by Anna Jacobs
When Bella joined him there, he said, ‘Miss Thorburn was quite talented. What a pity she didn’t finish the final painting. I might have a go at it once my hand has recovered. It’d be a pity to throw it away.’ He stared down at his bandaged hand and murmured, ‘You don’t need five fingers to hold a paintbrush.’
‘I didn’t know you were artistic.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s not something a young man boasts of, especially after he’s joined the army. But I did enjoy it. I like to paint landscapes, but flowers too.’
‘While the kettle boils, we should bring the luggage in, if you don’t mind, Tez. I bought a few provisions yesterday and Mrs Sibley made me a casserole to tide us over till I could do some shopping. I don’t want that sitting out in the sun when there’s a nice, cool pantry here.’
She opened and shut cupboards, noting a few tins but little by the way of flour or dry goods. She’d have to restock. But there was a tin of sugar, at least, and the same kind person had left her a jug of milk.
‘Let me get the luggage in,’ he said abruptly.
‘How about I fetch the boxes and the food, and you bring in the cases? Leave them in the hall till we’ve had our cuppa, then we’ll take them upstairs.’
It didn’t take him long to do that and come back into the kitchen. ‘There isn’t much luggage, considering you’re moving here permanently, Bella. Are you going to be all right?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m looking forward to doing some shopping, though. I didn’t take a lot with me from home when I joined the VADs, because we were in uniform most of the time. But I can’t ask Mother to send the rest of my books and things or she’d know where I live. I’ll see if I can find a library nearby, as well. I enjoy reading, not heavy stuff but stories with happy endings and books that teach you things.’
‘I can send you some novels to read, if you like. We have a lot of them lying around in the attic because my mother isn’t a reader and she’ll only allow the leather-bound ones into her sitting room, so that the bookcase looks nice. What sort of novels do you like reading? Ours may be a bit old-fashioned.’
‘Anything I can lay my hands on. I’m not fussy. Marie Corelli gives an exciting read, though I can never believe such things could happen in real life. I don’t want to trouble you, though.’
His voice was suddenly harsher. ‘It’s good to be troubled and have something useful to do.’
That was the second time he’d said that. It was her needing to help bring in the luggage that had brought that look to his face. She’d have to be more careful what she said next time he was reminded of his injury. ‘I gratefully accept your offer, then, kind sir.’
The kettle was boiling by the time she’d put away the casserole and other bits and pieces of fresh food on the stone shelf in the pantry. She poured the hot water into the teapot and stole a glance in Tez’s direction, wondering whether to tell him about the baby. Perhaps she should get it out in the open, in case it put him off pretending to be her husband. But it was hard just to throw news like that at him. She didn’t want to upset him again, had to do it tactfully.
He spoke before she had worked out what to say. ‘We ought to have discussed it earlier, but Matron and Mr Marley suggested I spend tonight here. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to do that, Bella, but if that’s the case, I’ll have to ask you for a lift to the nearest railway station.’
He still looked stiff and ill at ease, poor man. Mr Marley and Matron shouldn’t have put him into such a difficult situation. ‘I’d feel better if you stayed, actually, as long as you don’t mind. And if my two wise advisers are in favour of it, we’d be foolish to go against their advice, don’t you think?’
He nodded and seemed to relax a little.
‘Let’s go up and choose our bedrooms while the tea brews.’
On the landing she went towards the larger front bedrooms and opened the door of the one on the right. ‘I think I’ll sleep well here. It has a bolt on the inside of the door in case I feel nervous.’
She stood in the doorway, while he remained like a silent statue at the other end of the landing.
‘Will you be nervous on your own here?’
‘Probably. Till I’m used to it and the different night noises. And till we’re sure the Cotterells are not going to come after me. I’ll probably keep a poker handy when I go to bed. Women on their own often do that, you know.’
‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Anyway, if you choose a bedroom, we can go back to our cups of tea.’
He walked round the other rooms quickly then asked, ‘Would you mind if I used the other big bedroom? I find small rooms rather oppressive and sleep much better in bigger spaces.’
She wondered if that was as a result of the war, but didn’t ask. ‘It’s fine by me. I only need one bedroom and I’m not likely to have any other guests staying. You may want to change the furniture around, perhaps find a small table to use as a desk. Please feel free to do that. There’s too much furniture in the downstairs rooms for my taste, that’s for sure. I’ve never been in such a cluttered house before.’
On the way he stopped at the rear bedroom. ‘This would be a charming study.’ He walked across to the window. ‘It has a pretty view over the back garden.’
‘It will be pretty once I’ve found someone to tidy up the garden.’
‘Shall you use the summer house?’
‘I think so. It seems sound and there’s a surprise inside. I’m not telling you till we go out there.’ She still couldn’t work out why the gate into the orchard next door was concealed. Perhaps someone in the village would know.
As they sat in the kitchen a few moments later sipping their tea and eating some of the biscuits she’d bought, he said abruptly, ‘If you like, I could come here every weekend. You might sleep more easily if you weren’t on your own. I can’t get a job yet and I don’t know what sort of job I’d want. Not in a bank or office or anything like that.’
‘I don’t want to impose.’
‘Well, though I’m staying with my mother she’s out a lot, busy with war work. She’s a magnificent organiser, knows everyone who’s anyone. And the chaps I know from the army aren’t often in town since most of them are stationed in France. But perhaps it’d be too much trouble for you to have a regular guest.’
She’d been wondering how safe she’d feel here, because the whole back wall of the garden fronted on to the orchard, so a burglar could easily climb over. ‘Not at all. I think that would be a good thing. I’d enjoy the company if you’re truly sure you can spare the time.’
‘Oh, good! I’ve always preferred the country to the town and London looks so grey, even in summer. People are worried about bombs and spies and shortages of food, always in a hurry to get somewhere else.’
He reached out for another biscuit. ‘I’ll bring some food with me next time or pay for my share.’
‘How shall you get here? By train to Marlborough?’
He looked down at his hand. ‘In a week or two, I may be able to drive myself, so I’ll get my car out of storage. If this had been my right hand it’d have been a lot easier to get back to driving.’ Only he couldn’t change gears yet with this thing that used to be a hand. ‘I’ll have to see if I can find someone to drive me down till I’m able to use my own car again. I’ll find a way. There are always chaps on leave and if I leave word that I’ll lend them my car for a day or two in return, they’ll be happy to help.’
‘If you came by train, I could meet you at the railway station.’
‘Perhaps you could take me back that way, as long as you drive off immediately and keep a hat pulled down to hide your face. But you shouldn’t wait around in Marlborough for a train which may be late. You know how the war has affected the railway timetables. Someone might see you and recognise you. You won’t be all that far away from the Cotterells there – though I don’t think they go up to London all that often, from what Philip said, so they might not go near the station.’
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‘Could you please give me your mother’s telephone number? I’m going to get a telephone put in here, at Mr Marley’s suggestion, and I’ll let you have the number as soon as it’s installed. He said he could help me get priority for one. He seems to know a lot of useful people, doesn’t he? Like your mother. Until there is a phone you’ll have to drop me a letter when you’re coming.’
‘Or we could arrange it when I leave. So I’d only write if I wasn’t coming.’ He studied her face. ‘You’re looking tired again. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes, of course I am. Just a bit weary from the driving. I’ll go and unpack, then put my feet up for half an hour.’
She’d find a better time than this to tell him about the baby. He was looking restless and she was feeling blurry with tiredness.
‘I’ll go for a stroll round the village, then. I’d like to stretch my legs a bit.’
When he’d gone, she let out her breath in a long half-groan. She hoped the conversations between them wouldn’t always be so full of shoals. Light conversation was easy, talking about themselves and their problems much harder. She could see that Tez was still coming to terms with the injury to his hand while she … Shaking her head she told herself that she wasn’t going to spend her days weeping. That wouldn’t bring Philip back.
She went up to unpack and was relieved to find that someone had cleared out the drawers and wardrobe. Thank goodness! Clearing out clothes, especially underwear, would have been a horrible job for a stranger to do.
When she’d unpacked her two suitcases, she lay down on the bed for a few minutes and woke up some time later wondering where she was and how late it was. There was a clock on the mantelpiece, a pretty little enamelled thing, but it wasn’t working. She’d have to find the correct time and wind it up.
And she’d buy herself a little fob watch. She’d been issued with one by the VAD ambulance organiser to make sure she kept good time but had had to hand it back when she left. She had come to rely on it and missed it already.
Yawning and stretching, she went into the bathroom, smiling at how convenient it was to have the facilities inside.
How lucky she was to have this house!
At Honeyfield House Sal Hatton was gloating over the clothes she’d cleared out of Pear Tree Cottage. She’d been offered first choice of them by Matron, on Mr Perry’s say-so no less, as her reward for doing the job, as well as being paid. Well, the clothes would be of no use to the new owner who was a slender young woman, they said.
‘Looks like these will fit me just fine, for once.’ She beamed as she held a pair of bloomers up to her waist and studied her reflection in the spotted mirror that graced one wall of the room she and her daughter shared.
Size was always a consideration when you were bigger than most other women. She’d seen Miss Thorburn in the village and she had a fine, buxom figure. I bet she never went hungry for a single day of her whole life, Sal thought. And she hadn’t gone hungry for the past few years either, not since Harriet Latimer found her about to give birth, having broken into Honeyfield House with no more than the clothes on her back.
Eh, to think that baby was now nearly five and would soon be starting at the village school.
She’d blessed Mrs Latimer every day since then, because she’d been given a home and a job here as housemaid, and if there was one thing she enjoyed it was cleaning nice houses like this one, making everything sparkle and banishing dust and dirt from every crevice.
There was a new Mrs Latimer at Greyladies now, though, Mrs Olivia Latimer, and she ran the trust which paid for the upkeep of Honeyfield House. Sal didn’t quite understand what a trust was, only that it paid for the expenses of this big house and for the help given to women in trouble.
Mrs Olivia was just as kind as her relative had been. And though Mrs Harriet might have moved away now, she came back every now and then to visit them.
Sal put away the underwear and tried on the clothes one after the other, twisting from side to side in front of the mirror. As she took off a lovely blue dress that she liked best of all, she decided she’d definitely have that one. She’d keep it for Sundays and going to church. And wouldn’t she look fine then?
While she was going through the clothes, her little daughter played on the floor with her rag dolls. Sal looked down at her fondly. Children grew quickly when they were well fed and Barbara would also need some new clothes soon as well. Sal had decided recently not to let anyone shorten the child’s name to a mere Babs because it sounded too common. She wanted her daughter to grow up to have a better life than herself, and that meant having a better name to match it.
Perhaps the present matron of Honeyfield House would let her cut up some of the more worn clothes and the smocks covered in paint stains that had also come from Miss Thorburn’s house. There was enough good material in them to make dresses for her daughter. Not that she was very good at sewing, but Miss Pendleby had promised to help and even to teach Sal how to make up or alter simple clothes herself. They had a sewing machine here at Honeyfield House, but Sal was afraid of using it because that needle ran so fast when your foot slipped on the treadle that it could make a mess of things. But she was determined to practise till she could do it slowly and steadily.
She looked down at her big red hands and smiled ruefully. It’d be easier if she had smaller, softer hands, but no matter how much goose grease she rubbed into hers they always showed the effects of scrubbing floors. Well, scrubbing was a good, honest task and Miss Pendleby complimented her regularly on her work.
‘Come here and give me a kiss, my little lovey,’ she said fondly and scooped up her daughter for a cuddle.
‘I’m playing with my dolls!’ Barbara protested and wriggled out of her hands. She made up all sorts of games with those little rag dolls, wonderful it was, to hear her. You’d think they were real people.
There was a knock on the door and Miss Pendleby peeped in. ‘How are you going, Sal? Can I help?’
‘The clothes fit perfectly. I don’t know which to choose.’
‘Let me help you.’
By teatime a bemused Sal had a wardrobe near as fine as a lady’s, finer than she had ever owned before, that was sure. And there were other garments set aside to be cut up for Barbara, ready for the child starting at the village school in September.
And that still left clothes for the women who sought refuge here, if they needed them. Some weren’t able to bring anything with them when they ran away.
As she cleared up the tea things, Sal spared a quick thought for the lady who’d inherited Miss Thorburn’s house, some sort of distant cousin, Mr Perry had said. She hoped Mrs Tesworth and her husband would settle in quickly.
He’d been wounded in the war, poor chap, and lost two fingers, Mr Perry said. But at least he was still alive. A lot of them hadn’t survived. Two lads that she knew by sight from church had been killed even from this small village.
Miss Pendleby was going to call on Mrs Tesworth to welcome her, but Sal wouldn’t presume to do that. She was looking forward to seeing her in church, though. She liked to know everyone who lived in her village.
As she’d told her friend, the Tesworths sounded to be a lovely couple.
Chapter Eight
In the morning after breakfast, Bella gathered her courage together and said, ‘There’s something else you need to know about the … the situation, Tez. Before you commit yourself finally to regular visits.’
He looked at her, waiting. He seemed more cheerful this morning and said he’d slept better here in the peace of the country.
There was no easy way to tell him so she blurted out, ‘I need to tell you – I’m expecting Philip’s baby.’
For a moment or two he froze, mouth half-open in shock, then slowly his face came to life again and he smiled at her. ‘That’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful. It means Philip will live on.’
She couldn’t stop the tears of relief at how well he’d accepted the news. ‘I wis
h he could have known.’
‘Perhaps he does. He’d have been very happy about it, I’m sure.’
She sobbed even harder at that.
When Tez put an arm round her shoulders, she gave in to temptation and leant against him for a few moments, because she’d been feeling so alone with her secret and because he hadn’t turned away from her.
He smoothed back her hair, then fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. It was still neatly folded, while hers were always crumpled before she’d had them in her pocket for an hour. ‘Here. Use this. I’ll squeeze another cup of tea out of the pot.’
As they sat opposite one another, holding cups half-full of tepid tea, he said, ‘Philip and I were such good friends, I’m going to insist on being a godfather to the child.’
‘Yes, please.’ She mopped her eyes again. ‘I was afraid of what you’d say, with me and Philip not being married.’
‘Some people would condemn you for that, but I wouldn’t. It obviously gave him great joy to have found you in such dark times. I’d not seen him that happy for ages.’
For a moment, painful memories of his friend made his heart twist with sadness, then he took her hand across the table. ‘I’m very glad I’ve agreed to play the part of your husband, Bella. There won’t be any nasty gossip about you or the child if I do that.’
‘But what if you meet someone, a woman you can love? I know: if you do, I’ll tell my neighbours here that you’ve been killed and call myself a widow. You must never feel you can’t have a life of your own.’
‘That’s very generous. But I doubt I shall do that.’
His eyes flickered down to the injured hand and she said impulsively, ‘Any woman who would mind about that small injury wouldn’t be worth having.’
‘It doesn’t worry you, though, does it?’