Pengally

By Rosemary Phillips

This is the story of Victoria Pendine and the family home, Pengally, that she comes back to again and again. At ninety years of age she decides to review her work, revisiting through her paintings the memories of the extraordinary events of her life: her three marriages, her narrow escape from Germany, her loves, and the sustaining joy that her grandchildren have provided.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosemary Phillips
• Release date: Sep 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301615643

Rosemary Phillips

Rosemary was born and raised in England. She joined the V.A.D. (Voluntary Aid Detachment) during the war in Europe, serving in the United Kingdom. She married shortly after the war and immigrated with her husband to Canada. They raised four children and lived in several different provinces. Bill’s death after fifty-three years of happy marriage, marked her commitment to realizing her long-standing passion for novel writing. Rosemary's writing draws upon her experiences during the war, life in post-war Canada, and her childhood dreams of world travel. Rosemary currently lives in Vancouver with her devoted companion, BG. BG Publishing promotes and manages Rosemary Phillips. Rosemary has published seven books to date and continues to write daily. Her manager, BG, keeps a close eye on her.

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Pengally

Rosemary Phillips

Also by Rosemary Phillips

Hollow Hearts

Through the Clouds

October 1940

Tristan

Deception

Holiday in Venice

Flowers of Memory

PENGALLY

A Rosemary Phillips Book

Published by arrangement with the author at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

Copyright @ 2011 by Rosemary Phillips

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For information/book orders

BG Publishing

2304-1122 Gilford St.

Vancouver, BC, Canada V6G 2P5

604-602-9516

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www.RosemaryPhillipsStoryteller.com

ISBN: 978-0-9813726-7-9

PRINTED IN CANADA

BG Publishing

Smashwords Edition

All possible care has been given for the general accuracy of the events in this story. The characters are fictional but based upon stories of the war and the people who fought in it.

Rosemary Phillips wishes to express her appreciation to the many people who have helped to make this book possible.

Cover design: Eric Fraser, Templ@Design Inc.

To my children,

Andrew, Roz, Nica, and Neil

Chapter One

Well, Henry, how long have I got? Victoria Pendine was seated in a high-backed chair. The sunlight that came in through the library window highlighted the lines and pallor of her still beautiful face. Her tired blue eyes looked anxiously at the young doctor. Come on, Henry, tell me the truth. Is it two, three months? I need to know. I believe I may have a good lead into my search for my grandson, Jon.

Henry Evans had been her doctor for ten years. When he’d joined his father in the practice, she’d been one of his first patients. ‘You’ll learn a lot from Tory Pendine. She’s a remarkable woman who’s had an eventful life. She’s over eighty, but doesn't look a day over sixty-five. Also you will enjoy visiting Pengally. One of the finest houses in the whole of Pembrokeshire. It’s been in the Pendine family for three hundred years.’ His father's words came back to him now. He’d learned a lot about women and the way they age from Tory. Now at ninety she was close to dying, and she knew it.

I know how you feel but your heart is weak, though not much changed from last winter. Henry Evans said, as he flipped through his notes playing for time. He found a something positive to add, Your hands have improved. I’m amazed at the difference the new medication has made. He picked up her right hand. It was no longer twisted with arthritis. I have some new medicine for your heart. Dorcas will give it to you if you feel any pain. You may live for a few years yet. Especially if you don’t overexert yourself. He closed his medical bag, avoiding looking at Tory.

I don’t mind, Henry. I've had a long life and I’m tired. I wouldn't have asked except that I have a few things I need to do before I depart. She pointed at several portfolios stacked against the wall that were filled with a lifetime’s work of paintings and drawings.

Before the young man could speak, Tory held up her hand imperiously, Don't you dare say it's too much work for me to sort my own things. Those portfolios cover many years. Some of the sketches need to be thrown out, but some of the stuff is good. I’m the only one who can judge. I don’t want to be remembered by poor work. I know everything that's in there. I've arranged for my bed to be brought down here and I intend to spend the rest of my days here in the library. It always was my favourite room. You can see all the best views of Pengally from these windows, even my studio over there to the side.

I'm pleased you’re going to stop climbing the stairs. For the past few months, he’d been trying to persuade her to leave the bedroom that she’d slept in as a girl. But she refused to listen to him.

That's surprised you, hasn't it? I can be sensible if it suits me. She smiled fondly at him. Henry’s kindness and care had been a true blessing these last few years when she had been so alone.

I'll come in a few days. Just remember, no jumping around. It was an old joke between them. Several years ago, he’d arrived to find her jumping on a pogo stick that belonged to the children of a maid long retired.

Goodbye, Henry, and don't worry. When the door closed behind him, her shoulders slumped. Funny the way she always felt she had to be bright and cheerful when dealing with doctors. While she waited for Dorcas, her housekeeper, Tory gazed around the room she knew and loved so well. From the time she’d been a child, this room had always been her sanctuary. In those early days, it had seldom been used. Her father was a military man with very little time for reading. Her mother spent her time tending to the needs of the poor in the surrounding villages. Her brother Bart, who was fourteen years older than Tory, used to spend some time in the room when he was at home, but he never minded her coming in when he was there. She’d sit at a small table and draw. She had spent every moment she could drawing.

"They’re bringing your bed down now, Miss Tory. Where do you want them to put it?

Dorcas was a tall woman whose age was hard to guess. Somewhere in her background was Spanish blood. She had jet-black hair and flashing dark eyes. She’d come to Pengally twenty years ago to help the elderly Bates when they retired. She’d surprised everyone by marrying a sailor named Todd who now did most of the cooking and some of the gardening. Todd, with the help of the head gardener, was bringing down the bed.

Over there by the window will be fine, Dorcas. Which bed are you bringing down? A comfortable one I hope.

It's the one from the blue room. I thought having bed curtains would keep the draft out. And it's comfortable.

Tory nodded. It is comfortable. I slept in that bed many years ago when I was married to Philip Eaton. But I think I’d rather have the one from my own room.

It's too late for that. Here comes Todd with the four-poster.

Tory said no more. Dorcas, she discovered, only asked her opinion on things that didn't matter. She decided all household matters on her own. The large bed fit nicely into the recess, and being quite high, she could see out of the window easily.

The following morning Tory awoke to the sound of china rattling on her breakfast tray. She’d slept through the whole night. As Dorcas pulled back the bed curtains, Midge, her whippet, jumped up on the bed. Fondling the little dog, Tory waited as Dorcas brought her dressing gown.

You have time for a quick wash while I pour the coffee.

Giving a silent thank you to the Victorian ancestor who had put a bathroom in a corner of the library hidden by a wall of books, Tory did as she was told. When she returned, the fire was burning brightly and a small table was laid with her breakfast.

Todd says you must eat it all.

I'll do my best. Whatever did you put in my hot milk last night? I slept like a log.

Just a powder Dr. Evans gave me for times when I feel you’re upset. Seems to have worked. Without waiting for a reply, Dorcas left.

Come and help me finish this oatmeal, Midge. Tory put the bowl down for the dog who lapped it up quickly. Her breakfast finished, Tory helped herself to a second cup of coffee and started to make plans for the day ahead. As soon as she was dressed, she would start on the first of the portfolios, the one that dated back to 1920.

Later when she opened the portfolio, the first thing she found was a drawing she’d done of Snapper, her brother Bart’s Springer Spaniel. It brought the past back clearly. She remembered it had been a hot August day. She’d been enjoying the freedom of not having a governess. Her last one had left after two tiresome years; Tory had never liked her. Until her mother found a new governess, Tory was able to spend her days amusing herself.

With the arrival of her brother and his friend Boris, the days were pleasantly distracting. Tory had discovered that if she sat quietly sketching, they paid little attention to her and carried on their conversation as if they were alone. The two young men had been friends at school and although during the war they had served in different branches of the services, Bart in the army and Boris in the navy, they had remained close friends.

On one occasion, Boris was reading a letter and Bart was smoking his pipe, when Boris spoke, I've got the place, Bart, my boy. You are looking at the owner of a Bond Street Gallery. We’ll have to think of an interesting name.

That's great, Boris, but where will you live?

There's a flat over the shop. I’m going to live there. If you don't find somewhere that suits you, Bart, you can come and stay with me.

I'm going to buy a small house in Hampstead, if I can get the trustees to see sense.

When she heard Bart was planning to live in London, Tory forgot her strategy of remaining invisible, and she jumped up saying, Can I come and stay with you, Bart? I could look after you. I'm nearly thirteen.

The men turned and looked at her, both wondering if they’d said anything a child shouldn't have heard. Several of Tory’s sketches had fallen to the floor and Boris picked up the drawing Tory had been working on. He quietly studied it while Bart lectured his sister.

How long have you been sitting listening to us? It's rude to eavesdrop, Tory, and you know it. Don’t you dare tell mother about my plans. I don't want her to know till it’s all settled. Now you’d better go back to the schoolroom.

Wait, Tory. Boris held out the drawing, Did you do this without any help?

Yes, it's Snapper chasing after a butterfly. You know how often she does that, Bart. Tory wanted to make peace with her beloved brother.

Have you had any art lessons, Tory? Boris was still looking at the sketch.

No. My last governess stopped me whenever she caught me drawing. She said it was a waste of time and I should be working on my studies. I'm going to get a new governess as soon as mother goes to London to find one. I hope this time she’ll find one who likes painting and things like that.

I must go and find your mother. I think I know of someone who needs a job and who can teach you art properly. She paints very well herself.

Oh Boris, that would be wonderful! Let’s go and find mother now.

I think it would be best if I talk to your mother alone, Tory.

Off you go, Tory. Stop being such a nuisance. Take all these papers with you and remember what I said about hanging about. Bart was still feeling cross. He was very fond of his sister and was usually patient with her, but he and Boris often talked about things most unsuitable for her ears.

Boris did talk to Lady Pendine and a Miss Ellen Bird arrived a week later to be Tory's governess. She was a tall girl in her early twenties with dark wavy hair and gentle blue eyes. She smiled a lot and spoke in a soft voice, which pleased Lady Pendine. Her first words after being introduced were, Please don't call me Miss Bird. I like to be known as Birdy. Lady Pendine was a little surprised by this, but in every other way the new governess seemed suitable and when Birdy offered to act as her secretary whenever she needed one, the job was hers. I like typing and with only one pupil, I’ll have plenty of spare time.

That would be very kind of you, Birdy. I do have rather a lot of correspondence, but Tory's education must come first. I'm not sure her last governess taught her very much.

Starting tomorrow I’ll see what’s lacking and report back to you, Lady Pendine.

I can see Tory in the garden. Let me take you out to meet her.

Tory watched her mother and the new governess walking towards her. She quickly bent down to tie her shoe, dreading the thought of another grim old maid as a daily companion.

Tory, child, stand up and meet Birdy. She’s your new governess.

Tory straightened up and found herself looking into Birdy's lovely, smiling face. She smiled back. And from that moment on, a friendship that would last the rest of both their lives began. Birdy held out her hand and Tory shook it.

Take Birdy upstairs and show her the schoolroom, Tory. Bates is taking up her luggage. I must go. I’ve to meet with the Vicar about the church roof. He thinks it needs extensive repairs. Lady Pendine walked briskly away.

Shall we go into the house? I have something for you in my suitcase. My cousin Boris told me about your interest in drawing, so I brought you some pastels. Have you ever used them?

Tory couldn't believe her ears. What a different kind of governess Birdy was, arriving with a present.

Are they difficult to use?

No, they’re really like a soft crayon, but they give a delicate touch to a picture. I think you’ll like working with them. That first meeting set the stage for the contented years that followed. Tory's education developed rapidly. Birdy was a good teacher. She wasn’t afraid to use a little bribery. If all Tory's morning lesson work was done well and neatly written, they went out sketching after lunch. When it was too cold and wet, they painted in the schoolroom. Birdy had been to art school, so she was able to teach perspective and shading. Tory's work improved almost daily.

It was some years later that the even tenor of the days was shattered. Bart had recently become engaged to Valerie Symons and their wedding was set for April, in London. Afterwards, the newlyweds had planned a honeymoon in Egypt. While they were away, Tory would look after Valerie's little dog, a whippet called Cindy. Five days before the wedding, Valerie arrived at Pengally with Tory’s bridesmaid's dress. She’d driven down from London in a new sports car her father had given her as an early wedding gift.

Lady Pendine was very pleased with Bart's choice of bride. She was just the sort of girl she would have chosen herself. She was especially pleased that Valerie was a regular churchgoer. At dinner that last evening, Lady Pendine asked, Valerie, I was wondering if you would have time tomorrow for the early service at St. David's Cathedral?

I’d love to do that before I start the drive back to town, thank you. It has such a peaceful atmosphere. It almost feels as if it’s part of the sea. Perhaps Tory could come too.

I think Tory had better stay here. She’ll be missing a lot of lessons next week when we are in London for the wedding.

Thankful not to be going to early service, Tory offered to look after Cindy. Just pop her in my room when you leave, Valerie. I’ll give her breakfast and take her for a walk.

Later that morning, Bates came into the schoolroom and asked Birdy to come downstairs. Tory thought nothing of it. Birdy was always being asked to solve some domestic problem or other. When Birdy returned, the look on her face told Tory something awful had happened.

The car with her mother and Valerie in it had gone off the road and onto the rocks, killing both of them. The next few days passed in the shock of disbelief and grief. A devastated Bart arrived from London to make arrangements for his mother’s funeral and to send the body of his fiancée to her family in London.

Now sitting holding the sketch of the painting she’d intended to give them as a wedding present, Tory found tears pouring down her face. Even after so many years, those days of sadness were still with her. How good and gentle Bart had been, holding her close while she’d sobbed. ‘I'll look after you, Tory, I promise,’ he’d said.

Fittingly, it had rained at the funeral and many of the townspeople that attended had stood out in the rain. It was a testament to the way her mother had been loved that there were so many mourners from the village at the small church.

Bart kissed the top of Tory’s head as she clung to him. Tory, I have to leave for London on the night train to attend Valerie's funeral. Then I’m going to take a trip for a month or two, but Birdy will be here to look after you.

Will you be away that long, Bart? I’ll be so lonely.

I do have to get away, but I won't stay a moment longer than it takes me to think straight again. I already miss Val so much.

It turned out that Bart was away for nearly two years. Birdy looked after Tory and ran Pengally. Then, on Tory's sixteenth birthday, just as they were sitting down to dinner, in walked Bart looking very handsome and tanned. Bates, smiling broadly, followed him in with an extra place setting.

It's good to have you back, sir. Mrs. Bates has cooked one of her special duck dinners for Miss Tory's birthday. You chose a good night to return. What wine would you like me to serve?

I think tonight deserves champagne, Bates. Bart said, as Tory hugged him tightly.

I can't believe it. Can you, Birdy? After all these years, here you are on my birthday.

I've brought you a present, if I can get it out of my pocket.

Tory, perhaps you should come and sit down. I'm sure Lord Pendine is ready for dinner. Birdy spoke gently, as Bates came in with a bottle of champagne. When Tory was seated, Bart came over and gave her a velvet case.

"Happy