The Londoners (43 page)

Miriam came into the house hard on Leah’s heels and Kate didn’t stay. Knowing now that Carrie was not at home or down the market, she didn’t bother knocking at the
Jennings’ or walking into Lewisham. Instead, much to Hector’s delight, she pushed the pram up on to the Heath and walked across it and into Greenwich Park.

Early that evening, just after seven o’ clock, the volume on the radio crackled and faded. Seconds later the air raid sirens moaned into life. It was the first time there
had been an air raid since Matthew had been born and it was the first time, for a long time, that she had had to endure one without Leon for company.

Wishing fervently that Harriet was home, or even that Mr Nibbs would call on her, Kate scooped up Matthew from his cot. ‘We’re just going to have to sit it out together, my
darling,’ she said as he opened his eyes, his little fists flailing.

The Anderson was far more comfortable than it had originally been. Leon had put a camp bed in it for her and an oil heater and a hurricane-lamp. With Hector whining in dread at her heels and
with distant anti-aircraft guns already opening up at the enemy, she hurried down the dark path and down the roughly hewn steps into the shelter.

It was a long, horrendous night. Occasionally she lifted back the heavy black-out curtain over the shelter’s open doorway and each time she did so it was to see a smoke-filled sky
criss-crossed with beams of hundreds of searchlights, pin-pointing the attacking planes for the benefit of the anti-aircraft guns. From what she could see and hear it was obvious that this time the
German planes were not directing their attack solely on the City and the docks. From the direction of Eltham, even further away from the river than Blackheath, loud explosions sent flames
murderously across the night sky.

Kate rocked Matthew tightly in her arms, knowing that family homes were being bombed. Their occupiers would presumably be in Anderson or Morrison or public shelters but no shelter was immune
from a direct hit. A bomb dropped perilously close, far closer than Eltham, and the ground shuddered beneath her feet. For the first time ever she knew real fear. Not fear for herself, but for
Matthew. If anything happened to him she would never forgive herself. Never. Never. Never.

When the all-clear at last sounded and she stumbled out into the pale light of early dawn she did so exhausted. Matthew had cried almost incessantly the entire time they had been in the shelter.
Hector had alternately whined and howled. She had been unable to sleep and the night had seemed endless.

She was sitting in her father’s old-fashioned rocking-chair in the kitchen, breast-feeding Matthew, when Harriet tapped on the front door and walked into the house.

At the sight of her elderly friend’s obvious weariness Kate’s heart contracted. ‘Were casualties very high, Harriet?’ she asked quietly.

Very slowly Harriet unstrapped her tin hat and laid it on the kitchen table. ‘Horrendous,’ she said bleakly. ‘Eltham, Bromley, Orpington. I’ve never known so many private
homes be hit so far south of the river.’

Wearily she sat down. ‘A three-year-old girl and a canary were the only survivors in one house that was hit. Arrangements will be made for the child, of course, but the authorities are so
overstretched that the local Home Guard officer asked me if I would take her in temporarily.’

‘And are you going to?’ Kate asked, deeply disturbed at the thought of the child’s plight.

Harriet tucked a tendril of dishevelled grey hair back into her bun. ‘How can I? It would mean my giving up my ambulance-driving duties. I don’t want to sound immodest, Kate, but
I’m now one of the depot’s most experienced drivers and they can’t afford to lose me.’

Kate believed her. Harriet’s common sense and implacable calm were exactly the qualities needed when a bombing raid was at its height.

‘I did wonder about having a word with Hettie Collins. Despite all her ridiculous prejudices where you and your father are concerned, she’s basically kind-hearted.’ She rubbed
her eyes wearily. ‘I would have approached Miriam, but Miriam has already taken one orphaned child into her home and she certainly couldn’t take in another one. I don’t know where
everyone who lives in that house sleeps. Presumably Caroline shares a room with Rose and the child they’ve given a home to and . . .’

‘I’ll take her in,’ Kate said decisively, moving Matthew from her right breast to her left breast. ‘I’ve plenty of room here and the local billeting officer never
makes any use of it.’ There was no need for her to add the reason. Harriet was as aware as she was herself that it was because of her German surname.

Harriet’s ramrod-straight shoulders sagged with visible relief. ‘Will you, Kate? It will only be temporary, of course, but I’m sure the poor little thing will be better off
with you than being passed from pillar to post by the authorities.’

With one mission for the day successfully accomplished she perked up visibly. ‘Gossip reached me that Mr Harvey has been seen in Magnolia Square again,’ she said, unable to keep her
voice completely free of curiosity. ‘I presume he came in order to see Matthew?’

Kate hesitated. She hadn’t intended telling anyone of the true purpose of Joss Harvey’s visit, but Harriet Godfrey’s advice to her had always been sound, if at times
unwelcome.

‘He came in order to see Matthew and to suggest that I allow him to be evacuated to Devon or Somerset with a nanny.’

Harriet’s heavy, straight eyebrows rose. ‘With a nanny? Not yourself?’

Kate shook her head, her long plait of hair swinging gently against the back of the rocking-chair. ‘No. He would never ask me to accompany Matthew. He wants Matthew to himself.’

‘It’s only natural that he wants time with him,’ Harriet said reasonably. ‘He’s an old man and he must be aware that he may not have very much time left in which to
form a relationship with Matthew.’

Kate remained silent and Harriet said promptingly, ‘From what you yourself have told me, he was a devoted grandfather to Toby. And Toby was devoted to him, was he not?’

Kate nodded. It was the mutual devotion that had existed between Toby and his grandfather that was causing her so much mental anguish. If Toby had been alive, she knew beyond any shadow of doubt
that he would have wanted his son to spend time with his grandfather. And she knew also that he would not have wanted his son to remain in a city being blitzed by the
Luftwaffe.

Harriet’s eyes were compassionate. ‘I know it must be a hard decision for you to make, Katherine. It can’t be easy facing the prospect of being separated from a two-week-old
baby, but the separation may not be for very long. And Matthew would be safe. Or as safe as is humanly possible.’

Kate bit her lip, tears glittering on her eyelashes as she looked down at her now contentedly sleeping son. In her heart of hearts she knew that Harriet’s advice was sound. It was what
Toby would have wanted her to do and it was what common sense told her to do. It was going to be hard, though; it was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

When Joss Harvey took Matthew from the house it seemed to Kate like a bizarre rerun of the day the police escorted her father from the house. True, this time the force
wasn’t the legal force of the law, but Kate felt as if it was. From the moment Harriet had given it as her opinion that, while the heavy bombing on London continued, Toby would have wanted
Matthew removed to the countryside in the care of his great-grandfather, she had known she had no option.

‘It’s a disgrace, of course, that Mr Harvey is not offering to evacuate you as well,’ Harriet had said, privately thinking it deeply shocking, ‘but if he had, I
can’t imagine he would have agreed to you taking Hector with you and you couldn’t possibly have taken Daisy.’

On hearing her name, the little girl standing beside Kate had taken hold of her hand. Kate had given it a comforting squeeze. Even though Daisy had only been with her a couple of weeks she
certainly wouldn’t have wanted her to have been handed back to the authorities and put into an orphanage. And Matthew would be well cared for. In a surprising act of courtesy Joss Harvey had
introduced her to the young woman he had engaged as a nanny.

Ruth Fairbairn was only a year or two older than Kate and there had been instant, unspoken empathy between them. Sensing Kate’s anguish, she had given her a reprieve of another two weeks
by saying to Joss Harvey, ‘I can’t accept responsibility for Matthew until he’s been weaned from breast milk to dried milk, Mr Harvey. It would cause all sorts of emotional and
digestive complications.’

Just as when the policeman had escorted her father from the house and into internment, a large number of her neighbours were out in force to witness the event and gossip about it amongst
themselves. The car, itself, had been an object of great speculation.

‘I thought King George had come visiting,’ Hettie Collins said, her coat buttoned tightly to the throat, her battered black straw hat rakishly decorated with a bunch of imitation
cherries.

‘More likely old Hitler,’ some wit replied, mindful of Kate’s surname.

‘Blimey, ’e’s not the father, is ’e?’ a joker asked.

‘Don’t be daft! The old git coming down the steps must be the father.’

As Joss Harvey’s white-haired, portly figure descended the steps to the pathway, followed by Ruth Fairbairn in her distinctive nanny’s uniform, Miriam Jennings said knowledgeably,
‘That’s old man ’arvey of ’arvey Construction Ltd and he ain’t the father, he’s the great-grandad. Kate was keepin’ company with ’is
grandson.’

‘The one wot was killed at Dunkirk?’ her questioner asked, impressed. ‘Is ’e the father then? I thought someone said it was a darky baby. She ’ad a darky
livin’ with ’er. I know ’cos Nibbo told me.’

Kate was only a few steps behind Matthew’s nanny, Matthew in her arms, and she heard all the comments clearly. They didn’t surprise her. In the months since Matthew’s birth she
had overheard lots of similar remarks.

Joss Harvey’s chauffeur was standing beside the car, holding the nearside rear door open. As Ruth reached him she turned to take Matthew from Kate’s arms.

‘I’ll take very great care of Matthew, Miss Voigt,’ she promised, her eyes compassionate.

Kate nodded, unable to speak. This was it. This was the moment she had dreaded. This was the moment when she had to hand her son into the care of a near stranger. He was sleeping and she
resisted the almost overpowering temptation to wake him in order to see him smile and gurgle up at her one last time before parting with him. Very tenderly she kissed him on his forehead.
‘Goodbye, my precious,’ she whispered softly, tears glittering on her eyelashes. ‘It won’t be for long, I promise.’

Then, feeling as if her heart was going to break, she laid him in Ruth Fairbairn’s arms. Ruth stepped into the car. With dreadful finality the chauffeur closed the door.

‘Six weeks,’ Joss Harvey said to her as the chauffeur opened the front passenger-seat door for him. ‘I’ll send you a train ticket in six weeks, and every six weeks after
that, so that you can visit him.’

‘I shall bring Daisy with me,’ she said thickly, knowing that Joss Harvey hadn’t given Daisy a thought.

Joss Harvey opened his mouth to say she would do no such thing and then became aware of their unwanted audience. Curtly he nodded unwilling acquiescence and stepped into the car.

Small footsteps hurtled down the pathway behind Kate. Daisy had been told to stay in the house with Harriet and Hector until Kate returned but she had been terrified that Kate might never
return. Now she tugged at Kate’s hand, saying in distress,
‘Why have you given the baby to that lady, Auntie Kate? Where is that man taking them?’

Kate slipped her arm around Daisy’s shoulders. ‘It’s all right, Daisy,’ she said, fighting back tears, determined not to give way to them in public. ‘We’ll
see Matthew again soon, I promise.’

The chauffeur opened the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel, closing the door after him. Through the Bentley’s back window Kate could see Matthew’s little fingers
stretching and then clenching into tiny fists.

‘Please don’t wake!’ she said to herself fearfully. ‘Please don’t wake and start to cry! I couldn’t bear it!’

Ruth Fairbairn adjusted his white lacy shawl slightly, and began to rock him. The chauffeur turned the ignition and put his foot down on the clutch. Seconds later the Bentley was pulling away
from the curb, heading out of Magnolia Square towards Magnolia Hill and Lewisham.

‘Her dad may be a Jerry but you’ve got to feel sorry for her,’ the woman standing next to Hettie said as Kate turned abruptly on her heel and, holding Daisy by the hand, walked
swiftly back up her garden path. ‘I wouldn’t want to have been separated from my little nipper when he was so small.’

‘And she can’t be all bad if she’s taking the little girl in,’ someone else said charitably. ‘And the kiddie’s happy with her, that’s
obvious.’

This time Kate didn’t hear a word of the remarks being made about her. All she wanted was privacy in which to give vent to her crucifying sense of loss.