The Beekeeper's Daughter (24 page)

Grace didn’t want to comment on Jasper’s pedigree. ‘He was a very nice boy,’ she said evenly.

‘Well, I know we’re meant to be living through a time of change, but I’m an old-fashioned girl and I brought Lucy up to be a lady. I fear she . . .’ Evelyn could barely get the words out. She pulled herself together and gave a little sniff. ‘She has fallen into disrepute,’ she choked.

Grace wanted to laugh, but she managed to keep a straight face. ‘It’s the 1970s, Evelyn, not the 1870s. No one is going to consider Lucy spoiled goods because she’s had a walk-out. I think it’s a good thing to experiment a little. In our day we were much too constrained.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes, I do. I only hope she doesn’t get her heart broken. Young hearts are very tender.’

‘She’s broken mine,’ said Evelyn, dabbing beneath her eyes, trying not to spoil her make-up. The woman looked so pathetic that Grace went to sit beside her on the sofa.

She patted Evelyn’s bony shoulder sympathetically. ‘Don’t be broken-hearted. You know what I think?’

‘No, what do you think?’

‘If you accept her the way she is, and truly let her know that you only want her happiness, I think she’ll come back.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. She’s run away because you disapproved so much that she knew the only way to be with the man she loves is to run off with him.’

Evelyn swallowed. ‘I think you’re right.’

‘It’s going to be OK.’

Evelyn gave a wan smile. ‘I hope so.’

‘So, what did you come to see me about?’ Grace asked again.

Evelyn looked sheepish. ‘I’m sorry we’re not friends, Grace,’ she replied tightly. ‘We have so much in common. My Lucy and your Trixie . . .’ She faltered. ‘With those English boys. We’ve both suffered as mothers. I just wanted to talk to you. I can’t talk to my friends.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, I just couldn’t be as candid. I can say all this to you. You understand, you see. They wouldn’t.’

‘I think you should give them the chance to prove you wrong. Belle doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.’

‘But I’ve been so . . . you know. I haven’t been very kind about those boys.’

‘Then tell them you were wrong. Friendship is about being honest with each other and sharing your troubles as well as your triumphs. You can’t get close to someone unless you open up and expose yourself a little. I think you’ll find they’ll be very sympathetic. No one minds someone admitting they made a mistake.’

Grace felt Evelyn swell with gratitude. ‘Oh, thank you, Grace. You’ve been so kind.’

‘I’m sure it will all work out.’

‘I hope it works out for Trixie, too. I hope she finds some nice man.’

‘I’m sure she will.’

Evelyn slipped her handkerchief back into her sleeve and took a deep breath. ‘You’re a good woman, Grace. This island’s full of complicated people, but I’ve always been sure about you.’

‘What did she want?’ Freddie asked when Evelyn had left.

Grace frowned. ‘I think she came to apologize, in her own way, for being judgemental about those boys.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She talked about Lucy.’

‘Did she think you could find her?’

‘No, she just wanted to talk to someone who understands. She said she couldn’t talk to her friends.’

‘Of course she can’t talk to her friends. She’s too proud. But you’re an outsider, Grace; she doesn’t need to keep up appearances in front of you.’

‘Then I’m flattered.’

‘She looked cowed.’

‘She’s learned compassion, I think.’

He chuckled cynically. ‘She’s learned that the higher you fly the harder the fall.’

Grace wanted to ask him how he had made the decision to come to Tekanasset after the war, but it was so long ago she felt foolish bringing it up now. It didn’t change anything; at least, she didn’t
think
it did. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes?’

‘Nothing,’ Grace replied.

‘You looked as if you were about to ask me something.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I was just thinking about Evelyn. It was a surprise to see her. I think she’s always considered me beneath her.’

‘Well, you’re not,’ said Freddie emphatically. ‘This is America, thank goodness. Evelyn Durlacher is just plain Mrs Durlacher, just like you.’ He withdrew into his study again.

But Grace couldn’t stop thinking about the past. If Lord Penselwood had helped them settle in America, why hadn’t Freddie told her? What was he hiding? She poured herself a glass of wine and went back into the sitting room. She had been working on a garden design for a young couple who had just bought a property on Halcyon Street. She sat on the sofa and picked up her sketch. Once she had worked out what she would do, she would transfer the idea onto a proper plan to present to her clients. But as much as she stared at the paper, she was unable to see anything but the gardens at Walbridge Hall. She put down her sketch and took a sip of wine. Then she curled her feet under her and rested her head on the pillow. When she closed her eyes the past was always there, right beneath her eyelids.

Chapter 17

Walbridge, England, 1938

May had suggested that Grace sort out her father’s belongings before the wedding. ‘This is going to be yours and Freddie’s home soon. You don’t want the only other bedroom in the house stuffed full of Arthur’s things.’ She had smiled at Grace knowingly. ‘After all, it won’t be long before you have little ones to think about.’ Grace had smiled back, her eyes full of tenderness at the thought of children. ‘You and Freddie will have such beautiful babies,’ May had gushed. ‘And I’ll be a grandmother. Goodness, who’d have ever thought I’d grow to be so old!’

In his will, Arthur had left everything to Grace. Fortunately, he wasn’t a man who hoarded things. His bedroom had been kept neat and tidy and anything of importance was stored in a chest of drawers at the end of the bed.

May and Grace set to work on a Saturday in late November. Rain clattered against the window panes and the sun never managed to penetrate the thick cloud that hung like stodgy porridge just above the treetops.

Grace made them both cups of tea. She had been so anxious about going through her beloved father’s possessions that she hadn’t slept at all. Pepper had snored loudly on the end of her bed, which was a great comfort to her, alone in the house, and as much as she longed for her father to appear, as she was sure he had done the night he died, she saw nothing but the usual shadows on the wall. She now felt raw from tiredness and emotionally fragile.

‘Come,’ said May, carrying her mug of tea up the stairs. ‘Pepper will keep us company, won’t you, Pepper? Just think, Grace, in just under a month you’ll be Mrs Valentine. Mrs Freddie Valentine. I can’t believe my boy is going to have a wife.’ She rattled on and Grace knew she was trying to keep her spirits up. They reached Arthur’s bedroom door and May gently pushed it. Her father’s familiar smell enveloped her in a miasma of memories and Grace felt her sorrow rise up from her stomach in a great wave, but she sipped her hot tea and swallowed hard, managing to overcome it.

May switched on the light and swept her eyes over the room. ‘Well, he was very organized, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Grace replied. ‘It won’t take long. He didn’t have much.’

May sat on the bed and looked at the black-and-white photograph of Grace’s parents. ‘She was a nice-looker, your mother. Just like you.’

‘I wonder whether they’re together now, in Heaven.’

‘Of course they are,’ said May, picking it up. ‘I think you should keep this. It’s precious.’ She handed it to Grace, who gazed at it forlornly. ‘Now, we’ll start with his clothes. What would you like me to do with them?’

Grace looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know. What do
you
think? Would Uncle Michael wear any of his things? He had a nice jersey or two.’

‘Let’s see. Anything we don’t want to keep can be given away.’

Once they’d sorted the clothes, they turned their attention to the chest of drawers. Grace opened the top drawer and pulled out a walnut box. Inside there was a silk scarf, a small velvet box, a notebook and a plain white envelope with her name on it. She carefully put the box down and opened the envelope. Inside, there was a letter.

My dearest Gracey,

As much as we like to think we will live forever, we are mortal and the time will eventually come for me to leave you. With this in mind I put pen to paper, although it grieves me very much to do so.

I leave everything to you, Gracey. It gives me pleasure now to think of you taking care of all my books. They, as you are aware, are my most treasured possessions, besides the contents of this box and my beehives. The only thing dearer to me is you.

As you know, I loved your mother very much. She hadn’t had time to accumulate much during her life so these are the few possessions of hers that I treasured. I write this letter as a precaution because I hope to be alive to give you these things personally. I hope to see you married to a nice man who will take care of you. I hope to enjoy grandchildren one day, but only God knows when it’s time, so I take nothing for granted. It seems macabre to be writing to you like this, when I’m upstairs and you’re outside in the garden with the bees. But one must be practical.

If the worst happens and I die before you are married, I am aware that you will no longer have a roof over your head. Uncle Michael and Auntie May will look after you, so please don’t be too proud to ask for help. Don’t be so far-sighted that you’re blind to what’s under your nose, either. Freddie is a kind young man. I believe that kindness is a quality much underrated these days. I don’t know much about romance, but I know enough about friendship, respect and love to know that you and Freddie have the necessary qualities to make a happy union. I’m not telling you what to do, just nudging you in what I believe to be the right direction. If I’m dead, you won’t be able to tell me to mind my own business!

My dearest, I leave you this box, with my love and your mother’s love. Don’t forget that we’ll always be with you.

Your loving Father

Grace could barely read the final lines for the mist in her eyes. She handed May the letter then pulled the silk scarf out of the box and held it against her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled. She was sure she could smell the faintest scent of rose in the fabric. May folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. ‘Here, let’s put this on you,’ she said softly, taking the scarf out of Grace’s hands and tying it loosely about her neck. ‘Blues, turquoises and greens are your colours, too, Grace,’ she said. ‘It suits you.’

Grace stood up and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall. ‘It’s lovely,’ she replied quietly. ‘I shall treasure it.’

Next she opened the notebook. There, in her mother’s handwriting, were pages and pages of recipes. She flicked through them. ‘Goodness, I could have done with these years ago,’ she exclaimed. ‘Dad would have been much better fed. Look, soufflés, meringue pie and honey cakes.’

‘Freddie’s going to be a happy man,’ said May.

‘Dad would be happy to know that Freddie and I are getting married, wouldn’t he? It’s what he wanted. He
did
know best. Freddie
was
right under my nose.’

‘He must have written this recently, don’t you think?’ said May. ‘This year, for sure.’

‘I wonder why? He wasn’t old.’

‘No, he wasn’t, and he was in good health. But as we grow older we become more aware of our mortality.’

‘I wish he was here now to see how happy Freddie is making me.’

May put her arms around Grace. ‘I wish he was here, too,’ she replied, and Grace sensed her heaviness of heart as she rested her head against Grace’s for an extended moment.

‘Hello!’ It was Freddie, downstairs in the hall. Pepper jumped off the bed and bounded away to greet him. They heard Freddie talking to the dog and the scuffle of the animal’s paws on the stone floor.

‘We’re up here,’ shouted May.

A moment later he was standing in the doorway. ‘How’s it going? Are you all right, Grace?’

‘Read this,’ she said, handing him the letter.

Freddie took it and quickly read it. His cheeks reddened a little at the mention of his name. ‘It’s as if he knew he was going to die,’ he said.

‘No, it isn’t, Freddie,’ retorted his mother. ‘He was just being practical, like he said.’

‘So what’s in the box?’ he asked.

Grace showed him the scarf and the notebook. ‘There’s only this left,’ she said, lifting out the little velvet box. She opened it slowly to reveal two rings. One was a simple gold band, the other a small diamond solitaire. ‘My mother’s rings,’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Freddie, look!’

‘What a pretty solitaire,’ admired May.

Grace slipped it on the third finger of her left hand. ‘It fits, Freddie. Can this be our engagement ring? Would you mind?’

‘If it makes you happy, of course I don’t mind.’

‘You’ve been saving up for a ring, Freddie; now you can spend the money on something else,’ said his mother happily. Freddie was struck with an idea. He knew exactly what he would spend it on.

The day before the wedding it snowed. Large fluffy flakes floated down from a white sky as if God was emptying the contents of his pillow and covering the world in goose feathers. Grace hurried out into the garden excitedly while Pepper leapt over the frozen ground with glee. Today was her last day as Grace Hamblin. She wouldn’t be sad to give it up. Her wedding would be the start of a new life with Freddie and she looked to the future with optimism and hope. Everyone spoke of impending war, but she refused to let those negative thoughts invade the peace she felt within. Her father had died and she had survived; if there was a war, she’d survive that, too. Freddie and she were going to be together until the end of their lives. Nothing was going to tear them apart. She felt very strongly that God owed her nothing less.