needed to clothe an army?’
Andrew blinked. ‘I hadn’t looked at it that way.’
‘No,’ Mary said shortly. ‘You wouldn’t. You’d be better off staying put and helping the war by making the clothing that’s bound to be needed.’
‘There you are, you see,’ Bridie said triumphantly. ‘You don’t need to go. You can be much more useful here.’ She put her arm through his and gazed up at him
imploringly. ‘Do say you won’t go. Please, Andrew.’
‘I don’t suppose,’ Josh said thoughtfully, ‘there’ll be much call for lace if the war lasts for long. I wonder how it will affect Reckitt and Stokes?’
‘Aye,’ Mary said. ‘I can’t see soldiers wanting lace trimmings on their long johns.’
No-one even smiled at her effort to lighten the talk and there was silence as everyone’s thoughts turned to Richard and Eveleen.
At that very moment a family conference was also being held in the Stokes’s household. Richard and Eveleen were at the home of Richard’s parents for Sunday
lunch.
Brinsley Stokes sat at the head of the table. At fifty-five he was an older edition of his son, Richard. Looking at her father-in-law, Eveleen could almost see what her husband would look like
in twenty years’ time. He was tall and still slim, though his once black hair was now liberally peppered with white. His features were still remarkably clear-cut; a long, straight nose and a
firm jaw. There were wrinkles around his eyes, but they were laughter lines rather than the signs of ageing. He was capable of looking quite stern, as he was doing at this moment, but his dark
brown eyes were always kindly and full of concern.
His voice was deep and, when he spoke now, not quite steady. ‘You must do what you feel is right, my boy, but like Eveleen I wish you’d give the matter a lot more thought before
rushing in headlong on a wave of patriotism, praiseworthy though it no doubt is.’
Eveleen’s glance went from her father-in-law to her husband, her eyes wide with fear, but for once she bit back the words on the tip of her tongue. Now that she knew Brinsley was on her
side, she was sure Richard would listen to his parents, for whilst his mother had not yet voiced an opinion, Eveleen was sure she would discourage Richard’s madcap proposal. What mother would
gladly wave her only son off to war?
Sophia sat at the opposite end of the table, a serene, sophisticated woman in her early fifties. Her hair was dressed in an immaculate, smooth chignon and her flawless face showed few signs of
ageing. Her figure was slim, kept so by a rigid diet. She ran her household with the same discipline. She was the perfect hostess and the perfect wife and mother of successful businessmen, although
she took no part in the life of the factory and, indeed, displayed little interest in the workings of the place that gave her a very comfortable lifestyle. But although Richard’s mother was
always friendly and kindly disposed towards her, Eveleen felt she was somehow distant, a little aloof perhaps. But surely, Eveleen thought, this time Sophia would intervene. This time she would
have some feelings on the matter.
Sophia did, but to Eveleen’s amazement they were not what she had imagined or what she had hoped for.
‘My dear, Richard must be allowed to decide for himself without influence from any of us.’ Her calm glance included Eveleen. ‘As he says, the factory can manage very well
without him. You are there to oversee everything and Eveleen,’ her smile was warm as she included her daughter-in-law, ‘if I understand it, has the warehouse running like
clockwork.’
Richard smiled and, for a moment, his brown eyes twinkled with their usual mischief. ‘What you mean, Mother, is that I am not really needed here at all.’
‘I didn’t quite say that, dear,’ Sophia inclined her head towards him. ‘What I should have said, perhaps, is that I admire your courage. It is laudable and I would be so
proud to see
Andrew blinked. ‘I hadn’t looked at it that way.’
‘No,’ Mary said shortly. ‘You wouldn’t. You’d be better off staying put and helping the war by making the clothing that’s bound to be needed.’
‘There you are, you see,’ Bridie said triumphantly. ‘You don’t need to go. You can be much more useful here.’ She put her arm through his and gazed up at him
imploringly. ‘Do say you won’t go. Please, Andrew.’
‘I don’t suppose,’ Josh said thoughtfully, ‘there’ll be much call for lace if the war lasts for long. I wonder how it will affect Reckitt and Stokes?’
‘Aye,’ Mary said. ‘I can’t see soldiers wanting lace trimmings on their long johns.’
No-one even smiled at her effort to lighten the talk and there was silence as everyone’s thoughts turned to Richard and Eveleen.
At that very moment a family conference was also being held in the Stokes’s household. Richard and Eveleen were at the home of Richard’s parents for Sunday
lunch.
Brinsley Stokes sat at the head of the table. At fifty-five he was an older edition of his son, Richard. Looking at her father-in-law, Eveleen could almost see what her husband would look like
in twenty years’ time. He was tall and still slim, though his once black hair was now liberally peppered with white. His features were still remarkably clear-cut; a long, straight nose and a
firm jaw. There were wrinkles around his eyes, but they were laughter lines rather than the signs of ageing. He was capable of looking quite stern, as he was doing at this moment, but his dark
brown eyes were always kindly and full of concern.
His voice was deep and, when he spoke now, not quite steady. ‘You must do what you feel is right, my boy, but like Eveleen I wish you’d give the matter a lot more thought before
rushing in headlong on a wave of patriotism, praiseworthy though it no doubt is.’
Eveleen’s glance went from her father-in-law to her husband, her eyes wide with fear, but for once she bit back the words on the tip of her tongue. Now that she knew Brinsley was on her
side, she was sure Richard would listen to his parents, for whilst his mother had not yet voiced an opinion, Eveleen was sure she would discourage Richard’s madcap proposal. What mother would
gladly wave her only son off to war?
Sophia sat at the opposite end of the table, a serene, sophisticated woman in her early fifties. Her hair was dressed in an immaculate, smooth chignon and her flawless face showed few signs of
ageing. Her figure was slim, kept so by a rigid diet. She ran her household with the same discipline. She was the perfect hostess and the perfect wife and mother of successful businessmen, although
she took no part in the life of the factory and, indeed, displayed little interest in the workings of the place that gave her a very comfortable lifestyle. But although Richard’s mother was
always friendly and kindly disposed towards her, Eveleen felt she was somehow distant, a little aloof perhaps. But surely, Eveleen thought, this time Sophia would intervene. This time she would
have some feelings on the matter.
Sophia did, but to Eveleen’s amazement they were not what she had imagined or what she had hoped for.
‘My dear, Richard must be allowed to decide for himself without influence from any of us.’ Her calm glance included Eveleen. ‘As he says, the factory can manage very well
without him. You are there to oversee everything and Eveleen,’ her smile was warm as she included her daughter-in-law, ‘if I understand it, has the warehouse running like
clockwork.’
Richard smiled and, for a moment, his brown eyes twinkled with their usual mischief. ‘What you mean, Mother, is that I am not really needed here at all.’
‘I didn’t quite say that, dear,’ Sophia inclined her head towards him. ‘What I should have said, perhaps, is that I admire your courage. It is laudable and I would be so
proud to see
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