Free Tangled Threads by Margaret Dickinson Page B

bailiff, a scrawny, ferret-like man with beady eyes and thin, mean lips. She shuddered. Thinking of him, she
could begin to believe her mother’s words.
    She stood up. ‘I’ll see Stephen. He’ll not let us be turned out of our home.’
    Mary rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Her shoulders began to shake and Eveleen bent down.
    ‘Mam, don’t get upset. Stephen’s taking on more responsibility around the estate. He told me. He’ll help us.’ Then with a shock she saw that her mother was not
crying, but laughing. But there was no humour in the sound, only bitterness.
    Mary opened her eyes and looked up at her. ‘Oh Eveleen, if you believe that, then you’re more of a naïve fool than even I thought you were.’
    As Eveleen hurried along the lane towards Bernby village, she muttered to herself. ‘She’s wrong. I know she’s wrong. Stephen wouldn’t do that.
He’ll help us, I know he will.’
    She was desperate to find him now, this minute, but knew she must go for the doctor first. Her mother needed help. These irrational outbursts were so unlike her. Eveleen’s footsteps slowed
of their own volition as the truth slipped into her reasoning. No, she was wrong. Mary Hardcastle had always been unpredictable.
    Eveleen felt her face crumple and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as the realization came to her. Only her father, her lovely, patient, understanding father, had been able to calm
Mary and keep her volatile temperament on an even keel.
    And now he was gone.
    The girl stood a moment in the lane, missing her father and feeling desperately lonely.
    Then she lifted her head. It was up to her now. Up to her to look after her mother and her brother and to hold the family together. She would have to be sensible. She would not be afraid or too
proud to ask for help.
    She began to walk again. She would do what she had planned. She would see Doctor Roper and ask his advice. And then she would go in search of Stephen.
    Her spirits lifted at the mere thought of seeing him again. It seemed an age since he had held her and kissed her and now she needed the comfort of his arms as never before. Her steps quickened
and her heart felt lighter than it had done since that dreadful moment when she had found her father face down in the beck.
    Stephen, Stephen, her heart sang. He would help her. She must find him.
    ‘I’m afraid master Stephen is not available,’ the manservant answering the front door at Fairfield House informed her in pompous tones. Then he leant forward
and hissed at her. ‘And you should have gone round to the back door.’
    Eveleen stood her ground. ‘Where is he?’
    The man, whose name Eveleen knew to be Tomkins, straightened up and adopted his formal manner again. ‘I am afraid I am not aware of Master Stephen’s whereabouts.’ Once more, he
dropped the pose. ‘And I wouldn’t tell the likes of you, if I was.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Eveleen said tartly and turned away. She skirted the big house and crossed the yard at the back. Passing through the kitchen gardens she entered the field at the back of
the house. Shading her eyes, she scanned the scene before her. Below her to the left, was the beck and beyond it the field leading to Pear Tree Farm. To the right the land rose to Bernby
Covert.
    Maybe he was there, waiting for her.
    Eveleen picked up her skirts and began to run.
    She had waited over an hour. The sun had gone and a chill wind rustled through the trees. Eveleen rubbed her arms and emerged from the wood. She would have to go home. She had
stayed here too long already.
    I should have tried the barn, she thought. Maybe he’s there.
    She turned and went back through the trees to the road, crossed it into Long Meadow and began to run, stumbling on the uneven ground.
    Panting, she arrived at the door, but the only sound that greeted her was the loose board rattling in the breeze. She waited a few minutes and then went back to the road. She