The Secret Orphan

by Glynis Peters

  I’d love to have you both here for a holiday. You can feed the chickens, that’s not so dirty and my girls are gentle souls, they will only flap if you do.

  Take care Sally and enjoy the cinema. It’s a long time since I took time off, but I’m happy enough.

  Much love,

  Elenor.

  X

  Elenor took Sally’s letter to her case and pulled out a box of letters she’d tried to ignore. Her aunt’s and Jackson’s. When she lifted the lid, she was shocked to see the Valentine’s card from Jackson staring up at her and her breath filled her lungs until they were painful. Victoria must have slipped it into her case. Underneath there were two letters she didn’t recognise that were addressed to George. Puzzled, she pulled them out and read the first. It was from Jackson. He spoke vaguely about his grandfather, and appeared to answer questions George had asked, but not in any depth. Elenor got the impression he wrote out of politeness. His words at the end of the page stood out and she sunk into a seat.

  Thank you for informing us of Elenor’s illness. We wish her a speedy recovery. If I venture into Coventry I wonder if she would receive me as a friend visiting a sick one. Please let my grandfather know when you write next.

  With things happening around us I am not certain I’ll be returning to Canada, and it is to be decided whether I remain here to train the new recruits.

  My regards to your wife and Rose. You are a lucky man.

  Jackson St John.

  George had said nothing to her of Jackson’s good wishes, or his grandfather’s. Elenor opened the other envelope. She skimmed through words relating to war chatter, none of which held anything of interest, merely a polite response to another letter from George. Again, the contents at the bottom of the page caught her eye.

  The news of Elenor’s recovery is heartening. Tell her I understand her not wanting to see me again. She was quite right to dismiss my request. At times I act rashly and asking to see her when she was so ill was wrong of me. Mourning her aunt in such a way – to try and take her life, how sad. I thank God she’s survived. Elenor has a special place in my heart but I had to release her for fear we’d never meet again.

  Due to my commitments here, I will not write again, but my grandfather enjoys your letters, and will write back, but I am not sure how long the post takes to reach England, so be patient.

  Give my regards to all.

  J. St John

  A bubble of anger rose from deep inside. Elenor screamed. Loud and feral, it reverberated around the room. George had told her nothing of Jackson’s request to visit. She would probably have refused him, but it had not been George’s decision to make. She dropped to her knees with the letters scrunched in her hands, and the card lay face up with its pretty picture taunting her. Her love for Jackson was not a love of the past, and Elenor cried a river of tears before hauling herself to her desk and put the letters away.

  Staring at the Valentine’s card, she read through the painful rejection of her love once again, and then fed it to the flames of the fire and her pain of the past spiralled away with the smoke.

  Chapter 29

  Weeks of toil proved worth the effort. Elenor, in an attempt to cast aside her feelings for Jackson threw herself into her daily tasks with renewed vigour and hoped a better harvest was her reward.

  Susie was a good worker and made life much easier for Elenor.

  Today, she stood on a stool washing down the kitchen window.

  ‘The Germans meant business last night. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared,’ Susie said.

  Pulling on her coat and picking up her boots, Elenor sighed. ‘It is scary, last night was loud and noisy. Mind you, Seth was noisier. The sirens drive him crazy,’ Elenor said and pushed her feet into her boots. ‘Right, I’m off muck spreading. See you later.’

  Susie climbed down from the stool and leaned on the handle of her broom.

  ‘I reckon it’s the dark. We’re used to darkness round here, but not the German boogieman.’

  With a stab in the air with her finger, Susie shouted to the ceiling.

  ‘In my Gran’s words, “we’ll get the bettermost of ’ee’, that we will”.’

  Elenor burst out laughing, and pulled her hair into a ponytail, then wound her blue scarf into a turban over her head.

  ‘That we will, Susie. Talking of grandmothers, I learned my few words of the old tongue from mine, and I recall her telling my father off for cursing in Cornish. She threw a shoe at him, she said if the language is to die out with only his translation left, she’d rather not hear it again,’ Elenor said and gave a sigh. ‘I have a feeling she would use the word herself nowadays, each day is a bad day in any language.’

  Outside, the wind blew into Elenor’s face from the direction of the previous night’s target and she caught a whiff of rubber or chemical substance. War was on their doorstep and showed no sign of leaving.

  ‘Come on ladies, this smell won’t kill us, but starving will.’

  Elenor looked at the rows of steaming pails of manure she’d collected that morning and snatched up her rake.

  She and the women she employed to help plant out the vegetable plots raked and hoed the manure around the plants. Sore back and hands were soon forgotten when Elenor stood back and looked at her handiwork. Her four helpers, and their nine children of various ages, did the same.

  Straight rows of newly watered vegetable plants displayed their fresh green shoots. Carrots, lettuce, radishes and beetroot were piled high in wooden crates, and newly erected canes tied wigwam style gave pea and bean plants something to cling onto.

  ‘There’s something about planting out and reaping the reward,’ Elenor said. ‘And reap you will. I’ve never known such hard workers.’

  She was fond of this small group; each woman understood Elenor’s position and vowed to stand by her during the hard days ahead. She offered them a small wage with a bucket of vegetables, a pail of milk per week, and a rabbit once a month. The rabbits were a nuisance on the fields and two men were given the status of official rabbit catchers. They shared their catch with her and then sold their own. The women also collected large acorns and the pigs were more than well catered for thanks to the enthusiasm of the children.

  A little boy made his way through the women and children and placed three large potatoes into an empty bucket beside Elenor. She looked down, puzzled.

  ‘Where did you find those beauties? We’ve not got a crop yet.’

  All faces looked to the little face that wore a cheeky grin, and Elenor’s heart went out to him. His life was in turmoil with the war and he still managed a sweet smile. A willing child, he always turned up with his mother without complaint.

  ‘There’s more, lots. Behind the tithe barn that’s fallin’ down. Over there,’ he said and pointed to a dilapidated building on the far side of the farm.

  ‘I never knew my brothers had planted out that area before they left, maybe it was the manager. I’ve been too busy over this way to have noticed anything growing. It’s early, too. Clever man,’ she said and patted the boy’s head.

  Bending over the bucket, she looked at the potatoes. There was no sign of any blight. She turned to the women.

  ‘Let’s get digging.’

  Armed with extra pails, wooden crates and forks, the group walked to where the young boy jumped up and down with excitement, pointing to his find. To Elenor’s amazement a small field sat sporting its treasures in row after row. She put down her equipment and stood with her hands on her hips.

  ‘How on earth had I not seen this before?’

  ‘Well they’d not grown before,’ the lad said.

  The group laughed at his cheeky reply. His mother planted a kiss on his cheek which he swiftly wiped away with a ‘yuk’ and drew more laughter from his audience.

  ‘Extra oggy for you, my prince.’

  ‘I think there’ll be many an extra pasty made this week. There’s so many potatoes here, you can have two pails per household,’ Ele
nor said.

  Cheers went up, and they all moved in to gather the find, with the little lad giving out instructions to his siblings and friends. She marvelled at their luck. The extra crop would bring in a small profit. She rewarded the boy with a few coins. He would have received more but his mother pointed out that by playing over near the potato plot, he had not fully pulled his weight with the rest of them in planting out the rest of the vegetables.

  Back out on the fields, Elenor checked the sheep and chatted with the newly appointed shepherd, Tom. He’d offered his services when his previous boss closed his farm after his son was killed. Elenor purchased a ram and four ewes from him, and two heifers whose paperwork showed a milk volume proved to be worth what she’d paid for all seven animals. It gave her a thrill when she’d travelled over to collect them. What surprised her was the attitude of the farmer. He would not accept she was capable of running a farm, let alone owning one. His argument ended in the fact he considered she would fail without a good man behind her. Someone with farming savvy, not emotional dreams. He was however, happy to negotiate a hard bargain with her and take her money.

  A tired Elenor greeted Susie inside the house that evening and placed a pail of potatoes by her feet.

  ‘There’s more for your mother outside in the barn. I can’t believe I didn’t see them growing. What a useless farmer I am,’ she said and kicked off her boots.

  ‘Useful, I’d say. My mum will make good use of those beauties. Thanks. I’ll take the small cart and bring it back tomorrow,’ said Susie. ‘Did I see you unloading new livestock?’

  ‘Yes, with Tom. By the way, I said you’d help clean his cottage instead of here for a week. It needs a good turnout. Is that all right with you?’

  ‘Yes, fine. I boiled a bit of gammon today. I’ll cut him a slice and take it over tomorrow morning and make a start.’

  With heavy eyes, Elenor struggled through her meal. Susie left for home and the last of the evening chores were finished. Aside from Seth’s snores there was silence. With little energy left, Elenor climbed the stairs and into bed. The drone of planes overhead and Seth’s barking alerted her she was to lose another night of sleep. Her back ached and blisters on her hands tingled with the hours of hoeing.

  ‘Settle down, Seth. Good boy,’ she called downstairs.

  She fumbled around in the dark to find her lamp but a glow from the side of her curtain caught her eye. Not wanting to breach the no-light law, she remained in darkness and teased back the two sets of curtains at the window. A bright orange sky in the distance had joined the full moon and between them lit the land and sky as far as Elenor could see.

  The orange, Elenor realised, were flames from the bombs burning out whatever town had been hit. She estimated it was the Plymouth area. Wild in their movement, the flames licked high and flickered their warning around the Cornish countryside. The noise droned on until she could bear it no longer.

  ‘Oh Seth! No. Those poor people. What a dreadful two days we’ve had.’

  Elenor settled back the blackout blind and her pretty curtains, double-checked they were sealed from the outside world, and lit her bedside lamp.

  Boom after boom echoed out another announcement of either a bomb strike or of a building demolished by gas explosions. On and on the enemy moved across the skies.

  ‘Enough,’ Elenor said and put her hands over her ears.

  ‘Come on Seth. It’s cold up here and I don’t know about you, but sleep has gone walkabout. Hot milk for me I think.’

  Wrapped in her dressing gown, she gathered up an eiderdown from her bed, and carrying the oil lamp, she followed the dog downstairs. Seth wagged his tail in excitement and gave a yip at the back door.

  ‘You go out and be clean. Come straight back,’ Elenor said.

  She turned off her lamp and opened the door.

  The dog raced out into the night and barked his way up into the top pasture. Flecks of his white fur moved from one side to another, and Elenor watched from the darkness of her kitchen. Shadows from trees flashed a dance across the yard each time an orange flame flicked high across the skyline, or the moon moved behind a rare, soft cloud. Her heart pounded in her chest. She heard the rat-tat of returning fire and Seth’s barks becoming more and more frantic.

  ‘Seth. Come. Home boy!’ she called and added a beckoning whistle.

  His huffing and puffing came before his physical presence, and when he saw her at the door, he barked and skittered around her ankles.

  ‘You wouldn’t be so excited if you understood what was happening my friend.’

  Elenor tickled him behind the ears and he rolled over onto his back.

  ‘No, no. Indoors.’

  She pulled him inside and as she pushed the door to, she was startled by a shadow running across the field Seth had just raced through. The dog tried to squeeze his way back outside, but she grabbed his collar.

  ‘No lad, inside with me,’ she whispered.

  Elenor closed the door and made her way to the kitchen window. A gunshot made her jump, and she grabbed onto the sink to stop her falling backwards.

  Another shadow followed the other, a much taller figure. They wove their way around the field. Another shot rang out, and both figures scurried into the trees.

  Then it dawned on her and she stepped away from the window.

  ‘The lads are making the most of the background noise tonight, Seth. You’d best stay inside. Rabbits, dogs and gun-crazy hunters are not always a good mix in the dark. Thank goodness for that, I thought we’d got the enemy on our hands.’

  Boiling milk on the stove hissed and distracted Elenor from thinking too much about being alone at night. Until she’d seen the shadowy figures scurrying around in her fields, she’d given it no real thought, other than to how lonely it could feel sometimes.

  She poured the milk into her mug and was tempted to pour a nip of brandy in the hope it would settle her nerves and help her sleep. She’d found several bottles stashed away; her brothers had not managed to drink them all. Thinking back to the state the two men were in the last time she’d seen them, she refrained from opening a bottle and took herself into the parlour.

  At the insistence of Susie, her father had pulled a large, heavy table into one corner, and converted it into a shelter of sorts. Its intention was to protect Elenor from a bomb attack, but Seth had other ideas and used it as a cosy kennel, and the moment they entered the parlour, he raced into his den. Elenor placed another log onto the fire and allowed her bones to absorb their warmth. She looked to the dog already curled up asleep and was half tempted to join him. Instead she dragged her chair to the opposite side of the fire, away from the window, and pulled the eiderdown over her. As she sipped her milk, she noted the planes were no longer active, and soon the snores of the dog were the only sound she heard.

  Still unable to sleep, Elenor sat curled up on the seat thinking of days gone by, of friends she’d made, especially Jackson St John. No matter how hard she tried to blank him from her mind, her thoughts always drifted to the kisses they’d shared.

  ‘Fanciful thoughts are going to get us nowhere, eh Seth?’

  A snore from the dog brought more envy of his ability to sleep, and Elenor draped the eiderdown around her shoulders, got out of her seat and shuffled to the window. White spiralling smoke replaced the orange glow, and silence had smothered the booms from the distance. An eeriness had cloaked its way around Tre Lodhen and Elenor shivered despite the warmth of the cover. Daylight couldn’t come soon enough.

  Spitfire the cockerel, named by Susie when he attacked her, called in the dawn chorus as usual. Elenor uncurled her body and stretched her legs to the best of her ability. When she’d climbed into the shelter three hours before, with the intention of shaking off the loneliness sitting heavy inside her, she’d drawn comfort from Seth when he’d settled back down across her legs.

  Numb limbs, a dry mouth and grumbling stomach were followed by the assault on her face by an overexcited dog.

&
nbsp; ‘The longest night I can ever recall, Seth. Get off, you daft mutt.’

  She crawled out from under the table and enjoyed another stretching session. She pulled back the curtains. No longer orange or white, the grey sky summed up her emotion as she looked over the fields. Sadness. What had the world come to?

  With a heavy heart she shuffled into the kitchen with Seth hitching a ride on the bottom of the eiderdown.

  Full from a hearty breakfast of eggs and toast, Elenor fed Seth his own scraps and went back upstairs to get dressed whilst he ate.

  ‘Hello, anybody home?’

  Susie’s voice drifted upstairs and Elenor could hear her making a fuss of the dog.

  ‘Up here, be down in a minute,’ Elenor called out.

  Susie was a welcome visitor after the dreadful night Elenor had experienced. Glad to see the back of the eerie shadows, Elenor threw open her bedroom window and allowed the bracing chill of the air to circulate around her room. It felt like a ritual, a releasing of bad spirits – and thoughts.

  Entering the kitchen Elenor let Seth outside just as Susie re-entered with a basket of eggs. The girl never wasted time.

  ‘Good morning, Elenor. Not a good one for some though. Dreadful night again.’

  Taking the egg basket from Susie, Elenor nodded her agreement.

  ‘I’ve not slept a wink. Plymouth way again, those poor people,’ she said.

  Susie grabbed her brush and swept her way around the room with such a fierceness, Elenor feared the tiled floor would wear thin.

  ‘Oh, by the way, my uncle asked me to bring your post. It’s on the table.’

  Elenor picked up the smaller of the two letters. It was from Victoria.

  31st July 1940

  Wales

  Elenor,

  Just to inform you I am not in Coventry for a month. Rose is being cared for by my friend Agnes. She is fine. Your friend’s father is keeping watch on the garden and the hens are laying well.

  George sends his regards. He is joining me in Wales soon.