by Ellie Dean
Carol closed the door behind her and took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air. She could understand why her mother wanted her to go to Pauline’s for the duration of this eviction, for she probably saw her as being isolated and lonely. And yet that wasn’t the case at all, for unlike her mother, who craved the social whirl, she was a solitary person, and comfortable with her own company.
Brought up by ageing and very loving grandparents, she’d learned to amuse herself with toys, crafts and books as a child, and as she’d matured, those early influences had meant she didn’t need to seek out lots of friends – just one or two like-minded girls who enjoyed the same things, and didn’t need to be surrounded by crowds. That was not to say they were stuck-up or prudish, for they went to parties and dances and enjoyed them immensely, but they preferred playing sport or going for long rides with the local cycling and pony clubs to chasing boys and giggling in corners.
Carol shut the gate behind her and looked along the row of abandoned cottages. She knew that the time was rapidly approaching for her to leave, and the thought of moving away from David and her baby weighed heavy on her heart. But once Mrs Rayner was safely on her way, she would have no further excuse to stay, so she’d bring Hector down with the cart, collect the last of her belongings and try not to look back as she headed for Coombe Farm.
She walked up the cinder path between the rows of carrots, potatoes and cabbages and frowned as she saw the downstairs curtains were still drawn. It was most unusual, for Edith was an early riser, and she’d often heard her moving about before it was even light. She knocked on the door, then pushed it open. ‘Hello? It’s me – Carol,’ she called out.
There was no reply. With a sense of foreboding, Carol looked into the dark sitting room. Nipper waddled down the stairs on his stubby legs to paw at her with little yelps and whines, which probably meant he needed food or to be let out. She patted him, which made him squirm, so she rubbed his fat belly and then went to open the curtains. The weak light showed that there were cold ashes in the hearth; a library book lay open on the arm of Mrs Rayner’s chair, and an empty teacup sat on the floor beside it.
The foreboding grew as Nipper continued to whine agitatedly and kept heading for the stairs instead of the kitchen. Carol stood on the bottom step. ‘Mrs Rayner?’ she called again. ‘Mrs Rayner, are you all right?’
There was still no reply, and with the dog following closely at her heels, Carol slowly went up the narrow wooden stairs to the front bedroom. Nipper was out of breath, but eagerly clawed at the door, looking up at Carol as she hesitated to open it.
She took a deep breath, then reluctantly turned the brass knob and let the door swing open.
Nipper scrambled past her before she could stop him, and began to whine and fret beside the high bed.
Carol took it all in at a glance. The curtains had been drawn back and the bright sunlight fell on the slight figure lying so still in that big brass bed. Edith Rayner lay beneath the downy quilt, her unpinned hair spilling like silver over her shoulders and across the pillow, her face turned towards the window, perhaps seeking one more glimpse of the view she’d known all her life before she went to her final sleep.
Carol scooped up a wriggling, frantic Nipper and tried to soothe him before she gently put him outside the room. Having closed the door on him, she sank into the bedside chair.
‘Oh, Edith,’ she murmured through her tears. ‘You were quite determined not to leave, weren’t you?’ She touched the cold, still face lightly with her fingers and closed the eyes which now must see another horizon far beyond the hills and coombes of her beloved Slapton. ‘Be at peace now,’ she whispered.
Carol sat there holding Edith’s lifeless hand, remembering her fierce energy, her impatience with fools and her determination to always get her own way – which she’d achieved to the very end of her long life. Edith Rayner might have been difficult to get along with, but she’d be remembered throughout this part of Devon with respect, and mourned as the last of her generation.
Carol eventually folded the old woman’s hands and drew the sheet over her face. There would be a great deal to arrange from now on, but how was it all to be paid for, and what about her cottage and belongings – and Nipper? Carol could hear him scratching at the door and making strange noises. Did he somehow understand that she’d gone? She didn’t know – just as she didn’t know the answers to all the questions and dilemmas that Mrs Rayner’s death would raise.
She drew her coat collar to her chin, suddenly feeling the chill that seemed to settle within a house once the spirit of life had been extinguished. She blinked back her tears and reached for the little prayer book on the side table to find some solace in the lovely familiar words, but as she picked it up, she saw the envelope lying beneath it.
The writing was scrawled and difficult to read, but it was addressed to her, and Carol held it for a moment, realising the old woman had known she was leaving, and had prepared for it in the only way she knew – by having the last word.
She sat back down in the chair and carefully opened the envelope to find a single sheet of paper carefully folded over a dried four-leaf clover.
Dear Carol,
I have not always been an easy woman to befriend, but I want you to know that I’ve come to love and admire you for the way you have conducted yourself during these past trying months, and although Bert and I weren’t blessed with children, you have become as dear to me as any daughter, which is why I know I can trust you to see me buried alongside my husband, and the rest of my family. To that end, there is money in the bedside drawer to pay for everything.
As you know, I have no living relatives, and so I drew up a will some time ago leaving everything to you in the belief that you will know what to do with my few treasures. Nipper has been my companion for many years, so please give him a home for the time he has left. He’s been a good and faithful friend, just as you have, and if I had any regrets, it’s leaving you both behind.
Shed no tears for me, Carol. I’m ready to meet my Maker,
Edith Rayner
Carol sat in stunned silence for a while and then folded the letter back into the envelope with the clover leaf, and put it carefully in her pocket. She was finding it almost impossible to take it all in, for Edith had never once confided her true feelings, or her intentions. Now she was gone, and those moments they could have shared were lost. She found a handkerchief and dried her eyes, the enormity of all that had happened slowly sinking in as Nipper continued to scratch frantically at the door.
She was on the point of leaving the room when her gaze fell on the bedside chest. If Edith had left money in the drawer, it wouldn’t be wise to leave it there with people coming and going and a village full of strangers. Feeling like an intruder, she opened the drawer and drew out a fat envelope, a Post Office book and a copy of Mrs Rayner’s will.
Without looking through them, she stuffed it all into the deep pocket of her overcoat. They’d need to be stowed somewhere safe until she’d recovered from the shock and could think more clearly. For now there were more important things to sort out – like finding the doctor to come and sign the death certificate, speaking to the vicar and the undertaker, and notifying Edith’s solicitor of her passing. With everyone leaving the area, the local banks and post offices were closed and there were even fewer telephones, so it wouldn’t be easy.
Carol placed a gentle hand on the narrow, still shoulder beneath the sheet. ‘I’ll look after everything,’ she murmured, ‘and don’t worry about Nipper. I’ll make sure his last years are happy ones. Sleep well, Edith.’
The tears were blinding her as she drew the curtains over the window. Then she opened the door and quickly scooped up a squirming Nipper, holding tightly to his collar as she firmly closed the door behind her and went down the stairs.
‘I don’t know what the Burnleys will make of you,’ she muttered to the little dog, ‘but if you’re true to your kind, they might be glad to have you as their rat catcher
.’
The silence of the house was profound, and Carol locked the front door behind her with a sense that an era was over. She took a deep breath of fresh air as she waited for Nipper to cock his leg against the garden gate, and then headed for home.
It was a bit of a surprise to find her mother swathed in an oversized apron and up to her elbows in hot water and suds as she did the laundry – but then this was turning out to be a strange day altogether. ‘Leave that, Mum,’ she said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
Dolly’s welcoming smile faded as she eyed the scrabbling Jack Russell on the end of a lead and tried to absorb what Carol was saying. Mindful of her expensive trousers, she warded off the dog, who was trying to climb her legs, and told it very firmly to sit and be still.
Satisfied that the dog had obeyed her, she whipped off her yellow gloves and apron and regarded Carol with concern. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about her passing, but it must have been an awful shock to find her like that. How are you holding up?’
‘I feel surprisingly calm,’ Carol replied. ‘She’d lived a long and fulfilled life and hadn’t wanted to leave the only home she’d ever known. I think she decided it was her time and simply went to sleep. Not many people are granted such a peaceful death.’
‘Oh, darling,’ murmured Dolly, taking her into her arms. ‘I’m so glad I came. I couldn’t bear to think of you having to deal with all this on your own.’
Carol felt the onset of tears and hastily blinked them away as she returned her mother’s embrace. ‘I’m glad you’re here too,’ she managed through a tight throat. ‘Not only because I love you, but because I’ve missed having you here.’
‘But, darling, I did offer to stay on the last time, and you were quite definite that you needed to be on your own.’
Carol nodded and managed a watery smile. ‘And I did then, Mum. But now there are more practical things to consider, and I need not only your company, but your advice.’
Dolly raised a questioning brow as Carol drew the letter, the envelope of money, the will and savings book from her pocket and put them on the table. Once she’d read the letter she folded it thoughtfully back into the envelope and gave a silent whistle.
‘That’s a big responsibility, Carol. It will be doubly difficult trying to sort out all her things as well as your own.’
‘I know, but I still have time before the deadline if you’ll stay and help me.’
‘Well, of course I will. But that money must be put somewhere safe. There’s more than enough there to pay for the funeral, and I’d suggest taking the rest along with the savings book and will and putting them in a safety deposit box at your solicitor’s.’
‘His office is in Kingsbridge,’ Carol said.
‘That’s all right, we’ll use my car. It’s parked outside the Queen’s Arms, so it won’t take long to fetch it.’ Dolly eyed Nipper, who was scratching luxuriously. ‘What about him?’
‘He’ll have to come with us, I’m afraid.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get car sick, then,’ said Dolly. ‘My friend won’t be at all pleased if he ruins the leather.’
Carol shrugged. ‘If he’s sick, I’ll clear it up.’
‘Right then,’ said Dolly determinedly. ‘I’ll go and get changed into something more appropriate and then we’ll speak to the vicar about the arrangements, and see if he has a working telephone so we can ring the funeral directors and the doctor before we drive into Kingsbridge to the solicitors.’
Carol had to smile, for her mother’s idea of suitable attire was a tailored jacket and skirt, an astrakhan overcoat, fur wrap and high heels, with a neat little hat tilted at a jaunty angle over one eye. Feeling shabby and underdressed in her usual dungarees, sweater and overcoat, Carol tied Nipper’s leash firmly to an outside bench, and followed her into the church.
The ancient building looked horribly bare now it had been stripped of everything that could be moved. There were sandbags piled around the font and the pulpit, and over the stained glass window beneath the belfry, with the less important windows boarded up securely with plywood, while the pendant lights and those on wrought-iron stands by the front pews had had their glass shades and bulbs removed.
The carved stone slab that served as an altar was naked of its cloth, crucifix and brass candlesticks, and the hassocks that once adorned the steps before it were gone, along with the oak bishop’s chair and lectern.
They found Samuel Fotherington sitting alone in a pew staring disconsolately into the gloom of his church that was now lit by only a few candles. His face was long and solemn as he heard Carol’s news and agreed to let them use his telephone at the rectory. The service would be conducted as soon as possible, for time was of the essence now there were so few days left before the deadline, and he was saddened that one of his last duties for his parishioners should be a funeral. He hesitantly suggested they could combine it with a special matins to bid farewell to the village, and both Carol and Dolly thought this was a splendid idea.
To Carol’s relief, her mother took charge of organising the funeral directors, for they were the same people she’d dealt with when David had been brought home, and she simply couldn’t face them again. She left Dolly the number for the doctor – his wife picked up any messages when he was out – and then went to check on Nipper, who was trying to chew through his entangling lead.
Carol untangled him and stopped for a moment at the graveside she’d taken such care to tend these past months to say a few words to her loved ones. Very soon she would be unable to make these visits She was walking back past the memorial to the fallen in the Great War when she heard Mildred Ferris’s strident voice and remembered with a jolt that she had yet to tell her the news. Since there was as yet no sign of her mother, Carol followed the sound of that unmistakable voice and found her in the garden of the chantry, berating two very young GIs for letting the fire go out beneath the huge metal drum that was heating the only water available to the men billeted there.
‘Miss Ferris,’ Carol interrupted. ‘Miss Ferris, there is something important I have to tell you.’
‘What is it, girl? Can’t you see I’m busy?’
Carol withstood the glare, determined to have her say. ‘Mrs Rayner died this morning, so the cottage you so kindly readied for her can be used by someone else.’
The anger drained away on a deep sigh. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, but I’m not surprised. It was clear she was loath to move out.’
The piercing gaze shifted to the hapless GIs who were trying desperately to fan life into the fire and then settled back on Carol. ‘What about her cottage? It’s crammed full of things that will have to be shifted – and then of course there’s Nipper.’ Her gimlet eyes fell on the dog with little favour. ‘I suppose he’ll have to be put down, because no one will want him.’
‘I’m keeping Nipper and seeing to sorting out her things,’ said Carol firmly, ‘but I will still need the truck and the men to get it all up to the farm, so if you could thank the general for organising them …?’
Mildred Ferris nodded curtly, stuffed her hands into her sagging jacket pockets and returned to nagging the soldiers.
‘And there’s another thing,’ Carol went on determinedly. ‘Have you managed to find somewhere for Betty?’
Mildred gave a short sigh of impatience. ‘Betty will accompany some of her class to the junior school in Beeson, and Mrs Claxton at the Welcome Inn has kindly agreed to accommodate her for the duration of the evacuation.’
‘Oh, that is such a relief,’ breathed Carol. ‘And it will mean we can still see each other. Thank you so much for arranging everything, Miss Ferris.’
13
On the Road to Kingsbridge
Dolly had finished the calls and as she reached the car, she saw Carol coming towards her with the fat dog waddling on its lead. The girl looked drawn and pale despite her smile, and Dolly realised that this latest setback had affected her more deeply than perhaps she herself was awa
re. Coming on top of having to move out, it was a lot to cope with, having to bear the responsibility of organising everything and taking on that dog.
It was very generous of Mrs Rayner to leave Carol her home and everything in it – and, of course, once the war was over Carol would be well set up, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time, and she rather resented the old girl for turning up her toes at the most inopportune moment.
She waited for Carol to settle in the passenger seat, the tan and white dog on her lap. ‘The doctor was out delivering a baby, but his wife promised he’d call in this evening,’ she said. ‘The funeral directors will be here first thing in the morning – it seems they’re rather busy at the moment,’ she added dryly.
‘Thanks, Mum, for doing that. I simply couldn’t face it.’
They started out for Kingsbridge and Carol told Dolly the good news about her friend Betty. ‘It’s a huge weight off my mind,’ she confessed, ‘and it means we’ll be living closer together, which is a lovely thought on this very sad day.’
Dolly said nothing as she concentrated on driving along the winding lanes towards Kingsbridge, past the camps that seemed to be sprouting everywhere and getting repeatedly stuck behind farm vehicles towing wagons overloaded with household possessions, bales of hay and children clinging on for dear life to the ropes that lashed it all down.
She hated driving slowly and loathed being held up, so soon became impatient as she found herself stuck behind a slow-moving convoy of tractors, steam engines and herds of loitering cows.
‘It’s no good you getting het up, Mum,’ said Carol. ‘This is Devon and getting anywhere is always difficult.’
‘I do wish you’d reconsider going to Pauline’s,’ Dolly replied, weaving the car back and forth in an attempt to find a way of getting past. ‘Driving anywhere here is a complete nightmare.’