The Loom Part 17

'Well, you'd better do something or they'll send you away, then we'll never see each other. That might be the best thing, anyway.'

'Don't say that.'

There was silence for a few minutes. Raymond risked a peep round the door. His eyes opened wide in surprise. Darkie and Marion were kissing. A sense of deja vu hit him. Hadn't this happened before?

'Maybe it would be a good thing for you to get away for a while to really think this over,' Darkie said as they drew apart.

'No.' She pulled him closer and kissed him again.

Raymond was transfixed. He couldn't have moved, even had he wanted to.

Darkie laughed, a little with relief, as he looked down at Marion. 'The only thing I can think of is to run away,' he said, jokingly.

'Why not,' she said suddenly, 'why not?'

Run away, Raymond thought in shock. What was going to happen next? His mother would have a fit. She was already looking 'frazzled' he'd heard Maud Walters say, with 'the goings on'. This would really frazzle her! Serve her right. He still hadn't forgiven her.

'You know your father would come after us and bring you back,' Darkie said.

'Not if we run far enough away.'

'How far away,' Darkie asked, looking at her skeptically.

'Mm...America?'

'America! That is a b.l.o.o.d.y long way.'

It was Marion's turn to laugh at Darkie's incredulous expression, which gradually changed as he thought of what Marion had just said.

'What are you thinking about now,' she said.

'That might not be such a bad idea. I have a relative in America who started those penny bazaars, an uncle on my mother's side, the Winfields. They might be able to help us when we get there. I've got some money saved, so that's no problem.'

America! Raymond's mind raced. He'd always wanted to go to America. That was it! If Marion and Darkie were going to America then he would go with them. He was fed up of Harwood, fed up of studying, didn't really want to go to Oxford and read dreary law. It was also a chance to get away from all that had gone on, away from his mother who was a daily reminder, when he was home, of everything that had happened. He was still bitter and unhappy, unable to handle the situation, often las.h.i.+ng out at anyone indiscriminately.

Marion and Darkie turned as the door burst open.

'I heard,' Raymond said.

Darkie went to the door and closed it quickly.

'Keep your mouth shut then,' he said sharply.

'I want to come with you.'

'What do you mean, come with us?' Marion said. That was all they needed, Raymond's meddling.

'To America,' Raymond said.

'Don't be stupid, Raymond.'

'Why not, I hate it here.'

'I thought you were doing so well at your studies, Ray, and looking forward to going to Oxford,' Marion said in surprise.

'Well, I'm not and it's not only that.'

'You can't come with us and that's that. And don't you dare say anything.' Marion glared at him.

'Please, Marion.'

'I've told you, no.'

Raymond stared back. He was stuck. Could he tell her what had happened? He'd no alternative.

'It's because of mother,' he began haltingly. Then it poured from him, purging him. He'd held it inside him for two years, slowly festering. Like a canker cauterized he was released, relief seeped through him, healing. Marion and Darkie listened in amazement. Marion studied him as he spoke. He seemed more mature than his seventeen years and why hadn't she noticed that sadness in his eyes before? She'd been too wrapped up in herself. Raymond had his share of troubles as well. If only she'd known.

The hoot of the steamer echoed loudly in the morning air. The fog had lain heavy since dawn, but now the slight mist began to clear and the faint outline of the Corona could be seen. Her funnels suddenly belched black smoke. A tug made its determined way back to the wharf, st.u.r.dy and solid, fighting the rough seas like a pugnacious little bulldog.

The man pounded along the dock, his expensive Saville Row overcoat billowing from him as he ran. His hand made leather shoes thudded loudly, startling the three other people on the dock. Only a short time ago there had been throngs of people seeing relatives and friends off to the other side of the world. Now only these three remained. They watched as the s.h.i.+p faded gradually into the distance.

The man seemed unaware of them. The pounding of his feet had taken on the reverberations of a giant hammer on an anvil. Sweat ran down the side of his face. He finally recognized the futility of his mad race and stopped abruptly, bleakly watching the Corona disappear over the horizon. He looked around, conscious suddenly of the three other dejected figures, now staring silently at him. He walked slowly towards them, his breathing easing.

'Well, Mrs. Hammond, it seems that the birds have flown!' George Townsend took out an immaculate linen handkerchief and wiped his face.

Emma's face was tear-stained. He checked the angry words when he saw her misery.

'Aye, they've gone,' Emma said heavily. She looked at the well-dressed man in front of her. Grief was etched deep. All his bra.s.s can't fix that, she thought. She would have given all the money in the world to bring Darkie back. This one in front of her had lost a son and a daughter! If only America wasn't such a long way off. All that misery and worry during the war and now she'd lost Darkie in another way. She couldn't envisage ever seeing him again.

'Aye, they're gone,' she said again and looked out across the vastness of grey, at the grey mist, the grey outlines of the buildings on the docks. All different tonings of grey - like her mind at the moment.

Despondency settled on her, like a covering of cement, choking. Janey and Leah began to sob again.

'That's enough you two,' Emma said sharply, hiding her own unhappiness. 'That'll do no one any good. He's gone and there's nothing we can do about it.' She studied the man standing in front of her for a moment. 'I'm sorry Mr. Townsend. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen to reason. They'd made up their minds and nothing and n.o.body would have been able to change them.'

George flinched as though the revelation had only just hit him. He'd been angry, furious at what had happened. Now he realized he might never see his son and daughter again. He made a choking sound in his throat and turned away, shoulders heaving. He couldn't break down here!

Emma stared at him with compa.s.sion. With all his bra.s.s, she thought, he's only a man just like all the rest of 'em. This surprised her. Like most people in Harwood she was a little intimidated by the 'n.o.bs'. She looked upon them as almost G.o.d-like figures, untouchable and unattainable. All his bra.s.s, she thought again, won't bring his children back.

George turned to Emma and put his hand tentatively on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry, too, Mrs. Hammond. There's something I didn't do right and I've paid the price, very heavily I'm afraid. If there's anything I can do for you please let me know.'

He noticed Emma's surprise. 'I mean that, Mrs. Hammond, because I feel it's my fault they left. There's also another point to consider.'

'What's that, Mr. Townsend?'

'Darkie and Marion, our children,' he said.

'Aye,' Emma replied bleakly.

'Well, then, please don't hesitate to contact us if anything comes up. I think what happened has taught me quite a few lessons, Mrs. Hammond.'

Emma nodded. She was still too full of emotion to consider seriously what he'd just said. Contact them! What did that mean?

'Well, good day Mrs. Hammond and you, too, Leah and Janey.' He nodded to them and walked slowly away down the dock.

'Aye,' Emma said quietly, almost to herself. 'I think he has learnt a few lessons, but he's learnt them a bit late.'

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Stephen Townsend is all wrapped up in Leah Hammond!

That's an expression, used often in these parts, 'all wrapped up'. 'He's all wrapped up in her', he's heard numerous times, or 'she's all wrapped up in him', and even 'they're all wrapped up in each other'. Stupid saying, he used to think. Not anymore! Without even being aware that it's happened, it seems that both he and Leah have amazingly become unravelled and knit neatly up again, each into the fabric of the other. They are indeed, all wrapped up in each other as the saying goes, in the truest sense of the word. He'll never sneer at that expression again.

He's taking Leah on a picnic today and they are going on the Harley (his father will be pleased).

Stephen rolled up the tartan rug (used for picnics in what seemed like another lifetime) and strapped it to the pillion. He checked the bags again. Everything was wrapped and packed carefully in the carrier bags: the chicken and salad, cake and biscuits that Maud had prepared for him that morning. And last but not least a bottle of champagne, French (also carefully wrapped in snowy napkins and cooled overnight in iced water).

He swung his leg over the pillion and kick started the bike, which immediately sprang into life. He revved the engine and noticed that his father had come out onto the terrace, a smile lighting his face as he saw Stephen. George lifted his hand to him as he shot off down the drive.

His parents were still in shock and he had to shake himself at times for it to register that his siblings were no longer with them at Hyndburn. So far they had not heard from them, but it was early days yet.

He drove slowly down the drive, the Harley picking up speed on the straight sections, leaning as he took the corners, branches and long gra.s.s brus.h.i.+ng his face or his boots. It was a perfect summer's morning, warm, a light breeze, the hills a blue grey in the distance.

He was soon out of the gates of Hyndburn and making for Harwood, across the c.o.c.k Bridge, Peel Street, skirting the poorer sections, up High Street, Church Road, St. Hubert's Road and then down Glebe.

He slowed down in Glebe Street, the bike b.u.mping over the cobbles, aware of curtains fluttering, faces peering. This invariably happened when he made an appearance. He was used to it. A smile tugged at his mouth, nosey parkers Leah called them, and they were, but not malicious, just curious. He was a novelty, 'a bit of excitement' (Annie Fitton's words), or 'a feather in her cap' (also Annie's).

He pulled up outside number five, kicked the stand down and leant the bike over. He walked the short distance to the front door and knocked thinking, as he did every time he came here, how dreary it looked. All grey, grey cobbles, grey houses, usually grey sky, but not today. Today it was azure without even the blemish of a cloud. He'd asked Leah once how she could bear to live here.

'What choice do I have,' she replied. 'You get used to it and don't even notice after a while, you would, of course, knowing a different kind of life.'

As he waited he thought that now she would have a choice, no more s.h.i.+lly shallying, no more dithering about because he knew he didn't want to live without Leah.

'You're early,' Leah said as she opened the door. 'I heard the bike a mile away and so did the street. They're having a field day as usual. Come in for a minute while I finish getting ready.'

'I noticed the welcome committee,' he said, grinning. He followed her into the back room, watching her neat little backside swaying under the white dress, her trim ankles; hair thick in waves to her shoulders. He liked it long.

'Grow it down to your waist,' he'd said one day as he ran his hand through it.

'Don't be daft,' she said. 'Oops, Miss Fenton wouldn't like that.'

Stephen laughed. 'I like being daft; go on, grow it as long as Lady G.o.diva so that you don't need to wear any clothes.'

'You are daft!'

The living room was empty. 'No one home today?'

'Janey's still in bed and Mam's at Annie's.'

'Ha, ha,' Stephen said, his eyes lighting up. 'So we're on our own, are we?' He went over to Leah who had begun to comb her hair in front of the mirror. He pulled her around to him. She felt the familiar tingle as he pressed her to him. He only needed to touch her. She wondered if it would always be this way, this spine tingling sensation, that look which made her go weak. He hugged her closer and buried his face in her hair.

'Mm...you smell good.' He nibbled her ear, nuzzled her neck and she felt his warm breath, faint cigarette smell, some piney cologne, male smell. His lips found hers, soft, moist and sweet like a rich ripe plum.

The sound of the front door opening made them jump apart. Leah turned back to the mirror, noting that her cheeks were red, eyes glittering. A dead give-away! Stephen walked over to gaze out of the back window onto the yard, a scene just as dreary as the front.

Emma watched through the curtains in Annie's place as Stephen parked the bike and Leah let him in.

'He's here, Annie.'

'Ee, he's never away when she's home, is he Emma?'

'Aye, I wish he wouldn't come so often.'

'Why ever not, Emma, he must think a lot of your Leah, but I'm not a bit surprised. She's a lovely la.s.s your Leah. A real credit to you but I've always thought that. Do you think anything'll come of it?'

'I don't know, Annie. They seem besotted with each other and I feel real embarra.s.sed at times watching 'em. I don't like all this lovey dovey stuff and you never know, do you, especially with the n.o.bs. They're different to us and I've tried to tell Leah but it's like talking to a stone wall. All I hear is Stephen this and Stephen that until I feel like throwing something at her.'

'Aye, well,' Annie said, rising from her chair with difficulty. 'It'll sort itself out, don't worry and it's no use trying to tell 'em how to live their life, is it? People have to do things their own way.'

'Aye, you're right. I'd better be getting back; you never know what they might be up to.'

Annie chuckled, her fat chins wobbling, 'ee, no Emma. Not your Leah, ee, no, she wouldn't.'

'I don't know about that, Annie. She's only human and Captain Townsend's summat to look at and he has a way with him, so I wouldn't blame her. If I was twenty years younger...?' Emma laughed. Annie gave her a push. 'Ee, get on with you, Emma. The things you come out with.'

Emma was a funny b.u.g.g.e.r Annie thought as she waddled back into the house. She didn't know what she would have done without Emma across the road all these years, especially when she'd lost husband and son. She was a real life saver was Emma Hammond.

Emma walked through into the back room, the laughter fading. She was anxious again, and had been ever since this blasted thing had happened between Leah and Captain Townsend (even at his insistence she couldn't call him Stephen). It wasn't as though she disliked the Captain. She did, and he wasn't like the gentry she knew or knew of. He'd no side to him at all and drank thick black tea from her chipped mugs as though he was sipping from fine china. Even so the weight of the situation sat heavily on her and she couldn't shake off her unease. As she'd thought a hundred times over she wished it were Paddy in there with Leah. How that would have taken a load off her mind! She still hadn't got over Darkie leaving. She never would. So with what had happened there and Leah she sometimes felt as though she was going out of her mind.

Stephen turned around when she entered the room. He smiled at her, a black lank of hair falling over his forehead. Emma thought again that no wonder Leah was head over heels. He was smas.h.i.+ng!

'h.e.l.lo Mrs. Hammond,' he said. 'How are you today?'

'I'm doing all right, thank you, Captain.' Emma noticed Leah had on her new white dress, which would get filthy on the bike. 'Are you ready, Leah love?' she said in a sharp voice, so unusual for her that Leah looked up in surprise.

'Yes, Mam, why, anything the matter?' Leah picked up her cardigan off the back of the settee. She saw her mother looking at her dress and could read her mind. Why was it that you couldn't have a will of your own in this house, or in Harwood, for that matter? There was always this invisible presence hanging over you telling you what to do, or as was usually the case, what not to do.

'No, it's nothing. You're sure I can't pack you some sandwiches? It won't take a minute,' Emma said in her normal tone. She could never stay mad for more than two minutes.

'No, no Mrs. Hammond,' Stephen said. 'We have plenty. Mrs. Walters packed us enough to feed an army. 'Are you ready Leah?'

Leah and Stephen smiled at each other. They're always smiling like that, Emma thought, irritated, like half-baked Billy. It got on her nerves!