The Loom Part 10

By this time the whole town was aware that Darkie Hammond and the others on leave wouldn't go back to the Front. It was becoming a big scandal. A journalist was sent from the Manchester Herald to write a story, which appeared in the paper the next day. 'SOLDIERS REFUSE TO GO BACK...MILITARY POLICE REFUSE TO GO BACK...IS ANY ONE GOING BACK?'

Emma wiped her eyes. What a lot of carryings on! They had sent another lot of military police who had finally got the lads into uniform and on their way. It had kept Harwood talking for weeks. But whatever he had done didn't matter now. Just let him come back, she thought. When was this d.a.m.ned war going to end? Her head was starting to ache again.

Annie Fitton stood next to Emma. Poor Emma, she thought, it's not b.l.o.o.d.y fair! How many more were to be killed before this whole b.l.o.o.d.y mess was over? She'd never get over her Ned and Bill getting it. Never! But she wasn't the only one who suffered. Whole streets at a time had lost men and young boys, who'd all signed up together, gone off to war together and been killed together. And how they'd been killed was anyone's guess because you didn't get to know from the War Office, which was probably a good thing. Died valiantly could mean anything from the measles to being blown to smithereens.

It was shocking how many had died, in the millions so they said and there was hardly a household in Harwood where either brother, son or husband had not returned.

This little episode had lightened the mood a bit, but it still didn't alter the fact that those marching soldiers might also never return. She patted Emma's arm. 'Come on, Emma, let's go home and I'll make us a cup of tea.'

Leah bit off the end of the thread. You could hardly see where that tear had been. She smoothed the tapestry seat of the library chair and picked up another thread to finish off the final bit of st.i.tching. She thought again of Stephen Townsend.

Stephen Townsend! She hadn't been able to get him out of her mind since that fall. Of how he'd looked when he lifted her onto the settee, his blue eyes intense with worry. She could still feel his arms around her, still remembered how he smelt. She couldn't sleep at night and went around during the day in a daze. In other words she was infatuated. She'd looked that word up in the dictionary because she'd heard it used before. Yes, that was her, all right!

She wished she wasn't that girl, because now, every time she saw him she got all fl.u.s.tered and stuttered and stammered like an idiot. Before this thing had hit her she'd been easy with him, able to talk to him and had even got over feeling guilty about calling him a silly sod. Anyway, nothing had come of that little episode for which she'd been extremely thankful.

She began to pack up her sewing box, still sitting on the floor where she had to crouch to fix the seat. She heard the library door open. Raymond Townsend poked his head round. She groaned. Not him again! He'd been a bit more subdued lately, though.

Seeing Leah sitting on the floor Raymond grinned.

He came in and closed the door. 'Ha, ha, we meet again,' he said. 'How's your head? Better?'

'It's all right,' Leah said shortly. Raymond ignored her cool manner and walked over to her. 'By the way, I really was sorry that you hurt yourself. I didn't mean for you to fall off.'

'Well, you gave a good imitation of it,' Leah said watching him suspiciously. You never knew with him!

He observed the look and held up his hands. 'Don't worry, see, nothing there, not even a mouse.'

Leah continued to pack up, ignoring him.

'What, cat got your tongue,' Raymond said, 'and how's the elocution lessons coming along?' and laughed at the look on Leah's face, 'only joking.'

'Strange idea of a joke,' she said as she began to stand up and her thimble, which she'd forgotten to take off her finger, dropped on the floor and rolled under the chair. She muttered in annoyance. If she lost it that it would be the third one in as many weeks and Miss Fenton was getting annoyed with her. She bent down to look. She could see it right at the back against the wall. She tried reaching for it but just missed.

'What's the matter?' Raymond said.

'My thimble, I dropped it. Miss Fenton will be mad at me if I lose another one.'

'Here, I might be able to reach it.' He got on the floor and stretched full length.

They were both lying on the floor behind the settee when the door opened and Paul Townsend's voice drifted over.

'Look, it'll only be for a few days.'

Hearing his uncle's voice Raymond clutched Leah's arm and put his finger to his lips as Leah began to get up.

'It's just getting too much, Paul.' His mother's voice floated over to them, a note of annoyance in it.

Raymond raised an eyebrow at Leah in surprise. His mother never got angry with her brother!

'George will only put up with so much, you know and you're trying his patience. And mine, too for that matter. It's not right that you just come up any time of day or night.'

There was silence for a few seconds. Leah tried to rise again but Raymond held her down. She signalled with her eyes that she wanted to get up. They couldn't stay here any longer. They were eavesdropping!

'Ah, yes, we mustn't upset old George, must we? But what about you Jess? I thought you liked having me here.'

'I do Paul, you know that, but I've my husband to think of.' Jessica could see Paul was angry with her.

'Now don't be silly Paul. Be reasonable. Limit your visits to two or three a year and do try to let me know in advance. It's not fair to land on us at a minute's notice.'

Paul made an explosive sound.

Raymond peeped over the settee. Paul was standing next to his mother and he had cupped her chin in his hand.

'There was a time Jess darling when you wanted me with you every day, all day...and all night.'

Raymond stiffened. Leah, still crouched next to him sensed his rigidity and curiosity getting the better of her, she also risked a quick peep. She almost gasped and looked over at Raymond. He'd gone a deathly white as he gazed incredulously at his uncle and his mother. Paul was kissing Jessica: it wasn't a brotherly kiss.

Jessica broke away and rubbed her lips. 'You shouldn't have done that Paul; all that's over now. Do you hear, over and besides someone might come in.'

Paul took an immaculate white handkerchief out of his top pocket and wiped his mouth, looking calculatingly at Jessica, 'What if someone did come in? So what? I don't b.l.o.o.d.y well care. It's not that though, is it? Be honest. You're fed up with me and now it suits you I can just trot off like a good little boy. Well, you won't get rid of me so easily.'

'Sh...sh...some one might hear you.' Jessica sounded panicky.

Good, Paul thought. Serve her jolly well right. She grabbed his arm.

'Paul, please.' He shook her hand off him.

'I don't give a d.a.m.n. What would they do? George wouldn't do anything and you know it; too scared of scandal, too much of an old stick in the mud. Why on earth did you marry him? It's me you've always loved. Me!' He glared at his sister.

Jessica's voice was low now. 'I love George, too, Paul. You know that. I've always loved him. We were children when all that happened with us.'

'Ah yes, were we? What about Raymond! Does George know about Ray? What would he think of you then?' Paul laughed, mockingly. He walked over to a table and took a cigarette from a cigarette case. He tapped the end and then casually placed it in his mouth, using the lighter next to the case. His eyes narrowed as he took a puff. Jessica wasn't going to get rid of him like an old shoe.

Jessica was frightened. What was the matter with him? He'd never been like this with her before. She watched as he blew out a perfect ring of smoke. He turned to her again. 'That wouldn't go down too well, would it?'

'Don't say that, please. And don't try to blackmail me, it won't work. If you so much as hint to George I'll tell him to sack you and I'll never speak to you again. In spite of what you may think, Paul I do love George.'

Paul took his time making another smoke ring. He tapped the ash off the end with his finger and it fell to the floor intact, looking like a small grub. He was a bit tight at the moment and if he got the sack he'd be on poverty row. He stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray.

'All right, you've made your point.' He walked over to her and took her hand. 'You know how much I care about you, darling, don't you? You're the only one I do care about in this d.a.m.ned world.'

Jessica looked into Paul's eyes; her's filled with tears. 'Of course I do, Paul, of course I know you care and you'll always be very dear to me no matter what happens. But you've got to think of the future. You've been on your own far too long. You need someone Paul and I don't mean a friend. You need a wife.'

Paul s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand away. 'I don't need a wife,' he said viciously. He turned away and immediately saw Raymond and Leah watching over the settee.

'What?' Jessica turned, her eyes following Paul. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

'What are you two doing here?' She could hardly get the words out. Raymond and Leah emerged from behind the settee.

'I'm s...sorry Mrs. Townsend. I was just getting me thimble from under the chair.' Leah said.

Raymond was too stunned to speak. He stared at his mother, his eyes two wide orbs, his face chalk white.

'Raymond?'

'We heard, Mother.' Raymond turned to Paul. 'I hate you, I've always hated you and now I hate my mother as well. I never want to see either of you again.' His voice rose to a shout.

Jessica stared at him. Paul looked round in panic for his cigarettes; he needed another one straightaway.

Jessica wanted to die because she couldn't bear to think of what Raymond had overheard. Raymond brushed past her as he ran out of the room. She'd never forget that look on his face! She tried to compose herself. Leah was still standing as though she'd turned around and seen Sodom. Jessica forced her gaze on her.

'This must not go beyond here, Leah,' she said. Leah nodded. She couldn't look at Paul. 'No one must know,' Jessica repeated.

Leah wet her lips and rubbed her hands together nervously. She was going to be sick and she had to force the words out.

'Yes, Mrs. Townsend,' she managed to whisper. 'Can I go now?'

Jessica stared at her for a moment, frowning. Leah wouldn't say anything, she was sure of that. She wasn't a tattletale, not like that obnoxious Gertie. But you never could tell with people. Besides, what could she do? Nothing, absolutely nothing! Leah was still waiting. Jessica wished she wouldn't stare at her with those big cow eyes. She nodded.

'Yes, go. Just remember what I said.'

Leah went swiftly from the room, keeping her head down so that she couldn't see Mr. de Lacey. What her mind did register, a quite inconsequential and trivial thing but which strangely she remembered after, was a piece of cigarette ash, still in its intact round form, on the floor.

She closed the library door quietly behind her and stood for a few minutes. She was trembling and her teeth chattered like a couple of castanets. She couldn't believe what she'd heard. Mrs. Townsend and her brother! It was terrible, shocking and poor Raymond. She thought he was going to have a heart attack at one stage. They shouldn't have stayed hidden! They should have made their presence known straight away because, as her mother always said, no good ever came of eavesdropping. She should listen to her mother more and her sayings because they were all true: a bird in the hand, pride comes before a fall, a st.i.tch in time and so on and so on. All true, especially that one about eavesdropping. How she wished she hadn't heard a word. Leah walked slowly towards the staircase. She'd left her sewing basket in the library but she'd get it later. Just now she had to go somewhere and try to calm down.

Janey swept disinterestedly under her looms. Another burst of steam filled the air with a thick haze, adding to the humidity. She stood up and wiped the sweat off her face with a cloth, then stared more closely at the straps turning the loom. Was it her imagination or was her loom slowing down. She turned to look at her other loom. Yes, that was doing the same. She blinked. It couldn't be. She'd never heard of the looms being turned off before finis.h.i.+ng time, and here it was, only a bit after eleven. They were though and she blinked again as they stopped completely.

By this time everyone had stopped to watch as all the looms gradually came to a standstill. The weavers automatically knocked the shuttles off, the silence uncanny after the roar of the machinery.

'What's happened?'

'Why have the looms stopped?'

'What's going on?'

Dora came over to Janey and they stood for a few minutes uncertainly, watching the other weavers. Then there was a loud shout from a man standing at the other end of the weaving shed. He had just come in from the Tatler's room waving a paper.

'The war's over! The war's over!'

As if on cue hundreds of pairs of clogs began a thunderous clatter as the weavers swarmed out of the weaving shed. The iron runners on their clogs were almost as deafening as the running looms had been.

Dora and Janey were swept along with the crowd. When they reached the yard there were hundreds of people yelling and screaming, laughing and crying.

It was over!

The two girls followed the excited throng out of the mill yard and down the street. People began to sing the war song of Tipparary, quietly at first and then the music swelled into a crescendo and people marched in unison to the Square. The noise was deafening. Janey covered her ears. It was bad enough in the mill. Besides, she hated crowds, especially when they were carrying on like this.

She hadn't forgotten when she went to a cricket match in Manchester. She had gone with Leah and they'd clung together as the crowd pushed them towards the gates. Instead of going through they were pushed behind and had to wait until thousands of people left the stadium.

She had the same feeling now. Suffocated. She had to get home. Dora had disappeared in the crowd. She struggled to get to the side so that she could duck down a side street. She heaved a sigh of relief as she finally made her way home, away from the crowds. They'd all be making for the Town Square. Well, she wasn't going. Her mother wouldn't because she couldn't abide crowds either. Janey ran the rest of the way. It was not even twelve o'clock and she was on her way home!

Her mother was there before her, having a cup of tea usual. She looked at Janey in surprise.

'I thought you'd be on the Square.'

Janey shook her head. 'You know I'm like you, Mam, I hate crowds.'

'Aye, I'd forgotten; cup of tea, love?'

'Ta, I will, Mam. Are there any of them oatmeal biscuits left?

'Aye, I think so.' Emma reached up for a tin on the shelf over the range. She took a biscuit out and gave it to Janey, 'One or two?'

'Two please.' Janey took a bite and looked at her mother.

'When do you think he'll come home, Mam?'

'I haven't the faintest idea, love. All I know is that I won't be able to sleep proper until he does, or celebrate either. I haven't heard anything for months, although he never was a good letter writer. Ee, I hope he's all right.'

'He'll be home in no time now, Mam, so stop worrying. You're always worrying about something or other and it doesn't help. It only makes things worse if you ask me.'

Emma nodded and sat down in her favourite chair. It squeaked alarmingly every time she sat in it and if any more stuffing came out it would be completely flat.

'You're right there our Janey, but I can't help it. It's just the way I'm made. Some people are born worriers and, most of 'em are mothers. I can't believe it. After all this time it's over. Well, let's hope it's the last one.'

Janey finished her tea and biscuits and then stood up.

'I'm going to the petty, Mam.' She picked up a newspaper and went out of the room.

Emma watched her from her chair as she went into the lavatory at the end of the yard. When Janey came back she'd make her cut some newspaper up for the toilet instead of having to take some with her every time she went. She had been talking to Mrs. Martin down the street, who told her she always did her's nice and neat and hung them on a nail. Thinks she posh, Emma thought with a smile, silly b.u.g.g.e.r. But it was a good idea!

She was off on a lovely day-dream about Darkie coming home when a sudden shout from the lavatory almost made her fall off the chair. She jumped up as Janey came tearing out of the toilet pulling up her knickers.

'What's wrong,' Emma called in panic. Janey's eyes were two vivid green slits.

'Somebody's taken John Gilbert off the wall and I'll bet I know who did it. Oo, I'll kill our Leah, I will that. She's always doing it, taking my pictures off the petty because she can't be bothered to take newspaper with her. And now she's wiped her b.u.m on John Gilbert.'

'Now, now Janey,' Emma's fear turned to anger with relief. 'There's no need to carry on like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack, shouting at the top of your voice, and all over a flaming picture.'

'Not just any picture. John Gilbert! That was me best picture of him as well. I'll kill our Leah, I will.'

Janey flounced back down to the lavatory, her knickers showing because she'd got her skirt caught in the elastic. Emma looked after her in irritation. Ee, she did carry on did Janey and all over a picture!

Emma went back into the kitchen, shaking her head. Well, she'd enjoy this extra time off, anyway. I wonder how long it'll be before we hear from Darkie, she thought. Wouldn't it be terrible if something happened to him now, right at the end? She was wrong in her head to be worrying like this, though. Janey was right, worrying got you nowhere, except a big headache. She should be laughing instead because the war was over and now everything would be different!