The Fleethaven Trilogy (146 page)

‘Ready, Missy? We’ve been ready a week.’ Laughing,
Esther disappeared into the house.

At two o’clock when the first guests were expected, they
were ready. Ella had put on one of her dresses Grandmother
Trent had bought her and used a little make-up,
carefully concealing the birthmark on her jawline. She had
washed her hair and, longer now, it framed her face, falling
in cascading curls and waves to her shoulders.

‘Oh Ella, you look a picture,’ Grandpa greeted her,
looking resplendent himself, if still a little thin, in his best
suit, whilst Esther had on a new royal blue dress. They
were waiting, a little self-consciously it seemed to Ella, in
the living room when she came downstairs. Ella saw her
grandmother looking keenly at her face, at the place on
her jaw where usually the birthmark was plainly visible,
but she said nothing as Ella turned away, saying brightly,
‘They should be here soon . . .’ and went to the back door.

A car was turning into the drive; a huge, dark green car
with soft leather upholstery.

‘Oh!’ Ella cried.

‘What?’ asked her grandmother, coming up behind her.

‘It’s my dad!’ and Ella flew across the yard towards the
tall man unfolding himself from the driver’s seat and flung
herself against him.

From the back seat of the car, Peggy and Mrs Trent
emerged.

‘This is your grandpa’s doing.’ Peggy was laughing.
‘He asked me to write to your father and invite him and
Mrs Trent to come to the party you were planning for
him.’

‘It’s wonderful to see you.’ Ella hugged first Peggy and
then Mrs Trent. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you all.’ Then she
ran back to Jonathan, who was standing near the back
door, his arm about Esther’s shoulders, reached up and
kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Grandpa.’

From the boot of the car, Philip was lifting a huge
bouquet of flowers and, as Ella made the introductions, he
said, ‘I know it’s really Mr Godfrey’s day, but I thought he
wouldn’t mind . . .’ And he laid the flowers in Esther’s
arms.

‘For – for me?’ she stuttered, her face pink. Ella watched
her gran look up into the face of the tall man as he said
softly, ‘We meet again, Mrs Godfrey.’

For a moment, Esther looked puzzled. Then she gasped.
‘You! It is – was – you. Kate brought you here in the war,
didn’t she?’

Philip Trent nodded. ‘Yes.’

Ella watched Esther struggling with conflicting
emotions, whilst Philip took her hand in his and said softly,
‘I loved Kate very much, Mrs Godfrey. Whatever you think
of me, I want you to believe that.’

Esther looked deep into his eyes for what seemed, to
those watching, a long time, then suddenly she smiled, and
though there was still a tinge of sadness in her face at the
memories this man’s presence evoked, she said, ‘I do. I can
see it in your eyes.’

Then to everyone’s surprise, not least Esther’s, Philip
bent and kissed her cheek. ‘And now,’ he said, straightening
up, ‘I’d like you to meet Ella’s other grandmother.’ He
held out his arm to draw his mother forward and Ella held
her breath as the two women from such different backgrounds
regarded each other.

Mrs Trent, stepping carefully across the cobbles of the
yard in her high-heeled court shoes, adjusted the grey fox
fur about her shoulders and held out her gloved hand.
Esther, in a daze, shook it and opened her mouth, but
whatever she had been going to say was never spoken for,
in a flurry of noise and excited chatter, the Eland family
arrived and the party began.

She was so busy looking after all the guests that it was
some time before Ella had time to talk to anyone.

‘So when are you coming back to York?’ Grandmother
Trent’s voice could be heard clearly above the muted
chatter in the living room. ‘Your room’s all ready now.
We’ve even bought new furniture for it, haven’t we,
Philip?’

There seemed, to Ella, to be a sudden silence, as if
everyone in the room was listening and waiting for her
answer.

‘Now, Mother,’ Philip’s calm voice came to Ella’s
rescue, ‘she’ll come when she can.’

‘Maybe so, Philip, but that job you’ve found for her
won’t stay open for ever. Have you told her about it?’

‘Not yet. We’re here for a party, a birthday party,’ he
went on. ‘And I think it’s high time we had a toast.’

‘Wait a minute. There’s something else . . . Rob, can
you help me a minute?’ Ella said, and disappeared into the
pantry, where she whispered, ‘I’ve made Grandpa a cake.
It’s a surprise.’

Rob, his eyes dark, was not smiling. ‘It’s not the only
surprise we’ve ’ad today, is it?’ he muttered.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, but his tone was morose.

‘Come on, help me light the candles.’

‘Candles?’ he repeated. ‘You ain’t put seventy candles
on a cake?’

She giggled. ‘No, just seven. One for each decade.’

From a tin, she carefully lifted the cake, white-iced and
decorated with pink roses. Together, they lit the spindly
candles and Rob carried it into the living room.

‘Oh, isn’t it lovely?’ Rosie clapped her hands. ‘Did you
make it, Missus?’

Esther shook her head, her glance catching and holding
Ella’s. ‘I didn’t know anything about it.’

Grandma Eland heaved herself up from the low armchair
and waddled to the table to inspect the cake. ‘It’s
beautiful, Ella love. She’s a credit to you, Esther.’

Esther sniffed. ‘It
looks
very nice, I grant you. But the
proof of the pudding . . .’

Ella laughed. ‘Come on, Grandpa, and cut this cake.
Gran wants to try a piece and give her verdict.’

As Jonathan took up the huge knife and cut the cake,
Philip raised his glass and led everyone in singing ‘Happy
Birthday’. Slices were handed round and Mrs Trent cut
hers into delicate squares. ‘My dear Ella, it tastes wonderful.
I really wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t think
I’ve ever made a cake in my life. We’ve always employed a
cook.’

Ella, catching sight of the astounded expression on
Esther Godfrey’s face, was obliged to turn away quickly,
almost choking on the crumbs as she stifled her laughter.

‘Well,’ Ella heard Esther saying indignantly, ‘she’d be
no granddaughter of
mine
if she couldn’t bake a cake.’

The air in the room crackled as the two women glared
at each other. Everyone else held their breath, watching
and waiting. Ella moved swiftly to Esther’s side and put
her arm around her waist. Laughing she said, ‘And milk a
cow, put a pig away, to say nothing of driving a tractor,
eh, Gran?’

‘There’s nowt to be ashamed of in being able to turn
yar hand to a good day’s work, Missy.’

‘Oh, I’m not ashamed, Gran, I promise you. In fact, I’m
quite proud of the fact.’

Esther’s glance swivelled and she was looking directly
into Ella’s eyes, their faces so close. The defensive
expression in Esther’s green eyes softened as she said,
quietly now so that the others in the room scarcely heard,
‘Aye, lass, and I’m proud of you an’ all.’

Tears welled in Ella’s eyes, but before she could say any
more, Mrs Trent’s voice came again. ‘It’s a little different
from the job your father has in mind for you, Ella. If you
won’t tell her, Philip, then I will. Ella, one of Philip’s
friends is the managing director of quite a large company
and he’s looking for a secretary. You’d have your own
office. Now, what do you say to that, my dear?’ And Mrs
Trent beamed as if she personally had created the job for
her granddaughter.

Ella smiled, ‘It sounds wonderful, Grandmother, but—’

‘No “buts” Ella.’ Mrs Trent waved aside any obstacle.
‘Opportunities like that for someone of your age don’t
come very often.’

Beneath her arm, still around Esther’s waist, Ella felt
her gran stiffen, then she pulled away from Ella and went
towards Jonathan, her wrinkled hands stretched out
towards him.

It wasn’t until they were almost ready to leave just after
six o’clock that her father drew Ella outside into the cool
evening.

‘Dad, there’s something I ought to tell you . . .’

‘You don’t have to, my dear. You’re going to stay here,
aren’t you?’

She looked up at him through the dusk. ‘How did you
know?’

‘You belong here,’ he said simply and suddenly she
knew it was the truth. Though she may have rebelled
against it for years, refusing to acknowledge it, this
was
her home.

‘I’m not staying out of a sense of duty, only because I
really want to.’

‘I know that.’ His arm was round her and his deep voice
just above her head. ‘But you will come to see us whenever
you can?’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised. ‘Whenever I can. I feel
awfully guilty about all the money you must have spent on
the bedroom for me and this marvellous job Grandmother
says you’ve fixed up for me . . .’

He laughed aloud. ‘Don’t give either of them another
thought, my dear. Besides, your room will be there for you
whenever you can come to see us. There is just one thing,
though. What about young Martin Hughes? He’s forever
asking about you.’

Haltingly, she said, ‘He’s nice, but there could never be
anything more than friendship between us.’

‘Not on your side, maybe, but I’m not so sure about his
feelings for you,’ Philip said.

‘I’ll write to him,’ she promised.

‘Well, let him down gently, my dear.’

She put her arms round him and hugged him. He was
such a kind man, thinking of the feelings of others, and she
loved him for it. For a moment his arms were around her
fiercely as if, now he had found her, he never wanted to let
her go. When they released each other and turned back
towards the house, her father’s arm resting on her
shoulders, they saw Esther standing in the doorway watching
them.

‘Gran . . .?’ Ella began, but without a word Esther
turned away and went back inside the house.

‘So, when are ya going?’

‘Eh?’ Startled, Ella stared at her grandmother, pausing
mid-way between kitchen and pantry as she cleared away
all the food after the party. All the guests had gone, and
Grandpa Godfrey had been dispatched to bed early. He
had kissed Ella on the forehead. ‘My dear girl, I don’t
know when we last had such fun. Thank you for everything.’
And Ella knew he was not referring to this day
alone.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Gran,’ she said. ‘Wait a
minute till I’ve put these cakes away.’

‘Now,’ Ella said, coming back into the kitchen and
standing on the hearthrug in front of her grandmother
sitting in the straight-backed wooden chair. ‘What are you
talking about? Where am I supposed to be going?’

‘Back to Lincoln – or mebbe even to – them!’

The old eyes would not meet Ella’s gaze, but the girl
noticed that Esther’s hands were gripping the arms of the
chair until her knuckles showed white.

‘Gran,’ she said softly, ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not
back to Lincoln, nor to live with my father. I’m staying
here—’

‘But for how long? Eh?’ Esther’s head snapped up, her
eyes sparking with resentment. ‘Tell me that! Ya’ll soon
get fed up and be off again. Off to ya dad and ya fancy
grandmother with her posh clothes and . . .’

Ella’s blue eyes were holding the green, belligerent gaze.
Slowly she shook her head. ‘No, Gran. This is my home.
I’m staying here – for good!’

The old eyes stared up at her and then, to Ella’s shock,
they filled with tears; tears that overflowed and trickled
down the soft wrinkles of Esther’s face.

‘Grannie – oh, Grannie – don’t!’

Her arms were round the old woman, and she bent over
her, resting her cheek against the silky white hair. Esther’s
hands loosened their grip upon the chair and came round
Ella’s waist, clinging, beseeching. ‘Don’t – leave us – again
– Ella. We – need you.’

‘Oh, Grannie, I love you so much. I won’t leave you
again. I promise.’

They were sitting together in the deepening dusk, the only
light coming from the glow of the coals in the range. Ella
sat on the rug, her head resting against her grannie’s knee,
the old hands stroking her hair.

‘There’s something I want to ask you, lass.’ Esther’s
voice was strangely hesitant.

‘Mmm?’

‘That mark on ya face. What’ve ya done? Where –
where’s it gone?’

Ella twisted her head and looked up at her, meeting her
eyes, dark in the shadows.

‘It’s just make-up.’ She laughed. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?
Covers it completely.’

Esther was biting her lower lip.

‘What is it, Grannie?’ Ella prompted gently.

‘I always felt so guilty about it.’

‘Guilty? Why? I don’t understand.’

‘It was my fault you got it.’

Ella shook her head, mystified. ‘How could it be?’

‘When Kate came to tell us she was pregnant I was
so angry, I lashed out at her. After all I’d taught her.
Never to give ’ersen to a man till she had a wedding
band on her finger. Never to bring a bastard into the
world . . .’

Understanding now fully what lay behind the old lady’s
unbending attitude, knowing the heartache of her early
years that had caused her to be so bitter, Ella squeezed her
hand.

‘I hit her, Ella, right on her cheek and – and when you
were born, you had that little birthmark . . .’ she swallowed,
and Ella knew instinctively that Esther was not
finding her confession easy, ‘. . . right where my fingers left
their mark on Kate’s face.’

Ella knelt up and put her arms about her grandmother.
‘Oh, Grannie. That’s all a load of old wives’ tales. It was
just coincidence. Nothing more.’

‘I ain’t so sure . . .’ the voice quavered, vulnerable at the
telling of a long-buried guilt.

‘Well, I am,’ the young girl said confidently. ‘It’s all a
lot of nonsense. You’re not to think of it any more.’

She kissed Esther’s cheek and found herself once more
clasped in a fierce bear-hug.