The beekeepers war, p.21
The Beekeeper's War, page 21
Emma wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘I wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye to Dad.’
‘Me, too.’ Pru sighed. ‘I’m sad he’s gone but I’m relieved he won’t be alive to have to deal with whatever is coming our way with this rotten war. He was an honourable man and would have protected us with everything he had and that would have made me incredibly anxious.’
‘I think you’re probably right.’ She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully and Pru sensed Emma had more to say. ‘What did my father look like?’ Emma asked, touching her fair hair. ‘Was he fair, like me?’
Pru tried and failed to push away the image of Jack that she always seemed to have in her mind. ‘Yes.’
Emma smiled. ‘The only thing I ever thought strange,’ she said, a wistful tone to her voice, ‘was that you and Dad both had dark hair and I was so fair. It seemed odd.’
Pru pictured Jack, so handsome and like no one else she had ever met. ‘He was tall, broad-shouldered and fair-haired,’ she said, sighing. ‘He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen and he was the bravest man according to his friends. I loved him very much. I never imagined it was possible to love anyone as much as I did him.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘Until you came along, that is.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ She could see Emma was only just managing not to cry again. ‘Please consider coming with me to England. I’m sure Aunty Jean would love you to visit her finally.’
‘I will think about it and I’ll contact you immediately if I change my mind. I’m not ready yet though. Maybe in a month or so.’ Pru straightened the flowerpot on the windowsill, unable to look her daughter in the eye. ‘Don’t forget that your aunt and uncle might be a little sensitive when it comes to speaking about your biological father, so tread very carefully if you do mention anything. Aunty Jean is still grieving for her brother and we must remember that.’
‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll be careful not to upset her. I’ll take this lot up and put them in the airing cupboard for you.’ She picked up the basket of folded laundry.
‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ Pru took Emma by the shoulders and turned her around to face the stairs. ‘Hurry now. You don’t want to be late and miss that boat.’
Emma reached the door and stopped. ‘Are you really certain you don’t mind me going, Mum?’ she asked over her left shoulder.
Pru put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m fine, sweetheart. You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll follow you immediately if I don’t feel safe here.’
‘Promise?’
‘Yes. Now, go.’
Pru watched her daughter walk upstairs and braced herself for the farewell that they would both soon be facing. As painful as it had been saying goodbye to Jack that last time, Emma’s departure from the island, and not knowing when they would be together again, was breaking her heart.
Twenty-Five
Emma
June 1940, England
Emma stared out of the taxi window as it swept up the long, tree-lined driveway, determined not to miss a single moment. Her mother had told her how magnificent the manor house and grounds were but nothing prepared her for her first view of the place. It was strange to imagine her mother as a young woman her own age working here. Emma knew from what little Pru had said that her time here had been precious and it was strange to think that her own aunt and uncle lived in such splendour.
The taxi stopped and a footman immediately hurried out of the huge double front doors. He opened the taxi’s rear door and waited for her to step out.
‘Thank you,’ Emma said, feeling a little disconcerted, as if she were still a little girl playing ‘grown-ups’. She stared up at the imposing Jacobean house and waited for him to take her case from the back of the car.
‘Emma, darling!’
‘Aunty Jean,’ she cried, delighted to see her godmother striding towards her with arms outstretched.
‘I can’t believe you’re finally here,’ her aunt said, studying her face. ‘You look beautiful as ever. If a little peaky.’
Emma patted her hair, unsure whether she was making it tidier or not. ‘It was a rather rougher trip on the ferry than I’d have liked.’
Her aunt put an arm around Emma’s shoulders and led her inside. ‘Come along. Stephens will take your case to your room while we go and find Monty. He’s dying to see you again, poppet. Although,’ she lowered her voice, ‘he’s a little under the weather at the moment.’
Emma hated to hear that her darling uncle wasn’t well. ‘It’s nothing too bad, I hope?’
‘His leg is playing up a bit. It drives him crazy and makes him insufferably grumpy but having you here will cheer him enormously.’
‘I do hope so,’ Emma said, happy to feel so welcomed. ‘Ashbury Manor is even more beautiful than the photos you showed us last year,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been anywhere this grand before. I can’t believe I’ll be staying here.’
‘Please think of it as your home as much as ours while you’re with us.’
Emma gazed around her at the splendour of the high-ceilinged, tiled hallway and its huge fireplace with carved surround. Gilt-framed portraits hung from the walls and drew the eye up the cantilever staircase to the floor above. She stopped walking and gazed up at the magnificence of the intricate strapwork ceiling, wondering how the master craftsmen managed to create something that impressive in plaster so that it lasted hundreds of years.
‘It’s rather ornate, isn’t it?’ Aunty Jean’s hand went to her chest and rested there. ‘I was in awe of this place, just as you are, when I first arrived here. It took a while after Monty and I were married before I was able to feel truly at home.’ She straightened the right side of her cardigan, which had become creased from her embrace with Emma. ‘It was rather a shock to move from the attic, where I shared a room with your mum and one other nurse, down to the bedroom Monty and I sleep in now.’
Emma wasn’t surprised it had taken her aunt a while to think of this place as her home. She had visited her paternal grandparents’ home many times and the simple, sparse house and attached printing studio were worlds away from a property like this.
‘Is that little Emma?’ Monty bellowed from a room to their left.
Jean laughed. ‘There’s clearly nothing wrong with his hearing when he wants to hear something.’
Emma followed her uncle’s voice. ‘Uncle Monty,’ she called, delighted to see him.
He tapped his right cheek. ‘And am I to be given a kiss from my favourite niece?’
She giggled, thrilled to see that although he was using a wheelchair now and clearly wasn’t as fit as the last time she had seen him in Jersey, his humour was still the same. She ran up to him and bent to hug him, kissing him firmly on his cheek as he had instructed. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again.’
‘Good to see you too, young lady.’ He grinned. ‘Now stand there and let me have a good look at you.’
Jean followed Emma into the smart living room and gave her a knowing look. ‘As you can see, I’m not the only one who’s thrilled to see you again.’
‘You’ve grown up so much in the past two years, young lady.’ He shook his head, grinning. ‘How old are you now?’
‘I was twenty-two a couple of weeks ago.’
He shook his head at Jean. ‘Can you believe it, Jeanie? Twenty-two already.’
‘I know,’ Jean said, her voice wistful. ‘Where have those years gone?’
‘Our Sam is twenty-two in December. He promised to come home for the weekend, but we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him yet.’
‘Sam?’ Emma tried to hide her disappointment to think that she would have to share her time here with their ghastly son. ‘Gosh, I haven’t seen him for over ten years.’
‘Well,’ Monty said. ‘You can catch up with him when he arrives.’
Emma excused herself to go and wash her hands and then sat with them to enjoy a refreshing cup of tea and finger sandwiches.
‘This is delicious.’
She finished eating her sandwich while answering her aunt and uncle’s questions about her dad’s funeral and thanking them for the large wreath they sent over for it.
‘I was heartbroken not to be there,’ Jean said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her cardigan sleeve.
‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Monty said, taking her hand in his and patting it with his other one. ‘It was my fault your aunt was unable to be there,’ he explained miserably. ‘I was rather unwell for a time and ended up in hospital and your dear aunt refused to leave me.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable,’ Emma said, certain she would have done the same thing. ‘I know Mum understood completely.’
‘She did? Are you certain?’ her aunt asked.
‘Yes, I am. Mum would never have expected you to leave Uncle Monty behind when he was in hospital.’
‘You’re quite right, she wouldn’t.’ Her aunt seemed to relax slightly.
‘It’s so pretty here,’ Emma said, wanting to change the subject so that she didn’t let her emotions get the better of her. ‘I’m so excited to finally be here. I can’t believe it’s my first time.’
Was it her imagination or did her aunt shift uncomfortably in her chair? Her uncle cleared his throat. ‘I must admit we were a little taken aback that you chose now to visit,’ he said. ‘Especially with things as uncertain as they are with the Channel Islands being so close to the French coast. Your aunt thought that maybe you were coming here with Pru.’
‘That was my plan,’ she said, recalling her conversations with her mother about how her aunt and uncle might feel to discover she was searching for her long-lost father. ‘Unfortunately she didn’t feel ready to leave the guesthouse and couldn’t be persuaded. I’m hoping to do something useful for the war effort though. I thought I’d go into the village on Monday and try to find somewhere for me to sign up.’
‘Good girl,’ her uncle cheered. ‘That’s the ticket.’
‘As long as it’s not anything dangerous.’ Jean frowned. ‘Your mother’s been through enough in her lifetime without you putting yourself in danger.’
Emma agreed. ‘I don’t intend doing anything silly, just my duty, Aunty Jean. Please don’t worry about me.’
Jean finished her tea and placed her cup and saucer onto the small occasional table in front of them. ‘When you’re ready I’ll take you for a good look around the place. Then you can rest for a while before supper.’
‘Thank you. I can’t wait to see everything. I want to explore every part of this magnificent place.’
‘Not everything,’ Monty said, looking, Emma thought, rather agitated for some reason.
Emma looked from him to her aunt. Had she said something wrong?
Her aunt gave her a stilted smile, which Emma noticed didn’t quite reach her eyes. For some reason the look in them was rather distant and very different from how it had been since her arrival. ‘What your uncle means, dear, is that you’re to stay away from the folly.’
‘The folly?’ She had never seen a folly and hadn’t known there was one at the manor. ‘I didn’t know you had a folly. How thrilling.’
‘Maybe you can see it at some point in the future,’ Monty said, giving her aunt a quick glance. ‘For now, though, it’s pretty derelict. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.’
‘Monty’s right, dear,’ Jean agreed. ‘Hopefully we’ll be able to find the right craftsmen to fix it but I doubt that’ll be until after the war, now that so many men have enlisted.’
‘Never mind,’ Emma said, wanting to placate them. ‘I’ll just have to wait then, won’t I?’
‘There’s plenty more places for you to explore,’ her aunt said more cheerfully. ‘But do stay away from it if you see it in the distance, just in case.’
‘Will do,’ Emma said. She finished drinking her tea and smiled at her aunt. ‘I’m ready for that look around the manor now if you wish.’
‘Come along then.’ Jean looked at Monty. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind us leaving you for a bit?’
He lifted the book that sat on the table next to him. ‘More than happy, my love. I have a lot of reading to look forward to today with everything happening in France.’
They left Monty, and Emma listened in awe as her aunt walked her through the different rooms. ‘This was Ward Two where I first met Monty,’ she explained. A little further along one of the corridors, she opened a door. ‘In there is where we washed up pans and things. We called it the “sluice room” and next door was our linen cupboard.’
Emma peeked inside. ‘It’s more of a room than a cupboard,’ she exclaimed. ‘This place must be a constant reminder of your nursing days, I suppose?’
‘It is,’ she said, her voice quiet. ‘I think of your mum often and of all the fun and sadness we shared together.’ They walked up two flights of back stairs that were wooden and not carpeted like the main, grander staircase. ‘In here,’ she said, reaching to open the door and waiting for Emma to step inside the small room, ‘is where your mum and I slept. Initially, we shared the room with a lovely girl called Milly.’ She didn’t speak for a few seconds and Emma recognised the same expression as she had seen on her mother’s face a few times when she was reminiscing, making her wonder what had happened. ‘She was replaced with someone else whom we liked but it was never really the same.’
Emma studied the small room, finding it almost impossible to imagine three single beds being able to fit in. ‘You didn’t have much room, did you?’
Jean shook her head and smiled. ‘No, but it didn’t seem to matter to us. Your mum and I didn’t have many belongings. We had lockers and small bedside cabinets for our private things.’
‘I don’t think Mum has ever mentioned a Milly to me. Did she leave the hospital?’ Emma asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She supposed the nurse had met someone and left to marry.
‘She died,’ Jean said quietly. ‘It was terribly sad and we both missed her very much.’
Emma stared at her aunt. ‘Died? Was she ill?’
Jean shook her head. ‘No.’ She cleared her throat. ‘There was a fire here.’
‘There was?’ It seemed that she still had a lot to discover about her mother’s time at Ashbury Manor.
‘Milly ran in to try and save someone and died of smoke inhalation. It was a miracle more people didn’t perish that day. Monty and I were rescued by—’ She suddenly stopped speaking and looked from Emma to the window and seemed conflicted about continuing with her story.
‘Please go on.’
Jean crossed her arms. ‘By a very brave man. We were trapped inside.’
‘You were trapped?’ Emma covered her mouth, shocked to think that her gentle aunt had come so close to death herself.
‘Yes. It was terrifying. I was with Monty and someone locked us in the linen cupboard.’
‘Did you ever discover who it was?’
‘One of the patients. A troubled man who started the fire. He was arrested and I believe he ended up in a psychiatric ward. It’s strange to think that you can see someone each day and know so little about what’s going on in their mind.’
Emma thought of her mother and all the secrets she probably still had to discover. ‘I agree.’
‘He was a very troubled soul.’
Emma bit her lower lip, distressed to think of such a terrible thing happening. ‘I’m so sorry, Aunty Jean. That’s so sad.’
‘It was. Poor Milly had dealt with terrible heartache before your mother and I met her. We were all very shocked by what happened to her.’
Emma sensed that Milly’s untimely death had affected her mother and Jean more than either of them would ever let on.
The following day, her aunt and uncle left their home for an appointment in the village and Emma was excited to be alone at the manor. She loved them both dearly but was relieved to have time to herself, and decided to go for a long walk. Her aunt had explained that they were down to three gardeners now and that they had been tasked with keeping the rose garden neat and only dealing with the larger areas when they had time. Their most important job apparently was the kitchen garden but a lot of other things at the manor had changed. Apart from that, Emma imagined that her aunt and uncle’s lives probably weren’t all that different to how they were prior to the war.
Emma turned left, walking around the house and down a pathway into some pretty woods. The shade of the huge trees was welcoming on such a warm day. The pathway meandered through the trees and eventually she came out into the sunlight once more on the other side of the woods, stepping out into a huge wildflower meadow dotted with daisies, cornflowers, buttercups and poppies whose pretty red heads bobbed in the slight breeze.
It was magical.
She kept walking, unsure exactly where she was going. Passing another copse of trees she picked a posy of wildflowers to take to her bedroom after her walk. She wished her mother had agreed to accompany her. Mum would have loved this, she thought. She would have to find a way to persuade her to come and visit, even if only for a couple of days. Emma was sure that if her mum did come to the manor again, she would be able to find a way to put to rest some the memories that still haunted her.
Not wishing to go where she shouldn’t, Emma decided to ask someone so that she could avoid the folly. She spotted a walled area to her right with a painted wooden door, so she doubled back on herself and went to look inside. It was slightly open so she entered, relieved to see someone working at the far corner. It was a beekeeper. He would know where the folly was, surely.
‘Hello?’ Emma called. He didn’t seem to hear her as he stood pointing a metal container with smoke coming out of it at one of the hives. She walked closer to him and called out to him once again. ‘Excuse me?’
The next thing she knew, she was being pushed roughly from behind. Emma shrieked as she fell forward, landing hard on the stone pathway. She gritted her teeth as pain shot through her right knee, and, sitting up, she turned to see who had attacked her.
