Chapter 75
Tippy’s Tickle – 17 September 2011
Propping herself up against the pillows, Ellie reaches for the plastic cup of water on the bedside table, her body shaking with the effort.
‘Wait, Aunt Ellie.’ Sophie takes the cup and holds it to Ellie’s parched white lips. She watches her aunt, who had only two days before buzzed with vigour, but who was now as pale and frail as an aged swan in her white nest of hospital sheets and pillows.
Ellie lies back against the pillows with a sigh. ‘Thank you, Sophie.’ She looks at Sophie, at the pale, heart-shaped face, so like her mother’s, now clouded with confusion. She reaches out a hand and takes hold of Sophie’s. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘What do you mean?’
Ellie runs her tongue over her parched lips. ‘Your father … George was Emmy’s father.’
Sophie stares at her aunt. ‘Emmett’s my brother?’
The old woman nods. ‘Thomas always suspected it, but I told him Emmy was born a month early. The war was a different time, Sophie. Thomas had been away for over a year, and I’d barely heard from him. I thought …’ She shakes her head, the fine strands of grey hair clinging to her damp face. ‘I don’t know what I thought. I was young. I was lonely and frightened. People were being killed in the bombing raids every day. My best friend Ruthie was killed—’
Sophie raises a hand. ‘Stop. Please. I get the picture.’
‘Your father was a good man. He asked me to marry him. But I was already engaged to Thomas. No one knew. He’d proposed to me just before he was shipped out to North Africa. George didn’t even know I was pregnant when he proposed. I didn’t either. It had only been the one time. I never thought …’ She drops Sophie’s hand and rubs her thin fingers along her forehead. ‘Then Thomas showed up on leave at Christmas and we … we eloped. We married in London.’
She sighs, her breath shallow and ragged. ‘Thomas left for Italy a few days later on a hospital ship, and I went back to Norwich and told everyone we’d married. My father was furious. Thomas wasn’t Catholic, you see. And Dottie … Dottie wouldn’t speak to me at all. Poor George, I think he was in shock. It was an awful time, Sophie. I felt very alone.’
Ellie closes her eyes, and for a moment Sophie thinks she’s fallen asleep from the effort. Her aunt coughs delicately and opens her eyes, the deep stormy blue undiluted by age. ‘I found out I was pregnant. I only realised that the baby was George’s when the doctor said I was a month further along than I should have been.’
Sophie flops into the blue vinyl chair, her heart jolting in her chest. ‘Does Emmett know?’
Propping herself on a thin arm, Ellie reaches across the sheets and grasps hold of Sophie’s hand. ‘Don’t tell him, Sophie. It would break his heart. He adored Thomas.’
‘I’m meant to keep your secret now?’
‘What does it matter? Emmy has no children. It won’t make any difference to anyone. You needed to know, but no one else does.’
Whipping her hand from Ellie’s hold, Sophie rises and stands at the window. ‘It makes a difference to me. I’m his half-sister and I can’t even tell him?’ She turns and faces her aunt, her arms folded across her chest. ‘Emmett hates me. I’ve no idea why. If I tell him I’m his sister, it might change things.’
Ellie sinks back into the pillows. She sighs heavily, her breath rattling.
Sophie picks up the plastic cup and offers it to Ellie. ‘Are you okay? Should I get the nurse?’
Ellie shakes her head wearily across the pillow and waves away the cup. ‘There’s something else.’
‘There’s more?’
‘Sit down, Sophie. I need to tell you a story.’
Chapter 76
Tippy’s Tickle – 10 July 1962
The visitor locks the door on the rental car and pockets the keys. He looks up at the big house on the cliff, which sits sturdy and proud against the breezy blue July sky, though the yellow paint has fought a losing battle against the salt and wind coming off the North Atlantic. The grass has been left to grow long beside the grey wooden steps up to the house, but clumps of wild lupins in all their tints and shades of pink, mauve and deep purple crowd over the simple banister rail. Sighing heavily, he adjusts his brown felt fedora and heads up the steps.
Ellie moves away from the window and stands in the middle of the room, waiting for the knock on the front door. For her name to be called out. Emmy is down at Rod Fizzard’s working on the boats, and Winny is out in the fields with Jim Boyd’s granddaughter, Nancy, foraging in the marsh for early bakeapples for the jam they were hoping to sell in Jim’s shop to scrape a few extra pennies together.
The knock. Ellie sets down the latest demand letter from the bank. She turns her ear to the sound. Another knock. Then his voice, tentative. ‘Hello? Ellie? Is there anyone home?’
Ellie unties her apron and tosses it onto the bed’s patchwork quilt. She pats her hair, tied into a messy bun, and clears her throat.
‘I’m coming.’
Ellie hurries down the staircase, pausing for breath on the final step. Crossing the small foyer, she opens the door.
‘George! Good heavens, this is a surprise.’
George takes off his hat and holds it awkwardly against his chest. ‘Ellie. It’s so lovely to see you.’
Ellie leans forward and gives him a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Come in. Come in. Where are my manners?’ She looks over his shoulder. ‘Where’s Dottie? Is she in the car?’
‘No, Dottie didn’t come. She doesn’t like the idea of flying.’
Ellie frowns. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Oh, everything’s fine. I—I thought it
