Hope at Holly Cottage (15 page)

‘Does the father know?’

This time her bitterness towards Gilbert galvanised her tongue into action. ‘Yes, he does. But he doesn’t want to know. And besides, I don’t think I want him in my life now that I know what he’s really like. But—’

She broke off, sick at heart. But the doctor was shrewd.

‘But you don’t know what to do. Which way to turn. Parents?’

‘Both dead.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ He gave a compassionate smile. ‘So, there’s no one?’

‘Only my best friend. In Devonport. But I’m not sure how she’ll take the news and I wouldn’t want to put on her. So there’s really only Queenie.’

‘Queenie?’

‘An elderly lady. She lives in an old cottage at Rundlestone, just down the road. She took me in. I’ve been with her for the last two weeks. She’s been marvellous.’

‘But you’re worried what will happen when the baby comes? And whether or not you should give it up for adoption?’

‘The thought has crossed my mind, yes,’ she almost whispered, and was grateful when Dr Franfield continued the conversation for her in what seemed his usual confidential tone.

‘Well, only you can make that decision. But let me give you a word of advice. Be very cautious about going into a home for unmarried mothers. Many of them
are
very good. But some will try and force you to give up your baby. So be warned. Don’t let anyone pressurise you into signing over the baby just like that. If you do decide on adoption, there are many legal processes which must be gone through properly. And you can change your mind right up to the moment when the adoption is finalised.’

‘I see. Yes. Thank you for that. But,’ Anna sighed again and shook her head, ‘I don’t know how I could afford to keep the baby.’

‘You’ll be entitled to allowances, you know.’

‘Really?’ Anna sat up straight, and a sudden light shone its way into the uncertainty of her future.

‘Oh, yes. I’m not sure of the exact figure, as it goes up periodically. But it must be nearly three pounds a week, you and the baby together.’

‘Oh,’ was all Anna could say in her surprise.

‘So there’s a lot for you to consider. But in the meantime, as I said, I’m only acting as locum while Dr Brodie’s on holiday. But you can register with me if you prefer, and I’d be happy to talk things through with you any time. You’ll find us in Plymouth Road in Tavistock. That’s my son and myself,’ he added with glowing pride. ‘He’s just joining me in practice. It would mean you’d have to come into Tavistock for your check-ups, or the local midwife could come to you. She’d soon let me know if there was anything she wasn’t happy with. Now,’ he smiled genially, ‘I just need to check your blood pressure and a few other things. After all, your health and the baby’s are the most important things.’

Ten minutes later, having thanked Dr Franfield profusely, Anna was walking along the road past the prison and back towards Holly Cottage. Ever since the day Queenie had taken her in, there hadn’t been a drop of rain and July was turning into a heatwave. The rolling hills and sharp contours of Dartmoor’s rocky tors were starkly defined in the clear, scorching sunlight, the sky overhead a deep, azure blue with not a cloud to be seen. The moor was spinning its mysterious web, catching Anna in the thread of a thousand thoughts triggered by what kind Dr Franfield had told her.

Perhaps things weren’t as bad as they seemed, after all.

Anna picked up Queenie’s little blackboard with its C
REAM
T
EAS AND
R
EFRESHMENTS
sign, and sauntered back along the lane. It had been another lovely day with a fair number of customers. Anna wondered how long the good weather would last. It was already the end of August and the main tourist season would soon be over once the children returned to school. Anna didn’t want the idyllic summer to end and just wished everything could go on as it was.

‘Been busy, haven’t you?’ Olive called from the garden of the lodge.

‘Certainly have. I’ve got to clear up, but would you like to pop in for a cuppa with Queenie?’

‘Thanks, Anna, but I’ve got to get Clifford’s tea. You know what a stickler he is for having his food ready on the dot.’

‘Never mind. Pop in tomorrow morning, instead.’

‘I may well do just that.’

‘See you later, then.’

Anna carried on up to the cottage. A bit grumpy was Olive’s husband, but he was in charge of the water-pumping station just down the road. It was a responsible job and that was probably what made him so serious.

Anna herself couldn’t have been more contented. As well as baking for the tea shop and preparing their own meals, over the last few weeks they had made jams and pies from the whortleberries they had gathered on the moor. Any surplus from Queenie’s kitchen garden that could be pickled or preserved was now stored in bottles and jars in the huge kitchen cupboard. Soon it would be the turn of the apples and plums from the trees at the back of the cottage. It was all so satisfying, and Anna gave a slow, mellow sigh.

‘Oh, cheel, what would I ’ave done wi’out you these last days?’ she heard Queenie declare from the armchair. ‘You’m a godsend, Anna, really you are.’

Anna knew she flushed with embarrassment. ‘How about a cuppa and some cake?’ she suggested, neatly changing the subject. ‘There’s some Dundee left. Your favourite. I’ll just see to the goats—’

‘They goats can wait ten minutes. You make us a nice cuppa an’ put your feet up. Anyways, us needs a little chat, you an’ me.’

Anna gulped, feeling as if she’d swallowed a golf ball. She knew what Queenie was about to say. The summer had been fun, but with leaner times on the way, Anna would have to move on. She was dreading it, putting off the moment of departure as long as possible.

‘Yes,’ she answered in a small voice as she turned away. The kettle was still on the range from the last pot of tea for
the shop, and was hissing with steam. It would only take a minute to top up the pot and cut two wedges of the cake.

‘You knows you’m showing,’ Queenie said without preamble. ‘Needing proper maternity dresses any time, you’ll be. An’ I wants to know what you’m going to do.’

Anna paused as she stepped across the kitchen, a cup and saucer in each hand. This was it. She put the teas on the little table between the chairs.

‘You’ve been so good to me,’ she answered, her voice quavering. ‘But I know it’s time for me to sort myself out. Find somewhere for the baby and me to live.’

‘You’m not thinking o’ leaving me?’

‘Oh, Queenie, I can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be fair on you. People would talk. Give you the cold shoulder.’

‘An’ what would I care if they did?’ Queenie answered fiercely, her old face gleaming with determination. ‘You knows I’ve told people you’m my niece, an’ what could be more natural? You’m ’aving a babby, but your poor ’usband were killed in a road accident. Just like your daddy if you thinks about it. An’ you wanted to make a new start wi’ your auntie. Now then, I kept my dear old mum’s wedding ring. You wears that, an’ nobody’ll be any the wiser.’

‘You’re so kind, Queenie, really you are,’ Anna murmured, her heart aching. ‘But some people in Princetown already know me. They’d know it was a lie. And what about Olive?’

‘Olive can keep a secret. An’ anyone else can go take a running jump. An’ what else you’m going to do? Find yersel’ some pokey little room somewheres? ’Ave the child cooped up in some town backstreet when it could ’ave the whole o’ Dartmoor to run wild in? Or p’r’aps you’m thinking o’ giving it away?’ she concluded with uncharacteristic sharpness.

Her tone stung into Anna’s heart and she lowered her gaze in brutal agony. ‘I don’t know,’ she choked. ‘I’ve been trying not to think about it.’

‘Then it’s time you did. You an’ me, us gets on so well. We’m a team. An’ this old cottage, ’e ’asn’t seen a little one since I were a tacker. ’E cas’n wait to ’ear a babby’s cry again. Don’t give the babby away,’ she pleaded. ‘Give it a chance.’

Anna lifted her head. Queenie’s words had exploded with such passion that it shook her to the core.

‘Is it … is that really what you want?’

‘You, me an’ the babby? Of course. No one could give it more love or a better ’ome than you an’ me. Think on it, cheel, an’ in the meantime, let’s see if that ring fits your little ’and.’

The railway strike had long been settled, and Anna gazed out of the carriage window with a blank stare, hardly noticing the lovely countryside as the train chugged south across the pretty Bere Peninsula. She had taken the early morning bus down to Tavistock and had gone to register with Dr Franfield.

‘Are you sure you want to be on my list?’ the kindly man asked. ‘It means you’ll always have to come all that way, and with the baby in tow? Dr Brodie’s very nice. I’m sure you’d like him.’

‘But he’s only in Princetown twice a week, isn’t he? So it wouldn’t make much difference, really.’

‘Just so long as you’ve thought about it.’ To Anna’s relief, Dr Franfield gave his friendly smile. ‘So, let’s see how you’re progressing, and on your way out, fill in a form for my wife. She’s the receptionist. And she’ll arrange for the midwife to
visit you for the next couple of months, and I’ll take over nearer your time.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

It had all gone so smoothly, Mrs Franfield being bright and welcoming and with no hint of disdain at her being an unmarried mother. Would Ethel be the same? Anna’s stomach was taut and filled with butterflies. She had told Ethel she had met Queenie in Princetown and they had become good friends. And that when Queenie had learnt that Anna wanted to leave Ashcroft Hall but didn’t want to leave her beloved moor, she had invited her to go and live with her. But now it was time for Anna to face the music and reveal her shameful secret to Ethel.

Anna had taken the alternative railway route from Tavistock North Station, as after running down the Bere Peninsula and the eastern bank of the Tamar, the train stopped at Ford Station, not so far from Anna’s old home. She got off the train and began to walk through the familiar narrow streets. Ethel had taken a week’s holiday, but with nowhere to go and Bert in Germany, she had been delighted to know that Anna wanted to come and visit her. But as Anna trod the uneven pavements, she felt as if the rows of little houses were pressing in on her. Had she really spent most of her life in these crowded backstreets? Her mum had died here, and her dad … It no longer felt anything like home. It seemed hostile and unfriendly, and now she was about to confess to Ethel – and possibly lose her friendship for ever.

She hesitated with her hand on the knocker of Number Sixteen. But she had delayed long enough, and girding up her courage, rapped loudly on the door. She heard footsteps
running down the hallway, and the next instant, she was locked in Ethel’s tight hug. Thank goodness. Ethel hadn’t noticed. Yet.

‘Oh, it’s proper grand to see you, Annie! Come on in! Mu … um! She’s here!’

Ethel bustled her down the hallway in a flurry of excitement and into the kitchen. Mabel was sitting at the table, sipping tea from a cracked mug, and somehow managing to hold a cigarette in the same hand. Anna felt detached from the familiar scene, as if she was watching a film. Oh, she wanted so much to be part of it, like she always used to be, stale cigarette smoke and all. But she couldn’t be. Gilbert and the child he had given her were about to ruin everything.

She waited, mentally holding her breath, while Mabel looked up at her with a welcoming grin. She put down the mug and, unusually, the cigarette, and stood up.

‘Annie, love!’ she beamed as she came round the table. ‘Fred were really upset to know ’e’d miss you. You’m looking very well! Putting on … weight …’ She paused, and Anna saw the colour drain from her face as her jaw dropped. ‘Oh, my God,’ she muttered under her breath.

Anna felt her shame ooze from every pore. Her throat closed up and she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Just stood there.

‘What’s up, Mum?’ Ethel’s suddenly bewildered voice came from behind her.

Anna saw Mabel swallow. ‘If I’s not mistook,’ she croaked in disbelief, ‘Anna’s ’aving a babby.’

Shocked silence. For what? Thirty seconds? Ethel came round in front of her, her face a mask of incredulity. ‘Annie?’ she breathed.

Anna looked at her, and hot tears welled up in her eyes. She watched as Ethel’s gaze moved down to her swelling belly, then back to her face. No one spoke. Or moved. For an interminable time.

Then Ethel’s lips screwed mutinously. ‘It were that Gilbert chap, weren’t it? Blooming gentry folk! Sweet-talked you, I bets. Led you on wi’ promises o’ marriage an’ what ’ave you. An’ now there’s a babby on the way, the bastard’s dumped you. Oh, Anna, ’ow could you ’ave fallen for it? Oldest trick in the world!’

‘I know,’ Anna choked. ‘You were right, Eth. I should’ve listened to you.’

‘Well!’ Mabel huffed up her sagging bosoms. ‘Just you wait till I tells Fred. Cas’n let the devil get away wi’ it! Specially not wi’ our Annie. Go an’ see the shyster – wi’ our Davy an’ all, ’e will – an’
make
the bugger marry you!’

Oh. O-oh, Anna wanted to moan. Why was it there were horrible, deceitful people like Gilbert in the world, when there were others like the Shallafords who had hearts of gold and would share their last farthing with you? To them, it was a straightforward problem with a straightforward answer. Life wasn’t always like that, though, was it?

‘I-it’s not that simple,’ she stammered. ‘He was engaged. I didn’t know. And now he’s married.’

‘Oh, Lordy love!’

‘And I wouldn’t want to marry him now even if I could. Not now I know what he’s really like.’ Anna lifted her head, the rancour she felt for Gilbert giving her confidence. ‘I only wanted a small allowance. And I think he’d have given it to me. But then he got angry and … and went for me. And Lady Ashcroft heard, and then he denied everything and she threw me out.’

‘What? But I thought as you got on well with ’er?’

‘I did, Eth. But when it came to it, I suppose her pride and her classy upbringing were just too much. She called me a trollop. And I deserved it.’

‘Oh, no, you didn’t, little maid!’ Mabel cried. ‘Too innocent an’ trusting, an’ maybes pretty stupid, but a trollop? Never! Believed you was in love, I be certain, an’ after all what ’appened to you, you was grabbing at ’appiness. Never should’ve gone off on yer own like that. Daft idea it were that you two buggers dreamt up atween you. Would’ve stopped you, us would, if us’d knawed.’

‘But I was frightened of my dad—’

‘Well, enough said, maid. You sit down yere, an’ Eth, you make a fresh pot o’ tea,’ Mabel ordered, taking charge in the way only she knew how. ‘No good moaning over spilt milk. Got to decide what’s to do. We’m good as family to you, Annie, you knows that.’

She was pushing Anna down into a chair and Anna nodded tearfully. Oh, Mabel. You’re so kind, but … ‘Eth?’

‘Bloody bugger, I’d strangle the bastard if I could get my ’ands on ’en!’ And to emphasise the point, Ethel slammed the mug of tea on the table in front of Anna with such anger that the tea slopped over onto the tablecloth. Not that it mattered very much. It was so stained anyway, and had more than one cigarette burn in it. Anna wondered when it had last seen the inside of the washtub. It was all so typical that her mouth curved into a smile.

‘That’s better!’ Ethel grinned. ‘Now, what we’m going to do wi’ this little tacker when it comes?’

‘Queenie and me are going to fetch it up,’ Anna answered. It suddenly all seemed so simple.

‘Sounds a lovely soul does this Queenie.’

‘Oh, she is. She … she reminds me of you, Mrs Shallaford.’

‘Hurrump,’ Mabel snorted with embarrassment. ‘Well, so long as us sees summat o’ you, an’ all.’

‘Of course you will.’

‘An’ I wants to be godmother,’ Ethel put in adamantly.

‘Oh, Eth, do you? I was so worried you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.’

‘’Ow could I not? Like sisters, you an’ me.’

‘That’s right! An’ when you two’ve finished ’ugging each other, you can ’elp me wi’ the dinner. Bangers an’ mash us is ’aving in your honour, young Annie.’ Mabel nodded her head as she retrieved the cigarette that had nearly burnt through on its own, and proceeded to light another one from its smouldering tip. ‘You sure you wants to live up on that there moor? I’d offer you an ’ome yere, but I doesn’t know where us’d put you. Not likely any o’ these are going to move out soon.’

‘It’s very kind of you even to think about it,’ Anna replied, feeling more relaxed as she sipped her tea and hardly noticed the unpleasant film on the mug. ‘And how are things going with you and Bert?’ she asked Ethel eagerly.

Ethel pulled a long face. ‘Well, ’e’s got another eighteen months nearly of ’is service to do. Thinks they’ll likely keep ’en in Germany. But we’m both saving ’ard, an’ when ’e comes ’ome …’

She plunged into the animated details of all their plans, chatting on merrily, almost without taking a breath. Anna was happy to sit back and listen, while opposite her, Mabel nodded approvingly as she took a few drags on her new
cigarette before popping it into the usual place at the corner of her mouth so that she could get on with the dinner. Anna felt a warm gladness seep into the very core of her. All this time she had been petrified of telling them about the baby, her stomach turning somersaults whenever she thought about it. How silly of her. She should have known how these good people would have taken the news. Mabel was right. They
were
her family. She had Queenie as well now, so she was very lucky if she thought about it. Now she could face the future with strength in her heart.