The day ended with Rose eating two large slices of birthday cake Elenor had purchased from the bakery in town.
‘Make the most of it, Rose. From what I gather, the baker’s delivery is suffering ingredient shortages already.’
‘I’d better see what I can get and put aside for Christmas,’ Victoria said.
George took a bite of a sandwich and waved it around in front of him while he chewed, getting ready to speak. He swallowed.
‘I’d not bother. There will be a truce or an invasion. Either way Britain will not be at war on Christmas day.’
‘Let’s hope you are right George,’ Elenor said and wiped her mouth on a napkin. ‘About the truce, I mean.’
Chapter 25
The festive period of 1939 passed with Elenor holding onto memories of the previous year. As much as she wanted to let go of memories of Jackson, she couldn’t. They were etched in her mind forever.
1940 slid in with a sharp shock. Freezing weather worked its way across the country and temperatures dropped on a daily basis.
A knock at the front door disturbed Elenor from writing out a list of numbers George had left her with that morning. What started off as a small task with fabricated figures had now become essential to the running of Tre Lodhen. The manager sent her paperwork each month, and Elenor created lists then transferred everything over to a large ledger.
Laying down her pen, she answered the door. Another package of papers from Cornwall and a letter for George bearing a London postmark.
‘It’s a cold one today, Miss Cardew,’ the postman said as he handed her the mail and a pint of milk. ‘Get this in before it’s frozen. They say snow is falling heavy and heading this way.’
‘Bye, stay warm,’ Elenor said and gave him a grin.
She closed the door and turned over the letter for George. It was franked: London E14.
Chilled from the lingering outside air in the hallway, Elenor took herself off to the kitchen for a hot drink. A stew bubbled slowly on the stove and filled the room with its tempting aroma. Placing George’s letter on the table, she filled the kettle and prepared the teapot.
A few potatoes sat near the sink and whilst she waited for the kettle to boil, Elenor scrubbed their outer skins. Turning the potatoes over in her hand brought about a pang of nostalgia for Cornwall. Going by the figures she’d written in the ledger that morning, the farm was ticking along and paid for itself, but showed no major growth since the brothers had left.
Outside the window the snow-laden skies blocked the light and midday appeared more like early evening it was so dull. And by the time Elenor poured hot water into her cup, snow fell. It gained speed and settled without melting. Back in the study she sat at her desk and sipped her hot drink. Her breath was white as she breathed in and out. She watched Victoria hurry past the window and round to the back path. Her head was covered with a woollen shawl, and Elenor guessed it was probably soaked with thawing flakes.
She went back into the kitchen and pulled down another cup just as Victoria backed her way indoors shaking off as much snow as possible.
‘Get yourself inside, Victoria. You must be frozen.’
Victoria turned and Elenor saw nothing but a pale face with a red nose.
‘Gracious, you are! Here, get this hot drink inside of you.’
‘My toes are numb, my gloves feel like solid ice, but my shawl kept my head warm enough, although I’m convinced my nose will fall off if I touch it. I’ve never known it so cold out there. Rose will feel it when she comes home.’
Victoria stood near the stove and warmed her hands.
‘That stew smells good,’ Elenor said.
‘We need to make the most of it while we can, there’s word more rationing is heading our way,’ replied Victoria, and she gave the pan a stir.
‘I know. I’m trying to get used to my tea without sugar. I was tempted but your idea of having a bit on our porridge instead is a good idea. Oh, there’s a letter for George. The postman looked as cold as you when he delivered it. Comes from London – the letter, not the postman,’ Elenor said and laughed.
Victoria picked up the cream envelope and Elenor watched as her face paled.
‘Are you all right? Is it bad news do you think?’ she asked.
Victoria laid the letter back down and sat on a chair.
‘It’s from George’s aunt I suspect,’ she said.
Elenor looked to Victoria with a frown.
‘I didn’t realise he had an aunt in London. I thought his only family were his parents, and they live … actually, I don’t know where your families live, Victoria. How odd after all these years, I’ve never thought to ask and never heard you say.’
With no response, a flushed faced Victoria tugged free Brussels sprouts from a stalk and sliced into the bases so hard Elenor felt sure she would cut herself.
‘I can’t recall a conversation, but now you know. George has an aunt in London. Do you want your bedroom fire banked up this afternoon? It is turning much colder as we stand here, even with the stove going.’
With conversation about family directed to lighting fires, Elenor marvelled at how adept Victoria was at changing subjects relating to her family – and George’s. It had crossed her mind more than once whether they were married, and she hoped for Rose’s sake there were no shocking secrets about the legitimacy of her birth.
‘If it is all right with you, move Rose into my room and that way we’ll save firewood. Just heat the parlour this evening. We’ll play it by ear for the rest of the week.’
The shrill sound of the telephone from the hallway made them both jump. Elenor answered the call and returned to the kitchen.
‘That was Sally. Our rehearsal has been cancelled this evening, there is a burst pipe in the hall. She’s collecting her niece from school and will walk Rose to the end of our street to save us going out,’ Elenor said.
‘That’s kind of Sally – thoughtful,’ Victoria said.
‘I’m back to the books,’ said Elenor. ‘Tell Rose she can come and see me in the study when she’s home. We’ll talk about snowflakes, I think. Brrr!’
The conversation about snow and snowflakes continued for several weeks. Every day they rose to another layer and by its last day, January had made it into the history books.
Today, fog greeted Elenor as she pulled back the curtains and the weather matched her mood. She tiptoed to the bathroom past Rose’s bed but it was empty. When she opened her bedroom door the smell of fresh toast drifted from downstairs and her stomach rumbled.
‘Oh, shut up you. Food is the last thing on my mind,’ she muttered as she finished preparing herself for work.
Downstairs in the kitchen Victoria and George moved around each other, George with the newspaper under his arm, and Victoria with the teapot in her hand. Rose chewed on her breakfast and all three avoided making eye contact with Elenor.
‘Morning,’ she said and held out her cup to Victoria.
‘Morning. Foggy out there today,’ George said and flicked his paper open.
A strained atmosphere built between them with polite conversation, and Elenor couldn’t wait to leave the house. She knew it was awkward for them, and it embarrassed her. The same happened on the anniversary of her aunt’s passing, but that day they spoke about her and remembered her. This Valentine’s Day held no excitement for her, it was more of an anniversary to be ignored, and yet, she’d been unable to push it away for a whole year. A year which had passed in a blur of emotional and physical recovery. Work would be her focus of the day, Sally, Mrs Green and strangers would help get her through this uphill climb.
Walking to work, the fog thickened and people huddled into their clothing. Everyone she met looked worn down and miserable. For the first time in a long time, Elenor wanted to leave Coventry. It was time to prepare for her return to Cornwall.
During her lunch break Elenor sent a telegram to the farm manager. She informed him she’d sent a cheque for his salary, and that she would re
turn to live at Tre Lodhen again in the spring. Probably the middle of April.
She wrote out her notice and when back at the store, she handed it to Mrs Green.
‘Are you sure you want that life again, Elenor? You are so well suited here.’
Elenor looked around the shop floor and pulled a face to express her disagreement.
‘I’m grateful to you for finding me the work, but farming is important war work, and Tre Lodhen waits for me to turn it around. To feed the country. Please try to understand.’
Mrs Green gave a gentle nod.
‘I do. I love my work here but have signed up for the Women’s Voluntary Service. Like you, I want to do something more proactive within the community. I’m trying to persuade Sally, but she’s not made up her mind what she wants to do yet. Apart from dancing of course,’ Mrs Green said and gave a light laugh.
‘She certainly enjoys life. I’ll miss her,’ Elenor said and gave a wan smile. ‘I’ll miss you both.’
‘Oh, we’ll come and stay in the summer. When the war is over. I fancy a visit outside of Coventry. Hark at me, inviting myself along.’
‘You know you’ll be most welcome. Right, I must get back to the counter and relieve Lilly. Thank you for understanding.’
‘I do, and Elenor, I know you are trying to be brave today, too. The sun will shine again, it had better come soon. Our customers don’t like the fog.’
Both looked to the door and the usual throng of people who kept it rotating were nowhere to be seen.
‘Is there anything I can do in the stock room? I need to keep busy today,’ Elenor asked.
‘You go to the counter and polish it to a high shine. Don’t run away. Fight the sadness.’
Elenor walked away and, with Mrs Green’s words of encouragement, she set about using physical energy to disperse the mental sadness.
Chapter 26
April 1940
‘I’ve booked the removal van for you, Elenor,’ George said.
Lifting books down from the study shelf, Elenor turned to face him.
‘Thank you, George. It will make the place feel cosier. The last time I visited I swear my brothers had used most of the furniture for fire wood. And what is left won’t be worth salvaging. I’m ashamed of the pair of them sometimes.’
‘You don’t know where they are stationed yet? Strange they didn’t write and tell you they were enlisting.’
‘To be honest, it is typical of them. They won’t have given me a thought apart from leaving me with their financial problems.’
‘Did you hear the news? Denmark have surrendered. Won’t be long before your brothers won’t have an army to belong too. Surrender might be the best option for many countries.’
With astonishment, Elenor looked at him.
‘That is a dreadful thing to say, George. How awful for Denmark to be in such a position.’
‘It’s fact, not dreadful news. That’s the female vision of all disasters – dreadful. A stronger power will always overcome.’
‘It’s called bullying, George. We shouldn’t tolerate it, and it is why we are at war. Let’s say we fall to Germany, what will happen to you? You are not a strong man as your papers indicate. Will you be able to continue teaching English? Will I be allowed to return here, or will I be made to work my own farm under the rule of another? These are my fears George.’
George appeared to ignore her words and started to pack the books she handed him, but not before inspecting the spines of each one, and grunting.
‘Fortunately, the books you are taking are ones I’ve already read,’ he said when they’d filled two boxes.
‘They are mine to take, George,’ Elenor said in a sharp tone – she was still annoyed about his remarks about surrender. ‘Everything in these rooms are mine, aside from your personal items, and I’d like to see everything in the same place when I return.’
George’s face coloured and Elenor doubted it was with discomfort or embarrassment. She’d angered the man by reminding him of his position yet again.
George pulled out a cigarette from his case. She watched as he tapped the tip on the lid and put it to his lips.
‘Oh, and that is something I meant to mention. I am not going to be here for you to earn your salary as my tutor. I can’t think why we hadn’t thought of it before, and suggest we come to an agreement. How about you do as you mentioned in the past, and maintain the garden, and upkeep of the property. Agreed?’ Elenor said and held out her hand.
‘I did mention to Victoria we needed to discuss the matter. Your proposal is satisfactory only due to the fact it will be a temporary one.’
‘Ah, that depends. I might not need a tutor when I return, George. All done. Now I’m off to pack last minute things upstairs.’
She left him staring at her wide-eyed, still with the unlit cigarette hanging from his lip.
By the afternoon, Elenor had finished packing the majority of her things, and returned to the study with her tatty suitcase and filled it with paperwork. Without stopping to contemplate throwing anything out, she crammed everything into the case and clasped it shut. One day she would be brave enough to read through her projects and letters relating to Canada; they were part of her, a part which had opened her eyes to life. Before she had time to change her mind, Rose burst into the room.
‘You’re home. Good day at school?’ Elenor asked.
Rose scooted herself onto Elenor’s chair and sat on the desk.
‘Is this going in the van?’ she asked.
‘It is.’ Elenor smiled. ‘Think of me sitting at it writing to you.’
‘Think of me at the kitchen table writing to you,’ Rose said. ‘Are you taking your wireless? Daddy wants you to leave it behind.’
‘I’ll be taking it, Rose. It was a gift from my aunt – a very special gift.’
‘Mummy said you won’t come back.’
Elenor heard the sob in Rose’s voice.
‘I’m coming back, Rose. We’ll see each other again, I promise. With my brothers away at war it is a difficult time for me. I want to be in two places at once.’
‘Can’t I come with you? Live with you?’
‘We’ve had this conversation several times, Rose. You need to stay here with your parents and go to school. Everything will be back to normal in a few months, and we’ll be at this desk working on a new project again.’
Rose slid down from the desk. She stomped her foot and burst into tears.
‘It’s just not fair. I want to see your farm. I want you to stay here. It’s not fair!’
Elenor clenched her hands and raised her shoulders waiting for the door to slam shut as Rose ran from the room. It didn’t matter what was said to reassure Rose, the child expressed her feelings in the only way she knew how – loudly.
Heading back upstairs, Elenor heard Victoria shout and reprimand Rose for crying. George instructed Rose to go outside and calm down.
It took all of Elenor’s willpower not to unpack and cancel the trip back to Summercourt. Rose was George and Victoria’s child, and she had no right to interfere in the way they brought her up.
Maybe time alone with Rose would help Victoria see how lucky she was. With the war in full flow, Elenor’s future of becoming a wife and mother was even more uncertain.
The last day of April brought with it a mix of emotions. Rose had refused point blank to go to school and spent the time sulking or sobbing.
Sally and Mrs Green arrived to see Elenor off and promised Rose they would take her to the park after the van had left. Victoria and George looked relieved.
‘We’d be grateful,’ Victoria said. ‘She’s not taking Elenor leaving very well.’
‘I hope the silly van doesn’t work,’ Rose said.
‘Don’t be so petulant child,’ George said and handed her a small box. ‘Go and give this to the removal man.’
Rose looked at Elenor with a puzzled frown.
‘Cranky. Irritable,’ Elenor said. ‘Petulant. It’s a big grown
up word. I just think you are upset, so do as Daddy asks and then come and give me your biggest hug.’
Rose did as she was told, then returned to offer up her hug. After begging for room to breathe, Elenor and Rose parted.
‘I can honestly say that was the biggest hug I’ve ever received. Thank you. It will last me until we get chance to have another one.’ She wiped away Rose’s tears. ‘Don’t cry. Be strong and look after Sally for me. And Mrs Green.’
Elenor moved to the adults waiting to say goodbye and holding back her tears for Rose’s sake, she climbed into the passenger seat of the brown removal van. As they drove out of Coventry, Elenor remembered the day she’d arrived. The naïve girl with a battered suitcase left town a different person, and it amazed Elenor how much had happened in so few years. The tears she cried for those she’d left behind soon dried up, and her excitement mounted when Cornwall came into view.
Summercourt
Unpacking her things had taken Elenor the best part of three days, and over a period of three weeks she’d hired a mother and daughter to scrub and clean the farmhouse. The house had four large rooms and one small one which had once been hers.
The farmhands helped to move her brother’s things into the small room at the back of the property. The view from the window was always her favourite when her parents were alive. Green hills and valleys rolled on for miles. Even in winter she would sit on the edge of their bed and watch as the hills turned white with frost, and sometimes snow.
Underneath the room was what she now considered her study and parlour of sorts, and she’d set up her desk in front of the window. She left the bedroom and ventured downstairs, the room called to her. She’d promised herself a half hour of relaxation before inspecting more of the farm.
The warmth of the room embraced her, and she smiled when she saw her wireless sat in pride of place on the sideboard. Elenor stroked the pale green curtains from the Coventry house which completed the cosy feel.
The Secret Orphan Page 15
