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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

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BOOK: Tangled Threads
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‘Oh yes, here we go. The old, old story. It’s all the girl’s fault. Jimmy, you took advantage of a young lass who’s hardly been allowed out the door except to go across
the road to the chapel. For all I know she might not have been told the facts of life properly. Maybe she didn’t even know what you were up to.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘Did
she?’


I
don’t know,’ he muttered. ‘It’s not my problem.’

‘Of course it’s your problem. It’s your bairn she’s having.’

Again there was silence until he said suddenly and triumphantly, ‘We can’t get married. We’re both under age. Even if I was willing – and I’m not – her father
would never give his consent.’

‘I intend to go to see him and ask him.’

Jimmy stopped walking and stared at her, causing her to pause too. ‘Go back there? To him? You wouldn’t?’

‘Of course I would. I’m going on Sunday.’

For a moment the young man looked frightened. Then his face cleared. ‘You can’t. I bet there’s no carrier’s cart on a Sunday.’

‘Yes, there is. I’ve checked.’ Quietly, but with her tone full of steely determination, Eveleen added, ‘And even if there wasn’t, it’s only about six miles.
I’d walk.’

 
Thirty-Five

‘You’ve got a nerve, girl, I’ll say that for you. Showing your face here again.’

‘I had to come, Gran. I have to speak to Uncle Harry.’

‘I don’t expect he’ll want to speak to you.’ Bridget looked up sharply, suddenly anxious. ‘Is something wrong? Is it Rebecca?’

‘No, no. She’s fine. At least, as fine as she can be. She’s very unhappy.’

‘She’s brought it all on herself,’ the old woman said stiffly. ‘I haven’t got a scrap of sympathy for her.’

‘So I see,’ Eveleen said grimly.

Bridget glared at her and then looked away. ‘What do you want to see her father about?’

‘I need his permission for them to get married.’

‘He won’t give it.’

‘Why ever not? Why won’t he help us to make the best out of the situation? What’s done, is done. At least we can make sure that his grandchild – and your great-grandchild
– is born in wedlock.’

‘Go and ask him yourself. He’s in the chapel. Spends half his time there now. He’ll tell you.’

‘I will,’ Eveleen said determinedly and marched out of the cottage and along the brick path, but before she reached the gate, she heard someone calling her name.

‘Eveleen. Eveleen. Wait.’

She turned to see Andrew Burns coming towards her.

‘How is she? Is she all right?’ he was asking before he even reached her.

‘She’s fine.’

The look of relief on his face left Eveleen in no doubt, if indeed there had ever been any in her mind, of this young man’s feelings for Rebecca.

‘I thought something must have happened with you coming back here.’

Eveleen shook her head, reluctant to tell Andrew the reason for her visit. It could only bring him more pain. But Andrew was far more astute than she had given him credit for.

‘You’ve come to see about them being married, haven’t you? You’ve come to get his permission?’

There was nothing Eveleen could do but nod assent.

‘Well, if he does marry her, he’d better treat her right. Else he’ll have me to deal with. And I’ll make a proper job of it next time. I’ll mind you’re not
there to break us up.’

‘Andrew, I’m so sorry.’ She was reaching out to touch him, but he turned away. Sadly she watched him go.

A few minutes later she pushed open the door of the chapel, her heart thudding with nervousness. Her uncle was standing high up in the pulpit at the lectern reading silently from the huge Bible
that always lay there.

She walked down the aisle knowing he must have heard her come in, yet he did not look up. She stood right beneath him near the communion rail and even when she spoke his name softly he did not
look at her.

‘Uncle Harry, please hear what I’ve come to say.’

He closed the old leatherbound book with loving care and, at last, he met her gaze.

Eveleen licked her dry lips. ‘Uncle, please will you give your permission for them to be married. So that – so that the child can be born in wedlock.’

She could see that he was struggling with his conscience. His inner turmoil showed plainly on his face. Then he stepped down from the pulpit and came to her. He took hold of her shoulder and
pushed her into the family pew.

‘We’ll pray together, Eveleen. We’ll ask for guidance.’

Willingly Eveleen knelt beside him, put her hands together in prayer and closed her eyes.

Half an hour later when her knees were sore and her legs cramped, her back aching and her hands cold, she was still in the same position. She opened her eyes and stole a look at the man beside
her. He was still muttering quietly in prayer as he had done throughout the time they had both been kneeling there. Eveleen eased her aching limbs and shifted her position but her uncle droned on.
Then she began to heave herself up to sit on the seat, but his hand shot out, pressing her firmly on the shoulder to keep her kneeling position.

Another ten minutes passed before he allowed her to rise and sit back on the pew. Stiffly he did the same and they sat in silence while she tried to rub life back into her limbs.

She felt his gaze on her and turned to look into his eyes. The sadness she saw there turned her heart over with pity for him.

‘Have you an answer?’ he asked her quietly.

She nodded. ‘Whatever they’ve done wrong – and I know it was wrong, Uncle – it’s not the unborn child’s fault. Why should it be born without a proper name?
Why should it have to go through life with the stigma of being called a . . .’ She hesitated over the word. She had no wish to blaspheme in the chapel. ‘. . . dreadful name,’ she
finished instead. Softly, she added, ‘Can’t you forgive them, Uncle, because He will?’

He looked away from her then, his gaze roaming around the chapel and coming to rest once again on the Bible. Slowly, he nodded. ‘Very well, Eveleen. I will agree to their marriage, but I
– I can’t bring myself to attend the ceremony.’

For a moment his stern face threatened to crumple, but he rubbed his hand across his eyes and with a supreme effort controlled his emotion. ‘It’s every father’s wish to walk
his daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. But now I have no wish to do so. I cannot bring myself to see her ever again.’

There was no more she could say or do to persuade him and while she had got what she came for – his written permission for his young daughter to marry – the victory was a hollow
one.

She decided to walk back to Nottingham rather than wait for the last omnibus late in the evening. By the time she reached the yard where they now lived it was dark.

She pushed open the door thankful to be home and looking forward to a cup of tea and warming her toes by the range. She was met by the sound of Mary’s wailing. When she heard the door,
Mary rose from her chair by the fire and rushed towards Eveleen, her arms flailing.

She hit out at her, striking her on the shoulder and then about the head, ‘He’s gone. You’ve driven him away. He’s left us. Jimmy’s run away to sea. My Jimmy. My
baby. He’s gone.’ More blows rained about her head and shoulders before Eveleen was able to catch hold of her mother’s wrists and hold them firmly.

‘Calm down,’ she shouted above Mary’s hysterical shrieking. She pushed her into a chair and held her there until her cries subsided into hiccuping sobs. Eveleen glanced round
to see Rebecca cowering in a corner, her arms folded over her stomach as if to protect her unborn child.

‘Did she go for you, an’ all?’

The girl nodded.

‘Has she hurt you?’

‘Not – not really.’

Beneath her grasp, she felt her mother go limp and Eveleen loosened her hold. Once she was sure that the onslaught was not going to begin again she let go completely and stood up. ‘Now
then. Will one of you tell me what’s been going on?’

Rebecca only huddled further into the corner, sobbing quietly. Eveleen looked down at her mother. ‘Well?’

‘After you’d gone this morning, he was in a right temper. Shouting and carrying on. “Eveleen’ll get that old bugger to agree to it,” he said. “Everything
always has to be her way. She always gets what she wants. And she will this time.”’

Eveleen gasped and felt the colour drain from her face. How could Jimmy say such things about her? All she’d ever tried to do was take care of the family after their beloved father had
died. Her knees gave way as the spirit drained out of her. Though she continued to stare at Mary as she ranted on, Eveleen sank into the chair opposite.

‘“She’s done it now,” he said. “I’m really going to do it this time. I’m off to sea.” And with that, he packed his things and went.’

Mary raised resentful eyes to Eveleen. ‘If you hadn’t pushed him to marry the girl, he’d have stayed with us. It’s all your fault, Eveleen. All of it.’

Guilt pressed heavily upon Eveleen. Her mother was right. All their troubles had started back home in Lincolnshire when she, Eveleen, had believed the sweet words of a handsome young man.

 
Thirty-Six

Though her body ached with weariness, Eveleen slept little that night. Her mind was in turmoil. Her first thought, after the initial shock had worn off, had been to go in
search of her brother. He could hardly join up on a Sunday, but she knew it was pointless. He could be anywhere by now in the vast city of Nottingham, and early the following morning he would no
doubt be on his way to London or to a seaport to sign on.

She felt a stab of envy that he had broken free and then, despite his callous act, admiration for his daring. But there would be no such escape for her and he had left her with even greater
problems than before.

Now she had to earn enough money to keep all of them.

The following morning Mr Porter stormed into the women’s workroom.

‘Where is he? Where is that idle blighter? You, girl, where’s that blasted brother of yours?’

For some reason, Eveleen’s instinct told her to hold back the truth, at least for a day or two. Knowing Jimmy, he could well be home by nightfall.

‘Isn’t he here?’ she looked up with wide, innocent eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Porter. I’ll wring his neck when I catch up with him.’

The man grunted and seemed a little mollified by her willingness to condemn her brother. ‘Well, see you do, lass. Meantime, get him back to that machine. He’s not much use at his job
yet, but Luke is a good teacher and if anyone can lick him into shape, Luke can.’ Then he wagged his finger at her. ‘And you can tell him, if he doesn’t buck his ideas up and work
harder, he’ll be out on his ear anyway. I don’t mind telling you, if I could find a youngster who was a quicker learner than him, he’d be out. Luke says he has to keep showing him
what to do every morning. He can’t seem to remember anything from one day to the next.’ Perceptively, the man added, ‘Or he doesn’t want to.’ Bob Porter turned away,
grumbling and muttering to himself.

Eveleen stared after him as a daring and devious plan began to form in her mind. Her heart began to thud with excitement. Could she pull it off? If she was found out, she’d be sacked at
once. But it was worth a try. They could hardly be worse off than they were at this moment. Her wages were a pittance – the family could not survive on those alone.

But if she could earn Jimmy’s wage, then . . .

Eveleen bent her head over her work, trying to still her trembling fingers, trying to do her own work properly, at least for the rest of the day.

For tomorrow she would take her brother’s place in the machine shop. They hadn’t been here long enough for people to get to know him that well. And yet Jimmy had worked alongside
Luke Manning for a few days. Would he guess? Could she really pull off such a daring deception?

Eveleen pressed her lips together determinedly. She had to.

There was only one thing she was going to regret. Tonight she must cut off all her glorious hair.

‘Oh Jimmy, Jimmy. You’ve come back.’ Mary rose from her chair and held out her arms to the figure that stood in the doorway. It didn’t seem to register
with her that the person had come from upstairs and not in from the yard. ‘I knew you wouldn’t desert us. Didn’t I tell you, Eveleen?’ She looked around her and then raised
her voice. ‘Eveleen? Where are you? Come here. Jimmy’s come home.’

Rebecca came running from the scullery, her face alight with joy.

From her position by the door, it broke Eveleen’s heart to have to say quietly, ‘No, he hasn’t, Mam. It’s me.’

Mary turned startled eyes back to stare at her and Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. Then tears of disappointment welled in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eveleen said swiftly.

Mary, too, dissolved into tears, holding the corner of her apron to her mouth. ‘How could you be so cruel, Eveleen? To dress up and pretend to be him. How could you do it?’

‘It’s not a game, Mam. I mean to take his place at the factory.’

Surprise caused Mary’s tears to cease. ‘You’re not serious. You’ll never get away with it.’

‘I deceived you, didn’t I? His own mother.’

‘The light’s poor in here,’ Mary persisted. ‘Besides, you don’t know how to do his work.’

Eveleen moved forward and sat down. Mary sank into her chair and Rebecca, drying her tears as she became intrigued by Eveleen’s bold plan, sat down too.

‘I’ve watched him work, only the once I grant you, but when Mr Porter came looking for him yesterday, he said that Jimmy was not much of a worker anyway and Luke Manning –
that’s the twisthand who’s training Jimmy – had to keep showing him what to do. I saw it with me own eyes an’ all. Now, if I can only get him to do that for another day or
two, I can soon pick it up.’

‘Oh, Miss Clever,’ Mary said sarcastically. ‘You think you can do a man’s job better than Jimmy, do you?’

‘Jimmy could have done it if he’d really wanted to.’ Eveleen sighed. ‘But let’s face it, Mam. All he’s ever wanted was to go to sea. Maybe now he’s
going to be happy.’

‘He was happy on the farm,’ Mary insisted defensively. ‘He was happy back home.’

BOOK: Tangled Threads
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