‘Who ’as? Do you want me to beat ’em?’
Alfred’s reply reminded her why she didn’t like him. He drank too much, was coarse and, if rumours were true, he had drowned six kittens in a sack last Michaelmas. She realised if it was an understanding ear she wanted, Alfred was not capable of providing it. She grew uneasy. She had confided too much in him already, it was her parents’ help she should be seeking.
‘Just an old woman who used to work here. She is confused, that’s all.’ Grace retreated away from him. ‘I have to go.’
‘I’ll walk you ’ome.’
‘No!’ She softened her refusal with a smile. ‘I’m sorry, Alfred. I want to be alone right now. Goodbye.’
‘You think I’m not good enough for you to be seen with me,’ he called after her as she hurried away.
Grace ignored him. His sudden change of mood, from one of concern to irritation, was another reminder why she did not care for him.
‘Did you ’ear me, Grace Kellow?’ Alfred shouted after her. ‘Well, I’ve news for you. You are no better than I, with your airs and graces. There are plenty of women who would like to walk out with me.’
Grace broke into a run. She wasn’t frightened of Alfred, his behaviour was more of an irritant than anything to fear. One day he would find another girl to pester and perhaps she would be more willing and see his clumsy courtship in a more favourable light than Grace did. Right now courting was far from her mind. She needed to find out the truth and confront her parents about what the old woman had told her.
It was only later, as she sat alone in her bedroom looking at her reflection in the mirror, did she think of Alfred again and wonder why he was there, or who he had been waiting for.
* * *
Alfred watched Grace walk away. He only became aware that his aunt was standing by his side when he felt her needle-sharp eyes upon him.
‘Did you see the ’ouse?’ he asked, quietly.
‘Yes.’ His aunt sniffed loudly beside him. ‘It is shameful how they have left it to decay. It was such a fine house once.’
Alfred’s jaw tightened. He had agreed to accompany his aunt to see the house, but now he just wanted to be gone. He turned to go.
His aunt, who never missed anything, put her bony hand on his arm and stopped him. ‘That is a mutinous look you have on your face. What’s upset you, boy?’
Alfred stared at her translucent fingers. His aunt was a cold woman and he doubted she would understand. He found it hard himself to know why his feelings for Grace still felt so raw, even after all this time. He gently removed her hand and attempted to leave again, but the old woman stopped him by simply saying his name, such was the power the old woman still had over him even after all these years.
‘Don’t turn away from me when I am speaking to you. I brought you up better than that.’
‘You ’elped my mother and you only did it in exchange for a roof over your ’ead. As soon as we were old enough you were off elsewhere.’
‘Your mother and I didn’t get on.’
‘Father gave you an ’ome when you ’ad nowhere to go.’
‘And I scrubbed and cleaned for him and that awful wife of his and got no thanks for it.’
Alfred turned away from her. His gaze settled on Grace’s figure receding into the distance. It was true, his mother had been a shrew. There had been no love in their house, but despite the coldness and lack of affection, he always felt that out of all his sisters and brothers, his aunt had taken to him the most. And he had missed that scrap of attention when she had left.
He looked at her. Despite her age, she still carried herself well. There were no rounded shoulders or excess weight and her mind was still sharp as a blade. The old woman still had the power to cut you down to size with one lash of her tongue.
‘You are right,’ he conceded, ‘they gave you no thanks. Anyway, they are both dead and gone now and I’m glad you are back in these parts.’
His aunt tilted her chin and looked through her glasses at him. ‘You don’t look glad.’ She looked past her nephew to the woman he had been staring at only seconds before. A woman too far away to see in detail, but her auburn hair still shone in the sun, marking her out from any other girl in the parish. ‘Do you know that girl?’
Alfred nodded slowly. ‘That is Grace Kellow. I used to walk out with ’er, but she wants nothing to do with me now. I’m not good enough for ’er.’
‘Is that what she said?’
Alfred shrugged, ‘She didn’t need to. She’s Daniel Kellow’s daughter. ’E owns Kellow Dairy. ’Er family will want a better man for their daughter than me.’
His aunt stiffened, growing taller with indignation. ‘Humph! The Kellows think they are better than you?’ She took a step closer to her nephew so they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the girl in the distance. ‘They’re wrong. Their daughter may have a pretty face, but the family have a skeleton they are hiding which is larger than most.’
‘What do you know?’
‘More than most. Her mother always thought herself better than others and it sounds like her daughter is no better.’
‘’Ow do you know ’er mother?’
‘She was Lady Brockenshaw’s maid when I was the housekeeper. I lost my job and home because of her.’
‘Father said you lost your job because the place was sold.’
‘What did he know? No, there was more to it than that. Take a stone away from the base of a wall and the whole house is at risk of falling. That was how it was back then. If her mother had behaved . . . if she had kept herself to herself rather than step outside her role. If she had not played loose and caused havoc . . . the Brockenshaws may have stayed.’ She stiffened, as if facing a memory she had dwelt on too long. ‘And I would have remained the housekeeper, with a place of my own. But she didn’t, everything went wrong and I had to lower myself and ask your worthless father for help.’
‘Grace seemed upset. She said someone is spreading lies about ’er family. Did you see ’er in there? Did she mean you?’
A faint smile teased his aunt’s lips. ‘I told no lies. If she is going to accuse me of being a liar, then I think it’s about time the rest of the parish knows too.’
‘About what?’
‘I will tell you on our walk home.’ She turned her grey eyes on him.’ I think the time has come to take the Kellows down a peg or two, Alfred,’ she said, coldly. ‘They say blood will out and I think it is time the Petherbridges did a bit of blood-letting of our own.’
