The Edge, Chapter 5 A Rowansford story

Had Luke stuck to Lucilla’s original plan, he would definitely have succeeded in driving Anita away from Jacob and Alice. She was far too independent, and too proud, to cope with the slur of being thought to be a sponger, a gold-digger. Anita would simply have stopped visiting them – and hurt them desperately in the process. But Luke’s anger, his demand that they quit Rownasford, threatened Amy’s well-being. Anita wasn’t going to let him force Amy out of her home. A fierce and protective anger of her own rose within her. And with the anger came clarity.
“How dare you! How dare you accuse me of sponging off your parents? Go and ask them yourself what we’ve taken from them. And then go and ask them what we’ve given to them. Go and ask them who was up a ladder yesterday, painting windows with them. Because it wasn’t you, was it? Go and ask them who helps them with the garden. Not you! Who helped Alice with all the preserving? Go and ask them if seeing Amy play with them makes them happy.”
She actually had to stop to draw breath. “And when you’ve asked them all those questions, tell them you want Amy and I to leave our home and go and wander the streets somewhere.”
Anita was like a tigress, defending her young.
“Well, you’re not putting my child out of her home. And I don’t know who’s filled you up with all these lies, but I suggest you check your facts before you start making wild accusations. Now get out of my garden!” Anita’s fury almost blasted Luke out of her garden, through the woods and up over the ridge, his feet taking him along paths he’d known so well as a child. He came out by the burnt-out house that stood above the farm and looked down at his childhood home.
It had changed. The garden was weedier than he remembered, and the farmhouse was beginning to look shabby. There was fresh paint on a couple of the windows – and a ladder leaning against the wall. They hadn’t had hens for a while now, but there was a henhouse again by the hitching post. Faintly, in the summer air, he could hear the sound of them clucking, and the noise carried him back to his childhood. The years rolled back like the morning mist on the river, and he was eight again, playing in the garden with Sarah in the last of the fading daylight, before it was time to come in and go to bed. He remembered: himself and Sarah feeding the hens and collecting the eggs, before getting changed to go to school, the dew still wet on the grass. The memories rose sharp and clear, cutting into his heart like a knife. Sarah was gone. And their parents, watering the garden while the day was still cool, hanging out the washing so that the sun could be on it all day. Life was simpler then – simpler and happier.
But Anita’s words niggled away at him. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
No, it hadn’t been him helping them – but how could he bear to go back, knowing that Sarah would never be there again. No Sarah, sitting in the orchard making daisy chains with Bryony Eleigh. No Sarah, chasing him, teasing him, sharing her last bit of chocolate with him.
“And what’s it like for your mum and dad?” said a little voice in his heart. “No Sarah and no Luke either?” “Bryony said to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t come herself. The truck’s at the garage, the horse box is too heavy for her to handle now – and of course she’s too pregnant to ride! But she sends her love to you – and these flowers as well.”
“That’s so kind of her. How’s she doing?”
“The heat’s getting to her! This has been a hot summer. But the baby’s doing fine – and so’s she, actually.”
Matthew, Bryony’s stepson, was happy to see the Bardons again. He’d got to know them over the Easter holidays when he and a couple of friends had been doing a local history project, and Jacob and Alice had steered them towards a small but fascinating slice of the town’s story. “Bryony and Sarah were such good friends.” Alice’s eyes were on the roses Bryony had sent, but she was seeing the past.
(“I go over, and we talk about Sarah together, remember her,” Bryony had said to Matthew. “Will you at least take the flowers for me? I don’t want Alice thinking I’ve forgotten Sarah.”)
“Sometimes, I almost think I can see them again, fishing in the pond or playing in the orchard, or raking leave in the autumn, and all three of them, Luke too, diving into the leaf piles.”
Matthew didn’t know what to say in reply to this, and wisely said nothing. Alice gave herself a little shake. “So when’s Bryony’s due date? I was talking to a young friend of mine the other day, and she couldn’t believe how many pregnant women there were in Rowansford at the moment! Poor girl – she was married once, but ended up divorced, and her husband took her child.”
Alice didn’t want to name names – that was too close to gossiping. But she needed to talk about something to take her mind off Sarah, and this anniversary of her death.
“He didn’t even let her know where he’d moved to: she doesn’t know where her only child is. I think it really hurts her.” “I’ve got the opposite problem,” Matthew said wryly. Like Alice, he wouldn’t normally have said so much, but he had to say something, he couldn’t just sit there in silence.
“My mother walked out on me and my dad – just left me behind. Dad didn’t earn enough to suit her. I don’t know where she is now – she didn’t keep in touch, didn’t even send me a birthday card, although we were at the same address for ages afterwards.”
Alice’s eyes were full of sympathy for him.
“And Bryony can’t take her place, can she?”
“No,” Matthew admitted. “But Dad’s happy now – and I like that. And I think having a little brother or sister could be a lot of fun. Even if I won’t be around for all of their growing up.” “Do you know what you want to do when you leave school then?” Alice asked, interested.
“Yes. I’m going to train to be a vet, and eventually come back and work at the stables with Bryony.” Amy was nearly asleep on her shoulder. Anita rocked gently, her voice growing ever lower and softer.
“And so your Daddy helped all those girls get safely off the boat. He was a hero, my darling. He didn’t manage to get out himself. But he was a brave, brave man, and you can be very proud of him.”
It was three years now since Dav had died, and the ache wasn’t as fierce as it had been at the start. She had Amy to draw her onwards. And a home. Hector Alexander had net her at the memorial service for the victims of the St Mark disaster, and had discovered why she was there. And his professional eye had spotted her pregnancy. A few gentle questions, and he’d found out the sort of pressure her aunt and uncle would put on her to either have an abortion or put the child up for adoption, once they learnt she was pregnant.
“Your child’s father saved my daughter’s life. Let me give something back in return. I have a house – I’ve just inherited it from my grandmother. It’s tiny, and not very pretty at the moment, but it’s sound, and I can get it decorated for you.”
She’d been reluctant to take the gift, her pride getting in the way, but the thought of having somewhere to live, somewhere to bring up Amy, had persuaded her. She wouldn’t let him do it up for her though.
“All right. If things get to the stage where our baby’s life is in danger, then I’ll ask you for more help. But I want to do this on my own. I have to. I have to prove that I can, otherwise my aunt and uncle will just pile on the pressure. They want me to get a well-paid job, be respectable…a baby at twenty-one just doesn’t fit into that.”
“Promise me you won’t risk his child, the child of the man who saved my child. I owe him a debt I can never repay – this is so little.”
She’d promised. Once a month, she wrote to Hector Alexander and his wife – and she accepted the allowance they sent her for Amy’s food, and had been grateful too for the ante-natal and post-natal care he’d sorted out for her. Amy had had a good start in life, thanks to the Alexanders. The more Anita thought about Luke Barden’s visit, the less happy she was about it. In the end, she decided to ask Flora and Archiblad Pettistree’s advice. They’d known the Bardens all their lives, they (presumably) knew Luke well – and they really cared about Alice and Jacob. She told Flora the whole story – Luke’s threat, her response – and then sat back and waited to hear what Flora thought. Flora’s first words surprised her.
“Do you think this is connected to that Social Services visit?”
“You think that was Luke who tipped them off? But nothing he said suggested that”
“No. That’s not his style – the anonymous tip-off. Face-to-face confrontation, yes, but he’s not the type to go behind your back – never was. Hmmm.” Flora thought deeply. Amy climbed right inside the toy chest to get something out, and Flora laughed.
“I remember our Naomi doing that! And her daughter, Poppy, she did exactly the same. Your Amy’s made a big difference to Jacob and Alice; and so have you. Don’t let them lose you – not now. They’re beginning to be able to move on a bit from their Sarah’s death. Don’t knock them back. They value you two.” “You really think so?” Anita went slightly pink with pleasure. Flora looked at her measuringly.
“Yes, of course I do. Who’s given you such a poor opinion of yourself?”
“My aunt and uncle,” Anita said, the answer pulled out of her almost unwittingly.
“Tell me about them.”
And Anita did. “You know whose help we need?” Archibald said, once he’d been called in from his workshop and told the story. “You know who could find out about that tip-off? Griselda Tostead.”
“Griselda? But would she be willing to help?” Flora was unsure.
“If it’s for Jacob and Alice, yes. And she hasn’t fallen out with us – not really. She just won’t visit.”
“Well, we are next door to Cynthia. You know Griselda hates her.”
“I’ll give her a ring.” Surprisingly enough, Griselda looked with some fondness upon Amy.
“Alice told me she’d made a dress for Amy – with the left-over bits from Sarah’s butterfly dress. It meant a lot to her, doing that. So – tell me what’s up.” Flora told the story – coherently and well – and Griselda listened intently.
“So why do you need me?”
“Because you know things,” Flora said. “You collect information – about everything. If anyone can find out anything about this tip-off, it’s you.”
“All right: but I want something in return from you, young lady.”
“I don’t have anything,” Anita said, alarmed.
“I want you to answer me a question, that’s all. Let me see what I can find out.” Griselda left the room, and the rest of them watched Amy trying to make friends with one of the many cats that prowled around the house. “Well, I’ll say this for her; she’s not afraid of cats. Right: I’ve found out something – someone owed me a big favour – but I want something from you. I want to know why Hector Alexander gave you some of his grandmother’s property. I don’t hold with breaking up estates. And I don’t like not knowing the reason for things. She’s obviously not his child. So why?”
“I’ll only tell you if you promise to keep it secret.” The old woman liked secrets though, Anita could tell. They gave her power and influence. But she couldn’t use this secret against anyone, and Anita would give it away to help Jacob and Alice.
“Agreed.”
She told the story quite simply, and Griselda’s face softened as she heard it.
“Hmmm. That fits. And I admire your independence, young woman. You’ve been kind to Jacob and Alice as well. I’ll do what I can – and see if I can find anything else out. The tip-off came by phone, from a young woman judging by the voice. Not local, judging by the accent. And then Luke turns up, breathing fire at you and stuffed full of lies. I know who that suggests to me: that girlfriend of his.”
“But why? Anita asked. “Why has she got it in for me? How am I a threat to her? Or in her way?”