The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed,’ her mother had explained when Ella had once asked about Uncle Danny’s ‘poorly leg’. ‘The whole rear turret of the plane fell off and landed in a tree. That tree saved his life.’

  As he crossed the yard towards her, Ella scrambled up, but at that moment her mother appeared in the doorway. Ella hesitated, seeing the look that passed between the two adults, a slow smile curving both their mouths. They moved towards each other, into each other’s arms. Whenever they met, Ella thought, it was always the same; the look, the smile, and then the embrace that seemed to last for a long time, her mother resting her head on Danny’s shoulder, and he, his hand stroking her hair, murmuring softly, ‘Katie,’ before they pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes. And it never seemed to matter who was there at the time, they made no attempt to hide their obvious affection for each other.

  Then, as always, Danny turned to Ella and held out his arms. Now she ran to him to be swung up into the air and round and round until she laughed and squealed that she was dizzy.

  Pretending breathlessness, Danny panted as he set her on the ground once more. ‘My, you’re getting heavy and so tall too. She’s nearly as tall as our Rob, and he’s like a streak of pump water.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Where is he, anyway?’

  ‘On the marsh or in the dunes, just like we used to be, Katie,’ he said softly. ‘He nearly lives out there when he can get out of doing his fair share of the work.’

  Kate laughed, her head thrown back, her hair ruffled. ‘We used to do our share of disappearing at milking time . . .’

  Ella looked up at them, her glance going from one to the other. ‘Were you friends then? When you were my age?’

  They looked down at her, startled by her question, almost as if, for a moment, they had forgotten she was there.

  ‘Oh yes, Ella love,’ Danny began, ‘we were friends all right . . .’ Suddenly, there was the noise of rubber tyres skidding on the loose gravel at the edge of the lane and they all turned to see a boy, a few months older than Ella, riding his bicycle at breakneck speed into the farmyard, narrowly missing the gatepost. The brakes squealed as the bike slithered to a halt a few feet from them.

  ‘Talk of the Devil,’ Danny murmured. ‘Here he is.’

  It was like looking at a much younger version of her Uncle Danny; the same black curly hair, the same wide grin and laughing, cheeky, brown eyes.

  At her side, Ella heard her mother gasp. Kate was gaping at the boy and her face was suddenly, strangely, pale. ‘Heavens! He’s the spitting image of you and – and . . .’ Her voice faded away and Ella saw the glance that passed between her mother and Danny.

  Slowly the man nodded. ‘I know. I’m not going to be allowed to forget who my father was, am I, Katie? Not while young Rob’s around?’

  Kate shook her head, her gaze coming back to rest on the boy.

  Curious, Ella stared at him too. So this, she thought, was Rob Eland. Ella watched as the boy propped his bicycle against the barn wall and walked towards them, a swagger in every step.

  ‘One of these days,’ Danny was saying to his son, ‘you’ll come such a cropper off that bike.’

  But the boy’s grin only widened, the brown eyes full of mischievous daring.

  Danny put his arm about Ella’s thin shoulders, drawing her forward. ‘This is Ella, Rob, and her mam . . .’ Again the swift glance flew between the two adults, before he added, ‘yar aunty Kate.’

  Ella was still staring at Rob. He was slightly taller than she was and just as thin, but, she guessed, wiry and strong. His short, coal black curly hair glistened wetly and even though it was a wintry January day, he wore only a sleeveless pullover over his shirt, short trousers and knee-length grey socks that were apparently permanently wrinkled around his ankles.

  ‘Hello,’ he nodded towards Kate and then his gaze met Ella’s fixed stare.

  ‘Rob, show Ella around the farm while I have a talk with her mam,’ Danny said.

  There was a fleeting expression of irritation on the boy’s face, but Ella noticed that he hid it valiantly from his father. As Danny turned away, he put his arm around Kate’s waist and led her into the house. Ella watched Rob’s brown eyes darken as he stared after them. Then his gaze flickered briefly towards Ella, an unspoken question in their depths, then back again to the doorway through which the adults had disappeared. She saw him lift his shoulders fractionally, shrugging off something he could not understand.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he muttered, and marched ahead of her towards a line of brick buildings, kicking a stone as he went, sending it rattling across the cobbles of the yard. ‘We’ve got a calf in here. Like to see it?’

  Ella nodded.

  He showed her all round the farm; the huge sow with her litter of seven piglets. ‘One died,’ he told Ella, ‘but she’s rearing the rest.’

  Then he took her to a low wall at the bottom of the yard overlooking the vast expanse of flat fields, the newly ploughed brown furrows stretching straight true to the horizon. ‘We farm all this.’ He waved his hand seeming to encompass all the land as far as they could see. Showing off, Ella thought, just like a boy.

  ‘As far as that line of trees. See? Then it’s your grandmother’s farm.’ He turned round to look at her and there was a definite note of admiration in his voice as he added, ‘She owns all her farm.’

  ‘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.

  Three

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

  ‘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 soft
ened 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.’