The Bobbin Girls (20 page)

Alena reeled, for, in a way, Dolly was right.
She
was to blame for her father’s state. If
she
hadn’t persuaded Rob to run away, if
she
hadn’t persuaded him to go swimming in the tarn on his birthday, then Ray would never have gone looking for her. There wouldn’t have been a fight between their two fathers, and Ray wouldn’t have been half drowned as a result.

‘Even then I had to keep working till I dropped it.’ Dolly’s voice was rising over the drumming of raindrops as she relived past grievances. ‘A woman should have her first baby safely, not delivered by some old hag of a neighbour who hasn’t the first idea what she’s doing.’ She could still see the look of satisfaction on Betty Thorns’s face when the child was found to be dead, as if it were some kind of twisted justice. ‘Not one of you Townsens gave a damn whether the bairn lived or died.’ She slapped at a nearby branch, causing a shower of rain to soak them both.

‘Oh, that’s not true, Dolly. It wasn’t our fault you lost the baby.

‘What’s got into you? It was desperately sad, but just one of those things. A terrible accident.’

‘One of those things?’ Dolly’s lip curled. ‘Oh, aye, and so was that accident Sandra had today.’

‘I don’t think so. For goodness’ sake, she might lose an eye!’

‘What is it you want, for me to apologise?’

‘It’d be a start. Listen, Dolly...’

‘No, you listen to me for once.’ Again the finger stabbed Alena’s chest. ‘If your family had given me a bit of money, I could’ve stopped off work and looked after meself proper. Then happen I wouldn’t’ve lost me baby.’

There was petulance in the voice, and bitter resentment, but no sign of real anguish. Not even a single tear for the lost child, nor any sign of regret for poor Sandra, both of whom were surely the innocent victims in all of this. Alena felt a surge of sympathy for Tom in that moment, and sincerely wished that he’d never married the silly girl, yet managed against all the odds not to say so. She must make allowances for Dolly’s loss. Everyone grieved in a different way. The rain was soaking through her coat and she shivered, rubbing her arms and shoulders for warmth. Fighting words roared in her head, but losing her temper wouldn’t help either of them. Again she drew in a deep, calming breath and, for Lizzie’s sake, attempted to build bridges.

‘I can understand how awful it must have been for you to lose the baby, particularly since it was your first, even so...’

‘
He
, not it. He was my
son
, remember.’

Alena felt worse than ever. ‘And Tom’s, I know. But we didn’t have any money to give you. We were all sorry though, really we were. Now we must hope that Sandra makes a full recovery.’

‘You’ll blame me if she doesn’t.’

Alena’s sigh sounded as weary as she felt. ‘No, Dolly, I won’t blame you, and Sandra won’t hear of your part in this from me. But think before you act in future, and get rid of that chip on your shoulder.’

With a toss of her head, Dolly strode back down the path with an air of unconcern. ‘I can’t stay here gossiping with you all day. I have a husband to feed. Trouble with you, Alena Townsen, is you look down on me, allus have done, because I’m a bastard without a dad.’

‘Oh, Dolly, that’s not true.’

‘Aye, it is. And my bairn too might have been a bastard, had Tom not done the decent thing and it’d lived, poor mite. Everyone hates me for losing it.’

‘No one hates you.’

‘Tom does.’ Something about the bleakness of Dolly’s expression, and the painful quaver in her voice, made Alena feel a rush of pity for the girl, despite everything. Whatever was wrong had more to do with Dolly and Tom than herself and Sandra. He blamed his wife for trapping him into marriage; she was trying to cure her grief by seeing other men, perhaps in the hope of making him jealous. But Alena knew she could do nothing to help. Marriage was a private affair and so, for the sake of family harmony, she pressed her lips together, resolving that she wouldn’t be the one to make further trouble between husband and wife.

‘I won’t say anything to him, about what I saw the other day.’

‘There’s naught to tell.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

For a long moment Dolly fixed Alena with a glare so cold and hard, it made her shiver. Then it was as if a dam had burst. Her knees seemed to give way and she sank down into the wet grass, tears pouring down her cheeks together with the rain, sobbing about how she’d never meant to hurt Sandra, how nobody cared about her. How lonely she was, how miserable, and how Tom ignored her.

‘Oh, Dolly,’ Alena said, putting her arms about her. ‘What are we to do with you?’

Sandra was lucky and did not lose the eye but, damaged beyond repair, the sight in it was quite gone. From now on, her life would never be the same again. Aunt Elsie, for one, was far from pleased.

‘Just when you were old enough to be of some use, you go and do this!’ As if the accident had been deliberate.

The message from James Hollinthwaite was even worse. He considered her virtually useless in the bobbin mill. He was not prepared to take back a half-blind worker, nor offer any compensation for the loss of employment over an incident that was not his fault. Sandra’s wages to date were delivered to her aunt’s door, which was, in his opinion, the extent of his responsibility in the matter. Unfortunate for the girl, no doubt about that, but also a great inconvenience to him. He now had the task of finding a replacement, a young school leaver no doubt, who would not work at Sandra’s capacity for some months. Exceedingly irritating.

Fortunately, other aspects of James’s life had taken a turn for the better. George Tyson had given him some valuable information on how to make real money out of his land by growing conifer crops. The government, it seemed, was paying good prices for such timber in order to replenish the nation’s stocks in case of war. James did not believe war would ever come again, but was himself already in possession of a sizeable larch plantation which would bring in a healthy sum, and he could easily plant more.

He set in motion enquiries over the possible purchase of other parcels of land in various parts of the Lake District. A man couldn’t have too much land, and he knew now what he could do with it. Besides which, he’d been reliably informed that the Forestry Commission were buying up all they could find. He’d known that they first acquired land for forestry back in 1919 with Whinlatter Pass; now it seemed they were after more. And anything that was good enough for the Forestry Commission, was good enough for him.

Olivia too was in a much sunnier mood, and she’d returned from Edinburgh looking almost as she used to when she was young, all bright-eyed and smiling, ready to forget their differences. The relief was substantial. He loathed her depressions and sulks, and the last thing he needed at this delicate juncture was a bothersome wife making his life difficult.

To his surprise she’d taken up walking, good healthy exercise which brought the roses back to her cheeks, and was even taking an interest in her garden and events in the village again. If she continued in this vein, James might permit her to have the boy home for a few weeks this summer. So long as Robert promised to behave. Though he doubted he need have any more fears about his friendship with the Townsen girl.

According to Mickey Roscoe, who had proved so useful that James took care to speak with him on a regular basis, Alena was now walking out with him. Mickey expected them to wed before too long. James did not much care for the young man, but what concern was it of his whom the chit married, so long as she kept away from Robert? And it would admittedly be pleasant to have his son home on a visit. James puffed out his chest, rubbing his hands together in self-congratulatory style. Everything was working out exceedingly well, and their differences were perhaps not insurmountable after all. The boy had always declared an interest in trees. This new forestry project might be the very thing to bring him to heel.

Mickey had, of course, lied about his success with Alena. Apart from ordinary day-to-day contact at the mill, and walking her home occasionally after work, he saw frustratingly little of her. A state of affairs he believed he could change, given the right mix of patience and manipulation.

For her part, Alena was more concerned with helping Sandra come to terms with her new situation. The two girls spent a lot of time together, Alena patiently nursing her through the pain of debilitating headaches, helping her get used to the unsightly eye-patch, and consoling her over the loss of her job. She was always ready to listen to Sandra’s fears and help her relearn actions she’d performed all her life without a second’s thought.

‘Everything’s in the wrong place. I try to put a cup on a table, miss it entirely and it smashes to the floor.’

‘Give yourself time, you’ll adjust.’

‘And I can’t find work anywhere. Aunt Elsie says she can’t afford to keep me for nothing. Oh, Alena, what am I going to do?’ Then she would weep and anger would burn deep within Alena at the way Dolly’s wildness had brought about this terrible state of affairs.

On one of the rare occasions brother and sister were alone, Alena broke her own rule and tackled Tom on the subject of his marriage. ‘I know it’s none of my business but you and Dolly - are things any better between you?’

He looked at her for a long moment. ‘You’re right, it’s none of your business.’

She did not mention it again, nor did she mention seeing his wife in close contact with another man, reminding herself to keep her nose out of other folk’s affairs. It was far too dangerous. Except, that is, in one respect.

Alena and Edith mutually agreed that no good would come of Sandra’s learning it had not been an accident.

‘It’ll be hard enough for the poor lass to cope, without having that burden to bear as well.’

Which seemed to be true since the hardest part for Sandra lay in picking up the threads of her life again and overcoming a whole new set of insecurities. Although Harry was anxious, even eager to continue his friendship with her, she perversely refused to have anything more to do with him. ‘He feels sorry for me, Alena. I know he kindly visited me in hospital, but I can’t bear to see his pity, or to have him saddled with a useless woman like me. What if I were to lose the sight in my other eye? I’d be blind then, wouldn’t I?’

‘You aren’t going to lose the sight in your other eye. It was a terrible accident that you lost the sight in one, but the other is healthy and will remain so. You have to tell yourself that it might have been worse. You could have been killed, Sandra. Don’t you realise that? And Harry doesn’t feel sorry for you, no more than anyone else anyway. He really likes you, honestly he does.’

But Sandra would only shake her head and the moment she heard his step at the front door, would rush out of the back, leaving Alena to make excuses for her.

Such time as Alena didn’t spend with Sandra, was devoted to helping her mother. Now that Lizzie was back at work, for all it was only part-time and she was glad to have it, she seemed

to compensate for leaving her husband to a neighbour’s care in the morning by doing more and more for him in the afternoon. As a result she soon became overtired, and it seemed even more important that Alena should share the load and help care for her father.

Ray was not at all interested in food these days so it was a slow business, rather like feeding a child. Shovelling in a spoonful, scraping the dribbles off his whiskered chin and waiting while he masticated it. Not a pleasant occupation and Alena felt guilty that her one desire was to get the task over with as quickly as possible. Her days at the mill were like a sanctuary to her now. Not only away from the guilt of Sandra’s ‘accident’ and a handicap which should by rights have been her own, but also far from the smell of her father’s sickness.

This morning, as she offered up the next mouthful, he grabbed the spoon with a grip that was astonishingly strong, as if all the energy of his once fit and now wasted body was centred in that single limb.

‘You’re a good girl.’

‘Don’t talk, Dad. You must eat.’

‘Be a good lass to your ma - when I’m gone.’

He often talked in this way, all maudlin and sentimental. Alena sighed, taking no more notice of it this morning than any other. I will, Dad, don’t worry. Come on, eat up. The porridge is good and hot with a bit of salt, just how you like it.’

He was still nodding, as if satisfied he had solved a great problem. His mouth twisted as he spoke, the words often coming out all funny and mumbling, sometimes back to front. At other times, like today, he was surprisingly lucid. Either way Alena had to lean close, not always sure that she had heard correctly. So it was now, with his next words.

‘She had to fetch thee herself, tha knows.’

While he paused for breath, Alena patiently scooped up the last dribble. ‘What did you say, Dad? Do you mean Ma had me on her own? Is that it? She never told me.’

‘Nobody wanted thee, a puny wee bairn. Not me, not anyone. ‘Cept Lizzie. She allus wanted a li’le girl, as a change from all them lads, she said.’

Again an achingly long pause after this major effort while he drew a long rasping breath followed by a coughing fit. Alena sat waiting with the spoon hanging in her hand, porridge dripping from the end of it, as she tried to take in exactly what her father was saying.