Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge by T. Belshaw (i want to read a book .TXT) 📕

her hands to part the blanket of spider silk, only her own, familiar features were visible. Jess backed off to the Dormer and stared again into the murky mirror, hoping for another glimpse of the beautiful young girl, but whoever it was, had returned from whence she came.

‘Pull yourself together, Jess,’ she muttered. ‘You’re letting the place get to you.’

She picked up an old towel and wiped the cobweb residue from her hands, and after a quick look through the Dormer out over the old farm yard, she made her way to the right-hand corner of the loft.

Stacked on top of a badly splintered tea chest was a stack of old, brown-fronted, box files. Jess picked up the top one from the uneven stack, brushed the dust from the lid and used the torch from her phone to light up the gloomy corner. On the cover was a discoloured label; once white, it now sported a dingy, yellowy tinge. Written across it in a neat script were the words: Alice Mollison. Personal Memoir. 1943-1945.

Fighting back the urge to sit down and read, Jess took the next box off the stack. The label read: Alice Mollison. Personal Memoir. 1940-1942.

Jess sorted through the remaining boxes until she found the one Alice had asked her to retrieve.

Alice Mollison. Personal Memoir. 1937-1939.

The other boxes in the stack were labelled: Receipts, Farm Accounts, and Legal Papers, for all the given years. Jess decided to return at a later date, to collect the whole stack of boxes. There was a treasure trove of family history inside them.

She tucked the box file under her arm, made her way back through the maze of crates, boxes and fabric, and back down to the lounge. Gwen was trying to persuade Alice to eat a little home-made broth, but she just turned her head away as the spoon neared her mouth.

‘Leave the broth on the hob, Gwen,’ said Jess. ‘I’ll see if I can persuade her to have some later on.’

‘She’s had nothing all day,’ replied Gwen. ‘No wonder she’s got no strength left.’

As she passed Jess on her way to the kitchen, she whispered, ‘I think she’s given up.’ She pulled a hanky from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Jess put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘She’s still with us and you never know, Gwen, her condition could improve. She’s bound to have good days and bad days at her age. Keep the faith, she might surprise you yet.’

Gwen nodded her head repeatedly. ‘You’re right, we should never give up hope. I suppose we’ll know more when the doctor gets here.’

As Gwen carried the bowl of broth carefully back to the kitchen, Jess pulled up a chair next to Alice’s bed and sat down.

‘I think I got the right one, Nana,’ she said, lifting up the dusty old box file so that Alice could see it.

Alice tried to pull herself up into her pillows, but the effort was too great, and she sank back with a deep sigh. Her breathing had worsened since the morning. When she spoke, the words were broken and came between gasps for air.

‘Look… in…side, Jessica. Just… che…ck.’

Jess lifted the lid slowly in case the file had suffered damage over the years. Inside were three volumes of foolscap notebooks. She lifted them out carefully, checking each one in turn, then she put the box on the floor and stacked the three volumes on her knee. She opened the volume for 1937 first and skimmed through the neatly-written pages, stopping to read a paragraph here and there.

‘Nineteen thirty-seven. I think we’ve covered that one, Nana, but I’ll read it properly when I get the time, to see if there’s anything we’ve missed.’

‘There’s… nothing, impor…tant that I haven’t al…ready told you in… that one.’ Alice made a circular motion with her hand, encouraging Jess to move on.

‘Okay. This one is nineteen thirty-eight, which is the year you had Martha. Is that the year you want me to concentrate on for now?’

Alice nodded. ‘Give… me… the one for… nine…teen… thirty-nine.’

Jess passed her the volume, but Alice didn’t have the strength to hold it, and the book slid off the bed and landed on Jess’s foot. She picked it up and offered it to Alice again.

‘Put… it… in… the dra…wer,’ she stuttered between gulps of air. ‘You don’t… need… that… one, yet.’

Jess opened the draw and slipped the notebook inside.

‘I’ll catch up on nineteen thirty-eight this afternoon, Nana. You have a rest now. The doctor will be here soon.’

‘Talk… to… me… Jess…ica… I don’t want t…to sleep.’

‘Shall I read from the memoir?’ asked Jessica.

Alice nodded.

‘Let me just get a cup of tea first, Nana, my throat is so dry after being in that dusty attic.’

As Jess got to her feet, the notebook slipped from her knee and fell to the carpet. When she picked it up, three photographs slid out from inside the back cover. The first was a picture of Alice holding a baby she assumed was Martha. The second was of a group of farm workers standing in front of a ramshackle barn. The third was of a young girl with fair hair and a heart shaped face.

‘Who’s this, Nana?’ she asked.

Alice took the photograph in her shaking hand and held it up to her face. She smiled and her eyes became wet with a teary film. ‘That’s… my Amy,’ she said.

Jess’s mouth gaped. ‘I’ve just seen her, Nana.’

‘I… doubt… it… Jess…ica. Amy… died twenty years ago.’

‘It was her, Nana. She was staring at me from the mirror in the attic. She smiled when I looked closer. It was definitely her.’

Alice kissed the photograph and held it to her bosom. ‘So, she’s… watch…ing over, you… too… Jessica. That… comforts… me.’

Ten minutes later, Jess set her steaming cup of tea on the bedside table, picked up the memoir, searched for the April chapters, and began to read.

Chapter 48

April 1938

On Monday, after I had finished in the piggery, I sat down to think about how