The Edge, Chapter 4. A Rowansford story

“You know what?” Alice said, kneading dough vigorously. “All that cleaning and painting we did for Anita has made me realise how shabby this place has become.”
“I was thinking that too,” Jacob admitted. “We’ve let things slide somewhat here.”
They both fell silent, knowing why they’d not had either the heart or the energy to spruce up the paintwork, or indeed do anything beyond the bare essentials. “I enjoyed doing all that sewing for Anita. I think I’ll make some new curtains for in here – I found fabric I’d forgotten I owned.”
“Then I’ll have to paint the windows, or your new curtains will put them to shame!”
Alice laughed at Jacob’s tone of voice.
"I’ll help you when I’ve done the curtains. You’ve got by far the harder task. Remember the first year we were married….?” “I bet Anita would be willing to help too,” Jacob said thoughtfully, a piece of fresh-from-the-oven bread halfway to his mouth. “In fact, I think she’d be glad to: she won’t feel so indebted to us. She doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone – she’s very independent, that girl. I’m amazed she accepted the gift of that house.”
“I assumed it had been from Amy’s father,” Alice said, a little apologetic for even having thought about Anita’s business.
“No – those two cottages went with The Towers. That’s Elizabeth Alexander’s old place – remember her? Well, there’s no way her grandson produced a child as dark as Amy – and Hector’s only got daughters, so it isn’t one of his children who’s the father.” “But why would Hector Alexander give a house to Anita? There’s some deep mystery about Amy’s father, isn’t there? Still, it’s none of our business. And whatever it is, I’d trust Anita with everything we had.” This place really was a dump! No wonder Luke didn’t want to visit. But Lucilla hid her dislike of the shabby farmhouse, and concentrated on charming Alice and Jacob. Speaking well of Luke was an easy way into their good graces. Even Alice though, who was really not the nosy type, was bound to ask some questions about Lucilla herself. Lucilla had to decide how much to tell: she didn’t think Alice and Jacob would take kindly to her lying. But there were ways and ways of telling the truth.
“Yes, I was married once.” She kept her voice low and a little sad, eyes gazing back into a past that had promised well, but turned out so heartbreaking.
“I was very young – and he was much older than me. I think – I think it was my looks alone that attracted him. He didn’t want to know the person I was. And I – I had thought that marriage was about friendship, companionship, someone to share all your life with…” She let her voice tail away. Visiting again, a couple of days later, Lucilla noticed a little wooden horse on the floor.
“Oh, that’ll be from Amy,” Alice said.
“Amy?” Lucilla inquired sweetly – and watched as Alice’s face lit up with happiness describing Amy. She smiled back at her.
“She sounds lovely. Is she a great-niece or something?
“No – we met them a while back now. Jacob fell, out fishing, and Anita – Amy’s mother – helped him back home…”
As Lucilla listened, she became seriously worried. Whoever this Anita person was, she was obviously bent on worming her way in here. She’d probably spotted the Bardens as an easy target, ripe for swindling out of something.
“She’s coming over tomorrow to help Jacob and me with a few jobs – some things are easier with three…” Lucilla picked up the little horse and turned it over in her hands, her mind troubled. Alice saw it in her face, but drew the wrong conclusions.
“You didn’t have any children?” she asked gently.
“I had a son,” Lucilla replied, after some hasty thought, which Alice read as reluctance to speak of something painful. “But – his father took him when we split up. He had the job, the home, you see – and I - I had nothing. I don’t even know where they are now.” And that last bit was definitely true! Alice could read it any way she liked. “This is so kind of you,” Anita said, as the desert arrived on the table. In his own home, Archibald looked just the same as he had done when he’d dropped by the other day, but Flora looked very different. Gone was the smart two-piece suit with matching shoes, and in its place a gaudy riot of clashing colours and prints. Looking round at the walls of the big kitchen/dining room, Anita thought that they reflected Flora’s taste too. “It’s a pleasure to have you both here. And it means that we’ve prised Alice out of that kitchen of hers and forced her to eat a meal made for her by someone else!”
Amy looked up from her toys, wondering why everyone was laughing. While Jacob washed up, and Alice and Flora kept an eye on Amy, Archibald took Anita outside to see his workshop.
“You have to see it, Anita,” Jacob said. “Go on – I’ll see to these dishes.”
“This is amazing!” Anita said. “And you designed those games?”
“Yes – well, and others, but I kept those two because in their time they were ground-breaking.”
“Where did you study engineering?”
Archibald laughed. “Anita, I didn’t even pass the entrance exam to the Grammar School. I left at fifteen and got a job in the Tostead factory in the next town.” “You look a bit more like yourself than you did the other day,” Alice said, teasing her old friend affectionately.
“Oh that suit! But my revered next-door neighbour says it’s the height of good taste, and she should know.”
“You really don’t like Cynthia Harleston, do you?”
“Well – I think she’s a snob. She looks down on people – on Griselda because of her father, on Archie because he didn’t go to the Grammar School, on me because of where I grew up…” “I’ve never worked out how come Archibald didn’t pass the Grammar School exam – I always thought he was way cleverer than Jacob or me.”
Alice was trying to change the conversation, but Flora would have none of it.
“And I think that grand-daughter of hers, the blonde one – what’s her name? Oh yes, Daisy – I think she’s a bad influence on my grand-daughter. Poppy’s just getting sillier and sillier, and more and more obsessed with fashion. I think Daisy is Cynthia all over again.” Alice gave up and let Flora finish sounding off before she tried again with a new topic! Luke had come to Rowansford on the Friday night and joined Lucilla in the little cottage she’d rented for the week.
“That was nice of you, to call on my parents so often, when I know how busy you’ve been.”
“Oh Luke, they’re lovely people. It was a total pleasure for me. But…I am a bit worried about them.” “Worried? Are they not well?” He pulled Lucilla closer to him, enjoying the familiar scent of her perfume.
“No, nothing like that,” she said hastily. “They looked fine – better than ever, in fact. No, what’s worrying me is that I think someone might be trying to take advantage of them. There’s this single mother with her baby who’s been visiting them, worming her way into their affections – you know how kind your parents are. I’m worried that she’s just out for all she can get from them. But enough of that. Tell me about your week. Did you miss me? I missed you so much.” It wasn’t until much later that they talked about Luke’s parents again.
“What do you think I should do?” Luke asked. “Any ideas?”
“Well,” Lucilla said consideringly. “You could try calling on her and telling her in no uncertain terms that you won’t have her taking advantage of your parents.” She snuggled a little closer.
“You could be a little bit fierce maybe. If you let her know loud and clear that you’ve seen through her little game, that might stop her in her tracks.
Luke considered the idea for a while, and Lucilla said nothing. “Hmm. It might work, mightn’t it? But how can I find her?”
Lucilla had been to the farm, to check out who this woman was, and had recognised her instantly.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know just where she lives.” Luke hadn’t meant to lose his cool. Just to be icily polite, but threatening – a sort of veiled menace. That would do the job nicely, he thought. But as he walked out from under the trees towards the little garden, he caught sight of Amy, and his heart contracted painfully in his chest. He knew that dress! It had belonged to his sister – their mother had made it for her, and it had been her favourite dress, her butterfly dress. She’d loved it so much that she’d kept it even after she’d both grown out of it and nearly worn it out.
Luke didn’t stop to think that actually this dress looked remarkably un-worn out. He just boiled over – his ever-present grief at Sarah’s death, his unexpressed guilt at not going to the farm any more; they all came to the surface at once. Which is why Anita was suddenly confronted by an irate stranger yelling at her.
“Listen to me, you money-grubbing little tramp! You and that snotty-nosed brat of yours can get your hooks out of my parents! You thought you were on to a nice cushy number there, didn’t you? Well, I’m wise to all your dirty little tricks, and you’re not going to get away with them. I want you out of Rowansford by the end of this month, or you’ll be so sorry.”