The Girl from the Mill

by Chrissie Walsh

  ‘He’s got Nathan’s nose and chin,’ she said.

  Edith leaned forward. ‘So he has. He’s a beautiful little boy. My first grandchild; I’m proud of you Lacey.’

  At midday Constance and Jonas arrived. ‘He’s the picture of Nathan,’ Constance said, gazing adoringly at her first grandchild. Turning crestfallen eyes on Lacey she added, ‘I wish he was here to see him.’

  ‘So do I,’ replied Lacey, adding a silent prayer that his father would see him one day.

  The rest of the day was busy with visitors. First came Joan and James, Joan eager to offer guidance on baby rearing. Lacey half listened to Joan’s advice on feeding, winding and nappy changing while marvelling at the resilience of the human spirit. It was good to see Joan laughing and chatting as though she hadn’t a care in the world, yet in the past year she’d lost her husband, the father of her only child, and suffered a horrific, disfiguring accident.

  Lacey’s eyes rested on Joan’s animated face and the blonde curls peeping out from beneath the brim of a neat felt cloche. The curls framing Joan’s face were all that was left of her once crowning glory, the ugly hairless patch on her damaged scalp hidden under the hat.

  These days Joan was rarely seen bareheaded; even in the privacy of her own home she hid her disfigurement underneath a cotton headsquare. How sad, Lacey thought, that Joan would never again be able to show off her golden cloud of hair, and how brave she was that she could joke about it and her other loss. ‘At least Stanley won’t have to look at my bald head,’ Joan had said, shortly after her recovery. ‘He’s gone to a better place, an’ my hair ended up in one of Jonas Brearley’s pieces.’

  Lacey’s next visitors were Joshua, Matt, Molly and David. On their way to the house in Towngate they had met the postman. Now, Joshua handed Edith the envelope Sam had given him and recognising the handwriting, she went into another room to read it.

  Matt and Molly’s love affair had flourished and they were talking of marriage. As Molly relayed her plans for the wedding, Lacey watched Matt with young David. How lucky this little boy was to be getting a father as kind and gentle as Matt, she thought, and what a revelation it would be for Molly to have a loving husband, one who didn’t beat her. Judging by the smile on Matt’s face he obviously considered himself the luckiest of them all.

  When Lizzie Isherwood and a few girls from the Mill arrived Constance welcomed them warmly, smiling tolerantly at their coarse remarks and raucous laughter.

  Like a queen surrounded by her loyal subjects, Lacey lay propped up on pillows, weary but deliriously happy. After the girls from the Mill had left, Edith asked. ‘Did you get a chance to read our Jimmy’s letter?’

  Lacey’s smile slipped. ‘Don’t take it too hard, Mam. He can’t be that bad if he can write, and he says the hospital is looking after him really well. He expects to be back at the Front in no time.’ Edith nodded, her face still glum at the thought of her youngest child hurt, and she not there to nurse him.

  ‘I wa’ hoping they’d send him back to England so he could come home to be my best man,’ Matt said.

  ‘If he pesters his commanding officer like he used to pester me, he’ll grant him leave just to see t’back of him,’ Joshua suggested, wryly.

  This remark set everybody chuckling. Lacey was still smiling as she drifted into a well earned sleep.

  *

  Richard Brearley thrived, and if his mother was hungry for the love of his father, her love for him did not go to waste in his absence. Waking each morning to gaze into Richard’s blue-grey eyes was like waking to a smaller version of her beloved husband.

  The Box Brownie camera captured countless images of Richard’s progress, the photographs and lengthy written descriptions of his development winging their way to France week by week. In reply Nathan wrote of his immense pride and joy. Somehow these scraps of paper with their images and words filled Lacey with a new optimism.

  *

  ‘We’re victims of our own success,’ Lacey told Joan, some three months after starting the business. ‘Just look at this lot.’ She made a sweeping gesture at the rack of garments awaiting alteration and the pile of fabrics for new ones. ‘There was me thinking we’d mind the boys and sew at the same time, but it isn’t working.’

  It was a Monday morning, the tension in the sewing room particularly fraught. Lacey stuck a final pin into the military braid she had attached to a blouse she was making for the Minister’s wife, and surveyed the sorry scene. Richard lolled listlessly against the side of the pram, his eyes heavy with the tears he’d shed minutes earlier. Over in the corner James banged a wooden building block against the bars of the playpen, yelling to be set free.

  ‘I’m sorry James’s so noisy. He gets tetchy if he can’t run round,’ said Joan, dropping the buttons she had selected for a heavy tweed coat back into the box as she gazed helplessly at Lacey.

  ‘It’s not just James bothering me. It’s the whole set up,’ said Lacey, going and lifting Richard into her arms. ‘We should both be spending proper time with our sons, not just pacifying ‘em in between sewing.’

  ‘Do you mean we should pack it in?’ Joan gasped, her disappointment plain. ‘It ‘ud be a shame now we’re doing so well.’

  Lacey grimaced. ‘We’re not giving up; we’re giving in. If the business is to succeed, we need help. We’ve got the sewing organised, Joanie. We’re a good team. Now we need to organise someone for these little lads. Maybe it’s time for me to eat my words and take Constance up on her offer to find a nanny.’

  Before Lacey had time to discuss the matter further, the bell above the shop door tinkled. A woman in her forties and a girl of about twenty entered.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Walkingshaw, come to collect your coat, have you?’ Lacey raked through the garments hanging on the rack, producing a coat she’d altered earlier.

  Annie Walkingshaw slipped it on. ‘By, you’ve made a lovely job of it,’ she said, doing up the buttons and fastening the belt. ‘It was me mother’s, you know, an’ she were twice the size of me; I knew it wa’ too good to throw away but I never thought you’d make it fit as well as this.’ She admired herself in the mirror next to the rack.

  ‘It’s lovely, Mam. It looks just like new.’ At the young girl’s compliment her mother’s smile widened.

  ‘By the way, this is our Susan,’ she said, gesturing proudly towards the girl. ‘She’s my eldest. She’s back home ‘cos the family she worked for in Huddersfield have moved to Scotland. They begged her to go with them but our Susan didn’t want to go so far away from home; did you love?’

  Susan nodded then said, ‘Scotland didn’t appeal to me, that’s true, but I’ll miss the children terribly.’

  Lacey thought ‘children’? The cogs in her brain whirred, but before she could speak Susan added confidently, ‘I’ll soon find another nanny’s position what with my experience and Dr McKenzie’s excellent reference.’ She smiled brightly, as if to allay any doubts.

  Susan Walkingshaw started caring for Richard and James the day after her mother had taken receipt of her altered coat. In between bouts of unhindered sewing their mothers could now pop into Lacey’s house, time spent with their respective sons a bonus in the working day.

  ‘I was right about hiring a nanny, and Susan is an excellent choice,’ Constance gloated, when she called the next day. She had just spent the last half hour in Lacey’s house vetting Susan and now, in the workroom, glancing at the fob watch pinned to her jacket, she said, ‘I really must be about my business; four needy families await me.’ She walked out to the waiting car.

  Joan paused in her work. ‘I never thought she’d turn out to be such a grand mother-in-law; remember what she was like when she first met you?’ Joan pulled a face.

  Smiling fondly, Lacey replied, ‘I do – but she’s a changed woman – changed for the better.’

  A short while later, Felicity, just back from a trip to London, called at the workroom with her friend, Dylis Brooksbank. Felicity, her blonde hair p
iled high under a pert little bowler, looked utterly charming in the sleek grey suit Lacey had made especially for the trip. Lacey shook hands with Dylis. When she hugged Felicity she sensed her sister-in-law’s excitement, felt the tension in her lean frame. Had Felicity’s meeting with Stefan brought joy or woe, she wondered?

  In the weeks since Felicity had first confessed her love for him, although she contrived to maintain her usual frivolous persona, Lacey had come to realise the toll this impasse took on her. When Stefan wrote to say his involvement with the Red Cross necessitated a trip to London, Felicity had immediately gone to the capital on the pretence of visiting a friend. Certain that Dylis knew nothing of Stefan, Lacey refrained from asking the questions that burned on her tongue.

  When Dylis announced the need to call on the chemist across the street, Felicity declined to accompany her. Dylis out of earshot and Joan busy treadling, Lacey hustled Felicity into what had been the storeroom and was now a fitting room.

  ‘Well, did you see Stefan?’

  Felicity’s eyes took on a dreamy quality and her lips parted in a rapturous smile. ‘I did, and Lacey I’m full of such hope I can barely conceal it, but…’ Her smile fading, she plopped down on one of the little gilt chairs Lacey had bought specially for the room.

  Lacey sat on the other. ‘Tell me about it,’ she urged, ‘I won’t censure you.’

  Felicity blinked away tears.

  ‘I know this sounds dreadful and that I should not seek happiness from it, but I love him so much I cannot prevent myself from being joyful at the expense of Maria’s sorrow. She is not expected to live much longer. I feel wicked seeing it as an answer to our prayers, and so does Stefan. Had his work not been so vital he would not have left her for fear she died in his absence. I only hope our love is strong enough to survive the awfulness of her death.’

  Overwhelmed by Felicity’s confession Lacey kept silent, deep in thought.

  Eventually she said, ‘Felicity, you’re not to blame for the state of her health or their unhappy marriage. Had you never met Stefan these things would have happened anyway. If he still wants you when Maria is dead, don’t let guilt come between you.’ She stood, and pulling Felicity to her feet, hugged her tightly.

  ‘Hello, I’m back.’ Dylis’s voice catching them unawares they sprang apart.

  ‘Dry your eyes and put on a smile,’ Lacey ordered before walking back into the workshop, ‘and I’ll get on with Dylis’s fitting.’

  *

  Later that evening Felicity called with Lacey again. In the comfort of Lacey’s homely kitchen over a cup of tea they continued their conversation, Lacey reiterating that Felicity must not let Maria’s death deny her a chance of happiness. ‘If Stefan wants you, don’t turn him down.

  Felicity, on the verge of tears, shook her head in exasperation. ‘Why is it that the only time I’ve ever been in love it’s spoiled by deceit, subterfuge and misery? I’ve hidden my feelings for so long I’m twisted inside, and now, when the man I love may soon be free to love me, we’ll live in the shadow of his wife’s death.’

  ‘You will if you choose to dwell on it,’ said Lacey, her harsh tone making Felicity blink. ‘Of course, Stefan will have to come to terms with Maria’s death, but if the marriage is as unhappy as you say it is then he’ll not grieve forever. If he looks to the future, so should you. Things happen, you have to get over them and get on with your life. Trouble is, Felicity, you’d never faced adversity until you fell in love with Stefan. Now’s the time to be brave.’

  Cowed by Lacey’s reference to her privileged life, Felicity hung her head and stared at her clasped hands. Lacey emphasised her argument.

  ‘Consider my cousin, Joanie Micklethwaite. Her husband, Stanley, was killed in France not long after their son was born, then she was grossly disfigured in an accident in your father’s Mill. She has plenty to grieve about.’

  Felicity nodded solemnly, instinctively smoothing her hair as she recalled the terrible accident.

  ‘Joanie’s problems will be with her for the rest of her life,’ Lacey continued. ‘She can’t bring back a dead husband or replace her hair, but do you see her moping? No, you don’t. That only creates more problems. She’s picked herself up, and with sheer determination she’s made a happy life for herself and her child.’

  ‘I never thought of her in that light,’ Felicity murmured, ‘she’s always remarkably cheerful.’ She brought her hand to her lips as if to suppress the guilt she felt at her neglect, and her own weakness.

  ‘That’s because she’s made herself that way, ‘Lacey retorted. ‘Now, if you take my advice, you’ll do the same. Give Stefan time, and if and when he asks you to marry him, don’t be influenced by all that’s gone before, be courageous and move on.’

  Felicity searched Lacey’s face. ‘Is that what you will do if anything happens to Nathan?’ There was no malice in the question.

  The colour leached from Lacey’s cheeks. She closed her eyes for a moment and then sat up straight, thrusting back her shoulders and jutting out her chin. ‘Yes, Felicity, if it comes to that I would, because we can’t lie down and die even if we feel like it. Life has to go on.’

  Felicity flushed. ‘I’m behaving a bit like the benighted heroine in one of those cheap novels I read, aren’t I?’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Lacey said. ‘When you’ve had a life as easy as yours it doesn’t prepare you for hard knocks. Learn to deal with this one and we’ll make a happy woman of you yet.’

  This time she managed to make Felicity smile. ‘Thanks for listening to me, and for the wise words. You’re such a comfort. When Nathan chose you he not only acquired a wonderful wife, he provided his sister with a true friend.’

  On that fond note Felicity said goodnight.

  28

  Matt married Molly one blustery October day in 1916, the pretty widow and her three year old son, David, leaving her mother’s house to live at Netherfold. Delighted to have another woman about the place, Edith’s warm welcome was rewarded when she discovered Molly more than capable in the handling of geese and hens.

  ‘Apart from our Jimmy and your Nathan being away in France everything else is grand,’ Edith remarked, on one of her fleeting visits to Lacey’s workroom.

  ‘Isn’t it just,’ Lacey replied, pushing aside the coat she was altering. ‘You an’ Molly get along fine, and as for us here we don’t know we’re born now we’ve got Susan.’ She carried on unpicking the seams of the coat. ‘Not so long ago I thought I would have to give up the dream of running my own business, but now I have the best of both worlds. This morning I even found time to go with Susan and the boys to the park. It means a lot to me, and Joanie, to be able to spend time with our sons. Joanie’s away with them now delivering a suit to Mrs Brook at Ferndale House.’

  ‘Ooh,’ breathed Edith, impressed to hear Mrs Adam Brook was one of Lacey’s customers.

  Half an hour later Joan and Susan and the boys returned, accompanied by Molly and David.

  ‘Look who I bumped into,’ Joan said, as the little party crowded into the room.

  ‘Hello, Molly,’ said Lacey, pleased to see the sister-in-law she didn’t see often enough for her liking.

  Richard, his cheeks rosy, slept peacefully. The two older boys scuttled off to the corner of the room, James keen to show David his toys.

  Molly smiled over at them and then at Lacey. ‘They get on well, don’t they?’

  ‘I wa’ just saying something similar about all of us,’ said Edith, ‘we all seem to be getting on well these days.’

  Lacey brewed a pot of tea, musing as she filled the cups on what a wise choice Matt had made when he married Molly.

  *

  That same evening, Lacey paid an overdue visit to Fenay Hall. Soames, the butler, solemnly took her coat and scarf, his usually cheerful face dour. Lacey wondered why and the answer was in the drawing room. Side-by-side on a couch were Alice and Violet Burrows. Shocked to see them there, Lacey’s puzzled gaze met Felicity’s out
raged glare.

  ‘Come sit by the fire, Lacey. You must be frozen.’ Constance patted the seat next to hers. ‘I do hope you haven’t brought Richard out on a night like this.’

  Lacey moved to the sofa by the hearth, glad of the heat from the roaring blaze in the huge Adam fireplace. If she hadn’t felt cold on arrival she certainly did now, the sight of Alice and Violet chilling her to the bone. ‘I left him with Susan,’ she replied, ignoring both Alice and Violet as she sat down.

  ‘And how is the son and heir?’ Alice’s tone sugar sweet, she essayed a simpering smile.

  ‘He’s absolutely wonderful, and the image of his father,’ Lacey replied, flicking a glimmer of a smile in Alice’s direction and thinking, ‘Suck on that one, you old bag.’

  ‘So he is,’ Constance agreed. Violet looked peeved.

  After a short spell of inconsequential prattle Lacey announced her departure, Felicity accompanying her into the hallway.

  ‘Who let them back in?’ Lacey hissed, unable to control her curiosity.

  Felicity shrugged and groaned. ‘Mama. They came bearing Christmas gifts and begging forgiveness.’

  ‘Beware of Greeks,’ Lacey muttered.

  Felicity sniggered. ‘Indeed. Papa is furious. He refused to sit with them.’ She adopted a stern expression. ‘But you’re to blame for it.’ Bemused, Lacey widened her eyes.

  ‘It’s you who encouraged Mama to be charitable, and she’s now extended it to include Alice and Violet. When Papa asked why, she told him it was her Christian duty and that one could hardly turn them away at this time of year.’

  Lacey groaned. ‘I’ve obviously done too good a job on her. I’ll keep my mouth shut in future; I just hope they do the same.’

  *

  The next day, Alice and Violet called at the workroom.

  ‘Damn an’ blast it,’ Lacey muttered, flicking bits of thread from her black skirt then smoothing her hands over her hair. What did they want? Forcing a smile, she said, ‘Good afternoon, ladies. What can I do for you?’