The Loom (16 page)

Janey fixed her gaze on Paddy, trying to will him to look at her. He refused to be drawn. Leah’s indifference only seemed to increase his ardour. The clog dance had finished and now there were calls to Paddy.

‘
Come on Paddy lad, give us a song.’ Paddy took his gaze off Leah. ‘Nay, nay,’ he said.

‘
Go on, Paddy,’ Leah said. ‘I love to hear you sing.’ Paddy looked uncomfortable. It was one thing to sing in church in the choir, quite another on his own in front of all these people.

‘
Go on, love,’ his mother said. ‘Don’t be shy.’

He looked at Leah in her blue wool dress. He’d been daydreaming about her again. Of her flinging her arms around him and kissing him. Now he felt daft. He wasn’t easy with her either since she’d begun to talk so posh. It was that snobby Miss Fenton’s fault!

He blushed as Leah smiled at him encouragingly.

‘
Oh, all right.’ He walked self-consciously to the middle of the room.

‘
Sweet Sixteen, Ben?’ he said.

‘
Right, lad.’

Leah watched Paddy, her blue eyes enhanced by the blue dress. The room fell silent as the strains of the lilting Irish ballad filled the room. Paddy’s voice soared effortlessly. The sad, sweet notes and the nostalgia of the occasion soon had people in tears. Emma snuffled into a piece of calico thinking of Darkie going back and watched Paddy as he stood in youthful glory, his earlier self-consciousness forgotten. Singing did that to him. It transported him somewhere else. Somewhere wonderful!

His gaze was on Leah, his blue eyes piercing. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. She liked Paddy, but not
that
way. Her gaze fell under his and she twisted her fingers curled on her lap. She wished he’d stop. Everyone was looking!

Darkie heaved a sigh of relief as he closed the door on the noisy household. The party was still going strong and he’d stood with a forced smile for so long he thought his face would crack.

It had been bloody hard work in there, trying to look happy. He
was
happy to be back, but smiling was something he hadn’t done in a long time. What he’d been through in the last few months seemed to have completely shattered his sense of humour. And there was no one who’d liked a good laugh more than he did. No one! Yet, in that room full of laughing people, it had been murder, bloody murder!

He walked on up the street, a hunched solitary figure. A few snowflakes drifted onto his shoulders and he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. It was freezing and he was a numbskull to have left that warm house.

A shout caused him to stop and look back.

‘
Hold on there, Darkie.’ He recognized Paddy’s voice.

‘
What the hell are you doing here, Paddy? It’s freezing.’

‘
I could say the same for you,’ Paddy said, shivering, ‘just thought you might need some company.’

Darkie nodded. He couldn’t very well say he’d rather be on his own. ‘Aye, thanks. Come on then if you’re coming or we’ll freeze to death.’

‘
Why didn’t you stay,’ Paddy asked as they hurried up the street.

‘
I just felt a bit smothered in there,’ Darkie said.

‘
Thought I’d go and have a pint on me own.’

‘
Aye,’ Paddy said, his teeth chattering with cold. ‘They are a bit overpowering aren’t they? You’re all right now, though, aren’t you?’

‘
Aye, I’m all right. But it takes a bit of getting used to being back here in Harwood.’

‘
I’ll bet you could tell a few stories that would make me hair curl.’

‘
Aye, I could that, but I’d rather forget ‘em.’

Paddy nodded. He’d been shocked at the change in Darkie. Darkie had always been taller, but big with it. Now he felt as though Darkie towered over him because he was so thin. Like a bean-pole! Darkie’s face seemed to have shrunk and his black eyes looked enormous in his white face.

‘
I’m not getting in your way, am I?’ Paddy said.

‘
No, no. We’ll go to the Wellington. Me Dad might be there and I can have a word with him. But don’t let on to Mam, will you. She doesn’t like me seeing him.’

‘
Don’t worry. I’ll keep me gob shut.’

*********

‘
I could give him a good hiding I could that, big as he is.’ Emma looked in exasperation at Darkie, who had been brought home much to her embarrassment, by Harry Huxtable, the local constable.

‘
Just look at you,’ and she gave Darkie a shove into the back room, ‘sozzled up to your eyeballs again.’

She turned to Harry. ‘I’m sorry he’s giving you trouble, Harry. I don’t know what’s come over him.’

‘
Don’t tha worry, Emma; he’s still only a lad and he’s letting off steam and you can’t blame him after what he’s been through. I’m sorry we had to lock ‘em up last night, but Jack at the pub had had enough. They were carrying on a bit and people were getting fed up, especially when they kept thinking the back of the bar was the petty. There wasn’t half a to do as you can imagine. They were like the bloody Co-op hosses, so Jack said; nearly flooded him out.’ Harry laughed. He was a good sort, but Emma was embarrassed again.

‘
I don’t know what things are coming to, I don’t. I know they’ve had a time of it, but there’s no need to carry on like that.’

This was the second time it had happened, Darkie getting drunk and he knew she couldn’t abide drunken men. That was one of the reasons she’d left Harold. Darkie knew that and he was still putting her through it all again. She wasn’t going to stand for it, war or no war. Darkie was standing in the doorway of the back room, swaying and hanging onto the doorframe.

‘
Go on you daft happorth.’ She gave him another push. ‘You smell like you need a good possing.’

‘
I’m sorry, Mam,’ Darkie said, his words slurring.

‘
Sorry’s not good enough.’ Emma turned back to Harry. ‘
I’m
sorry he’s put you to so much trouble, Harry, but I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

‘
That’s all right Emma. As I said they were just letting off steam.’

‘
Aye, well, there’d better not be any more steam or he might just get scalded with it.’

She went back into the house. Darkie was staggering around in the back room, bumping into things.

‘
Get on up to bed,’ she said sharply. Men, they were all the same!

The band struck up a rousing tune, appropriately ‘pack up your troubles in your old kit bag’ and the seven young men, spruce in their uniforms began to march.

The Salvation Army Band made its way from the Town Square and down Queen Street to the railway station, the soldiers striding along behind. People lined the street to see them off.

‘
Take good care of yourselves, lads.’

‘
Aye, good luck and give the Huns one from us.’

‘
Aye, make sure you don’t get sozzled before you do, though.’

The band thumped and trumpeted in front, a seemly escort to Darkie, and company.

Emma stood listening to the comments. She didn’t care now what he’d done, just as long as he came back safe and sound. She gazed after the procession, Darkie towering above the other soldiers, his shoulders wide and strong as he swung his arms. He turned round once for a final wave. She raised her hand and then put it to her mouth to stifle a sob.

She’d been so relieved when he came back, but the change in him had worried her. He didn’t seem like her Darkie anymore! Now he was a man, withdrawn, haggard, with a core deep in him she couldn’t reach. He had tried to drown whatever was bothering him in drink.

That was all he and his friends had done since they came back. Drink! For the two full weeks of leave he’d been on the booze. Then he’d refused to go back to his regiment. She’d been floored when he told her.

‘
But you have to go back, Darkie lad,’ she’d said. ‘Although God knows I don’t want you to.’

‘
I’m not bloody going back to that hell hole,’ he said.

Nothing any one had said had been able to persuade him. Then a few others had got the same idea, so the Redcaps had come to make them. But Darkie had the gift of the gab like his Dad and the Redcaps had ended on the booze as well.

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 damned war going to end? Her head was starting to ache again.

Annie Fitton stood next to Emma. Poor Emma, she thought, it’s not bloody fair! How many more were to be killed before this whole bloody 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 stitching. 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 flustered 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!