As the car that had fetched her from the station travelled the long drive towards Feniscowles Manor, Sibbie felt the usual excitement grip her, on seeing the lovely house with its many windows gleaming and reflecting the sunlight. The ivy covering its walls seemed to shimmer a welcome in the August heat, and its backdrop of the beautiful hills of Bowland provided the perfect setting for this, her second home.
On arriving outside the house, her anticipation rose so much that she was out of the car and running up the steps before her Aunt Mags’s driver had time to alight and assist her. As she reached the door, it opened.
‘Sibbie! How lovely to see you, darling. Come on in. Marjella, Beth and Belinda are in the garden, taking advantage of this lovely day. They’re all excited to be seeing you again.’
‘Hello, Aunt Mags, how are you? I’ve missed you. It seems ages since I left for the summer holidays. Oh, and Aunt Betsy and Mum said I’m to give you their love.’
Sibbie found herself enclosed in her aunt’s arms, having seen in her lovely, big brown eyes the same underlying concern that marred everyone’s lives right now – an overwhelming fear of what might happen in the near future. This was disconcerting to Sibbie, as Aunt Mags, a close family friend – whom Sibbie loved dearly and had called ‘Aunt’ all her life – was a strong and capable businesswoman who headed the board of the largest mill in the area and rarely indicated that anything unnerved her.
Tall and slender, Mags was the epitome of the lady of the manor. She always wore her light-brown hair, now peppered with grey strands, in a bun at the nape of her neck, which added to her elegant appearance.
Holding Sibbie at arm’s length, Aunt Mags kept her voice light. ‘Dear Betsy and Susan, I’ll ring them later to let them know you’ve arrived safely. Now, let me look at you. Being back in Portpatrick for the summer has done you good. You were looking peaky when you left. Those long hours in the classroom had taken their toll.’
‘I had a lovely time, being spoilt by everyone, but I’m ready to get back to studying.’
‘That’s good. Well, everyone’s fine here, if a little worried about all that’s happening in the world. That aside, the girls are looking forward to their new term at school, and Marjella has arrived safely. She’s very excited to be joining you in your language studies this term.’
‘I can’t wait to see her – it’s going to be wonderful having her here. I just wish this cloud wasn’t hanging over us all. Mum and Aunt Betsy are very nervous.’
‘I can understand that, as we older ones have vivid memories that heighten our fears.’ Aunt Mags sighed. ‘It’s unbelievable to think we’re on the brink of war breaking out again. But let’s not spoil your first day back with what a horrid little man in Germany is doing to the world. I’ve made lemonade for you all, and Cook has baked those shortbread biscuits you love.’
‘Mmm, lovely.’ Although she said this, Sibbie groaned inside. She was full to the brim with shortbread and, much as she liked it, she wouldn’t care if she never saw another biscuit in her life. It seemed everyone wanted to serve them to her: at home in Scotland, her mum and Aunt Betsy thought she would have missed their shortbread biscuits more than anything; and here in Blackburn with Aunt Mags, Cook seemed to think she couldn’t live without them! Sibbie smiled to herself at these thoughts, as they brought home to her how she was surrounded by the love of so many people.
And now her lovely cousin Marjie, as she called Marjella, was here from France to join her on the language course she was taking, which meant they were going to spend a lot of time together. Life couldn’t be better, and she prayed that all the fears of war would come to nothing.
As Sibbie followed her Aunt Mags through the wide hall of Feniscowles Manor she turned towards the kitchen. Opening the door, she called out, ‘Hello, Cook. Aunt Betsy sends her love.’
‘Sybil! You’ve arrived then, lass. I’d give you a hug, but I’m covered in flour. How is Betsy?’
‘Ha, that’s as it should be – I like to see that nothing has changed. Oh, Betsy is fine; they all are. I’ll give you their news later.’
A lovely rounded lady, Cook had been part of this house for as long as Sibbie could remember, and she loved the way Cook always used her proper name. She was the only one who did. Not that it mattered, because being called ‘Sibbie’ reminded her of Montel, who had first shortened her name.
An ever-present ache nudged Sibbie at this thought. Montel had been her proper daddy, if not her real one. What she knew from her mum about how Harold Roford, her blood father, had led his life, she didn’t like, and she had never felt any kinship to him. She would have liked to have met Harold, though. Just so that she could have kicked him in the shins.
As they walked through the withdrawing room towards the French windows that led to the garden, Sibbie took in the graceful furniture and the calming colours of pale blue and cream that adorned this room. The familiarity of it reinforced the fact that she was very much a part of this house, as Aunt Mags was like a second mother to her, so ‘home’ was wherever she was.
Marjie coming into view drew Sibbie’s attention away from her lovely surroundings. ‘Marjie! Oh, Marjie!’
Marjie jumped up and ran towards her. When they collided, they hugged and twirled around together, as if they would never part again.
Mags laughed out loud at them. ‘You two – you would think you were sisters, not cousins. I’ll leave you to it, and go and organize Cook to bring tea and biscuits.’
Although Sibbie and Marjie had been brought up in different countries – Marjie in France, and Sibbie in Scotland – they had bonded the moment they met, when Mags first took Sibbie to France at the age of eight to meet her Aunt Flors, Marjie’s mum and the sister of Harold Roford.
Sibbie had loved France and being part of the Domaine de Florella, the vineyard that her Aunt Flors and Uncle Cyrus owned, along with Aunt Ella and her husband, Arnie.
When they came to a standstill, Sibbie linked arms with Marjie. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. And what do you think of England, and more especially Blackburn?’
‘I know, I can’t believe this time has come at last. It’s so good to see you, Sibbie. I haven’t seen much of England, or Blackburn – only through the windows of trains and cars – but I know I am going to love it here.’
‘You will – I do. This village, the beauty that surrounds it all, the town of Blackburn and Aunt Mags’s mill, and Uncle Jerome’s veterinary practice: it’s all so lovely. And you’ll love the language school. Professor Hillson is adorable – eccentric, but a marvellous teacher. So, how was your journey?’
‘Long, and very boring, but at times rather frightening, as the stations were crowded with soldiers, especially in France. It made me appreciate the reality of what my parents and brothers are talking about all the time.’
‘I saw a lot of soldiers today, too; even women are being recruited here. I’m just too young to be called, although I really feel like offering my services.’
‘But what would you do? And what about your studies?’
‘I don’t know, but the fact that I speak French and am studying German might be of use in some field or other. Anyway, there may not be a war. We are just speculating.’
Beth and Belinda had run across the lawn and were now demanding attention. For half-sisters, they had a lot of similarities, although Beth, at fifteen years old, was looking more like a young woman than a girl. Her shining black hair and beautiful, huge dark-brown eyes reminded Sibbie so much of Beth’s late father, the beloved Montel.
As Sibbie pulled the girls in close, she told them, ‘Look how beautiful and grown-up you are.’ Belinda giggled, but Beth smiled up at her, bringing Montel to mind once more. Although Sibbie had only been four when Montel died, she’d never forget him.
‘I’ve grown an inch taller than I was before you left at Easter, Sibbie, and I’ve turned thirteen now, you know.’
‘You have, Belinda. Oh, it’s good to see you both, and I hadn’t forgotten it was your birthday last week – I have brought you something from Scotland. It’s from Aunt Betsy’s and my mum’s shop. Well, actually you have two presents, as I brought something for everyone.’
‘Ooh, I’m glad it’s not from Uncle Angus’s fishing business – I’m not keen on fish.’
They all burst out laughing. Belinda took after her father, Uncle Jerome; she was witty like him and always made everyone laugh, and she could come out with the funniest lines.
‘Beth, Belinda, come and help with the trays, please.’
As the girls ran to obey their mother, Sibbie felt Marjie grip her hand. ‘Sibbie, if it does come to war and you volunteer, then I will too. My dual nationality will allow me to, and besides, I will be useful as well. I speak English, French and Polish – and now I am going to be learning German too.’
‘You speak Polish? I didn’t know that.’
‘Yes, Aunt Ella has taught us over the years, as she wished to speak her native language from time to time. Even Uncle Arnie speaks Polish with her when they are at home. It seems that once you have mastered two languages, it gets easier to learn more.’
‘Maybe we can do something together. Oh, what fun that would be! We can win the war and then continue our studies. I’m not that keen on being a teacher yet, anyway.’
‘Nor me. Paulo is the one who wants to take up that profession, and Aunt Ella is seriously considering sending him over here to study. She is afraid for him because of her Jewish ancestry, which makes him half-Jewish.’
Sibbie felt both elation and fear: to have Paulo here would be a dream come true. She’d fallen for him the moment she’d met him as a little girl, but he looked upon her as a cousin, even though they weren’t related at all. But then Flors, Ella and Mags had brought up their families to be one unit, and she was part of that unit, being the daughter of Flors’s brother.
The news reports on the treatment of the Jews in Germany made her shudder, and she couldn’t bear to think of such things happening to her beloved Paulo. ‘Oh dear, Marjie, I felt so happy to be coming to see you, and at the prospect of us studying together, but now I feel really downhearted. Suddenly it seems everyone, and everything we love, is in danger.’
‘Yes, it does feel like that, but it is also a wonderful time for us. Let’s not talk of war; instead let’s have a magical time for the next two weeks until we start our lessons. We can picnic at weekends, if this weather holds – I can drive now and—’
‘Me too! We can go into the Bowland Hills and into Clitheroe. I can show you Pendle Hill, where it is said they burned witches long ago.’
‘Ooh, will we see ghosts?’
‘They say you can at Halloween, and that’s only a couple of months away.’
‘Where have I been sent? I thought I would be safe here, but now it seems I am to be near ghouls.’
Sibbie made a face, growled and put her hands up, in a mock attempt to scratch Marjie. ‘Now you know the truth: we are all witches.’
They fell about laughing at this, their cares forgotten.
Marjie’s laughter was a lovely light sound, which lit up her face and made her even more beautiful.
The family resemblance between the two girls was evident in their looks, height and colouring. Both had dark-brown hair and very dark eyes. Sibbie’s face was more rounded than Marjella’s clear-cut features, making her pretty rather than beautiful, whereas Marjella’s beauty and French chic made everyone look twice.
A warm feeling overcame Sibbie. It was so good to be together, despite the ominous reasons that had prompted Aunt Flors and Uncle Cyrus to let Marjie come and study in England. But Sibbie did wonder how their lives were going to pan out over the next couple of years or so, and silently prayed that war wouldn’t happen.