At least if she remained here in Walbridge she might glimpse him from time to time. Their lives would run on parallel lines, and occasionally, as they turned the odd corner or climbed the odd hill, she’d see him and that would be something.
Chapter 12
Grace tried to forget about Rufus. She went back to her life – reading for Colonel Redwood, looking after her father, meeting her friends in the Fox and Goose – and pushed into the recesses of her mind her brief moment on the lawn with Rufus. She discovered that by focusing on the present, she was able to prevent her mind from wandering into the past. When she wasn’t busy, she watched the bees. Every time Rufus’s face surfaced, she concentrated all her attention on the small creatures she so loved. She watched them working in the flowerbeds and she watched them coming in and out of the hives. She listened to their low buzzing, and as the summer days grew shorter and the evenings chillier, she found that if she applied herself to her task, it worked. But it required a monumental effort, and at night, when she lay in bed with nothing but her will to control the determined wandering of her mind, she gave in. She was too tired and too unhappy to fight it.
Freddie was busy with the harvest. He was up at dawn and spending all day in the fields, thatching ricks, cutting the wheat and barley, tying them into stooks to dry in the sun. May made him sandwiches, which he ate in the shade with the other labourers, and fed him supper when he returned after dark, his clothes full of dust, his face smeared with sweat and dirt, worn out and ready for bed. Grace barely saw him. She barely saw her father, either, for he was busy in the vegetable garden, picking fruit and vegetables to feed the large house parties being held at the Hall. She took over the beekeeping and spent hours in the shed washing jars, sticking on new labels and preparing for the harvest. Once they’d extracted the honey in early September they’d take it up to the farm office in crates. She wondered whether Lady Georgina would really send for some from London and whether the jars she held in her hands would eventually be held in Rufus’s. It was a thought that caught her off guard and consequently broke through her resistance. Holding the glass in her hand, she could almost feel the warmth of his fingers on top of hers. As she prepared each jar she took her time, placing them carefully in rows along the shelves of the shed with a silent prayer for Rufus.
At the end of the summer the village celebrated the harvest festival with a church service. Grace found herself sitting next to Freddie. He was tanned and slim, his auburn hair bleached in the sun and falling over his forehead in thick chunks. His eyes shone bluer against his brown skin and his freckles had multiplied and spread across his nose and cheeks. The hard work had made a man out of him and Grace noticed for the first time how handsome he was. ‘How have you been, Grace?’ Freddie asked in a low voice.
‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘Busy preparing for the honey harvest and reading to Colonel Redwood.’ She noticed Freddie’s legs were longer. He seemed to take up more space in the pew. She also noticed his smell. ‘What have you put on yourself?’ she asked, giving a sniff. She felt him grow hot and wished she hadn’t asked.
‘Shaving foam,’ he replied, rubbing his chin selfconsciously.
She glanced at him and noticed his cheeks were red. ‘It smells nice,’ she said, then laughed at herself for giving him a compliment. She’d never told Freddie he smelt nice before.
She waited for him to put her down or to make her feel stupid for such an uncharacteristic comment, but he didn’t. To her surprise he smiled at her with affection.
‘You smell of a summer garden,’ he said. His blush deepened.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, when I think of you,’ – he looked embarrassed – ‘I think of flowers.’
Grace stared at him in astonishment. ‘That’s nice,’ she said, wanting to be more effusive but not finding the words.
At that moment the Marquess and Marchioness of Penselwood walked down the aisle in a stately procession with the frail and shrunken Dowager Marchioness beside them, and took their places in the front pew. The congregation hushed. Grace was not surprised that Rufus was absent. He was never at Walbridge these days. She found herself searching the faces of the Marquess’s party, for he seemed always to be accompanied by an entourage of house guests, but Rufus’s was definitely not among them. She was surprised, however, to find that she didn’t suffer the habitual pang of disappointment and was easily distracted by Freddie’s knee pressing gently against hers. She didn’t move her leg away but let it rest there, feeling a strange and unfamiliar thrill as the warmth seemed to travel all the way up her body and cause her spine to tingle. If Freddie felt the same sensation, he didn’t let it show. But Grace noticed that every time they sat down after singing a hymn, his knee returned to touch hers, and every time she felt the pressure of his proximity, the warmth between them intensified.
After the service they all flooded into the churchyard to mingle and chat. Freddie was eager to talk to her. ‘Will you come to the river this afternoon?’ he asked, gazing down at her hopefully. ‘I feel I haven’t seen you for months.’
‘You’re the one who hasn’t had time for me,’ she replied.
‘I know, it’s been mad.’
She smiled, unsure of the strange new energy that vibrated between them. ‘You’ve been working hard,’ she said, looking him up and down and thinking how thin he’d become. ‘Isn’t Auntie May feeding you?’
‘I’ve never worked so hard in my life, but I love it, Grace.’ His eyes shone with enthusiasm. ‘I love being out in the fields. I love the physical challenge of it. It’s the best thing I ever did.’
‘That’s nice, Freddie. Mr Garner really better watch out, then.’
‘He’d better. One day I’m going to be running the whole estate.’
‘I bet you will, too.’ Her cheeks burned with admiration. The dynamic between them had changed in just a few months. She no longer felt older than him. He had caught up with her and run on ahead, turning from a boy into a man in a few giant leaps.
‘Will you come?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’ll come,’ she replied, and the smile her answer induced gave her an unexpected frisson of pleasure.
A while later she was taking the shortcut home with her father. The leaves were yet to turn but the light was the softer, golden hue of early autumn. The fields were all cut and the stubble gleamed in the sunshine. She thought of Freddie and the hours he had spent in those fields. The labour had strengthened his shoulders and toned his body and given him a certain vivacity which she found very attractive. She glanced across at her father and thought how, for him, the physical work just wore him out. He looked tired.
‘Dad, what are you thinking about?’ she asked.
‘Oh, nothing,’ he replied, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
‘I was just thinking how lovely the woods look in this light. Besides spring, early autumn is my favourite time of the year.’
He smiled now and looked around him. ‘We have a lot to be grateful for.’ He nodded. ‘Harvest festival reminds us of that.’
‘That’s true. We have everything we need,’ she added.
‘Happy people aren’t necessarily those who have everything, but those who make the best of everything they have,’ he said wisely. ‘We do all right, you and I, don’t we, Grace?’
‘We do better than all right. The things that make me happy aren’t the things that can be bought, Dad. Happiness comes from accepting what one has. You taught me that.’
‘I’d like you to have had a mother,’ he said, his face becoming solemn again. ‘But God had a plan and that wasn’t part of it.’
‘Auntie May has been a mother to me,’ she replied.
His expression softened and he turned his face to the sun and sighed. ‘She’s always been there for you. I don’t think I could have done without May.’ He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets.
‘She’s been there for you, too, hasn’t she?’
He glanced at her and frowned. ‘Sh
e’s been a steady friend. It’s hard bringing up a daughter on one’s own. Your grandma and aunt tried to help in the beginning, and they did for a while, but they wanted to take over, not just you but the house too and me with it! I sent them both packing. I don’t know anything about women’s things. If May hadn’t been there to step in, I don’t know what I’d have done.’
‘You’d have done just fine, Dad. We’d have muddled through.’
‘I wanted more for you than muddling through, Grace. May’s a fine role model. She’s kind, gentle, hard-working and funny. I remember thinking, when you were a little girl, that if you grew up to be like May, you’d make me and your mother proud. May was the closest friend your mum had and I know she’d approve of her taking over and setting an example for you to follow.’
‘And how have I turned out?’ She gave a little smile, but her father took her seriously.
‘I’m proud,’ he replied. ‘I know I can speak for your mother. She’s proud, too, wherever she is.’
‘Not far away, I don’t think,’ said Grace.
‘She’s always with us, Grace. Don’t ever forget that. Just because you can’t see her, doesn’t mean she’s not here in spirit. The body’s only a shell and she doesn’t need it where she is. She can be anywhere at any time, in a single thought.’
‘That’s a nice idea.’
‘It’s true. We’re here to learn, Gracey. To grow in love. That’s all there is to it. It’s not complicated. And the way to grow is through selflessness, forgiveness and compassion: love. That’s all there is. Putting oneself second, not first. Looking out for one another, like the bees.’
He glanced at her and smiled. ‘Do you think the bees are ready for harvest?’ he asked.
‘They’re still foraging a bit, but it’s getting chilly now, especially in the evenings.’
‘I suggest we start next week.’ He stepped up his pace. ‘Let’s have a look when we get home. But I hazard a guess that the time has come to extract the honey.’
‘Everything’s ready. I’ve prepared all the jars.’
‘You’re a good girl, Gracey. I could have had a rebellious or difficult child, but I got you.’
‘Made in your image, Dad,’ she laughed.
‘Perhaps on the inside, Gracey. But on the outside, you’re the image of your mother.’
After lunch, Grace cycled to Freddie’s house. Her heart inflated and began to beat faster as she approached his home. All this for Freddie, she thought, laughing at the absurdity of feeling nervous about the boy who was like a brother to her. But when he stepped out into the street, it was a very different Freddie from the lad who’d always anxiously waited for her to come and spend time with him. This Freddie made her feel awkward and a little shy. His gaze was heavier, his manner more confident, his smile wiping away the old sneer of resentment she had never understood. When he suggested they cycle to the river, her skin rippled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. She didn’t realize that she no longer had to concentrate on keeping Rufus out of her thoughts; Freddie had taken up all the space there.
As they raced down the path that wound its way alongside the river, she began to feel less uncomfortable. He cycled in front of her, throwing back the usual banter as their bicycles sped over stones and tree roots crossing the track. He was faster than before and she had to shout for him to slow down. He teased her for being a girl, but the tone of his voice and the way he laughed was full of affection, and she was aware, as never before, that he was a man and she was a woman. He was suddenly more than just Freddie.
They reached their usual place and leaned their bicycles against the tree. Freddie untied the rug off the back of his bicycle and laid it on the grass. ‘Are you going to swim?’ she asked.
‘Might do, if I get hot,’ he answered.
‘Do you remember how you used to dive off that bridge?’
‘And nearly kill myself in the process.’
‘No, you were much too good. You skimmed the surface like a swan.’
He grinned and sat down beside her. ‘You were always a fine audience, Grace.’
‘Well, I was always impressed,’ she replied truthfully. She hugged her knees.
Freddie lay back and propped himself up on his elbows. ‘They were halcyon days.’
‘They still are. In fact, I’d say they just get better,’ said Grace happily.
‘They won’t get better if there’s a war.’
‘War? There’s not going to be a war,’ she retorted, feeling suddenly afraid. ‘No one wants another war.’
‘I don’t think we’ll have any choice, Grace.’
‘Don’t say that.’ She gazed out over the water. ‘Let’s not talk of sad things. Entertain me instead.’
‘How?’ He laughed.
‘I don’t know. Go and dive off that bridge again.’
‘OK, I will,’ he replied, rising to the challenge. ‘Anything for you, Grace.’
Suddenly, she caught sight of what looked like her father standing on the other side of the river. She shielded her eyes against the sun and squinted. ‘Dad?’ She frowned.
Freddie followed her line of vision. ‘Arthur, where?’ he asked.
She pointed. ‘There, on the bank.’
‘I can’t see anyone.’
‘It’s Dad.’
Freddie chuckled. ‘It’s just the light and shadow, playing with you.’
The vision disappeared. ‘I’m sure it was him,’ she said quietly.
‘What would he be doing on the river bank?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re seeing things.’
‘Or someone else, spying on us. What do you think, Freddie? Do you think we’re being spied on?’
‘You’re mad. There’s no one there. There never is. It’s just you and me.’
‘I hope so.’ She laughed uncertainly. ‘It just looked like him.’
‘Do you want me to jump off that bridge or not?’
‘Yes, I do. But be careful.’
He got up and stripped down to his underpants. She forgot all about the sight of her father on the bank and laughed nervously as Freddie tossed aside his clothes and stood before her, tanned from the waist up, broad and muscular. ‘Are you going to come in?’ he asked, smiling down at her.
‘No, much too cold.’ She shooed him away with her hand. ‘Go on!’ He walked through the trees and appeared a moment later on the bridge. She could see him watching her to make sure she didn’t take her eyes off him. He didn’t realize that she couldn’t take her eyes off this dashing new Freddie, even if she had wanted to.
Her heart was suddenly filled with panic as he climbed up onto the balustrade. She changed her position and knelt up on the rug, praying that he didn’t do something stupid and hurt himself. It had been a long time since he’d jumped off that bridge and he was bigger and heavier now.
He put his arms above his head and took a deep breath. ‘Ready?’ he shouted.
‘Be careful!’ she shouted back. As he pushed himself off into the air she placed her hands over her mouth and gasped. He jumped very high then came swooping down like a swallow, arms out like wings, before putting them together and skimming the water, just below the surface. He then disappeared, leaving the water rippling gently where he had broken through.
She was poised, ready to clap, but he didn’t come up. She leapt to her feet and anxiously searched the river. He still didn’t come up. Her heart seemed to stall and fear rose to blacken the happiness that had, only minutes before, filled it to the point of bursting. ‘Freddie!’ she cried. She was about to choke on her fright when Freddie stood up, only a few feet in front of her, smiling jubilantly.
Grace burst into tears. ‘You idiot!’ she shouted furiously. ‘You scared me!’
‘Grace, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ Freddie waded out of the water, his face contorted with remorse. Then, before she could reply, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her so passionately that she didn’t know wh
ether to be angry or pleased. His mouth was warm and wet and surprisingly exciting. He pulled away a moment. They stared at each other, both surprised and a little afraid. Grace had stopped crying. She was calm now, too astonished to be cross. She felt the rising swell of desire and edged forward a step. It was barely perceptible, but it was enough to encourage Freddie. He wound his hands around her neck and kissed her again.
Lying in Freddie’s arms felt like the most natural thing in the world. They were on the rug, Freddie’s wet body drying slowly in the sun and against Grace’s summer dress. He ran his lips over her cheeks, across her jawline and down her neck, and she laughed softly as the sensation caused her body to tingle, right to her toes. This was her very first kiss. She had often imagined being kissed, but the reality far exceeded her expectations. It stirred feelings in her she never knew she had, and she recalled with tenderness how Freddie had said that when he thought of her he thought of flowers.
Her father was right: perhaps she had loved Freddie all along and just never realized. She had been so busy looking over his shoulder that she hadn’t noticed him, until a summer on the farm had made him man enough to attract her attention.
They lay kissing for what felt like hours. Intoxicated by the smell and feel of each other’s skin, they kissed and touched with an unquenchable thirst for more. But the end of the day came and the shadows lengthened and the air turned cold. Freddie got up and put on his clothes. ‘Don’t frighten me like that again,’ she said, watching him buttoning up his shirt.
The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel Page 14