Her body was a mass of stings, throbbing, pulsating,
hurting
. She buried her head beneath the covers and let the
tears come. Tears of pain, humiliation – and anger. Then
she felt a hand tugging back the sheet and she clutched it
more tightly to her. She didn’t want anyone to see her
tears. Then a gentle voice said, ‘Come on, love. It’s
Grandpa . . .’ Reluctantly, she emerged from underneath
the sheet and with a sob allowed herself to be enfolded
into his arms.
‘There, there. Tell me what happened.’
She was silent, still not wanting to tell the truth. She was not sure what her grandfather would do. He might go
to the Souters and that would only cause more trouble.
Something similar had once happened back home in Lincoln.
A group of children had been playing snowballs on
the way home and she had thrown one at a bigger boy. In
retaliation, he had grabbed her and rubbed snow into her
face. When she had arrived home her eye had been swollen
and her mother, demanding to know who had done it, had
immediately marched round to the boy’s home and created
such a commotion that the boy had never spoken to Ella
again and had turned some of her former friends against
her too.
From that time onwards, young though she was, Ella
had determined to fight her own battles; telling grown-ups
only made matters worse.
‘I – I—’ she began now, her burning cheek against his
chest, so close she could hear the beat of his heart in her
ear. ‘We were playing. I fell off the little bridge into the
dyke.’
‘I see,’ he said quietly, and held her tightly, rocking her
and stroking her short curly hair, but she wasn’t sure, by
the tone of his voice, whether he believed her.
Gently he eased her away from him. ‘Let’s have a look
at all these nettle stings. Poor little lass. I bet they’re
hurting, aren’t they?’
She bit her lip and nodded. They heard voices in the
front garden, just below the open window of her bedroom.
Her grandfather stood up and looked out. ‘It’s Rob, talking
to your grannie. I’d better go down and see what he
wants.’
When her grandfather had left the bedroom, Ella got
out of bed and went to the window, kneeling down, so
that she could peep just over the sill and look down on
them below without being seen.
At the bottom of the orchard, just near the hole in the
hedge, she could see Rob talking to her grandmother and
waving his arm, gesturing behind him, back towards the
direction of the dyke.
‘Oh, no,’ she groaned aloud, ‘he’s telling her what
happened.’ She pulled a face to herself. ‘Now Jimmy’ll
really have it in for me.’
Rob seemed to be handing a bundle of something to
Esther, but from here, Ella could not see what it was. As
her grandmother turned and began to walk back towards
the house, Ella bobbed down quickly out of sight lest
Esther should look up and see her there.
When, a few moments later, she heard her grandmother’s
voice in the hall and heard her footsteps on the
stairs, she hopped back into bed.
‘I know, I know, Jonathan.’ The sound of Esther’s voice
preceded her and then she was there, standing over the
bed, a bundle of huge green leaves in her hands.
She stood looking down at Ella for a few moments and,
returning her gaze, the girl thought the older woman
seemed to be struggling to find the right words.
‘Rob’s just told me what happened. I’m sorry I smacked
you, lass, on top of the stings an’ all. But you should have
told me ya’sen.’
Her gaze never leaving Esther’s face, Ella sat up slowly.
She couldn’t remember ever having heard a grown-up
apologize to a child before. She stared in amazement at her
grandmother. She was a funny woman, the girl thought,
not for the first time. Sharp almost to the point of
unkindness at times, unable to show any affection for her
grand-daughter, and yet here she was standing in front of
Ella, admitting she had been hasty and wrong and saying
sorry.
Well, if Esther Godfrey could be honest enough to apologize, Ella Hilton was not one to bear a grudge. For a
moment she forgot her discomfort and smiled suddenly at
her grandmother.
‘That’s all right, Gran,’ she said, disarmingly. ‘You
weren’t to know. I don’t like telling tales, you see. I once
told Mum about something that had happened – but – but
it only made it worse next day at school.’
Esther sat down on the bed and they looked at each
other. ‘Tell me about it?’ Her voice was unusually gentle.
Suddenly, the young girl was overwhelmed with a
feeling of warmth, of cosy intimacy. There were just the
two of them in the bedroom, and her grandmother was
actually sitting there, listening to her; taking notice of her.
So, she blurted out the whole story of the snowball
incident, and at the end, Esther touched Ella’s cheek where
the nettle stings were now making her face look swollen
and said softly, ‘So you don’t want me to go and see Mrs
Souter?’
‘Oh, no, Gran.’ Her eyes were wide with a new fear.
‘Please,
please
don’t.’
Esther nodded. She was still holding the huge green
leaves and as Ella’s gaze dropped, she shook them a little
so that they quivered. ‘Rob brought these for you.’
Ella giggled. ‘What are they? Flowers?’
Esther smiled too. ‘No. They’re dock leaves. If you rub
them on a nettle sting, it’s supposed to take away the pain.’
Ella grimaced. ‘We’ll need a lot, Gran,’ she said, and
pushed back the bedclothes to show the white blemishes
covering her arms and legs.
Esther looked down at the mass of stings and Ella could
see that her grandmother was imagining the pain she was
suffering. ‘Aw, lass, I am sorry. What a naughty boy that
Jimmy Souter is. If it’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s an
untruthful child.’
‘You won’t go there, though, will you? Promise, Gran?’
Esther sighed but said, ‘I promise.’
Ella relaxed. What was it her mum had always said?
‘Me mam always keeps her word. Good or bad she never
relents. She’s got a will of iron.’
Esther crushed the leaves in her hands and began to
smooth them over Ella’s arms and legs. ‘I don’t know
whether it will soothe this lot, but it’s worth a try.’
And as Ella watched her grandmother’s bent head, she
smiled to herself. It was almost worth all the discomfort to
gain her grandmother’s attention for a few precious
moments.
The following afternoon as she walked home alone –
Janice had gone to the dentist straight after school – she
heard the ‘whoosh’ of tyres on the loose gravel at the side
of the lane behind her and turned to see Rob hurtling
towards her.
‘Seen Jimmy?’
‘I think he’s keeping out of my way.’
Rob grinned. ‘Reckon he can’t mek you out.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re different.’
Ella’s mouth tightened. ‘Don’t remind me,’ she said
grimly.
‘Eh?’ He looked at her, his eyes wide and then, as he
realized what she was thinking, he said, ‘Dun’t be daft. As
if I’d say owt about
that
.’
She was suddenly contrite. No, to be fair, though they
sparred with each other and he called her Townie, he had
never teased her about the circumstances of her birth. She
grinned up at him as he wobbled precariously on his bike
trying to slow his pace to match hers. ‘Sorry.’
‘I should think so, too,’ he said, pretending huffiness,
but he was smiling too. ‘No, what I meant was – before
you got so touchy – is that you’re such a little spitfire
usually, but yesterday, he couldn’t believe it when you
didn’t run home telling tales to your gran, ’cos she’d have
caused a rumpus up at Souters,’ his grin broadened, ‘even
if only to get her own back at Mrs Souter for storming to
Brumbys’ Farm not long back.’
‘Oh, you heard about that, then?’
‘Jimmy told us.’
They went on in silence, then he said, ‘We’re off
shrimpin’ after tea. You coming?’
‘If Gran’ll let me.’ But for once, after yesterday, Ella
was sure the answer would be ‘yes’.
The nettle stings had settled to a tingling sensation and, as
she set off with Rob, armed with her newly repaired
shrimping net, she almost forgot about them. As they
crested the first line of dunes and her gaze spanned the flat
marshland before her, Ella gasped. ‘Oh! Oh, isn’t it pretty?’
Before her the marsh was a mass of pink and mauve.
‘It’s sea-lavender.’ Rob stood beside her. ‘One of the
plants that’ll grow on a saltmarsh.’
Ella snorted with laughter. ‘Pity it’s not a crop Gran
can grow after the floods. She’s still moaning about how
long it will take for the land to get back to normal.’
They were quiet for a moment, remembering. Then with
a ‘Come on,’ from Rob they were running down the dune
and galloping across the marsh, jumping the rivulets and
skirting round the deeper creeks. As they raced down the
second line of dunes and on to the beach, Rob shouted,
‘There’s Janice and Jimmy, look, near the water’s edge.
Come on, let’s go and see what they’re up to.’
As they drew closer, she could see the Souters were
watching a large cylindrical metal object, rolling about in
the shallows, being washed nearer and nearer the beach by
the tide. The boys stripped off their shoes and socks and
scampered through the shallows to wade into the deeper
water.
Ella stood beside Janice. The boys had reached the
cylinder and, with the aid of the waves, were pushing it
towards the beach. When it came to rest on the sand,
though they shoved and heaved, they could move it no
further. Jimmy Souter kicked at it with his foot. ‘It’s
bloomin’ heavy an’ it’s all rusty. What do you think it is?’
Janice glanced at Ella. ‘Do you think it’s treasure off a
pirate ship? Y’know, a tin box crammed full with jewels
and gold sovereigns.’
Ella was hardly listening. She was staring at it, a slight
frown on her forehead. It was pointed at one end and on
the other the metal was shaped into fins. It looked vaguely
familiar. Now where . . . ?
Suddenly, she was splashing through the water without
even taking off her shoes and socks to grab Rob’s arm and
yell, ‘Come away – quick! It’s a bomb!’
They stared at her as if she had suddenly gone mad.
‘I tell you it’s a bomb!’ She tugged at Rob’s arm.
‘Ouch, ya hurting, Ella—’
She gave him an almighty shove towards the beach.
‘Come on. You too Jimmy. Quick.’ She grasped him,
pushing him away, all animosity forgotten in a moment.
‘Eh, who are you shovin’?’ Jimmy began, but Rob,
catching something of the panic in Ella’s tone said, ‘Do as
she ses!’
As they reached the sand, Ella just said, ‘Run!’ and they
all scampered up the beach, their flying feet sending up
little showers of sand.
They reached the first line of dunes and jumped into a
sandy hollow, where they lay on their stomachs and,
breathless, peeped over the top to look back at the bomb,
lying deceptively benign, on the sand, the waves running
around it from time to time, but not moving it now.
‘You’re daft, Ella Hilton. ’Ow can that be a bomb?’
Jimmy began, but all three were now looking at her
questioningly, demanding an explanation for her erratic
behaviour.
She sat up and took a deep breath to steady her shaking
limbs. She looked at each of them in turn and said quietly,
‘My mum was a driver in the WAAFs in the war for a
Commanding Officer. She’s got – had – a lot of photos. I
used to like looking through them. There were some
pictures of WAAFs driving a sort of tractor pulling a long
trailer with bombs on it. She told me . . .’ She bit her lip,
the hurt coming back as she was obliged to talk about her
mother. ‘That was when they were “bombing up” the
aircraft.’ Ella fell silent for a moment, almost hearing
Kate’s voice again in her head. ‘The WAAFs used to do all
sorts in the war, drive the bomb trains out to the aircraft,
take the crews out an hour before take-off and meet them
again when they came back – if they came back . . .’
‘What did you do, Mum?’ Ella could hear herself asking
again.
‘Me? Oh, I had a real cushy number. I was personal
driver for the Station Commander.’
‘Was he nice?’
Then Kate would look down at her daughter and say
softly, ‘He was a lovely man, a wonderful man.’
‘Go on,’ Jimmy’s insistent voice dragged her back to the
present.
Ella nodded towards the bomb lying innocently on the
sand. ‘The things on the trailer looked just like that.’
‘Oh, heck,’ Rob said. ‘What ought we to do?’
‘Report it, of course,’ Ella said, with prompt decisiveness.
‘You stay here and watch no one goes near it.’ She
glanced up and down the beach but, except for a few
holiday-makers in the far distance, there was no one.
‘Don’t go near it yourselves but if anyone looks like
coming, tell them to keep away.’
Rob said, ‘Shall I come with you?’
‘No,’ Ella said. ‘You stay here and mind they do as I
say.’ She glanced at the two Souters and then back at Rob
as if to say silently, ‘I don’t trust them to believe me,
’specially Jimmy.’
Solemnly Rob nodded. ‘Get me dad, Ella. He’ll know
for sure.’
She gave him a quick grin. ‘Good idea,’ and added,
pulling her mouth into a quirky smile, ‘He’ll probably
believe me better than Gran will, anyway. Here—’ She
thrust her shrimping net towards him. ‘Look after that for
me. I can run faster without it.’
And then she was off, up the dunes, across the pink
carpet of sea-lavender, over the westerly dunes and into
the lane. On again up the lane towards Rookery Farm.
‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ Rosie’s startled tone
greeted her.
‘Uncle Danny,’ Ella gasped, ‘I must find Uncle Danny.’
‘He’s over at yar gran’s, but—’
But Ella was off again, ‘Sorry, Aunty Rosie, it’s urgent.’
Across the lane, over the stile and through the meadow,
straight through the long grass, heedless of the dire warnings
that she must not trample down the precious hay
crop, through the hole in the hedge, round the corner of
the house and – thank goodness – there he was, standing
in the middle of the yard with her grandparents.