Angel's Secret, page 15
‘Good morning – nice to see you,’ he said to Angel, and Whis, who had been at his heels, came lolloping forward for a pat and a word or two.
‘Good morning,’ Angel returned demurely, just as if she hadn’t seen him only yesterday, at Edith’s house. ‘Whis seems to think I am Whistler’s Mother!’ she added, referring to the artist’s famous portrait. On several occasions, when she was out in the garden at The Angel, the dog had sidled in at the gate then bounded up to her, before she reminded him that he was Edmund’s dog and despatched Tony to escort him back to the schoolhouse.
‘Whistler’s Mother?’ he repeated. ‘Ah, I see the connection – Whistle to Whistler, eh? I shall keep him in the study until he learns not to roam during school hours! Well, Alice, fit and ready for the day?’
‘I certainly am!’ Alice said happily.
‘The holidays went much too quickly!’ Tony did not sound really regretful.
‘I’ll probably come down to meet you this afternoon but if not take care as you ride home, no dilly-dallying,’ Angel told her charges. She did not give them a kiss for they were too old for that in front of their classmates and, anyway, she was not their mother, she reminded herself. Still, she knew she would miss them. She wondered once more how she was to justify her continued employment now that Alice too was at school all day.
She decided to cycle on to Nana Elderberry’s to see if she, like Alice, was fighting fit again.
‘Hello!’ Nana was standing in her doorway, obviously expecting her to call. ‘Kettle’s a ‘singing, Aunt Hetty sent me some of her old tea leaves, as she only uses them once I can brew you a good strong cup – are you ready for one, and a mardle?’
Angel recognised the scones as some of last week’s batch from home, which Jess had been given. Aunt Hetty always cut her scones square, not round and even stale they were palatable, thickly spread with butter. But this morning she had one dry, and wished she could bring herself to soak it in her tea like Nana. At least she had her own cup on this occasion.
‘Yes, I’m improving, gal,’ Nana observed before Angel could ask. ‘Got to be, haven’t I, with Belinda to look after?’
Belinda, sitting up now, was propped on a cushion on a chair, hopefully secured round the waist with an old leather belt. She kicked her legs and babbled as she chewed on a scone with her hard little gums and four front teeth.
‘They haven’t let you go, then,’ Nana said next. ‘The Guv’nor needs a good gal like you, not her, who comes and goes at her fancy.’
Nana always made her blush with her observations, Angel thought ruefully, but it was nice to feel accepted, with the familiar use of ‘gal’ instead of ‘nurse.’ ‘The children’s mother, she does love them –’ she began.
‘Not enough,’ Nana stated. ‘Still, she won’t come again.’
How does she know that? Angel wondered. It was a trifle spooky, to say the least. She washed the last of the scone down with a full mouthful of tea, to her relief.
‘Look at my Jess,’ Nana continued, ‘She loves her baby, she loves her feller. Nothing perfect, o’course – she has to stay with her old Nana, after all, but she won’t ever run away, from them she loves. Count on that. No more’n you would – if you had a family of your own.’
Angel did not know what made her say it, but she did. ‘I knew many soldiers like the bugler in France, in the war, Nana. I might even have known him – Edith certainly did. I haven’t actually spoken to him yet. I was sent – came back – with all the shell-shocked, others badly wounded in the dreadful Battle of the Somme, in 1916 . . . ’
‘Ah,’ Nana sighed softly, her keen gaze wavering, waiting to see if there was more.
The cloud of suspicion had not lifted from her, though Edith’s staunch defence had swayed the verdict of those hastily summoned to consider her guilt or innocence. It was obvious to them that she was ill, exhausted herself. She was put on the boat to Blighty, ostensibly to care for, ease the distress of, those who had some chance of survival. She knew she would never return to France – that she would have to, with some semblance of dignity, ask to be released from her nursing duties, that she would go home to Lou.
He did not seem to know her: physically he should recover, she thought but who could tell how long he would have to endure the terrors which clouded his mind? Was the reality of what happened that night, suppressed within his troubled head, for ever? If he could only have spoken then . . . Yet, he obviously trusted her still, for, when he had been dreadfully sick, and she had tenderly wiped his face, he had leaned against her, groaning, seeking solace. When he slept, she held him close, and the slow tears dripped down her wan, tired face. When he was taken from her, she did not say goodbye, although she never expected to see him again – she turned to help with the stretchering of the others . . .
‘Edith says the bugler has no ties, no family living; he is free to love your Jess,’ she said simply now. But of course Edith had not added that.
‘More tea?’ Nana asked, then, ‘We have a new person, didn’t Aunt Hetty say, eh? Reverend Goodchild – young he is, with a bonny wife and five little gals, she hardly had time to breathe between ‘em it seems . . . He came to see us, didn’t he, Belinda? Breath o’ fresh air after the old parson. He said, if Jess wanted to marry her feller well, he’d have pleasure in saying the words. But that’s up to her, he said. Come to church and welcome anyway.’
‘Yes, Aunt Hetty did mention it, I’m afraid I’ve only been to one service since I came here, but I believe I’d like to meet the new parson!’
*
She stopped off at Mrs Newsome’s on her way home.
‘Hello!’ Mrs Newsome exclaimed in her turn, pleased to have a customer for there was always a lull after the early morning rush. ‘Time for a cup of tea, I daresay?’
‘Just had one – sorry! – at Nana’s,’ Angel told her. Still, she took the proffered chair, while Mrs Newsome flipped over the bale of soft white cambric on the counter, alarming the snoozing cat, who leapt down all ruffled.
‘Blouse you say, m’dear?’
‘Mm. A surprise for Jess. Aunt Hetty said, “She’ll want more than I usually have, me being so skinny and Jess –” ’
‘Jess being full-bosomed, like?’ Mrs Newsome’s hands sketched an expressive curve. ‘Leave it to me, eh?’
‘Aunt Hetty mentioned small pearl buttons – eight she thinks – and some fine lace for edging –’
‘For the Meet the Parson party?’
Angel nodded, smiling. She watched dreamily as the sharp scissors nicked the edge of the material, then Mrs Newsome took it in her strong hands and tore it across. ‘There, nice and straight! Yes, the new preacher says, “All welcome!” He wants to meet us all then – can you believe it? He says we’ll have a grand old kick-your-heels-up – a dance! – to follow the supper . . . I penned a poster, it’s up in my front winder – have a look when you go, eh?’
And Angel did, while Mrs Newsome beamed proudly.
Meet the new Parson and his family!
PARMINTER’S BARN – by kind permission Lady Pamela.
SATURDAY NEXT. SUPPER PROMPT 5 p.m.
(Cakes and sandwiches appreciated)
Dancing to 9.30 p.m.
MUSIC by THE GOOD OLD ALDRED BOYS.
ALL WELCOME!
‘Tell Aunt Hetty she’ll have to get busy – you’ll come o’course? With your feller?’
‘My feller?’ Angel was hot under the collar once more as she fastened her parcel by the long loop of string over one shoulder, and made ready to pedal off.
‘The schoolmaster,’ Mrs Newsome remarked complacently. ‘I’ve seen the two o’ you together, with his new dog. Miss Fenner actually approves it seems . . . ’
‘Now, Mrs Newsome –’ Angel began, wondering how to put it.
‘No smoke without fire!’ Mrs Newsome twinkled back. Then she returned smartly to her post behind the counter for a customer was approaching.
Aunt Hetty was pleased with the material. ‘I’ll make the gal short sleeves, eh? Then Belinda can have a bonny new frock too.’
‘I could sew that,’ Angel offered. ‘While you’re busy on the machine, I like sewing by hand.’
‘That’s it,’ Aunt Hetty was pleased at this notion. ‘You’ll come to the parson’s party – with Edmund?’ she added slyly.
‘With Edith – and all of you – and Jess and company, I hope,’ she answered airily.
‘The pub’ll close up – just for the evening, for the whole village’ll be at Parminter’s barn. Mind you, it’d be perfect, my dear, if you were to be on Rob’s arm that night –’ She shook her head regretfully at Angel. ‘Still, Lalla didn’t do the right thing by him, and like my John, his uncle, he’s a little strait-laced, as they say . . . I ought to be pleased you’ve picked Edmund for your feller –’
‘Oh, Aunt Hetty – please!’
‘Quick, put this lot away – here comes Jess, for more water. Reckon we might offer the gal a bath here – tactful like – before she dresses up next Saturday, Angel?’
‘I reckon that’s a good idea . . . ’ Angel was relieved at the change of subject.
‘Hello, talking about me?’ Jess beamed.
‘As if we would, dearie,’ Aunt Hetty returned demurely.
Peeling the potatoes at the sink, Angel dreamed of smocking, french-knots and pink embroidered rosebuds. Belinda the Beautiful must live up to her name, after all.
TWENTY-TWO
Edith, as an intimate friend, always used the back door of The Angel. She had one of her stabbing headaches today and wore that pained expression which had made the nurses steer clear of her in France.
Jess was at the water butt, dipping her pail for soft water, for washing. She looked up, as Edith approached.
‘I want a word with you,’ Edith began, without preamble. She glanced in at the kitchen window: Aunt Hetty and Angel must, fortunately, be elsewhere, she thought.
Jess stood the bucket on the ground. She said nothing, waited for Edith to continue.
‘You’re missing a button on that blouse,’ Edith stated, staring disapprovingly at the soft swell of bosom thus revealed.
‘Is that it?’ Jess asked, in disbelief.
‘Don’t be impertinent! I don’t know how Aunt Hetty puts up with you. No, I want to know why you are spreading these rumours about the poor man in the barn –’
‘Spreading rumours? That’s ridiculous, Miss Fenner!’
‘Is it? I heard, you are hoping he will marry you – do you deny that?’
‘I never said so! Anyway, that’s my business, not yours.’
‘He is still my patient: discharged by the nursing home into my care –’
‘Why isn’t he in your house, then?’
‘You know very well, why not. Because he is not fit to face the world, cannot communicate –’
‘He talks to me, all right.’
‘More than that, I think,’ Edith literally spat at her.
‘I said, that’s my business. He needs me, more’n you, Miss Fenner – or have you got your eye on him, too?’
‘How dare you! I shall speak to Aunt Hetty – to Rob, about your rudeness to me –’
‘Edith, I think you have said more than enough, leave Jess be, come inside, I think we need to talk . . . ’ Rob had come up behind them without them being aware of it.
He opened the door, shepherded her firmly inside.
Jess, tears welling in her eyes, fled down the meadow to the barn.
*
She wedged a chair against the door, sobbing in great gasps. The bugler stood there helplessly: ‘What is it, Jess – tell me!’
Then she was in his arms, and for the first time since they had met, it was he who comforted her.
‘Miss Fenner – she says I’m out to catch you –’
‘I—don’t understand . . . ’
‘ ’Cause of what the new parson say, I reckon, that he’d tie the knot ‘tween us – marry us! – if we wanted that –’
‘Jess –’ He led her gently to the bed, where they sat, side by side. He looked down at her: ‘You’ve lost a button,’ he said.
Jess began to cry again. He put his hand across the gap. His touch soothed her. ‘Nothing that can’t be mended,’ he whispered.
‘You say you love me –’
‘I do. But, who would marry a wreck like me – with a muddled memory and too many fears –?’
‘I would! I would!’
‘You’re so young, Jess, so sweet – so giving. I owe – a lot – to you.’
She gave herself up to the caressing, content in his arms. Aunt Hetty would wonder where on earth she had got to. She was glad she had barricaded the door against intruders.
‘I never intended –’ he murmured, his lips against her face.
‘What?’
‘To take advantage of you . . . ’
*
‘Whatever were you thinking of, Edith, railing at that girl like that? We all know that she is responsible for the bugler’s continuing, slow recovery –’
‘What about me? I give him the skilful nursing care he needs – oh, not of the body, now, he is superficially healed in that respect, but he needs the expertise of one with experience of damaged minds. I am prepared to carry on, however long it takes, you must be aware of that?’
‘Of course. But why this patient in particular? You must excuse the intrusion, but – are you very attached to him, is that it? I can’t see why else you would resent Jess’s involvement.’
‘You don’t understand, Rob. I have a special responsibility to this man. That’s all I am prepared to tell you. Did I condemn the girl, when she had that baby? No, I accepted that she is a victim of her desires –’
‘It takes two, Edith. Maybe that was what the bugler was lacking – warmth, affection – it can be a lonely path, without a woman in your life.’
Edith looked hard at him. ‘I should never have brought Angel here . . . ’ she muttered.
‘Angel? What on earth has she got to do with it? You took my meaning: I still regret losing my wife. We should let the two of them work out their own destiny, I believe. Meanwhile, I think an apology from you, to Jess, is in order – then we can forget this conversation, eh?’
‘You don’t understand, Rob,’ she repeated dully. ‘But, I will say I’m sorry. I have such a wretched headache, this morning – I didn’t intend to fly off the handle. Will you forgive me, too?’
‘I said, we’ll forget it happened. I will just add, we couldn’t cope here, without her help – you will go now? And I will make the tea, and call the others, for a break, too.’
*
Edith lifted the latch but the door seemed to be struck. She gave a push – it did not yield.
Jess clapped her hand across the bugler’s mouth. ‘Ssh!’ she breathed. They lay very still.
‘Jess – are you in there?’ Edith called. ‘I – wish to apologise for my words earlier. It was quite unnecessary – I am sorry . . . Let me in, will you?’
Let her stew! Jess thought. She suppressed a nervous giggle.
The latch moved again. ‘Jess!’
The clock on the bugler’s bedside table ticked the minutes away. Then they heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Edith had given up!
‘Guv’nor, dear man – he put her right,’ Jess said, with satisfaction. She sat up and retied her hair. ‘Got to go. Have to finish up the chores then run home to feed Belinda. I’ll bring her up for you this afternoon, shall I?’
‘Please, Jess,’ the bugler said.
*
Edith was very quiet, Angel thought, as they sat round the table and sipped the hot tea.
Jess fetched her cup and did not look at Edith as she asked Aunt Hetty: ‘Got a spare button, Aunt Hetty? Mustn’t go back down the lane all a’gape, or folks might talk, eh?’
‘Look in the sewing basket, dearie – no, wait a minute, there’s something you shouldn’t see – a surprise, like – I’ll find you a button, in a minute. Sit down and drink your tea, first.’
‘Running late, Aunt Hetty – but, all right.’
‘You look pale, Edith, are you all right?’ Angel asked, concerned.
‘Just a bad head, Angel. I really just came up to confirm that Edmund and I may join your party, on Saturday.’
‘Of course, no need to ask!’ Aunt Hetty put in, adding, ‘The Good Old Aldred Boys, eh? Long time since they got together to play: Will’s the oldest, Angel – there are four brothers, we used to wonder how them big fellers slept in that little old house at nights – just the two bedrooms, you see. No room for beds, we guessed – the fellers lined up, side by side, on the floor. No wonder, the younger ‘uns run off to sea . . . ’
‘Did well, the sailors,’ Rob observed. He had remained standing up, by the door. Now, he said, ‘Like Jess, I’ve got to get on. See you Saturday, then, Edith, if not before. Excuse me.’
When he had departed, Jess took off her blouse, turned her back on Edith, and deftly sewed the button back in place. When she was dressed, she addressed Edith: ‘Satisfied, Miss Fenner?’
‘Why should it concern me?’ Edith asked innocently. ‘Well, I’m off.’
‘Don’t forget to take a powder . . . ’ Aunt Hetty called after her.
Angel wondered if she had heard aright. Had Jess really muttered: ‘How about arsenic!’
TWENTY-THREE
The bathing of Jess was a jolly affair. Alice hung a notice on the scullery door: LADIES ONLY! Nana Elderberry, on the rocker by the stove, where the big towels warmed on the airer above, was prepared to shoo away not only kitlings and cats when it was time for the drying, but any male – well, Rob and young Tony, anyway – who dared to poke his head in there.
Jess sat in the tub with steam gently rising from a generous amount of soft water, heated in the copper, with Belinda, solemn faced, sitting on her lap, for this was a first total immersion for both of them. Angel rubbed at Jess’s damp hair, washed with the usual gooey melted soap, then rinsed with the juice of a precious lemon added to the jug of cool, clean water. The coppery glints were pronounced now, Angel thought admiringly, and the curls were crinkling back already. She averted her eyes tactfully from Jess’s full, fine young breasts, thinking wryly of her own slight figure, but Alice stared in frank amazement, no doubt wondering if she would ever achieve such a splendid shape herself.
