‘Be you the Valentine children?’ he asked in a broad Cornish accent, and Briony was suddenly so nervous that all she could do was gulp and nod.
‘Arr, good. Then come along o’ me. Your grandparents sent me to meet you. I have the trap outside.’ She saw that his face was kindly as he smiled at the two younger ones, and she felt slightly better. But what had he meant by ‘the trap’?
Clutching their suitcases, they followed him from the station and soon found themselves in a charming little cobbled street full of higgledy-piggledy thatched cottages that looked as if they had come straight off the cover of a chocolate box. Before they had gone more than a few steps Alfie sniffed at the air and asked nervously, ‘What’s that funny smell?’
‘That be the sea salt you can smell, sonny,’ the man said affably. It was then that Briony spotted a pony and cart and she suddenly realised that this must be their transport to The Heights.
‘I er . . . thought we’d be going by bus or car,’ she ventured as she eyed the horse warily and the man threw back his head and gave a throaty chuckle.
‘’Fraid not, my little maid,’ he answered. ‘There be a shortage of petrol even here in Cornwall, so you’ll have to make do with Old Meg here.’ He took a carrot from his pocket and fed it to the mare as he stroked her mane affectionately, and then suddenly remembering something he said, ‘I’m Caden Dower, by the way. Worked for your grandparents for years, so I have, an’ I knew your ma when she was just a little girl. In fact, that little ’un there gave me a rare shock when I first glimpsed her. Double of your ma when she were that age, so she is.’ He patted Sarah’s head gently and Briony felt herself warming to him.
‘But come along now,’ he went on. ‘No doubt you’re all hungry as hunters after your long journey, and the wife has got some food ready for you all.’ He lifted their cases into the back of the trap then swung Sarah and Alfie up beside them, telling Briony, ‘You can climb up in front with me if you’ve a mind to, young lady. ’Twould be a bit of a squeeze with you all in the back.’
Briony obediently clambered up beside him to sit on the hard wooden bench seat, then clung to the edge of it as the horse began to move away.
‘Giddyap, there,’ he said encouragingly, shaking the reins, and Old Meg broke into a trot that had all their teeth chattering as they rattled across the cobbles. Briony stared about with interest although there was very little to be seen, for even here in Cornwall the blackouts were in force and the whole place was shrouded in darkness. After a time they left the town behind and the road became smoother as they began to climb a steep hill. Soon they were on the cliff road and Briony shut her eyes at one point as she stared down at the sheer drop onto the beach at the side of them, lit by moonlight.
‘My mate Jimmy reckons there are sharks in the sea here,’ Alfie said at one point. ‘Is that right, Mr Dower?’
‘Arr, we do get the odd one from time to time,’ the man replied genially. ‘But don’t you get worrying about that now. There’s nothing better than a dip in the sea to blow the cobwebs away on a nice bright day.’
Alfie was very relieved to hear it and went back to staring about him.
‘Is The Heights very far?’ Briony asked when they had gone some distance.
‘Only a couple of miles or so as the crow flies,’ Mr Dower answered. ‘It’s close by the village of Poldak.’
Briony gawped nervously at the cliff-edge. It seemed dangerously close – but then the horse appeared to know where she was going so she supposed they would be all right.
Eventually, Mr Dower pointed ahead. ‘That be The Heights,’ he told her, and Briony felt her stomach cramp. Their long journey was almost over and very soon now they would be meeting their grandparents for the first time. Suddenly she just wanted to turn tail and run back home – but it was too late now.
Chapter Twelve
As Lois walked back into her empty kitchen after saying goodbye to the children at the station she looked about herself forlornly. The house felt so empty and quiet without them, and yet she knew that she had done the right thing in sending them away. She would never have been able to live with herself if anything had happened to them.
Somehow over the last few days she had managed to hold herself together, but now suddenly she allowed the tears that she had held back to roll from her eyes. She was still trying desperately to come to terms with the absence of her beloved James, and now the children were gone too and she didn’t know how she could go on without them. Lifting a photograph of them all taken in happier times, she ran her fingers across their faces then placed it back on the mantelpiece. Coming to a decision, she ran lightly upstairs and dropped to her knees to reach beneath the bed. Her fingers closed about the bottle of sherry and the bottle of port she had been hiding there. It had seemed the safest place for them, and she had another two bottles stashed away beneath the towels in the airing cupboard too. If ever Lois had needed a drink it was now, so grappling the top from the sherry she took a great gulp straight from the bottle and sighed in relief as it burned its way down into her stomach. She drank some more. With any luck the pain would go away soon. It usually did after a good stiff drink – and who was there to care now?
‘Lois, where are yer, gel?’ Mrs Brindley entered Lois’s kitchen later that afternoon. She had collected her neighbour’s rations, which were pitifully small now that the children had taken their ration books away with them. Getting no response, she placed them on the table then called up the stairs: ‘Did they get off all right? Are yer up there?’
Again there was no reply and she frowned as she looked about her. Lois’s coat was chucked across the back of the chair where she had dropped it when she returned from the station, and the fire had gone out. Tigger was standing at the side of his dish waiting to be fed, and although it was getting dark Lois hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains so her neighbour hastily closed them before switching the light on.
‘I’m comin’ up to check you’re all right,’ she shouted now and began to climb the steep staircase. She found Lois lying spread-eagled on the bed clutching a half-empty bottle of port, with an empty bottle of sherry dropped on the floor at the side of her.
‘Oh, luvvie,’ Martha muttered as she hurried across to the window and drew the bedroom curtains too. Lois was snoring, her mouth hanging slackly open, and the other woman could clearly see the tracks of the tears that had dried on her cheeks. ‘Let’s take yer downstairs an’ get some strong black coffee into yer, eh? Drinkin’ yerself into this state ain’t goin’ to help nothin’ now, is it?’
She managed to get her arm beneath Lois and drag her up onto the pillows, but Lois was out for the count and in a very short time the other woman realised that she wasn’t going to be able to wake her. Nor was she going to be able to get her downstairs in this state.
‘Looks like I’ll just ’ave to stay an’ keep me eye on yer till yer wake up. I daren’t leave yer alone in this state,’ she muttered, and after drawing a blanket across Lois she sighed and settled herself into the chair by the window. It looked set to be a very long night and she wondered if this was just a taste of things to come.
Chapter Thirteen
Briony saw that they were passing through a wide opening that had clearly once had large gates attached to it at some stage. Perhaps the government had taken them, to melt them down to make aircraft parts. On either side was a wall that looked to be at least eight high, then they were clopping along a drive that was bordered by towering trees. Unfortunately it was too dark to see what the grounds were like so she peered ahead, keen to get her first glimpse of The Heights. The drive seemed to go on forever but at last they left the trees and ahead of them a huge building loomed up out of the darkness. Mr Dower drew Meg to a halt at the bottom of some stone steps that led up to two impressive oak doors.
‘Here we are then, all safe and sound,’ he said cheerfully as he lumbered out of his seat. He then reached up into the back of the trap and lifted Sarah and Alfie down as Briony ho
pped down to join them. They collected their suitcases and when Meg went to crop on the grass, dragging the trap behind her, the tall man led them up the steps.
‘Will one o’ the servants open the door fer us?’ Alfie asked, his eyes like saucers, and Mr Dower chuckled.
‘I reckon there’s very little chance of that happening,’ he answered, and pushing one of the doors open he ushered them inside.
They found themselves in the most enormous entrance hall they had ever seen. In fact, Briony was sure that it was almost as big as their school assembly hall. But for all that it was nothing at all like she had expected it to be. Scuffed black and white tiles covered the floor and a mahogany balustraded staircase swept up to a galleried landing. The balustrade was intricately carved and turned, and quite magnificent – but Briony saw that it was thick with dust and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned for ages. A rich red flock paper covered the walls and to one side was a beautiful hall table in gilt with a matching mirror hanging above it, but again the items looked grimy and uncared for. She looked around, expecting their grandparents to be there waiting for them, but there was no one – and nothing to be heard but the loud ticking of a huge grandfather clock that stood on the opposite wall to the mirror.
‘Leave your cases there,’ Mr Dower instructed them. ‘And then come along with me and we’ll get the missus to rustle you up some dinner.’
They obediently followed him down the long hallway, their shoes making tap-tapping noises on the tiles until they came to a green baize door. He pushed it open and immediately the delicious smell of roast lamb met them, making their stomachs rumble with anticipation.
‘So here you are at last, my lovelies,’ a kindly faced woman greeted them. She was flushed from standing over the stove and her portly figure instantly put them all in mind of Mrs Brindley. Her hair was greying and pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, and she was enveloped in a voluminous snow-white apron. She wiped her hands on it, then bustling forward, she hugged them each in turn.
‘My goodness, you’ve a look of your mother about you,’ she remarked in a soft Cornish burr, holding Sarah at arm’s length and staring at her. ‘Do you not think so, Caden?’ she asked her husband, and he nodded as he took his cap off then washed his hands and sat at the large scrubbed pine table that took centre place in the room.
Briony risked a quick look around and was amazed at the size of the room. A huge stove stood against one wall, and a fire, above which were suspended a line of copper pans, was burning brightly. This room was cleaner than the hallway, Briony observed, but the whole place looked as if it would benefit from a good scrub. An enormous dresser was standing against another wall, loaded with china, and a rag rug lay in front of the fireplace with two easy chairs to either side of it.
‘Now then, wash your hands and sit yourselves down,’ Mrs Dower said bossily, ‘and I’ll have this dinner served up in the shake of a lamb’s tail, excuse the pun!’ In no time at all the woman was busily straining steaming vegetables into a vast Belfast sink.
Plucking up her courage, Briony asked, ‘Will we not be meeting our grandparents tonight, Mr Dower?’
He scratched his chin, which she saw was in desperate need of a shave, and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, my bird. No doubt your grandmother’ll be settling Mr Frasier down for the night be now and she’ll let nothing stand in the way o’ that.’ Seeing her crestfallen face, he added hastily, ‘But I’m sure she’ll make time to see you all, come the morning.’
Briony nodded and peeped at Alfie and Sarah, who were so nervous they had been struck dumb. Their eyes were on stalks and reaching out, she stroked their hair and smiled at them reassuringly. The meal that Mrs Dower served them was delicious. There were crispy roast potatoes and a selection of vegetables, which Mr Dower informed them had been grown in the kitchen garden, and the roast lamb was so tender that it almost melted in their ravenous mouths. It was followed by apple crumble and custard, and when they had eaten Briony thanked Mrs Dower.
‘That was lovely,’ she said. ‘We haven’t had a meal like that for a long time.’
‘Ah well, there’s some benefits to be had from living here,’ the woman informed her. ‘To tell the truth, the rationing has hardly affected us as yet. We have our own cows, sheep and chickens see, so we’re never short of meat or eggs. Then Mr Dower here and Howel, our grandson, have both got green fingers, so there’s always a supply of fresh fruit and veg.’
Briony suppressed a yawn as she began to collect the dirty plates together and carry them to the sink, but Mrs Dower shooed her away.
‘No need to do that tonight, me lovely. The dishes can soak in the sink till morning. I’m thinking it’s time you all turned in. You look fair worn out, but first let me get the little ones a nice bedtime drink.’ She disappeared into an enormous walk-in pantry and returned with two glasses of frothy milk which the youngest two drank down in seconds, leaving white moustaches on their upper lips. ‘Howel got that fresh from the cow this morning,’ she told them, and then winking at Alfie, she bent to his level to tell him, ‘I’m sure he’ll teach you to milk a cow if you ask him nicely. Now Caden, you get the children’s cases, would you, and I’ll show them up to their rooms.’
She led them to a staircase that was hidden behind a door at the far end of the kitchen, and they began to follow her up some steep stairs. Eventually they reached a landing that had sloping ceilings either side of it and Briony realised with a little shock that they were up in the attics.
‘This is where the live-in staff used to sleep,’ Mrs Dower told the girl apologetically, seeing the confusion on her face. ‘Your grandmother thought you’d all be better up here so you wouldn’t disturb the master, but I’ve tried to make it comfortable for you.’
The housekeeper was secretly appalled that the missus had stuck the children up here so far away from the main house when there were so many decent-sized bedrooms, but she couldn’t voice her opinion, of course; she was paid to do as she was told.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ Briony said uncertainly, following her into the first room Mrs Dower stopped at.
‘I thought one of the little ones would be all right in here.’
Briony looked about the sparsely furnished room. There was a single metal bed standing against one wall with a small chest of drawers at the side of it, and on the opposite wall was a wardrobe. Drab curtains were tightly drawn, shutting out the night – but other than that the room was bare of any adornments of any kind.
After looking at the whitewashed walls, Sarah said bluntly, ‘I don’t like it here!’
Briony blushed. It did look clean at least, and Mrs Dower had clearly put fresh bedding on the bed.
‘Start to put your things in the drawer and find your nightclothes,’ she said, ‘while I go and get Alfie settled in, and then I’ll come back to tuck you in.’
‘But I want to sleep with you! I always sleep with you.’
Briony ignored her as she hustled Alfie back out onto the landing. The last thing she needed right then was for Sarah to fly off into a tantrum.
The second room was almost identical to the first, and once she had left Alfie reluctantly haphazardly unpacking his suitcase she then went to look at her own room. This was slightly larger than the other two and also had an old mirror hanging on the wall. There was a double bed in there too, but she saw with a sinking heart that it was equally as bleak. Even so she smiled gratefully at the friendly couple. At least they had both gone out of their way to greet them and try to make them feel welcome, which was more than she could say of her grandparents.
‘Thank you,’ she told them both sincerely.
Mrs Dower ushered her husband ahead of her along the landing then, saying, ‘You’re very welcome, pet. But now we must get back to the farm or Howel will think we’ve left home.’
There were so many questions that Briony wanted to ask. What did they mean – get back to the farm? And where were all the staff that her mother had told
her about? She opened her mouth to ask but then clamped it shut again. She was just too weary tonight. There would be time for all the questions in the world tomorrow.
‘Now I shall be back to cook your breakfasts for you in the morning,’ Mrs Dower told her. ‘Oh, and by the way, the bathroom is the last door on the left at the end of the landing. Goodnight, my dearies.’ She and Mr Dower disappeared off down the stairs then, leaving Briony to check on the children. It seemed that there were a few compensations to being here at least. The meal had been wonderful and having an inside toilet would be a real treat after being used to an outside one.
She found both Sarah and Alfie sitting tearfully on the end of their beds hugging the teddies they had brought with them and sucking their thumbs; a sure sign that they were upset. But at least they had both got changed into their nightclothes. She decided their washes could wait until the morning just this once.
Briony forced herself to sound cheerful as she tucked them in, promising she would try to get them to the beach the next day and reminding them what a lovely dinner Mrs Dower had cooked for them. Eventually they both settled down from sheer exhaustion and Briony went off to her own room to unpack. However she was so tired that after rummaging in her suitcase and finding her nightclothes she clambered into bed and snuggled down. Briefly she wondered how her mother was – and then started as an owl hooted into the night. Everything was so strange here, but then no doubt they would all adapt, and after all it wasn’t as if it was forever. On this comforting thought she drifted off to sleep.
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