Lost Angel Page 33

  ‘Of course I do, it’s the basis of my faith. Jesus died for us, that our sins might be forgiven, but he rose again and ascended to heaven.’

  ‘But they’re just words, words from the Bible. There’s no proof, so how can I believe they’re true?’

  ‘You must have faith, my dear. Take Jesus into your heart, and he will comfort you.’

  The vicar’s words were like an echo from the past – they were words that Lucy’s mother had used – but they didn’t comfort her. Ellen couldn’t just rely on faith; she needed proof, needed evidence that there was an afterlife. The vicar was kind, a nice man and Ellen didn’t want to be rude, but she just wanted to get out of the manse now.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for talking to me.’ And with that, before the vicar had a chance to protest, Ellen swiftly left the manse.

  She wrenched open the door, and almost ran down the path, unable to face the thought of going home to an empty house again. She had shunned Val, the thought of seeing Pauline, who was only a week younger than Sarah, more than she could bear. Yet alone all day for the past six months, she’d had plenty of time to think, slowly beginning to understand the terrible position Val had faced – how awful it must have been for her to know that something was going to happen to Sarah, but not where, or when.

  Maybe she could face it now, maybe she could go to see her friend…but no, no, Val was having another baby. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t talk about babies, couldn’t face seeing Pauline and how much bigger she must have grown – how much bigger Sarah would have grown. Turning the opposite way, Ellen headed for the nursery.

  Maureen was walking the dog when she saw Ellen. She still looked awful, gaunt and pale.

  ‘Hello, are you going to the nursery?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been to see the vicar, but it was a waste of time and I didn’t feel like going home again just yet.’

  Curious, Maureen asked, ‘Why did you go to see him?’

  ‘You’ll probably think I’m being silly, but I was hoping he could tell me if there really is life after death.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s silly at all. Was he able to help?’

  ‘No. He just talked about faith, but it isn’t faith I need, it’s proof.’

  Maureen could understand why Ellen felt this need, but how could anyone prove that there was life after death? She had heard of spiritualist churches and, desperate to help, it was the only advice she could think of.

  ‘There’s a spiritualist church in the next village,’ she said as they fell into step together. ‘I think they have guest mediums and one of them might be able to give you the answers you need.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I could try there,’ Ellen said eagerly.

  ‘I’ll drive you there this evening if you like.’

  ‘Would you? Oh, thanks, Maureen.’

  Maureen gulped, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. If Ellen was let down again, how would it affect her? If taking her to the spiritualist church made things worse, she dreaded to think what her parents and Percy would say, let alone Gertie.

  When Gertie said she saw Doug, Hilda and Ellen as her family, Maureen had at first been at a loss to understand why. In fact, she had looked down on them, seeing them as lower class with their cockney-sounding accents.

  Now though, she felt differently. They were nice people, good people who had never stood in judgement of her relationship with Gertie. Her own parents would be appalled, would probably disown her. As Ellen managed a watery smile, Maureen gave her a comforting hug, finally able to see Ellen and her parents as her family too.

  Chapter 53

  That evening, Maureen drove Ellen to the tiny spiritualist church, and it became the first of many visits. Ellen had dared to hope, dared to think she’d find proof of an afterlife, but slowly she became disillusioned. At first, she had sat in anticipation, watching as visiting mediums gave so-called proof to others hoping for a message from their loved ones, but it confused Ellen that the messages were mostly trite.

  Despite that, she was here again, hoping that this time it would be different – hoping that this time the medium would come to her.

  ‘I have a woman here,’ the medium now said. ‘She’s showing me a budgerigar, one she loved and I feel she passed over recently. M…I think her name began with M…perhaps Maud?’

  When nobody put up a hand up, the medium tried again, ‘Millie then, or Molly? I’m feeling a pain here,’ she said, touching her tummy, ‘as though she passed over due to a problem in this area.’

  At last a hand shot up. ‘I had an Aunt Mary. She had a budgie.’

  ‘Yes, Mary, that’s it,’ the medium said. ‘She’s nodding her head now. What’s that, Mary? Oh…right, I’ll pass it on to her. It seems your aunt was quite a fussy woman. Is that right?’

  ‘Er…maybe. I’m not sure.’

  ‘She’s telling me that you should dribble water on your stair carpet before brushing it – that if you do that you’ll keep the dust down.’

  ‘But…but…I haven’t got carpet on my stairs.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a hidden meaning there, a parable, and you just have to look for it,’ the medium said dismissively, turning from the woman. ‘There’s someone else trying to come through. I have a man, in uniform, someone who perhaps died during the war?’

  Several hands shot up, but Ellen had heard enough. Why would someone who died come back through a medium just to talk about cleaning carpets? The suggestion of a parable seemed meaningless, and it had been the same all those years ago with the rune stones. The old woman had talked about a sign, but that too had been vague, equally meaningless.

  Ellen stood up, shuffling past others to get to the end of the row, but as she crept towards the door a hand touched her arm. She turned to see a woman, her voice a whisper, and Ellen had to strain to hear what she said.

  ‘You’re unhappy, my dear, and I can see you haven’t found your answers. Please, take this. It’s my card and if you want to come to see me, maybe I can help. Come any morning except Sunday and you’ll find me in.’

  Ellen was beginning to doubt that anyone could help, but she took the card, thrusting it into her coat pocket as she left the building. She longed for Sarah, her baby’s death still almost impossible to bear, and her only solace that they might be together again one day. Desolately Ellen walked home. She still so desperately wanted to believe that there was more, that when Sarah died, her spirit, her soul, went somewhere – somewhere better than this, to a place where there was no pain, no unhappiness, only peace and joy.

  Percy looked up as Ellen came in. He didn’t like her going to the spiritualist church, yet understood her driving need to know that there was life after death. She was too much on her own, that was the problem. Maybe if she returned to the nursery, worked among the plants again, it would help to fill her mind. In the meantime, this quest she was on, this search, seemed to give Ellen a purpose, a reason to get up every day, to get out of the house, and he just hoped she’d find the answers she was looking for.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, but could see by the expression on her face that she’d been disappointed again. Inevitably that meant she’d be in tears that night. He hadn’t expected that Ellen would turn to him for lovemaking, had thought it would be a long time before she was ready for that, but instead she clung to him nearly every night and he’d come to realise that it was the only time she could forget, if only for a while, that Sarah was dead.

  ‘It was a waste of time,’ she said. ‘I don’t think there’s much point in going any more. I might go to see this woman though,’ she said, pulling the card out of her pocket. ‘She seemed nice and might be able to help me.’

  Percy was worried that this search for answers was becoming an obsession.

  ‘Why don’t you come back to work? You love working with plants, and we’re so busy with transplanting that we could do with a hand.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Ellen,
while you were out, Val came round. She was hoping to see you. It’s been nearly six months, and I know it’s still hard, but Val isn’t the only woman with a child. You can’t avoid them all.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that? It…it’s just that Sarah and Pauline were born within a week of each other. I can’t face it yet, I just can’t. I need more time.’

  ‘All right, love, don’t get upset,’ Percy said hastily. His parents had been down to see them again last weekend, but as usual it had been a painful visit. Ellen was so quiet and he knew they found it difficult, yet felt powerless to do anything about it. Ellen wasn’t just shutting out his parents – she had shut out almost everyone.

  ‘I understand why you don’t want to see Val, but I still think you should come back to work.’

  Ellen was quiet for a moment, but then she said, ‘Tell Gertie I’ll start on Monday.’

  Percy felt a rush of relief. He was sure it would help Ellen, at least in keeping her mind occupied. Maybe when she was back at the nursery she’d give up this fruitless search for answers – at least he hoped so.

  When Percy left for work the next morning, Ellen found herself picking up the woman’s card again, as though just looking at it would offer some answers. Amelia Harte – a nice name – and her smile had been so kind. It was Saturday and she’d agreed to go back to work on Monday, so if she wanted to see this woman it would have to be today.

  At ten o’clock, hoping it wouldn’t be too early, Ellen made her way to Christmas Pie village. The cottage wasn’t hard to find, and nervously Ellen knocked on the door, the woman’s welcome warm as she invited her in.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ Amelia said, leading Ellen into a comfortable parlour.

  ‘You…you said you may be able to help me.’

  ‘I hope you won’t be disappointed, but I have to tell you that I’m not a medium.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘I suppose I’m what you would call sensitive, and I dabble a little with palm reading. I saw how unhappy you looked and sensed that you’re in deep pain. I too have lost someone and know that sometimes just talking about it can help.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s kind of you, but I don’t need to talk about it.’

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘I…I need to know that there’s an afterlife.’

  ‘Yes, I felt the same, and like you, I started going to the spiritualist church.’

  ‘Did…did you find proof?’

  ‘There was a little evidence, but nothing definitive. In time I slowly came to understand that perhaps it’s impossible to prove, yet then again the opposite is true. Those who say there is no afterlife can’t prove it either.’

  ‘Yet you still go to the spiritualist church?’

  ‘I’ve made many friends there, lovely friends, so yes; and thanks to one of them I found comfort in nature.’

  Puzzled, Ellen asked, ‘How?’

  ‘Many plants die in winter, but then in spring they come to life again, looking stronger, growing larger, their flowers blooming once more. Then there are butterflies, dragonflies too. They start life as a chrysalis, cocooned, but then suddenly they transform, emerging in a different form, a new and beautiful form. It is renewal, my dear, and I think the same thing happens to us when we die. Our souls leave the cocoon of our body to become a wondrous, spiritual being.’

  ‘It all sounds lovely, but…but I can’t just accept that. I…I need proof.’

  The woman leaned forward and took Ellen’s hand to gaze at her palm.

  ‘You’re so young and I can see by these lines that you’ve suffered so much. The answers you seek are close to home and it’s there you’ll find them. In the meantime, if it’s any consolation, your future looks bright.’

  ‘Close to home? What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that, my dear,’ she said, but then there was a knock on her door. ‘Oh dear, it seems someone else has come to see me.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Ellen said, ‘and…and do I owe you anything?’

  ‘Owe me! Oh, you mean money. No, no, of course not. All I hope is that in some way I’ve been able to help.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ellen said, and as she left, another woman went in. In a way, she did feel a little comforted, but was still confused. The woman said that her answers lay close to home. But where?

  The next morning, Doug saw that Gertie also looked delighted when Percy told her that Ellen wanted to come to work again.

  ‘That’s wonderful, Percy. I’m glad you told me this morning because I was just thinking it was time to replace Nancy.’

  ‘I’m surprised you waited this long,’ Doug commented.

  ‘After what happened, I must admit I’ve been a bit nervous.’

  ‘As far as I know, there hasn’t been any more gossip.’

  ‘My threat must have done the trick, along with introducing Maureen as my cousin to the vicar.’

  ‘I don’t know how you had the nerve,’ Doug said, smiling. ‘And him a man of the cloth too.’

  ‘It was better to lie than face persecution, and, as there’s been no more gossip, word must have spread around the village.’

  Yes, and it saved their jobs too, Doug thought as they walked into the shop.

  ‘Hilda, we’ve got a bit of news. Ellen’s coming back to work here on Monday.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ Hilda said, and for the first time in ages she had a genuine smile on her face and not one just put on for the customers.

  ‘It’s great,’ nodded Doug. ‘And just in time to help me with transplanting the seedlings.’

  ‘You and those flippin’ seedlings, you treat them like babies,’ Hilda said, but then her voice cracked. ‘Oh…oh, no. I’ll have to be careful I don’t say something like that when Ellen’s around.’

  Doug knew how worried she was about Ellen, and though he was too, he was also concerned about Hilda. She had grown thin, her hair now streaked with grey, and the spark seemed to have gone out of her. When they had moved to Surrey, she’d loved the cottage, could often be heard singing as she pottered around, but those days were gone now.

  ‘Hilda, this is just what Ellen needs, so stop fretting.’

  ‘Yes, Doug’s right,’ Gertie said. ‘Now buck up, Hilda, and make us all a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ she quipped.

  That’s better, Doug thought. Hilda sounded a bit more like her old self now. It was a start and that was something.

  Hilda put the kettle onto the small gas ring. She had been so worried about Ellen, but now at last her worries were easing. Work would be the best thing for her daughter, and she’d be there with them every day instead of alone at home.

  She only had one concern now, and though Hilda understood how Ellen felt, her heart went out to Val. It had been hard at first when Val called round with Pauline, but then one day the child had toddled up to her, arms out to be picked up and she hadn’t been able to resist. Val was six months pregnant now, and seemed vulnerable, alone somehow, and though Hilda had tried, she still hadn’t been able to persuade Ellen to see her.

  ‘Need a hand?’

  Broken out of her reveries, Hilda said, ‘You’re actually offering to help? That’s a first, Gertie, and I’m honoured.’

  ‘It’s nice to hear you being cheeky again.’

  ‘It’s been hard, awful. I used to think that London brought me nothing but bad luck, but I was wrong. It doesn’t seem to matter where I live, it always follows me. Sometimes I think my family is cursed.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course you aren’t.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. I don’t think I could stand any more heartache.’

  Gertie moved to put an arm around her, and for a moment Hilda leaned on her strength. She had no fear of Gertie’s feelings now, knew how happy she was with Maureen, and, feeling stronger, said, ‘Get off, you daft cow. I’m supposed to be making a pot of tea. Now make yourself useful and put the mugs on that tray.’

  ‘As you would s
ay, Hilda – yes, madam.’

  Hilda was able to smile again. It was still going to be hard for Ellen, but at least working at the nursery she’d have her family around her. Somehow, they all had to move forward, to pick up the pieces, and hopefully this was the beginning.

  Chapter 54

  Ellen was glad that she’d returned to work and, as spring turned to summer, she drew pleasure in seeing the trays of plants she and her father had worked on selling well. Amelia Harte had been right, Ellen had also drawn comfort from nature – yet there was still a deep longing within her to know that somehow Sarah lived on, that one day they’d be together again.

  Amelia Harte had been wrong, though, in saying that her answers lay close to home – there were still no answers and, as the dreaded day dawned, Ellen curled into a ball, wishing that she hadn’t awoken to face it.

  ‘Sarah, oh, Sarah,’ she whispered. It was Sarah’s birthday and she would have been two years old today. Ellen had never seen her daughter walk, never heard her talk, and the pain of her loss was once again unbearable.

  Unable to stifle her sobs, she felt Percy’s arm slide around her, and now, knowing he was awake, she turned to him for comfort. He held her, and as his hands ran over her body, Ellen responded, trying to drown her unhappiness in his lovemaking.

  All too soon it was over, Percy now saying, ‘Why don’t you stay home today? I’m sure Gertie will understand.’

  ‘No, no, I don’t want to be alone. I’ll come to work, but…but first, I must go to the cemetery.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Ellen wanted to say no – to tell Percy that this time she wanted to be alone when she laid fresh flowers on her daughter’s tiny grave – yet she didn’t want to hurt him. Every week since Sarah died they had gone together, Percy always with a large pair of scissors to clip the small amount of grass, and she to replace old flowers with new ones.