Blake was cooking: the usual cheap food that was all he could afford, but for once he wasn’t thinking resentfully about his own poverty or his extremely basic living conditions.
Since his unexpected encounter with Claire some weeks back, he’d had her green-eyed gaze on his mind. Her ready defence of her mother had impressed him, and her fighting spirit appealed to him. He’d taken to keeping an eye out for her and had noticed how she protected her younger sister as well, sheltering her from old Albert’s wrath, keeping her from doing things that would annoy the old man.
She was so unlike his older brother! Carl had used his position as the eldest to undermine Blake at every turn, and to do Blake out of his share and his position in the family business. More than that, he’d made it impossible for Blake to get a decent job, dropping subtly poisoned hints into the ears of any would-be employer. Blake had had to come here, somewhere where he was totally unknown, somewhere off his brother’s radar, and take this most basic of jobs in order to be able to support himself through the year.
Blake sat down to eat, thinking this time about Claire’s mother Martha. He’d written her off at first as being too stuck-up to speak to him, but now he was changing his mind.He'd been very careful about how he’d observed Martha – Albert would probably have sacked him on the spot, and he needed this job. But their paths inevitably crossed from time to time around the farm, and although Martha didn’t know it, someone was noticing her as a person again.
And Blake was seeing a woman who was too thin, too tired, too drawn and too overworked. He was seeing a woman who had lost hope, felt defeated, battered into submission by life’s unhappiness. Blake had admired Claire’s fighting spirit, but Martha’s loneliness and exhaustion stirred his heart to pity, and the beginnings of a desire to protect her.
Martha seemed to do all the work and never have a day off. Claire and Georgina were kept pretty busy too – Albert seemed to think that that was what girls were for. He didn’t seem to be fond of Timothy either, though the little boy was an engaging child, but he obviously thought that the boy was way more important than his sisters or his mother.
“Battisfords!” Claire said. “We’ve found my ancestors! All huddled together up this corner.”She was actually quite enjoying her graveyard project – but she enjoyed David’s company even more.
“Better get started then,” David said. “You write, I’ll read them out to you.”
“Sacred to the memory of…” David began, and she started writing as neatly as possible – this had to look like she’d taken time over it, to justify her absence.
“Hey, there’s a Waterfold here!”“I don’t believe it!” Claire dropped her notebook and went over to where David was standing.
“Hezekiah Battisford, died 1847…beloved wife Arabella, née Waterfold. You’re right! But how come? They must have had some courage.”
“I’ll ask my parents. Or Jonathan Saxtead – you know, Charlie’s grandfather. He knows loads about local history. Looks like we’re not the only Romeo and Juliet in the clan.”
Claire’s heart did as strange double thump. Romeo and Juliet? But David was still talking – not as easily now, but with definite meaning.“Claire I really do think…I mean….Could you? Do you? Claire, I really like you. Really, really like you.”
“I like you too. Really, really like you.”
“You know what I think?” Claire said, high on courage and excitement, as the family were in the kitchen that evening.“I’d like some proper clothes and not these stupid old-fashioned ones. Like some jeans for instance.”
“Claire, don’t say things like that!” Georgina looked panicky. “Great-grandfather wouldn’t like it. He thinks women shouldn’t wear trousers. It’s unfeminine.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He can’t eat you.” Claire ignored her sister’s fears. “Mum, why can’t we have more sensible clothes? I mean, in these we all look like we came out of the ark.”
Her voice came clearly through the kitchen door and reached her great-grandfather’s ears. So she wanted different clothes, did she? Well, he’d teach her a lesson or two. He’d noticed her changed attitude recently – this would show her who was still in charge in this household.
Bryony and Anita’s friendship was growing steadily. Bryony’s calm good nature disarmed Anita’s defences, and Bryony was so grateful to Anita for cheering up Alice and Jacob Barden’s life. Then there were the children too – Bryony was eager to learn from Anita’s experience.“I don’t actually know anyone with young children. I’ve been so involved with running the stables…”
Anita laughed. “I don’t know that I’m much of an expert!”
“You know more than I do! And Amy’s happy and healthy – her dad would have been proud of you.”Little by little, Anita had talked about Amy’s father – his childhood as an orphan in an Indian dockside slum, his determination to rise above his beginnings, scraping what work he could at the docks, and always, always learning whatever he could.
“I’d like to think that. She’s certainly got his cheerful nature. Everyone said that about him – always cheerful, nothing was ever too much trouble for him.”Bryony still didn’t know how Raj had died, but she wasn’t going to ask. Anita would tell her if she wanted to: for now it made Anita happy to talk about Raj as she’d known him.
Bryony picked up Megan to wind her – and felt an all too familiar sensation as her daughter let fly with an almighty burp.“Bother. I think she’s just been sick down my back. Let me put her down and get changed, and then you can fill me in on all the latest news from Jacob and Alice.”
“Talking of clothes,” Bryony said, coming back down and putting a pile of neatly folded jeans on the coffee table, “I’ve changed shape since having the twins and these don’t fit me anymore. Are they any use to you? Otherwise, they’re going to a charity shop.”“Really?” Anita looked up at her friend. “You don’t look like you’re bigger.” She was still wary of being beholden to someone.
“Really! I measure much the same, but my hips have changed shape – I’ll put a pair on and show you if you like. I need a curvier cut now. They’re all a bit worn, but not totally in holes…Donald made me throw those ones away.”
“Thank you,” Anita said, and watched a bit of her fierce independence crumble away without regrets.
“So how were Alice and Jacob? I haven’t been able to get over for the past couple of weeks – Donald’s been too busy at work to babysit Megan.”“Fine. Daisy was there again the other day, and she and Alice were working on those dresses – I was painting, and I could hear them laughing and chatting away. Alice was all happy and sparkly. I thought she was just a really quiet person.”
“She used to be all lively and talkative. I’m so glad that hasn’t gone for ever. It was such a happy household when I was young – all laughter and lively arguments between Sarah and Luke, though never serious. They were so close. Luke used to be cheerful too, and not all gloomy and scowly like he is now.”
Luke used to be cheerful? That was news to Anita. She hadn’t told Bryony of her own run-ins with Luke, nor of his deep dislike of herself and Amy. He’d said he’d be polite to them both, in front of his parents, but she needn’t think they’d ever be friends. And she’d given as good as she got, and told him that he’d neglected his parents, that his girlfriend had just wanted to rip them off – and Anita and Amy weren’t the bad guys in his parents’ lives, thank you very much! He had started visiting his parents again at their house, so maybe she’d done some good there…
“We’re sorting and stapling all this lot! How did we get landed with that?”Neither David nor Harry was too happy with the task that so obviously lay ahead of them – they had enough to do with their homework.
“Jonathan Saxtead dropped them off,” Emily explained. “They’re questionnaires for the Grammar School anniversary celebrations, specially for older ex-pupils. ‘We don’t all do things on our phones or computers,’ he said! Oh and he said that if you drop them back round, he’s got some information for you.”
That changed everything! Jonathan must have found out about that Battisford/Waterfold marriage back in the eighteen hundreds. David applied himself to his homework with renewed vigour.
Coming back up the road from Jonathan’s house late that night, David’s head was full of all Jonathan had told him!“And will you ask your dad if there’s any family diaries or anything? This is a story I didn’t know about at all, but it will make a good paper for the next local history meeting. I’m going to look up their wills as well: it looks like there were some interesting marriage settlements. The Battisford she married was just the third son of a miller, and yet there’s that big farm in the Battisford family now…”
He couldn’t wait to tell Claire all about it! Next time they met…
But there was no next time. David went to the graveyard on their usual day, but there was no sign of Claire, though he waited and waited. And then, two days later, a hurried message sent via Charlie.“Tell David I can’t see him again. And he mustn’t try to get in touch with me either.”
What had happened?
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