Читать книгу Ella’s Journey: The perfect wartime romance to fall in love with this summer - Lynne Francis - Страница 12

Ella had first met Mr Ward on a Sunday in August the previous year back in Nortonstall, where she was a live-in servant and where the rest of the family now lived, forced to move away from their Northwaite home after the mill tragedy. On that particular day the sun was beating down with a ferocity the like of which Ella had never experienced before. She’d found it hard to tear herself away from six-year-old Beth, made fractious by the heat but cooled by a game involving a pail of water, set in the shade of the one tree that overhung their tiny yard. Ella, with her niece settled on her lap, had floated leaves as boats on the water’s surface, and then splashed her fingers to make waves to rock them, increasing her efforts to whip up a storm.

‘Watch out Beth, the waves are going to capsize the boats!’ Ella had tilted the pail slightly so that the water sloshed over Beth’s toes. Beth had screamed, her shock at the chill swiftly followed by delight.

‘Don’t get her over-excited, mind,’ Sarah, Ella’s mother, had warned, folding laundry that had dried almost as soon as it had been spread out to dry in the sun. ‘I’ll never get her settled after you’ve gone.’

Of course, when Ella’s home-time came, Beth had wailed and tried to tear herself out of Sarah’s arms, holding her hands out beseechingly to Ella.

‘Don’t cry,’ Ella begged. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can. Be good until I do.’

Now, as she hurried towards the Ottershaws’ house, the cries were still ringing in her ears. She’d doubtless be in trouble for being late, even though she rarely had any time off at all. She worked for them all the hours she was awake, and she had the feeling that they would have had her work for them in her sleep too, if it were only possible.

Hurrying down the road, conscious of the sweat trickling down her back and darkening the fabric of her dress under her armpits, she began to wish she had left on time. It really was too hot to be out in this heat, let alone in a hurry.

She rounded the corner then halted, startled at the sight before her. At first, she couldn’t quite take it in. It was a motorcar, a rare enough sight in Nortonstall, where horse and trap or horse and cart were still the normal way of getting around, other than on foot. A motorcar was generally viewed with fear, and Ella understood this, being nervous of them herself. On the odd occasion that one had appeared in Nortonstall, it had travelled through at what seemed to Ella to be a terrifying speed and with a great deal of noise, scattering men, women, children, dogs, cats and horses in alarm.

This motorcar, its gleaming paint made dusty by the roads it had traversed was, however, stationary. Moreover, it seemed to be in some sort of trouble. At any rate, a man was standing at the front end of it from which a cloud of steam issued, along with a loud hiss. The man was wafting his hat somewhat ineffectually over the steam. He looked red in the face, whether from the steam or the heat of the sun, or because of the bother, Ella couldn’t be sure.

She put her head down, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she passed, but she didn’t speak. As a car owner, he was likely to be a gentleman and not someone she would expect to speak to her, either.

She had only gone a few paces before she heard, ‘Excuse me!’

She didn’t like to look back, but nobody else was around. Was he addressing her?

‘Excuse me! Miss?’

This time, she faltered in her step. It looked as though she was, indeed, the object of his attention. Feeling even hotter, with embarrassment this time, she turned to look back.

The man was facing her. ‘I wonder, do you know of anywhere I could get water around here?’

Ella took in his appearance. He was short, in early middle age with dark wavy hair and a prosperous air about him. He also looked as hot as Ella herself felt. She wasn’t sure if he required the water for himself, or for the car. She looked along the street. Normally it would have been busy, being the high road through town, with the shops open and bustling. But today was Sunday, and the road, shimmering a little in the heat haze, was deserted. The heat had taken everyone away, either to the cool of the river bank or indoors.

She hesitated. ‘I live’ – she caught herself – ‘rather, work, just around the corner from here. I’d be glad to fetch you water, sir, if you can wait?’

The man laughed. ‘I can certainly wait. I won’t be going anywhere for some time.’

Ella turned to head for the Ottershaws’, before turning back again.

‘Ah, how much water do you require, sir?’ She was still unsure whether he needed it for the car or himself.

‘A good question. If you were able to bring a jugful, that should suffice.’

He was either very thirsty or it was, indeed, for his car, Ella thought.

Even more conscious of her tardiness now, she hurried along the street, turning left to climb the steep slope of West Hill towards the Ottershaws’ house. It commanded a striking view over the town and appeared to be an imposing house from the outside. That impression was forgotten the minute you stepped through the door. A warren of small rooms led off a dark hallway and from each one, today as on any other day, there came the sound of a child crying.

‘So, you’ve deigned to come back. Do you realise what a burden you have placed on Mrs Ottershaw? How can you expect us to trust you the next time you say you want leave to visit your family?’

Mr Ottershaw had planted himself firmly in the hallway while Mrs Ottershaw, very red in the face and with her hair quite dishevelled, seemed to be grappling with several children at once in the parlour.

‘I’m very sorry, sir. I was detained on the way back. I’m afraid I will need to go out again but I promise I will return at once.’ Ella attempted to slip past Mr Ottershaw, who was having none of it.

‘Go out again! What can you be thinking of? With children to be fed and dinner to be prepared, and you already late? I will not have it!’

Mr Ottershaw stretched a beefy arm across the hallway to block Ella’s path. She dodged it with ease, and although he grabbed at her, he caught only air. As Ella headed for the scullery, she called back, ‘There’s a gentleman in the road. His motorcar has broken down. I promised to fetch water to help him get back on his way.’

When she returned, bearing a large china jug and a glass, Mr Ottershaw was in a more conciliatory mood. ‘A gentleman, you say. With a motorcar? Well, I shall accompany you to see whether I can be of assistance.’

Ella doubted whether there was anything Mr Ottershaw could offer that would be of use, his experience of motor vehicles being non-existent, but she said nothing to her employer. She hastened down the steps, Mr Ottershaw pausing only to seize his jacket and a hat as protection against the sun before closing the door firmly on Mrs Ottershaw’s protestations. Ella was already at the corner before he caught up with her, puffing and red-faced but determined not to be left behind. The car and the gentleman were as she had left them, although the gentleman had retreated into the small amount of shade cast by the wall of Taylor’s carriage works.

‘You came back.’ There was a hint of surprise in his statement and Ella was stung.

‘Why, yes sir, I gave you my word.’ She handed him the jug and the glass. ‘I thought that you might be thirsty, sir, standing out in this heat all the time.’

There was no ignoring Mr Ottershaw, who was bobbing impatiently at Ella’s elbow.

‘And this is my employer, sir, Mr Ottershaw.’ Ella tried to sound enthusiastic in her introduction.

‘Ottershaw at your service,’ he said, holding out his hand to the gentleman who, having no free hand to take it, had to pass the jug and glass back to Ella.

‘Mr Ward,’ the gentleman replied. ‘From York. I was returning there after conducting some business in the area but it seems my car didn’t appreciate the hills round here on a day like today. The engine appears to have overheated.’

Mr Ward took the glass of water that Ella had poured for him and gulped it down gratefully.

‘Thank you. That was most thoughtful. I hadn’t realised quite how thirsty I had become.’

Ella refilled his glass and held it while he turned his attention once more to the car.

‘Now, if you will forgive me, I will take up no more of your time. I will top up the radiator and be on my way. Would you mind holding the jug a moment?’ He spoke to Ella, as he needed both hands to loosen the radiator cap.

‘Oh, but you must come and take some refreshment with us, Mr Ward.’ Mr Ottershaw was clearly put out that Ella was getting more than her share of this gentleman’s attention.

‘I thank you kindly,’ said Mr Ward, ‘but my family will be concerned at my lateness. And I have been well provided with refreshment thanks to –’ Mr Ward hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name?’

‘Ella, sir.’

‘– thanks to Ella.’ Mr Ward took the refilled glass and drained it in one. ‘Now my car is suitably refreshed and so am I.’

Mr Ottershaw could feel the situation slipping away from him. ‘Mr Ward, my dear wife would never forgive me if I didn’t press you to join us. Just to step inside out of the heat, and rest yourself before your journey. We were just about to take tea. Pray, do join us.’

Ella watched the scene unfold with some amusement. Mr Ottershaw may have considered himself a man of some importance in Nortonstall, but he was out of his depth with the likes of Mr Ward. The thought of such a gentleman stepping into the Ottershaws’ parlour for tea was in danger of making her break into unseemly laughter and she had to turn away, setting down the empty jug and glass to hide her expression.

Meanwhile, Mr Ward had climbed back into the driver’s seat and already had the engine running. Ella stepped back in awe – the vehicle was transformed from a broken beast into a growling, noisy monster. It suddenly seemed much larger and more dangerous than it had before. Mr Ward beckoned her to come closer, so that he didn’t have to shout over the noise of the engine.

‘Ella, I am most grateful for your help. I feared that I would be stuck in this god-forsaken place for the night. It seems to me that you work for a fool…’

Ella started and glanced nervously at Mr Ottershaw to see if he had heard, but he was too busy mopping his red, perspiring face with a handkerchief to be paying any heed.

‘Should you ever wish for a change of employment, I know Mrs Ward would be delighted to have a maid with even a modicum of intelligence in our house in York. Take this, and write to her.’

Mr Ward pressed a pasteboard card into Ella’s hand. She glanced at it before secreting it swiftly in her pocket, hoping that Mr Ottershaw hadn’t witnessed the action. Ella stepped back again, Mr Ward put the car into gear, nodded to them both and with a roar and a not-inconsiderable amount of dust, the car and the driver went on their way. The road seemed suddenly very quiet and still.

‘Well,’ said Mr Ottershaw, very put out that he had been side-lined. ‘I must say, he was rather a rude man. Why did he wish a private word with you, Ella? Quite improper, I felt.’

‘Oh no, Mr Ottershaw, he just wished to thank me again.’ Ella was relieved that no mention had been made of the card. She felt very conscious of it, hidden deep in her pocket. Employment in York – could such a thing be possible? Could she go, leaving her mother and Beth behind?

Ella sighed. She didn’t have to ask herself the same question about the Ottershaws. She knew they would make her life doubly hard for the rest of the day: Mr Ottershaw resentful of the attention she had received and Mrs Ottershaw furious with both of them for leaving her alone so long with the children. It would be a hard end to a hot day. But an exciting day, nonetheless. Ella had a secret but, she reflected as she trudged back up the hot and dusty road, it was one that she could do little about. She could neither read, nor write. And she certainly wasn’t going to be able to ask the Ottershaws to help her with either of those things.