Ella felt her face turn red, but Janice ignored the jibe.
Defiantly, Ella lifted her chin and answered Janice’s question.
‘Not really. I don’t like him much.’
Now a surprised gasp rippled amongst the listeners.
‘Dun’t like him much? She must be blind – or daft.’
‘He’s the best-looking boy in the school, ain’t he,
Janice?’
Janice Souter was still watching Ella, her grey eyes
narrowing slightly, a calculating look crossing her young
face. ‘You live at Brumbys’ Farm, with ya gran, dun’t ya?’
Ella nodded and Janice went on, ‘Rob comes to Brumbys’
Farm a lot, dun’t he?’
Ella shrugged. ‘My gran likes him.’ Janice was not to
know, but that very fact was no recommendation to Ella.
‘Well, she would do. They’re related, aren’t they?’
This was news to Ella. ‘How?’
The other girl shrugged. ‘When me mam heard about
yourn getting drowneded in the floods,’ Ella bit her lip but
remained silent as the girl went on, ‘me mam said, “Oh,
them Hiltons and Elands and Godfreys, all muddled up
together, they are.”’
Ella shook her head. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’
Janice leant closer. ‘So you see, he can’t be ya boyfriend
even if you wanted him to be.’
Ella lifted her shoulders again. She couldn’t quite understand
all this talk of boyfriends and girlfriends, but said
stoutly, ‘Well, I don’t.’
‘That’s all right then. See, he’s our Jimmy’s best mate.
He’s in the same class.’ Janice moved to her side and,
linking her arm through Ella’s, said, ‘You can be my friend,
Ella Hilton, ’cos we live at the next farm to you – and
Rob.’ She turned back to face the rest of the girls hovering
around them. ‘You hear? Ella’s
my
friend.’
The girls gave faint smiles but said nothing, the taunts,
it seemed, silenced.
At the end of afternoon school, Ella once more found
herself the centre of attention. Outside the school gate a
group of girls from her class encircled her: Alison and
several others, whose names Ella did not yet know. But
there was no sign of Janice.
‘She’s walking home with Rob, I ’spect.’ Alison Clark’s
knowledge about other people’s affairs seemed endless.
She came close to Ella. ‘See, she’s older than all of us. She’s
nearly eleven.’
‘She was ever so ill when she was six and missed a lot
of school, so she’s ’ad to be put down a class,’ another
informant volunteered.
Someone else sniggered. ‘Naw, she’s just thick, is Janice
Souter. Her brother Jimmy’s the same. He shouldn’t still
be at this school.’
‘You’d better not let her hear you say that, Gillian, else
she’ll wallop ya.’
‘Janice Souter dun’t frighten me,’ the other girl said
boldly, but, Ella noticed, she had turned an uncomfortable
shade of pink.
The group came to the crossroads where they were to
part company, dispersing to various parts of the town or
to take the lane leading out towards the Point.
When her grandpa had brought her to school that
morning he had shown her the way to go home. ‘Don’t
come home by the coast road yet, Ella. Come from inland,
down past Rookery Farm. Rob and the Souter children
should come this way, so you’ll have some company. All
right?’
She had nodded, although the wind blustering across
the vast expanse of open fields all around her had made
her shudder, feeling vulnerable and afraid. It would be
dusk when she left school. What if she got lost?
‘I’ll watch out for you,’ Grandpa had promised as he
left her at the school gate. But now she found herself
walking down the lane completely alone, except for the
seagulls wheeling and screeching above her. Black clouds,
threatening rain, were building up to the north behind her
and the wind blew her along.
‘Oy!’ She heard a shout behind her. Turning, she saw a
boy on a bicycle pedalling towards her. She stood waiting,
but as he came nearer she could see it was not Rob. The
boy, with spiky, carroty hair and a face almost completely
covered with freckles, swerved his bike around her and
continued to encircle her like a dog rounding up sheep.
‘You’re the new girl, in’t ya? Me sister ses ya’re in her
class.’
Suddenly, she knew who the boy must be; Jimmy
Souter, Janice’s brother and Rob’s ‘best mate’.
Ella started to walk again and Jimmy Souter kept pace
with her. ‘Our Janice is walking home with Rob,’ he
gestured behind them with his head and grinned confidently, ‘but he’ll get fed up of her in a bit and come after
me.’
He circled her again. ‘Cat got ya tongue?’
She glared at him, but continued walking in silence.
‘We’re getting a telly soon.’
‘A what?’
‘Oh, ya can talk, then? A telly. Y’know, a television.’
She’d seen them in the big stores in Lincoln, but had
never watched a programme. She didn’t know anyone who
actually owned one.
‘We’re getting one in time for the Coronation in June.
It’s going to be on.’
Ella eyed him. Was this boyish boasting or the truth?
They had reached the point in the road where she
turned to the left to go towards the coast, past Rookery
Farm and home, whereas Jimmy’s home lay straight on.
He scuffed his feet on the ground and swung his leg over
his bicycle, swivelling it around across the road to bar her
way.
‘Did ya mam get drowned in the floods?’
Unable to speak, her eyes downcast, Ella nodded.
‘Why’ve you come to live with your
gran
, then? Ain’t
ya got a dad?’
‘He was in the war.’ Again, the trusted answer.
There was a smirk on Jimmy Souter’s face. ‘Me mam
ses you ain’t got a dad, that you’ve never ’ad a dad. Ya
mam weren’t married . . .’
Ella clenched her fists and her eyes narrowed.
‘So ya know what that makes
you
, dun’t ya?’
She stepped forward and thrust her face towards Jimmy.
‘Shut your gob else I’ll shut it for you.’
Jimmy grinned at her, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
Before the words were out, Ella had swung her right fist
and caught him on the mouth.
‘Ow!’ Jimmy yelped, and reeled backwards. The bicycle
toppled over and he fell on top of it, amidst pedals,
handlebars and spinning wheels. Putting his hand to his
mouth, he stared at Ella in surprise. ‘Ya little bugger!’ he
said, swearing like an adult, but strangely, a note of respect
had crept into his tone. Blood was now seeping from the
inside of his lip, cut by his own teeth. ‘I’ll tell me mam of
you, Ella Hilton.’
At that moment they heard a shout and Ella turned to
see Rob Eland racing towards them on his bicycle. Some
distance behind him was Janice, running to try to keep up
with him. There was a squeak of brakes as he slid to a halt
and stood looking down at Jimmy.
‘You fall off, Jimmy?’
‘Naw, she hit me.’
‘Wha . . .?’ Rob glanced at Ella in amazement and then
back to Jimmy.
At that moment, Janice came up, panting and red-faced.
‘Ya might ’ave waited, Rob.’ She too stood looking down
at her brother. ‘W’as up wi’ you, then?’
‘’Er,’ he pointed an accusing finger at Ella. ‘That’s
what’s up.’
Ella was silent, but inside, she was sighing. Bang goes
Janice’s friendliness, she thought.
Rob had laid his own bicycle down on the grass verge
and was now attempting to disentangle Jimmy.
‘She hit me,’ he said petulantly, to his sister. ‘On the
mouth. Look.’
To Ella’s astonishment, Janice grinned at the boy still
dabbing gingerly at his mouth. ‘Serves ya right. ’Spect you
said summat ’orrible, as usual.’
Jimmy looked shamefaced for a moment. ‘She needn’t
’ave hit me,’ he muttered.
‘Did ya hit her back?’
‘I dun’t hit girls.’
‘Ya hit me when it suits ya.’
‘That’s different. You’re me sister. ’Sides, I’ll tell our
mam and she’ll go an’ see the Missus at Brumbys’ Farm.’
Rob heaved Jimmy to his feet and handed him his bike
and then went to pick up his own. ‘Come on, Ella, I’ll give
you a cross-bar. Hang on to the middle part of the
handlebars.’
She hoisted herself on to the narrow bar of his bicycle
and, wobbling a little at first under their combined weight,
they set off down the road towards Rookery Farm.
She glanced back to see Jimmy mounting his bicycle and
pedalling towards his own home, whilst Janice was left
standing at the crossroads staring after Rob and Ella.
As they bowled along, close by her left ear, Rob said,
‘You ought to ask ya grandpa to get you a bike.’
‘Can’t ride one,’ she muttered.
The bicycle wobbled. ‘Eh?’ His tone was shocked.
‘Can’t . . . ? Crikey! I dun’t know, Ella Hilton – never seen
the sea and can’t ride a bike.’
She turned her head to grin at him and found his
face close to hers. ‘You’ll have to teach me, then, won’t
you?’
The bike wobbled dangerously now so that Rob put his
feet to the ground and slithered to a halt a short distance
from the gate into the yard of Rookery Farm. He held the
bicycle whilst she slid off the cross-bar.
‘See ya,’ he began, and made to turn away. Ella nodded
but made no move. ‘That girl . . .’ she began.
He looked at her. ‘Who? Janice?’
Ella nodded. ‘Is she your girlfriend?’
‘Girlfriend? I ain’t got no girlfriend.’
‘Well, she thinks you have.’
‘Jimmy’s me best mate, that’s all. She reckons she can
tag along with us any time she likes.’ His expression was
mournful. ‘We have the devil’s own job to give her the
slip.’
‘So she’s not your girlfriend then?’
‘Don’t be daft. All girls are soppy.’ He turned his bicycle
round and pedalled away. Now he sat upright on his
saddle, not holding the handlebars at all but pushing his
hands into the pockets of his trousers and steering the
bicycle with his knees. He called back once, ‘See ya in the
morning. Dun’t be late . . .’ and then rode down the lane
to the farmyard gate, his shrill whistling piercing the
deepening dusk of the winter’s afternoon.
Ella crossed the lane and mounted the stile into the field
to take the short cut towards Brumbys’ Farm. The waterlogged
ground squelched underfoot as she skirted the field
and came to the footbridge, only just visible above the
overflowing dyke.
Gingerly, she stepped on to the slippery planking.
Holding her breath she inched her way across feeling the
plank bouncing a little when she reached the middle. The
water lapped over the edge and soaked her shoes. She
stood still, fear suddenly immobilizing her. Her legs seemed
to be rigid and she swayed slightly as if she might lose her
balance and topple into the black water in the dyke,
clogged with grass and reeds and debris. Ella bit her lip
and then took a deep breath, willing her stubborn limbs to
move. Somehow, she reached the other side and clambered
up the bank. Skirting the meadow, she squeezed through a
hole in the hedge into the orchard at Brumbys’ Farm.
*
‘Where on earth have you been, Missy? Ya grandpa’s been
fussing like a mother hen, running out to the gate every
few minutes to watch for ya.’
‘I came across the fields from Rookery . . .’
‘The fields?’ Her grandmother’s voice rose. ‘A’ ya daft,
girl?’
‘I – what do you mean?’
‘Dun’t ya know better than to come across them fields
just after the flood? The dykes must be full and the
ground sodden.’ There was a pause as her eyes went to
Ella’s soaking shoes, the wet creeping up her socks. ‘Ya
could have slipped in and drowned, you silly girl. Go on,
up to bed with you this instant. And dun’t you go across
that way again till the ground’s dried out. You hear me,
Missy?’
Remembering her sudden fear in the middle of the plank
footbridge and knowing her grandmother was right, she
said, meekly, ‘I’m sorry, Gran.’
‘So ya should be,’ was the only reply. Esther Godfrey
shook her head. ‘I dun’t know what I’m going to do with
you. Ya’ll be the death of me!’
Ella bent to stroke Tibby’s back as the kitten lapped
delicately at a saucer of milk on the hearth, then she looked
up. ‘Gran, are we related to the Eland family?’
The knife Esther was holding to chop vegetables clattered
to the floor. The woman’s green eyes stared at her.
‘What? Who’s been telling you that? Has
she
said
summat?’
Wide-eyed, Ella stared back. ‘Who? Janice?’
‘No – no, I didn’t mean her – I meant – oh, never mind.
Who’s been saying that?’
‘Janice Souter.’
Esther gave a snort. ‘Oh, I might a’ known. That’s come
from ’er mother. Nosy old beezum, she is.’
Ella stifled a giggle as her grandmother wagged her
finger and said, ‘You tek no notice of anything that girl
ses, you hear me? It’s none of their business.’
‘But are we, Gran?’ the girl persisted.
‘It’s nowt for you to worry yasen about, Missy, and get
that cat out of this house now.’
‘Aw, Gran, let him have a drink of milk in the scullery.
It’s so cold out there and he’s so tiny . . .’
‘He’s to sleep in the barn.’ Her grandmother was firm,
but her tone was softer now. The girl knew that Esther
respected her concern for the animal’s welfare. ‘Here,’ her
grandmother was saying, ‘here’s an old piece of blanket.
Mek him a warm bed in the straw. You can take the saucer
of milk out with you.’
Feigning meekness, Ella said, ‘Yes, Gran,’ and avoided
Esther’s penetrating gaze. She picked up the kitten, who,
cross at being disturbed from his lapping, mewed
plaintively.
‘I’m only taking you to bed, Tibby.’ She buried her face
in the kitten’s soft fur and whispered, ‘Just be good. I’ve
got an idea for later.’
In the blackness of the barn she burrowed a nest for the
kitten and wrapped the blanket around him. Tibby purred
and played peekaboo from beneath the blanket, his bright
green eyes glowing in the dusk.
‘I’ll be back for you later. Now, just stay there.’