by Tania Crosse
‘Right, then.’
By the time the woman returned, Anna was clad in a complete set of dry clothes since the rain had gone right through to her bra and even her knickers. She watched her saviour lift one of the plate covers on the range and set an old brown kettle to boil. Then she turned to Anna with that lovely twinkling smile again.
‘You sit down an’ let Queenie look at your ankle. Just done it, ’ave we?’
‘Yes, in a pothole down the road. I didn’t notice it.’
‘Hmm.’
Queenie bent down with what seemed to Anna considerable ease for her age, and gently moved her foot this way and that. It was uncomfortable but bearable, and Anna waited for Queenie to straighten up.
‘Cold compress is what you needs on that. I’ll get you one while that old kettle boils.’
She disappeared once more through a door at the back, and Anna heard the swishing of water before she reappeared with a wet flannel which she arranged on Anna’s ankle and then kept in place by winding around it a bandage made of roughly torn-up sheeting. Within minutes, the pain began to ease.
‘Now, you put your foot up on this yere stool, an’ Queenie’ll make the tea. Milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, no sugar, thank you.’
Anna was coming to her senses as the warmth of the room penetrated her goose-pimply flesh. What an odd situation, but what a stroke of luck that this Queenie had noticed her. Otherwise she didn’t know what she would have done.
‘This is all terribly kind of you,’ she said sincerely.
‘Well, couldn’t leave a little thing like you out in the rain like that, could I now? Besides, there be nort Queenie likes more than a visitor. Scone? Made them this morning, but there’ll be no customers in the tea room, not in this, so us might as well eat them ourselves.’
‘Tea room?’ Anna was astonished. How many other surprises did the old lady have up her sleeve?
‘I’d just brought in my sign when I looks out o’ my window an’ sees you. Cream teas I does. Only in the summer, mind. Queenie’s scones is quite famous wi’ folk coming up on the moor in their motor cars. There’s some as doesn’t ’old wi’ the likes o’ fureiners, but I says why shouldn’t everyone enjoy the moor?’
Anna was growing more intrigued, and her curiosity began to take her mind off her own problems. ‘Have you lived here all your life, then?’
‘I certainly ’as.’ Queenie’s eyes lit up with pride. ‘Born in that there bedroom,’ she said, nodding towards the door to one side of the range. ‘Youngest o’ ten chiller, me.’
‘Ten children? All brought up in this little cottage?’
Queenie bobbed her head. ‘I can mind a time when there were six on us sharing the other room. Three to a bed us was. But they’m all dead an’ gone now. Two died as babbies. Three brothers was killed in the war, an’ then two went to Canada. Broke my mother’s ’eart. Then my other sister marries an’ moves away up north somewheres, so it were just me an’ my brother Albert that stayed at ’ome. Vowed never to leave my parents, I did. An’ when they dies back along, it were just me an’ Albert. Stone mason ’e were. Never married. An’ when ’e dies, it were just Queenie left. Got nephews an’ nieces. Somewheres in the world, I s’ppose. But I never ’ears from them.’ A sad shadow passed over her face to be replaced a second later by a jolly smile. ‘So this little place be my life. An’ all the visitors God sends to my door, so you’m more than welcome.’
Anna had been listening intently to Queenie’s tale. Evidently liked to talk, did Queenie, Anna could tell already! How tragic to lose one brother, never mind three, in the war. The First World War Anna realised she must mean. All that sadness, and yet to come through it all to such a sprightly old age, well, Queenie must be quite remarkable.
‘And I’m more than grateful. But,’ Anna hesitated, wondering if it was polite to ask, ‘you have a very unusual name, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
Queenie threw up her head with a merry chuckle. ‘’As you never come across it afore, cheel? Oh, my! Tidd’n my real name. I’s Victoria, really. After the queen.’
She raised an enquiring, impish eyebrow, and as the penny dropped, Anna joined in her laughter – when earlier that afternoon she had thought she might never laugh again. ‘Oh, I see!’
‘1893 I were born,’ Queenie nodded emphatically, ‘when old Victoria were still on the throne. Good times, they was. Afore the world went mad. So let’s ’ope things stay settled down again now.’
‘Yes. My friend’s boyfriend’s doing his National Service with the peacekeeping forces in Germany.’
‘An’ long may peace last. Now, then.’ Queenie put down her empty cup with a purposeful flourish. ‘What we’m going to do about you? Where was you going that were so urgent you needed to be dragging yersel’ through this weather an’ carrying a suitcase?’
Anna jolted upright in the chair. She had been so enjoying the conversation with this fascinating woman who seemed to exist in a different world that she had almost forgotten her own dire situation. To be reminded of it so bluntly was an unwanted shock.
‘I was trying to get to Plymouth,’ she answered evasively, ‘but I’d forgotten about the rail strike and didn’t realise there weren’t any trains running. And, of course, there aren’t any buses until Friday.’
‘You’d ’ave missed the last one even if there was. It’s gone five. So why couldn’t you stay where you was till Friday?’
Her bright, piercing eyes held Anna’s gaze with such intensity that Anna had to look away. And yet some instinct compelled her to reply. ‘I couldn’t,’ she mumbled, almost hoping Queenie wouldn’t hear. ‘Stay where I was, I mean.’
There was a short silence, and Anna felt all the misery bearing down on her again. But then she heard Queenie sigh softly. ‘Ah.’ There was another pause before she spoke again. ‘I cas’n imagine a nice, polite young girl like you ’aving to leave somewheres wi’out good reason. If you asks me, there’s a fellow involved. An’ … oh, my, there’s not a babby on the way an’ all?’
Anna blinked at her, horrified. How on earth had she guessed her terrible secret? All the pain and guilt of the last few weeks tumbled down around her. She had no strength to resist and broke down in tears, covering her face to hide her shame.
‘There, there, my lover. You ’ave a good cry.’
Suddenly Queenie was beside her, holding her, rocking her, and she buried her agony in the well-padded shoulder of this eccentric woman she didn’t know from Adam, and yet she felt she had known all her life. She wept with wrenching sobs, washing away her despair until all that seemed left of her shattered dreams was an empty shell.
‘Now, then,’ she heard Queenie’s voice as her tears began to subside. ‘You can tell me all about it or not, as you wants. But one thing’s certain. You’m not going nowheres today on that ankle. Besides, your clothes’ll take some time to dry, an’ you needs to keep that foot up. So, for tonight at least, you stays yere wi’ Queenie. You can ’ave Albert’s old room. I’ll air some sheets by the stove, so you’ll be quite comfy.’
Anna sat up, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffing. ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly. You’ve already been so kind.’
‘Strikes me there be no alternative. Anyways, I’ll be glad o’ the company. Now I keeps an ’otpot always going. Best thing when you ’as to keep a range alight all the time. An’ mortal useful on a day like this. Can be killing on an ’ot summer’s day, mind. But I’ll need to add some carrots an’ teddies. So if I goes an’ digs a few up, p’r’aps you’ll sit there an’ peel them for us.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Anna felt herself once again swept up in the whirlwind that was Queenie – Queenie what, she wondered? She felt dazed, but infinitely calm as all her emotion was spent and all that remained were the bare facts. As she sat, alone again for a few minutes, it all seemed quite simple. She was pregnant. And the father wasn’t going to help her, so she would have to help herself.
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br /> ‘There now.’
Queenie was back with the carrots and potatoes, and while Anna peeled them on her lap, the old woman busied herself with hanging Anna’s clothes to dry on the rack. And she wasn’t so old at all, Anna calculated as Queenie chatted away. If she was born in 1893, that only made her sixty-two. No wonder she was so agile. It was her wrinkled skin that made her look so much older. Result of living an outdoor life in such an exposed location, Anna supposed.
‘Do you grow all your own produce?’ she asked as the woman stoked up the range firebox and added more coal.
Queenie shut the cast iron door and turned round with a proud grin. ‘I certainly does. An’ there’s a couple of apple trees and a plum out the back an’ all. An’ I grows lettuces an’ other salad stuff in the cold frames. Larnt it all from my dad. Used the manure from the peg an’ the cow, us did. Only got ’ens an’ the goats now, so makes my own compost from peelings an’ things these days. Only got mesel’ to feed now, though, you sees.’
‘You keep goats and hens?’
‘I does. That were goats’ milk in your tea. An’ I makes goats’ cheese. Only dairy stuff I buys is butter an’ cream. For the tea room mainly. Makes a little bit from that, I does, to top up my little pension. An’ a small income from my savings, I ’as. In’erited everything from my parents an’ Albert, see. So Queenie ’as everything she wants. Peppercorn rent I pays on this, ’cuz no one else’d want it. Not nowadays.’
‘Oh, I think it’s perfect,’ Anna protested. ‘It’s so peaceful.’
‘What? With the rain beating on that old tin roof? Drives you mad, oft times. But I’d never ’ave it any other way.’
She spoke with a passionate contentment that somehow filtered through to Anna’s spirits like a healing balm. At that moment, she was so envious of Queenie’s peace of mind, even if her lot was a simple one. She was about to find out how simple!
‘Excuse me, Queenie, but please may I use the lavatory?’
She saw the happy smile slip from Queenie’s face. ‘Ah, well,’ she faltered, ‘that won’t be what you’m used to, I’ll be bound. An earth closet in the shed is what I ’as. But us cas’n ’ave you going back out in the rain. So if you just pops in the bedroom, you’ll find a po under the bed. Use that, an’ us can empty it later. An’ you’ll be wanting to wash your ’ands arter. You can do that in the scullery. There be water already in the bowl.’
‘Thank you,’ Anna smiled back, although she wasn’t at all sure about these arrangements! She limped into the room that was going to be her home for the night, on the opposite side of the kitchen from Queenie’s. It was painted white with a little cast iron fireplace, blue gingham curtains at the window and what Anna recognised as a rag rug on the flagstone floor. Anna found the chamber pot under the iron bedstead and was grateful to use it, although pushing it back under the bed went against the grain.
Back in the kitchen, Queenie looked up with a smile as Anna hobbled out to the scullery. As Queenie had said, there was already some water in an enamel bowl in an old stone sink. In fact, it was more like a trough, and instead of a plughole, there seemed to be a little hole going straight out through the wall on a sort of stone spout. And there was something else missing, as well!
‘All right, cheel?’
Anna returned Queenie’s smile as she came back into the kitchen and sat down again in the old chair. ‘Yes, thank you. But,’ she began curiously, ‘I couldn’t see a tap in the scullery.’
‘That’s ’cuz there bain’t one. It’s outside. Mod con, that. Used to draw water from the well, back along. But then they puts in a pipe an’ now us just turns on the tap.’
Anna nodded dubiously. Mod con? Hardly. But she could hardly say so to Queenie. An earth closet – whatever that was – no gas, no electricity that she could see and the only running water from an outside tap. It was unbelievable, and yet Queenie’s blithe serenity shone from her in a golden aura.
The simple stew was delicious and Anna found herself hungry for the first time in weeks. By the time Queenie had washed and put away the dishes, refusing to let Anna help her and renewing the cold compress as well, the incessant rain and leaden skies were drawing in a dismal evening, even though it wasn’t yet eight o’clock. Queenie lit both the oil lamps that sat on the window sill and placed them on the table instead. The restful glow sent amber shadows dancing on the walls, and as Anna cupped her fingers around the mug of cocoa Queenie put in her hands, she felt herself fill up with warm pleasure.
‘Is there no one we should call to let them know you’m safe?’ Queenie suddenly asked as she sipped her own drink. ‘Your mother an’ father, for instance? Should’ve thought of it afore, but I could pop along to the phone box afore it gets fully dark.’
Anna felt cradled in blissful security and glanced up without the usual stab of hurt at the thought of her parents. ‘No, there’s no one,’ she answered steadily. ‘My mum was … was ill, and she died last year. And my dad died in a road accident a few weeks ago.’
‘What? Oh, my poor cheel. You should’ve said, an’ there’s Queenie putting ’er girt foot in it.’
‘Oh, no. You couldn’t have been kinder. I’ve sort of got used to being without Mum. And I wasn’t really that close to my dad. So there’s no one to call, thank you. I’ve got an aunt, but I haven’t seen her since Mum’s funeral. Wouldn’t want to, either. Can’t stand her.’
‘So where was you going this arternoon, then?’
‘Back to Devonport, where I come from. Ford to be exact. To my best friend there. She and her family have been so good to me. But they weren’t expecting me, so they won’t be worried. And, well, I don’t know what they’ll think about … about me and the baby.’
‘Well.’ Queenie got to her feet. ‘I musts put the ’ens away for the night afore old foxy gets them, an’ see to the goats. An’ then I’s off to bed. Early start for Queenie in the morning. I’ve made up the bed for you, an’ put in an ’otwater bottle. So you get a good night’s sleep an’ us can talk things over in the morning. You can tell me so much or so little as you wants, but there’s always an answer somewheres, you knows. An’ you can stay yere as long as you wants. It’ll be nice to see Albert’s room used again.’
‘Thank you so much, Queenie.’
‘Don’t think nort on it. I ’opes you ’as a good night’s sleep, cheel.’
Alone again, Anna sat a minute or two longer, listening to the rain just pattering now on the roof. It must be easing off at long last. If it hadn’t been pouring all day, she would have reached Tavistock by now, and been well on the way to Plymouth on the bus, wondering nervously if she could steel herself to lie to Ethel and her family. Now, though, she felt deathly tired and got herself into bed as quickly as she could. It was just about light enough to see without lighting the candle Queenie had given her.
She snuggled down between the warm sheets, cosy, safe, cocooned. Queenie was right. After all the trauma of the last few weeks, tomorrow was another day.
Chapter Fourteen
Anna was floating in that sweet, peaceful stillness between sleeping and waking, and her eyelids slowly flickered open. Sunlight was streaming in through the flimsy curtains, filling the room with happy optimism. Where was she? And then the strange happenings of the previous day percolated back into her mind. The dreadful scene at Ashcroft Hall and her own predicament blurred into a haze. What seemed important now was her future. She felt far more relaxed and confident about it, and all down to her new-found friend, Queenie.
Anna consulted her watch. Good heavens! It was a quarter to eight, and they had gone to bed about half past nine. It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in weeks, ever since the day she had learnt of Gilbert’s impending marriage and her father’s death. And for the first time in ages she felt truly refreshed and ready to face life full on.
She sat up, and throwing aside the bed clothes, swung her legs over the side of the high bed. Would she be able to walk today? She tested her ankle very ginge
rly. It was still painful, but far less so than the previous evening. She dressed hurriedly, eager to see Queenie again and prove to herself that this lovely little cottage, this haven, hadn’t all been a figment of her imagination.
She half hopped into the kitchen. The room was just as she remembered it, only now it was flooded with early morning sunshine. She stood for a minute or two, allowing its serenity to wash over her as she wondered what she should do next. But just then, Queenie came in through the scullery, happily humming to herself.
‘Ah, there now! Did you sleep well, cheel?’
‘Yes, I did, thank you. Very well.’
‘Good. Well, now you’ll be wanting some breakfast. Or p’r’aps not if you’m suffering from morning sickness.’
Queenie’s allusion to her pregnancy was so open that Anna didn’t feel the least embarrassed or shamed. To Queenie, it was just a fact. Anna blinked her eyes wide. It was odd, but it was the first morning for ages that she hadn’t woken up feeling nauseous.
‘I feel all right this morning, actually,’ she answered quite surprised.
‘That’s what a good night’s sleep does for you,’ Queenie nodded wisely. ‘Nearly brought you a cuppa an’ a ginger biscuit in bed. Best thing to stop the sickness coming on of a morning. But I thought it best to let you sleep on. But now you’m up an’ dressed. Didn’t wash in that there cold water, I ’opes.’
‘No, I didn’t—’
‘Well, draw yersel’ some ’ot water from the range boiler. Or p’r’aps you’d like to use the closet first? Queenie’ll show you what to do. Don’t s’ppose you’ve used an earth closet afore. Pop your shoes on. They’m dry now but us’ll give them a bit of a polish later on.’
Anna nodded her head gratefully and was soon following Queenie out of the front door. The sun was dazzling on the puddles from yesterday’s deluge, and Anna picked her way carefully through the mud, eyeing Queenie’s gumboots enviously and wishing once again that she hadn’t left her wellies at Ashcroft Hall.
