The beekeepers war, p.27
The Beekeeper's War, page 27
‘The major?’ Emma asked, intrigued.
‘Their father. He had a big house about a mile away When he died it was sold to pay off death taxes and I remember Mum saying that the sisters kept what they could of his.’ She lowered her voice and leaned in closer to Emma. ‘Mum told me that the night before the sisters were to move out of the big house, some of the villagers, including my mum, went there in the middle of the night to help Tiz and Terry remove ornaments and smaller pieces of furniture they wanted to keep. They were handing them out of the window. She said it was great fun and very exciting. Everything was brought back to the village and hidden in people’s homes and a couple of the back rooms at the pub until after the major’s house had been sold at auction. The sisters then moved into Oak Cottage and all the bits the villagers had hidden for them were returned as soon as the auctioneer and the man from the tax office had left the area.’
Emma was astounded. ‘How incredible to think they got away with doing such a thing.’ She couldn’t imagine her mother being involved in anything like that but admired the sisters for their determination.
‘My mum said it was scary for a time, but the villagers agreed that too many of them had helped take the bits and bobs for the local Justice of the Peace to bother prosecuting them all.’
‘Good for them. I think I’m going to like living here very much.’
They began walking towards the shops.
‘Have you always lived here?’ Emma asked
‘I have.’ Maisie sounded embarrassed. ‘But I hope to leave and find work elsewhere.’
‘Why?’
Maisie’s step faltered. ‘Because it’s dull living here. Nothing much ever happens.’
Emma understood how the girl felt – hadn’t she thought the same thing about Jersey? Now she would give anything to be back there. ‘Enjoy it while you can,’ she said sagely, thinking about her home and friends in Jersey and how quickly everything seemed to have changed for them all.
‘What do you mean?’
She realised she had frightened Maisie. ‘Only that you never know when things might change. It’s a pretty village and the people I’ve met so far seem lovely.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
They stopped to look in some of the shop windows, though it turned out that neither of them had any money to spare. ‘I have to keep what I have now for my rent,’ Emma explained. ‘I’d love a new coat for winter but I doubt my wages will be enough to let me save for one.’
‘Mine is a hand-me-down from Mum,’ Maisie grumbled. ‘I’d love a new summer dress, even though Mum insists that the two dresses I have are fine for now.’ She frowned. ‘When I bring up the subject of new clothes she now says, “Don’t you know there’s a war on?”’ Maisie shook her head. ‘As if any of us could ever forget.’
‘If only,’ Emma said, walking on to the next shop and seeing that there was a greengrocer up ahead. ‘I could do with a couple of apples,’ she said, thinking of the pretty apple tree in their garden and missing the juicy fruit all of a sudden.
‘Come along then, let’s get some.’
Emma went straight to the barrel of apples and picked one up in each hand, breathing in the sweet scent. They smelt slightly different to the Cox’s Orange Pippins they grew at home. ‘I’ll have these two, please,’ she said, handing them to a man wearing an apron, his shirt sleeves rolled back to his elbows.
He popped them into a brown paper bag and Emma paid for them.
Thirty-Five
Emma
June 1940
The following morning, Emma woke with a start. Thinking about her new job instantly filled her stomach with butterflies and she felt slightly sick. She heard Tiz clashing about in the kitchen and realised she was making breakfast, though the last thing Emma felt like doing was eating. She got up and taking her towel from the end of her bed, went to the bathroom, washed and cleaned her teeth.
Ten minutes later she was downstairs seated at the small kitchen table with a bowl of porridge. Emma didn’t much like porridge but did her best to eat it.
‘That’s right,’ Tiz said. ‘Get it down you otherwise come lunchtime you’ll be starving and you won’t want that.’ She patted a sandwich wrapped in greaseproof paper and tied with a piece of string. ‘I’ve made you a ham sandwich. There’s little ham, to be honest with you, but it’s better than nothing and you’ll probably be glad of it by the time you eat it.’
Emma thanked her and finished her breakfast. She was about to take her bowl to the sink to wash it, but Tiz took it from her. ‘Leave that with me. Nervous?’ she asked as Emma went to leave the room.
‘I am, a bit.’ She wished she wasn’t, but the thought of spending the day with strangers in such an enormous factory terrified her. ‘I hope I don’t mess anything up.’
‘You won’t. You’ll be fine if you pay attention to what they tell you, and I’m sure you can do that well enough.’ Tiz snatched something from the worktop. ‘I forgot. This came for you in yesterday’s post while you were out. Terry didn’t think to check through to see if any of the mail was addressed to you.’ She frowned in Emma’s direction. ‘I hope it’s not important.’
Emma thanked her and took the envelope, hoping it was a letter from her mother. It wasn’t. She realised it must be Sam’s writing.
Dear Emma,
I hope you’re settling in well at Oak Cottage. I wanted to wish you well for your first day at work. I imagine you might be a bit nervous but know that you’ll do sterling work there once you find your feet. I’m hoping to get back home for a couple of days soon and will stop off at the factory on my way back. Maybe I’ll be able to give you a lift home?
I can’t help wondering if you’ve heard anything from Aunty Pru. I do hope so and if not that you’re not worrying too much about her. I know from Mother that she is a strong lady and feel certain she’ll be fine.
I’m looking forward to seeing you again and hearing all your news.
With kindest regards, your cousin, Sam
Emma folded Sam’s letter and slid it back into the envelope. She noticed Tiz taking her time washing her bowl and realised she was probably waiting to hear any news.
‘That was from my cousin Sam,’ Emma said. ‘He seems fine and is hoping to come home on leave sometime soon. Only a couple of days, but it’ll be lovely to catch up with him again.’
‘That’s good to know. He’s a good lad, that Sam. He doesn’t have any of the airs and graces some youngsters who’ve grown up as he has display and I like him far better for it.’
So do I, thought Emma.
Tiz leaned forward and peered out of the window. ‘That chauffeur bloke is parked outside. I suppose he’s taking you to work on your first day?’
Emma had been hoping to catch the bus and not be driven in her uncle’s Rolls Royce. She didn’t want the other workers imagining she was anything other than a normal girl just like them. ‘I’d better go then,’ she said, slipping on her cardigan and picking up her bag. ‘I’ll see you later. Have a lovely day.’
She went outside. ‘Why are you here?’
Stephens grimaced. ‘I can see you’re not pleased to see me.’
‘It’s nothing personal,’ Emma said, explaining that she would have rather caught the bus with any other factory workers from the village. ‘After all, it was the main reason I moved to live at Oak Cottage.’
‘I thought you might say that,’ he said, holding the door open for her before getting in the driver’s seat. ‘Your uncle insisted and you know I’m not exactly in a position to refuse to collect you when he’s sent me here.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
He drove out of the village and Emma settled back, trying to focus on the beautiful countryside.
‘Nervous?’
‘A little.’ She couldn’t wait to finish her first day, or even her first week, and hoped that by then she might have an idea about what she was doing and would have proved herself to be worth employing. She was also looking forward to making new friends and hoped that the women she was working next to were friendly.
They arrived at the factory and Stephens went to get out of the car.
‘Do not open my door for me,’ she said before he had a chance to do so. ‘I don’t need these women to get the wrong idea about me.’ She spotted a small group of women chatting and cringed when one pointed to the car and the others turned to stare. ‘Damn, they’ve seen me.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Good luck.’
Emma groaned and got out of the car. She saw that the women were waiting by the entrance and wished she didn’t have to pass them. Ah well, she thought nervously, there was nothing for it but to act friendly and hope for the best.
‘Good morning,’ she said, reaching them.
‘Ooh, look,’ said an older woman with a scarf tied around her hair like several of the others. ‘It’s Miss La-Di-Dah and she’s talkin’ to us.’
‘It’s not my car,’ Emma explained.
‘Nah?’ the woman scoffed as her friends laughed and nudged each other. ‘Whose is it then?’
Emma’s mood dipped further. ‘My uncle’s.’
They doubled over laughing and jeering at her. ‘Come to ’ave a look at how the other half live then, have yer?’
‘No. I’ve come to do my bit for the war effort.’
One of them mimicked her and they all began laughing again.
She felt an arm slip through hers. ‘Ignore the old bags,’ a friendly voice said, leading Emma towards the door.
‘I think they’ve got the wrong idea about me.’ She looked at the woman and saw someone not much older than her. ‘Thank you for helping me,’ she said. ‘I’m Emma Le Cuirot.’
‘Strange name that. I’m Aida Gordon. Your first day, I suppose?’
‘Yes,’ Emma said, relieved she had found a friend. It was a start, she supposed.
Thirty-Six
Pru
June 1940, Weymouth
Eventually, what seemed like an eternity later, the boat docked and they were able to disembark.
‘This way,’ he said, insisting on carrying her case when she tried to grab it from him.
She followed him out to find a smart Rolls Royce waiting for them. ‘Monty?’
‘Yes,’ Jack said. ‘He insisted.’
She wasn’t surprised. If he thought that sending his fancy car to collect her was going to calm her before she arrived at his house, he was very much mistaken.
The driver, a friendly young man called Stephens, ‘…opened the doors for them and whispered something to Jack as Pru got into the car.
‘I’ll be coming back this way in a couple of hours,’ Stephens said as he drove them to the manor.
‘For Emma?’ Pru heard Jack ask.
‘Yes. His lordship said I was to collect her, but she’s not going to be happy about it.’
Pru didn’t like to think of Emma being unhappy. ‘Why?’
‘Because she told me off for dropping her off at the factory there this morning, Madam. It was her first day and she’s going to be extremely angry when she sees me waiting for her after her shift ends.’
‘She has a job?’ Pru couldn’t hide her surprise.
‘Sorry, yes, Madam. I probably shouldn’t have said.’
‘It’s fine, please don’t worry. I’m glad she’s finding her way here.’
Pru felt herself calming slightly. However shocked and upset she was with Jack, Monty and Jean, it would be a relief to see her beautiful daughter again.
She sensed Jack tense next to her. ‘I should probably mention that she’s also moved out of the manor house.’
She could hear the reluctance in his voice to have to impart this message. ‘What? Already?’
‘It was her choice.’
‘Seriously, Jack! Is there anything else you’ve kept from me?’ She glared at him and saw him struggling to reply. ‘Never mind. Where is she staying?’
‘Stephens knows,’ Jack said. ‘He only just told me about Emma leaving Ashbury. He dropped her off at her new lodgings yesterday.’
‘That’s right, Madam,’ Stephens said. ‘She’s staying in a room at Oak Cottage in the village. With two sisters. They’re very, er … nice.’
Pru could sense an undertone but decided to wait to speak to her daughter and hear from her exactly what had happened and how she was finding her new home.
As the car drew almost silently up the long driveway, Pru gazed out of the window waiting for the manor house to come into view. It hadn’t changed at all, she thought, sighing instinctively at her happy memories of the place. Seconds later, she remembered all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours and her mood dropped. Now she had to confront Monty and Jean.
Pru entered the hallway and was greeted by Jean and Monty. She looked from one to the other and noticed their unsmiling faces. Good, she thought. At least they had the sense not to expect her to be happy to see them. ‘We need to talk,’ Pru said.
‘We do.’ Jean indicated the room to their right and Pru followed her through to a beautiful pale yellow living room that had clearly been redecorated since she had left. ‘Please, take a seat.’
Pru did while Monty and Jack followed them inside and Jean rang for tea.
They sat in silence for a few seconds.
‘Pru,’ Jean said, her hands clasped together on her lap. ‘I can imagine how you’re feeling right now after—’
Furious but determined not to lose her temper as she had done with Jack, Pru interrupted her friend. ‘I very much doubt you have any idea how I’m feeling right now, Jean. I’m still trying to come to terms with the discovery that the three of you chose to lie to me for twenty-two years.’ She looked from one to the other of them, each of them lowering their gaze under her scrutiny. ‘I’ve promised myself I won’t lose my temper, not because I don’t think each one of you deserves that but because I refuse to upset myself again like I did yesterday.’ Monty and Jean looked at Jack then back at her. ‘I don’t want my daughter to come here and see me upset. It’ll be shock enough for her that I’m here at all.’
A servant brought in the tea and Jean poured each of them a cup.
‘Stephens has left to fetch Emma,’ Jack said, his deep voice sending sensations through her.
Pru wanted to be angry with him for being a party to the lies and wished he didn’t still have such an effect on her. Damn him, she thought angrily, taking the cup of tea that Jean was holding out for her.
‘I think in the circumstances,’ Jack said, ‘that I should drink this and return to the folly. I don’t think it’s fair for Emma to find out who I am while I’m sitting here.’
‘You don’t want to face her?’ Pru asked, surprised. Jack had never to her knowledge been cowardly before.
He stared at her. ‘I want you to decide when she’s to be told who I am, Pru. It’s evident that matters were taken out of your hands by our decisions in the past and that can no longer happen.’
‘Oh dear,’ Monty said. ‘I’ve been waiting for this.’
Pru’s head whipped to her right to look at him. ‘Is that right, Monty?’ She narrowed her eyes at the man she had thought a trusted friend. ‘What, I wonder, have you been waiting for? The time to tell me that Jack is alive and well?’ She heard Jean gasp but ignored her, determined to continue. ‘That not only is he alive, but he’s been living here, at your home, for the past twenty years?’
‘Now, Pru,’ he said, clearly trying to reason with her.
She slammed her hand down onto the highly polished mahogany coffee table in front of her. ‘Don’t you dare “Now, Pru” me, Monty. I thought you’ – she shot a glare at Jean – ‘especially you, were my friends. My trusted friends. And now I discover that the most heart-breaking thing to have happened to me – the devastating loss of the man I loved – was fiction. How could you have let me believe he was dead? How?’
‘Pru, please,’ Jean began.
Monty raised his hand. ‘No, Jean. Pru’s right. We’ve hurt her and I for one am sorry from the bottom of my heart.’
Pru was happy to hear him acknowledge that what they had been a party to was wrong. She noticed Jean’s expression. ‘You want to say something, Jean, I can tell. You may as well say it before Emma gets here.’
‘I will then.’ Jean took a sip of her tea and placed her cup and saucer on a table near to her. Pru noticed her hand was shaking and realised that this was also difficult for her friend. ‘Firstly, I want to apologise for us all keeping Jack’s presence from you. Monty’s right. It probably was the wrong thing to do, but we did it with the best of intentions, I promise you that.’
Pru wanted to believe her.
‘At first, Monty and I thought it was the right thing to do because to tell you would have surely added to your difficulties.’
‘Difficulties?’
‘Yes,’ Jean said. ‘Being pregnant and alone, and having to make the decision to marry my brother. If you weren’t already married when Jack returned, of course we would have told you.’
‘We would,’ Monty agreed.
‘I would have told you,’ Jack insisted. ‘I wanted to tell you, Pru.’
Monty tapped his walking stick on the floor. ‘That was my fault, Pru. I persuaded Jack that telling you was the most selfish thing he could do and that if he loved you, he would leave you to your marriage with Peter and let him bring up Emma.’
Pru swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked at Jack and gave Monty’s words some thought.
‘Was I wrong to do as he suggested?’ Jack asked, his face solemn.
She considered what she had just heard and shook her head, admitting that he wasn’t. ‘No. I can see how it made sense to you.’ She sighed.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. ‘I’m relieved to hear you say that, Pru. Thank you for your understanding.’ He put down his cup and saucer and stood. ‘I think I should make myself scarce now. I’ve left Buddy for long enough. Stephens was looking after him but I think it’s time I went and took him for his walk.’ He stared at Pru. ‘I might see you later then?’
