The Captain's Daughter (32 page)

‘It is always pleasant to see a familiar face in a crowd.’

‘A very diplomatic avoidance of the question indeed. I’d like us to get to know each other better. This opportunity came up and I took it . . . entirely coincidental.’ He paused. ‘Well, not quite . . .’

‘I need time to think about this. It’s all so complicated, you see.’ Now was the time to tell him she was still married and not widowed, put him straight once and for all.

‘What’s so complicated? Man meets mother and child on board a ship, they correspond for months, man visits. What’s so wrong with that?’

‘Oh, look, the principal’s wife is beckoning me,’ Celeste squeaked, making to flee from this encounter.

‘Coward!’ Archie raised his boater. ‘We’ll meet again soon.’

Not if I can help it. Damnation!

Celeste sped to Mrs Phillips’s side on some silly pretext. She had to get away from him, his grinning confidence, his physical presence, those green-grey eyes and the flutter inside her stomach when she’d recognized him. She’d just got everybody settled and organized and he turned up on her doorstep demanding entry into her life.

In her heart Celeste sensed Archie was the sort of chap capable of twisting her life into a whole new tangle of knots. There was nothing for it now. She must search out that job application and get it in the post quick. She had to get away.

Roddy kept the letters in his tuck box out of sight. There were eight of them now and the last one had been the best of all. His father was coming to London and wanted to see him. He was so excited to think he would be meeting him in secret. He’d wangled an invitation to stay with Charlie Potter, the son of a vicar with a parish near Wimbledon. They were going to see the city sights: the Crown Jewels, the museums, the Changing of the Guard. He would be down there for two whole weeks while his father was sailing into Southampton and coming by train to their London factory in Silvertown for important meetings.

He couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to write. Getting the address was easy when Grandpa had told him that Pa worked for the Diamond Rubber Company in Akron. He had an important job there and was bound to get letters. He’d written in evening prep, putting his School House address at the top in his very best handwriting, and with his dictionary by his side. The first letter was the hardest because he didn’t know if his dad would be cross with him.

It was like writing to a stranger at first but when that first reply came back with the photo of his own pa, he was so excited.

Roddy had written every week after that but worried about how to continue in the summer holidays. It was Pa who came up with the idea of meeting in London in August, and now Roddy couldn’t wait. He was to go on the train unaccompanied. The Potters would meet him at Euston and take him back with them. Somehow he must make an excuse and ask to go home early so they’d take him back to the station and he’d say goodbye and meet up there with his father for a few days. It was like one of his
Boy’s Own Paper
adventure stories coming true.

It was hard keeping such a big secret. If it came out his mother would be upset and angry that he’d gone behind her back, but it was silly pretending he had no living relatives in America. It was a lie, and the chaplain at school was always going on about how little lies became bigger ones. If his own mother could lie about being widowed why shouldn’t he do the same? Only it wasn’t a lie, it was true. He had a pa who cared about him, who’d missed him and had tried to find him. He’d had important lawyers tracing them. He knew they were in Lichfield. He knew everything about their journey from Washington but he had told Roddy that he knew they’d see sense in the end and come to some arrangement between them so his father could be part of his life again.

Father told him he had a big house in the country with horses, and that Grandma Parkes was longing to see him too. He wondered if he’d bring her over with him. He couldn’t wait.

He’d begged Mama to buy him a smart new suit for London with long trousers, but she said you didn’t wear long trousers in summer until you were at least sixteen and she chose some shirts, a pullover and white flannels for him instead, just in case he was going to play tennis with Charlie.

Ella was miffed because she wasn’t going to London. She went on outings to Birmingham Art Gallery and still played with Hazel Perrings, but she wanted to see the National Gallery and other stuff that Roddy considered boring.

There was a hairy moment when Mother said they’d all go on a day trip and meet up with the Potters in town but everyone was busy on the day she was free. He knew she wouldn’t mind when he told her after the visit. It would be too late then for her to protest. It was all so silly, living apart in separate countries when you were supposed to be married. He didn’t understand why she’d left such a kind man.

Here they were, living in a muddle with the Smiths, who were no relation, and Uncle Sel, who was always moody and who cared more for his horses than he did real people. He was sent off to school with a load of strangers because that was what happened to boys like him at a certain age when all the time he had a pa far away who cared for him and never saw him. None of it made sense so why shouldn’t he keep this all a big secret? They didn’t deserve to know.

He thought about telling Mr McAdam all about his plans but now he was coming to work in Lichfield, it wasn’t a good idea, and Mother had gone into a tizzy for some reason and was busy applying for a job helping people. She was quite happy living here with the Smiths. Sometimes he felt all mixed up, living in this house of women. He felt as if he didn’t count any more. Other times he liked being part of this big funny family where he was left in peace to roam around the canal watching the barges on the tow path and fishing.

Now he was buzzing. Would his pa like him? Would they recognize each other? Would he look like him? He couldn’t sleep for excitement. As he packed his suitcase, he wondered how he’d feel when he returned to this room after their meeting. Another flutter of both fear and daring made his heart thump. He’d done this off his own bat. It was his big secret and he hoped it would all turn out just as great as he was imagining. What a story he’d have to tell the other boys in the dorm when he returned.

Ella was finding the long school holidays boring. The house was so quiet now Roddy had gone to London. All he thought about was sightseeing, while she was itching to go to the palaces and places she could only read about in books. It was market day and they’d gone into town as usual; shopping, changing library books, a cup of tea in the Minster café while waiting for Uncle Selwyn. She was in a sulk.

Hazel had gone to Prestatyn with her family for a week. Everyone she knew was away. There was no chance Mum would ever go back to the seaside again. Even Ella’s little studio at the top of the garden was full of flies buzzing around, annoying her.

‘You’ve got a face on you like a wet wakes week. Be thankful you’ve got a holiday. When I was your age I was going half time at the mill, young lady,’ Mum chided her. ‘If you want to make yourself useful, take this washing soda and dolly blue up to the canon’s house. His nets are getting grubby again. I want to give the place a bottom out while he’s away next week. I’m going to the shops on the way, so I’ll see you there. Run along and smile. No one wants to see a sulky face on such a sunny day.’

Mum was never happier than when she was cleaning, tidying up Selwyn’s mess, grumbling over how cluttered the house was. At least she was cheerier, and Ella didn’t have to keep watching and worrying in case she became ill again. Aunt Celeste was hoping to get some special work from a company in London, and they were attacking the garden again, pruning back bushes and planting fancy tubs full of flowers, just in case she was called away.

Ella dawdled through the archway into Vicar’s Close to admire the higgledy-piggledy cottages. She could let herself in with the key under the brick, if the canon was out on his morning walk.

She knocked but there was no reply. Turning the handle, she found the door unlocked and shouted, ‘Only me, sir!’ He’d gone out and left the door open in his usual forgetful way so she left the shopping on the kitchen table top and turned to leave. She didn’t know what made her look up the little stairwell but her eye caught a boot hanging at an odd angle. In the boot was a foot. She tiptoed up slowly, feeling sick. It was too quiet and too still up there and she was scared.

Ella fled out of the yard and back down into the town, tears rolling down her face.

She made straight for the Earl of Lichfield and to the bar stool where Selwyn was supping his beer. ‘Come quick . . . It’s your father. There’s been an accident . . . Please come quick.’

It was as if the day went into slow motion after that. They’d picked up her mother and rushed back to the cottage. Ella had stayed at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to see what was happening. Mum came down grey in the face. ‘The poor man, taken so sudden like that.’ She’d been helping Selwyn get him on the bed.

‘He’s dead?’

‘Yes, love, sometime last night before he went to bed. Dropped where he fell . . . He wouldn’t have known about it. Such a kind man. He took us in all those years ago, gave me a job, a real Christian gent.’ They both started to cry and Selwyn came down.

‘I’ve put him on his bed. I’ll call the dean. They’ll want to say prayers but first we must tell Celeste.’

They drove slowly for once, silent, shocked and saddened, each lost in his or her own memories of the man. Celeste was in the garden just where they’d left her, beavering away, her foxy red hair awry, dirty handprints on her garden apron.

She looked up, smiling. ‘You’re early.’

Then she caught the look on their faces. ‘What’s happened?’

Her brother stepped forward and walked her up the garden.

The next day was taken over with the whole business of funerals and service planning, visitors calling with flowers and letters of condolence. The drawing room was like a florist’s shop.

‘Roddy must come back for the funeral. I want him home with us,’ Celeste announced. ‘I’m going to telegram the Potters and ask them to break the news and put Roddy on the next train to Lichfield. Selwyn will see to Papa’s affairs and the undertaker. The College have offered to prepare the funeral tea, isn’t that kind?’

The grown-ups were all wearing black but Celeste insisted Ella wore her summer clothes. ‘Papa hated black on children. He used to say our children are the hope for our future. Come with me to Trent Valley to meet the afternoon train, Ella. Roddy’s going to be very upset.’

The morning sped by and there was so much to do, helping Mrs Allen and Mum prepare the rooms and try to keep Celeste’s spirits up. Ella had never seen death at close hand before. It was an awful lot of hard work and she felt important to have been the one to alert the family to the accident.

They stood on the station platform waiting for the London train to arrive. For once it was on time, and as the crowds poured out they searched up the platform for Roddy.

‘The blighter, he’s missed the train!’ Celeste tutted. ‘Still there’s one at six o’clock. Selwyn can come to meet that.’

Home they went and on the hall’s silver tray was a telegram. Celeste tore it open.

‘I don’t understand. It’s from the Reverend Mr Potter. He says he put Roderick on the train at his request two days ago . . . I don’t understand.’

Selwyn snatched it out of her hands and read it again. ‘What’s he playing at? Where else would he go in London? Pack me a sandwich, Sis . . . I’ll drive down there myself. There must be some mistake . . .’

Aunt Celeste sat at the foot of the stairs shaking. ‘How could he play silly games at a time like this? Where is he? Why didn’t they let us know he was coming back early? It’s not like him. I think we should call the police. He’s only a child . . . Surely he hasn’t run away?’

Ella’s mum made cups of tea and supper but no one could eat anything. They went back to the station just in case, but Roddy wasn’t on the platform. Ella felt fear inside. Aunt Celeste collapsed in a chair shaking and crying and Mum made her go to bed with a brandy. Uncle Selwyn had such a worried look on his face as he rang the police station to ask for advice. Something was terribly wrong but no one knew just what it was. A mist of gloom, fear and panic swirled around Red House and Ella didn’t know what to do to help. Boys had no idea; they were useless specimens. She was glad she’d soon be going to a girls’ school.

Roddy was having a wonderful time with his new father. The plan had gone swimmingly. He’d waved off the Potters on the platform, sat in the compartment for five minutes until they were out of sight, jumped out and ran to the barrier where a tall man in a smart blazer and slacks was waving. He was so handsome and jolly and he’d bought him an ice cream. They went to one of the finest hotels for luncheon and he’d scoffed everything they’d put in front of him.