Briony pounced on it, hoping it was from Ernie. She saw at a glance that it was Ruth’s handwriting but that was almost as good and she could hardly wait to read it.
‘It’s from my best friend, Ruth, back at home,’ she told Mrs Dower as she tore the envelope open.
‘How nice. I dare say she’s missing you. Let’s hear what she has to say then. It’ll take my mind off peeling these sprouts.’
Briony read aloud:
Dear Briony,
I hope you and the children are settling down at your grandparents. There’s nothing very exciting to tell you from this end, I’m afraid. We’ve had some more air raids but luckily nothing too bad up to now. Mrs Brindley heard from Ernie a few days ago and he says he is well, thank goodness, but his letter was so heavily censored that we couldn’t make head nor tail of where they’re sending him. He did say though that he might get a few days leave soon, so that’s something to look forward to.
Everything is the same at work, nothing to report there. It’s as boring as ever and you’re well out of it. I’ve seen your mum a couple of times and she seems OK too. I don’t half miss our trips to the pictures! It just seems to be all work at the minute. Will you be coming back for a visit soon? It would be lovely if you could time it for when Ernie has his leave. We could all get together again then like old times.
Grandad hasn’t been well so I’ve been going round to help out a bit. His gout is playing him up something terrible! Poor old devil. Rationing is as bad as ever here. What’s it like down there? There’s no decent clothes to be had in the shops and I’m sick to the back teeth of vegetable soup. Have you heard that the government is on about giving us clothing coupons now? As if things aren’t bad enough already.
Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m missing you. You will write back, won’t you? Have you met anyone tall, dark and handsome yet? Oh – and rich, of course!
Lots of love,
Your friend Ruth xxxxxxxxx
‘Who is Ernie?’ Mrs Dower asked and Briony blushed to the roots of her hair.
‘He’s my next-door neighbour’s son,’ she answered. ‘We were brought up together, and me, him and Ruth used to go everywhere together. He’s in the RAF now though and his mum Mrs Brindley is worried sick about him.’
‘I can understand that.’ Mrs Dower shook her head. ‘It must be awful for mothers and wives who have menfolk away fighting, never knowing if the dreaded telegram is going to arrive.’ She stopped abruptly then as she saw Briony’s face crumple and silently cursed herself for being so thoughtless. Hadn’t the poor girl received just such a telegram about her father?
‘And this Ernie,’ she said quickly, hoping to lighten the mood. ‘Sweet on him are you?’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference if I was,’ Briony confessed. ‘Ruth has adored him since we were at the first school together and she’s my best friend. If she thought I had feelings for Ernie, she’d think I’d betrayed her.’
‘Oh dear, so you’re both sweet on him then? That’s awkward, but who does Ernie favour?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Briony said, and quickly rammed the letter back into the envelope before starting to set the table for dinner.
So that’s the way the land lies, Mrs Dower thought to herself. Sounds to me like young Briony has a soft spot for this young fellow but she doesn’t want to step on her friend’s toes. It seemed a shame, but then things had a way of sorting themselves out in the end. If the lad came back from the war, that was. Everyone knew what a dangerous job the pilots were doing, risking their lives every time their planes took off. She was just grateful that Howel hadn’t had to go, although she knew that he had wanted to.
*
Later that evening, when all was quiet, Briony reread Ruth’s letter. The unsettled night she’d had with Mabel was catching up with her now and she hoped that tonight would be uneventful.
She grinned when she came to the part of the letter where Ruth asked if she had met anyone tall, dark, handsome – and rich. There was Sebastian, but he was her uncle and he didn’t count. Then there was Howel. He was tall and handsome in a quirky sort of way, but he wasn’t dark or rich. Still, two out of four wasn’t bad, apart from the fact that he was already spoken for by a girl in the village. When she went over the part about trying to get home whilst Ernie was on leave, she sighed heavily. By getting her grandmother to agree to take Mabel on, she had narrowed down the chances of that happening. Who would take care of the children if she were to go home? Mrs Dower was already run off her feet and she certainly couldn’t see her grandmother volunteering. Apart from showing everyone how kind she was by taking the Valentine children to school on their first morning there, she hadn’t even spoken to them since. Briony had already asked if she could pass on their telephone number so that her mum and Ruth could phone her from the kiosk at the end of the street back home, but she had been told in no uncertain terms that the telephone was there purely for business purposes – so that had put paid to that idea.
Briony was concerned that Ruth had said so little about her mum. Ruth had promised that she would visit Lois regularly – and yet in the letter she had said that she had only seen her a couple of times. Briony prayed that her mother hadn’t hit the bottle again and that Ruth wasn’t keeping the fact from her. Still, Lois did have Mrs Brindley next door, and she had no doubt that their neighbour would be keeping an eye on her mum, which was something at least.
As she glanced around the kitchen, Briony felt a little glow of satisfaction. It looked so different now from how it had when she had arrived. She had scrubbed every inch of it as well as the enormous hallway. The turned wooden banisters now shone, and instead of the musty smell that had greeted them originally, the house now smelled of beeswax polish and of the greenery that she had dotted about in vases she had found beneath the sink. Tomorrow she intended to start on another room if her grandmother would allow it, and hopefully in time she would have the whole house back to how it had been kept in her mother’s day. But for now she was tired, so after switching off the lights and placing the guard in front of the fire, she made her way to bed.
Mabel had another nightmare that night. Once again, the stink of urine met Briony full force when she went to wake the girls the next morning, and once again Mabel shrank away from her.
‘It doesn’t matter. Accidents happen,’ Briony said tiredly as the child stood shivering to one side whilst Briony stripped the wet bedding from the mattress again. It was getting harder to dry the washing outside now that the weather had turned damp, and she knew that she would have to try and dry it on the line strung across the kitchen once it had been washed.
‘Ain’t yer gonna belt me one?’ Mabel asked, her eyes looking too large for her small face. ‘Me mam used to belt me when I wet the bed back at ’ome. But she didn’t bovver to change the sheets. I just slept in ’em till they got dry again.’
‘Oh, you didn’t wet the bed every night then?’
‘Nah, only when the blokes come back an’—’ Mabel suddenly clammed up as Briony looked at her, horrified. What had the child been about to say? She clearly wasn’t about to say any more and so Briony didn’t push it. The girl would tell her when she was good and ready.
They had only been downstairs a few minutes when Howel appeared with his usual bags of supplies.
Mabel slunk away to the table and kept a watchful eye on him the whole time he was there and once he’d gone she asked, ‘Is ’e yer chap then?’
‘My chap? No, of course he isn’t. He’s Mrs Dower’s grandson. I don’t have a chap.’
‘Well, I reckon ’e wants to be yer chap. I can tell by the way ’e looks at yer. ’E wants to shag yer.’
‘Mabel!’ Briony almost dropped the bowl of porridge she was carrying to the table. ‘That’s an awful thing to say – and you shouldn’t even know about such things at your age!’
‘’Course I know.’ Mabel stuck her chin in the air. ‘That’s ’ow women earn money, by let
tin’ men shag ’em. Me mam told me so.’
Briony was at a loss as to how to answer that, so she clamped her mouth shut, intending to continue the conversation later that day, out of earshot of Sarah and Alfie whose ears had pricked up.
‘Well, we’ll talk about this another time, shall we?’ she choked, trying hard not to show her distress. ‘But for now I think we ought to have our breakfast and think about getting you all to school. And Mabel . . . no more bad language today, please!’
All day Briony thought of the implications of what Mabel had confided and she felt sick. Could it be that some of the men she’d spoken of had interfered with her? But then Mabel was just seven years old. Surely no man would stoop so low?
She shared her concerns with Mrs Dower when the woman arrived later that afternoon, and the housekeeper listened carefully.
‘Perhaps that’s why the poor little soul is wetting the bed and having nightmares,’ she said tentatively. ‘Stands to reason something like that is going to leave scars, doesn’t it? Poor little bird. But then we’re jumping to conclusions. No doubt she’ll tell you the whole story when she’s good and ready. Meantime, don’t ask questions, that’s my advice.’
Briony nodded as she set off to fetch the children. The day was dark and drizzly as she trod over the crisp golden leaves that were swirling about her feet. Gulls squawked and swooped in the sky above her but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were too firmly fixed on what Mabel had said and she was concerned that if her worst fears were realised and the child had been mistreated in that wicked, vicious way – then brave little Mabel might never get over it.
Martha Brindley stood out on the pavement and stared at the tightly drawn curtains of her neighbour’s house. It was well after nine o’clock in the morning now but it didn’t look as if Lois was up – yet again. She’d had to pound on the door for the last few mornings to ensure that Lois got to work on time, but it looked as if she was going to ignore her altogether today. Shaking her head, the big woman headed back to her own kitchen tutting with irritation. Her feelings for her neighbour veered between sympathy and annoyance. Of course she was sorry that Lois had lost her lovely husband – but hadn’t she lost her Clal too? And she hadn’t hit the bottle, even though the pain of his loss weighed like a heavy stone in her heart. Everyone was being affected by this damn war and they were having to get on with it! But then she would feel guilty for being so unfeeling. After all, Lois wasn’t made of such stern stuff as she was, and she knew that she was missing the children dreadfully. If truth be known, Mrs Brindley was missing them too – although she still felt that Lois had done the right thing in sending them to a safer place.
She found Tigger curled up in front of her fire and went to fetch him some food. He seemed to spend more time round at her house now than he did at home; no doubt because he knew that he had more chance of being fed there. Lois didn’t bother to feed herself half the time any more, let alone the cat, and seemed to be surviving on pure alcohol. She was the talk of the whole street, not that it seemed to bother her. It broke Mrs Brindley’s heart when she thought of what Lois had looked like not so very long ago. Everyone had envied her then but now they pitied her. The weight seemed to have dropped off her bones and her once glorious blonde hair was now scraped back in a greasy ponytail. She never even bothered to wear a bit of lipstick now and yet at one time she wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping out of the door without her full war-paint in place.
She bent and placed the saucer of scraps in front of Tigger with tears in her eyes, but then she became aware of someone standing in the doorway and when she glanced up the breath caught in her throat.
Suddenly she was across the room. ‘Aw, luvvie. I can’t believe it’s you!’ she cried joyously. ‘I thought I were seein’ bloody things fer a moment back there.’ She was hugging her son to her and he patted her back affectionately.
‘No, you ain’t seein’ things, Mam. It’s really me,’ Ernie assured her, throwing his kitbag down. ‘An’ yer goin’ to have to put up with me fer a while ’cos this damn leg ’as been playin’ up again an’ the doc says I’ve to rest it.’ He thumped the offending leg with frustration. ‘It ain’t never been the same since Dunkirk,’ he told her. ‘Left it weak, so the doc says, but hopefully I shouldn’t need more than a couple o’ weeks an’ I’ll be back in the air.’
Staring up at him and thinking how handsome he looked in his uniform, Mrs Brindley realised how much he had changed in the past year. He had gone off to war as little more than a boy but he had come back to her as a man, and she was proud of him.
‘So come on then,’ he grinned now. ‘Get that kettle on an’ then yer can tell me all the gossip, eh?’
‘Huh! I don’t quite know where to start,’ Mrs Brindley grumbled. Despite his cheerful façade, her mother’s instinct screamed at her that something wasn’t right. She could see the haunted look in his eyes and guessed that he had probably seen atrocities that would stay with him for the rest of his life. War was an abomination. But for now she was just glad to have him home and intended to make the most of every minute they had together.
Over tea she told him about Briony taking the children to Cornwall and she saw his face fall. So I was right then, he has got feelings for her, she thought. Although she loved Briony almost like a daughter she was sad to think of how Ruth would take the news, should she ever find out. Of course it was inevitable that she would, and Martha Brindley was sure it would break the girl’s heart. Putting that aside, she went on to tell her son about the drinking problem Lois had developed.
‘It would be losing James that has done that to her,’ he commented. ‘Losing someone close can do funny things to people.’ His face crumpled then, and she saw that there were tears sparkling in his eyes. ‘My best mate didn’t come back from a flight last week,’ he told her hoarsely and she knew then that he wasn’t just home for his leg; his nerves had been stretched to breaking-point. ‘He was shot down over the sea,’ he went on huskily. ‘No chance of ever recovering his body. I stopped off the train in Ledbury on my way here to deliver a letter he had left with me for his parents.’ He laughed then; a hollow sound that held no mirth. ‘We do that, you know. Leave letters for loved ones with mates just in case we don’t come back. The one I had given him for you must have gone into the sea with him.’
‘Oh, lad.’ His mother’s hand closed over his, and for one of the very few times in her life she was speechless. Words just seemed so inadequate.
‘The week before, we were flying over London when the Jerries were bombin’ the docks. I managed to get in really close to one of their bombers before I let him have it. So close that just for a second we were looking each other straight in the eye. Then I fired the bombs and next thing his plane was on fire and he was hurtling down into the Thames. It’s a terrible thing to kill someone, Mam, even if it’s a case of you or him. This war is just so bloody senseless!’
And then the tears came, fast and furious and she was rocking him in her arms as she had when he was a little boy, comforting him with the love and consolation that only a mother can give.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was early on Saturday evening when Mrs Frasier strode imperiously into the kitchen to tell Briony, ‘You are to have the children ready for ten o‘clock in the morning. They will be attending the service at the Methodist Chapel with me in Poldak. That one can stay here with you. I doubt she’s ever walked into a church in her whole life and I can’t have her showing me up.’ The last was addressed at Mabel, who glowered back at her. She didn’t like the missus at all and wasn’t afraid to show it.
‘But I don’t want to go to church,’ Sarah said. ‘I want to stay here wi’ Briony.’
Briony expected her grandmother to object but Marion surprised her when she said indifferently, ‘Very well, you can stay here with her. But I must insist that Alfred comes along.’
Alfie opened his mouth to object but then promptly shut it again. He was scared stiff of his grandmot
her.
Briony gritted her teeth. ‘Very well,’ she said politely. ‘I shall make sure that he is ready.’ She had soon realised that Alfie was the only one that her grandmother was vaguely interested in and she knew that it would be pointless to argue. But at least she could keep Sarah with her. The little girl had developed a slight temperature and Briony wanted her to stay in the warm, and try to get her well enough for school on Monday.
On Sunday morning a very reluctant Alfie set off for church with his grandmother and once they were gone Briony began to prepare the vegetables for Sunday dinner. She had taken over the breakfasts and lunches herself now but Mrs Dower still insisted on cooking the Sunday roast and the main evening meal until Briony felt a little more confident.
‘Crikey, somebody didn’t ’ave a very good night,’ Mrs Dower commented when she came in armed with a large goose all plucked ready for the oven. The circles under Briony’s eyes were so dark that they looked like bruises and she appeared worn out.
‘Actually for once it wasn’t Mabel that disturbed me last night.’ Briony lowered her voice as she glanced towards the two little girls who were engrossed in playing cat’s cradle. ‘It was Sebastian. He and that friend of his from London were loading the van with something out of the locked barn and it seemed to go on for ages. Goodness knows what they were doing.’
Mrs Dower frowned. ‘Well, I know he stores the coffins in there and I did hear that Jim Tolly from Land’s End passed away last night, but I can’t see Master Seb fetching a coffin at that time of night. Does your grandmother know about it?’
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