Summer weather, it seemed, was highly unpredictable on Bodmin Moor. But Selina soon settled into her new life at Thornton Hall with its bleak but beautiful views of moorland all around, the bracken-thick slopes often drenched with showers before the hot sun came out again. Her daily routine generally consisted of sitting with her sister every day after breakfast to read the newspaper together and discuss the lamentable state of British politics. She would also listen to Bella’s worries about the children, whose emotional well-being greatly occupied her mind, and try to allay her fears.
After lunch, which she ate with her sister whenever Bella was well enough, the afternoons were her own. Selina went for a stroll across the moorland once or twice a week, trying not to venture too far in case she got lost on that vast expanse with so few landmarks to guide her home. And sometimes she would sit in the garden or alone in her room, and read hardbacks borrowed from Bella’s shelves, mostly romantic and historical novels, which she enjoyed immensely, even though she wasn’t usually much of a reader.
Occasionally, she popped her head around the door of the nursery, which doubled up as a schoolroom when the tutor was there, hoping to make friends with the children. The two older ones were friendly but remained politely distant, and she often caught a wary look in Jemima’s eyes. They both knew that their mother was very ill, but perhaps were unaware that she was dying. She wondered uneasily when her sister would break the bad news to them.
By contrast, little Faith was always enthusiastic to see her, and Selina often rescued her from the stuffy nursery and took her into the large gardens, with plenty of room for the carefree little soul to run about and play in the sunshine. There was a swing hanging from an old tree and Faith would beg Selina to push her back and forth on it, though never too high.
They also had two cocker spaniels, who ran about barking whenever the children were playing outside. Selina wasn’t much of a dog person, but she became grateful for their company on some of her longer walks, especially since the spaniels knew their way home even when she was horribly lost.
Not having to get up at dawn and tramp into the fields or struggle with fencing or recalcitrant sheep or any of the other livestock that Joe kept on his farm, or sow seeds and harvest crops, and trudge home at night bone-tired and covered in mud, was such a change that she felt almost shell-shocked at first. She would wake to full sunlight and scramble out of bed in a panic, fearful she must be late for her shift and wondering why on earth nobody had woken her. Then, her heart pounding, she would recall that she was no longer at Postbridge farm, no longer a Land Girl.
It was wonderful to be free. But it was also boring. She would know a moment of utter blankness after lunch, realising that she had nothing to do and nowhere in particular that she had to be. She was simply not accustomed to occupying herself without somebody telling her what she should be doing. At last, she asked her sister if there were any jobs that needed to be done about the house.
Initially, Bella refused, insisting that she was a ‘guest’. But as the days crept past and she grew more ill, Bella gave up and asked Selina to undertake various tasks. Some were simple and easily achieved, such as bringing the children to see Bella in the afternoons, or passing on some instruction to their nanny or the tutor. But others were more challenging. Once, she asked Selina to write a letter to the solicitor, Mr MacGregor, asking him to visit the house at his earliest convenience. And after his prompt visit, she began to tell Selina more about their closest neighbours, and even asked Selina to draw up a list of such people with a few details beside each name.
‘You want me to write down a list of names?’ Selina had asked, perplexed. ‘Happily, whatever you like. But what’s it for?’
Her sister had succumbed to a coughing fit, which took some minutes to pass, then said faintly, ‘For my funeral, of course.’
Selina had stared, and her hand had trembled as she took down the names and details that her sister suggested. It felt too horrible to have finally bonded with her sister again, after years of estrangement, only to be losing her to this dreadful sickness. It was unfair. Yet there was nothing to be done. And at least these little tasks gave her something to occupy her mind rather than dwell on this cruelty.
One day, her sister decided that she was well enough to host a small dinner party. ‘No, I can manage,’ she’d told Selina when she protested, concerned for her fragile health. ‘All I need do is sit at one end of the table, and you and Mrs Hawley can do the rest. Besides, these will be friends and neighbours. They won’t expect me to put on a show. They all know I’ve been unwell.’ She paused. ‘Though they don’t all know that I’m dying, of course.’
Not wishing to upset her, Selina agreed to organise everything with Mrs Hawley’s help. She sent out invitations to the guests, using her sister’s address book, and even borrowed one of her sister’s evening dresses for the event itself, not owning anything even remotely respectable enough for a dinner party. The only celebrations they’d ever held at the farm had been Mrs Newton’s knees-ups whenever there was a birthday, or some great breakthrough in the war had occurred, and even then, few of them had bothered changing out of their everyday clothes. She had even attended Alice’s birthday party once in her Land Army uniform, and probably with mud on her face as well. Nobody had said a word. It wasn’t that kind of place.
Besides which, there had been a war on, and such niceties had seemed ridiculous and petty. Not when the country could be invaded by Germans at any moment. In those days, they had seized their pleasures where they could and celebrated with home-made gin or wine, though it burnt their throat and made their eyes sting. Those had been different days.
But now the war was over, and she was living in Thornton Hall, and her sister was clearly a person of some importance in the district.
So evening dress it had to be, coupled with her only pair of heels. Selina piled her blonde hair up in a chignon and applied make-up, and clipped on dangly earrings as an afterthought. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognised herself. She hadn’t bothered with such finery since the late thirties, when there had been so many dances and parties to attend, and she’d still lived in hope of attracting some young man and marrying him. Anything to escape the dreary boredom and confinement of her aunt’s home, to fall in love as her sister had done …
The long, grinding years of the war, topped by Johnny’s cruel betrayal, had put paid to those dreams. And now Selina was so much older. Twenty-seven. Her late aunt would definitely have termed that age ‘on the shelf’. After that terrible letter from Johnny, she had accepted it was too late for her, that she would never now marry. ‘And thank goodness,’ she told herself, thoroughly jaded by the idea of love. Those unhappy games of will-he, won’t-he were over for her, and she didn’t miss the heartache they’d brought.
Dr Ford was the first to arrive for the dinner party and he went straight in to sit with Bella, who had come down early and was taking a tonic before the strain of dinner. Minutes later, the family solicitor arrived and Selina went out to greet him in the hall, discreetly leaving her sister with the doctor.
‘Good evening, Mr MacGregor.’
The solicitor was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man of business. His first name was William, but although he had quickly told her to call him William or even Bill, Selina did not feel comfortable addressing him as anything but Mr MacGregor. He was a bachelor in his early forties, and she could tell from his smile and sidelong looks that he found her attractive. So being overly friendly towards him might give the man the wrong impression.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the solicitor. But she was still smarting from Johnny’s behaviour in marrying another woman behind her back, and she couldn’t see herself ever trusting a man to do the right thing again.
‘Miss Tiptree.’ Mr MacGregor shook her hand and handed his hat to Mrs Hawley with a pleasant smile. ‘Am I the first? Promptness is a sin of mine, I’m afraid. Ingrained through years of habit.’
‘No, Dr Ford arrived a few minutes ago,’ she reassured him.
‘Ah.’ The solicitor held her gaze longer than was entirely comfortable before glancing towards the drawing room. ‘The estimable Dr Ford is here tonight, is he?’
‘Would you care for a glass of sherry, sir?’ Mrs Hawley indicated the drawing room. ‘Mrs March is already downstairs.’
Thanking her, Mr MacGregor waited until the housekeeper had taken his hat and coat away before turning to Selina. ‘Your sister is well enough to eat dinner with us, then? I must admit, I’m surprised. I had assumed you would be presiding over dinner.’
‘My sister is determined to play hostess tonight, despite her poor health.’ Selina couldn’t prevent a note of disapproval creeping into her voice, and had to remind herself not to encourage him by being too friendly. ‘Shall we go through?’
She poured a small sherry for herself and one for the solicitor, and perched on the edge of the seat to listen as the others chatted. She felt too nervous to join in, waiting for the other guests to arrive. When the bell finally rang again, she put down her sherry and hurried into the hall in time to see Mrs Hawley showing in a pleasant-looking man and woman, who looked so alike they were clearly siblings.
These two, Selina guessed, must be Mr Cameron Bourne and his unmarried sister Helen, their nearest neighbours on the moor. She had seen their house on her walks, for Bourne Cottage was only a mile or so from Thornton Hall, a large eighteenth-century cottage nestled in a sheltered hollow at the edge of scrubby woodland.
‘Hello,’ she said, going forward with her hand outstretched. Her voice was high with nerves. ‘How do you do? I’m Selina Tiptree, Bella’s sister. I’m very glad to meet you.’
‘Hello, I’m Helen,’ the woman said with polite restraint as she removed her coat and shook Selina’s hand. She was tall and spindly, her long, silver-grey evening dress cinched at the waist by a wide, silver-fringed belt that only emphasised her slenderness. Nut-brown hair was swept back from a high forehead and set in soft rolls about an angular, dark-eyed face. She looked to be in her thirties. ‘And this is my brother, Cameron.’
Her brother was younger by a few years, but with the same dark hair, peaked above his broad forehead, and large, expressive dark eyes that came to rest on her face with a strange shock of familiarity. She almost felt they must have met before. And yet she was equally sure they had not.
‘How do you do, Mr Bourne?’
‘Very well, thank you, Miss Tiptree. How do you do? But please, call me Cameron.’ He also shook her hand, his grip firm and deliberate. However, he didn’t immediately release her hand, gazing into her eyes as though he too felt that odd sensation of familiarity. ‘So you’re Bella’s mysterious sister.’
‘Mysterious?’
‘Don’t mind my brother,’ Helen Bourne said, her voice sharp, almost a reprimand. ‘Cameron’s only messing about. It’s just … Well, your sister never mentioned your existence to us before, and we’ve known her ever since Sebastian brought her home as a young bride. So we were naturally astonished to hear that her sister had come to visit.’ She was looking Selina up and down in a barely surreptitious manner. ‘But no doubt it’s because she’s been unwell. You’ve come to nurse her back to health, perhaps? You look like a nurse.’
You look like a nurse.
Selina stood speechless, out of her depth. It was true she wasn’t as well-to-do as her sister had become when she married Sebastian March. But she hadn’t expected to be attacked by one of her sister’s closest neighbours at this dinner party. And what else could that catty little speech be but an attack?
To her relief, Mr MacGregor rescued her, coming into the hall at that very moment and saying, ‘Good evening, Cameron, Miss Bourne. Good to see you again. How are you both?’ After they’d shaken hands and exchanged a few pleasantries, he asked, ‘Cameron, did you ever get your car fixed? I meant to ask you about it.’ They wandered into the drawing room, the two men falling into an easy conversation about cars, while Miss Bourne gave Selina a chilly smile.
Pouring their guests a small glass of sherry each, Selina found herself more angry than upset. Yes, she hadn’t married into wealth and position like her sister. Yes, she had spent the last few years working on a farm. But that didn’t give anyone the right to look down their nose at her the way Helen Bourne had just done. At least she had been working for the war effort, while her sister had been bringing up children. What had Miss Bourne done during the war? Not worked on the land with her bare hands, that was for sure …
For her sister’s sake, however, she remained polite, and handed out the sherries with a fixed smile.
Four other guests arrived over the next half hour.
The next two were pleasant, elderly sisters, one a wealthy widow and the other her companion, who lived in a large house in the centre of Bodmin. Dr Ford introduced them to Selina as ‘philanthropists’ who cared for art and music. They spoke of a classical concert they had hosted recently and suggested that Selina could visit them in Bodmin town the next time they held such an event. She smiled politely when the widow asked what her favourite music was and had to restrain herself from saying, ‘American band music’, sure they would look down their noses at her for such populist taste.
Just as Mrs Hawley was asking if she should delay dinner, the doorbell rang again, and she let in Mr and Mrs Knowles, a portly man in his fifties and his much younger wife. Apparently, John Knowles had met Deirdre at one of Bella’s parties back when she and Sebastian March were first married. It was clear that Bella was quite fond of Mrs Knowles, for the two sat together and chatted quietly while the others were talking local politics.
As the guests finally headed towards the dining room, Bella tugged on Selina’s sleeve to hold her back, whispering in her ear, ‘What’s the matter, Selly? I saw your face back then … Did Helen say something to upset you?’
‘It’s not important,’ she muttered.
‘If she did, pay no attention. Helen’s never liked me and doesn’t bother to hide it. A bitter spinster, that’s what Sebastian used to call her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, she was in love once but it came to nothing. Now she lives with her brother and nobody will have her, according to gossip.’ Bella’s smile was brittle. ‘Remind me later and I’ll tell you all about it.’
Selina shot her a puzzled look, wondering why on earth Bella had invited the woman to dinner. But she was more concerned by how tired her sister was looking, so merely smiled and supported her in to dinner.
Dr Ford sat at one end of the table, in the place Sebastian would presumably have taken, and Bella sat at the other end, smiling wearily. The room was large, too large really for such a small dinner party. The extending table itself could easily have seated twenty. However, Selina had watched Mrs Hawley and her assistant removing some of the table leaves earlier to make it shorter, so the setting was more intimate. She sat opposite Mr MacGregor, with Cameron Bourne on her right, and the wealthy widow to her left, as per her sister’s seating arrangement.
For much of the meal, she was uncomfortably aware of Miss Bourne’s occasional spiteful glances her way, but resolutely kept her own gaze either on her plate or directed towards those around her.
The men spoke mostly about the war, explaining their own roles in the recent conflict for her sake, as the newcomer. Dr Ford had not been called up, being ‘too old in the tooth,’ as he put it laughingly, but had worked at hospitals in the district, tending to locals and wounded soldiers alike. Mr Knowles had been unable to enlist, having a lazy eye, so had enrolled as a fire warden instead, while his wife Deirdre had made bandages at a local textile centre, when not caring for their young twin sons.
It seemed that Mr MacGregor had served in the local regiment, as had Cameron, both apparently coming through unscathed. However, it was obvious from mysterious comments dropped by the doctor that Cameron had endured a few issues during the war, and these had allowed him to understand the problems some young men faced on coming home. Selina was too polite to enquire further, and no more was said about it, so she pushed aside her curiosity and concentrated on her sister instead.
Conversation over dinner was lively and not too serious, which suited Selina. Her own spirits had begun to flag in recent days, the loneliness and isolation of Thornton Hall weighing heavily on her, compounded by the fear of what horrors might lie ahead. Selina smiled and laughed in all the right places. But her nerves were stretched thin. She feared that at any moment she might embarrass herself by bursting into tears, without being able to explain why.
As they finished dessert, Bella tapped her spoon against her glass, and conversation died away, everybody looking towards her.
Dr Ford’s smile faded, but he gave his patient an encouraging nod.
Selina’s hands balled into fists in her lap.
‘My dear friends and neighbours,’ Bella began, ‘I have something important to tell you, and a favour to ask.’ She halted, and took a sip of wine, breathing heavily. ‘The fact is, I’m dying. There’s no hope, as Dr Ford will tell you, and I have mere weeks left. I don’t know how many but I’m taking each day as it comes.’
‘Good God,’ Cameron exclaimed, his brows drawn together in shock.
His sister gasped. ‘You poor dear thing. I’m so sorry.’
The elderly ladies said nothing but glanced at each other knowingly, as though they had already guessed Bella’s sad news.
Bella managed a wavering smile. ‘The favour I would like to ask is this … Will you please help and support my sister once I’m gone? She’s going to stay on, you see, and care for the children. We haven’t always been friends, my sister and I, but the finality of death has a way of making you see things differently. So I’m asking you to make my sister welcome at Thornton Hall and to lend any support you can in the days following my …’ She couldn’t quite finish, raising her napkin to her lips as a coughing fit shook her frail form. By the time she’d recovered, there were tears in her eyes. ‘I hope I can count on you all to be there for Selina and my children.’
‘Of course,’ Helen murmured, gazing at Bella sympathetically.
‘Yes, yes,’ the sisters said in unison.
Mr Knowles and his wife also agreed heartily.
‘You have my solemn oath,’ Cameron said, looking deeply moved. ‘Sebastian was my closest friend and I know what I owe his widow.’
Bella smiled faintly. ‘There, Selina, didn’t I tell you? They are the best friends and neighbours in the world. You won’t have a thing to worry about.’ She rose from the table, her gait unsteady. ‘Now I must say goodnight. I’m afraid I’m rather tired.’
Selina got to her feet too, meaning to assist Bella to bed, but her sister shook her head.
‘No, please stay with my guests,’ Bella insisted. Mrs Hawley is waiting to help me upstairs.’
Left alone, Selina looked round at the others helplessly. She felt more like running after her sister than staying to exchange small talk with strangers. But if the war had taught her anything, it was that one could get through even the darkest moments simply by gritting one’s teeth and getting on with it.
She took a deep breath. ‘Coffee and brandy, anyone?’
‘Excellent notion,’ Mr MacGregor agreed, and gave her a reassuring smile.