United We Stand E-Book

Sarah Swatridge

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 178

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"United We Stand" by Sarah Swatridge tells the story of a close-knit village community navigating through challenges and personal dramas. Kathleen, a key character, balances her responsibilities and romantic prospects while supporting her family and neighbors. Key events include a fire at McCall’s warehouse, which threatens the village’s livelihood, and Kathleen’s attempts to reconcile with her estranged cousin Edmund. As the women of the village band together to create a cooperative market, the theme of unity and resilience shines through, emphasizing the importance of community spirit and mutual support in overcoming adversity.

Leseprobe

UNITED WE STAND

by Sarah Swatridge

Disgrace

Kathleen Wilder could hear voices in the kitchen. It was late, and she was dressed only in her nightclothes.

She stood hidden by the large stone fireplace. She was sure she could see her cousin Edmund and his friend, George, who worked in the stables.

The two of them were bending over her grandmother’s chair. She was about to offer help when she realised they were arguing.

“Leave it,” Edmund said. “Let’s promise never to breathe a word about this.”

George seemed to hesitate then nodded.

“Who’s there?”

Gran appeared from the doorway at the other side of the chimney breast.

She had a stick in her hand and waved it at the two young men, who were now making a hasty retreat out of the back door and away into the fields.

Kathleen hurried back up to her room and tried to sleep. However she was disturbed by lots of comings and goings.

She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and went downstairs.

“Oh, my love, did we wake you?” Kathleen’s mother soothed.

“What is happening?” Kathleen asked as she took in the scene.

A police officer stood near the door asking questions.

“You go back to bed, love,” Gran said with her usual warm smile.

It was only the following day, when she was running errands in the village for her grandmother, that she heard people saying that money had been stolen from Gran’s kitchen in the dead of night.

“Is that true, Gran?” Kathleen asked on her return. “Did someone really steal your money?”

“It’s a sorry affair,” her gran replied.

She paused and then put on her usual, cheerful voice.

“There’s no use wringing our hands over it. Why don’t you put the kettle on and make us some tea?”

That was the last she heard of the robbery. No-one in the family spoke of it.

What was more troubling was that Edmund had disappeared and no-one would tell her where he’d gone.

Kathleen missed having her cousin living close by. Although some years older, he always treated her with respect.

Edmund was like a big brother to her. He took time to listen to her and had patience to teach her new things.

“When will Edmund be back?” she asked her mother one day.

“I will not have Edmund’s name mentioned in this house again! Do you understand? He’s a disgrace to us all.

“Thank goodness your aunt has acted so swiftly in arranging for his departure. Now we can put it all behind us and forget he ever existed.”

“But Mother . . .” Kathleen began, distraught, picturing Edmund’s cheery smile and friendly face.

“I said not another word. Ever!”

Fire!

Ten years had passed since her cousin had disappeared. Nothing had been heard of him in the intervening time.

Today Kathleen was in the market when she heard a man shout.

“Fire!”

She smelled smoke and saw ash rising into the sky from the direction of McCall’s warehouse.

Men rushed about at the scene with buckets of water, tin baths and empty barrels. The flames rose, timbers creaked and cracked.

The smoke-filled air stung Kathleen’s eyes and made her cough. All she could do was comfort the women who’d been working in the factory at the time.

No-one outside the village would have guessed Mr McCall had had a small but thriving business. Sometimes as many as 50 women were working on the looms until it was too dark for them to see.

“What happened?” she asked.

“We were working the looms, with our heads down as usual, then Clara looked up and saw them.”

“Saw what?”

“Flames in the corner!” Clara told her. “They had appeared from out of nowhere but were spreading.

“Mr McCall and a couple of others tried to put the fire out, but it got out of control so quickly!”

The girl coughed again and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes that were sore from the smoke.

By the time Kathleen arrived home from the market, McCall’s warehouse was a burned shell of a barn. The black timbers looked like the huge carcass of a dead farm animal.

“My dear, whatever’s happened?” Kathleen’s mother cried. “You’re covered in soot!”

“Sorry, Mother, but I had to help. I couldn’t stand back and see Mr McCall lose his business.”

“What are you talking about?” her mother asked.

“There was a fire in McCall’s warehouse and the whole lot has burned to a cinder! Rescuers tried to salvage what they could but only one loom was taken out completely undamaged.”

“Heavens! What about the workers?” Her father was a church minister. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, thank goodness,” Kathleen responded, “although they are all shocked.”

“I shall visit them and see what is needed,” Reverend Wilder said with determination.

Immediately he rose from the table and headed off to the village.

Meanwhile Kathleen went to sit with her grandmother and tell her the news as gently as she could.

Gran was quite withdrawn these days. Most afternoons Kathleen would sit and read to her but now and again, especially when there was good news, she would tell her “the gossip”.

Her father might frown on idle gossip, but she only relayed stories to cheer her grandmother up if she could.

Gran had always lived in the village and it was safe to say that she knew everyone there, as she had known their parents and grandparents.

Unfortunately these days she spent most of her time either resting in bed or sitting in a chair by the window.

She rarely ventured out of the house, only making it to church on high days and holidays.

Community Spirit

The following day the real impact of the fire began to hit home to all in the small community.

The excitement of the blaze had died down and now came the realisation of no work. Without work there would be no money; without money, no food.

Without food?

It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Oh, Father!” Kathleen said as he explained their plight. “What can we do?”

“There’s really nothing we can do,” Mrs Wilder began.

“I gather that the one good loom is now in George Kimber’s stone barn and, fortunately, young Mr McCall had just sold some cloth and was returning with money,” Reverend Wilder said. “He can pay his workers their wages and they are already talking about building the business back up again.”

“That will take time,” Kathleen pointed out. “I must see if I can arrange some practical help for them.”

Mrs Wilder shook her head but the reverend smiled proudly at his daughter.

Neither returned for lunch and when they finally came home, they felt they’d achieved something.

They had visited the wealthier landowners in the area and had managed to glean donations from each of them.

One family had given money while another had loaned his under-cook to work with Kathleen in setting up a temporary soup kitchen.

Others offered labourers to help clear the blackened remains of the old barn so that a new one could be erected on the site.

Kathleen and the under-cook began to organise the soup kitchen in one of George Kimber’s barns.

George, Edmund’s former friend, was now a carpenter doing very well for himself making carriages. Fortunately two had been sold and collected or delivered. Others had been moved to another of his barns.

He had offered to help with the reconstruction of the McCall warehouse. The ground had been doused and already, men were clearing away the sad remains.

Kathleen finished sweeping the floor of the barn just as other volunteers began to set up tables made from planks of wood and old doors.

Seats were pews from the church or old tree trunks cut to size.

Despite the tragedy of the ruined warehouse and the loss of the weavers’ livelihoods, Kathleen couldn’t help but be heartened by the way the community all pulled together to help one another.

It had been the same a few years ago when an almighty storm had left many homes damaged by lightning. Others had been flooded.

It had been awful at the time, but the villagers’ community spirit had become stronger because of it and many lasting friendships had been formed.

* * * *

They had been given a mountain of vegetables, many of which had now been peeled and chopped and were simmering away in large cauldrons over a fire.

It was a simple dish but would be enough to warm the villagers’ hearts and fill their empty stomachs.

“Mr McCall was saying he thinks the fire started because rags soaked in linseed oil had been left in the corner and had become too hot,” Clara told Kathleen as she collected her vegetable soup. “Thank you, Miss Kathleen.”

George Kimber’s barn had been transformed. It was a large, old tithe barn with an uneven stone floor and a fireplace at each end. Both now had a fire lit. At one of them Kathleen and the under-cook from Marcham House had cauldrons of vegetable soup ready to feed the hungry.

“Soup, sir?” Kathleen asked without looking up.

When she did so she was surprised by the man who stood in front of her. He was dressed as a working man, not a labourer, but she didn’t recognise him.

He had dark brown eyes and wavy hair that had been let grow a little too long.

“I heard about the fire.” The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m not one of McCall’s workers, though.”

“We’ve plenty of soup,” she offered, stirring the cauldron. “Local landowners have been very generous.”

“I’m looking for George Kimber.”

“He’s with Mr McCall.”

Kathleen watched as he turned and left.

“Will you need me tomorrow, miss?” the under-cook was asking.

“Sorry, I was day-dreaming. Did you ask me something?”

“He was nice looking, wasn’t he?” the girl said with a sly smile.

She chuckled when Kathleen blushed.

Social Visit

The following afternoon, to Kathleen’s annoyance, her mother had invited Lady Baddesley from Baddesley Chase to take tea with them.

Although Kathleen’s mother was married to Reverend Wilder it was felt in some circles that she had married beneath her.

Young Maria Calthorne had fallen head over heels in love with the minister because of his kindness and many good deeds. Nevertheless she’d never quite let go of her upper-class roots and society connections.

The Wilders remained on the fringes of that social circle partly because they were both well connected and partly due to the fact that their daughter, Kathleen, was exceedingly pretty.

“Your aunt and I are going to entertain her and I want you to be there,” Mrs Wilder announced. “It will do you good to mix with some society people, as you should be doing.”

“I am needed at the soup kitchen,” Kathleen protested. “It will only be until the factory is up and running again.

“They have already made good progress with the new barn, although Mr McCall has not had any luck in getting hold of any more looms. He had been hoping to borrow some for the short term.”

“You must wear your yellow dress,” Mrs Wilder continued, ignoring all Kathleen’s pleas. “At least, then, you won’t smell of smoke. It really has been lingering for far too long!”

Kathleen spent the morning preparing soup for the workers but she returned home in good time to change and don her yellow dress.

As she did this she thought to question her maid.

“It is only Lady Baddesley who is coming, isn’t it, Netty?”

“As far as I know, Miss Kathleen. Were you expecting someone else?”

Kathleen shrugged.

“It had just occurred to me that my mother might have an ulterior motive and that Lady Baddesley might have an unmarried son.”

The maid’s eyes lit up.

“Shall I dress your hair up real pretty, then?”

“I think it will be fine just the way it is,” Kathleen retorted.

She had no wish to attract an unwanted suitor.

The conversation was strained over afternoon tea. Mrs Wilder was trying too hard to please, Kathleen felt.

Aunt Rose sat silently as usual while Lady Baddesley chattered away, hardly pausing for breath.

Her conversation was littered with the names of titled people, none of whom the other three ladies had ever met.

“Would you believe it,” Lady Baddesley said suddenly, “Brown, my lady’s maid, told me she saw a man the image of Master Edmund only just the other day!”

Lady Baddesley seemed unaware of the ripples she’d caused. Aunt Rose went pale and Mrs Wilder nearly choked on her cake.

Kathleen was hungry for news of Edmund.

“Really? How interesting! Where exactly did she see him?” Kathleen asked, to her mother’s dismay.

“Of course she can’t be sure it was him but she said it was a good likeness. Mr Hobbs, the butcher, agreed with her.”

“More tea?” Mrs Wilder offered in an effort to divert the conversation. “I do think Cook makes some remarkable cakes, don’t you?”

“They are excellent,” Lady Baddesley agreed and no more was said of Kathleen’s missing cousin.

When Lady Baddesley finally left, Kathleen excused herself to go and sit with her grandmother, but found her asleep.

She sat with her for a while, however, listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing. It was a comforting sound.

Kathleen considered Lady Baddesley’s visit and her mention of Edmund. How she missed her cousin’s kindness and cheerful nature.

She loved her gran dearly and could remember her, not so many years ago, as a feisty woman known for getting things done in the area.

Once there had been a very bad outbreak of sickness in two nearby villages. Folk had likened it to the plague from years past though this current one was not quite so terrible as that fearful disease.

Her grandmother had acted quickly and had managed to have barricades to erected on the road into the village and the road out of it. That way no-one could enter and no-one could leave.

It had caused quite a commotion and many villagers were not happy at the situation but not a single soul had caught the disease in their village.

She had been hailed later as a heroine.

Triplets!

Next morning Kathleen was worried when her aunt refused to come down to breakfast. It was her hope that Aunt Rose wasn’t taking to her bed and withdrawing from village life as her grandmother had done.

“She is merely under the weather,” Mrs Wilder explained. “Let her rest.”

Kathleen was sure it had something to do with the mention of Edmund. After all, he was her son and nothing had been seen or heard of him for years. No wonder she was anxious for news.

Kathleen decided she would call upon her aunt at the earliest opportunity – when her mother was otherwise engaged.

“Excuse me.” The maid appeared. “Miss Kathleen is needed at the door!”

“We’re in the middle of breakfast,” Mrs Wilder said irritably.

“It’s not a problem, Mother, I’m sure I’ll only be a moment.”

Kathleen followed Netty downstairs to the servants’ quarters. One of the girls from the village was seated at the table and was enjoying a mug of tea.

Her face was flushed, perhaps from running, and she was trying to tell a story excitedly to the rest of the staff.

She paused as Kathleen appeared and they all stood.

“What is it?” Kathleen asked, sensing excitement more than tragedy.

“Mrs Pearson’s time came in the night,” the girl blurted out. “The midwife was called and there were not one, not two but three babies! Can you believe it?”

“Three!” Cook repeated. “Well, I never!”

“Is Mrs Pearson well?” Kathleen asked as she slipped into a chair opposite the young girl.

“The midwife said it were extraordinary! Some women have trouble with one baby but with Mrs Pearson it were like shelling peas – one, two, three. All girls, and all three of them small but living.”

“Let us thank the Lord for that.”

Kathleen looked at the girl, wondering why she had brought the message.

Mind you, it was remarkable to have given birth to triplets and all, including the mother, to have survived.

The young girl seemed to read Kathleen’s mind.

“I’ve been sent to ask for clothes, miss. The church lady brought the box of garments as usual but it’s not going to be enough!”

“Of course it’s not!” Kathleen laughed. “I shall spread the word and we’ll see what we can do for Mrs Pearson. Will you send her my good wishes, please?”

“Of course, and thank you, miss. I was told you would help if you could.”

“Cook, is there perhaps some food we can send? Mrs Pearson will need to keep her strength up if she’s to feed all these new babies!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Cook agreed with a cheery smile.

Kathleen almost skipped upstairs to tell her parents.

“They must be the first triplets born in the village!” Reverend Wilder marvelled on hearing the good news.

“Mother, as you can imagine she’s in desperate need of baby clothes. We need to put together what we can for her.”

Mrs Wilder nodded.

“I’m sure your aunt will help; she enjoys that sort of thing.”

Kathleen didn’t need to be told twice. She began to run up the stairs, then recalled her mother’s words about decorum and took the last few steps daintily.

Firstly Kathleen visited her grandmother. She was glad to find her in good spirits and eating a hearty breakfast in bed.

“Mrs Pearson has given birth to triplets, Gran!” Kathleen announced. “Mother and all three little girls are doing well although, of course, it is early days.”

“It is,” her grandmother agreed. “I should like to send her something, though. I imagine she’ll have the whole village fussing around her at the moment but that won’t last.

“It will give me time to think of something really useful.”

Kathleen was surprised by her grandmother’s generosity toward Mrs Pearson but, after all, the arrival of three healthy babies was definitely a special event in the life of the village.

Aunt Rose was delighted to hear the news, too. She decided to make what she could for the new babies and would set about that straightaway.

Kathleen hesitated at the door, about to ask about her cousin Edmund.

She decided it would spoil Aunt Rose’s positive mood. The older woman looked so relieved to have some good news and to have been given something useful to do.

Perhaps it would take her mind off whatever had been bothering her.

“Call Me Nathan”

Kathleen hurried to the village and went straight to the barn to start peeling vegetables for another batch of soup.

She’d only been there a few minutes when the handsome man she’d met briefly the other day appeared again.

This time he was without his jacket and carrying a large sack of potatoes.

“George asked me to bring these,” he explained.

“Oh, thank you,” Kathleen said gratefully. “You can put them there.”

“It’s Miss Kathleen, isn’t it?” he asked.

As he said her name their eyes met and she knew at once who it was.

“Edmund!”

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.” He laughed. “You can only have been a child when I went away.”

“I was at least twelve!” Kathleen said, indignantly. “And I certainly do remember you. It was a shame you went away.

“You could have come to say goodbye. I am your cousin, after all! And I’ve been missing you ever since,” she scolded.

“There are a lot of things that are best forgotten,” Edmund told her. “I’m now known as Nathan, Nathan Kimber. George’s kin.”

“That’s not your name and you’re related to me, not to George,” Kathleen protested with her head on one side as she tried to make sense of it all.

“It’s best this way, Miss Kathleen.”

She shook her head at the formal address but they were interrupted by a group of children filling the baskets with firewood.

“Will we be seeing you at lunchtime, Mr Kimber?” she asked. “It would be a pleasure to serve you.”

“In that case I shall make a point of lunching here with George. In fact, I’ll make sure I call in at the bakery and see what bread I can buy for you to serve with the soup. A bonus for everyone.”

Edmund-now-Nathan nodded and turned to go. She felt a warm glow in her heart.

She had always believed her cousin a good man even though she’d heard it whispered that it was he who had taken money from her grandmother all those years ago.

News of the triplets spread through the village. Kathleen took over a dish of soup and some bread to feed up Mrs Pearson.

“How on earth do you tell them apart?” she marvelled as she looked down at the three sleeping babies.

“Don’t disturb them, Miss Kathleen. We’ve just got them off to sleep!”

Mrs Pearson ate the soup gratefully and explained she was going to call the girls Faith, Hope and Charity. They’d be blessed in church on Sunday by Kathleen’s father.

“I brought this gown.”

Kathleen held it up. It wasn’t new but babies grew quickly.