A Time of Peace (8 page)

‘Ah,' Rose said, smiling. ‘I can see from your expression that you understand me.'

‘Thanks, Mum. I'm not going to let Andrew Stevenson bully me any more. I've got to find my own way.'

Her mother nodded in agreement. ‘You may realize that the path you've chosen isn't the right one. Be willing to change.'

‘I will.' She put her head on one side and gazed at her mother. ‘You're very wise, aren't you?'

Rose grimaced. ‘I wish I'd had this much sense when I was your age. I learnt my lessons the hard way.'

Kate had one burning question she'd hesitated to bring up, but she knew she could talk openly with her mother. ‘Andrew Stevenson told me yesterday that he was ordered to give me the job. He said I had friends in high places. Do you know what he was talking about, Mum?'

‘I haven't the faintest idea.' Her mother frowned and studied her closely. ‘You don't think we pulled any strings, do you?'

‘No, of course not, Mum. You've been there for James and me, guided and advised us, but I know you and Dad never interfere with our lives.' Kate hadn't entertained that thought for a moment. She knew her parents and they would never do anything underhand like that. ‘I just wondered if you had some idea what all this is about.'

‘I'm sorry, I'm afraid not, but I shouldn't let it worry you too much. Your boss sounds like a vindictive man and probably gets pleasure from hurting people. If what he says is true, then we'll find out eventually.'

At that moment Bill walked in. ‘Hello, you two, you're looking very serious,' he said, kissing his wife and hugging Kate.

‘We've been having a good talk.' Kate grinned at her father. She wasn't going to worry him about this. ‘Have you cured the rattle?'

‘Yes, the car is purring along now.'

‘Are you taking it with you tomorrow?' Kate asked.

‘No. Sam's meeting us at Calais, then driving us to Saint-Omer, where we're meeting Maria and Jacques for lunch before going home with them.'

‘I was so looking forward to coming with you. Give Jacques my love and tell him I'll come as soon as I can squeeze a holiday out of the Chief.'

‘He's going to be disappointed.' Her father's grin widened. ‘I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to marry him, when he's finished at university.'

She tipped her head to one side and gazed at her father. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?'

‘Of course not. I just want you to be happy, that's all.'

She stood up and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I
am happy, Dad. A wonderful family has surrounded me all my life. And I've got the best parents in the world.'

Feeling more content than she had for some time, Kate went to Beth's that evening to play records and have a good gossip. With the song ‘Cathy's Clown' by the Everly Brothers playing softly in the background, Kate told her friend about her talk with her mother.

‘Your mum's right,' Beth said, when Kate had finished talking. ‘Don't let it worry you so much. You're brainy and could get a job anywhere.'

Kate pulled a face. ‘Sometimes I think I should have become a solicitor like my mother. The trouble is I want this job too much. I'm afraid to open my mouth when the Chief's around!'

Beth chuckled. ‘That must be hard for you.'

‘Oh, it is!' Kate sat cross-legged on the floor and began to sort through the records.

‘This Pete you're working with,' Beth said, ‘do you fancy him?'

‘Not in a romantic way, but we are becoming good friends. He's a very nice boy, and I believe he's going to make an excellent photographer, if he only gets the chance.'

‘And you're going to give him that chance?' Beth stopped the record player and joined Kate on the floor.

‘Yes, I am!' Kate grinned at her friend. ‘And how are you getting on with Steve?'

‘Wonderful!' Beth pretended to swoon. ‘I think I've found the man of my dreams. But what about you, isn't there anyone at the paper you could fall for? What about this Robert whatever his name is?'

‘Sinclair. Well, we didn't get off to a very good start, but he's asked me out a couple of times.'

‘You should go,' Beth urged.

Struggling to keep a straight face, Kate shook her head. ‘I'd never be sure if he was interested in me … or my mother.'

Both girls roared with laughter at the suspicion that he might just be using Kate to get close to her mother. Then Beth stood up. ‘I must admit that your mother's a stunning-looking woman. Come on, I'll make you a cup of cocoa before you go home.'

Kate's earlier gloom had completely disappeared after her talk with her mother, and then a chatty evening with Beth. It had been just what she needed to put things in their proper perspective.

Rose and Bill left early the next morning. The weather was windy with a steady drizzle coming down, and Kate hoped the crossing to Calais wouldn't be too rough. Not that it would bother her father. He was an ex-sailor, but her mother had no love of water. Her thoughts turned to the last war and how proud she had been of her father in his captain's uniform. But he'd disappeared for long periods at a time, and, being only a child, she had found that hard to understand. Not that she loved her mother less, but there had always been a special relationship between herself and her father. Kate considered herself very lucky indeed to have such wonderful parents. She could always talk her problems over with her mother and knew she would get sound, sensible advice.

When she'd made her bed, she picked up the scrapbook. After thumbing through it for a few minutes, she
began to tear out the pages and rip the cuttings to shreds. The articles went back more than three years, when she'd been dreaming of working abroad as a photographer for the
World Explorer.
Well, that wasn't going to happen now. There must be a right place for her, and she would find it.

It was Sunday morning and she was just wondering what to do with her day when someone shouted up the stairs.

‘Are you there, Kate?'

She looked over the banister and waved. ‘You've just missed Mum and Dad, James.'

‘I know. I thought I'd come and let you cook me a huge breakfast.'

‘Didn't you have an overnight guest who could do that for you?' She ran down the stairs laughing. ‘Or can't any of your girlfriends cook?'

‘Not as well as my sister,' he teased. ‘And if I had as many girls as you make out, I'd be too tired to work, let alone come round and pester you. So get cooking!'

Laughing together, they went into the kitchen. Kate put the frying pan on the stove. They'd both have a good breakfast.

James propped himself up against the sink and watched her at work. ‘Have you got any plans for today?'

She broke four eggs into the pan and shook her head. ‘The light's too bad for taking photos.'

‘It might clear up later. Let's have a run out to the New Forest and go for a long walk, shall we?'

‘I'd like that.' She checked the bacon and sausages under the grill. ‘Do you want fried bread as well?'

‘Please.'

By the time they'd parked the car, the rain had stopped, and the sun was trying to filter through the clouds. They walked in companionable silence, enjoying the different birdsongs and the flash of scuttling squirrels. It wasn't often they had the time to spare like this, as they were both very busy. Although James was almost eight years older than her, they had always been close, and with maturity had come a close friendship. She also knew her brother well enough to know this wasn't a casual visit.

‘Is something wrong?' she asked, when they'd been walking for about half an hour.

His sigh was deep and troubled. ‘We think someone is defrauding the firm, Kate.'

She stopped and faced him. ‘Does Dad know?'

‘No, and I don't want to bother him with this yet. The accountants are checking, but it's taking time.'

‘Do you know who it is?'

‘A suspicion only. The accountants are working evenings and weekends, as we don't want to alert whoever is doing this. We don't want them to disappear before we have proof.'

Kate started walking again, very uneasy. ‘Is it going to put Grant Phillips in financial trouble?'

‘Oh, no, Kate. It isn't as bad as that, but it's uncomfortable knowing there is a viper in the nest.'

She slipped her hand through his arm, being aware just how much her brother would hate something like this. ‘You'll deal with it all right. Dad always says you're twice the businessman he is.'

James looked down at her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. ‘I doubt that, but thanks for the vote of confidence.'

They walked for another hour and she listened to James talk about the business, his tone becoming lighter all the time, until they were both laughing about how difficult it had been to get their father to retire.

‘Ah, a café,' James said, leading her to a seat by the window.

As they enjoyed their tea and toasted teacakes, James reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks, Kate, you always were the one to soothe in times of trouble. I'll always remember that awful time when Sam went behind enemy lines in France to rescue Jacques. When Sam brought him to the Haven, the poor little thing was terrified and huddled in the corner of the sofa. He wasn't quite three and had never seen his father, as Sam had been hunted by the SS and had had to get out of France quickly. You were only a child yourself, but you reached out with love and he responded. He adored you then and he still does now. You haven't lost your touch.'

‘All I've done is listen,' she said.

‘That was all I needed.'

Suddenly she couldn't understand why she was worrying about her job. It was so unimportant compared with the responsibility James had. It had been foolish to believe that one paper held the answer to her dreams. By accepting that, she was limiting her options. Her mother and Beth kept telling her that, but it had taken James's troubles to finally open her eyes.

When they left the café, she gave her brother a hug. ‘You've helped me today as well.'

There was a whole wide world out there just brimming with opportunities, she thought, as they strolled back to the car.

Kate's parents had returned from holiday the previous night, and her father was in the garden making sure his plants had survived without him. He was whistling happily, and, as Kate watched him, she knew her brother was right not to worry him about the trouble at work until they had all the facts. Her mother was busy in the kitchen.

‘Can I help?' she asked.

‘You can peel the potatoes if you like.' Rose smiled at her daughter. ‘That break was just what we needed. Your dad looks ten years younger.'

Kate scraped away at the potatoes. ‘I think he's beginning to enjoy his retirement.'

Rose watched her husband through the window for a few moments. ‘It was a struggle to get him to hand over the reins to James, but he knows it was the right thing to do.'

‘Are you going to ease up as well, Mum?' Kate knew that her mother had never lost her drive to ensure that people had a decent life. She was still well known in London, and people were continually coming to her for advice. And decent housing was always her concern, so she kept an eye on the most needy areas of London.

‘I will, but there's one more thing I'd like to do.'

‘What's that?' Kate popped the last potato into the pot.

‘It's something in Wandsworth that I've been involved in recently.' Her mother looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Have you got any plans for tomorrow?'

Kate dried her hands. ‘No.'

‘Would you come with me and bring your camera with you?'

‘Of course.' She was surprised and touched. This was the first time her mother had asked for her help. ‘I'd love to.'

‘I want to visit two places, and, as it will be Sunday, everyone should be there.'

‘Will Dad be coming as well?' Kate asked.

‘No, he's going to have a game of golf in Richmond Park with Will tomorrow. I might get him involved later when I've had a chance to see what conditions are like.'

They left at ten o'clock the next morning. Kate still didn't know what this was all about, but she guessed it was something that concerned her mother very much by the look of determination in her eyes.

Within an hour they were pulling up outside a large and forbidding structure, with a sign saying
STANDISH HOUSE CHILDREN'S HOME
nailed on a rickety gate.

‘What a dreadful-looking place,' Kate said, as they got out of the car.

Rose gazed at it in silence, an expression of distaste on her face. ‘This used to be a workhouse, and there hasn't been much attempt made to improve it.'

Kate took a barrage of pictures, soon realizing it was a good job she'd brought loads of film. Then she followed her mother inside.

The woman in charge greeted Rose with obvious
respect. ‘Is it all right if I show my daughter the home?'

‘Of course you can, Mrs Freeman.'

Kate was appalled. The place was clean enough, but the smell of cabbage water, Jeyes fluid and nappies that needed changing assaulted her. It was crowded with small children all under the age of five, who watched their progress with large, solemn eyes. She'd been brought up within a loving family but these poor little things didn't know what that was like. It was so impersonal and she wanted to hug every one of them. She took photographs until her eyes were misted with tears and she couldn't see through the viewfinder.

Every minute of their visit was torture for Kate. She'd been concentrating on things happening in other countries, when she should have been looking nearer home. It was then she really understood her mother's obsession – for that was what her father called it – with fighting for the underprivileged. She'd been tied up in her own dreams and plans, never giving the plight of children like this a thought. These children needed someone to kick open a few doors for them. Her mother was doing what she could, and Kate was determined to see if there was any way she could help as well. At that moment she really didn't care what Andrew Stevenson thought of her, or why he had employed her. There were more important things in life!

She wiped the mist from her eyes, loaded another film, clenching her jaw in determination. Her mother appeared untouched, but Kate could see the anger burning in her eyes.

After nearly two hours they left, and when they reached the car Kate rested her hands on it and bowed her head.

‘Don't let pity swamp you,' her mother told her firmly. ‘Get mad.'

‘I am, Mum.' She lifted her head. ‘I knew these places existed, but it's not until you go inside and see those children with no one to love them that it hits home.'

‘I've seen worse,' her mother said, ‘but it's overcrowded and understaffed.'

‘What can we do?' Kate asked.

Rose gave her a grim smile. ‘I was hoping you could persuade your newspaper to do an article on it and include some of your photographs. The most urgent need is for visitors who would be willing to give the children some attention, play with them for a while and make them feel wanted. Then a lick of paint would work wonders, inside and out. I've battled with the council and have come to the conclusion that the only way to get anything done is to do it ourselves.'

‘If the Chief won't run the story, I'll take it to another paper. I'll even write it myself.'

They got back in the car, and her mother drove the short distance to the next place. Kate was relieved to see that Wilkins House, although shabby and in need of repair, was smaller and not as grim on the outside. Nevertheless she braced herself as they went inside.

‘Mrs Freeman!' A woman hurried towards them. ‘It's such a pleasure to see you. I can't thank you enough for the gift – '

‘That's all right, Mrs Green,' Rose stopped her: she wasn't one for displays of gratitude; that wasn't why she helped others. ‘How are things?'

‘We're going along nicely now.' Mrs Green smiled at Kate. ‘This must be your daughter.'

Kate stepped forward and shook her hand. ‘Do you mind if I take some photos?'

‘Please do. The children would love to have their pictures taken, and' – she turned to Rose – ‘we've got two new little ones.'

Mrs Green took them to a large room filled with children. They all stopped whatever they were doing to gaze at the newcomers with interest. Kate saw that they ranged in age from about five to ten, except for two babies in a cot yelling at the top of their voices. A young girl was trying to amuse them, without much success. Kate and her mother went over and picked up one baby each.

‘They're fretful today,' Mrs Green told them.

‘What are you doing with children this young?' Rose asked.

As Kate listened to Mrs Green explain how they'd been left on the step, she felt emotion well up in her. She kissed the downy head of the baby in her arms and smiled when it gazed up at her and stopped crying. The one her mother was holding was now sleeping peacefully and there was silence in the room. The babies tugged at Kate's heart, as did the anguish a young mother must have felt. She must have been in a terrible situation and very frightened to believe there was no choice but to abandon her babies. What a sad business.

‘They're twins. We haven't named them yet.' Mrs Green gave Rose a hesitant smile. ‘Would you give them names, Mrs Freeman? They're both boys.'

Rose looked down at the one she was holding, thought for a moment, then said, ‘This one will be George and the other Jack.'

‘We need a surname as well,' Mrs Green said.

‘What about Webster, Mum?' Kate spoke softly in case the baby woke again.

‘I think we can do better than that. You can call them George and Jack Gresham.' Rose smiled at her daughter. ‘What do you think, Kate?'

‘That's perfect. Grandpa George would have liked that.'

Mrs Green was busy writing the names down and nodding her head with pleasure. ‘I'll see to this at once. If they're adopted, they'll take on the name of their new family, but for the time being we need to call them something.'

‘Would you mind if I visit now and again?' Kate asked.

‘You'll always be welcome here.' Mrs Green beamed. ‘Would you like to take their pictures?'

The next hour was fun as Kate tried to herd the children together for a group photograph. Some were unruly and told her they weren't going to have their picture taken; some were interested and tried not to show it in case the others sneered at them. But after a stern word from Mrs Green they all fell into line. Although the living conditions were spartan, the children were lively and the helpers were obviously trying to make it like a proper home. While her mother was inspecting the bedrooms, Kate settled down on the floor to play a game of snakes and ladders with two of the younger boys. Another child of around five sneaked up, then plonked down beside her, smiling shyly.

‘I've never had my picture took before,' he said.

‘Haven't you?' Kate picked up her camera and focused
on his face. ‘You'd better have a special one, then.' The shutter clicked just as he giggled.

‘Will I be able to see it?' he asked in excitement.

‘I'll bring you copies as soon as they're printed,' she assured him. ‘What's your name?'

‘Eddie.' He was now kneeling up and gazing at her with interest. ‘I want to give one to my friend.'

‘And who's that?' Kate glanced around the room.

‘He doesn't live here any more but he'll come back soon.'

‘I'll do a nice large one for him, shall I?'

Eddie shuffled towards her on his knees, then leaned forward and gave her a hasty kiss, missing her cheek and planting it on her ear. ‘You're nice.'

‘Thank you; so are you.'

The boy looked around furtively, obviously uneasy in case anyone had noticed him kissing Kate; then, seeing that none of the boys was sneering at him, he grinned, scrambled to his feet and tore off to tell the others about his special picture.

‘We must be going, Kate,' her mother said.

They talked all the way home, discussing what they'd seen and what improvements were needed.

That evening Kate's father joined her in the darkroom as she worked on developing and printing all the photographs she'd taken that day.

When they were ready, Bill studied the buildings through a magnifying glass, with the expert eye of an architect and builder. ‘These places are in desperate need of renovation, but they appear to be solid enough. I'll send a surveyor round to have a proper look, though.'

Kate sat on a stool and sighed. ‘The smaller house wasn't too bad, but the other one was horrible. I wish it was possible to do away with the large places and keep the children in smaller homes.'

‘Let's hope they will one day. However, look on the bright side. At least the children are being cared for.'

‘I know, Dad, but it's so impersonal. How do you think we can help?'

‘Well, they're council run, so you can leave your mother to deal with them. She knows how to get things done.' Her father leant against the bench. ‘But if you can get some publicity going, it might help.'

‘I'm determined to,' she told him. ‘Mum said there are probably lots of women who could spare a few hours a week to talk and play with the children. It would give the little ones individual attention for a while.'

Her father pushed himself away from the bench and smiled at her. ‘You see what you can do about that. I'll arrange for the outsides to be cleaned and brighten the places up with a lick of paint.'

‘And we can leave Mum to shake up the authorities.'

‘She'll do that all right,' he said.

Kate listened to him chuckling as he went down the stairs.

Pete was working in the darkroom when Kate arrived at work on Monday morning. He was making prints of some photos he'd taken over the weekend with his camera.

The prints he showed her were competent, except for one of a tree with watery sunlight filtering through the branches. She held it up. ‘This is excellent.'

‘Thanks.' His eyes were glowing with a sense of achievement.

‘Well done,' she praised. Then she studied him thoughtfully. He was going to make a photographer and it gave her enormous pleasure to know she had helped him. ‘I'm just going to see the Chief. I have something here I think he might be interested in.'

She headed for Andrew Stevenson's office. In her head was the distressing memory of the overcrowded children's homes, and in her hand photographs and an article. She'd laboured over it until two in the morning and was determined to have it published.

Andrew glanced up when she tapped on his door. ‘What do you want?'

Kate ignored the irritated expression on his face and stood in front of his desk. ‘I've got a story for you.'

‘Turned journalist now?'

Kate had just about had enough of this man; he never had a civil word for her. She put the photographs and article in front of him. ‘I used to write a bit when I worked on the local paper. At least have a look at it.'