Flames shot up the kitchen wall in Ford House. Pegging up dolls’ clothes in the garden with Martha, Elena was alerted to the danger by the smell of smoke. ‘Martha! Run to the tree house and stay up there with Alan. Whatever you do, don’t come down until I tell you both that it’s safe! Go on, darling. Run!’
Martha hared off on her little toddling legs, screaming all the way.
Her heart thrashing in panic, Elena dashed into the house. She saw at once that the fire was her fault. A tea towel she had hung over the drying line under the high wooden overmantel had slipped off and had caught alight because she had forgotten to close the door of the grate. The overmantel was ablaze and cracking with the heat and if she didn’t act quickly the flames would soon stretch across to the curtains.
She raced to the back kitchen and filled a large enamel bowl with water, ran back into the kitchen and threw the water into the seat of the fire. It doused out a lot of the flames, making steam bubble and hiss on top of the range. There were two saucepans of peeled vegetables in water on the table and she threw them both at the remaining, still determined flames, then she emptied a pot of cold tea. Finally, she grabbed an apron and beat out the last of the blaze.
Shaking, coughing, her eyes stinging from the smoke, she retreated to the back kitchen door to survey the damage. She wanted to cry at what she saw but couldn’t give way to tears or it would frighten Alan and Martha. The overmantel was a charred ruin. The wall around it was scorched black, the plaster cracked. Worst of all, there was smoke damage to the room and the back kitchen, and because she tended to leave doors ajar the passage and stairway and every room in the house would have suffered the same. She’d have to decorate throughout the entire house and wash every curtain and cushion and all the bed linen. The house wasn’t fit to live in and it would cost a fortune and take a lot of time and trouble to put right.
Back outside, she called Alan and Martha down from the tree house. They were scared and reached for her. Kneeling down, she comforted them and found comfort herself by hugging their soft little bodies.
‘Aunt Elena has been very silly and it’s her fault there was a fire,’ she explained, trying to keep control of her voice. ‘We can’t go back inside yet, I’m afraid, but at least none of us was hurt. That’s the main thing.’
‘Will we have to live in the tree house, Aunty ’Lena?’ Alan asked, serious, still alarmed, but his eyes were glittering as if sensing an adventure.
‘No, darling.’ Elena managed a small laugh. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, but we need some help.’ A lot of help if they were going to sleep at home tonight. And she knew just who to turn to.
Jim was at home that morning. He had just driven home his new means of transport, a ten-year-old, green-painted Ford, formerly a baker’s delivery van. It was well kept but the bodywork was a little untrue on the front right-hand side after repairs following a collision with a stone pillar, but Jim couldn’t be prouder of it. He was filling it with his tools and placing a ladder on the roof rack. Parked in the village square, it had caused a rapid stir of interest and he’d received some requests for low-paid minor work and a lucrative job at the nursery. Gilbert Eathorne, who treated him almost as an equal now he was a local small-business man, had arranged for him to build a back porch. His business was up and running. He’d make more money from these first jobs in a week than he had used to do in two months. Eagerly, he read again the signwriting on the side of the van. J. Killigrew Esq. General Builder. Hennaford. Near Truro. He’d have to get a telephone installed. That would give something for people round here to talk about.
Absorbed in his achievement, it was a while before he heard the urgent voices calling his name. He swung round and stared, hardly comprehending what he saw.
‘Jim! Jim! Thank God you’re here. We need your help,’ Elena cried. She was rushing towards him, Alan and Martha tugged along on each hand.
‘What on earth…?’ The children were clean and tidy, but not a pin was left in Elena’s bun and her long hair hung down in tangles. Her face and arms were smudged with soot. He could smell it from where he stood, open-mouthed, eyes widened. Her skirt and blouse were blackened and the skirt had twisted to the side. The laces of one of her stout brown shoes had come undone. She looked vulnerable and very pretty. Jim stared a while longer, then ran to her and the children. He thanked God there were no nosy parkers about to exclaim over them or to get in the way or interfere.
‘Come inside.’ He ushered the little family, his friend and honorary niece and nephew, into his home.
‘Don’t go worrying,’ he told Elena as she sat at his tiny kitchen table. She was hugging a mug of sweet tea on the faded oilcloth, anxiety marking her pale refined features, and she was shaking every now and then. ‘I’ll put Gilbert Eathorne and the others off for a few days. Yours is an emergency and they won’t mind; too bad if they do. Your insurance will pay for what needs to be done.’
Elena brightened. ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that.’ Then she was stricken. ‘Oh no! I’ve been so busy with the children I’ve forgotten to go into Truro and pay the premiums.’
‘Will we get into trouble, Aunty ’Lena? ’ Alan said from where he was standing up on a hard-backed chair, with a cheeping Martha, amusing themselves with Arthur, old Mr Quick’s ugly old blue budgie. Alan wasn’t disturbed. He had learned that his Uncle Jim was always available to successfully put anything right.
‘No, Alan,’ Elena replied, wanting to bury her face in her hands and sob. ‘But everything is going to be very difficult for a while.’
Jim gave the children a feeder of fresh birdseed to put into old Arthur’s cage. Then he went to Elena and crouched beside her. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. I’ve just told you so, haven’t I?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No buts.’
‘But Jim,’ she tried not to wail. The tears gathering behind her eyes began to slide down her drawn cheeks. ‘I can’t really afford to pay for the repairs and decorating. I wanted everything to be perfect for the children.’
‘Their life with you is perfect.’ Jim reached for her trembling hands and wrapped his big, warm, rough ones around them. ‘Elena, listen to me. I’ve already made contact with others in the building trade. I can get hold of cheap supplies and I’m not going to charge you for the work I’ll do. Except for a mug of tea and the occasional meal. How does that sound? Better? The Lord provides, doesn’t he? It’s time you sat back and allowed others to help you for a change.’
For the first time she was able to gaze back into his strong eyes. ‘Thank you, Jim.’ She paused, then, ‘I don’t quite know what I’d do without you.’
‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’ He smiled. ‘Now, drink your tea. Then I’ll take you and the kids back home in the van.’
Alan and Martha whooped in excitement.
Emilia was getting ready to go out. She rarely applied make-up, but she was highlighting her clear brown eyes with a little kohl and using a dark pink lipstick. She paid special attention to her hair, brushing it until it fell in thick, glossy waves.
‘Where are you off to, darling?’ Alec asked in an agreeable voice as he came into the bedroom.
‘Truro. Shopping.’
‘With Brooke? She’s just arrived, looking well turned out.’
‘No. I thought it would be nice to have a little time to myself. My mother will fetch Lottie from school.’
‘Good for you,’ Alec said, reaching her where she sat at her dressing table. He lowered his nose to the back of her neck and took a long sniff. ‘You smell good.’ He didn’t add that the perfume was of country roses, those flowers were not a favoured subject right now. Emilia had said nothing in anger about the shock discovery at the desecration of Jenna’s rose bed, saying their daughter was welcome to the flowers, but she was cross with Alec for still refusing to consult the doctor.
‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ he had declared stubbornly. After she had left her winning exhibit amid all the other roses on Jenna’s grave she had gone home and had hauled him out of his darkroom.
‘How can you say that? You’re not behaving rationally any more, Alec. You’re always tired, you’re getting constant headaches. You hardly speak to anyone any more. Please, I’m worried out of my mind for you. Go to the doctor.’
‘I’d get better if you’d stop nagging me!’
‘Oh, so you admit you need to get better. Alec, see sense, please. At least get something to ease the pain, aspirin isn’t working, or anything else you’ve tried. I’ve been wondering if you fractured your skull or injured your neck in the accident and this is what’s causing the problem. Please arrange to have some X-rays.’
Suddenly he had seemed in the grip of a tremor and had leaned back against the darkroom door. A queer glazing took over his eyes.
‘Alec!’ She shook his arm.
He seemed to have slipped into a trance. It had been some seconds before he’d focused on her again. He didn’t seem to have any strength and his voice emerged weakly and a little breathlessly: ‘I’m all right, Emilia, honestly. I’m just not sleeping, that’s all. Look, stop worrying about me. I just need to pull myself together. I promise I will. Now let me get back before my photos are ruined.’
Emilia was still working out whether she should be reassured or even more worried about his assertions. His ‘little turn’ was certainly something not to take comfort in. Her mother had suggested that men sometimes got ‘a bit funny at a certain age’, but even if that was true it would be another ten years before Alec reached that time in his life. Emilia had taken refuge in thoughts of Perry, and her arranged assignation with him today.
Usually Alec would have dropped a kiss on her, and Emilia would have smiled up at him, or stroked his hand or sighed in appreciation. She put her hairbrush down and clipped on pearl cluster earrings. She got up and lifted up her handbag from the bed and checked she had a hanky, her purse and perfume.
Alec watched her. Emilia looked particularly lovely and appetizing when she was aloof and dignified. He had kept his distance from her since the day of the horticultural show but now he wanted to be with her. To lay his hands on her, pull off her stylish Louis-heeled shoes and lay her down on their huge Victorian bed and mess up her hair and clothes. He was still sore over her stance about Lottie’s appearance and fed up with her harping on about seeing the doctor, but he couldn’t help himself and went to her. He gently wound his arms in under her cardigan and brought her wonderful familiar body in intimately close to his. ‘You look absolutely appealing, darling. Beautiful. Your very best.’
Emilia turned her face away from the coming kiss. ‘Alec, I have to go. I want to catch the midday bus.’
‘Stay,’ he crooned, nuzzling her neck. ‘Take the car or let me drive you into town later. You don’t want to ride on that boneshaker, surely?’
Emilia didn’t want to take the motor car. Alec had never changed his old Ford Coupe. There was a risk it would be recognized if parked near a certain house at Highertown, a tiny hamlet on the outskirts of Truro, where Perry was staying. She pushed Alec away before he could attempt another kiss. ‘The bus will do.’
Alec tugged her back into his embrace. ‘Darling, it’s been a long time—’
‘That’s your fault.’ She yanked his hands off her. ‘You’re the one who’s been behaving coldly. It’s no good choosing to go to bed when I’m ready to go out. Aren’t I allowed a little time to myself? And have you forgotten Brooke’s downstairs? Let go of me, Alec. I’ve just enough time to say hello to her and walk to the village.’
‘Cold, am I? I’m not the only one.’ He stepped way back. ‘I haven’t looked to make love because you’re so unforgiving about what I did to your blasted roses.’
‘I’m not angry with you about the roses. They looked beautiful on Jenna’s grave. I’m worried about why you did it. Why can’t I get that through to you?’ She glanced at the photograph Brooke had taken of him at Roskerne. It showed him gaunt and smiling softly, searchingly. She liked this image of him, it was full of his kindness and hinted of his former strength. She had made a pale-blue satin frame for it, trimmed it with spiralling dark-blue and purple silk rosebuds and placed it in a prominent position on the mantelpiece.
Grieved that he seemed to be fading away and was determined to do nothing about it, she looked at him.
He rubbed his brow, as if he hadn’t heard her last words. ‘I’d forgotten about Brooke.’
‘I’m going, Alec.’ Emilia made for the door but turned back. Alec had gone quiet. Abnormally quiet. Bouts of which were getting more frequent. He went to the window overlooking the lawn and stared down at it. ‘Why do you keep doing that? What are you hoping to see?’
He kept his back to her. ‘You wouldn’t understand or care.’
‘I do care and I’m sure I’d understand if you’d only take the trouble to tell me. Can we talk when I get back?’
‘Go, Emilia. I want to be alone.’
‘Fine. Have it your own way then.’ She swept open the bedroom door. ‘Be sure you’re nice to Lottie if your paths happen to cross when she comes home from school.’
Emilia didn’t get as far as the village. Smelling the thickly smoke-laden air coming from the direction of Ford House and then meeting Jim and Elena in his van on the way there, she stayed and did the only thing she could do. Miss her longed- for meeting with Perry and offer to help clean up some of the mess.
Brooke entered the bedroom shortly after Emilia left. ‘Alec, are you coming down for coffee?’
‘What?’ Alec stayed at the window. ‘Oh, Brooke. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Where’s my mother-in-law? Tilda? Linda, the dairymaid? Was there no one to offer you hospitality?’
‘We were going to have coffee together. Remember?’
‘Oh… yes.’ He ground his fingers into his temples. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got a severe headache. It makes me forget what I’m supposed to do.’ Suddenly he put both hands on the window glass. ‘Come back. Don’t leave me!’
‘That wasn’t me you were talking to, was it? Who, Alec? Who do you see?’
He turned to her. ‘You believe I see someone?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Do you think I’m going mad? Or senile? My grandmother went senile.’
‘I believe you’ve had a bad disturbance and now you’re seeing someone. But you don’t mind, because it’s someone very special to you. By the way you’ve been behaving, I would make a guess that it’s Jenna. If you’re pleased, then I’m pleased for you.’
Alec came towards her. ‘I’m so glad you understand, Brooke. I see my little girl often. As she would be now. Beautiful and dainty and she dances for me. And smiles. She smiles so wonderfully, just for me. I’m waiting for her to call me Daddy. I’m longing for that to happen.’
‘She will, Alec. When the time is right.’ Brooke’s heart was filled with compassion for him. By right, she should tell Emilia what he’d said, but she knew it was a secret. She was the only one to have realized in the past that Emilia and Perry Bosweld had fallen in love. In view of his return and Emilia’s obvious continuing love for him, Brooke considered this new understanding to be a secret that should remain between her and Alec. He wasn’t mad, just confused. One day soon he’d see the doctor. For now, he believed he was seeing Jenna and it was giving him peace. He deserved that.
Alec felt, as he often did nowadays, that he couldn’t breathe. ‘Come for a walk with me, Brooke?’
‘Into the woods where we went before?’
‘Yes. I want to sit by the stream and let the running water soothe my head.’
‘OK. I’d like to keep you company.’
They left the house by the back stairs, walked down the back garden and passed through the small iron gate into the adjoining field. Not speaking, content to have sympathetic companionship, they strolled down the valley, which graded down through reams of golden buttercups, and entered the woods at the bottom. Then they followed the wide, twisty stream until they reached a quiet, sheltered spot. They sat side by side under a beech tree, and allowed their minds to drift.
Brooke glanced at Alec. He was massaging his brow, grimacing in pain. ‘Let me do that for you,’ she whispered. She raised herself on her knees and caressed his brow, feeling the terrible tension in him. He closed his eyes. Eventually he sighed in relief and sagged forward, resting his head against her shoulder. Brooke put one arm round him and stroked his hair. ‘Better?’
He nodded. ‘Mmm.’ He raised his head, opened his eyes and found hers were on the same level. Neither looked away but kept on looking at the other. Then it happened. Their faces grew closer. And closer. And their lips met. And softness and care and gentleness turned into passion and a sort of desperate need.
Alec rose and helped her up, and led her into a copse of tangled undergrowth where they wrapped themselves in each other’s arms and made love. They took their time discovering each other. Kissing, touching, exploring, experiencing. It was as if he had never known the feel, the composition, the intricacies, the beauty of a woman’s body, the depths of a woman’s love before, and she had not known this in a man. They joined and connected in a way that was unique to them, not wanting the wonder, the joy, the brilliance of it to stop.