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Authors: Margaret Dickinson
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Dunsmore.’
Eveleen shook her head, sending a shower of icy droplets over her mother.
‘But you’re wet through. Your clothes, your hair—’
‘Mam – you don’t understand—’
‘Oh I think I understand only too well.’
‘No, Mam. Listen!’ Now it was Eveleen who took hold of her mother’s arms. ‘It’s Dad. I’ve found him. He – he was in the beck. I – I think
he’s dead.’
There was a brief, stunned silence as mother and daughter stared at each other in the dim light. Then, sharply, Mary said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eveleen. Where is he? Let
me—’
Eveleen’s grip on her mother’s arms tightened. ‘No, Mam. Don’t. Please, don’t go down there.’
‘Of course, I’m going to him. It’s me he’ll want to help him. I expect he’s twisted his ankle or something, going out in the dark to look for you, you naughty,
wilful girl. Look what trouble you’ve caused now. Get inside and up those stairs this minute. Jimmy!’ She raised her voice. ‘Jimmy, come and help me. We must go to your
father.’
Jimmy came out of the back door. ‘I’m off out,’ he began, but seeing the state of his sister, he stopped and asked, ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Dad. I found him in the beck.’
‘What do you mean?’
Instead of wasting more time explaining further, Eveleen said, ‘Jimmy, fetch Bill Morton and run .’
Catching her anxiety and distress, for once Jimmy did as she asked him. He was away like the wind, running out of the yard and down the cart track towards the lane leading to Furze Farm, the
Mortons’ home.
Mary clicked her tongue against her teeth impatiently. ‘You needn’t have done that, Eveleen. I can go to him.’
‘No,’ Eveleen said harshly. ‘You stay here, Mam. I’ll – I’ll go back. When Bill comes, send him down to the beck.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. I’ll get some dry clothes ready for your father and a hot bowl of soup.’
Mary went back into the house, leaving Eveleen staring after her, unable to comprehend that her mother was refusing to believe what she was trying to tell her. Then Eveleen turned and ran back
to the place where she had found her father.
Ten
Bill and his son, Ted, carried Walter home on a door, with Eveleen and Jimmy walking beside them. They hesitated briefly as they entered the yard and saw Mary waiting. Eveleen
ran forward, her boots and skirt still soaking, mud and tears streaking her face.
‘Mam, oh, Mam—’ she began, reaching out to her mother, but Mary brushed her aside and went towards the two men carrying her husband.
She did not touch him, she did not even begin to cry, but stood there, staring down at him.
Everyone else just stood there too, not knowing what to do or where to take him until Bill said gently, ‘Missis?’
Mary sighed heavily and then said flatly, ‘Bring him in, Bill. Into the kitchen and on to the table.’ She turned and began to lead the way. ‘I’ll see to him.’
‘My Dorothy will come over, if you want, missis.’
Mary shook her head. ‘No need, Bill. I’ll manage and Eveleen can help me. Now, gently with him. Don’t make it worse than it already is.’
Eveleen stared at her mother. What could be worse than what had already happened? Jimmy came to stand beside his sister as they watched the men struggle to manoeuvre their tragic load through
the narrow door of the house and into the kitchen.
Bill and his son laid the door across the table and stepped back, pulling their caps from their heads and standing a moment as if silently paying their respects. Then they trooped out, nodding
awkwardly to the two youngsters waiting in the yard. When they were gone, Eveleen and Jimmy went into the house.
They watched in amazement as their mother bustled into the scullery to fetch a bowl, soap and flannel. ‘He’s in a right mess,’ she said, almost conversationally, as if her
husband had merely fallen in the ditch, dragged himself out and squelched his way home to be met
Eveleen shook her head, sending a shower of icy droplets over her mother.
‘But you’re wet through. Your clothes, your hair—’
‘Mam – you don’t understand—’
‘Oh I think I understand only too well.’
‘No, Mam. Listen!’ Now it was Eveleen who took hold of her mother’s arms. ‘It’s Dad. I’ve found him. He – he was in the beck. I – I think
he’s dead.’
There was a brief, stunned silence as mother and daughter stared at each other in the dim light. Then, sharply, Mary said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eveleen. Where is he? Let
me—’
Eveleen’s grip on her mother’s arms tightened. ‘No, Mam. Don’t. Please, don’t go down there.’
‘Of course, I’m going to him. It’s me he’ll want to help him. I expect he’s twisted his ankle or something, going out in the dark to look for you, you naughty,
wilful girl. Look what trouble you’ve caused now. Get inside and up those stairs this minute. Jimmy!’ She raised her voice. ‘Jimmy, come and help me. We must go to your
father.’
Jimmy came out of the back door. ‘I’m off out,’ he began, but seeing the state of his sister, he stopped and asked, ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Dad. I found him in the beck.’
‘What do you mean?’
Instead of wasting more time explaining further, Eveleen said, ‘Jimmy, fetch Bill Morton and run .’
Catching her anxiety and distress, for once Jimmy did as she asked him. He was away like the wind, running out of the yard and down the cart track towards the lane leading to Furze Farm, the
Mortons’ home.
Mary clicked her tongue against her teeth impatiently. ‘You needn’t have done that, Eveleen. I can go to him.’
‘No,’ Eveleen said harshly. ‘You stay here, Mam. I’ll – I’ll go back. When Bill comes, send him down to the beck.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. I’ll get some dry clothes ready for your father and a hot bowl of soup.’
Mary went back into the house, leaving Eveleen staring after her, unable to comprehend that her mother was refusing to believe what she was trying to tell her. Then Eveleen turned and ran back
to the place where she had found her father.
Ten
Bill and his son, Ted, carried Walter home on a door, with Eveleen and Jimmy walking beside them. They hesitated briefly as they entered the yard and saw Mary waiting. Eveleen
ran forward, her boots and skirt still soaking, mud and tears streaking her face.
‘Mam, oh, Mam—’ she began, reaching out to her mother, but Mary brushed her aside and went towards the two men carrying her husband.
She did not touch him, she did not even begin to cry, but stood there, staring down at him.
Everyone else just stood there too, not knowing what to do or where to take him until Bill said gently, ‘Missis?’
Mary sighed heavily and then said flatly, ‘Bring him in, Bill. Into the kitchen and on to the table.’ She turned and began to lead the way. ‘I’ll see to him.’
‘My Dorothy will come over, if you want, missis.’
Mary shook her head. ‘No need, Bill. I’ll manage and Eveleen can help me. Now, gently with him. Don’t make it worse than it already is.’
Eveleen stared at her mother. What could be worse than what had already happened? Jimmy came to stand beside his sister as they watched the men struggle to manoeuvre their tragic load through
the narrow door of the house and into the kitchen.
Bill and his son laid the door across the table and stepped back, pulling their caps from their heads and standing a moment as if silently paying their respects. Then they trooped out, nodding
awkwardly to the two youngsters waiting in the yard. When they were gone, Eveleen and Jimmy went into the house.
They watched in amazement as their mother bustled into the scullery to fetch a bowl, soap and flannel. ‘He’s in a right mess,’ she said, almost conversationally, as if her
husband had merely fallen in the ditch, dragged himself out and squelched his way home to be met
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