unblinking yellow eyes at the motionless figure of Emma at the window. The cat paused for a moment and then disdainfully swung gracefully around, jumped onto the next coit with a flick of its tail and disappeared from view into the next yard.
Emma sighed. She brushed a stray wisp of hair back from her forehead. It was hot, she thought, undoing the two top buttons of her blouse. She continued her stare into the back yard and thought of the recent events, which had turned her life upside down. She felt she’d aged twenty years since then. Her once open, happy face was haggard and drawn.
Kitty’s death had hit them hard especially Darkie and she knew that her worst fear concerning him would soon be realized. She’d known what he’d do, if not straight away, then soon. Even though he was under age, they’d take him. A big strapping lad! Of course they would! They’d jump at him, especially now that the war wasn’t going well and they needed all the manpower they could get. What was the point of it all, Emma thought wearily; all those men dying and for what? People’s lives didn’t get any better, did they?
Emma bit her lip. She’d better not cry or she wouldn’t stop. For the past week she felt as though she’d had a lump of lead on her chest. She was unable to sleep at night and during the day was so tired that each night she thought, I should sleep the night, but this had been a vain hope. When at last she did sleep, her nightmares were so terrible she was thankful to wake, only to lie in a torment of half sleep, her mind dwelling always on the source of her fear.
She swallowed and brushed a hand across her eyes. She’d never been a crier, not even when her Mam had died, and she’d loved her Mam. She shook her head to try to get rid of her morbid thoughts. Come on now, Emma lass, she remonstrated with herself. It’s no good getting all het up before there’s something to get het up about. He hasn’t joined up yet. But then she thought of all the wives without husbands, mothers without sons, and the dwindling numbers of young boys and men on the streets of Harwood. The dread welled again.
And what about those who had come home! She gave a shudder, thinking of the maimed men who had returned. Leah and Janey had made paper flowers to sell for the war effort and had taken the money to Whalley Hospital. A nurse took them around some of the wards. That was an experience she never wanted again. Leah and Janey hadn’t been able to sleep for nights after that. She shouldn’t have taken them, but how was she to know the horror of it! It had brought home like nothing else the appalling waste of war!
It was on Kitty’s death that Emma dwelt most often. How it had affected all their lives. How Shamus and Mara were still inconsolable in their grief. How she, herself, would often find her eyes filling at the thought. A wonderful light had gone out of their lives with Kitty’s death.
Leah still hadn’t got over it, especially the way Kitty had died. It had taken Emma all her time to persuade her to go back to work. Leah had nightmares for weeks after, waking screaming at the top of her voice and scaring Emma half to death. Then she’d stated that she wasn’t ever going back to the mill.
‘ But what are you going to do?’ Emma said in dismay.
‘I don’t know, but I’ll find something.’
‘What about the munitions factories?’
‘ I don’t know, Mam, I don’t know. All I do know is that I never want to go into another mill as long as I live.’
Annie Fitton had been in and out every day since the tragedy, doing her best to cheer them up, her fat face (and all her chins) all of a tremble with the effort.
Emma had been thankful for Annie (as usual Leah was fed up with her and even Janey, who it normally didn’t bother, complained). When Annie heard about Leah, saw Leah’s white, drawn face, her constant tears she ‘put on her thinking cap’ as she said to Emma later.
‘I got to thinking, Emma
Emma sighed. She brushed a stray wisp of hair back from her forehead. It was hot, she thought, undoing the two top buttons of her blouse. She continued her stare into the back yard and thought of the recent events, which had turned her life upside down. She felt she’d aged twenty years since then. Her once open, happy face was haggard and drawn.
Kitty’s death had hit them hard especially Darkie and she knew that her worst fear concerning him would soon be realized. She’d known what he’d do, if not straight away, then soon. Even though he was under age, they’d take him. A big strapping lad! Of course they would! They’d jump at him, especially now that the war wasn’t going well and they needed all the manpower they could get. What was the point of it all, Emma thought wearily; all those men dying and for what? People’s lives didn’t get any better, did they?
Emma bit her lip. She’d better not cry or she wouldn’t stop. For the past week she felt as though she’d had a lump of lead on her chest. She was unable to sleep at night and during the day was so tired that each night she thought, I should sleep the night, but this had been a vain hope. When at last she did sleep, her nightmares were so terrible she was thankful to wake, only to lie in a torment of half sleep, her mind dwelling always on the source of her fear.
She swallowed and brushed a hand across her eyes. She’d never been a crier, not even when her Mam had died, and she’d loved her Mam. She shook her head to try to get rid of her morbid thoughts. Come on now, Emma lass, she remonstrated with herself. It’s no good getting all het up before there’s something to get het up about. He hasn’t joined up yet. But then she thought of all the wives without husbands, mothers without sons, and the dwindling numbers of young boys and men on the streets of Harwood. The dread welled again.
And what about those who had come home! She gave a shudder, thinking of the maimed men who had returned. Leah and Janey had made paper flowers to sell for the war effort and had taken the money to Whalley Hospital. A nurse took them around some of the wards. That was an experience she never wanted again. Leah and Janey hadn’t been able to sleep for nights after that. She shouldn’t have taken them, but how was she to know the horror of it! It had brought home like nothing else the appalling waste of war!
It was on Kitty’s death that Emma dwelt most often. How it had affected all their lives. How Shamus and Mara were still inconsolable in their grief. How she, herself, would often find her eyes filling at the thought. A wonderful light had gone out of their lives with Kitty’s death.
Leah still hadn’t got over it, especially the way Kitty had died. It had taken Emma all her time to persuade her to go back to work. Leah had nightmares for weeks after, waking screaming at the top of her voice and scaring Emma half to death. Then she’d stated that she wasn’t ever going back to the mill.
‘ But what are you going to do?’ Emma said in dismay.
‘I don’t know, but I’ll find something.’
‘What about the munitions factories?’
‘ I don’t know, Mam, I don’t know. All I do know is that I never want to go into another mill as long as I live.’
Annie Fitton had been in and out every day since the tragedy, doing her best to cheer them up, her fat face (and all her chins) all of a tremble with the effort.
Emma had been thankful for Annie (as usual Leah was fed up with her and even Janey, who it normally didn’t bother, complained). When Annie heard about Leah, saw Leah’s white, drawn face, her constant tears she ‘put on her thinking cap’ as she said to Emma later.
‘I got to thinking, Emma
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