Chapter Eleven
"I don't suppose you know anything about a thoroughly irresponsible pilot who flew one of your aircraft over our land yesterday, do you, Mrs James?"
The unexpected address from Lady Wilton as Molly and Marjorie left the Village Hall at the end of the W.I. meeting caused Molly to turn around in surprise. In spite of her bravado to Charles earlier she had secretly felt a few butterflies in her stomach as she entered the hall that afternoon. Predictably, Lady Wilton was already there thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with the President of the Institute and Marjorie had muttered under her breath, "Trying to butter her up, no doubt and get herself a seat on the committee." If she had seen Molly and Marjorie enter the hall Lady Wilton gave no indication and remained in conversation until the meeting began.
After the usual notices there was a discussion about the planned festivities for Easter which were to include the traditional Nethercombe Easter Procession through the village by members of the Institute. The President outlined the route that would be taken and expressed the hope that as many members as possible would participate wearing their Easter bonnets before the parade concluded at the Village Hall where sandwiches, tea and simnel cake would be served. Molly had heard mention of the procession before but hadn't witnessed it having been too busy with the twins last year to pay much attention to village's Easter activities. The thought of having to spend a lot of time making a hat to parade around in front of her neighbours didn't fill her with enthusiasm and she was also struck by the thought that it didn't sound like much fun for anyone else. When the President asked if anyone had anything more they wished to contribute she couldn't help raising her hand and after being invited to speak she stood up and said, "What about doing something for the children of the village?"
The President, Miss Morrison, the retired headmistress of Westfield Hall, a local girl's boarding school situated three miles beyond Nethercombe, regarded Molly over the top of her spectacles with a furrowed brow she had previously reserved for errant schoolgirls sent to her study to confess their misdemeanours, "Could you elaborate on your suggestion, Mrs James?"
Molly hadn't given the matter much thought having supposed that by raising the issue it would encourage others to put forward their suggestions. Instead she saw every pair of eyes in the room turned upon her and noticed in particular the incredulous look on Lady Wilton's face. She wondered briefly if she had committed a cardinal sin by making a suggestion but, determined not to seem indecisive, she cast her mind about wildly for an idea and remembering something she had read in one of Bella's magazines said, "How about an Easter Egg Hunt?"
There was silence for a moment and one or two of the members seemed to be looking in Miss Morrison's direction almost as if seeking guidance as to whether this was considered to be a good idea to support. Miss Morrison reserved her own opinion and cast the idea open to the other members for their views. Almost immediately, Lady Wilton rose to her feet.
"In my opinion, such events usually descend into an undignified and disorganised melee allowing the greediest children to gorge themselves. I speak with the experience of the Christmas Party in mind."
Molly noticed one or two of the ladies nearest to Lady Wilton nodding in agreement. She was astonished at the response and spoke almost without thinking, "What do you mean by an undignified melee? They're children. Isn't it supposed to be fun?"
Lady Wilton adopted an almost pained expression when she looked at Molly and replied, "I think the Nethercombe members here have more experience in these matters, Mrs James."
No one else spoke even Marjorie seemed anxious and Molly had the distinct impression that now that Lady Wilton had given her view no one else would dare to oppose her.
"So that's it, then?"
Miss Morrison addressed Molly, "Thank you for that suggestion, Mrs James, but it seems as if we will stand by our traditional arrangements this year." The tone of her voice left Molly in no doubt that she had been dismissed and she sat down feeling annoyed that Lady Wilton's obvious dislike of her had been her motivation in preventing Molly's idea being debated.
With all discussion being at an end it was time for the guest speaker, a short, stout, amply-bosomed lady, firmly shoe-horned into a tweed jacket and skirt, to address the meeting on the subject of Spring Cleaning. She offered many handy tips to make the job easy and stress free and concluded with the assurance that "Any husband will be delighted to find his home fresh, clean, sparkling and ready for him to relax at the end of a hard day's work." Molly, in spite of her irritation, had glanced sideways at Marjorie to see if she was amused by the idea that spring cleaning should solely be undertaken to aid the comfort and felicity of her husband. Recalling all the times she had come home from the airfield after a long day spent up to her elbows in the engine of a Tiger Moth, hands and fingernails grimy and blackened by oil and grease, smudges across her face and her hair tangled and dirty, Molly had struggled not to snigger. Far from being horrified by the domestic disorder in the house, Charles had considered Molly's grubby appearance to be a great excuse to help her wash it all off in the bath giving little notice or care for the grimy state in which the bath tub was left afterwards. If Marjorie thought the guest speaker's comment ridiculous she managed to maintain a straight face although the moment they had broken for tea and cake she remarked, "I'm glad my Robert's not here. I wouldn't want him getting any ideas about the housework. I don't think I could live up to those exacting standards."
Lady Wilton had studiously avoided any further contact with Molly and with the meeting over and the tea and cake consumed, Molly and Marjorie had been in the process of leaving before Lady Wilton caught up with them. As Molly turned to face her in the wake of her address about the reckless pilot she could tell that the older woman was suspicious. She was taller than Molly and held herself with almost military bearing. Someone with lesser spirit might have been intimidated by Lady Wilton's rank in life and physical presence but Molly, recalling the rather undignified manner in which the lady had sought to protect herself yesterday, found that she felt quite equal to responding to Lady Wilton's enquiry about the low level flying.
"My husband mentioned that Sir Percival called him about it," Molly answered, deciding to play for time and waiting to see where the conversation would lead, all the while conscious that beside her Marjorie was struggling to maintain an air of innocence.
"He most certainly did, " Lady Wilton retorted. "Your husband should count himself lucky that Sir Percival chose not report the matter to the Police. I have to confess that I am surprised that someone of your husband's experience and situation in life would allow a pupil to behave in such a manner."
Molly suddenly realised that the blame for her actions was being laid at Charles' door and that in covering for her he had taken the brunt of the Wilton's anger on her behalf.
"I'm sure the pilot's actions were due to poor judgment and Charles' would have done everything he could to stop them and I know that he gave the pilot a real telling off for what happened. But at the end of the day there wasn't any harm done was there."
Lady Wilton stared at her but Molly stood her ground and returned the look maintaining as neutral an expression as possible. Lady Wilton seemed to be weighing up whether to say anything more on the subject but finally resolved upon saying in a brusque, irritated fashion, "Well, I think your husband was left in no doubt as to our feelings on the matter."
Molly nodded, "Oh yes, he certainly knows what you think about it."
Lady Wilton merely inclined her head by the merest fraction and uttered in a crisp, clipped tone, "Good day."
Molly and Marjorie watched Lady Wilton march out of the hall and made sure that the Village Hall door had shut firmly behind her before turning to regard each other. Marjorie looked sheepish but nevertheless amused by the exchange but Molly was thoughtful. She didn't like Charles being blamed for her mistakes.
"Cheer up Molly," Marjorie cajoled her, "she deserved it. Wish I'd got a photo of her, yesterday."
Molly turned to her friend in surprise, "Blimey Marjorie, you're not exactly bowing and scraping to your betters are you?"
Marjorie shrugged and grinned, "Must be your influence, Molly."
Molly shook her head, "You don't want to pay too much attention to me. I've got a habit of putting my foot in it. Charles knows about our little escapade but he didn't let on."
Marjorie raised her eyebrows, "I see. Have you had a row about it?"
Molly shook her head, "No, not really."
She remembered the cross words from Charles but it hadn't lasted long and she'd made it up to him later. It hadn't been necessary, of course, because on this occasion like so many others he had forgiven her pretty quickly but, she thought with a sigh, he must be getting tired of her doing things like this. She gave a rueful smile, "He's used to me messing things up."
Molly pushed open the door of the Village Hall and they stepped outside in time to see Lady Wilton's car driving away. They watched it crawl past the Village Green and turn left heading onto the Cookham road before Marjorie turned to Molly, "I told you the W.I. could do with a bit of a shake up and I meant it. People like Lady Wilton and some of the others in there, even Miss Morrison, like things to just stay the way they've always been but the world's changing."
Molly thought of the way her idea of doing something for the children of the village had been dismissed and also the how the Wilton's continued to complain about the airfield and deny the need for progress even if it brought business and jobs to the area. Marjorie was right; the world was changing and why couldn't they try something new. However for once in her life before acting rashly, she told herself that she would talk to Charles. She turned to her friend, a determined glint in her eye, "Do you know, Marjorie. It seems to me the W.I. aren't the only ones who are entitled to organise things around here. I don't see why we shouldn't do something different if we want to."
X-X-X-X
Charles heard the front door open and close and called out from the kitchen, "In here," expecting Molly to appear in the doorway. He had brought Edward and Rose downstairs after their nap and sat them in their highchairs with some bread and jam to eat. They seemed to be in a good mood and Charles had been delighted by the smiles that had greeted him when he had gazed into their cots after they had woken. He didn't pretend to be heavily involved in the day to day care of his children no matter what Miss Parkhurst might think but he considered himself capable of looking after his son and daughter for a couple of hours even if it hadn't been planned. In truth he had expected that Bella would return within a short time and was surprised that almost two hours later he was still waiting for someone else to come home so that he could make his excuses and go back to the airfield.
He heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Hattie coming into the kitchen.
"Hello," she called brightly as if she had lived here all her life.
"Hello, Hattie," Charles replied, "Have you had a good afternoon?" The enquiry came from the automatic politeness instilled in him since a child but there was also a small degree of curiosity as to how she had been passing her time.
Hattie pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, "Alright. I called in at the shop and that chap, Tom, took me on a tour of the village."
"That was good of him, " Charles observed bending over Rose to encourage her to eat some more of her tea, "but he's always been very kind especially to Bella"
Hattie looked surprised, "Why Bella?"
Charles looked up at her, "Oh, didn't she say? She and Tom have been courting for nearly two years." If Hattie was disappointed she tried very hard to hide it and Charles saw only the slightest flicker of emotion on her face which he mistook for interest.
"My feet are killing me," Hattie remarked looking down and slipping off the black suede leather shoes which were grimy with mud from the lane. "There aren't many buses round here are there?"
Charles raised his eyebrows, "I suppose not, but it depends what you're used to. I imagine your life in Ipswich is a lot busier than here."
Hattie shrugged and said nothing and Charles remembering her comments last night, particularly the one about her job couldn't help saying, "I suppose you'll have to get back soon."
Hattie shook her head, "Not especially."
"But surely you have to go back to work and your mother must miss you," Charles countered.
Hattie rolled her eyes, "My job's sort of casual if you know what I mean and as for mum, well she's got plenty of company with Harry so she won't be too bothered about me."
The news about Hattie's job being something less than permanent didn't surprise Charles. He and Bella had been suspicious about the very generous-natured employer Hattie had described and he was pretty sure now that she didn't have a job at all. As for her comments about Violet and her beau she might well be right but he couldn't help asking one more question, "How long did you tell your mother you'd be away?"
Hattie stared at him her eyes slightly narrowed and suspicious of his question, "Why do you ask?"
It was Charles' turn to be wrong-footed and he hesitated before saying, "I wouldn't want her to worry. You could always telephone her if you like."
Hattie shook her head, "We haven't got a telephone. Anyway, mum won't be worried." She got up hastily, "Shall I make us a cuppa?"
Charles nodded his thanks and turned back to Edward and Rose feeling even more suspicious. Hattie didn't have a job and she was being evasive about how long she planned to stay. He watched her move over to the kitchen sink and turn on the tap. The inconsistent pressure caused a sudden jet of water to spray at her for a second or two, splashing both her dress and the floor before settling back to a trickle. She moved across the kitchen to place the filled kettle on the hob to boil. As she returned and passed Charles she slipped on the damp flag-stoned floor, losing her footing with a squeal of surprise. Charles instinctively shot out a hand to grasp her upper arm and steady her. The loud cry of pain from Hattie shocked him.
"I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
Hattie was clearly flustered, "Yes, 'course." She rubbed her arm and turned away from him opening the cupboard to find cups and saucers. When she turned back a few seconds later she had recomposed herself but Charles was still concerned.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
She shook her head, "You didn't, I was just surprised to slip that's all." She looked across at Edward and Rose, "They're a lucky pair, aren't they, what with you and Molly for their mum and dad and living here even if nothing much happens."
Charles remembered Hattie's comments about the lack of entertainment in Ipswich and said mildly, "You sound a little disappointed in Nethercombe, Hattie, after Tom so kindly showed you the sights. I wouldn't have thought it was the best place for someone seeking excitement."
"P'raps not," she agreed, "But it'll do."
The kettle was boiling and Hattie busied herself making tea for them both. By the time she brought the cups to the table, Charles was wiping Edward and Rose's faces with a damp cloth and they were wriggling in their high chairs and showing signs of wanting to get down and toddle around. Charles drank the tea and looked at Hattie. Something didn't make sense about her sudden appearance in their lives again and he was torn between playing the amiable host and asking her outright why she was here. He didn't want to upset Molly but his instincts told him there was more to her arrival than met the eye. He drained the last of his tea, placed the cup back on the saucer and took a deep breath,
"Hattie, how long are you planning on staying?"
X-X-X-X
Peter brought the car to a stop on the grass verge fifty yards from the entrance to Greystones, switched off the engine and sat back in the driver's seat reaching his arm across the back of the seats towards Bella on his left. It was almost five o'clock and the sunshine of earlier that afternoon had given way to a chill spring breeze. Bella stayed in the car. She turned her head to the right, her eyes glancing at Peter's hand very close to her shoulder and pursed her lips. Peter seeing her expression started to laugh.
"You don't trust me do you, even after spending the whole day with me."
Bella, chastened by his words merely said, "Sorry."
It was true that Peter had continued to be the perfect gentleman during the afternoon when they had taken a trip across the River Wye on the ancient ferry and gone for a stroll through the woods. He had walked alongside her, hands in his pockets and told her about himself and his life. He had been good company and able to recount many amusing and entertaining stories to pass the time and even if the occasional moment of supreme confidence in his own abilities surfaced he was able to dismiss it with some self-deprecating remark that somehow made it seem acceptable. Bella had set out that morning with a degree of trepidation and even if there had been moments when she had been all too conscious of Peter's admiration for her, having arrived safely back in Nethercombe she could reflect on having had a pleasant day.
"You know, a gentleman really should take a lady to her door," Peter remarked.
Bella shrugged, "I think it's better this way."
Peter smiled and leaned a little nearer to her, "Anyone would think you're ashamed of me."
Bella took a deep breath, "I don't know what you mean."
He cleared his throat, "Well, you're wary aren't you? Has someone said something about me?"
Tom's words of warning immediately sprang to mind but Bella tried to sound convincing when she replied, "Of course not."
Peter laughed again, "Now I know you're not being honest."
Bella turned to look at him. She could see a hint of exasperation in his expression and thought honesty would be the best policy, "Alright, someone did say something but you said we'd be friends and that's what we've been today haven't we?"
Peter sighed, "I can guess what was said and by whom. Don't believe everything you hear, Bella."
His voice was serious and Bella detected a hint of sadness. It was true that she'd somewhat recklessly decided to meet Peter that morning out of frustration over Tom's attitude and annoyance at Hattie's presence and as much as she'd tried to dismiss them, Tom's warnings had bothered her all day. Everything Peter had said and done had been viewed by her in the light of those words when the reality was that she'd had a very nice day out with a polite, well-mannered young man. She shouldn't have let Tom's jealousy prejudice her. Peter might have started out on the wrong foot at the Young Farmer's Dance but since then he had behaved well. She smiled at him,
"I've enjoyed today. Thank you."
He gazed back at her, "So have I. Would it be too much for a friend to give you a kiss on the cheek?"
Bella anxious to assure him and not to seem churlish nodded, "Of course it would be alright."
He slowly leaned towards her, his arm on the back of the seats inching ever nearer and as his face drew level with hers, she was acutely aware of the scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of him, the warmth of his skin next to hers and the gentle pressure of his lips against her cheek.
He drew back a little, his face still close to hers, his lips just inches away from her own. They were so close that he could feel her breath on his face. She hadn't moved and he knew it would be so easy to just lean in now and kiss her as every fibre of his being was urging him to do, to simply take everything that was promised there as she waited, still and compliant. However, he knew it wouldn't be enough and she mattered to him more than any other woman he had met for a very long time. He fought his inclinations and sat back in his seat, secretly frustrated but true to his word.
"Good evening, Bella."
"Goodbye, Peter." She reached for the door handle but remembering himself in time he got out of the car and swiftly moved around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She got out and standing near him seemed to linger for a moment as if she wanted to say something else before she left but couldn't think of anything. In the end she whispered, "I did have a nice time." She reached out and touched him lightly on his arm, "Thanks again."
He watched her walk away and told himself he'd done the right thing. However much he wanted to go after her right now, pull her into his arms and satisfy every yearning sensation he was feeling, he knew he was doing the right thing. Bella Dawes was not a woman to be trifled with. He had been accused of quite a few things in the last few years and some of them were even true but he knew that Bella was not a short-lived fling and he had no intention of jeopardising what might be. He watched her turn into Greystones and then got back into the car, started up the engine and drove away.
X-X-X-X
Standing in the gloomy clump of fir trees at the end of Greystones drive hidden from the view of any passer-by, Hattie was seeking refuge from her encounter with Charles. She was bothered by his questions and bothered by the inference that she wasn't welcome here. She had been counting on Nethercombe. She knew Charles was fishing for information and his last question concerning the proposed length of her visit had put her on the spot. She had never been more grateful to hear a restless young child screech at the top of her voice and drag Charles' attention away to deal with his daughter. She hadn't really liked the babies and toddlers in the Children's Home during the war but today she could have kissed Rose. No sooner had Charles stood up to attend to Rose then Hattie had slipped away muttering something vague about needing to do something. She had quietly left the house and meant to stay out of the way until someone else came back but she didn't want Charles to see her and after reaching the end of the drive headed into the clump of trees to shelter from the wind.
She leant back against the tree and winced as the bruises on her spine made contact with the uneven bark. Damn, that had been close earlier with Charles. She rubbed her arm again where Charles had grasped her and gazed heavenwards. She needed to stay here if only for a while and she needed someone on her side or Charles would work on Molly and she'd end up having to leave. She pondered her situation for a while; it wasn't good. Even Tom had asked her why she was here. However, he'd been easy to deal with. Her gratitude to Molly and wish to see her again coupled with the sadness of her story appealed to someone with such a kind heart as Tom. Someone who had grown up with loving parents and had a happy settled childhood could easily sympathise with her gratitude towards Molly for finding her mother again. She liked Tom and had to confess she'd been disappointed to hear that he was sweet on Bella. Bella seemed as wary of her as Charles and certainly not the friendly ally that Hattie had been hoping for. She'd seen the look on Bella's face when she'd mentioned them being like sisters and could tell she had no intention of entertaining such a notion. It was alright for Bella with a large family and a big sister who'd done well for herself not to mention a wonderful boyfriend but Hattie had grown up without much and her life had descended into something even less as time had gone by. Was it any wonder she'd ended up in this mess.
Her attention was caught by the sound of a car approaching but stopping some distance short of the drive. Instinctively she crept forward her heart pounding and carefully peered up the road taking care to stay out of sight. A small black Austin was parked fifty yards or so along the lane and two people were sitting in the front; a man and a woman. The woman was Bella. They appeared to be talking and Hattie watched them wondering why Bella was sitting in the car with this man. She had gone out this morning without saying where she was going and Hattie was curious. After a short while the man leaned across and kissed Bella and stayed close to her for a few seconds. Hattie held her breath until the man sat back again and then got out of the car to open the door for Bella. Hattie could see he was tall, handsome and well-dressed and it was obvious to her that they were very close. Bella stood next to him and touched him on the arm, an affectionate gesture in response to something he had said or done and then started to walk towards Greystones.
Hattie shrank back into the shadows of the tree and kept out of sight. She heard the car start up and drive away and then glimpsed Bella turn into the drive on her way to the house her feet crunching on the gravel as she passed.
It was clear to Hattie that Bella didn't want anyone to know about this man. Why else would she ask him to drop her off in the lane? Hattie knew well enough how useful information could be. She wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen, at least not yet. However, what was also obvious to her was that if Bella was playing fast and loose with Tom's feelings by hanging around with another man, Tom might need a shoulder to cry on and she was determined that no shoulder would fit the bill better than her own.
