Soldier's Daughter, The

by Goodwin, Rosie

  Dressed in her new finery, Mabel walked to the school with Briony to meet the children at home time. She had said very little when Briony put the new outfit on her, but the young woman noticed that every now and then she would glance down at herself and stroke the little pleated skirt wonderingly. The only thing she was still wearing that she had arrived in were her shoes. Sadly, there was nothing Briony could do about that until she had time to get out to buy her a new pair. They were very down at heel and the soles were dangerously thin, but even so they looked much better after a polish and with a pair of Talwyn’s little white socks inside them. Briony had tied her hair back with one of Sarah’s ribbons, and every now and then Mabel would raise her hand to touch it self-consciously.

  The children bombarded her with questions all the way home but Mabel remained obstinately silent until in the end Briony scolded them, ‘Now come along you two and give Mabel a bit of peace. She’ll answer all your questions when she’s good and ready.’ The child walked primly at her side whilst the other two scampered ahead, but she stubbornly refused to hold Briony’s hand and Briony wisely didn’t try to force her.

  Mrs Dower made a delicious shepherd’s pie that evening and Sarah and Alfie watched in horrified fascination as Mabel rammed it into her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

  ‘She’s so greedy,’ Briony murmured as she stood by the sink with Mrs Dower.

  ‘Hungry, more like,’ the woman replied. ‘She’ll probably be like this for some while, at least till she realises there’ll be another mealtime. She’s probably had to eat when she could up to now.’

  ‘How awful,’ Since rationing had come into force, the selection of food back at home had been sadly limited but Briony was the first to admit that they had never gone hungry, not as this poor little mite obviously had. She promised herself to try even harder with Mabel.

  When taking the food through to the dining room where the Frasiers waited to be served, she found the atmosphere so heavy that she could have cut it with a knife, and she was glad that she and the children were banished to the kitchen. Sebastian’s expression was grim and his mother didn’t look much happier. They had clearly had a row about something – and Briony wondered if it had anything to do with the ledger she had fetched from the funeral parlour. Placing the contents of the tray onto the centre of the table as quickly as she could, she beat a hasty retreat, leaving them to serve themselves.

  Just before the children were due to go to bed the wind blew up and a downpour started. The windows rattled in their frames as the rain hurtled against them as if it were trying to gain entry.

  ‘Those poor sheep and cows out in the fields,’ Sarah said sadly. ‘But at least the pigs can go into their sty and keep dry if they want to.’

  ‘I don’t think sheep and cows mind the rain too much.’

  Mabel’s ears pricked up at the mention of the animals but she didn’t say anything and Briony made a mental note to take her along to Kynance Farm to see them just as soon as she could. Living in a city, she had probably had no contact with any before. She had dressed Mabel for bed in a pair of Alfie’s pyjamas. Sarah’s were too big for her but the little girl hadn’t protested. She was still unnaturally quiet but Briony hoped that would pass eventually. She was clearly able to speak, as her outburst in the bathroom had proved!

  Deciding that she would clear the table in the dining room whilst the children were quietly sitting in the kitchen, she picked up the tray – but as she was carrying it through the hallway she heard voices raised in disagreement.

  ‘What do you mean they used another undertaker?’ she heard William Frasier say irately. ‘We’ve known the Thomas family all their lives. Why would they go elsewhere?’

  ‘Because Sebastian said someone else in St Ives offered them a better price.’

  ‘Rubbish! We have caskets to suit all budgets,’ her grandfather responded, but she didn’t wait about to hear any more and instead hurried back to the kitchen. It was the children’s bedtime.

  Mabel went to bed meekly enough, although she didn’t seem too pleased with the idea.

  ‘What time did you go to bed when you were at home?’ Briony asked as she tucked the blankets about her.

  ‘Whenever I wanted,’ the child muttered.

  ‘But didn’t your mum tell you when it was time to go?’

  ‘She was always at the pub by then.’

  ‘I see. Well, after the big day you’ve had, an early night will do you good.’ Briony stroked the springing curls from the little girl’s forehead, thinking again how pretty she looked now that she was clean. But she was so frighteningly thin. She had thought that Sarah was frail, but compared to Mabel she looked positively robust! Good fresh air and some of Mrs Dower’s lovely home-cooked meals would soon put a little weight on her bones.

  She yawned then, realising that she was tired too. I’ll tuck Alfie in then I’ll have a nice hot bath and an early night myself, she promised herself, and after kissing both of the girls she went on her way.

  A sound woke Briony from a dream. She had been dancing with Ernie and as her eyes flickered open she felt cheated. Howel had been in the dream too, smiling at her from the edge of the dance floor as he stood with Ruth. She lay for a moment wondering what it was that had woken her, and then it came again. It sounded as if someone was downstairs in the kitchen. Pulling her dressing gown on she crept along the landing and peeped into Alfie’s room. He was fast asleep and snoring gently so she then went to check on Mabel and Sarah. At a glance she saw that Mabel’s bed was empty, so hurrying now she headed for the stairs. The house was silent save for the creaking of the boards and the pipes settling, and she guessed that it must be very early in the morning.

  Once downstairs she glanced around and stood listening. The sound seemed to be coming from the large walk-in pantry. She crossed to it and snapped on the light – and then her eyes almost started from her head as she saw Mabel kneeling on the floor stuffing the remains of a loaf of bread into her mouth.

  ‘Whatever are you doing?’ she gasped. ‘You surely can’t still be hungry after the massive meal you ate this evening. You’ll make yourself ill.’

  Mabel’s eyes looked huge in her small face but she hugged the loaf to her possessively.

  ‘I am hungry,’ she said.

  ‘Well, bring it out here, then and I’ll spread some butter on it for you,’ Briony said calmly.

  Mabel inched towards her cautiously, looking like a rabbit that had been caught in a trap. ‘Ain’t you gonna tell me off?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Briony carried the butter dish to the table then held out her hands for the loaf, which looked as if it had been savaged by a pack of wild dogs. ‘If you’re hungry you only have to say and I’ll always get you something to eat,’ she added patiently. It was hard to believe that a child could be so hungry that they would resort to stealing dry bread, and her heart ached for her.

  ‘There,’ she said when the bread was buttered. ‘Now would you like some milk to go with that?’

  ‘Not ’arf!’ Mabel was stuffing her mouth so full again that she was making herself gag and Briony had to look away. The sooner she started to teach the child some table manners the better.

  At last Mabel gave a loud burp and patted her stomach.

  ‘All full up now?’ Briony asked.

  ‘Yes, but I’ll still want me breakfast.’

  ‘Of course you will. But come on now. Let’s get you back to bed, eh? We don’t want you being late for school on your first day.’

  She held her hand out but Mabel ignored it as she strode towards the stairs again. Soon she was tucked in once more and Briony headed back to her own room, hoping she would be able to pick up on her dream where she had left off.

  She had just dropped off again when a piercing scream rent the air, and once again she awoke with a start. It sounded like Mabel – but what could the matter be now?

  She was along the landing in a flash and on entering the girl’s room she saw Sarah crouc
hed on her bed looking fearfully towards Mabel.

  The child was tangled in her sheets, thrashing about madly, but she seemed to be still asleep.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ she told Sarah. ‘She’s just having a nightmare but she’ll be fine in a minute.’

  ‘Mabel.’ As she leaned down towards the child, Mabel’s small fist flew out and she caught Briony soundly on the chin, making her wince. ‘Blimey, she can’t half pack a wallop,’ she told Sarah, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. She shook Mabel gently and suddenly the little girl’s eyes flew open.

  ‘Gerroff me . . . gerroff!’ she screamed – and then as her eyes settled on Briony all the fight seemed to go out of her and she slumped back against the pillows in a cold sweat.

  ‘It’s all right, no one is going to hurt you,’ Briony told her soothingly. ‘You were just having a bad dream, that’s all, but it’s over now.’

  Mabel gulped deep in her throat as Briony put the bedclothes to rights and then her eyes grew heavy and she turned onto her side and jammed her thumb into her mouth. Sarah had settled back down too and all Briony could do was hope that she might now be able to get a few uninterrupted hours’ sleep.

  ‘How’s she been?’ Howel asked the next morning when he delivered the day’s supplies. Looking towards Mabel, Briony lowered her voice and told him what had happened during the night.

  ‘Poor little devil,’ he remarked as he stroked his chin.

  ‘I don’t know about her, but I don’t feel as if I’ve been to bed,’ Briony yawned.

  ‘Well, it’s early days but I’m sure she’ll soon be all right,’ he said confidently.

  She hoped he was right. When she had got up that morning she had found Mabel lying in a soaking wet bed, but she didn’t tell him about that.

  ‘I’ve pissed meself . . . I’m sorry,’ Mabel had muttered as she cowered against the wall, obviously expecting to be punished for it.

  ‘Oh, we all have little accidents. Don’t worry about it,’ Briony had responded airily before whipping her off to the bathroom for a thorough wash. There she had met with yet more problems.

  ‘Why do I ’ave to ’ave anuvver wash?’ the girl had screeched indignantly. ‘I only ’ad a bloody barf yesterday!’

  ‘But you have to have a bath or a thorough wash every day,’ Briony had explained. ‘Otherwise you might smell, and then the other children at school might make fun of you.’

  Mabel glared at her. ‘I didn’t ’ave to go to school if I didn’t want to when I lived at ’ome. An’ if the kids made fun o’ me I smacked ’em straight in the gob!’

  ‘Well, I hope you won’t be doing that at this school,’ Briony said firmly. ‘Because you will be going regularly now. How else will you learn your lessons?’

  ‘Don’t care if I don’t learn nuffin’.’ Mabel crossed her arms and stared at her defiantly, but Briony ignored her. She was willing to be lax on a lot of things with this child, but her schooling wasn’t one of them.

  Now as Howel watched Mabel slurping her porridge as if it was going out of fashion he remarked, ‘Not the most delicate of eaters, is she?’ His eyes were twinkling with amusement and Briony sighed.

  ‘That’s not the worst,’ she confided. ‘She swears like a trooper as well. I dread to think what the teachers will do if she starts swearing at them at school.’

  Howel changed the subject then when he asked, ‘And how are you getting on with Sebastian?’

  She grimaced. ‘Not very well, to be honest. He came storming in here yesterday and gave me a right telling-off just because I’d brought the accounts ledger back from the funeral parlour as my grandmother asked me to.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, and do yourself a favour and keep out of his way. I know I shouldn’t say it with you being part of the family, but he’s a right nasty piece of work.’

  The conversation was stopped from going any further when Mabel suddenly appeared at Briony’s elbow to ask, ‘Can I ’ave some more?’

  She sounded just like Oliver in Oliver Twist, and stifling her amusement, Briony kept her face solemn as she replied, ‘Yes, you can, but only if you eat it properly and don’t gobble.’ Now seemed as good a time as any to start teaching the child some table manners.

  ‘Whadda yer mean?’ Mabel asked indignantly.

  ‘I mean you should eat it nicely without slurping. Eat a little more slowly like Alfie and Sarah, and try to do so silently.’

  Mabel cast a withering look at the other two and seemed on the point of refusing, but then she said in a long-suffering voice: ‘All right then.’

  Briony refilled her dish and carried it to the table for her, and after she was seated Mabel lifted her spoon and began to eat a little more slowly, taking note of how Alfie and Sarah were eating theirs. She didn’t look too happy about it, but it was a step in the right direction.

  ‘Lesson one,’ Howel chuckled as he made for the door. ‘Have a good day, kids. See you later, Briony. I’ll be bringing another load of logs over later for the fire. The weather’s on the turn now and you wouldn’t believe how cold it can get here with the wind from the sea. Oh, and by the way, Ma sent these over as well. They’re some more clothes she dug out for Mabel. The coat she mentioned is in there.’ He nodded towards a large bag he had placed down by the door and Briony thanked him.

  As the door closed behind him she realised with a little jolt how much she had come to look forward to his visits. He and his mother were the only people she ever got to see who gave her the time of day and it could get lonely here with just the children for company, even though there was enough cleaning to keep her busy for the next year.

  Quickly sorting through the bag of clothes, she was delighted to find some flannelette nightdresses as well as the coat. It was navy blue wool and double-breasted and in surprisingly good condition, apart from a little bobbling on the arms. She judged that it might be a little large for Mabel at the moment, but then beggars couldn’t be choosers and seeing as the child didn’t have one it would do very nicely, for the weather was turning chilly.

  ‘You can write to your mum on the postcard the Red Cross lady left for you when you get home this afternoon and tell her our address,’ she told Mabel as she buttoned her into the coat to try it on a short time later. It actually fitted better than she had thought it would and the little girl looked quite smart in it.

  Mabel lowered her head and frowned. ‘I can’t write. Nor I can’t read.’

  ‘In that case I’ll do it for you,’ Briony told her. ‘And don’t worry, you’re only seven. Lots of children your age can’t read and write yet.’

  Mabel sniffed, clearly not much bothered one way or another, and Briony grinned. This little lady was a law unto herself – and a force to be reckoned with.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Miss Valentine, might I have a word, please . . . in my office.’ Mrs Marshall’s face was screwed up so tightly that she looked as if she was sucking on a wasp.

  She was the teacher who had been put in charge of the new class that had been set up for the evacuees, and Briony smelled trouble. She wondered what had Mabel been up to now.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  ‘I must ask you to see that Mabel Wilkes curbs her foul language in future,’ she said primly as she adjusted the steel-rimmed glasses that perched on the end of her nose. They looked as if they were trying to escape and Briony couldn’t blame them. Mrs Marshall really was one of the ugliest women she had ever seen, although she had heard that she was an excellent teacher. She had arms like a wrestler that strained against the sleeves of the blue cardigan she was wearing, and a huge bulbous nose.

  Briony tried not to stare at the woman’s moustache as she asked, ‘What has she done?’

  ‘I’m afraid there was an incident in the playground with one of the little girls from the village,’ Mrs Marshall said. ‘Daisy asked Mabel where she had come from and Mabel told her to f— Well, I don’t care to repeat what she said, but it was
more suitable for men working on the docks than a little girl. Could you please speak to her about it?’

  ‘Of course I will.’ Briony was desperately struggling to keep a straight face. She could just imagine what Mabel must have said.

  ‘Of course I think it’s wonderful that dear Mrs Frasier has agreed to take the child in,’ the woman gushed. ‘Especially as she has taken your family in too, and I also understand that some of the evacuees from the inner cities have not been brought up as . . .’ she hesitated here as if choosing her words carefully and ended lamely, ‘. . . as our local children have. Even so, I really think that we must try to maintain our standards.’

  ‘Of course.’ Briony was desperate to escape now before a fit of laughter got the better of her. In fact, she was going red in the face trying to contain it. Not that she thought it was funny; she agreed that Mabel’s language was unacceptable, but the child was only seven years old after all and she had clearly never been taught any better.

  ‘Leave it with me,’ she choked, and rushed for the door before the woman could say any more.

  The children were all waiting at the school gates for her and Mabel eyed her warily as she approached, knowing that she was going to be in trouble.

  ‘I only cussed at that Daisy ’cos she said I talked funny – cheeky mare!’ she defended herself.

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe, but will you at least try not to swear in future,’ Briony pleaded, doing her best to sound stern.

  Mabel ran her hands down the front of her new coat and sniffed. It was the finest thing she had ever owned and she would have kept it on all day if the teachers had allowed her to.

  ‘’S’pose so,’ she mumbled ungraciously and at last they set off for home.

  Mrs Dower was there when they arrived and the appetising smell of a chicken roasting met them.

  ‘It’s a chicken dinner with a cherry pie and custard to follow tonight,’ she told them cheerily. ‘How does that sound?’

  ‘Lovely,’ the children chorused as they took off their coats. Once they had scampered away to fetch jigsaws and colouring books, Mrs Dower told Briony quietly, ‘There’s been another bomb attack on Buckingham Palace. Remember how the Royal Chapel was wrecked, back in early September? Good job Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret Rose were at Balmoral, isn’t it?’ And then on a happier note, ‘Your grandmother brought a letter in for you by the way, while you were at the school. It’s over there on the table – look.’