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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Copyright © Glynis Peters 2018

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Cover photograph ©Stephen Mulcahey (girl), Fox Photos/Stringer/Getty Images (background)

Glynis Peters asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008300951

Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008300944

Version: 2019-12-06

For my grandchildren

Finley – my handsome Canadian Bear Cub

Seren, and Palin, my beautiful English roses

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Elenor and Rose’s Story

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

1941

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

1942

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

14th November 1940: Coventry, England.

Boom.

Boom.

The ground vibrated with each explosion. Unfamiliar sounds surrounded Rose Sherbourne as her body received blow after blow from displaced items of furniture. She jumped when shattering glass hit falling bricks, and everything around her crashed under their weight. Boom.

Another explosion, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal, echoed out around Rose’s ears and her breath came thick and fast. Through the opening of what was once the front room, a sudden blast of hot air blew both her and her mother off their feet. Rose’s body fell against something hard and a searing pain shot through her back. For a few seconds she could not see, and she blinked, only to feel fine dust fall on her cheeks and into her eyes yet again. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and prepared herself to scrabble upright.

Boom.

A wall fell around her and, unable to move both with fear and because something was pinning down her right leg, Rose took a moment to catch her breath. Above her an intense whistling sound screamed from the sky, followed by an eerie whooshing sound. A continuous whistle followed. Rose held her breath. The sound meant only one thing; another bomb would explode within seconds and all she could do was pray it was away from her home.

Boom.

The rest of the wall fell, and she watched helplessly as brick after brick fell to the floor and her mother’s body bounced as it was forced into the air for a second time. Rose tried to move but she felt a crushing sensation, a gripping tightness across her chest. She tried to struggle free from the bricks pinning her to the ground. Her chest hurt each time she tried to cough free the dust she’d inhaled when she hit the floor.

A piercing sound screeched above and once again the planes dropped their unwelcome packages.

Thud.

Thud.

One by one.

Two by two.

Rose counted them down.

One by one.

Two by two.

She could hear return fire and engines drifting off into the distance.

The sky fell silent.

The enemy were heading back to wherever they’d come from and a stunned Rose blinked away the dust, trying to make sense of what had happened. Indescribable noises came from above and she raised her eyes skyward and saw a large bright moon taunting her with its white light. There was no roof.

Bombed. The bombs had hit her home.

Rose’s ears tingled inside and with each noise she felt a strange vibration along her jawline. With focus upon her face she sensed heat. Her cheeks burned as if it was a hot summer’s day.

There’d been a thick frost all day, but it did nothing to suppress the heat from the raging flames nearby. With relief, Rose noted they were not close enough to burn her, but they were fierce enough to make her skin tingle and sweat.

She set her mind to where she lay and which room she was in when the bombs had hit. She needed to work out an escape route before she suffocated. Fear raged through her tiny body, and a sense of loneliness overwhelmed her. She lay back with exhaustion and as she focused upon the light of the moon, questions raced around her mind.

Why hadn’t Mummy taken her to the shelter when they heard the siren sound out its warning?

Why, instead of running to safety like they usually did, did Mummy hum Rose’s favourite piano piece – Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata – and twirl around as if showing off a new dress? She’d acted excited – strange.

With a sob, Rose remembered how her mother had screamed at her to keep playing, and how her voice had growled it out with such a fierce urgency it had frightened Rose. When Rose pleaded for them to go to the shelter her mother cuffed her around the ears.

Rose’s body started to tremble until she thought her limbs would never stop no matter how hard she tried to control them. She tried to shut out the screams she could hear around her. High pitched wails of wounded neighbours. The endless shouts and pleas from the street, the screams of other children calling for their parents. Not everyone had made it to the shelters, or if they had, the shelters had failed to protect them. Either way, Rose drew no comfort from knowing she was not alone with her struggle.

She tried to turn her head away from her mother’s contorted face. Rose knew she was dead. A tear trickled down the side of Rose’s face. She was alone.

Eventually, after what seemed like many lonely hours of trying, she released an arm and began clawing at bricks and rubble. Her cries for help were suffocated by the louder voices and frantic sounds of motor engines and fire-engine bells. Rose recoiled at the pain when she scraped her skin against the shards of shattered glass and cement, but after a while she ignored the pain of bruises and gashes in her skin out of sheer desperation to survive.

When she pulled at the last of the bricks, nothing prepared her for the moment she clambered free into devastation and despair.

The moonlight lit the path for a man as he staggered past calling out a woman’s name. He gave Rose a glance, shook his head, and she saw pouring blood running from a gaping hole in his forehead. She turned away and looked across at what she assumed was once the other side of their street but was now nothing more than rubble heaps and bonfires. Seated on an upturned tin bath, she saw a woman screaming into what looked like a ragdoll lying limp in her arms. She pleaded for it to come back to life.

Rose started towards the woman, she wanted to tell her that ragdolls weren’t real and that the woman needed to go somewhere safe, but she took no more than four steps when a noise from behind distracted her. Confused and bewildered, Rose turned around and stumbled back to the hollow she’d made for herself. She called through the opening.

‘Mummy? Mummy? It’s all right, I’m coming. I’ll help you.’

She tugged at the obstacles in her way. Furniture and twisted pipes, hissing in the night air hampered her movements. Her hands bled and burned against hot bricks and pipes. She inhaled air which dried her mouth with ash. And then, despite wanting to save her mother, she sighed with bittersweet relief when a fireman lifted her to safety.

‘Come on love, let’s get you seen to. You’re safe now, little one.’ His husky voice sounded tired.

‘Put me down. Please, go and get Mummy. She’s under the bricks. I need you to save her. Her name is Victoria.’ Rose begged and squirmed in his arms.

The fireman pulled her closer to his body, running. He paid little heed to her high-pitched pleas, and after they turned a corner, Rose never saw Stephenson Road, or her mother again.

Rose called out and tried to pound the chest of the fireman but the pain in her hands brought about only more screams.

Even the violet-perfumed, comforting arms of a plump lady from the Women’s Voluntary Service did nothing to stop the trembling and terrors which surged through her body. The woman crooned words of comfort as she carried Rose to a makeshift medical tent, and stroked her head before unhooking Rose’s gasmask from around her neck. Rose could smell the difference between her and the nurse who dressed her wounds.

The slightest hint of perfume from violets or the smell of disinfectant could still take her back to that night, even now, after seventy-eight years.

23rd November 2018

Wartime nightmares and memories often caught up with Rose during her afternoon naps, and she jerked herself awake from this latest one. She wiped away a thin layer of sweat from her top lip, and despite feeling warm, she shivered and pulled her cardigan around her. Her knees creaked as she rose from her chair and shuffled into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she sat and remembered telling the woman her name and calling for Elenor.

‘Elenor. I want Elenor.’

‘Hush now, little one. We’ll find Mummy and your sister. You rest now.’

‘Elenor is not my sister. She’s on the farm. Mummy’s not coming back. I want Elenor.’

She remembered hearing the woman arrange for a cot-bed and blanket to be placed in the corner of the tent whilst she sought a place for Rose to stay until the rest of her family were found. Rose had tried to tell her she had no family and her daddy had died a long time ago, but the woman told her to rest. She’d lain there, clutching the wooden-framed photograph of her and her parents. The fireman who had rescued her brought it to the tent and Rose overheard him telling the nurse it was all that was left of her home and family.

The recollection of the cries of pain that had echoed around the tent, followed by the hushed voices of men taking away those who had not survived the night, never left Rose. One vivid memory was of how she had lain on the bed praying in hope she was not alone in the world. For the first time in her life, at nearly seven years old, Rose understood the pain of war and loss. She understood Elenor’s fears when the war was first declared, fears her mother brushed aside as a young woman’s hysterics.

A sob caught in Rose’s throat. She missed Elenor, the woman who’d given up her dreams to ensure Rose had a secure future.

For the first few years of her life, Rose knew Elenor more as a big sister than as the employer of her parents; or at least the niece of her mother’s employer. She’d filled Rose’s life with fun and laughter, and even today – 23rd November 2018 – on Rose’s eighty-fifth birthday, memories of birthday party fun were only of those which Elenor had arranged. Her parents had never bothered to celebrate her special day.

Food shortages and rationing were never obstacles for Elenor, and as Rose prepared to meet her own beloved children for a birthday feast, she smiled. Their vibrancy and love of life was passed on by her, but she’d only learned to live again thanks to the love of her adoptive parents.

In her bedroom Rose pulled on her favourite navy dress; a classic style in wool with the zip front for easy wear. She reached into her jewellery box and pulled out the piece which was known as her birthday gem. It was not an expensive piece but Elenor had designed it, and to Rose it was invaluable. It was a Celtic knot with a small maple leaf sitting in the centre and a rosebud resting in the middle of the leaf. There was also a small inscription on the back, C to C to C. This inscription connected her to the places she was born and brought up. Coventry, the town of her birth, Cornwall, her childhood home until she was nearly nine, and Canada, the country which had embraced and nurtured her through her last stages as a child, into her teenage and adult years. Sixty-four years had passed since the day she unwrapped the pewter brooch from her adoptive parents, Elenor and Jackson, for her twenty-first birthday.

Today, Rose cursed her arthritic hands as she fumbled with the clasp, her swollen knuckles screaming old age. Once set in place, she stroked her finger over the fretwork and was transported back to the day she’d received it and of how her parents had created a treasure trail for her to follow, ending in Elenor’s battered suitcase.

She glanced with affection at the case which now nestled in the corner of her bedroom; she’d refused to part with it even after Elenor had died. She remembered seeing Elenor arrive in Coventry carrying it and filling it with her papers to take back to Cornwall. It still housed paper memories of lives well lived. It also housed a letter which held the truth about Rose’s past life, and why Elenor had chosen to leave Britain and move to Canada. A secret Elenor had kept for so many years. A secret that had saved Rose’s life.

Chapter 2

‘Happy birthday, Mom!’

The doors of Rose’s small home burst open and her family filled the silent room with their laughter and birthday greetings. Hugs and kisses were showered upon her in abundance. Floral bouquets were thrust at her from all angles and Rose felt the love flow from each of her children and her three grandchildren who stood before her, and her heart swelled with pride.

‘You guys will be the death of me! And you, you are stronger than you look, Abraham. Snowboarding suits you. Come champ, give me another hug, but be gentle this time.’

The room erupted with laughter and shouts of affectionate banter and teasing. She held open her arms for the youngest of her grandchildren. At six-foot tall he overshadowed her by several feet, and his body was that of an athlete. As he gave her the hug she’d demanded and gripped her tight, she had another pang of nostalgia. She thought of the last time her biological father had waved her goodbye. He’d given her no loving hug farewell, no warm memories for her to hold close on a dark night while Hitler’s bombs fell around them. She realised with a stab to her heart that he and her mother had left behind only questions and cold memories. She could never recall their love.

Her teenage granddaughters found a corner of the sofa and began clicking away on their mobile phones, capturing the moment to share with whomever would be interested. Rose forgave them their modern ways. Any form of communication was a good one. They always remembered her and brought her joy. Her grandson perched on the window ledge quietly cursing his cousins each time they snapped his way. Rose fussed around her sons and daughter, offering an enthusiastic thank you for the presents heaped upon her. They in turn delighted in her expressions of gratitude as she opened each parcel, folding the paper and ribbon with care. A habit from a lifetime of going without, Rose kept many items to recycle.

‘Thank you all. You spoil me. Now, I’m famished and could eat a …’

‘Carrot, Mother?’ Her daughter quipped. And once again laughter filled the room. The joke referred to her small appetite, and the fact she’d overeaten carrots during the war and could no longer face eating them.

The banter and laughter continued throughout the family meal in Rose’s favourite restaurant.

‘You don’t appreciate half of what you have,’ Rose said when plates were pushed aside and bellies declared full.

‘You’ve never really told us much about your time during the war, Mom,’ her eldest son responded.

Rose sipped a glass of cool water.

‘There’s too much to tell, and some things are so unpleasant they need to remain buried in the past. I’ve told you about Coventry, my home, the death of my parents. That’s one lifetime of darkness and confusion, lit only by your grandma and Pops Jackson.’

‘I wonder what Gran was like when she was young,’ her daughter said.

Rose sighed.

‘I only remember her from when I was about five, the year before the Second World War started. My memories before that are all a little foggy. I can remember her brothers died and that she returned to the farm. She loved it, but not them. They were cruel to her. She missed her boyfriend, your grandfather – Pops. I think he’d returned to Canada and left Coventry. Her Aunt Maude had died; she’d been my parents’ employer, and we stayed in her house until the night it was bombed to the ground. Then I went to live in Cornwall with Elenor, who adopted me and the rest is your history.’

Everyone around the table nodded or muttered their agreement.

‘Tell us more, Mom.’

Their corner of the restaurant was empty aside from their long table, and Rose’s family sat back in their seats indicating interest in her tale. Rose rarely opened up about her past, but she’d caught their attention. Even her granddaughters stopped taking selfies and pouting out their smiles to listen.

She looked at their faces, all eyes turned her way, waiting, anticipating what happened next in her story.

‘One of Elenor’s birthdays, I remember. My birth mother, Victoria, made a cake. She wouldn’t have bothered if I hadn’t worn her down and Aunt Maude hadn’t insisted. My mother never expressed joy over birthdays. In fact, I don’t even know when my own parents were born. How about that? Their papers disappeared in the bombings, and the only birthdays I remember are mine and your grandparents’.’

‘Ah, a cake for a birthday in the war must have cheered everyone up though, Mom’.

‘Oh, it did, and I’d learned to play a tune on the piano, and your gran sang songs with me. She had a beautiful voice. It was a very low-key party, nothing like today’s affairs, but oh the joy we shared. I remember for my birthday I used to love receiving a new pencil, or a notepad …’

‘Wow, they had notepads back then?’ her grandson asked.

‘Not the sort you know, son. The paper ones are what Gran’s referring to, not electrical.’

‘Oh, right. Really? You got excited over a paper book?’ he said.

‘I did. We had very little back than and expected very little. Each gift was gratefully received and treasured.’

‘Hence the old battered suitcase full of wrapping paper and string.’ Her daughter laughed, teasing her mother with a longstanding family joke. When Elenor had passed away, they’d found wrapping paper they’d used on gifts to her for years, all neatly folded in a drawer, and Rose wouldn’t allow them to throw it away, but instead put it with her private papers in Elenor’s case.

Rose grinned at them all. ‘You have all the gadgets, and shelves full of treats but how would you cope without them? Or what if you could no longer buy soda and chocolate?’

‘I’d die,’ her youngest granddaughter declared with a dramatic sigh.

Rose looked at them all and gave a slow nod.

‘Many did die over shortages such as soda and chocolate. Merchant ships were sunk and the service men and women died to get any types of food to us, and we still went without.’ She said. ‘I was luckier than most due to the farm in Cornwall. Thank goodness for the kind heart of Elenor, or I could have been in an orphanage and not had the pleasures of limited foodstuffs and fresh air.’

A silence fell around the table, and Rose let her words linger in their thoughts. She had no intention of lecturing them, but felt it was good to remind them of how much in the way of material goods they were lucky enough to enjoy.

‘Anyone for another drink? No? I’ll call for the bill then.’ Rose’s eldest son said, and she watched him walk away from the table. The rest of the family shuffled in their seats.

‘Thank you all for a wonderful day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my war talk.’

‘Hey Gran, no. We mustn’t forget that stuff. We learn it at school and forget you were part of it all. Besides, we love that you enjoy everything we give you, right down to the pretty ribbon on a gift. It’s kinda cool.’

Rose looked to her daughter who shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think it was a compliment,’ she said, and Rose laughed.

Once everyone had left her apartment with promises to call and visit, Rose kicked off her shoes and placed her brooch into its box. She slipped off her dress and wrapped herself in the new fleece dressing gown, a gift from her daughter. She fetched her reading glasses and read the simple picture by picture instructions on how to use the new coffee machine – a gift from her sons – and after following each one, she eventually poured the contents of the jug into a new mug that shouted out to the world she was the best grandmother. Sitting on her favourite chair, Rose settled down for the evening. She flicked on the TV from the remote control and selected a programme about purchasing a new home. It was an imported programme from the UK. Rose loved to step inside with the presenter and listen to couples deciding whether to purchase or keep looking. Some enjoyed browsing properties abroad, making the bold step to leave all they knew behind.

Rose sipped her decaffeinated coffee and nodded her approval when one couple opted to buy a property on the coast of Cornwall. With a sigh, Rose set down her empty mug, sat back and watched the credits role as the programme came to an end. She leaned back in her chair, yawned and allowed her eyes to droop into a semi-sleep as she recalled the day they’d all left England.

The sounds rattled over her head. The large ship sitting in dock blew its horn and people shouted to one another from ship to shore. Elenor had guided her one way and then another. Jackson had hailed a porter and offloaded their bags. Rose knew they wouldn’t lose their luggage because she’d been given the important task of writing their names and new address on the labels Jackson had given her. She’d used her best handwriting and when it came to writing Canada, British Columbia, she took extra care creating neat capital C’s.

Her new father had looked over her shoulder and gave it an affectionate tap the afternoon she wrote out each label. His praise still made her smile.

‘My word, well done little Rose. Those letters are sure proud and round.’

Her new mother gave her a hug.

‘She’s a clever little button, and this mummy is extremely proud of her.’

Once the porter had loaded all labelled suitcases onto his trolley and headed towards the ship, her father had lifted her high onto his shoulders. The view was incredible. Everyone looked like ants scurrying about their business.

‘I can see for miles! There’s hundreds of children. Do you think they will play with me?’

‘I’m sure they won’t want to play with a little scallywag like you,’ her father had teased, earning himself a tug of the ears.

They came to a standstill near the entrance to the ship. Her father had explained the gangway might sway as they walked up it to the ship’s deck, but that they were perfectly safe.

‘I’ll take you to a suspension bridge in Vancouver, the gangway will give you a sense of what to expect. Now stand here my little Rose while I give your mom some last minute instructions.’

Rose knew he meant kissing. They’d done a lot of that since their wedding day. She stood patiently and looked around at other couples embracing loved ones. Soldiers, sailors, airmen, women in uniform, women in everyday dress, and women in fine outfits were all squashed together in the crowd. Class separated no one when it came to saying farewell.

She took hold of her mother’s hand and received a warm smile.

‘Elenor. I’m scared,’ she said.

‘Afraid? We’ll be fine. What an adventure. Canada, here we come. We will be all right, you know. Besides, we have Jackson for good luck.’

Rose nodded, and she looked to the man who gave her his love unreservedly, who made her laugh and made it easy for her to love another father. He reached out and tucked one of the little blonde curls of hair struggling to break free back into place behind Rose’s ear.

‘It will be fine, honey. I’ll be with you all the way. Isn’t it a big ship? I wonder which cabin will be ours.’

As the ship left shore with her horns blowing, Rose’s legs trembled, and her bladder threatened to let her down. She knew life would never be the same again. She stood between her new parents and knew whatever their reasons for leaving Tre Lodhen and moving to Lynn Valley, they were the right ones.

ELENOR AND ROSE’S STORY

Chapter 3

August 1938: Cornwall, England

Elenor traced her finger across the label attached to the side of her battered suitcase.

Miss Elenor Cardew.

Care of: Mrs M. Matthews,

Stevenson Road

Coventry.

As the bus trundled noisily out of the village and headed for Plymouth, Elenor thought back to when the telegram requesting her help – well, more a command to do as she was told – was placed before her when she sat down for supper.

‘This came. You’d best pack and be ready to leave when the bus arrives tomorrow. You must collect your train ticket.’

Her eldest brother spoke in his usual gruff, stilted tone. At eighteen, Elenor was ten years younger than her brother James, and there was never a kind word spoken, or a soft expression of love for his youngest sibling.

‘Train ticket, James?’ Elenor said.

‘Read it. I’m eating.’

Elenor pulled out the thick white paper and read her aunt’s neat handwriting, which gave strict instructions of the date and time she was to arrive in Coventry. It also informed her a one-way train ticket would be waiting for her at Plymouth station, along with instructions of changes to be made along the way.

‘We’re both in agreement. It has to be done.’

Elenor looked to her other brother, Walter; he too spoke in a dull tone with no kindness. The twins resented her birth, and both treated her with no respect.

‘You’re both in agreement? And I have no say. Aunt Maude is a tyrant. A bore. Why me?’

She flapped the letter high in the air.

‘No dramatics. Just do as you are told.’

‘Oh yes, James. And who will run this place? You?’

‘We’ll manage.’ James replied.

‘But what about harvest? You need all hands available for harvest time.’

‘The matter is closed. Do as you are told,’ Walter said and bashed his hand on the table.

With the thought of not breaking her back gathering in the hay, and chafed hands not giving her problems, Elenor suppressed a smile. In an attempt to continue her pretence of hardship, she pushed back her chair and flounced from the room, calling over her shoulder as she stomped her way upstairs.

‘I’ll leave you to wash your dishes while I go pack. You’d best get used to the extra chores, idiot.’

‘Enough of your insults, get back here!’

Elenor ignored her brother, he really was an idiot, and slammed shut her bedroom door. What was the worst he could do? He had no intention of keeping her on the farm. She’d be as dramatic as she wanted.

She read the letter again. Not thrilled about caring for her aunt, Elenor was nonetheless excited about leaving Tre Lodhen – not the farm itself, but the life she endured within its boundaries. She loved her home and would miss the Cornish countryside, but she would not miss her brothers and their cold manner towards her. Coventry offered a smidgen of excitement for a young woman wanting more from life. The village of Summercourt did not excite her, it only held her back. A mantra she’d repeat for anyone who cared to listen. Amateur dramatics in the village hall kept her from dying of boredom, and on the rare occasion she made her escape to a village event, Elenor loved nothing more than to sing, but it had been months since her brothers had allowed her time away from her chores.

The creative Elenor was suppressed at every opportunity. There was no shoulder for her to cry on or a listening ear when she needed to vent her frustrations.

On the day her mother died, Elenor’s role became obvious: she was to step into her shoes. And she did, quite literally at times. Their Aunt Maude would send a few pounds to help her family through hardship if the farm failed to produce a good crop, but it never went far and more often than not to the London Inn, their village pub. When her mother died so did any love Elenor had ever experienced. Her father had the same attitude as her brothers. He’d worked her mother to death and Elenor was made to pick up the pieces. The males in her life never gave any thought to Elenor’s needs, she never saw a penny of the money sent or earned. When it came to her birthday, she soon learnt there would be no gift and accepted it as a normal working day. The ingratitude from her family over the gifts she offered them in the past meant she no longer bothered. Christmas also came and went with the only difference being her father and brothers spent a few extra hours and coins enjoying the company of the London Inn landlord.

No amount of moaning about always having to make do with what she found in the farmhouse ever gained Elenor new clothes. Scraps of cloth filled out shoes too large and repaired handed down dungarees from her brothers. When their father died four years after her mother, the twins did nothing to change Elenor’s life. Neither showed any signs of marrying. There was no other woman in her life to help with the domestic tasks. She had no escape from the humdrum of daily life. The Depression meant nothing but hardship to Elenor, so this opportunity to enjoy a different style of living appealed to a girl of her age.

With no available money and the realisation that her farm clothes were not suitable, she spent her evening altering two of her mother’s old dresses. She’d kept them in a trunk in readiness for when they’d fit her properly. Their drab brown and greens did nothing to flatter her tanned complexion.

She imagined her aunt Maude’s stern tut-tut when she saw the brown leather belt holding her battered suitcase together. The pathetic contents would also send her into a frenzy of tutting, a sound Elenor had heard leave her aunt’s lips many times in the past. Her mother’s eldest sister was a force to be reckoned with when it came to snobbery – her father’s words, not Elenor’s. In the past the woman had scared her with her black gowns and upper-class manner, but Elenor would never dare breathe a word against the woman. When her aunt had visited the farm to nurse her sister, she’d taught Elenor a few basic rules of grace and how to conduct herself in a better manner than some of the female farmhands. Elenor often hoped her aunt would become her key to freedom, and today, in a roundabout way, she had become just that.

The following morning the bus bumped its way past fields of cattle chewing the cud in a leisurely manner. It jostled over cobbles and through narrow winding streets past small stone cottages. Clusters of women stood passing the time of day with village gossip, and men gathered around a cow on a piece of ground close to the inn. Elenor knew they’d haggle for a good price until opening time when half would be spent inside the inn sealing the deal. There was no hurry or urgency in their tasks. Slow-paced and content, the villagers laughed and frowned together. Elenor envied their ability to accept their lives. Even though she felt stifled in Summercourt, under different circumstances she might have found living there more bearable.

When the slate roof and granite walls belonging to the Methodist church came into view, Elenor shivered. The last time she’d entered those doors was to lay her father to rest. It had been a sombre affair and her brothers had been particularly obnoxious that day. Her father’s will had stated the farm be left to all three children, but the boys insisted it meant male heirs, and took no notice of her request for a wage. They stated Elenor was holding onto her part of the farm by living there rent-free.

Elenor continued to stare out of the murky glass and focused upon the trees as the bus meandered towards the edge of the village. She envied the power of the oak as it stood fast against the wind blowing in from Newquay, and she was fascinated by the way the silver birch dipped and swayed much like a group of dancers together in rhythm, with elegance and poise. They reminded her of the male versus female challenges she’d encountered over the years. One standing strong and the other bending to the will of another.

‘Clear your head, Elenor. Think pleasant thoughts.’ She muttered the words as she refocused on children playing with a kitten. Their giggles brought a smile to her face and reminded her of when she and her mother had chased three tiny farm kittens who’d found their way into the house. They’d had such fun chasing them back out into the yard.

The bus driver slowed down for a few sheep and Elenor could see Walter lumbering along in front guiding them into a new pasture. He was identifiable by his long greasy hair flapping like bird wings in the wind.

Resentment choked her. Neither of the twins had seen her off that morning. Not one had said goodbye.

Wait ’til you get home to a cold house and no meal. You’ll regret your haste to be rid of me so easily. Oh, and I’ve left you a parting gift in the sink after the way you treated me this morning!

Both men had risen at sunrise and ate the breakfast she had prepared, then left without a goodbye. Elenor looked around but could see no sign of a coin left out for her journey.

With a heavy heart she packed food, a bottle of water and a tin mug into a cloth bag.

She was so angry with her siblings she threw the dishes into the sink. She heard the chink and ping as they crashed against each other.

‘You can do your own dishes. When you’ve repaired them.’

She’d shouted the words to an absent audience.

Tears fell as she’d gathered her bags and walked away. Now, watching her brother she felt nothing.

‘Goodbye village. Sadly, I won’t be back this way again,’ Elenor whispered.

Chapter 4

A weary Elenor forced her tired legs the last few yards to her aunt’s home. Coventry city bustled around her. She jumped at buzzing noises from the car manufacturers and inhaled the delicious aroma from a bakery. It taunted her grumbling stomach. Eight hours and counting since she ate her last meagre meal.

Her suitcase bumped against her legs as she hurried along the narrow, cobbled streets. Despite her initial excitement about leaving Cornwall, the grey of the city streets closed in around her and gave Elenor a new set of anxieties. Had she been wise in leaving the farm? Maybe she should have fought harder to stay. At least when the men were at work she was left alone in peace and silence. Would that be the case here?

As the road shortened and her aunt’s home came into view, it wasn’t just the case weighing her down. Elenor trudged the last few steps trying to ignore the blisters on her feet, and once she’d arrived at the house she stood back to look at her surroundings. The house was smaller than she remembered. Smaller than the farmhouse, but larger than the terraced houses running either side of the street, the detached house sat as if at the head of the table, relishing in its glory of being the only one, yet to Elenor it lacked beauty. The house was a testament to her aunt’s snobbery. It was too symmetrical, too neat, square with bay windows either side – unlike the higgledy-piggledy medieval properties she’d walked past to get to Stephenson Road, with their beams and angular structure. As a child she remembered peeping into the six large bedrooms and shivering in the gloomy parlour with stuffed dead animals.

Elenor took a deep breath and lifted the brass door knocker gleaming in pride of place, a lion’s head. Again, Elenor had a renewed sense of foreboding.

The woman who answered the door scuttled about like a nervous mouse.

‘Welcome, Miss Cardew. I’m your aunt’s housekeeper.’

Elenor stepped inside the dark hallway.

‘Thank you. Please, call me Elenor.’

She handed her coat to the housekeeper who busied herself hanging it in a large cupboard.

‘Mrs Matthews has given instruction you will meet in the parlour before she retires for the evening, after which you will eat.’

With a nod the woman left Elenor’s side. Bemused, Elenor left her case propped against the wall, and made her way to the parlour.

After an arduous journey, the last thing Elenor wanted was to entertain her aunt with information about her brothers and the farm. She wanted to put the twins to the back of her mind.

She pushed open the door and stepped into the gloomy room. It was cold to the point of unfriendliness. She was, however, grateful to note the absence of the stuffed animal heads.

Porcelain dogs and lace cloths did nothing to brighten the drab.

Unsure as to where her aunt would sit, Elenor chose to perch on the edge of the sofa, a hard piece of furniture never designed for comfort. A mantle clock ticked and Elenor shivered. A fire in the room would not go amiss. As she debated the idea, the door swung open and her aunt entered. Elenor jumped to her feet. Far from looking frail, her aunt, dressed in her usual ill-fitting black outfit, marched straight up to Elenor and stared her in the face.

‘Didn’t get the good looks of your mother then. Sit down.’ She banged her walking stick on the floor.

Shocked, Elenor did as she was told.

‘Hello, Aunt Maude. How are you?’

‘Ill. Why do you think I sent for you, girl? I’m unwell. Not that you bumpkins from the country would ever care. Not one of you has written me. Oh no, but you accept the money swift enough. It is heartening to see you do not spend it on frivolous clothing.’

Uncomfortable that her clothing had drawn scathing comments from her aunt, Elenor adjusted her dress and sat back in the seat.

‘Don’t get too comfortable. You are here to work. To look after me. Go and fetch me a light supper. Tell that thing I employ to keep this place that she is to air my bed. I feel fatigued with entertaining guests.’

Elenor rose from the seat and fought back the urge to curtsy on her way out. She hurried down to the kitchen and welcomed the warmth of the room. It had a light airy feel due to the floor-to-ceiling cream cabinets and windows looking out onto a small garden. The housekeeper, although far from tall, was bent over a white stone sink. Elenor gave a polite cough.

‘Excuse me – oh, I’m sorry I don’t know your name. My aunt would like a light supper before she retires, and her bed aired please.’

The woman turned around and Elenor could now see she was much younger than she looked when they first met in the dark hallway. Certainly, no older than thirty.

‘Certainly, Miss Cardew. I’m Victoria Sherbourne. You’ve had a long journey, miss. You must be famished. I’ll see to your aunt and you can sit here with a cup of tea while I ask if she wants you to eat with her. Her mind changes like the wind. Pour yourself a cup whilst I prepare her tray.’ She pointed to the teapot.

As she sipped the strong tea, Elenor wondered over her role attending to her aunt’s needs. The woman didn’t look ill and appeared perfectly capable. The housekeeper interrupted her thoughts.

‘My husband enjoys her company and she tolerates his.’

‘Your husband?’

Victoria busied herself with the tray.

‘Yes, George. He’s away at the moment. As a private tutor he likes to attend various talks by other masters.’

‘I look forward to meeting him.’

Elenor noted a slight flush to Victoria’s face when she spoke about him. Pride? Embarrassment? She couldn’t tell.

Victoria returned with the tray after seeing to Aunt Maude.

‘Come, I’ll show you to your room. Your aunt has gone to bed. She asked me to tell you she will breakfast with you at eight in the morning. Unpack your case and I’ll bring you a light supper on a tray.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Victoria, but it will take me all of two minutes to unpack, and I’d rather eat downstairs in the kitchen if I’m not in your way. It’s such a cosy room.’

As they reached the bedroom, Victoria pushed open the door and set down the case and bag. Elenor had no time to take a look before Victoria closed it again.

‘We’ll eat together,’ Victoria said.

Returning to the kitchen, Victoria prepared a plate of cold meat, cheese and hard-boiled eggs and set the table for two. She carved her way through a fresh loaf of crusty bread.

‘A simple supper, but one I’m sure you can manage. It’s been a long day for you.’

Elenor stifled a yawn and helped herself to a plate of food.

‘I will sleep well tonight. Mind you, the journey was nothing like the hard work I usually have every day. I’m not used to sitting around all day, and if my aunt wants me to read to her for hours, well, I fear for my sanity.’

Victoria burst out laughing.

‘I can’t imagine your aunt having the patience to sit and listen. She will probably have you writing letters. She gets violent head pains and her eyes are not as strong as they once were. My husband used to write for her, but he is not always available.’

Shaking her head, Elenor pulled a face.

‘My handwriting isn’t the neatest. She might ask me once, but I very much doubt I’d be asked twice.’

She looked around the kitchen and saw a skipping rope and a wooden top sitting on top of a stool by the back door.

‘Do you have children, Victoria?’ she asked, pointing to the toys.

‘Yes. A daughter. Rose.’

‘Rose. A pretty name. How old is she?’

‘Five in November.’

‘How wonderful, a little girl. I take it she’s asleep, I look forward to meeting her tomorrow.’

‘She’ll be no bother. I keep her busy. I can’t have the girl running around making a nuisance of herself,’ Victoria said as she cleared away dishes.

Tiredness crept in and Elenor stretched out and gave a yawn.

‘Thank you for supper, Victoria. I look forward to meeting your family. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Elenor. I’ll give you a knock in the morning.’

Victoria put the dirty dishes in the sink.

Elenor smiled as she recalled the dishes in the sink at Tre Lodhen. No doubt that evening the inn enjoyed a visit from two miserable brothers.

Chapter 5

A good night’s sleep and no pre-dawn work found Elenor in good spirits. She pulled open the drab brown curtains to let in a hint of sunshine. The rays bounced into the room and offered up an orange glow but failed to fight the drab brown and black.

The view was south-facing into the avenue with a row of trees on both sides. Her surroundings in Cornwall were far more attractive and a pang of homesickness caught hold. A tap at her door interrupted her thoughts and she opened the door to Victoria who stood holding a tray bearing a pot of tea and a china cup.

‘Morning, Victoria.’

‘Morning. Your aunt will be ready in half an hour.’ She placed the tray onto the dressing table and wiped her hands down her pale blue pinafore.

‘The bathroom is free. There is plenty of hot water.’

‘Thank you.’

Grateful for the warmth from the teacup on her hands, Elenor sipped it with speed. She ventured to the bathroom across the hall. Another cold room where her breath puffed into clouds. The large mirror steamed over the moment she ran the hot tap. A large bar of Pears soap sat on the pretty scalloped edged sink, so delicate compared to the stone affair of the farmhouse. The chilly air prevented her from lingering and she promised herself a treat of an uninterrupted bath another time.

Back in her room Elenor pulled out her fresh dress from the wardrobe. Realising the dress would not protect her fully from the chill of the day she wore her brown cardigan with a mismatched button at the bottom, which had seen better days but kept her warm. She pulled on thick brown stockings, darned at the heel and toe within an inch of their life and hooked them onto a thin, well-worn suspender belt. With a sigh, she slipped her feet into a lace-up pair of scuffed but polished, brown brogues, stuffed with the obligatory scraps of cloth to prevent slipping. Once upon a time they were her mother’s pride and joy. Sadly, Elenor could not look upon the shoes with the same enthusiasm as her mother had; to Elenor they smacked of poverty and hardship.

She released her shoulder-length hair from its night scarf and brushed life back into her red-brown curls and scooped them into a soft drop ponytail. There was no time to spend pinning them into a crown of curls as she had seen on the front page of Nash’s Pall Mall.

Once satisfied she could do no more to make herself presentable, she left the room and descended the large staircase. The house was quiet. Elenor pushed open the dining room door and was grateful for the small amount of sunshine glistening outside the large window adding a dash of colour to yet another dark and dreary room. The cow barn at the farm had more warmth and colour than her aunt’s home. At the head of the table Elenor saw the formidable figure of her aunt, who appeared deep in thought.

‘Good morning, Aunt.’

‘Sit down girl. I am in no mood for small talk and the morning has proved to be far from good. Eat. We have business with my solicitor at ten o’clock precisely.’

Her aunt made no move to look up from whatever it was on her plate holding her attention and slurped a mouthful of tea from her cup. Her puffy face reminded Elenor of the farm pigs at feeding time.

Elenor lifted the lid from a small serving dish and helped herself to a generous portion of creamy porridge. She noticed her aunt sipped at her tea and ate nothing.

‘Would you like me to serve you porridge, Aunt Maude? Or have you already eaten?’

Her aunt shook her head and pulled a face.

‘I cannot stomach food. Doctor Menzies has prescribed me stomach powders to aid my digestion, but they are useless. Sipping warm tea is all that eases the stomach pains I endure. Eat your meal. And please do so in silence, my head pain threatens to ruin my day.’

For the next twenty minutes Elenor endured the requested silence aside from the odd slurping sounds from her aunt. She gave a smile and a small sigh of relief when Victoria entered the room and began removing the dirty dishes. Elenor stood to assist her.

‘Sit down girl. Mrs Sherbourne is paid to clear the table. Go fetch my coat, hat and gloves, and dress yourself for the outdoors. We will take a short walk to Mr Andrews’ office after which we will continue on with a small list of shopping I have prepared. Ah, all done?’

Elenor did as she was told, and Victoria lifted the last of the dishes from the table.

‘Yes, Aunt.’

Elenor envied her aunt. Her black fur-collared coat was of good quality, a heavy wool. Her shoes of stout leather, also black, were smart and well-polished and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her aunt that Elenor’s own shoes were well-worn.

‘We really must address your wardrobe. You are a walking disgrace. Victoria!’

Silence fell around them as they waited for Victoria to enter the room.

‘What size shoe do you take? Anything suitable for my niece? Find her something decent to wear from your wardrobe.’

A stunned Victoria looked from her employer to Elenor. The difference in size between them was obvious.

‘But El … Miss Cardew and I are different sizes, Mrs Matthews. Look how much taller she is to me. It won’t be easy finding her something comfortable to wear from my wardrobe. I …’

‘Very well. We will attend this meeting and I will withdraw an allowance for a new outfit. This really is inconvenient. Come along girl, before my body decides to give out on me with the worries you have brought to my door.’

Elenor gave a puzzled glance at her aunt and then looked across at Victoria who edged her way out of the room.

Brought worries to her door? She called for me!

Chapter 6

Despite the tease of the sun, Elenor’s thin coat barely fought off the chilly breeze. It felt like late September, and had she been walking alone she would have moved faster to warm her limbs.

Her aunt leaned heavily on her stick and took her time over each step, stopping at intervals to catch her breath. Elenor’s legs ached with taking small narrow strides. She was also impatient for another reason. She was keen to see the town properly; she’d only rushed through a few streets from the station to her aunt’s the previous day. She couldn’t remember ever going into town with her parents.

Just the thought of time to browse the shops and purchase new clothes sent her mind into a spin.

One part of Elenor knew she made her aunt ashamed with her appearance, but rather than hide her niece away, she chose to help, to notice and do something about the situation.

Did her aunt understand her excitement? If she did she did not show it. She walked in silence hunched over her walking stick. It took a while for Elenor to realise the further they walked, the weaker her aunt became, and guilt overcame her for wishing the old lady would walk faster. In her haste to buy clothes for herself she’d forgotten her aunt was unwell; after all, that was the reason Elenor was called away from the farm in the first place.

‘We still have some way to go and I fear you are tired,’ Elenor said, adding a sympathetic tone to her voice. ‘Do you need a taxi-cab?’

‘Pah. Lazy legs. It is not much farther. The young today, you have no stamina.’

With a flick of her walking stick Maude Matthews took a few more paces away from her bemused niece before stopping.

‘Look around you. Get your bearings. Now I have you to run errands, my time can be best spent elsewhere.’

Elenor gave a quick glance around and by the time she had turned back to speak to her aunt, the woman had walked away and headed for the end of the road.

On the other side of the road they headed for a tall redbrick building amongst a row of grey shops and canopied stalls. A brass plaque attached to the outer wall stated it was the office of N. M. Andrews: LLB.

‘I have papers to sign. I am tired and therefore will ask Mr Andrews to assist with my transport home. Goodness knows his fee is great enough. Take this letter to Owen’s department store over there.’ Maude pointed to the corner of the opposite street. ‘Ask for Mrs Green and she will help you. No fripperies. Sensible clothing. You understand?’

Elenor took the letter and clutched it tight against the rising wind. It was too precious to lose.

‘Thank you, Aunt Maude. I am truly grateful, I …’

Her aunt tapped her walking stick with impatience and peered at her through her tortoiseshell spectacles.

‘Don’t keep me standing in the cold. I am doing this for me, not you. I cannot be seen with you in public in that outfit for too long. It is bad enough you sound like a country farmer without looking the part. Even in the Depression people were better dressed. Return home as soon as you have finished. No dallying and daydreaming.’

Elenor gave a weak smile.

‘Thank you, Aunt Maude.’

She hovered, watching her aunt enter the building, and as soon as the door closed Elenor moved to the kerb. Cars milled about and when all was clear she headed for the large department store and as Elenor approached, she could feel the excitement mounting.

With clothes to tempt, the store windows held Elenor’s attention for several minutes. A gown of emerald green silk flowing to the floor begged to be purchased as did the contrasting long cream gloves with mother-of-pearl buttons. Only the very rich would be able to afford such a garment, especially during the present economic downturn. Elenor watched people, mainly women, manoeuvre their way through the rotating front doors. She had never seen doors like it and noted the art to entering and leaving at just the right time.

You can do it, you can do it.

She chanted the words in her head and stepped to the entrance. Just as she was about to push the door open, it swung past her and she jumped backwards. Aware it was not the pavement she had stepped on, she turned slowly and faced the buttons of a blue serge uniform.

‘Begging your pardon, ma’am.’

The voice had an unfamiliar accent and Elenor looked up into the face of a mature man with a large moustache which lifted as he smiled.

‘I’m afraid it was my fault, sir. I do hope I’ve not hurt your foot.’

The words rushed from Elenor’s mouth. She was so embarrassed and uncomfortable with the situation.

With a loud laugh, the man lifted his foot and wiggled it from the ankle.

‘No harm done. There is nothing of you to have put any pressure on these boots.’

Elenor smiled back, looked down at his large black service boots, then back up to his face – still smiling down at her.

‘It was the door you see. I’ve never, I mean, I don’t …’

‘Like stepping into the lion’s mouth these things. If you don’t get it right the first time, you could be going around and around until the store closes.’

Elenor burst out laughing. Fascinated by the soft accent, she wanted to listen to the man for longer but was aware she had already held him up from entering the store.

‘Well, after you sir. I won’t detain you any longer.’

She went to walk away.

‘But weren’t you going inside miss? Or did you walk out backwards and that’s how we came to meet.’

A twinkle in his eye made Elenor like the uniformed man even more, and she felt her face flush at her foolish behaviour. Her aunt was right, she was a country bumpkin.

She shook her head.

‘I think it safer I stay out of the store. If I have caused this much havoc just trying to get inside, who knows what will happen when I get close to a counter or worse, one of those elegantly dressed statues.’

His laughter rang louder than before and the man bent his hands to his knees.

‘Miss, it has been a long day and you are the fresh air I needed. The statue if I might be so bold, is known as a mannequin in my country, and a young woman so full of grace such as yourself could not possibly cause havoc anywhere.’

He held out his hand to shake hers and she was grateful her gloves hid her calloused hands.

‘Squadron Leader, Samuel Fleming, of North Vancouver, Canada. Pleased to meet you.’

She held out her hand and took his.

‘Elenor Cardew, Miss, of Summercourt, Cornwall. Pleased to meet you.’

‘Cornwall? That’s a fair way from Coventry. I had the pleasure of visiting an air force base for NCO pilot training only last year. Pretty place.’

Elenor nodded with such enthusiasm she felt the muscles in her neck stretch. She had no idea what NCO stood for, but she was not going to set herself up for more embarrassment by asking.

‘It’s beautiful. My family has a farm there, Tre Lodhen, but I am here for a while to care for my aunt. Talking of whom, I will catch the devil’s tail if I don’t carry out her wishes. I must get inside and hand this letter over to a Mrs Green.’

The man put his hand to the rotating door.

‘Now we have been introduced, I think it is safe for us to travel onto the other side together. After you.’

When they entered the vast building, they were greeted by the smell of beautiful fragrances and leather. Elenor took a step to one side; it was everything she’d imagined.

‘Well, this is where I leave you. I must hunt down a small token to take back to my wife. I hope you complete your mission with Mrs Green in good time. Good day.’

When he saluted her Elenor felt like a princess.

‘Thank you, sir.’ She gave a giggle. ‘Thank you for helping me, I no longer fear the exit journey.’

She watched as he walked away, tall, upright and confident. A posture to mimic if she was to get through the store. She had already noticed the side glances from customers and staff alike.

With a fake air of confidence Elenor approached a member of staff and held out the envelope.

‘Excuse me, I need to hand this to Mrs Green?’

The member of staff looked her up and down and held out a gloved hand.

‘I’ll take it to her. Thank you.’

Putting her hand back down beside her hip, Elenor straightened her back.

‘I’m afraid it is for the attention of Mrs Green only. It’s from Mrs Matthews, Stephenson Road.’

With an impatient sigh the sales woman pointed to a stern looking female on the other side of the shop and walked away.

Chapter 7

‘Mrs Green?’ Elenor asked the plump middle-aged woman in a smart suit casting a watchful eye over the shop floor.

‘What can I do for you, young lady?’

Although her appearance came across as stern, her smile portrayed a softer side.

‘A letter from my aunt, Mrs Matthews.’

She handed over the envelope and hesitated about what to do next.

‘I think there is an instruction for you to help me purchase an outfit. Although, I now realise she’s not given me any money to purchase anything. Perhaps I should return later.’

Mrs Green pulled out a pair of round spectacles from her pocket and opened the letter. ‘Well, young lady, it appears you are to have two sensible outfits for the season. A pair of shoes. A stepping out ensemble – I do love her old-fashioned ways – and a warm coat. Sensible over fashion are her words.’

Elenor gave her a quizzical look.

‘But how am I to pay you? I think I need to return home and come back with my aunt another day.’ An unexpected tear dripped from the tip of Elenor’s nose.

A guiding arm went around her shoulder when Mrs Green ushered her into a small cubicle with a chair.

‘Sit there dear. I will call one of my assistants. Here, use this, it is better than the hem of your frock.’ She gave a reassuring smile as she handed over a cotton handkerchief.

Elenor sat in the comfortable chair and waited.

When the curtain pulled back, Elenor jumped to her feet.

‘This is Sally and she will take your measurements. I assume you will require undergarments?’

Still wondering how she was to pay for one item let alone the many suggested, Elenor gave a shy nod of her head.

‘Everything. But …’ she whispered.

‘Fetch me all I need, Sally. And this is to go onto Mrs Matthews’ account. Her niece is to be assisted by you personally. Miss Cardew, you are happy to have Sally help you?’

‘Yes, Mrs Green. And thank you, Sally.’

The tall girl gave Elenor a smile.

‘It will be my pleasure Miss Cardew.’

Never had Elenor felt so grand. This time she made no attempt to ask to be addressed by her first name. Miss Cardew was going to relish the attention bestowed upon her.

For over an hour, Sally rushed backwards and forwards with outfits. A bemused Elenor could not believe trying on clothes could be so tiring. At first, she was embarrassed by her own attire but soon learnt that Sally was not there to judge. Her professional behaviour was that of an actress on the stage. She must have been horrified by what Elenor hid beneath her ugly frock, but showed no sign of shock, she simply asked if they were to be placed in a bag or sent to the basement for removal. Never one for waste, Elenor was torn. She hesitated when Sally presented the question. In true form, Sally came to her rescue.

‘I’ll wrap and bag them for you Miss Cardew, and that way you can decide what to do when you are home.’

‘Thank you, Sally.’ Elenor touched her arm. ‘I know it seems odd to want to keep clothes fit for the scrap bag, but they … they were my mother’s. They are all I have left of her.’

‘I understand. Maybe you could create something from them as a keepsake. A parcel home it is then, miss.’

She gave a wan smile. ‘I bet oddball country bumpkins are a one of a kind in your store – in Coventry.’

Sally waggled her finger at Elenor.

‘Never call yourself that again. I must admit though, your accent amuses me, where are you from Miss Cardew?’

‘Cornwall. Your accent amuses me too. I’m a farmer’s daughter, hence the rough hands and unkempt clothing.’

As she folded the clothes in readiness to pack, Sally started to hum a song.

‘I know that one! It’s your name! Sally. I think it should be renamed Elenor of the Alley.’

More laughter followed.

‘Is everything all right in there, Miss Cardew?’

Mrs Green called through the curtain.

‘Come in, I’m ready.’

Approving and advising, Mrs Green made a note of the selected purchases. Elenor stroked the velvet trim of her new Sunday best outfit, reluctant to see it removed for packing.

‘I think I will wear the navy skirt with the jumper, stockings and these shoes.’

Elenor lifted a smart black lace up shoe with small thick heel from a box.

Mrs Green gave her a smile.

‘A sensible choice both in outfit and shoe. I like the wine colour of the other skirt too, both will suit you fine. Talking of the cooler weather, are you ready to try on the coats I’ve chosen? I’ve strict instructions from Mrs Matthews and I do think she is right – fashion comes and goes, but a traditional woollen coat in black will be both serviceable and smart and will last several years. We can top it off with a more modern hat, neck scarf and gloves which will bring no objection, I’m sure. I have just the items in mind.’

Elenor looked at the three coats.

‘They’re all the same.’ She said.

Sally pointed out the buttons and back pleats of one.

‘I think this is the one for you. Look how it hangs. Try it on.’

In the mirror a different person looked back at Elenor. She turned and twirled, allowing the coat to rise and fall back into place.

Mrs Green placed a green hat with a down-turned brim on Elenor’s head.

‘This is a little old-fashioned but will satisfy your aunt. To modernise it, you can pull it at an angle over one brow and trim it with grosgrain ribbon. Try the gloves. These are a size small and should fit your petite hands.’

She handed Elenor a pair of suede gloves in the same green as the hat. She clasped her hands in front of her face when she looked in the mirror again.

‘Is it really me? I can’t thank you both enough.’

‘It is Mrs Green with the keen eye, I just do the basic assisting.’

Mrs Green gave a small cough of acceptance.

‘I don’t think my aunt will object to me adding a few extras to her account. Essential ones, of course. I need a cream for my hands. They are sore and chafed.’

Mrs Green gathered a few of the items from Sally as Elenor spoke.

‘We have just the thing. Sally will fetch the cream. It is by Yardley and contains lavender and will help them heal. Your aunt uses the brand, but it will be nice for you to have your own pot. I think you will need help carrying these home – I’ll arrange for a car to take you. I will need a signature for the account before you leave. It has been a pleasure, Miss Cardew, and I do wish you well in Coventry.’

‘Thank you. You have been so kind.’

After a final twirl in the mirror, a new Elenor Cardew stepped out onto the shop floor, one with the confidence of a well-dressed young woman. At the counter she signed beneath a sum of money which would have purchased a prize bull and applied a small amount of cream to her hands before slipping on her gloves. She made her way to the front entrance where she was informed a taxi driver waited for her.

She mastered the art of the rotating door and laughed as she stepped onto the pavement.

Chapter 8

Victoria rushed down the pathway as the driver unloaded Elenor’s bags from the car.

‘Gracious me, look at all these bags. Mrs Matthews is resting but I’ve strict instructions to wake her when you return.’

‘It has been a wonderful experience. Oh dear, I …’

She watched Victoria pay the driver and when he disappeared she shared her concern.

‘The fool I am. I didn’t think of payment. Thank you, Victoria. I will pay you back when I have my allowance.’

Victoria held the door open with the heel of her shoe to allow Elenor into the hallway, both struggling with the bulging bags.

‘No need. There is always money by the door for just such an event. Your aunt insists upon it, she said your uncle used to spend so much time scrabbling around for money, it frustrated her. The dish is never empty.’

‘Well, thank you for the lesson. On my farm he would have been offered eggs.’

Victoria laughed.

‘He might well have given you a wide berth the next time you hailed him down.’

Still laughing, Elenor climbed the stairs behind Victoria. They tiptoed past her aunt’s room and deposited the bags on the bed.

‘I’ll give you ten minutes and then I’ll rouse your aunt,’ said Victoria.

With care, Elenor lifted her precious purchases from the bags and put them away.

Not wishing to keep her aunt waiting, she ventured downstairs.

‘There you are.’

Her aunt sat sipping tea, and Elenor poured herself a cup from the pot sitting on the table.

‘I must say you have chosen well. Very smart. Not too flimsy, well done. Mrs Green is a wise woman.’

Her aunt’s head bobbed up and down with approval when Elenor set down her cup and gave a twirl.

‘I don’t know how to thank you Aunt Maude. The whole experience was a little overwhelming, but Mrs Green and Sally were kind. I have the same in a wine red, and the most beautiful coat, oh, and gloves and hat in green, sensible just as you asked. I did purchase a Yardley cream for my hands, I hope you approve.’

‘Under the circumstances I do not mind. And not wanting to linger on a delicate subject, I’ll assume Mrs Green added undergarments to my account?’

Elenor thought it funny how she was happy to stand in a cubicle discussing underwear with a stranger but felt her face burn and flush when the items were mentioned by her relative.

‘Um, yes, she did, thank you.’

‘Did you enjoy browsing the store?’

Elenor giggled.

‘I became rather confused by the doors and stood on a gentleman’s foot as I made my escape backwards. He was kind enough to help me inside. He said he was from Canada? I pretended I knew where it was, but I don’t.’

Elenor picked up her cup and quenched her thirst. Across the brim she watched her aunt smile.

‘It is good to hear, Elenor. I am sorry to have not witnessed the event, or to have saved the poor gentleman from a sore foot. I will have Victoria’s husband fetch an encyclopaedia for you to read up on Canada, and anything else you may find useful.’

Elenor smiled back. ‘He was an elderly pilot. Can you imagine it, flying in the sky? I’m afraid my bravery stays firmly on the ground attempting rotating shop doors.’

‘You are not alone, young lady. I am fearful of all things mechanical and would never put my trust in a metal bird. We do have to be grateful to the brave pilots for when they gave their lives in the Great War. Bravery, such bravery.’

Aunt Maude sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. Elenor sipped her tea in silence until the gentle snoring of her aunt indicated the afternoon’s conversation had come to a close. With slight disappointment, yet with the sense a barrier had been removed between them, Elenor tiptoed from the room and went to the kitchen in search of Victoria.

A male voice and whispers from Victoria told Elenor the housekeeper was reunited with her husband. She stepped into the kitchen.

‘Ah, Mr Sherbourne, you have returned I see. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.’

Elenor moved towards the man who stood beside Victoria. He was not as tall as she had expected – although she wasn’t really sure what she’d expected – and had a mop of unruly brown hair, almost as if curls had never quite formed. He stared at her with narrow brown eyes, almost untrusting, curious or suspicious. His presence unnerved Elenor and she wasn’t sure why.

He stepped forward to shake her hand and his grip was firm. He had a large gap between his top teeth with a slight protrusion on one side. He was not a handsome man, and she was surprised at Victoria’s choice of a husband. But, one should never go by looks alone. Her brothers were not ugly on the outside.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cardew. George Sherbourne. If you need anything, please ask. We are both happy to help. Your aunt appears to be weaker each time I return from my travels.’

‘Thank you.’ Elenor let go of his hand and sat at the table. ‘She was extremely tired today. Tell me, where did your travels take you? I met a man from Canada today, and my aunt suggested I ask you to hunt out an encyclopaedia for me to read more about the country.’

George Sherbourne dragged a chair from one side of the table and sat beside her. She could smell a mix of cold tar soap and pipe tobacco lingering on his clothing, and his closeness made her uncomfortable.

She glanced up at Victoria who had no expression on her face, and as if roused from sleep she shook her body, picked up an empty tray and without speaking left the room.

Elenor then understood she had walked into a domestic argument.

‘Mr Sherbourne, where did your travels take you?’ she asked again. ‘Your wife mentioned you are a tutor for a young boy and attend conferences related to your work.’

‘London. Although, I do prefer Coventry as it houses my lovely wife.’

Elenor sensed his words were not genuine. Insincere was a word she remembered from her school days.

‘I’ve never been to London. My aunt said it is a fascinating city. Maybe one day I’ll be able to see it for myself.’

George poured himself a drink of milk from a jug on the drainer.

‘Do you have hobbies, Miss Cardew? Aside from milking cows, did you do anything outside of farm work?’

‘I enjoy singing when I can,’ she replied.

‘You must sing a little song one evening. I play the piano. Your aunt enjoys listening to me play.’ George stroked a finger across one eyebrow. He reminded her of her brothers. Arrogant.

Elenor gave a slight nod of agreement and tried not to laugh at his pomposity.

‘About the book my aunt mentioned, where can I find it?’

George leaned in close.

‘She allows me to make use of her books, and I have stored them in our rooms.’

To Elenor’s horror he patted the back of her hand as if she was a child.

‘I will fetch those I think useful to you and please, ask when you need more.’

His patronising manner irritated Elenor. Well aware of her status as a poor relation, he’d taken advantage of his own as a male, forgetting his manners in the process. He was married to an employee of her aunt but treated Elenor as though she were a child. She rose to her feet and drew upon a faked confidence.

‘As the books belong to my aunt I suggest they be returned to the room, then I won’t have to keep asking you for them.’

George gave a grimace and down-turned his mouth.

‘I will miss being surrounded by such treasures.’

Irritated, Elenor walked to the doorway, turned around and gave him a polite smile.

‘I am to be here for some time – who knows, maybe always, and I do need to make use of the books. We’ll attend to it tomorrow. Victoria can help me collect them from your rooms.’

George said nothing but gave her a look which sent a shiver down her spine.

Outside the door she took a deep breath. The man needed careful handling, or he would become another bully in her life.

Chapter 9

The following morning Elenor heard the soft singing of a child from outside the back door and it occurred to her she’d not met the Sherbournes’ daughter. She squinted into the sunshine. A tiny blonde child sat on a wall swinging her legs and pulling the petals from a daisy.

‘He loves me. He loves me not.’

‘I’m sure he loves you,’ Elenor interrupted the girl’s rhyme. ‘I’m Elenor. Mrs Matthews’ niece. You must be Rose.’

The little girl jumped down from the wall.

‘I’m nearly five. How old are you? Did you bring a cow from your farm?’ Rose fired questions one after the other with great enthusiasm.

Elenor laughed. ‘No, it wouldn’t fit on the bus. And congratulations on being nearly five, I will be nineteen next month.’

‘Will you have cake? Can I have some? Pleeease!’ Rose threw aside the flower and pressed her hands together as if in prayer.

Elenor was reminded of a pretty doll with a rosebud mouth and smiling eyes.

‘Rose!’ Victoria’s sharp voice interrupted the laughter and made Elenor jump.

Rose’s facial expression moved to sombre.

‘Coming,’ she called.

‘We’ll meet later and discuss cake,’ said Elenor.

‘I’m to stay away from you,’ Rose said. ‘I’m not to be a bother.’

As she ran back inside, Elenor watched her curls bounce on her shoulders and thought the child could never be a bother to anyone. She followed her into the house just in time to see Victoria reprimand the girl.

‘I told you not to disturb Miss Cardew. Stay in your room until you are told to come out. Understood?’

Rose nodded, and a single tear dripped from the end of her nose.

‘She spoke to me. I was already there,’ she said through gulping sniffles.

Elenor stepped inside the kitchen.

‘It’s true, Victoria. I distracted your daughter and we made friends,’ she said in a gentle tone, attempting to calm Victoria down.

‘Well, she’s been told to keep out from under our feet on more than one occasion. Go to your room, Rose.’

‘Victoria, what if Rose is given a useful job? She could help us carry the books from your rooms to the day room.’

Rose looked to Elenor and gave a beautiful smile which lit up her pretty blue eyes and in those few seconds Elenor, unsure why, felt an overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect her.

Victoria folded a tea towel over the back of a chair and Elenor could see she was struggling with the suggestion.

‘After all, why have her sitting around doing nothing? Idle hands are of no use. On the farm she would have several jobs. Think about it, but I am keen to get started.’

Not waiting for a reply, Elenor left the kitchen and entered the day room. She set herself a writing space under the window.

‘I’ve got four books in my arms and they are heavy,’ Rose’s voice called out from the doorway. She was peering above a small pile of paperbacks.

‘Come and put them down here.’ Elenor patted her desk.

‘I’ll get some more. This is fun and …’

Victoria entered the room and Rose ran out.

Two hours later the shelves were full.

After lemonade with Rose and Victoria, Elenor sat at the desk looking through an atlas for Canada. When she found it, she traced her way across the country until she’d found Vancouver. She rushed to her aunt sitting in the parlour.

‘I found Canada. Look!’

Her startled aunt looked up from her newspaper and gave a smile.

‘I do think it was founded by another keen soul, but I congratulate you Elenor.’

Elenor lifted a chair from the corner of the room and sat beside her aunt.

‘I’m sorry, did I disturb you? It is fascinating, this book, and Canada looks enormous compared to England. Here it is, see?’

Her aunt peered into the atlas.

‘I do see, yes. Vast lands are uninhabited, and there are others where brown bears wander free, alongside wolves.’

Elenor sat back in wonderment.

‘I’d be so scared if I came across a bear on our farm,’ she declared.

‘The chances are minimal. I would have liked to visit Canada, but your uncle was not a traveller.’

Her aunt tapped the book. ‘Where shall we visit next, Wales? It is closer to home. Your uncle’s family originated from there. A place called, Blaenau Ffestiniog, now there’s a name for you.’

They spent an hour travelling the world and Elenor sensed the bond between them growing.

Around midday there was a tap at the door, and Victoria entered with a lunch tray. She was closely followed by her husband who, without giving Elenor a glance, strode to her aunt’s side and knelt down.

‘Mrs Matthews, I understand you have been unwell whilst I was away. How are you today?’

Her aunt gave a good-humoured cough.

‘I take it your conference was worth the while. Victoria will no doubt be visiting her family soon. At times I fear you two are ships who pass in the night.’

Elenor disliked his familiarity with her aunt. His voice grated her nerves. Posh school boy education no doubt. Loneliness must have made the old lady blind to his false ways.

‘We moved the books, George,’ Elenor said, rising to her feet. She was determined not to be ignored by him. ‘Victoria and Rose helped.’

Elenor noticed Victoria slip from the room; she hadn’t spoken that morning and looked pale. Her husband turned as she left, then turned back to his employer.

‘I’m pleased to say I learned a lot from my professors. As for Victoria, I have told her a family visit is on the cards. Now your niece is here to assist you, maybe she will go sooner rather than later. Oh, I have arranged for the piano tuner to visit in the week. I understand Miss Cardew sings, I thought we might entertain you one evening.’

Aunt Maude dismissed him with a flick of her hand as she bit into a slice of bread and butter.

Try as she might Elenor still could not find anything pleasant about the man.

‘What a …’ Elenor stopped, remembering her aunt was in the room.

‘Arrogant man? Is that what you were going to say?’

Elenor turned to her aunt, embarrassed by her small outburst.

‘I’m sorry for being rude. It’s just since his return he has upset Victoria, and tries to ignore that I exist.’

Her aunt pointed to the chair opposite.

‘Sit. Victoria is a timid thing when he is around. He dominates her. We have to respect their marriage and how they conduct themselves within it. If I felt for one moment he hurt her physically, I would have something to say, but I have found no evidence.’

‘But …’

Her aunt tutted. ‘No buts. You will do as I do. I watch, I listen, and I say the right words to let him know his place. Victoria is a good housekeeper and I would hate to lose her over something I said to her husband. Rose is a well-behaved child, and of no bother. Everything works as I need it to work and I will not have it altered. I’m too old to change my ways and to have them changed for me. Understand? Keep the balance – and the peace. I look forward to our musical event, at least you will find common ground with George and music.’

Elenor understood the message her aunt communicated.

Later, a gentle snore from her aunt meant their session was over, and she headed back to the day room – a room she now referred to as the study. Victoria arrived with a tray laden with a light lunch.

‘Thank you, Victoria. No Rose?’

‘She’s in the garden. It’s best when she’s at school.’

Elenor shrugged, not sure how to respond.

‘I take it George has returned to work?’

‘Yes. He insists on eating at home. I must confess it is easier when he is away.’

With the impression Victoria resented the presence of both husband and daughter, Elenor said nothing, but wondered at the other woman’s happiness … or lack of it.

When she’d finished lunch, she returned the tray to the kitchen. Rose was nowhere to be seen, and Victoria sat polishing a silver candelabra.

‘Do you sew Victoria? I’ve a mind to make something from my mother’s clothes and wondered if you would help me decide what to make. A keepsake item, maybe. Oh, and young Rose can join us. Again, we’ll make use of her idle hands.’ Elenor smiled gently.

Victoria set aside her cloth.

‘I sew, and Rose will also benefit from a lesson, if you are sure she won’t be in your way.’

‘You fret too much, she’s no bother. Meet me in the study when you are ready.’

An excited Rose followed her mother into the room.

‘I’m good at cutting out,’ she declared.

By the end of their sewing session, Elenor had trimmed her hat and Victoria had created a small flower to match. As they were clearing away, the door to the study burst open.

‘There you are! I’m home and thirsty, and the pot is cold!’ George shouted at his wife.

‘Hello Daddy.’ Rose said.

‘Leave. Out,’ he said in reply and pointed to the door.

Rose slipped out of the room and Elenor heard her run upstairs.

‘I said, where’s my tea?’ George’s voice was low and angry.

He ignored Elenor, and she stood in shock at the way he had spoken to his wife and child.

Victoria stopped folding fabric and went towards the door and her husband stepped to one side.

Anger rose in Elenor’s gullet. The man had no respect for women and again, Elenor decided it was her duty to remind him she was in the room. Keeping her voice calm, she spoke first to Victoria.

‘Stay where you are please, Victoria, and continue clearing the things away.’

She turned to George.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, George. Victoria will be a while longer yet.’

From the corner of her eye she saw an angry man leave the room as she continued about her business.

‘I do hope George won’t reprimand you for doing your duty, Victoria.’

‘I apologise Elenor. Sometimes he forgets he is not teaching his pupils.’

Elenor leaned on the table and spoke across it to Victoria in a clear, precise voice.

‘I may be young and have a simple education, but I am not blind nor stupid, Victoria. Never apologise for George. Through you he has a roof over his head, and food in his belly. There is no place for a bully in this house. We will keep him waiting a while longer and take these things upstairs.’

Chapter 10

Days ticked by and Elenor walked Rose to and from school. Their friendship bloomed, and on more than one occasion, Rose, Elenor, and her aunt sat learning together from the encyclopaedia. Each time she opened the book, Elenor went to the page bookmarked with a scrap of paper on which she’d written, ‘a country to visit one day’. Canada had captured her attention.

Rose was fascinated by the bears. Aunt Maude proved herself a quiet, patient tutor, and Elenor enjoyed their time together.

Elenor’s nineteenth birthday was just a few days away, and Rose let it be known how disappointed she was that adults did not celebrate. From Elenor’s point of view, having never celebrated the day for many years, she had no expectations. She promised herself a walk into town and a browse the department store.

She hoped to find the courage to go to the tearooms around the corner from the store. When Elenor had peered through the window on her first visit, she’d noted a few young women seated as if in wait for a companion. Her plan was to pretend just that and enjoy a birthday treat. She would borrow a few coins from her aunt’s emergency dish and repay the money when she had earned a wage.

The morning of her birthday arrived and with it a misty grey atmosphere, but it didn’t bother Elenor, knowing she had the protection of her new coat. After enjoying a warm bath, Elenor dressed in her wine-coloured outfit.

Entering the dining room, Elenor was aware her aunt had not arrived, or eaten and left. It puzzled her as to why her aunt asked for her to live in and help but had never asked Elenor to do anything for her. After waiting a few minutes, she made a start on her porridge and was pleased to see Victoria arrive with a hot pot of tea.

‘Good morning Elenor, I heard you come down. Many happy returns of the day from George, Rose and myself. Your aunt apologises, she has a severe headache today and asked me to give you this with her birthday greetings.’ Victoria pulled an envelope from her apron pocket.

‘Thank you, Victoria. Please, send my best wishes to my aunt, I won’t disturb her. I have plans to take a walk and will borrow a coin from the dish.’

Elenor opened the envelope and stared down at its contents. A silver shilling and a note for Mrs Green to allow Elenor to select toiletry items, a gift of Elenor’s choosing and a small trinket from her aunt to be chosen by Mrs Green in her absence.

She put her hands to her mouth to smother the squeal of joy.

‘How kind of her,’ she said, as tears of happiness filled her eyes. ‘It is my first gift on my birthday since my mother died. It has been years since anyone thought of me in this way. To think, I once feared my aunt, yet she is the most generous person I know.’

Although the air was damp, Elenor didn’t mind. She relished the idea of taking time looking at beautiful things inside the store once again and pondered over the cost of a small clutch bag.

Once in town she stopped outside the window of the department store. It housed a new outfit, a mannequin sporting a red evening gown. All thoughts of a clutch bag went from her mind as Elenor stared up at the pretty outfit.

Inside the store the mingled aromatic fragrances reminded her she was to purchase toiletries, and she sought out Mrs Green to give her the message from her aunt.

She found the woman at her station, keeping a watchful eye on the shop floor like a mother hen watching her chicks.

‘Is everyone behaving, Mrs Green?’

The older woman turned and took a step backwards. A smile lit up her face.

‘Miss Cardew. How lovely to see you again. You do look elegant. I take it your aunt approved?’

‘Thank you, Mrs Green. Wholeheartedly, I am pleased to say. She has written to you.’

Mrs Green read the letter and gave Elenor another wide smile.

‘Many happy returns. What fun you will have choosing your gift. Do you have anything in mind?’

‘The dress in the window caught my eye, but I am in need of a small bag, one to compliment my hat and gloves.’

‘Sally is free to assist you. Ah, here she comes now.’

‘Miss Cardew, I didn’t recognise you at first. How are you?’

Elenor gave Sally a smile.

‘I am another year older than when we last met, Sally. Today is my birthday and my aunt has been most generous. Toiletries and a new bag are on my list.’

She removed her gloves.

‘And look Mrs Green, your advice about buying the lavender cream has helped them already. They are improving each day. If ever I milk a cow again it will be with softer hands, that’s for certain.’

Both Sally and Mrs Green laughed their approval.

Sally guided Elenor to the toiletry and cosmetic area.

Perfumes wafted across the shop floor, and ladies sprayed and inhaled in gay abandon.

‘What items were you considering, Miss Cardew?’ Sally picked up a talcum powder pot to show Elenor.

‘Yes, it is the same as my cream. Oh, and soap to match, wonderful.’

They ventured through to the handbag section and the smell of leather added to the luxurious surroundings.

‘These are lovely, Miss Cardew, and look far more expensive than they are,’ she picked up a green leather with an embossed image of a flower on the flap. ‘This one would complement your hat and is proving to be rather popular.’

Returning to Mrs Green with her packages, Elenor was handed a wrapped gift.

‘This is the item from your aunt. Please enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Cardew.’

With her head held high, Elenor walked out of the shop with her gifts nestling in their bags. The mist had lifted. She walked a few steps and came to a newsagent’s set back between a haberdashery and grocer’s. The lure of a fashion magazine to enjoy that evening was a strong one. She spotted a women’s magazine for two pennies. Its price suited Elenor, and she stepped inside to purchase a copy. She unclasped her bag and took out the shilling coin and handed it over to the newsagent. Unsure whether she would have enough to sit inside the small tea rooms, she chose to walk home and enjoy a cup of tea there instead.

A familiar figure ahead caused Elenor to change her mind. George crossed the road and was heading in her direction. Elenor couldn’t determine if he’d seen her or not, but she was not prepared to wait around and find out. With a sharp turn away from the direction of home, she walked back towards the store and past its front door. A suitable window offering a clear reflective view showed George looking into the main window of a taxidermist. She entered a side lane knowing it linked up with the main road she needed to cross and if she hurried she would make it unseen. To have George as a companion in town would ruin all the pleasures she had savoured for her birthday. He was a memory she had no desire to make.

Hereford Street was busy and Elenor moved amongst the people to keep herself hidden from view. When she came to a shop selling tempting treats she stopped, glanced behind her and noticed George turning into the end of the road. Elenor knew for definite he was following her. She rushed across the road and headed towards the Geisha Café on the corner. Upon arrival she made no effort to turn around and, giving herself no time to make up her mind whether to enter or not, she stepped inside.

Chapter 11

Chatter and chinking teacups echoed around the pleasant room. It was large with tables dressed with delicate white cloths, but panic set in when the waitress looked her way and Elenor turned, pulled the door open to leave and walked straight into the body of another trying to enter.

‘Oooph’

‘My apologies. I am so sorry.’

Her rushed words were muffled into the chest of a male. She could smell tobacco and the soap George Sherbourne used. She pulled back in horror. Her efforts of shaking him off had failed.

‘Miss Cardew?’

A male voice with a distinct accent spoke but it was not the person she’d winded in the doorway. Composing herself, Elenor tried to muster up a smidgen of dignity and spent a moment readjusting her hat. It was Samuel Fleming, the Canadian whose foot she’d stepped on. Dismay hit her. Although he wasn’t the victim of her unintended assault, he’d witnessed another of her clumsy acts.

‘Mr Fleming. How pleasant to see you again. Allow me to introdu …’

The man she thought was George Sherbourne was most definitely not. The only thing he had in common with George was the tobacco aroma. Dark hair, neatly clipped, trimmed a handsome face, dark eyes melted into hers. She admired his tanned skin and wide shoulders, the complete opposite to George. She prayed her mouth had not really drooped open with pleasant surprise.

‘Ma’am, it’s a pleasure.’

His voice! Smooth, heart-melting and deep, and with the same soft twang as his companion.

‘Allow me to introduce my grandson, Jackson St John. He’s here to train pilots. Miss Cardew is the young lady I mentioned when we sought out your mother’s gift earlier in the day.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Cardew.’

Jackson St John held out his hand and, with no hesitation, Elenor clutched hold.

‘I am pleased to meet you and I do apologise for my clumsiness. My friend was not inside, and I rushed out without looking.’

She hoped her face didn’t give away her small white lie.

‘We are about to enjoy a cup of English tea. Would you care to join us, Miss Cardew? Or would you prefer to wait for your friend?’

Elenor looked around. She saw no sign of George and the draw of sitting down for afternoon tea on her birthday still held. She made a mental note of the ten pennies sitting in her new bag and again begged the question, would she have enough money? It dawned on her she didn’t know the price of sitting at a pretty table, or what the rules were of sitting with strange men. Although, to be fair, Samuel Fleming was someone she had met before, and he was a respectable uniformed man.

‘As much as I would love to join you both, I’m afraid I feel I should wait. Thank you again and do enjoy your tea.’

Disappointed, she took a slow walk a few steps away from the café, and it pleased her to see a flicker of disappointment cross Jackson St John’s face. Whilst in the process of telling herself off for being silly and imagining things, she heard the irritating voice of George Sherbourne slice through the air as if a smarting frost.

‘Elenor!’

‘George. Good afternoon.’

‘Many happy returns.’

Elenor made no effort to shake his hand using the pretence her hands were full with her shopping.

‘Miss Cardew. It is your birthday? Well, we really must treat you and your friend now he has arrived,’ said Samuel Fleming, before Elenor could mention George was not the friend she had been waiting for.

‘Happy Birthday, Miss Cardew,’ said Jackson St. John.

George stood with a grin she wanted to slap away from his face and introduced himself. He then followed through with a blatant lie.

‘Miss Cardew won’t mind, she was to have only me as company.’

Before Elenor could object, Jackson St John pulled open the door of the café.

‘Maybe you can point out a traditional English cake, we want to make the most of my grandfather’s last day,’ he said.

George jumped in with a reply before Elenor had the chance to open her mouth.

‘You must try a Kunzle cake. Shall we?’

All three stood to one side as Elenor stepped inside. She sensed George breathing behind her, his raspy breath expelling onion vapours. He was too close. Her skin tingled with displeasure, unlike when Jackson looked into her eye – then the tingling was due to nothing but pleasure. A new sensation.

Once seated at the table they placed their order and George set about holding a conversation which failed to include Elenor.

‘I notice you are both members of the Canadian Air Force, how fascinating.’

Elenor turned to Jackson.

‘Can I ask, does it take long to become a pilot?’

George cut in before the conversation developed.

‘Flying a plane must be exciting. Where are you based?’

For fifteen minutes George controlled the conversation, never allowing Elenor a moment to speak. Each time one of the other men answered a question, he fired them one more. Boredom set in and she allowed her mind to absorb the qualities of the younger Canadian. She heard them mention horse riding and imagined him sitting straight-backed on the farm horse her family had once owned. They’d have made a handsome pair. Her mind then wandered into the harvest fields. Glorious sunshine, bales of hay and Jackson, with rolled up sleeves pitching and exposing his muscles. She’d only ever once admired a male doing much the same – it was last year when a traveller had stopped to earn a summer’s wage. He was also young and handsome, but her brothers ensured she was so busy she never got time to speak with him, just admire from afar. This afternoon she was seated beside another handsome man, and she could see large arms and guessed they’d be firm. Arms she’d happily snuggle into on a dark winter’s night.

What was she thinking? He probably had a sweetheart in Canada. More than one. He was too good-looking to be alone.

Throwing her off-balance and distracting her from her daydream, George patted the back of her hand and she recoiled from his touch.

‘It is time for you to return home, Elenor. Victoria will need you to assist her with your aunt.’

He swung her a gap-toothed patronising smile. Smug and sure of himself, he’d managed to establish himself as the superior. He’d taken control. A man no different from the father and brothers she tried to forget. Men whom suffocated women with their superior arrogance. Didn’t they know the world had moved on, and women were equal?

Horrid little man. I despise you.

Elenor’s anger surfaced, and she was ready to lash out her objections, but the sudden movement of both Canadian men pulling back their chairs to stand, reminded her to remain calm. Despite her inner thoughts she gave a sweet smile. She didn’t want to give Jackson the wrong impression. She was no longer a country bumpkin. Her aim was to improve herself. George must not be her downfall.

‘Gentleman, George is correct. His wife will need assistance with my aunt. George is the husband of my aunt’s housekeeper and is quite right to remind me of my duties.’ She emphasised the word wife. Unsure why, she wanted Jackson to know George meant nothing to her.

‘Please, enjoy the rest of your afternoon, and have a safe journey back to Canada, Squadron Leader. I do hope when you return my balance will have improved and I’m no longer a danger to the public.’

‘It’s been my pleasure, Miss Cardew. You brightened my visit. I leave my grandson behind should you find the need to step on his toes or knock the wind from him once again.’ The man gave such a loud laugh heads turned and smiled their way. Jackson tapped his grandfather on the shoulder.

‘Hey old man, behave.’ He gave his grandfather a deep and loving smile.

Elenor admired their ease with each other, and of how the affection between the two men was public. Not hidden and constrained. She felt she wanted more of that in her own life.

Outside the café she drew a deep breath. George needed reining in, much like the old ram when it was first brought to the farm.

Victoria greeted her with a smile but gained nothing in return.

‘Your husband caught up with me and is now enjoying the company of two Canadian airmen. Don’t expect to see him for a few hours. He was in full flow when I left. How is my aunt?’

Victoria looked flummoxed by Elenor’s abrupt speech.

‘Ah, George, once he finds someone to listen, he’ll talk for years. Canadian airmen will definitely capture his attention. Your aunt is awake, in the parlour, and I am pleased to say, pain-free. Rose spent time reading to her but is driving me mad in the kitchen. I warn you, the child is excited by your birthday. Please come and see her before you go to your aunt or we will not hear the end of it.’

When Elenor stepped inside the kitchen Rose ran to her, her pigtails flapping behind. She greeted Elenor with a hug and proceeded to bounce up and down for Elenor’s attention.

‘Elenor. Elenor. You’re home. Happy birthday! Mummy helped me make a cake, and I licked the bowl.’ She stopped to draw breath and pointed to a thin sponge sitting on the table. ‘Can we eat it now? Can we?’

Victoria crossed the room and touched the top of Rose’s head, chiding her in a firm voice.

‘Leave Elenor to catch her breath.’

‘Rose Sherbourne, I think you have grown seven foot since I left this morning,’ Elenor said and laughed at Rose still bouncing up and down.

‘Let me speak to my aunt first, and then we will enjoy a slice of cake with a cup of tea. Thank you, Victoria.’

A frail Aunt Maude sat in her usual chair. The room was barely lit, and the shadows from the fire flitted around the walls. It was no longer a cold room in atmosphere or temperature, Elenor felt comforted and much calmer. She was cheered by her aunt’s presence.

‘I am pleased to see you are up and about, Aunt. Victoria informs me you are pain free, and young Rose has kept you company.’

‘Elenor. I am sorry I could not bear the light this morning. Rose is a good girl, but I can only take her in small doses. I do hope you have enjoyed your birthday. Sit, tell me about it, did you see Mrs Green?’

Elenor lifted out the present Mrs Green had prepared on her aunt’s behalf and sat down opposite her aunt.

‘I have, and I did, thanks to you. It was most kind of you. Mrs Green wrapped the gift, so you could have the pleasure of seeing me unwrapping it. I quite literally bumped into the Canadian gentleman and his grandson today. They – along with George – treated me to afternoon tea. George is still with them, but I confess on being keen to see what treat awaits beneath this tissue paper. You have spoilt me once again.’

‘Well, unwrap. I am as curious as you.’

From the paper Elenor lifted a long box, a round one, and a tiny black velvet bag.

Inside the long box was a fountain pen. Under a square of silk inside the round one was a strand of amber beads. Elenor held out the necklace.

‘This is the first piece of jewellery I have ever owned. It is beautiful.’

Pulling open the small drawstring bag, Elenor gasped with delight. She lifted out a lipstick container.

Her aunt lifted both eyebrows.

‘Well, we will leave it that Mrs Green achieved two out of three for me, and three out of three for you. Ah, at least it isn’t too bright.’

Elenor looked at the soft raspberry shade. It was perfect. The past fortnight had taught her so many things and given her so much in the way of affection and material items, it overwhelmed her. She started to cry.

‘Forgive me. I am such a lucky young woman, I just wished I could have showed my mother these beautiful things. I have days where I miss her terribly.’

Her aunt struggled to her feet and patted her on the shoulder.

‘Dry your eyes girl. Your face brought me joy, and your mother would have had great pleasure in watching you. Enjoy your gifts. Now go and put your treasures away but leave me the magazine to browse through. I have a sneaking feeling I need to update my visions of what a young woman wears these days.’

Laughing, Elenor left the room. As she did so, George walked along the hallway. She could see his intention was to enter the parlour.

‘Ah, George. Did you enjoy your time with our Canadian friends? I did. Please, do not disturb my aunt. I understand Victoria is cooking me a special meal tonight, we’ll see you then.’

Without allowing him to reply she went upstairs. She listened out to hear if he defied her, but she did not hear the parlour door open; instead she heard Victoria and Rose’s voices as he entered the kitchen. A small smile played on her lips. George would not win his power struggle with her.

‘Elenor Cardew you are ready to evolve. Be strong,’ she whispered to her reflection in the dressing table mirror as she applied a dab of lipstick.

Back downstairs she met with Rose.

‘Can we eat the cake now?’

She grabbed hold of Elenor’s hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

Victoria sat waiting.

Rose snatched something from behind her mother’s back.

‘Open your present. I made it with no help from Mummy. She told me it was wonky in places, but I said you won’t mind, you are not posh like some ladies.’

‘Rose!’

Rose was telling the truth and Elenor gave Victoria a smile to show she didn’t mind.

‘I bet it is perfect, Rose. Thank you.’

She undid the yellow ribbon and unfolded the paper. Inside sat a square of blue material. The stitching around the edges was far from perfect, but to Elenor the headscarf was beautiful.

‘It’s the perfect gift. Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.’

Her voice cracked. The gift was given with so much affection. She looked at Rose and hoped one day she’d have a daughter with a heart as big as Rose Sherbourne’s.

Chapter 12

Autumn cooled down and drifted towards winter with no hesitation. Rose turned five and Elenor organised a small tea party. Two school friends were invited, and an excited Rose made the effort all worthwhile.

At the end of the day Elenor handed her a gift; a simple ragdoll dressed in a blue dress. The doll had a wonky smile, neat pink nose and large blue eyes embroidered onto a cream face. With a whoop of excitement, the little girl snatched it from its wrapping into her arms.

‘Thank you. She’s beautiful. I’m going to call her Annie.’

‘Annie. It suits her,’ said Elenor.

‘Thank you for my tea. Mummy said you did it all.’

‘It was my pleasure and an extra present.’

Elenor didn’t like to point out her parents showed no interest in her birthday, and she was thankful Annie made up for their lack of gift. Even Aunt Maude had knitted her a red cardigan.

Christmas brought with it great excitement as Elenor chose gifts for her aunt and Victoria. She brought her aunt a new woollen blanket in shades of pink, and for Victoria a new recipe book. She’d also purchased George a sheet of piano music.

Buying Rose’s gift gave her the most pleasure. It was a wicker doll’s pram, something Elenor had dreamed of owning as a young child. With due diligence, she’d paid into a Christmas club set up by Mrs Green.

She asked to pay a visit to her brothers and made new neckties for them. She’d also bought chocolates, and two magazines related to motorbikes.

Her aunt paid for a return ticket and the week before the festivities planned in her Coventry home, she made the journey to the farm.

The bus pushed its way through the last of the sludge which laid around the village. Nothing had changed, only the season.

Her bags weighed heavy as she walked to the end of the lane in her newly acquired wellington boots. There was a mild wind, nothing like the cold chill she’d expected, yet still she shivered. The farmhouse came into view. Fences lay in ruins around the boundary of the bottom field surrounding the house. In the two months she had been away, Elenor could see the brothers had neglected the family home. It saddened her greatly as she still loved her home, just not the residents. Maybe the old saying of absence makes the heart grow fonder would be proved today.

She didn’t knock and pushed the door open.

Stale, sour aromas hit her and wafted from pails by the sink – pig swill, which had sat for days rather than hours.

‘Who the hell are you lady, just walking in here?’

The gruff voice of James spoke from a chair by the unlit fire. He lifted a bottle and took a swig of its contents. Walter lay sleeping in the opposite seat, snoring the sleep of a drunkard.

‘Lady? Why thank you, kind sir.’

Elenor opted for a jovial manner as her reply. Her words registered with James and he jumped to his feet but found the need to steady himself against the fireplace.

‘About ruddy time you came home. This place needs a darn good clean. You can start when you’ve taken off that coat. Who the ruddy hell do you think you look like? Oi, Walt, see what the cat dragged in?’

James kicked his brother’s foot, and the startled man swore back at him. Pointing his finger at Elenor, James spat into the fire.

‘It’s crawled back from Coventry.’

With slow, deliberate movements, Walter also rose to his feet. He studied Elenor through slit eyes. It made a comical sight but Elenor knew better than to laugh.

‘Hello brother. I see you both have been busy,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Don’t bring that snobby tone round here. Get to your room before I give you a slap. Unpack and come down to cook us something.’

Not responding with words, Elenor handed them each a wrapped parcel. They stared at her, then at each other, then back at her.

‘Didn’t you hear me girl?’ Walter yelled at her.

Elenor kept her nerve.

‘Christmas greetings to you both. This is a brief visit. Much briefer than I’d anticipated in fact, as neither of you care I have returned as your sister; I will not be staying as your skivvy. The neckties are from our mother’s clothes, not that you will appreciate the sentiment.’

James threw his gift onto the chair.

‘Appreciate the sentiment? Who do you think you are, you la-di-da bitch? Do as you are told.’

He tottered a few steps towards her and Elenor could smell the fumes of unwashed clothing and alcohol. When drunk her brothers could become nasty, handy with their fists.

‘As I said, I’ll not stay. Thank you for the offer of a room though. Nice of you.’

She turned and opened the door.

‘Don’t wave me off. You’ll let out the heat.’

Unable to resist another stab of sarcasm, she walked away. With only one bag to carry, her physical load was lighter. Her emotional one was much heavier. In her naivety, she’d hoped her brothers might have missed her and welcomed her back.

The walk back into the village was a sad one. She turned to take one last look at Tre Lodhen and her heart broke. Her tears remained in full flow until she spotted the bus on a return trip. She ran without looking back and climbed on board and burst into tears.

‘What on earth is the matter gal? Come now. Where you headed?’ asked the driver.

‘Back to Coventry. I can’t stay here.’

‘I know your brothers. Pair of drunkards they’ve become. They owe money all over. Let’s get you to Plymouth, you are best out of their clutches.’ Elenor slumped into a seat and changed her boots for her city shoes.

On the train she watched Cornwall fade away as if curtains closing on a stage.

A young man in a uniform sat opposite and Elenor was reminded of more pleasant times. Her birthday tea with Jackson St John and his grandfather.

She wondered if she would be blessed with a man who loved her at some point in her life. So far, she’d only had negative or undesirable communications from her father and brothers. Men who were supposed to love her. She wouldn’t want a man like George in her life. A man full of his own importance and no respect for women. She wanted someone who would smile when she entered a room, a man who would appreciate her gifts. Forcing back tears that seemed to threaten when least expected, she directed her thoughts on the pleasant image of Jackson in the hay field. She closed her eyes and imagined touching his muscular arms. Embarrassed by her new thoughts and the feelings they encouraged, she opened her eyes and looked out of the window just as they were pulling into Coventry station.

On the platform she could see George.

‘George. How did you know I was on the train and returning home?’

A scarlet-faced George stared at her in bewilderment.

‘I, um … err … I …’

Elenor noted he had a suitcase by his feet.

‘Are you waiting for me or off on one of your trips?’

He opened the door of the carriage she’d just left.

‘Another work-related lecture, Miss Cardew. Victoria is off to see her family in the morning, so your aunt will appreciate your early return.’

The whistle and scream of the train about to leave blew away some of his words. Elenor caught he would return Christmas Eve.

Confused by the fact Victoria was leaving her aunt alone and had not mentioned she had any intentions of visiting her family before Christmas, Elenor did not wait to see him off, although she had a sneaking suspicion he might have liked the attention. She took a quick walk home and went down the side entrance to the kitchen with the intention of making a hot drink before she went to bed.

To her surprise as she switched on the light, Victoria sat at the kitchen table in her nightwear. The woman never moved as Elenor walked up to her.

‘Gracious Victoria, you startled me. Are you unwell?’

Victoria shrugged her shoulders but didn’t give an answer.

‘Why are you home so soon, Elenor?’

Her voice sounded tired and Elenor sensed a hint of sadness.

‘I’ve just bumped into George. He said he is off on another trip, and you are to visit your family tomorrow. Is that right, you are leaving my aunt unattended? Were you taking Rose with you?’

Victoria rose from her seat. ‘How come you are back so soon?’

‘That’s my business. I can appreciate you wanting to visit your family, but my aunt needs support.’

She waited for Victoria to explain her decision to leave her aunt, but Victoria appeared distracted by other thoughts.

‘Victoria?’

‘I have no choice, George insists. I must be away for two days. I explained to your aunt I would leave everything in readiness for her, and she agreed. After all, I am her housekeeper, not her nurse.’

Elenor pushed her cup to one side.

‘It is not up to George when my aunt is to be left unattended. We call you housekeeper, but you know your post means caring for my aunt in all areas. Leaving her for two days is simply unacceptable. You can go because I am here, but understand I am not happy about the situation. I’m off to bed. I hope your family visit is more successful than mine. Goodnight.’

Elenor left the kitchen in a state of agitation. As she snuggled under the comfort of her eiderdown her anger towards George heightened.

Chapter 13

The following day, Victoria sought out Elenor.

‘I apologise for last night, but I do have to return home.’

Elenor stared at her.

‘It is not up to George to suggest things which threaten my aunt’s well-being. I take it Rose is at school?’

Victoria nodded and stepped out into the drizzling rain.

‘Yes. A friend will bring her home.’

‘I’m surprised you are not taking her with you. All this to-ing and fro-ing by you and George needs to be addressed. It is happening more often than not lately.’

‘Rose needs to stay here.’

Picking up a basket, Victoria walked away, not waiting to continue the conversation.

Elenor sensed a change in the woman and stared out onto the garden. She couldn’t wait for spring when the flowers poked through the soil bringing promises of warmer days.

Setting up a tray for her aunt, she thought of how life might be if Victoria or George didn’t live with them. Thinking ahead, Elenor pondered on an idea. As George earned his own money and appeared to only spend it on trips away, Elenor might suggest they find a place of their own and ask Victoria to become a daily help rather than a live-in housekeeper. Then she remembered Rose. The girl lit up her life, and Elenor would miss her. She tucked the thought to the back of her mind and took the tray upstairs.

‘Good morning, Aunt. How are you this morning? Curtains open or closed?’

‘Good morning Elenor. Open. Why are you back so early?’

Elenor set the tray on her aunt’s lap.

Elenor relayed to her aunt about the upset in Summercourt. Her aunt finished eating and pushed the tray away.

‘Consider this your home now. You are surprisingly better behaved than I’d been led to believe. I enjoy your company.’

Selecting clothes from the wardrobe and drawers, it unnerved Elenor that her aunt appeared to not realise they may not have many years left together and Elenor’s future would need to be one of independence.

‘It is reassuring Aunt, thank you. I am an independent sort, so will seek employment for the future. There will be a time …’

‘Yes, yes. Come along, I do not want to stay in my nightgown all day.’

They spent the day talking about family members Elenor had never heard of, and Maude reminisced about when she had been the same age as Elenor.

‘You are very much like me. Fierce and independent.’

‘That is a compliment, Aunt.’

‘Ah, but you have the traits of your mother too. Quiet and loving. You have the qualities I would have wished for in a daughter.’

Elenor remembered the affection between the Canadian relatives and walked over to her aunt. She placed her arms around her neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

By four o’clock the calm of the house had disappeared. Rose burst through the door bringing with her the damp fresh air.

‘Elenor. I missed you!’

She raced over and hugged Elenor’s body.

‘Gracious, I was only gone for a day,’ Elenor said with a laugh. She wiped her floured hands on a cloth and bent down to Rose.

‘Let’s get this damp coat off you and we can chat about your day. Sit at the table and I’ll make you a warm milk. My aunt is snoozing, so we’ll stay in here.’

The easy atmosphere gave Elenor comfort.

‘It is nice when Mummy and Daddy aren’t here,’ Rose said.

‘Rose. I’m not sure you mean that. It is different. I might not be as strict when they are home, but you will not get away with things while they are away, young lady,’ Elenor said but she was in silent agreement. The place had a calm feel, a natural rhythm.

‘Are you looking forward to Christmas? I am,’ Rose said.

‘Of course, who doesn’t like Christmas? This will be a special one for me,’ Elenor said.

‘Why?’

‘Because of you and my aunt. And your parents.’

‘Mine will be special ’cos of you. Can I go and read in the study?’

‘Yes, but don’t disturb my aunt.’

Rose scrambled down from the table and placed her cup in the sink. Elenor watched her leave and knew she loved the child. Her parents would have to stay.

Christmas Eve arrived and the smells from the kitchen wafted around the house. Elenor’s mouth watered in anticipation.

‘It is such an exciting time of the year, Victoria. We never celebrated after my mother died, and never with other members of the family even when she was alive.’

The pair sat at the table and snipped green foliage for decorations. Rose tied rag ribbons around the completed wreaths, and Maude applauded their efforts.

Midway through the morning, George arrived home. He instructed Rose to fetch his slippers and asked for a few moments of Victoria’s time. Maude noticed Victoria hesitate and shooed her away, giving her five minutes to reunite with her husband.

When they came back downstairs the atmosphere altered to a more subdued one. Rose sat in silence pencil rubbing over leaves on paper. Her face no longer wore its cheery smile.

‘I assume your lecture was an interesting one, George?’ Elenor asked in an attempt to ease the tension. Her aunt made excuses and went to her room for a nap.

Elenor and Victoria prepared and chopped vegetables between them. George sat on a chair by the back door polishing his shoes.

‘I gave the lecture. It was well received. The audience were receptive to my modern ideas when tutoring young men.’

Elenor wanted to laugh at his pomposity. His chest stood out prouder than a stuffed pigeon.

‘Interesting. So, what are your modern ideas, George?’

Elenor had no real interest but needed a conversation to focus on. Shaking his head, George gave a chuckle, as if addressing a young pupil.

‘Ah, I fear they are a complicated set of ideas, and there are far too many of them for me to spend the time relaying to you ladies today. Forgive me.’

With hackles now risen, Elenor was not going to let him get away with belittling both her and Victoria.

‘Not at all, George. I am always interested in complicated ideas. Why, I have them myself sometimes.’

George raised an eyebrow.

‘I doubt your idea of complicated and mine are the same, Miss Cardew,’ he said, and Elenor heard the sneer in his tone.

She shrugged off his rudeness knowing she would find a way to knock him off his pedestal. He was sly, and underhand but she was quick thinking and far from a silly airheaded girl. George never knew her brothers and of how Elenor had to outwit them on a daily basis. They’d given her a good education in that area.

‘Tomorrow will be fun. I suggest we enjoy music around the piano. A game of charades after dinner might be amusing.’

Victoria looked up from her task and smiled.

‘It has been a long time since we played charades. Remember when we were children and played them, George?’

Elenor turned to George as Victoria spoke. His face held a dark look, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by Victoria’s outburst. It was the most she had said all morning.

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were childhood sweethearts. How wonderful!’

‘Not exactly sweethearts,’ George muttered.

‘Oh, you tease. He’s teasing you Victoria,’ Elenor said, and turned to the housekeeper as the woman, bright red in the face cleared away the vegetable peelings.

‘As he said, not exactly sweethearts. George and I grew up together, and this is where we are. No more, no less.’

Deciding their recent argument was still ongoing, Elenor changed the subject.

‘I am making traditional Cornish pasties for supper. My aunt asked I make them for her. Instead of you both eating out here, I invite you to join us in the front room where we will decorate a tree. My aunt mentioned she used to have a Christmas tree before the Great War, but never had one since. I saw one for sale and we will surprise her with it this afternoon. The tree is outside and needs bringing in, George, if you wouldn’t mind.’

She could see he did mind but ventured into the yard with no argument.

The pushing and shoving of the tree through the home brought about a light-hearted mood, with much squealing and laughter from Rose. Soon the odd atmosphere of the kitchen was forgotten. Her aunt clapped her hands as they pulled the tree into place, and all inhaled its pine perfume.

‘It is a fine tree,’ George said and stood back to watch the women add their decorations.

Once finished, Victoria took Rose and made her way back to the kitchen. George excused himself to completing various chores.

Elenor went to bake the pasties and decided George could distribute some to the needy in town.

‘Any idea where George is, Victoria?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘I’ll catch him at supper. My aunt sent a message, Rose, she’s making paper chains and asked for your help.’

‘Can I, Mummy?’

Victoria nodded in agreement.

‘I’ll be at my desk until you are finished here, Victoria.’

On entering the study, to Elenor’s annoyance George sat at her desk. He appeared to be studying a map. Her writing items and Christmas cards were set to one side on another small table in the corner. The room was awash with his pipe smoke. Not wishing to show how angry it made her, she chose a friendlier approach.

‘Caught you planning your escape from Christmas chores, have I, George?’ she said and laughed.

He turned around unamused. Hastily folding the map, he placed it in his pocket and made no move to stand up.

‘Important lesson preparation. Can I help you with something, Elenor?’

He spoke as if she was a member of staff, the old-fashioned master talking to his maid servant. The smoke spiralled from his pipe as he puffed at the tip. He crossed his legs and leaned back in the seat.

‘Not at the moment, George, thank you. But you will be helping me tomorrow morning. You and I are to distribute food to the men injured in the Great War who can no longer work and feed their families. We have a responsibility to bring a little joy into their lives at Christmas.’

From his neck upwards George went pale. Elenor watched him flounder, then run his finger around his collar.

‘Are you warm, George? Might I suggest as Victoria is busy preparing our meal that you might fill the coal scuttles? Let Victoria relax for the evening. We will sing carols to start off the Christmas festivities, you can play for us. What do you think?’

With amusement she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Not moving, she waited for his response. A beaded row of sweat formed across his brow and she knew he battled with his temper.

Biting into the side of her cheek and clenching her fists to stop an outburst of giggles, Elenor watched him stand up and adjust his jacket.

‘Now, I really must finish writing in my aunt’s card. If you would kindly return my items to my desk, thank you.’

She made a pretend fuss of moving a silver bird from one side of a cabinet to another and watched him return her desk to order.

‘Oh, and please leave the door open, I need to listen out for my aunt.’

She watched him stomp from the room and hesitate, pondering whether he dared slam the door. He left it open.

The afternoon was productive on her part, and the evening turned out to be a jovial affair. Each chose a carol to sing together, and Elenor chose ‘Silent Night’ to sing for her solo. Rose played several tunes, all with perfect precision. Elenor noticed neither parent praised her. They expected nothing but perfection. When the singing was over, Rose fell asleep on the mat beside the fire.

‘Ah, little thing looks like a contented kitten,’ Aunt Maude said. Elenor scooped her up and handed her to Victoria. As she kissed the top of the Rose’s head, she realised she’d never seen Rose’s parents show the same affection.

When the evening drew to a close, Maude called George to her and whispered something to him. He left the room and Elenor looked to her aunt who tapped the side of her nose and grinned back at her.

He returned carrying a large object covered in a sheet.

‘Set it down over there, George. Careful. Gently does it.’

Her aunt pointed to the object on the small table next to the Christmas tree.

‘This belonged to your uncle and now it’s yours. Tomorrow we will be able to listen to King George give his speech. We will be part of history.’

Elenor jumped to her feet and pulled away the sheet. She clapped her hands in delight.

‘A wireless set. How wonderful. Oh, but how does it work?’

‘Fret not. When I couldn’t see it in your uncle’s bedroom, I asked George to look for it and get it serviced. He’s learned how to set it to the right frequencies.’

Elenor could see by George’s face that was not the case and guessed he had hidden it away for his own use.

‘Thank you, George. It was most thoughtful of you, and now my aunt will be able to enjoy it on a day-to-day basis. I suggest after tomorrow you move it to the parlour. After all, that is where she spends most of her days.’

His faced flushed just as she guessed it might. Elenor sensed his intention had been to use it whenever he wanted in the room her aunt rarely entered.

‘If at any time either of you wanted to listen in with us, I am sure you wouldn’t object, Aunt?’

‘Not at all, although it is yours, so maybe your study? That way, if I want to doze, you can still listen to your music. Talking of dozing, it’s time for my bed.’

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