Read Online Tangled Threads by Margaret Dickinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Dickinson
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the words came as effortlessly to her as breathing.
‘I love you, Stephen Dunsmore. I’ll love you till the day I die,’ she shouted to the cattle grazing in the field. They took no notice and Eveleen laughed aloud, throwing back
her head and looking up to the stars above that were just beginning to glow. She held up her arms as if to embrace the whole world. ‘I love you, Stephen Dunsmore. I love you, love you, love
you.’
She sat on the bank of the beck and took off her boots and stockings, drawing in a swift breath as she stepped into the chill water. Reaching the opposite bank, she was about to sit down to dry
her feet on her apron and then pull on her stockings once more when she noticed that several of the cows had wandered down to the beck. They were standing grouped in a sorrowful bunch on the edge
of the bank. Then she noticed, through the gloom, a dark shape in the middle of the rushing water. Dropping her boots and stockings she ran forward, afraid that one of the beasts had fallen in. But
as she neared it, she saw that the mound was far smaller than a cow though larger than any of the rocks and small boulders on the bed of the stream. Eveleen stopped, struck by a shaft of
terror.
The shape was that of a person, a man. She leapt forwards, scrambling down the bank and splashing into the cold water once more. The rushing water bubbled its way around the object in its path
as Eveleen reached out with a trembling hand. Though she expected it, knew even before she touched it, it was still a shock to feel the rough fabric of her father’s jacket.
‘Oh, Dad. Dad!’ She ran her hand up and her fingers touched his hair. He was lying face downwards in the water. Crying now, she tried to grip his shoulders and heave him upwards, but
the inert form slipped from her grasp and splashed back into the beck. She felt cold droplets spatter her face. She took a firmer hold of him this time, turning him over on to his back so that she
could grip him beneath his armpits and haul him out of the water. Sobbing, she pulled and heaved his body, made heavier by the water-soaked clothing, on to the bank. Breathless she collapsed beside
him and felt for his face. It was as cold as the water in the beck.
‘Dad, Dad,’ she cried, but knew in her heart already that it was hopeless. She searched for his pulse but her own fingers were stiff with cold, yet trembling with fear.
And then she began to scream for help, the sound piercing the gloom and echoing around the field, but there was no one to hear her cries, no one to come to her aid.
Eveleen buried her face against her father’s sodden jacket and wrapped her arms around him, willing the life back into him. But it was the hopeless gesture of a grief-stricken young girl.
Tearing sobs wracked her and it was several moments before she was able to force herself to rise and stumble her way across the field towards her home. She reached the gateway leading into the yard
and, breathless, fell against it for a moment. At the sound of the back door opening, she looked up to see her mother standing silhouetted in the lamplight.
‘Is that you, Walter?’ Mary called.
Eveleen straightened up and began to move towards her. ‘No, Mam. It’s me.’
‘Oh, there you are. Where have you been? Worrying your poor father half to death.’ In her anxiety, Mary did not seem to be aware of Eveleen’s bedraggled state.
‘He’s gone out looking for you instead of having his supper. He should be sitting in front of the range by now, resting, instead of—’ She paused, surprised into silence as
Eveleen put her arms around her and buried her face against her shoulder. ‘Why, Eveleen, whatever’s the matter?’
Before she could answer, her mother’s voice hardened as she pushed Eveleen away from her and grasped her shoulders. Shaking her, she said, ‘It’s him, isn’t it?
What’s he done to you?’
Stupid with grief, Eveleen said, ‘Who?’
‘Stephen
‘I love you, Stephen Dunsmore. I’ll love you till the day I die,’ she shouted to the cattle grazing in the field. They took no notice and Eveleen laughed aloud, throwing back
her head and looking up to the stars above that were just beginning to glow. She held up her arms as if to embrace the whole world. ‘I love you, Stephen Dunsmore. I love you, love you, love
you.’
She sat on the bank of the beck and took off her boots and stockings, drawing in a swift breath as she stepped into the chill water. Reaching the opposite bank, she was about to sit down to dry
her feet on her apron and then pull on her stockings once more when she noticed that several of the cows had wandered down to the beck. They were standing grouped in a sorrowful bunch on the edge
of the bank. Then she noticed, through the gloom, a dark shape in the middle of the rushing water. Dropping her boots and stockings she ran forward, afraid that one of the beasts had fallen in. But
as she neared it, she saw that the mound was far smaller than a cow though larger than any of the rocks and small boulders on the bed of the stream. Eveleen stopped, struck by a shaft of
terror.
The shape was that of a person, a man. She leapt forwards, scrambling down the bank and splashing into the cold water once more. The rushing water bubbled its way around the object in its path
as Eveleen reached out with a trembling hand. Though she expected it, knew even before she touched it, it was still a shock to feel the rough fabric of her father’s jacket.
‘Oh, Dad. Dad!’ She ran her hand up and her fingers touched his hair. He was lying face downwards in the water. Crying now, she tried to grip his shoulders and heave him upwards, but
the inert form slipped from her grasp and splashed back into the beck. She felt cold droplets spatter her face. She took a firmer hold of him this time, turning him over on to his back so that she
could grip him beneath his armpits and haul him out of the water. Sobbing, she pulled and heaved his body, made heavier by the water-soaked clothing, on to the bank. Breathless she collapsed beside
him and felt for his face. It was as cold as the water in the beck.
‘Dad, Dad,’ she cried, but knew in her heart already that it was hopeless. She searched for his pulse but her own fingers were stiff with cold, yet trembling with fear.
And then she began to scream for help, the sound piercing the gloom and echoing around the field, but there was no one to hear her cries, no one to come to her aid.
Eveleen buried her face against her father’s sodden jacket and wrapped her arms around him, willing the life back into him. But it was the hopeless gesture of a grief-stricken young girl.
Tearing sobs wracked her and it was several moments before she was able to force herself to rise and stumble her way across the field towards her home. She reached the gateway leading into the yard
and, breathless, fell against it for a moment. At the sound of the back door opening, she looked up to see her mother standing silhouetted in the lamplight.
‘Is that you, Walter?’ Mary called.
Eveleen straightened up and began to move towards her. ‘No, Mam. It’s me.’
‘Oh, there you are. Where have you been? Worrying your poor father half to death.’ In her anxiety, Mary did not seem to be aware of Eveleen’s bedraggled state.
‘He’s gone out looking for you instead of having his supper. He should be sitting in front of the range by now, resting, instead of—’ She paused, surprised into silence as
Eveleen put her arms around her and buried her face against her shoulder. ‘Why, Eveleen, whatever’s the matter?’
Before she could answer, her mother’s voice hardened as she pushed Eveleen away from her and grasped her shoulders. Shaking her, she said, ‘It’s him, isn’t it?
What’s he done to you?’
Stupid with grief, Eveleen said, ‘Who?’
‘Stephen
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