Father Unknown (10 page)

‘Where have you two been?’ Violet shouted as the girls came nearer.

‘Only down at the beach, Mum,’ Josie shouted back cheerfully. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve had a telegram,’ she said. ‘My mother’s very ill and I have to go to Helston immediately. You, Ellen, go up to the village and ask Mr Peters if he can take me, tell him it’s an emergency. Josie, you’d better come inside with me and help me pack some things.’

The girls looked at each other in surprise. They had been taken to Helston to see this grandmother only once, around six years ago. She was very old, nasty to everyone, and her house was smelly and dark. They had both been convinced she was a witch. To their knowledge their mother hadn’t had any contact with her since that day.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ Violet roared at Ellen. ‘Go now, and quickly.’

Ellen didn’t ask why she didn’t get Dad to take her in the old truck, or even where he was, because the thought of a couple of days without her stepmother was too wonderful to delay her. She sped up the track on to the road, ran the half-mile without stopping once, then climbed over the stile to the footpath that led across the fields to Mawnan Smith.

Mr Peters lived in a pretty little cottage right in the centre of the village. He had moved down here from Exeter when he retired as a schoolmaster. He wasn’t a real taxi driver, but he supplemented his pension by ferrying local people about at a much lower cost than the taxi firms in Falmouth charged.

He was weeding his front garden as Ellen ran up the road. She liked him, as he was one of the few adults in the village who was really interesting. He was tall and thin, and wore his customary summer outfit of baggy knee-length shorts, a rather loud-patterned shirt and a battered straw hat.

‘Could you possibly take Mum to Helston? Our grandmother’s very ill,’ Ellen blurted out breathlessly for she had a stitch in her side.

He dropped his gardening fork and smiled. ‘Now, which one are you? Ellen or Josie?’ he asked.

‘Ellen of course,’ she said, grinning at him because he always teased her with the same thing. Josie never bothered to speak to Mr Peters, whereas Ellen went out of her way to talk to him.

‘Of course,’ he said, tipping his hat back and smiling broadly. ‘You are the one with brains as well as beauty. How did the exams go?’

‘Pretty good,’ she admitted. ‘But I won’t get the results for a while. Can you take Mum?’

‘Of course I will,’ he said, though he didn’t look exactly pleased at the prospect, and Ellen hoped Josie might persuade Violet to have a wash and change her dress before they went. ‘Come on in and have a cold drink, my dear, while I wash my hands and explain to Mrs Peters. You look very hot and bothered.’

Ellen followed him into the cottage and looked about her eagerly. She loved it when Mr Peters invited her in, for it was the prettiest little house she’d ever seen. So many books and pictures, lovely rugs on the floor, and beautiful shiny old furniture. She wished she could wave a magic wand and make Beacon farmhouse like it.

Mr Peters went out through the French windows to speak to his wife who was sitting in the garden in a deckchair doing some embroidery. She turned her head as he spoke to her and called out for Ellen to join her.

Ellen admired Mrs Peters almost as much as she admired her husband, even though she didn’t know her as well. She was younger than him, and had the kind of style Ellen saw as ‘knitting-pattern models’. She went in for neat costumes, with pearls at her neck, and her greying hair was fixed up in a bun. Ellen had been very impressed when she had run into her out walking in the fields. She had been wearing pale blue slacks and a checked coat that matched perfectly. Ellen had decided that day that when she was over fifty she would make sure she didn’t slop about in nasty old dark clothes, but be as well groomed as Mrs Peters.

‘So your grandmother’s very ill,’ Mrs Peters said, her soft voice full of sympathy. ‘Is she very old?’

Mr Peters brought Ellen a glass of lemonade, then disappeared again.

‘I’ve only seen her once,’ Ellen said, sipping the drink and looking around the garden which was even nicer than the front one, with dozens of rose-bushes in full bloom. ‘She looked very old then.’

‘How are you girls going to manage if your mother stays there for a while?’ Mrs Peters asked.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Ellen said, trying not to look too happy about it. ‘We can both cook and I always help Dad around the farm anyway.’

‘If you need any help, you come to me,’ Mrs Peters said, and she reached out her hand and patted Ellen’s knee as if trying to say she understood how it was for her.

Ellen often felt this wordless understanding from people in the village. She guessed that everyone knew about her real mother, and perhaps if she was brave enough to ask they could tell her a great deal more than her father had. But it seemed so disloyal to him to ask about her, and anyway he’d be furious if he found out.

Yet the Peters were people she
could
ask. Just to see the loving way they treated each other and the way they always helped anyone in the village if they could, was enough to know they could be trusted never to pass on what was said to anyone.

‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Peters,’ she said. ‘I just love coming here, your house and garden are so beautiful.’

‘Bless you, dear.’ Mrs Peters beamed. ‘But with your looks and brains I don’t doubt for a moment that you’ll end up somewhere even nicer. If you wish for something hard enough it comes, you know.’

That night in bed Ellen thought of Mrs Peters’ remark again. She had wished for her stepmother to go away, and she had, so perhaps her other wishes would come true too.

She had been driven back to the farm by Mr Peters, and she was pleased to see that Josie had managed to tidy their mother up. Violet was still barking out instructions to them when she left, one of which was to explain to their father where she’d gone and that she might be away for some days.

Dad grinned broadly when Ellen relayed this to him. He didn’t even bother to ask why his wife hadn’t come and found him to tell him herself. It turned out to be quite the jolliest evening they’d had in a long time; they had their tea sitting outside in the sunshine, then Josie washed up while Ellen helped Dad with the milking and getting the chickens in. Then to their surprise Dad suggested they played cards, something he never did. When it was bedtime he kissed both girls and said they weren’t to worry about anything as they’d all manage fine. Josie looked so delighted Ellen thought she might burst.

A note arrived from their mother three days later, just as the girls were leaving to catch the school bus. Dad read it and put it down on the table. ‘Her mother’s had a stroke, and she’ll be staying for some time, as she can’t do anything for herself,’ he said. ‘She says Josie is to join her there.’

Josie looked at Ellen in absolute horror.

Ellen thought quickly. It was one thing to get shot of her stepmother for a few weeks, quite another to lose Josie too. She remembered how nasty the old woman’s house was. Josie would be miserable there. ‘She can’t go, Dad, she’s got the end of term exams to sit, and the teachers won’t like it if she misses them,’ she said quickly.

There was utter silence as they waited for Dad to reply. He scratched his head, read the letter again, then rolled up a cigarette and looked at Josie thoughtfully.

‘Don’t you want to go?’

She shook her head furiously. ‘Please don’t make me, Dad,’ she pleaded. ‘I want to stay here with you and Ellen.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘You go off to school and I’ll post a letter back sometime today.’

Josie leapt to her feet; they would have to run to catch the bus. ‘Thank you, Dad,’ she said, hesitating at the door, ‘but don’t say I didn’t want to go, it might hurt her feelings.’

They never did find out if their mother’s feelings were hurt. She sent another letter back a few days later, but their father didn’t disclose the contents. All he said was that they had better both write to her, and not forget to ask after the old lady’s health.

Both girls were equally happy that their mother was staying away indefinitely. For Ellen it was heaven not to have to put up with her sarcasm and criticism, and Josie could escape the endless questions.

It seemed as though all the clouds had rolled away. The weather was hot and sunny, Dad was much nicer to Josie, and she reciprocated by helping out on the farm, which she didn’t usually do. Ellen knew she wouldn’t get her ‘O’ level results until August, but the headmistress called her into her study on the last day of school and gave her a pep talk about not thinking of leaving because she was sure she’d passed all her exams and she was clever enough to go on to university. That decided Ellen once and for all. Two more years of school was a long time, but she thought it would be worth it in the end.

Everyone was let out of school early that day, so Ellen decided to walk home. As she got to Swanpool beach, she saw that the beach kiosk was advertising for part-time staff. They needed two girls for three days a week right through till the end of August. So Ellen suggested her sister could work with her, and to her delight the owner agreed, never even asking if Josie was over fifteen.

When Ellen got home and told Josie the good news, they were both wildly excited. Even their father laughed with them and told them to clear off to the beach to give him some peace.

It was baking hot, so they were only too eager to strip off their uniforms, and ran down to the cove in their swimming costumes, screaming with laughter. As Ellen lay on her back floating in the water, she couldn’t remember ever being so happy before. The thought of six whole weeks of holiday, a job and money to spend was wonderful. Everything seemed magical that afternoon, the sea was a calm clear blue, with a heat haze shimmering over the rocks. She and Josie played childish games, ducking under the water and grabbing each other’s legs, climbing on each other’s backs and having wild water fights. Later they lay on the baking sand with their toes just in the water, and for the first time ever they revealed to each other how they felt about their parents.

‘It’s Mum who spoils everything,’ Josie admitted. ‘I used to think it was because Dad was mean to her, but now she’s gone I can see who really starts it all.’

‘She can’t help it, I suppose,’ Ellen said. She was so happy that, old grievances had disappeared. ‘I don’t think she was ever cut out to be a farmer’s wife. I reckon she must have married him thinking she could change the way he lived.’

‘She told me a while ago that she still feels the ghost of your mother around,’ Josie said, and giggled. ‘Does he ever talk to you about her?’

‘No, never,’ Ellen said and told Josie what was said between them the day she found out Violet was her stepmother. ‘I don’t even know where she is buried.’

‘Don’t you?’ Josie said in surprise. ‘She’s in the graveyard by the church. Not right in the churchyard, just outside. Mum said she couldn’t be buried in consecrated ground because she took her own life.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ Ellen asked. It stung to think of anyone being put into unhallowed ground, and even more that her younger sister knew this, but she hadn’t been told.

‘Mum said I wasn’t to, and I didn’t dare,’ Josie said, looking a little shamefaced. ‘I’m sorry, but I thought you would have found out by now.’

‘Don’t let Mum get in between us any more,’ Ellen suggested. ‘I’m sure that’s why Dad is mean to you sometimes, because he knows Mum’s mean to me. If we stand together maybe it will stop for good.’

Josie nodded agreement. ‘Don’t you wish we had a normal mum and dad, lived in an ordinary house and stuff?’

Ellen had wished that countless times in the past, especially in the days when they had no electricity and only an outside lavatory. She would look at the modern houses in Falmouth with their neat gardens and white nets at the window and ache for the comforts other children took for granted. Yet another part of her knew she and Josie had some things lots of kids would die for – this beach, the animals, woods and cliffs. Those other kids might have televisions, record-players and a home that was always clean and tidy, but that might be very dull sometimes.

‘Sometimes, but we haven’t got ordinary parents, so there’s not much point in wishing for them. Josie, we’ll set the world alight, you and I –, you’ll be a famous model and I’ll be –’ She stopped short, suddenly aware she didn’t really know what she wanted to be.

‘What are you going to be?’ Josie asked, sensing her sister hadn’t got a clear picture.

‘I don’t know, maybe a teacher or something like that.’

‘You won’t get it if you don’t want it bad enough,’ Josie said. ‘I go to sleep every night imagining myself modelling on a catwalk.’

They lapsed into companionable silence then, letting the sun’s rays toast their skin. But Ellen was a little disturbed to find she hadn’t got any clear idea about what she wanted to do with her life. It was as if she couldn’t see further ahead than just going back to school in September to be in the sixth form.

They walked back to the farmhouse later, their arms linked, singing the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ song ‘I Like It’ at the top of their lungs.

Suddenly Josie broke off and prodded Ellen. ‘There’s a car. Who’s that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ellen said, looking at the light grey saloon on the farm track down from the road. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

Curious, they began to run, but stopped short just outside the fence around the front garden as they saw their mother at the open front door.

‘Oh no,’ Ellen gasped.

Josie said nothing, but her face had blanched.

‘So this is what you do all day while I’m away,’ Mum shouted as they came in through the gate. ‘Off swimming. Clothes left all over the floor. Beds not made. Come on in at once and go upstairs to put something decent on. It’s a good job I came back to get Josie. I knew I couldn’t trust you two to take care of her.’

With that the girls saw their father was in the kitchen, looking tense. Another man was there too; he was short and stout, wearing a dark suit.