The Fleethaven Trilogy (103 page)

‘Don’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘We’re only tenants of part of the
old squire’s estate.’

Ella stared at him and her eyes grew large with surprise
as he went on. ‘She’s great, your grannie. I like going to
Brumbys’ Farm. We often go over and help ’em out at
harvest time. And your grandpa, Mester Godfrey, he’s a
whiz with engines and stuff. Me dad’s good, but he always
ses himself he’s not a patch on your grandpa.’

Ella swelled with pride because she loved her Grandpa
Godfrey dearly, but as for her grandmother . . . ‘You
actually
like
her?’ The words were spoken before she could
stop them escaping her lips.

Rob blinked. ‘Yeah, ’course I do. We’re great pals, me
an’ her.’ The grin widened, showing a perfect, even line of
white teeth. ‘She calls me “Boy”.’ There was pride in his
voice. To him, her nickname for him was an endearment.

‘Well, I don’t like her. I think she’s a horrible old
woman.’

He gaped at her for a moment. ‘You’re a right little
spitfire, aren’t ya? I bet
she
puts you in ya place.’

‘Ella, Ella, where are you?’ It was her mother’s voice
calling.

‘Race you back,’ she challenged him, turned and began
to run.

She heard the pounding of his boots behind her and as
they rounded the corner of the farmhouse and saw the
three grown-ups in the yard – Kate, Danny and now Rosie
too – they were neck and neck. Ella, taking the inside line,
nearer the corner, gained a few valuable strides and she
reached the adults first, slowing down as she passed them
and turning to grin triumphantly at the boy behind her.

‘I’ll get you next time,’ he stabbed his finger at her, but
Ella only threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘I’ll beat
you any day, Rob Eland.’

As they joined the adults, Ella heard Danny say softly
to her mother, ‘My, that takes us back a bit, dun’t it,
Katie? I could never keep up with you, could I?’

Kate smiled down at her daughter and ruffled her short
curls. ‘She takes after me in some things, right enough. But
she’s a lot of me mam in her too.’

Ella looked up at her mother, her blue eyes sparking
anger. ‘Don’t you say I’m like
her
,’ she spat, and she turned
and marched away without even bidding Danny, Rosie
and young Rob ‘goodbye’.

Faintly, she heard her mother sigh and say, ‘See what I
mean . . .?’

Without waiting for her mother, Ella walked out of the
farmyard and up the lane, deliberately keeping her gaze
straight ahead.

The funeral on the following day was at a village called
Suddaby, some thirteen or so miles inland from the coast.

‘I promised him he’d be buried between ’em,’ Esther
Godfrey informed her family, ‘so that’s where he’s going.
But I ’spect it’ll set all the tongues wagging again.’

‘Oh, come, Esther love,’ Jonathan Godfrey said in his
deep voice, his gentle smile creasing the lines around his
eyes. ‘It’s all so long ago. No one will remember now . . .’

‘Huh, dun’t you believe it,’ Esther countered. ‘Village
folk have got long memories, ’specially when it’s a nice bit
o’ scandal. ’Sides,’ she added, resentment in her tone.
‘They’ve got a more recent juicy morsel. Like grandmother,
like granddaughter, ain’t it?’ Esther pursed her lips and
glanced briefly at Kate, but when her glance came to rest
on Ella, the young girl was surprised to see the hard
expression in the older woman’s eyes soften. ‘Aye, an’ you
an’ me are the innocents in it all, ain’t we, Missy?’

Ella opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but one
glance at her mother’s face, flaming red with embarrassment,
was enough to make the girl bite back her searching
question.

The mourners travelled in a convoy of cars behind the
hearse, a huge black gleaming vehicle with glass windows,
the coffin covered with three wreaths; one from Esther,
one from Kate and Ella and one with a card which read
‘From all the Eland Family’.

As the vehicles drew to a halt outside the gate of the
tiny church, there were only two more people who were
still strangers to Ella. One was helped out of the car driven
by Danny and bringing Rosie and Rob too. She was an
older lady, with a gentle, rather sad, face, Ella thought.
Her grey hair, white at the temples, was pulled back from
her face into a round bun at the nape of her neck. She was
very stout and waddled a little as she walked, as if her legs
hurt her. Her round face had hardly any wrinkles, except
for a few faint lines around her eyes, though the fold of fat
under her jawline made it look as if she had two chins. Her
smile as she came towards Ella and her mother was gentle,
and, to Ella’s amazement, loving.

‘Oh, Kate, my little Kate.’ Her fat arms enveloped Kate
and then she bent towards Ella. ‘And this is Ella. What
pretty hair . . .’ She reached out and touched the girl’s
curls. Usually Ella would have drawn back from such a
display from a stranger, but she knew instinctively that this
woman’s affection was genuine and that to rebuff her
gesture would hurt her.

And if anyone knew what that felt like, then Ella Hilton
did. So she smiled at the woman and submitted to being
hugged to the ample bosom.

‘This is Mrs Eland, Ella. Rob’s grandma,’ Kate said.

‘Oh, call me, Grandma Eland, love,’ the large woman
said, ‘everyone else does.’

The other stranger was waiting for the funeral party in
the church porch. A tall, thin woman, with short, dull-coloured
hair. She wore glasses on her thin nose and her
mouth was so pinched that she scarcely seemed to have
any lips at all.

‘Well now, fancy her coming,’ Ella heard her grandmother
murmur as they walked up the pathway towards
the church.

‘Who is it, Mum?’ the curious girl whispered.

A wry smile twitched at the corner of Kate’s mouth.
‘Someone I thought you’d never meet, Ella. My sister – your aunty Lilian.’

Ella watched, wide-eyed, as her grandmother greeted
the woman. ‘So, you found time to come to yar grandad’s
funeral, then?’

The thin woman sniffed and leaned forward to kiss
Esther, though the action was one of duty rather than of
affection. ‘Hello, Mother,’ she said stiffly.

The stranger was greeted by each member of the family
in turn.

‘This
is
a surprise, Lilian,’ Ella heard her mother say.
‘How are you?’

‘I’m very well, thank you, Kate.’ The polite enquiry was
not reciprocated and then Ella found herself standing
before the woman looking up into the coldest eyes she had
ever seen. She was holding out her slim fingers towards
Ella. ‘And I suppose
this
is your – er – daughter. How do
you do, Danielle?’

Ella was hardly ever called by her full name, not even
by her teachers at school, so it was quite a shock to hear it
used so formally and, it seemed somehow, with deliberate
emphasis.

That shock appeared to be shared by her mother, for
she heard Kate gasp. Above the girl’s head, the two sisters
glared at each other until Jonathan Godfrey said gently,
‘Come along, it’s time we were going in.’

Putting his arm around Esther, he led her forward to
enter the church behind the coffin leaving the other members
of the family to arrange themselves and follow. With
obvious reluctance, Kate and Lilian walked beside each
other and Ella found her hand being taken by the large,
kindly Grandma Eland. ‘You walk with me, lovey. Yar mam’s got to sit up the front. But you sit with me and
young Rob.’

Once again a brief look of disgust crossed the boy’s face
and Ella grinned inwardly. Boys of his age didn’t like being
made to sit with girls, but there was not a thing he could
do about it.

After the service in the church the party moved into the
graveyard, making their way amongst the gravestones
towards the place where a deep hole had been dug between
two identical existing headstones. Standing, shivering,
between the large lady and Rob Eland, Ella read the two
inscriptions whilst the vicar in a monotone rattled through
the words of the interment. ‘. . . Ashes to ashes . . .’ flowed
over Ella’s head as her mind dwelt on the words on the
two simple white marble headstones.

To the left of the newly dug grave, the inscription read:
‘In loving memory of Rebecca Benson, beloved wife of
William Benson, departed this life 30th March 1919, aged
62 years. Her reward is in Heaven.’

That must be the old man’s wife, Ella thought. What a
long time ago it was since she had died. She did quick
mental arithmetic; it was over thirty years. But then she
knew her great-grandfather had been over ninety.

Her glance went to the grave on the other side of the
hole. ‘In loving memory of Constance Everatt who fell
asleep 9th June 1893, aged nineteen years. The Lord giveth
and the Lord taketh away.’

She felt sad to think that someone should die so young.
She imagined it could be Will and Rebecca’s daughter, but
her name was funny – not Benson. Everatt? It was not a
surname Ella knew and yet the girl was buried so close to Will and with a headstone to match the one at the head of
where Will’s wife lay.

The vicar’s voice faded away and the grown-ups were
beginning to move away from the side of the grave. Ella
pointed at the headstone on the right and asked, ‘Who’s
the girl who died young?’

In the silence her voice sounded shrill and intrusive. The
moment she had spoken, Ella knew she had said the wrong
thing. At her side Grandma Eland squeezed her hand and
bent towards her to whisper softly, ‘It’s some relation of
your . . .’

‘Children should be seen and not heard,’ Esther snapped,
though her forbidding gaze was not on her inquisitive
granddaughter but on Grandma Eland. Ella looked up to
see the large woman’s cheeks turn pink. She was biting her
lip and even though Ella whispered again, ‘Who? Who is
it?’ Grandma Eland shook her head and muttered, ‘I’d best
say no more, love.’

Esther, tucking her arm through her husband’s, turned
away, pausing only to glance towards Kate and add, ‘Can’t
you control your . . .’

Ella held her breath. In the stillness it seemed as if
everyone present was waiting and listening. Then she
saw her grandpa place his hand over Esther’s where it
rested on his arm. ‘Steady on, love,’ he said quietly.
‘Think about the child. You should know how it feels.’
Esther’s gaze swivelled swiftly, her mouth open to utter a
sharp retort. But meeting his concerned, loving eyes, that
gentled his censure, instead, a small smile played on
her mouth and she gave a tiny nod as if understanding
exactly what he meant. Ella saw her grandmother glance
briefly at the grave of the young girl and then she looked
again at Ella, who returned her stare, though knowing her own face was growing red. The girl dipped her head to the
left; it was a self-conscious habit, though she was scarcely
aware of it herself, to hide the tiny birthmark on her
jawline.

Surprisingly, the older woman’s eyes softened as she
seemed to be seeing her granddaughter properly for the
first time. She took her hand from Jonathan’s arm and held
it out towards Ella. ‘Come and walk with me an’ yar
grandpa,’ she said. Suddenly, like the sun appearing from
behind a black cloud, Esther Godfrey smiled.

Feeling Grandma Eland release her hand and give her a
gentle push, Ella moved forward to walk between Esther
and Jonathan.

‘Well,’ her grandmother remarked. ‘We’re the oldest
now, Jonathan. Head of the family . . .’ she snorted with
wry laughter and above Ella’s head glanced at her husband.
‘For what that’s worth.’

Ella heard Jonathan’s deep chuckle, but her head was
turned to look up at Esther. The broad-brimmed hat
almost hid her grandmother’s lovely hair; only the wisps
of grey at the temples were visible. The black tailored coat
hugged her slim figure and she marched along with
sprightly, determined steps as if eager to get back to her
farm and its never-ending work.

‘The farm’s my mother’s life,’ Ella had often heard her
mother say to Peggy, even before she had met Esther
Godfrey. ‘That and, of course, Dad.’

And Peggy would smile and say softly, ‘I think if it came
to a contest, though, my brother would win, Kate.’

‘Without a doubt,’ Kate would laugh. ‘Hands down.’

Now as she walked along between them, their conversation
flowing above her head, Ella could feel the affection
between the couple. The ten-year-old girl could sense,
though perhaps not rationalise, that these two people were all in all to each other and, suddenly, she felt left out, an
intruder between them.

Her grandpa said, ‘Perhaps Rob will take you on the
beach when we get back, Ella.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think he’ll want to.’

‘Course he’ll take you,’ Esther said sharply. ‘If
I
ask
him.’

Ella saw the look that passed between the adults. ‘She’ll
be all right with him,’ her grandmother murmured, ‘Rob’s
a good lad. Can’t do any harm . . .’ There was a strange
melancholy in her voice and she sighed as she added, ‘Not
this time.’

Jonathan nodded and then his work-roughened, yet still
gentle, fingers rested briefly on her curls. ‘You listen to
what Rob tells you, Ella. He knows the sea and its moods.
The beach can be a dangerous place if the mists come up
suddenly.’

She heard her grandmother’s stifled laughter and her
murmured, ‘Oh, you rogue!’ Then they reached out
towards each other and, behind Ella’s back, held hands
like a young courting couple. Perceptively, Ella guessed her
grandfather’s words had revived a secret memory that
brought an impish smile to Esther Godfrey’s mouth and
excluded the young girl walking between them even more.
Tired of feeling an interloper, she ducked under the loop
of their joined hands, saying, ‘I’ll wait for Mum.’

But when she turned back to look for Kate, she saw her
mother and Danny walking together.