The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  Ella pulled her mouth into a wry twist. ‘Well, I can believe that,’ she muttered, remembering his admiration for her grandmother through the years. Esther Godfrey’s anger would have hurt him more than anything.

  ‘But as for whether he knows anything, well, maybe his grandma, or even his dad, might have told him something.’

  Ella’s eyes widened. ‘Uncle Danny? Does he know it all?’

  Jonathan turned away again, so that she scarcely heard his low-voiced, ‘Oh yes, love, Danny knows everything.’

  Ella stared after him as he left the barn, his shoulders stooping. She knew she could ask no more of her grandpa. Maybe some of these memories her questioning had evoked were painful for him too. But, just maybe, he had given her a hint of someone she might be able to persuade into revealing some of these dark and dreadful secrets.

  Several times during the weeks that followed her conversation with her grandfather, she tried to see Danny, but it seemed that each time she was thwarted in some way; most of the time it was because her grandmother would scarcely let her out of her sight, and on the rare occasions she was able to scamper across the fields to Rookery Farm, Danny was not there.

  The rest of her summer holidays were spent in backbreaking labour just to try to please a stubborn old woman who’d never loved her from the very beginning and Ella began to question whether it was really worth the effort.

  ‘You finish the milking and tek the cows back to the field. Me and ya grandpa are going for a walk on the beach.’

  Ella stared after them as, hand in hand, the couple walked away from her out of the yard, crossed the lane and disappeared beneath the trees on the sand-dunes. Ella finished the milking, dealt with the milk and cleaned all the machines and equipment. Then she drove the six cows out of the gate, up the lane and into the meadow. Closing the gate she leant on it watching the cows wander further into the field and begin tearing at the grass. What a simple uncomplicated life animals led, she thought. She heard a miaow behind her and turned to see that Tibby had followed her and was stepping daintily through the grass towards her, stopping every few moments to raise his head to listen. She squatted down and he came to her, rubbing his head against her knees and arching his back to be stroked, purring in anticipation.

  ‘Come on, Tibs,’ she said, picking him up. ‘Let’s go and find you some milk.’

  She carried him a short way down the lane but suddenly the cat began to struggle. ‘Ouch!’ she cried as his claws penetrated her thin shirt. She dropped him and the cat, landing on his feet, ran towards the grass verge near the sand-dunes. He squatted low and slunk forward, his tail thrashing wildly. Above him, in the branches of an elder tree, a bird fluttered.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t chase birds, m’lad,’ Ella said, and went to pick him up again. But Tibby, intent on pursuing his prey, flattened his ears and ran ahead of her under the trees.

  ‘Tibby! Come here this minute, you naughty cat!’

  Ducking beneath the trees, she followed him. The bird above them twittered in alarm and fluttered skywards to safety. Tibby swished his tail in annoyance, then playfully, he ran ahead of Ella, stopping every so often to look back at her, and then running again. She emerged at the top of the dunes, to see him half-way down the other side leading on to the marsh.

  ‘Oh, I’m not chasing you any more, you daft animal,’ she said smiling fondly. ‘You can come home when you’re ready.’

  She was about to turn back when she caught sight of two figures crossing the marsh, their arms about each other. Her gran and grandpa were walking slowly back towards home, her head resting on his shoulder. Ella guessed they had been out to the end of the Spit, her gran’s favourite spot. Echoing across the marsh, she heard her grandmother’s laughter; like the laughter of a young girl in love. She saw them pause, saw her grandfather bend his head and kiss her grandmother’s upturned face.

  Ella turned and stumbled back the way she had come. She had never felt so lonely in her life.

  Rob never came to Brumbys’ Farm now and Ella didn’t particularly want to seek out Janice Souter. Her only escape from the never-ending work was the deserted beach. When she could slip away from the farm, she walked towards the town where the sands were thronged with holiday-makers, children building sand-castles, bathers cavorting in the shallows or swimming further out, their happy laughter making Ella feel even more alone. She walked along the sea bank overlooking the beach and leant on the rail, her gaze scanning the sands.

  Then she saw him. Dressed in only a black pair of swimming trunks, running along in the shallows, feet pounding, water splashing. Ahead of him ran a girl dressed in a scanty bathing costume. Every so often, she glanced back over her shoulder towards him, shrieking with laughter as he bent, scooped up a handful of water and splashed her.

  It was not Janice, or even a girl she recognized; it was a visitor, a holiday-maker.

  Rob was flirting with the summer girls.

  She watched him, his black hair gleaming in the sunlight, the water in silver droplets on his body, muscular from the heavy farmwork he did with such ease. Lucky, lucky girl – whoever she was – who now had Rob.

  For the past year, they’d been such friends that she had begun to dare to hope that maybe, just maybe . . . But in a few moments, all her dreams had been smashed.

  Tears clouded Ella’s vision so that the figures blurred. She turned and walked quickly away, back the way she had come towards Fleethaven Point. She kept on walking, right out to the end of the Spit, wishing she could just keep on walking and never stop, right out into the sea.

  She stood at the end of the Spit and looked about her. The breeze rippled the surface of the sea and ruffled her hair. She pushed her hands deep into her pockets and stared out moodily across the wide expanse of water.

  Was there no one in the world, she asked herself, who loved her? She fingered the birthmark on her jaw. If only she was pretty, perhaps then . . .

  She stayed there until, in only her trousers and a thin shirt, she began to feel chilled. She shivered and turned away, retracing her steps along the shingle of the narrow bank of the Spit towards home.

  Home! she thought. Huh, that was a laugh. Not even there was she welcome.

  ‘And where have you been, Missy?’ was the greeting when she walked back into the yard.

  ‘Just for a walk, Gran,’ she said meekly, too distressed by what she had seen on the beach to have the energy to argue today. She sighed heavily and asked, ‘What have I done now?’

  ‘There’s no need to take that attitude. Go and help yar grandpa with the milking. All them new-fangled machines he’s got. I want nowt to do wi’ ’em.’ And Esther stalked back into the house, her back rigid with disapproval, though not, for once, directed at Ella.

  A little later, above the clatter and whirring of the milking machines, Ella heard her name being called and glanced round to see Janice Souter standing in the doorway of the cowshed. Making sure the machines were operating correctly and safely for a few moments, she walked towards the girl and stood leaning against the doorframe.

  ‘Our Jimmy ses you’re in jankers on bread and water, El.’

  ‘Something like that,’ Ella said, and added pointedly, ‘Thought you might have come round sooner. Been too busy out on someone’s motorbike, have we?’

  ‘Huh!’ Janice tossed back her long hair. ‘Once or twice, but he’s got his eyes on the summer girls now. Like all the lads round here.’ She sniffed. ‘Still, two can play at that game. There’s some smashing lads down from Leicester. I’m meeting them tonight. A’ you game?’

  Ella stared at her for a moment, then laughed wryly. ‘Even if I was, I’d never get out. Not now.’

  ‘Couldn’t you climb down a drainpipe or a tree or summat, like they do in films?’

  Ella shrugged. ‘It’s not worth it. I’m in enough trouble at the moment, without doing anything else.’

  ‘I don’t know how you put up with it. I don’t know why you don’t pack your bags and leav
e. If it was me, I’d be off.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Ella murmured.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Janice scoffed. ‘I bet!’

  Ella’s eyes narrowed as she thought, Don’t you be too sure, Janice Souter. One day I might do just that. But she kept the words unspoken; she wasn’t sure how much she could trust Janice.

  ‘I heard there’d been a dust-up,’ the other girl was saying, leaning closer, her eyes gleaming. ‘Between old Grandma Eland and your gran. What was it all about?’

  Ella frowned, remembering again the lashing words. ‘I honestly don’t know. I – I couldn’t understand it all.’

  There was a knowing smirk on Janice’s face. ‘It were about you and Rob getting too friendly, weren’t it?’

  ‘We weren’t. That’s what’s so unfair. We were only mucking about, but no one will believe us, specially not Gran!’

  Janice leant closer and now she whispered, ‘Dun’t you know why she got so upset when she thought you and Rob might be – well – y’know?’

  Ella stared at her. Dumbly, she shook her head.

  Janice put her mouth closer to Ella’s ear. ‘Ya can’t get friendly with Rob Eland, not that way – not ever. Not with ya brother!’

  Twenty-Three

  ‘Uncle Danny, are you my father?’

  In the yard at Rookery Farm, she stood facing him, hands on hips, her feet planted apart, unaware that she was adopting a stance exactly like her grandmother.

  The man, coming out of the barn carrying a bale of straw, gawped at her. He turned pale and dropped the bale. As if his legs had suddenly given way, he sat down on it and put his hand to his chest.

  ‘By ’eck, young ’un, ya dun’t mince words when ya start, d’ya?’ He looked at her hard. ‘Ya more like her than you know, Ella.’

  ‘Who? Gran – or my mum?’ Her words were laced with an underlying meaning that was not lost on the man in front of her. She could see that she had shocked him and, for a moment, she felt a fleeting concern, but she steeled her heart against compassion.

  It was time she had a few answers to all the mystery, to all the funny remarks that had been floating above her head for years now; half-spoken sentences left unfinished when she entered a room and deliberate evasion of her questions. Bright, perceptive and perhaps adult beyond her years in the constant company of the two women in her childhood, her mother and aunt, Ella had been aware of the atmosphere of mystery, but, as a young girl, she had been unable to elicit answers from anyone. Now, at sixteen, and after all the recent quarrels, she was determined to rip away the shroud of secrecy that shadowed her life. She wanted those answers – now.

  ‘Well? Are you?’

  Slowly, he shook his head and pulled himself up from the bale as if his limbs were suddenly heavy. He came towards her, his limp more noticeable than ever, and stood looking directly into her eyes. He was not a tall man and Ella’s eyes were almost level with his steady gaze. He put both his hands on her shoulders, resting them there. He did not answer her question immediately, but instead asked, ‘Ya mean you really don’t know, lass? Ya grannie’s told you nothing about ya mam and me?’

  When she shook her head, he seemed to take a deep breath as if coming to a big decision and said solemnly, ‘No, I’m not ya dad. I might have been, I might well have been, but we found out just in time.’

  ‘Found – found out?’

  ‘I am your blood uncle, Ella. Your mam and me, we – we were half-brother and -sister.’

  She stared at him and for a moment the only sounds in the farmyard were the hens scratching and complaining.

  ‘Brother and sister? Then – then me and Rob – we’re cousins?’

  He nodded. ‘Well, half-cousins.’

  ‘But there’s nothing wrong with cousins marrying, is there?’ The words were out before she thought to stop them.

  For a moment his expression was almost comical. ‘You mean you and Rob are . . .’

  ‘No, no, we’re not.’ She shook her head in denial, pulled a face and muttered, ‘More’s the pity . . .’

  ‘Aw, lass, do you like him, I mean, like that?’

  She said simply, ‘I love him, Uncle Danny. I think I always have.’

  ‘Aw, love.’ He pulled her to him now and held her close.

  Muffled against him, her face hidden, she found it easier to tell him her secret. ‘This year, I thought we were getting closer, that maybe in time he might feel the same. But Gran’s put a stop to that. For ever.’

  With her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear his heart beating and she heard him sigh deep within himself. As if making up his mind, he eased her away from him and held her by the shoulders. ‘It’s high time you knew everything, lass. And if no one else is going to tell you, then I will. Tomorrow, Ella, you and me are going to take the day off and go on a little trip.’

  ‘What about Gran?’

  Firmly, he said, ‘I’ll be over to see her tonight. I aren’t going to do anything behind her back. That’s not my way.’

  ‘Oh, heck!’ Ella said and it sounded comical coming from her lips. ‘I’ll make myself scarce tonight, then.’

  ‘No,’ Danny said. ‘I want you there. It’s high time that grandmother of yours heard a few home truths.’

  ‘I think,’ Ella said slowly, ‘your mother did a bit of that a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Obviously not enough,’ he said, grimly determined, and Ella shuddered to think what was going to happen that evening.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, young Danny!’

  They were all standing ranged around the kitchen at Brumbys’ Farm: her grandmother on one side of the scrubbed table, Ella, her grandfather and Danny standing in front of the range.

  ‘You’re all against me. I never thought you’d turn against me, Jonathan. Not you. But you’re siding with them an’ all, aren’t ya?’

  ‘Esther love, listen.’ The gentle man moved round the table and put his arms about her. She did not push him away but held herself stiffly, as if trying to resist him, yet finding it hard to do so.

  ‘My dearest love, listen to me. I’m always on your side, you know that, but I’ve never shirked from telling you when I think you’re wrong, now have I?’

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but she remained silent as he went on. ‘There’s been enough heartache caused over the years by trying to keep things hidden. Let the girl know, then maybe she’ll understand better.’

  Ella moved towards Esther, reaching out, trying to bridge the gulf between them. ‘Gran? Please, Gran. I want to know, to understand. People, even Janice Souter, keep hinting at things to me, things I don’t understand and – and that turn out to be untrue anyway.’ She glanced at Danny for support.

  He nodded and said quietly, ‘Janice Souter told Ella that she and Rob are brother and sister. That’s why I had to tell her the truth, that part of it anyway.’

  ‘Janice Souter would,’ Esther muttered. ‘The whole family’s nowt but gossips.’

  Danny’s gaze at Esther was steady, unflinching. ‘You know how – how I’ve always respected you, Missus, and yes, loved you, right from being a young lad. I’m not trying to put all the blame on you.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you,’ Esther said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

  ‘Esther, love,’ Jonathan said softly, tightening his arm around her.

  Resolutely, Danny went on, ‘Me mam’s as much to blame, but the secrets you and she tried so hard to keep hidden very nearly destroyed Kate and me. I won’t let the same thing happen to Ella.’ His voice was hoarse with emotion as he added, ‘If she had still been here, Kate would have told her everything by now. I’m sure of it.’

  Esther turned suddenly, pulling herself out of her husband’s arms and she rushed towards the door, turning back only to fling out her arm in a gesture of dismissal. ‘You say you “respect” me, but you’d have her know all me shame. Go on then, tell her, but she’ll get nowt out o’ me! Not ever.’ Then she ran out through the scul
lery and across the yard towards the sand-dunes, seeking refuge out in the open at the end of the Spit, but not before Ella had seen the tears in her grandmother’s eyes.

  The sight shook the girl so that she felt herself turn pale and gripped the edge of the table. ‘Oh Grandpa, we’ve upset her. Maybe we shouldn’t . . .’

  He smiled and put up his hand to still her words. ‘She’ll be all right. Don’t worry, Ella. You go with Danny tomorrow, then maybe you’ll understand your grannie better.’

  That night, Ella could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned until her bed was an uncomfortable, tumbled heap and by ten o’clock the next morning when Danny’s car pulled into the yard at Brumbys’ Farm to pick her up, her eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness and there was a dull ache at the back of her head.

  But nothing, she told herself, as she climbed into the passenger seat, was going to stop her going today.

  As they drove along the coast road, Ella said, ‘Have you told Aunty Rosie and Grandma Eland what we’re doing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Do – do they mind?’

  Danny grinned. ‘My mother’s as a’kward as your gran sometimes, but when I explained it all to her, she came around. You see, it’s her secret as well. When it all happened, well, it was a shameful thing in them days.’ He raised his shoulders. ‘We’re getting a bit kinder towards such mistakes, but not fast enough to my idea.’

  ‘I still don’t understand.’

  ‘All in good time, Ella. All in good time.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You’re enjoying this, Uncle Danny,’ she accused. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, it’s a day out, a day away from work. And with a pretty girl.’ His smile broadened. ‘What more could an old feller like me want, eh?’

  ‘Where are we’re going?’

  ‘Suddaby.’

  The name sounded familiar as if she should know but couldn’t just quite remember. ‘Where’s that?’