Give Me Your Answer, Do, chapter 5. A Rowansford story

Dawn was just breaking as Jonnie sat and rocked her son gently after feeding him. They’d called him Jack, after her dad, who’d been thrilled, pleased and proud in roughly equal measures.
“So you have to get to know your namesake, Dad.” Jonnie said to him. “Come round more often, please. Charlie was saying she missed you too, and wanted to show you her paintings. Don’t let Mum stop you – please.”
And, on the other end of the phone, Jonnie’s father had felt his spine stiffen with a new resolve. There was just one corner of the garden at Rattlesden House that harked back to its former Victorian glory – and Jenny Waterfold was rather attached to it! Though it was hard to keep it more or less intact when all four children were on holiday – for seven weeks at a stretch! It was a glorious early autumn day. The baby was dozing peacefully in his chair (though he was showing more and more signs of wanting to crawl now), the children were all safely back at school, and Jenny was busy preparing the ground for the plants Lorraine Saxtead had promised her – at least this part of the garden would look like something come the spring. The rest of the garden was definitely showing signs of a long summer’s wear! Never mind, Jenny thought, the grass will grow again. It’s not as if we go for the perfectly manicured lawn look. She’d filled up the apple bobbing tank and put some apples in it – they always got more than they could eat from their trees – the children could play out before doing their homework. “Yes, of course we’ll get changed before we go in the garden! We always do!” Emily was all animation.
“But we need to pick your brains first – and Dad’s when he gets home. You know it’s coming up to the five hundredth anniversary of the founding of the grammar school?”
Jenny did. Everyone whose child went there knew how old the school was. The uniforms had barely changed!
“So we need ideas,” Lucy chipped in. Like her elder sister, she wasn’t slow to contribute in class discussions!
“Bright ideas for displays and special things to do to celebrate, and historical things. There’s a prize – lots actually – for good ideas and we could enter as a family team if we wanted.” “Hmm. I know what you need.” Jenny’s children waited hopefully.
“You need Jonathan Saxtead – he knows as much about this town and its history as most people. I’ll invite him round, tell him why, and you can quiz him. See what you can come up with yourselves too. If you were going to an exhibition like that, what would you want to know?” “How about school meals through the centuries? With samples to taste?” That was Harry, of course (still slightly damp from the apple-bobbing they’d done earlier).
“Good idea,” David said, oldest to youngest in an encouraging way.
“And lessons – what they learned at what age,” Lucy added, still reeling slightly from the idea of Greek!
“I wish we could ask someone from two hundred – or four hundred – years ago what it was really like back them!” The others saw Emily’s point. “But I tell you what – how about asking ex-pupils from this last century to man – or woman – a question-and-answer booth?”
“That’s one to put to Jonathan Saxtead,” David agreed. “What else?” “Would you mind? Babysitting Jack while I went to the gym? There’s this fancy formal dinner in a few months, and I’d like to lose a bit of this post-baby weight before it.”
“Not at all, ma petite. There is no reason why you should not have a little time for yourself in the week! And if you go just after he has been fed and put down for a nap, then probably there will be no problems.”
“Thank you,” Jonnie said. Why was Lorraine so much nicer to her than her own mother was? After Charlie and then Daisy had been born, Cynthia had made it very clear that she was not available for baby-sitting duties. Jonathan left the table and came back with a tray of hot drinks.
“Did I tell you about my meeting with the junior Waterfolds?”
“Go on,” Lorraine said, smiling.
“So – I’ve been press-ganged into organising part of the school’s anniversary celebrations. Do you think your father would like to help too?”
“I think he’d love to,” Jonnie answered. “But you’d better ask him when Mum’s not around, or she’ll veto it on some spurious grounds.”
“I’ll phone him now…” “I wish Mum didn’t boss Dad around so much.” Jonnie picked up her mug. “Living here with you two has made me see things differently. I thought it was just normal when I was growing up, but it isn’t, is it? I don’t know how he managed to get her to drop her opposition to David’s and my engagement – or why he hasn’t gone on standing up to her.”
“It wasn’t your father,” Lorraine said gently. “I tell you a secret, I think. It was my Jonathan. Years and years ago, he caught Cynthia about to do something very wrong. And she knew that he knew – you follow me? So, when your mother is being so difficult and Jonathan, he comes to me and says, I know a secret from her past, me, I say: Use it.” “Blackmail?” Jonnie said, mildly shocked.
“But no. He is not seeking gain. What reason was there that you and David should not marry? All Jonathan did was to stop her ruining David’s life, and I think yours. My David would have been so unhappy without you. And so would I.”
And she smiled at Jonnie with a sweetness that warmed Jonnie’s heart. She’d finished the sanding! Another morning to herself before Jack had been born (they’d been fitting in as much out and about as possible!) and she’d got that done without anyone being any the wiser. Now she was stripping the wallpaper – at least that was something she could do quietly. To Daisy’s delight, the plaster underneath was still sound: she’d seen and read enough to know that she hadn’t a hope of plastering well.
The maths test had gone okay too – she’d improved her marks enough not to be put down a form, but she was still stuck with sitting at the front of the class, whilst Poppy and Chloe sat together at the back. If Daisy hadn’t had so much else to think about at the moment, she’d have minded a lot about that. Without her glasses on, the bedroom’s ugliness softened and blurred – but even without them on the tattered curtains and ugly bedclothes irked Daisy.
“I could make some new ones,” she thought. “How hard can it be to sew in a straight line? I managed okay in school sewing lessons.” Which, admittedly, had only been for half a term last year, and all she’d made had been an apron – but still – a curtain was really just like an apron in shape, wasn’t it? Only bigger.
“This bed’s not really ugly, either – the shape’s quite nice. I could paint that. I know Grandpère’s got all the stuff for sanding down metal, from doing up Josephine.”
Tomorrow – she’d see what she could find… One good thing about living in Saxtead Villa instead of their old house, Daisy thought, was that there was several generations’ worth of stuff lying around in odd corners – to say nothing of the attic. She’d found an old but still working sewing machine – in fact, it ran very smoothly, as Jonathan had stripped it down and serviced it when he needed a break from doing up Josephine. It wouldn’t do any fancy stitches, but that didn’t matter: she didn’t need them for curtains or bedclothes. As Daisy got on with her homework, the books began to pile up around her. She needed to understand this maths: she wasn’t going to fall behind again. Maybe Dad could help her over the weekend – but she also wanted time to look at material! She’d worked out how much she needed (more maths), and now the thought of choosing colour, patterns, styles, was a hugely pleasing one. She’d worked out a budget too (yet more maths!) and was finally beginning to understand why her parents sometimes said they couldn’t afford things. “Did I tell you I’ve been asked to be on a committee as well?”
Jack Harleston sat in the painfully neat sitting room and made conversation with his wife. She raised an eyebrow in query, and he told her about the preparations for the grammar school anniversary and the involvement of former pupils. “Out of the question. There’s far too much for you to do round the house and in the garden. And in any case, you simply aren’t committee material.”
Jack sagged, defeated.
“No, it can’t be thought of. You must tell them you have to decline.” However, he didn’t ring up and decline. Jonnie’s right, he thought. We have to stand up to her. And when he found a letter addressed to Cynthia with the school logo on it, he slipped it into his pocket. What if it gave the game away?
But when he opened it – carefully, so that he could re-seal it – it was only the twin of one he’d already received, asking permission to put any examples of their work that the school might still hold up on display. He signed it on her behalf – it was easy to forge her handwriting! – and returned both his form and Cynthia’s in the same pre-paid envelope. By hand – saving the school the postage!
“I want to do this,” he thought. “I want to be part of something.” Daisy had been wondering how she was going to hide the smell of the paint, once she had started on her room – the smell of the top floor decorating had long since faded. She couldn’t believe her luck when her father announced that he was going to start decorating the room that opened off their upstairs kitchen! Right next door to her room! That should account for any odd paint smells – and if she kept her window open lots, then it would fade fast too.
The room off the kitchen was going to be a sort of study/sitting room for them as a family – and there was no denying it needed updating.
“I think your grandmother chose this wallpaper,” Jonathan said to David. Primer and undercoat on the wood first. Daisy had to do her painting late at night – she’d head for bed as early as seemed reasonable, and then paint until she could hardly keep her eyes open. But the job was getting done. All her furniture was in the middle of the room – she had to climb into bed over and around everything!
She’d found the material she wanted for the curtains as well – that would be next. And the bed. To her surprise, she was enjoying this more and more – but she was so busy and so tired! And she had to keep on top of her schoolwork as well as doing this, and her job. Daisy didn’t realise that she was also becoming nicer to live with: the spiteful comments were getting fewer. If everything had been normal, Daisy would never have managed to do what she did. But there was a new baby in the house – Jonquil was more than a little busy. And she quite happily accepted Daisy’s explanation of why she was locking her door during the day – Charlie had wanted to show Daisy’s room to Hanako and Matthew, and it wasn’t hard for Daisy to act like she was still afraid of that.
“I don’t think Charlie would do that, but you never know.”
“Especially if Daisy had really annoyed her,” her dad agreed.
“Do you know, it is so nice seeing so much of you.”
“Well, you called him after me. I can’t neglect getting to know him, can I?”
Her dad had always been good with babies, Jonquil reflected, remembering him with first Charlie and then Daisy. Far better than her mother, who regarded babies as noisy objects that leaked at both ends. “And I get a chance to see Jonathan at the same time: we can have ad hoc committee meetings. We’re starting on sorting out examples of work for displays: the school has some real archive stuff, but Jonathan and I are going through the less valuable stuff from this last century.”
“The centenary’s about eighteen months away yet, isn’t it?”
“Yes – and we’re going to need all that time! I’m really enjoying this, Jonnie. I haven’t felt so happy for ages. You did so right to move in with Jonathan and Lorraine. This is a happy home.” “Are you all set, then? Ready for your first ride on Josephine?”
Grandpère had asked Daisy if she’d go out with him and help him deliver leaflets about the grammar school upcoming festivities, and Daisy definitely wasn’t averse to helping him. “This is pretty amazing,” Daisy admitted, as they drove past the park at the end of the road. “And Josephine actually goes!”
“She doesn’t like stopping and starting too often though, so if you can get out and deliver at each house, I can keep the engine running. I’ll get you back in good time for work – how’s the job going?” “That’s the last house,” Jonathan said, pointing up to the Tostead place, dark, gaunt and forbidding on its hill. “Sorry about the hike up to the front door.”
“I don’t mind,” Daisy said, honestly – and she didn’t, not when it was for Jonathan. She’d enjoyed the day – the ride, the heads turning to look at the car, and her grandpère’s considered interest in what she had to say. It was quite a walk up the hill though – good job she’d be quicker coming down! And Daisy had to admit, she was a little nervous too. Both she and Charlie had been frightened of Griselda Tostead when they were young. Whenever they’d come across her in the town, she’d always seemed to glare at them in a really menacing way.
“But I was only a child then. She’s not really a witch, and she can’t enchant me.” Though Grandma H had never liked her either, and used to cross the road to avoid her if she saw her coming. Griselda, Daisy had to admit, did look as witch-like as ever – maybe even more so. And as Daisy went to hand over the leaflets, with the usual explanation, the old lady suddenly recognised her, and hissed in her face.
“I know who you are! Looking down your nose at me, like the rest of your family. Well, you’re not welcome here, any of you, so you can just get out again. Your grandfather broke my heart, you know – and I don’t forget. So go – before I make you very, very sorry.”
And Daisy turned on her heel and fled, dropping the papers that had been in her hand, back down the hill as though there were wings on her feet, back to the safety of the car, and her lovely grandfather. No wonder he’d chosen Lorraine over Griselda Tostead. There was no comparison! “What’s this lot? It looks like a barricade!”
Joanthan laughed. “It does, doesn’t it? This is entrance exam scripts from the last seventy years, all sorted by decade. We’ve got a list of everyone who’s given permission to have their work put on display, and we’re going to put the original questions, and people’s answers up on display.”
“But?” Jack said. “I can hear a ‘but’ in this.”
“Yes…Remember, we put a number and not a name on our exam scripts? So – we have lists of names and corresponding numbers. All we have to do is find out who wrote the script, and if they’ve given permission to display it. Plus, of course, most of the women have changed their names, so we need to check maiden names…Which decade do you want to do first?”
“Oh, ours, I think. That would be the most fun. And we can remember the women’s maiden names, mostly. I wouldn’t mind seeing my own paper again.”
“Me neither,” Jonathan admitted. “I was hoping you’d say that…” She’d finished it! She’d actually finished her room! Curtains, bedclothes and all. She’d like a carpet, but she couldn’t afford that yet. She’d tidy it all up, move some of the furniture back in and show everyone. She couldn’t wait!
“Now I know how Grandmère feels when she finishes a book. Or Grandpère when he finished Josephine. Or Charlie, when she finishes a painting…”