Hope at Holly Cottage (11 page)

He was waiting, alert as a fox, and sprang out in front of her and had her pinned up against the wall before you could say ‘knife’. She was staring up at him, eyes wide and bolting with terror. Well, let her suffer. She’d made him suffer enough!

‘Where is she?’ he spat. ‘Where’s my Anna?’

Ethel gazed up at him, her face white. ‘I-I doesn’t know,’ she finally stammered.

‘Oh, yes, you do! She writes to you! I saw a letter this morning!’

He banged Ethel’s head back against the wall and watched her wince and suck the breath through her teeth before she looked back at him.

‘The post don’t arrive till after I leaves for work,’ she retorted, bunching her lips in defiance. ‘I really doesn’t know—’

‘Liar! You’ve known all along where she is. Now tell me!’

His fist drove into her stomach, for by Christ he’d get it from her. She doubled up, leaning over his arm, and he forced her shoulders up against the wall again. Her face was twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut.

‘I doesn’t … know,’ she groaned. ‘She writes, but she don’t give no address, I swears it.’

‘Tell that to the marines! Joined at the hip, you two!’

This time, his fist smashed across her face, and there was an ominous crack. Through the black fog of his fury, Vince heard her scream. The force of the blow had bent her over to one side, and when he dragged her back up, blood was streaming down from her nose. Vince took her by the shoulders and shook her like a rag doll.

‘Now, where is she?’ he bellowed in her ear.

He waited, breathing hard, giving her a chance to recover. He could feel her shaking, tears of desperation escaping from beneath her closed eyes.

‘I doesn’t know,’ she moaned, spluttering through the blood that was dripping into her mouth. ‘An’ if I did, I damned well wouldn’t tell
you
!’

That was it! Vince stood back, letting her slide down to the pavement. She knew! Of course she knew! In a red flash of rage, his boot flew out. He couldn’t stop it. Fury overtook him, rampaging through his deranged mind. He had to teach her a lesson! For everything that had happened.

‘Hey, what the hell …?’

A man’s cry in the evening calm, footsteps pounding towards him, shook Vince from his explosion of anger. He stood back, breathless, gazing in disbelief at Ethel curled up in a ball at his feet as she tried to protect herself. Dear God, what
was
he doing?

He took flight, running down the street. Paused at the corner to glance over his shoulder. The man had stopped, was bending over Ethel. Then another figure joined him and
the first man took up the pursuit. Fast on his feet, speeding, catching him up.

Vince catapulted forward, drenched in a sweat of fear. Run, run, get away. Leap onto a passing bus. Out of the maze of backstreets to the main road. Nothing must stop him. If he was caught, he would be done for. Ethel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just so
angry
.

The main road. At last. There was a bus. On the other side, just pulling away from the stop. Salvation. He could easily dodge the traffic. The way was clear, and he blundered out into the road.

The lorry driver saw the man run straight out in front of him, and slammed on the brakes. But he knew it was too late and shuddered at the loud thud.

Mr Jackson looked up in irritation at the repeated ringing of the front doorbell, and scowled. ‘Who the devil can it be at this hour?’

‘Impatient, whoever it is,’ Mrs Davenport grumbled.

Anna glanced across the kitchen as she put away the last of the china dinner service, and watched as Mr Jackson made for the door. Well, it would be nothing to do with her, and she didn’t really care. All she could think about was her conversation with Lady Ashcroft earlier that afternoon. She was still dazed, carrying out her duties mechanically. And yet the truth was slowly filtering into her brain. Gilbert was marrying some other girl. Some stuck-up flibbertigibbet who had stolen Anna’s true love because she came from a privileged family. And Anna’s life had been shredded into tortured ribbons. What was she to do? How could she get out of going to London with Lady
Ashcroft? She couldn’t go to the wedding. It would break her.

She didn’t lift her head as Mr Jackson came back in. He or Mrs Davenport might see the tears she could feel welling in her eyes.

‘Anna,’ the butler said brusquely. ‘Look sharp. There are two policemen to see you. One’s an inspector. They’re waiting for you in the hall.’

‘Come on in, Anna, love. Ethel be still abed, but she’s proper fine.’

Mabel’s expression was a mixture of warm welcoming and deep compassion, and Anna was so grateful. After all, Mabel could have turned against her after what had happened, but instead her friend’s mum had taken her under her fiercely protective wing for the second time in her young life.

‘Thanks, Mrs Shallaford. Is it OK if I go up?’

‘Of course it is, maid. You’m welcome any time, you knows that.’

Anna nodded and hurried up the narrow, uncarpeted stairs, to Ethel’s bedroom. Ethel had only been out of hospital a few days and was propped up on a mound of pillows, noisily working her way through the box of Quality Street Anna had brought her the previous evening. The bruising that had spread from her nose to both her eyes had faded from dark purple to green, and even to yellow on the edges.
But when Ethel shifted in the bed, Anna noticed her wince from her cracked ribs and all but cowered with remorse.

‘I feel so awful about this,’ she muttered, ‘and yet you’ve all been so kind.’

‘Well, it weren’t your fault, Annie. An’ there weren’t no serious damage to me insides, an’ to tell the truth, I doesn’t think my mum’s fussed over us so much since I were a tacker, so it’s quite nice really. I’s just sorry I weren’t able to go to the funeral.’

‘The funeral?’ Anna started with surprise. ‘My father did this to you, and you wanted to go to his funeral?’

‘I wanted to support
you
, Annie.’ Ethel’s eyes were steady with earnest. ‘’E
were
your dad, after all. An’ you knows what the doctors said arterwards. About the way ’e were. Could’ve just been severe depression, or summat to do with ’is brain from the war. We’ll never know, I s’ppose. But come on. Park your bum on there,’ she smiled perkily, patting the bed.

Anna returned her smile somewhat ruefully as she sat down. Ethel hadn’t changed, despite the attack. There wasn’t an ounce of bitterness in her.

‘I’m still so sorry. Especially about your nose.’

Ethel gave a wry chuckle. ‘I never were an oil painting, so a slightly crooked conk won’t make much difference! An’ Bert’s mum wrote to ’en to tell ’en what ’appened, an’ Bert says ’e’ll still love me, an’ that’s all I cares about. Told ’is CO that I’s ’is fiancée so as ’e can ’ave some compassionate leave. Should arrive tomorrow some time.’

Her eyes were brilliant for the first time, Anna reflected, since the assault. Anna smiled back. ‘That’s great! How long’s he got?’

‘Just a few days, but it’s better than nothing. Won’t be
able to get up to any hanky-panky, mind. Not that we would anyway,’ Ethel added hastily as she turned a shade of pink. ‘I means, a kiss an’ a cuddle’s OK, like in the back row at the pictures. But nort more. Don’t believe in proper relations afore marriage, us doesn’t, neither on us. Shows a lack o’ respect for each other, Bert says, an’ I agrees. Only wayward strumpets does that kind o’ thing.’

The words were spoken with conviction, making Anna’s heart buck in her chest. Ethel was nodding adamantly, and Anna prayed that her friend wouldn’t be aware of the strangling regret that clawed at her own throat. Ethel must never know her terrible, shameful secret. Ethel was all she had left, and she couldn’t lose her now. And yet she felt she had betrayed her on two counts, her father and her affair with Gilbert.

Ethel was nodding, her eyes still bright, and then the happy expression slid from her face. ‘What about you, now, Annie? What you’m going to do? You knows we doesn’t like you being all alone at your ’ouse. Right welcome you are to come an’ live yere with us. You knows Mum and Dad ’ave said so.’

Anna’s guilt deepened. This, when she was to blame for everything. ‘Yes, I know they have. And I’m very grateful. But I can’t possibly accept. I’ll … I’ll have to go back. For a little while, anyway.’

‘What? Go back to Ashcroft Hall, you means, when they’ve treated you so bad, like?’

Anna looked down at her hands, playing with them on her lap. ‘It’s the only thing I can do for the moment. Even if I got a job in Plymouth straight away, I couldn’t afford the rent on the house, and Dad left arrears as well. I can settle up with the landlord out of my savings, but I’d rather build them
up again before I branch out on my own. And life’s not so bad at the Hall,’ she went on with growing assurance. ‘Lady Ashcroft’s been really good over all this. She said I was to take as long as I needed. Some people in her position might not have wanted me back with all the scandal about Dad attacking you all over the papers, but she said none of it was my fault and I’m to go back when I’m ready.’

‘She’d ’ave a job to replace someone as good as you, I reckons she meant,’ Ethel scoffed. ‘An’ I bets that Sir Gilbert ’as got summat to do with your decision, too.’

‘Sir Gilbert?’ Anna’s heart fragmented at the mention of his name, but she mustn’t let Ethel know of the agony that still tore her apart. ‘Oh, he was married last weekend,’ she managed to shrug casually. ‘In London. You see, I told you there was nothing between us.’

‘Oh. Oh, all right, then.’ To her relief, Ethel looked quite satisfied. ‘But are you sure you won’t come an’ live with us? We’d love you to.’

With the tension eased, Anna was able to smile broadly. ‘Where would I sleep? In the bath – if you had one? And I couldn’t stand your mum’s cooking.’

She saw Ethel laugh, and then grimace as she held her painful ribs. Oh, dear. Another reminder, and Anna felt ashamed. She had lied to her dear friend again. At least, all she had said was true, but her main reason for returning to Ashcroft Hall was to prove to Ethel – and to herself – that Gilbert meant nothing to her at all anymore.

‘You must be Anna,’ the clear young voice stated with apparent delight. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

I bet you have
. The acid words sparked through Anna’s
brain in a flash of bitterness as she came through the servants’ door and nearly bumped into the strange girl who was sauntering along the upstairs corridor. Anna had deliberately been avoiding the newly-weds who had returned from their honeymoon that afternoon. But she had to see Gilbert’s wife sometime, and might as well have a visual image to heap her scorn upon. And so she lifted her head.

Mrs Francesca Ashcroft was a tiny wisp of a thing, even more petite than Anna herself and certainly not much older. She had the air of someone who appeared lost in this great house, more like a timid maid on her first day of service, and Anna felt her disdain unexpectedly retreating. For a few moments, she was quite deflated and unsure of herself.

‘Yes, I’m Anna, Lady Ashcroft.’ And then she found herself saying, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy at Ashcroft Hall.’

‘Oh, I’m sure I will be. I haven’t been here since I was a child, and it isn’t really how I remember it at all! It used to frighten me a bit, but now I can see it’s just, well, dowdy and depressing. It could be really lovely, though, if it was updated a bit, don’t you think?’

Anna was quite taken aback. ‘I-well, I’d never really thought about it,’ she stammered. ‘I was just about to put these flowers in your room, if that’s all right?’

‘Oh, aren’t they lovely! From the garden, are they?’

‘Yes. Mr Smudge—’

‘Does he still do the gardening? I remember how kind he was when I was little. Oh, let me open the door for you.’

‘Thank you, Lady Ashcroft.’

Anna was overwhelmed. And a touch annoyed. She had wanted to hate this vixen who had taken Gilbert from her. Had wanted her to be haughty and aloof so
that she could despise her even more. But Francesca was warm and engaging, and on first impressions, Anna rather liked her. It was so confusing, and Anna felt somewhat ashamed.

‘Shall I put the flowers on this side table, Lady Ashcroft?’ she asked amiably. ‘If I put them by the window, they won’t last so long.’

‘Yes, thank you. Oh, they look perfect there. And so beautifully arranged. Did you do them?’

‘Yes, I did, actually, Lady Ashcroft,’ Anna answered with a touch of pride.

‘I thought so. Gilbert said you were good at flower arranging. In fact, he said you’re good at most things and that he reckons Mrs Davenport’s a bit jealous because you’d probably do her job better than she does. I’ve only been here a couple of hours and already I can see she’s a right old dragon.’

Her eyes had stretched with innocence, like two cornflower saucers of fine porcelain, Anna thought. As the lady dowager had said, her daughter-in-law was a lovely girl, like a fresh spring breeze, and was totally oblivious to Anna’s tortured feelings over Gilbert. Anna vowed at once to make up for any rancour she might have shown towards her.

‘She is a bit,’ she smiled back. ‘But she is very efficient and I’ve learnt a lot from her.’

‘Well, I think you’re very generous about her. She said she’d come and unpack for me shortly, but I’d much prefer you to do it. We could do it together. It’d be much more fun. In fact, I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be so nice to have someone of my own age to talk to, especially when Gilbert’s locked away in the study working. Lady Prue’s all
right, but I’d like to have you as my friend as well.’

She had taken Anna’s hands, her eyes dancing happily, and Anna gazed back almost mesmerised. The girl had a magnetic charm, and Anna had a vision of a whirlwind of twinkling stars swooping about the room with her, like in a Walt Disney film. Anna broke into a smile, both at hearing her mistress referred to as ‘Lady Prue’, and at Francesca’s open and endearing manner.

‘Of course, Lady Ashcroft. I’d be delighted.’

‘Well, in that case, you must drop the “Lady Ashcroft” bit,’ she grinned back. ‘I much prefer to be called plain “Frankie”.’

‘How could you, Gilbert?’ Anna hissed between clenched teeth. ‘You led me on, made me believe there was a future for us.
Seduced
me, for God’s sake, when all along, you knew you were about to marry someone else.’

She had found herself unexpectedly alone with Gilbert, and all her tamped-down emotions suddenly erupted in a fountain of anger. She hadn’t been feeling too good the last few days, either, and right now she was powerless to hold back the festering rage that boiled up inside her.

‘Hang on there, old girl.’ Gilbert turned mildly surprised eyes on her. ‘When did I ever say I’d marry you?’

Anna stared at him, and gulped, his words striking her beneath the ribs. ‘You didn’t,’ she retorted. ‘But you implied that you would. You talked about us having a future together. About telling your mother about us.’

‘And I suppose I might have done,’ Gilbert shrugged carelessly as he stirred his coffee. ‘I
was
very fond of you,
and under other circumstances, I might have considered you as a wife. But then there was this thing with Frankie’s father. I didn’t know that was going to happen, did I? Mother would have been frightfully upset if I’d backed out. She’d never have forgiven me. What was a chap to do? It was always understood that I’d marry Frankie, and I couldn’t let her down just when she needed me, could I?’

‘Needed you?’ Anna shook her head in an agony of frustration. ‘That poor girl needs you like a hole in the head!’

‘Oh, come now, Anna. She’d have been devastated if I’d turned her down.’

Anna’s eyes narrowed to frosty slits. ‘For five minutes, maybe. Until she realised what a weak, spineless cad you are. If you’d had any guts, you’d have stood up to your mother long ago. I
was
jealous, you know. Broken-hearted and angry. But now I’m
glad
that you married Francesca because it saved me from it. I’m not jealous anymore. And I feel really sorry for Francesca for being tied to such a treacherous bastard for the rest of her life!’

She watched as his jaw dropped a mile. But she didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she spun on her heel and marched out of the room. It would have been satisfying to slam the door, but she mustn’t. It would show she had lost control. And for the sake of the gentle, trusting girl who was taking her breakfast in bed that morning, Anna must keep her sordid affair with Gilbert a secret.

That’s what it seemed to her now, sordid and dirty. What a fool she had been! But telling Gilbert what she thought of him had been a release. The tension had emptied out of her, but with it, she felt even sicker than before. She couldn’t go on like this, her stomach cramped with nerves all the time.
She felt so awful, she had just been picking at her food recently. But confronting Gilbert – and realising she was well and truly over him – had set her much more at ease. As if the twisted threads of her life had miraculously begun to unravel.

She squared her slim shoulders resolutely. It was now mid June. She calculated that, in a month’s time, she should have saved enough and could hand in her notice. By the end of July, she could be free of Ashcroft Hall and its unhappy memories for ever. Perhaps she would go and stay with Ethel just for a week or so until she could find suitable digs, and then take her time looking for a new, better-paid job. Enrol in evening classes when the new term started in September. She didn’t have to worry any more about her dad finding her, did she? So she could pick up her life again where she had left off, in Plymouth, among her friends.

The thought filled her with pleasure.

‘I shall miss you so much when we go back to London,’ Francesca declared in her trusting, childlike way. ‘But you’ll be here whenever we come to visit, so I’ll look forward to it even more. I’ve rediscovered my childhood love of Dartmoor, but, of course, I want to be near Daddy for … for as long as I can.’

Her bright, girlish voice trailed off in a sigh of sadness, and Anna saw her lower her eyes. Anna felt a twinge of guilt, for she couldn’t tell Frankie that next time she came to stay with her mother-in-law, her new friend would be gone.

‘It was like that for me when I came to work here,’ Anna said instead, ignoring Francesca’s last remark. ‘I was evacuated to Tavistock during the war, you know. We used to come up on the moor sometimes. Get the train up to Burrator
and have a picnic. Or sometimes there was a special bus excursion up to Princetown and we’d get off somewhere on the way because it was cheaper. Not with my mum, though. She’d had to stay in Plymouth because of my dad. He’d been badly hurt rescuing some people from a bombed building, you see.’