by M K Jones
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Sorry, you don’t have children.”
“Don’t apologise. You’ll know when I’m offended, and I’m not. If I’m here when your son gets home I’ll take him out for a spin.”
“Fantastic! He’ll be thrilled. Now, would you like to see the house, or eat first?”
“Let’s eat. I’ve got more information for you.”
Maggie led Zelah down the garden to the edge of the canal. Lunch was set on a table under newly erected rose pergola.
“It’s warm in the sun today. Eventually the roses will make a canopy over the top, but this year it’s not going to give much shade. Are you OK being in the open? Sorry about the smell. I think there may be a problem with the drainage in the canal.”
“It’s fine. I can’t smell anything. This is lovely.” Zelah had been looking around the garden as they walked down. Seating herself in view of the canal, she breathed in a waft of lilac.
“Did you do all of this?” she asked, sweeping her arm around, when Maggie came back with a tray of food and drinks.
“Most of it was here, hidden under a mass of weeds and five-foot-high grass. It’ll need a bit of TLC, but it’s got potential. I love gardening.”
“So, what’s up?” Zelah asked as they began to eat. “You were grumpy this morning. And now.”
“I had a job interview this morning.”
“Oh. Do you have to work?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do. I don’t particularly like what I do, never have done much, but I’m good at it. I prefer the people I work with to the work itself.”
“So why can’t you work with good people now?”
“I can’t afford to pick and choose. And the team I worked with before were special, somehow.” She expected Zelah to pooh-pooh this but she didn’t.
“You’re right. People are much more important. There’s no pleasure in doing a job just for money.”
Maggie looked at Zelah. “Glad you agree. But I have to work. I spent more than I should have on this house. I was supposed to buy a small ex-council house and have enough money to last me a few years,” she went on, “We’re so happy here, but it’s come at a price. This morning the guy would have offered me the job then and there, but he has to confirm it with his boss, who’s abroad at the moment, thank God. So I’ve got a reprieve. You know, I felt such a sense of relief when he told me that there’d be a delay.”
“I can tell.”
There was silence as they ate.
“There’s no sound from any roads at all, is there?” Zelah said, sitting back in her chair. “It’s amazing.”
“It must have been just the same when my great-grandfather built it. I can imagine them out here, too. There would have beena few barges on the canal in those days.”
“Yes, but not many. Trains had taken over. Anyway,” Zelah bent down and took some papers out of her bag. “I’ve managed to do a bit of digging into the paddle ship. It was a new venture in 1883. It rarely got up the river to Newport, because of the high tidal range. Nowadays, it’s just once or twice a summer. Usually, it goes from Penarth.”
“What! You mean, it’s still going? The same ship?”
“No, but it’s an exact replica. And it’s still the PS Waverley. Here’s the timetable for this summer.” She handed Maggie a leaflet. On the front cover was a picture of the paddle steamer in the Channel.
“I’ll have to take the kids over in the holidays.” She looked up. “Would you like to come with us?”
“Love to.”
“Have you found anything else?”
“No. I haven’t had time. Had to be in the blasted museum all weekend.”
“Not really your thing, Zelah. Meeting and greeting people.”
“Quite right.”
“I posted my story on two websites over the weekend. No replies yet. So we have a bit of a lull. Any ideas what we can do next?”
“Well, there’s a million things you can still do,” Zelah snorted. “For a start, what about the farm? You’ve got the address, but not the location or history. We can find out from the county architect and planning department. So that’s worth a visit. Then there’s the history of your great-grandfather. You’ve come to a halt, but there’s plenty we can do there to find out who his parents were. And,” she sat up, “there’s a story there, I can smell it.” Zelah tapped her nose. “May not be much, but worth finding out. We’ll check more parish records. I’ll find out if they’re at the county or at the church.”
“Sounds good. I might as well use the time I’ve got left to do as much as we can. How about coming to look around the house now? There’s just enough time before the kids come home from school. They’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” As they stood up, she added, “and Jack will look forward to meeting your car.”
They finished their lunch, and cleared it up, taking everything back to the house. The crashing of doors and dropping of bags in the hall told them that Jack and Alice were home. “Mum? Mum! Have you seen that car outside! It’s an Audi…” Jack stopped abruptly when he saw Zelah with his mother.
“Hello, you must be Jack.” She held out her hand and he shook it tentatively. “It’s my car. It’s an R8 Spyder, as you obviously know. You mother says you can have a ride, if you’re up for it.”
“Sick!” Jack’s eyes shone.
“Come on then. Let’s go.” She marched out of the house to the car. Jack shrugged his shoulders and pulled a surprised face at Maggie, who signalled him to follow.
While they were out, Maggie fetched the school photograph, the portrait and the clothes downstairs. Alice, who had brought two friends home with her, was in the garden, playing in the summerhouse that they had put up over the weekend. She laid out the clothes in the living room and waited for the returning roar of Zelah’s car.
Ten minutes later Jack and Zelah walked back through the front door, Jack grinning happily.
“That was… the best ever.” He went back outside to sit in the car as Zelah came back in.
“Thanks, Zelah. You’ve made his day.”
Zelah shrugged. “Let’s have a look at those clothes and photos.”
They were in the sitting room examining the photos when Alice shouted from the kitchen that she was getting drinks.
“Al, come in here a moment, please. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Alice popped her head around the door, saw Zelah and grinned. “Hello, I’m Alice.”
“I can see that,” Zelah replied, smiling back and holding up the photograph. “This is certainly your double, isn’t it?”
Alice shouted something over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, then walked into the room and stood next to Zelah, looking at the photograph.
“Do you have any idea what happened to her? I’d kind of like to know.”
“Not yet, Alice. But your mother and I will find out, I promise.”
“Thank you. It’s nice for mum to have a friend. Specially one she doesn’t have to argue with all the time, like Aunty Fee. I’m going back out. The summerhouse is great. Thanks, Mum. My friends love it.”
When she was gone Zelah turned to Maggie.
“What a self-possessed little girl.”
“She’s certainly her own person,” Maggie looked outside pensively as Alice and her friends ran back down to the summerhouse with their drinks and biscuits.
“Time for me to go, I think. Shall we try the architects’ department this week? I can ring and make an appointment.”
“That would be great, thanks. I won’t be able to do much next week. It’s half term.”
“I’ll call you. Now, I need to prise your son out of my car.”
On the doorstep, Zelah paused and looked up again at the carving of the name and date.
“I envy you this link to your history,” she said, and without waiting for a reply, got in her car and roared off.
Maggie put her arm around Jack and they went back into the house.
“She just dislikes everyone,” Maggie replied.
“But I think she sees you as a friend.”
Maggie squeezed his shoulder.
Forty Seven
December 1883
It snowed in earnest, covering the gardens with a harsh whiteness that obliterated all signs of flowerbeds. The great oak stood forlornly in the middle of the walled garden, snow hanging from every branch.
The wheelchair trips outside had stopped weeks before, due to the winds and prolonged November rains that had turned many of the pathways into muddy traps for Alice’s wheels. She had started to walk since her last outing with Alan, just a few steps from her room to Moira’s sitting room to start with. Eventually, along the corridor to the kitchen, where she met the junior cooks and kitchen maids. They spoke to her about their duties, showed her around the rooms that made up the kitchen complex, and told her how privileged they felt to work in such an establishment. Positions were hard to come by and appreciated by their families. Servants mostly lived in the rooms above the main house, off two long corridors. Although their days were long, they made little complaint. Their rooms were pleasant enough and they were permitted a fire in winter.
The kitchen maid, Mary Evans, invited her to visit.
“You can come and see my room, if you like, Miss Esme. I have a nice bed and a chair, and we keep our fire going. It’s just at the top of the back stairs.”
Alice had yet been to see the upstairs rooms, and wasn’t sure that her aunt would approve. So she thanked the girl and said that she would see, with a genuinely appreciative smile. It was her smile and good manners that had drawn the servants to Alice. She always seemed interested in them, whoever she spoke to. Even the starchy Miss Eskwith, who never spoke to anyone from the kitchen other than to give an order, took to bringing books for her. She even offered to read to her, on days she was confined to bed because of the pains in her legs.
On Christmas Eve morning the house was the busiest that Alice had ever seen. The earl and countess had returned a few days before with a party that included the earl’s heir, his nephew, Viscount Cadwallader, the viscount’s Lady and their three small children. Nurse had spent a week preparing the nursery and the servants had decorated the house with holly and mistletoe, and a recent innovation from London, a Christmas tree.
The tree, as tall as the ceiling of the morning room in which it stood, was decorated with red and green bows, and candles, and was a triumph. All of the servants had been allowed to see it and each stood in awe when they did so. When the candles were lit in the evening, two footmen had to be allocated to keep a watch on the flames. Miss Eskwith lived in a permanent state of terror that the house would burn down, which Moira eventually lost patience with.
“Miss Eskwith, a Christmas tree stands in Windsor Castle, sanctioned by the Queen herself, and in honour of Prince Albert, in whose family it had been a tradition for many years. I hardly think he intended to set light to the entire royal family, do you?”
The thought of the royal family burning was too much for Miss Eskwith, who scuttled off sobbing.
“Really, she’s a wonderful organiser and I wouldn’t be without her, but sometimes…” Moira raised her eyes to the ceiling, then back to Alice who was sitting with her in front of the roaring fire in her sitting room. They were putting the final touches to the wrapping of presents from the countess to the servants.
Alice smiled back, but it was perfunctory. Beside her on the chair was a present from Alan, which she knew was a book by Charles Dickens. He had found five minutes just before lunch to give it to her, and had found her in the same, pensive mood.
“What’s the matter, Esme?”
“I don’t know, Alan. Something about Christmas gifts. I think I once had handkerchiefs. But I don’t know why I think that.” She sighed.
“Are you remembering something, do you think?”
“Maybe. It’s more feeling than memory.”
“What do you feel?”
“I feel a quietness. I feel children around me. Small children. That’s all.”
He had to leave, but promised to return soon.
Now in the sitting room with Moira, the feeling came back again, a feeling of closeness and children. Moira saw Alice’s wistful look and felt the need to distract her. “I have a surprise for you, Esme.”
She succeeded in getting the girl’s attention.
“The family will be gathering in the morning room after dinner this evening, to enjoy Christmas Carols with their guests. I and Mr Hughes and Cook and Nurse have been invited to join them. Her Ladyship has invited you, too. Will you enjoy that?”
“Oh, yes, Aunt. That would be very nice.”
Moira sensed hesitation. “Are you not pleased, Esme? This is a great honour you know.”
“What shall I wear, Aunt?”
“Well, I had intended to keep this until tomorrow, but under the circumstances, you shall have it now.”
She went to her store cupboard and brought out a package, which she gave to Alice, then sat down in front of her as she untied the strings. It was a dress, made of green silk, floor-length, with embroidered sleeves. Alice gasped as the material ran like water through her fingers.
“I had Mrs Fitzgerald make it up for you, my dear. Happy Christmas!”
“Oh, Aunt, it’s the most wonderful thing I ever saw!” Alice held the dress up and pressed it to her face. “Better than all the handkerchiefs!”
“Handkerchiefs? What do you mean, Esme?” Her voice was sharp and caused Alice to look away.
“I don’t know, Aunt. It’s just that lately I’ve been thinking about handkerchiefs as Christmas presents. I don’t know why. Is there something wrong?”
“No, of course not. Why should there be? Now, go and try the dress on in your room. We must make time to dress your hair, now that it’s growing back so well.”
She smiled her usual smile and Alice took her new dress to her bedroom, leaving Moira sitting rigidly in her seat. Once the girl had gone, she got up and walked to her store cupboard. In the drawer marked “Spices” she dug deep and brought out a grubby piece of material. It was a small dirty square of what had once been white cotton. In one corner were the initials “A.R.J.”.
She returned to her seat, balling the material in her hands, rocking back and fore. She stared at the fire and raised her arm to throw the scrap onto the flames, but paused, looked at the piece of material, and put it back into the deepest drawer of her cupboard.
At eight thirty, Moira, pushed Alice in her chair, to join the group of servants around the fire in the morning room, as the assembly watched the countess at the piano.
Outside it was snowing again. In the morning room, all of the candles had been lit on the tree and the fire had been banked up with logs that crackled as they burned. Hughes had thrown orange peel onto the fire so that the smell of burnt orange filled the room. Alan was on candle duty next to the tree. He saw Alice as she came in and managed to wink at her. Alice gazed around the room and felt a rush of peace, so profound that she pulled on her aunt’s sleeve, to make her look down.
“Thank you for letting me stay, Aunt. I’m so glad this is my home, now.”
Moira couldn’t speak, the violent thumping of her heart like a pealing bell of joy.
The countess finished her last carol, announced a short break, then walked over to the group of servants, who curtsied before her.
“Miss Peach, how are you enjoying your first Christmas at Knyghton?”
“Very much, thank you, Your Ladyship. It’s magical,” replied Alice.
The countess smiled. “Are you fond of music?”
“Yes, Your Ladyship. I like the piano. I like to play.” She stopped, appalled by the audacity of her own words, as the other servan
ts stared at her.
The countess raised an eyebrow. “Come over with me.” She indicated to a pale Moira to push Alice to the piano. Mr Hughes pushed the piano stool to one side. Alice placed her hands on the keys and, without thinking, began to play a simple version of “Silent Night.”
Moira leaned against the door frame, afraid her trembling legs would not hold steady. Hughes watched her, but didn’t move to help. Alan watched Alice in amazement.
“You are a talented pianist, my dear,” the countess said when she stopped after the first verse. “I think your aunt must arrange for you to take lessons.” She looked up at Moira, who smiled thinly and tried to nod in a way that she hoped would convey gracious acceptance.
“Miss Peach is very welcome to practise here, Mrs Davies. Talent should always be encouraged.” She turned back to Alice. “So, what of your future, my dear? What would you like to do now?” Moira held her breath.
Alice replied without hesitation. “I would like to stay here, Your Ladyship, if that can be allowed. And work with my aunt.” She smiled at Moira, whose cheeks had coloured
“I’m sure something can be arranged. But you must continue your education a little longer, I think.”
Moira saw the girl hold her breath at the mention of school, a subject that had previously caused her to have a panic that took a lot to calm down. She stepped in.
“I have arranged a local tutor for the time being, Your Ladyship, as Esme still can’t walk far.”
“Good. Now, back to our carols, I think. My nieces and nephews are becoming rather restless.”
This was dismissal and Moira wheeled Alice’s chair back to the group of servants. She saw Mr Hughes step over to speak to Alan, who nodded and smiled at them.
At bedtime, Moira helped Alice into bed and sat on the chair next to her. “So, niece. You are content to spend your life here at Knyghton, with me?”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“I’m thrilled, Esme. We shall be family and friend to each other.” She took a deep breath. “Are you still trying to remember what went before? Would you like me to do more?”