Angelique (18 page)

On her instructions a page boy scurries off up the grand staircase.

I am no more than ten minutes in the bar settled down in front of a huge open fire opening my letters and enjoying a large brandy when Mother appears. I stand to meet her she greets me with a kiss a hug and whispers. “You have been a busy boy then haven’t you?”

I apologise. “I am sorry I was away for so long I did explain why in my letter. Surely you understand I had to attend my friend’s funeral he did so much for me and many others during my time in the army.”

She smiles and replies. “I understand Adam. I wasn’t referring to your absence. You had better make yourself comfortable I have some news for you. A great deal has happened since you went away I was unable to contact you to let you know the details. You have a taxi driver friend by the name of Norman Hanson?”

“Yes.” I reply mystified.

“The day after you left he came here looking for you. When you were not available the hotel manager directed him to me he brought news of a Lady friend of yours Peggy Jones.”

I lean forward and inquire. “What news about Peggy? I mean to visit her before I leave for home.”

Mother looks uncomfortable as she explains. “You had better prepare yourself for a shock Adam. The news he brought was that Peggy was seriously ill in the Leasowe TB hospital. In fact she was at deaths door. When he visited her Norman informed the poor girl you were in the vicinity she pleaded with him to contact you urgently. As you were away I took it upon myself to visit her. Adam I am sorry to tell you this but the poor girl died the day after I saw her, I am so sorry to break the sad news to you in this manner but there is more.”

The news hit me like a bullet I find it hard to take in what Mother is telling me. Peggy is dead?

I slump back in the chair devastated.

Mother adds. “That’s not all Adam, prepare yourself for an even greater shock, I think this will explain it better than I am able.” She hands me an envelope it contains an official document and a long three page letter written in small neat handwriting. I look at the document with unseeing eyes unable to take in the information written in the boxes.

Mother takes the birth certificate from my hand and reads it through out loud.

“Mother.
Margaret Jones
. She adds. “Peggy was her pet name.”

Childs name.
Mathew Adam.

Father. Adam Mathew Bailey.

Occupation of Father. Driver.

Date of Birth.”

In a state of shock I mentally calculate the date when I was over here after my demob, my nights of passion with Peggy and the birth date of the baby. There is no doubt everything matches perfectly.

She reaches over and takes my hand and informs me. “Adam I have taken it upon myself to bring the child here to the hotel. He is a gorgeous little boy the image of his Dad. I have engaged a nurse to look after him. I hope I did the right thing but the child is ours and we have to take immediate responsibility for him. The officials were about to take him into an orphanage.

I wasn’t having a grandchild of mine put into one of those awful places. I allowed that to happen to a child once, never again.”

I enquire still finding it hard to take in. “Are you telling me we have officially adopted the baby?” She assures me. “Yes he is now your Son. When I proved my identity as Lady Carstairs and showed them your birth certificate there was no problem. In fact they were glad to get the child off their hands. It seems the orphanages and workhouses are overloaded because of the war and the flu epidemic. You have only to sign this paper and post it back and the adoption is complete.”

She indicates where to sign but warns me. “Sign it Adam Mathew Carstairs my dear.”

Puzzled I ask her. “Why should I do that Mother”

“She explains in a somewhat patronizing manner. “That is because my dear a title moves mountains with petty bureaucrats as you will no doubt find out when you begin using it.”

I sign without hesitation “Where’s the child?” I inquire in a kind of daze. She explains. “Miss Sullivan the nurse has taken him out for a walk in his pram. Adam, she will be back shortly.”

I respond vaguely. “Oh! I saw a young woman leaving the hotel pushing a pram when I arrived, I suppose that was them?” My voice peters off as the implications of the situation sink in.

I can’t believe I have just walked passed my Son. In fact I find it hard to believe I have a Son but for the papers and the fact that I did make love to dear Peggy and the dates coincide.”

I am a Father and that was my Son? I repeat it a couple of times to myself. I can’t take this in at the moment I make a request.

“Mother, give me a minute please to think things over.”

Oh God! What will my Wife think? Mother continues talking about the baby. “He’s in good hands, that’s the main thing. I am sure your Wife will accept him when you explain how it occurred. Did you not recognise the young Lady with the pram then?”

I reply puzzled. “No she was muffled up, do I know her?”

Mother informs me. “She is Mrs Jones’s or should I say she was Mrs Jones companion. While I attended poor Peggy’s funeral there was another internment taking place at the same time.

I recognised Pamela from my visit to Mrs Jones the dear Lady had also passed on, Pamela was distraught and virtually homeless and completely alone I comforted her. One thing led to another, I needed someone that understood babies. You must understand I was finding it difficult to manage on my own. I have no experience with children. Pamela is from a big family and had the necessary experience. To cut a long story short I engaged her until she finds alternative employment or when we leave here.

She occupies the spare room in your suite with the baby. It appears the poor old Lady had mortgaged everything she owned up to the hilt. On her death the bank took possession of all her property. How could I see the poor girl without somewhere to live?

Mrs Jones has always been helpful for us, now is the time for us to repay her kindness I believe she considered Pamela her own child in later years?”

Bloody hell things are moving fast around here. Within an hour of arriving back at the hotel I am a Father and also have a very pretty girl living in the same rooms as me, nervously I reveal.

“Look Mother I am not too happy with this arrangement. You did right employing the nurse but er, I suggest you move into the suite, I will move out and occupy your room until we leave.”

She smiles mischievously. “What is the matter dear can’t you trust yourself alone with a pretty women. Is my Son a bit of a lecher where young pretty Ladies are concerned?” I guess she is referring to my affair with Peggy. Embarrassed I find myself unable to meet her eyes. When I do glance at her she has a teasing smile on her lips. I am amazed how Mother with just a few words of admonishment is able to make me feel like a naughty boy. Until our reunion I have not been answerable to anyone accept for military discipline. Now it appears I have a parent questioning my past life.

When I detect a smile on her face I feel slightly more at ease I reply. “It’s not that Mother it just would not be right, me being a married man.” I add hurriedly. “Besides you need to be close to your grandchild.” Again she smiles and takes my hand reassuringly. “You needn’t worry about Pamela my dear you will have no problems in that direction. However I will do as you ask, anyway we should be planning our trip south shortly.” Her reply puzzles me but as I am about to pursue it she says. “Read Peggy’s letter my dear. Although she confessed everything to me you know, she also explained it all in that letter the hospital almoner wrote for her.”

While I peruse the letter Mother makes arrangements to move into my suite and have my belongings transferred to her room.

Although the letter is long and detailed the basis of it is. When I made love to Peggy on the few memorable nights she was not pregnant at the time as she assured me. She pleaded for my forgiveness. Peggy thought if she allowed herself to become pregnant as a result of our liaison she would be able to persuade me to return to her. At the time she was aware I had fallen out with Denise before leaving France and took the opportunity to win me over, poor Peggy figured she could win my heart.

Maybe if circumstances had been different I would have been tempted but the fact was I loved Denise and missed her so much. When I left she realised I still loved Denise she gave up any hope of me returning to her.

When she discovered she was pregnant she kept it secret and had the baby on her own intending to pass the child off as her dead husband’s.

It must have taken a great deal of courage to register me as Mathew’s Father rather than her dead husband.

Poor Peggy never remarried I suppose she lived in hope that someday I would return and take responsibility for my child, but to bring up the child without assistance from the Father indicated Peggy was a very special woman.

What a mess, if I had only known I would not have abandoned her to suffer alone as my Mother had done to me. This situation is like history repeating itself. After reading the letter I sit back waves of guilt passing over me I contemplate the future now I am a Father.

Suddenly a thought strikes me I enquire. “Where is Peggy buried Mother?” She reassures me. “Don’t worry Adam I have taken care of everything, she is interred with your step parents.

She was in a way family after all. I thought it would be nice for them to be together.

Her Aunt is buried close by but that family grave was already full.”

“Thanks for handling everything Mother. I assure you if I had known about the child I would have done something about it. I don’t know what, but Peggy would have had my support. I hope you believe me?” She replies. “I believe you Adam. My Son it is too late now we have to look to the future from this day.”

She obviously attempts to change the subject by informing me.

“I have written to Emily again I hope we have settled our differences I am sure she will be looking forward to my return to Kent. Although I threatened not to return home you realise I couldn’t do that don’t you?” After considering her reply I enquire. “You only referred to our return Mother. Is Emily aware she has a great Nephew?”

Mother looks unexpectedly embarrassed before replying. “No I have not mentioned the child she will be aware of it soon enough when we arrive it will be a nice surprise for her don’t you think? She gives me one of her lovely smiles and quickly changes the subject.

“Incidentally did you receive your telegrams?” As I open the envelopes my eyes are drawn to the entrance door. I am eager to meet my Son.

I am about to open a telegram when Pamela enters pushing the pram. On seeing Mother and I she lifts the baby from the pram strips off his outer clothes and places him on the floor. Mathew evidently recognises Mother and totters towards her a lovely smile on his face. I feel my heart near bursting with pride. Although I dread what I will have to do when I return home to France I dearly hope Denise will accept him when I explain the circumstances. How will she be able to deny my Son the same love and affection she now showers on Daisy? What is more will she forgive me for my indiscretion with Peggy?”

For an hour or so we fuss over the child until Pamela indicates it is time for his feed. I reluctantly release him to Pamela and Mother they take him upstairs to the Victoria Suite I have voluntarily exchanged with them. Half an hour later they return, I have the opportunity to spend more time with my Son. My Son. I have to keep repeating this to myself.

I have dressed for dinner. Mother and I are almost alone in the huge lounge except for a few other guests wandering about and staff carrying out their various duties.

Pamela has taken Mathew up to the suite to settle him down for the night. The manager has arranged for one of the hotel maids to sit with him while Pamela joins us for dinner at eight o’clock. We both appear to be lost in our thoughts since we had the long talk about our lives before we were reunited. I recline in a huge leather armchair nursing a brandy balloon and smoking a cigar. This is a habit I have acquired since becoming affluent. I can’t help thinking this a very different from the days of cheap French plonk and Woodbines I enjoyed a couple of years ago.

There are many strange coincidences and tragedies that have occurred in both our lives. Mother is French adopted by an English family. Denise is French with an English Mother and a French Father. I have an English Father and a French Mother. My Son Mathew has an English Mother and I suppose because of my Mother he has a half French Father. My Sister in Law Louise has an English Mother and a French Father albeit a different Father to her two Sisters and is engaged to an Englishman. What a tangled web of deceit and misdeeds my family have suffered over the years and I in some part have contributed to it by my liaison with Peggy. Despite what Mother thinks regarding me being heir to the estate and title, I am still considered a bastard in the eyes of the law.

Mother sits close by me on a matching sofa enjoying a coffee.

Our seats are located in the bay window overlooking the Mersey estuary. Although it is quite dark it is possible to see the navigation lights of the ships as they progress up and down the river Mersey. The twinkling lights of the buoys marking the two channels are like magic lanterns as they flash intermittently guiding the ships to and from the docks.

A ship passes the New Brighton light house heading out to sea.

It is impossible to identify her particulars but I can’t help wondering, is she an OSCADA ship?

Mother brings me back to reality when out of the blue she says.

“Adam my dear Son, before we head south I believe now is the time for me to explain the circumstances that led to your birth and the reason you were abandoned in an orphanage.”

I move to a seat much closer until I am sitting directly opposite her.

My Mother is indeed a beautiful woman however her face reflects sadness as she begins to reveal her story.

“I was a young girl when my Mother and Father died. I am not sure of the circumstances but I do know they died within a week of each other.