Soldier's Daughter, The

by Goodwin, Rosie

  The following morning, Mrs Dower climbed the stairs to find Sarah’s and Alfie’s rooms empty. Guessing what had happened, she tiptoed along to Briony’s room and sure enough when she inched the door open she saw the two younger children tucked up beside their big sister, fast asleep. They must have crept along the landing to join her during the night. Quietly closing the door she headed back to the kitchen, deciding to leave them where they were. They were obviously all worn out following the long journey of the day before, and a lie-in would do them good. She certainly had enough work to keep her busy until they came down for breakfast.

  It was the sun shining through a slight crack in the curtains that woke Briony, and totally disorientated, she looked around wondering where she was. And then it all came back to her and panic set in as she glanced at the two little ones who were softly snoring on either side of her. What would Mrs Dower and her grandparents think of them if they had overslept on their first morning there? Gently shaking the children, she urged, ‘Come on, you two, we need to get washed and dressed. I have no idea what time it is and I think we may have overslept.’

  Half an hour later, with them all washed and neatly dressed she took the children’s hands and led them down to the kitchen. Mrs Dower was standing at the stove flipping bacon in a huge frying pan and she smiled a greeting.

  ‘No need to ask if you slept all right. You were all flat out when I came up to check on you a while ago,’ she said merrily.

  ‘I’m so sorry. We don’t usually stay in bed this late,’ Briony apologised. ‘What time is it anyway?’

  Mrs Dower nodded towards a clock on the wall. ‘Its not late, my lovely. Only just gone nine. I’ve only just taken the breakfast through to your grandparents. Your grandad didn’t have a very good night, apparently. But now, come and sit down and eat.’

  Briony was embarrassed, not used to being waited on, but she did as she was told as Mrs Dower began to load their plates with thick juicy sausages, sizzling rashers of bacon and eggs.

  ‘Cor,’ Alfie muttered gleefully at the sight of the lovely yellow yolks. It had been a long time since he had been served with a fresh egg. All they had been able to get back in Nuneaton was powdered egg since rationing had been introduced, and it tasted nowhere near as nice as fresh ones.

  ‘I went and collected them from the barn first thing this morning,’ Mrs Dower told him. ‘The chickens tend to lay where they’ve a fancy to. Perhaps you’d like to help me collect them each morning if I show you where to look?’

  ‘Not ’alf!’ Alfie answered enthusiastically and Mrs Dower laughed as she ruffled his hair. They were lovely children, there was no doubt about it, as she had remarked to her husband the night before. The younger two were the spit of their mother, while Briony was a dead ringer for her father. Mrs Dower could remember James and had always wondered why her mistress didn’t like him. He had no money admittedly, but he had always seemed to be a nice enough chap and Miss Lois had been totally smitten with him. She could remember clearly the ruckus it had caused when the young woman had taken off with him and the way her parents had disowned her, or at least her mother had. Mrs Dower had a sneaky feeling that Mr Frasier would have accepted it, but he was so far under his wife’s thumb that he went along with anything she said just for a bit of peace, which to her mind was a crying shame. And now after all these years, here were Lois’s lovely children. Life was a strange thing when she came to think of it.

  Alfie, and even Sarah, who was usually a delicate eater, cleared their plates in record time before asking Briony, ‘May we go outside to have a look around now?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Briony looked towards Mrs Dower, who nodded.

  ‘Of course you can. There’s lots for you to explore. But don’t stray too far from the house now. Once you get on to the moors there’s old tin mines – and should you fall down one of the workings, chances are you’d not be seen again.’

  Wide-eyed, the children scampered away while Briony stayed behind to help Mrs Dower with the washing-up, although the woman protested.

  ‘No, please – I’d like to,’ Briony implored, so eventually the woman agreed and she washed the dishes whilst Briony dried them.

  The questions that she had wanted to ask the night before were still buzzing around in her head so now Briony said tentatively, ‘I expected there would be a lot of servants living here, from what my mother told me.’

  ‘Ah, well, there were back then when she was living here,’ Mrs Dower answered. ‘But once the war started, everything changed. The master took ill, your Uncle Sebastian was called up, and along of him went most of the live-in staff. There’s just me, my husband Caden and our grandson Howel now to keep things going in the house and garden, and it’s not easy, I don’t mind telling you. This place is far too big for me to cope with on my own, though I do my best. The gardens used to be a picture; the lawns were so well tended you could have played bowls on them. The house was the same, but most of the rooms are shut off now and even the Frasiers stick to just three rooms. I come along each day to do the cooking and what cleaning I can manage, then I have to go back and start on the farm.’ She sighed wearily.

  ‘Aren’t there two farms on the estate?’ Briony asked, remembering what her mother had told her.

  ‘Yes, there are. We live at Kynance Farm, but the other one is empty now. Your grandfather has had to sell a lot of the land off, unfortunately. It was too much for Howel and Caden to keep up with. Not only that, but between you and me, I reckon they needed the money. Master Sebastian runs the undertaker’s business down in Penzance – but that’s about all he will do,’ she ended somewhat scathingly.

  Briony was confused. ‘But I thought you just said my uncle was called up?’

  ‘So he was – but he injured his hand in Singapore and was deemed unfit to return to his unit.’

  ‘Oh, so is he here now then?’

  ‘No, he’s off on one of his jaunts to London, leaving old Morris Page to keep the business going,’ the woman said, and then glancing across her shoulder to make sure that there was no one there, she advised quietly, ‘I’d give him a wide berth if I were you, my lover.’

  ‘Why is that?’ It seemed that everyone was advising her to keep away from her uncle and she was curious to know why.

  ‘He’s a bad ’un, that’s why, I don’t think everything he does is above board.’ But then, remembering who she was talking to, Annik Dower added hastily, ‘But that’s just my opinion, of course.’

  Briony sighed, wondering what her mother would make of it all. The Heights was clearly no longer as Lois remembered it, and they still hadn’t met their grandparents as yet. How much longer would it be before the latter sent for them? After helping Mrs Dower to finish tidying the kitchen she went off in search of her brother and sister and to get her first proper look at The Heights in daylight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Briony stepped out of the back door into a cobbled yard she was confronted by a number of outbuildings. Chickens were roaming freely, clucking and pecking amongst the cobbles, and seagulls were wheeling in the sky above her. The air was tangy with salt from the sea; it smelled clean and fresh – there were no smoky streets here – and she drew a deep breath of air down into her lungs. Immediately ahead of her were three stables, but she noted that only Meg, the old horse that had brought them here, was in one of them, contentedly chewing on a nosebag. The other two were empty and she decided she would ask Mrs Dower later on where the other horses were. She seemed to recall her mother telling her that her father had had quite a passion for horses.

  At the end of the stable block were two large barns. The doors stood open on one of them and she glimpsed a hay loft and a number of gardening tools inside. The enormously high doors on the other one were firmly closed and heavily padlocked, and she briefly wondered what was stored in there. To one side of her was another door leading to what was clearly the laundry room, complete with deep stone sinks and a mangle, and next to that was yet another room
that appeared to have been a dairy at some time. It clearly hadn’t been used for some long while, if the heavy cobwebs hanging from the ceiling were anything to go by.

  Beyond these rooms was a wall, and after entering through the wooden gate set into it, Briony found herself in what must be the kitchen garden. Only one side of it had been cultivated; the other half was overgrown with brambles, thistles and blackberry bushes. The brick walls were covered in ivy and other creepers, and she imagined that they would be a riot of colour in the summer. Back out again, she followed the wall round and found herself in an orchard. Again, the grass had not been cut and was ankle-deep, and the trees were heavy with fruit. She would have liked to linger here listening to the gulls and the birds in the trees, but she was keen to find the children now so she moved on.

  After walking for some time she emerged from the trees and her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. Miles and miles of moorland stretched out to one side of her, while to the other lay the sea. It was a truly magnificent sight. The water was crystal clear and sparkling in the sun beyond the cliffs, and way out on the waves she spotted a fishing boat. About a mile or so away she could see smoke curling lazily from the chimney of what appeared to be a farmhouse; she wondered if this was the Dowers’ farm and made a mental note to ask Mrs Dower when she got back to the house.

  Keeping to the edge of the cliff, she headed back towards The Heights, and before she had gone too far she heard laughter and guessed that this was Alfie and Sarah. Smiling, she hurried on past the side of the enormous house into what had clearly once been a rose garden. The roses were still blooming profusely and the air was heavy with their perfume, but the whole sunken garden was clogged with weeds. The sight saddened her. It must have been a glorious spectacle when it had been tended, for even now it had a natural if somewhat unkempt beauty.

  At that moment, Alfie appeared from around one of the overgrown bushes – they were quite high and clearly had not been pruned for some long time – and his little face was radiant. Briony was dismayed to see that his shirt was already hanging out and his clean grey shorts had grass stains on the backside.

  ‘Oh Alfie,’ she groaned. ‘I’m sure you could manage to get dirty in a padded cell.’ She was expecting a summons from her grandparents at any moment and had gone to great pains that morning to make sure that the children were as neat as new pins, but already they were both looking bedraggled. Even Sarah had somehow managed to pull the hem of her dress down, and her white socks looked decidedly grimy.

  ‘Come on,’ she said firmly. ‘We need to get you two tidied up again. Heaven knows what Grandmother and Grandfather will say if they get their first glimpse of you looking like this.’

  ‘Oh, do we have to?’ Alfie complained. He was clearly having the time of his life but he came to her all the same, and turning about they were faced with the front of the house. It had been so dark when they had arrived the night before that they had been able to see very little of it, but now the sheer size of the place took their breath away.

  ‘Cor! It’s like a palace, ain’t it?’ Sarah said as she gazed at it in awe.

  Briony smiled as she took them by the hand and began to lead them back the way she had come. They saw rabbits scurry across the lawn and a squirrel in a tree, and the children were enchanted.

  ‘Why do we ’ave to go back?’ Alfie complained. ‘Why can’t we go down onto the beach? There’s some steps over there leadin’ down to it. Me an’ Sarah found ’em a while back.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you not to go anywhere near the edge of the cliff?’ Briony scolded, but it was hard to be mad at them when they were both looking so happy. Even Sarah, who was usually frighteningly pale, had a little colour in her cheeks already, and their eyes were as bright as buttons.

  Mrs Dower was just about to leave when they re-entered the kitchen and she grinned when she saw the state of Alfie.

  ‘Have our grandparents asked to see us yet?’ Briony enquired hopefully.

  Mrs Dower felt sad as she saw the expectant look on the girl’s face. ‘Not yet. But I’ll tell you what – I’ll pop along to see them now and ask if they’re ready for you. Meanwhile you could perhaps clean his lordship up a bit, eh? Don’t want to make a bad first impression, now do we?’

  She disappeared off through the door leading into the hall as Briony grabbed a damp cloth from the draining board and started to scrub at Alfie’s face.

  ‘Gerroff!’ he objected but his big sister ignored him and carried on. When his face was clean, she brushed the dust from the seat of his shorts as best she could, pulled his socks up and tucked his shirt in before turning her attention to Sarah.

  By the time Mrs Dower returned they were all tidy again and the woman forced a smile to her face. She didn’t want to tell them that she had had to plead with her employers to meet the children. She had a sneaky feeling that the mistress would have been happier if she could have just kept them out of her way completely during their stay so that she could pretend they weren’t even there.

  ‘They’d love to meet you now,’ she lied. ‘Come along and I’ll show you what room they’re in.’

  Alfie slunk nervously behind Briony as they followed Mrs Dower along the hallway.

  She stopped and tapped at an elaborately carved wooden door, then told them, ‘Go on in then, and I’ll see you all later this morning when I’ll be back to make your lunch.’

  Briony nodded and smiled her thanks, then after taking a deep breath she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The musty smell met her immediately and as the curtains were partly drawn the room was gloomy. But then as her eyes adapted she saw a man sitting in a wheelchair over by the fireplace and a stooped woman standing closely at his side.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there like morons! Come in then,’ the woman snapped, and Alfie shrank farther behind his sister’s skirts as Briony tentatively took Sarah’s hand and led her forward.

  As the woman’s eyes raked her up and down, she sneered. ‘So you are the firstborn! No doubt whose daughter you are, is there?’

  Briony was so shocked that she was speechless, but already the woman’s eyes had settled on Sarah and again she looked as if there was a dirty smell under her nose. ‘And you are truly your mother’s daughter. I just hope you haven’t inherited her ungrateful nature . . . But where is the boy?’

  Briony tugged Alfie, who was looking absolutely terrified, from behind her and he clung to her hand.

  It was then that a transformation took place, for the woman’s eyes gentled.

  ‘You must be Alfred,’ she said softly. ‘Come over here and let me look at you, child.’

  ‘Me name is Alfie an’ I wanna stay over ’ere wi’ Briony,’ he said defiantly, jamming his thumb in his mouth.

  Briony held her breath, expecting the woman to shout at him, but instead she chuckled. ‘Ah, so you have spirit! Not only do you look like your Uncle Sebastian but you sound like him too. But come . . . I won’t bite, I promise you.’

  Alfie looked up at Briony uncertainly and when she gave an imperceptible nod he inched his way across the carpet towards his grandmother, looking for all the world as if he were about to enter a den of tigers.

  This gave Briony time to study the woman a little more closely and she was shocked at what she saw. She was nothing like her mother had described her, although the family likeness was undoubtedly still there. Her faded fair hair was heavily streaked with grey and straggled on her shoulders, and her blue eyes had a slightly wild look about them. Her clothes, a pale-blue twinset and a thick tweed herringbone-patterned skirt, although clearly of good quality, were creased and hung off her bony frame, and about her throat was a string of pearls that gleamed in the dull light. She put Briony in mind of a witch, so she quickly transferred her attention to the man sitting in the wheelchair. He looked very frail and ill, and his legs were swathed in a thick warm blanket, but when she met his eyes she saw that they were kindly and he gave her a gentle smile. She guessed t
hat his hair must have been very dark once, although it was snow-white now. His face was deeply lined and haggard and the hands that poked from the sleeves of his thick brown jacket and rested on his lap looked almost skeletal, but as she returned his stare he said softly, ‘You must be Briony?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She stuck her chin in the air, reluctant to let him see how nervous she was. There was a pungent smell in the room – of sickness and of something else that she couldn’t identify – and suddenly she just wanted to snatch the children up and run back home with them. To calm herself, she looked around the room. Just as her mother had told her, it must once have been quite magnificent! Now it merely looked tired. The heavy velvet drapes were faded and moth-eaten and the fine Persian carpet was threadbare in places. Even so, there were some fine pieces of furniture dotted about – although they looked badly in need of a good polish – as well as some very valuable-looking pieces of china. Briony had only ever seen anything like them in the antique-shop window back in Nuneaton.

  ‘So, girl!’

  Her grandmother’s voice made Briony’s eyes snap back to her.

  ‘I don’t want you to think that this is going to be a holiday for you. We have been struggling to get help here since the beginning of the war, so once the children start their new school you will be expected to help Mrs Dower in the house and garden.’ The words were said almost as a threat but Briony stared back at her with her head held high.

  ‘I am quite happy to help with anything that needs doing,’ she responded coldly and just for an instant she could have sworn she saw a spark of amusement flash in her grandfather’s eyes.

  ‘Good, then you girls go and find your way about. Alfred can stay here with us.’

  ‘Don’t want to!’ Alfie responded, shooting back to stand at his big sister’s side.