Love, Life, and Death at The Grange

"Hi, I'm George. Glad to have you on board."

"Thanks, Tracy."

They shook hands, but unfortunately for George, his damp, loose handshake reinforced Tracy's demographic of academic types. She avoided giving a visible shiver but now halted in her tracks, as George wasn't going anywhere and maintaining his limp hand hold, blatantly wanted her on her own.

"Ex-forces, eh?"

"Yes."

"Rear echelon, flying a table?"

To any trooper, this would be fighting talk, and George was failing to make any inroads into Tracy's hall of fame.

"Hardly. That would be the RAF. I was Army, being a front-line medic, sharpshooter and linguist."

"Following in the footsteps of your father?"

George made this sound like an insult, as if she had no mind of her own."

"Yes, although he was Royal Navy."

"That must have been hard growing up without your father, then once in yourself, removed from family?"

George's tone softened, as if a psychiatrist, evaluating a poor separated child, but with a hint of sarcasm. Tracy knew exactly what he was insinuating, for him to be her father figure...

"No, not really. We followed him around the world and my brothers fulfilled any patriarchal role models I needed. Then once in, my regiment and fellow soldiers were my family. I don't expect a civilian to understand."

George took the shot across his bows poorly as he rocked back on his heels, but came back.

"Aha, see any action?"

The look on his face gave away his patriarchal scorn, and Tracy's hackles came up.

"I did... But I can't tell you. Being Special Forces, I'd have to kill you afterwards. Official Secrets, you understand?"

She gave him a look that she knew would wither Mike Tyson at a hundred yards, leaving George in no doubt that she could.

George stammered, his eyes searching for his escape route, and pretended to see someone across the bar who needed him and made his excuses to exit his own self-made trap. Tracy walked on with a triumphant spring in her step to greet another gaggle of her team.

The evening dragged on, despite the good company and surroundings of the pub. The more Tracy mingled with her team, the more confident she became and encouraged for the weeks ahead. Despite this, she ached for her bed, resorting to clock watching.

"You okay, boss?"

Mark, one of the kayak team, asked.

This surprised Tracy. Had he caught her keeping an eye on the clock over the bar?

"They aren't so strict over time in country pubs like this one, and the landlady gives you bags of time when she calls last orders."

"Er... Okay, I was wondering if I had time to sip this one or swamp it and buy another."

"Come on boss, I'll buy you one, as you did the honours last night."

Mark held his hand out for her drink, poised, waiting for her to sink the rest of her pint, despite having three-quarters of it left. His eyes popped out of his head as she poured it down in one gulp, smiling back at him, handing her empty glass to him.

"That's one party trick, boss."

"A word of warning Mark, don't get tangled up in a drinking game with me... Ha ha and stop calling me boss, Tracy is fine."

"Okay, I'll remember that, boss."

He grinned a cheeky smile back at Tracy.

Tracy was sure she saw a glint in his eye as he turned, flicking his shoulder-length, straggly blond hair over his shoulder, knowing full well his bronzed, athletic body was appealing to the opposite sex. Tracy had to admit he had his appeal and admired him as he made his way to the bar.

"Hands off, I saw him first."

Gracie's voice whispered in her ear.

Tracy turned to see a very tipsy Gracie smiling at her, who had been enjoying Mark's company, despite them being in a group. Penny was behind, chatting with a few others.

"Haha. No worries, Gracie. He's all yours, as you have dibs on him."

Gracie laughed and gently gripped her upper arm.

"Thanks, he's such a dish..."

"He is a hunk. I bet he's broken a few hearts, though. You be careful."

Tracy knew the type: bronzed women magnets and fully aware of it. She'd already caught his joyful quips, so with the gift of the gab to reel in swooning trinkets, the world was just a smorgasbord of playmates for him.

"God help all those female students coming soon."

"I know Tracy... But better to have lost and not loved at all... So they say, but it still hurts all the same."

"Now, now, I don't want to ban fraternising in the ranks."

She laughed, but it may come to that if the adults can't play nice.

"Oh no, but it will be worth a few tubs of ice cream to get over him, though."

Gracie blushed as Mark returned, passing the two women drinks, thankfully returning to give Gracie his attention. Tracy chatted for a sufficient time to be polite and moved on.

After Mark's comment, Tracy stopped clock-watching, and before she knew it, people were making their way back to the Grange. Whilst locals remained waiting for the landlady to call time, she made her excuses and worked her way through the throng in the bar following the small groups leaving.

In the bar, Gracie was now very much worse for wear, hanging onto Mark's shoulder, mainly to stay standing. Mark caught her eye and mouthed, "She'll be okay."

Tracy was going to retort with a threat to pull his arms off if she wasn't, but they are both adults. Mark's fearful look on his face told her he'd read her mind and removed the last drink from Gracie's hand, placing it to one side and guiding her towards Tracy and the door.

Outside, they joined a long-drawn-out crocodile of staff wound their way back to the Grange. The giggles and laughter echoing around the Grange were evidence that Gracie wasn't the only one to overindulge. Going up the stairs, various staff members lingered, holding Tracy back as they bid their goodnights and idle chit-chat when all she wanted to do was run up and jump into bed.

Like her clock watching, it was an age before she reached her room and finally slipped into bed, in the hope sleep would come quickly. Unfortunately, after a successful day and a few beers, her mind was racing and the noise of staff still partying, as well as Penny encouraging Gracie up the stairs, kept intruding.

The only thing keeping her from leaping out of bed to berate people was her being naked under the sheets, and she didn't want to give Penny mixed signals. At last the giggling Gracie fell asleep to a muffled Penny, losing her patience.

"Okay, fine, you sleep here in the hall."

After a slam of Penny's door, she could hear only a few distant voices. Tracy settled down and tried to file the day's work away for tomorrow, hoping to leave her mind more capable of sleep. Lying in bed, Tracy listened to the sounds of owls in the distance and the wind blowing around the chimneys of the Grange. Her curtains fluttered quietly in the breeze from the open window, and she listened to her own breathing, slowly but surely dropping off to sleep.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Tracy awoke to find herself in Molly's time, with Elizabeth shaking her, smiling.

"Come on. It's Sunday."

Molly rose out of bed, with Tracy once again, seeing her world through her eyes. Her night dress felt like sandpaper against her skin, as she made her way to the potty and squat over it, to look at the sun streaming through the windows.

The voice in her head spoke,

"It's a Sunday and our favourite day of the week because we have half a day off to go to church."

Molly sped time forward, allowing Tracy to see them both dress. The two friends shared the roles of lacing each other up in their corsetry, stockings and multiple layers of clothing. Once ready, in stiffly starched dresses, the two went to meet the other staff downstairs in the kitchen for a very brief breakfast.

The routine was the same as the previous dream. Molly and Elizabeth were the last to receive whatever was left of the communal porridge bowl, again eating as fast as possible before the head butler declared they were all off to church.

Time sped forward again, slowing down, for Tracy to find the two friends walking up a wide gravel track that will be a smooth tarmac road in the future. With the track devoid of motorised traffic, there was no need for a pavement for the two to walk along hand in hand, towards the main village.

The remainder of the household staff were in front, with the head butler in the lead. Molly turned her head around for Tracy to see men of all ages trailing behind, none wearing the finery of the household staff.

"That's the grooms and grounds staff behind."

Several of the younger men stretched their necks to see Molly and Elizabeth, having to look around the older men in front. The one reminded her of someone, but she wasn't sure where from. One of the older men looked disapproving at Molly, who had to return her gaze to the front as Tracy felt Molly's cheeks blush.

Even at mid morning, Molly was hot in the thick clothing she had to wear beneath her coat. In front, cooks, maids, and matrons wore even thicker dresses with even more petticoats. Tracy could feel the tight restriction of the corset Molly wore, knowing that even as fit as she was, she couldn't walk at a fast pace, let alone run.

Tracy could feel the relief in Mandy and Elizabeth's hands as they reached the church. Like many of the cottages through the village, it was just a cleaner, newer version, with the yellow of the local stone gleaming in the sunlight. The entrance sits beneath the tall, square tower end of the rectangular shape. The tower narrows to a fine spire topped by a golden profile of father time acting as a weather vane.

Tall narrow buttresses stand in between the four large ecclesiastical stained windows along its length, overlooked by gargoyles and capped with a lead lined high ridge roof. The grand timber and Welsh slate lychgate entrance that covered the oak gateway into the churchyard allowed parishioners to flock through.

Rather than the empty, quiet churchyard she'd run past that morning, villagers and excited parishioners filled every spare inch. Tracy felt the excitement running through the crowds, all meeting up on the Sabbath.

Molly and Elizabeth joined in the excitement, rushing to hug and talk to a large woman in a heavy dress.

"Mother."

Tracy heard Molly greet her.

"This is my mother. She works as head of household staff at the manor for Lord and Lady Bartholomew.

on the other side of the parish. It's a grand house, far bigger than the Grange."

Molly and her mother clasped hands and passed pleasantries. Both women kept an eagle eye on their respective head butlers and who were entering the church, giving Tracy a chance to soak in the day's excitement. She noticed that whilst people seemed to drift through the parvise to enter the church, there seemed to be a pecking order, with people waiting their turn.

Suddenly, Molly promised to see her mother afterwards and followed the household staff into the church. Tracy felt the cool of the church wash over Molly as she headed to the nave and her allotted pew having to shuffle along to its far end. Tracy almost gasped when Molly finally sat, where the stone pillars of the balcony above hid the podium from her view.

It seemed to take an age of people drifting in until everyone settled down. Molly and Elizabeth whispered gossip up and down the pews amongst other households, whilst also peeking back to wink and smile at the two grooms behind.

Tracy thought the vicar was being a diva and hanging back until the last possible moment, until couples who wore clothes that were clearly tailored and beyond the reach of everyone else in the pews.

"That's the squire and his wife."

Once seated at the front, out of Molly's sight, another couple followed up the aisle with the vicar.

"That's Lord and Lady Bartholomew, who mum works for."

Like a parade of soldiers, the entire congregation rose and began the first hymn. Tracy heard Molly and Elizabeth sing at the tops of their voices as they shared a well-thumbed old hymn book. Tracy couldn't believe Molly's angelic singing. Several people glanced around, smiling at her approvingly.

"Everyone says I sing like an angel, but the squire's daughter always gets a solo, despite singing like a cat."

Seeing her head butler scowl at Molly, Tracy realised why they placed her behind the pillars and obscured from the front pews' vision. She had her place and had to stay in it. Tracy could feel the joy in Molly's heart as she almost defiantly sang, not needing volume to make her point.

The memories fast-forwarded through the sermon, prayers, hymns, and the congregation standing for the front rows to empty. The memory slowed as Molly emerged back out into the sunshine, to see the vicar was out in the road talking to the gentry who were sitting, resplendent in their carriages.

None of the congregation could afford such finery as such. The horse-drawn carriages were huge statements of power and money. The squire sat, with his wife, in a small, single horse and trap, whereas the Lord and Lady had a pair of horses to pull their four-person carriage with a driver and a footman, both with men standing out in the road, holding the horses.

The sun shone, glinting off the polished carriages and brass work on the carriages. Most of the congregation hung around socialise, and a few approached Molly to congratulate and chat with her. Molly politely manoeuvred her way through the crowd to chat with her mother before she would have to leave.

Tracy could see that Molly was popular, especially amongst the two grooms who were about the same age as the two women. They hovered around the edge of the crowd to catch glimpses of the two friends. As Molly reached her mother, Elizabeth broke off to talk with friends, but kept an eye on her friend.

Molly's popularity was only surpassed by her mother's. With people doffing their caps, bowing and curtsying out of respect as they passed her. The two women shared gossip with Molly, learning more news about her brother and his growing family.

Lord and Lady Bartholomew's horse drawn carriage left, indicating that their household should as well. As Molly's mother and her head butler made their move to leave, their household followed suit, trailing out of the churchyard. As soon as Molly became free, the one groom swooped in, pressing some wildflowers into her hands.

"These flowers are as pretty as you sing, Miss Molly. Thar's wild lavender in there, as I knows you like it."

Tracy felt Molly's cheeks blush, but before Molly could respond, the lad left to rejoin his friend. He gave a brief look over his shoulder, with a grin on his face, and they wound their way through the graveyard to leave by a separate gate.

"That's my sweetheart Thomas and his friend is Mathew, who is Elizabeth's."

Molly confirmed.

A memory surged up in Tracy's dreamlike state, confirming she had seen that face before. He was the third groom she'd seen at the stable that morning. "Is he also a ghost at the Grange?"

The memory sped forward again, as Molly and Elizabeth, holding hands again, walked out of the churchyard up through the village, then across the fields. This time they were alone and enjoyed some time by themselves. Time slowed and Tracy recognised the path they were taking as the bridleway she and Penny had ridden.

Although the trees were younger, the wheat in the fields was taller than Tracy's previous run and there were far more wildflowers carpeting the forest floor. Out of the trees, Thomas and Mathew emerged, keeping off the path and noticeably cautious about being seen alone with the two women.

At first, Tracy feared the worst but soon recognised the naivety of the two men who were keen to chat with two attractive young women. The four all danced from one foot to the other as they tried to impress their respective opposite number with casual but guarded chat. Tracy felt Molly's nervousness and blushes with any attention Thomas paid her.

The two men blended into the undergrowth as soon as other villagers appeared on the road, which ran along the other side of the fields, where, in a hundred years or more, Tracy will have her morning runs along. Tracy could feel the trepidation in Molly as she and Elizabeth wondered if anyone had seen alone them with the opposite sex, irrespective of the innocence of the scene.

Time sped forwards, and Molly's memories faded into a jumbled mass of interference. Tracy felt the real world encroach into Molly's memories and her senses returned like a drunken stupor. Her eyelids fought through the drowsiness, catching daylight coming through her curtains. A surge of fatigue rushed through her and in a blink, the sunlight switched off.

Upon reopening her eyes, she saw the same window, but it was now open with the curtains drawn back, showing a clear, and star-strewn night sky. She felt a warm body behind her, and arms wrapped around her. Unlike before, in the depths of winter, there were no coats on the bed, and she felt naked beneath the nightgown.

Elizabeth's voice whispered in her ear, "It's alright my lovely."

She felt warm breath on her neck as a pair of warm lips kissed her on the nape. Unlike before, when the two women had wrapped arms around each other to keep warm, this time Elizabeth's hands were on Molly's breasts, caressing them. Molly pressed her body back onto Elizabeth, enjoying the attention, as another wave of fatigue swept over Tracy.

The TV-like interference returned, jumbling images across her mind once more. It seemed an age before a whole new vista exploded into Tracy's dream sequence of Molly's memory. Bright sunlight caused her to blink as her eyes adjusted.

Molly was unbearably hot, looking down from the first floor of the Grange onto a sprawling mass of riders, and their horses, weaving around each other on the drive and lawn, with servants carrying trays laden with drinks. Spectators stood clear of the large group of excited horses and riders.

Male riders wore bright red jackets, starched white shirts, black top hats, jodhpurs and tall, polished black boots. All exuded confidence that comes with wealth and ownership, who looked down at servants as they took the small glasses of sherry, without a single acknowledgement of manners to anyone below their class.

Even in the summer sun, the few women who were mounted wore black jackets, pulled tightly around starched white blouses, riding side-saddle. They wore thick multi-layered skirts draped over the one side of the horses, hiding their legs and boots. Black hats with netting, perched on their heads and riding crops in their hands.

Molly couldn't contain her excitement at the cacophony of colour and noise as she chatted with Elizabeth alongside her. She stretched her neck to peer around the edge of the large windows to see groundsmen and dog handlers trying to control a pack of even more excited dogs.

One handler with a small brass horn barked orders at the men around as they tried to keep the dogs under control. The two women watching ignored the mounted gentlemen but focussed on the two, Thomas and Mathew, who kept an eye on anyone on horseback, dodging in and out when requested to adjust stirrups or check bridles. Tracy didn't feel their enthusiasm for what she was witnessing, as she realised its implication.

"Oh my god, this is a fox hunt with dogs?"

"They're called hounds, not dogs. Yes, this is a fox hunt."

"This is barbaric Molly. In my time, they banned this because the dogs tear the foxes apart."

"Don't be silly, foxes are vermin and without the hunts, none of these people would have work."

Tracy bit her tongue in the dream. She had to remember these were different times and without a job, these people could starve. As she surveyed the scene, she could see beyond the excitement, realising it was more of a show of wealth and station than pest control.