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Authors: Lesley Pearse
Tags: Fiction
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Ellen asked again, this time looking him right in the face, her slender body tense with anxiety. ‘That is my mummy indoors, isn’t it?’ she added, pointing towards the house.
Albert thought for a second. He could lie to her, and maybe for a time she’d believe him, but he knew in his heart it would only be a stay of execution. Better she should hear the truth now, however bad, from him, who at least had no malicious intent.
‘Violet is your stepmother,’ he said, then, putting the child down on the ground, he took her hand and led her down the path towards the cove, well away from the house. ‘I married her after your mother died.’
‘So my real mummy did kill herself then?’ Ellen said in a small voice. ‘Why? Didn’t she care about me?’
Albert had never been able to agree with the coroner’s opinion that Clare took her and her infant child’s lives when the balance of her mind was disturbed.
‘I reckon she just fell from the cliff,’ he said.
‘Why did she take her baby up there?’ Ellen asked, looking up at him with wide brown eyes so like his own. ‘Was it in a pram? Was I there too?’
Albert sighed. He could see Ellen wasn’t going to be satisfied unless she had a more detailed explanation. But he wasn’t good with words, and he was scared he might let slip things a child should never know.
‘No, you were with me. Your mum just went for a walk with the babby in her arms. When she didn’t come back I went to look for her. But look here, Ellen,’ he said gruffly. ‘you got to believe what I tell you, not blather from those who don’t know.’
‘But you didn’t tell me Violet wasn’t my real mummy,’ she said, beginning to cry again. ‘So it’s true that Josie isn’t my real sister too?’
‘Josie’s your half-sister,’ he said curtly for emotional scenes acutely embarrassed him. ‘She were born after I married Violet. I couldn’t ‘ave told you afore. You was too little.’
Ellen sensed he wasn’t going to say any more. It wasn’t anywhere near enough for her; she had a million more questions buzzing around in her head. But she knew that if she continued to question him he would only get angry.
‘Where’s Josie?’ he asked, confirming that he considered the matter closed.
‘Still at school,’ she admitted, and looked up at him fearfully. It was her job to get Josie to and from school safely, and Mum was going to be angry with her.
They had reached the little cove now, and the tide was in, throwing the waves up against the rocks, covering the small stretch of sand that she and Josie played on at low tide. They always considered this was their own beach and resented anyone coming there, but in fact there was a footpath right along the cliffs almost from Falmouth to Mawnan Smith and then on down to the Helford estuary. In summer holidaymakers sometimes used it, even having the cheek to come up to the farmhouse and ask for a drink of water.
Some of the other farms in the area had these people to stay with them as paying guests. The Trevoises had a caravan in the field behind their shop that they rented out, and had often suggested to Mr Pengelly that he should let people pitch tents on his land down by the cove, but he wouldn’t. He hated the holidaymakers – they left the gates open and let the animals out, left their picnic rubbish about and sometimes even started fires. He said Cornwall belonged to the Cornish, and if he had his way he wouldn’t even allow them into the county just to look, let alone stay.
‘Reckon you’d best go back to meet Josie,’ Albert said, putting his hand on Ellen’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go back in and square it with your mum.’
Ellen glanced at the steep cliffs on either side of the cove and wondered where it was her real mother had met her death, what her name was, what she looked like, but she didn’t dare ask. Her father had that set to his mouth that he always got when something was wrong. If anyone pestered him when he
Albert thought for a second. He could lie to her, and maybe for a time she’d believe him, but he knew in his heart it would only be a stay of execution. Better she should hear the truth now, however bad, from him, who at least had no malicious intent.
‘Violet is your stepmother,’ he said, then, putting the child down on the ground, he took her hand and led her down the path towards the cove, well away from the house. ‘I married her after your mother died.’
‘So my real mummy did kill herself then?’ Ellen said in a small voice. ‘Why? Didn’t she care about me?’
Albert had never been able to agree with the coroner’s opinion that Clare took her and her infant child’s lives when the balance of her mind was disturbed.
‘I reckon she just fell from the cliff,’ he said.
‘Why did she take her baby up there?’ Ellen asked, looking up at him with wide brown eyes so like his own. ‘Was it in a pram? Was I there too?’
Albert sighed. He could see Ellen wasn’t going to be satisfied unless she had a more detailed explanation. But he wasn’t good with words, and he was scared he might let slip things a child should never know.
‘No, you were with me. Your mum just went for a walk with the babby in her arms. When she didn’t come back I went to look for her. But look here, Ellen,’ he said gruffly. ‘you got to believe what I tell you, not blather from those who don’t know.’
‘But you didn’t tell me Violet wasn’t my real mummy,’ she said, beginning to cry again. ‘So it’s true that Josie isn’t my real sister too?’
‘Josie’s your half-sister,’ he said curtly for emotional scenes acutely embarrassed him. ‘She were born after I married Violet. I couldn’t ‘ave told you afore. You was too little.’
Ellen sensed he wasn’t going to say any more. It wasn’t anywhere near enough for her; she had a million more questions buzzing around in her head. But she knew that if she continued to question him he would only get angry.
‘Where’s Josie?’ he asked, confirming that he considered the matter closed.
‘Still at school,’ she admitted, and looked up at him fearfully. It was her job to get Josie to and from school safely, and Mum was going to be angry with her.
They had reached the little cove now, and the tide was in, throwing the waves up against the rocks, covering the small stretch of sand that she and Josie played on at low tide. They always considered this was their own beach and resented anyone coming there, but in fact there was a footpath right along the cliffs almost from Falmouth to Mawnan Smith and then on down to the Helford estuary. In summer holidaymakers sometimes used it, even having the cheek to come up to the farmhouse and ask for a drink of water.
Some of the other farms in the area had these people to stay with them as paying guests. The Trevoises had a caravan in the field behind their shop that they rented out, and had often suggested to Mr Pengelly that he should let people pitch tents on his land down by the cove, but he wouldn’t. He hated the holidaymakers – they left the gates open and let the animals out, left their picnic rubbish about and sometimes even started fires. He said Cornwall belonged to the Cornish, and if he had his way he wouldn’t even allow them into the county just to look, let alone stay.
‘Reckon you’d best go back to meet Josie,’ Albert said, putting his hand on Ellen’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go back in and square it with your mum.’
Ellen glanced at the steep cliffs on either side of the cove and wondered where it was her real mother had met her death, what her name was, what she looked like, but she didn’t dare ask. Her father had that set to his mouth that he always got when something was wrong. If anyone pestered him when he
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