But again they were off, and he crouched over at a run towards the nearest shell hole offering the only cover. Darkie made a dive into it as a shell whistled by. He winced. That had been too bloody close. It woke him up though. As he landed in the hole an agonized yell made him scramble to the other side. The water was so deep he almost had to swim. In the glare of the Very lights, he saw the brim of a hat slowly sinking beneath the murky water. He waded back over on his knees and quickly lifted the person under the hat so that his head was above water. He lay there for a time, panting and completely exhausted again, the body now lying almost on top of him and whoever it was, moaning continuously. Now what, he thought, blinking the rain out of his eyes. It was hard enough to save your own skin without someone else’s as well.
Darkie lay holding the comatose form above the water. He couldn’t leave this poor bloody sod here! There was nothing for it but to try to hoist him on his back, climb out of this bloody hole and probably get shot for all his trouble. He began to rid himself of some of his equipment, only keeping his rifle, then pulled and struggled to get the dead weight on his back. He weighed a bloody ton did this one! It’d be a miracle if he made it, a bloody miracle. He stood up in the hole with the body on his back.
***********
‘Will you give over; I’ll fall, I will.’ Miss Fenton’s elocution lessons were temporarily forgotten as Leah clutched the’ top of the library ladder and looked down fearfully at the gleeful face of Raymond Townsend.
‘Give over or I’ll fall,’ Raymond mimicked in a high falsetto, giving the ladder another shake.
The ladder wobbled precariously. Leah glared down at the top of Raymond’s thick brown hair. He was a devil, a real devil, always up to something or other. Every one kept out of his way if they could, but he’d a habit of turning up, seemingly out of nowhere and up to his usual tricks.
He’d been warned about his silly jokes and she’d heard Mr. Townsend yelling at him only yesterday and threatening to send him away again. But he’d still put a mouse in her bed last night and she’d nearly screamed the house down.
People had come running from everywhere, even Mr. Townsend. She’d felt embarrassed causing such a commotion over a mouse, but she couldn’t abide anything wick like that.
She was definitely fed up with Raymond Townsend, and here he was again. He must have seen her walk into the library and thought, ho ho here’s another opportunity.
He was still shaking the ladder, making her feel dizzy. She was like her mother and hated heights and it had taken all her courage to climb up. But she’d wanted one of the books on the top shelf and had willed herself to do it. Now she wished she hadn’t because, sure enough when she did something she shouldn’t things went wrong, although Mr. Townsend had said she could borrow any of the books in the library.
He’d caught her browsing through one only last week. She had just finished mending a small tear in one of the curtains. She put the book back hurriedly when he walked in.
‘Like books do you, Leah,’ he said. She nodded.
‘Like reading a lot, then?’ she had nodded again and Mr. Townsend’s friendly attitude made her relax.
‘Oh, yes, I love it. Miss Greer, my teacher, used to lend me books all the time and I’d go to the library as well.’
‘Good, good. Like to see a person read. Feel free to borrow any of these.’
She looked at him in surprise, a smile lighting her face. It altered her. She was always so quiet, creeping around the house like a ghost so that George had hardly noticed she was there. He wasn’t even sure of her name. Lisa, Lina; no Leah, that was it.
‘If you’re sure that would be all right?’ she said.
‘Yes, yes, quite sure.’
So she’d taken his word and it had been like heaven having that store of books. They all liked reading in her family, and it was wonderful to be able to take one up to her room and read in bed before she went to sleep. That was sheer luxury! A room all to herself, with a carpet and a bed all to herself as well and sitting up reading, nice and cosy with a hot water bottle at her feet. She was getting into the Bronte novels now and had just finished Jane Eyre, which she absolutely loved. Now here was this demon, spoiling the whole thing for her. She should have known.
Raymond was still grinning at her maliciously from the bottom of the ladder. Just look at the skinny kid, she was scared to death, he thought. He gave the ladder another shake.
‘Anyway, what’re you do in here? Servants aren’t allowed to read our books.’
Leah shifted her weight cautiously. Her leg was going numb from trying to stay on the ladder.
‘Your dad said I could.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Raymond said. ‘Anyway, why do you want to read, you’re only a servant? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, cooking or washing pots and pans or something?’
Leah looked disdainfully down on the cocksure face below. Her fear had subsided a little and she felt indignant.
‘For your information,’ she replied as haughtily as she could in an exact replica of Miss Fenton’s voice, ‘Some servants actually like to read. It’s not the priority of the rich, you know.’
Raymond looked surprised. Cheeky! How dare she talk to him in that tone? She didn’t seem scared of him either, now. This annoyed him. ‘Well, you can come down this minute or I’ll tell Mother, then you’ll be in for it.’
‘You’d better let me get down or I’ll tell your Dad,’ Leah said emphatically.
Raymond eyed her calculatingly. ‘I said to get down, didn’t I, so come on.’
Leah didn’t like the look in his eyes. It would be just like him to shake the ladder when she was off balance. If only Raymond hadn’t come back so soon from staying with his friends in London. It was nearly the end of the holidays and he could have gone straight back to school from there. But evidently they hadn’t wanted him in London either and who could blame them. If it hadn’t been for him and Gertie Wicklow she would really have loved this job. But as her mother always said there was always a fly in the oitment.
She really loved Miss Fenton, who had decided that she was going to make something of Leah and had started by giving her speech and deportment lessons after work. Leah hadn’t minded, although she’d felt strange at first, ‘right plummy’ she’d told her Mam and they’d all gone into hysterics when she acted the fool in her posh accent, with a loud rendition of ‘Burlington Berty’.
‘I hate Gertie Wicklow, though,’ she said when she’d finished and they’d all wiped their eyes.
‘Aye, I knew her mother,’ Emma said. ‘A right nasty ‘un she was as well.’
‘What’s she look like,’ Janey said.
‘See that plate.’ Leah pointed to the white plate on the table. ‘That’s better looking. And you remember Ned Beasely? Well, she’s meaner than him.’
‘She must be lovely,’ Janey said. They all laughed again. She missed that though, having a good laugh. They didn’t seem to do that much in this house. Sometimes Maud could be funny, but not like at home.
She was trying to improve herself, though. Sometimes it was hard with certain people calling her uppity and trying to be something she wasn’t. How could you better yourself when people said that to you?
It seemed to annoy Gertie more than anyone and she was always trying to put her down and never had a nice word to say to her until Maud had got to the end of her tether and told her to stop. And here she was again with that young devil annoying her as well. She decided that she’d better get down or she’d be on the ladder all day. She turned around to descend.
‘Just don’t sh,’ she began and got no further. The ladder moved under her and she felt herself suddenly falling. She screamed, then was thrown sideways and landed with a thud on the side of a wing-backed chair, hitting her head on the corner.
Stephen heard the crash as he limped painfully across the hall. His leg was still sore even after five months of convalescence. The doctors were optimistic that it would heal complete
ly, in time. He hoped they were right. He was sick of limping around, not able to ride. He’d been lucky though; damned lucky. If it hadn’t been for Darkie Hammond he’d be dead now.
The scream made him forget his pain for a moment. He hurried across the hall and into the library. I should have known, he thought when he saw Raymond.
Raymond was standing, staring at the ladder on the floor. Stephen didn’t notice Leah at first, because she was hidden behind a large chair. When her head hit it she almost lost consciousness. She lay for a few minutes, too stunned to move. Then Stephen saw her shoe sticking out from behind the chair.
‘Bloody hell!’ he said, pushing Raymond aside angrily. ‘What have you done this time, you young monkey?’
He bent over her and gave a sharp gasp. Blood! Her eyes were closed. Surely she’s not dead, he thought in fright. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed gently at the wound on her forehead. He breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes opened.
‘Get Mother, quickly,’ he said to Raymond. Raymond shot off calling for Jessica.
Leah was aware of being lifted gently and placed on the couch. She’d closed her eyes quickly again when she saw Stephen. Now she opened them again to find him bent over her. He was so close she could see where he’d cut himself shaving, the length of his spikey black eyelashes, and why hadn’t she noticed before that his eyes were a deep blue and not brown as she’d thought?
He was still holding the handkerchief to her head. She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She’d never been keen on men, except their Darkie and he wasn’t a man, really, only a boy. Also the Hammonds were not prone to demonstrations of affection, even her mother who she knew loved her, had not kissed her since she was a little girl and was sparing in any close contact, just as she was.
‘Are you all right?’ Stephen said. He was still leaning close and she flushed. He smelt nice, too. Most of the men she knew smelt terrible.
She nodded and struggled to sit up and then collapsed back with a groan.
‘Just stay where you are. Mother’s coming.’
This made Leah recover a little. Stephen noticed her look of alarm.
‘It’s all right, no need to worry.’
Stephen was seething inside. This was the final straw. It couldn’t go on! He was quite sure that this had been another of Raymond’s pranks.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ Jessica hurried into the room and over to the couch. She stared down at Leah, frowning. Not more trouble, surely? When was it going to stop? She noticed the red-stained handkerchief.
‘Good heavens,’ she said, taking the handkerchief off Stephen. He stepped aside as she examined the wound.
‘Oh, dear, what a nasty gash; I think it’s going to need a stitch or two,’ she said. ‘How on earth did you do this, Leah?’ Her voice was stern.
‘It’s my guess Raymond had something to do with it,’ Stephen said angrily.
‘I asked Leah, Stephen.’
He ignored that. ‘Ray was in the room when it happened.’
‘It’s true, Mrs. Townsend. I was on the ladder and Master Raymond shook it when I was getting down,’ Leah said. Mrs. Townsend frowned again and glanced over at Raymond who was standing by the door.
‘Raymond?’
‘I didn’t mean to, Mother, honest.’
‘I’ll see to you later young man. Go to your room and stay there.’ She turned back to Leah, who was whiter than the handkerchief, although most of it was now stained with blood. ‘Call the doctor Stephen, please.’
When Stephen had gone she sat down on the chair next to the couch.
‘What were you doing up the ladder, Leah?’
‘Getting a book, Miss,’ Leah had forgotten all about elocution lessons.
‘A book?’ Mrs. Townsend looked very disapproving.
‘Aye, Mr. Townsend said I could.’
‘Oh, he did!’ Jessica frowned again. She’d have a word with George about this. She didn’t believe in giving too much leeway to servants. They got above themselves and this one was altogether too pretty, even though she was very young. When she was older there’d be too much temptation there. She’d seen it happen!
Leah sensed Jessica’s displeasure. Now she was worried. She hoped she didn’t lose her job because of this. She realized suddenly just how much she loved it at the Hall; loved the sewing, even the mending. She had been recruited to do some cleaning upstairs as well because it was hard getting help nowadays. All the girls and young women wanted to work in the factories especially munitions. They made more money there. She didn’t mind the cleaning here, though. It was even a pleasure to polish the furniture. She wasn’t allowed to clean the silver, because that stuff you had to use on it made your fingers all black. Now all this might come to an end. It was Raymond’s fault and she could kill him, she really could.
Jessica stood up and stared down at Leah for a moment, looking extremely annoyed. Miss Fenton hurried into the room.
‘Oh, good, Miss Fenton. Would you mind taking Leah upstairs? Stephen’s gone to call the doctor.’
‘Is she all right?’ Miss Fenton said, looking worriedly at Leah lying on the couch, her face white, eyes frightened.
‘Yes, I think so. She might be a little concussed, though. She’d better stay in bed for a day at least. We’ll just see what the doctor says.’
Miss Fenton nodded and helped Leah off the couch and put her arm around her.
‘Come along, dear, and we’ll get you to bed,’ she said kindly.
Jessica raised her eyebrows. She watched as the two went out of the library. There was always something unpleasant happening here, she thought. What with Raymond and Marion, Stephen’s injury and now this she felt quite demented at times. If only this terrible war would end! After Ypres and the American involvement everyone had been buoyed up with hope, but the fighting still went on. They were saying it would be over soon but they’d been saying that for nearly four years.
She sighed and picked up a book, which had fallen on the floor. Jane Eyre! She’d read that book, years ago. So romantic: all codswollop of course. She wasn’t the romantic type; never had been. She placed the book on a nearby table and walked slowly to the door, still deep in thought.
**********
Neil Preston didn’t believe in getting killed, so he’d conscientiously objected to the war and become a pacifist. He was standing on a soapbox when Marion first saw him, giving a speech about the evils of war. A large tomato hit him squarely in the face and he stepped off the soapbox quick smart.
‘No need for that,’ he shouted, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
‘Bloody coward,’ someone yelled.
‘Make the conchies go,’ a woman, in a black cloche hat and a fierce expression on her face, shouted and shook her fist at Neil.
Marion admired him even though she didn’t really agree with his views. You had to have backbone to go against the majority. That’s why she admired the suffragettes. She would never understand how women could oppose the suffragette movement! It was funny the way she had always wanted to side with the underdog. Neil was no dog, though. He was quite handsome in a rough sort of way.
Neil was aware of Marion in the crowd and her admiring glance. She stood as the people dispersed and he smiled across at her. He had strong white teeth and an attractive smile. She smiled back, timidly. Mother would kill her if she knew she was here on her own!
‘Can I buy you a cup of tea, Miss,’ Neil said, taking his cap off. He had thick black hair, which curled over his collar. Marion stared at him, mesmerized. Her stomach fluttered.
‘Oh, no, no thank you. I’d better get on, it’s late.’
She nodded to him and walked off.
She’d seen him again, the next time on the same corner. She’d gone there on purpose to see if he was still giving his speeches. He was and spoke well in a deep resonant voice, but again was forced to stop under a barrage of rotten fruit. He saw her standing there again and again invited her for te
a. She agreed and they were now on quite friendly terms.
Marion bit her bottom lip, thinking a little apprehensively of what she was about to do. She was going into Manchester today with her father. Thank goodness the war had prevented her from being sent to Switzerland to finishing school, but she was to go to London instead. She glanced at the clock. Father would be leaving in a few minutes so she’d better hurry. Jessica had been going to go with her to do some shopping, but had not felt well for the last couple of days. So, with strict instruction to be careful she had given permission for Marion to go in with George.
Marion had written to Neil to say she would meet him at their usual rendezvous, a little café just off Collins Street. She shouldn’t really be doing this. Neil was out of her class, but the war had made a difference to society.
Everything was changing, especially with regard to women! Women were doing men’s jobs, many were VATS working overseas and even more were attending university, except her. Marion was still angry with her mother, so this was a bit like getting her own back. Besides, she liked Neil!
He was waiting for her on the corner, spruce and his hair slicked back.
Why didn’t you wait in the shop?’ she said.
I wanted to see you walking up the street,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘You’re allus the best looker on it.’
He had a broad accent. It was catching and Jessica had looked at her in horror one day when Marion said ‘nowt’.
‘Get on with you,’ she said. Neil grinned. He liked her using the dialect.
‘We’ll go and have a cuppa, then, shall we lass,’ he said, linking her arm in his. She shivered and not only with the cold. ‘We can’t stay in the café all day so what about coming back to my place?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t, Neil. It wouldn’t seem right.’
The Loom Page 10