Easterleigh Hall (29 page)

Evie retorted, staring at her mother in shock, ‘But he is.'

Mam laughed now. ‘Aye, and you're surprised when Millie responds in just that way?'

Evie put down the strips and the tool, defeated suddenly. Was she a bad teacher? She dragged herself back to the moment and to the kindness in her mam's eyes, and smiled. ‘Yes, and of course Roger might have changed, though pigs might fly. Anyway, it's none of my business.'

‘Yes, I think that about says it as it is and I've had more than enough of this rug, I fancy another cup of tea.' Her mother gathered up the strips, tools and hessian, folding up the rug with the bits inside. She put it in the basket in the corner and tested the kettle on the range. ‘Pop next door, pet, don't wait for Grace to come. Bring her back for a cuppa if she'd like one. Do you think she's different these days? Do you think she has a Simon in her life? There just seems to be a bloom about her.'

Evie stopped at the door, startled. ‘I never thought of her in that way. She's a bit old for that.'

‘By, give the woman a chance. She's only thirty. I reckon it's her choice she's not married, because she told me she needs to make something of her life and fears she'd have to give it up when a man and children came along. Now why d'you think she'd feel that way?' Her mother's smile was wry as she cast around the room, full of drying pitmen's clothes.

Evie had struggled with the thought of marriage herself, because there was nothing more she would want in life than to be Simon's wife and have his children, but she wanted to be a person too, with her own hotel. It was all so difficult.

‘Away with you,' her mam said. ‘You've got the look that tells me you've the worries of the world back on your shoulders. Go and get Grace and let's have a laugh.'

‘How's Da's cough?' she asked her mother over her shoulder just before she left the room.

Her mother smiled. ‘You know how it is, now off you go.'

Evie said quietly, ‘We can start looking for a hotel in a couple of years. I reckon I don't need to work in Newcastle, I've learned enough about housekeeping by watching Mrs Green, and I know about budgeting from her and Mrs Moore. We can start small, Mam, just a few rooms, probably in Gosforn and we'll do the best food ever. We'll get Da out of the pit, we'll get them all out, never you worry. We'll make them safe.'

Her mother nodded. ‘Aye, pet, happen we will.' It was what she always said. She hung the tea towel over the fender to dry.

Evie left the house through the front door, walking along the path with leeks planted, spring greens almost over, peas coming along nicely. Today they weren't gathering sea coal, because they gave themselves a Sunday off a month. They wouldn't have to do it for much longer, they really wouldn't. The house loan had been paid off within the first six months, with Jack and Timmie working twice as hard to make up the low coal grade. Evie had added her wages, her mam had sold her vegetables and proggies, Da had bred his homing pigeons for sale, Timmie had sold the rabbits he'd poached, Jack had fought and was still fist-fighting with ever more aggression. Evie had asked why. He'd just said why not, when you've been given dirty placements.

‘No,' she'd said, ‘there's something more.'

‘Leave it, hinny.' He had sounded tired and jaded. His nose was beginning to flatten under the blows and his right ear was thickening.

She walked down the track along which the cottages ranged. The retirement cottage had proved to be a blessing, a complete miracle as they kept people from the workhouse. Grace was in the front garden now, the brim of her hat being pulled and pushed by the wind that was tugging at Evie's skirt and plucking at her blouse and shawl. Evie looked at Grace very carefully, and saw the beauty of her face now. There was, well, not youth, but something soft, calm, and lovely.

Grace came to the gate, a trowel in her hand, a wide smile lighting her face. ‘Evie, how lovely.'

The front garden had been given over to vegetables, just like Mam's.

In the house next door there was a family whose father had lost a leg in the pit at the close of the year. ‘I've got him out of his bed at last. All he needed was to feel he could be useful,' Grace declared, kissing Evie on the cheek, and then rubbing the dirt off. ‘Sorry, I've made you grubby so I must be earth-smeared.' She rubbed at her own cheek, but Evie laughed and took over. ‘Let me, you're making it worse.'

Over to the right, way above and to the north of them the stunted tree on the hill was visible, bending over as the wind began to assert itself. She stood back. ‘There, spotless, almost.'

Grace grinned. ‘Come in and survey my estate.' She led the way to a swathe of newly dug earth. ‘Rather late to sow, perhaps, but the beans might have a chance.' She knelt on an old sack. ‘Mr and Mrs Joyce are in the back sorting out the compost.'

‘Talking of Mr and Mrs Joyce, Mrs Moore is fretting about her own retirement.' Evie crouched and handed the first of the broad bean plants to Grace, who dug a hole, planted and firmed it up. Grace's voice was thoughtful. ‘Fretting, whatever for? There will always be room for her, but you'll have your hotel sooner rather than later and she could be useful, bless her. Your da left it to me to tell you that Edward and I will buy your house when you find your hotel.'

They heard the front gate opening and the sound of boots on the path. Evie recognised her brother's stride. ‘Jack.'

She flew down the path and into his arms, and his hug was as tight as it had always been. ‘Jack, I've missed you, man, but I've no news, or no more than you know. I didn't know when the cavil was coming off or I would have told you.' He kissed her cheek and set her down and she saw that he was not looking at her, but over her shoulder. ‘Good afternoon, Grace.' Jack snatched his cap from his head.

Grace started to rise from her knees. He slipped past Evie and held out his hand to help. She dusted off her hands and took his. ‘You're always so kind.' She sounded different.

‘No, it's nothing.' He sounded strange too. Evie looked from one to the other wondering. There was a silence. Grace examined the trowel in her hand and he perused the garden. ‘It's looking good,' he said in the end, waving his hand towards the newly planted leeks. ‘Good to get the broadies in too, and the potatoes will need earthing up soon.' Evie listened and watched. Jack added, ‘I can earth them . . .'

Timmie came running along the lane then, calling across him, ‘Jack, why are you here? You said you'd be at the club. You're always here. Grace must be tired of you, man, gawking at her garden.'

Jack blushed and walked back down the path. ‘How could I not be here, with Evie home?'

‘Well, don't mess about. Da's already gone and Si too. You can see Evie another time, man. Da said I could have two pints today, so hoy away with you.'

Jack put his hand on the gate and turned to Evie. ‘Another time then, Evie, or Timmie'll have my guts for garters. Grace, it's been grand to see you. Let me know if you need help with more digging, or earthing up.' He slipped his cap back on, turned, cuffed Timmie, got him in a headlock and dragged him down the road.

Evie stared after him. Grace came up behind her and put an arm around her waist. ‘You have two wonderful brothers, they are both so helpful, and your father too. But at the moment what I'd really like is one of your mother's cakes and a cup of tea.' She smelt of lavender and the earth but her voice was just a little bit different.

Evie cycled back alone. Simon had gone with the others to the club, where women were not welcome, and she missed him. Although sitting with her mother and Grace eating too much cake had its attractions, it didn't compare to his company. Her mother had tutted, ‘It's men, they need their lives.' Evie had muttered, ‘And we don't?'

There was little light with the moon behind racing clouds, but her eyes adjusted and she could see well enough as she reached the bothy, quietly propping up her bicycle and padlocking it. Grace had sent a note for Mrs Moore and she checked it was still in her basket. It was. She hurried down the back path alongside the walled garden, past the vegetable stores and then the corner store where Roger had grabbed her. Instinctively she moved to the right here. She had almost turned the corner when she heard a giggle from the store and ‘Shh, be quiet.' It was Roger. Was it Millie too? She stopped, about to turn, and then her mother's words echoed. She should mind her own business, and she'd done all she could.

She moved on, hearing the dachshunds barking and skittering in the stable yard. She looked to the left and there was Mr Auberon by Tinker's stall. He was often there, but never smoked now. She hurried down the steps and into the kitchen. The servants' hall was busy with laughing housemaids and footmen, dancing to the fiddles of Bernie and Thomas. She slipped along the passageway and pushed Grace's note beneath Mrs Moore's door before joining the dancers, and singing for them. Millie was absent all evening.

SUMMER FADED INTO
September and Da's leeks were ready to be pulled for the village show. Grace's retirement gardens were grand too. Some produce was sold at the market, some would be entered for the show, which was to be judged by Mr Auberon.

On the day of the show the meeting room at the club reeked of onions and leeks, and when the judging was finished and the villagers were allowed in there was a yellow rosette placed by Evie's da's leeks and it was Grace who had First Place. Bob Forbes smiled and shook her hand. ‘It's all in the digging,' he said.

‘And the muck,' Grace replied.

Evie looked closely at the leeks. Were Grace's really best, or was Mr Auberon biased as always? She couldn't tell.

The following week Lord and Lady Brampton returned from the London season with Lady Veronica, and within a week the shooting parties were under way and the kitchens were busy providing hampers and outdoor picnics, Mr Harvey was in two pairs of long johns, and the evening meals were gargantuan. Fresh air and the slaughter of birds must do that for one, Evie grumbled.

At the end of September, she and Simon sat on the barrels in the bothy. His arm was tight around her and he was kissing her neck but all she could think about was the Bastard's whelp, for that was how she had started thinking of Mr Auberon again. She said, ‘At least I don't have to look at him or stick under the same roof now he's out on his ridiculous Territorial exercises. He's running away from the miners, that's what he's doing, because he can't face them. How can he not yet lift the cavil after the announcement was made? He promised Si.'

He squeezed her so tightly that she could hardly breathe and said into her hair, ‘Try not to worry, pet. It doesn't help, just think of your hotel and the success it will be, then you'll all be happy, and that's all that matters.'

She shook her head. ‘No, you have to be happy too.'

‘I have you, how can I not be happy as long I can entertain the guests with my songs.' He mimicked her usual words, ‘It'll be the best thing in the world.' She slapped him lightly but it was the first time he had mentioned the importance of his singing, and she was surprised. She had thought it was the gardens he loved, and knew that she must not forget what he'd just said.

In October she and Grace continued to go to the suffrage meetings when the shooting parties allowed, feeling more relaxed there because of Lady Veronica's absence. Mrs Moore commented, ‘I gather Lady Brampton is dragging her round the county when there's a lag in the shooting.'

At the meetings they did not hesitate to stand and let their voices be heard. Evie had argued at the last one that the present campaign of violence was damaging to the reputation of women. A member of the committee had leapt to her feet. ‘You ridiculous girl, we must perform these acts to create an impossible state of affairs in the country to prove that it is impossible to govern without the consent of the governed.' Grace had whispered, ‘Perhaps she's swallowed a dictionary?'

Still the louts continued to pelt them with eggs or tomatoes as they left, or as they heckled politicians. ‘It could have been bricks not eggs, let's be thankful,' Grace always said as they wiped their clothes clean on the return journeys, for they had agreed they would protest but not destroy.

By the end of October Mr Auberon had returned from playing soldiers and was back at the mine. Would the cavil be returned now? ‘I won't hold my breath or you'll be burying me by evening,' she'd told Simon as she fetched herbs.

The cavil was not returned. On Thursday Mr Auberon resumed his downstairs tea, smiling as he took up his fork and tried a small piece of Battenberg. ‘Perfection,' he said.

The range was damped down low preparatory to baking meringues for dessert, the servants were in the hall and Millie was heaven knew where. What was the point in asking any more?

‘Your dreams, Evie?' Mr Auberon said, eating more cake and patting his mouth with his napkin. ‘What are your dreams?'

She was busy beating egg whites with the range oven door slightly ajar to further cool it down. She felt like saying, ‘I'll have the cavil returned, please sir, and then you can have your meringue. After that, I'll have a cool breeze up my skirts, thank you very much.' Instead she admitted only to hoping for a senior cook's role.

She knew that she must not address a question to him but she did, into the silence that had fallen as he patted his mouth with the napkin again. ‘And yours, sir?'

‘Fly fishing,' he replied, cutting another slice of cake. She laid aside the whisk and replenished his cup of tea. He smiled. ‘Sit here for a moment, Evie.' He pointed to the stool near him. She hesitated. He said, ‘Please, I get a crick in my neck if I have to look up, or a strained voice if I have to shout down the table.'