Hope at Holly Cottage (18 page)

Anna tried not to listen as she aimlessly turned the pages of that week’s
Woman’s Own
that Queenie had brought in for her. But she found her ears tuned to the conversation by the next bed, and her pulse began to race. It would be her turn next, a moment of decision. The moment when she could say, no, it will be better for Charlie to be adopted. But she knew she couldn’t do it. She loved him too much. Selfish as it may be, now that she had cared for, cuddled, fed by her own breast the scrap of humanity who had somehow wormed his way into her heart, she could not give him up.

‘Now, then, Mrs … er?’ the registrar said, turning to her.

She glared up at him, her chin jutting determinedly as if he were the enemy. ‘Millington. Anna Millington.’

‘I need the child’s details first, please. Name and date of the birth.’

‘Charles Millington. Twelfth of January.’

‘Oka … ay. Cha … arles, and the twelfth,’ the fellow repeated as he filled in his ledger with perfect handwriting.
‘Now, the father’s full name and rank or profession, please?’

Anna’s mouth filled up with bile. Rank? Baronet. What a fiasco! If Gilbert had meant to marry her as she had believed, Charlie would have been in line for the baronetcy. Now the only title he would ever bear was ‘bastard’.

‘Can you put ‘father unknown’, please?’

The fellow raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah. Am I to take it that you are
Miss
Millington and that the child is illegitimate?’

Anna gulped. It was such a horrible word. She was grateful when the registrar lowered his voice when he spoke again.

‘In that case, the father’s details will be left blank. I can only insert them if the father is present and you both agree to it.’

Anna sighed with relief. At least she hadn’t been forced to acknowledge Gilbert as Charlie’s father. She just wished – oh, how she wished – that she had a loving husband to help bring Charlie up. But she and Queenie were determined to make a wonderful life for him, and what better place to grow up than Dartmoor?

‘You’m up early, cheel.’ Queenie’s face was a picture of concerned surprise as she waddled into the kitchen in her dressing gown. ‘Don’t say as the babby kept you up all night?’

‘No, just the opposite,’ Anna beamed. ‘He didn’t wake up for his night feed until five o’clock. He’s gone back to sleep now, so I thought I might as well get up.’

‘It’s only just gone six, mind,’ Queenie frowned. ‘You’ll be mortal tired later on.’

‘Probably,’ Anna grimaced. ‘But it means he might start going through the night soon. Oh, at last! But they say most babies start going through the night about six weeks, so Charlie’s bang on target.’

‘Yes, the little lover. Cold last night, weren’t it? Let’s ’ave a nice ’ot cup o’ tea as soon as the kettle boils.’

Five minutes later they were sipping their tea in easy silence by the amber glow from the oil lamps, the quiet before
the busy activities of the day. On top of all the usual chores and caring for the goats and the hens, there was Charlie to look after. He filled their lives with joy, and Queenie was only too happy to sit with him on her lap and cuddle away his whimperings. Not that he cried a great deal at all. He was a contented little soul, and when he was awake, his intelligent eyes followed them around the room.

Today Anna would be washing Charlie’s nappies, the one job he created that she hated. They had been soaking overnight in two buckets in the outhouse in a weak solution of disinfectant. Later she would have to scrub them and then boil them up with Omo in a huge old saucepan on the range, then rinse them in several lots of water. Fortunately, Queenie had an old mangle in the yard which helped enormously, but it had been bitterly cold outside, and Anna’s hands were becoming sore and chapped.

Light was beginning to peep through the gap in the curtains and she got up to open them fully. ‘I think it’s going to be a nice day,’ she spoke over her shoulder. ‘It’s a bit frosty, but there’s a lovely sunrise.’

‘Well, end o’ February. Spring’ll be just around the corner if we’m lucky. I tells you what, mind. Proper maudlin I be about them closing the railway. Been there all my life, it ’as. I cas’n get my old brain to think it won’t be there arter next week.’

‘I know. It’s such a shame. I’ve always thought what an amazing sight it is, the old train chugging across the moor. They’re going to run the buses every day instead, though, aren’t they? And at extra times as well.’

She paused, her fine brow puckered. Queenie was staring ahead of her, eyes glazed and a vacant expression on her face. A dart of horror shot down Anna’s spine.

‘Queenie?’ she prompted, her heart beating nervously. ‘Are you all right?’

To her relief, Queenie blinked her eyes wide and looked up at her. ‘Sorry, cheel? Oh, yes. I were just thinking about the train. Always got through, it did. Roads blocked wi’ snow, but the train got through. Leastways, all but a couple o’ times. 1927 as I do mind. And 1947. Worst snow since the Great Blizzard of 1891, they said.’

‘1947? Oh, yes, I remember that!’ Anna was so happy that Queenie had only been daydreaming that she felt quite animated. ‘Funny, really. To think of you living up here in the snow, when I was walking to school in it down in Plymouth. Not so far away, and yet not knowing the other existed. And yet, here we are now … Funny thing, fate.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. All I know is that I’ll miss that there train. Ah, well.’ Queenie gave a heartfelt sigh, making Anna frown again. She must find a way to cheer her dear friend up again.

‘Let’s have breakfast in peace while Charlie’s still asleep,’ she said brightly.

‘That’ll be a first!’ Queenie chuckled, and Anna felt satisfied as she began to set on the table the bread, butter, their own home-made jam, milk from the goats, cornflakes and the packet of Sugar Puffs she had treated herself to. Feeding Charlie, she felt constantly hungry and yet she had very quickly regained her figure.

‘Oh, there’s the postman,’ she said as she happened to look out of the window.

‘Ooo, ’ow exciting! I’ll get it!’

‘OK. I’ll top up the pot.’

Anna busied herself with the tea and then sat down at
the table to wait for Queenie who was chatting with the postman. They didn’t get much post, so Anna glanced up expectantly as Queenie came back in, squinting at the envelope in her hand.

‘It’s for you, cheel, I think. Cas’n see proper like wi’out my glasses.’

‘That’s odd. It’s postmarked London. I don’t know anyone in London. Oh. Not unless …’

Her heart gave a little jump. Yes. It must be from Frankie. She had almost given up on expecting a reply to the letter she had entrusted to Mrs Smudge. She didn’t even know if the farmer’s wife had managed to pass it on, though evidently she had, or Frankie wouldn’t have known where to send a letter to. Anna held her breath as she began to read the childish handwriting, for heaven knew what it contained.

Dear Anna

Mrs Smudge secretly gave me your letter when we came down to Ashcroft Hall a few weeks ago. I read it and burnt it straight away in case anyone found it. This is the first chance I’ve had to write back without anyone knowing.

Well, at least that didn’t seem like the prelude to something nasty and accusing. But Frankie was clearly under pressure, and that was cause for concern. Anna pursed her lips as she read on.

Of course I don’t blame you for what had already happened. Gilbert obviously isn’t the person I always believed him to be, so we were both fooled by him. It’s hard to think that he was unfaithful before we were even married, but much as we were childhood sweethearts, looking back, I think he was pressurised into the marriage. Lady Ashcroft
can be a formidable force when she wants to be, but it’s poor excuse for the mess it has made of all our lives.

She was absolutely livid, you know. Outwardly, mainly at you, but I think at bottom, really at Gilbert. Although she denies it, I think she knows jolly well you were telling the truth. I overheard her telling him off, saying how disgusted she was with him and that he had sullied the name of Ashcroft. The next morning, we were bundled back to London. She could see how you and I had become friends and obviously wanted to put an end to it. So we’ll have to be very careful.

Everything’s strained between Gilbert and me as you might imagine. And then my father passed away just before Christmas. We’d hidden everything from him, of course, so at least he died thinking he was leaving everything as he wanted. I miss him so much, I can’t tell you
.

Oh dear, poor Frankie. Anna chewed her bottom lip. She knew what it was to grieve for a beloved parent. She still wanted to believe that everything had been a bad dream. That she would snap her fingers and find herself back in Ford with her mum and dad. And now Frankie, too, was lost in that same emptiness.

Anna shook her head and forced herself to read on.

Christmas was horrible, but afterwards, Gilbert thought it would be good for me to go down to Ashcroft Hall for a break. So he does still consider my feelings. In fact in many ways, we’re a normal married couple. It’s just that our ‘relations’ don’t feel right anymore, knowing that he’d been with you before.

Anna pulled herself up sharply. That made it sound so cold and sordid. And it hadn’t been. Not on her side, anyway. But
there was no malice in Frankie’s words. She was only trying to express how she felt. If there was to be any chance of their friendship continuing, Anna would just have to accept it.

You must have had the baby by now, so I hope it all went well. I wonder if you had a boy or a girl? And I must say that I’m actually quite jealous. It would be wonderful to have a child to love unreservedly, but we haven’t been blessed yet. But I’d love to see your child, and to see you again, too.

Please don’t write to me again. It isn’t fair on Mrs Smudge, and it’s too dangerous. If Gilbert or his mother found out we’d been in contact, they’d never let me come to Ashcroft Hall again. But next time we do, I’ll try to get word to you and we can meet secretly somewhere. I’m learning to drive, so perhaps I can borrow Gilbert’s precious car one day when he’s occupied in the study. I’ll really look forward to it, and in the meantime look after yourself and the little one.

Your friend always

Francesca

Anna lowered the sheet of paper onto her lap. She was so lucky. She might not have much money, but she had Charlie, she had Ethel and her family, Queenie, and now Carrie. Frankie was well off – no, more than that, rich – but she had nobody except a husband she could never trust again, and a domineering mother-in-law.

As if to echo her thoughts, an impatient wail had started to filter in from her bedroom. Charlie. More than ever, she couldn’t wait to scoop him up in her arms.

‘I’ll get ’er!’ Queenie dived in, already halfway to the door.

Anna shook her head with a smile. After his feed, she would give Charlie his bath and he would probably stay
awake a little longer before she put him down again. And then she could get on with the nappies.

She glanced over her shoulder as Queenie came back into the room, crooning over Charlie’s scowling cries. Queenie doted on him as much as she did, as if she were his real grandmother. In future years, Anna would have to be careful that Queenie didn’t spoil him too much!

But what had Queenie said just now? I’ll get ’
er
? Anna knew that sometimes Queenie used the Devonshire ‘’er’ meaning ‘he’, but Devonshire for ‘him’ was ‘’en’. So, Queenie had actually said, ‘I’ll get
her
.’ Anna gave a cold shiver. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed such a slip of the older woman’s tongue. She prayed it would be the last.

Anna watched the bull-nosed bus rumble to a halt beside her. Her darting eyes eagerly scoured the windows. Ah, there they were! The door opened. There was Carrie with Polly in her arms and they hugged each other as tightly as they could without squashing the child between them.

‘You’re here at last!’ Anna crowed jubilantly. ‘It’s so good to see you both!’

‘Phew! I don’t know how you manage coming down to Tavistock so often for the baby clinic.’

‘It’s not easy!’ Anna laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe that such little things need such a lot of paraphernalia just to come out for a few hours, would you?’

‘Well, we’re here now,’ Carrie announced triumphantly, then paused to gaze around her. ‘Gosh, is that Holly Cottage? How quaint!’

‘Come along in. Queenie can’t wait to see you again, either. She’s planning on taking us for a picnic.’

‘Lucky it’s such a nice day, then.’

‘Really warm for May, isn’t it? Almost like summer.’

They ambled along the uneven lane to the cottage. Carrie was all eyes as she went inside. Queenie had jammed open the front door so that a brilliant shaft of sunlight flooded over the flagstone floor.

‘Not opening the tea room today,’ she informed her young friends importantly. ‘You’m all right wi’ a little stroll on the moor?’

‘Oh, yes. But I can’t carry Polly very far, I’m afraid.’

‘Ah, ha, we thought of that!’ Anna chortled. ‘I’ve made a sort of carry-sling for Charlie that I use quite a bit, so I’ve made one for you as well.’

‘Did you? Oh, how kind! This is going to be quite an adventure, I can see!’

A little while later, they set out across the moor. The air was still and fragrant with the scent of gorse, the rolling hills greening up in the warm sunshine and the towering granite tors standing out majestically in the distance. At last, they came to the spot Queenie had been aiming for, a flat grassy area next to a lively stream. Anna shook out the rug and they settled the children on it before opening their own picnic. Queenie produced a small kettle which she filled from the brook, then she gathered some dry heather and lit a small fire on a large flat stone that she declared she had used many times in her life so that there was no risk of the flames spreading.

‘We could have had a thermos,’ Carrie whispered out of earshot.

‘Yes, I know. But it wouldn’t be the same. Not for Queenie, anyway. I couldn’t spoil it for her.’

‘Oh, she’s coming. Gosh, you are clever, Queenie!’ Carrie said, raising her voice. ‘I’ve got an electric kettle. Couldn’t manage anything else! And with Jeffery being an electrician—’

‘How is he, by the way?’

‘He’s fine, thank you. Loving fatherhood! Worries about his mum, though. She’s in a home, you see. A good one, but she’s completely senile, so when Jeffery’s dad died, there was really no alternative. We take Polly to see her sometimes, but she really doesn’t know who we are.’

Carrie paused, a rueful expression on her lips. It seemed strange to see her normal buoyant self so deflated and Anna squeezed her hand. She always envied Carrie her happy marriage and loving home, but it seemed nobody’s life was without its problems.

‘Try not to let it spoil your day out,’ she said limply.

Carrie at once broke out in a smile. ‘You’re absolutely right, of course. This is a real treat! Nothing like eating out of doors, is there? Those sandwiches look good. What’s in them?’

‘They’m Spam with mustard.’ Queenie dipped her head proudly as she unfolded one packet of greaseproof paper. ‘An’ they’m egg an’ cress. Our own eggs, an’ us growed the cress on the window sill.’

‘Oh, how splendid!’

‘It is, isn’t it? And just now, I want everything to stay just as it is. For ever and ever. Don’t you, Carrie?’

Carrie grinned as she lounged back on the rug. ‘Yes, absolutely. And I’m so glad we met in the hospital. With me being relatively new to the area, and Jeffery having no family to speak of and mine so far away, it’s good to have a new friend.’

‘Where does your family live, then, cheel?’

‘Surrey. At least, my parents do. My brother’s up north.’

‘I didn’t realise you had a brother,’ Anna said in surprise as she bit into one of the egg sandwiches.

‘Mmm, yes. Jack. Older than me. Did his National Service and then got an apprenticeship in gardening up in Yorkshire. Fully trained now, though, he is, but he stayed on at the same place. He’s passionate about gardening. Out in all weathers. Not like me. I love my garden in the summer, but in bad weather, you can keep it! Oh, I think I’d better open Polly’s jar of baby food. She’s starting to grizzle.’