Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

Winston eventually calmed her down again and Frank brought the tea. She took hold of the cup. Her hand shook so badly she had to put it down. She stared into space and finally managed to ask, ‘How did he die?’ Her voice was drained. She looked at Frank and then at Winston.

‘There was an accident,’ Winston said. ‘I was at Scapa Flow. Aunt Lily sent me a telegram and they let me come home on compassionate leave. We didn’t know where to find you, Emma. We kept thinking you’d be back in a few days. Hoping against hope. But-’

Emma was silent. She had no excuses. A sick dismay lodged in her stomach, and guilt mingled with her grief, which was absolute. After a few seconds she asked tremulously, ‘What kind of accident?’ She was determined to know everything now, however heartrending it was. She turned to Frank, who had seated himself next to her. ‘You were here before Winston arrived. Can you explain it to me? Would it be too hard for you, Frankie? Too painful, lovey?’

‘No, Emma. I can tell you.’ He gulped. ‘Winston said I have to be brave and strong and accept life’s hard knocks,’ he intoned in that serious voice he sometimes adopted. Her heart went out to him. He was such a little boy and he was trying to be so courageous.

‘You’re a good, brave boy, Frank. Tell me all about it. But take your time.’ She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

‘Well, yer see, Emma, that Saturday yer left, me and me dad was working at t’mill, as yer knows. Anyways, there was a fire and me dad got burned. On his back and his shoulders and legs. Third-degree burns, so Dr Mac said. And he breathed a lot of smoke.’

Emma’s blood ran cold as he was speaking. She shuddered, and her heart tightened as she imagined her father’s pain, the suffering he must undoubtedly have endured from his torturous injuries. She tried to steady herself, not wishing to disturb Frank, who was on the verge of tears again.

‘Are yer all right, our Emma?’ he asked solicitously.

‘Yes, Frank. Finish telling me.’

Speaking gravely, he gave her the precise details of the injuries their father had sustained, the care and attention he had received, the concern of Adam Fairley, the devotion of Dr Mac and his wife, and the doctors at the valley hospital.

When he had finished, Emma said in a choked voice, ‘How horrible for Dad to die like that, in such pain. I can’t bear to think about it. How awful it must have been for him.’

Frank eyed her carefully. ‘Me Aunty Lily said he didn’t want to live any more.’ His tone was hushed and his face was all bone and freckles, and he looked like a little old man to Emma.

She stared at him stupefied, her brows puckering. ‘What a weird and terrible thing for her to say about our dad. What did she mean, lovey?’

Frank looked at Winston, who nodded his assent. ‘We went ter see me dad every day,’ Frank explained. ‘Tom Hardy took us in the Squire’s carriage. Me dad didn’t seem ter get any better, Emma. On the Wednesday after the accident, when we was there, me Aunt Lily said ter him, “Now, Jack, yer can’t go on like this yer knows, lad. Yer’ve got ter make an effort. Or yer’ll be where poor Elizabeth is, in the cemetery.” And me dad, he stared at her ever so funny like, with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he said, “I wish I was with Elizabeth, Lily.” And when we was leaving, I kissed him and he said, “Goodbye, Frankie. Always be a good lad.” Just like that. Final like. And when he kissed Winston-’ Frank’s eyes flew to his brother. ‘Tell her what he said ter yer, Winston.’

Winston ran his hand through his hair. ‘Dad said to me, “Look after the young ‘uns, Winston. Stick together. And when Emma comes back from Bradford, tell her ter pick a sprig of heather for me and thee mam, up at the Top of the World, and keep it by her always for remembrance.” And then-’ Winston’s voice cracked at the memory. He took a deep breath, and continued softly, ‘Dad tried to get hold of my hand, Emma, but his were all burned and bandaged, so I brought my face down to his and he kissed me again, and he said, “I love thee all, Winston. But I love Elizabeth the best and I can’t live without her.” I began to cry, but Dad just smiled, and he had such a bright light in his eyes. They were as vivid as yours, Emma, and he looked happy. Really happy. He said I shouldn’t be sad, because he had me mam to go to. I thought he was a bit delirious, to tell you the truth. The doctor came in then and asked us to leave. It was on the way back to Fairley that Aunt Lily said he’d die of a broken heart and not his burns. That he’d never stopped grieving for our mam. He died that same night, Emma. Peacefully, in his sleep. It was as if he had wanted to die, like Aunt Lily said.’

Emma said, with a strangled sob, ‘Did he understand that I hadn’t returned from Bradford, and that’s why I wasn’t there, Winston?’

Her brother nodded. ‘Yes, and he wasn’t upset, Emma. He said he didn’t have to see you, because you were locked in his heart for ever.’

Emma closed her burning eyes and leaned back against the chair. My father needed me and I wasn’t here, she thought. If only I had waited a few days longer. She dreaded to hear more, but she could not stop herself probing for additional details. ‘It must have been a terrible fire. Obviously you weren’t hurt, Frank, thank heaven. Were many of the men injured? Who else died?’

‘No, I wasn’t hurt at all,’ Frank reassured her. ‘A few of the men had minor burns, but not serious. Only me dad died, Emma.’

Emma looked at him in puzzlement. ‘But if there was a fire at the mill, surely-’

‘The fire wasn’t in the mill building. It was in the big warehouse,’ Frank interrupted. ‘Me dad was crossing the yard and he spotted the flames raging. If he hadn’t gone inter the warehouse he wouldn’t have been hurt at all. Yer see, Master Edwin was down in the mill yard that day, and he was struggling ter open the door of the warehouse. He went inside. Me dad ran in after him, warning him it was ever so dangerous. A blazing bale was falling from the gantry, near Master Edwin. Me dad threw himself on top of Master Edwin, ter protect him. The bale hit me dad, and he saved Master Edwin’s life, and with selfless courage, so the Squire said.’

Emma went icy cold all over. ‘My father saved Edwin Fairley’s life!’ she cried with such ferocity even Winston was brought up sharply, aghast at her tone. ‘He died to save a Fairley! My father sacrificed himself for one of them !’ She spat out the words venomously. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she shouted. She began to laugh hysterically, and her bitterness rose up in her.

Her brothers were gaping at her incredulously. Frank cringed and drew away from her. Winston said, ‘But Emma, anybody would have done the same thing-’

‘Would they really!’ she stormed, leaping out of the chair. She stood in the centre of the kitchen, her volcanic rage a stupendous force in her slender body. ‘Would Squire Fairley? Or Master Gerald? Or Master Edwin?’ Again she spat out the names and with a complete and virulent loathing. ‘Would they have risked their lives to save our father’s? Never. Never, I tell you. Not in a million years. Oh God! I can’t stand it,’ she screamed, and her whole body vibrated with her fulminating fury.

‘Calm down. Calm down, Emma. You’ll make yourself sick. It happened, and nothing will change that,’ Winston said, shaken at her violent reaction, and afraid for her.

‘The Squire has been ever so decent,’ interposed Frank, also trying to mollify her. ‘He pays us me dad’s wages. A pound a week, we get. And he’s going to pay it until I’m fifteen-’

‘That’s mighty big of him!’ snarled Emma, her eyes threatening and ugly. ‘That’s forty-eight pounds a year.’ She laughed caustically. ‘He’s paid it for the past ten months, I suppose. And he’ll pay it for another two years. Very decent of him indeed!’ Her tone dripped acid. ‘Is that all my father’s life was worth to the Fairleys? Approximately one hundred and fifty pounds, give or take a few shillings. It’s a joke. A disgusting joke!’ She caught her breath, her chest heaving. ‘ Is that all he was worth? ’ she demanded once more.