The Fleethaven Trilogy (139 page)

The young man’s eyes widened. ‘I – didn’t know you
had a daughter – at least . . .’

‘Only Lizzie, you mean?’ Philip said softly. ‘To be
truthful, neither did I until about six years ago.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Martin said, sitting down and making
himself comfortable as if he were prepared to stay there
the night, or at least until he had heard the whole story.
The dog padded over to the bay window and stretched
herself out on the rug, as if she knew she should keep away
from Philip.

Mrs Trent rose. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I
need a drink. Whisky, Martin?’

‘Please.’

As the older woman left the room, Ella said, ‘I am sorry
all this has upset your mother.’

Philip shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. I suppose I
rather sprang it on her last night and after you’d tried to
be so tactful too, inventing the story about being a student.’
He tapped her playfully on the nose with his forefinger.

They smiled at each other as he went on. ‘But I was so
delighted you’d come at last. I wanted her to share the
wonderful news and then, well . . .’ he spread his hands,
‘she just wouldn’t believe me, refused point blank to accept
any part of it.’ He laughed, a little shamefacedly. ‘Wouldn’t
even believe that I had been “a naughty boy” in the war.’

‘She still doesn’t believe us,’ Ella said in a small voice,
unable to keep the longing from her tone. ‘Even though
we’ve got the same allergy.’

Philip sighed. ‘She’s very upset, more, I think, from the
point of view that she has been deceived all these years.
But I don’t really think she has any choice now.’

It was Martin who, brushing back his flop of hair, said,
‘Your allergy must be hereditary. Your father had it too,
didn’t he, Phil?’

Philip nodded.

‘Then surely, she
must
believe that I am your daughter,’
Ella said.

Philip still seemed unsure. ‘She needs a little time, Ella.
But she’ll come round . . .’

They were the same words which Grandpa Godfrey had
used so often about her gran. But Esther had never ‘come
round’. Would this grandmother, too, be the same?

When the day came for Ella to return to Lincoln to
continue her studies, Mrs Trent had still not come to terms
with her existence.

‘I’m sorry, I should never have come . . .’ Ella began,
contrite to think she had disrupted a happy household and
caused distress to an elderly lady.

‘Don’t ever say that,’ her father said, in mock admonishment
but smiling as he added, ‘You hear me?’

‘But I’ve upset her.’

‘She’ll get over it. She’s a tough old stick. Now, I want
you to promise me that you’ll come back for a weekend in
a couple of weeks’ time, if you can.’

‘But . . .’

‘No buts,’ he said firmly.

She smiled. ‘All right.’

‘Good,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘Now I’ll take you
to the station, though I don’t really want to let you go at
all.’

As they stood on the platform, he said, ‘See you in a
fortnight, then? You will come back, won’t you, Ella?’

‘Of course,’ she said, wrapping her arms around
him. ‘You don’t know what it means to me to have found
you.’

His voice was hoarse and his arms tightened around
her as he said, ‘Oh, I think I do, my dear. I think I
do.’

She leant out of the carriage window, waving until she
could no longer see him.

‘Oh, Aunty Peg, Aunty Peg. I’ve found him!’ She flew into
Peggy’s outstretched arms and hugged her with such enthusiasm
that Peggy nearly lost her balance.

‘Oh my goodness!’ She laughed. ‘I don’t need to ask if
everything went all right.’

Ella pulled a face. ‘Well, it did and it didn’t, but oh,
Aunty Peg, no wonder Mum fell in love with him. He’s
wonderful! Just like Aunty Mave said he was. Kind and
caring and so good-looking, even now.’

They sat up until the early hours for Peggy wanted to
hear everything, and some things twice over.

‘If only Mrs Trent would accept me.’ Ella pulled a wry
grimace. ‘I seem to have trouble with grandmothers, don’t
I?’

‘Oh, I almost forgot . . .’ Peggy said, jumping up and
fishing out a letter from behind the clock on the mantelpiece.
‘There’s a letter from your grandpa. I recognize
Jonathan’s handwriting.’

The girl took the letter into her hands. With wide eyes,
she looked up at Peggy. ‘I expect this is a telling-off.’

‘Well, you won’t know by sitting there holding it,’
Peggy said, reasonably. ‘Open it and get it over with.’

Ella’s eyes scanned the two sheets of paper. ‘I can’t
believe it,’ she said at last, staring up at Peggy, the letter
falling into her lap. ‘He’s not even cross. He seems, well,
almost to be saying he – he understands. Here,’ she held
out the pages to Peggy, ‘read it. See what you think.’

There was silence in the room, except for the tick-tick
of the clock, while Peggy read the letter.

‘No, he’s not angry. Not at all. A little sad, maybe, that you’ve gone. He’s missing you dreadfully, that’s
obvious.’

Ella wriggled and muttered, ‘I bet he’s the only one who
is.’

‘Now, now,’ Peggy remonstrated gently.

‘He – he doesn’t mention my gran, does he? He doesn’t
say what she thinks. There isn’t even a message from her.’

Peggy sighed. ‘Your gran’s like that. When Kate found
she was expecting you, your gran threw her out, the real
“never darken my door again” bit. Not even Jonathan
could bring her round. Until you and your mum went back
that time for Will Benson’s funeral, she’d never seen Kate,
or written to her or even sent her a message. She’s doing
the same to you, love. It’s the way she is. She never forgives
and she never forgets. But your grandpa, he’ll write regularly.
You’ll see. And another thing . . .’

‘What?’

‘He’d want to hear all about how you’ve found your
father. He’ll be delighted. You must write back to him.
You will, won’t you Ella?’

The girl nodded. Even though she now had a new
family, had found her father who, she knew already, loved
her, the old hurt still remained, could not be washed
away.

Why, oh why was it never her gran who loved her?

Peggy had been right. Her Grandpa Godfrey replied at
once to her letter saying how delighted he was she had
found her father.

‘. . . if my little Kate loved him,’ he wrote, ‘then he must
be a fine man . . .’

Ella smiled. What a kind, generous man her grandpa
was. Over the following weeks, he wrote regularly; loving, newsy letters about the farm and all the people at
Fleethaven.

Rob is doing very well at the Farm Institute. He
comes home most weekends. We can hear his
motorbike coming nearly five miles away! He and
Janice go out together when he’s home. We all
wonder if one day there’ll be wedding bells there.

The knife twisted in the wound and Ella closed her eyes
against the pain. Did her grandpa know how much such
news would hurt her? Was he trying to prepare her for the
inevitable? That one day, Rob would marry someone else.

And still, there was no message from her gran.

‘I think I’ll write to Uncle Danny and Aunty Rosie,’ she
said. ‘I feel rather bad about just leaving without a word.’

‘That’s a good idea, love. Your mother wouldn’t have
wanted any ill-feeling between you and your uncle.’

As she sat down and picked up her pen, Ella thought
but did not voice it to Peggy, And I might find out if there’s
anything really going on between Rob and Janice.

When she returned to York for the promised weekend
visit, she was surprised and not a little dismayed to find
the door opened by Mrs Trent.

‘Come in, Ella.’ The woman’s voice was expressionless.
‘I’ll show you to your room.’

She led the way across the hall and made to mount the
stairs.

‘Please, just a minute . . .’

Mrs Trent, one hand resting on the banister, turned to
look down at Ella. She said nothing but merely waited for
the girl to speak.

‘Look, I don’t want to upset you again. I can easily stay
in a hotel or somewhere.’

For a long moment they stood staring at each other,
then the older woman sighed, turned, and came back down
the steps she had just climbed.

In a totally different tone, as if resigned to the inevitable,
she said, ‘Put your suitcase down there, Ella, and come
into the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.’

A few minutes later they were sitting on either side of a
pine kitchen table, with coffee and biscuits between them.

‘I’ve done a lot of thinking since you were here. And a
lot of talking,’ her mouth quirked with amusement as she
added softly, ‘and some listening too.’ She took a deep
breath. ‘I’ve learnt a lot about my own son that I didn’t
know.’ She was silent a moment, sipping her coffee.

Ella said nothing, though her heart was thudding and
her hands felt clammy.

Mrs Trent sighed. ‘I suppose what hurt was his deceit,
at least what I saw as his deceit. But I’ve had to come to
terms with the fact that he is – and was then – a grown
man with a right to live his own life.’ Her gaze met Ella’s.
‘And if that included loving your mother, then – then I
must accept it.’

‘Their marriage,’ she went on, ‘his and Grace’s – I have
to admit, perhaps we were guilty of pushing them together,
expecting it of them almost. Her parents and Philip’s father
and I were all close friends. The men were army officers
and we shared married quarters abroad.’

Again there was a silence, then she said suddenly, ‘I
went to see Grace last week.’

Ella’s eyes widened and she gasped.

‘Oh, don’t worry, my dear. I said nothing about you. If
Philip wishes to tell her, then he must do it himself. No, I went because I needed to see if what Philip had said was
true.’

‘About her being happy now? In her career, you mean?’
Ella said.

Mrs Trent nodded.

‘And?’ Ella prompted gently.

A smile, tentative at first, spread across Mrs Trent’s
mouth. ‘I have to admit, I have never seen her happier. Oh,
we talked about Lizzie and cried together a little, but she
confirmed what Philip had said. They had come to a
mutual understanding to separate. There was one other
thing she did say, and it was without any prompting from
me.’

Ella waited.

‘She said she had wondered if there had ever been
anyone else in Philip’s life and – and she said if there had
been, then she would never blame him.’

‘She said that?’ For a moment, Ella was incredulous.

Mrs Trent nodded. ‘She’s a lovely, generous hearted girl
who, through her own tragedies, has learnt to be understanding
about the needs of others.’

‘She must be,’ Ella murmured.

‘I’m glad I went to see her. She taught me a valuable
lesson.’ She reached out across the table with a wrinkled,
beringed hand that trembled slightly. ‘Ella, can we start
again? I’d really like to get to know – my granddaughter.’

Tears sprang into Ella’s eyes and all she could do was
nod her head vigorously.

As often as she could, she travelled to York to be with her
‘other family’ as she called them. The weeks turned into
months and it was early summer again.

‘I wonder how it is,’ her father remarked on one of her
weekend visits, a smile twitching his mouth, ‘that every
time you’re here, Ella, young Martin finds a reason to keep
popping in to see us. He doesn’t seem to have the same
interest when there’s just us two old fogies here, does he,
Mother?’

Mrs Trent, her blue eyes so like her son’s, twinkled.
‘No,’ she said airily. ‘And there I was thinking what a good
neighbour he is.’

They all laughed but Ella pulled a wry face. ‘I think
you’ve got it wrong, Dad . . .’ She still savoured using the
name. ‘I don’t think it’s me he comes to see . . .’ she
touched the birthmark on her jawline, ‘not with this!’

Her grandmother leaned forward, squinting at her
closely. ‘What? What are you talking about, child?’

‘Oh, Grandmother.’ She laughed. ‘Now don’t be
kind
about it. I’ve lived with it all my life. I really don’t let it
bother me.’

Across the table, her father and grandmother looked
at each other. ‘I think, Philip, that your daughter needs
taking in hand. Tomorrow we begin “Operation Ella”.
Agreed?’

He nodded, seeming to understand exactly what she
was talking about, though Ella stared at each of them in
turn completely mystified.

‘Agreed,’ was all her father said.

Mrs Trent rose from the table. ‘Well then, if you will
both excuse me, I have some telephoning to do to make
arrangements.’

‘Are you ready?’ It was her father calling up the stairs.

‘Coming,’ she called back, and ran lightly down. ‘Where
are we going?’

‘You’ll see,’ was all he would say.

She climbed into the front seat of the green Rover
marvelling at the comfortable upholstery and giggling
inwardly at the comparison between this luxurious car and
the Souters’ old banger.

Her grandmother was sitting regally in the back seat as
they drove towards the city centre. Parking the car, they
walked to one of the largest department stores Ella had
ever seen.

‘This is like the one where Aunty Peg works in Lincoln,
but about twice the size,’ she gasped, staring wide-eyed
around her.

Grandmother Trent was walking ahead of her, leading
the way, nodding to right and left as several of the
assistants greeted her by name.

They went up the stairs and came to a part sectioned
off; a hairdressing salon and beauty parlour. A middle-aged
woman came towards them, her fair hair sleek and
immaculate, her suit well tailored and smart.

‘Good morning, Mrs Trent. Is this your granddaughter?’
And Ella found herself shaking the woman’s hand. ‘Everything’s
ready.’

‘Good.’ Mrs Trent nodded and smiled. ‘In you go, Ella.
Your father and I are going to the restaurant for coffee
while we wait for you.’