by Tania Crosse
He had returned for a long weekend near the end of February, and Anna had dreamily prepared his room, lovingly smoothing the sheets as she made his bed. When he had burst into the entrance hall with his usual hearty call, she’d had a job to stop herself running from the kitchen and into his arms. Instead, she had waited until he had gone upstairs, and then scooted up to his room with the excuse that she had forgotten to put out the towels.
Anna saw his face light up as she came in.
‘Anna, how jolly good to see you again! Here, let me take those.’ He duly removed the towels from her arms and dumped them on the bed. ‘Let me see you properly. Well, you’re certainly looking well. I’ve missed your chirpy little face!’
Anna couldn’t believe her ears and blinked at him in delicious amazement. ‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she ventured coyly, and the next moment found herself crushed in a tight hug while her heart tripped along in delight.
‘You’re just as beautiful as I remember,’ he whispered, his voice suddenly ragged. ‘That little snub nose, that lovely mouth, and those eyes.’ He tipped his head to one side and frowned. ‘You know, I can never work out quite what colour they are, blue or brown. I’m sure they change with the light. So, I shall call them smoky. My Little Smoky Eyes!’
He tossed his head with a light laugh, and Anna had smiled back. She could see it all so clearly again as she nodded reassuringly at Ethel across the table.
‘Anyway, tell me about you and Bert,’ she neatly changed the subject. ‘Have you heard from him since he was called up?’
‘Yes. ’E’s being sent out to Germany, like, an’ ’e won’t get any ’ome leave for, I doesn’t know, six months or more.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Anna’s voice rang with sympathy, and she sought a way to cheer Ethel up. ‘But I’d have thought Germany would be a relatively safe posting, so it’s not all bad. And you can write in to Jean Metcalfe and get him a mention on Two-Way Family Favourites.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Ethel grunted, obviously unimpressed.
‘It’ll probably go quicker than you think,’ Anna tried to encourage her. ‘And if you both save hard, you can get married as soon as he comes home, if that’s what you both want. And he’s bound to get his job back on the railways, so there’ll be nothing to stop you, will there?’
And by then, Anna herself would have been able to prove her worth to Lady Ashcroft and perhaps she and Gilbert would be married, too, as it looked as if things were going that way. And she hugged to her heart the memory of the soft kiss he had placed on her lips just before he had left for London again.
‘It’s your afternoon off today, isn’t it?’ Gilbert asked as they met by chance in the upstairs corridor by the door to the servants’ staircase. Or perhaps it wasn’t quite by chance, Anna suspected gleefully. ‘And what is my Little Smoky Eyes going to do with herself?’
Anna’s brow puckered with curiosity. ‘Go for a walk, I expect. It’s such a lovely day.’
‘Indeed it is. I wouldn’t mind a walk myself.’ Gilbert glanced furtively about him and then brought his gaze back to Anna’s. ‘Wait for me at the end of the drive,’ he instructed in a low voice. ‘Now get along before you’re missed.’
Anna’s mouth spread into a broad smile. Oh, that would be super! She’d had to contain her jubilation at Gilbert’s visit, which hadn’t been easy under everyone’s nose. He would be staying for a whole week and she would relish every minute!
She duly waited, skulking behind the last tree of the drive and admiring the drifts of daffodils beginning to open their heads in the spring sunshine. If anyone came along, she would pretend she had stopped to see to something in one of her wellingtons. Her heart had taken wing at Gilbert’s invitation. A walk on the moor would be so romantic! She had never been in love before, and the sensation was exquisite, overwhelming. To think that the tragedy of her mum’s death had brought her to the man of her dreams was … well, she wasn’t quite sure what. She only knew that her mum would have been so happy for her.
The thought cast a shadow over her present pleasure and set her mind on what Ethel had told her when they had met some weeks previously. There had never been any trouble from her dad, Ethel had said. He appeared a reformed man, going to work each day and evidently holding down his job. A pang of guilt pierced Anna’s side. Perhaps she should try to get a whole day off and at least go to visit him. But then he might try to follow her back here and she didn’t want anything to spoil her happiness. So perhaps she should wait until her future with Gilbert was secure before contacting her dad again.
The sound of a car coming along the drive banished all thoughts of her dad from her mind. She peeped out from behind the tree to see Gilbert in his beautiful sports car. She stepped across the verge and he stopped to let her in.
‘Oh, I am looking forward to this,’ she grinned as she settled herself in the passenger seat, and nearly squealed with joy when he leant over to kiss her briefly on the mouth. Her lips tingled and she had to look out of the windscreen to hide her flush of elation as Gilbert turned out onto the road. ‘Just a pity we have to keep things secret for now,’ she flustered in an attempt to conceal her feelings, ‘but I suppose there’ll be time enough to tell your mother about us.’
Gilbert didn’t reply as he concentrated on negotiating the tight turn onto the Moretonhampstead road. You went back on yourself as well as going sharply uphill which, although Anna didn’t drive, looked quite tricky so she shouldn’t expect Gilbert to talk at the same time. But once they were bowling along again, she asked brightly, ‘Where are we going?’
‘Ah, ha, wait and see!’ he teased. ‘Just enjoy the view. Not that the moor’s at its best just now. Still yellow from the winter, but it’ll soon green up if this nice weather continues.’
Anna nodded in agreement and swivelled her gaze out of the window again. A short way from the road on her left, she noticed a row of tumbledown buildings, a couple of old chimneys, and strung out across the opposite hillside three substantial-looking ruins, remains of the gunpowder mills she had seen on her map, she supposed.
‘We must be nearly at Postbridge and the clapper bridge,’ she observed as they left the ruins behind. ‘That’s where I was aiming for the day the blizzard set in. I’ve not tried going back since.’
‘I thought as much, so we’ll have a quick stop there so you can see it, but then I thought I’d take you somewhere else even more fascinating a bit further on.’
‘I can’t wait!’ Anna sang back.
They spent ten minutes at the pretty spot on the river, standing side by side on the ancient bridge and absorbing the peace and quiet. Anna suddenly felt Gilbert cup her chin and turn her face towards his. Her knees turned weak and she closed her eyes as he brushed his lips against hers, sending ripples down to her stomach. Oh, there was a need in her, something she didn’t understand, but she was ready to let it swamp her like a tidal wave.
Back in the car, they zoomed along the gently undulating road, only slowing to avoid a flock of sheep wandering across the tarmac. The scenery was stark and magnificent, but to Anna it was one joyous blur.
‘Look over there,’ Gilbert’s voice cut through her reverie just as they passed the Warren House Inn on the left. ‘See that giant ring on the hillside? That’s where we’re going. Grimspound. It was an ancient village, Bronze Age, I think.’
‘Really?’ Anna strained her neck to look out of the driver’s window. ‘How interesting! And there are lots of even older things on the moor as well, aren’t there? Stone rows and circles and things.’
‘Certainly are. ’Tis a mysterious place indeed,’ Gilbert said, mimicking a Devonshire accent.
Anna chuckled, feeling she would burst with rejoicing. She shared so much with Gilbert, and this love of the moor which enchanted and sparked the imagination was the crowning glory.
Grimspound was amazing, a vast stone wall that would have protected the ancient village’s livestock as well as its little round houses. They sat inside o
ne of them, or at least the stone foundations that survived, imagining they were cooking over an open fire.
‘Here, woman, eat,’ Gilbert barked, passing some imaginary item of food to her. ‘We eat, then children eat.’
Anna grinned back. ‘How many do we have?’
‘Twelve at the last count.’
Anna roared with laughter as they sat and enjoyed the fresh air on that mild spring day, happy and relaxed. Later they strolled back to the car, holding hands. Anna was sure she was in heaven, basking in blissful paradise. And this was just the beginning.
‘Oh, good Lord! Your mother’s had a stroke?’ Anna looked up from her bowl of creamy porridge the next morning with a cry of sympathy. ‘Where does she live? You must go to her straight away.’
‘How can I?’ Mrs Davenport snapped back, her drained face regaining its colour. ‘I can’t leave Lady Ashcroft, especially when Sir Gilbert’s here!’
‘Yes, of course you can,’ Anna insisted. ‘And you must. Lady Ashcroft will understand, and I know Sir Gilbert won’t mind. Mr Jackson and I can manage, and Mrs Smudge, of course. We might have to cut corners and things might not be done to your high standards,’ she put in persuasively, ‘but I’m sure we can muddle through. Your mother is far more important.’
She spoke the words with conviction. Oh, yes. It might be Mrs Davenport’s last chance to be with her mother. Anna felt she had to persuade her to go. She herself would have given the earth to have had the chance to say a proper goodbye to her mum.
In the event, Lady Ashcroft insisted that Mrs Davenport should leave immediately, and even instructed Mr Jackson to drive her right to Plymouth’s main North Road Station to catch the train for London where her family lived. Anna felt deeply sorry for her, but she had to admit that the tensions below stairs were much relieved the moment the housekeeper had left. And what Anna had said to Ethel was indeed true. She really had enjoyed being in charge the week when Mrs Davenport had been in bed with flu. She recognised, though, that she would never have been able to run the kitchen without all that she had learnt from the older woman since she had come to Ashcroft Hall nearly five months ago now.
Taking her other half day off that week would be impossible with all the extra work, but she did manage to sneak a short walk with Gilbert one morning, her heart spilling over with the new and blithe sensation of being in love. And on the Thursday afternoon when Mr Jackson was driving Lady Ashcroft to her dressmakers somewhere in Exeter, Anna sang to herself as she made preparations for the evening meal. Gilbert was at work in the study and Anna would not disturb him. But when all was ready, the boeuf bourguignon simmering slowly in the range oven, all the vegetables prepared and the ingredients for the lemon meringue set out in separate bowls, Anna went up to Lady Ashcroft’s room to make the bed which she hadn’t had time to do earlier.
The room smelt wonderfully of subtle, expensive perfume which Anna breathed in deeply as she smoothed the soft, cotton sheets, taking pride in making the bed look perfect. And then, just for a few moments, she went to look out of the window and over the moor which was fresh and inviting in the continuing spring sunshine.
‘Lovely view, isn’t it?’ Gilbert’s voice behind her made her jump.
Anna felt a sudden sparkle of pleasure as she turned to face him. ‘Certainly is.’ She smiled back, drowning in the intensity of his shining brown eyes. They were standing very close and it didn’t surprise her when he dipped his head to kiss her, his mouth warm and moist against hers. An entrancing thrill shot down her spine as he held her against him, his hand entwining in her hair as his kiss became more urgent and passionate.
‘You’re so beautiful, my Little Smoky Eyes,’ he mumbled, tracing his lips down to the well of her throat. ‘You deserve much more than this.’
His voice was thick, his words, so full of promise, swirling in Anna’s head. She closed her eyes, and when she felt his fingers unbuttoning first her cardigan and then her blouse, she barely flinched as an enraptured desire, an
enchantment plunged down to her loins and she allowed Gilbert to lead her to the bed she had just finished making. He lay down beside her, stroking the tops of her breasts and then slipping his fingers underneath her bra.
The sudden, unfamiliar sensation made her sit up abruptly with a sharp gasp. ‘Please, Gilbert,’ she managed to croak in a tiny voice. ‘I’ve … I’ve not done this before. I’m not sure—’
‘Sh.’ He placed a gentle finger against her lips. ‘You do trust me, don’t you?’
‘Well … yes … but …’
‘Then don’t worry, my love. I’ll look after you.’
He gave that caring, handsome smile, and Anna lay down again, still uncertain. But as he tenderly caressed her, the hesitation was forgotten as she became lost in her love for this good, kind man who had given meaning back to her shattered life. The breath quivered at the back of her throat as his hand moved up beneath her skirt. Should she stop him? But that might show she didn’t have implicit faith in him. And as some instinct against which she seemed powerless overtook her, the doubt was driven away. She became captivated, bewitched, trusting as Gilbert slowly made love to her, drawing her on to the dizzy heights of some halcyon world she had never dreamt existed. Her body responded in glorious ecstasy, and when it was over, she lay curled up in his arms, safe and secure.
‘Oh, my lovely Anna,’ Gilbert murmured into her hair.
She lifted her head and smiled up at him. ‘I do love you,’ she whispered back.
‘Yes, I know you do,’ he answered languidly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. ‘But we’d better get this room straight before my mother gets back.’
‘Oh, God, yes!’ She jumped up, straightening her clothes. But Gilbert caught her by the arm and pulled her back to him.
‘Just one last kiss,’ he smiled, and she melted against him once more.
Chapter Ten
Vince Millington’s eyes swept about the clean and tidy room. Freda would have been proud of the way he kept the house. He owed it to her. Not a day went by when he didn’t curse himself for what had happened. He couldn’t believe he was responsible for her death. It was all a bit of a haze, but it had definitely been an accident. She had fallen because of him, yes, but he hadn’t deliberately pushed her down the stairs. He had loved her, for God’s sake, and his guilt was ripping him apart.
He blamed those damned headaches. They had been getting worse and worse, unbearable, driving him out of his mind. Turning to drink, getting paralytic, was the only way to blot out the pain, but once he had slept it off, his head thumped even worse. And then he had frightened his Anna, the only thing left in his life, so much that she had run away. But he was terrified that he would be convicted of manslaughter, banged up in some horrible prison cell whose walls would lean in on him, crushing his head even further, just as they had in the collapsed building.
Finding Anna’s note was like being doused in icy water. He’d been to the pub on his way back from work and was already in a foul mood when he’d come home to the empty house. Staggering across to Number Sixteen in a maddened rage, well, he’d done it without thinking. But Fred Shallaford’s words had cut through his drunken stupor.
He hadn’t touched a drop since. Instead, he had stocked up on aspirin tablets. They didn’t have quite the same effect and he couldn’t lose himself in blissful oblivion, but he found if he took a double dose and went to bed, after a good sleep, he usually felt better. If only he could have Anna back, show her the person he truly was. But he had driven her away, and the feeling of blame was as bad as his crucifying remorse over his Freda.
Time for work now. Each time he went in or out of the front door, he saw her lying there. Oh, damn it! Damn the world, damn fate or whatever it was had brought him to this! There was no bloody way out. He was cursed whichever way he looked at it.
He yanked open the front door and collided with the postman who was just about to put some envelopes through the letter box. Flaming bills, no doubt. But he
had accidentally knocked other letters out of the fellow’s hands as well, and they had scattered about on the pavement.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised gruffly.
‘Not to worry, sir,’ the postman replied jovially as they both bent to retrieve the post.
And then shock sliced into Vince’s soul as he went to pick up an envelope that was very different from the others. He recognised it – and the handwriting – at once. It was pink with a flower printed in the bottom left-hand corner. A little writing set Freda had given Anna on her last birthday. And it was addressed to Ethel.
Vince handed the envelope back to the postman and, taking his own post inside, shut the door again and staggered across to the stairs where he all but collapsed onto the bottom step. Good God. He knew it! He had been right all along. That young vixen had always known where his Anna was staying. A red surge of anger sprang up from deep inside and began to throttle him, and he tore at his collar, ripping off the buttons. He was choking, gasping for breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Anna had been deceiving him all this time with the help of that trollop across the road!
For nearly six months now, he had kept house, stayed off the bottle, been as sober as a judge in the hopes that one day his girl would return. And now … well, he’d find her, and he knew how. And hang that bloody job he’d had to swallow his pride to keep some days. He could do without it today. What he needed was a drink.
Anna made Lady Ashcroft’s bed as quickly as she possibly could. Ever since Gilbert had made love to her there that afternoon back in April, she felt guilty whenever she went into the room. If he had taken her to his own bedroom, it might have been different, but as it was, the whole affair now seemed tainted. She wasn’t exactly sorry. She loved Gilbert too much for that. But she wished they had waited until they were married.