Hereford Street was busy and Elenor moved amongst the people to keep herself hidden from view. When she came to a shop selling tempting treats she stopped, glanced behind her and noticed George turning into the end of the road. Elenor knew for definite he was following her. She rushed across the road and headed towards the Geisha Café on the corner. Upon arrival she made no effort to turn around and, giving herself no time to make up her mind whether to enter or not, she stepped inside.
Chapter 11
Chatter and chinking teacups echoed around the pleasant room. It was large with tables dressed with delicate white cloths, but panic set in when the waitress looked her way and Elenor turned, pulled the door open to leave and walked straight into the body of another trying to enter.
‘Oooph’
‘My apologies. I am so sorry.’
Her rushed words were muffled into the chest of a male. She could smell tobacco and the soap George Sherbourne used. She pulled back in horror. Her efforts of shaking him off had failed.
‘Miss Cardew?’
A male voice with a distinct accent spoke but it was not the person she’d winded in the doorway. Composing herself, Elenor tried to muster up a smidgen of dignity and spent a moment readjusting her hat. It was Samuel Fleming, the Canadian whose foot she’d stepped on. Dismay hit her. Although he wasn’t the victim of her unintended assault, he’d witnessed another of her clumsy acts.
‘Mr Fleming. How pleasant to see you again. Allow me to introdu …’
The man she thought was George Sherbourne was most definitely not. The only thing he had in common with George was the tobacco aroma. Dark hair, neatly clipped, trimmed a handsome face, dark eyes melted into hers. She admired his tanned skin and wide shoulders, the complete opposite to George. She prayed her mouth had not really drooped open with pleasant surprise.
‘Ma’am, it’s a pleasure.’
His voice! Smooth, heart-melting and deep, and with the same soft twang as his companion.
‘Allow me to introduce my grandson, Jackson St John. He’s here to train pilots. Miss Cardew is the young lady I mentioned when we sought out your mother’s gift earlier in the day.’
‘My pleasure, Miss Cardew.’
Jackson St John held out his hand and, with no hesitation, Elenor clutched hold.
‘I am pleased to meet you and I do apologise for my clumsiness. My friend was not inside, and I rushed out without looking.’
She hoped her face didn’t give away her small white lie.
‘We are about to enjoy a cup of English tea. Would you care to join us, Miss Cardew? Or would you prefer to wait for your friend?’
Elenor looked around. She saw no sign of George and the draw of sitting down for afternoon tea on her birthday still held. She made a mental note of the ten pennies sitting in her new bag and again begged the question, would she have enough money? It dawned on her she didn’t know the price of sitting at a pretty table, or what the rules were of sitting with strange men. Although, to be fair, Samuel Fleming was someone she had met before, and he was a respectable uniformed man.
‘As much as I would love to join you both, I’m afraid I feel I should wait. Thank you again and do enjoy your tea.’
Disappointed, she took a slow walk a few steps away from the café, and it pleased her to see a flicker of disappointment cross Jackson St John’s face. Whilst in the process of telling herself off for being silly and imagining things, she heard the irritating voice of George Sherbourne slice through the air as if a smarting frost.
‘Elenor!’
‘George. Good afternoon.’
‘Many happy returns.’
Elenor made no effort to shake his hand using the pretence her hands were full with her shopping.
‘Miss Cardew. It is your birthday? Well, we really must treat you and your friend now he has arrived,’ said Samuel Fleming, before Elenor could mention George was not the friend she had been waiting for.
‘Happy Birthday, Miss Cardew,’ said Jackson St. John.
George stood with a grin she wanted to slap away from his face and introduced himself. He then followed through with a blatant lie.
‘Miss Cardew won’t mind, she was to have only me as company.’
Before Elenor could object, Jackson St John pulled open the door of the café.
‘Maybe you can point out a traditional English cake, we want to make the most of my grandfather’s last day,’ he said.
George jumped in with a reply before Elenor had the chance to open her mouth.
‘You must try a Kunzle cake. Shall we?’
All three stood to one side as Elenor stepped inside. She sensed George breathing behind her, his raspy breath expelling onion vapours. He was too close. Her skin tingled with displeasure, unlike when Jackson looked into her eye – then the tingling was due to nothing but pleasure. A new sensation.
Once seated at the table they placed their order and George set about holding a conversation which failed to include Elenor.
‘I notice you are both members of the Canadian Air Force, how fascinating.’
Elenor turned to Jackson.
‘Can I ask, does it take long to become a pilot?’
George cut in before the conversation developed.
‘Flying a plane must be exciting. Where are you based?’
For fifteen minutes George controlled the conversation, never allowing Elenor a moment to speak. Each time one of the other men answered a question, he fired them one more. Boredom set in and she allowed her mind to absorb the qualities of the younger Canadian. She heard them mention horse riding and imagined him sitting straight-backed on the farm horse her family had once owned. They’d have made a handsome pair. Her mind then wandered into the harvest fields. Glorious sunshine, bales of hay and Jackson, with rolled up sleeves pitching and exposing his muscles. She’d only ever once admired a male doing much the same – it was last year when a traveller had stopped to earn a summer’s wage. He was also young and handsome, but her brothers ensured she was so busy she never got time to speak with him, just admire from afar. This afternoon she was seated beside another handsome man, and she could see large arms and guessed they’d be firm. Arms she’d happily snuggle into on a dark winter’s night.
What was she thinking? He probably had a sweetheart in Canada. More than one. He was too good-looking to be alone.
Throwing her off-balance and distracting her from her daydream, George patted the back of her hand and she recoiled from his touch.
‘It is time for you to return home, Elenor. Victoria will need you to assist her with your aunt.’
He swung her a gap-toothed patronising smile. Smug and sure of himself, he’d managed to establish himself as the superior. He’d taken control. A man no different from the father and brothers she tried to forget. Men whom suffocated women with their superior arrogance. Didn’t they know the world had moved on, and women were equal?
Horrid little man. I despise you.
Elenor’s anger surfaced, and she was ready to lash out her objections, but the sudden movement of both Canadian men pulling back their chairs to stand, reminded her to remain calm. Despite her inner thoughts she gave a sweet smile. She didn’t want to give Jackson the wrong impression. She was no longer a country bumpkin. Her aim was to improve herself. George must not be her downfall.
‘Gentleman, George is correct. His wife will need assistance with my aunt. George is the husband of my aunt’s housekeeper and is quite right to remind me of my duties.’ She emphasised the word wife. Unsure why, she wanted Jackson to know George meant nothing to her.
‘Please, enjoy the rest of your afternoon, and have a safe journey back to Canada, Squadron Leader. I do hope when you return my balance will have improved and I’m no longer a danger to the public.’
‘It’s been my pleasure, Miss Cardew. You brightened my visit. I leave my grandson behind should you find the need to step on his toes or knock the wind from him once again.’ The man gave such a loud laugh heads tur
ned and smiled their way. Jackson tapped his grandfather on the shoulder.
‘Hey old man, behave.’ He gave his grandfather a deep and loving smile.
Elenor admired their ease with each other, and of how the affection between the two men was public. Not hidden and constrained. She felt she wanted more of that in her own life.
Outside the café she drew a deep breath. George needed reining in, much like the old ram when it was first brought to the farm.
Victoria greeted her with a smile but gained nothing in return.
‘Your husband caught up with me and is now enjoying the company of two Canadian airmen. Don’t expect to see him for a few hours. He was in full flow when I left. How is my aunt?’
Victoria looked flummoxed by Elenor’s abrupt speech.
‘Ah, George, once he finds someone to listen, he’ll talk for years. Canadian airmen will definitely capture his attention. Your aunt is awake, in the parlour, and I am pleased to say, pain-free. Rose spent time reading to her but is driving me mad in the kitchen. I warn you, the child is excited by your birthday. Please come and see her before you go to your aunt or we will not hear the end of it.’
When Elenor stepped inside the kitchen Rose ran to her, her pigtails flapping behind. She greeted Elenor with a hug and proceeded to bounce up and down for Elenor’s attention.
‘Elenor. Elenor. You’re home. Happy birthday! Mummy helped me make a cake, and I licked the bowl.’ She stopped to draw breath and pointed to a thin sponge sitting on the table. ‘Can we eat it now? Can we?’
Victoria crossed the room and touched the top of Rose’s head, chiding her in a firm voice.
‘Leave Elenor to catch her breath.’
‘Rose Sherbourne, I think you have grown seven foot since I left this morning,’ Elenor said and laughed at Rose still bouncing up and down.
‘Let me speak to my aunt first, and then we will enjoy a slice of cake with a cup of tea. Thank you, Victoria.’
A frail Aunt Maude sat in her usual chair. The room was barely lit, and the shadows from the fire flitted around the walls. It was no longer a cold room in atmosphere or temperature, Elenor felt comforted and much calmer. She was cheered by her aunt’s presence.
‘I am pleased to see you are up and about, Aunt. Victoria informs me you are pain free, and young Rose has kept you company.’
‘Elenor. I am sorry I could not bear the light this morning. Rose is a good girl, but I can only take her in small doses. I do hope you have enjoyed your birthday. Sit, tell me about it, did you see Mrs Green?’
Elenor lifted out the present Mrs Green had prepared on her aunt’s behalf and sat down opposite her aunt.
‘I have, and I did, thanks to you. It was most kind of you. Mrs Green wrapped the gift, so you could have the pleasure of seeing me unwrapping it. I quite literally bumped into the Canadian gentleman and his grandson today. They – along with George – treated me to afternoon tea. George is still with them, but I confess on being keen to see what treat awaits beneath this tissue paper. You have spoilt me once again.’
‘Well, unwrap. I am as curious as you.’
From the paper Elenor lifted a long box, a round one, and a tiny black velvet bag.
Inside the long box was a fountain pen. Under a square of silk inside the round one was a strand of amber beads. Elenor held out the necklace.
‘This is the first piece of jewellery I have ever owned. It is beautiful.’
Pulling open the small drawstring bag, Elenor gasped with delight. She lifted out a lipstick container.
Her aunt lifted both eyebrows.
‘Well, we will leave it that Mrs Green achieved two out of three for me, and three out of three for you. Ah, at least it isn’t too bright.’
Elenor looked at the soft raspberry shade. It was perfect. The past fortnight had taught her so many things and given her so much in the way of affection and material items, it overwhelmed her. She started to cry.
‘Forgive me. I am such a lucky young woman, I just wished I could have showed my mother these beautiful things. I have days where I miss her terribly.’
Her aunt struggled to her feet and patted her on the shoulder.
‘Dry your eyes girl. Your face brought me joy, and your mother would have had great pleasure in watching you. Enjoy your gifts. Now go and put your treasures away but leave me the magazine to browse through. I have a sneaking feeling I need to update my visions of what a young woman wears these days.’
Laughing, Elenor left the room. As she did so, George walked along the hallway. She could see his intention was to enter the parlour.
‘Ah, George. Did you enjoy your time with our Canadian friends? I did. Please, do not disturb my aunt. I understand Victoria is cooking me a special meal tonight, we’ll see you then.’
Without allowing him to reply she went upstairs. She listened out to hear if he defied her, but she did not hear the parlour door open; instead she heard Victoria and Rose’s voices as he entered the kitchen. A small smile played on her lips. George would not win his power struggle with her.
‘Elenor Cardew you are ready to evolve. Be strong,’ she whispered to her reflection in the dressing table mirror as she applied a dab of lipstick.
Back downstairs she met with Rose.
‘Can we eat the cake now?’
She grabbed hold of Elenor’s hand and tugged her into the kitchen.
Victoria sat waiting.
Rose snatched something from behind her mother’s back.
‘Open your present. I made it with no help from Mummy. She told me it was wonky in places, but I said you won’t mind, you are not posh like some ladies.’
‘Rose!’
Rose was telling the truth and Elenor gave Victoria a smile to show she didn’t mind.
‘I bet it is perfect, Rose. Thank you.’
She undid the yellow ribbon and unfolded the paper. Inside sat a square of blue material. The stitching around the edges was far from perfect, but to Elenor the headscarf was beautiful.
‘It’s the perfect gift. Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.’
Her voice cracked. The gift was given with so much affection. She looked at Rose and hoped one day she’d have a daughter with a heart as big as Rose Sherbourne’s.
Chapter 12
Autumn cooled down and drifted towards winter with no hesitation. Rose turned five and Elenor organised a small tea party. Two school friends were invited, and an excited Rose made the effort all worthwhile.
At the end of the day Elenor handed her a gift; a simple ragdoll dressed in a blue dress. The doll had a wonky smile, neat pink nose and large blue eyes embroidered onto a cream face. With a whoop of excitement, the little girl snatched it from its wrapping into her arms.
‘Thank you. She’s beautiful. I’m going to call her Annie.’
‘Annie. It suits her,’ said Elenor.
‘Thank you for my tea. Mummy said you did it all.’
‘It was my pleasure and an extra present.’
Elenor didn’t like to point out her parents showed no interest in her birthday, and she was thankful Annie made up for their lack of gift. Even Aunt Maude had knitted her a red cardigan.
Christmas brought with it great excitement as Elenor chose gifts for her aunt and Victoria. She brought her aunt a new woollen blanket in shades of pink, and for Victoria a new recipe book. She’d also purchased George a sheet of piano music.
Buying Rose’s gift gave her the most pleasure. It was a wicker doll’s pram, something Elenor had dreamed of owning as a young child. With due diligence, she’d paid into a Christmas club set up by Mrs Green.
She asked to pay a visit to her brothers and made new neckties for them. She’d also bought chocolates, and two magazines related to motorbikes.
Her aunt paid for a return ticket and the week before the festivities planned in her Coventry home, she made the journey to the farm.
The bus pushed its way through the last of the sludge which laid around the village. Nothing
had changed, only the season.
Her bags weighed heavy as she walked to the end of the lane in her newly acquired wellington boots. There was a mild wind, nothing like the cold chill she’d expected, yet still she shivered. The farmhouse came into view. Fences lay in ruins around the boundary of the bottom field surrounding the house. In the two months she had been away, Elenor could see the brothers had neglected the family home. It saddened her greatly as she still loved her home, just not the residents. Maybe the old saying of absence makes the heart grow fonder would be proved today.
She didn’t knock and pushed the door open.
Stale, sour aromas hit her and wafted from pails by the sink – pig swill, which had sat for days rather than hours.
‘Who the hell are you lady, just walking in here?’
The gruff voice of James spoke from a chair by the unlit fire. He lifted a bottle and took a swig of its contents. Walter lay sleeping in the opposite seat, snoring the sleep of a drunkard.
‘Lady? Why thank you, kind sir.’
Elenor opted for a jovial manner as her reply. Her words registered with James and he jumped to his feet but found the need to steady himself against the fireplace.
‘About ruddy time you came home. This place needs a darn good clean. You can start when you’ve taken off that coat. Who the ruddy hell do you think you look like? Oi, Walt, see what the cat dragged in?’
James kicked his brother’s foot, and the startled man swore back at him. Pointing his finger at Elenor, James spat into the fire.
The Secret Orphan Page 6