The Golden Anklet

by Beverly Hansford

  ‘Do you remember anything?’ asked Bob. ‘About living here, I mean.’

  Crestfallen, Jane shook her head. ‘I was too small. I just remember the orphanage.’

  In silence they wandered around what remained of the house. It was the same story everywhere. Everything had been burnt out.

  ‘It must have been a colossal fire to do this much damage,’ observed Bob at one point.

  Jane did not reply. She was feeling sad and disappointed. She had expected this visit to be more positive and perhaps contribute some more snippets of information about her past. Now it all seemed pretty dismal.

  While they were at the back of the house, Jane suddenly clutched Bob’s arm. ‘Look!’ she whispered. ‘Someone’s watching us.’

  Bob followed the direction of her gaze. In the distance, near what might have been the kitchen garden of the house, stood an elderly man. He looked as if he had been pushing a wheelbarrow, but he appeared to have set this down to take his time to observe them.

  ‘I think we’d better go and say something,’ whispered Jane.

  ‘Agreed,’ muttered Bob. He could not help adding, ‘Probably get told off for trespassing.’

  They walked towards the man. He stood motionless, regarding them. As they approached, Bob gave out a cheerful ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Morning.’ The reply was courteous but cautious.

  ‘Good morning.’ Jane greeted him with a sweet smile. She felt she had to add something. ‘I suppose we’re trespassing really, but I just wanted to see the house again. You see, I used to live here.’

  The man absorbed the information for a few seconds. When he replied it was with carefully chosen words. ‘Nay, it’s no problem. Plenty of folk from the village come this way.’

  ‘What happened to the house?’ asked Bob. ‘When did it burn down?’

  Their informant thought for a bit. He pushed his cap back and scratched his head as if seeking inspiration.

  ‘Over twenty years ago,’ he eventually replied.

  ‘But how did it catch fire?’ insisted Jane.

  The man looked at her. ‘Well, it was standing empty and then vandals got in and started a fire. By the time the fire brigade got here, there wasn’t much left.’

  ‘Why was it empty?’ Jane was determined to get as much information as possible.

  The man gave a sort of grunt. ‘I suppose the Ashingtons didn’t want to live here any more.’

  ‘Was that Miles Ashington?’ It was Bob who asked the question.

  ‘Aye.’

  Jane had more questions she wanted to ask. ‘Did you know Ann Ashington?’ she began.

  The man looked at her. A kind of grin lit up his face. ‘I worked for her for ten years. I was the gardener here.’

  Jane was about to ask something else when the man interrupted her. ‘Did you say you once lived in the house? Were you a servant?’ he asked.

  Jane shook her head. ‘I’m Ruth Ashington,’ she explained. It was the first time that she had referred to herself by that name.

  The man stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

  ‘I’m Ann Ashington’s daughter,’ she emphasised.

  The man continued to regard her with incredulity. ‘Were you the baby she had?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ replied Jane, with a smile.

  ‘We thought you’d died,’ he remarked. The statement was rather matter-of-fact.

  Jane could not help giving a little laugh. ‘Well, I’m here in front of you,’ she replied cheerfully.

  The man’s face suddenly broke into a smile. ‘My Bett would like to talk to you,’ he announced. ‘She looked after you when you were a baby.’

  A wave of excitement swept over Jane. There was somebody around who knew her in her younger days. ‘Is it possible to see her now?’ she asked excitedly.

  ‘Aye. Come with me.’ As if to give substance to his offer, the man stooped down to pick up his wheelbarrow and started to move towards what looked like a walled garden.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Jane asked him kindly as they started to walk.

  ‘Albert Simmons.’

  ‘And is Bett your wife?’

  ‘Aye. We live in the lodge,’ replied Albert. ‘Bett’s sight is not so good these days. Doctors reckon they can do something, but we don’t know when.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ exclaimed Jane, giving him a sympathetic glance.

  ‘Nay. We manage all right.’

  They reached the entrance door to what turned out to be the garden of the house. Bob and Jane allowed Albert to enter first with his wheelbarrow, and took in their new surroundings. The garden was large and was surrounded by a high wall. Everything was neatly laid out

  ‘I like your garden!’ exclaimed Bob.

  Albert gave a chuckle. ‘Been at it nearly forty years,’ he grinned.

  Albert was moving towards an elderly, grey-haired woman who was seated in a chair.

  ‘When it’s a nice day, Bett likes to come and keep me company when I’m working here,’ explained Albert.

  ‘Can she see anything at all?’ Jane asked in a low voice.

  ‘Not a lot.’

  They were now close to the woman in the chair. Albert cleared his throat and addressed her. ‘Bett, I’ve got a lady and a gentleman here. Lady says she’s Ruth Ashington.’

  Bett stirred immediately. ‘Come and talk to me, dear.’ Her voice was clear and vibrant.

  Jane stooped down beside her and took her hand. ‘I’m Ruth Ashington. This is my fiancé, Bob.’

  Bob shook Bett’s hand. ‘Hello, Bett. I’m Bob Harker.’

  ‘It’s nice to meet you both,’ said Bett. ‘You say you are Ruth Ashington, dear?’

  Jane summed up her background as briefly as she could. She was keen to know more from Bett if possible. ‘Yes. I always thought I was Jane Carroll, but I’ve being researching my family and now it seems that I’m Ruth Ashington. I met Miles Ashington recently and he seemed to confirm this.’

  Bett repeated her husband’s previous statement. ‘We always understood that you died quite young,’ she said.

  For the second time in ten minutes Jane was puzzled by the comment, but she responded as she had done previously. ‘Well it seems that I didn’t, and here I am talking to you today.’

  It occurred to her that she could furnish some detail. ‘I was in an orphanage until I was in my teens,’ she added.

  ‘We always wondered where you disappeared to. Nobody said anything about where you were,’ remarked Bett thoughtfully.

  ‘Can you tell me more about my early life?’ asked Jane, keen to learn more.

  ‘Why not invite them in for a cup of tea?’ It was Albert who interrupted the conversation. While Jane and Bett had been conversing, he and Bob had just been standing watching.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Bett enthusiastically. ‘Do come and have a cup of tea with us, and we can chat more.’

  Jane turned to Bob. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ he replied.

  ‘Albert, give me a hand.’ Bett was getting up from her chair. Albert sprang into action to help her.

  The four of them walked back to the lodge, Bett on Albert’s arm. Jane was on her other side, and Bett told her that she had lost her sight gradually over the years, but on her latest visit to the specialist it had been indicated that they might be able to partially restore it. Bob walked beside Albert, chatting with him about gardening.

  When they reached the lodge, Jane and Bob were ushered into the tiny sitting room, which looked out onto the entrance gates. Albert hurried away to make the tea, refusing their offers of help.

  Once Bett was sitting comfortably in her armchair, she brought the conversation back to Jane’s past. ‘You said that you were in an orphanage, dear.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve been told that I was taken there by Elizabeth Barton when I was quite young. I only remember it vaguely.’

  ‘Elizabeth Barton?’ queried Bett.
<
br />   ‘Elizabeth Carroll.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Elizabeth, the professional,’ recalled Bett. There was a hint of contempt in her voice.

  ‘Can you tell me more about my mother – Ann Ashington?’ Jane asked eagerly.

  Bett smiled. ‘She was a lovely lady. So kind to everybody. But she had a hard life.’

  ‘Why was that?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Her mother died giving birth to her, and her father was very strict.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Bob.

  Bett turned towards him. ‘He sent her to a religious boarding school. She used to tell me about all the things they did to her there, and how the pupils were treated.’ Bett hesitated for a second. ‘And then her father died when she was only eighteen.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s a pretty tough start to life,’ empathised Bob.

  Bett nodded. ‘It was.’

  ‘Who looked after her and sorted out the estate and everything that needed attending to after her father died?’ asked Bob, as always interested in practical matters.

  Bett pondered the question for a minute. ‘Her father had appointed an estate manager, and I think his accountants and solicitors looked after everything else at first. They took everything off your mother’s shoulders, but when she reached twenty-one she took on a great deal herself. That’s how I understood things, anyway,’ she concluded.

  ‘Phew. That sounds an awful life!’ exclaimed Jane. ‘Even worse than mine,’ she added.

  The conversation was halted briefly by the reappearance of Albert carrying a tray. For the next ten minutes the conversation was more general as the four of them drank tea and munched slices of fruit cake that Jane and Bob agreed afterwards had been a bit stale.

  It was Jane who returned the conversation to her past. She addressed Bett again. ‘Your husband said that you looked after me when I was a baby. Can you tell me a bit more about that?’

  ‘I was your mother’s maid. I was with you from the beginning,’ replied Bett. She started to reminisce. ‘You were such a lovely baby, with your big brown eyes and your smile.’

  ‘And then Elizabeth Carroll took over from you,’ prompted Jane.

  ‘That was when Miles Ashington came on the scene. I wasn’t good enough, according to him.’ Once again there was a trace of contempt in Bett’s voice.

  Jane was determined to exploit Bett’s knowledge as much as possible. ‘I’ve been told that my mother was a very reclusive person. Is that correct?’

  Bett gave what appeared to be a sniff of contradiction. ‘That’s what people say who didn’t really know her. It was only after she had you that she changed. After that she became very retiring and depressive at times. I know. I was with her all the time.’ As she finished speaking, Bett appeared to lapse into a reflective state, playing with the spoon in her cup.

  ‘Can you tell me how she came to have me?’ Jane asked softly. She desperately wanted an answer.

  The question stirred Bett into talking again. ‘The Ashington family had an estate in Yorkshire. It was your mother’s habit to spend quite a lot of time there in the summer. One year there was a big ball in the area. All the gentry for miles around were there. That’s when your mother got herself pregnant.’

  ‘Do you know who my father was?’

  Bett shook her head. ‘Nay. Your mother didn’t, either,’ she replied.

  Jane was aghast. ‘But how? Why?’

  ‘She had too much to drink. Next morning she had a hangover and couldn’t remember a thing about it.’

  Jane was still struggling to comprehend what she had just heard.

  Bob looked on, absorbed. ‘What happened next?’ he asked.

  Bett seemed quite happy to recount events. She addressed Jane again. ‘I remember quite vividly the morning your mother came to me and announced that she was pregnant.’

  ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘I asked her if she was sure and she said she was. Anyway, I took her to the doctor and it was confirmed.’

  ‘How did she react?’

  ‘She was a bit bewildered – and angry with herself for letting it happen. She didn’t know what to do. I think she even thought of getting rid of it.’

  Bett was quite matter-of-fact in her explanations, and what she was hearing made Jane feel sad. It was clear that she had been an unwanted child and that no love had been available for her, not even from her own mother. She wanted to ask more questions, but she was beginning to feel that she was hogging the conversation and that it was all about her.

  Courtesy made her broaden the topic. ‘How long did you work for my mother?’ she asked Bett.

  ‘Over ten years. Your mother was only twenty when I went to work for her.’

  Jane was going to ask her something else, but Bett wanted to continue. ‘We got on well together, your mother and I. She used to tell me everything.’

  ‘What about her marriage to John Henderson?’

  Bett gave what sounded like a grunt of disgust. ‘I told her from the start it wouldn’t work. But your mother could be headstrong at times. I was surprised the marriage lasted twelve months.’

  ‘What happened after I was born?’ Jane knew she had to ask just a few more questions.

  Bett finished eating her cake before replying. ‘After a few weeks in Yorkshire we came back here. I had to travel separately with you. Your mother didn’t want to know you.’

  Albert entered the conversation. ‘That caused a stir among the folk in the village, when they discovered the baby was Ann’s.’

  ‘At first they thought you were mine,’ laughed Bett.

  ‘When did Ann meet Miles Ashington?’ enquired Bob.

  ‘Very soon after we came back here after you were born. He ruled the roost from then on. She was besotted by him. In her eyes he could do no wrong. He employed Elizabeth Carroll to look after you, and I wasn’t allowed near you after that. Your mother never even raised a protest on my behalf.’

  ‘That was a pretty rotten deal, after all you’d done for her,’ observed Bob.

  ‘I was very upset at the time,’ replied Bett. She smiled at Albert. ‘But then Albert asked me to marry him and after that I had a family of my own.’

  ‘How many children do you have?’ asked Jane.

  ‘We’ve got a son – John. He’s a schoolteacher and lives in Bristol, and our daughter, May, lives in the village. We’ve got two grandchildren,’ Bett announced proudly.

  After that the conversation stayed on Bett and Albert. Bett explained how they had always lived nearby, and Albert outlined how they eventually came to live in the lodge at the suggestion of Miles Ashington to become sort of caretakers for the ruined house.

  ‘‘E don’t charge us any rent,’ added Albert thoughtfully, ‘and I’ve got the garden still.’

  Jane would have liked to ask many more questions, but Bett dropped a hint that she and Albert were expecting a visit from their son that afternoon, so she and Bob politely took their leave.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ remarked Albert, holding out his hand.

  ‘Come and see us again, dear,’ Bett stressed.

  As they walked back to the car, Bob asked, ‘What do you think about all that? Do you feel happier about your past now?’

  Jane was silent for a minute. Something was on her mind. As they reached the car, she stopped and looked at Bob.

  ‘Bob, did you take in what Bett said about me as a baby?’ She hesitated. ‘She said I had brown eyes – but MY EYES ARE BLUE-GREY…’

  Chapter 34

  ‘A welcome return to the long-lost member of the Ashington family.’ Miles Ashington raised his glass aloft and regarded Jane with a courteous smile. There were echoes of agreement from around the table.

  The sumptuous dinner at the Ashingtons’ was in full swing. Jane and Bob had been impressed by the friendly reception they received from their hosts. They had been greeted on their arrival and ushered into a grand sitting room by the same maid Jane had seen on her first visit to the house. Miles and Gail had j
oined them almost immediately and the conversation over pre-dinner drinks had been relaxed and friendly.

  Bob had come to Jane’s apartment earlier in the day and they had debated what form of transport they should use to go into London for their dinner date. Unsure of the parking arrangements available at the Ashingtons’ residence, they had decided to travel by train and take a taxi at the other end. Jane had produced her pretty, knee-length cocktail dress. Its delicate shade of green suited her well, and she had a pair of green court shoes to match. She decided that in spite of the warm evening she would drape a light jacket over her shoulders while travelling on public transport, for comfort and to eliminate enquiring looks from other passengers. Bob had selected a velvet jacket and a floppy bow tie. They realised with relief that their decision to wear something more formal was the right one as soon as their hosts entered the sitting room. Miles was wearing a smart suit, and Gail a full-length, off-the-shoulder red gown.

  Jane had previously only seen a newspaper picture of Gail Ashington, but meeting her confirmed her impression that Gail was a good deal younger than her husband. At first she thought Gail couldn’t be much older than she was, but later she learned that she was nearly forty. Her dark, almost black hair and her slight accent gave her an intriguing air. Much later Jane and Bob found out in conversation that she was from Spain.

  Over the pre-dinner drinks Miles produced a brown envelope and handed it to Jane.

  ‘Have a look at these, Jane. They are for you. I think you will find them of interest.’

  Eagerly Jane opened the envelope. It contained several photographs. She held one out in front of her so that the others could see it. It was a pretty head-and-shoulders portrait of a young woman with dark hair.

  ‘That’s your mother,’ announced Miles.

  ‘And this one must be me.’ Grinning, Jane held up a picture of a young baby.

  ‘It is. You were only a few months old then.’

  For the first time Gail took an interest in the photograph. ‘You were a pretty baby,’ she observed, smiling at Jane.

  Jane wondered whether Gail had had any children or whether she had a secret longing to do so. She felt that it was not an appropriate question to ask at the present time and merely smiled in agreement before turning her attention to the third and last photograph. It was a picture of Ashington House in its former glory.