Mornington-By-Mere is a small country village
lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest
and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint picturesque village, a proper
chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century
Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a
Mere.
There is a very good reason
why it has retained its old English quaintness and its heart and soul into the
21st Century and that’s simply because everything in the village is
owned by the Mornington estate, and under their stewardship the village has
remained a traditionally English and has not been allowed to become a soulless
haven for hooray Henrys and weekenders with their second homes and country
getaways.
The head of the Estate is
the resident of Mornington Manor which is the family seat of the guardians of
the estate who are the St George family and the head of which is Baron Gabriel St George, who lives at manor with his four sisters and his
widowed aunt Philomena.
The St George family had been landowners in
Downshire since the Norman Conquests and at one time their lands covered the
whole of the Finchbottom Vale.
However in the 21st century the
estate was much reduced and only extended to a radius of between 11 and 12
miles from the Mornington Mere.
Although the Mere in Mornington is only half
a mile wide and half a mile long it sits at the heart of Mornington,
figuratively if not literally.
It is one of three small bodies of water in
the area that were all that remained of the great wetlands that at one time
stretched from Mornington in the East to Childean in the west and from
Shallowfield in the south to Purplemere in the north.
But over many centuries the vast majority had
been drained for agriculture.
Part of the traditional drainage system were
the Mornington Mills, of which only three had survived to the present day and
even those were no longer functional and were in various states of repair.
The mills would have pumped the excess water
into the River Brooke, which is so called because that’s what it was when the
land was first settled, a narrow babbling brook.
It began its life at the head of Teardrop
Lake in the Dancingdean Forest and in the days of the great wetlands petered it
out to little more than a stream.
It was widened and deepened over the
century’s and was now the River Brooke the course of which extended far beyond
Mornington, flowing to the north where it eventually flowed into the River
Finch.
In times past the Brooke was used as a
transport route taking livestock and produce to market in Finchbottom or to the
port at Pepperstock Bay.
Although Gabriel St George
was a bona fide Baron he didn’t use the title and neither had his father before
him.
As the Mornington Estate
owned all of the properties in the area it derived almost all of its income
from rents.
Although they also owned
and operated two farms and the Mornington Brewery, as well as selling Estate
produce.
It kept everyone in the
village employed and everyone prospered and that was Gabriel’s main concern.
Shortly after the death of Gabriel’s
father, Valentine, and Gabriel had taken over the running of the estate, his
mother Persephone was taken seriously ill.
It was a bitter blow for
the family and hit everyone very hard, it felt to him like he had been knocked
to floor by his father’s death and was then being kicked while he was on the
ground.
So Persephone’s younger
sister Philomena moved into the Manor to help nurse her and organize the family
at the same time.
Philomena Cruikshank was 12
years younger than her sister Persephone and was able to up sticks and rally to
the family’s side because she had no attachments, she was widowed and childless
and lived alone in the village of Tipton in the North of the county.
In the turbulent two year
period of Persie’s decline Aunty Phil became invaluable to the St George family,
she was the glue that held the fracturing family together, with her stoical strength
and practicality.
And she needed every ounce
of her not inconsiderable strength of character to achieve it because even she
couldn’t prevent the inevitable.
After Persephone’s untimely
death just 55 years of age, and the subsequent funeral Philomena was desperate
to return to her home in Tipton where she could shake off the façade she wore for
her nephew and nieces and grieve in the privacy of her own home.
A place where she didn’t
have to be everyone else’s tower of strength.
But that wasn’t to be as she
stayed on in Mornington, because Gabe begged her to stay, he said he was
concerned that the girls would fall apart without her guiding hand, but she
knew it was really him that needed her support.
Aunty Phil reluctantly
agreed, but with two conditions, firstly that it wasn’t to be a permanent
arrangement, she still had a life in Tipton and secondly that she had to return
to her home in Tipton for at least a month to set things in order.
Gabriel agreed unreservedly
which in the end gave her four precious weeks in which she could fall apart
unseen by the world.
When she returned to
Mornington Aunty Phil was ready to resume her duties as the family’s tower of
strength.
Then within a week of her
return to the manor there was another tragic loss in her life and also for that
of the village.
During the two long years she
spent nursing her sister she had made some new friends in the village and had become
very close to the Cockcroft’s.
Peter was the Vicar at St
Winifred’s and his wife Carole was his rock, as well as being the kingpin of
Church and village life.
The Baron may have held the
land and title of Mornington but it was Carole Cockcroft who made sure the
village ticked.
So the effect on village
life and its inhabitants was tangible when in the week of Philomena’s return
from Tipton, while attending to the flowers in the church, Carole Cockcroft
suffered a sudden agonizing headache, so sudden and intense
it felt like she had been struck violently on the head, but in reality it was
the result of a ruptured brain aneurysm.
She was found by the church
warden lying on the floor in the transept where she had collapsed loose flowers
scattered all around her.
The Vicar was located and
summoned and an ambulance was called and Carole was rushed to hospital where she
lingered in ITU at the Winston Churchill Hospital for two weeks never to regain
consciousness.
Peter was absolutely devastated,
it was so unexpected, she wasn’t overweight and didn’t smoke, her blood
pressure was normal and she had no history of aneurysms in her family.
Carole was only 44 years
old, her death came completely out of the blue and knocked him for six.
It hit Philomena very hard
too, coming so soon after losing her darling sister Persie, and because of that
she was unable to help him, she had no strength left, she was stretch too
thinly, so she didn’t try to help, in fact to her eternal shame she actually avoided
him whenever possible.
Peter was so distraught at
the loss of his wife he barely noticed who was there for him and who wasn’t,
but she didn’t know that so she consciously avoided him.
Although in truth she
didn’t have to avoid him for long, as he took a leave of absence to go on
retreat and was absent from the village for almost 12 months.
While Peter was on retreat
a succession of Locum ministers covered for him at St Winifred’s in his absence
which rather upset the rhythm of village life especially as Carole was no
longer there to make sure the village ticked along.
So the news of his
impending return was greeted with great relief about the village.
Even though, in truth he
was not quite the same Peter Cockcroft they had known and loved before Carole’s
death.
He was a little less open
and a little more guarded, but his return had at least restored the equilibrium
in Mornington.
Peter felt it was a good
time for him to pick up the reigns again as it was the run up to Easter which
was of course the most holy time in the church calendar.
When Philomena spoke to him
in the days following his return there was an awkwardness to the converse, the
easy banter they exchanged before Carole was taken was now largely replaced by
an uncomfortable silence.
She regretted very much
distancing herself from him and she was sure as a result of it she had now lost
another friend.
Peter’s awkwardness was not
born out of a hurt felt by Philomena’s distance, in fact at the time he
welcomed it.
His reticence towards her was
due to her being a reminder of the happy time before his wife’s death, Carole
was so very fond of Phil, and they had some really happy times together.
He knew those times would
not be repeated and that knowledge hurt him very deeply indeed.
Thankfully he had Easter to
keep him focused and so he put all other thoughts from his head completely.
Philomena also busied herself, spring was a
very busy time on the estate so there was plenty for her to do.
There were other distraction also but perhaps
the biggest was Easter and of course there was the quiz night at the Old Mill Inn which was very well
attended and extremely competitive.
The quiz night was on the Saturday night of
the Easter weekend and it was part of the local quiz league.
The landlord, Peter Andrew, was the quiz
master and his wife, Helen, did the food, or more accurately she supervised the
food, as the kitchen was actually run by Chef Lorraine Olson, while their
children John and Polly ran the bar.
Each team in the league comprised six players
the St Georges from the Manor were “The Manorian’s” and right from the start they
were neck and neck with “The Wood Hill-Billies”
At the end of the evening though The
Hill-Billies had won by 2 points and their unexpected win brought uproar and
led to much hugging and kissing amongst the victors.
Despite losing the quiz the St George’s all
thought it was really nice for the family to get out and enjoy themselves
together, it was the first time since Persephone’s death, so it was long
overdue.
The following morning the whole family
attended church for the Easter service at St Winnifred’s.
And virtually the whole village were in
attendance to support their much loved Vicar in his return to the pulpit.
Afterwards almost all of them wanted to shake
Peter’s hand or just say hello, there were so many in fact that the throng
allowed Philomena to slip by unnoticed.
With Easter come and gone Philomena thought
the family had turned a corner and life at the Manor had settled down to normal,
whatever that is, but there were more smiles than frowns among the St George’s
and that could only be a good thing.
The downside of things running more smoothly
at the big house was that she had more time on her hands, so she spent more and
more of it wandering the Estate, the weather was typical of April, nice warm
spring sunshine interspersed with violent showers.
She enjoyed her own company walking in the warm spring sunshine and
revelled in the many harbingers of the season, such as the daffodils nodding in
the breeze and the incessant birdsong everywhere.
But that spring she seemed to walk more than ever and she was
accompanied by more than just her dog.
Also walking with her was her guilty conscience and it nagged at her so
loudly she missed hearing the call of the first cuckoo of spring.
It was the day after the May
Bank holiday and it was a glorious morning.
Phil had always been an
early riser and that morning was no exception.
She had a solitary coffee
on the east terrace and then went for a walk with her golden retriever
“Biscuit” in Manor Woods.
She liked the early morning
walks, whatever the weather, but even more so on a bright morning while the
rest of the world were still in bed.
Mornington was such an
idyllic spot and starting out from the Manor she was really spoilt for choice
when it came to pleasant walks.
Biscuit also liked to walk,
and run and chase, she also on that particular morning decided the direction
they would take as well.
Which was how and why she
ended up in Manor Wood.
Biscuit was bounding up ahead
and Philomena strode purposefully after her with her bobbed blonde hair dancing about her
Swan neck.
Once she was in the wood Phil
thought they would press on through to the other side until they reached the
riverbank, and then turn right and follow the river back towards the village as
far as the church, and then back to the Manor for a well-earned breakfast.
Philomena and Biscuit
had just about reached the half-way point when the dog suddenly stopped in her
tracks and her ears pricked up.
Philomena hadn’t heard
anything apart from the stirring canopy above her head and the cacophony of birdsong.
Until all of a sudden
she heard the rich and fruity tones of a baritone voice out singing the birds
in the morning air
# A wandering minstrel
I,
A thing of shreds and
patches,
Of ballads, songs and
snatches,
And dreamy lullaby!
My catalogue is long.
Through every passion
ranging,
And to your humours
changing
I tune my supple song!
I tune my supple song!
#
The voice belonged to the
Vicar Peter Cockcroft and he was heartily bellowing out his rendition of
Gilbert and Sullivan’s classic to every tree and critter.
Under normal circumstances Philomena would
have waited quietly in the shadows, as she often had over recent weeks, until
he passed and then hurried off in the opposite direction.
She had done that a number of times when
their paths almost crossed since he returned from retreat.
But on this occasion watching him singing
Gilbert and Sullivan at the crack of dawn in Manor Wood made her smile so she
kept quiet and listened to more.
# Are you in
sentimental mood?
I'll sigh with you,
Oh, willow, willow!
On maiden's coldness
do you brood?
I'll do so, too-
Oh, willow, willow!
I'll charm your
willing ears
With songs of lover's
fears,
While sympathetic
tears
My cheeks bedew-
Oh, willow, willow! #
Several times she had
to bite her knuckles to prevent herself from laughing and alerting him to her
presence.
She managed to survive
until the end of the second verse and then just before he launched into the
next verse she stepped forward and said
“Aren’t you a bit old for Nanki-Poo?” and he
jumped fully a foot and a half in the air and went as white as a sheet.
“Good God Woman” he exclaimed I nearly had a
heart attack and then he roared with laughter, a laugh which was so infectious
Philomena was soon laughing along with him.
Their hearty laughter
was so reminiscent of those happy days before Carole passed and just for a
moment, the briefest of moment, they both forgot Carole was gone.
Peter obviously felt
the same because as the laughter subsided he said
“I’ve really missed
this”
“Me too” she admitted
Philomena and Peter were
still intermittently giggling sometime after they had agreed to continue their
early morning walks together.
They were an unlikely
looking pair, Philomena looked every inch a member of the
landed gentry, and possessed an inherent elegance about her and she made
whatever she happened to throw on look like haute couture, and although she
spent little or no time on her appearance she always looked more than presentable.
In stark contrast Peter Cockcroft was a big man, well over six feet tall
and built like a rugby player, and he looked as unlike
a clergyman as it was possible to get, but in Philomena’s humble opinion he had
a most wonderful voice.
“So why were you singing songs from the
Mikado in the woods?” she asked
“Ah” he said and ran his fingers through his
short sandy hair
“I was afraid you were
going ask that”
“So?”
“So why Gilbert and
Sullivan?” he asked and she nodded
“Well I thought
singing hymns in the woods just after dawn might be considered strange, in fact
they might think I’d lost my mind”
“I see” Phil said doubtfully “whereas
yodeling Gilbert and Sullivan to the wildlife in the woods would be considered
quite unremarkable”
“Well when you put it like that I admit that sounds
strange too” he said
“So are you off your trolley then?” she asked
“No” he protested
“It was just that when I got up this morning,
I felt alive, for the first time since Carole died I actually felt alive” he
said
“And I wanted to express it to the world, but
as it turned out I expressed it to the inhabitants of Manor Wood, a dog called
Biscuit and of course you”
“Well it was very beautifully expressed” She
remarked and took his arm.
When she finally got back to the Manor the
household had stirred.
Gabe had already left for the day as he had
an important meeting in London, but Tallulah, the eldest of his sisters was in
the kitchen boiling eggs and burning toast.
Cooking was not her forte and even boiled egg
and soldiers was a little ambitious for her rudimentary skills.
“Hi Auntie Phil” she said brightly “Did you
have a good walk?”
“Yes I did”
“You’ve been a long time” Tally said
“I know it was such a beautiful morning we
got a bit carried away” Phil replied
“We?” Tally asked
“Yes, Biscuit and I” she said hurriedly
Tallulah was about to respond when Aunty Phil
said
“I’ll do that Honey, you go and get ready for
work”
Elspeth and the twins appeared once they knew
that Aunty
Phil was at the cooker.
“Morning Aunty” Cordelia said and Corliss added
“What’s on the menu?”
Philomena spent the next hour in the kitchen
feeding her nieces and the dog and only when they had all gone for the day
could she feed herself.
She had so enjoyed her long early morning
walk with Peter that over the week following it, rather than doing what had
become usual, and going out of her way to avoid him, Philomena actually made
every conceivable effort to engineer another seemingly casual meeting.
Peter meanwhile following his recent epiphany
and realization that he was in fact still alive and having shaken off his bonds
in the form of a heartfelt rendition of a Gilbert and Sullivan song in Manor Wood
had inadvertently rekindled his friendship with Philomena Cruickshank.
He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her
kindness and her gently laughter.
And he resolved not to let the embers of that
rekindling die out without some considerable effort on his part.
The problem was that the two of them were so
determined to engineer an accidental meeting that they inadvertently managed to
avoid each other entirely.
When Peter was in Manor Wood Phil was by the
Mere, when Peter walked the Riverbank she was by the church.
This was not good on either of their parts as
there was the very real possibility that it would be misconstrued, giving the
false impression that their last meeting was thought of as only an aberration
and that could take them all the way back to square one, and neither of them
wanted that.
More than a week had passed since the Manor
Wood Mikado incident and that was the last time she had seen him, and Philomena
was thinking that her best course of action was to just knock on the Rectory
door and say hello.
She was going into the village to pick up a
few bits of shopping and decided she would do just that on her way home.
Philomena had been to Norman’s and chatted at
length with Evelyn while she bought some stamps.
After leaving the Norman’s Store she went
into Addison’s and got some fresh bread and it was as she left the bakers that
she bumped into the Vicar who was going the other way.
“Hello” he said “I was hoping to bump into
you”
“Really?” she replied causing Peter to panic
as he wasn’t aware he’d said the last part out loud
“Yes, yes” he said desperately trying to
think of a reason.
“Why was that?” Phil said at which time his
eyes settled on the poster for the summer Fête in the shop window.
“The Summer Fête” he said with confidence
“What about it?”
“I could really use your help” he said
“With what exactly?”
“I need your assertiveness, to get things
done” Peter explained
“Can’t you assert?” she asked “you’re a giant
after all”
“Yes and look what happened to Goliath” he
pointed out
“The committee expect me to be the voice of
calm and reason, not a bully”
“Ah I see” Phil said “Good cop, bad cop”
“Exactly” he agreed “So will you do it?”
She had been involved to some degree with the
previous three events so she said
“Yes why not”
Peter was very pleased with himself, he had
very cleverly got out of a sticky situation and collaborating on the Fete was
the perfect way for them to renew their friendship without any awkwardness and
as a result they shared their future walking plans so they wouldn’t keep
missing each other.
Philomena was feeling equally smug even
though it meant allowing herself to be shanghaied onto the Summer Fête
committee.
But it proved to be a very productive
arrangement during that summer as they collaborated on the Fête and their
friendship was as mutually agreeable as it had been in the past.
However as the big day arrived in mid-July
their thoughts, which had been almost exclusively been wrapped up in things
relating to the Fête, were suddenly preoccupied with what would follow it.
After all the Fête had become all-consuming
and they dreaded the post Fête void.
As had been the long standing tradition the
summer Fête was held in the Manor grounds and also in keeping with tradition it
was extremely well attended.
It was a glorious day with not a cloud in the
sky but it was extremely hot and so Philomena had insisted additional tented
areas should be provided and free bottled water.
Fortunately a lot of money was raised for
good causes and no one suffered any ill effects of the heat, well almost no
one.
It was at the end of the day when all the
punters had left and a few helpers were milling around packing up the stalls,
Philomena was in the refreshments tent, packing away the undrunk water when
Peter happened along.
“Ah Philly” he said “There you are”
“Hello Peter”
“It’s been a wonderful success” he said
“You sound surprised” Phil said
“Well I am a bit” he confessed and sat down
“We obviously make a good team” she offered as
she picked up a box of water.
“Yes we do” he agreed just as Philomena
stumbled and dropped the box she was carrying
“Damn it” she said and crouched down to pick
it up then she looked up at him and smiled
“Sorry Vic”
Which was when he leant towards her and
kissed her and more to the point she kissed him back.
When their lips parted they looked at each
other and almost telepathically communicated that they had made a big mistake,
and without speaking they left the tent in opposite directions
“You stupid, stupid woman” she said out loud
as she marched towards the house “what on earth were you thinking”
She went through the front door still
berating herself and up the main staircase.
“Well that’s the end of the friendship now”
She crossed the landing
“He’ll never trust you again” she said and
went into her room and slammed the door behind her
As Philomena was stomping her way to the
Manor, Peter was doing much the same thing on his way to the Rectory.
“My God man have you no self-control?” he
muttered
“Just because she’s a beautiful woman, you
think it ok to go and kiss her”
He opened the gate and walked in to his front
garden still muttering
“Just because she’s funny, and has an
infectious laugh and has a pretty smile, and smells divine” he said as he
opened the front door
“You cannot go around kissing her, her….” and
as he struggled to complete the sentence he plopped down in his favourite chair
and concluded.
“Her beautiful soft lips”
The following weeks were very difficult,
there were a number of Fête committee meetings in the aftermath of the big
event which they both had to attend and they had adopted the distanced stance
and only spoke to one another when necessary.
They also reverted to the pre Mikado attitude
of deliberately avoiding each other on a day to day basis.
The reason for their angst was not the kiss
in isolation, they both rather enjoyed that, no what had them both tied up in
knots was the overwhelming feelings of guilt and the deep sense of betrayal.
It was the despicable betrayal of Carole’s
memory that was eating them up.
Which was ridiculous because no one would
have been more delighted than Carole, in fact she was probably rooting for them
in the wings.
The man who she loved, as much on the day she
died as she did on the day that they met, and the woman who came into their
lives like a breath of fresh air and made them laugh, and who incidentally, had
Carole lived to a ripe old age would have been her friend till the end.
Why wouldn’t she want them to be together?
But for Peter and Philomena it was a case of
why would she want them to be together.
It was a damp drizzly morning as July was
coming to a close and she and Biscuit were not disappointed when the walk was
over.
When they arrived at the boot room door she
opened it and the dog beat her through it.
She toweled Biscuit dry before kicking off
her boots and hanging up her coat.
And afterwards she went in search of the
kettle.
When she reached the kitchen Tallulah was
sitting at the table pouring a cup of tea from a large tea pot.
“Is there another one in there Tally?” she
asked
“Yes Aunty, get yourself a mug”
After Tallulah had done the honour’s
Philomena took a tentative sip.
“Oooh that’s nice” she said
“Did you enjoy your walk Aunty Phil?”
“No not much it’s a bit miserable out there
today” she replied
“Have you been out walking with the Vicar
lately?” Tallulah asked
“No, why?”
“It’s just that I thought you two had become
inseparable”
“That was only because of the Fête”
“Oh that’s a shame” Tally said
“Why?”
“Well you’ve had a bit of a spring in your
step for the past few weeks” she replied
“And you didn’t let a bit of rain dampen your
enthusiasm, you’d have been out there for hours on a day like this”
“Oh I don’t know about that” Aunty Phil
protested
“And you looked good together” Tally added
“Now you’re just being silly”
“And I’ll tell you something else Auntie, I
think Carole would have been pleased”
“Would she?” Philomena asked with surprise
“Yes she was very fond of you aunty”
Philomena was thoughtful for a few moments as
she finished her tea, then she stood up and walked around and kissed the top of
Tallulah’s head
“You have wisdom beyond your year’s honey”
“It’s a gift” she replied
“Come on then dog, it’s time to get wet again”
Peter had had a very troubled night’s sleep and
was still wearing his dressing gown while he was sitting in his study drinking
black coffee.
The reason for his lack sleep was a series of
recurring dreams which centered on the kiss he shared with Philomena on the day
of the Fête.
And the shock and disgust he saw on
Philomena’s face before she stormed off.
But in his dream they were not alone in the
tent.
Another woman was watching them benignly and
it was that image which perplexed him the most.
Philomena and Biscuit walked past the Rectory
five times before she plucked up enough courage to go and knock on the door.
The drizzle of earlier had turned into proper
rain and there were rivulets running down her face and large droplets on the
end of her nose as she knocked.
But when there was no answer she suddenly
felt very foolish, he clearly didn’t want to see her, and he couldn’t have made
it plainer.
She imagined him to be looking out the window
and wishing she would go away.
But unknown to Philomena the reason Peter didn’t
answer the door was that he was upstairs getting dressed.
After musing over his nocturnal trials he shook
off his earlier torpor and galvanized into action and he was going to call on
Phil.
But he had to make himself presentable, he
was nearly finished, with only his trousers to go when he heard a knock at the
door.
He did indeed look out of the window but his
thought process when he saw who it was not to hide and hope she went away.
But it did throw him into a blind panic about
how he could get his trousers on and get downstairs before she did go away.
After several false starts, firstly putting
them on back to front and secondly trying to get both legs down one leg hole,
he made it downstairs and opened the door just as Philomena had reached the
front gate.
“Phillie!!” he called and she turned around
“Come on in Phillie, you look soaked to the
skin”
Still thinking herself foolish she thought
about ignoring him and just going home, but she didn’t.
Once through the door Peter closed it behind
her and handed her a towel to dry her face
“Thanks Peter”
He then used a second one to dry Biscuits
coat.
“There you go girl” he said when he was
finished
He then helped Phil out of her coat and asked
“So what brings you out on a filthy day like
this?”
“That’s a good question” she replied
enigmatically
“Well come into the kitchen and you can tell
me over a hot drink”
He suggested.
When they were seated at the table with a
steaming beverage in front of them he repeated his question
“So what does bring you out on a filthy day
like this?”
She had been desperately trying to work out
what to say but it was all such a jumble in her head and all she could think to
say was
“I’ve been thinking”
“Oh”
“Yes”
“What about” he asked
“About that day in the tent”
“Oh I see” he said and bowed his head
Philomena then took a deep breath and said
“I don’t regret it”
“You don’t?” he asked as he looked up
“No I don’t” she said proudly “in fact I really
liked it”
“Oh” was all he could manage
“And I don’t think that Carole would mind”
“No nor do I” he agreed and reached across
the table and held her hand
“So that’s what I’ve been thinking” she
concluded and she squeezed his hand
“Well that is a lot of thinking” he said
“And have you done any thinking?” she asked
coyly
“Yes I have” he replied but didn’t elaborate
After a minute had elapsed she could wait no
longer and snapped
“Well?”
“Well I was thinking I should take you out
tomorrow for your birthday and we can take it from there” he said and leant
across the table and kissed her.
“Good thinking” she responded and then she
returned his kiss with interest.
