Whispers Page 8

  They were getting dressed the next morning when Simon told her casually, ‘I’m giving Laura a lift into town this morning on my way to work – did I mention it?’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ She kept her voice light. ‘Why is that then?’

  ‘She told me she needed to get Beth some new clothes. She asked me if I’d take her as I pulled into the drive last night.’

  ‘I can’t think why she doesn’t take Social Services up on their offer of some respite,’ Jess said. ‘It must be hard caring for a young person like Beth twenty-four-seven.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say, but I wonder if you’d want it if it was one of our girls in Beth’s shoes.’

  Jess could hear a note of reproach in his voice and instantly wished that she hadn’t said anything. She supposed he was right. If Mel or Jo had been born like Beth she would have been just as protective of them. And yet, if Laura would only allow Beth to mix with other people more, surely it would be good for the girl instead of being kept tied to her mother’s apron strings all the time? Beth seemed to come alive when she was with Jo or Simon, but Jess didn’t say that now. At the end of the day she was aware that it was really none of her business.

  ‘So what have you got planned for today then?’ Simon asked as he pulled his shoes on.

  ‘I thought I’d hang the new curtains in the dining room now that the decorators have finished in there and then I’m going into town to pick those pictures up that I’ve had reframed. They should be ready today.’

  They went downstairs together and soon after Jess ran Mel and Jo to school and Simon shot off to work. Once she was home again, Jess wandered into the dining room and looked around with satisfaction. The paper she had chosen for the walls in there was perfect for the room and the chairs that she had recovered looked as good as new. Simon had made a marvellous job of repairing the one that had been wobbly. Now all she had to do was scour the antique shops again until she found a table that would go with them. She briefly wondered what had happened to the original one, but then was soon absorbed in hanging the new curtains.

  Outside, the rain poured down relentlessly just as it had since the thunderstorm the day before. The sky was black and overcast, and Jess wondered briefly if they had seen the last of the summer. At this rate, she would soon be trying the new central heating system out. It was decidedly chilly now.

  Once the curtains were hung to her satisfaction she had a solitary lunch then popped upstairs to get changed before going into town. As she accelerated down the drive shortly afterwards, she glanced in the car mirror. The house looked dark and brooding without the sun shining down on it – nothing at all like the happy family home she was trying so hard to create. She scolded herself, Don’t be so daft, woman. Everywhere looks dull in this weather.

  Her spirits lifted slightly when she picked up the sketches. The frames she had chosen suited them to perfection and she could hardly wait to get home and hang them in her bedroom. On the way back she popped into the supermarket and loaded a trolley with food, and soon she was turning into the drive again, only to slam on her brakes when she saw Laura standing in the middle of it gazing at the house.

  ‘You daft thing,’ she scolded as she jumped out of the car. ‘I could have run you down then.’

  ‘What . . .?’ Laura seemed distracted for a second but then she smiled apologetically. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Jess. I was miles away.’

  ‘I could see that, but what are you doing?’

  Laura glanced towards Beth, who was absorbed in dragging the piles of gravel on the drive into neat little piles with the toe of her trainers.

  ‘Actually, I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.’ Laura kept her voice low.

  Jess frowned. ‘What about?’

  Ignoring the question, Laura asked, ‘How about tomorrow morning about elevenish? Den is off work with this awful flu bug that’s flying about, so Beth could stay with him for an hour while I came up to you.’

  Jess was momentarily lost for words. She normally had to almost crowbar Laura into the house, and now here she was asking to visit of her own free will. ‘Of course you can call in,’ she told her eventually. ‘You don’t need to make an appointment. I’ve always told you you’re welcome to pop in at any time. To be honest, now that the main part of the house is taking shape, I’d be glad of the company. But now get yourself home. You look like a pair of drowned rats. You’ll catch your deaths, standing out in this weather.’

  Laura grinned ruefully before taking Beth’s hand. ‘I’ll see you in the morning then, shall I?’

  Jess nodded and watched them move away before swiping the rain out of her eyes and clambering back into the car. She roared off up the drive and once she had parked up in the courtyard she made a run for the kitchen door with the sketches tucked securely under her arm.

  After hastily throwing off her wet coat she put the kettle on to boil and laid the sketches out on the kitchen table to admire them. The one of the young girl picking wild flowers particularly held her attention and she studied it intently. The girl looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old and had shoulder-length brown hair. She was slim, but as she was bending down it was impossible to see her face for the curtain of hair that draped across it, and Jess wondered if she had been pretty. She also suddenly wondered if this might be Martha, the young girl whose journal she was reading. At the thought a little shiver rippled through her but she had no time to dwell on it because at that moment someone shouted her name and she started. The voice had come from upstairs but she was certain that she was the only person in the house. Curious, she hurried into the hallway where she stood at the foot of the stairs gazing up them. It had sounded like a young girl’s voice but both the girls were at school.

  ‘Is anyone there?’ she called uncertainly, but only silence answered her. Slowly she began to climb the stairs and once on the landing she looked left and right. The rain was lashing against the windows and she began to relax a little. That was probably what she had heard. There was certainly no one there.

  As she prepared the vegetables for the evening meal, Jess wondered what it was that Laura wanted to see her about the next morning.

  Chapter Nine

  If anything the weather got even worse during the night and Simon was not in the best of moods at breakfast the next morning. ‘All this rain is going to put us right behind on the job we’re doing,’ he complained.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid you can’t order the weather.’ Jess poured more tea into his mug and grinned, trying to stay cheerful. Jo looked slightly flushed today and Jess wondered if she was coming down with something, although the girl had insisted she was well enough for school. Mel was in her usual sulk, looking as if the end of the world was just around the corner and now Jess had Simon moaning too. Another great start to the day!

  After seeing Simon off she ran the girls to school, watching Mel pick her way across the playground. Her daughter’s hair was scraped back into a severe ponytail with two long bits dangling down around her face. She had obviously attacked it with the straighteners again this morning, but as Jess was discovering, curly hair nowadays was considered a curse by teenage girls. She could only begin to imagine what damage the heat was inflicting to Mel’s crowning glory, but had long ago stopped trying to point it out because whenever she did, Mel just stared at her as if she was some sort of raving looney. The girl’s school tie was knotted at the third button of her shirt, which was undone at the neck as were all the other girl’s making their way into school, and the waistband of her skirt had been rolled over so that it sat just above her knees. It was as if they were trying to look like clones of each other but Jess was wise enough to know by now that she had to bow to fashion. Oh, to be young again, she thought as she restarted the car and drove away. Once back at the house she decided to have a few minutes to herself and read a little more of Martha’s journal. In no time at all she was propped up against her headboard with the book open to the next page and soon everything
else faded away as she became lost in the girl’s story.

  4 August

  Today Grace and Bertie were married in St Theobald and St Chad’s Church in Caldecote. I had expected it to be a happy day, a day for rejoicing, but for some reason it turned out to be almost like any other day . . .

  The day of the wedding finally dawned and as Martha woke, a feeling of excitement coursed through her. She had her Sunday best green dress laid out across the chair and as she looked towards it she smiled. Once they had seen to the Master’s breakfast they would be free to get ready, and she could hardly wait to see Grace in the gown she had fashioned from the length of blue silk. After pouring some water from the jug into the bowl she washed hastily and pulled on her drab work clothes. There was no point in wearing her best dress until the chores were done. The night before, she had washed her hair in water and vinegar, and after rubbing it with an old towel she had sat at the bedroom window and brushed it until it shone in the breeze that was wafting in.

  Once she had secured it with a ribbon she skipped downstairs in a happy frame of mind just in time to see Bertie coming out of the Master’s study, his mouth set in a grim line.

  ‘So, the big day is finally here then?’ Martha smiled tentatively as Bertie appeared to look straight through her.

  ‘Aye, I suppose it is,’ he muttered eventually then he turned and walked away as Martha chewed on her lip. The Master had obviously said something to upset him, although she had no idea what it might be. Surely Bertie should have been in a happier frame of mind on his wedding day? Shrugging, she moved on to the kitchen where she knew Grace and Granny would already be working.

  On entering the room she saw Granny flipping bacon and kidneys in a large cast-iron pan on the range and Grace laying the Master’s tray. Lately, if he didn’t have guests, the Master preferred to take his breakfast in his room, which Martha had noticed Grace didn’t seem at all happy about. But then it was a special day, so surely even Grace wouldn’t mind waiting on him today?

  ‘I just saw Bertie coming out of the Master’s study, so he’s obviously up and about. He’ll probably have the tray in his study this morning,’ she chirped cheerfully. ‘And I have to say Bertie didn’t look none too pleased, so I don’t know what the Master’s said to upset him.’

  ‘Hold your tongue, girl, else I’ll box yer ears fer yer,’ Granny snapped.

  Martha sighed. What was wrong with everyone today? It seemed that they’d all got out of the wrong side of the bed.

  After fetching the large milk jug from the pantry she helped the two women prepare the rest of the meal in silence before slipping through the back door. Once outside she headed for the meadow where she quickly picked a bunch of wild flowers then carried them back to the kitchen and held them out to her granny.

  ‘I thought these might be nice for Grace to carry as her bouquet,’ she said quietly.

  The old woman’s faded grey eyes softened as she looked at her young granddaughter. It wasn’t her fault, after all, that there was trouble on, and happen she’d been a bit hard on her.

  ‘They’re lovely.’ She forced a smile. ‘An’ I reckon I’ve got a length o’ blue ribbon up in me room to tie ’em with. They’ll look a treat wi’ Grace’s dress.’

  Slightly happier, Martha asked, ‘And where is Grace?’

  ‘Gone up to her room to get ready. She might be glad of a bit of help.’

  Martha frowned. ‘But shouldn’t we be preparing the bridal meal for when we get back before we get dressed?’

  ‘There’ll be no bridal meal,’ Granny said shortly. ‘The Master’s informed us that he has guests comin’ again tonight, so soon as the service is over we’ll have to come back an’ prepare fer them.’

  ‘Oh!’ Martha could not stop the note of disappointment that crept into her voice. She had at least expected a small celebration with the Tolleys to mark the day. Hal Tolley was to accompany them to the church to act as best man to Bertie, but it appeared that it was not going to happen. Some wedding day this was turning out to be, she thought to herself.

  ‘Why don’t you go an’ get ready an’ all,’ Granny now suggested, taking the flowers from Martha’s hands. ‘I can finish up in here an’ I’m sure Grace will be grateful of a hand wi’ her hair.’

  Feeling somewhat deflated, Martha slipped out into the courtyard and headed for the stable block. She would check that everything was right in the rooms above it for Grace to return to as a bride before going to help her sister get dressed.

  Bertie was there already, washed and dressed in his Sunday best suit when Martha tapped on the door and entered. He looked very nervous and very handsome as Martha grinned at him.

  ‘By, you look posh,’ she laughed. ‘Happen our Grace will fall in love with yer all over again when she sees yer lookin’ like that.’

  Bertie’s hand rose self-consciously to pat his hair, which at the moment was flattened to his head with Maccassar oil.

  Martha then took a quick look around the rooms and sighed with satisfaction. They had all been working tirelessly to transfer the old furniture from the attics that the Master had told them they might have, and now the small rooms looked quite homely. There was a table with two sturdy wooden chairs at either side of it in the living area and an ancient couch that Granny had re-upholstered for them from a length of cloth they had found in one of the numerous trunks in the attic. Granny had also made them some pretty curtains to hang at the window. One corner of the room was partitioned off by a faded velvet curtain, another reject from the attic, and behind it was a sink and a small stove that would serve as their kitchen quarters. Bertie had hung a shelf there too which was full of mismatched plates and mugs, but Martha saw that everything was sparkling.

  The last room to check was the bedroom. She knew how untidy Bertie could be and wanted everything to be just right for when he brought Grace back there as his wife. But she need not have worried. A quick glance assured her that Bertie had put everything away in the old wardrobe and the chest of drawers that stood to one side of the large brass bed. The same pretty flowered cotton curtains that hung in the living room graced the bedroom window, and Granny’s wedding present to the young couple, a beautifully sewn patchwork quilt made from scraps of material all the colours of the rainbow, was spread across the bed. It felt strange to think that Grace would be sleeping here with Bertie from now on rather than in the servants’ quarters with her, but Martha hoped that the couple would be happy. And once they had put Grace’s bed into the storage room, she would have much more space, which would be nice.

  ‘Well, everything seems to be in order here so I’ll go and give Grace a hand in getting ready now,’ she told Bertie brightly.

  He nodded as he tugged at his tie and Martha giggled. ‘At least try and look happy,’ she teased. ‘You look more like a chap that’s about to go to the gallows than one that’s about to be wed.’

  ‘I’m happy enough. But now be gone wi’ yer an’ help Grace, eh? We’ve less than an hour to get to church an’ I can’t see the parson bein’ none too happy if we keep him waitin’.’

  Lifting her skirts, Martha carefully descended the stairs before skipping across the cobblestones and back into the kitchen. There was no sign of Granny, and Martha guessed that she had probably gone to get ready too.

  On entering Grace’s room she became still as she saw her sister lifting the blue satin gown over her head. It seemed to accentuate the colour of her eyes and Martha thought she looked truly beautiful. Almost like gentry.

  ‘Ah, just in time. Could you help me with these buttons?’

  ‘Of course I will.’ Martha crossed to do as she was bid and within seconds was saying playfully, ‘I think you must have put a bit of weight on since you finished this dress. I can scarce get the buttons to do up about your waist.’

  To her amazement, Grace rounded on her, her lovely blue eyes flashing. ‘I hope you won’t get saying anything so thoughtless as that in front of Bertie!’ she hissed.

  �
��O’ course I won’t, an’ I had no wish to cause offence,’ Martha stammered.

  Grace’s hand flew to her brow and she sighed. ‘Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap yer head off. Happen I’m just a bit nervous.’

  She dropped onto the chair and taking up the brush, Martha began to brush her hair. ‘It’s all right. I’ve heard it’s quite normal fer folks to be nervous on their weddin’ day.’ In no time at all she had fastened Grace’s long fine hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and now her sister lifted the second-hand bonnet she had bought from a stall in the market and put it on. It looked totally transformed now that Grace had covered it in tiny satin rosebuds and when she tied it beneath her chin, Martha sighed dreamily.

  ‘Oh, our Grace. Yer look truly beautiful,’ she breathed in a choky voice. Then side-by-side the sisters made their way down to the kitchen.

  Hal Tolley was there, dressed in his best outfit as they all were, along with Granny and Bertie, and they all looked at Grace admiringly.

  Granny was looking smart in a light grey gown she had bought from the pawn shop and altered, and over it she was wearing the Paisley shawl that Grace and Martha had bought for her the previous Christmas.

  Bertie’s eyes misted over as he viewed his bride-to-be. Taking her hands in his, he looked deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Right then, we’re not goin’ to let nothin’ spoil today,’ he told Grace. ‘’Cos I know what a lucky fellow I am. Now – if everyone’s ready, I reckon we should be off.’

  The sun was riding high in a cloudless blue sky as they set off for the tiny church in Caldecote, and Martha found herself skipping happily ahead. The rest of the party still seemed somewhat subdued, however, although she had no idea why. The church was less than a mile as the crow flew, but Granny was puffing before they were halfway there. ‘Happen me head still thinks I’m nor but a lass, but me old legs are tellin’ me otherwise,’ she huffed.