Angel's Secret, page 27
*
Alice and Tony came breezing in, hungry as always. Jess, with a wink, gave Francis a shove and said it was time to go down to Nana’s and collect young Belinda.
Angel had already told Rob that an announcement was imminent! ‘You’d better sit down,’ she said to the children. ‘Ready for a surprise?’ Aunt Hetty chuckled as she poured out five cups of tea and buttered some rusks.
‘Let me guess . . . ’ said Alice. ‘I know, I’m going to be a very old sister indeed and Tony’s going to be a big brother – am I right? If I am – whoopee!’
‘Whoopee indeed!’ their father agreed. ‘Isn’t Angel wonderful?’
‘We’re all agreed on that,’ Aunt Hetty said.
*
End of term, and Edmund had to say goodbye to the school. The parson came along to make a presentation, for the children had pooled their pennies. Edmund was very touched with the splendid fountain pen. He would be vacating the post of organist at the church too, of course, and Francis had not needed too much persuading to fill the gap there.
In a few days time Rob would drive them to the station and he and Edith would say goodbye, he privately thought, for good, to the place both of them considered to be home. It was not in his nature to feel bitter that it was because of Edith he too was being forced to leave. He had already bequeathed his dog to Angel. ‘He already thinks he belongs to you and I could not condemn him to life in town, Angel.’
‘The children will help walk him, I know,’ she said. She gave him a quick kiss. ‘I’m so sorry things are – as they are. We’ll miss you!’
‘All I ask is – please keep in touch,’ he said quietly.
‘Dear Edmund, you know I will . . . ’
It was not so easy for her to say goodbye to Edith. She waited with Aunt Hetty while Rob brought out the pony and trap having given them the choice of that or the little motor. They saw Edith closing the door of the pink house for the last time, watched her coming slowly along the path, nipping off a dead flower head or two, catching a thread of her cardigan on a rose bush in passing. Silently, she handed over the house keys to Jess and Francis, standing just outside the gate.
‘We’ll take good care of the house, and the garden,’ Jess said.
‘Thank you for all you did for me in the past,’ Francis said. ‘Goodbye, Edith.’
They were to pick Edmund up at the schoolhouse. He had already made his goodbyes the previous evening to his friends. He did not want Whis to see him depart. The children waited under the porch, holding on to the dog’s lead. They waved to Edith. ‘Goodbye! Hope you like your new home!’ they called cheerfully, being unaware, of course, of the real reason for this moving away.
Angel moved forward at last. She faced Edith. ‘Goodbye,’ she said quietly.
‘Goodbye, Angel.’ Edith motioned slightly towards her waistline. ‘Take care of yourself . . . ’
Then Rob helped her aboard. She did not wave back to them, or turn her head. She did not want them to see that she was crying.
FORTY-TWO
‘Another visitor!’ Rob told her as she sat up in bed holding court, for Lilian and the girls had arrived a little earlier. Whis insinuated his body round the door and wagged his tail vigorously in his delight at seeing his mistress again, even though he bestowed a guilty sidewise look at Rob because up here was usually strictly out of bounds.
‘Come on, old boy,’ she coaxed him. ‘Don’t you want to see the newest member of our family?’
The last weeks since Christmas had been difficult ones. Angel’s blood pressure had soared and she suffered from swollen ankles and what Tony described candidly as ‘sausage fingers.’ She dutifully drank Nana’s prescribed raspberry leaf tea and stayed in bed as the doctor ordered. Rob seemed to wear a continually anxious expression on his face. Lou wrote often, worrying about her sister but she was unable to visit at present for she too was very pregnant. It took all that time to produce one baby eh, and then, a second one follows fast on young Peter’s heels! Jack blames it on the Suffolk air – when we came up to your wedding! But isn’t it wonderful, the two of us having babies eh? Wonder who’ll have the first one?
Now Angel knew the answer! Of course, she had to choose the coldest night of the year, when Rob couldn’t get the car started despite frantic cranking and Aunt Hetty yelled through the window, ‘Come back up here, Rob – we need you!’ Jess, over the road heard all the commotion, and came haring over to help.
Angel and Rob’s tiny daughter came into the world all in a rush, delivered by her proud father, with quite an audience, including a wide-eyed Alice, home from school for the weekend and determined to be in on the excitement. Angel was past caring who was there, except for Rob, and it was next morning before Alice admitted bashfully, ‘I was there – until Aunt Hetty spotted me and booted me out! It was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen! Tony was fed-up he missed it . . . ’
Angel was glad that Alice had found it exciting rather than frightening. ‘You should have seen Dad’s face, Angel, when he held the baby up to show us all – I thought he was going to cry!’ Alice added.
She looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm and a great surge of love shook her. Right now she and Rob felt that Lalla, as they had called her, would be their only one, completing their family of three. But she suspected they might change their minds later on . . . A telegram from Lou and Jack today – Patricia had arrived!
Tony was being very nice about the baby brother he had hoped for being a sister instead and Aunt Hetty, naturally cuddled and crooned to the baby at every opportunity.
Rob was as bad, Angel smiled to herself now, catching Lilian’s wink. He lifted tiny Lalla from her cradle and placed her against his shoulder, making a show of getting up her wind. The puny legs kicked and the oversized pink knitted boots, a present from Mrs Newsome, slipped off one by one. ‘Think she wants her mother . . . ’ He reluctantly handed her over.
The Ginger Biscuits watched wide-eyed as Angel unfastened the front of a nightgown as far removed from sea-green silk as it was possible to be. Flannel was best for nursing mothers and after all it was not yet Spring.
‘You go downstairs with Rob and see what Alice and Tony are up to,’ Lilian told her lot. ‘I’m sure Angel doesn’t want such a large audience!’
‘I had no choice a couple of nights ago!’ she said ruefully.
When they were alone Lilian settled herself on the bedside chair and took some knitting from her capacious holdall.
‘Sorry, I haven’t nearly finished that little jacket I promised you –’
‘I know how busy you are, Lilian! I am already wondering how I am going to cope when I am up and about –’
‘What? With all those eager nursemaids?’
Angel smiled. ‘But can it last?’
‘Her name came as rather a surprise . . . ’ Lilian picked up a dropped stitch. ‘Oh well, it’s a holey pattern fortunately!’
‘Lalla? It was my suggestion and the family all agreed. I liked her you know, I couldn’t help it . . . But I think our Lalla is going to favour my father and be quite Latino. Isn’t she beautiful, Lilian – or am I a besotted mother?’
‘Well, you are, but she is!’
‘D’you think I should write to Edith? Edmund says in his last letter that she is very much better. Perhaps, dreadful though it was, when the truth finally surfaced that awful day it began the real healing process for us all. I wonder though if she has really forgiven me for finding such happiness here with Rob, for having his baby –’
‘Why not write? She can only rebuff you, she can’t hurt you any more, Angel.’
Angel had confided in Lilian, she was the friend that Angel had once believed Edith to be.
The baby had taken well to the breast. She felt so contented with her lot. She gently stroked the dark little head and whispered: ‘Love you, Lalla! I’m going to write to your Auntie Lou and Uncle Jack first and tell them all about you and, then – then I’ll write to poor Edith . . . ’
Aunt Hetty came in with more tea. She was disappointed when she saw the baby was busy. ‘Jess made the rusks today, fancy one?’
‘You know me, my appetite is enormous since Lalla arrived!’
*
It was a joy to Jess to have her own home. Edith would have approved of the way she kept it spotless. She had left them some of the furniture, but the men had moved over the grand bed from The Angel.
Belinda had her own room next door to them. Jess checked that she was sleeping peacefully, left the door ajar and then went thankfully to her bed. She still worked a long day at The Angel but then Francis did too. They were so lucky that the rent was so low, she thought. They managed very well.
Maybe, now and again she missed those clandestine moments snatched in the barn, but it was nice to be accepted in the village as Jess Taylor and living in the pink house was quite a social step up.
The best thing of all was that Francis was so well. They had Edith’s piano here, which was good because he often played for them. She never worried now that he would slip out with the bugle and play to the stars.
Nana was a bit of a worry: Jess wondered if there was more up with her beloved grandmother than she would admit to. One day, she suspected, Nana would just go quietly whether or not she reached three score years and ten. But Jess as a child had believed Nana to be immortal.
She was glad to see the Guv’nor settled down with such a sweet new wife. They hadn’t wasted any time having that baby she smiled to herself.
She let her skirt drop to the ground, raised her arms and took off her blouse, then her chemise. ‘You still awake, Francis?’ she asked, as she swung her legs up into bed.
He answered by turning to her and embracing her. ‘Best moment of my day . . . ’ She sighed, as she always did. Then, ‘Francis, I got something to say –’
He caressed very gently the roundness of her stomach. ‘Think I didn’t know, Jess?’ he joked. ‘Remember I was a doctor – once . . . ’
‘You mind?’ She sounded rather anxious. ‘Belinda still being so young and all –’
‘Mind?’ Darling girl, I’m delighted, my only fear is you won’t ease up on your work when the time comes.’
‘I won’t ever change. But I’d like a little lad this time, wouldn’t you?’
‘Another like Belinda would be fine! I’m just happy I’ll be with you this time.’
‘So am I.’
*
Edith opened the letter slowly, read it through twice. Edmund watched her over the breakfast table. He had recognised Angel’s writing of course. Perhaps it was as well that he had been forced to put a distance between them, he thought ruefully. He still missed the school and the children, his friends in Uffasham. To be truthful it had hurt to see Angel and Rob together, loving and loved. He hoped they had believed his assurances that he was happy for them for that really was true. The business about Edith had come as an awful shock. He had found it hard to forgive her although he had never let her realise that fact. Probably he would never marry now. He and Edith would grow old together. They must make the most of their new life. Now that she was so much improved, she was proving quite an asset to the school. A schoolmaster needed a woman at his side.
‘Angel has had her baby,’ she stated. ‘It is a girl. They have named her Lalla, of all things!’
‘All’s well with them all?’
‘Seems so.’ She looked directly at him. ‘It’s not fair, Edmund!’
‘Life is not always fair,’ he stated. ‘But forgiveness goes a long way to redressing the balance . . . ’
‘D’you think she has forgiven me?’
‘I imagine so. Why else would she have written to you, after all this time? Certainly not to gloat over you, that is never Angel’s way.’
‘Have you forgiven me, Edmund?’
‘I hope so. I do hope so . . . ’
‘At least I didn’t lose you! She spared me that. Here, would you like to read the letter?’
Give my love to Edmund, he read.
*
Angel came down the stairs, yawning widely. The baby had only just settled down, after two feeds in less than two hours. Rob had not yet come up to bed.
He was looking out at the night sky. He turned at her approach. ‘Tired, Angel? Everyone else is abed!’
She leaned her weight against him. ‘I can’t settle without you, Rob. I need you to squeeze me tight . . . Sometimes I feel quite inadequate as a mum, your daughter seems to drain me dry!’
‘Milk,’ he said solicitously. ‘You must drink lots more milk. I’d forgotten how you always sneaked down here for a glass each night, or was it only in the hopes of meeting up with me?’
‘Goodness no! Like you, I love the Suffolk skies . . . No bugler tonight, Rob . . . ’ And the lights were out in the pink house, she thought.
‘Nor any night, for months now,’ he mused. ‘I’d like to do something with the barn – all that money of Lalla’s – we must give something back. I was wondering, what about a studio for young artists to use, to come and stay for very little; Aunt Hetty’s good food – it might be something for Tony to run, later on, when he becomes a fully fledged artist himself. Lalla would be proud of her children, I think – Alice will go on to University I hope.’
‘It’s a wonderful idea!’ She yawned again.
The baby was awake once more making snuffly noises, working up to a louder cry for attention. Alice, reading in bed, laid down her book, listened. She had been aware a little earlier of Angel treading quietly past her door on her way downstairs. She missed the opening of the inner door, Angel coming in for a chat. She hoped that the room next door would be little Lalla’s in time. Of course, as she was almost fourteen years older she did not expect that the two of them could become close as she and Tony still were, but she was proud to have this unexpected sister anyway.
She threw back her bedclothes. Angel obviously had not heard the baby’s wails. It was time for some sisterly ministrations!
Aunt Hetty and Tony came out of their doors simultaneously. The three of them exchanged sheepish grins. Rob was apparently still up and about for the lamps in the niches were still flickering.
They bent over the cradle and the baby, instantly aware of their attention, stopped crying. Alice looked at Aunt Hetty. She nodded. Very carefully Alice lifted the baby, wrapped in her shawl. They sat side by side on Angel and Rob’s bed and while Alice held her in her arms the other two made what they imagined to be soothing noises and waited their turn to nurse her.
After some time, Aunt Hetty went to the top of the stairs and called down: ‘Lalla’s awake, but don’t worry we’re looking after her till you come up, you two!’
*
‘What would we do without dear Aunt Hetty?’ she asked as she so often did.
His fingers threaded through her silky hair. She lifted her face for his kiss. How fortunate she was to be here at The Angel with Rob and his family. Would Harry have been happy for her? She knew he would.
Two lonely people had come together and delighted in their closeness. Perhaps the shades of Lalla would never quite leave The Angel. But they were both happy to live with that thought.
‘I love you, Angel MacDonald,’ he murmured.
MEET SHEILA NEWBERRY
I’ve been writing since I was three years old, and even told myself stories in my cot. So it came as a shock when I was whacked round the head by my volatile kindergarten teacher for daydreaming about stories when I was supposed to be chanting the phonetic alphabet. My mother received a letter from my teacher saying ‘Sheila will not speak. Why?’. Mum told her that it was because I was scared stiff in class. I was immediately moved up two classes. Here I was given the task of encouraging the slow readers. This was something I was good at, but still felt that I didn’t fit in. Later, I learned that another teacher had saved all my compositions saying they inspired many children in later years.
I had scarlet fever in the spring of 1939, and when I returned to our home near Croydon, I saw changes which puzzled me – sandbags, shelters in back gardens, camouflaged by moss and daisies, and windows re-enforced with criss-crossed tape. Children had iron rations in Oxo tins – we ate the contents during rehearsals for air-raids – and gas masks were given out. I especially recall the stifling rubber. We spent the summer holiday, as usual, in Suffolk and I remember being puzzled when my father left us there.‘War’ was not mentioned, but we were now officially evacuees, living with relatives in a small cottage in a sleepy village.
On and off, we returned to London at the wrong times. We were bombed out in 1940 and dodging doodlebugs in 1943. I thought of Suffolk as my home. I was still writing – on fly leaves of books cut out by friends – and every Friday I told stories about Black eyed Bill the Pirate to the whole school in the village hut. I wrote my first pantomime at nine years old, and was awarded the part of Puss in Boots. I wore a costume made from blackout curtains. We were back in our patched up London home to celebrate VE night and dancing in the street. Lights blazed – it was very exciting.
I had a moment of glory when I won an essay writing competition which 3000 school children had entered. The subject was waste paper, which we all collected avidly! At my new school I was encouraged by my teachers to concentrate on English Literature and Language, History and Art, and I did well in my final exams. I wanted to be a writer, but was told there was a shortage of paper! True. I wrote stories all the time and read many books. I was useless at games like netball, as I was so short-sighted – I didn’t see the ball until it hit me. I still loved acting, and my favourite Shakespearian parts were Shylock and Lady Macbeth.
When I left school, I worked in London at an academic publisher. I had wanted to be a reporter, but I couldn’t ride a bike! Two years after school I met my husband, John. We had nine children and lived on a smallholding in Kent with many pets (and pests). I wrote the whole time. The children did, too, but they were also artistic like John. We were all very happy. I acquired a typewriter and wrote short stories for children, articles on family life and romance for magazines. I received wonderful feedback. I soon graduated to writing novels and joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association. I have had many books published over the years and am over the moon to see my books out in the world once again.
