Tangled Threads

by Margaret Dickinson

  Eveleen could not keep the surprise from her tone. ‘Mrs Rachel used to work?’

  Her father’s expression lightened a little as he said, ‘Oh yes. I remember the time when they were first married, Mr Ernest still used to plough fields himself and his bride, Rachel, used to help milk the cows. That was when the old man, Mr George, was still alive. After he died, it began to change and now, of course, like your mam always says . . .’ without a trace of resentment or envy in his tone, Walter said, laughingly, ‘the Dunsmores can afford to employ others to do all the work while the master and his son ride around the estate on their horses instead of walking mile after mile behind them.’

  ‘But where did Mam come from? Did her family live near here?’

  ‘No – no, she came from a little village just south of Nottingham.’

  ‘Nottingham!’ Eveleen could not keep the surprise from her tone, and yet this revelation did answer a question that had been in her mind as she had been growing up but had never been voiced. Aloud she murmured, ‘So that’s why she talks different to you.’

  Walter Hardcastle spoke with the broad Lincolnshire dialect of the area, but Mary’s speech was different.

  Walter was chuckling softly to himself. ‘I’m sure your mother would be delighted to hear you say that. She has tried so hard to erase dialect of any sort from her own way of speaking. And from you and Jimmy. ’Fraid she hasn’t managed it with me, though, much to her disappointment.’

  They travelled for a few moments before Eveleen took a deep breath and asked, ‘Did you know her family?’

  There was a long silence and when her father did answer he was now noticeably hesitant. ‘Eveleen, love, it’s not for me to tell you. If your mother wants you to know, she will tell you in her own good time.’

  For a moment Eveleen held her breath, restraining the tumult of questions that threatened to spill out. Then she released her breath slowly, but her mind was racing. So, there was some mystery surrounding her mother’s early life. Her mother never mentioned her family and Eveleen did not know if she had grandparents, aunts, uncles, or even cousins. Whatever could have happened to make Mary lose contact with her family so completely?

  She risked one more tentative question. ‘Are her parents still alive? Have I got a grandpa and granny somewhere?’

  There was genuine sadness in Walter’s tone. ‘I don’t know, love.’ Then, more firmly, he added, ‘Please, Eveleen, don’t ask me any more.’

  The remainder of the journey passed without either of them speaking. A shadow had passed across their day.

  They came to Westgate in the town close to the cattle market.

  ‘It’s busy today,’ Walter remarked. ‘I’ll have to leave the trap here.’ They climbed down. ‘You can go and look around the shops, Eveleen. Don’t get lost.’

  They smiled at each other and the constraint that had been briefly between them fled. Eveleen laughed. She knew this part of Grantham almost as well as the lanes around her own home.

  ‘I won’t, Dad. Besides, I’ve a list of things to buy for Mam. I’m not going to have much time for dawdling.’

  ‘Well, enjoy yarsen, lass. You don’t get into town very much. Now,’ his attention turned to his work, ‘I must find Master Stephen. We’re here to buy a bull today. Mr Ernest wants to start breeding shorthorns, so I must be sure to find him a good one.’

  ‘You will,’ Eveleen said, confident in her father’s knowledge of cattle. Walter was reputed to be the best cowman in the area and while the modest man would never speak of it himself, the knowledge filled Eveleen with pride. ‘If I see Stephen, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.’

  At the mere mention of his name, her foolish heart began to beat a little faster and she could feel the colour creeping up her neck. She turned away before her father should see the sparkle in her eyes and her smile of anticipation.

  She wove her way through the throng, nodding and smiling at acquaintances and then she was brought to a sudden halt by the tall, lanky figure barring her path.

  ‘If it isn’t the lovely Eveleen in her best Sunday bonnet.’

  She smiled up at the young man. ‘Hello, Ted. What brings you to town on market day?’

  ‘All the pretty girls, of course. But there’s none as pretty as you, Evie.’ Before she could protest, he had grabbed hold of her hand and pulled it through his arm. ‘When are you going to start walking out with me properly?’

  Eveleen looked up at him, threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘When the sun shines on both sides of the hedge at once,’ she teased.

  Ted pretended to be heartbroken and pressed his hand against his chest. ‘Oh, I’ll die of love for you,’ he clowned. Then, dropping to one knee, he clasped both his hands together in supplication as if proposing.

  His tomfoolery caused a ripple of laughter among the passers-by and Eveleen had to wipe tears of merriment from her eyes. ‘Get up, you idiot. What will people think?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he proclaimed loudly, with feigned passion. ‘You’re breaking my heart, Eveleen Hardcastle.’

  A voice spoke behind her. A voice that made her legs tremble and her heart feel as if it was doing somersaults. As she turned to face him, Eveleen caught her breath. On Stephen’s face there was an unmistakable look of jealousy as he glanced away from her to glare at the young man who was scrambling hastily to his feet and, for once, looking embarrassed himself.

  ‘Sorry, Master Stephen. Only having a bit of fun with Evie.’

  ‘I see,’ Stephen said slowly. ‘And have you been given time off from work to “have a bit of fun” with Miss Hardcastle?’

  ‘Oh – er – well, sir.’ Ted was fumbling now. He, like his father Bill Morton, worked for the Dunsmores.

  Smoothly, Eveleen intervened. While she had no time for Ted as a prospective suitor, she did not want to see him in trouble. ‘You were looking for my father, weren’t you, Ted?’ she asked, and Ted, quick on the uptake, glanced at her gratefully as she went on, ‘He’s gone to look over the bulls. You’ll find him there.’

  ‘Thanks, Evie.’ Ted pulled off his cap, gave an awkward gesture, something between a nod and a bow, to Stephen Dunsmore and hurried away, pulling his cap back on his head as he went.

  Eveleen turned back to smile up at Stephen. Now she could say quite truthfully, ‘And my father was hoping to meet up with you, too.’

  Stephen looked down at her, but there was no responding smile. His eyes still glittered with angry resentment. ‘Was he?’ He raised his hat and bowed his head in a tiny, stiff movement that implied condescension rather than courtesy. ‘Then I had better find him. I’ll bid you good-day, Miss Hardcastle.’

  ‘Stephen—’ she began, reaching out trembling fingers towards him. But he turned and was gone, striding away from her through the crowds that seemed to part for him as if recognizing his position of authority.

  Eveleen watched him go, her heart heavy with disappointment.

  Five

  Eveleen’s mind was not on the shopping list her mother has given her. She had been to Boot’s Cash Chemist in Market Place and to Mr Crow’s, the linen draper’s shop, on High Street. Coming out, she paused to consult her list, but her eyes hardly focused on Mary’s spidery handwriting. All she could see was Stephen’s angry face.

  There had been no hint of friendliness towards her. He had not even smiled at her. He had acted as if they were strangers.

  Eveleen sighed. Her joy in the day’s outing was spoilt and now she was hungry and thirsty too, but she could imagine her mother’s tirade if she were to spend precious housekeeping money on the luxury of a cup of tea and a bun.

  She folded the piece of paper in her hand and was about to set off in search of the next item on the list when she felt someone grip her elbow and a voice say in her ear, ‘Here you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. You’ve led me a merry dance.’

  Eveleen twisted round and looked up into Stephen’s face. He was smiling down at her now and his earlier host
ility had evaporated.

  ‘I – I thought you didn’t want to be with me,’ she murmured.

  Stephen released her arm and glanced up and down the street. ‘Of course I want to be with you, but we must be careful.’ Then, almost as a hasty afterthought, he added, ‘I don’t want you to be in more trouble with your parents.’

  Again he glanced to right and left and then he crooked his arm and offered it for her to take. Self-consciously, Eveleen wiped her trembling hand down the skirt of her dress before putting it on his arm.

  ‘You’re looking very pretty today,’ he said as they walked along together. ‘But I expect young Morton has already told you that.’ Again, there was jealousy in the words and in his tone.

  Eveleen’s heart leapt at the thought that he minded about Ted Morton. Yet she did not want him to think there was anything between them. ‘Ted and I have grown up together. We’re more like brother and sister than – than anything.’

  Stephen smiled at her as he leant towards her, his mouth close to her ear and said softly, ‘I’m very glad to hear it. Now, we’ll go in here and I’ll buy you a drink.’ He nodded towards the dim interior of the Horse and Jockey public house.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t. I – I . . .’ she said in a squeak. She could almost hear her mother’s voice saying, “It wouldn’t be seemly, Eveleen. You should know your place.”

  ‘It’s just a drink. I’m sure it’s hours since you had breakfast. I know it is since I had mine. Come, I won’t take no for an answer.’

  Eveleen glanced around, her pulse racing with excitement and sudden daring. Her father was busy over at the cattle market, engaged in business for his employer. It would be hours yet before he was ready to go home. Eveleen felt a spark of defiance. Why shouldn’t she? If he didn’t think it was proper, then Stephen wouldn’t be asking her, she reasoned. Where was the harm?

  She pulled in a deep breath and felt suddenly calmer. ‘Thank you, Master Stephen,’ she said politely and, to her surprise, found that her voice was strong and steady now. ‘I’d be delighted.’

  Inside it was dark but certainly not dismal for a bright log fire burned in the grate and the small round tables were polished until they gleamed. Farmers, leaning against the bar and sitting at the tables, glanced at her curiously for a moment and then looked away.

  Stephen ushered her into a chair in the farthest corner of the room from the entrance and went to the bar. He had not asked her what she would like to drink but returned with a pale, frothy liquid in a tall glass for her and a tankard of beer for himself. When Eveleen took a sip she found it rather bitter, but at this moment, in Stephen’s company, water from the beck would have tasted like nectar to her.

  He sat down beside her and, beneath the table, reached for her hand, holding it between both his own. ‘Oh, Eveleen, you don’t know how I long to have you to myself. Do you know that I ride past your home every day just in the hope of seeing you?’

  ‘Really?’ Eveleen felt a thrill run through her and then her sense of humour rose to the surface and she laughed. ‘My mother would say, “Haven’t you anything better to do with your time?”’

  He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one else nearby. With a courtly gesture, Stephen raised her fingers to his lips. ‘I can’t think of any better way to spend my time,’ he murmured.

  He took a long drink, almost emptying the tankard. ‘Another?’ he asked her.

  Eveleen smiled and shook her head. ‘No – no, thank you.’ She had drunk only half the contents of the glass and already she felt strangely light-headed.

  As Stephen went to the bar again she noticed another young man enter.

  ‘Dunsmore, old chap,’ he boomed in greeting, slapping Stephen on the back. ‘What are you drinking?’

  Stephen smiled but shook his head and leaned closer to speak into the newcomer’s ear. The young man, dressed in plus fours, turned and looked directly at Eveleen. His loud guffaw echoed around the bar above the buzz of conversation, causing some of the other men to glance again in her direction. Then, as Eveleen saw him nudge Stephen and wink, she felt the colour begin to rise in her face. Her glance flickered around the room and she saw to her utter dismay and confusion what she had not noticed when she had come in. She had been so overwhelmed by Stephen’s attention and the excitement of being with him, she had failed to realize that she was the only woman in the public bar of the Horse and Jockey.

  ‘You’re late home, Walter. Is everything all right?’

  Mary appeared out of the back door of the house as her husband manoeuvred the trap into the yard. Drawing to a halt, Walter climbed down and then held out his hand to help his daughter alight, laughing as he did so. ‘It’s thanks to this little minx if we are late, Mary. She says you gave her so much shopping to do, I was hanging about for her for over half an hour after I’d finished my bit of business in the market.’

  Mary’s eyebrows drew together in a frown as she looked keenly at her daughter. ‘I didn’t give you that much,’ she began and then, before Eveleen could think of a reply, Mary pointed to her head. ‘And what, miss, do you think you’re doing wearing your best Sunday bonnet? I told you to wear your second-best dress and bonnet.’

  In her excitement at being with Stephen and then the flurry of being late back to meet her father, Eveleen had completely forgotten that she had deliberately disobeyed her mother.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ she began, ‘but my other bonnet is beginning to look shabby and—’

  ‘Don’t scold the girl, Mary,’ her father interrupted, coming to her rescue. ‘Where’s the harm?’

  ‘She deliberately disobeyed me,’ Mary insisted.

  Walter tried to adopt a disapproving expression but his eyes twinkled. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Eveleen. Now say you’re sorry to your mother and we’ll say no more about it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam.’

  ‘Very well, then.’ Mary was a little mollified. ‘But don’t let it happen again or I shall stop you going into town.’

  As they began to unload the packages from the back of the trap, Jimmy sauntered into the yard. With a calculated air of innocence, he said, ‘Ted says to thank you for saving his bacon with Master Stephen.’ Then he glanced slyly towards their mother.

  ‘What’s this about Master Stephen?’ Mary missed nothing, as Jimmy had known full well.

  Eveleen glared at her brother, but was obliged to explain at least part of it. ‘I was talking to Ted in the market place. He was acting the fool as he always does, but he meant no harm. Master Stephen came up to us and asked him straight out if he had permission to be off work.’ She shrugged. ‘All I could think of was to say that Ted was meeting Dad.’ She looked to her father, hoping he would feel able to back up her story. ‘So I told him where to find you.’ Mentally she was crossing her fingers that no one had seen her in the Horse and Jockey.

  With gentle remonstration, Walter said, ‘I can understand why you said it, but it wasn’t entirely true, was it, Eveleen?’

  Eveleen bit her lip. ‘No, Dad. I’m sorry.’

  She seemed to be saying nothing but ‘I’m sorry’.

  ‘And then what?’ Mary was not about to let the matter drop.

  Eveleen trembled but managed to say calmly, ‘I went and did your shopping and then – and then I happened to meet Master Stephen again. Completely by accident. Honestly, Mam.’

  Mary’s face was like an ominous thundercloud. ‘And?’

  Now she was floundering. ‘Well – we just talked.’

  ‘Ted saw you with him,’ Jimmy said, and as he turned and began to move away, he threw the words back over his shoulder. ‘Coming out of the Horse and Jockey in High Street.’

  ‘He – what?’ The scandalized expression on her mother’s face would have reduced Eveleen to helpless laughter had she not realized that now she was in deep trouble.

  ‘Do you mean to tell me, miss, that you actually went into a public house?’

  Eveleen nodded. Mary moved towards her
menacingly. ‘Do you know,’ she said with dreadful emphasis on every word, ‘what sort of women go into those places?’

  ‘But I was with Stephen. I thought—’

  Without warning, Mary Hardcastle’s hand met her daughter’s cheek with a resounding slap that echoed around the yard. ‘You little trollop! Have you remembered nothing I’ve taught you, girl? Haven’t I always told you to remember your place? What will people think of you if they saw you with him and in a public house too?’

  The memory of the stranger’s laughter and his suggestive nudge made Eveleen wince. Now she realized what he, and probably all the other men there too, had been thinking about her.

  Mary lunged at Eveleen as if to strike her again, but Walter caught hold of his wife. ‘Now, now, there’s no need for that. Let’s talk about this.’

  Mary struggled against her husband’s grip. ‘You keep out of this, Walter. This has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t understand.’ Her words were scathing as she added, ‘Being a man.’

  Calmly, Walter said, ‘Of course I understand and it has everything to do with me. She’s my daughter too and don’t you think a father understands better than anyone what young men are like?’ Even in the midst of the quarrel, he smiled a little as he added, ‘I was young once, you know.’

  The fight seemed to drain out of Mary and she sagged against him. ‘Oh, Walter, you were always good and kind and considerate. You would never have taken advantage of any girl.’

  Walter allowed himself a grimace. ‘Now you’re making me sound very dull, Mary.’

  ‘No, no,’ she insisted at once, twisting round in his arms to face him and reaching up to touch his face in a tender gesture. ‘You know I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘No, no, of course you didn’t.’ Above Mary’s head, he glanced at Eveleen. ‘But have you thought, Mary love, that it’s perhaps my fault if Eveleen is so trusting of all young men?’