Grace followed them and set about making a pot of tea. It seemed that Auntie May was hiding her grief behind a mask of efficiency and activity. She had applied make-up, but lipstick and eyeshadow could not conceal the evidence of tears shed throughout the night. Josephine wore her Crawford Smear in deep crimson. She looked more radiant than ever, excited no doubt to be involved in a drama. Grace laid the table and gave Pepper his morning biscuit. Freddie wandered in, having dressed and wet his hair. He was flushed from the cold water he had splashed on his face.
‘Now, sit down, both of you, and put something inside you,’ said May. Freddie caught Grace’s eye and without saying a word they both communicated their concern. May was acting very oddly, even for a woman who had just lost a dear friend. Josephine lit a cigarette and appraised her nail polish. Freddie and Grace ate the rolls and drank their tea. May didn’t sit at all. She paced the room, pretending to be busy.
‘Mum, you have to tell her,’ said Josephine, flicking ash into the ashtray her mother had placed in front of her. ‘All your bustling about is making me dizzy.’
‘Tell me what?’ Grace looked searchingly at May.
May pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘You will have to come and live with us,’ she said firmly.
‘We’ll be a big, happy family,’ said Josephine. ‘You can share my room until we kick Freddie out.’ She grinned at Freddie provocatively. Freddie didn’t seem to hear her.
Grace stared at May in shock. ‘Why can’t I live here?’
‘You can’t live here on your own!’ Josephine interrupted. ‘It’s creepy living in an old cottage alone.’
‘It’s not creepy at all. It’s my home. I want to live here. I’m not a child any more.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Garner won’t let you.’ May looked at Grace and pursed her lips with fury directed at Mr Garner. ‘This cottage was tied to your father’s job. As he’s no longer working on the estate, they won’t let you stay.’
‘It’s a man’s world,’ said Josephine with a sigh. ‘If you were a man they wouldn’t dream of kicking you out.’
Grace blanched even more. ‘But who will look after the bees?’
‘I don’t know, my dear. That’s their problem,’ said May.
‘I would have thought the bees were the least of your worries,’ interjected Josephine.
‘Someone will have to look after them, surely?’ Grace gasped. ‘We were going to harvest the honey this week.’ She stifled a sob.
‘They’ll find a new beekeeper,’ said May.
‘But I know more about bees than anyone.’ Grace’s voice thinned to a whisper and her eyes filled with tears. ‘They can’t throw me out of my own home. Dad hasn’t even been buried yet. I’m not leaving.’
‘Michael spoke to Mr Garner this morning. They won’t do anything in a hurry, of course. But you won’t be able to stay indefinitely. Ultimately, you will have to find accommodation elsewhere. But don’t worry, Michael and I will see to it all.’
‘Until then you can come and live with us,’ said Josephine gleefully.
‘Thank you for the offer, but I’m staying here. This is my home.’ Grace turned her feverish eyes on Freddie. ‘They can’t make me leave my home! Please, don’t let them make me leave.’
Freddie’s face was now red with indignation. ‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ he said, jumping up.
‘What can you do about it, Freddie?’ Josephine asked, giving a sceptical little sniff. ‘You’re about as useful as a whisper in a wind.’
‘And you haven’t finished your breakfast!’ May exclaimed.
He glanced at his watch. ‘I haven’t got time for breakfast. I have a job to do.’ He smiled at Grace and his eyes shone with intent. ‘Make that two jobs. The most important one being rescuing you, Grace. Don’t worry, Mr Garner’s not going to know what’s hit him.’
‘Oh Freddie, don’t do anything stupid!’ said Grace, fiddling with her hands.
‘Not stupid, Grace. It’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.’
The three women watched him leave, wondering what on earth he could do to change Mr Garner’s mind. But Freddie knew. There was only one thing he could do, and, as he climbed onto his bicycle and set off up the track, he realized with a buoyant heart that he had never been surer of anything since the day he was born.
Chapter 14
Arthur Hamblin’s funeral was a subdued affair. There was a small afternoon service at the local church where Reverend Dibben droned on and on and even Grace’s mind began to wander. May dabbed her eyes and blew her nose throughout while Josephine comforted her noisily, never shy about drawing attention to herself. The pews were full of friends and people Arthur had worked with and it was heart-warming for Grace to know that her father was loved by so many people. Even Mr Garner had deigned to come and pay his respects, and Arthur’s mother and sister had taken the train from Cornwall, although after the initial pleasantries Grace didn’t know what to say to them. Grace sat in between Freddie and Michael and resisted the temptation to take Freddie’s hand. But he pressed his knee against hers and only they knew its significance.
Arthur was laid to rest in the churchyard beside his wife, and alongside all the flowers Grace had placed a jar of honey and a copy of ‘The Bee-Boy’s Song’ by Rudyard Kipling, which he was so fond of. The headstone was yet to be made, but Michael had arranged for a temporary wooden one until the marble one was ready. It simply stated his name and the dates of his birth and death. Grace stared down at those numbers and thought how fleeting life was when viewed in that basic way. The cold figures carved into the wood told nothing of the warmth of his being, the love he had given and received and the valuable contribution he had made to their small world. Suddenly it seemed desperately important that people remembered him, for without memories Arthur would cease to exist altogether and, for Grace, that was unbearable. She swept her eyes over the faces of those she had known all her life and felt a swell of affection for every one of them, for in each mind there glimmered small fragments of her father’s existence, and in a strange way Grace felt that, as long as they continued to shine, Arthur lived on.
She felt Freddie’s strong presence beside her. He now stood like a rock, sheltering her against the wind. While he was here, she would be safe – and she wouldn’t be alone. She shifted in her seat and gently pressed her arm against his. The warmth of his skin burned through his jacket and the comforting vibration he gave off enveloped her like a cloak. She didn’t need to look at him to know what he was thinking, for she felt his love as if it were a physical thing.
Once the funeral was over everyone went to the Fox and Goose for a drink. Mr Garner had arranged for the estate to cover the costs and soon the pub was heaving with people overflowing into the beer garden behind. The sun was bright and warm, bouncing off the river, although with every day that passed it sank a little lower in the sky and cast ever longer shadows across the grass. A few crisp brown leaves lay scattered, shuffled every now and then by a chilly wind that brought autumn on its breath.
Grace spoke to everyone, grateful for their sympathetic words and the memories they shared. Each time she lifted her eyes they somehow fell on Freddie, who was watching her from the other side of the garden. When their eyes locked she felt a frisson of pleasure and the reassuring sensation of being truly looked after. She longed to be down on the river-bank, just the two of them, and wished she could turn the clock back to that afternoon when her life had seemed as serene and idyllic as that grassy clearing in the wood.
‘Lord and Lady Penselwood send their condolences,’ said Mr Garner, limping over. He was a dour man with a bulky body, short neck and small, weaselly eyes.
‘Thank you,’ Grace replied. At once she thought of the cottage and the fact that Mr Garner had told Michael she would have to move out. She waited anxiously for him to mention it.
‘Your father was a valuable man on the estate. He’ll be sorely missed. Hard-working, loyal men are difficult to find.’
<
br /> ‘Thank you,’ she said again.
‘Freddie tells me you’re a proficient beekeeper. I suppose your father taught you all he knew?’
‘Yes, he did, Mr Garner.’ She barely dared breathe. Could it be possible that Mr Garner was going to let her stay? ‘During the summer months he was so busy in the gardens at the Hall, I did the beekeeping. There’s nothing I don’t know about bees.’
‘Walbridge Hall has always had a beekeeper. That’s going back about four hundred years, Miss Grace. The Marquess is very keen that the bees flourish. I think I can count on you to see that they do.’
Her heart filled with happiness. ‘You definitely can, Mr Garner. I won’t let you down.’
His little eyes darted to Freddie, who was watching them while pretending to listen to his father and Colonel Redwood. ‘Mr Valentine is a good man,’ he said.
‘Yes, he is,’ Grace agreed.
‘He’s got a natural instinct for the land. I see a bright future for him here at Walbridge, Miss Grace.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘A dark horse, he is. I wouldn’t have put my money on him this time last year, but he’s grown into a fine young man, full of ambition and promise. You can be proud.’
‘I’m so glad,’ she answered, wondering why he was telling her and not Freddie’s mother.
‘So, I suggest you come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll discuss the finer details of your employment.’
‘Thank you, Mr Garner.’
‘Don’t thank me, Miss Grace, thank Mr Valentine. He’s saved me the trouble of having to find another beekeeper. Like hard-working, loyal labourers, beekeepers are difficult to find.’
Mr Garner hobbled away and Grace weaved through the crowd towards Freddie. She was detained a couple of times by people wanting to share their sympathy, but she finally reached him, and dragged him away to a quiet spot by the wall. ‘Oh, thank you, Freddie!’ she exclaimed. ‘I want to throw my arms around you, but I can’t.’
‘So you’re official beekeeper now.’ He grinned triumphantly.
‘Yes. At nineteen, I’m in charge of the hives, and I can stay in the cottage. It’s too good to be true and it’s all because of you.’
‘I wasn’t going to let him turf you out of your home, Grace.’
‘Dad would be so proud.’
‘You deserve it. I can’t say I’m very keen on the little creatures, but they make you happy.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, Freddie, you wouldn’t mind a bee sting now you’re a grown-up.’
‘Don’t be so sure. I’m still traumatized.’
‘You’re being silly!’
He grinned and his freckles spread across his cheeks. ‘The only good thing about bees is the honey they make. I won’t say I’m not keen on that.’
‘I shall put aside a jar next week, then. A special one for you.’
He looked shifty a moment and glanced furtively around the garden. ‘Meet me down at the river as soon as this is over?’
‘Why the whispering?’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you and I don’t want anyone to know, especially Josephine. If she knows we’re going she’ll want to come, too. I’m afraid you’re going to be her pet project now. She wants to be chief mourner and that involves being in the know about everything. She’s furious that you’re not coming to live with us.’
‘I don’t know why. I’ve never felt she really likes me.’
‘She’s jealous of you, that’s all.’
‘Well, she has no reason to be jealous.’
Freddie gazed at her fondly. ‘She has every reason to be jealous.’ He noticed the Colonel making his way slowly towards them. ‘Meet me at five,’ he hissed. ‘And don’t be a minute late!’
At ten to five she cycled off with Pepper running along beside her. As soon as she took the path through the wood, with the river on her left, the dog disappeared into the undergrowth. The odd panic-stricken pheasant fleeing into the trees was the only indication of where he was. She thought of Freddie waiting for her on the bank where they had so often met. Her excitement mounted as she approached. Up ahead, through the trees, she could see him setting out a picnic. He had brought a rug, a bottle of wine and two glasses.
When he saw her, he waved vigorously. She forgot about the shadow of grief that constantly threatened to smother any pleasure, and waved back. This clearing seemed detached from the tragedy of Arthur’s death, as if it were a magical place where unhappy thoughts were dissolved on entering. It was a relief to leave her sorrow outside.
He helped her climb off her bike and leaned it against the tree with his. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this all day!’ he exclaimed. She closed her eyes and let his love wrap her in a warm blanket of security and familiarity. Finally, when he gave her room to speak, she laughed.
‘Dad always said to avoid unhappy thoughts you have to completely focus on the moment. It’s easy to do that with you. When I’m with you, Freddie, I don’t want to be anywhere else. And I don’t think about anything else, either.’
Freddie’s face was radiant with pleasure. ‘I’ve been longing to have you to myself all day. Tell me truthfully, did you sleep with me on the sofa the other night?’
She grinned bashfully. ‘I didn’t want to be alone.’
‘I thought so. Lucky you weren’t there when Mum and Josephine appeared.’
‘I missed them by a minute!’
‘I wish I hadn’t slept through it.’
‘You were fast asleep,’ she said. ‘Which was probably just as well.’
‘Pity.’
‘I don’t suppose we’ll be able to do that again.’
He smiled, then ushered her to the picnic rug. ‘Let me pour you a glass of wine.’
‘Wine?’ She picked up the bottle. ‘How very grand.’
‘Yes, and a picnic. Mum made it for us, so don’t congratulate me.’ He opened the basket to reveal sandwiches and cake.
‘You told her we were sneaking off?’
‘Don’t worry. She’s very discreet. She’s made a special picnic, and she promised not to tell Josephine.’
He poured her a glass and she bit into a chicken sandwich. It tasted delicious. She had forgotten how hungry she was. They clinked glasses and Grace sipped the slightly warm Sauvignon. In spite of its temperature, she savoured the exquisite flavour and felt a pleasant tingling in her stomach.
Pepper returned from the woods with his tongue hanging out, panting heavily. He trotted down to the river to lap at the cold, limpid water. Freddie chattered away as normal, but he looked a little tense. His movements were slightly jerky and his hands trembled as he passed her things from the basket. Grace wondered why he was so nervous. If anything, she thought the wine would relax him. After they had eaten the cake and enjoyed another glass of Sauvignon he seemed to settle down, but his cheeks were flushed and he was still looking at her with a strange, almost bashful, expression. Then she remembered he’d mentioned a surprise and she began to feel a nervous buzzing in her stomach and her hands began to tremble, too, as she sipped from her glass.
As the tension built between them, the sun began to set and cast long shadows across the grass, but their patch remained warm and golden as the last of the light refused to be consumed. At last, Freddie stood up and walked behind the tree where they had leaned their bicycles. He reappeared with a bunch of bright-red roses. ‘These are for you,’ he said, sitting beside her and placing them in her hands.
‘Freddie, they’re beautiful,’ she gasped, pressing them to her nose. ‘Is this the surprise?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘This is.’ He pulled something out of his breast pocket. He opened his fingers to reveal a ring made out of woven straw. It was exquisite.
‘What’s this?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘Did you make it?’
‘I did,’ he replied, and his hands began to tremble again. He lifted it off his palm and took her hand, shifting himself into a kneeling position.
&n
bsp; ‘Oh, Freddie!’ she whispered as the tears blurred her vision.
His voice was solemn. ‘Will you, beautiful Grace Hamblin, marry me, Freddie Valentine, your oldest and most devoted friend?’ He slipped the makeshift ring onto the third finger of her left hand.
‘Oh, Freddie, yes, I will . . .’ she laughed, flinging her arms around him. ‘I mean, I do.’
Freddie was now shaking as much as she was. They clung to each other in amazement and joy. ‘You said yes!’ he exclaimed, squeezing her.
‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’
‘I wasn’t sure.’
‘We’re meant to be together, Freddie. We’ve always been together, haven’t we?’
He laughed. ‘Yes, we have. I hope we grow old together.’ He kissed her tenderly and she wondered why it had taken her so long to notice him when all the time he had been by her side, patiently waiting.
‘I love the ring!’ she said, lifting her hand.
‘I didn’t have time to buy you a real one.’
‘This is more perfect than a real one because you’ve made it yourself.’
‘I’ll buy you a real one as soon as I can afford it. I want to buy you something special.’
‘This is special! How can anything from a shop be more special than this?’
He laughed. ‘I love you, Grace. It’s so good to be able to say it. I love you!’ he shouted into the trees.
‘I can’t wait to tell Auntie May!’
‘She’ll be so pleased. Now you’ll be a real daughter to her.’
She looked at him seriously. ‘You will come and live with me in my cottage when we’re married, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
Then she narrowed her eyes as she recalled her strange conversation with Mr Garner at the funeral. ‘You told Old Peg Leg that you were going to ask me to marry you, didn’t you?’
He blushed guiltily. ‘I did, Grace, because that way he’d allow you to stay in your home.’
‘But you’re not just marrying me to be kind?’
The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel Page 16
