The Bobbin Girls (7 page)

After that came endless discussions. Much of the conversation took place with the kitchen door firmly closed, and Alena had very little idea what was being said within. But every now and then the odd phrase would break out from the tight confines of the room and reverberate throughout the house.

‘What were you thinking of?’
 

‘Have you no sense?’

‘She’s little more than a child.’
 

‘You’re a damn fool.’

Alena crouched in misery in her room, as she always did when her father was on the rampage, feeling very sorry for herself. Her mother too was offhand, avoiding answering her questions even more than usual, as if having a curious mind was a sin. Besides which, Alena could hardly bear to see Tom so white and distraught.

It soon became clear that her brother’s anguish was connected with Dolly’s problem. He was the one responsible for the girl’s condition, and since she was far too young to marry, no one quite knew what to do about it.

So engrossed was the family with the magnitude of this problem that even when Alena finally told Lizzie she’d made up her mind to leave school as soon as possible, her mother merely nodded, her sad grey eyes fixed upon the potato she was peeling.

Won’t you be disappointed if I don’t become a teacher?’

Lizzie, her mind on her beloved youngest son’s future happiness, forced to marry a girl he didn’t love because of sowing a few too many wild oats, could barely concentrate upon her daughter’s troubles which seemed childish by comparison. ‘Of course, love, but it’s your life. You must choose.’

At which point Alena flounced out of the house in high dudgeon. She went at once to take out her grievance upon Dolly, and give her a piece of her mind for ruining her family’s, and in particular Tom’s, happiness. She found her buying pear drops in Mrs Rigg’s Village Shop. Alena didn’t even have a halfpenny to buy a stick of liquorice but she waited with strained patience until the treasured two ounces of sweets had been wrapped in a cone of paper and handed over. When the two girls got outside, she was to wonder how her life could go so wrong, so quickly. Far from having the upper hand, it was Dolly who turned upon her.

‘I don’t know who the hell you think you are, hoity-toity little madam, looking down your nose at me! Not only did you get me into trouble over those bloody dustbins, but you were seen swimming with Rob Hollinthwaite. In the buff, stark naked, so I’m told.’

Alena stood open-mouthed with shock, hearing with growing alarm that it was James Hollinthwaite himself who had seen them swimming together.

He had seen her naked body!

The very thought made her want to die of humiliation. To think that while they’d been happily swimming in all innocence, that dreadful man had stood watching them without saying a word. Where? Why? How? From behind some tree or rock? What a despicable thing to do. She shuddered with revulsion.

Word had apparently spread quickly as Mrs Milburn, cook general at Ellersgarth Hall, had overheard some private conversation. Listening at doors being one of her hobbies, according to Maggie Sutton, who was told the titillating tale while standing in the meat queue at the butcher’s. Dolly, sucking on a pear drop, and still smarting from the leathering Maggie had given her when she’d learned of her daughter’s predicament, took great pleasure in outlining all of this to Alena and seeing her discomfiture. She left the girl in no doubt that it would be all around the village in no time.

Embarrassment overwhelmed Alena.

How would she ever be able to face anyone again? How would Rob? It’d been her idea to swim in the tam, of course. He’d skin her alive for this. But was it her fault if adults always looked at things in the worst possible way?

She saw now why the hasty decision to send him away had been made. Mr Hollinthwaite thought they were up to far more serious mischief than up-ending dustbins.

Alena knew as soon as she looked into Rob’s face that she couldn’t tell him they were the subject of village gossip. He had more than enough on his plate already.

The day in Yorkshire had been a failure. He did not like the school and no longer had any wish to go to it. It took no time at all for him to make that fact quite clear, and any exultation Alena might once have felt at this discovery, quickly evaporated as her heart filled with pity. The awfulness of their quarrel was forgotten as she saw that all the happiness and delight he had first shown at the news had leeched away, leaving him pale and drawn.

They’d given him several tests, it seemed. Arithmetic, geometry and algebra, which Rob hated, and one comprised entirely of questions such as: If there are five people sitting at a table and John doesn’t want to sit next to Mary, Mary wants to sit next to Susie but not next to David, where would Jane sit? Miss Simpson hadn’t done those kind of silly tests. Where was the use? She’d spent most of her time telling wonderful stories from history, or about Greek heroes, such as how Horatio held a bridge against his enemies, or how Helen of Troy had caused a war because of her beautiful face.

Consequently Rob had panicked, earning a stern reproof from the examining master who told him that he was in dire need of some proper education. He hadn’t liked the sound of that one bit.

‘And the school buildings are awful. Not a bit like I imagined. All faded and old, with the paint kicked off the doors and bare little rooms with hard beds. Freezing cold.’

‘What about the wonderful swimming pool?’

‘Like ice.’

They walked deep into the woods, silent in their misery. They could hear woodsmen sawing and chopping and every now and then the sound of a tree crashing down. Autumn was always the time when undergrowth was cleared and the felling began. They reached their favourite oak and sat side by side between the embrace of its huge roots and Alena listened for more than an hour to his mournful tale. When he had done she said. ‘So tell your dad you won’t go.’

He looked horrified. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Yes, you can.’ But she knew he was right. Rob Hollinthwaite could no more stand up to his father than a lamb could lie down with a fox, even before what had taken place at High Birk Tarn. Not because he was a coward, but because he worshipped the man and wanted, desperately, to please him.

‘I don’t want to go, Ally.’ He hadn’t used her childhood name for years. It seemed to emphasise his vulnerability and filled her heart with new sympathy for him. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot since we - well, had that bit of a spat. I don’t want to leave Ellersgarth either.’

Alena recognised these words as a code, meaning that it was really she whom he didn’t want to leave, though he was too proud or embarrassed to say so.

‘I asked Father if I could go to your school instead. I’ve never seen him so angry. He ranted on for hours about how I should make something of myself and not turn into a fool. All about how difficult it is to get a job these days. How I must buck up and get properly educated if I want to take over the farm and mill one day, and be able to manage his thousand acres of woodland. I said I wasn’t sure if I wanted to manage all of that. So he hit the roof again and said didn’t that prove how stupid I was? I daren’t ask him again, Ally. He even said you were a bad influence and it would be better if I didn’t see you at all!’ They gazed at each other in silence, aghast at such a prospect.

She had to tell him then about his father seeing them swimming a the tarn. Better it come from her, she decided, than some nosy old gossip in the village street, or be faced with James Hollinthwaite’s scorn. As she did so, she watched a red flush creep over his face.

‘They make it sound so - so dirty!’

‘I know.’

‘And it wasn’t.’

‘No.’

‘They won’t believe that.’

‘But we can’t let them separate us.’
 

‘No.’

‘I’d die.’

‘Me too.’ Rob looked at her in silence, the anger burning in his eyes the only indication of his feelings.

‘There’s only one thing to be done then,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to run away.’

Chapter Four

They left before dawn on Sunday, each with a change of clothes in a bag and whatever food they’d been able to steal from their respective pantries.

It was still dark, with a hint of rain in the air, as they traced by instinct the way through the woods. The smell of damp moss and earth was strong in their nostrils, their feet slipping on stones slimy with lichen. Hours from now when her heels were rubbed raw Alena would wish she’d put on an extra pair of socks, or worn her clogs, but for now she was glad of the Wellington boots, and certain they were doing the right thing.

The sun came up all pink and red and gold, spearing the woodland with shafts of light in which dust motes danced and leaves floated like brilliant jewels, causing them to marvel at its beauty. Sunlight and shadow ribbed the path they followed, rust brown from years of autumn leaves being crunched underfoot. As the morning wore on the path wound its way between long grasses for mile upon mile. At one point it divided, one fork breaking off to the left, the other climbing steeply uphill. They took the right-hand fork, not certain where it led but fearful the lower one might take them back home.

The path narrowed and filled with a network of roots and stones, ready to trip tired feet. Thickly covered in moss, proving it was not often used, bilberry plants grew alongside and they ate a few berries as they plodded silently onward. They paused from time to time to drink water from a beck, nibble at bread or crunch the apples they had brought with them. Sometimes they even talked and laughed, as if they were on some jolly picnic.

In the afternoon they slept for a good two hours. It gave them the strength to go on. The first flush of excitement had long since died and now each was wondering, in their different way, what the future might hold. Alena decided that since her family was so unfeeling, she didn’t care so long as she was with Rob, while he felt perfectly at home in the woods, in charge of his own life at last.

They came to a tree stacked about with cut poles and Rob hurried her quickly away from it, in case people were working nearby. The late-afternoon sun was slanting golden rays among a lattice of hazel, rowan, slender oak and birch as they entered a part of the forest unknown to them. It seemed to stretch on and on over hills and valleys they’d never trodden. As they plodded onward their progress slowed as the woods seemed to grow thicker and the silence deepened. It grew colder and they hunched their chins into their warm scarves. From time to time they glanced back, anxious their fathers might even now be in hot pursuit. They stopped and looked about them for a moment, feeling quite alone in all the world, vulnerable and afraid. A rustle in the undergrowth set both their hearts racing. Then a pair of pheasants burst from under a blanket of bracken and galloped away, clacking noisily with fright. It made them both laugh, breaking the tension and shaming their nervousness.

When the thudding of her heart had eased a little Alena ventured a quiet question. ‘Where will we go?’

‘We’ll find somewhere safe, don’t worry.’ Rob sounded more confident than she’d ever heard him. Perhaps more than he felt.

They could see that this part of the forest had been coppiced, as each tree had thrown up several new stems from the stool, which showed the results of previous cuts. These stems were now perhaps ten or twelve feet high and would likewise be ready for felling in a year or two. Here and there was a fine standard oak or ash, deliberately left to grow and form the higher canopy of the forest. ‘I can hear a stream. Let’s go and drink, cool our feet and rest.’

They did so, eating the last of the bread and cheese they had brought with them. The long walk had made them hungry and they could have eaten twice as much. A depressing thought. What would they do tomorrow, and the day after that? Alena thought of the good hot food her mother would even now be placing upon the table at home. Or perhaps Lizzie couldn’t eat at all, for worry. She pushed the uncomfortable thought away.

Afterwards, refreshed, they sang for a while as they walked on, to break the deafening silence of the woodlands.

By nightfall they had seen no one all day and were exhausted. They found shelter beneath a fallen ash that arched over the path, pulled bracken and branches over themselves to gather what warmth they could, then fell asleep instantly, wound together like a pair of dormice.

When they woke it was pitch dark. Alena had never known a blackness so complete. It lay heavy and impenetrable upon her. In the dim strands of light that did manage to filter down through the high branches, she caught a glimpse of bats on their evening search for insects, though there were few about at this time of year. From somewhere in the depths of the undergrowth came unexplained rustlings, squeaks and whispers. She was used to country sounds but not at such close quarters. Once, an owl swooped blackly down, the squeal of its unfortunate victim making her shudder.

Alena tried again to sleep, but couldn’t. The cold of night seeped into her bones and, stricken with new fears and hunger, she felt a surge of self-pity for the first time in her life.

‘If only we’d lit a fire, we could at least have kept warm.’ She’d brought a bag of oatmeal which she’d found in her mother’s pantry but however hungry they were now, she decided it would be more prudent to save it for breakfast. They would need sustenance even more then, to give them the necessary energy to go on.