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Authors: Pamela Oldfield

BOOK: The Boat House
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‘That’s what he says but . . . would you trust him? If he’s anything like Leonora . . . I wouldn’t trust him further than I could throw him!’

‘You’re prejudiced, dear, that’s all. You must give him a chance. He could take your Marianne to the zoo with him, couldn’t he?’

‘Marianne said he suggested that but she wants to write some letters so doesn’t wish to go with them. I can hardly insist. She’s a governess, not a nanny.’

‘If I were you, dear, I’d let them go. I really don’t believe they’ll come to any harm . . . and you and I can have a little expedition of our own. I’ll take you out to tea in that little tea shop you like and we’ll have cucumber sandwiches and chocolate eclairs!’

In spite of herself, Georgina smiled. As children, a visit to a tea shop was a rare treat. It was kind of her sister to think of it.

Ida said, ‘Don’t you think, Georgie, it would be better to give in gracefully than to argue the point and lose? And isn’t it good for the girls to have some more family? You look after them very well but their world is very narrow.’

‘But suppose he wants to take them back to America!’

‘It would be an adventure for them.’

‘An adventure? Are you mad? You know how I feel about a sea crossing, Ida. Their safety cannot be guaranteed, no matter how the ship is built. Just imagine if he had come earlier and taken them back on the
Titanic
’s maiden voyage! They would all have died.’

‘Not everyone died, Georgie. The women and children went into the lifeboats first . . .’

‘Not all of them were saved.’

Ida pursed her lips, exasperated. ‘You are just being stubborn, making that an excuse. A trip to America when they are a little older would be wonderful for them and they might make some friends and then they can come home and write to each other. Pen friends. That’s what they call it. It broadens the mind.’

‘You’re on his side, aren’t you?’ Georgina said bitterly. ‘I might have guessed.’

Ida wagged a finger at her. ‘I’m not taking sides, dear, but I’m worried about the strain you’re under. This faint-ing fit you had yesterday. If you’re not worried I certainly am.’

‘That was nothing, Ida!’

Ida ignored the interruption. ‘And the time will come when the children grow up when they will be less tractable and you’ll be older. They’ll be very demanding and you’ll be exhausted by them. You’ll be glad to hand them over to their other family for a few weeks.’

‘It was nothing,’ Georgina repeated. ‘It was just so sudden. I was frightened. Looking back it was just a dizzy spell.’

‘It sounds like a heart problem to me and I’m taking you to the doctor.
My
doctor.’ She held up her hand. ‘It’s no use arguing with me; I’ve already made an appointment for next week and I shall come with you. Do you want to die, Georgina?’

‘Die? Certainly not, but . . .’

‘Then listen to reason. You cannot let the twins down by neglecting your health.’ She wiped her mouth with her serviette and smiled. ‘Now then, what time is he coming?’

‘He’s going to telephone first and . . .’

‘How thoughtful of him. Then let’s set to and tell the twins. I’m looking forward to those cucumber sandwiches – and I shall eat two eclairs!’

‘Ida!’

‘I don’t care, dear. I shall eat whatever I like. I realize life is slipping away. I don’t want to end my life with any regrets. Once or twice recently I’ve treated myself to a glass of sherry before I go to bed.’

‘Tut! You’re incorrigible!’ In the face of Ida’s determined enthusiasm, and still exhausted from the previous day’s events, Georgina decided not to argue further about the zoo but, crossing her fingers, she uttered a silent prayer for an uneventful day and a safe return of the twins.

Meanwhile, in the charity home, Ivy Busby was arguing with Nesta who was unpleasantly surprised by the change in her manner. Gone was the quiet, almost morose woman who kept her thoughts to herself, rarely engaged with the other women and almost never grumbled. Now, since receiving her letter, she had become argumentative, almost demanding.

‘How can I wear these clothes?’ she cried indignantly. ‘Tomorrow I have a young man coming to visit me and I will look pathetic! Whatever will he think? Richard grew up to think of me with respect. He will be shocked, Nesta, and I cannot bear to imagine his expression.’

‘You don’t look at all pathetic, Miss Busby. Truly you don’t.’

‘And I tell you I do!’ She glanced around for confirmation and her gaze rested on Magda Llewellyn. ‘Magda, please tell Nesta that I look pathetic.’

‘You do. Yes! So very pathetic!’ Magda, a Polish immigrant, had married a retired English colonel a year before he died and left her penniless. She was knitting a small square, using recycled wool – a square which was destined eventually to join other squares to form a blanket. ‘Most certainly you are looking pathetic. We all are the same. Tragic figures. What are we but the world’s rejections?’

Nesta, feeling understandably betrayed by this ungrateful utterance, turned on her. ‘Please, Magda. This is a private conversation. Get on with your knitting.’

‘Pah! Who wants blanket made of squares?’

‘The homeless. It’s in a very good cause.’

‘Blankets for people worse off than us?’ Magda tossed her head. ‘I do not care even to be thinking about it. And as for your
private
conversation, is not so very private after all!’ Magda sniffed. ‘I hear every word.’ She tapped her chest then indicated another inmate, who was bending forward short-sightedly, attempting to do a jigsaw puzzle. ‘And look at Miss Spinks. She listening also to this so very private conversation. She not missing a word.’

Miss Spinks looked up vaguely. ‘Oh, I am, dear, I am.’ A lifetime of needlework as a dressmaker had ruined her eyesight and robbed her of her way to earn a living. She now spent hours peering at the jigsaw pieces and trying to force them into the wrong gaps.

Magda pointed a trembling finger. ‘See! Even the cat is listening!’

As though it understood and was insulted by this slur, the large tortoiseshell cat leaped to its feet and dashed from the room.

Nesta said, ‘Oh, the poor thing!’

Annoyed by the distraction, Ivy nevertheless made use of the interruption.

‘There you are! Magda agrees that I do look pathetic. I’m not losing my reason. I look in the mirror and what I see depresses me. The figure I see cannot be me!’

Nesta was at a loss. ‘You mustn’t upset yourself,’ she begged.

Ivy went on, her voice rising. ‘I am not at all ungrateful for all the Sutton Group has done for me over the past years, but look at this cardigan . . .’

‘Green suits you, Miss Busby.’

‘I don’t deny that, Nesta, but see the elbow – it is so frayed it is almost a hole . . .’ She poked at it savagely and a small hole appeared. ‘There! What did I say? And this skirt hangs on me like a sack and makes me look as if I’m wasting away! Please, Nesta, ask Mrs Beck-Holmes to arrange for me to have some better clothes just for tomorrow. My first visitor. I must look my best.’

Nesta sighed with exasperation. ‘But he won’t notice your skirt because you’ll be sitting down and you can keep the frayed sleeve out of sight.’

‘Sitting down, you say? Ah, but I might not! I might walk in the garden. Get away from the smell of boiled cabbage and liniment!’

Magda, thoroughly enjoying her grumbles, sniffed again. ‘Is it a garden we have here or a very large window box? So small it is!’

Ignoring her, Ivy persevered with her sentence. ‘Walk in the garden with him in hopes of a little privacy. We have things to talk about, you see. Important things. Important questions to answer.’ She glanced triumphantly at her companions. ‘And my young visitor comes from a wealthy American family and . . .’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘He might well make a small, or a not so small, donation to the Sutton Group. I shall encourage him to do so if he appears at all impressed by what he sees.’ She resisted the chance to glance at Nesta to see whether or not she had noticed the mention of a donation.

Nesta said, ‘I’m sure he will be impressed.’

Ivy sighed loudly. ‘A pathetic old woman – that is what Richard will see.’

Nesta rolled her eyes but gave in gracefully. ‘Well, I shall do as you ask, Miss Busby, and pass on your request.’

Ivy looked up at her in feigned surprise. ‘You will? Oh what a dear you are. I’m sure they will understand. I am
so
looking forward to seeing him again.’

The visit to the zoo went ahead as Richard had hoped it would but only after an ill-tempered argument with the twins’ grandmother, which only ended when she became breathless and Ida warned her about her heart.

After an initial shyness, Emmie and Edie had relaxed and the animals had proved wonderfully exciting so that by the time they had seen the bears, the tigers, the chimps, the giraffes and elephants, the girls were giddy with excitement and Richard was worn out by their constant questions.

At ten to five he suggested it was tea time and they gladly agreed. While they waited for the waitress to bring sandwiches and cakes, the bombardment of questions continued.

‘Do the giraffes like having those long necks, Uncle Richard? ‘Emmie asked.

Uncle Richard! He smiled, still trying to get used to the idea that he was an uncle in England, taking his two nieces on a trip to the London Zoo.

‘I guess they get used to it,’ he suggested. ‘I guess they are wondering if we like having very short necks.’

Edie said, ‘We’ve got used to our short necks, haven’t we?’

‘I’ve got used to having very small ears,’ Emmie said thoughtfully. ‘I suppose the elephants like their big flappy ears because they can hear lots of things.’

The waitress arrived with a tray and set out the food. She smiled at Richard. ‘I’ve put three of each cake on the plate so there’ll be no squabbling.’ To the girls she said, ‘You be good for your daddy!’ and gave Richard a wink.

Emmie said, ‘He’s not our daddy. Our father is dead. He was in a car and it fell over a cliff. Uncle Richard is our new uncle from America.’

Edie nodded. ‘We like him. He’s fun. He makes us laugh.’

‘Does he? Well, that’s nice.’

‘His big sister was our mother but she’s disappeared. We don’t remember her.’

‘Oh dear!’ The waitress appeared rather disconcerted by this gloomy news.

Edie reached for a sandwich but her sister hissed, ‘Wait to be asked!’ and she withdrew her hand and glanced guiltily at Richard to see if he had noticed her transgression.

To the waitress Emmie said, ‘Grandmother didn’t like our mother but Uncle Richard . . .’

‘Hey, girls! That’s enough!’ Richard said hastily.

The waitress started to say something, thought better of it and turned away.

The twins exchanged anxious looks but Richard said blithely, ‘What a great waitress – and hey! Look at the cakes she’s brought us!’

‘Jam tarts,’ said Edie, ‘cream puffs, date slices, butterfly cakes . . .’

Emmie looked at her uncle, frowning slightly. ‘Are we really going to go to America to see our other grandmother?’

‘I guess so, if your grandmother agrees, but she might say no because it’s a long way to my home and she might worry about you.’

‘She does love us,’ Emmie explained earnestly. ‘She prays for us every night so that God will make us good. She might miss us if we went away. She might be lonely.’

Edie finished a mouthful of sandwich and added, ‘She might cry if we went away.’

Richard said, ‘Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s eat our tea before the sandwiches get cold.’

Two pairs of eyes regarded him with suspicion.

Edie said, ‘Get cold?’

‘He’s joking!’ Emmie explained.

Five minutes later the sandwiches had been devoured and they were making rapid inroads into the fancy cakes. Richard watched them with a heartfelt longing that it would be possible for them to visit his parents. They looked so much like Leonora. He also had instructions from his mother that if Nanny was fit enough, he should take her home as well. Years ago the Prestons had assured the nanny that she would have a home with the family until she died. Then Neil Matlowe had disrupted their plans by marrying Leonora and whisking her, the two babies and their nanny to England and within less than a year all their good intentions had been blown away by events. Georgina Matlowe had summarily dismissed the nanny for reasons best known to herself. By the time the Prestons had discovered what had happened no one knew where Ivy Busby was.

Richard was determined to right the wrong if it were not too late. He intended to take Ivy Busby back where she belonged.

The next day, Richard went to see his nanny, and Ida took the children to London to see Buckingham Palace and go up the Thames in a river bus. Georgina had been persuaded to have a day in bed to rest her heart and Marianne took the opportunity to find Donald Watson in his office.

He jumped to his feet, obviously delighted to see her.

‘You’ve managed to slip away at last,’ he said. ‘Well done!’

‘It wasn’t difficult.’ She explained the situation.

Judith beamed at her. ‘The spy in the camp!’

‘Oh dear! Is that what I am?’

Donald Watson said quickly, ‘Of course not! Not a spy in that way. Let’s say you are our eyes and ears. A very necessary part of the equation. Does that sound better?’

‘Much better, thank you.’

The woman was giving her a rather strange look, Marianne thought, as though she were weighing her up, but then she smiled.

‘Miss Lefevre,’ she said, ‘I am in the middle of a letter to a client – a will has gone missing and the entire family is in an uproar . . .’

‘And you have to find it?’

‘We
have
found it but I have to explain to them that we shall need a special warrant to get at it. Anyway, as soon as I finish this letter I’ll make us a pot of tea.’

Donald said, ‘My cousin Judith is my partner as well as my secretary. I don’t know what I’ll do without her when she leaves.’

Judith smiled. ‘I’m expecting a baby early next year and we’ll be interviewing candidates for my job. If you ever decide to give up being a governess . . .’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Can you type?’

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