The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Never you mind, Missy,’ her grandmother said sharply as she came back into the room. ‘Really, Kate, I have never met a child who asks so many impertinent questions.’

  Unseen by her grandmother, Ella grinned cheekily at her mother and heard her uncle Danny try valiantly to smother his laughter.

  Five

  ‘I don’t want to stay here any longer. I hate it here. Please, Mum, can’t we go home today?’

  ‘Ella, darling,’ Kate tried to placate her daughter, ‘it’s only another two nights. Just until Sunday evening.’

  The girl glowered at her mother. ‘You promise?’

  Kate sighed. ‘I promise.’

  ‘But why have we got to stay longer?’

  Suddenly, there was a light in her mother’s eyes and with a nervous gesture, she touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. ‘There’s – there’s someone I have to meet tomorrow . . .’

  ‘Who?’ Ella asked, and, with sudden intuition, she put her head on one side and added, ‘It’s to do with that letter you had, isn’t it?’

  Kate’s cheeks were pink as she nodded. ‘It was from someone I knew in the war.’

  ‘Like Aunty Mave and Aunty Isobel, you mean?’

  ‘Yes – yes, like them – well – sort of, except with this – person, we – we haven’t seen each other since then.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘No, darling, not this time. Maybe another time.’

  ‘I’m not stopping here on my own with her.’

  Kate sighed again. ‘Well, I’m borrowing Uncle Danny’s car.’

  ‘Is he going with you?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, but I have to drive a few miles up the coast. Maybe you could stay the afternoon at Rookery Farm – with Rob.’

  Ella thought for a moment, then grinned mischievously. Rob wouldn’t like that. ‘All right, then. I’ll go there.’

  That evening as night closed in around Brumbys’ Farm, the wind seemed to batter against the farmhouse, rattling the windows and blowing in under the back door, lifting the mat.

  ‘I hate gales,’ Esther complained, and for once Ella found herself in agreement with her grandmother. ‘It always reminds me—’ The older woman stopped and Ella saw her glance across at Kate, before she turned away and poked vigorously at the glowing coals in the range grate, making the sparks fly and the flames spurt. ‘Well,’ she muttered lamely, ‘I just hate wind, ya know I do.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ Kate said, and nodded towards Ella sitting huddled in a chair, her arms around herself, her knees drawn up. Esther’s eyes softened and she held out her hand. ‘Come and sit by the fire, Missy, and let’s forget about the storm out there.’

  ‘Where’s Grandpa?’ Ella asked.

  Esther shuddered. ‘Outside mekin’ sure the cows are safely in the byre. We dun’t want ’em wandering about in this lot. And I think he’s tying the tarpaulin over his beloved tractor an’ all, in case we get a downpour.’ She cast an anxious glance towards the back door. ‘He should be back in a minute and then we can shut the storm out. I know.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘We’ll roast some chestnuts. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I – dunno,’ Ella glanced at her mother for reassurance.

  ‘I don’t think she’s ever had any, Mam.’

  ‘Not had roast chestnuts? Well, I never did. Have you taught the poor child nothing, Kate Hilton?’

  Kate laughed. ‘They’re not so easy to come by in the city, Mam.’

  Esther snorted with laughter as she disappeared into the pantry and returned a few moments later with a bowl of shiny brown nuts. Kneeling before the range, the dancing firelight illuminated her face in its soft glow, making her seem, for a moment, much younger than her years. Ella caught a fleeting sight of the lovely girl her grandmother must once have been, glimpsed the young woman her grandfather must have fallen in love with; the smooth dark skin, rosy in the firelight’s glow, green sparkling eyes and beautiful auburn hair.

  ‘Now, we take the fire tongs, see. Grasp a chestnut . . .’ As she spoke Esther carried out the action, operating the claws of the tongs to clasp a nut then lifting it carefully towards the bars of the grate where she balanced it close to the coals. ‘When the skin begins to blister and split, we turn it round.’

  Fascinated, Ella watched.

  ‘Now,’ said her grandmother, holding out the tongs towards her, ‘you try.’

  The girl took the tongs and squeezed the handles to open the claws. After several attempts she managed to grasp a chestnut and slowly she moved it towards the fire, gritting her teeth in concentration. Steadily, she placed it on the bar of the fire.

  ‘Well done, darling,’ Kate said, clapping her hands and Ella glanced up to see her grandmother nod approval. A warm glow, that was nothing to do with the heat of the fire, spread through the young girl.

  At that moment the back door opened as Jonathan came in. The storm seemed to rage into the house, lifting the peg rug in the scullery and blowing a cold draught round Ella’s legs even as she sat by the fire in the kitchen.

  ‘Shut the door quickly,’ Esther called to him, ‘and come into the warm. We’re roasting chestnuts.’

  Jonathan came into the room rubbing his cold hands, seeming to fill the shadowy kitchen with his presence. ‘It’s a rough old lot out there. I’ve never heard the sea so plainly as you can tonight. Let’s hope they don’t have to launch the lifeboat . . .’

  Ella saw her mother’s eyes widen and she stared up at Jonathan. ‘Dad, is Danny still in the lifeboat crew?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, love. When he came back after the war with his leg wound, it was decided he couldn’t really be a part of the crew any more. But he’s still a launcher.’

  Ella saw her mother shudder. ‘That’s bad enough on a night like this,’ Kate murmured.

  ‘Yar dad sometimes takes his tractor up to help launch, an’ all,’ Esther said, and Ella could detect a note of disapproval in her grandmother’s voice, but her grandpa only smiled his slow, gentle smile.

  ‘Well, in a small community we all have to do our bit.’

  The conversation ranged on over the girl’s head; she was feeling drowsy now and, tucking her legs under her, she leant her head against the wooden Windsor chair.

  Her grandmother’s voice broke into her dreams, ‘You goin’ to eat these chestnuts, Missy?’ and Ella raised her head.

  She reached out to take the nut, peeled to reveal a creamy kernel. ‘Careful, it’s hot,’ Esther warned her.

  Ella blew on the nut and then carefully bit into it, it was crunchy and sweet. ‘Ooh it’s nice.’

  ‘A few more, and then it’s your bedtime.’

  Ella glanced fearfully across at her mother. ‘Are you coming up?’

  Before Kate could answer, Esther broke in, ‘Dun’t be such a baby! You’re a big girl now to be wanting your mam to take you up to bed. When I was your age I was having to look after me younger cousins.’

  Ella’s sharp mind latched on to the last word. ‘Cousins?’ she asked. ‘Not brothers and sisters?’

  ‘No,’ Esther said shortly, and poked the fire again, stabbing a burning log resting on top of the bed of red-hot coals so viciously that sparks shot up the flue, casting eerie, dancing shadows about the darkened room, lit only by an oil lamp standing on the table. But Ella’s concentration was on her grandmother. ‘That old man who died – he was your dad, wasn’t he?’

  Esther nodded.

  ‘Didn’t you live with him and your mam, then?’

  Slowly Esther turned to face her granddaughter and in the glow from the firelight they stared at each other, each one weighing up the other, perhaps really seeing one another for the first time. In the shadows, Jonathan and Kate were silent, watching the scene almost, it seemed, holding their breath. Outside the wind battered against the farmhouse, whistled around the buildings and rattled the roof tiles, but in the warm kitchen it was cosy and safe.

  Esther reached out a
nd gently touched the faint birthmark on Ella’s jawline shaped like two tiny finger marks. ‘Oh, Missy.’ In the firelight, Esther’s face was suddenly filled with a gentle sadness, a compassion, as she whispered, ‘You’re more like me than you could ever know.’

  Ella waited, holding her breath, but suddenly, the spell was broken as Esther seemed to shake herself and snatch her hand away as if she was suddenly angry at herself for almost being led into giving too much away, into becoming, for a few minutes, soft and gentle and human. She got to her feet. ‘Time you were in bed, child,’ she said sharply, ‘Kate . . .’

  ‘Yes, Mam,’ Kate said meekly and cast a wry grin at her daughter. ‘Come on, darling, I’ll come up with you.’ And though Esther tut-tutted in disgust, Kate went upstairs with Ella and did not leave her until she had been reassured that the noise really was only the wind whipping across the open, flat land.

  The following day, the last day of January, was a Saturday.

  Hugging her coat around her against the blustery wind, Ella stood in the yard at Rookery Farm watching her mother climb into Uncle Danny’s car. It was small and green, with a sloping back and huge bulbous headlights.

  Danny was holding the door and bending forward, pointing out all the instruments to Kate. ‘Do be careful, Kate. It’ll be very rough along the coast road with these gales,’ he was saying, almost shouting above the racket the wind was making. ‘Try to get back before it gets dark, if you can. The shipping forecast reckons it’s going to get even worse by tonight.’

  Ella saw her mother pull a face expressing doubt. ‘I will be back tonight, but I don’t know whether I can make it before dark. I’ve a fair way to go up the coast.’

  Danny looked at her. ‘Any good me asking just where and why?’

  Kate’s laughter bounced over the wind, her eyes sparkling. ‘Not a scrap. But I might tell you when I get back.’

  Listening, Ella thought, it’s a real secret if she’s not even telling Uncle Danny.

  ‘Well, be careful, then,’ Danny said again as he shut the door.

  Kate wound down the window. ‘Be a good girl, Ella, won’t you? Go back to Grannie’s at tea-time.’

  ‘She can stay here for her tea, if she wants,’ Danny put in, but Kate shook her head. ‘She’d better go back there, thanks all the same.’

  Ella opened her mouth to argue – she would much prefer to stay at Rookery Farm until her mother came back – but as Kate pressed the starter and the engine burst into life, her protests were drowned in the noise.

  ‘Mum!’ Ella ran forward, her fingers grasped the door of the car. Suddenly, she was filled with a terrible foreboding. ‘Mum, please let me come with you. Don’t leave me here.’

  ‘You’ll be all right, darling. Stay with Uncle Danny and Aunty Rosie – and Rob—’

  ‘No, Mum, let me come. Please.’

  ‘Darling, I can’t,’ Kate said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She revved the engine and let in the clutch.

  ‘Please, Mum—’

  As it moved, Ella felt Danny grasp her round the waist and her grip was prised loose.

  He held her until the vehicle had turned out of the farmyard gate and, once in the lane, began to gather speed. As he released his hold, Ella sped towards the gate.

  ‘Mum! Mum!’ she shouted after it, but the car drew away and all Ella could see was her mother’s arm sticking out of the window waving to her.

  The young girl stood a forlorn, lonely figure in the lane, the cold wind snatching at her coat, whipping around her legs. She watched the car turn left at the end of the lane and move along the coast road towards Lynthorpe. Her gaze followed it until, passing behind a clump of trees, it was lost from her sight.

  ‘Oh, Mum, please come back,’ Ella whispered. ‘Please don’t leave me here . . .’

  Six

  As dusk began to close in, Rob took her back to Brumbys’ Farm.

  Ella had not enjoyed her afternoon; the feeling of apprehension just would not go away, not even when Aunty Rosie fed her with scones topped with raspberry jam and cream.

  ‘I’m off to play with Jimmy,’ Rob had announced.

  ‘Oh no you’re not,’ Danny said. ‘You stay here and look after Ella.’

  ‘Aw, Dad . . .’

  ‘Can’t I come too?’ she suggested, but Rob said moodily, ‘We dun’t play with girls.’

  ‘What about Jimmy’s sister, Janice? You play with her then, don’t you?’ Rob’s mother said.

  Rob shrugged. ‘Not if we can get rid of her. She just tags along, that’s all.’

  Rosie smiled at Ella. ‘Boys!’

  But Rob did not stay moody for long and later he showed her how to make a bow and arrow and they played ‘Robin Hood’ in the big barn.

  ‘Can I see the kittens again?’ she asked, and when he lifted the lid of the coop, she gasped. In only two days they had altered. Little balls of fluff, they were crawling all over their mother. For a fleeting moment her worry was banished. ‘Oh aren’t they pretty?’ Ella cried, forgetting her desire not to appear ‘girlish’ in front of Rob. ‘I do like the black and white one. Look, all its little paws are white.’

  As if determined to keep them so, the mother cat licked at the kitten who wriggled and twisted to get out of the way. Ella giggled as she tickled the mother cat under her chin and the animal closed her eyes and purred, a high-pitched whirring sound of ecstasy.

  ‘Look, that one’s eyes are just beginning to open,’ Rob pointed. ‘They’ll not be ready to leave the mother cat for a few weeks yet, but me mam ses we’ve enough cats about the place now, so we’ve got to find homes for them. Would yar mam let you have one, d’you think?’

  Ella’s eyes clouded and she shook her head. ‘No. She says it wouldn’t be fair for us to have a pet where we live. It might get run over.’ The picture of a neighbour’s cat she had seen lying squashed in the middle of the street made her shudder afresh.

  ‘We’ll tek the short cut,’ Rob told her as they set off from Rookery Farm as dusk was blown in by the still raging gales.

  They crossed the lane opposite the farm gate and climbed a stile into the first field. Rob pointed and put his mouth close to her ear so that she could hear him above the wind whipping around them. ‘It’d be even shorter if we could go straight across the middle of the field to Brumbys’ Farm, but we’d better go round the edge.’ The field was ploughed in deep, straight furrows. ‘Else you’ll get yar shoes all muddy.’ He grinned. ‘We got into enough trouble about your shoes from your grannie last time, didn’t we? You really ought to get some boots for when you’re here.’

  The wind gusted across the wide open space, catching Ella’s breath and almost lifting her off her feet. Heavy clouds scudded across the sky and huge spots of rain were icy on her face.

  ‘Come on, it’s going to chuck it down in a minute,’ he warned and Ella trudged after the boy leading the way round the grass verge of the field.

  Never mind him and his ‘boots for next time’, she thought morosely. There won’t be a next time if I have anything to do with it. The minute Mum comes back, I’m off home.

  ‘Careful, dun’t fall in,’ he warned as they came to a bridge made out of two planks over a water-filled dyke. Gingerly, she walked across, placing her feet as if walking on a slippery tightrope. The wind buffeting her as she balanced precariously above the murky dyke water didn’t help and when she jumped the last pace on to the bank, she let out her breath in relief. The next field was a meadow, the grass short and springy, and they ran across the middle towards a hole in the hedge at the end of the orchard in the front of Brumbys’ Farm.

  ‘There you are,’ was the greeting from her grandmother emerging from the cowshed. ‘Come along in out o’ this lot.’ She nodded angrily at the darkening sky. ‘I’m leaving the cows in the shed again tonight. Poor things, they dun’t like this weather any more’n I do. I wish yar mam’d hurry up and get back ’afore dark.’ And Ella saw her glance up the lane as if willing the car to appear.

  As
Rob turned to go, Esther shouted after him, ‘You go straight home, Boy. It’s not fit for man nor beast to be out.’

  ‘I’m just off to mek sure the old ’uns are all right at the Point, Missus.’

  Esther pretended to shake her fist at him, but she was smiling as she said, ‘Cheeky young rogue! I’ll give you “old ’uns”, indeed. Is that what you call me an’ all?’

  The boy’s grin widened. ‘Who me, Missus? I wouldn’t dare!’ With a cheery wave he was gone.

  They stood in the yard and watched the boy as he reached the lane, turned to the right and broke into a run, blown along by the wind.

  ‘He’s a good lad,’ Esther murmured to no one in particular.

  ‘I know his gran and his other grandma live in the cottages, but who else lives at the Point?’ Ella asked, suddenly curious.

  As they entered the back door and Esther leant her weight against it to close it against the wind, she said, ‘The two Harris boys live in the very end cottage, next door to his grandma Eland.’

  Ella’s eyes widened. ‘Boys? Two boys live on their own?’

  ‘Eh?’ For a moment Esther stared at her, a puzzled frown on her forehead. Then she laughed. ‘Oh, they’re boys to me, but let’s think, they’ll both be pushing fifty-odd now.’

  ‘Fifty!’ Ella squeaked. ‘Why, that’s ancient.’

  ‘Oh, thank you very much, seein’ as I’m nearly sixty.’

  ‘Are you really?’ Ella said, with her usual candid honesty. ‘Well, you don’t look it.’

  Esther stood, hands on hips, her head on one side. ‘You trying to flannel me, Missy?’

  Suddenly, Ella grinned impishly and, mocking Rob’s words, said, ‘Who me, Gran? I wouldn’t dare!’

  If it were possible, the gales seemed to get worse. They raged around the farmhouse, battering the back door, rattling the tiles and whistling around the farm buildings. By eight o’clock when Kate had still not returned even the placid Jonathan was obviously agitated. He went out every few minutes to the gate to look up the lane, watching for the headlights. ‘Maybe she’s broken down somewhere.’