A Grave Inheritance

by Renshaw, Anne

  Anwen ignored his flattery and carried on. ‘Ellen’s not ill physically maybe, I grant you, but her nerves are shot to pieces. Mark my words, George, and remember them if anything should happen to Amy. The girl won’t make it back to Woodbury.’

  George looked at his wife aghast. ‘Amy’s not that poorly, is she?’

  ‘Yes and getting worse by the minute. She’s in pain and losing a lot of blood. She won’t eat, no matter how much I tempt her with my shepherd’s pie. I made jam tarts especially but she won’t touch them.’ Anwen pointed to the plates covered with tea towels on her sideboard, her agitation obvious. With much emotion she added, ‘Amy won’t let go of Alice. Ellen had to pry her fingers from the baby to put it in the cart ready for the journey home. And Amy has no milk to feed Grace. She is so weak, George, and how will she get her strength back if she won’t eat? After all’s said and done, the girl is a still a child herself. Have a word with Ellen, please, George.’

  ‘I’ll try, but if Amy wants to go home with her mother, there isn’t much we can do about it. But it won’t do any harm to voice our concerns,’ George said and then asked, ‘Do you think Ellen will manage to pass Grace off as her own?’

  Anwen shook her curls. ‘We’ll have to see. I wonder what kind of life the little one will have, especially if she inherits the Deverell red hair. Tongues are bound to wag then.’

  Harry’s eyes widened as he listened. Quietly he stepped away from the door and returned to the front of the house. He stood by Lillian and looking up at his sister he said solemnly, ‘I know a secret.’

  Lillian took Harry’s hand and replied, ‘I do too.’

  ***

  It had been decided months ago that after giving birth, Amy would stay with her aunt and uncle. Everyone had agreed that it was the most practical thing to do. But now, Amy longed to be back in Woodbury and at home in Primrose Cottage. The loss of baby Alice had left Amy distraught. She felt tired and listless, and any movement was an effort. Amy worried what would become of her back in Woodbury, but as much as her aunt and uncle tried to persuade her to stay at Mill Lodge, Amy was adamant, she wanted to go home.

  Amy managed to clamber out of bed and slowly began to dress; slipping on a frock Anwen had given her as a present. Amy had never owned anything so pretty. The rose-coloured fabric wasn’t at all practical and the pretty lace, edging the empire style bodice and cuffs, wouldn’t stay cream for long, but what did it matter, she mused. Amy slipped on her old boots and stood admiring herself in the cracked mirror propped up against the wall. She glanced out of the window and saw Lillian and Harry hovering near the cart, eager to be on their way. Amy watched the bags being loaded then saw Jim and her mother take the babies out and put them in the cart. Having been fed and made comfortable, Grace was blissfully asleep. Alice, in her eternal sleep, was at peace. ‘Twins, who would have thought, and yet I’m not really surprised,’ Amy murmured.

  Amy had lent Lillian her coat, so to keep warm she wrapped a crocheted blanket around her shoulders, and still unsteady on her feet, she slowly made her way downstairs.

  ‘The cart’s all ready and Jim’s made a bed in there for you,’ Ellen said, as Amy descended the stairs. Ellen guided Amy to a chair then glanced behind her to make sure her younger children were out of earshot. ‘We’re going to have to tell Lillian and Harry about Grace soon, especially Lillian. I think she’s already guessed and a bit put out that we haven’t told her.’

  ‘Yes, I agree, sharp little urchin that one. I’m sure she’ll be a marvellous help with the baby,’ Anwen added, walking into the sitting room.

  Amy nodded. ‘You’re right, and I think it only fair I tell them myself.’ She noticed the look of alarm on her mother’s face. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll not go into too much detail. I’ll tell them I’ve had a baby girl, named Grace, but because I’m not married we’re to pretend she’s our sister. I won’t mention Alice.’

  ‘Are you sure you won’t stay with us until you’re fully recovered, my dear. You know you’re more than welcome and I would love having your company,’ Anwen said again.

  Ellen chimed in. ‘Yes, Amy, it is entirely up to you, no one is forcing you to come home now.’

  ‘We have plenty of room as you well know,’ Anwen emphasised, hating the thought of putting Amy through more pain and discomfort.

  Ellen looked at her sister-in-law. Anwen didn’t understand how the thought of touching Leo’s spawn turned her stomach, or how much she already hated it. It was in Ellen’s interest that Amy returned home with them, but she couldn’t tell Anwen that.

  Anwen offered another solution. ‘What about leaving Harry with us then? He could help George with deliveries for a start and when he’s older begin a baker’s apprenticeship. Or let him stay until you’re settled. What do you think? Shall we look after Harry for you?’

  Ellen considered Anwen’s offer. ‘I suppose we could leave Harry. What he’ll have to say about it though, I don’t know.’

  ‘Let’s ask him, shall we?’ Anwen bustled out into the garden to call for the lad. Harry came in and stood obediently in front of his mother.

  ‘You wanted me, Mum?’ Harry asked worriedly. In his mind he frantically went through a list of things he’d done recently that could have landed him in trouble. Feeling guilty he fingered the cloth holding the treasure in his pocket

  ‘Amy has something to tell you first.’ Ellen pushed the boy towards his elder sister. Quietly, Amy told the young boy about Grace.

  ‘Okay,’ Harry said, not in the least surprised, and Amy hugged him to her.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Ellen said. ‘Also, Anwen has made the suggestion that you stay here at Mill Lodge for a while. If you like you can stay and learn to be a baker. If not, Jim will take you home to Woodbury in a month.’

  ‘Are you staying too, and Lillian?’ Harry asked his mother.

  ‘No. Your Mum, Amy and Lillian will have a lot on their hands, what with the new baby and such, so we thought, your uncle George and I, that you’d like to stay with us for a while.’ Anwen smiled kindly at Harry.

  ‘All right then,’ Harry replied seriously. ‘I’d better go and tell Lillian.’

  ‘Bring her in with you. And Harry, don’t mention anything yet. I want to tell Lillian myself,’ Amy called after his small, retreating back.

  Harry ran out of the house, making straight for the cart and looking for Jim.

  ‘Amy wants you,’ he puffed as he passed Lillian on his way, and then he collided with two long legs.

  ‘Hold up, you nearly ran me over.’ Jim slipped his hands under Harry’s armpits and picked him up to face him. ‘What’s the hurry, mate? Can’t wait to get home, eh?’ Jim laughed and put his little brother back down on the ground. Jim turned to return to the house.

  Harry tugged on Jim’s jacket. ‘I’m not coming home with you. Mum’s said I’ve got to stay with uncle George and learn to be a baker.’ Harry sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his cuff.

  ‘Is that right?’ Jim frowned. ‘And are you alright with that?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  The lad looked a bit down in the mouth, so Jim attempted to cheer him up. ‘I wouldn’t mind being a baker. Think of all those lovely cakes and pies, and fresh bread every day.’ Jim ruffled Harry’s hair affectionately.

  ‘I found this.’ Harry took his hand out of his pocket and handed Jim the piece of cloth holding the watch and signet ring.

  When Jim saw what lay in his palm his eyes opened wide. ‘Where and when did you find these?’ he asked sternly, turning the watch over. Jim read the initials, LD. engraved in the gold with a sickening knot in his stomach

  ‘There’s a hole in the hearth at home. I hide things in it sometimes, and I found them inside it.’ Harry inflected his head towards Jim’s hands.

  ‘When’

  ‘Err, I don’t remember exactly.’

  ‘Harry, it’s very important, you must remember. Try,’ Jim said firmly.

  ‘You and Dad were out loo
king for Laurence, you know, when he went missing, so it must have been after Mum and Amy came to stay with uncle George.’ Harry winced under Jim’s stare. ‘I know I should have told Dad, but he was always busy. Anyway, they are ours now, finders’ keepers.’

  Jim bent down, his face and eyes level with the small boy’s. ‘Harry, have you told anyone else about this, Lillian or Mum?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good, and you haven’t shown them to anyone else either?’

  ‘No, I never, only you, Jim,’ Harry replied, beginning to wish he hadn’t told Jim.

  ‘Okay then, I’m going to let you off, but you’ve got to promise me on Mum’s life that you won’t tell a soul, not even Lillian. It will be our secret, all right?’ Jim took a few coins out of his pocket and held them out to Harry. ‘Do you promise me, Harry?’

  ‘Yes, I promise, God’s honour,’ the young boy told his brother.

  Jim slipped the coins into Harry’s palm and took the bundle of treasure from his brother. ‘We’ll say no more about it then.’

  ***

  The journey back to Woodbury and Primrose Cottage was made more arduous by heavy rain. Up at the front Jim and Ellen sat huddled, wrapped in blankets, but the sleet pelted their faces and drenched their hats. Raindrops bounced off Belle’s harness, splashing onto her already sodden back, but undeterred the horse staggered on, stalwart, pulling them towards home.

  ‘We’ll have to find shelter soon,’ Ellen shouted to Jim above the roar of the rain.

  ‘We’ll pull in by Poulton. There are a few old derelict buildings near the road. We’ll shelter there until the wind dies down a bit.’

  Ellen looked at him sceptically. Ever the optimist she thought wryly, knowing it would be a good while before the storm blew itself out. In the back of the cart Lillian and Grace slept soundly. Amy lay with Alice in her arms, weeping softly.

  When eventually they arrived home and Jim opened the front door it cheered him to see a fire smouldering in the grate. A pot of stew steamed on the hearth, kept warm by the fire. Logs stood in a small pyramid inside the inglenook, brought in from the wood store. On the table a dozen eggs sat in an earthenware dish and beside the dish was a loaf of bread wrapped in a tea towel. A milk churn stood in a corner and he lifted the lid to inspect its contents, pleased to see frothy fresh milk. Dora and Daisy hadn’t let him down.

  Jim carried Amy and Alice upstairs and laid them down on the bed in Amy’s room. Her eyes fluttered open briefly then closed, and Jim left her to rest in peace. Back downstairs he banked up the fire in the kitchen, then lifted the pot of stew and set it on the table. Filling a kettle with water he put it on the stove to boil. Ellen stood with Lillian who was holding Grace, watching him. ‘Come and get warm,’ he encouraged, ushering them towards the fireplace. ‘We’ll have supper as soon as I’ve unloaded the cart and seen to Belle. That okay with you, Mum?’

  Ellen nodded dutifully and watched Jim bring their bags in and then leave the cottage. She could hear his words of comfort to the horse, then the clop of the horse’s hooves as she was led into her dry stable. Ellen looked around her kitchen. Saw her dresser with its display of crockery. She looked out of the window and saw the familiar stand of oak trees huddled together and beyond them the wood, dark and foreboding. Returning her gaze to the kitchen her eyes rested on John’s chair by the hearth and a sharp pain clutched her chest. Trembling, Ellen took a gasp of breath.

  ‘Sit down, Mum, you must be exhausted,’ Lillian said kindly. She stood by the fire, holding Grace in her arms. Seeing the look of anguish on her mother’s face she said, ‘If you’d like to hold Grace for a minute I’ll make us a pot of tea.’

  ‘All right,’ Ellen replied, pulling an upright chair out from under the kitchen table and sitting on it. Lillian placed Grace in Ellen’s arms.

  After making the tea and placing cups and saucers, milk and sugar, and the teapot on the table, Lillian took Grace from Ellen. ‘Will you pour the tea please, Mum?’ she asked.

  Enraptured by the child in her arms Lillian didn’t notice her mother’s sour look. Lillian sat on a stool near the fire and cuddled Grace to her. Gently rocking the baby to and fro she sang a lullaby. ‘Rock a bye baby, on the tree top, when the bough breaks the baby will fall, down will go baby and cradle and all. We’ll never let you fall,’ Lillian whispered softly, gently kissing the top of Grace’s tiny head.

  Amy worsened, the blood loss never ceasing. She still had no milk to feed Grace and no will to fight. She lay in bed, her life draining away.

  ‘She’ll be all right after a good rest and some food,’ Ellen insisted, refusing to send for the doctor despite Jim and Lillian’s continual pleading.

  But Amy wouldn’t eat and she wasn’t all right, and two days after arriving home, Amy passed away.

  ‘The villagers think Amy’s living in Wrexham, working as a domestic, so if we bury her and Alice in the garden, no one will be any the wiser,’ Ellen said to her grief stricken son, Jim.

  ‘We can’t do that, Mum. It’s against the law.’ Jim was horrified at the suggestion. He looked at his mother. She had become a stranger to him overnight.

  ‘Who’s to know? I’m not going to tell anyone, are you?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘Amy and Alice deserve a proper burial in the graveyard, in consecrated ground. Not shovelled anywhere like Dad,’ Jim persisted. ‘I can’t do it.’

  ‘What’s the alternative then?’ Ellen asked Jim, raising her voice and beginning to lose her temper. Amy’s passing had broken Ellen’s heart but she had shed not a tear. Ellen wouldn’t give in to her grief, and to outward appearances she seemed unaffected by the tragedy. Ellen was glad Alice had died. One less Deverell in the world was a blessing as far as she was concerned. And now, having Grace palmed on her to look after was bad enough, without Jim arguing the toss.

  To pacify his mother Jim eventually agreed, and that evening with a sinking heart he walked towards the cover of the trees. In his hand he carried a spade. He looked for a flat space free of roots and tried the soil. The spade hit the solid earth with a thud. Jim tried again, this time managing to slide the edge of the spade with full force into the soil. Every now and then the moon hid behind a cloud. Darkness fell like a blanket and with it a numbing despair. Jim looked around uneasily, isolation closing in. While waiting for the moon to show its face again, he mulled over recent events and what he and his mother were doing. Fear rose in his throat like bile, and he fought off the quiver of panic that threatened to overcome his courage. Between the trees he saw a glimmer of light from the kitchen window. Feeling wretched he choked back a sob, and pulling out a handkerchief from his trouser pocket he wiped the sweat and tears from his eyes. Suddenly the moon appeared, lighting the clearing again, and Jim continued digging.

  While Jim worked in the garden Ellen stood in the kitchen, looking out for him. She wished Jim hadn’t put the makeshift coffin on top of the kitchen table. Nervously she twisted her fingers around the edge of her cardigan, wringing the wool out of shape. Where was he? Why was he taking so long? she thought. If she stayed in the kitchen much longer, Ellen knew she’d lift the lid and look inside, unable to resist the temptation. So Ellen decided to check on Lillian again.

  Upstairs the bedroom door stood half open and she stopped outside to listen. Lillian was in Jim’s bed against the far wall. Ellen crept over to see if she was asleep and her younger daughter’s questioning eyes stared back at her.

  Lillian rose on one elbow and whispered, ‘Is Amy all right, Mum?’ She couldn’t understand why she had to sleep in Jim’s room and not in her own bed alongside Amy.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it in the morning,’ Ellen answered, smoothing Lillian’s hair away from her face. ‘Go to sleep now, there’s a good girl.’ Ellen tucked in the covers around the small shape and left the bedroom.

  Across the landing Ellen stopped outside Amy’s bedroom where Grace lay, hopefully still asleep. Ellen held her breath listening for the slightest sound, her hand hovering o
ver the door handle. All was quiet and Ellen turned away. She couldn’t face going in. Not yet.

  Jim returned to the cottage while his mother was still upstairs. He washed the grime from his hands in the enamel sink, his eyes drawn to the coffin.

  To protect Amy’s delicate skin from scuffing on splinters Jim had placed an old sheet inside the box. His dear sister lay inside, her skin palest marble and as cold. Dressed in her new frock, her hair in folds against her chest, she held her dead baby, Alice, in the crook of her arm. The bundle of small bones was dressed in an old petticoat of Lillian’s, and surplus material cascaded around its tiny feet. Alice’s tiny head, for a few moments warm and pink with life, was now grey, and the only touches of colour were streaks of blood in her hair. Jim took nails and a hammer from a toolbox beside the back door and began to fasten down the coffin lid.

  Ellen heard the hammering from upstairs and her stomach lurched with each blow. She walked into the kitchen a few minutes later and stood beside her son at the table. Jim’s head hung low, bowed in prayer. Ellen didn’t disturb him but after a few minutes she lit another oil lamp and, averting her eyes, tugged on the sleeve of Jim’s jacket.

  ‘You ready?’ Ellen spoke gruffly, disguising her emotion. Jim stirred and slung a rope around one end of the coffin to make a handle. Ellen clutched the rope and yanked it, sliding the coffin forward. Jim took hold of the other end before it reached the edge of the table and with Ellen leading the way they carried the coffin outside and down the path towards the trees. Stretching her free arm, Ellen lifted the lamp as high as she could to light their way.

  Neither of them noticed Lillian’s small white face pressed up against the bedroom window, watching.

  Chapter 29

  Because of the contents of Lillian’s diaries, Amelia and Grace thought it only right to show them to Sophia before involving the police in their new found knowledge, and when, on their next visit, Grace entered Sophia’s room she wasn’t able to resist a sly look into the corner. It was empty.