Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge T. Belshaw (good books to read for beginners txt) 📖

coins was a joy to behold. Most of them would have to hand their new found wealth over to a parent a few minutes after they were given it, but for those few moments, they felt as rich as Croesus. I knew that feeling, I had been in the position myself, the only difference was, I got to keep mine.

On Saturday I rang the Reverend Villiers to ask if he had been to see Frank’s mum yet. He said he had been busy with other pastoral matters, but promised to visit her the following week. I reminded him that she had given me the money to cover her funeral, and said I’d drop in at the vicarage on the Monday evening. He said he was always busy in the evenings. I knew what that meant and I wasn’t about to leave Edna’s funeral money on his doorstep like I had done with the pie. We agreed that I should try to catch him at lunchtime instead.

We gave the locals the weekend off, while the retained workers prepared for the corn harvest which we would now start two weeks early. The wheat crop looked to have given us a higher yield than we had seen for many a year, and Barney assured me the same would happen with the corn harvest. The weather looked fine for the long weekend. Miriam had talked about little else all week.

On Thursday, I received an unexpected call from Godfrey. We had chatted on the telephone a couple of times since our outing, but he had been away on a family holiday for a week in the middle of the month, and since then I had been busy with the influx of workers.

‘Hello, Stranger,’ he said, in his soft as velvet voice.

‘Hello, gangster man,’ I said with a little laugh.

‘I’ve got news for you, Alice. The government have agreed our assessment of your tax burden, so we can go ahead and pay them. The last time we spoke, you said you had a bank cheque made out to the practice. Do you think I could come over tomorrow to bring the liability form for you to sign? It’s all done then.’

‘What time?’ I asked a little too eagerly. I couldn’t wait to see him.

‘I have a probate issue to sort out in the afternoon, and that will take hours, so, shall we say, ten-thirty?’

‘I’m counting the minutes… To get this tax thing off my back,’ I added, hurriedly.

‘I’m looking forward to ending this nonsense too. I really can’t think why the government treats small farmers this way. You are the backbone of the economy. Mind you, the way things are going abroad, you might see a change in their attitude soon.’

I hung up and did a little dance around the room, then I went upstairs to try on a couple of my best frocks. I stood in front of the half-length mirror to give myself a critical once over.

I’d done well, or I thought I had. The dress touched where it was supposed to, and when I turned sideways, my profile didn’t look like the side view of a cottage loaf any more. I faced the wall, and looked over my shoulder at my backside, but I couldn’t remember what it looked like before. The dress fell over it nicely, and that’s all that mattered. The V neck of the dress was maybe a little revealing for that time of day, but I thought I’d risk it. I was feeling like a normal teenager again for the first time in ten months, and I was going to enjoy the experience.

Chapter 73

August 1938

The morning crawled by. I had my rose-scented bath, straight after seeing to the pigs. I couldn’t face breakfast; my tummy was fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. I resisted the urge to get ready too early, in case I was needed on the farm. Cornflower print dresses and farm muck, don’t go too well together.

At ten, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer, my hair was washed and brushed, my white, Oxford, shoes were wiped down and ready. I thought about wearing stockings, but as I wasn’t about to go out anywhere, I left them in the drawer. I pulled the dress over my head and fastened the buttons from my waist to my bust, thought again about whether the quite dramatic V neck was a little too much, and deciding it wasn’t. I dabbed my mother’s Tabu on my neck, behind my ears and on the inside of my wrists. I checked myself in the mirror, back and front, and practiced my wriggle walk across the bedroom. By the time I got downstairs again, it was ten twenty-seven. I looked out of the window and waited for the Alvis to pull up.

Godfrey was Mr Punctuality, as he always was. At ten-thirty exactly, he knocked firmly on the door. I waited for what seemed an eternity, but was, in reality, more like thirty seconds, before I answered it.

‘My, my, don’t you look a picture,’ he said, looking me up and down. ‘Cornflower certainly suits you.’

My heart was racing, my mind, spinning. I stood at the door, desperately thinking of something to say. He was wearing a different navy suit with a thicker stripe. It made him look more gangster-like than ever. I smiled at him, and stood there, dumbstruck.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked.

‘Oh, sorry, of course, come in, come in.’ I rolled my eyes as he passed me. Stupid, stupid, woman.

He took three strides into the room and turned to face me as I closed the door.

‘We’ve been blessed with a beautiful day again. How’s the harvest coming on?’

I breathed a sigh of relief; the harvest was one thing I could find the words for.

‘It’s been really good so far. We had a bad start, but we managed to catch up this week. The wheat crop is cut, stacked and waiting for the thresher. We’ll start on the corn after the bank