Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

‘You look wonderful,’ Emma said at last, breaking the silence, her eyes overflowing with the tenderest of lights.

‘So do you, little sister,’ Winston said. ‘Quite grown-up, too.’ He smiled at her lovingly and with pride, and then the smile congealed. His joy was dampened when he remembered how poor little Frank had grieved for Emma, was still grieving for her, and a furious glint entered those startling eyes. He grabbed her arm roughly. ‘Hey, our Emma, where the hell have you been all these months? We’ve been worried to death! How could you run off like that?’

There was a hidden smile on Emma’s face. ‘Oh, the pot’s calling the kettle black, is it?’

Winston glared. ‘I’m a man. That’s different. You’d no business sneaking off that way. You were needed at home.’

‘Don’t shout, Winston,’ said Emma. ‘Dad knows where I’ve been. I’ve written to him regularly, and sent him money.’

Winston was scrutinizing her closely and scowling darkly. ‘Yes, but you never put an address on those letters-where we could write back. That was wrong of you, Emma.’

‘Dad knows I’ve been travelling with my lady, Mrs John Smith of Bradford. Please, Winston, don’t look so angry, and let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.’

‘Sorry,’ Winston muttered, and released his powerful grip. He took hold of her hand. ‘Come on, don’t let’s stand here, making a spectacle of ourselves. I can see half a dozen lace curtains twitching.’ He almost dragged her up to Top Fold.

‘I expect you have a ship now, don’t you, Winston?’ asked Emma warmly, hoping to dispel her brother’s belligerent mood.

‘Yes,’ said the laconic Winston.

Undismayed by his curtness, Emma persisted, ‘Where are you stationed, Winston?’

‘Scapa Flow.’

‘Well, you must give me your address, so that I can write to you every week. Would you like me to?’

‘If you want.’

‘Yes, I do. And I’ll give you my address. You’ll write back to me, won’t you, Winston?’

‘Yes.’

Emma sighed inside. However, she knew him well enough not to be discouraged by his gruff answers. The evasiveness in her letters about her whereabouts over the past months obviously still rankled with him. She hoped her father would not have the same attitude, that he was not harbouring any grudges. Now she said gaily, ‘It must be exciting, being in the navy. Seeing different places, I’m ever so glad you joined up, Winston, really I am. Why, you can see the world, just like you always dreamed about doing when you were little.’ He did not respond, but Emma saw a softening on his face, and she pressed, ‘It is exciting, isn’t it?’

Winston was incapable of remaining angry with his beloved Emma for long. Also, he knew his brusqueness with her was really caused by his own growing apprehension. He must not upset her unduly. Not now when within minutes she was about to suffer a terrible shock. And so he adopted a cheeriness he did not feel, and said, ‘Yes, you’re right. It is exciting. I love the navy, Emma. I’m learning a lot. Not just about life at sea, but many other things, educational things. It’s fascinating. I aim to do well in the navy, Emma.’

His last statement filled her with pleasure. She opened her mouth, but before she could comment, he rushed on, ‘I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anybody else, Emma. I was a bit scared at first.’

Emma’s eyes flew open. ‘ You scared? I don’t believe it.’

Winston was relieved he had managed to divert her from asking any trying questions about the family. He cleared his throat. ‘Well, I was,’ he confided, a wry smile playing on his mouth. ‘It was the night I boarded my ship for the first time. It was a cold night, and dark and raining, and they moved us from Shotley Barracks, opposite Harwich, to Sheerness. The picket boat drew up to the battleship, and I was going up the accommodation ladder to the quarterdeck when I saw these giant brass letters on the bulkhead shining in the faint light. “Fear God, Honour the King”, they said. I got a funny sensation in the pit of my stomach. I was awed, Emma, and fearful. Those words were so-so-meaningful, so serious. Powerful, really. I suddenly understood about the great traditions of the British navy and all they stood for. The honour, the courage, and the glory inherited from men like Drake and Raleigh and Nelson. I realized I was in the service of my King and country. I felt a pride, a sense of duty. That night I think I began to take the navy seriously. It was no longer simply an escape route from Fairley, or a lark.’

Emma was both impressed and moved by his words. ‘I’m proud of you, Winston. I bet Dad is, too.’

This remark wiped the smile off his face. ‘Hurry up,’ he said, striding out.

Emma had to run to keep up with him. ‘Well, Dad is, isn’t he?’ she asked cheerfully, ignoring his glum expression, smiling widely.

‘I don’t know,’ mumbled Winston, and he kept his head averted.

‘Did you tell him all that? About the traditions of the navy and the way you felt? It would please him, Winston. It really would. He was a good soldier himself when he was in the Boer War and he’s very patriotic, you know.’

Attempting to circumvent any discussion about their father, Winston said, ‘And what about you, Emma? How have you been? I notice you are talking very fancy, for one thing.’

Amused, she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye and said in a jocular tone, ‘So are you, Winston Harte. Do you think I’m deaf?’

‘No, I don’t. I’ve been paying attention to myself, Emma. In every way. And I don’t just mean by speaking properly, either. I’m going in for promotion,’ he announced. ‘You don’t think I want to stay a rating, do you? I’m moving up the ladder. I’ll be an able seaman next, then a leading seaman. Eventually, I intend to be a petty officer, maybe even a chief petty officer one day.’

‘Not an admiral?’ Emma teased.

‘I know my limitations,’ he retorted, but his voice was kind. He put his arm around her shoulder protectively, in the way he had done when they were children. She was immediately aware of his unspoken love. Emma smiled inside, thinking how wonderful it was to be with Winston again, and in a few seconds she would be hugging her father, and little Frank, and it would be like old times.

They hurried down Top Fold in silence, and when they reached the garden gate leading to the cottage Emma’s heart lifted with happiness and she extracted herself from Winston’s embrace and flew up the flagged path, propelled by her mounting excitement. She did not see the heartsick expression clouding Winston’s face.

Frank had his back to the door, and he was peering into the oven set to one side of the fireplace, when Emma walked in. ‘Yer late again, our Winston. Me Aunty Lily’ll play pop if she knows. I’ve tried ter keep yer dinner warm, but it looks a bit funny now. Still, here it is, Winston.’ The younger boy straightened up and swung around. He almost dropped the plate he was holding the moment he saw Emma. His mouth sagged and his eyes became so huge they filled his narrow face like liquid pools of grey light. He was dumbfounded. Then he banged the plate down on to the table negligently and sped across the room. He flung himself into Emma’s outstretched arms with such velocity he almost knocked her over. She held him close to her, stroking his hair. He began to cry, sobbing as if his heart would break. She was at once startled and baffled, and she tried to soothe him.

‘Frank, lovey, don’t cry so. I’m here, safe and well, and with presents for you, too. Presents you’ll like, Frank.’

He raised his freckled and damp face to hers and said, with a snuffle, ‘I’ve missed yer, Emma. Ever so much. I thought yer’d never come back. Never ever again.’