Elm Tree Road

by Anna Jacobs

  Mr Easton looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I think you should call me Hugh, and I’ll call you Nell, if you don’t mind. It’s how I think of you already, actually. Mrs Greenhill doesn’t seem like you, I don’t know why.’

  ‘Well, it was my husband’s name. It doesn’t feel like mine to me either, but what can I do?’

  ‘You could change your name legally, or take your maiden name again. There are no children to confuse the issue.’

  ‘Could I really? I think I’d like that. But it wouldn’t be right for me to use your first name.’

  He let out a scornful snort. ‘Who says so? This is 1912 not 1812! And we’re living together, I hope on friendly terms, so why not treat one another like family?’

  She looked at him warily. What exactly did he mean by that?

  He smiled. ‘I didn’t mean anything disrespectful to you by that … Nell.’ He waited, and when she still didn’t say anything, added, ‘I got used to calling people by their given names when I was mixing with literary folk in London. But I won’t do it, if it upsets you.’

  Relieved that she hadn’t misread the situation, she tried it out. ‘It doesn’t upset me … Hugh.’

  He beamed. ‘Thank you, Nell. I’m so glad we found you.’

  She could feel her face growing warm with pleasure at that compliment. He didn’t mean anything by such talk or using first names. He’d said himself he was used to mixing with artistic types and she’d heard that they were very different from ordinary folk. If it had been anyone from her old life, it’d have felt as if he was flirting with her. What a fool she was even to think of that!

  Except in dreams. You couldn’t help dreaming of what life might have been like if you’d had a kind, loving husband. She’d seen it with the Garretts, had envied Mrs Garrett.

  And Mr Easton – Hugh! – was good-looking as well as nice. She was still young enough to dream of a man so kind he made you feel like a lady, yet made you laugh too. It was lovely to laugh with someone. She hadn’t done that since Renie went to work in London.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was decided that Nell should go to look for her sister on Thursday and Hugh would take her to the nearest railway station, which was at Faringdon.

  They set off quite early in the trap, dropping May at school on their way. It was a very small village and a tiny school, with only two classes – one for little children, one for older children. Nell could see that May was much better dressed than the others and watched over her shoulder as the child went to stand on her own in a corner of the yard, shoulders hunched, looking unhappy. Didn’t May have any friends? Nell didn’t ask Hugh because she wanted to talk to the girl first.

  In Faringdon, they left the horse and trap at a livery stable and went to enquire about trains.

  As there was half an hour to wait for the next one, which connected with a main-line train to Swindon, Nell bought the ticket and then they went on to the grocer’s. Hugh introduced her to the owner and explained that she’d be buying food for his household from now on and it should be put on his account. He passed over a list.

  She waved goodbye to him, feeling a bit nervous of travelling on her own. She’d not yet told Hugh about her husband and Sarah, but she might. When the time was right. People who lived together needed to understand one another and he’d been very open with her.

  As the second train rattled along towards Swindon, she felt excited as well as nervous. She was longing to see Mattie or at least hear how she was and find a way to get in touch with her. Surely her sister would have written to the Greenhills by now, as they’d planned when they all ran away? Frank hadn’t said anything about a letter, but it was well over two years now. That’s what they’d agreed: wait two years.

  Her father would be at the railway works, so she didn’t need to worry about bumping into him, thank goodness. But she was worrying about how she’d be received by her mother-in-law.

  When she arrived in Swindon, Nell stood at the entrance to the railway station, looking down the street. The town hadn’t changed much, as far as she could see.

  She took a roundabout way to the Greenhills’ house, walking slowly and familiarising herself with the shops again. Not that she and her sisters had shopped in the town centre very often. They’d gone mainly to the corner shop, and to second-hand clothes dealers for their clothes – or to the market to buy fresh food and occasionally material to make their simple skirts and blouses. But they’d gone to look in the windows occasionally, as a treat.

  She looked down at her tweed suit and smiled. She’d had nothing as grand as this to wear before.

  When she got to the end of the street, she hesitated, still worried about how they’d be with her. Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, she told herself not to be so silly and walked briskly along the street.

  Their house had always greeted you with sparkling windows, ornaments set out on the window sill, the pavement swept clean outside the front door and the step holystoned. Today it looked sad and weary … if you could say that about a house. The windows were dull, the brass knocker needed a good polish and the doorstep hadn’t been mopped for a while.

  She knocked and waited. Just as she was about to knock again, she heard footsteps shuffling along the hall and the door opened.

  For a moment she and Mrs Greenhill stared at one another. It would have been hard to say who was the more shocked.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ the older woman asked, her voice sharp.

  ‘I’ve come back to live in the area, so I thought I’d call on you and … say hello.’

  ‘I wonder you’ve got the cheek to show your face here. You tricked my Cliff into marriage and now he’s dead and it’s all your fault.’ Her voice was shrill and getting shriller.

  ‘Don’t say that. It was an accident, a dreadful accident.’

  ‘He’d not have been there at all if it hadn’t been for you. He’d have been at home where he belonged. I lost my only son because of you and I don’t want you coming here again.’ She took a step forward, arms rising as if to shove Nell away.

  Nell took a hasty step backwards, shocked at the virulent hatred in the woman’s voice and face. ‘Please, Mrs Greenhill, don’t be like that.’

  ‘How should I be? Do you think a nephew can replace a son? You’ve got your blood money out of my Cliff. Didn’t think to share that with us, did you?’

  Nell was startled. How did they know about the insurance policy? Frank had left Milnrow straight after the funeral – hadn’t he?

  The neighbour on the right-hand side came out of her house and hurried across to put her arm round Mrs Greenhill’s thin shoulders. ‘Shh now. Shh.’ She too gave Nell a hostile look. ‘Leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything. It was her son who got me in the family way. But I’ll go away as soon as I’ve asked her something.’

  ‘What?’

  Nell looked at Mrs Greenhill who was leaning against her neighbour, tears tracking down her cheeks. ‘Have you heard from my sister, Mattie? She ran away at the same time and Cliff arranged that she’d contact us through you, but not till a year or two had passed. I don’t know where she is and you’re the only way I can hope to find her.’

  Cliff’s mother stared at her, then a gloating smile slowly creased her face. ‘There is some justice in the world, then.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I won’t tell you anything. Serve you right if you never see your sister again. I’ll never see my Cliff, will I?’

  ‘You can’t mean that!’

  ‘Oh, can’t I? If she sends a letter, I’ll burn it. If she calls at the house, I’ll tell her you’re dead – like my Cliff. I do mean it. I do.’ She started sobbing loudly again and the neighbour guided her into the house. She stopped in the doorway to look over her shoulder and yell, ‘Don’t come back here or I’ll take a knife to you, I swear it.’ The door closed with a bang behind them both.

  Nell stared at the hous
e, aghast. She couldn’t believe anyone would be so cruel.

  She heard a voice and turned to see an old woman standing on the doorstep of the house on the other side of the Greenhills’. She looked as if she’d said something and was waiting for an answer. ‘Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.’

  ‘I said, she’ll not change her mind. Spiteful, the Greenhills are when they feel they’ve been slighted.’

  ‘But I didn’t do anything. It was her son who got me in the family way. He forced me.’

  ‘She’ll never believe that. You’d think her Cliff was a saint to hear her talk. You’ll have to find your sister some other way.’

  ‘There isn’t any other way.’

  The woman shrugged and went inside.

  Nell felt chilled to the core and was far beyond tears. She’d been so hopeful as she made her way here, sure that Mattie would have got in touch by now.

  Turning, she began walking slowly towards the station, not noticing anything around her this time, not caring either.

  She got on to a train and somehow made her way back to Faringdon, only to realise she was back early. So she set off walking along the road to the farm, not wanting to sit around waiting for Hugh.

  What if she never saw Mattie again?

  When Frank came home from work there was no meal ready. Instead, his uncle was sitting in the front room with his arm round his wife, who was sobbing against him. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘She turned up today, asking if we’d heard from her sister.’

  ‘Cliff’s wife?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Good. We can get some of that money out of her. Where is she staying?’

  He had to repeat his question before his aunt would stop weeping and answer him.

  ‘How should I know where she’s staying? I never want to see her again. She looked well fed, was wearing an expensive tweed suit, while my Cliff is mouldering in his grave – a grave I can’t even go and visit.’

  Frank prayed for patience. ‘I’ll take you one day, I promise. We said we’d get our share of Cliff’s money. We can’t do that if we don’t know where she’s living.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t ask her, and I don’t care about the money.’

  ‘You ought to. What’ll you do when my uncle can’t work anymore? He’s on light duties already. Shall you go into the poorhouse?’ He was pleased to see that get her attention.

  ‘I didn’t think,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Did you tell her about the letter?’

  ‘No. I don’t want to make her happy, do I?’

  He thumped one fist into the palm of his other hand. He was having trouble staying patient, but he mustn’t upset them. They owned this house, and now Cliff had died, it’d be his once they died. They’d promised. But he wanted more, much more. He wanted the money.

  He’d find out where she was. There had to be a way.

  In the middle of the night he had a sudden thought. He hadn’t told her about her father. Would she go looking for him next? He’d go round to her former house the very next day and find out, and pay one of the neighbours to tell him if she turned up, and if possible, find out where she was living.

  When Hugh saw Nell walking along the road towards him outside the town, he reined in the mare, surprised when she almost walked past the horse and trap. ‘You’re back early. Is something wrong, Nell?’

  She stopped and stood staring up at them as if she had trouble remembering who they were.

  He turned to his niece. ‘Get into the back, May.’

  ‘No need to disturb yourself.’ Nell clambered into the back of the vehicle before his niece could move. She sat on an old blanket and stared into space as the trap jolted its way back to the farm, not saying a word.

  ‘We’ll have to go back and get the groceries, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh. I forgot. Sorry.’

  Once this was accomplished they drove back to the farm.

  When they got there, she clambered out without his help. ‘I’ll go and start tea.’

  He said something quietly to his niece, who nodded. When they went inside, May vanished upstairs and Hugh went into the kitchen.

  ‘Tell me what’s upset you, Nell,’ he said without preamble. ‘Is it bad news about your sister?’

  ‘I didn’t find her. And there’s nothing to be done about it, no way of getting in touch with her. I’ll … be all right. I just have to … get used to it.’

  He took the big kettle out of her hand and dumped it on the edge of the stove. ‘You’re upset and you’ve no one else to talk to about it, so talk to me.’ When she didn’t move, he took her hand and pulled her to the table. ‘Sit down. I’ll make a pot of tea.’

  He kept an eye on her as he worked, listening. She spoke haltingly at first, but he asked questions and gradually the whole story of the past few years came flooding out.

  What she told him horrified him, and when she started sobbing, he went to sit beside her and put his arms round her. How could you leave someone in so much pain to sob alone?

  Especially when that someone was Nell Greenhill.

  Only when Nell had finished her tale did she realise she was in his arms and he was stroking her hair. She tried to pull away, shocked that she’d given way to her emotions like this, but he kept a firm hold.

  ‘Shh, now. It’ll be all right.’

  After a moment of futile tugging, she sagged against him again, needing someone to hold her. If he hadn’t been there, she might have fallen to pieces.

  His voice was deep yet soft beside her ear. ‘You’ve had a lot of sad things to face. And on your own too. Poor Nell.’

  ‘I don’t usually … give in to it.’

  ‘No. But we all have our low moments. I cried a few times after my brother was killed, though not when May could hear me. We’d always been close, Harold and I. I cried for Edith too. I was very fond of her.’

  ‘It hurts to lose someone, doesn’t it? I still miss Sarah so very much; miss cuddling her, miss listening to her, watching her play. But I don’t miss Cliff at all. I feel guilty about that.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You said he was very unkind to you. Did he beat you?’

  ‘Only a couple of times. All he wanted was a housekeeper and a woman in his bed. He was so mean with money I went hungry sometimes. If he hadn’t been so mean, Sarah would still be alive.’

  ‘His mother shouldn’t have blamed you. Do you want me to go and speak to her, tell her the details?’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  For a moment she let herself believe it’d help, then sighed. ‘It’d not change anything. They’re a spiteful bunch, the Greenhills. You should have seen how his cousin looked at me after the funeral, as if I’d killed Cliff myself.’

  She sniffed and fumbled for her handkerchief. ‘Cliff was like that too, if someone upset him, always tried to get his own back. I don’t know why I ever went out with him. I think I was dazzled by having a man who was doing so well at the works say he loved me, so I didn’t see what he was really like. But he only said it to get his way with me. He never said it once after we were married, not once. He didn’t even love his own daughter, because he’d wanted a son.’

  She sighed and stayed where she was for a few moments, then pulled away. This time he let her.

  ‘Thank you, Hugh. For being kind to me, I mean.’

  ‘I didn’t do much.’

  ‘It seemed a lot to me to have someone to comfort me.’

  He picked up her hand and patted it. ‘I’m glad it helped. I’ll tell May the bare details, if you don’t mind, so that she’ll understand if you get sad.’

  ‘If you think it right.’

  He didn’t get up to leave but sat on, frowning now. ‘There must be some other way to find out if your sister’s been back.’

  ‘Not that I know of. We didn’t have any relatives nearby and my father would never talk about his family, said he hadn’t any.’

  ‘What a
bout contacting him? Surely he’d have heard something if she’d returned?’

  ‘I don’t want to see him again. Not ever. Anyway, he’d probably thump me the minute he saw me.’

  ‘Not if I was with you, he wouldn’t.’

  She shuddered at the thought of seeing Bart Fuller again, ducking his fists, hearing him yell. ‘I’ll have to think about it. Anyway, I doubt she’d get in touch with him.’

  ‘Even if she hasn’t, he might have heard something. And you should write to your other sister. Renie, didn’t you say she was called?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose I should do that now I’m settled. I’ve got out of the habit, I think.’

  He stood up, smiling gently. ‘You’d better put my handkerchief in the washing when you’ve finished with it.’

  She stared down at the crumpled square of damp white cotton in her hand. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

  ‘I’m happy to help you in any way I can.’ A hint of puzzlement crept into his face. ‘It’s strange. I feel I know you well, though it’s less than a week since we met. It happens sometimes, doesn’t it? People get on well, right from the start.’

  She nodded. She felt that way about him too.

  ‘So you’ve got a friend now, not just an employer. Which means you’re not completely on your own.’

  That touched her and more tears rose in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’d better go and see May now.’

  ‘I’ll get on with making our tea.’ But before she did she looked down at the sodden handkerchief and touched the drier edge with her fingertip. It was an expensive one. Which was a lesson to her. He might say he was her friend, but he was a gentleman and she was his servant. He was only being kind to her and she shouldn’t read any more into it than that. He was the sort of person who was kind to everyone, such a lovely man.

  When May came down, she looked at Nell as if she’d never seen her before and stayed there, helping with the tea.

  Just once she said in a quiet voice, ‘I didn’t realise. That’s why you understand how I feel, isn’t it?’