She sat down and leaned against the irregular and uncomfortable wall to brood, still clutching the bottle.
Where was her life going? When would she ever leave this dreary little place high on the Lancashire fells? How would she get away? If only she had some idea of how her life would unfold, and some hope of when anything – anything at all – would happen to improve it. She could bear it if only she knew the end was in sight. Sometimes, on a shopping trip to Clitheroe or even very occasionally to Blackburn or Preston, she saw newspapers and a glimpse of a whole world of events that no one in Little Grindle even knew about – or worse, even cared about. It felt as if time had stopped decades ago in the village; it was certainly no place for a young woman of seventeen with her sights set on a new and entirely different sort of life.
‘Come on now, think!’ she chivvied herself aloud.
Gina hadn’t hung around for her mother’s return to learn the news about the gardening job at the Hall; she knew Ellen would be offered it. And Gina herself would be stuck with her father at the farm!
Miserable old sod. It’s a wonder Mum puts up with him. I wouldn’t. Nell’s always been his favourite and now I’ll be left to deal with him and his anger all day. As if I don’t already have to endure the worst of his shouting and snarling, and his lashing out.
She rubbed the top of her arm where there was a greenish bruise, then looked at the phial in the palm of her hand. That would have dealt with him if he’d found it and opened it … if the spell were real. Which, a part of her admitted, it probably wasn’t. They’d all be better off without him, and his misery and bad temper rising up like a storm cloud on a May day. Dora could marry Tom – they were well suited and obviously fond of each other – and then they’d all go to live at Tom’s cottage at the gate of Grindle Hall, and who knew what opportunities would come Gina’s way when she practically lived at the Hall? The Stellions sometimes had guests to stay: people who came from all over the north, maybe even from Manchester. Once there had been talk of some visitors from London!
Well, the stupid spell – and all the fantasies she’d dreamed up around it – didn’t look like it would get her to the Hall. She’d just have to think of something else. One thing was for certain: she was not going to stay in this little backwater for ever, working until she dropped, while her dreams of something better faded until they were all but forgotten. As she herself would be eventually if she stayed in the village. There had to be a way forward.
She sat thinking and dreaming, clutching the tiny bottle in her hands. Eventually … of course! She’d already thought of the first move, it was just the way of bringing it about that was wrong. With a shrug of contempt for her own silliness, she tossed the phial over the wall into the adjoining field. She was done with stupid spells! She needn’t even have bothered to pinch that grubby old book.
Nell was going to work at the Hall, even if it was only in the garden. Mum already worked there and, though she went only to clean and help out, the Stellions knew who she was and noticed her efforts. Uncle Tom had long worked there as the gardener, of course. So Gina was already well placed to bag the next job that came up. Secure a position at Grindle Hall and the rest would surely follow.
Oh, but how long would it be before a vacancy arose? Life was passing her by, and she couldn’t wait even a day longer than she had to. And what if there was a job, but someone else was recommended to Mr Stellion? The other people working there must have family who would be interested, and possibly favoured over herself.
Nell had been chosen ahead of her this time, after all. No one had even mentioned the gardening job to her! She felt another surge of anger about that, but her rising temper muddied her thinking and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply until she was calm again.
Eventually she rose stiffly to her feet, rubbing her spine where the uneven stones of the wall had pressed in. She pulled back her shoulders and lifted her head. Her mind was made up, her plan was beginning to form, and she knew exactly what her first move was to be.
CHAPTER TWO
‘MUM SAID I’D probably find you here. Thank you for recommending me for this job, Uncle Tom.’ Ellen hovered in the doorway of the ornate greenhouse.
The garden at Grindle Hall was huge – or at least it seemed so to Ellen, when compared to the neat little plot behind Highview Cottage. Grindle Hall’s garden was divided up by hedges and walls with doors or gates in them, and each part was dedicated to growing different plants or seemed to have a different purpose. Ellen had arrived in good time to have a sneaky look round before anyone but her uncle was likely to be found outside.
Those sections nearest the front and back of the house were the grandest, with lawns and long flower borders. To one side was an area with about twenty of the elaborately fashioned bushes that Ellen was keen to learn to cut. At the side nearer the kitchen were vegetable beds, cold frames, and this huge greenhouse with a white-painted iron frame and complicated-looking hinges and cogs with winding handles to open various windows. Then there were potting sheds and storage sheds. It was like a tiny village of garden buildings but peopled only by Uncle Tom and Ellen herself, so far as she could see. Suddenly she felt nervous. Was this job as Uncle Tom’s assistant going to be too much for her? She knew next to nothing and there was such a lot of garden!
How pleased she was to see the familiar tall, broad figure of her uncle in his corduroy breeches, tweed waistcoat and checked flat cap. Tom Arnold looked up from his wheelbarrow of compost and smiled, creasing up the laughter lines round his blue eyes.
‘Nell, good to see you, lass, and so prompt, too. I’m right glad to have you come to work for me. Your mum says you’re a reliable lass when it comes to responsibility, and I know you’re a cheerful and honest one, of course. Plus, I gather from Mr Beveridge, who I see down at the Lamb and Flag, that you’re a hard worker. I didn’t tell him I was looking to poach you from him, though.’ He winked at her. ‘I reckon you’ll do just fine. Mr Stellion likes to get to know his workers and you’re to go up to the house at eleven o’clock. Oh, don’t look so worried. I’ll go with you,’ Tom reassured her. ‘In the meantime, you can get stuck in. Best to learn on the job than try to remember a lot of stuff all at once. We’ve these tomato plants to pot on. I’ll show you how, and then you can do the rest.’
‘Yes, Uncle Tom.’
‘Here, I got you these. I didn’t think you’d have brought any, and you’ll need them.’ He handed her a paper bag.
Ellen took it and pulled out a pair of leather gardening gloves. ‘My, but they’re good ’uns. Thank you, Uncle Tom,’ she beamed, putting on the gloves and holding up her hands to admire the fit. ‘Just right.’
‘And I think you should call me “Mr Arnold” while we’re working side by side. It’s more professional, like. Don’t want the others to think I’m favouring you.’
‘Others? Oh, I thought it was just us in the garden.’
‘It is, Nell, and we’ve our work cut out to keep it looking good. I meant those employed here at the Hall, though Mr and Mrs Stellion have hardly any staff in the house now either. They tend to live a quiet kind of life these days. It’s livelier when their son and daughter are home. We need to keep up the old standards, though.’
‘Yes … Mr Arnold,’ Nell replied. ‘Now, what do you want me to do with these tomato plants …?’
Gina always found it easy to get out of her work on the farm, mainly by just not turning up to do it. The job was only vaguely defined and casual, the pay low, and she had long ago decided she would only work when it suited her. She’d watched Dora and Ellen set off up the lane to Grindle Hall in the early morning sunshine.
‘I’ll tidy up the kitchen, mebbe take the carpet sweeper through the sitting room,’ she’d said to Dora as her mother and sister left. ‘I’ll go along then.’ She did not specify where she’d be going along to.
‘You do that, love, but don’t keep Nancy Beveridge waiting. I know she likes those eggs collected early. Your dad’s been gone up there a while.’
Gina waved Dora and Ellen off, and promptly went to put another slice of bread to toast, thinking over her plan as she waited for the bread to brown. She spread it thinly with butter – Highview was not a dairy farm, so butter had to be bought from the village shop, and even with Gina, old habits of wartime rationing died hard – but then heaped the toast with Dora’s homemade raspberry jam. The supply of this delicious jam was running low now, and Philip had decreed it was to be eked out as a Sunday-only treat, but Gina didn’t care to be denied, especially by her father. There was no one here to see her; she would enjoy it while she could.
When she’d eaten this second breakfast, she rinsed the evidence of the jam off the plate, set it on the draining rack, then tied her hair back with a cotton scarf of the identical blue to the one Nell was wearing this morning, and which was actually another of Nell’s scarves made from the same fabric in her favourite colour. Nell was adept at cutting up old shirts and turning the fabric into pretty little things she could wear or use, and which Gina felt free to borrow without permission. Then Gina locked the cottage door, put the key behind the boot scraper, and set off up the lane just as Dora and Ellen had done half an hour earlier.
Grindle Hall lay to one side of the village of Little Grindle. The big house was a huge part of the village and of village life, and yet apart from it and, in both senses, above it. The lane climbed uphill, and soon Gina came to the imposing central gates of elaborately curled metal between tall stone pillars topped with perching eagles. She let herself in the little gate to the side and walked past the Lodge, which was where her uncle, Tom Arnold, lived.
From nothing more than nosiness she peered through his sitting-room window. There was his armchair, with the cushion Dora had made him as a Christmas present showing the indentation of his back, and a low table beside it on which was a small pile of books. Tom was like Nell – a real bookworm. Although he lived alone, Tom’s sitting room looked cosy, neat and cheerful, like Tom himself.
Lucky Nell, going to work with him. Still, there were other ways of getting on, and Nell would probably want to stay here gardening for the rest of her life. Gina, still cross at not even being offered the chance of the job, took a few deep breaths and deliberately replaced her feeling of discontent with pity: poor Nell, this would probably be as far as she ever got in life.
Keeping a lookout for her relatives, Gina made for the side of the house where the kitchen was. She’d been to Grindle Hall on several occasions before – Mr Stellion used to host the big annual village events – and she had taken care to do a little private exploration to see what was where. You never knew when such knowledge would come in useful.
There was a chip basket of spinach on the ground beside the back door. Her confidence bolstered by this piece of luck, Gina picked it up and, without even hesitating, knocked and entered the kitchen.
The cook turned and saw the young woman dressed in breeches, a sleeveless pullover over a striped shirt and her hair tied back with a blue scarf.
‘Good morning, Ellen Arnold,’ she said. ‘I heard you were starting work in the garden today.’
Better and better, Gina thought. She hadn’t even had to explain herself to the cook, whose name she knew to be Mrs Bassett.
‘Good morning, Mrs Bassett,’ Gina replied. ‘I’ve brought you this spinach.’
‘Thank you. Just take it through to the scullery, there’s a good lass.’ Mrs Bassett indicated the inner door, which led to a corridor. ‘Next down on the left.’
‘Yes, Mrs Bassett,’ said Gina, hardly able to believe her luck. She found the right place immediately and left the basket of spinach on the draining board. Then she crept back to the kitchen, looked around to make sure there was no one else in sight, and watched through the gap between the doorjamb and the partially open door until she saw the cook go into what might be a pantry.
Immediately, Gina rushed across to the back door, opened it, called out, ‘Bye, Mrs Bassett,’ as if she were leaving, then closed it noisily and ran as quietly as she could across to the inner door once more and into the corridor. At the far end she’d already noticed a steep uncarpeted staircase, and she took the stairs two at a time.
At the top of the stairs there was a door covered in green fabric with fancy brass-headed nails holding it in place. Gina inched the door open and peeped through the gap: no one in sight. She swallowed nervously. It had been easy to get this far, and luck had been on her side, but the next bit was going to be altogether riskier. She had only a vague plan to seek out Mr or Mrs Stellion – she didn’t really mind which one she encountered, but there was no point dealing with lesser folk, and she certainly wanted to avoid seeing Mrs Thwaite, the housekeeper – and then just ask for a job. She’d already decided she’d do anything – well, almost – and there must be plenty of work in a house this size.
She recognised the gloomy entrance hall with its dark wood panelling and dreary portraits. She could hear voices coming from upstairs and then the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It must be Mum, another person Gina didn’t want to encounter: there would be no pulling the wool over her eyes.
What to do? Think, Gina!
Where would the Stellions be at this hour of the morning? Probably in the morning room. And where would the morning room be but on the east side where it would catch the early sun. Gina looked at the doors off the hall and also saw corridors leading to right and left. She chose the left, which she decided was east, and went silently down it on the soft, dark carpet. She could see there were four doors, one of which, further down, was open, but all was totally silent.
Suddenly a high-pitched and loud barking erupted, and Gina literally leaped in shock, her heart pounding. A little brown dog, no more than a puppy, raced to greet her, its spaniel ears flying and its short stumpy tail wagging madly. Gina let out a long breath of relief. Oh, thank goodness, this was no fierce guard dog, but rather a very soft dog indeed.
‘Hello, you funny little fella,’ Gina whispered, bending down and patting the silky head. A revised plan was already forming in her mind.
‘Coco,’ trilled a woman’s voice faintly from the open room further down. ‘Coco, come to Mummy.’
Gina saw she was standing outside a closed door. She opened it, glanced in the thankfully empty room, silently shooed the puppy in with the aid of her foot and crept in after it, closing the door behind her.
‘Right, Coco, you and me are going to wait here a couple of minutes and then we’ll go and find Mrs Stellion,’ Gina said. ‘All you have to do is be quiet.’
Coco gave a little yelp of agreement and circled Gina’s feet a few times, the tail still wagging.
‘Shush, you daft creature.’ Gina looked around. The room was a little sitting room with deep sofas and heavy curtains at the long window.
Gina picked up the puppy and he snuggled under her chin, settling in her arms quite happily. She went to stand behind the curtains in case someone should enter the room without warning. It would be enough of a hiding place if they did no more than glance about.
Gina could hear the woman calling the dog and evidently Coco knew his name as he was listening, then gave a little bark. The voice became louder as the woman approached up the corridor … then faded and finally ceased. Gina held her breath, her stomach churning. It would be difficult to concoct any believable story to explain why she was hiding in this room holding the missing puppy, although Mrs Stellion would be unlikely to believe he’d managed to secrete himself behind a closed door. If only he would be quiet for a few minutes …
On a side table next to one of the sofas was a tray with a biscuit barrel on it. Gina, still holding the puppy, went across, grabbed it and retreated behind the curtain again, placing the tin on the window ledge and removing the lid with one hand.
‘Rich tea … well, I reckon at least they won’t do you any harm,’ she whispered, giving one to the dog.
Coco had eaten three rich tea biscuits by the time Gina decided she was ready to return the lost puppy to its owner.
‘Come on, let’s wipe those crumbs off your whiskers. Our secret, eh?’ she murmured, carefully removing all evidence of their presence in the room. She liked to think that covering her tracks was a lesson she’d learned long ago.
She opened the door, looked up and down the corridor, then set off towards where she’d first heard the voice, holding the squirming puppy tightly. The door to this room was still open and Mrs Stellion, a wispy-looking woman with fair greying hair, was sitting back in an armchair with her eyes closed. Gina knocked and Mrs Stellion opened her eyes and straightened up. She didn’t look at all put out to see a stranger in her house and evidently jumped to all the conclusions Gina hoped she would.
‘Hello,’ she smiled. ‘I see you’ve brought Coco back to me.’
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said Gina. ‘I saw the little fella taking himself off for a walk. I reckoned he shouldn’t be out on his own.’
Edith Stellion held out her arms and Gina lowered the dog into them.
‘Oh, thank you. Quite right. But outside, you say? How on earth can he have got outside, I wonder.’
As well you might. Gina didn’t volunteer an answer.
‘Naughty boy, wandering off like that.’ The puppy was wagging his tail again and licking his mistress’s face. She, in turn, was kissing his little head so that the puppy probably thought he was anything but naughty. ‘Well, never mind, he’s back now. Thank you, my dear. I take it you’re the new girl working for Tom Arnold.’
‘No, Mrs Stellion, ma’am, that’s my sister. I’d just come over to give her a message from our dad and then I saw the puppy.’ As a look of puzzlement passed over the lady’s face Gina decided to move the conversation on. ‘Right sweet little fella. I love dogs.’ She adopted a sad expression. ‘We had one ourselves until recently, but he died and I don’t half miss him.’
‘Oh, I am sorry. I can imagine that you would.’
So can I. There was not a word of truth in this story, but it had captured Mrs Stellion’s imagination and sympathy.
‘It’s good of you to bring Coco safely back to me. I can see you’ve got a way with dogs, young lady, and he’s taken a liking to you.’
Gina beamed. ‘Oh, he’s lovely, ma’am. If I had another dog I’d want one just like him. Spaniels are so … intelligent.’
‘I agree.’ Mrs Stellion turned to the puppy. ‘Who’s the cleverest boy, then? Who’s Mummy’s little darling?’ Clearly she doted on the puppy; she was probably a bit bored and lonely in this big house, Gina thought.
‘My dear, what is your name?’
‘Georgina Arnold. I’m called Gina.’
‘Then I shall call you Gina, too. And what do you do, Gina, when you’re not being a messenger for your father and rescuing lost puppies? Do you have to rush away to your place of work now?’
‘Ah, no, that’s the thing, ma’am,’ said Gina, looking regretful. ‘I really wanted to work here in the garden with my uncle Tom Arnold but my sister, Ellen, was given the job just because she’s the oldest. Now I’m at a bit of a loose end, running messages and occasionally helping out at Highview Farm if they’re really busy, which they’re not just now.’
‘Well, we can’t have a clever girl like you wasting away without a suitable opportunity,’ said Mrs Stellion. She indicated the armchair next to her. ‘Do sit down and let’s think what we can do for you.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Mrs Stellion gently patted her forehead, as if it hurt her to think too deeply. ‘How would you like to come here and take Coco for his walk? I’m not much of a walker and he’s a lively boy who’d benefit from running off some excess energy. I’d want you to clean him up afterwards, of course, make my lovely boy all pretty and respectable,’ she said, cuddling the dog until he struggled, escaped from her knee and came to sniff around Gina’s well-worn lace-up shoes.
Gina didn’t think that sounded like much of a job, but it had all the advantages she’d come here looking for. She would have a foot in the door at the Hall, and a job that was a lot easier than cleaning out those smelly old hens at Highview Farm, and all the other horrible jobs she did for the Beveridges. Who knew where this chance would lead? But one thing was for certain: it would lead somewhere. She was quite decided on that.
‘I would pay you for your time, of course,’ Mrs Stellion said, obviously thinking Gina was silent because she was wondering if she were to be paid and was too shy to ask. She went on to name a sum slightly greater than Gina was earning at the farm. That settled it: no need to go back there. ‘And maybe, if that works out, there could be other little jobs for you to do for me.’
‘That sounds grand, thank you, Mrs Stellion. When would you like me to start?’
‘Well, why not now? It’s a lovely day for a walk and Coco is getting a little fidgety. His lead is hanging in the boot room next to the hall. Let me show you …’
They reached the hall, Mrs Stellion moving slowly, the dog running ahead of them and then back again, just as the door at the rear – through which Gina had entered uninvited less than an hour earlier – opened, and Tom and Ellen appeared.
‘Good heavens,’ said Tom, seeing Gina looking even more like Ellen than usual today. ‘That is … good morning, Mrs Stellion.’ Even as he spoke, his questioning eyes were on Gina.
Ellen was looking puzzled and mouthing, What are you doing here? but Gina avoided noticing.
‘Good morning, Mr Arnold. And Miss Ellen Arnold, I take it?’ Mrs Stellion offered Ellen a rather weak handshake. ‘I gather you’re something of a gardening expert and we’re fortunate to have you assisting your uncle.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Stellion. I’m no expert, though it’s kind of you to say. But I’ll do my best.’
‘Then we’re doubly blessed this morning,’ enthused Mrs Stellion, ‘because Gina is also starting work here. I know she’s going to be a great help to me with Coco.’
Gina smiled broadly at Ellen and Tom, who looked at each other, utterly nonplussed.
‘Er, that’s nice,’ said Tom eventually. ‘Well, we’d best be getting along to Mr Stellion, who’s expecting us. Good day to you, Mrs Stellion.’
‘Good day, Mr Arnold … Ellen.’
Tom and Ellen made for the corridor on the right and Gina followed Mrs Stellion towards the boot room. Ellen turned back as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes, as Gina knew she would, and Gina gave her a huge grin and winked.
At noon, Mrs Bassett provided sandwiches for Tom, and now for Ellen too, and on such a fine day they ate them and drank their tea sitting outside in the sun. They’d already discussed the surprise of seeing Gina earlier, and were equally at a loss to know what could have happened.
‘I’m just worried that she’s up to no good,’ confided Ellen. ‘I don’t want to be mean, but she’s never done owt much at the farm if she could avoid it. In fact she’s always got an excuse to avoid it. Now, on the day I start work here, she turns up indoors and chatting to Mrs Stellion like they’re best friends.’
‘Well, Mrs Stellion is a good-hearted woman, Nell, not one to be standoffish, but she’s also someone who knows what she wants. If she’s hired Gina to help with her dog, then she’ll expect her to make a thorough job of it. It won’t do to be skiving off. And Mr Stellion was just as welcoming to you as Missis was to Gina.’
