The Miller's Daughter (32 page)

Emma dried her hands and arms and said firmly, ‘Come on, Mary, let’s have a cup of tea.’

They were sitting at the table, talking softly and drinking tea, when they heard footsteps in the passageway. They fell silent, staring at each other and listening for which back gate should
open. It was the latch on Emma’s that was lifted and heavy boots came into her yard and to the door. Mary rose as the knock sounded. ‘I’d best go, m’duck. You’ve got a
visitor. I’ll see you later.’

As Mary Porter, her eyes wide with fear, went out, the policeman stepped into Emma’s kitchen.

‘Mrs Smith?’ the officer asked, removing his helmet. His huge bulk seemed to fill the room.

Emma swallowed. Billy, she thought, it’s Billy got himself into trouble. Well, she’d been expecting it.

She sighed as she said, ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Is your husband at home, Mrs Smith?’

‘No, he’s gone down to the market.’

‘Really?’ The tone of the constable’s voice as he said the one word made Emma stare at him. She watched as his glance went around the room and came to a stop on the wireless
set now sitting on a low shelf in the corner. ‘Can you tell me how your husband – er – came by that there wireless?’

Emma gave up a silent prayer of thankfulness that she was able to say truthfully. ‘No, I have no idea.’

Emma felt his glance upon her appraisingly but she returned his look unflinchingly.

‘Hmm,’ was all he said and, replacing his helmet, added, ‘Well, I’ll be calling back to see your husband later, Missis. I’ll bid you good-day – for the
moment.’

For some reason, Emma felt that there was a veiled threat in the last three words, but she managed to remain outwardly calm as the officer left the house. She stood motionless in the middle of
the kitchen, her heart pounding as she listened to his heavy tread going slowly up the passage again.

As dusk fell, Emma pulled on her hat and coat and walked to the bottom of the street to stand on the corner where the long road from town ran at right angles to their own. Standing outside the
off-licence, she waited, stamping her feet in the cold.

‘What you doing here, Mam?’ She heard Billy’s voice out of the darkness and when she beckoned him he detached himself from the other lads, shouting a cheery, ‘See
ya,’ to his mates.

Emma gripped his shoulder and without preamble demanded, ‘Where’s your dad?’

‘In a card game in the back room at one of the pubs near the market.’

‘Fetch him.’

‘Aw, Mam, he’ll kill me if I interrupt his game.’

‘Tell him it’s me sent you and tell him it’s urgent. I’ve never yet fetched him out of a game before – and he knows it.’ She nodded grimly. ‘He’ll
know it’s urgent.’

The boy seemed to consider for a moment, then he shrugged his thin shoulders and said, ‘All right, then. What’s it all about anyway?’

‘Best you don’t know, young Billy. Just fetch him here.’

He turned to go and then glanced back as she made no move to go home. ‘You staying here then?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Yes. Just you get off and look sharp about it.’

‘Right,’ Billy said and began to run, his socks wrinkling around his ankles as his boots pounded along the pavement. In the deepening gloom she heard the echo long after he had
disappeared from her sight.

It was almost an hour later and she was stamping her icy feet and rubbing her deadened fingers before she heard two pairs of footsteps approaching along the street towards her.

‘About time,’ she muttered crossly.

‘What on earth’s the matter, woman, that I have to be dragged away from a game? And I was winning too.’ His voice reached her out of the darkness before he did.

‘You’ll not be winning, m’lad, if you come home tonight. But why I’m bothering to save your thieving hide, I’ll never know.’

He was close to her now, his eyes on a level, boring into hers. ‘What the hell are you on about?’

‘I had a visitor today. A bobby.’

She heard him pull in a sharp breath. ‘Oh aye,’ he said carefully.

‘Asking,’ Emma said with slow deliberation, ‘about your wireless.’

‘Aaah.’ She heard him exhale, long and slow, and then he said again, ‘Well now, that puts a different light on it.’

She felt him grasp her arm and give it a quick squeeze. ‘You’re a good ’un, Emma. Thanks.’ He paused and then he put his face close to hers. ‘Though, I have to
admit I’m a bit surprised.’ She heard his low chuckle as he added, ‘I’d have thought you’d have let me swing and stood back laughing.’

In a low voice she said, ‘No, Leonard. I may not approve of what you do and we have our ups and downs, I know, but you’re still my husband and – and the father of my
children.’

‘Dad?’ Billy’s voice came out of the darkness and both Emma and Leonard jumped.

They had forgotten he was there, no doubt listening to every word. ‘Dad, shall I get shut of it for you? I’ve got a mate who . . .’

‘No,’ Leonard’s voice was like a pistol-shot, then more quietly and reaching out his hand to touch his son’s shoulder. ‘No, lad, you keep out of it.’ He
turned back to Emma. ‘Look, Emma. I’ll have to disappear for a while. They’ll not do anything to you or the boys, though they’ll maybe come and take the wireless.’

‘That’ll not bother me,’ Emma said tartly.

‘Right then. Pack me a few clothes and my razor and Billy can bring the case to the station.’

‘But where—’ she began, but his only answer was to squeeze her arm again and to say quietly in her ear. ‘It’s best you don’t know. But I’ll be
back.’

She felt his lips seek hers, felt his warm mouth on hers and his wiry moustache gently scratching her cheek. And then he was gone, striding away in the darkness.

‘Come on, Billy. Let’s get home and pack a case for him before that bobby comes back.’

Several weeks passed and no word came from Leonard. The police visited again and took the wireless set away, just as Leonard had known they would, but after that, though they
questioned her as to his whereabouts they seemed to believe that she did not know where her husband was and left the family in peace.

‘Let that be a lesson to you, young Billy,’ Emma said, and though the boy was subdued for a while, she doubted if the salutary lesson would obliterate the years of teaching him to
live on the fringes of the law that he had received from his father. For months, even years after, Emma’s nights were broken by nightmares and even in her waking hours she came to dread the
sound of heavy footsteps in the passageway and every unexpected knock that came upon her door.

‘Mam, I’ve – I’ve got my call-up papers.’

Charles was standing on the peg rug in front of the fire in the living room, the official document in his hands. Emma had just dressed and come downstairs to start the day. As she opened the
door into the kitchen, she knew something was different this morning for normally Charles had left for work by the time she came downstairs.

She stared at him, her violet eyes suddenly wide. ‘Called up? But – but you can’t be. You’re going to university in October. You got a place. You’ll have to tell
them—’

Charles had left school and had taken temporary work for a year until he could take up the place he had been offered at a university.

‘Mam, listen.’ He came and put his arms about her, holding her close with the gentle tenderness that had always been his nature. Quietly, he said. ‘The truth is – I
volunteered. Joey and me, we went together to the recruiting office.’

She pulled back a little, just enough so that she could look at him. Her searching gaze scanned his face and, for a moment, she was seeing not the young man standing there, pale but with a
newfound determination, but the little boy clambering over the smashed timbers of the mill, his anxiety for her driving away all fear. Her gentle, reserved, studious Charles was far more courageous
than a dozen loudmouthed braggarts, she thought.

She nodded and a deep sigh escaped her lips. ‘You’re a brave lad, Charles Forrest Smith.’

He tried to smile but, standing so close, she could see it trembling on his mouth. ‘Am I? I don’t
feel
very brave.’

‘It’s like the night the mill blew down. You were dreadfully afraid then and yet when you thought I was hurt, you forgot your own fear and came climbing across all the wreckage to
reach me.’

He looked into her eyes and frowned slightly. ‘Did I? I don’t remember.’

‘Don’t you?’ She was surprised. Because every moment of that dreadful night was etched so sharply on her own memory, she had expected it to be so for everyone else, even for
Charles, especially for Charles. But then, she reminded herself, he had been only a little boy, although a very heroic little boy. She had no doubt that her eldest son would act with that same
courage in battle. Her only fear was that his very bravery might lead him into even more danger.

Emma shuddered inwardly, but on her face her smile of encouragement was serene and confident. ‘I was proud of you that night, Charles, and I’m proud of you now.’

She voiced nothing of her innermost fears, the terror shared by thousands of mothers. At this moment, her son needed her to be brave for him.

She made a pot of tea and they sat at the table and talked until Billy clattered his way down the stairs to disturb their last few precious moments together.

When he heard the news, Billy slapped his brother’s back, his eyes gleaming. ‘Cor, our Charlie. You lucky sod!’

‘Billy!’ Emma began, although her reprimand was half-hearted. At this moment her mind was filled with her eldest son.

‘Emma. Emma! Where are you?’

‘I’m here, Mary, upstairs. Wait a bit. I’ll come down.’

But already Mary was half way up the stairs to meet her. ‘It’s our Joey. He’s volunteered. Him and your Charles. Did you know?’

‘Oh, Mary,’ she came down and put her arms about her friend, and together they went down again and into the kitchen.

‘
Did
you know, Emma?’

Emma shook her head. ‘Not until early this morning. Charles got his papers.’

Mary’s lip trembled and easy tears filled her eyes. ‘Joey too.’

‘Well, you know what they said. They wanted to stick together. Maybe they’ll be able to after all.’

‘Do you think so?’ Mary said, clinging to any vestige of hope. Her hair, liberally flecked with grey, was flying, wild and uncombed, around her face. ‘Oh, do you really think
so?’

Emma patted her hand. ‘Let’s hope so.’

But in the event, Charles and Joey were not able to stay together. Joey Porter was drafted into the Navy and Charles into the RAF. The news brought fresh anguish to Mary. ‘The Navy. Oh, I
don’t want him in the Navy, but he seems set on the idea.’

Listening, Billy’s eyes were bright. ‘How old d’you have to be to join the Navy, Mam?’

‘What?’ Emma glanced at him absently, her mind still on what Mary was saying. ‘What did you say?’

Billy repeated his question and added, ‘That’s where I’m off then. The sea. That’d be great!’ He went towards the back door and was through it and gone before the
word, ‘Billy!’ had escaped Emma’s lips.

The two women listened as they heard the two back gates, first one and then the other, crash open and shut.

‘He’ll have gone to find our Joey,’ Mary said flatly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘He has to go on Sunday. It’s – it’s not long, is it?’

‘No,’ Emma said quietly. ‘No, it isn’t. That’s when Charles goes too.’

‘You don’t get much a week with rations for only two, do yer?’ Mary commented mournfully, holding open the two ration books for herself and Alf with the tiny
squares with different letters and numbers on each page.

‘No,’ Emma sighed.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Mary said slowly, her head on one side, ‘your Billy knows how to get hold of a bit extra, does he?’

Emma snorted. ‘I don’t doubt he would know, Mary, but I’ve no intention of asking him. He runs enough risks without me encouraging him and I’d be glad if you’d say
nothing to him about it, either.’

‘’Course I won’t,’ the woman bristled a little and then realizing it was she who had been in the wrong even to suggest it, said swiftly, ‘I’m sorry, Emma. I
wasn’t thinking. It’s just that I get so fed up having to queue even for things that
aren’t
on ration. D’you know, I waited nearly an hour at the greengrocers
yesterday and when I gets me turn, all the decent stuff had been picked over?’

‘Don’t you go to Mr Keenes?’

‘The corner shop where we first met, you mean? Oh aye, I go, but his stuff’s gone before ten every morning. Mind you,’ she laughed, ‘there’s one person we can rely
on to put a bit under the counter for us . . .’

They chorused his name together. ‘Mr Rabinski!’

Mary was sighing again. ‘It almost makes me wish I lived in the country. I don’t expect they feel the rationing there quite so bad as us.’

‘We-ell,’ Emma said slowly. ‘We could go, you know. It’d be safer.’

‘Oh no, Emma,’ Mary Porter was suddenly adamant. ‘I was only joking. Alf’d never agree to go and I couldn’t think of leaving Alf.’

Emma was silent. She had never told Mary much about her life before coming to the city and so her friend was quite ignorant of the fact that, if she wanted, Emma had a home in the country still
waiting for her.

But the more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed to be. She and Billy would go back to Marsh Thorpe. She didn’t like the thought of leaving Mary, but she would offer for her
and Alf to go too and, if they refused, well then, it was hardly her fault, she argued with herself.

Emma began to make plans, began to feel excited at the thought of going home. She would be back at the mill. She would be with Sarah. Maybe she could even open up the shop again. A recent letter
from Sarah had prompted this idea.