He was supporting her head. She moaned and tried to get up and he helped her onto a chair.
‘Sorry, silly of me. Must be the hot weather,’ she muttered. He patted her hand.
There was a gasp behind them. Raymond turned around and saw an awful apparition: a big woman in a half-made dress, who glared at him as though he’d committed a murder.
‘Young man, what are you doing?’
‘I…hm…she fainted, I think,’ he stuttered. She reminded him of matron at school, who had terrified all the new boys and plied them with castor oil and dire threats of beatings if they didn’t behave themselves. (Which, of course, he hadn’t and consequently was made to swallow gallons of castor oil and suffered from perpetual sore bottom).
‘It’s all right, Mrs. Pringle. I don’t know what on earth came over me,’ Leah whispered. She still felt weak. She’d read in novels about women fainting. It was supposed to be an airy-fairy type of thing, where they sank gracefully down onto a sofa or into the arms of their beloved. Not landing flat on the floor like someone dropping a bag of flour. She’d hit her head as well. She felt at the back and winced. Yes, there was a lump the size of an egg.
Raymond stood awkwardly between the two women. He wouldn’t have come into the damned shop if he’d known this was going to happen. As he looked at Leah he had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, which was slowly working its way into the region of his chest. Odd! She did have beautiful eyes!
‘Are you all right now?’ he said.
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I must have given you an awful shock, fainting like that.’
‘Well, it wasn’t what I expected.’
Leah was trying to place the accent. It sounded American but there was a trace of English as well. He was staring at her strangely. She blushed, feeling awkward. Mrs. Pringle was still standing watching them suspiciously.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute, Mrs. Pringle,’ Leah said, turning to her. ‘If you’ll go into the dressing room I’ll come and help you off with that dress.’
Mrs. Pringle looked from Leah to Raymond and then walked back into the dressing room, reeking of disapproval. What was that Leah up to now? There was always something going on where she was concerned. Usually something to do with a man, so she shouldn’t have been surprised at what had happened.
‘If you’ll excuse me a moment,’ Leah said to Raymond, ‘I’ll just attend to my customer. You don’t mind waiting do you?’
‘No, no, not at all, I’ve plenty of time,’ Raymond replied. He walked over to the window and looked out onto the Square again. Something had shifted in his mind, as though everything was being rearranged, like changing furniture around in a room to give it a better look. The town didn’t seem so bad, his spirits weren’t so down and he had the distinct impression it was all to do with Leah Hammond!
Leah went back to attend to Mrs. Pringle, trying to ignore the disapproval on her face. She could just go to hell, she thought, nosy parker. She was fed up with people trying to dissect her life, prying into her affairs, trying to take her down a peg or two. In fact she was fed up with Harwood and even of sewing at the moment and now she felt even worse because there was something about that man out there which disturbed her. And she didn’t want to feel disturbed. She’d had enough trouble in her life and she wanted everything to run smoothly for once. For her life to be peaceful and, yes, even boring if need be. When Mrs. Pringle had gone she’d go right back into the shop and politely but firmly get rid of that man, whoever he was.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Jessica feels she’s been waiting all her life for this day. Of course she hasn’t, it just seems so. Those lost years when she’d been in some kind of limbo were now of no consequence at all. And does one really want to know the future? There’s only one guarantee about that! It’s the present that counts, that’s the reality, to be treasured like a precious jewel, because it slips so quickly into past.
‘Just put the empty suitcase in the back, thank-you Grimsby.’
‘Yes, madam,’ Grimsby replied, still as thin as ever and more loyal to the Townsend’s than ever. His long serious face looked unusually animated. He was excited, in fact, a feeling quite foreign to him for there was little that seemed to stir his placid personality (apart from a bomb, Maud would sometimes think). She would have liked to shake him at times, although you had to admit he wasn’t a troublemaker, not like some people she could put a name to.
Today, however, he felt different and all because Mr. Townsend was coming home. After all that time ‘in that there looney ‘, he had said to Maud. ‘Sanitarium,’ Maud said sharply. ‘Just watch what you say, Alf.’
‘Well, whatever it is he’ll be glad to see the back of it,’ Alf replied, also sharply.
Maud could be a bit bossy (like all women that’s why he’d never married. Who wanted that all the time?) But it was good about Mr. Townsend because he’d always liked him, and found him a good boss to work for. And at last the Hall would be more like it used to be.
Maud had been up since the crack of dawn, bustling around, cooking and baking, singing in a light contralto ‘on Ilkley Moor baht ‘at’. Overdoing it again, Grimsby thought, but said nothing as he watched Maud scurrying around the kitchen, her face flushed, her eyes bright like a bird who’d just found something delectable for her young.
Beattie and Clara were upstairs opening up the rooms, which had been closed for the last two years. They would need a good airing, dusting; a good sweeping and scouring and cleaning, Mrs. Townsend had said when she told them, her eyes bright, too, with anticipation. Jenny now the downstairs maid, as well as working in the scullery, was scrubbing and polishing as though her life depended on it.
‘I’ll be off, Maud,’ Grimsby said, putting on his chauffeur’s hat. He brushed a few crumbs off his coat and some specks of fluff off his trousers and bent down and polished his shoes again with his handkerchief.
What a fuss pot Maud thought, watching him, but a kind soul and who wouldn’t harm a hair on anyone’s head (who would want to harm hair, anyway, as the thought struck her?)
‘Good.’ She looked at the clock. Six! Mr. Townsend was to be discharged at eight o’clock. Good thing it was daylight until almost ten. Mrs. Townsend didn’t like driving at night and they would stay in Manchester after they’d picked up Mr. Townsend, then come back early tomorrow.
The Rolls was parked outside on the drive. Grimsby waited, leaning against the car bonnet and smoking a cigarette. He blew smoke in the air, thinking about Mr. Townsend and then Mrs. Townsend walked down the steps to the car. Grimsby stubbed the cigarette out on the gravel, then picked it up and put it in his pocket. (He was terribly tidy, too, about everything, including cigarette butts).
Mrs. Townsend looked a treat, he thought. All in white like a bride, although not in a long dress of course. She had on a short dress with a pleated skirt that twirled around her legs like a fan. She had white court shoes on, beige stockings and her hat was white, as well as her gloves. Even her handbag was white. The only thing not white was a flimsy kind of scarf at her throat in peach. A fair treat to look at he thought again!
Jessica felt wonderful, like she was floating on a cloud, buoyed up by cotton wool fluff balls. She’d waited a long time for this; a long time to bring George home.
‘Let’s get going, Grimsby,’ she said and smiled at him as he opened the door for her, putting a hand under her elbow to help her in, like Sir Walter Raleigh almost, when he’d thrown his cloak on the muddy ground for Queen Elizabeth.
Jessica settled into the back seat. Grimsby walked ponderously round to the driver’s side (he couldn’t hurry if his life depended on it Jessica thought in exasperation).
She’d waited so long for this day and she’d thought it would never come. All those months and years of watching George wither before her eyes and then the joy as he had slowly recovered until he looked more like the George of old, except that now his hair was almost completely white.
; They set off. The sun was getting low and a magnificent sunset was being born, silhouetting the trees on the edge of the lake, flushing the water into pale blues, lilacs and mauves. Long shadows dappled the lawn and Jessica thought how lovely Hyndburn was, in spite of all that had happened. How terribly lonely she’d been in the last few months after Frieda had returned to Germany.
Germany! Hitler was taking Germany by storm and it seemed as though the whole nation was flocking to National Socialism (including Paul). She had hated it on her last visit. Hated the Nazis and all they stood for. She couldn’t wait to get back to England, realizing at last where her allegiance truly lay. How ignorant she had been to think that she could put aside her English upbringing, the ideals of fair play, of courage, honesty and integrity. Sadly she realized a lot of her friends were still very pro German. Didn’t they realize what was going on there, or didn’t they care? She would never go back, not whilst the Nazis were in power.
She sighed as Grimsby revved the engine and set off in a flurry of gravel. She was happy here in Harwood. At last she had no desire to leave, not even lately to go to London. All she wanted was to get George home. Dare she hope, too, that Raymond would one day come back? Perhaps she’d see Marion as well. She’d more or less resigned herself to the situation with Marion and Darkie. She wondered why she’d been so stubborn about Leah Hammond and Stephen, her grandson. She didn’t really know what it was! Perhaps things too close to the bone! Something like that!
The hospital had rung in the afternoon to say that George could come home. She really should have waited till tomorrow but just couldn’t. She was going to help George to enjoy life. They might even visit Marion and Darkie in America. She’d never thought of that! It would be something to look forward to. How true the saying was that time heals, although it had taken her a long time to forgive Marion. Now she couldn’t wait to see her and her grandchild.
Grimsby drove slowly down the drive, which by this time was in dense shade. The car took a curve and she heard Grimsby exclaim. ‘I think we’ve got a visitor, Madam,’ he said, slowing down.
‘What…where…?’
‘Coming up the drive, Madam.’
Jessica leant forward to look through the front window. A man! Who could be visiting her? She could count on one hand the visitors she’d had over the past few years. This man was tall and slim, with broad shoulders. He had a coat slung over one shoulder and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong brown arms. He was carrying a duffel bag like they had in the army.
She wished there was a bit more light; there was something familiar about him, which made her heart begin to beat erratically. She could hear it thumping in her chest like a drum. Thud, thud thud it went, making her breathless. She grasped the back of the seat tightly, her knuckles showing white. Her mouth was dry. As he drew nearer she noticed he had a lean, square jaw and a slightly crooked nose (she hadn’t seen that before!) but still she knew who it was. Quite suddenly she just knew and she gave a cry. ‘Stop the car, stop the car.’
Grimsby pulled up, startled.
Jessica struggled to get the door opened.
‘It’s Raymond. It’s Raymond.’
Then she was out and flying down the drive. The man stopped, dropped his bag and began to run towards her.
‘Mother,’ and the shout echoed loudly, Raymond’s face alight, teeth flashing white against his tan.
Grimsby watched, a silly smile on his face (and even the hint of a tear on his cheek – he was a secret sentimentalist as well, wouldn’t you know!)
*********
‘I can’t believe it! Miles and miles of rivers of ice, you say. Ee, no, it seems impossible.’
Emma listened in wide-eyed wonder to Raymond as he sat in one of her over-stuffed armchairs (they’d had them re-upholstered). He looked comfortable, a large pint pot of tea in one hand and Woodbine in the other.
He nodded. ‘It’s true. Everything in Alaska is huge, including Alaska itself.’
Stephen and Christine were sitting on the floor next to Raymond’s chair listening avidly to his stories, his own enthusiasm making it all the more entrancing. He made Alaska come alive and they could almost see those mountains rising so high into the sky (almost as big a Mt. Everest Raymond said with a nod), the huge glaciers; the unusual wildlife.
‘I wish I could go to Alaska,’ Stephen said wistfully.
Stephen’s voice was that husky in-between quality of an adolescent. One minute down, the next up, like a soprano. It embarrassed him a bit. Raymond laughed and said not to worry about it, he’d soon grow out of it. He hoped he was right! It was so exciting, though hearing all these stories. He’d just read a book called ‘The Lone Woodsman’. He hadn’t been able to put it down and it reminded him of what Raymond was talking about. He could even see Raymond as that lone woodsman who’d got lost in the wilderness and survived because he’d been so smart. That’s what he wanted, adventure, which you certainly didn’t get in boring old Harwood!
‘Tell us about the moose, Uncle Raymond,’ Christine said in her high, piping little voice like a bird. ‘You know the funny looking animal you were telling us about before.’
Raymond laughed and tweaked Christine’s nose. He did those things quite naturally, tweaked noses, ruffled hair, pummelled shoulders (Stephen’s), which was his way of showing affection and which had already endeared him to those on whom he perpetrated these small but intimate acts. They weren’t used to this in Harwood, especially not the Hammonds, where shows of affection (any kind) were rare.
Raymond stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray.
‘They may look funny miss, but the joke is definitely not on the moose. It might have jackass ears, punching bag for a nose, hump shoulders and a short body. Plus long legs, tiny rump and three and a half inches of tale,’ he said, mimicking the way the moose might look. (He hunched his shoulders and wiggled his ears – he really could do this very well), until Stephen and Christine were rolling on the floor shouting with laughter and Emma was doing her usual bit of wiping her eyes with her pinny.
They were just in the throes of all this merriment, Raymond joining in as well, his voice loud above the laughter, when Leah and Walter walked in. They stopped when they saw the pantomime and the merrymakers stopped what they were doing (still rolling on the floor and wiping eyes with pinny).
‘We could hear you outside,’ Leah side, a smile beginning to form as Stephen and Christine started giggling again. ‘What were you laughing about?’
‘He’s been telling us about the moose in Alaska,’ Stephen said. He looked across at Raymond who wiggled his ears again and hunched his shoulders. Leah watched in astonishment, then smiled. She liked that side of Raymond, the comic side. That was probably why he had always been playing pranks when he was younger. Stephen and Christine were laughing again at Raymond’s antics and she joined in.
‘Ee, no, don’t, Raymond,’ Emma said, ‘You’re giving me a stitch.’
Walter watched them all, a slight, forced smile on his face. He would never understand the Hammond family and their inclination to laugh. They laughed at nothing! Just look at Leah! All red in the face! He frowned in disapproval at Stephen and Christine who were still on the floor. Those two little brats! They both needed a good hiding at times, especially that Stephen! He’d too much to say for himself. Walter believed quite fervently (especially after contact with the Hammond children) that children should be seen and not heard. Whoever had thought that up had had their head screwed on right, he thought, irritated by the way these two were behaving. Just wait till he and Leah were married! He’d sort them out quick smart (with the back of his hand, or the strap). There’d be quite a few changes then!
He put on a smile though, because for some reason Leah seemed to have taken to Raymond, who in no time had wormed his way into the Hammond household. Cheeky, Walter thought, brash and arrogant. Why didn’t he get back to where he’d come from, the back of beyond from the sound of it!
Walter’s feelin
gs were not lost on Raymond, who felt the antagonism flowing towards him like knives. Hates my guts, he thought. Well, I hate his. He couldn’t understand how someone like Leah could have taken up with Walter. He’d never seen a more mismatched couple!
Walter scowled in Raymond’s direction. Leah was all ears when that big oaf appeared. She hung on to his every word like he was God or something. Walter was a bit worried. He’d not yet popped the question and had assumed that the altar was where they were heading and he didn’t want anyone interfering. This bloody Raymond had such a high opinion of himself, strutting around Harwood like he owned it (the thought suddenly occurred to him that he probably did, or would one day when the others popped off). He hadn’t thought of that, so just from that angle this Raymond was definitely a better prospect than he was. It wasn’t the money though. He seemed to have most of the females in Harwood drooling over him. Even his sisters, who’d met him the other day, had been quite ecstatic, oohing and ahing like idiots.
Leah sensed Walter’s displeasure. Why did he always look so grim, so down in the mouth? He was the most humourless man she’d ever known! She was getting fed up with him. How much longer could she take that long face and lately he’d even been a bit bossy with her. She’d ignored that because it hadn’t worried her unduly, but if he carried on she’d have to tell him. He didn’t own her! Even as she thought it Walter said sharply. ‘I’d better get you home, Leah. It’s getting late and Stephen and Christine have to go to school tomorrow.’
Really, she thought, irritated, he’d no business talking to her like that. She knew what time it was, what she had to do with her own children. She didn’t need him interfering. She saw the intense dislike on Raymond’s face. It was to be expected, because Raymond and Walter were as different as night and day.
The Loom Page 29