Kitabı oku: «Daisychain Summer», sayfa 3

A signal fell with a clatter. A porter pushing a trolley and the stationmaster with top hat and green furled flag appeared on the platform. The train, no more than a noiseless speck down the track, would arrive on time. Julia was coming, and bringing their past with her.

She got down from a third-class compartment, lifting a gloved hand to bring the porter hurrying from the far end of the train and the first-class carriage that usually put a sixpenny tip his way.

She had not changed. Everything about her proclaimed her status; her understated air of command, her well-labelled leather suitcases, the way she held her head, even. She was still a Sutton. Not even what she had endured in the war could wipe out her breeding. She saw him, and smiled, and he walked towards her, removing his cap.

‘Tom!’ She held out her hand, her voice low with emotion. ‘It is so good to see you. How long is it?’

‘More’n five years, Miss Julia, and it’s right grand to see you, an’ all.’

They walked unspeaking beside the porter, waiting as he lifted her luggage into the cart.

‘Step up carefully, Miss Julia.’ Tom offered his hand, settling her comfortably, laying a rug over her knees. Then he jerked the reins, calling, ‘Hup!’ and clicking his tongue.

They were well out of the station environs before he said, ‘I want to say I’m sorry about what happened to the doctor, Miss Julia. And I’d like to thank you for being so decent about giving me a reference. It got me the job, though I’d have understood if you’d have wanted no truck with a deserter, after all you’d been through.’

‘Alice gave you the reference, Tom …’

‘Aye, but written in your hand, Miss, and it was you signed Alice’s name to it. I’m grateful.’

‘Then don’t be. Any man who had the guts to desert that war has my understanding. And Tom, there’s one thing I’d like to say to you. You must not call me Miss Julia. Not only am I Mrs MacMalcolm, now, but I am also a guest in your house. Alice calls me Julia – I would like you to do it, as well.’

‘But it wouldn’t be right! I used to work for her ladyship and you are still her daughter.’

‘Those days are long gone and besides, Alice is my friend. I still look on her as my sister and it would please me if you would treat me as she treats me.’

‘It’ll be a mite strange …’

‘Alice found it strange, too, but it didn’t take her long.’

‘I can but try,’ he smiled, touched and embarrassed both at the same time. ‘Though how you can show such kindness to someone who ran away –’

‘But I understood and my mother understood, too. Alice told us how it was. It was a terrible thing to have to shoot a man – a boy – in cold blood. That you threw down your rifle afterwards and risked the death sentence for what amounted to an act of mutiny, was a brave thing to do.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘I was beside myself with disgust; all twelve in that firing party were. One man stood there shaking as if he was going to throw a fit and another was sick. I just stormed up to that officer and told him I wouldn’t do a thing like that again, and they were all of them in such a state that I got away with it. But I wasn’t acting the hero. It’s this temper of mine …’

‘I can understand. I’ve got one, too. My mother calls it my Whitecliffe temper,’ she laughed. ‘Act first then think afterwards. You and me both, Tom.’

‘Aye. I was thinking on the way here about Rowangarth and that no matter how much I miss the old days, it’s as well I’m here. If Alice and me lived there, then I’d always be on the lookout for him.’ His eyes sought hers, asking understanding.

‘Elliot Sutton, you mean?’ Her gaze met and held his. ‘So you know?’

‘I know. Alice told me. It bothered her, you see. Told me it all.’

‘I see. And do you agree, now, that we did what we had to do? Giles needed a son and had just been told he would never father one – his injuries, you see – and Alice was demented with worry about your death and the pregnancy she didn’t want – a child she could never accept, or bring herself to love.’

‘And her ladyship …?’

‘She believes what Giles told her; that Drew is Giles’s son, conceived in a single act of compassion. She accepts it. She even thinks that Drew was meant to be.’

‘I’ve come to accept it, too.’ Tom slowed down the pony at the crossroads, turning to the right. ‘Almost there. And I’m grateful to Sir Giles. He was a decent man, and a brave one, too. Geordie and me would go out into No Man’s Land at night with the stretcher bearers, picking up the wounded. We’d hide ourselves and keep watch; try to give them some protection if they were seen by the German gunners. It took a brave man to be a stretcher bearer, like Sir Giles was. Brave fools, we called them – and the orderlies and doctors who went under the barbed wire with them.’ He slid his eyes to where she sat and saw her sudden sadness. ‘I’m sorry, Miss. We must try not to look back …’

‘Oh, but you are so wrong, Tom! We must always look back. We must remember, so it won’t happen again to Drew and Daisy. But we must always remind ourselves that the pain of remembering will grow less – or so I’m always being told.’ She lifted her head, and smiled. ‘I’m so looking forward to being with you both. I’ve missed Alice so. And as for seeing my god-daughter – oh, this will be such a wonderful holiday for me!’

Alice stood at the gate, waiting impatiently for the sound of the pony and cart. Beside her, in her shiny black perambulator, her baby girl slept.

The house was clean and shining; a joint of beef roasted in the fire oven. Vegetables stood ready for cooking; an apple pie cooled on the slate slab in the pantry.

Flowers from the garden were newly arranged in her best vases; Julia’s bedroom was as perfect as ever it could be. She hoped Julia would not find it inconvenient, there not being a bathroom at Keeper’s Cottage, but no one hereabouts had one. Water, except at Windrush, came out of wells or pumps or rain butts.

And why was Daisy asleep? Why couldn’t she be awake to fix Julia with brilliant blue eyes? She didn’t smile, yet, but she recognized voices and turned towards familiar sounds. She knew the minute Tom gave his warbling whistle. Tom loved her so much …

Impatiently, she walked to the turn in the lane, standing still, listening; walking back to the gate, again, sure the wheel must have fallen off the cart.

Then she heard a faraway sound and held her breath, making out the steady clopping of hooves, the round grinding of wheels. Her cheeks reddened; she felt a sudden tensing of her hands.

Then Tom was pulling on the reins, smiling, calling, ‘Well, here she is, now!’

Slowly, carefully, Julia got down, then stood, not moving nor speaking, as if she didn’t believe any of it. Then as one they ran, arms wide, clasping each other tightly, saying not a word, standing close, cheek upon cheek.

‘Oh, my word!’ Alice was the first to find her voice. ‘Let me look at you. My dear, dear Julia – I’ve missed you!’

‘And I you.’ Julia’s eyes pricked with tears and she blinked rapidly, smiling through them. ‘Sixteen months! It’s been so long. And do let me see her!’

‘Asleep, as usual,’ Alice sniffed, pulling back the pram cover. ‘Don’t know what I did to deserve such a placid babe.’

Daisy Dwerryhouse lay on her pretty pink pillow, face flushed from sleep, half-moons of incredibly long eyelashes resting on her cheeks.

‘But she is beautiful! She is incredible!’

‘If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the pair of you to it.’ Tom deposited suitcases on the doorstep. ‘Best take the pony back. Supper at half-past six, will it be?’ He didn’t even try to conceal his pride.

‘There or thereabouts,’ Alice nodded. ‘Let’s go inside, Julia? You must be fair gasping for a cup of tea. The kettle’s on the hob and the tray set and oh, my dear, it’s so good to be together again!’

‘It is,’ Julia whispered throatily. ‘So very good …’

When Tom had excused himself after supper and Daisy had been fed and settled in Julia’s arms in the fireside rocker, Alice set about restoring order in the kitchen.

‘You must be tired, love,’ she murmured.

‘Not if you aren’t.’ Julia cupped the little head protectively in her hand, smiling softly. ‘She smells of breast milk and baby soap. She has a mouth like a little rosebud. You should have called her Rose …’

‘No. Her mother is a buttercup girl and daisies go best with buttercups. Now – tell me about Aunt Sutton? How was she, when you called?’

‘She insists she came back to London to see her bank manager, but she let it slip that she also visited her doctor – then went to great pains to hide it. Said she might as well let him have a look at her, whilst she was over, but she was altogether too casual about it. It’s my belief she came especially to see him and when I said as much she told me it was all stuff and nonsense and that she had no intention of taking the pills he’d given her. A fussy old woman, she called him.

‘She’ll be back in the Camargue, now, and I’ve got a peculiar feeling about it all. I wonder if I should try phoning her doctor – get to the bottom of it.’

‘He wouldn’t tell you – you know he wouldn’t.’

‘No, and nor would Aunt Sutton. All she said was, “Fiddle-de-dee!” If only Andrew was here …’

Alice remained silent, then, drying her hands, she walked to where Julia sat, standing behind her chair, hands on her shoulders. For a moment she stood there, then said softly, ‘Is she asleep? Why don’t you take her upstairs to her cot? I don’t have to tell you how to do it, now do I?’

Julia was quite composed by the time she came downstairs and Alice was setting out cups and saucers.

‘Kettle’s just on the boil,’ she smiled, removing her apron. ‘Now we can have that chat. Tom won’t be back, yet.’

‘Does he always work this late?’

‘Bless you no – leastways, not these days. Windrush was very run down when Mr Hillier bought it. The Army were in it right through the war – the place had gone to rack and ruin. Game covers overgrown and hardly a pheasant in them. Tom’s had to start from scratch. There was no shooting last back end, though he’s hopeful there’ll be good sport come October. He’ll need another keeper, by then. Mr Hillier is keen to have his business friends from London for a few shoots, so Tom wants it all to be in good order.

‘Said he was going to make up the hour he took off, this afternoon, but really it’s only to let you and me have a good gossip.’

‘And you’re happy, Alice? No regrets – about leaving Rowangarth, I mean, and starting afresh here?’

‘No regrets –’cept that I miss you and Reuben and her ladyship. We’re so out of the way, here, and I only see people on shopping day – apart from the district nurse. She calls once a week but we shan’t be seeing so much of her, once Daisy gets to be six weeks old. I write to Reuben, though it isn’t often he writes back …’

‘I see him often. He’s fine, Alice, and tells me what you have written, though often you’ve already given me the same news. But I’m sure he’d like to see Daisy.’

‘I’d like him to. If he decided to visit us, either Tom or me would go to London and meet him. Wish I could persuade him to come.’

‘Or you and Daisy could come to Holdenby to see him?’

‘Oh, my goodness!’ Alice set down the tea tray with such force that the cups and saucers rattled. ‘You know I couldn’t! When I left Rowangarth the excuse was that I’d had a bad time getting over Drew’s birth and I was going to Aunt Sutton for a change and a rest. But that was ages ago! What are they going to say if I turn up with a baby in my arms?’

‘Well, you won’t shock Reuben nor mother, because they knew you were really going to Tom and they know about Daisy, so who else is there? Everyone else at Rowangarth is your friend. Oh, I tell them from time to time that you are fine and they know that you and I write to each other – but I’m sure they often thought about you and wondered when you’d be back. So why don’t you let me tell them that you have married again? You had every right to.’

‘But married to Tom?’

‘A deserter, you mean? But who knows about that? Mother, Reuben, and me – and we aren’t going to tell. And the Army thinks he was killed, so where’s the bother? You know the way we feel about it – we’re on Tom’s side.’

‘Yes, an’ I’m grateful. But what do I say – that I’m Alice Dwerryhouse, now, and that Tom was never killed? Are folks going to accept that?’

‘Of course – if you tell them he was a prisoner and the authorities were never told about it by the Germans. It happened often, in the war – men turning up like that. Everyone who knew you both would be glad.’

‘Aye,’ Alice frowned. ‘I think they’d believe it–especially as Jinny Dobb knows about Tom, already.’

‘Old Jin knows! How on earth …?’

‘She saw him the day he came back to Reuben’s cottage, when he came looking for me. Reuben had to tell him I’d wed Giles, and had a bairn …’

‘I know. I’m not likely to forget that day. But you’re sure Jin saw him?’

‘Certain. She told me she had and wanted to know why I wasn’t going with him.’

‘Yet she never said a word about it to anyone – not to my knowledge, at least.’

‘She promised she wouldn’t. But when I left Rowangarth, Jin must have suspected I wasn’t going away for the good of my health.’

‘Well – there you are, then,’ Julia smiled. ‘It would be a five-minute wonder. They’d all be so busy ooh-ing and aah-ing over Daisy that they’d pay no heed to what you and Tom had been doing.’

‘I don’t know …’ Alice frowned, biting her lip, cupping her blazing cheeks in her hands. ‘I’d have to talk to Tom about it. I mustn’t do anything to risk him being caught and happen he’d not be so keen to have me visit – well, you know what I mean?’

‘Elliot Sutton? Well, you’d just have to promise to keep out of Brattocks Wood. And anyway, you’d have no need to go there. Reuben lives in the village, now.’

‘But I think I’d want to go there – just once, for old time’s sake. It was where Tom and me did our courting, remember. I used to take Morgan out and hope like mad I’d bump into Tom.’

‘And you’d want to tell the rooks what had been happening, wouldn’t you,’ Julia teased. ‘Then I’d have to come with you, that’s all. Have you any rooks here, to talk to?’

‘Some over in the far wood – but I haven’t made their acquaintance, just yet. And happen I’ve grown up a bit, since I used to tell my secrets to the Rowangarth rooks.’

‘They’d be glad to see you, for all that,’ Julia urged.

‘Maybe. But what about her ladyship? Would she be glad? And if I did come – and I’m not saying I will, mind – where would I stay? There isn’t room for me and Daisy in Reuben’s little house.’

‘But mother would love to see you again – and as for sleeping, what’s wrong with Rowangarth? It was your home, wasn’t it? You would stay with us.’

‘What would they all say, though – Miss Clitherow and Cook and Mary and Tilda?’

‘Alice – you know staff don’t usually make comments about mother’s house guests, even though I know they would all say, “Welcome back, Alice!”’

‘There’s Tom …’ She was wavering, she knew it; knew, too, that she desperately wanted to see Reuben just once more – see Rowangarth, too.

‘Tom was a prisoner of war. I shall tell them that and mother will confirm it. And anyway, Tom wouldn’t be coming with you – not on your first visit. Are you afraid Will Stubbs would poke and pry and ask his business?’

‘Will!’ Alice gasped, remembering the inquisitive coachman, bursting into laughter. ‘Is he still a terrible busybody?’

‘As bad as ever, though he’s careful to keep his own affairs a secret – or so he thinks,’ Julia grinned. ‘We all happen to know that he’s setting his cap at Mary.’

‘Mary Strong? Her ladyship’s parlourmaid?’

‘The very same Mary. And Alice – don’t revert to your old ways entirely? You were once married to my brother – you were Lady Alice Sutton. Mother thinks of you still as hers. If you should come home to Rowangarth, don’t call her milady or refer to her as her ladyship? You used to call her dearest, as Giles did – remember?’

Nodding, Alice closed her eyes. She remembered so much and almost all of it security and kindness and the sweet sense of belonging. All at once, Rowangarth called her.

‘I couldn’t leave Tom,’ she gasped.

‘Not if he’d want you to pay Reuben a visit? Tom was fond of him – and Reuben isn’t getting any younger.’

‘You think I don’t know it? He’ll be seventy-five, come September. I’d hoped you would take his birthday present back with you – give it to him on his birthday. I’ve got tobacco and mints and knitted him two pairs of good thick socks.’

‘I’ll take them, gladly, and see he gets them, too. But mightn’t it be nice to be able to tell him on his birthday that one day soon you’ll be bringing Daisy to see him? At least don’t dismiss it entirely?’

‘Don’t, Julia! I want so much to visit, and you know I can’t! There’d always be Elliot Sutton at the back of my mind – not just meeting him, though that would be bad enough. What if he saw me – and blurted it all out? What then?’

‘Elliot won’t say anything – not now. If he’d been going to make trouble, he’d have made it when he realized he’d been cheated out of hopes of the title. He can’t know – not for certain – that Drew is his. Hateful though he is, I’d give him credit for keeping his mouth shut.

‘And you wouldn’t be staying long – a week, at the most? Surely for so short a time we could make sure you and he didn’t meet?’

‘We? You and your mother, you mean? But she doesn’t know that Elliot Sutton is Drew’s father – had you forgotten?’

‘No. But I’m trying to. From the day he was born I always thought of Drew as Giles’s son – just as mother does. You must do the same, Alice. Elliot Sutton is a womanizer and a lecher but he isn’t so stupid that he’d stand on the top of Holdenby Pike and shout it out to the three Ridings, now is he?’

‘N-no …’

‘There you are, then! We stand together, you and I – just as we did when we were nursing. We each took care of the other, in the old days – we can do it again. We’d wither cousin Elliot at a glance. And remember, Alice – I hate him as much as you do.’

‘You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like to – to’

‘To be raped by him? No, I don’t. But he’s alive and my husband was killed in that war, so I hate him more than you do – and never forget it!’

‘I believe you do,’ Alice said, wonderingly. She hadn’t thought, not for a moment, that anyone could hate him as much as she. ‘You really do …’

‘Oh, yes. And you and Daisy would be safe with me. And bring Morgan with you, if you’d feel better. Morgan hates him, too …’

‘Oh, I couldn’t come. It wouldn’t be right to leave Tom on his own. I want to come, Julia – you know I do – but how could I?’

Yet even as she said it, she knew it was only a matter of time. One day, and soon, she would return to Rowangarth. Nothing was more certain.

3

‘I tell you it was Alice,’ Mary Strong insisted. ‘That’s where Miss Julia has been! Miss Julia and her ladyship were talking on the telephone and it was Alice Hawthorn they were talking about! Her ladyship said, “Where are you ringing from, Julia?” and then she said, “Good. That’s handy to know if ever we need to get in touch with Alice.”’

‘Alice Sutton, don’t you mean, and have you forgotten, Mary, that parlourmaids don’t listen to private telephone conversations?’ Cook corrected, her mouth a round of disapproval. ‘And then what did she say?’

‘Then …’ Mary pushed her cup across the table to be refilled, taking another piece of cinnamon toast without so much as a by-your-leave,‘ … then her ladyship said, “And how are Daisy, and Morgan? We mustn’t forget dear old Morgan.”’

‘Alice took Morgan with her, didn’t she,’ Tilda frowned, ‘when she left for Aunt Sutton’s, I mean. And why has she stayed away so long without so much as a word? Surely she’s better, now. And who is Daisy?’

‘Don’t know anything about any Daisy,’ Mary shrugged. ‘But I happen to know that Alice keeps in touch with Miss Julia. I’ve said so all along, haven’t I? I know her writing on the envelopes.’

‘Aye, and as for us not hearing a word,’ Tilda defended, ‘we did make it pretty plain when Alice came back from France Lady Sutton that things had changed, now didn’t we?’

‘Things had to change,’ Cook murmured. ‘Alice wasn’t below stairs any more – Miss Clitherow made sure we knew that, right from the start. And we still aren’t any the wiser, are we?’

‘Curiouser, though.’ A pity, Mary thought, she’d had to move on in mid-conversation, so to speak, but there was a limit to the time it took any one person to walk across the hall. ‘Wonder if Miss Julia will tell us about it? After all, Alice is supposed to be with Miss Sutton and that’s where Miss Julia was supposed to be going. The very last thing her ladyship said to her when she left was, “Give my dearest love to Anne Lavinia, don’t forget. Tell her we don’t see half enough of her.” I heard her!’

‘A lot of supposing, for all that,’ Cook murmured, half to herself.

‘Yes, but Miss Sutton spends most of her time in France,’ Tilda insisted. There could be no doubting it when her ladyship always gave her the stamps from the envelopes for her little brother who collected them. ‘So why do Alice’s letters have a Southampton postmark on them?’

‘Hmmm.’ Cook thought long and hard, then ventured, ‘Happen letters from France get brought over to Southampton on ships and the Post Office there –’

‘Happen my foot!’ Mary interrupted, forgetting herself completely. ‘I see all the letters that come into this house and Miss Sutton’s have a Marseilles or a Nice postmark on them so why, will you tell me, don’t Alice’s?’

‘That’s enough!’ Cook snapped, aware the conversation had gone too far. ‘What Upstairs does and where their letters come from is none of our business and we’d all do well to remember it if we want to keep our positions in these hard times. And not one word of what’s been said in my kitchen is to go beyond these four walls – do I make myself clear?’ She fixed Mary with one of her gimlet glances. ‘We’re all getting as bad as Will Stubbs,’ she added as a final reminder.

‘There’ll be none hear anything from me!’ Mary countered archly. ‘Never a word passes my lips when I’m in Will’s company. I hope I know my place here and have always given satisfaction, Mrs Shaw!’

‘That you have, Mary; that you have – so don’t spoil it!’

Whereupon her ladyship’s cook rose from her chair, indicating that morning break was over. ‘Now let’s all of us be about our business. If we’re intended to know, we’ll be told when Miss Julia gets home, Tuesday. If not, then we keeps our eyes down and our mouths shut tight!’

All the same, she pondered, there were things that didn’t add up, postmarks on letters apart. Just why had Alice stayed away so long? And who was Daisy?

Clementina Sutton was in a tizzy of delight. Not only had the first visiting card she left at the house in Cheyne Walk been accepted by a servant dressed in black from top to toe, but the next day – the very next day, mark you – a card had been delivered by the black-bearded Cossack which indicated, if Russian etiquette ran parallel with English, that Clementina was now free to call. Hadn’t the Countess added the time – 10.30 – in small, neat letters in the bottom, left-hand corner, and tomorrow’s date?

The Countess. Just to think of it made Clementina glow. Merely to look at the deckle-edged card bearing what could only be the family crest embossed in gold and the name Olga Maria, Countess Petrovska beneath it, gave her immense pleasure.

She knew little of the family next door, save that they had fled St Petersburg where the Russian revolution started, though now those Bolsheviks were calling the city Petrograd, if you please! Mind, the Bolsheviks appeared to have gained the upper hand, so were entitled to call it what they wished. The last of the British troops sent to help restore the Czar to his throne had long ago left and heaven help anyone who had the misfortune to fall foul of the men – and women – who waved their triumphant red banners. Shot, like as not, just as the Czar and his family had been.

But it couldn’t happen here, Clementina insisted nervously, even though men were joining trade unions as never before and threats of strikes were always present. But they wouldn’t strike. For every man who withdrew his labour there were ten only too grateful to take his place. She dismissed the British working man from her mind, thinking instead of tomorrow’s call. Investigating the pedigree of refugee Russians and whether the daughter of the house was in the market for a husband might prove interesting. It could turn out to be an extremely enlightening talk.

Talk? But what if the family next door spoke no English; used French as their international language as diplomats did? She would not only feel a fool, but be shown to be one! Then she comforted herself with the thought that any foreigner of any consequence spoke English and if the Russians did not, then they were not worth wasting her time on – which would be a pity, because the daughter of a countess was exactly what she had set her heart upon, for Elliot.

She sighed deeply, then began to search her wardrobe for something suitable to wear, regretting having brought so few clothes with her. And this town house, though small, she resolved, must be brought into full working order and before so very much longer, too. Elliot had dillied and dallied far too long. Now he would be given to understand that he had a twelve-month in which to get himself wed – or else!

She closed the wardrobe door firmly. Nothing there; nothing half good enough in which to call upon a countess. Best take a stroll through the Burlington Arcade and along Bond Street – buy new …

Julia felt a warm glow of homecoming the moment the station taxi entered the carriage drive that swept up to the steps of the old house. For more than three hundred years Rowangarth had stood there, blessing Suttons on their way; welcoming them back.

‘I’ve missed you both!’ She kissed her mother’s cheek, then swept the small, pyjama-clad boy into her arms, closing her eyes, hugging him to her, amazed he should feel so solid, so robust against Daisy’s newborn fragility. ‘It’s good to be back, though it was such a joy being with Alice again. I wanted to bring her home with me.’

‘Come inside, do. It feels quite cold out here.’ Helen Sutton shivered. ‘I promised Drew he should stay up to welcome you, though he’s been fighting sleep this past half-hour.’

‘Then I shall take you upstairs at once, my darling, and tuck you in,’ Julia smiled, kissing him again. ‘Have you had your supper?’

‘Mm. Mummy not go away again?’

‘No, Drew. Next time, you shall come with me. We’ll go for a lovely long ride on a puffing train – now what do you say to that?’

He regarded her solemnly through large grey eyes – Andrew’s eyes – stuck a thumb in his mouth, then laid his head on her shoulder. Almost before she had tucked the bedclothes around him, he was asleep.

‘Now, give me all the news,’ Helen smiled as they sat at dinner. ‘How was Anne Lavinia?’

‘She seemed fine. I gave her your love, as you asked.’ Best not spoil tonight with vague suspicions about her health. ‘She’ll be back in France, by now. I think it was business brought her home. Figgis has retired now, remember. There’s no one in the house, so maybe she thought she’d better check up on things – pick up bills. And she popped in on her doctor. Nothing wrong. Just a quick check-up,’ Julia hastened, feeling better for having mentioned it, albeit briefly. ‘It was good to see Alice again. She and Tom are very happy – and as for little Daisy! Five weeks old and a beauty already. I could have stolen her to be Drew’s sister!’

‘She is Drew’s sister,’ Helen reminded, fork poised. ‘Had you forgotten?’

‘No.’ Nor was she likely to. ‘The christening was lovely. Quiet, but lovely. Alice sent you a piece of cake, by the way.’

‘And Morgan – I almost forgot the old softie. Is he all right?’

‘Morgan’s fine. I’m glad Alice took him with her. He’s never looked so fit – thinner, because he gets a lot more exercise.’

‘And no titbits from Cook,’ Helen supplied.

‘Absolutely not. His coat shines, now. He shares brick kennels with Tom’s two labradors, though he’s really Alice’s dog. When Tom is at work, she lets Morgan out and he sits beside Daisy’s pram, on guard.’

‘Good. Giles would have been pleased …’ Helen paused, reluctant to ask the question uppermost in her mind. ‘About Alice – did you feel – I mean …’

‘Did I ask her about well – what we talked about – and yes, I did. I put it to her, then left it at that; didn’t want her to feel I was pressurizing her to come home. Where Tom is – that’s really her home, now. But I don’t want to lose her. The war took so much from me and she is one of the people I have left who understands. She was with me the day I met Andrew …’ Her eyes took on a remembering look, then she tilted her chin, and smiled. ‘When I left, Tom drove me to the station. He told me they’d talked about it – about Alice visiting us, I mean; said there was no reason at all why she shouldn’t stay with us. And he agreed with me that people should know that he and Alice are married.’

‘Then what are we to tell them?’ Helen frowned. ‘That he wasn’t killed, but taken prisoner …?’

‘Exactly that. Alice and I will tell the same story, be sure of it. No one shall ever know what really happened. We wouldn’t be so foolish as to say anything that would get him arrested, now would we?’

‘Then everything would seem to have worked out very well.’ Helen smiled tremulously. ‘And if we ever need to get in touch with Alice – about Drew, I mean – I believe there is a number we can use?’