Angela Sherlock’s excerpt from her novel, The Apple Castle, reveals the flaws in an ill-fated marriage
Angela Sherlock’s excerpt from her novel, The Apple Castle, reveals the flaws in an ill-fated marriage where honesty is corrupted by a lying wife.
The Apple Castle is set in the 1950s and tells the story of 12 year old Billy Trundle who was sentenced to five years for the crime of stealing apples.
Ormerod Castle was built a century before and it has now come down in the world. Once the residence of a wealthy mill owner, it is now the approved school where Billy must live out his sentence. Billy’s story unfolds against the backdrop of the castle. Tragic echoes from the past are entwined with Billy’s tale. Only to Billy does the castle grant courage and some measure of happiness.
In this chapter, from Angela’s novel, Gerry is the great nephew of Samuel Longfield, who built the castle. His marriage to Amelia is as ill-fated as Samuel’s was to Ruth.
“Honestly, it won’t be too bad, darling, “Gerry reassured her, but pregnancy had not suited Amelia’s skinny little frame. She insisted on the planned holiday in Mexico and spent much of the journey being seasick. Then the sun was too hot and the food too vile, so she drank too many cocktails because, “What else is there to bloody well do, darling?” When she lay on her tummy it kicked and when she lay on her back it ached, and Gerry was at his wits’ end to please his darling, He fetched cushions and rugs and cool drinks, so Amelia accused him of fussing, but when he wasn’t at her beck and call she became petulant and felt herself abandoned.
Gerry suspected all that booze wasn’t a good idea but the only interdiction upon which he insisted was horse riding. He had stood nervously by the great hearth in the salon and started a rambling story about one of the Longfield women who had continued to ride during her pregnancy and, of course, there had been an accident and she was thrown and. . . Amelia let out a shout of laughter. “Gerry, you idiot, when, tell me, did you ever see me on a horse?”
The baby was due at the end of July but inevitably it was late and Amelia moped around the castle, trailing cigarette ash and leaving glasses on window sills behind her. Mummy had come up from Devon but Daddy caught some bug and she hurried back to his bedside, hiding her relief at abandoning her bad tempered daughter. Gerry was fond and proud and nervous. He tried to interest her in the nursery and which school if it was a boy, but Amelia brushed it all aside. The hard, high bump of her belly got bigger and her nerves frayed further. The servants took care to stay out of her way.
She gave birth on an August day thundery with heat and Madge commented to Cook down in the kitchen that ‘you’d think no one had ever delivered before, the fuss she made’. Dr Boothroyd was in attendance and Gerry brought the midwife up from Ormerod to give his nurse a hand, which offended both women mightily. Amelia groaned and screamed and refused to push. She was finally delivered of a poor little scrap of a boy who had been soaked in gin and nicotine for the 42 weeks of his existence.
Gerry, however, was proud of his darling girl and delighted with his little man. He wanted to call him Samuel, after his great uncle who had built the castle, but Amelia thought it a vulgar name and rather Jewish. She favoured Tristram or perhaps Lancelot. Gerry trembled but stood firm, and they compromised on George Roderick Edwin, which displeased both his family and hers.
“We’ll need a bigger car now,” Amelia announced, the morning after the christening. “What about a Bentley, like Daddy’s?” They were having a late breakfast, although Gerry had been up and about for hours. He was pleased to see that Amelia’s appetite had returned as she tucked into a hearty dish of kedgeree followed by toast and marmalade.
“I wouldn’t want to get rid of the Riley, though,” Gerry said. “Can’t Georgie ride in the rumble seat for a while? Cars are dashed expensive, you know, and I’ve got to watch things at the mill just for a bit.” Amelia stared at him open mouthed.
“You are not,” she announced firmly, “going to go on about economizing again. We are not poor and appearances have to be kept up. “She threw him a suspicious look. “I never thought you’d be mean, Gerry.” He crumpled his napkin, stung by the charge.
“I say, that’s not fair. We haven’t got limitless funds, you know. This place costs a fortune to keep up and the London house is even worse. I told you we should have just kept the flat on. We’re not going to be doing the season again for a few years, until Georgie is older. . .” As she jumped to her feet, Amelia’s chair tipped over and Gerry flinched.
“You may not be going to London, “she hissed at him, “but I certainly am. Do you actually contemplate spending the winter here?” She glared around the breakfast room. The sunlight cast golden rectangles across the gleaming parquet; bowls of roses on the side tables sweetened the air and the muslin curtains danced cheerfully at the open window.
“But what about Georgie?” Gerry asked.
“We’ve got a bloody nanny, haven’t we?” she replied. “Isn’t it her job to look after him? Or do you expect me to stay at home while you go gadding off wherever you please?”
Gerry was hurt but hesitated to cross her in this mood. He picked her chair up and patted her shoulder.
“Of course not, old girl, I only meant. . .” But he stopped. Yes, he had meant that she should stop at home. They had a son and tenants and employees and responsibilities. The London season was for meeting someone and falling in love and getting married. And they had done that. He looked at Amelia’s white face and the clench of her jaw and decided that the sooner she realised how things stood, the better.
“Sit down, dear,” he said, “and finish your breakfast. There is a conversation we must have and I think now is as good a time as any.”
Surprised, but mutinous, Amelia moved away from the table. “I have finished,” she said coldly, spurning the heap of toast. “What is it you want to talk about?” Madge came in to clear and, as she told them downstairs afterwards, “You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. A bit soon to be quarrelling if you ask me,” she said to Cook and Armitage, “but that’s what they were doing. Her fault, I expect,” she added.
Upstairs, Gerry ushered Amelia across the salon and into the office. “You can look at the papers if you like,” he said. “Glossops have done the figures. This place eats money but,” he waved away her attempt to interrupt,” this is the family home and it’s my duty to keep it going for Georgie and his sons.”
Amelia tried to splutter her disagreement but he went on. “It’s the mill that’s the problem. You know,” he said abstractedly, “the Longfields used to own half a dozen mills down this valley. Riverside is the only one we’ve got now and it’s losing money hand over fist. Cotton’s not what it was and Glossop says we ought to think of diversifying.” He stood at the window with his back to her, watching two crows stalk across the lawn.
Amelia looked at the sag of his shoulders and then down at the jumble of papers spread across the desk.
“Are things serious?” she asked. He turned back to her, pleased at the conciliatory tone.
“Not yet,” he answered, “not quite. But soon, we’ll have to do something.”
“I’ll ask Monty,” she said briskly. Startled, Gerry repeated,” Monty?”
“D’you remember Teddy?” Amelia went on, ignoring his look of disbelief, “Teddy Fitzhurse? Well, he’s a great friend of my little brother and the Fitzhurses are in banking and shipping and all sorts and Monty can get him to advise us.” She paused triumphantly, convinced she had righted their fortunes at a stroke, and wondeing if Teddy would find her much changed.
“Teddy Fitzhurse!” Gerry exclaimed, “That, that . . .” but Amelia did not let him go on.
“Don’t be jealous. I married you, not Teddy, even though he’s got lots more money,” she said, managing to stamp out any wistfulness from her tone. Gerry protested that the Glossops were the family’s advisers but she rode rough shod over his objections.
“We’ll ask for his help and it’s for Georgie so we won’t mind. Now, stop worrying and we’ll forget about the Bentley for now.”
Coming from behind the desk, Amelia stretched up and put her arms around his neck.
“And we’ll talk about London another time. I might not even want to go,” she said and kissed him to distract him from the lie.
