That’s another good man you’ve caught out Mistress Dawson, is it? My gullible brother’s fallen for your ungodly charms too has he?”

Charlie continued: “And if I could go out there and bring him home, that’s what I’d do. “But I too, must just wait.” His voice was heavy with resignation and Annie realised how much he loved his younger brother. “I understand,” Annie said softly. “And I’m sorry we’ve bothered you at this time but Mary’s concerned too.”

At the mention of her name, Mary raised her eyes to meet those of Charlie Cassiday. “I’m pregnant, Mr Cassiday,” she said flatly, “With Joe’s child.”

For a long moment Charlie gazed at her. “So, that’s it,” he said slowly, as if the last piece of some giant jigsaw had suddenly fallen into place.

“That’s another good man you’ve caught out Mistress Dawson, is it? My gullible brother’s fallen for your ungodly charms too has he?”

Annie felt her back stiffen at the hurtful remark. “Your brother’s a fine man, Mr Cassiday,” she said. “But he’s no angel.”

“It’s all right, Annie,” added Mary, finding her fighting spirit again.

Fighting spirit

“Mr Cassiday’s made no secret of not liking me and that’s his choice but the fact remains, me and Joe are going to have a babe and we’re going to be married.”

She stood up and swiftly moved to the door followed by Annie.

“If you hear anything further, Mr Cassiday,” Mary said. “I’d be much obliged if you’d let me know. But I’m sure I’ll hear from Joe myself soon. Thank you for seeing us.”

Out in the lane, Mary breathed in the late autumn air. “Will you come back with me to the single-end,” she asked Annie. “Just for a while?”

Annie put her arm around her shoulder. “Of course,” she whispered. “C’mon.”

A small brown envelope awaited them at the singleend and it was addressed to Mary. It had a crown on it and was postmarked Edinburgh. Mary felt her blood run cold.

“You open it, Annie,” she said, trembling. “It’s word about Joe, I just know it is.”

Annie sat her down and opened the envelope. Annie felt a rush of shock wash over her. “Tell me, Annie,” Mary gasped. “Tell me what it says.”

Annie handed her the letter. “It’s not about Joe,” she said her voice faint with disbelief. “It’s about Billy.”

Mary quickly read the words. “Cowardice,” she gasped. “Billy, a coward?”

Both Annie and Mary had known Billy at his best and at his worst and knew he’d never run from a fight. “Why, he volunteered,” ventured Mary. “How can they say he’s a coward?”

Annie’s mind tried to picture Billy, tall and handsome as she remembered him on the day she first set eyes on him at the farm in Ireland and a softness formed inside her.

“There’s a lot of water passed under the bridge since Ireland,” she said to Mary.

“And God knows, Billy Dawson has a lot to answer for but…” Annie felt a longing inside for the safe feeling Billy had given her along with his love. She brushed a tiny tear from her eye as the memories crowded into her heart. “But, he’s a strong man,” she finished. “And no coward.”

Revelation

Mary watched her sister. “Annie,” she whispered, “I’ve something to tell you.”

“Not more bad news,” she said sadly. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

Mary hung her head. “There’s another letter,” she began, her voice barely audible. “Or there was.” “Mary,” Annie said. “You’re not making sense…” “Please, let me finish.” Mary took a deep breath. “There was a letter for you, sent here, from Billy.”

Annie felt a knot of confusion forming on her forehead. “When?” she asked. “Before he was sent to France.” Annie waited. “He still loves you Annie,” Mary told her. “He always has.”

“And where is this letter?” Annie asked disbelievingly.

Mary’s lips tightened. “I burnt it,” she said. The silence was tangible. “I was jealous,” she muttered, “So I burnt it.”

Annie let the statement sink into her subconscious. “Thanks for telling me,” she said finally. “I know how much you must have hurt.”

Clatter of looms

The clatter of the looms greeted Annie on her first day back at the mill.

She breathed in the familiar smell of the jute and smiled at the small boys delivering their barrow-loads of bobbins to the weavers.

Jessie was at the far end of the weaving flat, her arms waving wildly at one of the tenters as he tried to oil life back into a silent pair of looms.

Annie nodded to the remembered faces of the other weavers as she approached Jessie and tapped her on the shoulder.

Jessie’s eyes lit up with delight on seeing Annie standing there. “Good God,” she cried above the din. “Where have you sprung from?”

Annie grinned. “I’m back to work,” she shouted, pointing to the row of looms. “Which pair?”

Jessie hugged her tightly and took her hand. “Follow me,” she mouthed. She took Annie past where the tenter was finishing his work. “This do you?” she laughed. Annie patted the tenter on the shoulder as she went by and winked at Jessie. “This’ll do me just fine,” she said, “Gaffer.” Jessie threw back her head and hooted. “See you at half-twelve,” Jessie signed above the din. Annie nodded. It was good to be back. “You’re the last person I thought I’d see back here!” exclaimed Jessie as they settled down on a pile of jute sacks to eat their midday dinner.

“Not that I’m no’ glad to see you, mind,” she added quickly.

Annie smiled. “Thanks Jessie. I’m glad to see you too. And promoted to chargehand.”

Jessie beamed. “Mister Campbell says it’s just ’til the war’s over but wha kens what’s afore you.”

Annie began to eat her bread and cheese, the mention of war bringing back to her mind again the letter about Billy’s cowardice.

“But what aboot yoursel’ Annie, what’s been happenin’ to you and that wee bairn o’ yours?”

Jessie’s voice brought her back to the present.