The Fleethaven Trilogy (122 page)

‘She wants to go gadding out to the pictures tonight
with Rob and the Souters,’ she heard her grandmother
telling him. ‘I’ve said no. There’s work to be done.’

The deep rumble of his voice answered her. ‘Let the lass
have some fun Esther.’

‘Fun? Fun, you say. Just ’cos I gave in at Christmas, she
reckons it’s the high life for her now. Well, she’s got
another think coming. They don’t know the meaning of
work, these young ’uns.’

‘You’ll lose her, Esther. You’ll drive her away—’

‘Like I drove our Lilian away, I suppose? She never
lifted a hand’s turn about the farm.’

‘You worked her in other ways. Wanted her to better
herself.’

‘Oh, so it’s my fault now she’s got so snooty, is it? That
she looks down on all of us. We’re not good enough for
our Lilian the school-marm now, a’ we? Never comes near
us, does she? We could drop dead in our tracks for all she
cares. ’Spect she’ll be the same.’

Coming back into the kitchen with the kettle, Ella
noticed her grandfather lean his head back wearily against
the wooden chair and close his eyes.

‘Who’s she? The cat’s mother?’

‘None of your sauce, Missy,’ Esther snapped back.

‘Don’t go on, Gran,’ Ella said, forcing a cheeriness,
though she was worried now by the sight of her grandfather’s
fatigue.

‘Don’t you be so cheeky, Missy, else . . .’

Ella placed the kettle on the fire and turned to face
Esther. ‘Don’t worry, Gran. I’ll not go tonight and I’ll be
up bright and early to help Grandpa tomorrow.’

‘You go out tonight, love, if you want to,’ he began.

‘It’s all right, honest, Grandpa. I’ll just nip across to
Rob’s, though, so they don’t wait for me.’

She left the kitchen and was about to step out of the
back door when she heard her grandfather’s voice again.
She paused, listening, and then was sorry she had done so
for her grandmother’s reply brought back all the hurt from
years ago.

‘You’re too hard on the girl, Esther,’ he was saying.
‘She’s a good little lass, willing and helpful.’

And then came the words Ella wished she had not
heard. ‘She’s a right to be,’ Esther snapped. ‘It’s not
everyone of my age would take in their daughter’s bastard
to bring up.’

Ella clutched the door jamb and closed her eyes, screwing
them up tightly against the hurt.

‘Esther, love,’ her grandfather’s deep voice came
reproachfully. ‘I know you had a rough upbringing under
your aunt’s harsh ways, but don’t do the same thing to
Ella. Don’t drive her to walk out, like you did.’

Ella moved on out of the back door and walked slowly
across the yard. What did her grandpa mean? Don’t do the
same thing to Ella? What was ‘the same thing’?

She was tired of all the hints and innuendos about the
past,
her
past. Ever since she had first come here, had
been forced by circumstances to stay here, her grandmother
had never once answered her probing questions; indeed,
often, she had become angry. The words Ella had overheard
just now had been like the proverbial ‘last straw’.
It was time she found out what all the secrets were; high
time she started asking questions
and
getting some
answers.

But who could she ask?

Biting her lip thoughtfully, she walked round to the
front of the house, squeezed through the hole in the hedge
and was soon flying round the edge of the field, no longer
a meadow but where tomorrow they would plant the
spring wheat, and across the plank bridge towards Rookery
Farm.

Grandma Eland might know. She’d ask her.

He was driving the tractor into the yard at Rookery Farm.

‘Rob,’ she called, and waved, shading her eyes against
the late afternoon sun dropping low in the western sky.
He parked the tractor in the Dutch barn and cut the
engine. Then he leapt down and they moved towards each
other.

‘I can’t come tonight,’ Ella told him, pulling a face.
‘Gran says no.’

She felt him looking at her closely, as he said, ‘There’s
more to it than that. Her saying no has never stopped you
before. You usually come anyway and take what’s comin’
later. So, come on – tell.’

She pushed her hands into the pockets of her trousers
and scuffed at the cobbles on the yard with the toe of her
plimsoll.

‘She says it’s because Grandpa’s not too well. He does
seem very tired and – and I daren’t call her bluff. Not this
time.’

‘Oh, well, if that’s the case, then fair enough. Besides,
your gran wouldn’t say it just to stop you going.’

Ella glanced at him and smiled to herself. There he
went again, sticking up for her grandmother. He’d never
altered in his admiration for Esther Godfrey, ‘the Missus
at Brumbys’ Farm’, and he wouldn’t hear a word said
against her. Ella said nothing to disillusion him but she
wasn’t quite sure she agreed with him; not in this instance
anyway.

‘So you’ll tell Janice and Jimmy?’

‘Oh, if you don’t come I don’t think I’ll go either. It’s
only a war film. I’m not that bothered about it. Besides,
it’ll come again sometime.’

Ella giggled. ‘Janice won’t like that,’ she murmured.

‘Eh?’ Rob looked startled. ‘What you on about? The
film, d’ya mean?’

‘No, Bumpkin. The fact that you’re not going. Janice
has a “thing” about you.’

He stared at her. ‘Janice? Don’t be daft.’

Her grin widened. ‘I’m not. Ever since we were ten,
when I first came here.’

‘Oh, come off it. At ten? Why, I wasn’t giving girls a
thought, then.’

‘Oh, I know that!’ She put her head on one side.
‘Changed a bit now, though, eh?’

He had the grace to look sheepish.

‘I’ve always had the feeling,’ Ella went on slowly, ‘that
Janice only befriended me at the start to get closer to you.’
She frowned, a half-forgotten memory nudging at her
mind. ‘I seem to remember her saying something about our
families being related. I didn’t take a lot of notice at the
time. I was too upset about Mum and having to come and
live here. I did ask Gran once, but I got my head snapped
off – as usual!’ Ella lifted her head and looked at him. ‘Do
you know anything about it?’

‘Me?’ He looked startled. ‘Why should I know? The old
’uns don’t tell us much about owt that went on, d’they
now?’

‘Worse than that,’ Ella said wryly. ‘They shut up like a
clam when you ask them anything.’

‘Well, you’re such a nosey little blighter. Can you blame
them?’ Then he paused and frowned more thoughtfully.
‘You know, now you mention it, there was something that,
well, bothered me for a while . . .’

‘What?’

‘It was when I first saw your mam and my dad together.
They seemed – well – very friendly.
Too friendly
.’

Ella gaped at him. Such a thing had never entered her
mind. From childhood she had seen the affection between
her mother and Uncle Danny every time he had visited
them in Lincoln and she had accepted it as being perfectly
natural.

The idea that there was anything wrong in it had never
entered her head.

‘Mind you,’ Rob was saying, ‘Me mam didn’t seem to
bother, so I just thought it must be okay. And then, of
course . . .’ He left the words unspoken, for they both
remembered that only a few days later, Kate had been
drowned.

Ella said slowly, ‘Your dad was dreadfully upset at her
funeral though, wasn’t he?’

Rob nodded and his troubled brown gaze met her
candid blue eyes.

‘I wonder . . . ?’ she murmured.

‘What?’ he prompted.

‘If your grandma would tell us?’

He pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Ya can ask her, but
whether she’ll tell you owt, now that’s another matter.
And I should tread very carefully, if I was you. She gets
very agitated if you ask questions. I was asking her about
me grandad once. I was only interested ’cos I’m called after
him. He was Robert Eland an’ all.’

‘He was killed in the pub at the Point, wasn’t he, when
the bomb dropped on it?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, but when I said, “Tell me about me
grandad”, d’you know, she started crying and I had to
leave off.’

‘Perhaps it still upsets her to think about him,’ Ella
suggested. ‘Anyway, I’ll be careful what I say.’

Grandma Eland was sitting in an easy chair in the living
room, dozing in front of a blazing fire. Her large bulk filled
the chair, her head lolling against the back. Her mouth
was open and her upper false teeth had dropped and were
slightly askew in her mouth. She was snoring very gently.

Ella stood uncertainly in the room, debating whether to
tiptoe out again without disturbing her. Perhaps, if she
waited a few moments, Grandma Eland would wake up.
Ella sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the fire,
but the heat soon became too much against her cheek and
she moved away to the other side of the room and leant
against the sideboard.

She glanced around the room; it was a cosy little sitting
room where Rob’s grandmother spent most of her time
now, dozing, knitting or reading. It seemed a dull life to
Ella’s mind, totally different from that of her own gran
who was on the go from six in the morning until ten at
night, and yet Grandma Eland seemed contented enough.
She had her family close by, all her own belongings around
her, her memories. Ella’s glance took in the pictures on the
wall, the ornaments on the mantelpiece, the shabby furniture
that had served a lifetime. Behind her, the carved
wooden cuckoo clock whirred as a prelude to striking and
then the tiny door flapped open and the bird appeared,
‘cuckoo-ed’ five times and shot back in again, the door
snapping shut. Grandma Eland snored on. Ella smiled and
turned to look at the clock standing on its white, lace-edged
runner on the sideboard behind her. On either side
were framed photographs: one of Uncle Danny in RAF
uniform and a family group taken on Danny and Rosie’s
wedding day. The bride was slim and very pretty, dressed
in a costume with a spray of flowers pinned to her lapel
and carrying a small bouquet. No white wedding in
wartime, Ella thought sympathetically, as she bent to look
closer. There were Danny and Rosie in the centre with
Grandma Eland to one side. Standing next to her was a
serious-looking man, with a full beard covering so much
of his face that it was difficult to see his expression. That
must be Rob’s grandad, she thought, the man he was
named after – Robert Eland. She remembered being told
that he had been killed only a few days after the wedding,
when Danny and Rosie were away on honeymoon. Poor
man, Ella thought. When that picture had been taken, he
had only a few more days to live. On the other side of the
bride and groom in the photograph stood Walter and Enid
Maine, Rosie’s parents, and behind them . . . Now that was
strange, Ella thought, she was sure it was her own gran
and grandpa. She scanned the tiny faces in the picture once
more, but there was no sign of the one person she had
expected to see there – her own mother, Kate. But fancy
her gran attending an Eland wedding!

Her gaze flickered over the other pictures and came to
rest on a silver-framed one at the very back. The photograph,
sepia and faded with age, was of a young man in
an old-fashioned uniform, standing very stiffly, his legs
bound tightly knee to ankle. The jacket, buttoned up to his
throat, looked tight and uncomfortable and in his eyes,
staring straight at the camera, there was a strange look;
not exactly fear, Ella decided, but certainly apprehension.
He was not very tall, but stockily built and, though it was
difficult to tell from the faded image, his hair looked to be
dark and curling. Although the picture was obviously old,
the young man’s face staring out at her reminded Ella of
Rob.

Ella frowned thoughtfully. The picture was vaguely
familiar but she couldn’t remember having looked at all
Grandma Eland’s treasured photographs before and yet
. . . Maybe as a child, she had seen them and forgotten.
She was turning away, when the door opened and Rosie
came in carrying a tray.

‘There now, I’ve brought you both a cup o’ tea and a
slice of plum bread.’ Her glance took in the still-sleeping
Grandma Eland. Setting the tray on a small table, she
moved towards the old lady.

‘Don’t disturb her, Aunty Rosie,’ Ella said softly, but
Rosie only laughed and said, ‘It’s high time she was awake
anyway. It’s almost tea time.’

Ella watched as Rosie touched the old woman’s
shoulder. ‘Come on, Grandma. Wakey-wakey. Ella’s come
to see you.’

As Grandma Eland lifted her head and blinked, Ella
thought again how much older she looked than her own
grandmother and yet they must be about the same age.
Beth Eland’s hair was almost completely white, long and
pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her face
was round and on her fat cheeks were little red veins. She
gasped as she heaved herself upright, straightened her
dentures and said, ‘Why, Ella love, how nice.’

‘I’ve brought you a cup o’ tea,’ Rosie said. ‘You can sit
and have a nice little chat.’

‘I can’t stay long,’ Ella perched on the chair at the side
of the fire again and began to pour out the tea, ‘I promised
Gran, but I just wanted to ask you something.’

She looked across at the old woman. What had they
both been like, Esther and Beth, when they’d been young
girls? ‘I – I just wondered. Did you know my gran when
she was young?’

The smile on the round face before her faded; the open,
loving look in the dark eyes became wary. Beth’s hands,
lying in her lap, became suddenly agitated, the fingers
twisting together. ‘Why – why do you want to know?’ Her
voice was only a whisper.

Ella shrugged. ‘There’s something funny. Some sort of –
of – mystery.’

She heard the old lady draw in a sharp breath, saw the
old eyes widen with a look of fear in their depths.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but – but I just
wondered if you knew what my grannie was like as a
young girl. Who brought her up? She sort of – well – hints
that she had an unhappy childhood. She seems very bitter,
yet when I ask her she shuts up like a clam and won’t tell
me anything.’