Chapter Twenty-Two #2
As Selina had predicted, the snow continued to melt as the days slid into February, but slowly on the high moors.
She and Nancy sat glued to the wireless as though it were still wartime, listening for the latest bulletins.
Food supplies had become critical. The usual winter vegetables had rotted in the soil and later plantings were still not ready for harvest. Mr Underhill lopped down the occasional tree and chopped it up for firewood in the absence of coal.
But the winter wonderland was gradually receding, and the postie soon came up the drive again with another clutch of letters, including a swift reply from Caroline to her own letter.
Things at Postbridge Farm had become desperate during the worst of the January snows, Caroline wrote.
Joe had lost over two-thirds of the flock and all but one of his three dairy cows.
They’d even taken to keeping the chickens in the kitchen porch overnight to avoid any more birds freezing to their perches in the coop.
Meanwhile, the soil had been too cold and wet for tilling and sowing until early February, when the Land Girls had been forced to do almost an entire month’s work in a single week to get the spring crops into the ground.
‘Poor things,’ Selina muttered, showing the letter to Nancy. ‘I wish I could be there to lend a hand … Though, to be honest, I’m glad I’m not a Land Girl anymore. It sounds awful.’
William MacGregor telephoned at regular intervals to check on her and the children, and to make sure they had everything they needed.
Once or twice, he even managed to reach the house by car, bringing much-needed provisions, though she always begged him not to make the attempt again whenever he left.
Twice during February she sent a note and some food over to Helen Bourne with the groundsman, to ask if she needed help or would like to stay at Thornton Hall with them, acutely aware of her neighbour’s remote location.
The first time, she received a polite note from Helen in return, rejecting both the food and the offer of company as unnecessary, but thanking her for the kind thought.
The second time, Mr Underhill returned to say the house was in darkness and nobody had answered the door.
No doubt Helen had gone to stay with friends, Selina thought, which seemed eminently sensible, given the tough conditions out there on the moor.
One morning in early March, the day dawned with a cold, bright sunshine that heralded spring, and indeed she’d seen snowdrops peeking out of the icy ground outside her window for several days now, a sure sign that the world would soon emerge from its long, hard winter.
Sitting with the children after breakfast, she heard a car engine chugging up the high-sided, narrow track, and hurried outside in her coat to see who it was.
Her heart leapt when she recognised William’s black Wolseley, and she bit her lip, surprised by her own elation.
‘Hullo, how are you?’ William asked, coming up the steps. He stripped off his driving gloves before shaking her hand. ‘This sunshine is very welcome, isn’t it? I’m sorry I haven’t telephoned for a while. It’s been a hellish week.’
She assured him that it didn’t matter and that she was very well, but noticed how he avoided her gaze as he shrugged out of his coat too.
‘How are the girls?’ he asked, peering down the hall. ‘And young Peter?’
She didn’t need to answer that: the three children came dashing down the hall to greet him, also excited to have a visitor at last. With a smile, Selina slipped away to pour their guest a small brandy, for he was looking chilled.
Once the girls had been scooped up by Nancy and taken away to the kitchen, while Peter went outside to admire the Wolseley, Selina and William sat warming themselves by the fire.
‘Those are fine logs,’ he remarked, glancing at the hearthside basket. ‘I’m glad you’ve not been suffering during this shortage of coal. I was worried.’
‘We heard on the wireless a few days ago that the shortage is over and fresh deliveries should soon be on their way.’
‘Yes, the government finally found a way to dig all the frozen coal out of the snow and distribute it,’ he said, almost savagely, and knocked back the last drop of brandy. ‘About bloody time too.’
‘I imagine they tried their best,’ she said mildly, surprised by his grim mood.
William made an angry noise under his breath. ‘Yes, of course … And I wonder how many people died while they were trying their best?’
Selina swallowed, knitting her hands together in her lap, unsure what to say. William had always been such a cheerful, polite soul, barely a harsh word to say about anyone. She had never seen him like this.
He caught her wary expression and grimaced. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘It’s just … Oh, damn it, I can’t keep the truth from you any longer. The fact is, Helen Bourne is dead.’
Selina sucked in her breath, horrified. ‘What?’ She shook her head, instinctively denying it.
‘No, that’s not possible. I was only in touch with her recently.
I sent a note over with Mr Underhill and …
He said the house was empty. I thought she must have given up and gone to stay with friends in Bodmin.
Maybe John and Deirdre Knowles …’ She searched his face.
‘Please don’t tell me that …’ She couldn’t finish, the words dying in her throat.
He reached across and took her hand. ‘She never left Bourne Cottage. I’m sorry.’
Selina felt awful. She’d disliked the woman, not just for the hurt she’d inflicted on Bella but for her spitefulness and cold way of speaking. But she had still been a human being.
‘When … When did she die?’ she whispered, worrying that Peter might overhear. She could hear him in the porch, knocking snow off his shoes.
‘Maybe ten days ago.’
She was aghast. ‘Ten days?’
‘The doctor’s not sure of the exact timing. There’ll be an inquest, of course. But not for a while.’ He looked wretched. ‘So many people have died this winter, there’s a backlog.’
‘Was it the cold? Did she … freeze to death?’ Selina felt guilt gnaw at her, wishing she’d insisted on Helen coming to them at the hall.
He hesitated, then said reluctantly, ‘I suppose it will come out at the inquest. The thing is, Helen had been on medication since her brother left. Low mood, couldn’t sleep, aches and pains all over …’
‘I wish I’d known,’ Selina groaned.
‘Doctor Ford hadn’t heard from her in a while, so he drove out there.’ His face was grim. ‘The house was dark, but the kitchen door was unlocked. He found Helen upstairs in bed. Been dead for days, he said. It wasn’t the cold, though. She’d taken an overdose.’
‘Oh God!’ She jumped up, pacing the room, consumed by guilt. ‘When she sent back that note with Mr Underhill the first time, insisting she was fine, I ought to have walked over there myself, forced her to come back with me.’
‘And risked your life in the snow?’ He shook his head. ‘Besides, she would have refused to leave the cottage, and you know it. Helen Bourne was a damn prickly woman who never got on with anyone except her brother, and even he deserted her in the end.’
‘Does Cameron know?’
William nodded, also getting to his feet.
‘He’ll attend the inquest, I’m told.’ He hesitated.
‘I could be doing the fellow an injustice, but it doesn’t sound like he’s grief-stricken over his sister’s death.
In fact, I believe he’s already asked how soon the house can be put on the market.
I’m sorry,’ he finished roughly. ‘I know you and Cameron were close once—’
‘I was never close to Cameron,’ she insisted, the two of them standing close, looking into each other’s eyes.
‘I thought he was someone different, that’s all.
Once I realised the truth, I never wanted to speak to him again.
He’s a dreadful, dreadful man.’ Her voice shook.
‘And I didn’t much like Helen. She only seemed to wish ill on me and my family.
I walked over to see her on Boxing Day, you know, and she more or less threw me out of the house.
’ She grimaced, recalling that last unpleasant meeting with Helen.
‘But I’m sorry for her. To die alone like that … ’ She choked, unable to go on.
William pulled her towards him with gentle hands. Selina didn’t resist, and when he kissed her, she closed her eyes almost gratefully, pushing aside the horror of Helen’s death.
But the kiss soon deepened, becoming passionate, and her head began to swim …
‘William, I can’t. The children …’ She shook her head and he drew back at once, a strange intensity in his face. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, it was my fault. To tell you such a hard thing and then expect—’ He headed brusquely out of the room, buttoning his jacket.
‘Look, I brought a food hamper and a case of lemonade for the kids. I’ll fetch them from the car.
I initially thought maybe a spring picnic …
But I doubt you’ll be in the mood now. And it’s probably still too cold. ’
‘A food hamper? How marvellous you are … We’re nearly out of everything.
’ She shook off the desire in her veins, struggling to come back to earth as quickly as he’d done.
‘And a spring picnic would be wonderful. The children have been stuck indoors for weeks and this is the first sunny day we’ve had since …
Oh, I can’t even remember. Thank you so much, William. ’
‘You’re welcome, my dear.’ And his smile seemed to say he understood why she kept drawing back from intimacy, and didn’t mind a jot.
Selina was glad, but only wished she could understand it too.