‘I never told you before, but she came from a wealthy family,’ he went on. ‘Her house was up that way’ He pointed to the houses up on the hill beside the lake on the other side of the road. ‘I could take you up there now and show it to you.’
‘No. Not now. I want to go home,’ Ellen said, and she got up and walked towards the truck.
Later that same evening Ellen stood down by the little cove, watching the sun go down, bitterly regretting the way she’d behaved with her father. He didn’t say a word all the way home and went straight back to work picking potatoes, but she knew he was very hurt.
Why had she been embarrassed to be seen with her own father? That was so horrible, she’d never been ashamed of him before.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She felt so mixed up inside, where once everything had been orderly and safe. Was this what love did to people? Made them turn against their own family? Was that what happened to her mother when she married someone her parents didn’t approve of?
The saddest thing was that she knew she’d never get the whole story now. Her father had come specially to meet her. It was his way of showing his affection and appreciation. Now he’d been rebuffed she knew he’d stay silent and brooding for weeks. Even an apology wouldn’t make any difference. For what reason could she offer for being so rude?
The following morning Ellen didn’t have to go to the café, but she got up when her father did and went out to help him with the milking. He merely nodded at her, nothing more, and as she sat on the milking stool, her forehead leaning against the cow’s flank while she milked, she shed a few more tears.
After a silent breakfast, Ellen washed up, then went straight to the potato field. Albert was driving the tractor, churning up the remaining rows of potatoes, so she picked up a sack from the pile and began filling it. Two hours later, her back was aching from bending over and she stood up to watch her father. He was working his way down the furrow next to the one she was on, from the opposite end, picking so fast he looked like a machine. Yet for some reason her former pity for him turned to resentment. She had witnessed him shutting Violet out like this many a time, Josie too, and if he wanted to do it to her then she was going to ignore it.
‘I think I’ll go into town to the library,’ she shouted out. ‘Would you like some tea before I go?’
‘Okay,’ he shouted back. ‘How many sacks have you filled?’
‘Five, and I can’t do any more, my back’s hurting.’
There was no reply to this, no praise for filling so many, no concern for her back. He could get his own tea, and she wasn’t going to feel guilty at leaving him to finish the job while she rode off on her bike to see Pierre.
Ellen didn’t have any choice about what to wear to ride to the circus ground. It was a case of her shorts or a very shabby pair of slacks – a dress or skirt would ride up on the bike. The shorts won, they were old too, but they fitted well and her legs were nice and brown. With a sleeveless blouse, plimsolls and her hair tied up in a pony-tail, she didn’t look sophisticated as she had in the cream dress, but then she didn’t want to look as if she was chasing Pierre.
She forgot about her father on the ride into town. All her thoughts were of seeing Pierre again. She had her swim-suit and a towel in the basket on her bike, along with a library book. She hoped he’d want to go swimming with her.
But as she rode up the hill from Falmouth town, even from a distance she could see the Big Top had been taken down. Trees hid the caravans and trucks, and the hill was too steep to ride all the way up, so she had to get off and push and all the time her heart was fluttering with panic. Surely he wasn’t thinking of leaving without seeing her first?
Finally she reached the crest of the hill, the big field spread out in front of her. But there were no trucks, no caravans or sideshows. It was all gone, the ground where the Big Top had stood bald and brown.
In horror she crossed the road and slung her bike down. There was nothing. The paddock fences where the horses had been kept were gone and the site where the caravans and trucks had stood was a patchwork of yellow, squashed grass. There were deep tracks from truck tyres, chewed-up areas of mud from the recent heavy rain, a pile of animal dung and rubbish, empty cans and bottles, sweet wrappers, sticks from candy floss, cigarette packets and even a few discarded programmes, birds picking eagerly at crumbs, and a lone dog sniffing around an overflowing litter-bin.
Ellen stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes filling with tears as she saw a red balloon bowling along the grass in the light breeze. It seemed to represent her abandonment and soon it would impale itself on something sharp and burst.
Why hadn’t he said they would be leaving today? Was it all pretence that he loved her?
On the far side of the field she saw a small pick-up truck and a man raking up rubbish. She ran over to him, thinking he belonged to the circus, but as she got nearer she saw his overalls were those of the Town Corporation.
‘When did they leave?’ she asked the man. He was small and stout with a weatherbeaten face.
‘Yesterday,’ he said. ‘Bloody mess they’ve left, and only me to clear it.’
He had a strong Cornish accent, and a slight speech impediment too. Ellen guessed he was a little simple. ‘Do you know where they’ve gone next?’ she asked.
‘Dunno, they’s like gypsies, in urn?’
‘But someone must know.’ She couldn’t hold back her tears now. ‘Who owns this field?’
‘Dunno,’ he said shaking his head. ‘Sent me up to clear it, that all I know.’
Ellen walked back to her bike sobbing. She was trembling all over, her mind in a fog, yet even through that she knew she had told Pierre she would be at the kiosk all day Monday. The only possible reason for him not coming to let her know he was leaving was that he didn’t care about her.
Chapter Seven
On the second Sunday in September, shortly after one, Ellen was out in the garden picking some mint to go with the lamb for dinner, when she heard a car coming down the track.
Her heart leapt as it had been doing for the whole past month every time she heard such a sound. Could it be Pierre coming looking for her?
Sadly she knew it was unlikely. He wouldn’t have left the way he did if he cared. Even if something had happened that day which prevented him from coming down to the kiosk at Swanpool, he could have sent a letter there afterwards. Yet still she continued to hope.
Since the day she found out he’d left town it was as if a black cloud had engulfed her. She didn’t want to eat, couldn’t sleep, and had no interest in anything. It did no good telling herself that she’d only known Pierre for a short time and that it wouldn’t take long to forget him. Her feelings were as raw now as they had been a month ago. What she couldn’t understand was why he’d pretended she was special to him. That made no sense to her at all.
It was another warm, sunny day, and she was wearing a new dress she’d made herself. It was just a sleeveless shift style, but a pretty green and white printed cotton. Mrs Peters had prompted this. About three weeks ago she’d stopped Ellen in the village to speak to her and seemed to sense something was wrong, for she took her into her house for a cup of tea. Ellen gave the impression she was just desperately lonely without Josie, so Mrs Peters suggested she took up dressmaking as a distraction and offered to give her a hand if she got stuck.
Since that day Ellen had been a regular visitor at the Peters’ cottage. She used the excuse that she needed advice with her sewing, but in reality she felt comforted by Mavis Peters’ motherly ways, and it helped take her mind off Pierre. This morning at church Mrs Peters had told her she had a length of navy-blue wool she didn’t need, which would make a nice winter dress. She suggested that if Ellen came round the following evening, they could cut it out together. So Ellen had come home from church feeling a little more cheerful than of late, and the shoulder of lamb she’d left cooking slowly in the oven smelled wonderful. Now they had a visitor, and maybe that would turn
out to be another nice surprise. Albert came out into the garden then; he too had heard the car. As it came into view, they both gasped in shock. It was a taxi. Violet was sitting in the front seat with the driver and Josie was in the back.
‘Well I never!’ Albert exclaimed, for he had heard nothing from Violet since the day she took Josie away.
Ellen ran to the car on winged feet and yanked the door open. ‘Josie!’ she yelled. ‘It’s so good to see you. You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you!’
But it was immediately obvious that something was badly wrong. Josie didn’t return Ellen’s joyful greeting, she slunk out of the car like a whipped dog, and Violet had a face like a bag of hammers. The driver took the bags out of the boot, put them on the ground, and was back in the driving seat and turning the car round so fast that it was clear that he sensed trouble.
‘How’s yer mother?’ Albert said with icy politeness.
‘She died ten days ago,’ Violet said curtly. ‘So we came back.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Albert said, perhaps thinking sorrow was the only reason for Violet’s grim expression. ‘You should have let me know.’
Ellen looked round at her family. She wasn’t surprised by Violet’s starchiness, that was her all over. But she couldn’t imagine what was wrong with Josie, she looked so sullen. She was wearing a lovely pale blue dress and white sandals on her feet, but her eyes were cold, her mouth pinched and angry. As for her father, he just looked plain bewildered.
‘We were just about to have our dinner. I’d better put some more vegetables on for you,’ Ellen said, hoping to sound really welcoming and defuse the situation. ‘But first I’ll help Josie unpack her things.’
Ellen picked up both the bags and walked into the house, Josie following her. Their parents remained outside. ‘You’ve made my day coming home,’ Ellen said to her sister as they went up the stairs. ‘But tell me what’s wrong. Aren’t you pleased to be home?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Josie flounced into their bedroom and flung herself down on her bed. ‘Mum’s evil. You can’t imagine how horrible she’s been to me and everyone else. I hate her; I don’t want to live in this crumby place either. Look at this room, Ellen! Don’t you think we deserve something better?’
This was a shock to Ellen for Josie had never complained before. ‘I suppose we could paint it ourselves,’ she suggested. ‘But what’s happened to make you like this?’
‘I can’t say now, she’ll go for me if she hears me telling you anything,’ Josie said, looking fearfully over her shoulder towards the door. ‘You go on downstairs and do the vegetables. I’ll unpack my things. I don’t want my new clothes spoiled.’
Ellen couldn’t bear to leave it like that. She sat down on the bed beside her sister and took her hand in hers. ‘Whatever’s happened between you and Mum hasn’t got anything to do with us,’ she reminded her. ‘I love you, Josie, I missed you like hell. Don’t be mean to me.’
Josie’s lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I missed you too. I’ll tell you everything later. I’m just so mad with Mum I can’t help myself.’
As Ellen prepared some more vegetables and gravy and laid two extra places at the table, she kept glancing out of the window at her parents. They were sitting on two chairs, their backs to the kitchen so she couldn’t see their faces, and too far away for her to overhear what they were talking about. But it was clear from the way they were sitting so stiffly, gesticulating with their hands, that it wasn’t a happy reunion.
The new school term started the following day, so Ellen thought maybe that was why Violet had brought Josie back now. She had noticed that her stepmother’s appearance had improved quite dramatically. She’d had her hair cut and permed, and the navy and white dress she was wearing was new. She also looked as if she’d lost some weight. But however overjoyed Ellen was to have Josie back, she couldn’t feel the same about her stepmother. Her gut reaction was that there was more trouble in store for all of them, and she knew she was going to be stuck right in the middle of it.
An awkward silence fell over the dinner table. Violet’s mouth was pursed; Josie’s eyes remained downcast. Ellen did her best, remarking on how nice Violet looked and passing on bits of village gossip, but there was no response.
‘You girls go out for a walk,’ Dad said after the dinner had been eaten and the washing-up finished. ‘We’ve got things to talk about.’
Violet shot Josie a malevolent look which could only be a warning she wasn’t to speak out of turn, but she didn’t countermand her husband’s suggestion.
‘Mum’s stupid and selfish,’ Josie blurted out once they got down to the cove. ‘She’s ruined everything.’
Ellen was well aware from Josie’s nervy behaviour that she had been promised a good hiding if she revealed anything. ‘I won’t let on you’ve told me anything,’ she reassured her. ‘Cut my throat and hope to die.’
Josie smiled faintly, they had used that silly vow all the time when they were little. ‘Oh Ellen, I don’t know where to begin,’ she sighed. ‘I didn’t want to leave here, I thought I’d hate it in Helston, but it didn’t turn out like that.’
It transpired that while Violet had stayed looking after her mother in her tiny house, Josie had gone to stay with her Uncle Brian and his wife Susan. They had two boys, Josie told her, John aged seventeen and Mark fifteen, and their house was a very grand place with six bedrooms, a huge garden and a tennis court. It seemed that Brian had made big money in the building trade after the war. Josie liked Mark and John, and right from the start it was her idea of heaven, for her aunt and uncle treated her like the daughter they had never had. They bought her new clothes and made a real fuss of her. Josie started having dancing lessons, and as her aunt was involved with an amateur dramatic society, she had taken Josie along to that too, and Josie had loved it.
‘I was really happy there,’ she burst out angrily. ‘Not just because they made a fuss of me, but because it felt right. I missed you, but that was the only thing from here I did miss. I had a lovely room; I could listen to records, play tennis and go swimming with the boys, watch television and go to the pictures. I felt I belonged.’
Although Ellen felt saddened by what Josie was saying, she could also sympathize. ‘So what happened?’ she asked.
‘Grandma said Mum could have her house when she died.’ Josie pulled a face. ‘I don’t know why she wanted it, it was horrible. But Mum reckoned she could do it up, and she was going to get a job in Helston. She was happy enough for me to stay with Uncle Brian, and go to the secondary school there. I reckon she thought if she left me with them, they’d always look after her too. Then Grandma died, and it turned out her house didn’t belong to her at all. Uncle Brian had bought it years before, so Grandma didn’t have to pay any rent. He said Mum couldn’t possibly have it, he was intending to do it up and let it to holiday-makers.’
Ellen almost laughed, remembering her father’s words about Violet’s reasons for going to Helston. She might have said ‘Serve her right’ if Josie hadn’t been so upset.
‘Mum was like a mad bull,’ Josie went on. ‘She raged about how she’d looked after the old bat all these weeks when none of the rest of them could be bothered, and she was entitled to something for her trouble. She was hateful to everyone, especially Brian, and she made them all realize she’d only gone to look after her mother because she thought she was going to get something.’
Ellen winced; she knew how nasty Violet could be.
‘Uncle Brian laid into her, you should have heard the things he said! He even said she’d only had me to trap Dad into marrying her. Then he said she didn’t need any help from any of them anyway, after all she had her own fortune coming to her in this place. He said if she had any sense at all she’d get back here and make Dad see what a goldmine he was sitting on.’
Ellen frowned. She didn’t understand how anyone could think the farm was a gold-mine. ‘But it isn’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘What did Uncle Brian mean?’
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‘I couldn’t see it either, but my cousin John explained it to me,’ Josie said. ‘You see, the land and its position are worth a fortune, at least to someone with the imagination and money to put into it. He was talking about a hotel, holiday cottages, that kind of stuff. Uncle Brian had only seen it once, but he’s in that business and he knows. He reckoned it might be worth up to a million pounds, and besides that, Dad could still build himself a little cottage to stay in, and work some of the land. So he could have his cake and eat it too.’
This was astounding to Ellen. ‘But Dad won’t ever sell it,’ she said. ‘Mum must have flipped if she thinks she can make him.’
Josie shrugged. ‘That’s what I reckoned too, but Mum thinks she can do it, and I’m supposed to help her. That’s why we’ve come back.’
‘Well, I’m glad you have,’ Ellen said, even though she couldn’t help thinking it might turn out to be a nightmare if Josie didn’t want to be here.
They had been sitting on a rock, but Josie got up abruptly, picked up a stone and hurled it into the sea. ‘I’m not a bit glad. I’ve got to get back to Helston; there’s a boy there I really like.’
Six weeks before Ellen wouldn’t have seen that as a good reason, but she saw things differently now. ‘Oh, Josie,’ she sighed. ‘I know just how you feel.’
She listened while Josie told her about a boy called Dave who was a Mod and drove a Lambretta. She went on and on about how it felt when he kissed her, how she couldn’t bear to be parted from him.
Ellen just nodded. Everything Josie said struck a twanging chord inside her.
‘I love him,’ Josie finally burst out. ‘I’ll just die if I can’t be with him.’
She stopped suddenly, looking curiously at Ellen. ‘What did you mean by you knew how I felt? Have you met someone too?’
Father Unknown Page 12
