“Yes. I see your point.”
Chapter 19
Singleton 1940
Another day passed in a flash. Every morning she woke in the house she knew she was losing another small piece of herself. She had started to think like Wilz, act like Wilz and was becoming Wilz no matter how hard she tried to keep a hold of her own identity. It no longer became necessary to quiz Primrose about what she would have done because it was starting to become second nature for her to know exactly how she would react, what she thought, what she said.
Her days became structured in the estates routine and it was natural for her to take over the farm duties once breakfast finished. Cattle were sorted, stock rotations noted and decided upon. Meetings with the tenants dealt with and plans put in place for the future. As much as she tried to find why she’d come to Foxborough Hall, the urgency was pushed to the back of her mind, sometimes not returning until the wee hours of the morning when she woke not knowing where or who she was.
Some mornings she didn’t even remember her Alex, she was so engrossed in Wilz’s life. When she did think of him, it was as though he belonged to another life that had nothing to do with the here and now, a flash of despair she couldn’t deal with she kept stashed away.
She made plans for the trip to Sydney, sorted out her meetings so she could return as soon as possible. There was so much to do on the estate and with Papa being so very difficult, something she put it down to old age. Mama wasn’t there to keep him in check, and she feared he’d make a horrendous mistake if she didn’t keep an eye on him.
After breakfast she sat at her writing desk declining invitations, due to lack of time and the pressure of business on the estate. Her focus was on family right now. She wanted Gertie to join up with the Red Cross and make her own way in the world. Her little sister was so close to realizing her dream and she was excited for her. She’d deal with the fallout from Papa when it happened.
She sealed the letters, picked them up to take downstairs. She wanted to talk to the farrier about the young horses chosen for the sale. Once word got out there would be eager buyers lining up. All due to the meticulous care she took choosing their bloodlines.
A log sparked and a flash of memory shot before her eyes. A wet pavement on a dark evening, a jostle of people shouting and a gunshot ringing out loud and clear, the speed of the pictures making her dizzy. She blinked, trying to clear the image from her mind. She took a deep breath to steady the sudden racing of her heart.
The fire burned in the grate, the logs crackling as the flames licked. Wood smoke mingled with the cut roses in the crystal vases on the side tables. There was no jostle of people, no gunfire nor rain lashing the windows.
She smoothed down her trousers, picked up her letters from where they’d fallen on the floor and headed downstairs. She put them on the silver salver on the hall table and headed into the kitchen. The cook glanced up when the door opened. “Morning, Miss. Did you need something?”
“No, Mrs. Hughes, I wanted to let you know not to keep me lunch today. I’ll be out on the estate and not back until later this afternoon. Far too much to do today to come back in to eat.”
“Let me pack you a sandwich, then, Miss. Only take me a second.”
“Very well, thank you. Nothing too much. Watching my figure.” She patted her stomach and laughed. “You’re overfeeding me and I’m obviously suffering from it.”
“Oh get away with you, Miss. Shapely figure like yours, you’ll never have to worry.”
She leaned on the kitchen table while Mrs Hughes prepared and sandwich and placed into a small brown satchel with a bottle of lemonade. “There now, that should keep the hunger pangs at bay. Can’t have you starving out there on the estate when you’ve got so much to do now the master is slowing down, can we?”
“Don’t let him hear you say that. He still thinks he runs the place.” She slipped the satchel over her shoulder and smiled at her childhood ally.
“And we both know better. If he starts acting up, I’ll have Mr. Carter ask Eric for help. He seems to be able to calm him down. Takes him outside in the garden for a walk. Patience of a saint that man has.”
“Delightful. Thanks, Mrs. Hughes. I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
She took the path past the kitchen garden and into the shed where the farm truck sat parked next to the horse carriage and tossed her lunch in on the seat and climbed in, slamming the door behind her. She turned the key and placed her finger on the start button, holding it down while the electrics fired up and kicked over the engine. Once it coughed into life, she put the truck in gear and chugged out of the shed, up the drive toward the outlying reaches of the estate, happy to be away from the cloying closeness of the house and its inhabitants.
Out in the fresh air she felt alive. Working on the estate gave her a healthy glow, which tended to fade whenever she spent time in Sydney doing her mother’s charity work. But it had to be done and it also gave her a breathing space away from Papa.
When she returned to the house later that afternoon, Gertie stood outside by the kitchen door pacing the grass her hand at her throat toying with a
