The Beekeeper's Daughter

by Santa Montefiore

  “Freddie.” It was Grace. Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

  “I thought you were asleep,” he replied.

  “I was, but I’m awake now. Have you seen Trixie?”

  “Yes, a nice surprise to see her.”

  “Freddie?” Her voice sounded heavy.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you, and I need you to be honest with me.”

  “All right.”

  “Did you save Rufus’s life in the war?”

  There was a long silence. A labored, uncomfortable silence, as if the room were holding its breath and struggling with the effort. Grace waited. While she waited for his reply she felt the blood pulsate in her temples. She expected him to shut her out. She expected the air to turn cold with him. But it didn’t. “I took a bullet for him,” Freddie said quietly. Grace was stunned by his openness. Perhaps the darkness, the whiskey, or the fact that he knew she was dying gave him the courage to speak about it.

  “You were a hero. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wasn’t a hero.”

  “But you were. I mocked you when you cried about the beesting, and your mother said that boys are courageous when it matters. She was right, and I was wrong. You gave your eye in exchange for Rufus’s life. If that’s not heroic, nothing is.”

  She felt him stiffen beside her. There was another long pause. The bed grew hot, but she dared not move. “I loathed him,” he said, and the tone of his voice sent a cold shiver rippling across her skin. “I knew you loved him, Grace. I received a letter from you that was meant for him.” She let out a gasp. The bed seemed to be falling away beneath her. She spread her fingers over the sheets to steady it. “I didn’t jump to save him, Grace,” he said. “I jumped to punch his lights out.”

  They lay still beneath the weight of his confession. Grace didn’t know how to respond. She blinked into the darkness, sick to her stomach, not at the thought of his violent intent, but at the thought of his having suffered in silence all these years, knowing that she had loved another. She had assumed his coldness was due to the horror of war. She never imagined it was because of her. Now she understood, and her heart swelled with compassion. War hadn’t changed him; she had. She moved her hand beneath the covers and found his. He gripped it hard, and the ferocity of it moved her to tears.

  “It was a moment of madness, Grace,” he continued, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above them. “A moment of jealousy. As I lunged towards him I saw the pistol pointing right at him. It happened so quickly, but at the time it felt as if it was all in slow motion, as if I was underwater. I looked at Fritz with his finger on the trigger and his face twisted with hatred, and I didn’t draw back. Something urged me on. I honestly don’t know whether in that moment I threw myself at Lord Melville to save him or kill him.” He stifled a sob. “I wanted him dead, but I saved his life. When Lord Penselwood invited me to the Hall to reward me for my bravery, I was so disgusted with myself I could barely look him in the eye. As for Rufus, I loathed him. He lived to love you still, and I had lost my eye.” His voice thinned. “Losing you hurt more than losing my eye. I would have given both eyes for your love, Grace.”

  “He returned all my letters, Freddie,” said Grace, trying to console him but finding there was little she could say to absolve herself. Warm tears trailed down her neck and grew cold on the pillow beneath her head.

  “But you still loved him,” he groaned. “You always had. But I knew he’d never leave his wife for you. He was selfish and self-indulgent. You were like a helpless fish on a hook, and you thought I didn’t notice.” He heaved a sigh. “I noticed every time I looked into your eyes. Because you gazed at me with longing and I knew you wished I was him.” She struggled against the force of regret that threatened to carry her away like a strong undercurrent. She held his hand tightly and focused on a strip of moonlight that painted a slice of silver on the far wall. “So, I asked to start a new life in America and Lord Penselwood arranged it. Big’s father was a friend of his, and he organized everything. I thought if I took you to the other side of the world, you’d forget Rufus.” He chuckled bitterly. “But I was wrong. You never forgot him and I felt invisible. You cared for your bees, for our child, for your gardens, but you never cared for me.”

  Grace could bear it no longer. She rolled over and placed her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re wrong. I thought the war had changed you. I thought you resented me for not understanding what you’d been through. I weathered your resentment because I remembered the Freddie I had grown up with and fallen in love with. I knew you were still there, and I waited patiently for you to emerge. I thought time would heal.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. “I love you, Freddie. I don’t think I would have pined for Rufus if I had believed you loved me. Rufus was a brief infatuation. I wish I could erase it. I wish it had never happened. It was an illusion. I was flattered. I don’t know. I was a fool. My father was right. You were always the man for me. But after the war I needed to feel loved, and I believed he loved me. Can’t you see? There was a void. He filled it. But all the time I longed for you to look at me like you used to.”

  Freddie placed his hand on her back and slowly stroked her. “I wanted to go back to the river. To our secret clearing where Rufus couldn’t reach us. I wanted you to admire me like you did when I dived off the bridge. Do you remember how cross you got when I hid underwater?”

  “You frightened me. I thought you were dead.”

  “I wanted to frighten you. I wanted proof that you cared.”

  “And you got it.”

  “And I kissed you for the first time.”

  “That was the most beautiful kiss I have ever had.” She buried her face against his cheek and closed her eyes. “I want you back. I might not have much time to live, but I want to spend the time I do have with my old friend and lover. My old Freddie Valentine.”

  She felt his arms envelop her as they had done on their wedding night in the Beekeeper’s Cottage, and as his hands wandered over the forgotten contours of her body she felt the same sensations of being loved for the very first time. His lips searched for hers in the darkness, and his kiss was as tender and ardent as it had been then, before betrayal and mistrust had turned them into strangers. With each gentle caress the desolate landscape of her being slowly thawed like winter soil that begins to flower with the warm caress of spring.

  When Grace eventually fell asleep, a contented smile hovered over her lips. The tears had dried on her pillow. Her hand, still holding Freddie’s, relaxed and opened slightly. She slipped into unconsciousness, but unlike other nights, she was aware of where she was. As if she dwelt above herself and was looking down at her own sleeping body. She remained like that, at peace, observant, strangely comfortable, as if she had been outside herself many times, only forgotten.

  Then she heard a familiar voice and saw a bright light in the distance, far, far away. She turned her attention from the bed and the sight of herself and Freddie lying hand in hand, and flew towards it, propelled by longing and the ever-expanding love in her heart. So this is what it feels like to die, she thought, and she wasn’t in the least afraid, so strong was her desire to reach the other side. To return home.

  The light grew bigger and brighter and more intense. In the middle of it stood the familiar figure of her father in his overalls and tweed cap, and she realized then that the presence by the bees had been him all along. That he had never left her, just as he had promised. “Dad!” she exclaimed. “You’re here.”

  “I’ve always been with you, Gracey,” he said, and he looked young, vibrant, and full of joy.

  “And Mother?”

  He smiled. “She’s here, too. She never left. Love connects us, Gracey. It’s a bond that never dies. You have to trust what you sense.”

  “Am I dead?”

  He shook his head. “I’m here to tell you that i
t is not your time. Trixie needs you now more than ever, and so does Freddie.”

  “Can’t I stay?”

  “You have to go back. You have more to do.” The light began to fade, her father with it.

  “But I have cancer. I’m dying.”

  His voice grew faint. “You’re going to get better, Gracey.”

  • • •

  “You’re going to get better . . .” Grace opened her eyes to see Freddie’s anxious face gazing down at her. “You’re going to get better, Grace,” he repeated.

  She frowned up at him. The dawn light was already sliding through the gaps in the shutters. “What happened?”

  “You had a bad dream, darling,” said Freddie, wiping her damp hair off her forehead.

  “No, I’ve had a good dream.”

  He smiled. “You’re awake now.” When she continued to look confused, he added: “You were saying you’re dying. But you’re going to get well. I’m not going to let you die, now that I’ve found you again.”

  She returned his smile and placed her hand on his stubbly cheek. “Darling Freddie. I’m glad that wasn’t a dream.”

  He bent down and kissed her forehead. “So am I.” He swept his eyes over her face, and Grace felt her stomach lurch, as it used to when he really looked at her. “I forgot how beautiful you are in the morning,” he said softly.

  “Then stay.” She held his upper arms to detain him. “It’s early. There’s no rush. Come back to bed.” She saw the old Freddie in the mischievous grin that now spread across his face, and she smiled back as she had done that day by the river, when Freddie was all she saw.

  Chapter 28

  Three months later Trixie stood on the snow-covered gravel in front of Big’s front door and rang the bell. She heard the scuffling of dogs on the other side. She peered through the glass panel to see Big’s pack of mongrels wagging their tails and panting, and tapped it, which excited them all the more. A moment later Big herself appeared in a bright yellow cardigan and tartan trousers, and opened the door.

  “Well, this is a nice surprise,” she said, smiling cheerfully. “Goodness, Trixie, you look in rude health. What have you been up to? New York shouldn’t make you glow like that.”

  “I’ve given up smoking,” Trixie replied proudly.

  “About time, too. Come on in. It’s bitter out there.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Trixie exclaimed. “The sun is out, the sky is bright blue, and the snow is twinkling like diamonds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the island look so lovely.”

  “I suppose it does look pretty when it’s fresh. It won’t be long before it looks a little tired, though. Would you like a hot drink? Hot chocolate?”

  “I’d love a hot chocolate.”

  “Fancy something stronger to give it an edge?” Big asked with a wink.

  “No, just plain milk and chocolate for me, thank you.”

  “I’ll go and tell Hudson, he’ll be delighted to have something to do. It’s been a very dull day so far. You’re my first visitor. I don’t suppose anyone wants to go out in the snow but the very brave. Go into the sitting room and warm up.”

  • • •

  Trixie took off her coat and wandered over to the fire in Big’s airy sitting room. Big’s home was unpretentious, with shiny wicker sofas and pale-blue cushions a person could sink into and never want to leave. A large display of winter berries was placed in the middle of the glass coffee table, surrounded by glossy hardback books on art and island living. Big liked to support local craftsmen, and her house was full of baskets, scrimshaw, and painted antique furniture. Trixie flopped onto the sofa, where she had sat so many times in her life, and gave a satisfied sigh. It was good to be on Tekanasset, surrounded by the people she really cared about. She noticed Mr. Doorwood curled up on the other end and reached out to give him a gentle stroke. He purred in his sleep, his fat body rising and falling contentedly. A moment later Big returned and sat regally in the armchair by the fire.

  “How’s your mother?” she asked.

  “She’s getting better,” Trixie said happily. “It’s miraculous, really. The doctors had written her off, but I really think she’s going to beat it, Big.”

  “She’s looking well, that’s for sure,” Big agreed. “I put it down to the power of prayer. Miracles happen in our modern world to remind us that in spite of our technological advances, God is still mighty and all-powerful.”

  “The most surprising part of her recovery is that she and Dad are getting along so well. It’s like he’s a different person.”

  “I think he’s just grateful to have her back. He thought he was going to lose her.” Big inhaled through dilated nostrils. “We all thought we were going to lose her.”

  “It’s early days, but she’s certainly feeling stronger, which is such a relief. I need her now more than ever.”

  “So how long are you here this time?” Big asked.

  Trixie looked as if she were about to burst with happiness. “I’m staying,” she announced, dropping both hands onto her knees with a decisive pat. “I’ve quit New York and the magazine. I need a total life change. I’ve decided to come home for good.”

  “Well, that is a surprise, and I’m not often surprised.” Hudson appeared with hot chocolate and cake, and Big watched Trixie take a mug off the tray. “Have a slice of cake. You look like you could do with some feeding up. You young girls survive on nothing but air these days, and it’s not attractive. People look a lot better with a little flesh on their bones, especially pretty girls like you.” Hudson put the cake on the coffee table and Trixie took a small slice. Hudson handed Big the largest slice on a china plate. “Thank you, Hudson,” she said, biting off the end and giving a moan of pleasure. “I think chocolate cake is your secret weapon.”

  The old man smiled with gratitude. “Thank you, Miss Wilson.”

  Big chewed happily. “And I think you know it, too,” she chuckled. “So what’s your plan, Trixie?” She narrowed her eyes. “I assume you have a plan and you’d like my help.”

  “As I was saying, I want to come and live here. I’m going to learn how to be a beekeeper and help Mom with her gardens. She’s not very strong, but she loves horticulture so much she doesn’t want to stop. So I’m going to be her assistant,” she announced gleefully. “I’m very excited about it.”

  “But you don’t want to live at home?” Big guessed.

  “No, I think I should be independent.”

  “You’re right. So I imagine you want my guesthouse?”

  Trixie smiled sheepishly. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I was hoping you might rent it out to me for a while.”

  “My dear child, you can have it for as long as you want it. I’ll charge you a peppercorn rent to cover the costs.” Big smiled mischievously. “It’ll be lovely having you close by, and you can walk to your mother’s along the beach.”

  “I know, that’s what I thought, and I love to be by the sea. It’s so romantic.”

  “It is. Which brings me to the question, why have you suddenly decided to move back home? I thought New York was a great success?”

  “It was.” She grinned secretively. “Something has, well, changed my perception of the world. It’s made me realize what’s important. I love this place. It’s where I’ve always been happiest. I’m not ambitious anymore. There are more important things than making lots of money and being a success. Quality of life is my priority now.”

  “You’re right about that. It’ll make your parents very happy to have you here. So when would you like to move in?”

  “As soon as you’ll have me. I haven’t told Mom of my plan yet. I thought I’d sort out my accommodation first.”

  “Well, you can tell her now. The guesthouse is yours. The heating is on to stop the pipes freezing, so it’s perfectly habitable. Are you sure you won’t have something str
onger to celebrate?”

  Trixie shook her head. “Hot chocolate is fine, thank you. And you’re right. That cake is delicious. May I have another slice?”

  • • •

  Trixie hurried down the snowy path through the trees to the beach. The snow sparkled defiantly in the weak winter sunlight, but the wind had blown it into thick drifts against the dunes and it would be weeks before it melted. Big’s guesthouse stood facing the sea, nestled against the grassy bluff, sheltered by large shrubs and small trees. It was built in the same gray-shingled style as most of the houses on the island, with a sturdy veranda now laden with snow. It looked forlorn there, gazing out across the ocean with dark, empty eyes, but to Trixie it was romantic in its solitude, and she couldn’t wait to claim it as her own and fill those eyes with life.

  She put the key in the lock and pushed open the door. As she stepped over the threshold she was struck immediately by the familiar damp smell of the sea, which filled her heart with a warm sense of nostalgia. She looked around at the cozy hall with its polished wooden floorboards and the staircase that swept up to the second floor in a graceful curve, and sighed with satisfaction. This was where she belonged. She inhaled deeply: home at last.

  She wandered through the rooms. Big had hired a decorator for her guesthouse and the woman, well known on the island, had stuck to her trademark nautical theme, using blues and whites and a lot of wicker furniture. Trixie decided she’d add some crimson here and there to make it her own, and to see her through to spring with its vibrant warmth. She wandered into the sitting room, which was arranged around a fireplace, and sat on one of the sofas. Sunshine shone feebly through the glass, illuminating the blue-and-white rug that softened the floor and dominated the room. The silence of the empty house filled her with peace. Outside the waves lapped the snowy beach with weary regularity, as if the cold had robbed their strength.

  So what did her future hold? Ever since she had left Jasper in Walbridge she had known for certain that she would never love another as she loved him. At that time she had believed she might find someone to share her life with; after all, she was young and perhaps second best was better than nothing at all. She had many years ahead of her, and life was lonely on one’s own. But in the last few days it had become blissfully clear that she didn’t need a man after all, not even Jasper. She had discovered that she had returned to America with a stowaway: a tiny part of Jasper hiding out in her belly and slowly growing. The love she already felt for her child would be enough to sustain her for the rest of her life. They’d be fine, just the two of them. They’d be perfectly happy. Nothing mattered now but this beautiful little soul. She put her hand on her stomach and silently thanked God for His compassion.