The Loom (30 page)

Emma turned around to face him when they were in the living room. ‘Come on, Harry, out with it. I know something’s up.’

Harry nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Emma, but there’s been an accident.’

Emma’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘No, no it’s all right. Leah’s still alive and she been taken to the hospital in Blackburn. But the Townsend lad’s dead!’

Emma put her hand to her mouth and staggered over to a chair, putting her hand out like a blind person and slowly lowering herself onto it. She stared at Harry as though willing him to retract his statement.

‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ he repeated heavily.

‘What about Leah. Quick, Harry. Is Leah all right?’

‘They don’t know the extent of her injuries yet. She’s still unconscious, or she was when I last heard. But look, don’t take on like that, Emma,’ because Emma had put her pinny over her head and was crying into it. ‘You know what you always say. Where there’s life there’s hope!’

Emma had done just that for the next two months. Hoped and prayed and kept an almost constant vigil at Leah’s bedside in the hospital, sitting next to her for hours at a time, watching her daughter waste away before her eyes. How many times had she gone home and cried tears of frustration and despair. So many she’d lost count. She never wanted to go through something like that again. She’d never felt such desolation, even when Darkie was at the Front!

The doctors assured Emma, Leah would recover.

‘She’ll get back to normal, so don’t worry,’ the doctor said. ‘But don’t expect it to be overnight. It’ll take time.’

It had! Leah’s mind drifted from one thing to another, from one time to another, events and people often mixed up. She called for Stephen, often. At first Emma had soothed without any admissions. The day came, however, when she had to be told, the worst day in Emma’s life, although, in retrospect, Emma realized that deep down Leah must have known.

Without the support of the O’Shea’s and Annie Fitton she would have been stumped, she declared to anyone who would listen. Paddy especially was over every day, visiting Leah in hospital, flowers and presents showered on her like confetti, until Emma had to put a stop to it.

‘I want to,’ he said when Emma remonstrated.

‘You’re overdoing it, Paddy lad,’ Emma said. She didn’t want to be unkind.

Janey watched Paddy’s dedication – guiltily because she sometimes wished Leah had died, too. Shocking, she would think bleakly as Paddy stared with such intensity at the wasted body of her sister. He’d eyes for no one else.

Emma’s weary vigil lasted almost two months. She lost so much weight that she could almost slip through the gratings in the back lane, she said to Janey, when she had to safety pin her skirt again to stop it from falling off. She went to Blackburn for her daily visit, rushing off after work because she was on full time since Darkie had left and Leah was confined to hospital. She walked wearily up the corridor, her shoes echoing loudly on the tiles, which gleamed in the new electric lights (Emma still couldn’t get used to the glare). Everything looked so stark, so cold, she thought, just how she felt at the moment. Her head was bent, shoulders hunched so she didn’t see the doctor approaching until he was almost on top of her.

‘Mrs. Hammond?’ Emma looked up with a start. Her mind had been miles away, thinking about Leah before all this had happened and how happy she’d been. She stared at the doctor in his white coat as though he was a ghost.

‘Oh, sorry, doctor, I didn’t see you.’

‘That’s all right, Mrs. Hammond. Could you step into my office for a moment, please,’ he asked courteously.

Emma looked alarmed. Now what, she thought?

Dr.Winthrope patted her arm reassuringly.

‘Now, now, nothing to be alarmed about, just some extra complications,’ he said kindly.

‘Complications,’ Emma stared at him in surprise.

The doctor ushered her into his office. She sat down on the chair in front of his desk as he went and sat down on the other side.

‘Your daughter is pregnant, Mrs. Hammond,’ he said abruptly.

‘Pregnant?’ Emma’s jaw dropped almost onto her chest. ‘You mean in the family way?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

‘Ee, no, she can’t be, not my Leah.’

‘Yes, it’s quite true, Mrs. Hammond. She’s almost two months.’

Emma’s mind couldn’t quite grasp what she’d been told. Leah! No never! If they’d told her Leah had sprouted another head with horns she would have been more prone to believe it than this. This’ll kill her, Emma thought, and me, too, for that matter: the scandal of it, which would travel like wild fire in a small place like Harwood. People seemed to know what you were thinking before you did!

Surprisingly enough Leah took the news with equanimity. Almost as though she knew, Emma thought. Within the month she was home.

Leah was still far from the girl she used to be, and never would be that way again, Emma thought sadly as she watched her daughter sit day after day staring out onto the cobbles in the back yard, her eyes often vacant, sometimes filled with unshed tears. The road to recovery was slow. She never mentioned Stephen; never commented on her condition. Not a word was said, even when she rushed out to the toilet to be sick. She returned, white and shaking and walked straight through and up to the bedroom. Standing at the bottom of the stairs Emma heard stifled sobs. She went upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed, patting Leah’s back saying, ‘there, there, lass’.

Strangely enough, after that episode Leah began to improve and as Emma ran back to the house she wondered once again at life and all its inconsistencies.

*********

The light from the back window gleamed on the walnut cradle, highlighting the burnished sheen of the grain. Leah leant over and gazed adoringly at her nine-month old son. She smiled into the baby’s blue eyes, so much like Stephen’s and made small, nothing baby sounds.

‘
Ba, ba, ba,’ she said.

She’d heard besotted mothers (and fathers) do this before and thought how stupid it sounded. Now I’m doing it, too, she thought. What’s happened to me? How did I get to this? It was as though the wind had blown her to this point in time. The baby smiled toothlessly back. She put her finger on the tiny clenched fist and at the touch he grasped it and immediately put it to his mouth, sucking urgently. Leah laughed and gently disengaged her hand. She bent and kissed the rosy cheek, murmuring endearments as she stroked his mass of dark hair.

At his birth Emma was amazed. ‘I’ll never get over seeing him,’ she would say time and time again, almost like a litany. ‘He had all this black hair and such olive skin he looked as though he’d been to Blackpool for a fortnight.’

The baby had saved her. He was her buffer against insanity. She’d been stunned, though, when she found she was pregnant. How could she have fallen after only that one time? It didn’t seem possible! Almost, she thought, (although she’d never been religious minded) that it had been pre-ordained. Had some higher deity seen the future and the baby was some sort of recompense. Was she naïve in thinking this way? It wasn’t a full recompense, no, never that. What could ever compensate her for the loss of Stephen and the life she knew she would have had with him: because she knew what life was like on the other side of the track, having worked for so long in its midst. How cruel was fate!

Some thought she’d got her come-uppence, were secretly glad at her fall, but she ignored all this, concentrating on her baby, making a life for him and herself.

She straightened up from the cradle and looked at the clock. Twelve! Where on earth was her mother; the wedding was at two, and she still had to have a good wash and get dressed. She went through into the front room, opened the door and looked up Glebe Street. She could see people milling around at the top outside the Co-op, but there was no sign of mother. She sighed with exasperation and went back inside. She would have a wash whilst she was on her own and by that time her mother should be back.

Emma returned just as she finished, white-faced and still agitated. Leah stared at her in consternation as Emma took her coat off and hung it on a chair.

‘
What on earth happened to you? You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush.’

Emma sat down on a chair. ‘Get me a cup of tea will you, love and I’ll tell you. Is Stephen all right?’

Leah nodded. ‘Yes, he’s just fallen asleep.’ She went into the scullery to make a pot of tea. Surely something hadn’t happened, not today of all days?

Leah listened to Emma’s somewhat garbled account, watching her mother sip her tea in between and feeling faintly irritated. ‘Don’t let it bother you,’ she said when Emma had finished her story. ‘You should know by now what people are like. It’s all about gossiping. That’s people entertainment here. They must have had a field day with me.’

Emma got up to have a look at the baby, who was still asleep. ‘Aye, I suppose you’re right,’ she whispered.

‘
Ee, doesn’t he look bonny, Leah? Aye,’ she continued, ‘You’re right, but I just got that mad, I could’ve wiped the floor with that Annie. You don’t know her but I did, years ago and she was the same then: never a nice word for any one and shifty into the bargain. Anyway, we’d better get ready. We don’t want to be late.’

‘I was just waiting for you to come back. I’ll go on up and get dressed and you can have your wash.’ Leah paused for a moment. ‘Do you think Annie’ll be all right looking after him; he’s getting heavy and she’s not been well.’

‘Now don’t worry about Annie. She still as strong as an ox and she’s got over that bit of a cold she had. Go on, go upstairs and get ready. I’m dying to see you in your wedding dress.’

Leah still wasn’t convinced. ‘Perhaps we could take Stephen to the church.’

‘Now that would look nice, wouldn’t it: a bride with a baby on one arm and bridegroom on the other and all knowing that the baby’s not his. I don’t know, Leah. You’ve got some funny ideas you have that. Now get on with you and get ready or we won’t get there till
next
Saturday.’

Emma watched Leah leave the room. She’s still not happy, she thought, and her wedding day as well. Why couldn’t it all have worked out the way it should? Paddy of course, was over the moon, like the cat with the cream, but who could blame him? No, it was Leah she was worried about because she knew that marriage was no piece of cake even when you were in love. She’s still hankering over him, she thought, after two years. Why doesn’t she let it go?

Leah stood just inside the bedroom. Her dress hung on the wardrobe door - a cream silk creation (made by yours truly) and beaded around the hem. She stared at it without the least bit of enthusiasm. I’m supposed to be crying with happiness, she thought gloomily. Instead I just want to cry; to lie down on the bed and cry and forget the wedding, forget Paddy, forget everything, except little Stephen.

She suddenly felt weary. How on earth was she going to get through this day? It was going to be murder! She sat down on the bed and looked round the room, almost unseeingly. It had been refurbished, or should she say, furnished, because it had never had any furniture in it except the bed and that one rickety chair. Now there was a big wardrobe, a new bed, (the other one was in Darkie’s room, where her mother now slept). A matching tallboy was on the other side of the room and a cheval mirror and a large rug now covered almost the whole room. At least they had a bit of money, she thought, donated by none other than Mrs. Townsend of all people. She had only recently been made aware where the money came from. She didn’t know whether she could keep accepting it. Emma had told her the money was from Darkie and she’d believed her. When she learnt the truth she was flabbergasted because it had been obvious from the outset that Mrs. Townsend had no intention of acknowledging the baby. Leah had not been surprised, so the money it had come as a shock.

It was Maud Walters who had, indirectly, instigated the donations.

‘
I think it’s outright shocking,’ she said. ‘Just shocking that they’re ignoring their own grandchild, although Mr. Townsend wouldn’t even recognize his own big toe at the moment, poor sod. But Mrs. Townsend, she knows what’s what. You’d think they’d be over the moon about the baby. She’s making the rules, though. He doesn’t know north from south at the moment. I don’t think he wants to. Ee, it’s terrible how everything’s gone to pieces here. It was bad enough after Miss Marion and Master Raymond left, but then Master Stephen dying. No wonder Mr. Townsend cracked up. But she’d knows what’s what,’ she repeated, and at every opportunity Maud made sure that Jessica was informed of what went on at number five, for since Leah had left she’d made it her way to visit there every week.

Maud had always had a soft spot for Leah. Miss Fenton agreed with Maud - the baby should have been acknowledged by the Townsends! Unlike Maud however, she kept her own counsel because she had always been reticent, even about minor matter.

Alf Grimsby would listen to Maud’s tirades in long-suffering silence, although he, too, thought it a great shame something could not have been done for Leah, but he kept his mouth firmly shut on the topic. Like Miss Fenton, he was not one to meddle.

Emma did not share Maud’s view about the Townsend’s, surprisingly enough. In a way, she could understand how they felt. Bitter, was how she termed it, because through the Hammond /Townsend connection they had lost their children. No, she couldn’t really blame Mrs. Townsend for her attitude because she felt the same. Why couldn’t Marion Townsend have stuck with her own kind? If she had Darkie would most probably still be in Harwood. So, in spite of Maud’s condemnation and Miss Fenton’s commiseration, she did not bear the Townsend’s a grudge. In fact, she felt sorry for them. Hadn’t they lost three children?