‘Playing with fire more like. Why do I feel I’m drawing the short straw here,’ Gracie moaned.
‘Stop fretting. You’re not the one he’s after.’
‘Thank God.’
‘You’ll have Rose for company, and get well fed for once. That can’t be bad. Anyway, you’re probably right. It might have got a bit tricky if I had gone. Charm and good looks he may have in abundance, but I’m definitely taken. Tell Eddie Treverrith that.’
So it was that Gracie was sitting alone on the doorstep of their hut, happily cleaning the mud off her boots when her parents suddenly appeared before her, their homely faces beaming with delight at their own cleverness in finding her.
‘Ah, there you are,’ her father announced in his lilting Welsh tones, just as if he’d only momentarily misplaced her.‘
Gracie was appalled to see them standing there, her mother’s best Sunday shoes sinking deeper by the second into the awful mud. She got hurriedly to her feet, a fixed smile of welcome on her face as she quickly found her manners and invited them inside.
Her mother refused, absolutely, almost as if she believed it would be no cleaner inside the hut, than out. ‘We’ll wait here for you to change,’ she said, shifting her feet to a less soggy patch of ground so as to make the very opposite point.
‘Change?’ Dreading the start of a lecture, Gracie momentarily closed her eyes, gathering strength. None came, only the touch of her mother’s hand, removing a speck of mud from her cheek. From most mothers, Gracie realised, it would have been a kiss, or at least a hug.
And then her father stepped forward, proffered a whiskery kiss, and, tightening her resolve not to flinch away, Gracie put her boots back on and laced them up with fingers which suddenly felt thick and clumsy. Taking her time, she slowly rolled down her woollen socks while she worked out a strategy. On wet days, the socks were always turned up, but the weather recently had been fine and warm with today a bright sun peeping out from behind scurrying clouds.
‘We reckoned you’d have got over this daft notion of yours and come home long since,’ her father said.
As if such a thing were possible. Gracie protested vigorously. ‘It’s not a daft notion, and no, I haven’t ‘got over it’. I’m doing an important job of work and will continue to do so.’ Yet it was clear from the exasperated glance exchanged between them that they weren’t convinced. It was rare for their opinions to coincide, but where bringing their beloved daughter home to their own fireside was concerned, they were as one.
Brenda Freeman was completely nonplussed, as much by her daughter’s workmanlike appearance as by her blunt rejection of their misguided attempt at salvation. But she wasn’t about to easily accept defeat. ‘I insist that you clean yourself up and look civilised, so that we can at least take you out to tea. Is that too much to ask?’
How could she refuse when they’d come so far? For all she was far from delighted to see them, Gracie had no wish for another row. Her father settled the issue by proudly announcing that he’d managed to save up enough petrol to bring the car, which was parked waiting at the camp entrance.
‘All right, but don’t think for one minute this means I’m giving up. I’m surprised, Father, that you should think so little of me that you imagine I’d chicken out in less than a month.’
They drove into Bodmin and took high tea at the smartest hotel they could find. Brenda always liked the best, even if she couldn’t afford it. They sat in awkward silence for some time waiting to be served. But the food, when it finally came, was certainly a treat so far as Gracie was concerned and she tucked into the plaice and chips with relish, following by bread and butter pudding. What this lacked in actual butter, it more than made up for with a tang of something that had undoubtedly come from behind the bar. The pudding made her father frown with disapproval.
‘It tastes like brandy. However could they afford it?’
‘This is Cornwall, Father, with lots of coastline. You’d be amazed what gets in here that the authorities don’t know about.’
‘Is that why you came so far away? In the hope we’d never know where to find you. We certainly noticed that you never put an address on any of your letters. That upset your mother greatly.’
For the next hour and half, Gracie was subjected to a grilling which left her weak with exhaustion. She heard how the business was collapsing without her, wages being far too high these days for her father to afford to take on what he termed a ‘proper shop assistant’. And it was all getting too much for her poor mother, whose health had always been robust, but that never stopped Howell from using it as an argument when all else failed. Besides, it would be Gracie’s business one day, he reminded her, so it behoved her to help look after it.
‘But I don’t want it, Father. I don’t want to spend my life working in a village shop.’ She wished she had a pound for every time she’d repeated this simple fact. ‘And what about Mother’s dream for me to be a teacher? I can’t do both, now can I? I can’t please one of you without upsetting the other, so I’ll do neither, thank you very much. I don’t want to be either a teacher or a shop assistant.’
‘So what do you want to do then? Seems to me that you haven’t the first idea. Never did have. Otherwise, why would you get this daft notion into your head to be some sort of Lumber Jack.’
‘Jill. Lumber Jill.’ Gracie felt she might go mad if the meal, and the interrogation, continued for much longer and got to her feet, suggesting that it was time they left. If they hurried, she thought, she might manage to salvage some of the promised evening she was meant to be spending with Rose and her brother. She’d have to eat another meal but that was no hardship.
Her mother looked flustered, glancing around to see if they were being observed. ‘Sit down at once. You’re making an exhibition of yourself.’
‘I’d just like to get on with doing the job I have got, which I happen to love.’
‘Nonsense!’ Her father dragged out the word with such snarling contempt in his voice, that Gracie had to clench her fists hard, so as not to cry.
‘Why do you always put me down? Why can’t I choose, for once, what I want to do with my own life?’
‘Because we know best, that’s why. We have only your good interests at heart. You can’t spend your life dressed like a navvy, chopping up bits of wood.’
‘I don’t chop up bits of wood. It’s a responsible job, having to choose which are the right trees to fell for pitprops, or telegraph poles, and taking them down without ... Oh, what’s the use. I’m going. I’ll get a lift back to camp.’ She stumbled across the room, half blinded by tears, yet acutely aware of the other diners watching her with surprised curiosity. By the time Gracie had reached the swing doors, her father was beside her, his hand upon her shoulder.
‘Now then, you’ve left your poor mother in tears. We’ll have none of your tantrums here, thank you very much. Come and sit down like a good girl with your ma and me, and we’ll have a nice fresh pot of tea.’
‘So where the hell are they, these bloody friends of yours?’
Rose couldn’t believe it. Neither girl had turned up. Here they were with supper all ready and not a sign of either of them. She’d opened a large tin of salmon as a treat, one she’d been saving for a special occasion, together with a lovely salad from the garden and the last bottle of parsnip wine. And that’s what this should have been, a special occasion. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had friends to visit. But it was past seven o’clock and they were already more than an hour late. The evening was rapidly turning into a disaster.
‘Something must have happened. They would never have let me down in this way, not deliberately. They’re my friends.’ Nervously, she checked her watch for the umpteenth time, smoothed the already immaculate lace-trimmed tablecloth, straightened knives which were already straight, lit the candles and then blew them out again.
‘For goodness sake, stop fussing.’ Eddie was furious. He’d had a hard job coaxing Gertie to go off
and visit her mother for the weekend but his juices had been running in anticipation of what the evening held in store. He’d planned to leave the skinny one talking to Rose, while he took the flighty piece for a stroll outside, or rather a quick roll in the hay. He’d even shaved, dammit. Now his plans were in ruins and who else could he blame but this stupid sister of his? Hadn’t she spoiled his life from the minute she’d set foot in it? His parents had worshipped the ground she walked on, and scarcely noticed him once she’d arrived. ‘Of course they’re not your blasted friends. Look at yourself, too thin, hair an untidy mess as usual, boring skirt and jumper. You look like a ragamuffin. They’ll be off to pastures new any day, like all the rest. Glad to get away from you and your silly fawning behaviour, I’ll be bound.’
Rose couldn’t have felt any worse if he’d struck her. The fact that her new friends had not only forgotten to come this evening but would soon be leaving altogether, filled her with utter despair. The prospect of being left alone once again with this brother she’d once adored and had now come to loathe, was more than she could tolerate. Even the woodlands, which she loved, seemed like a cage, holding her fast in its remoteness.
Her eyes were growing hot and prickly with her efforts not to cry and, in that moment, all the excuses she usually made for Eddie’s selfishness evaporated. ‘They do like me, I know they do. It’s all your fault. You were pestering Lou and you know that she’s married. She probably decided she didn’t dare risk coming after all, because you might try it on.’ Tears were raining down her cheeks, despite her best efforts to stop them.
Eddie turned away from her, disgust writ plain on his rugged features. ‘Soddin’ hell, not the waterworks as well. Don’t think I didn’t notice that little tart trying to cover up her wedding ring. She fancied me all right, make no mistake, married or not. She’s the sort who’ll do anything for a lark, good time girl like her. If she’s changed her mind it’s because of you and your stupidity. You always let me down. Look at the trouble you caused when I invited Dexter Mulligan that time. Wouldn’t even join us for a glass of something in the evening, but went and sulked in your room.’
‘I don’t like him, and I’m sure he stole that rose bowl. I swear I haven’t seen it since the day before that lunch when I polished it.’
‘Don’t talk stupid. Dexter Mulligan’s too clever to be a petty thief. I gave him the blasted bowl.’
Rose’s mouth dropped open. She’d known he was in some financial difficulty but it stunned her to see just how bad that must be. ‘You gave it to him? But - it doesn’t belong to you. How could you give it to him - to anyone? And what on earth will you say to Lord Clovellan when he returns?’
Eddie smirked. ‘I’ll blame the war. All sorts of stuff goes missing in war time. And the house is occupied by government riff-raff, ain’t it? How should I know who’s wandering about the place half the time?’
‘Because you’re the caretaker, for heaven’s sake. You’re supposed to look after everything. Oh Eddie, what were you thinking of? Why did you take the risk?’
Despite his bluster, Eddie shifted with discomfort before her interrogative stare. ‘Because I was in a tight corner, that’s why, and you wouldn’t soddin’ help me out of it.’
Rose shook her head in disbelief. ‘Sometimes, I don’t know you at all. Why let yourself get involved with the likes of Mulligan in the first place?’
Eddie’s face locked tight with fury. ‘Who the bleedin’ ‘ell are you to criticise? Where are your friends when you need them? All you had to do was to be nice to him. Is that too much to ask in return for me putting a roof over your head?’
Rose shuddered. ‘I can guess what ‘being nice’ to Dexter Mulligan would have involved. No, thank you very much. I can’t seriously believe that you’d expect me to, just because you owe him a bit of money.’
‘A bit?’ Eddie’s laugh was bitter. ‘More like a fortune, and since he was threatening to separate my head from my shoulders, somehow it had to be paid back, sweetheart, one way or another. It had to be either your virginal charms or the rose bowl, and cheap at the price. It’s your fault I had to give him the damn thing, not mine. We’ll just have to hope we’ve managed to stave him off for a bit, won’t we? Because if I have to use you, Rose my love. I will. What choice do I have?’
Chapter Seven
Gracie was sitting anxiously in the back of her parent’s Morris Motor, driving down miles of unknown country lanes. She hadn’t been particularly alarmed at first when they’d set off in this direction, as her father had claimed it to be a shortcut. But after a while she became seriously concerned.
‘Are you sure this is the right way? I don’t ever remember the lorry coming along this road. We should surely be at the camp by now.’
‘Stop your fussing, girl. Put your head down and get some sleep.’
‘Sleep? It should only take twenty minutes from Bodmin to the camp, half an hour at most. Why should I get some sleep?’
She saw them exchange glances and it was then that the horrible suspicion dawned. They weren’t taking her back to camp at all. They were taking her home. Her own parents had abducted her. If it weren’t so terribly serious, she would think it hilarious, but this was no laughing matter. Matron would have her head on a platter. Gracie jerked forward in her seat.
‘You must take me back this minute. I’ll be in dreadful trouble if I’m not back by nine-thirty. Oh, why did I allow you to persuade me to sit in the bar parlour and have that sherry, listening to your tales about Aunty Phyllis and her back problems, and yours with the shop. Why didn’t I make you take me back when I first wanted to go.’ There were tears in her voice, filling her throat, running down her cheeks. ‘Matron will put me on report. They might even kick me out for breaking the rules.’
‘Good thing too,’ said Howell, in his most forbidding Welsh.
‘Daddy, you mustn’t do this to me. It’s all wrong.’ But even this childhood name she’d once used so lovingly and now couldn’t bear to as it indicated an affection she no longer felt, failed to move him.
‘Stop fussing dear. Father knows best.’
Gracie looked at her mother askance. Back at the hotel Brenda had drawn her to one side and said quite the opposite; saying how much she hated him, how she really couldn’t cope, not on her own. She’d pleaded, nay begged her daughter to come home with them. Gracie had felt swamped by the bleakness in her mother’s gaze, the agonised tone of her voice yet had held firmly to her resolve to return to camp. She’d escaped the chains that bound her, and nothing would induce her to put them on again.
‘You can’t possibly get away with this. You’ll have to stop for petrol some time.’
‘Your father put two Jerry-cans in the boot. And we’ve plenty of food with us. I brought a hamper specially,’ Brenda informed her, her usually gloomy face for once wreathed in self-satisfied smiles.
Why was it that the one time in their lives her parents weren’t fighting each other, they were attacking her? ‘This is ridiculous. I can’t believe this is happening.’ But it was. Her own parents had kidnapped her and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. In the end, all Gracie could do was to sit back and accept the inevitable, grimly weighing up the possibilities and opportunities for escape.
The opportunity presented itself on the outskirts of Exeter when Brenda was compelled to stop the car in order to spend a penny. Gracie went with her, of course, and the moment the two women were alone, she wasted no time in exploiting the opportunity.
‘Mother, I can’t do this. I can’t come back with you.’ Gracie had been away from home scarcely a month but instinctively knew that if she gave in and went back now, before she’d even had the chance to prove herself, she might never get away again. She was young, with all her life before her, thirsty for adventure. Deliberately hardening her heart she persisted with her argument. ‘I won’t come home. I like what I do! I’ve made new friends and have the chance of a fresh start.’
‘If I tho
ught you were leaving home for some good purpose, I’d be content. You’re an intelligent girl. You could make something of your life. You could be a teacher, a woman of importance and independence, as I'd always hoped. Why do you insist on wasting your life? It’s a crying shame. I do at least agree with your father about that.’
Gracie understood that these aspirations her mother held for her originated out of her own unhappiness and disappointment with life, yet she felt weighed down by this desperation, knowing that if she succumbed, in no time she would be back in exactly the same situation as she was before. ‘I’m not wasting my life. Keeping the country supplied with wood is important. Maybe when the war is over this job won’t be enough, and I might want something different. Who can tell what any of us will want by then? But for now, this is right for me. Can’t you - won’t you at least try to understand? Why can’t you see that I’m happy?’
‘Because the war won’t last for ever. You must think ahead. And it would help me so much if you came home, Gracie dear. Let’s support each other through the duration. After that I’ll feel more able to cope. You can’t leave me now. I need you.’
Gracie gritted her teeth, determined not to give in to emotional blackmail. ‘Whatever problems you and Father have, and I know they must be legion, they aren’t mine any more. They never were, not really. You have to find a way to resolve them yourself.’
Panic came into the older woman’s eyes. ‘I can’t, Gracie. You know how he is, how he treats me. So cold and condemning.’ She began to cry; desperate, heartrending tears which tore Gracie in two so that she felt bound to hold her mother awkwardly in her arms as Brenda sobbed quietly into her shoulder. Never close, yet the bond held. ‘I should never have married him. Perhaps I never would have, had it not been for you.’
‘Don’t be silly, it has nothing at all to do with me.’ She turned away to wash her hands which she found to be trembling but Brenda had no intention of stopping now. She grabbed hold of her daughter and swung her around, face wreathed in a veil of wretchedness.
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