A Stranger in Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  He got there for eight o’clock, driving himself. ‘Sorry I’m late. Mother threw a tantrum today. All the fault of my brother for leaving everything to his so-called fiancée. She still can’t accept that.’

  ‘Bit unfair of him.’

  ‘Yes. And Mother’s missing my sister’s company, though she’d never admit it.’

  ‘She should have been kinder to Georgina when she was living here.’

  ‘Mother isn’t kind to anyone. You should have realised that by now.’

  ‘I have, but by her age most people have learnt that you can catch flies more easily with honey than with vinegar. Anyway, I should think you need a glass of brandy after a day like that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t say no.’

  When they were settled in front of the fireplace with its summer ‘dressing’ of an embroidered screen, Francis said abruptly, ‘I saw Tesworth in Malmesbury today.’

  ‘What was he doing?’

  ‘Getting on a train to London. I checked later where the train was going and it was an express. He’s still got his arm in a sling.’

  ‘No sign of anyone else with him.’

  ‘No. But why would he come down here except to see her. His family aren’t from these parts.’

  ‘Was he still in uniform?’

  ‘No. I heard he was going to be invalided out. Wonder what he’ll do with himself now.’

  Spencer studied his glass, swirling the brandy round and round, making it last. ‘It could be interesting to find out what he was doing here.’

  ‘No sign of that Jones female anywhere?’

  ‘No. Mother has bought the house at her price.’

  ‘She must be keen to get it. Did you find out why yet?’

  ‘No.’ Spencer changed the subject, talking about the horrifying losses in the Battle of the Somme, nearly sixty thousand British Empire casualties in one day alone. ‘We’re well out of that, eh?’

  ‘It’s one consolation for the scornful treatment.’

  After finishing his drink, Spencer stood up. ‘I’d better get back.’

  ‘Have I done something to offend you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then why have you been staying away?’

  ‘Other people sometimes pull my strings.’

  ‘What does that mean? Has your mother got some hold over you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. And that’s all I’m saying. Let me know if you hear anything else and I’ll reciprocate if I hear anything about my dear sister.’

  ‘The bitch has vanished off the face of the earth.’

  ‘For the time being only. I don’t know where Georgina has gone to earth but I doubt she’ll be able to stay there for ever. She’ll reappear one day, I’m sure, and we’ll be waiting for her.’

  ‘Well, I’d prefer her to reappear sooner rather than later. I really need that money of hers.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’

  As he drove home Spencer smiled. He didn’t need a share of his sister’s money now, though he had no doubt his mother and Francis were still eager to get hold of it. He wasn’t going to tell Francis about it or he’d be trying to cadge a loan. His mother knew, because his father had reduced her allowance.

  Spencer smiled in the darkness of his car and thought about tonight’s conversation. Francis must be even shorter than usual of money to be so direct. Well, he didn’t intend to offend the old man by going against orders to stay away from Francis. And they were orders, however softly spoken.

  It was good to know there was money coming in every quarter that wasn’t dependent on his mother’s whims. Very good.

  But now that he could leave Westcott, he found he didn’t want to. London wasn’t much fun when there was a war on that you couldn’t play a part in, and when certain people didn’t want to know you.

  And there were too many chaps strutting around in uniform. He remembered how alive and heroic Philip had looked when he came home on leave. And how good most men looked in an officer’s uniform, even the ugly ones.

  It was humiliating when women gave you a white feather. He hoped he didn’t show how much it upset him.

  Part Two

  Chapter Twelve

  In early August, Tez was given permission to drive again. He got his car out of storage the very same day and had it checked over and serviced. The next day he drove himself down to Honeyfield for the first time. He took it easy and had a stop en route, but his hand still felt all right and he was looking forward to surprising Isabella and being able to drive her around for a change.

  Isabella not Bella. It was now established that he call her ‘Isabella’ not merely ‘Bella’. He was the only person apart from her father who had ever done that, she said.

  That pleased him greatly because he knew how much she’d loved her father. He felt to be getting closer to her with every visit. There was nothing romantic about it, but friendship was building and that felt good.

  When he drove into her street and pulled up in front of her house, Bella ran outside to the car beaming. ‘Tez! You didn’t tell me they were allowing you to drive again.’

  He grinned at her as he got out. ‘They said it was up to me now and I felt sure I could do it. So here I am.’ Without thinking he pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug.

  For a moment she stiffened slightly, then she hugged him back.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,’ he said quietly.

  ‘We’ve become such good friends,’ she said, deliberately skirting round the underlying meaning of his statement.

  He didn’t say ‘More than friends, surely?’ but he thought it and she didn’t meet his eyes as she pulled away again.

  But she had hugged him back! Was he being a fool or was there hope for him?

  ‘I’ll carry my case in.’ He only brought a small overnight bag now because a few of his clothes were kept permanently at Pear Tree Cottage. ‘You can carry the box, because though I think I could manage it now, I reckon I’ve given my hand enough exercise for the time being.’

  ‘How did you get it into the car?’

  ‘My neighbour carried it down for me.’ Tez always brought food because she wouldn’t let him pay towards the running costs of the house. He tried to find food that wasn’t easily available in Honeyfield, so as not to upset the grocer and to give Isabella a treat or two.

  He put the case at the foot of the stairs and studied her. ‘I like your new frock.’

  She looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve put on so much baby weight that my clothes didn’t fit me. I’m very lucky that we have such a good local dressmaker in the village. I don’t think I’ve ever had clothes which suit me so well. She wouldn’t even let me choose the materials on my own but insisted on coming with me into Malmesbury.’

  ‘No one saw you there?’

  ‘No. But I had to risk it, because I was desperate to get some new clothes made. At least I wasn’t there on my own.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘I need some new shoes as well. No one told me that having babies makes your feet get bigger.’

  ‘Perhaps because of the extra weight they now carry.’

  She glanced into the mirror and sighed. ‘I’m getting very fat round the middle now.’

  ‘Not fat. Plump and ripe as a peach.’

  ‘You say the nicest things, Tez. You always make me feel better. Anyway, I’m going to go into Swindon for a quiet shopping trip after the weekend. I’m sure no one I know will be there on a Monday morning. I’ll wear a small felt hat that won’t draw attention to my face and pull it down as far as it’ll go. And I won’t linger.’

  ‘I don’t like to think of you driving there and back on your own. You mentioned last weekend that you get tired more easily these days. Why don’t I stay on a day or two longer and come with you? We could share the driving.’

  She stared at him and it seemed to him as if this moment, this decision, was a turning point in their relationship. ‘All right. Will you have enough clothes or shall I need to wash someth
ing for you?’

  He’d been holding his breath while he waited for her answer and he let it out in a long slow exhalation. ‘I’ll have enough clothes, thank you. I leave quite a few things here now.’

  ‘Yes. I noticed when I cleaned the spare bedroom. I didn’t realise you’d left so many.’

  ‘Can you find me a washerwoman locally? It’ll be easier to get my things laundered here and people won’t be surprised since I’m supposed to be your husband. You don’t mind doing that?’

  She shook her head then changed the subject. ‘What’s in the other box?’

  ‘A new book for you and my painting equipment.’

  ‘I’ve been hoping you’d try to use some of the art things in the studio. Those watercolours you showed me were lovely. You should use a talent like that. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed over an extra day now and then to work there.’

  More progress! he thought triumphantly, but said only, ‘You’re very kind. I’d like that. There’s nowhere I can leave my paints out in the flat, it’s so small.’

  ‘I’m not being kind; I’m telling the simple truth. You really are a good painter. But I think we ought to clear Miss Thorburn’s things out of the studio first. We can do it together. I’ve never quite liked to disturb them.’

  Later he helped her go through the studio’s contents and they found album after album of the old lady’s watercolour paintings of the countryside.

  He whistled softly as he carefully turned the big pages. It was like a photograph album only much bigger, with the edges of her paintings inserted into slits at each corner. ‘She was a superb painter. I wonder if she ever sold anything.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. Mrs Dyson at Number Three says she was a lady through and through. Never left the house without a hat, never lost her temper, never did anything but live and behave modestly.’

  ‘That sounds a rather tedious life for the poor old thing. Yet her paintings are full of beauty and the joys of nature.’

  ‘A lot of women seem to live mainly in the shadows. Philip and I were planning to do all sorts of things after the war: travel, go to the theatre, dance the night away …’ She indicated her stomach with a wry smile. ‘Now my future life has been decided for me. I’ll be raising my child for the next twenty years or so, and I too will be living quietly in the shadows, thanks to the Cotterells.’

  ‘Will that be enough to keep you happy?’

  ‘It’ll have to be. I don’t have much choice but as I want the baby very much, I’ll do it gladly.’

  He didn’t ask what they’d do about his role as her husband after the war. If he had his way, she’d marry him and he’d make sure she didn’t have to live her life quietly serving others. For the moment they were taking small steps that would, he hoped, pave the way. They were very good friends now, never short of something to chat about, sharing many of the same interests.

  But the day was coming when he would have to speak out. They couldn’t go on like this for ever. They had rushed into the pretence that he was her husband without thinking how to end it. And he’d be desolate if they had to separate.

  He must hold back from speaking till after the child was born, he always told himself. It wouldn’t be right to say anything till she’d had her child. Till Philip’s legacy was no longer growing inside her.

  Georgie was sorry to leave Greyladies, but found the place they sent her to, Honeyfield House, a friendly place as well. It was a similar style of house, but not nearly as grand. She didn’t intend to stay in these sheltering places for ever. She was determined to find somewhere of her own to live, not to mention something worthwhile to do with her life.

  A lot of people talked about making new lives for themselves after the war, which seemed to have been limiting their horizons for a long time, even though it was not yet two full years. It felt as if the war would never end. How many more wonderful young men like her brother would be sacrificed to its needs?

  She was much better educated than the three other women in residence at Honeyfield, one of whom had brought four children with her, such quiet, subdued children. They’d been afraid of their own shadows at first, Sal said, because their father had often hit them, but were getting more lively now. If that was ‘lively’ the poor little dears had a long way to go.

  As the women got to know one another, differences of background became less and less important. They shared life stories and Georgie began to understand how, in spite of the irritations and limitations her mother had imposed on her life, she’d had a far easier time than the others.

  Money made a big difference, whatever anyone said about money not making you happy. She hadn’t gone hungry, hadn’t had children to protect, hadn’t lost babies due to violence.

  A few times she chatted privately to Miss Pendleby, the matron at Honeyfield House. They all did. It seemed as if their matron had been chosen in part at least for her ability to listen and prompt the women into working out solutions to their problems.

  ‘Like you, most of them have been told what to do all their lives by other people,’ she said to Georgie one day. ‘I try not to order you ladies around too much.’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’

  ‘Yes. I thought you would. You’re not stupid.’

  ‘But I still haven’t come up with a plan for what I should do next. I can’t seem to think clearly about it.’

  ‘You will. Give it time. Now, I wonder if you would help me – or rather, help Jean? She didn’t get a very good education, to put it mildly, and desperately needs to be able to read properly. So does Sal. If you could help the two of them to practise their reading every day, they’d improve quickly and that would make a big difference to their chances of better lives.’

  ‘I’m happy to do that.’

  ‘Mrs Perry used to come and help them sometimes, but she’s expecting a child soon and gets too tired to come out in the evenings.’ She smiled. ‘In fact, Mr Perry is fussing over her like a hen with one chick.’

  ‘He’s a lovely man, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. The pair of them make very good trustees. I can go to them for help about anything.’

  ‘I wonder if Mr Perry would advise me about what to do with my own money?’

  ‘I’m sure he would. He trained as an accountant and still runs his family’s accounting business, though he prefers to sell houses these days and I’ve heard that he does a little work on the side, finding things and people that are lost.’

  ‘Like a detective?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a great admirer of the Sherlock Holmes stories, and so am I. They’re very exciting. Did you read The Valley of Fear? It was serialised in The Strand Magazine at the beginning of the war. I bought every edition and saved them. I can lend them to you if you like.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘I’m sure I can rely on you to take care of them.’

  ‘Of course.’

  As their chat ended, Georgie said in wonderment, ‘You make everything seem so much easier. Thank you.’

  ‘I can make daily life relatively easy for people staying here, but I can’t make the choices you have before you easy or make your life run smoothly after you leave. That’ll be up to you – and fate. Fortunately, we have groups of women working with the trust in several places around the country, so if you need to settle further away to avoid the people who’re upsetting you, we can usually find someone to help you settle elsewhere.’

  Which gave Georgie a lot to think about. But though she had adequate money to live on, she still wasn’t entirely confident about her own ability to manage her life, especially uncertain about how and where to live. And to live on her own! That frightened her, she had to admit.

  And she realised, as a lot of young women did, that with so many young men being killed there wouldn’t be enough husbands left to go round after the war, so she might remain a spinster all her life.

  She knew Harry was fond of her, but though she liked him very much and was grateful to him for helping her,
she wasn’t fond of him in that way, unfortunately. So even if he survived the war, she didn’t see her future bound in his. She wasn’t so desperate to marry that she’d do it without love. Not after her experience with Francis.

  Sadly, she’d never fallen in love with any man and had only agreed to marry Francis to escape from her mother, which she had grown to understand would have been leaping out of the frying pan into the fire. It had taken his attempt to stop her speaking at her own twin’s memorial service to push her into action.

  It took longer to finalise the house purchase than Spencer had expected because it took his mother a while to find a new lawyer who suited her, which he knew meant soft-soaped her ad nauseam.

  He got fed up of waiting, so tried to get into the house to go through the contents, but found to his annoyance that the locks had all been changed. Marley interfering again, no doubt, damn him.

  His mother would soon gain possession of the house, so Spencer offered to escort her there and help with the inspection.

  ‘No, thank you. I want to wander down memory lane and that wouldn’t be easy with you clumping around there. I need to be on my own.’

  He was quite sure she wasn’t going to do any wandering down memory lane. She was a very unsentimental woman. But what was she going to do at the house?

  Tez drove the two of them into Swindon to purchase some shoes, taking Isabella’s car in case he got too tired and she had to drive back. They parked it in a side street and strolled along to Regent Street.

  ‘It feels like a big city after Honeyfield,’ she joked. ‘Electric lights, tramways and plenty of shops. I wish we had electricity in Honeyfield. It’d make life so much easier. We had it at the hospital and at my landlady’s house.’

  ‘Well, I dare say it’ll come to Honeyfield one day. Hold on to my arm and watch out for tripping in the tramlines. We’ll try the shops on Regent Street first. You ought to be able to find some decent shoes here. If not, I know a couple of other places to try.’