Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2, Fenella Miller [best pdf ebook reader for android TXT] 📗

this morning, although she hadn’t put on a frock. Greg loved her for who she was, she realised that now, and didn’t want her to pretend to be something else. Therefore, she was wearing slacks, but they were very smart. Her blouse was cream and her cardigan a gorgeous bright red, perfect for Christmas morning.

As she was about to return to the kitchen she paused, there was something different about the sitting room and she couldn’t think what it was. Her mouth curved in delight. She’d hung up five socks, but someone had put up a sixth, there was one made for her.

Loud voices echoed down the passageway from the back door. The men were back. On Christmas Day the pigs and cows weren’t mucked out – but the milking parlour and dairy always had to be pristine. Tomorrow she would help with both unpleasant jobs to make up for her absence today.

Greg met her with open arms and a smile that made her hot all over. ‘Good morning, darling, and happy Christmas.’

They exchanged a brief embrace, it wouldn’t do to kiss in front of anyone.

The stockings were judged to be perfect. They agreed to not open the gifts under the tree until after lunch. Ellie was now wearing her engagement ring and had never been happier. As she was laying the table the telephone rang.

Neil answered it and he poked his head into the dining room a few minutes later. ‘That was George, he offered his congratulations. He’s promised to bring Fiona to meet you when the weather improves.’

‘I thought it might be Mum. I don’t understand how she can cut herself off from us all like this. We’re still her children even if she doesn’t love Dad.’

‘Don’t worry about it, little sister, you never really got on with her anyway. I expect Sir Reginald insisted she did so. I wouldn’t be surprised if the divorce was his idea too. She’s hardly going to be getting married again.’

‘I don’t see why not, she can’t be more than forty-six, that’s still quite young. I’m certain Dad and Mrs B will make a match of it one day. You must have noticed how close they’ve become.’

‘I’d have to be blind not to have done so. What with you and Greg mooning over each other as well, Jack and I are feeling rather left out.’

She finished the final touches to the festive table and stepped away to admire her handiwork. The centrepiece was made from two fat red candles pushed into a cut glass bowl filled with glass baubles. The best linen had been used and the bone china dinner service would be in evidence too.

Satisfied the room looked as it should she stopped to ask if she was needed in the kitchen – she wasn’t – so went to join the others. The room went silent as she entered. They were all looking serious and her dad was white as a sheet.

‘What’s wrong? Are you ill, Dad?’

‘You’d better sit down, Ellie love, I’ve had a bit of a shock. I hadn’t opened the last lot of cards that came yesterday. There was this letter from my solicitor amongst them.’ He held out the expensive paper and she walked across to take it from him.

She scanned the contents with growing disbelief. ‘I don’t understand. I thought everything had been agreed before you signed the papers.’

‘So did I. I reckon that nasty bugger is behind this. Charlotte, for all her faults, would never stoop so low.’

Twenty-four

‘Can the lawyers make you sell the farm, Fred?’ Jack asked.

‘It’s been in this family for over a century – I’d like to see them try,’ Fred replied.

Greg wasn’t sure if it was his business to comment, but as he was now engaged to Ellie he thought it would be in order to do so. ‘Let me get this straight. Mrs Simpson’s lawyers are saying she’s entitled to half the value of your farm as compensation for the years of ill-treatment she suffered at your hands?’

‘That’s about the sum of it. I only agreed to allow her to divorce me on the understanding that I wouldn’t have to pay maintenance or any other costs.’

‘Did you sign a document stating this?’

‘No, Greg, but I have it in a letter. Surely that’s enough to prove my case?’

Ellie moved to stand beside him and he put his arm around her waist. ‘Please don’t let this spoil what might be the last Christmas we have together,’ she said.

Jack laughed. ‘Blimey, which of us do you think is going for a Burton then?’

‘I didn’t mean that; you know I didn’t. But you could all be posted to different parts of the country, or even overseas, and wouldn’t be able to come home.’

She handed the letter to her brother and he put it in a large manila envelope. ‘Ellie’s right, there’s nothing we can do about this now and worrying about it won’t change a thing.’

‘I came to tell you that Mrs B wants everyone in the dining room. I’m famished, a couple of boiled eggs wasn’t nearly enough to fill me up.’

*

The sideboard was laden with delicious treats. The capon, gammon joint and goose took pride of place. Dad carved each in turn and she acted as waitress. By the time they’d demolished second helpings they scarcely had room for the pudding.

Whilst Ellie and Mrs B got on with the washing-up Greg and the other men retreated to the safety of the sitting room. They had agreed Ellie wouldn’t have to go out today, they would take care of the outside tasks between them.

Greg now appeared to enjoy the stench, cold and the less than friendly animals. He was happy to help but glad he’d never have to do this sort of manual labour to earn his living. The family estates had a dozen prosperous farms but these were run by tenants. His father would be horrified to think his son and heir was up to his ankles in pig