Echoes of Grace Page 4

  ‘Hello, Mary,’ said Aurora in her clear voice.

  Mary started. ‘Aurora! You gave me a fright, you did. I didn’t ’ear you come in.’ She straightened up and smiled. ‘You must be frozen – would you like a ’ot drink?’

  Freddie appeared behind her. ‘We’re okay, we had ’ot chocolate at the market.’

  ‘Oh, you did.’ His mother winked. ‘It kept the life in you then.’ She had strawberry-blonde hair that was streaked with grey. Her blue eyes were crinkly from smiling so much. Measuring at about five-foot seven inches, she was a head over her small husband. Like his sister Maggie, Conny was of a small build.

  Aurora took a seat at the large kitchen table and petted the family dog, Milly. The radio was playing in the background – someone was being interviewed about their Desert Island Discs. Freshly baked muffins stood on a wire rack on the countertop, their tops crusty from being in the oven for a minute too long.

  She loved Freddie’s house as it was the antithesis to her own: it was small and warm, with just enough room for everybody. Freddie’s parents were like family to her also – she had visited with Maggie since she was little.

  Freddie had been a surprise. Conny and Mary had been in their forties when she had become pregnant. Born a year before Aurora, he had a smattering of sandy hair from birth. He and Aurora had been inseparable since she was old enough to play, despite coming from separate worlds. He had an open and honest face and was proving to be a great help on the farm. Conny was delighted that he showed such an interest in the animals and the everyday running of their small holding. He loved how Freddie asked intelligent questions about farrowing and understood that a sow could lose up to three piglets per litter. His young son accepted it as nature’s way; he had learned from a young age that only the strongest stood to survive.

  Aurora often cried when he told her of the stillbirths. ‘The poor little piggies,’ she would sob. ‘That’s so sad!’

  He would pat her back dutifully, allowing her to grieve. It amazed him how she would weep for the dead piglets yet would tuck into a bacon sandwich without a second thought. She loved coming to the farm with him and he loved explaining to her about the different breeds of animal under his care.

  ‘So, Mr. ’Enry is up in London a lot,’ said Mary, stealing a glance at the young girl.

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is,’ reflected Aurora. ‘I know he has a new book coming out so I suppose he’s busy with that.’

  ‘That must be it.’ Mary started to fold the newly washed clothes. The whole village was talking about His Lordship and his new love interest. Speculation was rife that he would marry again. Mary hoped it was true. Aurora could do with a mother figure. Maggie had done an admirable job, but she was feeling her age. Caring for a young girl required energy.

  ‘Susie left you a tape,’ Mary announced, pointing to a cassette on the bookshelf. ‘It’s the recordin’ of that show you wanted – The Phantom of the Opera?’

  ‘Oh, wonderful!’ Aurora clapped her hands in delight. ‘I want to learn the songs. Tell Susan that I’m ever so grateful.’

  Mary nodded. ‘She’s ’appy to do it, little ’un.’

  Susan was twelve years older than Freddie and away at university in Bath. Aurora loved when she came home for the weekend as she allowed her to play tapes on her old stereo. She also let her experiment with eye shadow and lipstick. She and Freddie were very close, despite the age difference. Conny, though adoring of his daughter, was delighted to have a son to work the farm. It had been obvious from an early age that Susan was more interested in science. She was now doing a physics degree and loving every minute. Tall, like her mother, she shared her fair hair and blue eyes. A cluster of freckles were visible on her nose and she hated them. Freddie teased her about them constantly, saying that they were the mark of the devil. ‘Isn’t it funny that you have them too?’ she would reply, sticking out her tongue.

  ‘So, ’ow’s Maggie?’ asked Mary. ‘She mentioned that ’er back was nippin’ ’er.’

  ‘She’s very well,’ answered Aurora in surprise. ‘I’ve never heard her complain.’

  ‘Well, that’d be Maggie – never one to moan.’

  Freddie nodded in agreement. ‘She’s a gem, she is.’ Reaching out, he picked up a muffin. ‘Can I ’ave one?’ he asked, the cake almost at his lips.

  ‘Go on then,’ ginned his mother. ‘Offer one to Aurora too, Fred. Be mannerly.’

  Aurora accepted the warm bun eagerly. It smelt of cinnamon and had nuts sprinkled on the top. She sank her teeth into the side of it and groaned. ‘Oh, it’s banana cake,’ she said in delight. ‘It’s heavenly, Mary.’

  Freddie had wolfed down the first one and was about to launch into his second.

  ‘You won’t eat your dinner,’ warned Mary disapprovingly, wagging her finger at her son. ‘I made a chicken stew from one of our broilers.’

  Freddie put the muffin behind his back. ‘I’ll save it for later,’ he lied, backing out of the room. ‘Come on, Sinclair,’ he hissed, gesturing for her to follow. ‘Let’s watch some TV.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘So, who is this girl?’

  Laura sipped her smoothie and regarded her mother shrewdly. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, which swung from side to side as she moved.

  ‘Well, she’s Henry’s daughter. She has grown up all alone down in Cornwall and I want you to be kind to her when she arrives.’ Gloria sipped her carrot juice.

  ‘How do you mean, kind?’ Laura looked alarmed. ‘Please don’t say she’s bunking in with me!’

  ‘Now, Laura,’ her mother warned, ‘you’ve got to be charitable. The house will be full, what with the boys and Henry. Oh, by the way, I’m pretty sure Henry’s sons are calling too.’

  ‘Sons?’ Laura nearly choked on her drink. ‘How many children are there exactly, Gloria?’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ her mother berated her mildly. ‘You needn’t worry about George and Sebastian – they are grown up and hardly see their father.’

  ‘So why are they coming to our house?’

  ‘It’s Christmas, darling. Families are supposed to be together for the holidays.’

  ‘So, I get to play sleepovers with a child.’ Laura crossed her arms petulantly. ‘What did I do to deserve this? I mean, really!’

  Gloria smiled to herself. Her daughter was thirteen going on thirty. She had always been candid and her sharp tongue often got her in trouble.

  ‘She’s a sweet little thing, Laura. She won’t be any trouble. Plus her mother isn’t around.’

  ‘If she touches my Pink CDs …’ She looked fierce for a moment.

  ‘She won’t. I don’t think she’s even heard of Pink, to be honest.’

  ‘What?’ Laura sat up straight. ‘Are you mad? Everyone has heard of Pink. She’s the greatest singer in the world. Don’t be barmy.’

  ‘I doubt she has,’ argued her mother. ‘Aurora has led a very sheltered life. You’ll have to be gentle with her. As I said, her mother is not on the scene.’ She drained her juice and decided not to elaborate. Grace was no business of the children. Not yet anyway. ‘Now, shall we mosey on then? I want to go to Sainsbury’s on the way home.’

  ‘Look, I’ll be nice for you, but only for you, got it?’ Laura slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘I like being the only girl around the place. I don’t want anyone cramping my style.’

  ‘Noted,’ Gloria laughed.

  ‘Aurora!We’re leaving in five minutes!’ called Henry up the stairs.

  ‘Okay, Daddy!’ she answered, snapping her small suitcase shut. She had packed two party frocks, her cosy pyjamas, everyday clothes including cardigans, warm tights, underwear and two books. Maggie had advised that she pack for the snow that was forecast.

  ‘Goodbye, Princess Grace,’ she said solemnly, placing her doll in the Barbie Ferrari next to Ken. ‘I shan’t be gone for very long. Look after my bedroom for me.’

  The doll’s face stared straight ahead, unresponsive as always.
Aurora got to her feet and hurried over to her dressing table. Perched on top was a small wooden jewellery box; it had belonged to her mother and was filled with small trinkets. Maggie had given it to her on her eighth birthday and she loved rifling through the different bits. Opening the heavy lid, she surveyed the contents. There was a coloured friendship bracelet with frayed edges, a brass coin commemorating the Pope’s visit to Ireland in 1979 and a black-and-white picture of a man and a woman outside a large Georgian house. There was a letter from someone named Kathleen, all about the summer holidays in a place called Castlebar, and a picture of Bob Dylan holding a guitar.

  ‘Aurora!’

  ‘Coming!’

  Henry was shoving the last bag into the boot of his vintage E-Type and slamming the lid, just as she appeared at the door.

  ‘Righty-oh, my darling, let’s get going!’ His green waterproof jacket coupled with brown pants and boots made him look the quintessential country gentleman. He didn’t look his sixty-one years; it was hard to believe that he had two sons in their thirties.

  Aurora flung herself into Maggie’s arms and clung to her. ‘It will be our first Christmas apart,’ she murmured into her shoulder. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too, little ’un.’ She kissed her dark hair. ‘Now be a good girl and don’t get up to no jiggery-pokery in the big city, you hear?’

  ‘I won’t,’ promised Aurora solemnly. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

  ‘Goodbye, my lovely. Give me a ring when you get there.’

  Aurora kissed her soft cheek once more and squeezed her tightly. ‘Bye, Maggie. I love you.’

  Henry hooted the horn. ‘We must go, Aurora! Come on, my darling!’

  The little girl ran to the passenger door of the old car and wiped a tear from her cheek. She hated leaving Maggie and venturing off to a new world where she didn’t know anyone. She had just inserted her seatbelt into its clasp when there was a rap on the window.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Henry in exasperation. ‘Will we ever get on the road?’

  Aurora peered out and saw Freddie’s face smiling back at her.

  He motioned for her to put down the window. ‘You never said bye, Sinclair,’ he chided playfully, ‘so I decided to come and say it myself.’

  ‘Oh, Freddie,’ she said apologetically, ‘I called over this morning but Mary said that you had gone to the abattoir with your father.’

  ‘Yep, but I’m back now,’ he said with a grin. ‘Did you get your turkey, Mr. Sinclair?’

  Henry pointed to the white lump on the back seat. ‘Thank you, Freddie. It looks like a fine bird. Now, if you don’t mind …’

  ‘See you when you get back,’ whispered Freddie, squeezing her hand. ‘Don’t get up to no good up there.’

  She blew him a kiss. ‘Bye, Freddie. Happy Christmas.’

  The car sped off in a cloud of dust. Maggie watched it disappear down the road, her heart heavy. She was no fool. She knew what was coming down the line. It was only a matter of time.

  Her nephew stood motionless, thinking the exact same thing.

  It was only a matter of time.

  James trailed his finger down Rosie’s bare thigh. It had taken him three weeks exactly to convince her to have a drink with him. Then, one week later, he had brought her back to his dingy room and the rest was history. She really was pretty with her blonde curls and her blue eyes.

  They lay entwined on his single bed as the sun set over the high-rise buildings of west London. The wallpaper was stained and peeling on the walls of his room; his clothes were strewn all over the ground. Student life wasn’t glamorous but he saw it as a rite of passage: an inevitable experience before the dreaded nine to five. Rosie was training to be a nurse and worked in the local café to subsidise her rent. It was there that he saw her, serving tea to local customers who came in for their Full English every morning.

  His Nokia buzzed on the chest of drawers by the door.

  ‘You have a message,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘I’ll get it.’ He got up, his muscles rippling as he stood.

  She admired his naked body as he padded over to the phone and accessed the screen.

  ‘Fuck!’ he shouted, banging his head with his spare hand. ‘It’s from Mum. Henry and Aurora have arrived.’

  ‘Who?’ she yawned, stretching her white arms over her head.

  ‘Mum’s new boyfriend and his daughter. Damn, Rosie, I wanted to be there when they arrived.’ He started to rifle through the clothes on the chair, searching for his jeans and a passable shirt.

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘She knows me, you see. The little girl – Aurora. She’ll be nervous enough as it is.’ He yanked a fleece over his least wrinkled shirt and pulled a pair of odd socks from a box beneath his bed.

  ‘Blimey, calm down.’ Rosie positioned the pillow under her cheek. ‘I’m sure someone will thrust a selection box into her hand and all will be well.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he argued, tying his laces. ‘She’s not like other kids. I’ve got to hurry.’

  ‘Well, my shift starts at six thirty in the morning so do you mind if I crash here?’

  He bent down and kissed her hard on the lips. ‘Mi casa es su casa,’ he murmured into her jaw. ‘I’ll be back later tonight.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘I will,’ he repeated firmly. ‘I told Mum that I wouldn’t be home officially until Christmas Eve so I have another twelve hours of freedom.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

  Aurora clung to her father’s hand, her large brown eyes wide. They had arrived ten minutes before after the long drive. The Dixon’s sitting room was adorned with garlands and lights. The large fir tree sparkled in the corner and there was a log fire burning merrily in the grate. The dogs were running wildly around the sitting room, chasing a rubber ball that squeaked.

  ‘Bilbo!’ shouted Gloria as the little terrier nearly knocked her over in his haste. ‘Calm down!’ She bent down and picked up the offending ball. ‘Who the bloody hell brought this into the house?’ she yelled, seriously frazzled.

  ‘Not me,’ said her second son William, whistling innocently as he strode by. He winked at Aurora and watched in amusement as the Labradors pounced on his mother in an effort to relieve her of the desired ball.

  ‘Rubbish!’ said Gloria sternly. ‘This is exactly the kind of thing that you’d do.’

  William threw his arms up. ‘Out of order, Mum!’

  Aurora stared at the young boy in fascination. He was about sixteen, with slicked-back blond hair and a cheeky grin. His Eminem T-shirt hung from his slight frame and his jeans were far too big with a chain hanging off them.

  ‘Hi, I’m William – you can call me Will,’ he greeted, holding out an arm covered with leather bracelets. ‘You must be Aurora.’

  ‘Hi,’ she answered in a small voice.

  ‘Have you met Laura yet?’ he asked, glancing around. ‘Laura? Laura!’

  A blonde girl appeared from the kitchen, the phone in her hand. ‘What?’ she barked. ‘Can’t you see that I’m on the bloody phone?’ Suddenly, she stopped short. ‘Oh!’ was all she could muster. She looked warily at Aurora.

  Gloria ran her fingers through her hair as Rosencrantz jumped on Guildenstern and they started rolling around the carpet.

  ‘Henry,’ she cried, ‘what must you think of us?’

  Henry smiled beatifically. ‘Don’t mind us, my love. We’re just not used to big families.’

  Aurora shrank back behind her father, hiding her face behind his jacket. This house was noisy and busy and completely alien to her. William had secured the squeaky ball and was taunting the terrier with it; Laura had her hand over one ear and was trying to continue a conversation on the phone, while Gloria was trying in vain to pull the Labradors apart.

  Laura eventually hung up the phone. ‘That Simon is a right no-hoper,’ she informed her mother. ‘If I have to hear Ella moan about him once more!’
She reluctantly turned to Aurora and held out her hand. ‘Hello,’ she said as amiably as she could. ‘I’m Laura. You must be Aurora.’

  Aurora smiled and shook her hand shyly. ‘Hello,’ she whispered.

  ‘Have you got a bag?’ Laura enquired matter-of-factly. ‘You’ll be bunking in my room, I’m afraid. There’s not much space but we’ll manage.’ She gave her mother a pointed look.

  ‘Just a small case.’

  ‘Good. Follow me then.’ Laura walked purposefully out of the room. ‘I’ll show you the den and the loo. Then, you should be all set.’ I mean, why do I have to baby-sit this child?

  Aurora picked up her suitcase and ventured out into the vast hallway. A huge staircase dominated the foyer with marble steps and a mahogany bannister on both sides. Lugging her case, she mounted the stairs after the older girl.

  Laura’s room was covered in posters ranging from Justin Timberlake to Pink. A giant bookcase by the main window was filled with Sweet Valley High books, CDs and magazines. Her dressing table was covered in powders and gels and her wardrobe was filled with dresses and tops. The walls were pink and the bed was festooned with cushions and teddies. It was the total opposite to Aurora’s out-dated bedroom at home. It screamed ‘Girl!’ and she felt her mouth drop open.

  ‘Now, put your bag over by the dresser there,’ Laura ordered, ‘and fold up your blankets when you’re not using them. I don’t want my room to be a tip.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘My CDs are out of bounds. Under no circumstances are you to touch them, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Laura opened her wardrobe and pulled out two spare pillows and a blue sheet, muttering under her breath.

  ‘Do you wear all of this?’ Aurora asked, pointing to the make-up.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Laura briskly. ‘It’s forbidden at school for a start. Plus Gloria would have a canary.’

  ‘Do you call your mother Gloria?’