Glynis Peters - The Secret Orphan

‘Let’s get this damp coat off you and we can chat about your day. Sit at the table and I’ll make you a warm milk. My aunt is snoozing, so we’ll stay in here.’

The easy atmosphere gave Elenor comfort.

‘It is nice when Mummy and Daddy aren’t here,’ Rose said.

‘Rose. I’m not sure you mean that. It is different. I might not be as strict when they are home, but you will not get away with things while they are away, young lady,’ Elenor said but she was in silent agreement. The place had a calm feel, a natural rhythm.

‘Are you looking forward to Christmas? I am,’ Rose said.

‘Of course, who doesn’t like Christmas? This will be a special one for me,’ Elenor said.

‘Why?’

‘Because of you and my aunt. And your parents.’

‘Mine will be special ’cos of you. Can I go and read in the study?’

‘Yes, but don’t disturb my aunt.’

Rose scrambled down from the table and placed her cup in the sink. Elenor watched her leave and knew she loved the child. Her parents would have to stay.

Christmas Eve arrived and the smells from the kitchen wafted around the house. Elenor’s mouth watered in anticipation.

‘It is such an exciting time of the year, Victoria. We never celebrated after my mother died, and never with other members of the family even when she was alive.’

The pair sat at the table and snipped green foliage for decorations. Rose tied rag ribbons around the completed wreaths, and Maude applauded their efforts.

Midway through the morning, George arrived home. He instructed Rose to fetch his slippers and asked for a few moments of Victoria’s time. Maude noticed Victoria hesitate and shooed her away, giving her five minutes to reunite with her husband.

When they came back downstairs the atmosphere altered to a more subdued one. Rose sat in silence pencil rubbing over leaves on paper. Her face no longer wore its cheery smile.

‘I assume your lecture was an interesting one, George?’ Elenor asked in an attempt to ease the tension. Her aunt made excuses and went to her room for a nap.

Elenor and Victoria prepared and chopped vegetables between them. George sat on a chair by the back door polishing his shoes.

‘I gave the lecture. It was well received. The audience were receptive to my modern ideas when tutoring young men.’

Elenor wanted to laugh at his pomposity. His chest stood out prouder than a stuffed pigeon.

‘Interesting. So, what are your modern ideas, George?’

Elenor had no real interest but needed a conversation to focus on. Shaking his head, George gave a chuckle, as if addressing a young pupil.

‘Ah, I fear they are a complicated set of ideas, and there are far too many of them for me to spend the time relaying to you ladies today. Forgive me.’

With hackles now risen, Elenor was not going to let him get away with belittling both her and Victoria.

‘Not at all, George. I am always interested in complicated ideas. Why, I have them myself sometimes.’

George raised an eyebrow.

‘I doubt your idea of complicated and mine are the same, Miss Cardew,’ he said, and Elenor heard the sneer in his tone.

She shrugged off his rudeness knowing she would find a way to knock him off his pedestal. He was sly, and underhand but she was quick thinking and far from a silly airheaded girl. George never knew her brothers and of how Elenor had to outwit them on a daily basis. They’d given her a good education in that area.

‘Tomorrow will be fun. I suggest we enjoy music around the piano. A game of charades after dinner might be amusing.’

Victoria looked up from her task and smiled.

‘It has been a long time since we played charades. Remember when we were children and played them, George?’

Elenor turned to George as Victoria spoke. His face held a dark look, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by Victoria’s outburst. It was the most she had said all morning.

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were childhood sweethearts. How wonderful!’

‘Not exactly sweethearts,’ George muttered.

‘Oh, you tease. He’s teasing you Victoria,’ Elenor said, and turned to the housekeeper as the woman, bright red in the face cleared away the vegetable peelings.

‘As he said, not exactly sweethearts. George and I grew up together, and this is where we are. No more, no less.’

Deciding their recent argument was still ongoing, Elenor changed the subject.

‘I am making traditional Cornish pasties for supper. My aunt asked I make them for her. Instead of you both eating out here, I invite you to join us in the front room where we will decorate a tree. My aunt mentioned she used to have a Christmas tree before the Great War, but never had one since. I saw one for sale and we will surprise her with it this afternoon. The tree is outside and needs bringing in, George, if you wouldn’t mind.’

She could see he did mind but ventured into the yard with no argument.

The pushing and shoving of the tree through the home brought about a light-hearted mood, with much squealing and laughter from Rose. Soon the odd atmosphere of the kitchen was forgotten. Her aunt clapped her hands as they pulled the tree into place, and all inhaled its pine perfume.

‘It is a fine tree,’ George said and stood back to watch the women add their decorations.

Once finished, Victoria took Rose and made her way back to the kitchen. George excused himself to completing various chores.

Elenor went to bake the pasties and decided George could distribute some to the needy in town.

‘Any idea where George is, Victoria?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘I’ll catch him at supper. My aunt sent a message, Rose, she’s making paper chains and asked for your help.’

‘Can I, Mummy?’

Victoria nodded in agreement.

‘I’ll be at my desk until you are finished here, Victoria.’

On entering the study, to Elenor’s annoyance George sat at her desk. He appeared to be studying a map. Her writing items and Christmas cards were set to one side on another small table in the corner. The room was awash with his pipe smoke. Not wishing to show how angry it made her, she chose a friendlier approach.

‘Caught you planning your escape from Christmas chores, have I, George?’ she said and laughed.

He turned around unamused. Hastily folding the map, he placed it in his pocket and made no move to stand up.

‘Important lesson preparation. Can I help you with something, Elenor?’

He spoke as if she was a member of staff, the old-fashioned master talking to his maid servant. The smoke spiralled from his pipe as he puffed at the tip. He crossed his legs and leaned back in the seat.

‘Not at the moment, George, thank you. But you will be helping me tomorrow morning. You and I are to distribute food to the men injured in the Great War who can no longer work and feed their families. We have a responsibility to bring a little joy into their lives at Christmas.’

From his neck upwards George went pale. Elenor watched him flounder, then run his finger around his collar.

‘Are you warm, George? Might I suggest as Victoria is busy preparing our meal that you might fill the coal scuttles? Let Victoria relax for the evening. We will sing carols to start off the Christmas festivities, you can play for us. What do you think?’

With amusement she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Not moving, she waited for his response. A beaded row of sweat formed across his brow and she knew he battled with his temper.

Biting into the side of her cheek and clenching her fists to stop an outburst of giggles, Elenor watched him stand up and adjust his jacket.

‘Now, I really must finish writing in my aunt’s card. If you would kindly return my items to my desk, thank you.’