‘Nearly there.’ Even Sarah was beginning to sound discouraged. The heat, unusual for early June, was making the journey over the top to Northwaite a harder trek than usual. Although the elevated path allowed for a cooler breeze, a welcome relief to their over-heated faces, the sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Ella found herself longing to reach the shady churchyard, overhung as it was with trees. As they walked, she resisted looking at the distant church tower, gazing at the path instead, glancing up only occasionally to check that their destination was drawing closer.
It was with a concerted sigh of relief that the family pushed through the gate, having managed to slip through the village apparently unseen. The villagers were resting after lunch, or at work in their gardens, and the hot streets were deserted.
Beth, Annie and Beattie flopped down on the steps of the church in silence. Ella turned to Thomas. ‘Let them rest awhile, then you can take them to the pump in the High Street. They’ll feel better after a drink of water.’ She paused. ‘Mind you come straight back here.’
It was unlikely that anyone in the village would recognise Beth, or any of the younger members of the Bancroft family, for that matter, since it was over seven years since they had left, but she didn’t want anyone asking awkward questions. She herself was suddenly very conscious of her resemblance to Alice and found herself wishing that the heat of the day hadn’t prevented her from wearing a shawl that she could have drawn across her face if necessary.
Sarah, about to follow the path around the base of the church tower, turned back and beckoned to Ella to follow. Conscious of just how hot and sticky she felt now that they had stopped walking, and wishing she could have followed Thomas and the girls to the pump instead, Ella quickened her pace to catch up with Sarah.
She rounded the corner to find her mother standing in the shade of a yew tree, already deep in conversation with Albert. Ella’s heart gave its now-familiar jolt at the sight of him and she smiled as she reached them, her eyes seeking his and looking for a hint that her feelings were reciprocated. Yet it seemed to her as though his eyes skated across her face, and his smile was just a brief glimmer. Disappointed, she put it down to the fact that she was interrupting their conversation, and turned her attention to what they were saying.
‘I’ve spoken to the vicar,’ Albert was saying. ‘He’s new to the parish and has only been here a year. He has no objection to my plans.’ He paused. ‘I’m not sure that the villagers will feel the same but –’ he shrugged, then he reached into his breast pocket. ‘Here – I’ve sketched what I would like to do.’
Ella was puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’
Sarah turned to Ella. ‘Albert would like to raise a gravestone in Alice’s memory.’
Ella stared at her. ‘You mean this is where Alice is…’ she swallowed, unable to continue. She looked around her, then she spied a wooden cross, all but hidden amongst the tangle of wildflowers. This part of the graveyard was barely occupied and had been allowed to become overgrown.
‘Yes,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Alice is buried here. I’ve only been able to visit the once, before we had to leave Northwaite. It’s a sorry mess, with no one here to care for it over the years.’ She brightened. ‘But it’s a lovely spot, a peaceful one. And Albert is going to raise a stone, carved in memory of Alice.’
‘Look, I’ve sketched what I would like to do.’ Albert held the paper out to them.
Ella and Sarah gazed at Albert’s drawing: the curve of the stone’s edge echoed by the entwined plant tendrils and seed heads, bursting with life.
‘And you can do this in stone?’ Ella marvelled. She glanced at Sarah and saw that tears were spilling down her cheeks. ‘Albert, it’s beautiful,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t know how we can ever thank you.’
She stopped, overwhelmed too by the combination of the sudden discovery of her sister’s final resting place, by the realisation of how her grave had lain untended all these years, and by Albert’s unexpected thoughtfulness and kindness.
Albert looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m not to be allowed to carve anything beyond her name and the dates of her life. The vicar felt a dedication of any sort might be inflammatory, so I wanted to make her grave stand out for other reasons.’
He looked deeply upset at having to deliver this news, but was saved from further comment by the arrival of Thomas and the younger family members. Revitalised by their trip to get water from the pump, they were chattering away.
Ella and Albert both registered Sarah’s stricken look, as she glanced down at Alice’s grave and then at Beth.
‘What are you doing?’ Annie asked, gazing around, at the same moment as Albert said, ‘I have something else to show you.’
‘Something else?’ Annie queried, but her question was ignored as Albert led the family out through the narrow gate in the side of the wall surrounding the churchyard, and along the cobbled path in front of a row of cottages.
‘This way,’ and he led them out onto the High Street, turning in the direction that led through the village and beyond. Ella paused for a moment, looking back, struck by the peace and beauty of the location before turning and hurrying to catch up with the family.
Albert led them through the village, still thankfully quiet in the afternoon sun, until they reached the last house along the road. Ella had grown increasingly uncomfortable and the chatter of the family had died away. She hadn’t been back to Northwaite for over seven years but this street was one she had walked along daily before that. And the house that they were now standing in front of was the one she had lived in from her earliest memory.