Home Sweet Home (11 page)

Ada instantly read the look on Frances's face. ‘Miriam's gone. Ran away. Silly bitch!' Ada looked quite disgruntled about it.

‘Where?'

‘No idea.' Ada took her pipe from the corner of her mouth and spat on the ground. ‘This lot are here to look the kids over.'

Those gathered eyed the tall American standing in the midst of the nervous-looking children.

‘They're a great bunch and looking forward to staying with you all. Now who is going where? They're pretty tired. Hungry too,' said Declan.

Ada closed one eye, scrutinising him briefly before expounding the details.

‘The girls are staying with me. The boys are going with Doctor Peters.'

Frances's attention fixed on the dark-haired man with the swarthy complexion. He was standing apart from everyone else but every now and then darted a furtive look in her direction.

She kept looking at him, keen to see his face more clearly; he seemed so familiar.

Nothing came to her. Taking advantage of the multiple conversations going on between Declan and the doctor, Frances bent Ada's ear.

‘Who is he?' She nodded in the man's direction. ‘That man over there. Do I know him?'

Ada lifted one half of her mouth in a knowing smile. ‘Cast your mind back.'

Frances frowned. She did know him! She had seen him before.

There was no chance to speak to the man. Declan strode towards the doctor with his hand held out to Ada, the children, quiet now, following on behind like a gaggle of ducklings.

Frances fancied Ada was eyeing him too intensely, like she did when she read the tea leaves for people. Only Declan didn't drink tea. He drank coffee. Not that reading leaves, cards or a crystal ball had much to do with Ada's natural skills. Ada Perkins was good at weighing people up.

‘What do you think of him?' she wanted to say to her. She wasn't sure when it had become so important to have Ada's opinion on the handsome American. Declan had made an impression on her that so far she'd kept well hidden.

She banished her flustered thoughts to explain to the children who would be staying where. ‘You'll only be half a mile away from your sisters,' she explained to the boys.

The doctor told them they'd have to walk the half mile as he hadn't brought his car. Declan offered to give them a lift.

‘It's a good vehicle for rough tracks,' he explained. ‘Climb in, Doc. No point in walking when there's a ride on offer. Your kids will fit too.'

The Gates boys, tired now, clambered willingly into the back of the vehicle, along with the doctor's sons. The doctor himself climbed into the front seat.

The minister, who served on the evacuee committee, took his leave only after telling the children he would see them at Sunday School.

Frances, Ada, the three girls and the remaining man Frances thought she'd recognised, were left standing outside Ada's home.

The Jeep roared off in a flurry of dust. A doe hidden among the foliage was startled and disappeared.

Frances felt Ada nudge her side then heard her whisper, ‘Mario. That man you keep staring at is Mario Lombardi.' Ada called to him. ‘Mario. Come and say hello to Frances. While you're at it you can apologise for stealing her supper that day in the forest.'

The penny dropped. Frances gasped. ‘The Italian! The one who stole the pigeon and the rabbit!'

Evacuated to live with Ada, Frances and her friends had been in the forest roasting trapped game over a fire of burning sticks. Living the life of a recluse in a nearby cave, Mario had waited until their backs were turned and stolen the food.

His voice broke into her musings. ‘Miss Sweet. Thank you for past kindnesses.' There was something energetic about his eyes and also something kind and grateful.

‘Take some fish with you,' Ada said to him now.

‘Thank you.' He headed towards the smokehouse where sides of salmon and trout filled the air with smoky incense. The two women watched until the door to the smokehouse banged shut behind him.

‘He doesn't say much,' explained Ada. ‘I know nothing about his past, why he ended up living in the forest. Nobody does. They arrested him and locked him up at first, but when they found out how long he'd been living rough, he was given leave to work on the land if anyone would have him. I happened to grab him first. Right,' she said, turning to the three little girls who stood patiently, their carrier bags of belongings banging against their knees, ‘time to come inside.'

Everyone trooped in. Despite all they'd eaten on the journey, Patricia's stomach rumbled on smelling whatever was bubbling away in a cast-iron pot on the old black range.

‘Game stew,' said Ada, her fists on her hips and her gaze fixed on Ellen, the eldest of the Gates sisters. ‘Up there for the three of you,' she said, pointing in the direction of the steep ladder that led up to a mezzanine level that was once a hayloft. ‘Put your things away. There's water and a towel up there. Make sure you use it.'

Silently, the three girls climbed up the stairs, each clinging to their paper carrier bags, rucksacks and gas masks.

Feeling their apprehension as if it were her own, Frances called out to reassure them. ‘I'll wait here to say goodbye before I go. Must say I wish I could stay and have supper with you. That stew smells delicious.'

Small smiles appeared on the nervous faces before they disappeared, off to explore their new surroundings.

When Frances became aware of Ada looking at her with narrowed eyes, she was the one who became nervous.

‘That's a fine figure of a man you've got travelling with you.' Ada's words were simple, but spoken with intent.

Frances tossed her head. ‘He certainly thinks he is.'

Ada closed one eye. ‘You glow when he's close to you.'

Frances laughed lightly. ‘How can you say that? We've hardly been close since we arrived and we've hardly spoken.'

A surgeon's scalpel couldn't be as incisive as the expression in Ada's eyes. Her looks were like fingers, reaching out and feeling the lumps and bumps in her mind.

‘There's something about the pair of you.'

‘Ada! He's old enough to be my father,' Frances said indignantly. Inside, she curled with pleasure.

‘That's not true. Besides, sometimes we need the wisdom of older people in our lives. You were young when your father died.'

‘That doesn't mean to say …'

Frances's voice trailed off. But then she realised this was her opportunity to ask Ada about her mother. ‘Did you ever meet my mother? When you were visiting your family?' she asked at last. The words of Gertrude Powell, Ada's daughter, rang in her ears.
Whore! Slut!

‘Of course I did. Your mother was dizzy and weak. Loved men too much, but couldn't understand them. Couldn't read them. It helps if you can read the man you're married to. Your mother loved being loved, but wasn't much good at giving it out in return. She thought she did, but she didn't. Didn't really know what love was.'

The moment had come. Frances broached the subject of her mother's whereabouts.

‘I don't suppose you know where she went, Ada? My mother? I can't remember much about her, but I want to see her. I want to know why she left me with Uncle Stan.'

Ada ambled over to give the stew a stir. Her back remained a broad barrier to conversation.

‘I want to know, Ada. If you know where she is, please tell me.'

Ada looked at her over her shoulder. ‘Reckon I might.'

‘Can you tell me?'

Ada shook her head. ‘No. I won't. It's for your uncle Stan to tell you.'

‘But I—'

‘I know,' said Ada, nodding her head. ‘You don't want to appear ungrateful. Let me put it this way …' She turned to face Frances before carrying on. ‘If you haven't asked your uncle by the time you're twenty-one, or if he hasn't told you by then, come back and I'll tell you where I heard she went.'

‘That's unfair! Uncle Stan might die in the meantime. There's a war on. I might die! Please. I want to know.'

Ada reached for her pipe, seemed to consider lighting it, but then bit down on it with her yellowed teeth. ‘Last I heard of her she was in Bristol. I don't know where. Your uncle Stan knows the rest and telling you is up to him.'

‘But—'

Ada held up her hand. ‘No more. That's an end to the subject.'

‘Why do people run away?'

Ada shrugged and bit down on her pipe. ‘For reasons they think are very important. They are – to them – but viewed from the outside, they're not always so weighty.'

‘Did Miriam have an important reason to leave?'

Ada winced. ‘I don't know. She never said.'

‘I'm surprised she's gone. I'm sure she loved being here with you.'

She didn't ask whether Miriam had given birth to a baby. A bastard. Illegitimate. It might not be true, but the gossip in the village had suggested it was.

‘Apparently, she didn't love it here quite enough.'

There was a hint of regret in Ada's voice. Frances guessed that she was hurting inside, but her attitude to life was pragmatic. In fact, she'd once told Frances that life was never fair, that children were only on loan, and that everyone had the right to live their lives as they pleased, without parents clinging on to them.

Frances thought back to the rumours about Miriam and the young curate back in Oldland. ‘Did she have a sweetheart?'

‘She was courted hereabouts.'

Ada's eyes seemed to shift sidelong, as though something or somebody outside had come into her line of vision. Frances could see nobody at first, then she saw Mario, a man of tanned Mediterranean features, his voice made more attractive by a romantic accent. In the absence of any other male company within half a mile, Miriam would have found him attractive.

‘I go find another deer,' said Mario. ‘I have gun.'

Ada nodded. ‘He's a good hunter,' she confided to Frances.

‘So Miriam was in love with Mario?'

‘She thought so, but I don't think she could understand him. He's not the sort to settle down and raise a family, and that is what my granddaughter would like to do. It's babies she wants most of all, not men. Not really. She's like a bird, keen to build a nest and have chicks, but not lucky when it comes to the men in her life.'

Ada's comment about chicks scratched at a nerve. Miriam had once taken Charlie from his pushchair, though at first it was thought that he'd undone his harness and wandered. Frances had thought about it a lot since then and was convinced that he couldn't have done it by himself. Miriam had supposedly found him, but the Sweet family all suspected she'd taken him in the first place. Still, no harm done. At least they had got him back.

There was no point in mentioning their suspicions, not so long after the incident; to do so would only cause Ada unnecessary hurt and she didn't deserve that. Ada was odd but kind.

The sound of the Jeep returning preceded Declan's wide shoulders and impressive physique filling the doorway and blocking out the daylight.

‘You'll be pleased to know that the boys have settled in. There's a stream at the end of the doctor's garden and he had the good sense to have two extra rods waiting for them along with a bucket of maggots. They settled down to it right away. I guessed they would.' He smiled at her and looked uncommonly pleased with himself.

‘That's good.'

Frances knew instinctively that Declan would have done the same thing if the boys had been staying with him. Rather than let them miss their home and kick their heels with frustration, he would have prepared something that would occupy their minds – just as the doctor had done.

He took a deep breath as he came into the room. ‘Something smells mighty good.'

‘Game stew. I would offer you some, but I think you'd prefer to get going. Am I right?'

Ada looked deeply into his eyes; a lesser man would have winced, but not Declan.

‘It's tempting,' he said, with a cheerful look on his face. ‘In fact, it might not be a bad idea if we had a spoonful or two, enough to keep our strength up on the way back.'

Ada shook her head. Her smile was sardonic, her eyes as piercing as ever. ‘A bowl and two spoons. That's all I can spare.'

They sat outside on a fallen tree trunk, the bowl of steaming stew between them. Ada excused herself, saying she had important things to do.

‘This is cosy.' He said the word cosy in a way that almost made her blush, which was annoying. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't.

The sound of spoons rattling against china came from inside Ada's cottage. Not a word was being uttered by the hungry girls, and Frances knew that after the stew would come a slice of suet pudding, heavy as you like and dotted with homemade jam. Pots of jam lined one shelf of the dresser that served as Ada's storage space. She'd obviously collected a lot of berries during the last summer, as well as rhubarb and fruit given her in exchange for services rendered. Ada still made medicines from the plants she found in the forest. How Ada had got enough sugar to make the jam was another matter.

The time came to go.

‘If we get a move on, we should be back before it gets dark,' said Declan. On seeing the look on her face, he gave a curt nod of his head. ‘I'll stay out here while you say your goodbyes.' He grinned. ‘Sure looks like I won't be lonely.'

Ushered outside, the three girls made a beeline for Declan. Amazingly, he had found more chocolate.

‘Though not too much. I'm down to starvation rations,' he said to them. His laugh was infectious, deep as a gorge and flavoured like rum.

‘I heard him say he'd stay outside while we said our goodbyes. That was thoughtful,' remarked Ada as she ferried empty dishes from table to sink.

‘I suppose so.'

She stopped what she was doing and eyed Frances reflectively. ‘There's no suppose about it. He's a good man, a strong man, protective, perhaps just the kind you need.'