was she who’d chained him to this dratted bed; that he wouldn’t be here at all but for her.
‘Didn’t I give thee four fine sons?’
‘Of course you did, and don’t I love you for it?’
‘I took care of things.’
‘You’ve been a good husband to me, Ray. No woman could have wished for a better.’
‘Fought a war for the likes of that bastard - and he robs me!
‘Hush, Ray. Rest now.’
None of his ravings made much sense to Alena, but they so upset Lizzie that Ray’s four sons and one daughter shared most of the work between them, with as much patience and good grace as they could manage. If only for the sake of their long-suffering mother.
The worst of it was Alena’s sense of guilt. Not simply because of her own part in his predicament, but also because she could feel no real love for her own father, not even now when he was a pathetic wreck of the man he had once been. The distance that had always existed between father and daughter now caused her more distress than it ever had before. She wanted to grieve for his pitiful state, for his ruined life and the loss of his functions, as her mother did. But she couldn’t. She could only be grateful for the fact that there would be no repeat of the slap she had witnessed, and that the belt hanging behind the back door would never be used again.
In January, almost as soon as Christmas and the New Year festivities were over, Rob had gone from Ellersgarth. He had been allowed to come and see her to make his farewells. That was the first and last time she had seen him since they’d been brought out of the forest, and they’d stood together, not knowing what to say or how they should react. An awkward silence had hung between them, their shared experiences and raw youth making it impossible for them to express any of the emotions that churned within.
In February, as soon as Dolly turned seventeen, the family surfaced sufficiently from their troubles to agree to Tom’s marrying her in the little parish church up on the hill. Not a moment too soon since she was already five months gone with his child and as ‘big as a cow’s backside’, in her own choice words.
So far as Alena could tell, there was little sign of its being a love-match. The ceremony had been performed as quietly as possible, with little celebration, then Tom had reluctantly moved into Applethorn Cottages with his new wife and mother-in-law, and somehow the light and joy that had always been a part of his boyish nature seemed to fade and die as his new responsibilities weighed heavily upon him.
But if life with her family was difficult, those first weeks at the mill where Alena now worked were even worse.
Inside, the stark lofty rooms were crowded with men and women at their machines. Long slapping leather belts hung from the rafters and flew at a speed that could scalp a careless worker in seconds if concentration wandered. The wooden floor was largely invisible, being knee-deep in wood shavings and sawdust. Alena, like the other women, wrapped sacking about her legs in a futile attempt to keep out the cold. Since they were now in the midst of a freezing cold March, the girls also wore fingerless gloves, coats and scarves over their pinnies, taking it in turns to sneak into the boiler room and warm themselves whenever the foreman wasn’t looking.
The hours were long and the work hard, the only respite being a short break for a brew of tea morning and afternoon, and a half-hour for the midday meal, taken in the canteen which was little more than a cottage kitchen. This would normally be where Lizzie worked, warming the girls’ soup, brewing tea and providing a simple but substantial meal for those with money to pay for it. In her absence, the girls had to bring sandwiches or a cold meat pie from home, and one of them would brew the tea, with the usual comments that it had been made out of dish cloths.
‘Are you coming to the canteen with us?’ Deirdre Swainson, a raw-boned girl of
‘Didn’t I give thee four fine sons?’
‘Of course you did, and don’t I love you for it?’
‘I took care of things.’
‘You’ve been a good husband to me, Ray. No woman could have wished for a better.’
‘Fought a war for the likes of that bastard - and he robs me!
‘Hush, Ray. Rest now.’
None of his ravings made much sense to Alena, but they so upset Lizzie that Ray’s four sons and one daughter shared most of the work between them, with as much patience and good grace as they could manage. If only for the sake of their long-suffering mother.
The worst of it was Alena’s sense of guilt. Not simply because of her own part in his predicament, but also because she could feel no real love for her own father, not even now when he was a pathetic wreck of the man he had once been. The distance that had always existed between father and daughter now caused her more distress than it ever had before. She wanted to grieve for his pitiful state, for his ruined life and the loss of his functions, as her mother did. But she couldn’t. She could only be grateful for the fact that there would be no repeat of the slap she had witnessed, and that the belt hanging behind the back door would never be used again.
In January, almost as soon as Christmas and the New Year festivities were over, Rob had gone from Ellersgarth. He had been allowed to come and see her to make his farewells. That was the first and last time she had seen him since they’d been brought out of the forest, and they’d stood together, not knowing what to say or how they should react. An awkward silence had hung between them, their shared experiences and raw youth making it impossible for them to express any of the emotions that churned within.
In February, as soon as Dolly turned seventeen, the family surfaced sufficiently from their troubles to agree to Tom’s marrying her in the little parish church up on the hill. Not a moment too soon since she was already five months gone with his child and as ‘big as a cow’s backside’, in her own choice words.
So far as Alena could tell, there was little sign of its being a love-match. The ceremony had been performed as quietly as possible, with little celebration, then Tom had reluctantly moved into Applethorn Cottages with his new wife and mother-in-law, and somehow the light and joy that had always been a part of his boyish nature seemed to fade and die as his new responsibilities weighed heavily upon him.
But if life with her family was difficult, those first weeks at the mill where Alena now worked were even worse.
Inside, the stark lofty rooms were crowded with men and women at their machines. Long slapping leather belts hung from the rafters and flew at a speed that could scalp a careless worker in seconds if concentration wandered. The wooden floor was largely invisible, being knee-deep in wood shavings and sawdust. Alena, like the other women, wrapped sacking about her legs in a futile attempt to keep out the cold. Since they were now in the midst of a freezing cold March, the girls also wore fingerless gloves, coats and scarves over their pinnies, taking it in turns to sneak into the boiler room and warm themselves whenever the foreman wasn’t looking.
The hours were long and the work hard, the only respite being a short break for a brew of tea morning and afternoon, and a half-hour for the midday meal, taken in the canteen which was little more than a cottage kitchen. This would normally be where Lizzie worked, warming the girls’ soup, brewing tea and providing a simple but substantial meal for those with money to pay for it. In her absence, the girls had to bring sandwiches or a cold meat pie from home, and one of them would brew the tea, with the usual comments that it had been made out of dish cloths.
‘Are you coming to the canteen with us?’ Deirdre Swainson, a raw-boned girl of
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