The Soldier's Daughter (23 page)

He held his hand out, saying, ‘Ah, you must be Briony. Thank you so much for stepping into the breach at such short notice, my dear. I’m afraid I had to rush off to the dentist.’ He tapped the side of his face which she saw now was slightly swollen. ‘I’ve been awake all night with a raging toothache so Mrs Page rang up and got me an appointment this morning. Nothing to be done at my age, of course, but to have it pulled out.’ He grinned lopsidedly before asking, ‘Has it been quiet?’

‘Oh yes,’ she assured him. ‘Not a single call, so I’ll get off now if you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all, and thank you again.’ He leaned slightly towards her then and confided, ‘Between you and me, I’d like to retire, but I don’t like to let the family down. I’m not so very far off your grandfather’s age, after all. I’m just hoping that Sebastian might take a bigger role in the business soon and then I’ll have more time to spend in my garden. But hark at me, you have better things to do than listen to me rattling on. Goodbye, my dear.’ He gallantly opened the door for Briony and as she stepped past him and out into the sunshine, she let out a sigh of relief.

As she was walking back through the town she passed the railway station, where a queue of children carrying cardboard suitcases and gas masks were being marched along the platform by two Red Cross workers with clipboards under their arms. Each child had a brown label with their name and address on it attached to their coat with a safety pin. They looked to be from the ages of about five to ten years old, and whilst a number of the little ones were whimpering for their mums the older ones looked to be quite excited at the prospect of being at the seaside. These must be the latest evacuees that Mrs Dower had been talking about, Briony thought as she smiled and hurried past them.

She had barely entered the kitchen when her grandmother appeared and asked, ‘Did you bring the account book I asked for?’ Briony supposed she must have seen her walking up the drive and round the side of the house to the back entrance. Somehow she got the impression that her grandmother would not appreciate her using the front entrance.

‘Yes, I did.’ Briony’s eyes strayed to the dirty crockery left for her to clear away on the table but she made no comment. The other woman had made it perfectly clear that she was expected to earn her keep during her stay at The Heights, and she had accepted that.

Taking the heavy ledger from her bag, Briony handed it to her and the woman instantly began to flick through it with no word of thanks. No surprise there.

‘I had a quick look at it and everything seems to be in order from what I could see’, Briony said. ‘All the figures for this year tally.’

‘But this can’t be right.’ Her grandmother was frowning. ‘We had far more funerals in the last year than have been recorded here.’ She snapped the book shut and stuffed it under her arm. She was clearly not at all happy.

‘There must be some mistake,’ she muttered. ‘Unless, of course, Sebastian has another ledger somewhere. Anyway, you get on with your work, girl. It is no concern of yours. Oh, and by the way,
I
shall collect the children from school.’ With that she stalked out of the room.

Briony knew that it was childish, but as Marion Frasier’s thin frame disappeared through the door, she stuck her tongue out. Miserable old witch, she thought, then hurried away to get changed.

The children were bubbling with excitement when they got home from school despite being escorted back by their grandmother.

‘It’s ever so nice there,’ Alfie informed his sister as she smiled at him indulgently. He had been as neat as a new pin when he had left this morning, Briony had made sure of that – but now the little boy looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. His socks were round his ankles and his tie was askew.

‘The kids there are really friendly,’ he went on, his words coming so fast they were almost falling over one another. ‘An’ Mrs Fellows is ever so nice too. She’s goin’ to have a baby. Ruby Dickenson told me so. That’s why she’s fat, see?’

Sarah stood back, content to let her brother warble on, and Briony winked at her. The little girl looked tired, but then she had never been the strongest of children and Briony guessed that she must be worn out.

Mrs Dower had arrived and was making pastry as she listened to them with amusement. Eventually they went off to their rooms to fetch a jigsaw; Briony had a fear of them venturing too close to the edge of the cliff in the dark, so she had told them they must entertain themselves indoors. The nights were drawing in surprisingly quickly and just that afternoon Briony had found some leaves off the trees in the orchard blowing across the cobbled yard. It was a sure sign that autumn was well on the way.

‘Didn’t I tell you that they’d be as right as rain,’ Mrs Dower said as she placed a pan of potatoes covered in goose fat into the oven to roast.

‘You did,’ Briony agreed, but then there was no more time for chatter as they each got on with their jobs.

Much later on, when Briony was clearing the dining-room table, her grandmother handed her an envelope.

‘This came for you this morning. I should imagine it’s from . . .
her
.’

Briony knew that
her
meant her mother, and she bit her tongue as her grandfather gave her a warning look. She took the envelope and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron, then without another word she loaded the large wooden tray and left the room before her temper got the better of her.

Once in the kitchen, however, she let rip. ‘Can you
believe
she’s only just bothered to give me this!’ she ranted to Mrs Dower in a hiss. She kept her voice down because she didn’t want to upset the children, who were now sitting colouring at the kitchen table. They had full stomachs and were pleasantly tired. ‘She must have had it all day!’

‘Oh, she always grabs the mail first thing when the postman comes,’ Mrs Dower answered. ‘I reckon she must watch for him from the window because I’ve never yet found a single letter on the doormat in all the years I’ve worked here. From your mother, is it?’

Briony nodded, her lip quivering as she stared at the familiar handwriting.

‘Why don’t you save it till you’ve got the little ones to bed, then you can sit and enjoy it, eh?’ the housekeeper said gently.

‘I will,’ Briony promised her. ‘But you get off now, Mrs Dower. It gets dark so quickly here and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you on your way home.’

‘There’s no fear of that, my bird,’ the woman told her. ‘I know the walk from Kynance Farm to this place like the back of my hand and I could do it blindfold. But I will get off if you’re sure you don’t mind. Howel’s going out tonight with his young lady and he’ll be wanting a meal before he goes.’

‘Oh, are they going somewhere nice?’ Briony was suddenly envious as another long night stretched ahead of her. She had grown very fond of Howel and found herself looking forward to him bringing the supplies each morning bright and early before the children were awake.

‘I dare say they’ll just go to the local picture house, the Savoy, though the films we get round here are always old ones that have been out for some time. Either that or they’ll go to the Jolly Mariner for a drink.’

‘Well, I hope he has a nice time.’ Briony looked at the envelope in her hand again and cheered up a little. At least she had her mother’s letter to look forward to, with all the news of what was happening at home.

Later that evening when all was quiet, she tore the envelope open expectantly, her heart racing. Her eyes flew down the page so quickly that the words blurred into one another, but she was left feeling slightly disappointed. Her mother had never been much of a letter-writer and merely told her that all was well and that Ruth and Mrs Brindley sent their love. There was no mention of Ernie or even if they had had word from him. Sighing, she folded the letter and was just placing it back in the envelope when the door leading from the hall slammed open and Sebastian appeared, his face red with temper.

‘Just what the hell do you think you were doing, you little bitch, poking about in my desk down at the funeral parlour!’ he snarled.

He was dressed in a dark suit that looked as if it had cost more than Briony had earned in a whole month back home, and the creases in the trousers were so sharp she could have cut her finger on them. Beneath it he wore a starched white shirt and a striped tie, and his fair hair was tight to his head with Brylcreem. He was a handsome man, but with his face contorted with rage he looked ugly and dangerous.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Briony defended herself, her head held high. ‘The only thing I went into your desk for was to get the ledger that your mother asked me to look at and fetch back here for her.’ Inside she was quaking but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see that.

‘Well, in future keep your nose out of my business,’ he said threateningly. ‘And don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, coming here and trying to worm your way into the old girl’s affections!’

‘I’m doing no such—’

He cut her short, leaning menacingly towards her. ‘What’s here is all fucking
mine
when anything happens to those two – and you’d do well to remember it,’ he spat, and with that he turned and stormed out the way he had come.

Briony was deeply shocked. She shook her head in bewilderment as she tried to think what she had done to upset him so much. She had only been following her grandmother’s instructions. As her heart-rate dropped to a more normal level, she sighed. It seemed that she would never be able to do right whilst she was here, but for the sake of her brother and sister, it was something she was just going to have to live with. One thing was for sure, she had just unwittingly made herself an enemy. A very frightening one.

First thing the next morning, as Briony was throwing logs onto the fire, there was a loud hammering on the front door. She froze. As far as she was aware, she was the only one up. Should she answer it? Deciding that she didn’t have much choice, she strode through the hall and opened the door. Standing on the step was one of the Red Cross ladies she had seen the day before leaving the station with the evacuees.

‘Ah, may I see Mrs Frasier please, dear?’ she asked with a brilliant smile. There was a little girl standing at the side of her with her head bowed.

Briony stuttered, ’Er, I’m not sure that she is up yet.’

‘Yes, I am,’ a voice thundered behind her, and there was her grandmother, wrapped in a voluminous dressing gown and with her hair standing on end. ‘How may I help you?’ She frowned at the woman, not at all happy about being disturbed at such an early hour.

‘Well, if I could just step inside?’ The woman was in no way intimidated, and Briony wondered if her grandmother had met her match.

Marion Frasier reluctantly allowed her to step into the hallway, where the woman said coldly, ‘I noticed that you did not put your name down for an evacuee, Mrs Frasier.’

‘That’s because I already have three of them!’ Marion snapped, making the colour rise in Briony’s cheeks.

‘Oh really? But I understood from the locals that it was your grandchildren you had staying with you.’

‘It’s the same thing, isn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid it isn’t.’ The woman smiled down at the little girl at her side, who had visibly started to tremble. ‘The thing is, we are having trouble finding a place for little Mabel here. Mrs Glover in the village kindly let her stay there last night but as you may be aware she already has seven of her own as well as a little boy she has taken in, so Mabel can’t stay there, I’m afraid. I thought, seeing as you have such an enormous house . . . ’

‘I don’t
want
strangers here,’ her grandmother said, looking at the child with contempt.

‘Well, I’m very sorry to hear that but I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Everyone who has the room is expected to take an evacuee – and you will of course be paid. Most God-fearing people in Poldak have been only too happy to help, and I doubt they would look kindly on someone with all your advantages who would turn a child away.’

Mrs Frasier became silent as she considered things. The woman had struck a chord when she mentioned God. It wouldn’t do if word were to get out among her church friends that she had refused to help a child in need. Briony’s thoughts were much more compassionate. As she looked at the little girl, her kind heart went out to her. Mabel seemed so small and vulnerable, and to have to listen to this exchange must have been awful for her.

‘I could always drag another bed into Sarah’s room,’ she suggested, seeing her grandmother’s hesitation. ‘And I would look after her. You wouldn’t even have to see her.’

‘In that case, I suppose I shall be forced to take her in,’ she sniffed. ‘See to it, girl, and just make sure you keep her out of my way.’

‘Charitable soul, isn’t she? It’s people like her who make our job so much easier,’ the woman commented sarcastically as Mrs Frasier disappeared back into the room that now served as her and her husband’s downstairs bedroom.

Briony smiled at the woman apologetically and said, ‘Why don’t you both come through to the kitchen. It’s nice and warm in there, and I was just about to make a hot drink.’

The woman returned the smile gratefully and gripping the child’s hand she followed Briony along the hallway and into the kitchen.

‘Thank you for that, dear.’ She took a seat at the table as Briony hurried over to pour the boiling water into the teapot. ‘I was just beginning to get into a bit of a panic. I have to catch the ten o’clock train back to London, you see, and I still had to find somewhere for little Mabel here to stay.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll be perfectly all right with us,’ Briony assured her, spreading some cups on the table. ‘And I’m sorry about . . . er . . .’

The woman waved her hand airily. ‘Think nothing of it. I often get that reaction from people. But the children have to go somewhere, bless them. It’s hard enough being dragged away from their families without having to stay somewhere where they’re clearly not wanted. Still, in this case it seems that all is well that ends well. I’m sure she’ll be happy with you.’ She then proceeded to take a ration book and a sheet of paper from her bag. Placing them on the table she told Briony, ‘All Mabel’s details are on there – her home address, et cetera – as well as a stamped addressed postcard so that you can let her mother know where she is staying. My address is there too, should you need it.’