The Beekeeper's Daughter

by Santa Montefiore

  “Be careful!” she shouted back. As he pushed himself off into the air she placed her hands over her mouth and gasped. He jumped very high, then came swooping down like a swallow, arms out like wings, before putting them together and skimming the water, just below the surface. He then disappeared, leaving the water rippling gently where he had broken through.

  She was poised, ready to clap, but he didn’t come up. She leapt to her feet and anxiously searched the river. He still didn’t come up. Her heart seemed to stall and fear rose to blacken the happiness that had, only minutes before, filled it to the point of bursting. “Freddie!” she cried. She was about to choke on her fright when Freddie stood up, only a few feet in front of her, smiling jubilantly.

  Grace burst into tears. “You idiot!” she shouted furiously. “You scared me!”

  “Grace, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Freddie waded out of the water, his face contorted with remorse. Then, before she could reply, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her so passionately that she didn’t know whether to be angry or pleased. His mouth was warm and wet and surprisingly exciting. He pulled away a moment. They stared at each other, both surprised and a little afraid. Grace had stopped crying. She was calm now, too astonished to be cross. She felt the rising swell of desire and edged forward a step. It was barely perceptible, but it was enough to encourage Freddie. He wound his hands around her neck and kissed her again.

  • • •

  Lying in Freddie’s arms felt like the most natural thing in the world. They were on the rug, Freddie’s wet body drying slowly in the sun and against Grace’s summer dress. He ran his lips over her cheeks, across her jawline, and down her neck, and she laughed softly as the sensation caused her body to tingle, right to her toes. This was her very first kiss. She had often imagined being kissed, but the reality far exceeded her expectations. It stirred feelings in her she never knew she had, and she recalled with tenderness how Freddie had said that when he thought of her he thought of flowers.

  Her father was right: perhaps she had loved Freddie all along and just never realized. She had been so busy looking over his shoulder that she hadn’t noticed him, until a summer on the farm had made him man enough to attract her attention.

  They lay kissing for what felt like hours. Intoxicated by the smell and feel of each other’s skin, they kissed and touched with an unquenchable thirst for more. But the end of the day came and the shadows lengthened and the air turned cold. Freddie got up and put on his clothes. “Don’t frighten me like that again,” she said, watching him buttoning up his shirt.

  “I’m glad I did,” he replied. “If I hadn’t, I might not have had the courage to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was fifteen,” he confessed.

  “Really? For that long?”

  “You’ve always been the girl for me, Grace. Always.” He sat down beside her and swept her hair off her face. His eyes were heavy with emotion. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I feared you’d never love me back.”

  “I didn’t know I loved you until today.”

  He beamed happily. “So you love me, Grace?”

  She smiled shyly. “Yes, Freddie. I do. You’re different. You’re not a boy anymore.”

  “And you’re not a girl, either.”

  “Our games have got much more exciting,” she laughed.

  “Let’s play a little more, then. I’m not ready to take you home.”

  “Are you going to take me home, Freddie?”

  “You’re my sweetheart now. I’m not going to let you cycle home on your own. I’m going to take care of you from now on.” She smiled with pleasure and lay down so he could kiss her again. “You’re my sweetheart, Grace,” he repeated. “I love the sound of that, and I love the sound of ‘I love you.’ I’ve only ever said it in my head.”

  “To me?”

  “To you.”

  “And I never knew.”

  “You do now.” He kissed her. “I love you.” He kissed her again. “I love you.” And presently he kissed her again . . .

  Chapter 13

  It was almost dark when Grace and Freddie cycled back to the Beekeeper’s Cottage. They pedaled side by side, laughing and chatting merrily, trying to bicycle and hold hands at the same time. They wobbled and weaved, and when Grace nearly fell off, Freddie steadied her by taking hold of her handlebar and guiding her back onto the track. There were no barriers between them now, nothing to prevent them from feeling entirely intimate with each other. They had declared their love and the evening looked more beautiful because of it.

  They reached the cottage. The windows were dark. Grace leaned her bicycle against the wall and wandered into the garden. “Dad!” she called. There came no reply from the borders. She could see no activity about the hives. “Where is he?” she asked Freddie, who was striding across the grass behind her. A moment later Pepper appeared. He wagged his tail, happy to see them. Grace bent down and stroked his ears. “Where’s your master?” she asked, but the dog looked back at her with big, shiny eyes, communicating nothing but his desire to be petted.

  “Let’s try inside,” Freddie suggested. They walked into the cottage and switched on the light. Grace could tell immediately from the feel of the place that her father wasn’t there. It was quiet and empty, like a tomb. She began to feel anxious. If he had gone out, he would have left her a note. He certainly wouldn’t have left Pepper to roam freely about the garden.

  “Oh, Freddie, I’m worried,” she said.

  “Don’t be. He’ll probably be at the pub.”

  “He would have let me know. He would have shut the dog in the kitchen.”

  “Perhaps he’s gone looking for you.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, feeling a little better. “He’s probably at your house.”

  “Let’s go and see. I don’t know about you, but all that kissing has made me hungry.”

  “You boys only ever think of your stomachs.” She laughed despite her concern.

  He drew her into his arms. “How can I think of my stomach when I’m with you?” He kissed her nose. “How ungallant.”

  But something tugged on her gut. “Let’s have another look in the garden.” She pulled away and hurried back outside.

  Grace walked about the flower beds, sensing something strange but unable to decipher what it was. Pepper sniffed the grass, then took off towards the hives. Instinct told her to follow him. Her heart heavy with dread, she watched the dog disappear into the shrubbery. Then she saw a pair of feet peeking out from beneath a bush. The shoes and socks were unmistakable. “Dad!” she cried, and ran over to where her father lay inert on the ground. Freddie was beside her in a moment. Grace let out a howl and fell onto Arthur’s chest. There was no heartbeat beneath. No sound of life. Nothing but a limp and vacant shell. “He’s gone!” she exclaimed in horror. “He’s gone!”

  Freddie knelt down and felt Arthur’s neck for a pulse. Then he put his cheek to his nose and mouth to feel for a breath. There was nothing. No whisper of the man, just the still silence of death. “Oh, darling Grace, I’m sorry,” he said. Grace was overcome by an assault of grief. It knocked her sideways, into Freddie’s arms. She clung to him in despair, and all he could do was hold her tightly and wait for the sorrow to make its way through her.

  Grace held on to Freddie with all her strength. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the terrible sense of loneliness engulf her. Her father had been everything to her: father, mother, brother, sister, friend. Without him, she didn’t know how she could go on. Like a ship lost at sea, she had been robbed of her rudder and her sails, and she no longer knew which direction was home. “He was there on the riverbank, Freddie,” she whispered. “He had come to say good-bye.”

  • • •

  “What do we do?” she asked finally.

  “You stay here while I go and get help.”

  �
��How did he die? Why . . . ?”

  “I don’t know, my darling. Only a doctor can tell you that.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again and her chin trembled. “He was all I had,” she choked.

  Freddie held her face firmly and looked into her eyes with conviction. “No, Grace. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

  When Grace had calmed down, Freddie disappeared on his bicycle to get help. He promised to be as quick as he could. She watched him go, afraid to be left on her own, then turned her attention back to her father, barely able to believe that he had been taken from her so suddenly, without any warning. She hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye. That thought made her cry again. She took his hand and held it against her cheek, silently cursing God for taking the only parent she had ever known.

  She remained on the grass, her light cardigan inadequate against the chill of evening and the cold that now seemed to come from the very marrow of her bones. Her father’s spaniel curled up against his body and gazed at Grace with eyes full of resignation. “You’re mine now,” she told him. The dog sighed heavily, as if to let her know that he was settling for second best. She glanced at the hives, then back at her father. There was no sign of stings on his skin. The bees hadn’t killed him. She swept her eyes over his face. His expression was serene, as if he had simply fallen asleep. If she hadn’t been holding his icy hand, she might have expected him to wake up at any moment and ask what all the fuss was about. She recalled walking home from church that morning, and how tired he had looked. He didn’t look tired now, or old. His skin was translucent, and the lines had softened around his mouth and eyes. The deep furrows in his forehead had relaxed and melted away. He resembled a boy again. However he had died, he hadn’t suffered. She was sure of that. Perhaps he had simply reached out and taken her mother’s hand.

  Freddie returned with his parents and the vicar, all squeezed into Reverend Dibben’s little Austin. When May saw Arthur, she gave a gasp and burst into tears. She helped Grace off the grass and gathered her into her arms. “You’re freezing, my dear. Let’s get you inside at once. You’ll catch your death out here.” Her voice was reassuringly maternal, firm and capable, and Grace let her usher her into the house and settle her on one of the spindle-back chairs in the kitchen. “It must have been a heart attack,” said May as she bustled about, taking cups down from the cupboards and filling the kettle with water. She was efficient and knew the kitchen well. Her warm presence pervaded the room and thawed Grace’s cold bones, lifting her despair like sun on mist.

  The men carried Arthur into the house and laid him onto his bed, folding his hands across his chest. May lit a candle and Reverend Dibben said a prayer. They all bowed their heads and Grace cried softly at the sight of her father lying there, never to wake up again.

  They crowded into the small kitchen and drained May’s pot of tea.

  “I’ll organize an ambulance to collect your father tomorrow,” said Michael. “Don’t worry, Grace, we’ll see to all the arrangements so you don’t have to worry.”

  “Why don’t you come and stay with us tonight, dear?” May suggested. “I don’t think you should be here on your own.”

  “I’m not on my own,” Grace replied.

  May smiled sympathetically. “You know what I mean, dear.”

  “I can’t leave Dad,” she protested.

  Michael caught his wife’s eye. “He’ll be fine here. You don’t need to worry. It’s you we’re concerned about.”

  “I’ll stay,” Freddie suggested. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. If Grace wants to be here with Arthur, then I’ll stay with her and keep her company.”

  This idea appealed to May although Reverend Dibben’s lips pursed. “Your father is with God now, Grace,” he said.

  “I’m not having him being here on his own. I couldn’t bear the thought of him . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  May patted her hand. “Don’t upset yourself, dear. If you want to stay here, then here you shall stay. Freddie will keep you company.”

  Grace smiled gratefully at Freddie. “Thank you,” she said, and their eyes were full of affection for each other which no one else could see.

  • • •

  Before leaving, Michael lit the fire in the sitting room and May brought a spare blanket down from the cupboard on the landing and spread it on the sofa for Freddie. She went to the icebox and laid out bread, cheese, and ham on the table for supper and popped a couple of potatoes in the oven. “We’ll be okay, Mum,” said Freddie, watching his mother in amusement.

  “I just want to make sure you both eat, especially Grace. Make sure she eats, won’t you?”

  “I will.”

  “You’re a good boy to stay and look after her.”

  “I’m very happy to.” His mother couldn’t know how happy.

  May put the salt and pepper pots on the table, then stood up with a sad face. “What a dreadful business. Poor Grace, she never had a mother and now she loses her father. It’s so unfair.”

  “She’s got us, Mum,” said Freddie.

  May nodded. “She’s got us. Indeed she has. We’ll take care of her.” She lowered her voice. “She can’t stay here on her own, you know.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  May pursed her lips and said nothing more about it. “We’ll leave you now. I hope you’ll both be all right.”

  “We’re not children anymore, Mum.”

  “I know, but I’ll never stop being your mother.” She had to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Be good, now.” Freddie watched her leave.

  He found Grace in her father’s chair. The golden glow from the fire skipped and jumped across her face, which remained pale in spite of the light. When she saw him, she tore her eyes away from the flames and smiled. “Thank you, Freddie,” she said softly. He sat on the sofa and she came to curl up against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “We’re alone now,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her head.

  “Except for Pepper,” she replied.

  “Except for him.” They both looked at the dog sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.

  “We have to make the most of every day, Freddie,” Grace said firmly. “We never know when we’ll be called back. One minute Dad was in the garden, weeding, and the next he was gone. How strange that one man was taken from me just as another was given to me.”

  “That’s a nice way to look at it. It’ll make it easier for Arthur to leave knowing that you’re not alone.”

  “I’m going to have to get a proper job, Freddie. I’m going to have to . . .”

  “Hush, don’t think about that now. You’re upset. When Arthur’s been laid to rest, we’ll discuss your future. Thinking about it in your state of mind will just upset you more.”

  She sighed and relaxed again, knowing that she would have Freddie to help her make decisions. She didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. “This afternoon was such fun,” she told him. “I wish Dad could have seen us together. You know, he was very fond of you, Freddie. He said I couldn’t do better than a man like you. He thought the world of you.”

  “I thought the world of him, too.” He chuckled. “And I respect him even more for his wisdom. He was right, of course. You’ll never do better than a man like me.”

  “Freddie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you still hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat up and grinned at him. “Shall we have our first supper, then?”

  He took her hand. “It’s our first date, you know.” He smiled tenderly and she gazed back at him with equal affection. The flames danced in her eyes and he wound his arm around her neck and kissed her lips. Grace realized then that it was possible to feel happy in the wake of such unhappiness.

  They dined at the kitchen table and Grace lit a candle and placed it in the center. They drank
ginger beer and tucked into the supper May had prepared for them. They talked a lot about Arthur. Grace shared her memories and Freddie held her hand when she cried. But they laughed, too, and in spite of the tragedy, or perhaps because of it, Grace felt her heart overflow with love for Freddie.

  It was past midnight when they decided to go to bed. Freddie lingered at her bedroom door and kissed her gently. Grace didn’t like the idea of going to bed alone. She hesitated and let him kiss her until she was forced by sheer weariness to let him go. She heard him downstairs as she undressed and prepared for bed. It was a reassuring sound, but strange, too, for she was used to her father’s habitual routine and his slow, familiar tread. She lay beneath the sheets and thought of Freddie downstairs on the sofa. She hoped he was warm enough with the blanket and the dying fire. She strained her ears and listened out for his movements, but she could only hear the regular ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. After a while the house went quiet as if it, too, had succumbed to sleep.

  She closed her eyes and tried not to think of her father down the corridor. She tried not to think about her future without him. She tried not to think of all the things she’d miss. If only she could cease thinking altogether—but her mind whirred unhappily in the darkness as her exhausted body waited for the relief of slumber.

  She must have fallen asleep eventually, for she was awoken by a bright glow filling the room. She opened her eyes and saw, to her bewilderment, her father standing at the end of her bed, surrounded by a white light, like mist. He looked younger and more handsome and was smiling at her with joy, as if he wanted her to know how happy he was. She blinked, certain that she was dreaming, but he remained, radiating a deep and powerful love. Her heart began to beat frantically, but she instinctively knew that if she felt afraid, he would disappear, that somehow her fear would prevent her from seeing him. So she remained perfectly still, eyes wide, heart open, absorbing his love like a dry sponge. Then slowly he began to fade, either because of her weariness or his, she wasn’t sure. She willed him to stay, but a moment later the room was filled with darkness again and she was once more engulfed in loneliness, wondering whether grief had induced her to dream the whole thing up.