Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  It was nearly seven in the evening when Ellie got off the bus at the bottom of the lane. Once the bus had pulled away she was left in pitch darkness, except for an eerie glow from the frost on the hedges.

  As Gloria the hairdresser had said, it had taken all day. Her scalp felt as if it were on fire and the ends were so damaged she’d had three inches taken off the length. But it looked natural, at least, and when she looked in a mirror it was good to see the real Ellie again. The day had taken its toll on her, though, giving her a preview of what she could expect when she finally had to leave The Chestnuts. Camellia had been on her mind every minute, wondering if Bonny had cooled her bottle enough or remembered to put the zinc cream on her bottom; at one point she’d even visualised Bonny falling down the stairs with the baby in her arms.

  As she walked up the narrow lane, each and every tree trunk seemed to have an evil, leering face. She felt frightened and terribly alone. Ellie was no stranger to loneliness, but never before had she felt menaced by it as she did now. It made no difference that just half a mile onwards, Bonny was waiting for her eagerly, or that a bright new future was only weeks away. Somehow she knew she would never regain true happiness. This empty feeling she had now was something she would have to live with for ever.

  ‘John’s here!’ Bonny called up the stairs three days after Ellie had visited the hairdresser. ‘Have you braced yourself?’

  ‘Stop worrying about me,’ Ellie yelled back. ‘Open that front door and run out to meet him!’

  Ellie had heard the taxi as she was putting on lipstick. The face that stared back in the mirror was the one she’d seen a million times in dressing-rooms, not the muddy-complexioned blonde who’d given birth to Camellia just twenty-two days ago. Since her hair had been recoloured and cut, she’d mastered the art of rolling it up round a sausage of horsehair, a sophisticated style copied from fashion magazines. Her lipstick was the same crimson as her new mid-calf wool dress, her eyelashes were curled and heavily mascara’d, she’d given herself a fashionable beauty spot on her right cheek and her eyebrows were plucked to a mere pencil line.

  She thought she looked the part she intended to play for John: the glamorous actress well on the way to stardom. He wouldn’t know her hour-glass figure was held in by the hated corset, or that just yesterday she’d been shuffling around in old slippers instead of these ankle-strapped high heels.

  ‘You’re an actress,’ she reminded herself, adding just a touch more rouge to her cheeks. ‘As Camellia’s aunt you must hold back, be a little inept when you pick her up, tease Bonny for being mumsy, even first a little with John. You must never let him see that hunger in your eyes.’

  She walked over to the window and watched John embracing his wife out on the path as the taxi drove off. She hoped Bonny could carry off her part too. She had perfected the slightly slovenly look of a harassed new mother. She wore a dark wool skirt which she’d taken in to make too tight, her jumper had a nappy pin stuck into it, she’d tied her hair up with a ribbon so it looked carelessly tousled and left off her makeup. But would she remember that new mothers always had their ears pricked for their baby, that they talked about them incessantly and always put them first?

  John looked just as he had at his wedding, in a sober dark suit. His hair was cut very short and neatly parted, his lean face tanned, moustache trimmed just so. The only evidence of his long journey was a shadow of dark stubble on his chin.

  ‘Welcome home, John,’ Ellie said as she swept down the stairs, just as he and Bonny came into the house hand in hand. Bonny looked tense, two over bright spots of colour on her cheeks, but John would just put that down to natural anxiety. ‘I’m so glad to see you – perhaps Bonny will give me a rest from all the cleaning in your honour. Can I make you some tea, or something to eat? It will keep me occupied while you see your baby.’

  Ellie had never thought of John Norton as really handsome, even though she’d told Bonny he was, not until that moment. He normally frowned a great deal, his serious nature colouring his looks. But now his smile was warm and wide, his brown eyes sparkled with excitement and he looked dashing.

  ‘I don’t believe you’ve really been doing cleaning with those hands,’ he laughed, looking at her crimson nails. ‘But yes, I’d love some tea, and thank you for being such a good friend to Bonny.’

  Ellie stayed in the kitchen, spinning out the tea-making. She could hear John cooing over Camellia in the sitting-room and she steeled herself for the moment when she must go in and join them. She felt hot, then icy cold, and was sure she would trip over in her high heels. She wished she could excuse herself today and rush off to London, but she knew she should hang on until John almost pushed her out.

  ‘She looks like my mother,’ John said, as Ellie came tripping in with the tea tray. ‘It’s her eyes, I think, or maybe the nose.’

  ‘Was your mother impossibly beautiful?’ Ellie said lightly. She’d often seen Polly in her baby’s face. John was sitting in one of the winged armchairs, holding Camellia awkwardly across his lap, Bonny beside him on a leather pouffe, seeming more relaxed now.

  ‘Not exactly.’ John grinned boyishly. ‘She always looked weather-beaten and old to me, but there is a likeness.’

  ‘I think she looks like you,’ Bonny said, putting one hand on John’s cheek affectionately. ‘Her eyes are going to be brown and her hair’s just like yours.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ John said as he smiled adoringly at Bonny. ‘Why couldn’t she take after you?’

  ‘I’m glad she’s not blonde,’ Bonny said, glancing at Ellie. ‘Brunettes have much nicer natures.’

  ‘Are you really set on calling her Camellia?’ John frowned. ‘It’s a bit grand for a baby.’

  Ellie bristled, turning away so John wouldn’t notice.

  ‘She’ll grow into a grand lady,’ Bonny said sweetly. ‘And if you think I’m going to call our baby something drippy and common like Susan or Margaret, you’re mistaken. Besides, Ellie chose it. She saw a Camellia once in Kew Gardens and she thought it was the most beautiful flower ever.’

  John looked at Ellie and smiled. He didn’t want to offend her after all she’d done. ‘I suppose we could call her “little Ellie” or “Melly” while she’s tiny,’ he said. ‘By the time she’s old enough to go to the pictures, her aunt is going to be very famous, I’m told. I bet she’ll get a kick out of being named by you.’

  Ellie gulped. She loved John for being so big-hearted and despised herself for deceiving him. ‘Let me pour the tea,’ she said quickly. ‘I thought I’d go out for a walk and leave you on your own for a bit. I’m sure you’ve got a great deal of catching up to do.’

  As Ellie walked down the lane wrapped in her coat and scarf, she tried to turn her thoughts to the script of Soho. Megan had a baby too, which was taken from her at birth. She knew she’d need little rehearsing for the emotion in that scene.

  She thought too of Sir Miles, who’d never known he had a daughter, and who now had a granddaughter too that he would watch grow up, not knowing she was his.

  Then there was Edward! She was longing to see him, yet so afraid she wouldn’t be able to conceal the sadness within her. Had she learnt enough about Canada from a couple of books to convince him she’d been there? What if he or anyone else asked awkward questions? She’d prepared so many stories about her fictitious Auntie Betty, leaning heavily on memories of Charley’s mother, but she’d never been a convincing liar.

  Then there were Amos and Dora. She hadn’t written to say she’d left Oklahoma. She couldn’t claim to them she had an aunt in Canada; they knew better.

  ‘When will all these lies be done?’ she asked herself.

  The wind was strong and icy. Ellie walked fast, for once barely noticing the bare trees and forlorn winter fields. She was reluctant to go back to the house too soon. John and Bonny needed time alone.

  *

  ‘Stay another week?’ Bonny pleaded.

  Ellie put down her hairbrush and turned on the dress
ing-table stool, looking sadly at Bonny. ‘I can’t. You know why,’ she sighed. ‘John’s been home a week and I can barely cope with him. Your parents coming will just be too much.’

  Ellie couldn’t tell Bonny how painful this last week had been for her. John rushed to Camellia the moment she cried and had taken over doing the night feed. There was no place for her now. In the evenings she felt John’s need to be alone with Bonny, and she often excused herself and went to bed with a book. He was there while Bonny bathed the baby, he trundled her down to the village in her pram, he even boiled the nappies and put them through the mangle.

  Ellie felt she was an impediment to their happiness. Bonny was tense when she talked to John, and he clearly felt left out when she and Bonny were alone together. Ellie was sick of keeping up the glamour-girl routine, weary of watching every word she said. She must walk away from Camellia now, while she still could.

  ‘There’ll always be a place for you here,’ Bonny said softly, her eyes misty with tears. ‘I promise you I’ll always be a good mother to her. She means everything in the world to me.’

  Ellie went to her bedroom door and opened it. She could hear music downstairs; John was playing some gramophone records he’d brought back from America. Camellia was sound asleep. Ellie shut the door and sat down on the bed beside Bonny.

  She was no longer afraid that Bonny wouldn’t be a good mother. She had changed immeasurably, bearing no resemblance to the giddy, selfish girl Ellie had met five years ago. All week Ellie had been silently observing her and John, and she knew the transformation in Bonny’s character was through love. But it stung to see two people so happy together, to watch their smiles, to hear the little endearments, the loving gestures. They had everything, including Camellia.

  ‘I want you to promise me something more,’ Ellie said.

  ‘What?’ Bonny’s expression was guarded now.

  ‘It won’t be right for me to come marching in here several times a year,’ Ellie blurted out. ‘But promise me you’ll write to me once a month, send me snapshots and tell me all about her.’

  ‘Of course I will.’ Bonny looked puzzled now; she had expected more.

  ‘Will you promise too that if anything goes wrong you’ll let me know immediately? Illness, John losing his job, or you moving, anything important!’

  ‘You know I would.’ Bonny frowned. ‘You sound as if you aren’t ever coming back.’

  Ellie hesitated. In her heart she knew she should get out of Bonny’s and John’s lives for ever, but at the same time she knew she wasn’t strong enough for that. ‘I can’t ever come back, at least not as me. I’ll be Aunt Ellie, or Helena Forester the actress. A friend of the family. I’ll have to distance myself from you, Bonny, for Camellia’s sake.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’ Bonny pouted. She had a rosy picture in her mind of shared picnics, shopping trips and cosy, girlie evenings together. ‘You’re being silly.’

  Bonny’s earlier fears were now replaced with a certain smugness. John was thrilled with Camellia, so loving to her, she had silenced her conscience and told herself she had done the right thing by everyone. All she wanted now to make her happiness complete was for Ellie to revert back to her old jolly, amusing self and stop brooding about everything.

  ‘Maybe you’ll understand what I mean better in a few years,’ Ellie said gently, taking Bonny’s hands in hers. ‘We were two feather-brained girls who dreamed up a fairy-tale in which everyone got what they wanted. But we didn’t reckon on jealousy, Bonny, and it’s lurking in the wings, waiting. I’m jealous of you right now, because you’ve got the home, the husband and my baby. In a couple of years you might wish you could change places with me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Bonny said firmly. ‘I’ve got what I want.’

  ‘I hope so, Bonny.’ Ellie drew her into her arms and held her tightly. ‘You’ve got everything that’s important.’

  ‘Have you got your things from the bathroom?’ Bonny asked, wiping her hands on her apron. The kitchen table was cluttered with baking trays, mixing bowls and the ingredients for a cake. ‘Is that dress warm enough for the train? It might be really cold.’

  ‘You sound like your mother,’ Ellie said sarcastically. ‘Yes, I’ve got my things. Yes, I will be warm enough. Is John still tinkering with the car?’

  Only yesterday John had discovered the engine was frozen up. It had been tucked away in the shed while he’d been in America, shrouded by old blankets, but the frost had penetrated even that. He’d resorted to putting some old stone hot-water bottles on it to thaw it out.

  ‘He’s taken it down to the garage in the village.’ Bonny looked distractedly at the kitchen clock. ‘I hope he won’t be long, I don’t want you to miss the train.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time yet.’ Ellie could see Bonny was very tense. It was partly because she was leaving, but mostly anxiety about her mother arriving tomorrow. She was dreading all the intimate questions Doris was bound to ask, and a little afraid she would upset John. ‘Let me bath Camellia, then you can get on with making that cake.’

  ‘But you’re all dressed up.’ Bonny looked at Ellie’s red dress almost disapprovingly.

  ‘I’ll put the rubber apron on,’ Ellie said. ‘Come on Bonny, just let me have half an hour with her?’

  Bonny opened her mouth to say something, perhaps that Camellia was still asleep, but was halted by an angry shriek from upstairs.

  ‘Right on cue,’ Ellie laughed. ‘I’ll go and get her.’

  As Ellie came back down wearing the green rubber apron with Camellia in her arms, Bonny had the enamel baby bath in front of the sitting-room fire and she was pouring water into it from a bucket.

  ‘She’s sopping wet, and stinky,’ Ellie said. ‘Perhaps she wants to put me off her for good.’

  All conversation was difficult this morning and Ellie had tried to make jokes to lighten the mood. But it wasn’t really working; everything she said sounded trite, even callous.

  Bonny tested the water temperature with her elbow as Ellie sat down and began peeling off Camellia’s nightdress and woolly jacket.

  ‘Is it okay?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Perfect.’ Bonny’s terse tone implied she resented Ellie doubting her, but she disappeared and came back with the basket of baby things, a fresh nappy, towel and some clothes, putting them down on the floor beside Ellie’s chair. ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ she said, turning sharply and shutting the door behind her.

  Camellia waved her arms and legs as she lay on Ellie’s lap. She had stopped crying the moment she was lifted from her crib, almost as if she knew a bath was imminent.

  ‘You’ve got porky,’ Ellie said once she’d removed the nappy and cleaned her bottom. Camellia was only 5½lb at birth, but she’d put on over a pound since coming home. Sometimes they could almost see her growing. ‘And you’re a real stinkpot, but I’ll soon have you smelling like a little flower.’

  Ellie’s hands lingered on her baby as she soaped her, caressing each leg and arm, her back and stomach, then holding her firmly, she lowered her into the water.

  ‘Isn’t that nice?’ she murmured, splashing water over her.

  Camellia’s head turned towards Ellie, her eyes wide open. Ellie could see now that they were turning brown. Her legs kicked out, she thumped her arms up and down and she grimaced as if trying to manage her first smile.

  ‘I think you’re going to be a swimmer, not a dancer,’ Ellie said lovingly. ‘Just don’t let your mum put you off it with her gruesome tale of nearly drowning.’

  It wasn’t until she had Camellia snuggled up in the warm towel that Ellie began to cry. She had promised herself she wouldn’t, not until she was away back in London, but she couldn’t hold it back, not once she felt the warmth and sweetness of her baby’s face pressing against her breast.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered through her tears, brushing back her baby’s spiky hair. ‘I’ll always be there for you, even if I can only be your Auntie Ellie and never tell you t
he truth. I wish I’d been brave enough to bring you up on my own.’

  Bonny came back just as Ellie finished dressing Camellia. She looked at Ellie’s face and put one hand on her shoulder. ‘I know how it is,’ she said softly. ‘But I meant what I said, we’ll always share her.’

  Bonny was worried about Ellie. She knew her friend so well, yet in the last couple of days she’d been unreachable. She wanted Ellie to leave, to have Camellia all to herself. But her heart ached for her friend.

  Bonny could see now how much she owed to Ellie. She could look back and feel shame that she’d taken so much and given so little in return. Without Ellie beside her, she would have been just another tramp, a hard-hearted gold-digger with no love in her heart.

  ‘When I’m in a Hollywood mansion, I’ll invite you all over.’ Ellie attempted a smile, but it was no more than a there movement of her lips.

  ‘You make sure you get there,’ Bonny said fiercely, her hand moving to Ellie’s cheek and caressing it. ‘I want to hear you’re driving a Cadillac, that you’ve got a wardrobe full of furs and ballgowns. Then I won’t feel so bad about taking her from you.’

  ‘You haven’t taken her.’ Ellie looked up and found Bonny was crying too. ‘I’ve entrusted her with you. Keep her safe and love her, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘What’s this? A wake?’ John’s voice behind them made Bonny jump away guiltily.

  ‘Just a spot of baby worship,’ Ellie said quickly, trying to compose herself.

  ‘Don’t tell me you want one too?’ John replied with a wide grin. He came round in front of them both and looked from one face to another, wondering about the tears.

  ‘All women want babies,’ Ellie said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘But this one is extra special.’

  John leaned down and lifted Camellia out of Ellie’s arms. He was highly touched by her devotion to his baby and grateful for all she had done for Bonny. But he thought it almost unhealthy for her to be quite so attached to Camellia.

  ‘She is pretty special,’ he said, putting Camellia on his shoulder and nuzzling her head with his lips. ‘Especially when she’s all clean and dry. But it’s time to go now, Ellie. I’m sure you don’t want to miss your train for this little darling.’