by Rachel Ennis
Jess put on her padded jacket then picked up a folder from the table.
‘What’s that?’ Tom asked, opening the door.
‘A surprise for Morwenna.’ She paused on the step and kissed him. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome, but what for?’
‘Caring.’ She locked the door and zipped the key into her pocket.
‘I do, Jess. Don’t ever forget it.’
Tom opened the pub’s inner door and Jess stepped into warmth from an open fire, soft light, laughter, the smell of cooked food and beer and the buzz of several conversations.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in. No offence, Tom,’ Viv beamed. ‘Jess, I really want that scarf!’
Jess saw her friends sitting around a large table with Morwenna and Ben in the window seat.
‘What’s everybody having?’ Tom asked. While he and Jimmy went to the bar, Jess took a chair beside Annie and Gill hooked one from a nearby empty table for Tom.
‘Why haven’t you been in the shop?’ Gill demanded.
‘You all right?’ Annie asked. ‘You’re looking a bit wisht.’
‘I’m fine. Busy, that’s all.’
‘What’s that?’ Viv pointed to the folder.
‘That’s why you haven’t seen me. It’s what I’ve been working on.’ Jess looked at Morwenna. ‘I’ve got the full story of your great-grandfather Ludlow.’
‘Mor was just saying how you found family she never knew about,’ Viv said.
Morwenna beamed at Ben. ‘’Tis like an adventure and the best Christmas ever.’
Jess held up the folder. ‘This is remarkable, Mor. If you want to take it home and read it in private first –’
‘No!’ Viv squealed. ‘Mor, you can’t. We’ve been in this with you from the start.’
‘I’d like to hear,’ Gill said.
‘Me too,’ said Annie.
‘Your choice, Mor,’ Jess said as Tom and Jimmy arrived with the drinks.
‘I don’t mind.’ Morwenna accepted a glass of sherry from Tom, her face glowing. ‘I just hope you aren’t bored.’
‘They won’t be. That I can promise,’ Jess said.
As Tom sat down beside Jess, resting his arm along the back of her chair, she opened the folder and cleared her throat.
‘Trevor Ludlow, Morwenna’s great-grandfather on her father’s side, was chief engineer on a rust-bucket freighter called the Stella. Mor, the fact is Trevor was an alcoholic. According to the captain he’d always been a bit of a drinker but it got a lot worse after he lost his wife. She died just a few weeks after their son, Howard, was born. Trevor couldn’t look after a young baby so Howard went to one of Trevor’s cousins and was raised in their family.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Viv murmured.
‘Not if the boy was loved and looked after,’ Annie said. ‘He wouldn’t have known the difference. Go on, Jess.’
‘Captain Day, the ship’s master, accepted Trevor’s drinking because he was a brilliant engineer. The ship was making regular trips carrying arms from Woolwich Arsenal to Murmansk in Northern Russia. At that time the Russians were Britain’s allies.
‘Many of the Russian nobility had been trying for years to persuade the Tsar to agree to reforms, but he had flatly refused. After he abdicated in March 1917, life for Russian aristocrats became deadly dangerous. The revolution leaders made no attempt to control the mob who didn’t care that the people whose mansions and palaces they were attacking had been trying for years to get justice for them. By late summer the nobility were fleeing for their lives.
‘Prince Boris Sheremetev’s family had once owned three hundred thousand serfs, one point nine million acres of property and dozens of palaces. He was found hiding in the local train station and beaten to death. Other princes were tortured or shot. One princess was murdered by a screaming mob and her body thrown into the flames of her burning house.’
Silence had fallen around the table. Everyone was leaning forward, anxious not to miss a word.
‘Dear life!’ Viv muttered.
‘While this was going on in Moscow and Petrograd – that’s what St Petersburg was called then – Russian deportees were being shipped back from England to Murmansk so they could enlist in the Russian army to fight the Germans. When these men came off the transport ships, they travelled to Petrograd on a railway line that had only been built three years earlier. It was very basic, with wooden carriages not much better than carts.
‘Captain Day says in his log that his ship was risking Arctic storms, mines, and attack by submarines to deliver cargoes of arms. But instead of being sent to where they were needed, the weapons were piling up in Murmansk warehouses.’ Jess paused to swallow a mouthful of her drink.
‘This is all background to what I’m going to tell you about Mor’s great-grandfather. I pieced it together from the Stella’s log, newspaper archives, and research on the internet.’
‘Get on with it, Jess,’ Viv urged. ‘I’m on the edge of my seat here.’
‘You and the rest of us,’ Gill said.
Jess nodded. ‘On the thirtieth of September 1917, Trevor Ludlow was in a bar in Murmansk where he spent most of his off-duty time. He was approached by a man who gave his name as Dimitri. He asked Trevor to smuggle a Russian princess back to England.’
There was a collective gasp from everyone at the table.
‘Princess Natalya Skoboleva was forty-five. Her husband and two sons had been murdered on their estate. She had escaped with her maid to a relation in Petrograd, a countess. They were about to sit down to dinner when servants rushed in to warn them that an armed mob had smashed their way through the back door. The countess and Princess Natalya managed to escape to the nearby house of one of the other guests.
‘Princess Natalya and her two loyal servants moved on, hoping to find sanctuary with her husband’s relations. But she arrived at their mansion too late. The family had already left for Finland. It was too dangerous for her to try and join them. Nor did she dare be seen in public as herself. So she borrowed clothes from her maid, Irina, and the three of them set out for Murmansk.
‘They reached the port which was busy with deportees disembarking, cargoes being unloaded, coal, water and food being taken on board ships for the return journey to England. The princess and Irina stayed out of sight while Dimitri visited several local bars. Then he found Trevor who could speak a little Russian. They had a few drinks and Trevor agreed to help.
‘That night while Dimitri distracted the crewmen on watch, Trevor smuggled the princess on board and hid her in a trunk in his cabin.’
Viv sat back, a hand pressed to her cheek. ‘That was some brave.’
‘Mad,’ Annie muttered.
Jess nodded. ‘Unfortunately, they’d been seen. Or maybe the bar owner betrayed them. Anyway, the port authorities arrived at the ship and demanded that Captain Day hand over Princess Natalya, claiming she was an enemy of the new democratic state.’
Gill groaned. Viv shushed her. Morwenna gazed round-eyed at Jess.
‘Go on,’ Annie urged.
‘Captain Day refused to let them on board. He said the ship was British territory. He also tried to persuade them that as their two countries were allies there was no need for conflict. But they weren’t having any of that. They called for armed reinforcements then they searched the ship.’
‘Oh my good Lord,’ Viv moaned.
‘They didn’t find the princess.’ As everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Jess added, ‘But the port authority wouldn’t allow the ship to leave.’ She took another quick gulp of her drink.
‘For three days the princess remained in the trunk. With guards on board Trevor could not even smuggle water, let alone food, to her. Captain Day had been keeping the ship’s owners informed by telegraph. They were furious because while the ship was in port they were liable for costs, which were rising by the day. Also, while the Stella was held there, they were losing money. They told the captain to get the ship out, or else.
> ‘He sent for Trevor to come to his day cabin. He had guessed Trevor was involved, and he was sympathetic. But the stand-off couldn’t continue. He ordered the bosun to restrain Trevor while a second search was made. This time the princess was found. After three days in that trunk she was in a desperate state. After they dragged her down the gangway, weak as she was she broke free and tried to run.’
Gill caught her breath.
‘No,’ Viv whispered.
Jess cleared her throat. ‘The soldiers shot her. As far as I can make out no direct order was given, not to do it then at least. Perhaps one of them panicked. Anyway, she died on the quayside.’
Viv pressed her fingers to her mouth to smother a sound of distress.
‘Probably for the best,’ Annie murmured. ‘She’d lost her family. Her friends and relations were being murdered. The poor soul was better out of it. At least they couldn’t do no more to her.’
‘Go on, Jess,’ Tom urged.
‘The ship left Murmansk on the next tide. The moment the Stella docked in South Shields, Trevor went to the nearest bar and got blind drunk. He was taken to hospital where doctors warned him his liver was so badly diseased that one more drink could kill him. He was released from hospital at ten in the morning. At two the same afternoon he was found in a gutter, paralytic, and taken back to hospital. He died without regaining consciousness.’
‘Poor bugger,’ Tom murmured.
‘Trying to escape to England was Princess Natalya’s only hope of survival and Trevor Ludlow did his very best to help.’ Jess closed the folder and offered it to Morwenna. ‘Your great-grandfather was probably a very difficult man to live with, Mor. He certainly had his problems. But he never betrayed her. I think he was a hero.’
Tears ran down Morwenna’s cheeks as she took the folder.
Jimmy coughed as Ben cleared his throat.
‘I dunno about you lot, but I need another drink.’ Jimmy pushed himself to his feet while Gill blew her nose.
‘I’ll give ’e a hand,’ Ben said. ‘’Tis my round anyhow.’
Tom gathered the empty glasses onto a tray and followed.
‘Dear life,’ Viv wiped her eyes. ‘I’ve never heard nothing like it. Better than the telly that was.’
‘When I asked Jess to find my father,’ Morwenna clasped the folder to her chest, ‘I never dreamed –’
‘Not disappointed are you, Mor?’ Viv said.
‘Don’t tease her,’ Annie scolded. ‘Been a rollercoaster few weeks for you, hasn’t it, Mor?’
Morwenna nodded. ‘It surely have.’
Tom, Jimmy, and Ben returned and fresh drinks were handed round.
‘Can I just say –’ Morwenna blushed dark rose.
‘Go on then,’ Viv urged.
‘Since Mother was took into hospital that first time, all of you, Fred and Mavis too, have been lovely to me. So I just want you to know what it means to me and how much I ’preciate it. Thanks to Jess I know who I am now, and where I come from. Oh, and I’ve got a half-sister. Her name’s Kathleen.’
‘You have?’ Gill said.
‘Are you going to ring her?’ Viv asked.
‘She can’t do that,’ Annie said. ‘It might give the poor woman a heart attack. Better write her a letter first.’
Tom caught Jess’s eye and murmured, ‘Glad you came?’
She smiled at him. ‘What do you think?’
His arm tightened briefly around her shoulders. ‘’Course, you know this will be all round the village tomorrow. You’ll have people queuing up for you to find their ancestors.’
‘We’ll see.’ Jess touched her glass to his. ‘Supper on Saturday?’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
Rachel’s Recipe
Launceston Cake
6oz butter
6oz caster sugar
8oz self-raising flour
2oz ground almonds
3 eggs
1lb currants
2oz lemon peel
½ tbsp black treacle
1 tbsp golden syrup
Heat oven to 350°F or 180°C (170° fan). Cream butter and sugar, add the treacle, syrup, then the eggs one at a time, beating each one in thoroughly before adding the next. Lastly, mix together the flour, almonds, currants, and lemon peel and fold gently into the mixture. Spoon into a greased and lined loose-bottom tin at least four inches deep and bake in middle of oven for about 90 minutes. If it’s browning too quickly, cover with foil or baking parchment. Test by inserting a narrow knife or metal skewer. If it comes out clean, the cake is done.
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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015
ISBN 9781783759859
Copyright © Rachel Ennis 2015
The right of Rachel Ennis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN
