by Val Wood
Freddie hesitated, holding the rim of the glass close to his lips. He gave a deep sigh and said, ‘I’d rather we drank to present company, James. My wife never drank, nor to my knowledge or in my presence ever gave a toast in honour of anyone. If she had a good life, then I would be pleased to know that it wasn’t wasted.’ He looked from an astonished James to an equally startled Laura. ‘But I wasn’t privy to it.’ He drank half of his sherry like a man whose life depended on it, then put the glass down on a side table and got to his feet.
‘It wasn’t meant to be announced like this, Susannah,’ he said to her as she sat with her fingers clasped tightly beneath her chin and a tremble on her lips. ‘But now is as good a time as any, I think?’
Laura saw her mother give Freddie an almost imperceptible look of pleading, as if she was asking him something, and he strode across to her. ‘They have to know, Susannah,’ he said softly, leaning over her. ‘They are a grown man and woman. We cannot protect them any longer, and we owe it to ourselves.’
‘You’re going to be married?’ Laura said in a shaky voice. ‘I guessed as much. You just have to wait until your mourning is over?’
Freddie gently fingered Susannah’s hair as he spoke to Laura. ‘Yes, that is true. Your mother has waited a very long time. We have both waited. And although we would not have wished for my wife’s death and might have been prepared to wait even longer, that is not the only thing we have to divulge.’
‘I was going to tell you,’ Susannah said in a low voice. ‘But I couldn’t seem to find ’courage. I was so afraid of what you’d think. That you would judge us.’
‘Mama!’ James rose to his feet. ‘We would only wish you happiness. There is no-one I’d rather have as a stepfather, and I’m sure that Laura will say the same.’
He turned to Laura for confirmation but she sat still as stone. There is more, she thought, as the memories of Paris came flooding back again. Much more.
Freddie licked his lips and glanced down at Susannah. She straightened her back and lifted her chin and Laura saw a look of determination steal across her face. For all her mother’s quiet and gentle manner, she was always purposeful and resolute.
Susannah took hold of Freddie’s hand and, holding it by her shoulder, rubbed her cheek against it. ‘I have loved Freddie since I was just a girl.’ She smiled tremulously up at him. ‘And he has loved me. Circumstances decreed that we couldn’t marry.’ She hesitated. ‘When I realized that I might have to wait a long time for him to be free, I asked him something.’ She took a deep breath as if she was about to dive into unfathomable water. ‘We had never been lovers in the real sense; he had always been an honourable man and I a virtuous woman; but I asked him to give me a child. That was you, James. And then we had another; that was you, Laura. Freddie is your father.’
She stopped and gazed at her children, and Freddie did the same, both waiting for one of them to speak.
James found his voice first. ‘But you told us – you said that our father was dead! You said that he was in the Navy. You said he came from Southampton—’
‘Portsmouth,’ his mother and sister said on the same breath. ‘I’m afraid it was a lie, James,’ Susannah went on. ‘I had to invent a father for you, and his being in the Navy was the obvious excuse for him to be away and for me to claim that I was visiting him in other ports. That is also the real reason why I came to live in Hessle, where no-one knew me. Three months after Laura was born, I said he had died and been buried at sea. I thus became a respectable widow.’
‘And our name?’ Laura murmured. ‘Is it a real name or a made-up one?’
Susannah blinked, but a trickle of tears ran down her face. ‘It’s my own name,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘As it was my mother’s name. I was happy enough to keep it. If anyone had asked I would have said that I had married a man with the same surname, but no-one ever did.’
‘Your mother’s name?’ James said in a low voice. ‘You mean your father’s name.’
‘No. I don’t mean that. I never knew who my father was. At least, by my lie of inventing a father for you, I have spared you that cruel indignity.’
Laura got up and went across to her mother. She bent down and kissed her. ‘Thank you for telling us, Mama.’ Then she kissed Freddie on the cheek. ‘I’d thought that you and Mama might have been lovers,’ she said softly. ‘Memories have been coming back to me over the last few weeks which have told me that you’ve always been in our lives. But I never dreamed that you could have been our father.’
Freddie glanced anxiously at James, who was standing as if stunned. ‘James,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if this has come as a shock to you.’
‘I can’t take it in.’ James’s tone was sharp and intense. ‘Why didn’t you tell us before? Heavens above, it isn’t as if we’re children who might blurt it out. Would you have told us if your wife hadn’t died?’
‘Yes,’ Freddie said. ‘I was about to leave my wife, who – forgive me, Laura, for speaking so frankly – has only ever been my wife in name. It has all been very complicated and we will discuss everything – the whys and wherefores – in good time. Sufficient to say now that I was influenced by my father and forced into an unwelcome marriage.’
‘I’m going out.’ James suddenly headed for the door. ‘I need some air. Need to think!’
Susannah looked alarmed, but Laura reassured her as James crashed out. ‘He’ll be back, Mama,’ she said. ‘He just needs time to adjust to the news.’
‘But you do not?’ Freddie asked gently. ‘Are you not shocked, Laura, as James so obviously is?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’m astounded that you kept the secret for so long, but I’m not shocked. I remember you saying once that I could do anything I wanted, and shouldn’t be held back by convention because I was a woman. You said …’ She pressed her lips together as she thought back. ‘You said, as long as no-one was hurt by our actions we must follow our own path.’ She looked at her mother. ‘And Mama wanted children.’
‘But only Freddie’s,’ her mother broke in. ‘I only wanted his. If I couldn’t have Freddie, then I wanted his children.’
They heard a sound by the door. James, with his coat half on, had come back into the room. He was biting his fingers, as he used to when he was a child, and was obviously trying to control his emotions. ‘The thing is, Uncle Freddie.’ His voice was thick and choked. ‘The thing is – when I was little, I wanted you to be my father! I used to ask God when I said my prayers at night to send your wife away so that you could marry our mother and live with us.’
He came slowly into the room and Freddie moved towards him. ‘And now …’ James couldn’t control the tears which coursed down his face. ‘Now it has happened.’ He gave a sudden sob, somewhere between a cry and a laugh. ‘I don’t know whether to feel guilty or jubilant!’
Freddie put his arms round him and hugged him. ‘Don’t feel guilty,’ he said softly. ‘I’m the one who should feel remorse, and I do, for not being here for so much of your lives, yours and Laura’s, but especially your mother’s. Especially Susannah’s.’
CHAPTER FORTY
The invitation to visit Burstall House came at the beginning of March. Laura had had a regular correspondence with Edmund throughout the winter, but no longer showed the letters to her mother.
‘I’m not sure if you should go,’ Freddie said to Susannah. ‘Can you not wait until I’m free to go with you?’
‘Why?’ she had asked, laughing at him. ‘Do you wish to go as the dutiful father to ascertain whether the young man is good enough for your daughter?’
‘You know that is not the case at all, Susannah. Your judgement is as good as anyone’s, better probably. No.’ He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I just think it’s too soon.’
But she disagreed with him and said that they would visit, just she and Laura, there was no need for James to go, and that they would travel by train to Hedon.
‘Perhaps then I’ll follow on a later train and wait for you a
t the Fleet,’ he said. ‘You’ll be calling there on the way home, presumably?’
She told him that they would, and that Edmund Ellis had said that he would collect them from there on the outward journey and drive them to Skeffling. ‘We could have gone on to Patrington, which is nearer, but I’m overdue a visit to the Fleet.’
Susannah was apprehensive about going further into Holderness. It has been such a long time, she reflected. When I lived in Hedon I was fearful of returning to Welwick; always afraid of meeting up with Wilf Topham. Yet I should have done, she thought, if only to see Aunt Jane. She had sent postcards to Jane over the years, telling her that she was well, but no more than that.
She and Laura waited now at the Fleet Inn for Edmund Ellis to collect them. They had caught an early train so that she could ask questions of the tenants, and make sure that all was in order. Jack and Ruby Howard had moved on several years before and a Hedon couple now ran the inn very satisfactorily. Susannah and Laura had walked from the station and through the Market Place, stopping to look in shop windows and occasionally so that Susannah could greet people who had hesitantly waved or nodded, unsure whether or not they knew her.
They had been given coffee at the Fleet, and whilst her mother was chatting to the tenants Laura had gone outside into the garden and wandered beside the stream.
‘Hello!’
She turned at the voice. Edmund Ellis stood smiling at her. ‘Hello!’ she replied. ‘You’re early. We didn’t expect you just yet.’
‘I couldn’t wait to see you,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought of nothing and no-one else since receiving your mother’s letter. I’m sorry though that it’s to be such a short visit. I had hoped you’d be able to stay longer.’
‘Mama thought it would be best.’ She gazed frankly at him. ‘She said it was best not to stay overlong on a first visit. At least that was what she was advised.’
‘Advised? By a family friend?’
‘Yes.’ She looked down and watched the ripples on the water’s surface. Now wasn’t the time for explanations of Freddie’s role. For some reason he didn’t want them to come; he said he had to make further enquiries about Edmund and his family.
‘Of course.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘Convention and all that.’ Then he gave an appealing grin. ‘But you said that you were not at all conventional. And besides, this isn’t your first visit!’
‘You’re being obtuse,’ she rebuked dryly. ‘You know perfectly well what I mean by a first visit!’ But to her annoyance she could feel her cheeks flushing. ‘You’ve invited us for a purpose, and if the visit goes well, then we must invite you back!’
‘What bosh!’ He bent and whispered, ‘I wanted you to come so I could show you how I live, and to ask if you could live here too, with me, as my wife.’
She swallowed hard. She was emancipated, it was true, but he was going too fast. She needed more time.
‘I love you, Laura,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Say that you care, or could care, for me, and never mind the niceties of how we should behave.’
‘You don’t know me,’ she murmured. ‘A few letters cannot tell you what I am like. I’m impatient. I have a sharp tongue. I speak my mind.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s what I love about you. You’re not pretentious, you don’t flirt or flatter. You speak as you think.’
‘Sometimes I speak without thinking,’ she said ruefully, and then laughed. ‘Perhaps you do know me!’
Her mother called to them. She had seen the brougham in the yard and had come to look for them. ‘Mr Ellis,’ she said. ‘There you are.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Page.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘I spotted Miss Page in the garden and went to speak to her.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘So I see. Shall we go?’
He led them towards the carriage. ‘I’ve brought a driver so that I can sit with you and point out various landmarks on the way,’ he said. ‘It’s not too far to Skeffling, and we have a dry day.’
As they drove on the long road towards Patrington, Susannah recalled the dank, dark November day when she had travelled towards Hedon in the carrier’s cart. The trees had been black against the sky and the deep ditches full with winter rain. Now there was a faint greening on the branches, and here and there she spotted clumps of cowslips, celandine and early primroses growing along the drain banks. They passed the villages of Thorngumbald and Keyingham and now she saw the spire of Ottringham church in the distance and a sign showing Sunk Island, and she remembered Thomas telling her tall tales of children born with webbed feet. She smiled at the memory. Dear Thomas. How lovely it would be to see him once more. She gazed out at the rolling warm brown earth, the widespread greening fields and endless infinite sky, and pondered that it was good to be back.
‘Mama! Mr Ellis is speaking to you!’ Laura leaned towards her. ‘You were miles away!’
‘I beg your pardon, Mr Ellis. So I was. I was remembering my childhood.’
Edmund gave her a questioning glance. ‘I was only pointing out Patrington steeple. We’re coming into Patrington now. St Patrick’s is considered to be one of the finest churches in the country.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, looking out of the window. ‘I remember it very well, and we’ve passed Enholmes mill. I see it is still in production.’
Again he gave her a puzzled look. ‘Yes, thriving, I understand. We regularly lose farm workers to them as their wages are higher than ours.’
Susannah nodded vaguely. ‘Indeed.’ I wonder if Wilf still lives with Aunt Jane, she mused. I hope he treats her better now than he did.
‘Mrs Page! I was saying that you seem well informed about the area.’
‘I am, Mr Ellis.’ Susannah gathered her wits about her. ‘I lived here when I was a child. I was born in Welwick. My mother died in childbirth and I lived with my great-aunt.’
Edmund cast a bewildered look at her and then at Laura. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t recall Miss Page’s mentioning it.’
‘I didn’t,’ Laura said abstractedly. ‘Mama never talked of it.’
‘I ran away.’ Susannah’s voice was constrained, her manner inhibited. ‘When I was twelve. I’ve never been back, until now.’
Laura stared at her mother. She had never mentioned that. Why hadn’t she? She opened her mouth to put the question, but her mother’s face was closed and Laura knew her well enough to recognize that now wasn’t the right time; but by admitting what she had, her mother had left an opening for the subject for when it was. It will be up to me to decide when that moment is, Laura thought. Something went very wrong and Mama couldn’t speak of it.
‘We’re coming into Welwick now,’ Edmund said. ‘You’ll know the story of the gunpowder plotters, of course?’ He smiled at Susannah. ‘We’ve passed the site of the old Ploughlands farm.’
‘What?’ Laura asked eagerly. ‘What?’
‘Guy Fawkes’s co-conspirators,’ her mother explained. ‘All ’local schoolchildren knew about them. Their parents’ grave is in Welwick churchyard.’
They passed through the village and Susannah cast a glance up the lane where Aunt Lol’s cottage had been. But the driver urged on the horses and they picked up speed and she couldn’t be quite sure if her memories were correct. But what I do remember, she thought, is the vast acreage, the openness and the sensation of unlimited space.
‘We must take you on a visit, Mrs Page,’ Edmund was saying. ‘Or perhaps my grandfather might. He knows the villagers better than I do, and his father bought land here, and at Welwick Thorpe, many years ago.’
‘Perhaps on another occasion,’ Susannah said evasively. ‘You must be busy at this time of the growing season.’
‘We are,’ he answered. ‘But we have some good men. They don’t always need us. It’s a pity though that you are able to stay only for luncheon – dinner we still call it.’ He smiled impishly. ‘Aunt Julia will be there, and my grandfather.’
He could have wished that his grandfat
her had been in a better humour about the visit. Edmund had spent hours convincing him that he wanted him to meet Laura again, and her mother also, but his grandfather had been curiously unwilling, saying that if Edmund wanted a wife he’d be better choosing a farmer’s daughter. They had had some sharp words and a few long silences, until his grandfather had finally agreed.
‘I regret my grandmother is still in France,’ Edmund said, ‘and won’t be able to meet you. She spends every winter in Paris. She says she cannot abide the cold in Holderness, but she does not spend much time here in summer either.’
‘I understand you lost both your parents?’ Susannah asked. ‘That must have been very hard for you.’
‘I hardly remember them,’ he said. ‘Amy and I were very young. Grandfather brought us up, helped by Great-aunt Julia, as our grandmother was away so much. She’s very kind,’ he added. ‘Aunt Julia, I mean, though she’s slightly dotty!’
They came into Skeffling and turned through an open gate and up a long track. Susannah felt a thudding in her temple. Did she remember it? She recalled sitting with Aunt Lol in a dog cart with leather seats and being driven somewhere, and yes, there had been a large grey house with wide steps up to the front door. And then what? Her mind was a blank, until they turned a corner of the building and she saw the façade of Burstall House in front of her. There were the steps, though not as high or as wide as she recalled. I must have been very young, she thought, as Edmund came to hand her and then Laura down.
A housekeeper stood on the steps and dipped her knee as they approached. ‘Good day, ma’am,’ she said. ‘Miss Page. Mr Ellis will be in shortly, Mr Edmund. Miss Julia is in the morning room.’
Susannah walked slowly into the hall and looked up the stairs. Yes, now she remembered. She had been taken upstairs to see an elderly lady who had talked to her about something – was it school? That would be it. Mrs Ellis paid for her schooling and for Thomas’s too. Mr Ellis used to bring the money to Aunt Lol, but then Wilf Topham stole it when it was given to Jane. Memories which she had buried deep came rushing back up to confront her.
