Twisted Strands by Margaret Dickinson Page B

changing the subject, she smiled winningly at him. ‘Now, before we reach the main
Nottingham road, are you going to let me have a little drive?’
    Richard gave an exaggerated sigh as if he were the epitome of a henpecked husband. ‘Oh, very well then. I just hope the local bobby doesn’t catch us. You’re supposed to have a
licence.’
    He brought the vehicle to a halt and they changed seats. He gave clear and detailed instructions, yet the motor car still spluttered and bucked under Eveleen’s efforts. But worse still,
she could not immediately get the hang of steering and the vehicle veered wildly first to the right and then to the left, criss-crossing the narrow lane and bouncing over the deep, muddy ruts on
the grass verge. Then they felt the vehicle begin to slide sideways into a shallow ditch. The motor car came to rest at a lurching angle, its nearside wheels firmly embedded in the water.
    Richard hung onto the side to prevent himself being flung from the vehicle, whilst Eveleen could not help letting out a cry of alarm.
    And from the back seat, under a rug, came an echoing squeal of fright.
     
Nine
    As the engine noise petered out, Richard and Eveleen stared at each other and then slowly they turned together to look at the figure now sitting bolt upright on the back seat,
startled and dishevelled but otherwise, like them, mercifully unhurt.
    Their faces were a picture of surprise as they both said together. ‘Bridie!’ whilst the girl stared back belligerently.
    ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Eveleen asked.
    ‘Running away,’ the girl said promptly. ‘To Nottingham.’
    ‘You mean you want to come and live with us?’ Richard asked.
    The girl’s chin rose defiantly. ‘No, ’cos I don’t suppose you want me either.’
    Richard and Eveleen exchanged a swift glance then Eveleen asked, ‘Whatever do you mean?’
    Bridie bit hard on her lower lip, but not before the two adults had seen its sudden tremble. Richard reached over the back of the seat and touched her hand. ‘What is it, love? You can tell
us.’
    Now tears filled the girl’s eyes as she blurted out, ‘I’m just some girl’s bastard that nobody wants. Even Mr Stephen called me that, didn’t he?’
    ‘He what ?’ Eveleen cried and Richard’s mouth tightened angrily.
    ‘Yes, he did. Forgive me, Bridie, but in the heat of the moment I didn’t really think about what he was saying. I wish now I had punched him on the nose.’
    Even amidst her tears Bridie gave a hiccuping laugh. ‘I wish you had too, Uncle Richard.’ Then she sighed and said, ‘But he’s not the only one. It’s what they
called me at school.’
    Eveleen gasped. ‘Oh, how cruel!’
    ‘Well, no-one’s going to call you it ever again, if I can help it,’ Richard said firmly. ‘But now I want you to tell us exactly why you want to run away from your gran
and Josh.’
    Bridie plucked at the edge of the rug and avoided the concerned look on both their faces. ‘It – it’s not, Josh, so much as – as . . .’ she mumbled, hesitant to
speak ill of Mary to her daughter, but Eveleen was quick to understand and to end the sentence for the girl by saying wryly, ‘My mother.’
    Richard probed further, but gently. ‘Is it something that’s just happened?’
    ‘Well – sort of.’
    They waited, oblivious now of the time or even of their predicament, whilst the motor car’s wheels settled even deeper into the ditch.
    ‘She was telling me off. Nothing much, just that I hadn’t fed the hens and that I was always running off to play with Micky and not doing my work.’ She looked up at Eveleen.
‘You know.’
    Eveleen nodded and said softly, ‘Yes, I know.’
    ‘And then I said I’d run away and she said where to and I said I’d go to you.’ Again there was silence, until Bridie blurted out, ‘And she said you were too busy to
be looking after a troublesome child like me.’
    ‘Oh, darling.’ Eveleen laughed, trying to make the sensitive girl