t the wedding; her son was frightened his whole world was changing and he was bewildered by that.

  ‘I didn’t want you to miss school, sweetheart. You needed to pick up your school report from the head teacher to take to your new school. It’s exciting to start somewhere new.’

  He turned his face away from her. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. ‘I know. I’m trying to be excited, Mam. Honest I am.’

  The guilt bit deep in Winifred. ‘I promise you, you will make friends and have fun. Bill…’ she stopped. ‘Do you want to carry on calling him Bill? Or would you like to start calling him Dad?’

  Tom moved onto his back and looked at her, his eyes so serious she thought she might cry.

  ‘I think you should ask him what he thinks,’ she said, smiling. Tom flung back the covers. Laughing Winifred caught hold of him. ‘Whoa. Not tonight, sweetheart, tomorrow is soon enough.’


  He wrapped his arms around her neck. ‘I do love you, Mam. And it’s all right. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘We’ll all be all right, son.’ She unwound his arms and pushed him gently back on the mattress. ‘Now, sleep. It’s very late.’ She kissed him on the forehead. ‘Night, night, sleep tight.’

  ‘Mind the bed bugs don’t bite,’ he responded, his voice already drowsy.

  When Winifred pulled the door to she heard him mumbling and stopped to listen.

  ‘Dad. Dad. Dad.’ He was practising saying the name.

  Lying straight in the bed, her arms by her sides she watched Bill hang his suit jacket on the door of the wardrobe next to her dress. Somehow it felt unseemly to her as the sleeve draped across the bodice but she said nothing, her thoughts on her son, asleep in Bill’s old room.

  ‘He’s just not used to being in a bedroom on his own,’ she explained.

  Bill had his back to her so she couldn’t see his expression but thought she heard a stifled sigh.

  He snapped his braces off his shoulders and turned to face her, unbuttoning his trousers. ‘Well, the sooner he gets used to it the better, love.’ He let the trousers slide down his legs and stepped out of them.

  Winifred averted her eyes. ‘Will you turn the light off?’ she murmured. A quick thought passed through her mind that he looked vaguely ridiculous in his long grey socks and his shirt lap trailing down at the back to his knees, almost hiding his flannel drawers. And then the mattress dipped and he was in bed with her, one arm flung across her waist ‘No, I want to see you, lass.’ He nuzzled her neck; she could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath.

  Still in his shirt, Bill rolled on top of her and lifted her nightdress. He’d taken off his drawers; she felt his bare skin on her thighs. Sliding his hand along her body he cupped her breast. A moment later he arched above her and spreading her legs with his knee, pushed himself into her. With no preparation the intrusion was painful. Winifred gasped.

  ‘Come on, Win, let yourself go.’ Bill stopped moving and, taking his weight on one elbow, rolled his palm over her nipple and for a second she responded.

  With a grunt of satisfaction Bill let go of her breast, rose on his knees and used both hands to lift her buttocks towards him.

  It was over in a few short moments. When Bill collapsed, Conal’s face was imprinted against Winifred’s closed eyelids and, in that instant she knew she would carry his image in her head each time she had to endure what had just happened.

  Bill cursed himself; all the years he’d waited for this night and he’d rushed her. He hadn’t meant to. But the sight of her on the bed, the nightgown outlining the slenderness of her figure, her lovely hair spread on the pillow as she gazed at him, had been too much.

  He’d felt her react to his touch but by then it was too late. As soon as he’d entered her it was all over. Humiliated he’d rolled onto his side, facing away from her.

  Next time, he promised himself, next time he’d take it more slowly; make it better for her.

  Chapter 81

  ‘What d’you think?’

  Bill and Winifred stood in the doorway looking along the hall of the house. Winifred could hear Tom pounding from room to room above her.

  ‘Can’t be worse than the last two,’ she said.

  It was the fourth house they’d looked at and Winifred’s feet ached. She sat on the last but one tread of the stairs and took off her shoes. Rubbing her foot she asked, ‘How much is it?’

  Bill studied the piece of paper he’d got from the estate agent’s office. ‘It says bids around a hundred and ninety nine pounds,’ he said. ‘Houses are a bit dearer this side of the Pennines.’

  ‘It’s where I want to be.’ She didn’t add well away from Mother; he would know what she meant. ‘Ashford seems a decent place.’

  ‘And it’s handy for work; nearer than the last house.’

  ‘Lucky they needed a Tunneller there.’

  ‘Aye.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Not a Chargeman so bit of a drop in pay to what I was before at Stalyholme. Still, money’s decent enough; as long as the unions keep pushing the owners to keep it like that.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Winifred smiled up at him. ‘And you’re in the union, you’ll make sure you get a fair deal.’

  He nodded. ‘Fresh start.’

  ‘Fresh start. All right, let’s have a look around.’ Putting on her shoes Winifred pushed open the first door and walked to the centre of the front room. It was empty except for the maroon paisley carpet and some threadbare velvet curtains of an indistinct colour. They’d have to go for a start, she thought, taking off her hat and pinning back a few strands of hair.

  ‘Can we afford it?’ she said again.

  ‘What do you think?’ There was a strange expression on his face.

  Winifred waited. Was this the right time to tell him she could buy the house twice over when the shop was sold? She hadn’t yet told him that she owned two thirds of the shop. She didn’t know what was stopping her but if there ever was to be a right time, surely this was it. She didn’t speak.

  ‘I ’ave the money,’ Bill said at last.

  Had he really managed to save so much money in the short time he’d worked at Stalyholme mine?

  ‘It’ll take every penny but I ‘ave it.’ He didn’t take his eyes off her.

  Challenging?

  He knows, Winifred realised all at once, he knows about the shop. There was only one way he would know; her mother must have told him. But why. She gave a mental shrug. Why didn’t matter.

  ‘When the shop is sold I’ll have some money,’ she said, finally.

  He grinned, showing no surprise. In fact he was almost triumphant. ‘Yeah?’ was all he said.

  ‘Yes.’ Winifred returned his smile, pleased she could make him happy yet still a little uneasy. Why hadn’t he told her he knew she owned part of the shop? Why hadn’t she told him?

  He slung his arm over her shoulder. ‘Come an’ look at the kitchen.’

  ‘Mam, come upstairs.’ Tom shouted. ‘I’ve chosen my room and—’

  ‘And you’ll go where you’re put, young un.’

  Winifred shot a look at Bill, noticed the irritation. It was the first note of discord that day. Her husband had laughed at Tom’s excitement on the train, tolerated him charging in and out of the carriage.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he said. ‘Just a bit knackered from all this traipsing around.’

  She stroked his cheek. ‘He’s just as excited as me to be looking for a new home.’ Even so she lifted her head. ‘Tom, come downstairs. There’s plenty of time to decide who’s going where.’

  When Tom appeared behind them his shoulders were slumped and he kept his head lowered, a definite sign he was upset. ‘I was only looking around,’ he whispered, holding on to her coat sleeve.

  ‘I know, love. Don’t worry. Dad’s not really cross.’ Winifred nudged Bill. ‘Come on, then, let’s see the rest of this house.’

  Bill flung open the next door and peered inside ‘Looks like the kitchen.’

  There was a sideboard and table and chairs pushed against the back wall.

  ‘Do you think the furniture is part of the deal?’ she asked.

  Bill lifted his shoulders. ‘Dunno.’ He went through to a small scullery and struggled with the lock and spoon-shaped latch of the back door.

  The long clothes rack, hung from the ceiling above the range, swayed gently in the draught when Bill at last flung the door open. ‘There’s a good size yard to ’ang out the washing.’

  ‘I should have told you I would have money from the shop sale. I’m sorry.’ Winifred placed her hand on the surface of the square wooden table. ‘Bill?’

  ‘S’okay, I knew.’ There was a false flippancy in the way he said it.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ He gestured towards the yard. ‘The lavvy’s there.’

  She was positive he’d pointed that out to embarrass her into silence.r />
  Ignoring him, Winifred followed him into the scullery. She could picture herself doing the washing at the large stone sink. She ran her hand over the cream metal top of the mangle, touched the handle, the smooth rubber rollers. It was new.

  ‘Well? What do you think?’ Thumbs tucked under his braces Bill looked pleased with himself. As though he’d won an argument. Winifred couldn’t help the thought.

  ‘It’s all lovely, Bill. I just don’t understand how you, we, could have afforded it.’

  His face darkened. ‘Never mind about that.’

  ‘But I do.’

  ‘I told you, I ’ad savings.’

  ‘Yes but… you haven’t borrowed money as well, have you, love?’ Winifred tried to say it as casually as she could. ‘We could have waited. I do have the money to come eventually.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know that at the time, did I?’

  Even though they’d only known one another for a short while she had measure enough of her husband to know she’d best not question him any more for the time being.

  But she would find out, she wouldn’t rest until she had. The one thing her father had drummed into her all her life was that she mustn’t get into debt. She hoped she wasn’t beginning married life already owing money. She’d be glad when the shop sold.

  Chapter 82

  ‘So it’s done then.’

  Ignoring the sullenness in her mother’s voice, Winifred waited until the solicitor ushered the new owner of the shop out of his office. ‘Mr Patton was pleased to have the business,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he and he family will love living at the shop.’

  ‘So he should. He paid only a pittance for it.’

  ‘He paid a fair price.’ Winifred kept her tone mild. All she wanted was to get away from Ethel.

  The solicitor came back into the office rubbing his hands together. ‘I think that went well, ladies.’ He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Ethel. ‘Just a few more details to arrange.’ Winifred hated the way he bent over the two of them far too close. She was relieved when he moved to his side of the desk, the smell of sweat hung around him. ‘I’ll need your forwarding address. Need to have a few things typed up, you know.’ He paused, looked at them.