The Secret Orphan

by Glynis Peters

She’d shouted the words to an absent audience.

  Tears fell as she’d gathered her bags and walked away. Now, watching her brother she felt nothing.

  ‘Goodbye village. Sadly, I won’t be back this way again,’ Elenor whispered.

  Chapter 4

  A weary Elenor forced her tired legs the last few yards to her aunt’s home. Coventry city bustled around her. She jumped at buzzing noises from the car manufacturers and inhaled the delicious aroma from a bakery. It taunted her grumbling stomach. Eight hours and counting since she ate her last meagre meal.

  Her suitcase bumped against her legs as she hurried along the narrow, cobbled streets. Despite her initial excitement about leaving Cornwall, the grey of the city streets closed in around her and gave Elenor a new set of anxieties. Had she been wise in leaving the farm? Maybe she should have fought harder to stay. At least when the men were at work she was left alone in peace and silence. Would that be the case here?

  As the road shortened and her aunt’s home came into view, it wasn’t just the case weighing her down. Elenor trudged the last few steps trying to ignore the blisters on her feet, and once she’d arrived at the house she stood back to look at her surroundings. The house was smaller than she remembered. Smaller than the farmhouse, but larger than the terraced houses running either side of the street, the detached house sat as if at the head of the table, relishing in its glory of being the only one, yet to Elenor it lacked beauty. The house was a testament to her aunt’s snobbery. It was too symmetrical, too neat, square with bay windows either side – unlike the higgledy-piggledy medieval properties she’d walked past to get to Stephenson Road, with their beams and angular structure. As a child she remembered peeping into the six large bedrooms and shivering in the gloomy parlour with stuffed dead animals.

  Elenor took a deep breath and lifted the brass door knocker gleaming in pride of place, a lion’s head. Again, Elenor had a renewed sense of foreboding.

  The woman who answered the door scuttled about like a nervous mouse.

  ‘Welcome, Miss Cardew. I’m your aunt’s housekeeper.’

  Elenor stepped inside the dark hallway.

  ‘Thank you. Please, call me Elenor.’

  She handed her coat to the housekeeper who busied herself hanging it in a large cupboard.

  ‘Mrs Matthews has given instruction you will meet in the parlour before she retires for the evening, after which you will eat.’

  With a nod the woman left Elenor’s side. Bemused, Elenor left her case propped against the wall, and made her way to the parlour.

  After an arduous journey, the last thing Elenor wanted was to entertain her aunt with information about her brothers and the farm. She wanted to put the twins to the back of her mind.

  She pushed open the door and stepped into the gloomy room. It was cold to the point of unfriendliness. She was, however, grateful to note the absence of the stuffed animal heads.

  Porcelain dogs and lace cloths did nothing to brighten the drab.

  Unsure as to where her aunt would sit, Elenor chose to perch on the edge of the sofa, a hard piece of furniture never designed for comfort. A mantle clock ticked and Elenor shivered. A fire in the room would not go amiss. As she debated the idea, the door swung open and her aunt entered. Elenor jumped to her feet. Far from looking frail, her aunt, dressed in her usual ill-fitting black outfit, marched straight up to Elenor and stared her in the face.

  ‘Didn’t get the good looks of your mother then. Sit down.’ She banged her walking stick on the floor.

  Shocked, Elenor did as she was told.

  ‘Hello, Aunt Maude. How are you?’

  ‘Ill. Why do you think I sent for you, girl? I’m unwell. Not that you bumpkins from the country would ever care. Not one of you has written me. Oh no, but you accept the money swift enough. It is heartening to see you do not spend it on frivolous clothing.’

  Uncomfortable that her clothing had drawn scathing comments from her aunt, Elenor adjusted her dress and sat back in the seat.

  ‘Don’t get too comfortable. You are here to work. To look after me. Go and fetch me a light supper. Tell that thing I employ to keep this place that she is to air my bed. I feel fatigued with entertaining guests.’

  Elenor rose from the seat and fought back the urge to curtsy on her way out. She hurried down to the kitchen and welcomed the warmth of the room. It had a light airy feel due to the floor-to-ceiling cream cabinets and windows looking out onto a small garden. The housekeeper, although far from tall, was bent over a white stone sink. Elenor gave a polite cough.

  ‘Excuse me – oh, I’m sorry I don’t know your name. My aunt would like a light supper before she retires, and her bed aired please.’

  The woman turned around and Elenor could now see she was much younger than she looked when they first met in the dark hallway. Certainly, no older than thirty.

  ‘Certainly, Miss Cardew. I’m Victoria Sherbourne. You’ve had a long journey, miss. You must be famished. I’ll see to your aunt and you can sit here with a cup of tea while I ask if she wants you to eat with her. Her mind changes like the wind. Pour yourself a cup whilst I prepare her tray.’ She pointed to the teapot.

  As she sipped the strong tea, Elenor wondered over her role attending to her aunt’s needs. The woman didn’t look ill and appeared perfectly capable. The housekeeper interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘My husband enjoys her company and she tolerates his.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  Victoria busied herself with the tray.

  ‘Yes, George. He’s away at the moment. As a private tutor he likes to attend various talks by other masters.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting him.’

  Elenor noted a slight flush to Victoria’s face when she spoke about him. Pride? Embarrassment? She couldn’t tell.

  Victoria returned with the tray after seeing to Aunt Maude.

  ‘Come, I’ll show you to your room. Your aunt has gone to bed. She asked me to tell you she will breakfast with you at eight in the morning. Unpack your case and I’ll bring you a light supper on a tray.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Victoria, but it will take me all of two minutes to unpack, and I’d rather eat downstairs in the kitchen if I’m not in your way. It’s such a cosy room.’

  As they reached the bedroom, Victoria pushed open the door and set down the case and bag. Elenor had no time to take a look before Victoria closed it again.

  ‘We’ll eat together,’ Victoria said.

  Returning to the kitchen, Victoria prepared a plate of cold meat, cheese and hard-boiled eggs and set the table for two. She carved her way through a fresh loaf of crusty bread.

  ‘A simple supper, but one I’m sure you can manage. It’s been a long day for you.’

  Elenor stifled a yawn and helped herself to a plate of food.

  ‘I will sleep well tonight. Mind you, the journey was nothing like the hard work I usually have every day. I’m not used to sitting around all day, and if my aunt wants me to read to her for hours, well, I fear for my sanity.’

  Victoria burst out laughing.

  ‘I can’t imagine your aunt having the patience to sit and listen. She will probably have you writing letters. She gets violent head pains and her eyes are not as strong as they once were. My husband used to write for her, but he is not always available.’

  Shaking her head, Elenor pulled a face.

  ‘My handwriting isn’t the neatest. She might ask me once, but I very much doubt I’d be asked twice.’

  She looked around the kitchen and saw a skipping rope and a wooden top sitting on top of a stool by the back door.

  ‘Do you have children, Victoria?’ she asked, pointing to the toys.

  ‘Yes. A daughter. Rose.’

  ‘Rose. A pretty name. How old is she?’

  ‘Five in November.’

  ‘How wonderful, a little girl. I take it she’s asleep, I look forward to meeting her tomorrow.’

  ‘She’ll be no bother. I keep her
busy. I can’t have the girl running around making a nuisance of herself,’ Victoria said as she cleared away dishes.

  Tiredness crept in and Elenor stretched out and gave a yawn.

  ‘Thank you for supper, Victoria. I look forward to meeting your family. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Elenor. I’ll give you a knock in the morning.’

  Victoria put the dirty dishes in the sink.

  Elenor smiled as she recalled the dishes in the sink at Tre Lodhen. No doubt that evening the inn enjoyed a visit from two miserable brothers.

  Chapter 5

  A good night’s sleep and no pre-dawn work found Elenor in good spirits. She pulled open the drab brown curtains to let in a hint of sunshine. The rays bounced into the room and offered up an orange glow but failed to fight the drab brown and black.

  The view was south-facing into the avenue with a row of trees on both sides. Her surroundings in Cornwall were far more attractive and a pang of homesickness caught hold. A tap at her door interrupted her thoughts and she opened the door to Victoria who stood holding a tray bearing a pot of tea and a china cup.

  ‘Morning, Victoria.’

  ‘Morning. Your aunt will be ready in half an hour.’ She placed the tray onto the dressing table and wiped her hands down her pale blue pinafore.

  ‘The bathroom is free. There is plenty of hot water.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Grateful for the warmth from the teacup on her hands, Elenor sipped it with speed. She ventured to the bathroom across the hall. Another cold room where her breath puffed into clouds. The large mirror steamed over the moment she ran the hot tap. A large bar of Pears soap sat on the pretty scalloped edged sink, so delicate compared to the stone affair of the farmhouse. The chilly air prevented her from lingering and she promised herself a treat of an uninterrupted bath another time.

  Back in her room Elenor pulled out her fresh dress from the wardrobe. Realising the dress would not protect her fully from the chill of the day she wore her brown cardigan with a mismatched button at the bottom, which had seen better days but kept her warm. She pulled on thick brown stockings, darned at the heel and toe within an inch of their life and hooked them onto a thin, well-worn suspender belt. With a sigh, she slipped her feet into a lace-up pair of scuffed but polished, brown brogues, stuffed with the obligatory scraps of cloth to prevent slipping. Once upon a time they were her mother’s pride and joy. Sadly, Elenor could not look upon the shoes with the same enthusiasm as her mother had; to Elenor they smacked of poverty and hardship.

  She released her shoulder-length hair from its night scarf and brushed life back into her red-brown curls and scooped them into a soft drop ponytail. There was no time to spend pinning them into a crown of curls as she had seen on the front page of Nash’s Pall Mall.

  Once satisfied she could do no more to make herself presentable, she left the room and descended the large staircase. The house was quiet. Elenor pushed open the dining room door and was grateful for the small amount of sunshine glistening outside the large window adding a dash of colour to yet another dark and dreary room. The cow barn at the farm had more warmth and colour than her aunt’s home. At the head of the table Elenor saw the formidable figure of her aunt, who appeared deep in thought.

  ‘Good morning, Aunt.’

  ‘Sit down girl. I am in no mood for small talk and the morning has proved to be far from good. Eat. We have business with my solicitor at ten o’clock precisely.’

  Her aunt made no move to look up from whatever it was on her plate holding her attention and slurped a mouthful of tea from her cup. Her puffy face reminded Elenor of the farm pigs at feeding time.

  Elenor lifted the lid from a small serving dish and helped herself to a generous portion of creamy porridge. She noticed her aunt sipped at her tea and ate nothing.

  ‘Would you like me to serve you porridge, Aunt Maude? Or have you already eaten?’

  Her aunt shook her head and pulled a face.

  ‘I cannot stomach food. Doctor Menzies has prescribed me stomach powders to aid my digestion, but they are useless. Sipping warm tea is all that eases the stomach pains I endure. Eat your meal. And please do so in silence, my head pain threatens to ruin my day.’

  For the next twenty minutes Elenor endured the requested silence aside from the odd slurping sounds from her aunt. She gave a smile and a small sigh of relief when Victoria entered the room and began removing the dirty dishes. Elenor stood to assist her.

  ‘Sit down girl. Mrs Sherbourne is paid to clear the table. Go fetch my coat, hat and gloves, and dress yourself for the outdoors. We will take a short walk to Mr Andrews’ office after which we will continue on with a small list of shopping I have prepared. Ah, all done?’

  Elenor did as she was told, and Victoria lifted the last of the dishes from the table.

  ‘Yes, Aunt.’

  Elenor envied her aunt. Her black fur-collared coat was of good quality, a heavy wool. Her shoes of stout leather, also black, were smart and well-polished and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her aunt that Elenor’s own shoes were well-worn.

  ‘We really must address your wardrobe. You are a walking disgrace. Victoria!’

  Silence fell around them as they waited for Victoria to enter the room.

  ‘What size shoe do you take? Anything suitable for my niece? Find her something decent to wear from your wardrobe.’

  A stunned Victoria looked from her employer to Elenor. The difference in size between them was obvious.

  ‘But El … Miss Cardew and I are different sizes, Mrs Matthews. Look how much taller she is to me. It won’t be easy finding her something comfortable to wear from my wardrobe. I …’

  ‘Very well. We will attend this meeting and I will withdraw an allowance for a new outfit. This really is inconvenient. Come along girl, before my body decides to give out on me with the worries you have brought to my door.’

  Elenor gave a puzzled glance at her aunt and then looked across at Victoria who edged her way out of the room.

  Brought worries to her door? She called for me!

  Chapter 6

  Despite the tease of the sun, Elenor’s thin coat barely fought off the chilly breeze. It felt like late September, and had she been walking alone she would have moved faster to warm her limbs.

  Her aunt leaned heavily on her stick and took her time over each step, stopping at intervals to catch her breath. Elenor’s legs ached with taking small narrow strides. She was also impatient for another reason. She was keen to see the town properly; she’d only rushed through a few streets from the station to her aunt’s the previous day. She couldn’t remember ever going into town with her parents.

  Just the thought of time to browse the shops and purchase new clothes sent her mind into a spin.

  One part of Elenor knew she made her aunt ashamed with her appearance, but rather than hide her niece away, she chose to help, to notice and do something about the situation.

  Did her aunt understand her excitement? If she did she did not show it. She walked in silence hunched over her walking stick. It took a while for Elenor to realise the further they walked, the weaker her aunt became, and guilt overcame her for wishing the old lady would walk faster. In her haste to buy clothes for herself she’d forgotten her aunt was unwell; after all, that was the reason Elenor was called away from the farm in the first place.

  ‘We still have some way to go and I fear you are tired,’ Elenor said, adding a sympathetic tone to her voice. ‘Do you need a taxi-cab?’

  ‘Pah. Lazy legs. It is not much farther. The young today, you have no stamina.’

  With a flick of her walking stick Maude Matthews took a few more paces away from her bemused niece before stopping.

  ‘Look around you. Get your bearings. Now I have you to run errands, my time can be best spent elsewhere.’

  Elenor gave a quick glance around and by the time she had turned back to speak to her aunt, the woman had walked away and headed for the end of the road.

&nbs
p; On the other side of the road they headed for a tall redbrick building amongst a row of grey shops and canopied stalls. A brass plaque attached to the outer wall stated it was the office of N. M. Andrews: LLB.

  ‘I have papers to sign. I am tired and therefore will ask Mr Andrews to assist with my transport home. Goodness knows his fee is great enough. Take this letter to Owen’s department store over there.’ Maude pointed to the corner of the opposite street. ‘Ask for Mrs Green and she will help you. No fripperies. Sensible clothing. You understand?’

  Elenor took the letter and clutched it tight against the rising wind. It was too precious to lose.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Maude. I am truly grateful, I …’

  Her aunt tapped her walking stick with impatience and peered at her through her tortoiseshell spectacles.

  ‘Don’t keep me standing in the cold. I am doing this for me, not you. I cannot be seen with you in public in that outfit for too long. It is bad enough you sound like a country farmer without looking the part. Even in the Depression people were better dressed. Return home as soon as you have finished. No dallying and daydreaming.’

  Elenor gave a weak smile.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Maude.’

  She hovered, watching her aunt enter the building, and as soon as the door closed Elenor moved to the kerb. Cars milled about and when all was clear she headed for the large department store and as Elenor approached, she could feel the excitement mounting.

  With clothes to tempt, the store windows held Elenor’s attention for several minutes. A gown of emerald green silk flowing to the floor begged to be purchased as did the contrasting long cream gloves with mother-of-pearl buttons. Only the very rich would be able to afford such a garment, especially during the present economic downturn. Elenor watched people, mainly women, manoeuvre their way through the rotating front doors. She had never seen doors like it and noted the art to entering and leaving at just the right time.

  You can do it, you can do it.

  She chanted the words in her head and stepped to the entrance. Just as she was about to push the door open, it swung past her and she jumped backwards. Aware it was not the pavement she had stepped on, she turned slowly and faced the buttons of a blue serge uniform.