Father Unknown (17 page)

Ellen so much wanted to search him out and talk to him, to tell him she was firmly on his side, but Violet was very watchful, constantly giving her jobs to do, forcing her to do her homework. And when she was pleasant, it was only to go on about what good opportunities there were for young girls in the big cities, and that only a fool would want to stay in Cornwall.

Dad had even dropped his day of rest on Sundays. October was one of the busiest months, with ploughing to be done and the sheds and barns needing repairs before the winter, but that had never stopped him going to church or snoozing in the afternoon before. Ellen wanted to cry when she saw him outside all day. She knew how important his religion was to him, and she felt he would fall ill if he didn’t get some rest.

The holidaymakers all disappeared as the leaves fell from the trees and the autumn storms began. As Ellen battled up the lane to catch the bus to school in high winds, sidestepping the thick mud, she no longer delighted in the squirrels jumping from tree to tree, or the odd sighting of a fox or badger – all she could think of was her hopeless predicament.

She no longer imagined Pierre coming back to claim her. By now she had accepted he had only wanted her for sex and she’d been a mug to have believed it was love.

All her high hopes for the future, college or even university, were dashed. The following May she would have a baby, with no husband and no money. She had no idea what she was going to do.

During half term, right at the end of October, Violet sent Ellen to the village one afternoon to get some shopping. In the past, Ellen had always worked with her father during holidays, but this time Violet had refused to let her. She was so crafty, she made out to Dad that she was so caring, convincing him he mustn’t ask for help because Ellen had to study, but all she wanted was to keep them apart.

It was raining hard, and Ellen knew Violet didn’t really need the shopping today, all she wanted was to make her even more miserable. Yet however wet and cold it was, it was a relief to get out of the house, for Josie had stepped up her nastiness, and at times Ellen even thought it was for real.

She took the footpath across the fields and as she approached the stile at the far end by the village she caught sight of Mavis Peters walking her dog. Even in the rain she looked elegant, wearing a cream raincoat with a matching hat and shiny brown Wellingtons.

She greeted Ellen with a warm smile. ‘Hello, my dear. How nice to see you. I’ve missed you. But I suppose you get too much homework now to come visiting?’

Ellen nodded, though the truth was that Violet wouldn’t let her go anywhere after school. But Mrs Peters seemed to sense something was wrong because she insisted that Ellen come back to her house for a cup of tea and a chat after she’d got her shopping. Just the thought of being in that warm, snug cottage for a while was worth risking Violet’s anger, so Ellen agreed readily.

Mr Peters was out somewhere, and once Ellen was settled in a comfortable chair in front of the fire, Mrs Peters asked her gently how it was now that Josie and her stepmother were home. Ellen couldn’t help herself, she had to talk to someone about it, and so she told her how dreadful it was.

One of the reasons Ellen had always felt at ease in the company of Mr and Mrs Peters was that they weren’t dyed-in-the-wool locals. They weren’t gossips, they were interesting, intelligent people who were well read and had travelled widely. During the evenings Ellen had spent sewing with Mrs Peters they had discussed things like politics, religion, art, books and music, and Ellen had always been surprised by the older woman’s modern outlook. But it was her ability to understand others that impressed Ellen most. She was never judgmental or critical, she just seemed to have a huge well of understanding about human nature.

On top of that Ellen admired the way Mrs Peters always looked so neat and attractive; she had retained her interest in fashion, and was never without her face powder and lipstick. But it was her lively blue eyes and her wide smile which made her seem so much younger than her real age of fifty-eight. Her voice was lovely, real BBC English, which made Ellen wish she could speak like that too.

Mrs Peters merely nodded in understanding as Ellen told her how things were at the farm. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed eventually. ‘I must admit I was worried about you when I heard Violet was back. But when I saw her looking so smart in church, I thought perhaps it was all working out.’

‘She only came because someone told her the farm is worth a fortune,’ Ellen said with some bitterness. ‘Josie is as miserable as me. She liked it in Helston. As for Dad, he just keeps right out of the way.’

They had a cup of tea, and Ellen tried a piece of homemade cherry cake. Then, for no reason she could explain, she suddenly blurted out that she was pregnant. Maybe it was the warm, safe feeling in the cottage that prompted it, or Mrs Peters’ previous kindness to her. Perhaps also she knew that it would soon be obvious to everyone, so it was better to tell Mrs Peters herself than let her hear it through village gossip.

As the words tumbled out she was appalled at herself. She half expected Mrs Peters to push her out of the door with abuse ringing in her ears. But she wasn’t shocked or horrified, only deeply sympathetic, and the questions she asked were so caring and gentle that she made it easy for Ellen to sob out the entire story.

When she had finished, Mavis Peters got up, perched on the arm of Ellen’s chair, put her arms around her and drew her head to her bosom. ‘You poor darling,’ she said soothingly. ‘I sensed something was badly wrong when you didn’t call round. You’ve been looking peaky in church the past few Sundays, but with Violet and Josie there I couldn’t really talk to you. But your secret’s safe with me, I promise you I won’t say a word to anyone, and I’ll help in any way I can.’

Ellen was relieved not to hear disgust in the older woman’s voice. ‘What should I do?’ she asked. ‘I can’t keep it to myself forever, can I?’

‘No, of course you can’t, dear,’ Mrs Peters replied, her voice calm and soothing. ‘The logical thing of course is to tell your father straight away, but I guess you are afraid to do that?’

Ellen nodded. ‘It will just make everything at home even worse. I don’t want a baby, Mrs Peters. Not unless I can be married and have a home of my own. I can’t bear the thought of all the people round here whispering about me. Or when he or she is old enough to go to school being called a little bastard.’

Mrs Peters remembered how Ellen had confided in her about the way she had found out about her real mother and how she had died. It was clear Ellen still felt the shame and hurt about it, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen to her child.

Mrs Peters knew from Frank, her husband, what a comfortless place Beacon Farm was. She also knew what a conniving shrew Violet was, and if Ellen had to bring her child up there, it might not be long before she headed for the cliff tops with her baby, just as her mother had done.

‘There are people who can help you,’ she said gently. ‘You don’t have to stay at the farm, there are special homes for girls in your predicament, with good people who can give you sound advice and help you decide whether you want to keep the baby or not.’

She explained about how adoption worked, that there were childless couples aching for a baby of their own to love and it might be something Ellen should consider. ‘But that’s in the future,’ she added. ‘My concern is for you right now, you’re feeling desperate, and I honestly think the answer might be to leave home as quickly as possible, so you can feel at peace for the rest of your pregnancy.’

‘I’d leave tomorrow if I had somewhere to go,’ Ellen said, sniffing back her tears. ‘Anything would be better than having Violet and Josie being nasty and Dad avoiding me.’

‘There are mother-and-baby homes for girls like you, but they will only take you for the last six weeks of the pregnancy,’ Mrs Peters said. ‘You could book a place in one now, though, move closer to it and get work until the time comes.’

‘But what about school?’ Ellen asked.

‘That isn’t the be-all and end-all,’ Mrs Peters said, patting Ellen’s shoulder. ‘A bright girl like you could always do your “A” levels later at night school.’

‘But I wouldn’t be able to if I kept the baby,’ Ellen said, fresh tears flooding out again. ‘And how can I keep it? You need money for that.’

Mrs Peters had two children herself, and neither of them had been angels, especially her younger daughter Isobel. But they’d come through their family problems by working things out together. Both girls were happily married now, and she had four grandchildren too, but that only served to remind her just how alone Ellen really was.

Albert was an uncommunicative, stubborn and by all accounts difficult man, and his wife little better than a trollop. In Mavis’s opinion Ellen’s sensitivity and intelligence came from her real mother. She and Frank had grown fond of the girl and believed she would go far, so it was appalling that because of a brief moment of passion her prospects would be ruined. While she didn’t usually approve of an outsider standing between a child and its parents, she thought that in Ellen’s case someone had to.

‘Would you like me to find out about some homes for you?’ she asked Ellen. ‘I do know of one in Bristol. My daughter Isobel is involved on the committee for it. She might be able to find a nice family who need a mother’s help too, so you could stay with them until you are ready to go into the home.’

Hope flooded into Ellen’s eyes. ‘Oh please, Mrs Peters, that would be wonderful.’ But almost as soon as she’d spoken, a cloud passed across her face. ‘How will I leave though? I couldn’t hurt Dad by just disappearing.’

‘No, you couldn’t, and you mustn’t even think like that,’ Mrs Peters said firmly. ‘But if the family my daughter finds for you offer you a job, that’s a very good reason for going, isn’t it?’

‘He’ll be upset that I want to leave school. So will my teachers.’

‘That’s true, but your father must know how unhappy you are with Violet. He’ll see that as the reason.’

Ellen just sat there for a moment in silence. As she thought about what Mrs Peters had suggested, she felt as if the huge weight on her shoulders was gradually being lightened. She leaned towards Mavis and hugged her. ‘You’ve been so kind to me, I feel so much better now. Thank you so much.’

It wasn’t long after Ellen had gone that Frank Peters came in, and Mavis, feeling guilty about coming between father and daughter, told him everything.

‘You did right,’ he said. ‘Telling Albert would have been a calamity all round. By going away Ellen can make up her own mind about what’s best for her and her child.’

‘He’d be very angry if he ever found out,’ Mavis pointed out.

Frank shrugged. ‘So what! If he hadn’t kept those girls so isolated this probably wouldn’t have happened. I can’t feel too much sympathy for him; by all accounts he pressured Ellen’s mother into marrying him. And some say he drove her to her death with his possessiveness. I wouldn’t want little Ellen to be trapped on that farm for the rest of her life, she’s worth more than that.’

‘I’ll have to ring Isobel about it tonight,’ Mavis said, heartened to have her husband’s backing. ‘It would be best if Ellen left here by Christmas or soon after, before anyone notices anything.’

‘I wonder if she’s confided in Josie?’ Frank said.

‘She didn’t say.’

‘I hope she hasn’t, adolescent girls can be so treacherous sometimes,’ Frank said thoughtfully. ‘I can’t help thinking Josie isn’t made of the same stuff as Ellen, however much alike they are to look at.’

Chapter Eight

Josie refused to go to the station in Truro to see Ellen off on the train to Bristol. She was too cross with her. She didn’t even say goodbye when Ellen got into Dad’s truck, but stayed up in her bedroom and thumped the pillows on her bed in anger.

Today was 20 December. The Christmas decorations had been up for a week, and a tree cut down and potted up all ready to bring indoors, but just two days before Ellen had received a letter with a train ticket from the people in Bristol she was going to work for, saying they really could do with her help with their children immediately.

Ellen didn’t have to go, not now, before Christmas, but she wanted to, Josie felt. She was prepared for Ellen going in January, she wouldn’t have been angry then. She was going to Uncle Brian’s anyway on Boxing Day and staying for the rest of the holidays. But thanks to Ellen, everything was messed up. Mum had suddenly changed her mind, and now she was refusing to let Josie go.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be at the big family party on New Year’s Eve, to have some fun with her cousins, to go to the pantomime and do all the other things Uncle Brian had organized, and most of all she wanted to see Dave again.

Josie thought he was a dream, with his jet-black hair, chocolate-drop eyes and the longest eye-lashes she’d ever seen on anyone. She loved his college-boy hairstyle, his scooter and that Parka coat with wolf fur round the hood. He had taken her out for a ride on the scooter during the summer and next to being kissed by him it was the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

Josie wasn’t fooled one bit by Mum saying she couldn’t go now because it wasn’t right for their father to be left without either of his daughters at a time that was for families. As if she cared about his feelings! The real reason Mum wouldn’t let her go was because she was afraid to be left on her own with Dad.

Over the past months Josie had heard them arguing many times at night. Mum would say that as he didn’t love her, why wouldn’t he give her some money so she could go and start a new life elsewhere. Dad would say there was no money for that, then Mum would bring up selling the farm again. It always ended the same way. Dad would yell that the farm had been in his family for three generations and he wasn’t selling it at any price, ever.

Sometimes there were slaps, china was smashed and pots thrown, and Josie knew that if she and Ellen hadn’t been in the house, the fights would have been much more serious. So that’s why Mum wanted Josie around, not because she couldn’t bear to be separated from her, but so she wouldn’t get hurt when she pushed Dad too far.