Ben raised his eyebrows. “Evening tea garden?”
The girl nodded. “Wonderful idea, isn’t it? Dai and Blodwen Evans are employing Hetty Sullivan to run the tea garden five evenings a week, after the Tea Shoppe closes in the late afternoon. They’ll be supplying her with the materials, of course. Hetty’s delighted with her new job. Show him the other plans, Curator Preston.”
The old ship’s carpenter assumed a mock dignified attitude. “Ahem, that’s my new title, y’know, Curator Preston, of the Preston-Braithwaite Collection. I’m going to be Caretaker Handyman, too. Good, isn’t it, I never had that many high-flown titles in my sailin’ days. Mrs. Winn wants the old almshouse to be part of our village life, not an old ruin moldering away unused at the corner of the square. Apart from rethatching the roof, and the addition of a window or two, the outside’ll look pretty much the same, nice an’ quaint.
“But inside there’ll be the collection, the cross, chalice, candlesticks, and deeds, all in display cases, together with the story of how Chapelvale was saved. We all get a mention in it, even good old Ned. Then there’s the evenin’ tea garden and an extra room inside for any village meetings, dances, young people’s events. We’re even gettin’ a small library—Mr. Braithwaite will be in charge of that. A proper little village hall for everyone to use, eh, lad!”
The boy shook his friend’s big, tattooed hand heartily. “Sounds wonderful, mate. When will all the rebuilding work start?”
Mr. Mackay interrupted. The dapper little lawyer was positively beaming. “First thing Monday morning, m’boy! My friend the magistrate and I visited the firm of Jackman Donning and Bowe in London last week. We came to an amicable agreement with them. This morning I received by special post a check for a considerable amount. Together with the express wish that the name of Jackman Donning and Bowe never be associated with past events in Chapelvale and the hope that all will be forgotten.”
Mr. Mackay actually performed a small dance of triumph as he pulled forth the check and waved it over his head. “Sufficient funds for our almshouse restoration fund. The workmen arrive with materials on Monday morning, eight o’clock sharp!”
Mr. Braithwaite looked up from a list of new books he was studying. “Quite, er, very good, very, er, er, good. Yes!”
Will Drummond picked a crowbar from a wheelbarrow of tools he had brought from the farmhouse. “Aye, lad, meanwhile ’tis our job to clear all the rubbish from this almshouse an’ make it ready. Here y’are, Curator Preston, the crowbar you asked for, sir!”
Jon hefted the long curved iron, moving to the center of the room.
His blue eyes twinkled as he winked at Ben.
“You can lend a hand later, shipmate, but first there’s something I’ve got to do, just to satisfy my own curiosity.”
The boy gave his friend a puzzled look. “Of course I’ll help, but what’s the crowbar for?”
The old seaman looked up at the ceiling. It was cracked, damp-stained, and bellied. “Ever since I first docked at this almshouse I’ve wondered what that big, ugly hump atop of the roof could be. I ain’t going to let no team o’ strange workmen find out afore I do. So cover your eyes an’ mouths, everybody. There’s goin’ to be a load of old dust an’ rubbish an’ whitewash comin’ down.
“Stand clear now, pals. Here goes!”
Whump! Bump! Thud!
A mess of dried rushes, twigs, old plaster, and limewash showered down. Ben and the others shielded their eyes and nose. Jon shaded both eyes with a hand as he battered furiously at the growing gap in the ceiling.
Crack! Whump! Thud! Whack!
He stopped a moment and stared into the huge, dark cavity he had made. “Push that table over here, quick!”
Suddenly Ben knew. He grabbed Ned’s collar and hurried outside. The black Labrador sensed it, too. They began running to get as far away from the almshouse as possible, both knowing that they would not outdistance the sound of inevitable fate.
The ground beneath Ben seemed to sway, like the deck of the Flying Dutchman, and cold sweat broke out on his face, like seaspray. The distant hiss of escaping steam from a train pulling into the station sounded as if it were the gales off the coast of Tierra del Fuego, so long ago, so far away.
“Leave this place, do not stay to watch your friends grow old and die one by one, while you are still young. You must go!” At the sound of the angel’s voice, the dog increased his speed, pulling at his master’s hand on his collar, dragging Ben along with him.
Jon stood on the table. He had not noticed Ben and his dog going; amid the curtain of dust and falling rubbish, neither had the others. Will climbed up alongside the old ship’s carpenter, holding up a lighted lantern. “What is it? What’s up there, Jon?”
“It’s a bell, Will! That’s what the hump was, a little bell tower. Our new village center will have a bell! Listen!” The old seaman swung the crowbar and struck the inside of the bell. Booonnnnggggg! The sound of the bell boomed out over Chapelvale.
As the brazen echoes reverberated far and near, a baby cried.
Eileen popped her head through the back window of the almshouse, looking none too pleased. “Stop that noise this instant! I just got little Willum nicely to sleep out ’ere, now you gone an’ wakened ’im, poor mite.”
The old man lowered the crowbar sheepishly, stating his excuse. “But, marm, that’s the first time the bell’s sounded in nigh on three hundred years!”
Eileen stood with her hands on her hips. “Oh is it now, well, let it be the last for the moment. Get down from that table, Will Drummond, an’ you, too, Jon Preston. Standin’ up there like two naughty children, covered in dust an’ muck an’ I don’t know what. You should see yourselves!”
Will climbed from the table, dusting himself off. “Sorry, my love, you go an’ have a nice cup o’ tea at Evans, I’ll get Willum back to sleep again.”
Amy could not help smiling at the two big men, now friends. As Jon got off the table, she brushed whitewash flakes from his beard. “Go on, the pair of you, take Eileen over for tea and crumpets. I’ll see to Willum.”
Jon threw his arms about Will and Eileen. “Come on, you two, let’s do as Amy says—my treat, though!”
They were halfway across the square when Jon noticed his friend’s absence. “Wait, I’ll go an’ ask Ben if he an’ Ned want t’come to the Tea Shoppe with us.”
Eileen gave him a playful shove. “Go on with you, what does the lad want with old fogies like us? Ben’s prob’ly lookin’ after little Willum with Amy. Leave the young ’uns to themselves, you great fusspot!”
The farmer was in full agreement with his wife. “Aye, she’s a pretty girl an’ he’s an ’andsome lad. Leave ’em be, mate.”
An engine tooted and the stationmaster’s whistle shrilled over at the railway station. Jon checked his old pocket watch. “There goes the ten-fifty, right on time.”
Eileen patted a cloud of dust from the old carpenter’s back. “I’ve never been on a train! Huh, progress they calls it. Noisy, great, smelly things. Trains are only for travelin’ folk an’ those in a hurry to leave home. I ain’t in no rush t’go runnin’ off. Chapelvale’s my home!”
48
ONE WEEK LATER.
SATURDAY ARRIVED AGAIN, MISTY AT first, but soon clearing up to reveal a warm, soft day. Mrs. Winn had done her shopping, but there was so much of it that she had paid the delivery boy to take it up to the house. Evans Tea Shoppe was pleasantly busy. She sat alone at the window, reading and rereading the precious letter she had received.
Blodwen Evans brought a pot of tea and Mrs. Winn’s usual tea cake to the table. Winnie caught her trying to glance at the letter and covered it with her handbag. Pretending she had not been trying to pry, Blodwen looked through the window.
“Look you, ’ere’s Amy an’ Alex.”
As the young people drew closer, Winnie tapped the windowpane with her worn gold wedding ring, beckoning them inside. “Bring ice cream and lemonade for them, please, Blodwen
.”
The brother and sister seated themselves in the window corner. The old lady poured herself tea. “What are you two up to today, still helping Jon at the almshouse? He’s not short of willing hands these days.”
Alex settled himself back against the cushion. “We’re going to help him build a new fence and gate for the front.”
Mrs. Winn sliced her tea cake precisely into four and leaned closer to Amy, keeping her voice low. “I hope you’re over the weeps and sniffles now. Come on, let’s see a little smile?”
The girl tried a smile, which did not quite work. She looked down at the tablecloth. “We still haven’t heard from him, Miz Winn.”
Alex blinked several times and sniffed. “We liked Ben, and Ned, too—why did they have to go? It’s not fair!”
There was silence. Alex looked away through the window as Winnie did her best to answer the question. “There’s a lot in life that isn’t fair, you’ll find that out as you grow older. When Ben first came to me, he said that he could only stay awhile, I never pressed him about it. He was a bit of a mystery, I suppose as much to you as to me, a good boy, a real friend, but so strange. What made him leave so suddenly I’ll never know—his rucksack and change of clothes are still in his room. Did he ever mention leaving to you?”
Amy dabbled her ice cream spoon thoughtfully. “I remember the afternoon we met him outside the station. I asked him would he be staying in Chapelvale, he just said, I don’t know, maybe. As if he was teasing, or just shrugging the question off. I could never tell with Ben. He had those sort of eyes, cloudy blue sometimes, bright, shining blue at other times. They could twinkle and smile, make you feel happy somehow. But often they would grow distant and mysterious, so you couldn’t tell what was going on behind them.”
Mrs. Winn watched Amy apply herself to the ice cream. “I sensed the same thing. Perhaps not as much as you did, but I’m an old lady and you’re about the same age as Ben, so you understand him better. What about you, Alex?”
Alex snorted on his lemonade. “Boys don’t notice things like that about their pals, but I liked Ned’s eyes. They were friendly, brown I think. I know this much about Ben, though. He made me feel brave . . . I’m not scared . . . not of bullies or anything these days. That’s why I miss him so much, he could’ve taught me lots more if he’d stayed. I bet you miss him, too, Miz Winn?”
The old lady pursed her lips. “It’s different when one’s older. I tell myself I remember Ben fondly and I always will. You and I, this whole village, look at the mess we were in before he came. Ben changed all that by getting us to help each other. I think of him as my gift, loaned to me for a while, like a kind of a good angel. But that sounds silly, doesn’t it. Nobody could imagine a rough-and-ready angel with a great black dog lolloping round at his heels!”
At the thought of it, they all burst out laughing. Mrs. Winn touched the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh dear, what a vision. But now, would you like to hear some good news? I received a letter today. This’ll cheer you up. It certainly made me come alive again.”
Amy touched the letter sticking out from beneath the handbag. “Is this it?”
The old lady beamed with pleasure. “It certainly is, would you like to read it out to Alex and me? Well, go on!”
Mrs. Winn’s happiness was complete. She even let Blodwen Evans hover nearby to listen as her young friend read the letter. “ ‘Hello, Mum! It’s your wandering son Jim putting pen to paper. Sorry I haven’t written for a while, but here’s some exciting news for you. My wife Lilian and I have been thinking lately of moving back to dear old England. We miss it a lot. Jamie and Rodney are growing into fine big sons. Would you believe, Jamie was fourteen last week and Rodney turned twelve in April.
“ ‘School is a bit makeshift in Ceylon, or should I say was, because we’ve taken them out of it and decided on coming home to get them a proper education. Most of all, they want to see their grandma and Chapelvale. How is the old place? I’m always telling Jamie and Rod about when I was a boy in the village. They’re dying to see it. Well, we’ve got sufficient savings from my investments, and Lilian would like to purchase a house in Chapelvale. I’ll turn my hand to some sort of new job (you know me, jack-of-all-trades, or should I say Jim, ha ha). We are at present aboard the steamship Ocean Monarch, traveling to England, expect to be there within ten days of you receiving my letter.
“‘Now, don’t fuss, Mum. No need to come hurrying up to Liverpool docks to meet us. We’ll make our own way to Chapelvale quite easily. I understand you’ve got a train line running to there now. You can meet us at the station. Got to close now, due at the captain’s table for dinner. See you soon, love from your son Jim, Lilian, and the boys. XXXX
“ ‘P.S. Hope you know some nice young folks the boys can pal up with.’ ”
Alex clenched his fists, squinched his face up, and shuddered with delight. “Nice young folks like us, Miz Winn!”
Will slapped his hand down on the table. “Ahah, thought I’d find you here. Come on. You, too, Jon. We’re just goin’ ’round to your dad’s, Alex. One of my cows, Buttercup, she’s in calf. Eileen an’ Ma are with ’er now. It’s a bit early, but she’s due today, Ma says. So, would you like to see one o’ my baby calves bein’ born?”
Amy and Alex chorused eagerly. “Yes, please, Will!”
Jon was already hurrying out to the cartful of young people.
“Last one in the gig doesn’t get scones an’ cream at the farm!”
Winnie stayed where she was, watching them pile in.
“Regina, did you save me a place?”
“Course I did. Hurry up, Alex!”
“Shove over, Tommo!”
“Amy, sit here by me!”
“Ahoy there, what about me?”
“You’ll have to run behind, Jon. Hahaha!”
“Up here by me, Jon. Good job Delia’s a big, strong gal!”
“I’m with ye, Will. Gee up, Delia!”
Winifred Winn sat watching the sunlight’s lovely play through the fine haze of dust they had left as the gig sped from the village square. Dreams she had never dared to dream had come true. Yet in the midst of all her happiness she felt a tinge of sadness, picturing the towheaded lad and his dog a short while ago, crossing the square. He was wearing the new outfit she had bought for him, the black Labrador trotted at his side faithfully. They halted halfway across the square. He flicked the blond hair from his eyes and stood there. Those blue eyes had never seemed so bright. Ned barked once, Ben raised his arm, shouting as he waved.
“Miz Winn!”
She half rose from her chair, the name forming on her lips.
“Ben . . .”
Then the dust settled and an old lady was left gazing at an empty village square.
[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman Page 26