Cissie eventually pushed her away and said bossily, ‘Come on then, there’s no point in cryin’ over spilt milk. It’s time we were getting’ on wi’ things if we’re to make this place into a home again.’ And she marched away as Sunday watched her go, thinking whatever else had befallen her, she was truly lucky to have such a wonderful friend.
Two days later, Mr Dixon informed her that Treetops was now officially on the market. Kathy seemed too wrapped up in misery to care but Livvy was still outraged at the thought of having to leave her childhood home.
‘It’s just not fair!’ she ranted to Cissie in the kitchen one evening after work.
Cissie shrugged. ‘That’s one thing you’ll discover as yer get a bit older, pet,’ she said wryly. ‘Life ain’t always fair an’ yer just have to take what it throws at yer an’ get on wi’ things.’ But deep down she truly empathised with the girl. She knew how much she loved her home and wished heartily that things could have been different.
Early in February, Mr Dixon visited again, but this time he hoped with what they would consider good news.
‘I got to thinking,’ he explained as he and Sunday sat in the day room at Treetops. ‘A very good friend of mine who lives in Yorkshire lost his wife some two years ago and he’s staying with me at present. As it happens, he has shares in some of the local businesses here and he mentioned last night over dinner that he was thinking of moving. The house he owns holds too many memories now that his wife is gone, apparently, and he wants a fresh start. He’s already sold his place so he and his grandson, who lives at home with him, are looking for a suitable place here. I mentioned Treetops to him, and he said it sounded just like what he is looking for. So … I was wondering – he goes home the day after tomorrow. Would you like to show him around here before he leaves to see if it would be suitable for them?’
Suddenly the prospect of seeing someone else living in Treetops was very real and Sunday gulped. But then she nodded. She was looking far from her usual tidy self as she and Cissie had been busy in the lodge painting and she appeared to have got more on herself than on the walls.
‘Yes, I could do that,’ she forced herself to say with a weak smile. ‘Do you think eleven o’clock in the morning would suit him?’
‘I’m sure it would,’ Mr Dixon assured her. ‘And don’t worry, he’s aware of the price and doesn’t think it’s unreasonable. His name is John Willerby – he’s a very nice chap and I’m sure you’ll like him.’
Long after he had gone Sunday sat staring dully into space wondering what her beloved Tom would make of all this. She was sure that he would have been heartbroken but what was done was done and all she could do now was try to get on with things to the best of her ability.
Chapter Twelve
At precisely eleven o’clock the next morning a smart automobile pulled up outside Treetops and a very presentable gentleman stepped out and stood for a few seconds surveying the front of the property as Sunday peeped at him through the snow-white lace curtains. He was very tall and distinguished-looking with thick, silvery grey hair and a small, neatly trimmed beard. Sunday thought he might be about the same age as herself, but she didn’t have long to think on it because within seconds he had rung the doorbell and after hastily checking her hair in the tall, gilt mirror in the hallway she hurried to answer it.
She had made an effort with her appearance today and with her hair twisted into a neat French roll on the back of her head and wearing the smart two-piece blue costume that matched the colour of her eyes, she looked every inch the lady of the manor as she greeted him.
‘How do you do. You must be Mr Willerby?’
His eyes were openly admiring as he shook her hand warmly and she noticed that they were kind and friendly with a twinkle in them. For some reason she had convinced herself that she wasn’t going to like him. He was possibly about to be the new owner of her home, after all, but she found it very difficult not to.
‘Welcome to Treetops, Mr Willerby. Do come in.’
As he stepped past her into the hall he smiled. ‘Why, this is quite charming,’ he said appreciatively, and she found herself smiling back.
‘Thank you. Perhaps we should start upstairs and work our way down?’ she suggested. ‘Then when you have seen the house, George, a dear friend of mine who has lived here with his wife for many years, will show you around the stables and let you see the horses.’
‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’
She took his hat and hung it on the coat rack and they made their way upstairs. Almost two hours later Cissie brought a tray of tea into the day room and, while Sunday poured for them both, he told her, ‘The house is just what I’m looking for, Mrs Branning. I shall go and see the agent who is in charge of the sale directly I leave here. And I understand from our mutual friend Mr Dixon that we will be neighbours?’
‘Yes.’ Sunday frowned as she concentrated on straining the tea into the cups. It suddenly all felt very real. ‘My daughters and I will be living in the lodge by the gates, but I assure you you’ll have no interference from us.’
‘I shall be highly delighted to have you as a neighbour,’ he assured her with a grin. ‘And you will be very welcome to interfere any time you wish.’
‘So?’ Cissie asked her the second he had left.
Sunday smiled, a sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘It appears that the property is sold, Cissie, so soon, hopefully, I shall be be debt-free and be able to pay you back as well. And I have to say Mr Willerby does seem to be a very nice gentleman.’
Cissie grinned and nudged her with her arm, ‘Ah, he’s a bit of all right an’ all, ain’t he?’ she laughed. ‘Cor, all that lovely silver hair! A bit different to my George wi’ his monk’s cut, bless him.’
Sunday smiled back, but the smile soon faded and she became solemn. ‘Now I just have to tell the girls,’ she fretted. ‘And I have an idea they’re not going to be too pleased at all to hear that their home has been sold!’
Cissie became solemn too as she nodded in agreement.
As it happened, Kathy showed little reaction to the news at all. She didn’t seem to have any interest in anything, even the horses, since Ben had gone, but Livvy was a different kettle of fish altogether and flew into a tantrum.
‘This is all Ben’s fault; how could he do this to us?’ she raged as tears flooded down her cheeks. She had been praying for a miracle that would prevent them having to leave but now it seemed that it was inevitable.
Sunday tried to wrap her arms about her but Livvy slapped them away and, turning, she fled to her room vowing she would never forgive him for what he had done, never!
One evening towards the end of February John Willerby paid Sunday another visit. Kathy let him in and sullen-faced showed him into the day room where Sunday was sitting beside the fire reading. Livvy had gone to the pictures to watch Fire Over England starring Vivien Leigh – one of her favourite actresses – and Laurence Olivier, and so Sunday had expected to spend a quiet evening alone. Kathy was no company anymore and crept about the house like a ghost when she wasn’t locked away in her room or working.
‘Ah, Mr Willerby, do come in.’ Sunday quickly put her book down and rose to meet him, looking mildly surprised.
‘I do apologise for calling in unannounced,’ he said, taking his hat off. ‘But I was here on business and just wished to tell you that the solicitor who is handling the sale of the house thinks all the paperwork should be completed within the next couple of weeks. Of course, if you haven’t got the lodge quite ready to move in to by then there is no rush whatsoever. I also wanted to say please take whatever furniture you wish. I shall be bringing certain pieces of my own anyway so I’m sure I shall have far too much.’
‘That’s very generous of you, thank you.’ It had been agreed that he would buy the house and all its contents but seeing as the furniture that had been left in the lodge was not salvageable it would take a great weight off her mind knowing that she would not have to rus
h out to scout around for second-hand pieces. Not that I will take advantage of his good nature, she told herself. Much of the furniture in the house would be far too big and grand to fit into the lodge anyway but she would be grateful for the beds and some smaller pieces.
‘Please also take all of your pots and pans,’ he went on. ‘My cook and maid will be coming with me so they will be bringing anything they need from the other house. I would also be very grateful if you would tell Mr and Mrs Jenkins that should they wish to continue their posts here, be it full-time or part-time, I would be most grateful. This house is rather too large for one maid to manage on her own so I’m sure she would welcome the help.’
William Dixon had told him of Sunday’s plight, and he felt heartsore for her.
Sunday’s pride was at the fore now and she felt utterly humiliated, but she forced a smile before saying, ‘I shall be sure to pass on your message. Would you like a drink, Mr Willerby? Perhaps a brandy or a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘Thank you, but no. I have no wish to take up any more of your time. I just thought that as I was in the vicinity I would pop in and bring you up to date. And please … call me John.’
Sunday flushed. She could never picture herself addressing him as such so she merely inclined her head, her back straight.
‘Thank you and please let me know the date you wish to move in.’
‘I shall. Goodbye for now, Mrs Branning.’ And with that he turned and left, leaving Sunday all of a dither. Suddenly it all seemed heartbreakingly real. Very soon now she would be forced to leave the home where she and Tom had known such happiness and the pain she felt as she contemplated it was almost physical.
When she passed on Mr Willerby’s message to Cissie the next morning her friend paused and narrowed her eyes.
‘Hm … I dare say George would be happy to still be involved with the horses even if it’s only part-time,’ she mused. ‘Him an’ your Tom bred some of ’em an’ raised ’em from tiny foals so I know he’s very fond of ’em. An’ me … well, I suppose if I ain’t got to do the cookin’ anymore I’d consider helpin’ with the cleanin’ part-time. I’ll have to give it some thought, but it was good of him to ask. I suppose we have to think ourselves lucky that if this has got to happen then at least it’s a nice gentleman who’s buyin’ the place. But if as he says the move is imminent then I reckon we should start gettin’ some o’ the stuff you want to take down to the lodge. It’s all ready now. George finished whitewashin’ the last bedroom last night an’ it looks a treat.’
‘I’d never have managed it without you and George,’ Sunday said quietly as tears burned at the back of her eyes. ‘You’ll never know how grateful I am to you both, Cissie.’
Embarrassed, Cissie flapped her hand at her. ‘Eh, get away wi’ yer! Look at all you’ve done fer me an’ George over the years. Now come on, we’ll have a walk round and decide what yer want to take. George can move it in the trap.’
As they walked about the house Sunday felt as if her heart was breaking. Each and every piece of furniture had been chosen either by herself or her mother and, until now, she hadn’t realised how hard it was going to be to leave everything behind. Between them they chose a number of smaller pieces that would look well in the lodge and shortly after lunchtime George came and began to load them onto the cart, while the old pony they used to pull it stood contentedly nuzzling on a nose bag.
When they arrived at what was to be her new home, Sunday looked about. They had all spent every spare minute on it and now that it had been scrubbed from top to bottom and given a new coat of paint it looked entirely different. George had burned all the old furniture on a bonfire and had even swept the chimney so at least they would be cosy there. Even so, Sunday’s heart was heavy as they began to carry the furniture in and position it where she wanted it. It was going to be very hard to see someone else in the home that she loved, but Ben’s betrayal had ensured that it could be no other way and, in that moment, she almost hated him.
Chapter Thirteen
Livvy flew into a rage again when Sunday informed her that the move was imminent.
‘If only you’d reported Ben to the police and told them what he’d done they might have caught him by now and we might have got our money back!’ she stormed at her mother, as if everything that had happened was her fault.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I know how hard this is for you, but I couldn’t do that.’ Sunday reached out to her but Livvy backed away, her lovely blue eyes blazing in her pale face. ‘Your father would turn in his grave if I did that. He is your brother, remember,’ Sunday pointed out, but Livvy was inconsolable. She loved her home and the thought of losing it was like a knife in her heart.
‘I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to us!’ she snapped, and turning on her heel she slammed out of the room.
Kathy was sitting at the table, her eyes dull and Sunday looked at her imploringly. ‘You understand why I can’t report him, don’t you?’
Kathy shrugged. Her whole world had fallen apart when Ben left but that wasn’t the only thing that was troubling her. She had now missed two of her courses and for the last few mornings she’d had to dash to the bathroom to be sick the second she lifted her feet over the side of the bed. Being a nurse, she was only too aware of what it could mean, and she was terrified. Her mother had so much to cope with at present, so how would she feel if she were to tell her that on top of everything else, she was also going to have to cope with the shame of having an illegitimate grandchild as well?
She pushed the thought away. Perhaps it’s just the upset that has caused all this, she tried to persuade herself, but the niggling doubt was there in the back of her mind all the time now.
‘Kathy … did you hear me?’ Her mother’s voice jerked Kathy’s thoughts back to the present.
‘Yes … I heard you, but it will be all right. Ben will come back, you’ll see.’ She had to hold on to that thought otherwise she would go mad.
‘Right then!’ Cissie stood back and rubbed her hands together with a satisfied smile.
It was early in March and she and Sunday had just spent the morning hanging curtains in the lodge. Cissie had found them stored in a trunk in the attic in Treetops and, now that she had cut them down to size and laboriously stitched them to fit the windows, they looked grand. They were chintz in shades of pink and red with pretty roses all over them and they made the rooms feel warm and cosy. The fires they had been lighting daily had dispersed the damp and now the three bedrooms each boasted a bed, a small wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a washstand complete with jugs and bowls.
‘They look lovely. You’ve done a wonderful job on them, Cissie,’ Sunday answered gratefully. But as pretty as the place now looked, she knew that actually living there was going to be a massive lifestyle change for herself and the girls. They were all used to the convenience of an indoor bathroom for a start and she dreaded to think how they would cope with just a jug and bowl to wash in, let alone a tin bath!
As if she could read her thoughts, Cissie patted her arm. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she told her. ‘An’ it’s still bigger than my cottage.’ She was now in the process of making the beds and, hoping to take Sunday’s mind off things, she told her, ‘My George reckons this civil war in Spain could affect us eventually.’
‘Really?’ Sunday frowned. ‘I don’t see how something that’s happening all that way away could.’
‘Well, George ain’t usually wrong,’ Cissie said glumly, then changing the subject she tucked the last blanket in and said, ‘I reckon that’s about it. There’s just yours an’ the girls’ clothes to come now. We could perhaps get them to start bringing them here this evenin’. Saturday will be here afore yer know it.’
Saturday was the day they had agreed John Willerby, his grandson and his staff would all move into Treetops and Sunday was alternately looking forward to it and dreading it. Half of her just wanted the move to be over, while the other half wondered how she would bear it.
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br /> ‘Hm, I suppose we’d better head back and get some lunch on the go now then,’ Sunday said as she straightened the eiderdown on her bed. In the bedrooms she and Cissie had scrubbed the floorboards to within an inch of their lives and laid down rugs that they’d also found in the attic back at the house. Some of them were a little threadbare but they certainly softened the rooms and made it more comfortable underfoot. Since living at Treetops Sunday had rarely ventured into the attics but when she did, she had discovered that it was like an Aladdin’s cave.
Now as they set off on the windy walk back along the drive, Sunday pulled her coat collar up and asked Cissie, ‘Do you think Kathy is all right? She looks so pale and since Ben has been gone, she rarely speaks unless she’s spoken to. She just gets up, goes to work then comes home and goes to bed. She isn’t eating properly either and I’m getting really worried about her.’
Cissie kept her eyes straight ahead as she answered cautiously, ‘Well, she always were the closest to Ben, weren’t she? She’s bound to feel it.’ In truth she’d had her suspicions about what might be wrong with Kathy for the last couple of weeks but with all that Sunday had on her plate at present she hadn’t dared to voice them. Best let them get into the lodge first and then face each problem as it came.
That night Sunday, Kathy and Livvy took their clothes down to the lodge, although Livvy complained bitterly all the way.
‘I can’t believe we’ve been reduced to this level,’ she ranted miserably. ‘Ben has a lot to answer for. I just hope he never knows a day’s peace after what he’s done! My friends must all be laughing at us.’ She rammed her clothes into the wardrobe and dropped onto the edge of the bed in a sulk.
Up until this point Sunday had been as patient as a saint but now she turned on Livvy with her eyes flashing fire. ‘If your friends can laugh at what’s happened to us then they’re not true friends!’ she snapped. ‘And furthermore, instead of feeling sorry for yourself all the time, my girl, you should give a thought to how hard me, Cissie and George have worked to make this place comfortable for you. It’s difficult I know but at least we’re not being turfed out onto the streets!’
Time to Say Goodbye Page 8