The Healing Stream (4 page)

‘Just look at us.’ The older woman laughed, in no way nonplussed by her appearance. ‘Talk about chalk and cheese.’

‘When you came to that service for my parents you were really smart. That’s the only thing I remembered about you. In fact, I don’t remember a lot about any of it.’

‘I don’t expect you do; it must have all been frightening for a little one like you were. And what a blessing it was for Mother that you were there; without having you to care for she would have gone to pieces when she lost your mother. I always felt having you gave Mother her youth all over again.’

‘Gran never got old,’ came the defensive answer.

‘You miss her, of course you do. But Tessa, if ever a woman had determination it was Mother and she would want you to take what life has thrown at you and make it work for you.’

Tessa nodded, turning her head away so that her aunt wouldn’t see the tears that were burning her dark eyes.

‘It won’t be easy for you, love, I know it won’t. But Richard and I are here to help you. And I’ve always believed there is nothing like hard manual work for pushing everything else out of your thoughts.’

‘I don’t want to push any of it out of my thoughts; I want to remember it all.’ Did Naomi guess that the aggressive tone was defence against the misery threatening to break loose? ‘All I know about cows and pigs is that they smell and make filthy, disgusting messes.’

Naomi’s laugh was spontaneous as she put her arm around Tessa’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. ‘And that’s about all either of
us
knew when we took on this place. As soon as Richard was demobbed in nineteen nineteen we were married. We spent our honeymoon in Deremouth, the nearest town from here. That’s when we found Chagleigh. It was in a dreadful state, no indoor toilet, no drainage, no electricity. But we were both young – and everything was so different in those days. Where does the time go? Now look at me!’ With her arm still around Tessa’s shoulder, she sat on the edge of the bed pulling the young girl down to her side. ‘If you’re happy the years fly. And, I suppose, if you’re miserable it works the other way. My parents were appalled that we meant to set up home here. They’d said we could live with them until we found somewhere but we wanted more than anything to be in a place of our own. We would have set up home in one of those cowsheds just to have somewhere of our own,’ she said, and from her voice Tessa knew she was little more than thinking aloud as her mind took her back down the years.

‘We met before either of us had even left school but we felt we were grown up. First love hits with such intensity. Then came the war and Richard immediately volunteered and before we knew it he was in France. Nothing changed for us though and, like I said, we married and came here as soon as he was demobbed.’ For a few seconds she seemed lost in her own private thoughts. Then, perhaps no more than speaking them aloud, ‘Such a dreadful war, so many young lives wasted. Both my brothers were killed – and my cousin, Dennis. But thank God Richard came home safely.’ She seemed to become aware of what she was saying. ‘Hark at me, and you wanting to do your unpacking. And all because I told you we knew no more about farms when we came here than you do. Tessa, I’m not good at saying things, but I want you to understand that although Mother left the request that you should come to Richard, we really
do
want you here. We’ve never had a family. Not that we wouldn’t have been pleased to have babies; I mean, we tried. Now, though, you’ve come to us and it sort of completes the family. Don’t be frightened by such different surroundings. If you look on it all as a bit primitive, remember what I told you about how it was when we came here. And yet, right from the beginning, we loved it, every stick and stone of it.’

‘That was different. It was a future you wanted to make together.’ Tessa was in no mood to look on the bright side. ‘Anyway, when the war was first over everyone must just have been thankful to have people they loved come home.’

‘I’m thankful for all of it, then and now, too. Now I’m going to leave you to hang your things away. The bathroom is the door just across the landing and you’ll find the water is warm; even in the summer I keep the range burning because it heats the back boiler, so there’s always plenty of hot water.’ Then, with a wide smile that deepened the prematurely well-etched lines on her face, ‘You must admit that’s an improvement from an earth closet across the yard and water pumped up from the well.’

Tessa found the smile infectious and replied to it like for like. ‘Sorry I sounded such a grump, Aunt Naomi. I really am grateful to you and Uncle Richard.’

‘We’ll all get along fine, just see if we don’t.’ And with that she left Tessa to undo her trunk and set to work.

Five minutes later, her outer clothes hung in the wardrobe and a pile of her favourite books on the dressing table, Tessa decided to leave the rest of her unpacking until later. She crossed the landing to the bathroom. From the room next to hers came the sound of voices. Naomi had gone to talk to Richard while he changed into his work clothes. Their words weren’t clear, but there was something in their soft tones, a sort of intimacy that made Tessa aware that she was an outsider. She’d start looking for a job straight away. They couldn’t be more than about fifteen miles from the coast and there must be a lot of hotels there. Her optimistic nature was coming to the fore. Back in the bedroom she brushed her easy-to-care-for wavy hair. While she was touching up her make-up she heard Richard and Naomi going down the stairs then, a minute later, she heard the lobby door slam and saw him slushing through the mud – ‘and worse’ she thought with distaste – towards the cowshed. He looked older, rougher; in fact, she had seen plenty of scarecrows as well dressed.

Turning from the window she ran down the stairs then, her high heels clip-clopping on the stone-flagged floor of the hall, went to the kitchen to find Naomi, resolved that her stay would be only temporary and she’d start straight away to look for a ‘proper job’ – and freedom.

By morning the mud in the yard had dried, the world smelt fresh and new. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all just for a short while.

Surprisingly quickly some sort of routine evolved. Tessa didn’t want Richard and Naomi to think she wasn’t doing her share. Soon it became routine for her to clear away the breakfast things, make the beds, see the rooms were tidy and the windows open, tidy the bathroom and clean the bath and basin. Her years in the hotel had taught her to be quick and efficient. Then on with the hated wellingtons and off she’d go to offer her services in the dairy. Naomi had welcomed the idea of having help churning butter (a tedious job which took too much of her time) and scalding the cream, but soon she looked forward to having Tessa’s company for its own sake. Originally the idea of a young girl working with her had brought home to her just how the years had changed her without her even thinking about it. When she and Richard had taken the farm both of them had been inexperienced, filled with enthusiasm, love and thankfulness. Thinking back, she was honest enough to know that in those days she had been as pretty as he’d been handsome. He had matured (not aged, to her he never aged) but it suited him. But she? She’d always been slender, but now she’d become scrawny and her weather-beaten face was etched with lines ahead of her years. Only her bust had remained the same, perhaps the advantage of having no children.

Letting her thoughts fly free, she stood quite still, the pan of cream forgotten. No young girl could find companionship with a work-worn woman more than old enough to be her mother; and yet her heart was still that of the pretty bride who had come here all those years ago. No! No, it wasn’t. Now was different. Then we were ‘in love’, each day was an adventure and each night we found paradise. But I wouldn’t change
now
for
then.
What we have now is deeper, broader.

Hearing footsteps she pulled herself back from her reverie just as Richard looked into the dairy.

‘All alone? How’s it going?’

‘Too fast, Richard.’ Then, seeing his quizzical expression, ‘The years are slipping away. I was just thinking about
us
. We’ve been here thirty-five years. We’re on the downward slope. Will things change for us? Will time change us?’

‘As we turn into Derby and Joan, you mean?’ he teased, looking at her with affection. Then, giving serious thought to what she’d said, ‘I suppose if we look back to the pair of youngsters we used to be, we must have been gradually changing with time. But we’ll never change in the way you mean. It was wonderful when we were starry-eyed and wet behind the ears – but, Naomi –’ his teasing note gone as he held his hand under her chin and raised her face to his – ‘what we have now is . . . complete. Nothing can ever take that away from us.’ Then, his momentary seriousness over, ‘I dare say youngsters like Tessa would see us as ancient, and think that love is the prerogative of the young. I bet we thought that when we first came here. But we were wrong. What we had then pales by comparison with what we have gained with the years. God, hark at me!’ He spoke quietly, scarcely moving his lips while his eyes carried their own message. ‘Half past ten in the morning and I want to carry you to bed and ravage you. Must have had the sun on the back of my neck again,’ he ended, trying to make a joke of his sudden upsurge of desire.

She wound her strong, thin arms around his neck.

‘The young know
nothing
,’ he whispered. ‘They’re still learning.’ Then, giving her a quick hug, ‘But us? We’re fully qualified.’

She laughed softly, buffeting her head against his shoulder and suddenly filled with happiness.

‘Boasting again? Hark, I can hear Tessa coming.’ She pulled away from him and started to turn the handle of the butter-maker.

‘Hello, Tessa,’ he greeted the intruder as she joined them, wearing an apron of Naomi’s over her summer skirt and blouse. ‘I was just about to say to Naomi, how about you doing the village run today? The eggs for Mr Louch are all racked up ready. Do you fancy a drive?’

‘Yes, rather. Can I have five minutes to get ready? Anything else we want in the village, Auntie?’

‘There’s the making of a list on the dresser. Thanks, love. Take my purse out of my handbag.’

In the letter Amelia had left for Tessa she had written of Richard and Naomi’s home as a house full of love. Frightened and miserable as she had been, Tessa hadn’t even considered there might be truth in what she read. Yet without her being aware of it, as the weeks went by the atmosphere in the farmhouse was casting its spell, and her relationship with her aunt and uncle was blossoming as a result. Everyone had worked hard in the hotel but it was nothing compared with what went on at Chagleigh Farm and soon she became as involved as the others. She enjoyed her trips to the village with the deliveries, or for any other errand, but although it was her nature to interest herself in the work she did, in the dairy she gave the animals a wide berth and still detested the ‘mud and worse’ that was so often a hazard of the yard.

There were two things that remained unchanged from the day of her arrival: one was her desire to find work of her own choosing and the second was that nothing altered the pride she took in her appearance. Although they were delighted to have Tessa’s help around farm and would have liked things to stay as they were, Richard and Naomi had made it clear that they wouldn’t stand in her way if she were to find a suitable job, and each morning when she came downstairs she was groomed and made-up just as she had been when her days had been spent at the hotel.

Chagleigh Farm was situated about two empty miles from Marlhampton, the nearest village. On the course of those two miles there was only one house, Fiddlers’ Green, standing in grounds of about three acres. Approached through wrought-iron gates the house wasn’t visible from the road because of the curve of the drive. To Tessa there seemed something mysterious about it, until she learnt that it had stood empty since just after the war. That accounted for the weeds that pushed their way through the gravel of the drive and the neglected and overgrown rhododendron hedge that bordered it on either side. Beyond Fiddlers’ Green was agricultural land until just before the start of High Street where there was a terrace of six council houses. On Tessa’s delivery or shopping trips she never saw any sign of life from any of them.

Each week she scanned the vacancies column in the
Western Weekly News
but she found nothing to fit the image she had in her mind. With the holiday season well on, did it mean she would have to wait right through a cold, muddy winter before she could pick up the threads of her own life? She hated the thought and, even more, hated herself for having such an overriding need to be free of the home where she had been given affection. The truth was that she had become fond of Richard and Naomi. She honestly wished this could have been what she wanted for her life. Each time she drove the deliveries to Marlhampton she checked the seldom-changing notice board outside the newspaper shop and each day she was disappointed.

Once a month Naomi was responsible for the flowers in St Stephen’s Church in the High Street, so on those Saturday mornings Tessa stayed at home to clean out the hen houses and prepare lunch, which at Chagleigh Farm was always a hurried meal. On that day Naomi returned just as it was ready: grilled ham topped with poached eggs, everything home produced except for the still-warm crusty bread she brought with her from the village bakehouse.

‘Vera Hopkins was polishing the brass in the church, so I’ve come home with all the local gossip,’ Naomi said as she took her place at the table. ‘Most of it wasn’t very interesting, but guess what? Fiddlers’ Green has been sold.’

‘That’s good. It must be looking a bit sad after being empty so long. I wouldn’t like the bill for putting it in good nick again,’ Richard said. ‘Let’s hope the newcomers have plenty of money to spend on it.’

‘You know Vera! How she winkles out all the gossip I can’t imagine but she seemed very certain. She said the owner – I forget his name, but that doesn’t matter – she said he’s an industrialist, a manufacturer of some sort from the Midlands and made his fortune making parts for tanks during the war. Apparently, although he’s still chairman of the company, he’s more or less retired. There’s no wife, just the man, a crippled youngster and a housekeeper. So he’ll be looking for domestic staff, I suppose.’