Love you,
Briony xx
P.S. Please write back soon!
Reading back through it, Briony sighed. It wasn’t a very long letter but she couldn’t think of anything else to write for now. She then wrote a similar letter to Ruth and began to address the two envelopes. She would buy stamps for them in the local post office.
She had almost finished when the door creaked open and her grandmother appeared. For a moment it would have been hard to say who was the more shocked of the two, but then Marion Frasier barked rudely: ‘What are
you
doing here?’
‘I – I couldn’t sleep,’ Briony stuttered. ‘So I thought I’d write to Mum to let her know that we’d arrived safely.’
The woman swept towards the stove with her dressing gown billowing out behind her like a sail. ‘Well, don’t be down here too long. I don’t want your grandfather disturbed. I’ve only come in to make him a cup of cocoa. And all this extra electricity you’re using with all these lights on has to be paid for, you know!’
Briony wondered how she could possibly disturb anyone, seeing as she and the children had been banished to the former servants’ quarters, but she didn’t argue. Instead she said placatingly, ‘Would you like me to make the drink for him? I could make you one too, if you liked. Mum and Dad always said I made a good cup of cocoa.’
The offer seemed to have the opposite effect to what she’d hoped for, since the older woman glared at her and said in an icy voice, ‘I alone see to my husband’s needs. You are only here to do the more menial jobs. You have to earn your keep somehow.’
‘But I did bring our ration books, I gave them to Mrs Dower,’ Briony muttered in a small voice. It seemed there would be no pleasing this woman, and she was finding her thoroughly disagreeable.
‘Pah! Fat lot of good
they’ll
be,’ Mrs Frasier spat, and realising that for now at least she was fighting a losing battle, Briony began hastily to gather her things together. Perhaps it would be better if she just kept out of the woman’s way until the latter was more used to them being there. She was almost at the door when her grandmother said suddenly, ‘Bring Alfred to me tomorrow morning in my sitting room at ten o’clock prompt. And I dare say you’d better bring the girl too,’ she added as an afterthought.
When Briony turned to look at her she explained sharply, ‘I shall be taking them to the village school to enrol them and meet their teacher.’
‘Oh, I see. Then perhaps I might come too? The children are a little nervous at present with being so far from home, and if I’m there they—’
‘There will be no need for that. I am
more
than capable! You can stay here in case your grandfather needs anything whilst I am gone.’
The words were spoken so brusquely that Briony simply shot off up the stairs without so much as another word. Once in the privacy of her room she gulped and blinked to stop the tide of tears that were threatening. Why was her grandmother being so horrible to her? She had apparently made up her mind to dislike her before they had even met, which was very unfair to Briony’s way of thinking. She didn’t appear to be too keen on Sarah either, although she had taken to Alfie – and Briony wondered if that was such a good thing. She would just have to wait and see.
By the following morning, Briony was calm again and hopeful that she and her grandmother might get off to a better start that day. She got the children washed and dressed before marching them down to breakfast where she found Mrs Dower laying the table.
‘Look, I was thinking, if you were to let me take over cooking the breakfasts each morning it would give you a little more time over at your farm. I can manage it, honestly,’ she told the woman.
Mrs Dower straightened to stare at her for a moment. Mornings were a rush, admittedly, and it would be a wonderful help. ‘But who would take the breakfasts in to your grandparents?’ she questioned worriedly. ‘The missus is a stickler for having things just so.’
‘Well, you could show me just how they like things and I’d make sure that I got it right.’
‘Hmm . . .’ The idea was very tempting and the offer kindly meant, she was sure – but how would Mrs Frasier react to Briony serving them their food? ‘How about I have a word with her first, and see how she feels about it before I agree, eh?’ she said cautiously. Then seeing Briony’s face drop, she added swiftly: ‘I think it’s a grand idea and it would certainly free me up to do more at the farm.’
She ladled some thick porridge made with fresh cream and honey into their bowls and the younger two enjoyed it so much that they both had seconds. Even then Briony was sure they would have licked the dishes clean if she’d let them, but she put her foot down there, saying, ‘Now don’t you two go and get yourselves dirty, please. You’re due to visit your new school with Grandmother in less than an hour.’
‘Are we?’ Sarah asked. ‘And are you coming too?’
Briony said lightly, ‘Actually I thought I might stay here in case Grandfather needs anything while you’re gone.’
‘But we don’t wanna go wi’out you,’ Alfie protested, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t liked the lady he had been introduced to the day before one little bit, and he certainly didn’t want to go out with her, even if it was to see his new school.
‘Oh, you’ll be fine and you won’t be gone for that long,’ Briony replied as she carried the dirty dishes to the sink. Then addressing Mrs Dower and pointedly ignoring the children’s crestfallen faces, she asked, ‘Would you show me where you keep all the cleaning things, Mrs Dower? I might as well make myself useful whilst they’re gone. I can still listen out for Grandfather.’
Before the clock struck ten Mrs Frasier appeared in the kitchen doorway dressed in a smart lilac costume that hung on her frame, with an elaborately trimmed hat on her head. It was a concoction of feathers and flowers, and the children stared at it open-mouthed. She was wearing white gloves and carried a black handbag which matched her black court shoes. Briony thought that the outfit was more suited for a wedding than a trip to the village school but she said politely, ‘You look very nice today, Grandmother.’
The woman simply glared at her before addressing the housekeeper. ‘Sebastian informed me on the phone that he will be home later today, Mrs Dower. Could you make sure that his room is aired and that you have his favourite meal prepared. The poor dear will no doubt be tired after his journey.’
Mrs Dower’s lips set in a grim line. As if I don’t have enough to do already, she thought to herself, but she nodded just the same.
‘And you, girl,’ her grandmother snapped, staring coldly at Briony, ‘make sure that you stay close. If your grandfather needs anything, he will ring the bell. Otherwise stay out of his way and don’t trouble him or you will have
me
to answer to when I come back.’
Briony bit back the hasty retort that sprang to her lips and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Mrs Dower had watched this exchange without saying a word, but when her employer had left, taking two very reluctant children with her, she said in annoyance, ‘I can’t see why she has to speak to you like that.’
Briony shrugged. ‘To be honest I think she’d made her mind up to dislike me before she even met me, but I do have to be grateful that she allowed us to come here. At least the children are safe, or safer than they would have been at home.’ She gave Mrs Dower a cheeky smile then and added, ‘Don’t worry. I can handle her and I’d much sooner she was horrid to me than to Sarah and Alfie.’
She helped Mrs Dower to finish tidying the kitchen, and soon after that, the woman left to begin the chores on her farm. Briony felt quite sorry for her and wondered how she managed to fit everything in. The woman must be in her sixties; she was no spring chicken. But at least now that she was here she could give her a hand, and on that thought Briony collected a large mop and bucket and headed for the hallway. She had noticed when she arrived how grubby the hall floor tiles were, and if she were to give them a good clean and open the front doors, they might be dry by the time her grandmother and the children were back.
Despite the cool breeze wafting through the open doorway, Briony was soon sweating. The tiles had clearly not been washed for a long time and she had to keep going backwards and forwards to the kitchen to change the dirty water in the bucket. She was almost halfway through when suddenly a bell sounded and she froze. It must be her grandfather needing something. Looking down in dismay at the large apron she had put on, she then glanced into the mirror. Her face was flushed and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She didn’t look very tidy at all. But still she decided there wasn’t much she could do about it and so she placed the mop back in the bucket, ran her hands down the front of the apron and went towards the door. She felt as if she were approaching a den of lions, but she tapped firmly – and when a voice shouted for her to come in, she pushed the door open and entered with a smile fixed on her face.
‘Good morning, Grandfather. Is there something I can get for you?’ she asked pleasantly.
He was sitting by the fire and once again the curtains were almost drawn, which Briony thought was a shame when it was such a beautiful day outside.
He smiled at her as she approached him and once again she was struck by his eyes. They were kindly, quite unlike her grandmother’s, and made her feel welcome.
‘Actually, I don’t need anything,’ he said softly. ‘I just thought it might be nice for us to have a few minutes on our own before my wife comes back. Come and sit over here by me.’
Briony went and perched on the edge of a spindly little gilt chair, feeling very uncomfortable and out of place before saying, ‘I’m sorry I look such a mess. Grandmother said I was to help out in the house so I thought I would make a start by giving the hall a good clean while she’s at the school.’
His face became sad then, and leaning forward in his wheelchair he told her, ‘Don’t you let her turn you into a servant, Briony. You are our granddaughter and I want you to feel welcome here.’
Briony thought there was very little chance of that, but she was too polite to say so and remained silent as he went on, ‘Tell me about your mother. Is she keeping well? She wrote to me and told me that your father was reported missing and presumed dead. It must have been a great blow to you all.’
‘It was,’ Briony muttered, angry at the sudden prick of tears at the back of her eyes. ‘He was a wonderful dad to us and we all miss him terribly. But of course, it’s so much worse for Mum. She hasn’t taken the news at all well.’
‘Hmmm.’ Mr Frasier frowned sympathetically and then shocked her when he said, ‘I really liked your father, my dear. From what I can remember of him, James was a decent hard-working chap. The trouble was, your grandmother had very high hopes of a substantial marriage for Lois and she felt that your father wasn’t good enough for her. It’s surprising really because she and your mother didn’t always see eye to eye; and whilst she spoiled Sebastian shamelessly, she was rather strict with poor Lois.’
He glanced towards the darkened windows and Briony asked, ‘Would you like me to draw the curtains and open the window for you? It’s a beautiful day and if you were to sit over there I’m sure the fresh air would do you good.’
He thought about it for a moment then answered, ‘Do you know, I rather think I would.’
Sunlight flooded into the room as Briony threw the curtains aside. It took slightly longer to open the heavy sash-cord windows as they clearly hadn’t been opened for some time, but at last she managed it. Then, crossing to her grandfather, she pushed his wheelchair as close to the window as she could. The mild air couldn’t possibly hurt him.
He breathed deeply and stared out across the overgrown gardens to the sea, saying, ‘I think I’d quite forgotten what fresh air smelled like. Thank you, my dear.’
Briony then went on to speak of what their life had been like back in Nuneaton and he listened avidly, keen to have news of his daughter. In no time at all they were chatting away ten to the dozen but then glancing at the clock, Briony rose and said reluctantly, ‘I ought to be getting on now. I’d like to finish the hallway before Grandmother gets back.’
A hint of disappointment shone in his eyes but he said immediately, ‘Yes, of course. You get on, my dear. But if you should need anything, come and see me – and don’t let my wife make you work too hard now.’
Briony skipped away feeling a million times better than she had since first arriving, and soon she was hard at work again.
She was just washing out the mop bucket when Alfie and Sarah came hurtling in, their faces alight.
‘Our school is really nice, Briony,’ Alfie told her, his little face animated. ‘An’ our teacher, Mrs Fellows, is really nice an’ all. We’re to start next Monday.’
‘There are some other children there who ’ave been evacuated too,’ Sarah rushed on. ‘An’ I met a girl called Annie who’s from London. She’s gonna be my friend.’
‘Well, how nice is that then?’ Briony grinned and hugged them both, but then the happy moment was spoiled when their grandmother barged into the kitchen, her face flushed with anger.
‘Just
what
did you think you were doing girl, leaving my husband sitting at the side of an open window?’ she stormed.
Briony flushed. ‘I thought the fresh air would do him good,’ she answered quietly.
‘Well, in future
don’t think
! Your grandfather is a very sick man – and if he catches a cold now, it will be your fault!’
Briony bit her tongue, sensing that nothing she said would make things any better. The woman was clearly determined to pick fault with her and she hadn’t even mentioned the hall tiles, which were now at least three shades lighter than they had been.
‘Very well.’ Her eyes were mutinous as she stared back at the woman, who bristled before turning about and stamping from the room, making the feathers on her hat wobble all over the place.
‘I don’t like her, especially when she shouts at you,’ Alfie said, his happy mood gone. ‘When can we go home, Briony?’
She forced a smile to her face. ‘Oh, don’t you get worrying about me – and why would we want to go home yet? You have your new school to look forward to, and I for one want to go back down onto the beach again.’