He nodded miserably.
Again the gong sounded.
‘Oh boy,’ she whispered, doing up his sandals. She gave his hair a quick brush.
‘Teddy too,’ he demanded thrusting the bear forward.
She brushed him. ‘There,’ she said.
As they walked down the stairs, her father was standing in the hall looking at his watch.
‘You’re three and a half minutes late,’ he stated.
‘I’m not used to washing and dressing Charlie.’
‘You should have allowed for that.’
And you should have helped, she thought.
‘Don’t let it happen again.’
Charlie scowled. Hastily, she manoeuvred him into the dining room, where Mrs Grace was hovering over the table.
‘O.K., Charlie,’ she said, pulling up a chair for Teddy. ‘Better start breakfast, eh?’
3”
He attempted to scowl at her.
‘Ah, I saw a smile sneaking out,’ she said, waving a finger at him. He shook his head and pressed his lips firmly together. ‘Look, there it is, at the corners. It’s just squeezing out.’
Charlie threw back his head and let out a gurgle of laughter.
The door opened and Rusty’s grandmother walked in. She gazed disapprovingly at the shabby bear seated at the table. Charlie folded his arms and glared at her. He looked so fierce that it was all Rusty could do to keep a straight face. -
‘Ah,’ said Mrs Dickinson Senior. ‘So you’ve condescended to arrive.’
She took one look at Charlie’s thunderous face and swept hurriedly back through the door, leaving Mrs Grace in charge.
After breakfast Rusty played downstairs with Charlie. He sat his bear beside him and, as he played, he talked to him. Poor Charlie, she thought. I guess with Susan gone, he doesn’t have a buddy. And she couldn’t imagine anyone being allowed to come home with him from his nursery school.
An hour after lunch Mrs Grace came to tell her that her grandmother wished to see her in the drawing room.
Rusty knocked on the door and pushed it open. Her grandmother was seated in her winged armchair. She was smiling.
‘Sit down, Virginia,’ she said gently. ‘Mrs Smythe-Williams will be visiting us this afternoon and we’ll be taking tea in here. I’d like you to join us.’
This was a change in tune. She usually wanted Rusty to disappear.
‘Mrs Grace is baking us some scones.’
‘Sounds swell,’ she said. ‘What about Charlie?’
‘He can amuse himself for a little while. Mrs Grace will look after him. Now, I’d like you to change out of those…’ and she waved her finger at Rusty’s knees.
‘Jeans,’ said Rusty.
‘Change into something pretty.’
As Rusty was about to leave, her grandmother added lightly, ‘And take your time. I’d like Mrs Smythe-Williams to see what a young lady you’ve become.’
A compliment, too! thought Rusty. This was praise!
Upstairs in her bedroom she put on her cream blouse and flared tan-and-green skirt, her new bobby socks and sloppy Joe. She spat into a handkerchief and rubbed the whites of her saddle shoes vigorously, unplaited her hair and gave it a good brushing backwards and upwards, to give her scalp some exercise, as Janey would say. Her hair hung around her face and shoulders like a dark bushy cloud. She glanced down at her sloppy Joe. The R on it was the colour of her hair. She made a central parting and then tied it back with the green ribbons she had worn when she first arrived in England.
When she was satisfied, she made her way downstairs. To her surprise, her grandmother met her in the hall. Rusty twirled round in a circle.
‘Oh,’ said her grandmother, ‘you look so much nicer in a skirt.’
Rusty headed for the dining room. Her grandmother looked startled.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I want to show Charlie how I look,’ she said, and she opened the door.
Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Lying scattered on the floor were his jigsaw-puzzle pieces.
‘Your father has taken him out for the afternoon. For a treat,’ added Mrs Dickinson Senior quickly.
‘Oh,’ said Rusty. She felt disappointed. ‘How come he didn’t want me to go with him too?’
‘Well,’ said her grandmother lightly, ‘I expect he’ll do something different with you. After all, boys and girls enjoy different activities, don’t they?’
‘I guess.’
She was just about to turn away when she noticed Charlie’s teddy bear on the floor, and it struck her as odd, for, since they had left Devon, Charlie never went anywhere without it.
There was a tap at the front door. Her grandmother quickly beckoned Rusty into the drawing room, leaving Mrs Grace to answer it. Rusty still couldn’t understand why her grandmother didn’t go and answer it herself.
Eventually Mrs Grace opened the drawing-room door and announced the arrival of Mrs Smythe-Williams. Rusty stood up. It was the lady who had complained about Charlie, the one with the big nose.
She seemed surprised when she saw Rusty, but before she could say anything Rusty’s grandmother motioned her to the sofa.
‘I thought it would be rather nice if Virginia joined us this afternoon,’ she said.
Mrs Smythe-Williams sat down. There was an awkward silence.
‘And how is school?’ she asked at last.
‘It’s O.K.’
‘Have you had a nice Christmas holiday?’
‘Swell,’ she said, crossing her fingers in the folds of her skirt. The woman gazed down at it. For a moment Rusty wondered whether she’d noticed her fingers.
‘They certainly use a lot of material for clothes in America,’ she remarked.
‘Yes,’ said Rusty. ‘Rationing over there isn’t as tough as it is over here.’
‘And how are you finding life in England now?’
‘It’s O.K. I’m getting used to it.’
‘I expect you’re glad to be back home.’
‘Oh yeah. Sure.’
Mrs Smythe-Williams turned to her grandmother.
‘She still uses American expressions, but I do detect an English accent creeping back.’
Mrs Dickinson Senior beamed. ‘Oh yes, she’ll soon be back to normal.’
‘I expect she’ll be glad to get back to school and be with all her friends again.’
‘Yes,’ gushed her grandmother. ‘It’s hard for a little girl to amuse herself in a house full of grown-ups. And how is Mrs Matthews?’
From then on, Rusty sat perched on the edge of the armchair while Mrs Smythe-Williams and her grandmother talked about a stream of people Rusty had never met.
‘And where is Margaret?’ asked Mrs Smythe-Williams.
‘She’s visiting a friend of hers who isn’t very well.’
‘Is she still helping with the W.V.S.?’ she asked, lowering her voice.
Mrs Dickinson Senior nodded.
‘But surely there can’t be anything to do now.’
‘She says that the Government has asked them to continue their work for the time being.’
There was a knock at the door and Mrs Grace wheeled in a tea-trolley.
‘I really do marvel at the way you’ve managed to keep your china intact,’ said Mrs Smythe-Williams.
Rusty’s grandmother looked exultant. ‘Why thank you, my dear.’ She looked up at Mrs Grace. ‘Thank you, Mrs Grace, we’ll manage by ourselves.’
Mrs Dickinson Senior poured milk into the cups and the tea through a strainer.
‘Virginia,’ she said, holding up the small jug, ‘would you be so kind as to fetch some more milk?’
‘Sure.’
So slow was Mrs Grace that Rusty not only passed her on the way to the kitchen but met her on the way back. She was just crossing the hall to the drawing room when she heard her grandmother say, ‘Any woman who marries a G.I. deserves everything that’s coming to her.’
Rusty froze, her cheeks burning. As s
he thrust open the drawing-room door, Mrs Dickinson Senior and her friend looked up hurriedly and smiled. Rusty was so angry that she avoided looking at them. She placed the jug on the trolley and sat down.
‘Virginia,’ said her grandmother brightly, ‘would you like a scone?’
Rusty had hardly finished eating one when she heard the front door opening. Her father’s voice came thundering from the hall.
‘You will go to bed immediately!’
Rusty turned in her chair. She could hear sounds of sobbing. Suddenly the door was flung open and Charlie stumbled in.
Rusty sprang to her feet. ‘Charlie!’ she cried.
His head was like a small stubbled bullet. The only trace of his thick red hair was a gingery fuzz. He was taking in great gulps of air, his large eyes looking even larger because of his shaven head.
‘Mummy,’ he gasped. ‘Want Mummy.’
Rusty knelt down and took hold of his hands. He pulled them away.
‘Want Mummy.’
Mr Dickinson stood, rigid, in the doorway, his hands clenched.
‘You are to go to bed immediately!’
‘Was this the treat?’ exclaimed Rusty.
‘Virginia, you will hold your tongue.’ He glared down at Charlie. ‘He’s made an absolute disgrace of himself. I actually had to hold him down forcibly so that the barber could cut his hair. At least he looks like a boy now.’
Charlie did not move.
‘Charles!’ he roared. ‘This is your last chance. I’m going to the study to fetch my cane. If you are not in your bedFoom by the time I return, you’ll feel it across your backside.’ And with that he stormed out of the room.
‘Charlie,’ said Rusty gently, ‘come on. I’ll take you.’
She tried to touch him, but he backed into the armchair, dazed. She turned to her grandmother, only to find her pouring out a cup of tea for her friend.
‘Grandmother!’ Rusty gasped. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’
‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ she said politely. ‘It’s up to your father.’
Mrs Smythe-Williams began sipping the tea.
Rusty glanced at Charlie. There was a pool by his feet.
‘Come on,’ she whispered.
There was a loud slamming of a door and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Charlie started making strange gasping noises as if he had asthma. Rusty heard her father’s heavy stride and turned to face him.
He stood at the doorway, a long thin cane in his hand.
‘So you’ve deliberately disobeyed me!’ he roared.
He strode towards the armchair where Charlie seemed fixed. The cane flew up. Rusty leapt and grabbed his arm. From then on it was all like a dream. She heard her grandmother and her friend gasp. She heard Charlie sobbing. She heard the cane. She felt it a couple of times across her head, and then it was on her arms and thighs. The next thing she knew, her father had suddenly left the room.
Her head and limbs still stinging, she took hold of Charlie’s hand and led him out into the hall. At the foot of the stairs he hiccuped, ‘Teddy!’
She tried to let go of his hand to retrieve the bear, but he clung tightly to her. They walked into the dining room and Rusty picked it up. As she handed it to him, she knew from the smell that he had filled his pants.
3* She carried him up to the bathroom and locked the door behind them. She didn’t know where to start. She took off his shorts and underpants, piled them into a bucket, and filled it with hot water. Then she washed his bottom with a warm soapy flannel until he was clean.
She opened the bathroom door and peered out, then pulled Charlie out on to the landing and up the wide polished staircase to the next landing and up again to his bedroom..
For once he didn’t wriggle or squirm. He simply held on to his teddy-bear and allowed her to put on his pyjamas and tuck him into bed.
Rusty pulled the chamber pot, which was under his bed, into view. She smoothed his forehead with her fingers. ‘Tell you what,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll make you as snug as a bug in a rug. O.K.?’
She raised each end of the pillow and tucked the sheets and blankets tightly underneath so that the raised pillow ends enclosed him. He smiled weakly.
‘That’s what Uncle Harvey does,’ he said.
As soon as Rusty heard the knock at the front door, she sat up sharply in bed and looked at her watch. It was ten past nine. She hopped out of bed and eased the door open. There was silence, followed by a second knocking. Mrs Grace had already gone home. If someone didn’t answer soon, Rusty would go down herself.
There were footsteps in the hall.
‘Hello, Mother. Everything all right?’
‘I think you had better come into the drawing room, Margaret.’
Rusty slipped out on to the landing and leaned over the banisters. She heard the door close and then, after a short while, open again. Her mother walked quickly across the hall towards the staircase. Rusty backed into her room and climbed into bed. Within minutes, her mother had walked past her room and into Charlie’s room. Rusty heard her walk back along the landing and stop. She was outside her room now. The door opened slowly.
‘Virginia?’
Rusty sat up and turned the bedside lamp on.
Her mother closed the door hurriedly and came over to the bed.
‘What on earth has been going on? Your father says that Charlie was deliberately disobedient and your grandmother says you virtually attacked him. Your father’s terribly upset because he hit you with a cane, and your grandmother says that you drove him to it. I can’t seem to get any sense out of either of them.’
‘He was going to hit Charlie with it and nobody did anything to stop him.’
‘But I was told that Charlie had thrown the most terrible tantrums and had kicked and bitten your father and had refused to go to bed.’
‘I didn’t see him do that,’ Rusty said. ‘Maybe he did that at the barber’s. I don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d taken him. They must have planned it all out.’
‘Virginia, what are you talking about?’
‘Grandmother sent me upstairs to change. She told me to take my time. It was so I’d be out of the way. When I came down, she told me Father had taken him out for a treat. She didn’t say anything about him going to the barber’s.’
Her mother looked shaken. She glanced up swiftly.
‘If Charlie refused to obey your father, it does put him in a very difficult position.’
‘But he was in an awful state. Crying for you and… I tried to take him up myself, but –’
‘Perhaps a cane is a little harsh,’ she said, ‘but if he’s disobedient...’
‘But he couldn’t move.’
‘You mean he wouldn’t.’
‘No. He was like the red fox,’ she said desperately. ‘You know, the one that was caught in your headlights.’
Her mother sat down at the end of the bed.
‘He dirtied his pants, too,’ Rusty added quickly.
Her mother took a battered cigarette packet out of her cardigan pocket. She took out the remaining half of a cigarette and lit it.
For a while the two of them sat there saying nothing. Rusty could see that her mother was thinking.
‘How is Ivy?’ she whispered.
Her mother blew out a cloud of smoke.
‘Upset.’
‘Will she still be going to America?’
‘She doesn’t know what to do. She has to get in touch with her husband’s family and the family in America. You see,’ she said, turning, ‘she’s not even Mrs Flannagan any more. Because her husband is still alive, her marriage to Captain Flannagan doesn’t count. She’s back to being Mrs Woods.’
‘But what about the baby?’
Her mother stood up. ‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘Now look, Virginia, this isn’t your problem. And remember, this is between you and me. All right?’
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ said Rusty, kneeling up. ‘Cross my heart and hope
to die.’
‘You’ll be back at school on Monday. You just concentrate on that. It’ll all get sorted out in time.’
‘O.K.’
Peggy was about to open the door when Rusty said, ‘Mother, Grandmother said that anyone who married a G.I. deserves all that’s coming to her. What did she mean? Jinkie’s husband is a G.I., and he’s really nice.’
Her mother stiffened. ‘Did she now?’ she muttered. Then without another word she opened the door and left.
Rusty had hardly sunk back into the pillows when there was the almighty crash of a door slamming. It startled her. She shot out of bed, opened thedoor, and ran barefoot back on to the landing. She crouched by the banisters.
They were shouting now.
‘I’m sick of Uncle Harvey this and Uncle Harvey that,’ said a loud voice. ‘I’m his father.’
‘I know that, Roger, but you never give him a chance. You hardly spend any time with him at all. How can you expect him to treat you like a father if you don’t make an effort to get to know him?’
‘And what am I supposed to do with him?’ he bellowed. ‘Play chess? I mean, you can hardly have a conversation with him.’
‘You can play with him.’
‘Oh, really, Margaret. I haven’t the time to play.’
‘You never have. In fact, I don’t think you know how.’
‘I am an adult,’ he snapped.
‘Roger, you’ve got to spend more time with him -otherwise the situation is going to grow worse. You’re expecting him to be some stiff-upper-lipped young Englishman. Well, he’s not. He’s only four years old.’
‘And tied to his mother’s apron-strings!’
‘And you’re not, I suppose!’
Rusty held her breath. There was a long silence.
After some time, she heard her grandmother say something about her mother needing another child. Rusty crept down to the next landing. ‘When he’s seven and away at boarding school, you’ll have so much time on your hands,’ her grandmother was saying.
‘Charlie is not going to boarding school.’
Her father gave an artificial laugh. ‘Oh, really?’ he said. ‘Have you taken on the role of father now?’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said her grandmother. ‘Of course he’s going to boarding school.’
‘He is not.’
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