Soldier's Daughter, The

by Goodwin, Rosie

  ‘I doubt it. She and Grandfather wouldn’t hear anything at the front of the house but my bedroom looks directly down onto the yard so I couldn’t help but hear it.’

  ‘Up to no good, I expect,’ Mrs Dower remarked as she lit the oven.

  By the time Alfie returned from the chapel he was in a rare old mood.

  ‘That were so borin’. We ’ad to sing hymns an’ everythin’,’ he complained, slinging his cap onto the chair.

  Mrs Dower grinned before pottering off to set the table in the dining room for the family. Marion Frasier had attended the Methodist Chapel every Sunday morning for as long as she could remember and when he had been well enough her husband William had gone too. Now instead Sebastian would carry his father upstairs to the bathroom each week while the missus was gone, so William could have his weekly bath. When Sebastian was at home, that was. If he was away, Howel would sometimes carry the old chap up if he had time, or William would have to make do with bed baths administered by his adoring wife. Annik Dower knew that it went sorely against the grain for her master. Until his health had failed he had been such an energetic man. His illness had also greatly affected his wife, and sometimes, even more of late, Mrs Dower wondered if she was quite right in the head. Still, as she often told herself, she wasn’t paid to wonder so she just got on with whatever she was asked to do.

  Now she could hear their voices through the sitting-room door, which Marion had absentmindedly left ajar, and she detected a note of irritation in William’s voice as he said, ‘You really must stop giving him money now, Marion. Our finances will not stretch to funding Sebastian’s gambling habits. He’s a grown man! If he gets himself into a mess in future, he must get himself out of it.’

  Mrs Dower hurried on, her mind working overtime. It sounded as if Sebastian had been tapping his mother for cash yet again. It didn’t surprise her. She’d never known him do a hard day’s work in his entire life, which was why she’d been so surprised when he joined up. Not that it had lasted long; he’d been back at home in no time with his wounded hand. She had strong suspicions about that injury. After all, how easy would it have been to do that to himself? It was just the sort of stunt he would get up to – although she had no proof, of course. It was just something he had said to Howel one day that had rung alarm bells.

  ‘Worth losing a couple of fingers to be safe back home again, isn’t it?’ he had sneered. ‘But I can still hold my head up because unlike you, at least I went and showed willing!’

  She knew that his comments had been meant as a slur on Howel, who had stayed at home to keep growing food for the country; without farmers, everyone would starve! She also knew that the words had cut Howel to the quick. But then he’d always been a snide little sod, had Master Seb. His mother had ruined him shamelessly and now she was reaping the rewards.

  The family were just finishing their Sunday dinner when there was a loud hammering on the front door. The sound echoed through to the kitchen where Briony and the children were eating their own meal, and Briony quickly rose from the table to go and answer it, wondering who it could be. They didn’t get many visitors at The Heights, as she’d discovered since living there. Mrs Dower had gone back home at Briony’s insistence. Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, she had reminded Annik jokingly, and she was more than capable of clearing up on her own.

  She opened the front door to find a respectably dressed middle-aged couple standing on the step. ‘Hello, may I help you?’ she asked politely.

  ‘I doubt it, but that devil who lives here probably can!’ the woman snapped as she clutched her handbag in front of her.

  ‘If you’re speaking about Sebastian, I’m afraid he’s eating his dinner,’ Briony explained, sensing trouble.

  ‘Dinner or not, we want to see him now!’

  Before Briony’s astonished eyes the couple swept past her and into the hallway, demanding, ‘So where is he, the scoundrel?’

  She opened her mouth to reply just as the dining-room door opened and her grandmother appeared, closely followed by Sebastian.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Pascoe. What are you doing here and what do you want?’ Marion Frasier asked pompously.

  ‘You know what we want.’ The woman was tearful now as she pointed a quavering finger towards Sebastian. ‘We want him to tell us where our girl is. She would have had his baby by now, but we still haven’t heard a single word from her – and if we don’t get some answers today we’re going to the police. We’ve seen neither hide nor hair of her since the day she came here to tell you she was carrying his child, and there’s something not right.’

  ‘How ridiculous!’ Marion spat. ‘The girl was more than amply paid to leave and take the bastard she was carrying away from here. I’m still not convinced that it was my son’s anyway. She just smelled money and latched on to Sebastian for an easy pay-out.’

  ‘How dare you!’ The man’s face had turned dangerously red and his fists were clenched as he stared at Sebastian. ‘Our Jenna was a good girl. Never gave us a moment’s trouble she didn’t, not till she got tangled up with him! Even if she had decided to leave, why wouldn’t she have come home to collect her things first?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Marion shrugged carelessly. ‘She was probably too ashamed to face you again after the generous payment I gave her. And it was on condition that she never showed her face around here again,’ she added spitefully.

  The couple seemed to deflate like balloons then and Briony felt sorry for them. They were clearly very worried about their daughter and what had become of her.

  ‘Don’t you have any idea at all where she might be? We just to need to know that she’s all right.’ The woman stared hopefully towards Sebastian, but he shook his head unfeelingly.

  ‘No idea at all. And as far as I’m concerned it’s good riddance to bad rubbish. She was the village tart. The child she was carrying could have belonged to any number of men. Now please leave or it will be me phoning the police. This is harassment.’

  The woman opened her mouth to protest but then seemed to think better of it as her husband took her elbow and steered her towards the door, his face set in a grim expression.

  ‘You haven’t heard the last of this yet,’ he said quietly and then they were gone and Briony closed the door behind them.

  ‘You, girl. Don’t just stand there gawping like the village idiot! Get back to the kitchen,’ her grandmother ordered before disappearing back into the dining room. Briony was deeply disturbed by the scene she had just witnessed. She felt desperately sorry for the couple who had just left and could only imagine how worried they must be about their daughter. It took her some considerable time to put the incident out of her mind.

  *

  It was the following morning as Briony was lugging the washing out to the laundry room that a figure appeared around the side of the house – and when she saw who it was, her mouth gaped open.

  ‘Ernie!’ The washing basket landed on the cobbles spewing dirty laundry all over the place as she raced towards him, her face alight. ‘I can’t believe it. I thought I was seeing things for a moment,’ she gabbled delightedly as he caught her to him. ‘But what are you doing here?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I’ve got some leave so I thought I’d come and see you. Your mum gave me the address and I got into Penzance late last night.’

  ‘But where did you stay?’

  ‘Oh, I found a little place that does B&B down by the harbour so I’ve booked in for a couple of nights.’

  She felt guilty, thinking of all the empty rooms at The Heights, but her grandmother would not have welcomed any of her friends anyway. She and the children were only there on sufferance so perhaps it was for the best.

  ‘Come on in,’ she grinned. ‘The children are all at school but you’ll get to see them later. Meantime you can tell me what you’ve been doing and about everything that’s going on at home.’ She noticed he was limping slightly and he’d lost a lot of weight, but other than that he looked fine and ver
y handsome in his uniform although his hair looked as if it had been shorn.

  He followed her into the kitchen and let out a low whistle. ‘Crikey, this is some house, ain’t it?’ he said. ‘I reckon we could fit the whole terrace back ’ome into this place.’

  Briony nodded as she filled the kettle. ‘You’re right, but most of the rooms here are shut up now.’

  The words had barely left her lips when Sebastian strode into the kitchen. ‘I thought I saw someone coming up the drive. Who’s this then?’ He eyed Ernie with an unfriendly expression.

  ‘This is Ernest Brindley. He lives next door to us back at home,’ Briony explained.

  Ernie was about to say ‘How do you do?’ and proffer his hand when Sebastian sneered: ‘Huh! So we’ve got to entertain your friends as well as have you lot under our feet now, have we? We’re not a charity, you know.’

  Ernie fumbled in his pocket and threw a silver sixpence onto the table. ‘That should cover the cost of a cup of tea,’ he answered scathingly and had the satisfaction of seeing Sebastian flush a dull brick-red.

  Sebastian turned his attention back to Briony then as he told her, ‘Mother would like tea – as soon as you can find the time, of course.’ The last words were loaded with sarcasm but he didn’t wait for a response.

  Once he was out of the room, Ernie looked towards Briony and asked, ‘What the hell was all that about?’

  ‘Oh, I’m expected to earn our keep by cooking and cleaning whilst we’re here.’

  ‘You’re what?’ Ernie scratched his head in bewilderment. He had expected to arrive to find Briony and the children living the life of Riley, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

  She quickly told him about where she and the children were sleeping – in the servants’ quarters – and of the work she was expected to do, and saw his jaw tighten.

  ‘But that’s bloody disgraceful! You’re their granddaughter, for Christ’s sake, not their skivvy!’

  Briony shrugged. ‘I don’t mind really. Everything has changed since Mum lived here. Most of the male staff have joined up, and between you and me I don’t think the family are quite as well off as they used to be. The war has affected everyone. Sebastian is worried that me and the children are after his inheritance, which is absolute rubbish. The second this war is over, I shall be back home like a shot and I won’t give this place, or my uncle for that matter, another thought. In the meanwhile though, the children are safer here than they would be at home, that’s how I’m able to put up with it.’

  Ernie sighed as Briony carried a heavy brown teapot to the table then hurried away again to put a silver tea set on a tray ready for the drawing room.

  Once she had served her grandparents with their mid-morning tea and biscuits, she and Ernie sat at the table and chatted as if they had never been apart. The time seemed to fly by. The washing she had dropped was blown about the cobbles, but Briony didn’t care. She intended to spend every second she could with Ernie while he was there, and if her grandmother and Sebastian didn’t like it they could lump it as far as she was concerned. She made a large cottage pie for lunch and after serving the family she and Ernie sat in the kitchen to eat theirs.

  ‘I shall leave you some money for this,’ Ernie told her as he tucked in, thinking what a good little cook she had become.

  ‘Oh no you won’t!’ Briony was indignant but then she confided, ‘That’s one good thing about living here. There seems to be no shortage of food like there is back at home.’ She then told him all about Mabel and he grinned as she described how foul the little East Ender’s language could be.

  ‘I’ve no doubt you’ll whip that young madam into shape,’ he said.

  Eventually, Briony asked after Ruth and her mother, and he was cautious in his reply. The way he looked at it, there was no point in telling her the truth – that her mother was drunk half of the time now. Briony could do nothing about it whilst she was stuck out here in the back of beyond, and she would only worry herself sick if she knew, so he chose his words carefully and told her that as far as he was aware, Lois was doing fine.

  ‘Me and Ruth went to the pictures the other night to see Pinocchio,’ he said to change the subject and Briony chuckled.

  ‘But I thought that was for children?’

  ‘We didn’t ’ave much choice, but we didn’t ’alf miss ’aving you with us.’

  Their eyes locked and Briony dragged hers away. It wouldn’t do to let Ernie know how much she thought of him, because it would break Ruth’s heart.

  ‘I notice there’s a little cinema down in Penzance. Is there any chance we could go and see whatever’s on there tonight?’ he asked. ‘I ’ave to get the train back first thing in the morning.’

  Briony’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been anywhere without the children since arriving at The Heights, and the thought of a night out was very tempting. ‘I suppose I could ask Mrs Dower if she’d come and keep her eye on the children,’ she answered doubtfully. ‘But now it’s time to fetch them from school. Would you like to come with me? By the time we get back, Mrs Dower should be here to tackle the evening meal and I’m sure she’d like to meet you.’

  He nodded as he rose from the table and soon they were on their way with Briony pointing out places of interest to him as they walked. ‘That’s St Michael’s Mount over there,’ she said.

  Ernie took a deep breath of the clean sea air. ‘It’s really beautiful ’ere,’ he said. ‘Sort of rugged ain’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes. The children love it.’

  Alfie and Sarah squealed with delight when they saw Ernie waiting at the school gates for them. They launched themselves at him so enthusiastically that they almost overbalanced him.

  ‘How you doin’, little ’uns?’ he asked affectionately as he bent to their level and gave them a hug.

  Mabel shrank into Briony’s side and stared at him suspiciously. But then as Briony was fast discovering, she wasn’t keen on men at all.

  ‘We’re all right,’ Alfie said cheerfully, gazing at Ernie’s uniform with awe. ‘But we miss our mum.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Ernie’s face was straight now as Sarah smiled at him shyly. ‘And ’ow’s my best girl?’

  Sarah giggled and took his hand, and soon they were following the cliff path back to The Heights. The sea was choppy and the skies overhead were heavy with the threat of rain, and yet it still managed to look breathtakingly beautiful. Alfie skipped ahead before suddenly coming to an abrupt stop and pointing down to the beach below.

  ‘What are them Army chaps doing?’ he asked.

  As Briony and Ernie came abreast of him, Ernie said, ‘It looks like they’re puttin’ rolls of barbed wire along the beach.’

  ‘Aw, what are they doing that for? We won’t be able to go an’ paddle in the sea,’ Alfie complained.

  Briony and Ernie exchanged a worried glance, both thinking the same thing. But not wishing to frighten the children, Ernie made light of it, saying, ‘Well, now the weather is gettin’ colder yer wouldn’t want to paddle in the sea anyway, and there’s still plenty o’ sand for you to build sandcastles on.’

  ‘Hmm, s’pose so.’ Alfie kicked at a stone, sending it hurtling over the edge of the cliff. ‘But they’d better come back an’ move it before next summer.’ Some gulls that were nesting on the cliff face squawked in protest and flapped into the sky.

  ‘Why do you think they are doing it?’ Briony whispered when the children had walked on in front of them again, staring at the points of the wire that were glinting evilly in the fading light. The rolls were like a scar on the landscape; even here they couldn’t completely escape the war.

  ‘Probably because the Luftwaffe ’ave been targeting Falmouth, and in case they decide to invade via the sea,’ Ernie answered tensely. ‘It’s just sea defences. But don’t worry; you should be all right here. I’m sure they’re doin’ it just to be on the safe side.’

  She hoped that he was right and tried to keep her smile in place, but the
sight of the soldiers had seriously unnerved her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Just as Briony had told him, Mrs Dower was in the kitchen when they got back. The housekeeper greeted him warmly when Briony introduced Ernie, thinking what a dashing figure he cut in his RAF uniform.

  ‘It’s about time she had a bit of company her own age,’ she told him, smiling fondly at Briony. ‘The poor little maid has done nothing but work since she got here.’

  ‘Ah well, in that case perhaps I might ask a favour of you?’ Ernie said, licking his lips nervously.

  ‘Ask away, lad.’

  ‘I was wondering if er . . . if you would perhaps watch the children tonight while I take Briony to the cinema. We’d only be gone for a couple of hours or so and I’d bring her straight back as soon as the film finished.’

  ‘I’d be glad to, young man. It would do her the world of good to get out for a while,’ Mrs Dower replied. ‘But now if you’re staying for dinner, you can help lay the table. You know what they say – idle hands make work for the devil!’ She winked at him and he grinned as he took off his cap and set to, pleased to know that Briony had at least one friend here.

  It was nice to walk down the hill that evening with a whole three hours to herself to look forward to. She had put on her best dress – a cream wool one which fell just below her knees and clung to her curves. It was another of her mother’s cast-offs and very plain, but Briony was naturally pretty and the simplicity of the style suited her. She had also put on her best high-heeled court shoes and her red coat, which Ernie thought showed off the sheen of her long black hair. She was even prettier than he had remembered and he had to quell the urge to take her hand as they strolled along. There was a chill wind blowing off the sea which sent Briony’s hair flapping out behind her like a cloak and brought colour into her cheeks.

  ‘I wonder what will be on?’ she asked chirpily as they headed for the Savoy cinema.

  Ernie grinned. ‘Goodbye, Mr Chips featurin’ Robert Donat and Greer Garson,’ he informed her. ‘I ’ad a look at the board outside before coming up to the ’ouse this morning. I’m afraid it’s a year out o’ date, but yer won’t mind, will yer?’