The Clockmaker's Wife

by Daisy Wood

  ‘Did you know anything about her politics?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Heavens, no. We didn’t discuss that sort of thing, and this was the war, remember, when we had a government of national unity and were all pulling together. Everyone was too busy hating Hitler and rooting for Winnie to squabble the way they do now.’

  Dan caught Ellie’s eye. He’d been quiet, but now he said, ‘So she wasn’t a Fascist, as far as you know?’

  Brenda stared at him. ‘Why on earth would you suggest that? No, she most certainly wasn’t. Now her father, Mr Roberts, he once sounded off about the Jews feathering their own nests but I remember Nell setting us children straight afterwards. You couldn’t argue with him directly because he hated to lose face, but she made sure we knew what the Nazis were doing and how evil it was – especially as far as Jews were concerned.’

  ‘Really?’ Ellie felt a spark of hope. ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Positive. Oh, I thought she was marvellous. A Fascist, indeed!’ Straightening her back, Brenda turned to Dan. ‘Perhaps you could make yourself useful, young man, and clear away the tea things.’

  ‘Of course.’ He jumped to his feet and began loading the tray.

  When they were alone, Ellie said, ‘Just now, you mentioned Nell being driven away for the last time. Was anyone with her?’

  Brenda leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I’m rather tired. This has been quite a shock – a delightful one, of course, but all the same …’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Ellie stood up, though she could hardly bear to go. She wanted to shake Brenda Macdonald until all the pictures she held locked away in her head came spilling out. Someone who had actually known her grandmother! And her mother, when she was a small child.

  ‘Will you come back tomorrow morning?’ Brenda asked. ‘I need time to think everything through. And I have a few photographs you might like to see, although it’ll take me a while to find them.’

  ‘I should love to, thank you.’ Ellie took Brenda’s hand in hers. The old lady’s skin was cold, although the central heating was going full blast. Please don’t die in the night, she wanted to beg her, but of course she only said, ‘Meeting you is more than I could have hoped for. And my mother will be so thrilled.’

  The old lady looked up, her watery eyes swimming behind the thick lenses. ‘Don’t tell Alice anything yet. Wait until you hear what I have to say.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Oxfordshire, January 2022

  Ellie sat in front of the dressing-table mirror, wishing she’d brought some mascara with her. She’d slipped a lipstick into the pocket of her jeans but that would only go so far. If she’d known they’d end up having dinner and staying overnight, obviously she’d have brought three different outfits, a curling iron and a fully stocked make-up bag. As it was, she’d only just managed to buy a spare pair of knickers, a hairbrush and toothbrush before the stores closed. She stared grumpily at her reflection, then went to the mini bar in a corner of the room and found some gin to calm her jitters. She hadn’t been able to sit still or settle for a minute since the car ride from Millbury.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she’d said to Dan, once they were back in the car. ‘To think we almost didn’t come here, and I’d have missed the one woman alive in England who knew my grandmother! Thank you!’

  She was so happy that she’d thrown her arms around him for a hug, and something had happened – she still wasn’t quite sure what. When her cheek had touched his, it was as though an electric current had passed between them. Dan felt it, too, she could tell. He’d pulled away from her abruptly and started the engine. First he’d stalled, and then he’d gone into first gear instead of reverse, and they’d nearly hit the car in front.

  ‘Damn stick shift,’ he’d muttered.

  She daren’t look at him, so she’d gabbled about the chances of running into Brenda Macdonald, and how she couldn’t wait to tell her mom about the visit, and what on earth could Brenda be going to say the next day, and so on.

  Dan had cleared his throat. ‘It’s crazy to drive back to London. Why don’t we see if they have rooms in that hotel where we had lunch?’

  ‘Sure,’ she’d replied brightly, her stomach doing a back flip.

  ‘Rooms,’ he’d said, not ‘a room’. But still … What if he felt the same way she did? What if he didn’t, though? She’d end up never being able to look him in the face again. Beth would either be mad that Ellie had risked their friendship or think she was pathetic and feel sorry for her, so she’d lose her best friend, too. The whole thing would be a catastrophe. To complicate matters further, when they’d arrived at the hotel and were checking in – Dan having telephoned in advance to book their rooms – the receptionist, a beautiful girl with olive skin and long black hair in a swishy ponytail, had flirted with him so outrageously that Ellie felt like slapping her.

  ‘This way, Mr Scardino,’ she’d said, glancing seductively at him over her shoulder and fluttering her extravagant eyelashes as she led the way along the corridor. She’d barely acknowledged Ellie’s existence.

  ‘Shall I test the bed for you, Mr Scardino? You’ll find it very comfortable,’ Ellie muttered, adding a splash of tonic. She kicked off her shoes and lay down. The bed was, in fact, very comfortable. What if there had been only one room left in the hotel? They’d have had to share; Dan would have insisted on taking the couch because he was a gentleman, but they’d have talked long into the night and then she’d have realised he couldn’t sleep so she’d have pulled back the duvet and said, come on, this is ridiculous, and he’d have slipped in beside her, and everything would have been easy in the warm, forgiving dark.

  ‘Get a grip,’ she told herself, shuddering with embarrassment and lust. Had Dan always been so hot? He had an angular, bony face with deep-set eyes that could look brooding, but when he smiled, he could – as Alice also said – charm the birds out of the trees. Maybe England had cast some sort of spell over them both. Her heart was thudding and her hands felt clammy. If it were anyone else, she’d have been on the phone to Beth, but how could she tell her she was crushing on Dan? How could she tell anyone? Ugh, she was too old for this.

  They had decided on a late dinner after such a big lunch. There was nothing else for it: Ellie finished her gin and went to meet Dan at the bar. She found him talking to the girl with the ponytail who was now behind it, serving drinks. Goodness, she was multi-talented. She’d put on gold hoop earrings for the evening and undone an extra button on her crisp white blouse, and her ponytail swung jauntily as she sashayed between the optics. Ellie imagined herself leaping over the counter with a machete clenched between her teeth and slicing it off.

  ‘There you are,’ Dan said. ‘I was about to send out a search party.’

  He seemed back to his old self but Ellie had become awkward. She wasn’t hungry, had drunk too much gin and couldn’t think what to say: a problem she’d never had with Dan before. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually, when they were debating whether to have dessert, ‘I know it’s your birthday but would you mind if we called it a night? I’m running on fumes.’

  Yet what with all the conflicting thoughts chasing each other around her head, it was some time before she fell asleep.

  After a restless night, she woke early, way before the hotel restaurant opened for breakfast, and decided to explore Oxford by herself. Some fresh air might clear her head. She dressed quickly and crept out into the corridor – and there was Dan, emerging from his room.

  ‘Great minds.’ He smiled, and her heart leapt. ‘Fancy a stroll?’

  They went out into the dark, silent city, lit by street lamps and the slowly breaking dawn. A few stars were still bright in a sky that faded from black to moleskin as they walked, speaking in whispers. It was magical, as though they were stepping outside their everyday selves and into another world. Ellie became gradually calm. The sun would rise and the world would go on turning, despite her ridiculous preoccupations.
A kerbside café was opening so they bought coffees to go and strolled on until they came to a bridge, where they stopped to drink them. Morning had definitely broken; she could see as far as a distant bend in the river flowing beneath them, with boats moored on either side.

  She looked at Dan, noticing every detail of his face: the scar that bisected his left eyebrow, the lick of hair that always curled the wrong way, his eyes that were either hazel or dark grey, depending on the light. They were grey now, and gazing into hers.

  ‘Why did you come to England?’ she asked.

  ‘Because you invited me, remember?’ But his eyes were kind.

  ‘Fair enough.’ There was no more to say. They would carry on dancing around each other and maybe in time, the awkwardness would fade.

  Dan looked away, down into the water. ‘And because I thought it would be easier to tell you how I felt if we were somewhere different, miles from everybody else.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘Hasn’t quite worked out like that, though.’

  A faint blush was spreading up his neck. ‘So how do you feel?’ she asked, slipping her arm through his.

  Now he met her eye. ‘I’m crazy about you, Ellie. I have been for years. Have you really never noticed? I thought the whole world must have known. Lisa certainly did.’

  ‘Honestly, I had no idea.’ She hesitated, searching for the right words.

  ‘The timing never seemed right,’ he went on. ‘Whenever I split up with anyone, you always had some guy in tow.’

  ‘Each one worse than the last.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to say that, but yes. Didn’t one of them pick up a girl at your birthday party and drive back to her place in your car?’

  ‘Wilf.’ Ellie winced. ‘He was the worst.’

  ‘And by then I was with Lisa. I think I only married her to get you out of my head. That didn’t work either.’

  ‘Oh, Dan.’ She leaned against his shoulder.

  ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to pity me.’ He stroked her hair. ‘I’ll live with it. We can still be friends, can’t we?’

  ‘No.’ She drew away from him. ‘I don’t want to be friends anymore.’ His eyes had widened in alarm, so she put her arms around him. ‘Dan, I’ve been such a fool. How could I have wasted so much time when you’ve been right in front of me all along?’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  Did she dare? ‘I’m saying I want more than friendship. It’s taken me long enough to realise it, but maybe I’m in love with you, too. Or at least I could be, given the chance.’ She laughed. ‘Shall we try to make a go of it, Mr Scardino? Better late than never.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because you feel sorry for me?’

  ‘Why would I feel sorry for you? You’re kind and funny and smart, and I should have jumped on you years ago.’

  ‘I can’t disagree with any of that,’ he said, grinning. And then, oh God, he was leaning towards her.

  ‘Stop!’ she said, panicking. ‘I haven’t cleaned my teeth.’

  ‘I couldn’t care less.’ He drew her close. ‘Come on, I’ve waited twenty years for this.’

  His lips were softer than she could have imagined. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the kiss, letting her fear and uncertainty dissolve in the sweetness of that moment. There could be no more misunderstanding; they were expressing their deepest feelings without the need for words. She had known Dan all her life, yet now it felt as though she were meeting him for the first time. He kissed her gently at first, then more fiercely as her body responded to his and their desire grew stronger. There was nobody else in the world except the two of them, and soon they had to take a taxi back to the hotel so as not to waste another minute that could be spent in bed.

  All the way to Mrs Macdonald’s house, they kept catching each other’s eye and smiling for no reason. When Dan stopped the car, she had to kiss him again.

  ‘Enough, we’re late as it is,’ he said, finally disentangling himself. ‘You go in. I’ll take a walk around the village and let you concentrate on family stuff.’

  Perhaps it was for the best. Ellie walked a little unsteadily up the path and rang the bell.

  Brenda opened the door at last, wearing a purple tartan shift and red tights. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t sleep well and then—’ Ellie spread her hands wide, shrugging.

  ‘Neither did I,’ Brenda replied. ‘In fact, I’ve been up half the night. Come through, dear. We have plenty to talk about.’

  As they went down the hall, Ellie spotted a tray in the kitchen, laid with teacups and a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Thank you so much for having me,’ she said, feeling guilty that Brenda had gone to so much trouble, and that she had managed to forget about Alice and Nell for half a day.

  Brenda parked her walker by a table in the sitting room and pulled out a chair for Ellie. ‘Now, sit down and pay attention. I don’t know what’s happened since yesterday but you look distracted and you’ll need to concentrate.’

  Ellie apologised again. Another English battle axe; she was getting used to them.

  ‘This is the picture I thought you might like to see.’ Brenda passed her a framed photograph. ‘It’s the only one I have of us all together: my brother and sisters and me, and your grandmother with us. We were at a Christmas party and someone took this photograph for the local paper.’ She leaned over; Ellie caught a waft of peppermints. ‘There’s me sitting next to my older sister, Susan, and on my other side are the twins, Timothy and Janet. The lad in glasses beside them is poor Malcolm Parsons, who was evacuated with us. His mother took him back to London for the holiday and they were both killed a few days later.’

  ‘How awful.’ Ellie gazed at the little boy with the shy grin, destined never to grow old. ‘And that’s Nell, isn’t it?’ She’d spotted her grandmother in the back row, wearing the red hat and a dark coat. She wasn’t smiling.

  ‘That’s right.’ Brenda took a quick look and sat back, her eyes far away. ‘It was the last time I saw her.’ She gave a little shiver.

  ‘So my mother wasn’t there?’ Ellie asked. ‘I guess she was too young.’

  ‘Maybe. I have other photographs of her, though.’ Brenda reached for a battered black album on the table. ‘There aren’t many, but taking pictures was more of a palaver then. No one can eat a piece of toast nowadays without recording it for posterity.’

  Ellie leafed through the pages. Alice was usually to be seen sitting on someone’s lap or holding someone’s hand, in the middle of the group. One photo showed her being towed along in a go-kart; in another, she was strapped into the most enormous pram, wearing a pixie hat, with Susan holding the handle.

  ‘My older sister adored babies,’ Brenda said. ‘She’s the one who became a midwife. We all loved Alice, though – she was our little mascot. It must have been so difficult for her, being suddenly taken away to live with her father. He brought her to visit once or twice but apparently she found it too unsettling, coming back and then having to leave again. Of course she did, poor little mite! The next thing we heard, he’d married someone else, and then Rose died a few years later, and so we lost touch.’ She sighed. ‘I thought the man was selfish, fetching his daughter back because he was lonely. He didn’t stop to consider how she would feel, uprooted from the only people she knew. I’m glad she made a life for herself in America, and that she had a family of her own. Does she ever talk about her childhood?’

  ‘Not often. All I knew was that her mother had died when she was a baby, and that she didn’t get on with her stepmom. I wanted to come over here so I could fill in the gaps – for both of us. We don’t even know how Nell died,’ Ellie said. ‘Sounds like you don’t know either.’

  ‘Not for certain, but I have a theory. You’ll probably think I’m a mad old bat if I tell you.’

  A shiver ran down Ellie’s spine. �
�Try me.’

  ‘You make the tea, dear, and then I will. It’s a long story and we’ll need some refreshment.’

  ‘I can see her clearly now, sitting in the front of that car next to the chauffeur. He was a cold fish. Cooke, his name was.’ Brenda bent over the teacup, her glasses clouding with steam. She put down her cup and wiped the lenses slowly with a handkerchief.

  ‘Go on.’ Ellie smiled encouragingly, trying to hide her impatience.

  ‘And Lord Winthrop was in the back. The Christmas party was at his house, you see. Millbury Manor, just up the road. It’s been turned into luxury flats now – you wouldn’t believe the prices. Nell had brought us there and then suddenly, she was off, leaving with him before the festivities were over. I tried to stop her but it was too late. Susan took us home that afternoon, and then it was Christmas a few days later, and then in the New Year, we were told she was dead.’

  ‘But why did you try to stop her leaving?’

  ‘Because I’d had my eye on Winthrop for a while and thought he was dodgy. Dodgy as a nine-bob note, we used to say. Timothy and I fancied ourselves as spies; there wasn’t much going on in the village that we didn’t know about. Lots of things about His Lordship made us suspicious. He kept a plane at Hatfield aerodrome, for a start, and there was a landing strip in a field next to the Manor, with comings and goings at all hours. We’d found a sort of shooting range in a wood behind the house, too, littered with cartridge cases and … other things. So we used this party as an excuse to have a look around the house. We said Malcolm needed the lavatory – he had problems in that department – and went exploring.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘The attic was full of guns, crates of them, and hand grenades, and boxes of God knows what else that there wasn’t time to investigate. Lord Winthrop ran the Home Guard but they hardly had three rifles between them. This was his own private arsenal and if you ask me, he wouldn’t have used it against the Germans. He was planning to throw them a welcome party.’