‘Yet she offered you a place.’
‘She did, although she’d managed without a cook for years. She used to do all that herself, and still could if she was minded, I imagine.’ Tilly poured Edie a cup of tea from the pot that sat snug in its knitted cosy between them. ‘If you ask me, Prue has a weakness for lost causes. Not that you’ll ever hear her admit it.’
‘Are you a lost cause?’
‘We all are, here. I think it’s safe to say that the world’s given up on each of us, one way or another.’
‘Then I ought to fit in perfectly,’ Edie said with a smile.
‘You as well?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.’ Tilly glanced towards the door, where there were sounds of movement, and lowered her voice. ‘If you really want to get the measure of Prudence Hewitt, Edie, then watch her with Jack.’
Edie frowned. ‘The gardener?’
‘Not only the gardener.’ Tilly put a finger to her lips as the door opened. ‘Just watch.’
‘Good morning, girls,’ Mrs Hewitt said. ‘I hope you won’t mind if we join you.’
Tilly smiled at Edie. ‘I think we can allow that, don’t you? Since it is Prue’s house.’
Edie smiled back, a little uncertainly, and drew her legs under her chair to make room for them at the small table. Mrs Hewitt took the seat Tilly had previously occupied, and the huge, silent mountain of gardener sat down beside her. His beetling brows looked like they were joined in the middle as he directed a fierce glare at Edie. She summoned a friendly smile, but he didn’t change his expression.
‘I generally eat in here with the staff,’ Mrs Hewitt said to Edie. ‘It seems foolish to set the dining table when we’re so few. But now we have an additional member of the household, perhaps we might make more of an effort to dine formally on the days when you’re working in the gardens.’
Edie was surprised to hear that it was customary for the staff and the lady of the house to eat together, but she bit her tongue.
She watched as Tilly placed a plate of food in front of her mistress, only for Jack to shake his head and hand it back again.
‘Another rasher and four or five more of those mushrooms for Missus,’ he said firmly. ‘She can’t live on that.’
Prue smiled. ‘Now, Jack. There’s a war on, don’t forget. We all have to tighten our belts.’
‘You can have my share. I’ve no appetite this morning.’
‘No, I won’t have that. What have I got to do with myself but potter about in the house? You’ll be turning soil most of the day, you need a full belly.’
For the first time, Edie saw Jack’s brow ease and his lips relax in a smile. ‘Cheggy, we’ll be trying to feed each other all morning at this rate. Just do as you’re told, lass. I really couldn’t eat yet.’
‘There’s the remains of last night’s hunt pie in the pantry,’ Tilly said. ‘You can have it as an early lunch, Jack.’
‘There, you see? I’m all provided for,’ Jack said, nudging Prue.
She smiled. ‘You’re a hard man to say no to, Jack Graham. Between me and that damn bird of yours, I believe you’d give all your food away if I let you.’
Jack flashed her a full grin, the triumph of knowing he’d won glowing through as Tilly placed a piled plate in front of Prue.
‘Edie, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is Jack – Mr Graham,’ Tilly said. ‘I suppose I might as well do the introductions if no one else is going to.’
‘How do you do?’ Edie said politely, holding out her hand.
Jack eyed it suspiciously.
‘We work hard here,’ he told her.
Edie could feel a cough trying to force its way to her throat and fought to stifle it. She could sense Jack was trying to get the measure of her, and she didn’t want to show any weakness.
‘So I’ve been informed,’ she said stiffly.
‘I don’t know what you’re used to down in London, but we’ve little truck with shirkers in the north. Their sorts don’t tend to last long here, any road. If it’s an easy time you’re after then you’d best go back where you’ve come from.’
Edie sat up straighter. ‘What makes you think that’s what I want?’
His eyes skimmed her body. ‘You weren’t built for graft, child.’
The cough forced itself out, but after a moment’s painful wheezing, Edie was able to force it back under control.
‘Maybe not, but I’m reliably informed there’s a war on,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Mappen there is,’ Jack said. ‘If you did nowt but read the papers and listen to the wireless, you’d think there was nothing mattered but the bloody war. But my concern’s not with wars, it’s with this potato crop I want to get in the ground by end of April. And while you’re working this estate with me, so’s yours.’
Edie bristled. ‘No, my concern is helping to win the war. The Women’s Land Army isn’t cheap labour for your vegetable patch, Mr Graham.’
Jack shot Prue a look of surprise, but his mistress just quirked an eyebrow while she tackled her bacon and mushrooms.
‘Edie, don’t listen to him,’ Tilly said, shaking her head at Jack. ‘We’re not growing spuds for our own amusement. We want to reclaim some waste ground to grow potatoes we can sell down in the village. We’re also planning to invest in a chicken coop and some hens so we’ll have eggs to sell as well.’
‘Hens?’
‘That’s right. Just a couple to begin with, then once we’ve got the hang of it we’ll get more. So you see, we are doing our bit to keep people fed.’
Jack nodded. ‘Aye, we do our share. Maybe it’s not glamorous, Miss whatever your name is –’
‘Cartwright.’
‘Maybe it’s not glamorous, Miss Cartwright, but I’m sure you’ve heard the saying that an army marches on its stomach. You can’t win a war with a grumbling belly.’
‘I’m well aware of that, Mr Graham. I’d hardly be here if I wasn’t.’
Jack’s face creased in a grin. He grasped her tiny hand in a bear-like fist and gave it a firm shake. ‘Well, you might not have much brawn but you’ve got guts. And a fair cheek on you too.’ He glanced at Prue. ‘I knew another little lass like you once. Let’s see how you get along, shall we?’
Edie laughed as he released her hand, flexing it to bring some feeling back into her fingers. ‘You mean you’re going to be testing me.’
‘Summat o’ that.’
‘What will we be working on today?’
‘I need to be getting on with clearing the ground for the potatoes. You can do the light work, tending to the greenhouses and such.’
‘I’d rather help you,’ Edie said with unfeigned eagerness. She was keen to prove she meant it when she said she planned to work hard.
‘Nay, it’s man’s work. You’d be dead by teatime.’
‘I can handle it.’
Jack smiled. ‘All right, since you’re so mustard-keen then you can give me a hand for a spell. Just mind you do as you’re told.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going to get to it. Come find me when you’re done with your cuppa.’
He clapped Prudence on the back and left without further ceremony.
Edie glanced out of the window, watching him as he strode across the lawn in the thin light of morning.
It wasn’t just the wasted rooms on the inside of the house: there was a lot of unused space outside too. Yes, there were the kitchen gardens, which grew vegetables for the house and village, and the greenhouses and orchard. But there were also the landscaped gardens. Pretty enough, with well-tended hedges and a large fountain in the centre, but they seemed excessive as a pleasure ground for one middle-aged widow who really didn’t seem to be taking much pleasure in them. Slowly, an idea started to form.
‘Do you have any sort of summer event here?’ Edie asked Mrs Hewitt.
‘We used to,’ Mrs Hewitt said. ‘An agricultural show, over in Kirkton. I expect they’ll bring it back once the
war’s over.’
‘I actually meant something smaller, like a fete. Does Applefield have one?’
‘Not any more,’ Tilly told her as she cleared away Mrs Hewitt’s plate.
‘Because of the war?’
‘No, it just died out. I’m not sure why. We had a smashing one when I was a girl, when old Mr Hewitt was alive. He and his wife used to organise it as a treat for the Sunday School children, but the whole village attended. When he died, they kept it going for a while, but … I don’t know, it seemed to have lost its heart.’ Tilly sighed. ‘It’s a shame. I used to love treat day.’
‘Has anyone ever tried to bring it back?’
‘We’ve no time for thinking about nonsense like that,’ Mrs Hewitt said, standing up. She’d seemed more relaxed in Jack’s presence – warmer, and younger too, somehow – but now he was gone, the brisk, businesslike woman of the evening before had reappeared. ‘As you’re so fond of reminding us, Edith, there’s a war on. And what that means in practical terms is that there’s work to be done.’
Chapter 5
The sight that greeted Edie when she emerged from the house stole her breath away for a moment. Last night, although all had been shrouded in darkness, she could tell the giants that surrounded Applefield were something impressive. But in daylight … gosh.
To the east was a towering beast with a long, knobbled back, its flank just transforming from beige to green as spring staked a tentative claim on the landscape. It probably had a name – a descriptive, adventurous name, Edie hoped, like … Old Man Mountain, or something of that nature.
By its side was a smaller peak – smaller but no less impressive. Its snow-dusted top reminded her of an old print of the Alps that her Aunt Caroline had owned. A glittering blue-diamond lake nestled between the monsters, like a painting on a picture-postcard.
An involuntary gasp escaped her lips. Incredible that two days’ travel was all it took to reach somewhere as alien and strange as another country – another world! And yet this was her home, in a sense. This was where her father had been born; spent his boyhood; grown into a man. It was part of him, and, as frightening as it seemed, it must be a little part of Edie too.
She shook her head to bring herself out of the reverie, smiling at her foolishness. Jack was waiting, and it wouldn’t do to dawdle on her first day. She spied a figure in the distance and started striding in its direction.
The grounds looked smaller now she was actually in them. Still, they were pretty big, from what she could see. Her friend Alfie, a Charlton Athletic supporter, had a tendency to use football pitches as a unit of measurement, and Edie would guess the grounds of Applefield Manor could host two or three concurrent matches easily. Perhaps that wasn’t really all that big for a country estate, but Edie was a born-and-bred Londoner. It felt like more grass than she’d ever seen outside of Hyde Park.
A lot of the ground seemed unloved, much like the old house itself. The small area directly to the front was neat and trim, with its carefully sculpted topiary and well-kept lawn, but the space around it had grown ragged – increasingly so the further one got from the house. It had a wild, forsaken look: a gradual melting of civilisation into wilderness. The grounds were a lot for one man to cope with on his own, Edie supposed. And for all that he looked to be a sturdy, well-built man, Jack Graham wasn’t exactly young.
She could see the gardener clearly now, working on some ground behind the dirty greenhouses. He’d removed his shirt and vest, braces hanging down by his thick thighs, and he was laying the full weight of his bare chest against the shovel as he pushed it into the stubborn earth.
Occasionally he stopped and slumped over the handle, his chin sagging. But the pauses were only momentary: after a few seconds Jack would return to his work with renewed vigour, turning over huge, peaty mounds of earth as if they weighed nothing at all.
No, he wasn’t young, but he was strong and virile – and handsome for someone of his years, in a rough, country sort of way. He and Prudence Hewitt couldn’t have seemed any more different, in their appearance and their demeanour. And yet they were a similar age. They must have been young together, once upon a time …
Edie recalled their playful behaviour at the breakfast table when Jack had insisted Prudence eat his portion of the meal: the gruff gardener and the stern matron in that moment, as their faces broke into smiles, looking like young people in the throes of a first love affair. And the nickname he’d given her – Cheggy. Gardeners didn’t speak to their mistresses that way. There was more to their relationship, but what? Old friends? Perhaps. Old lovers? Possibly. None of her business? Definitely. But the mystery-loving part of Edie’s brain couldn’t help being intrigued.
When she had nearly reached Jack, Edie turned to get a proper look at the house.
Unlike the gardens, Applefield Manor looked bigger when you weren’t inside it. Two rows of mullioned windows, five above and four below, were flanked by a couple of turrets that gave the otherwise austere sandstone block an air of fairytale grandeur which didn’t suit it, somehow. The golden stone was bright where the rising sun hit it, but the climbing ivy was beige-tinged and unkempt; most of the windows dark, covered by blackout curtains no one had bothered to draw back. The house, the whole estate, had an air of going to seed that made Edie think of her favourite childhood fairytale, Sleeping Beauty. All it needed was a princess to awaken.
She thought of Prudence Hewitt, and her determination to shut out the world and everyone in it – even the war itself. Well, maybe there was someone at Applefield Manor who needed waking up.
Jack had obviously been too deep in his work to notice her approaching, and he started visibly when she hailed him. The look he flashed her frightened Edie for an instant. It was a wild, hunted look, filled with fear and a sort of desperation. But the impression passed quickly, and within a second he had arranged his face into a smile.
‘Well, so you’re here, are you?’ He snatched his vest from the ground and pulled it on. ‘Suppose I’d better keep my clothes on if we’re going to have young ladies springing up all over the place.’
‘Where would you like me to start?’ Edie asked, eager to prove her salt.
‘I’d best show you around the place first.’
She followed him as he led her to the greenhouses.
‘We’ve six of these,’ he told her. ‘We grow all sorts in ’em – tomatoes, plums, rhubarb, cabbage, or whatever’s good for the time of year. I’ve got celery and cucumbers ready for sowing, and the last of the sprouts to harvest when you’ve had enough of clearing land.’
‘I told you I can –’
He laughed. ‘Aye, I know, you’re as strong as an ox and you could turn soil from now until sunset. But them sprouts need getting in all the same.’
He moved away from the greenhouses and gestured to a plot of herb beds.
‘Parsley, horseradish, sage, rosemary and so on,’ he said. ‘The rosemary has a habit of taking over if it’s not looked to so that’ll need trimming down regular as we come into the warmer weather.’
Next he showed her the vegetable patches and the little apple orchard, the trees stark and bare now, although it wouldn’t be long before they’d be snow-white with blossom.
‘Apples’ll be ready for picking backend, if you’re still with us – that’s autumn to you,’ he told her. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the stables.’
‘Oh, do you keep horses?’ Edie asked as she followed him. Prudence Hewitt hadn’t looked like a horsey sort, but then again, this was the countryside. A lot of people probably got about on horseback here.
‘Nay, not now. The late squire’s father kept racehorses before his marriage, but they’re long gone.’
‘How does Mrs Hewitt travel then?’
‘She doesn’t.’
The stable was large, if rather dilapidated. It must once have housed quite a number of horses. Jack pushed open the door and Edie followed him inside.
It was divided into two rows of stalls,
enough for a dozen animals. Although it was a long time since the place had last contained a horse, there was a definite horsey smell lingering: manure, saddle leather, hoof polish. Edie breathed in deeply.
Apart from the cobwebs that hung thickly in every corner, all that seemed to occupy the stable now was rubbish: old flowerpots; empty paint tins; an ancient washboard propped against one wall.
‘Not used for much these days,’ Jack told her as he took out a tin of tobacco and started stuffing his pipe. ‘It’ll do for storing the potatoes when we’ve got them in. For now it just sits empty, apart from one long-standing resident.’
Edie frowned. Resident? Was there a horse after all, or –
She shrieked and covered her head as something swooped past.
‘Good heavens, bats!’
Jack laughed. ‘No, it’s just old Pepper. Say hello, Pep.’
‘Hello!’ a harsh, grating voice observed.
Edie peeped out from between her fingers to see a huge black crow sitting on Jack’s shoulder, its head cocked as it fixed her in a beady-eyed stare.
‘Hello,’ she greeted it cautiously.
‘Hello!’
Jack took out a match. Edie couldn’t help noticing how his hand trembled while he lit his pipe.
‘That’s all she can say for now, though I’m trying to teach her more,’ he said. ‘I did worry she might pick up a few choice words from Matty, the boy who worked here before. I wasn’t at all surprised when he went into the Merchant Navy. He certainly had the vocabulary for it.’
Edie took a step forward and cocked her head at the inquisitive bird. It almost seemed to smile at her mimicry.
‘Go ahead, stroke her,’ Jack said. ‘She’s a soft old thing.’
Edie ran a tentative finger over the bird’s head, and Pepper gave a soft caw.
‘Is she a pet?’ Edie asked.
‘She’s a wild animal. But I suppose you could say we have an understanding.’ Jack cast a fond look at the crow sitting parrot-like on his shoulder. ‘I found her under the oak tree outside one morning when she was a chick. Fell out of her nest, I suppose. I waited a while to see if Mam would come back for her, but that evening she was still there. She’d have died if I’d left her overnight so I took her back to the house to nurse. When she was old enough I made her a little nest in here.’ He stroked Pepper’s head. ‘That was a year ago. I never expected her to make it.’
Edie's Home for Orphans Page 4