The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Esther murmured, stroking her husband’s hair.

  Unseen by her grandmother, Ella winked broadly at her grandpa and was rewarded by his knowing smile. ‘Now you’re both up and about,’ Ella went on, ‘I’ll have to tackle the outside work and the ploughing’s first on the list. Well?’ She glanced from one to the other. ‘It won’t do itsen, will it?’

  She heard her grandfather’s deep chuckle and saw him reach up and pat Esther’s hand where it still lay on his shoulder. ‘I reckon you’ve met your match at last, Esther Godfrey.’ And still chortling, he leant his head back against the wooden back of the chair and closed his eyes. ‘Met your match at last!’

  ‘It’s Grandpa’s birthday two weeks before Christmas, isn’t it?’ Ella remarked towards the end of November.

  Esther wiped the vestiges of the sticky pastry she was making from her hands. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘How old is he?’

  Her grandmother wrinkled her forehead. ‘Seventy.’

  ‘I thought he might be.’ Ella nodded. ‘Do you think he’s well enough for us to have a bit of a party for him?’

  The green eyes were wary. ‘Who’re you going to invite?’

  Ella hid her smile and put her head on one side and said, deliberately casual, ‘Well, Peggy, of course. And then there’s all our friends from round about . . .’

  The suspicion deepened. ‘Friends?’ came the clipped reply. ‘What friends?’

  ‘Well, there’s the Maines and the Harris boys from the Point,’ Ella ticked them off on her fingers. ‘The Souters . . .’

  Esther pulled a face.

  ‘. . . and, of course, the Elands.’

  Her grandmother’s head shot up. ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Now, Gran. It’s time to bury the hatchet. Surely? While you and Grandpa were ill, I couldn’t have managed without their help.’

  ‘Well, Rob was good, I’ll grant you that, but . . .’

  ‘And who do you think’s looked after your two cows and brought the milk across every day?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘And where did all those lovely soups and jellies and blancmanges to try and tempt Grandpa’s appetite come from, do you think? ’Cos I didn’t have time to make them.’

  Esther stared at Ella and then blinked. ‘Oh,’ she said, and stirred the knife in her pastry thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t realized . . .’

  ‘No, Gran. I don’t think you had. But it’s time you did and high time you thought about it. I nipped across there one day to phone Peggy and there was Grandma Eland and Rosie with their heads together trying to think what they could bake that you’d both enjoy and that would “perk you up a bit”, as Grandma Eland said herself.’

  ‘Did she? Did she really?’

  Ella nodded and added quietly, ‘She came before, too, didn’t she? Before I came home, to try and help you?’

  Esther’s eyes were downcast. ‘I dun’t remember.’

  Ella wasn’t sure whether or not she believed her, but she let it go.

  Now there was silence in the kitchen, whilst Ella waited, leaning against the door frame with her arms folded, watching her grandmother rolling the pastry over and over.

  ‘So,’ Esther said at last, without looking up. ‘What do you want me to bake for this ’ere party, then?’

  On the day of the party, the first Saturday in December, the weather was unusually kind. A bright winter sun and a light breeze seemed determined to smile benignly on all Ella’s efforts. She had worked tirelessly the previous week, scrubbing and cleaning until the whole house shone, baking and cooking, and early on the Saturday morning, she was outside feeding the hens and sweeping the yard.

  ‘’Tain’t Royalty coming, is it?’

  Ella looked up to see her gran standing in the doorway, hands on hips surveying her farmyard. Ella stared at her for a moment and sent up a silent prayer of thanks: her gran was almost her old self again, just as the doctor had promised, although she got tired a little quicker than Ella remembered. Her hair, pure white now, was neatly cut and shaped and washed to shining health. Her face had filled out and the awful gaunt, haggard look had gone. There were a few more lines on her face, but the green eyes flashed fire once more when something didn’t suit her.

  But this morning, she was smiling.

  ‘Not quite Gran . . .’

  ‘Grannie . . .’ she corrected automatically, but absently.

  ‘But just as important – to me, anyway.’

  Esther moved closer. ‘Young Rob, y’mean?’ She spoke so quietly that Ella almost missed the words. She looked up sharply, staring at her grandmother.

  ‘How . . .?’ she began and felt her face colouring.

  Esther smiled gently. ‘Aw, lass. I’m not blind, even if he is.’ Then her smile took on a sadness. ‘I’m sorry – if he doesn’t – well – feel the same about you.’

  Ella leant on her broom and sighed. ‘I’ve lived with it a long time now. It didn’t hurt quite so much when I was away. But back here, well, it’s more difficult seeing him so much. I have to remember not to let it show.’

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard to hide it.’

  Ella laughed. ‘Oh, Gran, he doesn’t know I exist. He’s after the girls all right, but all the pretty ones.’

  ‘He’s like his grandad,’ Esther murmured and her eyes misted over, looking back down the years.

  ‘Matthew Hilton, you mean?’

  She nodded. ‘He looks like him, spittin’ image of him, he is. When I was ill there – I – I got confused. I thought he was Matthew.’ She drew her hand across her forehead and shook her head as if to clear it, to banish such memories for ever. ‘Matthew was a flirt an’ all. After anything in skirts!’

  Ella sighed. ‘I don’t think Rob means any harm. He just – well – likes a bit of fun.’

  Esther nodded. ‘He’s not got a dark side like Matthew had. Ah well, it’s all a long time ago now, and Beth’s coming today – thanks to you.’ She cast a comical look at Ella. ‘So I’ll have to be on me best behaviour, won’t I, else I’ll have your grandpa after me, an’ all.’

  ‘And I’d better get a move on, or I’ll never be ready.’

  ‘Ready, Missy? We’ve been ready a week.’ Laughing, Esther disappeared into the house.

  At two o’clock when the first guests were expected, they were ready. Ella had put on one of her dresses Grandmother Trent had bought her and used a little make-up, carefully concealing the birthmark on her jawline. She had washed her hair and, longer now, it framed her face, falling in cascading curls and waves to her shoulders.

  ‘Oh Ella, you look a picture,’ Grandpa greeted her, looking resplendent himself, if still a little thin, in his best suit, whilst Esther had on a new royal blue dress. They were waiting, a little self-consciously it seemed to Ella, in the living room when she came downstairs. Ella saw her grandmother looking keenly at her face, at the place on her jaw where usually the birthmark was plainly visible, but she said nothing as Ella turned away, saying brightly, ‘They should be here soon . . .’ and went to the back door.

  A car was turning into the drive; a huge, dark green car with soft leather upholstery.

  ‘Oh!’ Ella cried.

  ‘What?’ asked her grandmother, coming up behind her.

  ‘It’s my dad!’ and Ella flew across the yard towards the tall man unfolding himself from the driver’s seat and flung herself against him.

  From the back seat of the car, Peggy and Mrs Trent emerged.

  ‘This is your grandpa’s doing.’ Peggy was laughing. ‘He asked me to write to your father and invite him and Mrs Trent to come to the party you were planning for him.’

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you.’ Ella hugged first Peggy and then Mrs Trent. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you all.’ Then she ran back to Jonathan, who was standing near the back door, his arm about Esther’s shoulders, reached up and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Grandpa.’

  From the boot of the car, Philip was lifting a huge bouq
uet of flowers and, as Ella made the introductions, he said, ‘I know it’s really Mr Godfrey’s day, but I thought he wouldn’t mind . . .’ And he laid the flowers in Esther’s arms.

  ‘For – for me?’ she stuttered, her face pink. Ella watched her gran look up into the face of the tall man as he said softly, ‘We meet again, Mrs Godfrey.’

  For a moment, Esther looked puzzled. Then she gasped. ‘You! It is – was – you. Kate brought you here in the war, didn’t she?’

  Philip Trent nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Ella watched Esther struggling with conflicting emotions, whilst Philip took her hand in his and said softly, ‘I loved Kate very much, Mrs Godfrey. Whatever you think of me, I want you to believe that.’

  Esther looked deep into his eyes for what seemed, to those watching, a long time, then suddenly she smiled, and though there was still a tinge of sadness in her face at the memories this man’s presence evoked, she said, ‘I do. I can see it in your eyes.’

  Then to everyone’s surprise, not least Esther’s, Philip bent and kissed her cheek. ‘And now,’ he said, straightening up, ‘I’d like you to meet Ella’s other grandmother.’ He held out his arm to draw his mother forward and Ella held her breath as the two women from such different backgrounds regarded each other.

  Mrs Trent, stepping carefully across the cobbles of the yard in her high-heeled court shoes, adjusted the grey fox fur about her shoulders and held out her gloved hand. Esther, in a daze, shook it and opened her mouth, but whatever she had been going to say was never spoken for, in a flurry of noise and excited chatter, the Eland family arrived and the party began.

  She was so busy looking after all the guests that it was some time before Ella had time to talk to anyone.

  ‘So when are you coming back to York?’ Grandmother Trent’s voice could be heard clearly above the muted chatter in the living room. ‘Your room’s all ready now. We’ve even bought new furniture for it, haven’t we, Philip?’

  There seemed, to Ella, to be a sudden silence, as if everyone in the room was listening and waiting for her answer.

  ‘Now, Mother,’ Philip’s calm voice came to Ella’s rescue, ‘she’ll come when she can.’

  ‘Maybe so, Philip, but that job you’ve found for her won’t stay open for ever. Have you told her about it?’

  ‘Not yet. We’re here for a party, a birthday party,’ he went on. ‘And I think it’s high time we had a toast.’

  ‘Wait a minute. There’s something else . . . Rob, can you help me a minute?’ Ella said, and disappeared into the pantry, where she whispered, ‘I’ve made Grandpa a cake. It’s a surprise.’

  Rob, his eyes dark, was not smiling. ‘It’s not the only surprise we’ve ’ad today, is it?’ he muttered.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, but his tone was morose.

  ‘Come on, help me light the candles.’

  ‘Candles?’ he repeated. ‘You ain’t put seventy candles on a cake?’

  She giggled. ‘No, just seven. One for each decade.’

  From a tin, she carefully lifted the cake, white-iced and decorated with pink roses. Together, they lit the spindly candles and Rob carried it into the living room.

  ‘Oh, isn’t it lovely?’ Rosie clapped her hands. ‘Did you make it, Missus?’

  Esther shook her head, her glance catching and holding Ella’s. ‘I didn’t know anything about it.’

  Grandma Eland heaved herself up from the low armchair and waddled to the table to inspect the cake. ‘It’s beautiful, Ella love. She’s a credit to you, Esther.’

  Esther sniffed. ‘It looks very nice, I grant you. But the proof of the pudding . . .’

  Ella laughed. ‘Come on, Grandpa, and cut this cake. Gran wants to try a piece and give her verdict.’

  As Jonathan took up the huge knife and cut the cake, Philip raised his glass and led everyone in singing ‘Happy Birthday’. Slices were handed round and Mrs Trent cut hers into delicate squares. ‘My dear Ella, it tastes wonderful. I really wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t think I’ve ever made a cake in my life. We’ve always employed a cook.’

  Ella, catching sight of the astounded expression on Esther Godfrey’s face, was obliged to turn away quickly, almost choking on the crumbs as she stifled her laughter.

  ‘Well,’ Ella heard Esther saying indignantly, ‘she’d be no granddaughter of mine if she couldn’t bake a cake.’

  The air in the room crackled as the two women glared at each other. Everyone else held their breath, watching and waiting. Ella moved swiftly to Esther’s side and put her arm around her waist. Laughing she said, ‘And milk a cow, put a pig away, to say nothing of driving a tractor, eh, Gran?’

  ‘There’s nowt to be ashamed of in being able to turn yar hand to a good day’s work, Missy.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not ashamed, Gran, I promise you. In fact, I’m quite proud of the fact.’

  Esther’s glance swivelled and she was looking directly into Ella’s eyes, their faces so close. The defensive expression in Esther’s green eyes softened as she said, quietly now so that the others in the room scarcely heard, ‘Aye, lass, and I’m proud of you an’ all.’

  Tears welled in Ella’s eyes, but before she could say any more, Mrs Trent’s voice came again. ‘It’s a little different from the job your father has in mind for you, Ella. If you won’t tell her, Philip, then I will. Ella, one of Philip’s friends is the managing director of quite a large company and he’s looking for a secretary. You’d have your own office. Now, what do you say to that, my dear?’ And Mrs Trent beamed as if she personally had created the job for her granddaughter.

  Ella smiled, ‘It sounds wonderful, Grandmother, but—’

  ‘No “buts” Ella.’ Mrs Trent waved aside any obstacle. ‘Opportunities like that for someone of your age don’t come very often.’

  Beneath her arm, still around Esther’s waist, Ella felt her gran stiffen, then she pulled away from Ella and went towards Jonathan, her wrinkled hands stretched out towards him.

  It wasn’t until they were almost ready to leave just after six o’clock that her father drew Ella outside into the cool evening.

  ‘Dad, there’s something I ought to tell you . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to, my dear. You’re going to stay here, aren’t you?’

  She looked up at him through the dusk. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You belong here,’ he said simply and suddenly she knew it was the truth. Though she may have rebelled against it for years, refusing to acknowledge it, this was her home.

  ‘I’m not staying out of a sense of duty, only because I really want to.’

  ‘I know that.’ His arm was round her and his deep voice just above her head. ‘But you will come to see us whenever you can?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she promised. ‘Whenever I can. I feel awfully guilty about all the money you must have spent on the bedroom for me and this marvellous job Grandmother says you’ve fixed up for me . . .’

  He laughed aloud. ‘Don’t give either of them another thought, my dear. Besides, your room will be there for you whenever you can come to see us. There is just one thing, though. What about young Martin Hughes? He’s forever asking about you.’

  Haltingly, she said, ‘He’s nice, but there could never be anything more than friendship between us.’

  ‘Not on your side, maybe, but I’m not so sure about his feelings for you,’ Philip said.

  ‘I’ll write to him,’ she promised.

  ‘Well, let him down gently, my dear.’

  She put her arms round him and hugged him. He was such a kind man, thinking of the feelings of others, and she loved him for it. For a moment his arms were around her fiercely as if, now he had found her, he never wanted to let her go. When they released each other and turned back towards the house, her father’s arm resting on her shoulders, they saw Esther standing in the doorway watching them.

  ‘Gran . . .?’ Ella began, but without a word Esthe
r turned away and went back inside the house.

  Thirty-Five

  ‘So, when are ya going?’

  ‘Eh?’ Startled, Ella stared at her grandmother, pausing mid-way between kitchen and pantry as she cleared away all the food after the party. All the guests had gone, and Grandpa Godfrey had been dispatched to bed early. He had kissed Ella on the forehead. ‘My dear girl, I don’t know when we last had such fun. Thank you for everything.’ And Ella knew he was not referring to this day alone.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Gran,’ she said. ‘Wait a minute till I’ve put these cakes away.’

  ‘Now,’ Ella said, coming back into the kitchen and standing on the hearthrug in front of her grandmother sitting in the straight-backed wooden chair. ‘What are you talking about? Where am I supposed to be going?’

  ‘Back to Lincoln – or mebbe even to – them!’

  The old eyes would not meet Ella’s gaze, but the girl noticed that Esther’s hands were gripping the arms of the chair until her knuckles showed white.

  ‘Gran,’ she said softly, ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not back to Lincoln, nor to live with my father. I’m staying here—’

  ‘But for how long? Eh?’ Esther’s head snapped up, her eyes sparking with resentment. ‘Tell me that! Ya’ll soon get fed up and be off again. Off to ya dad and ya fancy grandmother with her posh clothes and . . .’

  Ella’s blue eyes were holding the green, belligerent gaze. Slowly she shook her head. ‘No, Gran. This is my home. I’m staying here – for good!’

  The old eyes stared up at her and then, to Ella’s shock, they filled with tears; tears that overflowed and trickled down the soft wrinkles of Esther’s face.

  ‘Grannie – oh, Grannie – don’t!’

  Her arms were round the old woman, and she bent over her, resting her cheek against the silky white hair. Esther’s hands loosened their grip upon the chair and came round Ella’s waist, clinging, beseeching. ‘Don’t – leave us – again – Ella. We – need you.’

  ‘Oh, Grannie, I love you so much. I won’t leave you again. I promise.’