TWENTY-THREE

The bathing of Jess was a jolly affair. Alice hung a notice on the scullery door: LADIES ONLY! Nana Elderberry, on the rocker by the stove, where the big towels warmed on the airer above, was prepared to shoo away not only kitlings and cats when it was time for the drying, but any male – well, Rob and young Tony, anyway – who dared to poke his head in there.

Jess sat in the tub with steam gently rising from a generous amount of soft water, heated in the copper, with Belinda, solemn faced, sitting on her lap, for this was a first total immersion for both of them. Angel rubbed at Jess’s damp hair, washed with the usual gooey melted soap, then rinsed with the juice of a precious lemon added to the jug of cool, clean water. The coppery glints were pronounced now, Angel thought admiringly, and the curls were crinkling back already. She averted her eyes tactfully from Jess’s full, fine young breasts, thinking wryly of her own slight figure, but Alice stared in frank amazement, no doubt wondering if she would ever achieve such a splendid shape herself.

Aunt Hetty had scrubbed Jess’s feet, ‘We all need help in that direction, eh?’ Now, she plied her little silver scissors: ‘Nails are easy to pare when soft from bathing . . . ’

Alice was trying to make Belinda laugh, while Jess soaped the flannel and washed her baby all over. Belinda’s downy first hair had rubbed away over the months since Angel had first seen her, and instantly fallen under her spell, and now she, too, had a cap of bronze curls, but hers were damp from a dunking in the bath.

‘That’s beautiful in here . . . ’ Jess breathed. ‘I could lie here all night . . . ’

Angel scooped up Belinda and Alice rushed to fetch a towel from the kitchen. She couldn’t resist kissing the soft, pink face peeping from the folds of luxurious terry towelling. ‘I’ll take her through to Nana to dry,’ she said.

Nana did not altogether approve of all this washing. But she blotted her great-granddaughter thoroughly, and accepted the clean, small garments passed to her by Angel without comment. The new vest knitted gamely by Alice, never mind the occasional lapse from single-rib to moss-stitch, was a most creditable effort, Angel thought approvingly; the pilch to conceal her cloth napkin, folded triangular-wise and pinned firmly in the middle; the pristine long white socks and the simple petticoat; and finally, the flouncy, pretty dress, duly rosebudded and french-knotted which had seen Angel sewing far into last night, sitting up in bed, by candlelight.

‘Sewed with love,’ Nana remarked shrewdly. She never missed a thing, Angel thought, she could sense the longing in her heart, the feeling for what might have been, that time she could never, ever forget.

Jess made do with her own shabby underthings, for they must not undermine her pride, Aunt Hetty had been adamant regarding that, but she donned the new blouse with evident pleasure and surprise, tucking it in her skimpy skirt. Never mind her wrungover boots, Jess had been reckless for once and purchased new stockings from Mrs Newsome’s. ‘A bargain,’ kind Mrs Newsome assured her, ‘pinned together – that leaves a spot of rust, you see – but you’d need one of them magnifying glasses to see it . . . ’

‘Oh, do leave your hair hanging loose, Jess – it looks so nice,’ Angel said impulsively. Tony, allowed in at last, gallantly presented a white marguerite from the garden, to pin at one side.

Jess took the baby from Nana. ‘See you all later,’ was all she said, but everyone knew she was going down to the bugler, to show off her finery.

Nana heaved a little sigh. She, of course, had not dressed up for the occasion, but she had removed her apron and squeezed her feet into a pair of Aunt Hetty’s shoes. ‘I’ll make tea,’ she offered, ‘while you get ready, yourselves.’

Rob joined them in the kitchen, not changed yet, either, for there was the bath water to empty first. ‘Give me a hand, Tony, there’s a good chap,’ he said.

Angel mopped her damp brow with her apron. She tended to make these little gestures, she thought ruefully, whenever she came face to face with Rob nowadays, possibly to conceal what she was afraid must be obvious to someone as perceptive as he – the way she felt about him. The last thing she wished to do, was to embarrass him. It was probably best to foster the illusion that she and Edmund had the makings of a pair – although was that very unfair to Edmund? She wondered.

Unexpectedly he said, ‘Will ye wear your green dress this evening? The one you wore when we took Alice to the hospital? It suits ye well.’

‘More the dress for high summer . . . ’ she answered regretfully. Yet she decided immediately she would wear that, not the dress laid out ready on her bed, just because he liked it. There was a cashmere shawl, which she had never worn, tucked somewhere in her trunk, which would go with the dress very well, and the promised dancing would no doubt banish any shivers. ‘I will see you later,’ she added, following Alice up the short steps.

Alice was very excited at the chance to wear one of the new frocks Lalla had chosen for her – plaid seemed very appropriate for a girl called MacDonald! She discovered a little note tucked in the soft, woollen folds:

 

BEE HAPPY & ALWAYS BEE FULL OF BUZZ DEAR ALICE!

 

was written in Lalla’s extravagant hand under a picture of a large-as-life bumble bee. As she smoothed the paper out, Angel saw that Alice’s eyes were suspiciously bright.

‘Yes, you must certainly buzz tonight!’ She gave Alice a swift hug.

‘So must you,’ Alice returned, stroking the cobwebby shawl, crocheted with a fine needle in pale grey. ‘Edmund – Mr Fenner – is very keen on country dancing. I know that, from school.’

‘Then I had better wear some comfortable shoes, eh? If you think he will ask me to dance!’

‘Oh, he’ll want you as his partner, all right. Mrs Newsome said you’ve made quite a catch, Angel!’

‘Did she . . . Why is everyone trying to marry us off, d’you think?’ Angel joked.

‘Because he’s so nice, and so are you and because Edith actually approves of you – well, she must do, as she got you to come here.’

Angel wasn’t so sure about Edith’s motives for persuading her to come to Suffolk, now. She thought uneasily that Lou might have been right about Edith, after all.

She looked forward to dancing with Edmund, after all, folks couldn’t read more into it than they already had – but, she really hoped that Rob would ask her to dance, too.

*

It was Alice, a devotee of the schoolgirl annuals so much in vogue, who labelled the meet-the-new-parson party a ‘bun-fight’. Buns were indeed piled high on plates, together with potted meat sandwiches, slices of pork pie, quivering with rich jelly, cold apple tarts alongside jugs of cream, and sausage rolls, fat and flaky or undersized and overbrowned.

Lady Pamela sat serenely, graciously nodding at all the guests as they arrived, positioned at the centre of the top trestle table, which was covered by a proper damask tablecloth instead of the starched sheets thrown over the other tables. Next to her, naturally, was the Parson, who was short and plump, with a boyish face with plain steel spectacles that slipped down his small nose but could not disguise his friendly, blue eyes. He had sparse, gingery hair, and his colouring had been passed on to the five little daughters, giggling in their matching pretty frocks. His wife, Lilian, in contrast, was tall, gawky almost, with thick black hair piled high and, although she appeared more reserved, Angel couldn’t help noticing that she was obviously holding her husband’s under cover of the tablecloth, for, to her surprise, she had been ushered to the empty chair on Mrs Goodchild’s left. Edmund sat alongside Angel, but on the corner of the table – along the side row were placed Aunt Hetty, Edith, Alice, Tony, Nana Elderberry, and at the end, Rob. The five girls opposite grinned and pulled faces at Alice and Tony.

Jess had told them to go on without her, that she would join them shortly.

The Good Old Aldred Boys were older than boys. The sailors sported whiskers, only Will was clean-shaven. They wore coloured waistcoats, baggy trousers and spotted neckerchiefs – a fiddler, a piano-thumper, one with a squeezebox and Will with the tin whistle. They were energetic and exceedingly tuneful, with a wide repertoire – they made music while the food vanished from the plates, managed a bite or two themselves and quaffed tea from big enamel mugs.

‘So, you are the young lady who is the subject of so much speculation . . . ’ Lady Pamela observed, graciously accepting a third slice of pork pie, which after all had been made in her kitchens, from quiet Mrs Goodchild, who was obviously content for her ebullient husband to do the talking for them both.

Angel shot her a startled glance, for as they were two seats apart, these were the first words Lady P. had bestowed upon her. She was aware of the Parson’s twinkling side-look, for how could he and his wife do anything but listen in? ‘I’m not sure –’ Angel began, uncertainly.

‘You are not sure of my meaning? Remember, I regard Hetty as one of my oldest friends. The village may have you marked as a schoolmaster’s wife, but Hetty sighs that if only it were possible, you would be the ideal companion for her adopted son, the mother figure his children need so sorely, the future mistress of The Angel.’ The wrinkles beneath the pink powder on the angular face betrayed the speaker’s advanced age, but her eyes, although pouched were shrewd and very direct.

Angel was grateful that Edmund was deep in conversation with Edith and Aunt Hetty. She heard Aunt Hetty wondering: ‘Where on earth has young Jess got to?’

She was saved from replying to Lady Pamela when the door to the barn swung suddenly open. There was an instant hush, a pause in the music as Jess proudly propelled the bugler, holding Belinda, to the table where Nana had reserved their places.

Angel caught her breath sharply, almost choked. She knew him at once of course.