By the time we’d finished upstairs, the scent of fruit cake from the slow oven had wafted gently through the house to tantalise our nostrils and I took the cake out and tested it with a skewer while Jess wolfed down the first batch of mince pies I’d made earlier.
She watched me curiously. ‘Why are you poking holes in it?’
‘One hole, just to see if it’s done. If it isn’t, the cake mix will stick to the skewer.’
‘Oh, right. These mince pies are much nicer than shop ones,’ Jess added, with an air of discovery.
‘I’ve made them the way I like them best, with lots of filling and thin pastry, but the shop ones tend to go the other way. There’s a box of them in the larder that the Chirks left, but I don’t like the look of them.’
‘I could take them back with me,’ offered Jess. ‘Grandpa would probably be glad of them, because they have to be better than anything Granny whips up, even though he always says he enjoys everything she cooks.’
‘How is she today?’
‘Quite lively — she said she was going to make a batch of rock cakes, though I don’t suppose they’ll be any nicer than the cheese straws.’
‘I’ll give you some soup to take back for lunch, I’ve made a lot more.’
I’d found one of those giant Thermos flasks earlier with a wide mouth for soups and stews, so I scalded it out and ladled the soup into that.
‘There, thick enough to stand a spoon in, as my Gran would have said.’
‘It smells lovely. I’d better take it back now, because they’ve probably decided to have rock cakes for lunch and that’s not enough to keep them going. Meals at the lodge are getting weirder and weirder by the minute.’
When she’d gone I had a bowl of the soup myself, with a warm, buttered roll (luckily there was a good supply of bread in the freezer too, and also several of those long-life part-baked baguettes in the larder), then I covered the end of the kitchen table with newspaper and sat there with a pot of tea to hand, polishing up the tarnished silver from the dining room.
When I was coming back from replacing them on the sideboard, I glanced out of the sitting-room window and spotted a tractor coming up the drive with a snowplough contraption on the front. It swept gratingly around the turning circle in front of the house, narrowly missing my car, then vanished up the side, but not before I’d caught sight of Henry in the passenger seat next to the fair-haired driver.
I presumed he was being dropped off at the back gate and, sure enough, by the time I got to the kitchen he was stumping across the courtyard to the door and I could hear the roar of the tractor departing again.
‘Hi, Henry,’ I said, ‘was that George Froggat, the farmer from up the lane?’
‘That’s right, Hill Farm. Gave me a lift, he did.’
‘That was kind.’
‘Nay, he was coming up anyway, seeing the council pays him and his son to plough the lane to the village, and Jude pays him to do this drive and Becca’s. He makes a good thing out of it.’
‘Oh yes, I think Tilda and Noël mentioned something about that.’
‘Saw you at the window, did George. Said you looked a likely lass. I said you were none too bad,’ he conceded grudgingly.
‘Well. . thank you,’ I said, digesting this unlikely pair of compliments.
‘I told him you were a widow, too. He’s a widower himself.’
I glanced at him sharply, wondering if he was about to try a spot of rural matchmaking and saw that he looked frozen, despite wearing numerous woolly layers under a tweed jacket obviously built for someone of twice his girth.
‘Look, come in and get warm,’ I ordered and, despite his protests, I thawed him out in the kitchen with tea and warm mince pies. The first batch had almost gone already, so it was just as well I had loads more baking, which I intended to put in the freezer.
‘The weather’s turning worse and I might not get back up over Christmas, so I’ve come to show you where the potatoes are stored, and the beetroot clamp and suchlike, in case you need to fetch any more in,’ he said, when he’d drunk his tea and regained a less deathly complexion.
I was touched by this kind thought and we went out to the walled garden, once I’d donned my down-filled parka and gloves.
I returned half an hour later with a basket of potatoes and carrots and a string of onions, leaving Henry to retire to his little den in the greenhouse, though I told him to tell me later when he was leaving. His daughter couldn’t fetch him today, so he’d intended walking home, but I would insist on driving him back, however icy the road down was.
The drive was slippery, but someone (presumably George) had sprinkled grit over the steepest bit of the lane below the lodge, so we got down that all right.
Going by the leaden sky I thought we might be in for another snow fall, and it was a pity the shop was closed because I would have bought yet more emergency supplies while I had the car with me, especially now I was having lots more visitors!
I pulled up outside the almshouses and Henry clambered out, clutching his usual bulging sack of booty.
‘Her at the end’s wanting you,’ he said with a jerk of his thumb and I saw Old Nan was waving at me from her window with surprising enthusiasm. But this was soon explained when Jess shot out of her cottage, still fastening her coat, and climbed into the passenger seat next to me.
‘Great, I thought I was going to have to walk back,’ she said, turning round to pat Merlin, who was on the back seat.
‘We both might, if the car won’t go up the lane — it’s pretty icy. What were you doing down here?’
‘Granny made about three million rock cakes and they weren’t very nice, so I volunteered to bring some for Old Nan and Richard, just to try and get rid of them quicker. Your soup was good, though.’
I got back up the hill by the skin of my teeth and dropped her at the lodge, but I didn’t go in because it was quickly getting dark and even colder by then, and I wanted to bring Lady and Billy in.
I should have left a light on in the porch: it was slightly eerie and silent when I got out of the car, just the scrunch of my boots on the drive and the sudden high-pitched yelp of a fox not far away, which Merlin took with matter-of-fact disinterestedness.
It’s odd, growing up in Merchester, I’d had this idea of the countryside as a quiet place, but in its way it’s usually just as noisy as the city: foxes scream, hedgehogs grunt, sheep baa, cows moo, birds sing, rooks caw, tractors roar. . it’s a cacophony! A cacophony interspersed with moments of deep silence. This was one of them.
I was glad to get inside and switch on the lights in the sitting room, where the embers of the fire only needed a log or two to spring back into life.
When I checked the phone, I seemed to have missed a call from Jude. What a pity!
I spoke too soon, because when I came back in from the stables he rang again before I could even get my freezing hands around a hot mug. (I’d been tempted to plunge them into Lady’s warm mash!)
‘You weren’t in earlier,’ he said accusingly. ‘I tried to ring you two or three times.’
‘No, I am actually allowed to leave the premises occasionally for a couple of hours under the terms of the Homebodies contract,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I told you that I was going to the village to do some shopping — and I called in on your aunt and uncle and everything seemed fine. I got them a couple of things they needed from the village, too.’
‘Oh? Is that little service going on the bill, too?’ he said nastily. ‘And I rang much earlier too and you weren’t there then, either, so—’
‘This was much earlier. I came back ages ago and then went straight out to bring Billy and Lady in and do her warm mash. They are both absolutely fine too — I rang Becca this morning to ask her if it was too cold to put them in the paddock and she said it wasn’t. So in fact, the only creature around here that isn’t fine is me, because I’m tired, freezing cold and hungry,’ I added pointedly.
‘Well, sorry for disturbing you!’
‘That’s all right, I have had one or two previous clients who were so neurotic about their pets they called every day. Did you have any particular reason for ringing this time?’
‘No, it’s simply that the novelty of having my employees insult me hasn’t worn off yet.’
‘I am not actually your employee,’ I pointed out. ‘I work for Homebodies. And I return the compliment: my clients tend to praise me rather than insult my integrity.’
I think we might have been neck-and-neck with slamming the phone down that time.
Chapter 13
Christmas Spirits
On my half-day I cycled out to meet N at a teashop. One of his brothers dropped him off there, though he did not come in, and was to pick him up later. It was good to see him again and though at first I felt very shy, we were soon as at ease with one another as we had been at the hospital.
February, 1945
I read a bit more of Gran’s journal over breakfast. Now that she seemed to be embarking on a clandestine romance with Ned Martland, I was even more tempted to skip forward and discover what went wrong, but restrained myself.
I did wish she wouldn’t keep going off into long-winded soliloquies about the state of her conscience and what she thought God’s purpose for her was between entries, though.
I kept thinking about her while I did my chores and then took Merlin for a little run, so I called Laura to talk it over when I had gone far enough up the hill to get a good signal.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked me.
‘Me?’ I said, surprised. ‘Oh, I’m fine, except there is so much to do here. Laura, you know those old journals of Granny’s?’
‘Mmm, you said you were reading a bit every night and were beginning to suspect that one of the Martlands might have been your Gran’s lost love — see, I’m keeping up with the plot,’ she said encouragingly.
‘Yes, that’s Edward — Ned — Noël Martland’s younger brother and I’m positive he’s the N.M. she’s nursing back to health in her journal. She seems to be slowly falling for him and they’re having clandestine meetings!’
‘Well, you already knew she loved him. I wonder what went wrong?’
‘I don’t know, I just hope he didn’t break her heart, because he sounds a bit of a rake. I expect I’ll find out a bit more about him over Christmas. .’ I began, but then there was a crash and a wailing noise at her end as one of the children had some minor disaster and she had to ring off quickly.
At least everything is now more or less in hand for Christmas Day. I’ve taken the fine ham the Chirks left behind out of the freezer and put it in the fridge to defrost slowly, the menu is planned, the cake awaits its marzipan and icing and I have the wherewithal to bake endless mince pies.
But I went quite mad and cleaned through the rest of the house, too — or at least everything that wasn’t locked up. Having set my course, there seemed no point in being half-hearted about things just because Jude Martland was so objectionable, and anyway, the clean bits made the rest of it look so much worse. .
The slightly musty, dusty scent of neglect has given way to the homelier ones of wood fires, beeswax and lavender polish, baking and fresh coffee.
While I was working away I’d been keeping an eye on the weather, for outside large slow flakes of snow were stealthily falling. I saw George snowplough up the drive and turn down again, but this time he was alone. If he gets paid by the council for every trip, I suspect I’ll see a lot of him!
By early afternoon the snow was even thicker and showed no sign of letting up, so I decided to bring Lady and Billy in early, then took off Lady’s rug and rather inexpertly groomed her. She seemed to enjoy this, though Billy was a nuisance as always, forever butting me in the legs and nibbling the hems of my jeans.
I’d almost finished and was just putting Lady’s rug back on, when Jess made one of her silent appearances: I think she must practise them.
‘Don’t stand there in the snow, come in,’ I invited, so she did, with a cautious eye on Lady and then sidled gingerly past Billy.
I think actually she’s afraid of horses and has invented an allergy to conceal it, because she never sneezes or shows any other symptoms.
‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ I asked, but then looked up and saw her pale, anxious face. ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’
‘Grandpa asked me to walk up and tell you that Granny had a little fall in the kitchen last night.’
I stopped fastening the strap of the rug and turned to stare at her. ‘Is she hurt?’
Her lower lip wobbled slightly. ‘She bumped her head and knocked herself out, and we weren’t sure if she’d broken anything, so we didn’t like to move her. I had to ring for an ambulance.’
‘Oh, poor Tilda — and poor Jess, too,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘But why didn’t you ring me?’
‘It all happened so fast! Granny had come round a bit by the time the ambulance arrived, but they insisted on taking her to hospital for X-rays and a checkup, so Grandpa and I went too.’
‘So, is she still there?’
‘No, she refused to stay even though they wanted to keep her in overnight for observation and we came back in a taxi about two this morning. It only just managed to get up the hill!’
‘Wow, you have been having a time of it! I only wish I’d known.’
‘Grandpa didn’t want to bother you, but if they had kept her in hospital he was going to ring and ask you if I could move up here for a bit.’
‘Of course you could, that wouldn’t have been a problem. How is your granny this morning?’
‘Still in bed and Grandpa’s trying to persuade her to stay there. I think she’s a bit shaken up and bruised and she’s probably going to have a black eye, too. I made us all some toast for breakfast. . and we don’t seem to have got round to lunch,’ she said, and then added hopefully, ‘I washed the soup Thermos out and brought it back.’
‘Good thinking — some nice, hot soup will do them both good.’ I gave her another hug and then finished fastening Lady’s rug. ‘You know, they’re really not up to looking after themselves any more, are they? It’s a pity their housekeeper had to go away just now, though I’m sure the poor woman is entitled to take Christmas off.’
‘She always has the same two weeks, while Granny and Grandpa are happy to move up here for Christmas and New Year and me and Mum and Dad are usually here, too.’ She paused and swallowed hard, tears not far away again. ‘Grandpa said, just think how awful it would have been if Granny’d been cooking and holding something hot when she fell.’
‘God, yes, he’s right — it could have been so much worse!’
Jude Martland, you’ve got a lot to answer for! I thought — swanning off and leaving everyone to cope alone, when he must have seen how frail his elderly relatives were getting.
‘Come on,’ I said, leading the way out of the loosebox, ‘we’ll go and phone your Grandpa.’
‘You can’t, that’s why I had to come and tell you. The phone line was a bit iffy this morning when Grandpa called the mobile number Uncle Jude gave him, and just after he’d told him about Granny’s accident and her going to hospital, it all went totally dead. I walked down the lane to have a look and one of the poles was right down, so that’s it and we’re cut off.’
‘Oh — then at least your Uncle Jude knows what’s happening,’ I said, relieved, ‘though I don’t suppose he said anything remotely useful?’
‘I don’t think he got the chance,’ she said doubtfully.
‘He might try and call you back on your mobile?’
‘He doesn’t know the number. . and that’s not working now either, because I dropped it down the toilet at the hospital.’
‘Oh, yuk! I don’t even want to know how you managed that,’ I said. ‘Or what you did with it afterwards.’
‘It’s in a plastic bag one of the nurses gave me.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll have to get back soon — Grandpa’s very tired and he
must be hungry, because I’m ravenous and I don’t want him to get ill, too.’
She sounded as if the cares of the world were on her small shoulders, poor child.
‘Of course, and I’ll come with you,’ I said, and we set out as soon as I’d put more hot soup in the flask and quickly made cheese and tomato sandwiches.
A worried Noël was obviously deeply relieved to see me. ‘It’s very kind of you to come, m’dear. I really didn’t want to be any more of a nuisance.’
‘You’re not a nuisance at all. How is Tilda now?’
‘Furious with me for getting Jess to call the ambulance but she’s still in bed,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Very unlike her, so it must have shaken her up. She says she has a headache too, but insists she will get up later and cook lunch.’
‘It’s nearly teatime, Noël! But I’ve brought hot soup, sandwiches and mince pies that you can all have now. And then do you think you ought to call the doctor about Tilda’s headache?’
‘She won’t hear of it — only takes homeopathic remedies, you know. Never lets illness get the better of her!’ he added proudly.
But there was no homeopathic cure for the encroaching infirmities of old age, which must overtake us all in the end. . There seemed to be only one way of preventing Tilda from trying to carry on as usual and hurting herself even more in the process. .
‘You know, I really think it would be best if you all moved up to Old Place this afternoon and stayed, at least until Tilda is better,’ I said with resignation.
‘Oh yes!’ said Jess eagerly.
‘I had thought of asking, but I really didn’t want to burden you with extra work,’ Noël said anxiously.
‘Not at all: Jess has helped me clean and make the beds already, so it’ll be no trouble at all,’ I lied.
A huge expression of relief crossed his face. ‘If you are sure. . and perhaps you will like the company?’ he suggested, brightening. ‘Jess and I will help you as much as we can, too.’
‘Will Tilda be happy to move up to Old Place?’
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