Elm Tree Road (18 page)

‘I’m stronger than I look, but it is a relief to get out of
the storm.’ Nell took off her coat and then the sweater too, because it was sodden at the neck and cuffs. As she sat down on the hard wooden chair, she couldn’t help shivering again.

May ran across the room to pull something off the coat hooks near the back door. ‘You could wrap this round you, Mrs Greenhill. It’s Pearl’s, but she won’t mind. She uses it sometimes in the winter when she has to go in and out a lot.’

‘Thank you.’ Nell wrapped the shawl round her shoulders, enjoying the softness of the much-washed old wool against her cold skin. ‘This is a lovely warm room.’

Mr Easton went across to what must be the pantry, returning with a covered jug of milk. ‘It’s our favourite room in the house. May and I spend a lot of time here. Would you get the biscuits out, please, dear?’

Nell wondered where the child’s parents were, but didn’t like to ask.

He seemed to read her mind and said quickly in a low voice, ‘My brother and his wife were killed last year in an accident, so I came here to look after my niece. I’m not really a farmer, so we’ve let the stock go. We’re still deciding what to do with ourselves and this farm.’

Nell had seen the sadness on the girl’s face at the mention of her parents and felt her heart go out to the child. She too had lost her mother when she was young. But she’d had Mattie, always Mattie, to turn to.

Well, May had Mr Easton and he seemed a caring sort of man.

‘I’ll make us a cup of tea as soon as the kettle boils,’
he said. ‘It’s getting dark early because of the storm, so I think I’ll light a few lamps. The brightness will cheer us up. We don’t have gas out here, unfortunately. I much prefer gaslight.’ He did this and by that time the kettle had boiled, so he made a big pot of tea and set it at the edge of the kitchen range to brew.

As the child finished setting out the biscuits, he asked, ‘Which bedroom shall we give to Mrs Greenhill, May?’

‘The one next to mine would be best. We’ll have to make up the bed, but it’s warmer at that side of the house.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ He turned round. ‘Are you still cold, Mrs Greenhill?’

She nodded. She couldn’t seem to get warm, close as she was to the fire, and could sense that he was keeping an eye on her.

‘Tea’s ready. Do you take sugar?’

She hadn’t taken it for a long time, to save money, but suddenly she wanted something sweet. ‘Yes, please. Just one teaspoon.’

He brought across a big mug. ‘Not elegant, but it holds more and keeps the warmth in better than a cup.’

She wrapped her hands round it and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. Warmth trickled through her and she took another sip, then cradled the mug against her cheek, sighing with pleasure.

‘I’ll just go and get some sheets out to air for your bed.’

‘We could fill a hot-water bottle too,’ May said. ‘Shall I get one out?’

She seemed a very sensible capable child, Nell thought, as she let them fuss over her.

When Mr Easton insisted she eat something, she forced
down a few spoonfuls of the stew to please him, but all she really wanted was to lie down somewhere warm and go to sleep. It was only late afternoon, but she’d exhausted herself.

In the end she felt she couldn’t sit upright any longer. ‘I’m sorry. I’m too tired to eat any more. Would you mind if I went to bed now?’

‘Of course not. I’ll just fill the hot-water bottle, then May and I will make up the bed.’

It was an earthenware bottle, the sort her family had called a ‘piggy’, and for a moment she felt nostalgia flood through her at the sight of it. Mattie used to fill a bottle for them on cold nights, but they’d also had each other to cuddle up to, three sisters sharing a bed, with Renie in the middle. Ah, she missed them!

‘Hold this for a moment.’ He thrust the bottle into her arms, gathered up the sheets which had been airing in front of the fire while they ate and gave them to May. He came across to stand beside Nell as she got up.

‘I won’t fall over,’ she said in surprise as he put out one hand to help her.

‘You look as if you will. I’ll carry that knapsack up for you. This way.’

She found to her surprise that she had to make a big effort to lift one foot after the other. It felt as if she was climbing a whole mountain of stairs, though it was only one flight. At the top, she followed him into a neat little bedroom with a sloping ceiling at one side.

Mr Easton and his niece made up her bed while she sat on a chair, cuddling the bottle and concentrating on staying awake.

When the bed was ready, he asked in his beautiful deep voice, ‘Will you be all right?’

‘Yes. And thank you for your help.’

‘If there are any wet things inside your knapsack, give them to May and she’ll bring them down. I’ll hang them on the ceiling airer overnight with your sweater.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t be afraid if I look in to check that you’re all right when I come up to bed.’ He opened the top drawer. ‘Yes, I thought we still had some.’ He got out a nightlight and set it in a little glass dish, produced a box of matches from his pocket and lit the little cup of wax with a steady hand. ‘If you wake in the night, you’ll feel better if you can see where you are. I’ll light a new one for you when I come up to bed.’

‘Mmm.’ She felt too tired to speak, but that seemed to satisfy him. She waited for them both to leave, aching to get into bed.

Once they’d gone, she put the bottle to warm her place in the narrow single bed. She was tempted to crawl in beside it fully dressed, but it’d look bad to sleep in her clothes, so she summoned up the last of her strength to open her knapsack and pull out her night things. They felt cold and damp, but not wet. It was a good knapsack, had been expensive.

She didn’t remember blowing out the lamp or getting into bed, but she must have done.

When she woke a few hours later, it took her a minute or two to remember where she was. Then she saw the night light flickering in its glass dish on top of the chest of drawers and remembered.

With a happy sigh, she snuggled down in bed, glad of the thick quilt on top of the covers and the hot-water bottle at her feet. The wind was still howling round the house, but the bed was warm and she felt safe here.

If he had looked in to check on her, he’d done it very quietly. How kind of him to take in a stranger like this!

When Nell woke again it was light, and though the wind seemed to have largely died down, rain was still pattering against the windowpanes, blurring the world outside.

She sat up and reached for the old shawl they’d lent her. She had to use the chamber pot because her need was urgent, but she’d make sure she was the one to empty it.

She had no dressing gown, so pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped that round herself on top of the shawl before making her way downstairs.

She opened the door to see Mr Easton and his niece sitting chatting at the kitchen table. The room was so warm and cosy, she longed to have somewhere like that. And the warmth came from their love for one another as well as from the fire. They looked up when she hesitated in the doorway.

‘Do come in and join us,’ he said with one of his lovely smiles.

‘I hope you don’t mind me using this blanket. I don’t
carry a dressing gown with me and you have my mackintosh down here.’

He pointed to the ceiling airer. ‘It should be dry now, but your skirt is still a bit damp, your jacket and sweater too.’ He turned to his niece. ‘Do you think we could lend Mrs Greenhill your mother’s dressing gown?’

The girl looked at him in such dismay, Nell hurried to say, ‘Look, I don’t want to give you any trouble. I’ll get dressed and use this blanket for extra warmth till I can put my things on again. I do have a change of clothes with me. I just wanted some water to wash myself in first, if that’s all right.’

He didn’t mention the dressing gown again and the girl didn’t go to find it. Nell saw his lips tighten as he glanced at his niece and he shook his head slightly, as if concerned by her attitude. ‘Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast as you are, Mrs Greenhill? You’re perfectly respectable in that blanket. I’ll carry some hot water up for you afterwards.’

She felt a bit embarrassed but sat down anyway. She didn’t feel respectable sitting in her nightdress, not in front of strangers, but she was ravenously hungry, and thirsty too. Perhaps May didn’t want her dead mother’s clothes being used by a stranger. That was understandable.

Once she was dressed, Nell hesitated in her room, wondering what to do with herself. It was pouring down outside and she could hardly carry on walking in that. But she couldn’t take it for granted that Mr Easton would let her stay another night, so she might have to.

She went to find him, but he wasn’t in the kitchen.
The old man came in from the yard, shaking the rain off a ragged horse blanket he’d covered himself with.

‘Morning, missus. You look better today. Good thing Hugh found you, isn’t it?’ He went across to the big teapot and poured himself a tin mug of dark liquid, the tea well and truly stewed by now.

‘Do you know where Mr Easton is? Um … I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name, Mr …’

‘Just call me Fred. Everybody does. Hugh and the lass don’t go to church when the weather’s bad, so I expect they’ll be in his study. That lass spends hours there, reading. She’s always got a book in her hand, that one. He brought a lot with him from London and more keep arriving. It’s a wonder their brains aren’t addled.’ He pointed to a door. ‘It’s down there. Last door.’

She went along a short corridor and knocked on the door at the end.

‘Come.’

She went in, staying near the door, surprised when the girl gave her a hostile look. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Easton, but given how bad the weather still is, I wondered if you’d mind me staying another night. Not if it’s inconvenient, of course.’

He’d stood up when she appeared. Lovely manners he had.

‘Do come in. Of course you can stay. I’d expected you to stay, but I suppose I should have said so. I can take you to the nearest railway station tomorrow, if you like. I have to go there anyway to pick up a parcel.’

‘That’s very kind of you. I’d appreciate that. Can I do anything to help while I’m here? I’m not a bad cook.’ She
could certainly do better than the previous night’s watery stew.

His expression brightened. ‘That’d be wonderful. I’ll come and show you what we’ve got.’

‘
I
was going to cook today,’ May said.

He smiled at his niece. ‘I know, but you and I are not the best of cooks, so we’ll let Mrs Greenhill do it, shall we?’

‘Unless you’d like to help me?’ Nell suggested, not wanting to upset the girl.

The hostility seemed to lessen a little. ‘Yes, please. Do you know how to make cakes?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Could you show me? I’m not very good at cakes. I was just starting to learn when—’ She pressed one hand to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

Mr Easton put his arm round his niece’s shoulders and kept it there. ‘We both love eating cakes.’ He studied Nell. ‘Are you sure you’re well enough to do this, Mrs Greenhill?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m not ill, Mr Easton. I was exhausted and chilled yesterday, but a good night’s sleep set me to rights again. I’m never ill.’

‘I must say you look a lot better.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll show you where the things are.’

‘I don’t want to disturb you, if you’re working. I’m sure May will be able to tell me all I need to know. What were you intending to have for tea?’

‘Leftover roast lamb and potatoes, with cabbage. Whatever you can find for the other meals. There are always plenty of eggs.’

‘Fine. I’ll see to the meals, then.’

She went back to the kitchen, with May trailing behind, looking wary. But the girl thawed out a little as she showed Nell where everything was and they were soon chatting away.

It felt blessedly normal to be in charge of a kitchen again. Hers had been humble, but she’d organised it well and produced as good food as possible for her family in the circumstances, given Cliff’s meanness.

She hummed as she worked, or she chatted to May. As soon as she was settled somewhere, she’d write to tell Renie. She missed her sister’s letters.

She decided to prepare a nice onion gravy later to make the cold roast lamb more tasty, because she’d found some Oxo cubes. She didn’t need to make that yet, though. She’d bought penny cubes sometimes, to make soup tastier, but never a whole tin of them like this. The cubes were so much easier to use than in the old days, when Oxo had been a liquid.

She whipped together a jam tart to have with custard for afters, since May said they always had plenty of milk. Then she gave the girl a lesson on making scones, followed by a simple sponge cake. There were indeed plenty of eggs. It was lovely not to have to make one do the work of two.

She’d have worked like this with her own daughter as Sarah grew older. That thought made her stand still for a moment, clenching her whole body against the pain.

‘Are you all right, Mrs Greenhill?’

‘Oh, sorry. Just remembering something.’

‘You looked so sad.’

‘Yes. It was … something sad.’ She didn’t say what,
didn’t want to discuss her problems with a child who’d also suffered a sad loss.

They had potato-and-onion omelette at midday, with the newly baked scones and honey for afters. There seemed to be plenty of jars of the latter – not bought honey with labels on fancy glass jars, but jars of cloudy but delicious honey in a variety of shapes and sizes.

‘Pearl’s aunt keeps bees,’ May said. ‘So we swap them a lamb for a dozen jars – or we used to do … before. I don’t know what we’ll do next year.’

After they’d done the cooking, Nell cleaned out the pantry, which was in a bit of a mess, making sure to discuss with May what should go on each shelf. After all, the girl was the one who’d be using it. Nell would have to leave tomorrow. She sighed at the thought, not wanting to go.

Fred took his meals out to the barn, where he had a room in the old stables, so she let May prepare the trays for that.

‘He’s got false teeth,’ the child whispered with a giggle, ‘and they’re a bit loose, so he doesn’t like to eat in front of people.’

When Mr Easton joined them at midday, they hadn’t finished sorting out the pantry. He sniffed appreciatively. ‘That smells delicious.’

‘I hope you enjoy it.’

He looked at the piles of stores still to be put away. ‘You’ve been very helpful but I’m not a slave-driver. You don’t have to work non-stop. Do you enjoy reading?’

‘I love it.’

‘Why don’t you find a book and settle down for an hour or two this afternoon? I’ve plenty of books in my study.’

‘I’ll just finish the pantry first, if you don’t mind. May and I have been planning where things should go.’

She went along to choose a book after she’d finished, looking round enviously. ‘I’ve never seen a room with so many books in it.’

‘That’s because of my job, as well as my love of books. I work for a publisher. I’m an editor.’

‘I’m not sure what an editor does.’

He explained how he helped the authors get their works into better shape, and corrected their spelling and grammar.

She was standing near a bookcase and couldn’t help reaching out to stroke the beautiful leather binding on some of the books.

‘You look as if you love books, Mrs Greenhill.’

‘Yes. I used to borrow them from the library and occasionally I’d buy one second hand from the market. I usually managed to find something to read. May I borrow this one?’

‘Rudyard Kipling? Please do.
Kim
is a great story. I really enjoy his books.’

‘Thank you.’

May, who was now lying in front of his study fire on a thick rug, went back to her reading. Nell went to sit in the kitchen, feeling left out and chiding herself for that. She was a stranger here, after all.

She made sure she didn’t neglect the cooking but she enjoyed a quiet hour’s reading. She’d get this book from a library once she settled down somewhere and finish reading it.

Mr Easton was again very complimentary about the
meal, and about the cake May had helped make and ice. ‘The rest of the cake and scones will be very useful over the next few days. If this young lady doesn’t eat them all up today. Thank you, Mrs Greenhill.’

‘My pleasure. I enjoy cooking.’

It began to grow dark as they were finishing their meal. He looked outside and said, ‘Well, at least we should have a more peaceful night. The wind seems to have died right down and it’s not raining now.’

Hardly had he finished speaking than there was the sound of a horse outside. He got up and went to the kitchen door. ‘Ronald! Is something wrong?’

‘I’m afraid there is, Mr Easton. My Pearl’s broken her leg, so she sent me to let you know she can’t come and help you, not for a few weeks or longer, the doctor says. She’s sorry, but she doesn’t know anyone else to send, either.’

Nell couldn’t help overhearing and saw her kind host’s shoulders slump at this news.

‘I’m sorry to hear of that. I hope Pearl gets better quickly. Tell her we’ll manage, but we’ll miss her. And thanks for coming so promptly to let me know. Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, but no. Have to get back. At least the weather’s clearing up. Goodbye.’ He waved one hand and let the horse pick its own way out of the yard.

As Mr Easton shut the door, May went across to link her arm in his. ‘What shall we do now, Uncle Hugh? I could take tomorrow off school, but I can’t stay home all the time.’

‘We’ll just have to manage as best we can till we find someone to help. I’ll go into Swindon and call at
an employment agency. I’m sure they’ll be able to find someone.’

Nell hesitated, but the more she thought of it, the better her idea seemed. ‘Um … I’m not doing anything for the next few weeks and I need somewhere to stay till I can find a proper home for myself. I could do the job for you temporarily, Mr Easton.’

He swung round to stare at her, mouth open in surprise. ‘You mean … you’d stay on here as housekeeper?’

‘Yes. I’d have to live in, though, so if you want to try to find someone else who lives locally and can come in daily, I’ll understand.’

‘No, no! You’d be perfect. We’ve already tested your cooking and that certainly passed muster.’

Even May was nodding approval.

She would be happy to work here, Nell realised, but she had to find her sister as well. ‘I’d have to go into Swindon, though, sometime during this week. I’m looking for my eldest sister, Mattie. We’ve lost touch with one another.’ Thank goodness she still knew where Renie was!

‘I can take you to the railway station in Faringdon and you can get into Swindon quite easily by train. I’m supposed to pick up a parcel there tomorrow, but it can wait a day or two. You’ll need to settle in here first and find out what we need, then we can do some shopping while we’re there. I have a list of the grocery supplies Pearl wanted and you might like to add to it.’

‘I don’t want to put you out. Maybe I can go to Faringdon by bus and ask to have the shopping delivered.’

‘They don’t deliver out here. It’s too far. Anyway, there’s no need. When we can’t get things at the village shop, I often
bring them from Faringdon. I have to go there regularly to collect boxes of books and papers from work, or to send them back. It’s a pretty drive when the weather’s fine. May and I will enjoy a little outing to pick you up again after school.’

He cast what seemed to be an anxious glance at May. ‘I’m thinking of buying a motor car. It’ll get me round so much more quickly. If it doesn’t break down, that is. And if I can learn to drive one.’

‘You said you didn’t like motor cars, Uncle Hugh!’ she said accusingly.

‘I don’t. But it takes too long to go to and fro with a horse and trap. I have duties with my job and mustn’t neglect them. We really will have to consider moving up to London soon, May.’

The child glared at him, yelled, ‘No! I won’t go!’ at the top of her voice, then ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Nell didn’t know what to say, so waited for Mr Easton to speak.

He sighed and gave one of those little shakes of the head that said he was upset with his niece’s reaction, then looked at Nell. ‘Now that you’re staying, you’d better know what caused that outburst. May’s parents were killed in a motor car accident, so she hates cars. And she refuses even to consider moving with me to London, swears she’ll run away if I force her. I’ve waited, hoping she’ll change her mind, but as you can see, she flies into hysterics if I even mention the subject.’