Glynis Peters - The Secret Orphan

‘Well, unwrap. I am as curious as you.’

From the paper Elenor lifted a long box, a round one, and a tiny black velvet bag.

Inside the long box was a fountain pen. Under a square of silk inside the round one was a strand of amber beads. Elenor held out the necklace.

‘This is the first piece of jewellery I have ever owned. It is beautiful.’

Pulling open the small drawstring bag, Elenor gasped with delight. She lifted out a lipstick container.

Her aunt lifted both eyebrows.

‘Well, we will leave it that Mrs Green achieved two out of three for me, and three out of three for you. Ah, at least it isn’t too bright.’

Elenor looked at the soft raspberry shade. It was perfect. The past fortnight had taught her so many things and given her so much in the way of affection and material items, it overwhelmed her. She started to cry.

‘Forgive me. I am such a lucky young woman, I just wished I could have showed my mother these beautiful things. I have days where I miss her terribly.’

Her aunt struggled to her feet and patted her on the shoulder.

‘Dry your eyes girl. Your face brought me joy, and your mother would have had great pleasure in watching you. Enjoy your gifts. Now go and put your treasures away but leave me the magazine to browse through. I have a sneaking feeling I need to update my visions of what a young woman wears these days.’

Laughing, Elenor left the room. As she did so, George walked along the hallway. She could see his intention was to enter the parlour.

‘Ah, George. Did you enjoy your time with our Canadian friends? I did. Please, do not disturb my aunt. I understand Victoria is cooking me a special meal tonight, we’ll see you then.’

Without allowing him to reply she went upstairs. She listened out to hear if he defied her, but she did not hear the parlour door open; instead she heard Victoria and Rose’s voices as he entered the kitchen. A small smile played on her lips. George would not win his power struggle with her.

‘Elenor Cardew you are ready to evolve. Be strong,’ she whispered to her reflection in the dressing table mirror as she applied a dab of lipstick.

Back downstairs she met with Rose.

‘Can we eat the cake now?’

She grabbed hold of Elenor’s hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

Victoria sat waiting.

Rose snatched something from behind her mother’s back.

‘Open your present. I made it with no help from Mummy. She told me it was wonky in places, but I said you won’t mind, you are not posh like some ladies.’

‘Rose!’

Rose was telling the truth and Elenor gave Victoria a smile to show she didn’t mind.

‘I bet it is perfect, Rose. Thank you.’

She undid the yellow ribbon and unfolded the paper. Inside sat a square of blue material. The stitching around the edges was far from perfect, but to Elenor the headscarf was beautiful.

‘It’s the perfect gift. Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.’

Her voice cracked. The gift was given with so much affection. She looked at Rose and hoped one day she’d have a daughter with a heart as big as Rose Sherbourne’s.

Autumn cooled down and drifted towards winter with no hesitation. Rose turned five and Elenor organised a small tea party. Two school friends were invited, and an excited Rose made the effort all worthwhile.

At the end of the day Elenor handed her a gift; a simple ragdoll dressed in a blue dress. The doll had a wonky smile, neat pink nose and large blue eyes embroidered onto a cream face. With a whoop of excitement, the little girl snatched it from its wrapping into her arms.

‘Thank you. She’s beautiful. I’m going to call her Annie.’

‘Annie. It suits her,’ said Elenor.

‘Thank you for my tea. Mummy said you did it all.’

‘It was my pleasure and an extra present.’

Elenor didn’t like to point out her parents showed no interest in her birthday, and she was thankful Annie made up for their lack of gift. Even Aunt Maude had knitted her a red cardigan.

Christmas brought with it great excitement as Elenor chose gifts for her aunt and Victoria. She brought her aunt a new woollen blanket in shades of pink, and for Victoria a new recipe book. She’d also purchased George a sheet of piano music.

Buying Rose’s gift gave her the most pleasure. It was a wicker doll’s pram, something Elenor had dreamed of owning as a young child. With due diligence, she’d paid into a Christmas club set up by Mrs Green.

She asked to pay a visit to her brothers and made new neckties for them. She’d also bought chocolates, and two magazines related to motorbikes.

Her aunt paid for a return ticket and the week before the festivities planned in her Coventry home, she made the journey to the farm.

The bus pushed its way through the last of the sludge which laid around the village. Nothing had changed, only the season.

Her bags weighed heavy as she walked to the end of the lane in her newly acquired wellington boots. There was a mild wind, nothing like the cold chill she’d expected, yet still she shivered. The farmhouse came into view. Fences lay in ruins around the boundary of the bottom field surrounding the house. In the two months she had been away, Elenor could see the brothers had neglected the family home. It saddened her greatly as she still loved her home, just not the residents. Maybe the old saying of absence makes the heart grow fonder would be proved today.

She didn’t knock and pushed the door open.

Stale, sour aromas hit her and wafted from pails by the sink – pig swill, which had sat for days rather than hours.

‘Who the hell are you lady, just walking in here?’

The gruff voice of James spoke from a chair by the unlit fire. He lifted a bottle and took a swig of its contents. Walter lay sleeping in the opposite seat, snoring the sleep of a drunkard.

‘Lady? Why thank you, kind sir.’

Elenor opted for a jovial manner as her reply. Her words registered with James and he jumped to his feet but found the need to steady himself against the fireplace.

‘About ruddy time you came home. This place needs a darn good clean. You can start when you’ve taken off that coat. Who the ruddy hell do you think you look like? Oi, Walt, see what the cat dragged in?’

James kicked his brother’s foot, and the startled man swore back at him. Pointing his finger at Elenor, James spat into the fire.

‘It’s crawled back from Coventry.’

With slow, deliberate movements, Walter also rose to his feet. He studied Elenor through slit eyes. It made a comical sight but Elenor knew better than to laugh.

‘Hello brother. I see you both have been busy,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Don’t bring that snobby tone round here. Get to your room before I give you a slap. Unpack and come down to cook us something.’

Not responding with words, Elenor handed them each a wrapped parcel. They stared at her, then at each other, then back at her.

‘Didn’t you hear me girl?’ Walter yelled at her.

Elenor kept her nerve.

‘Christmas greetings to you both. This is a brief visit. Much briefer than I’d anticipated in fact, as neither of you care I have returned as your sister; I will not be staying as your skivvy. The neckties are from our mother’s clothes, not that you will appreciate the sentiment.’

James threw his gift onto the chair.

‘Appreciate the sentiment? Who do you think you are, you la-di-da bitch? Do as you are told.’

He tottered a few steps towards her and Elenor could smell the fumes of unwashed clothing and alcohol. When drunk her brothers could become nasty, handy with their fists.

‘As I said, I’ll not stay. Thank you for the offer of a room though. Nice of you.’