Billy positioned the wooden chair for Maisie to sit next to Anna’s grandmother. He stood behind her.
Maisie leaned forward and laid a hand on Louisa Mason’s arm. The limb was thin and blue-veined, the bones at her wrists and along her knuckles sharp and prominent, as if she were no more than a skeleton wrapped in gray tissue paper.
“Mrs. Mason. Mrs. Mason, can you hear me?” Maisie took the woman’s hand in both her own, rubbing her fingers back and forth as if to encourage the flow of blood through her veins. “Mrs. Mason.”
The woman’s lids flickered, as if she wanted very much to open her eyes, but the effort was too much for her.
“Take your time, I’m not going away,” said Maisie.
At last the eyes opened. Maisie reached for a water pot, its long spout designed to assist a patient to drink without sitting up. “Are you thirsty?”
The woman nodded, so Maisie stood up, placed a hand behind the woman’s head to support her, and steered the spout into her mouth. The woman sucked in three mouthfuls, and nodded again. Enough. She smiled, and Maisie at once saw something of Anna in her grandmother.
“Who are you?” Mason’s voice was rough, as if her throat were sore and inflamed.
“My name is Maisie Dobbs. This man works with me. We’re not from the authorities, but he helped me to find you. Your granddaughter, Anna, has been billeted with my family in Kent. I came to find out more about you—and her. And to tell you she is doing well.”
Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes. Maisie took a clean handkerchief from her pocket and with a gentle, light hand pressed away the drops of moisture.
“She’s a gem,” said Mason. She began to cough again, then tried to catch her breath, which came in an urgent, rasping wheeze. “A gem. I didn’t know what else to do—I knew I couldn’t take care of her anymore. She was the one doing the caring, not me. So I had to get her away.”
“Mrs. Mason, had she started school?”
The woman shook her head. “I taught her to read at home. I taught Anna her letters and her numbers. She’s a bright little girl. But I didn’t want them taking her away from me. And I didn’t want her at school, to be bullied.” Each word was uttered as if the next would never follow, but her determination to speak now was fierce.
“She’s a very beautiful child,” said Maisie.
“But she’s not quite like the other children.”
Maisie looked at Billy, and he shook his head.
“She’s doing well now, you know. We have a dog who doesn’t leave her side—the dog’s owner died, so we brought her home, and she has really taken to Anna.”
Mason closed her eyes and swallowed, then opened her eyes again. “Mary wouldn’t give her up, and I wouldn’t send her to the orphanage. We had people round from the adoption societies, but you never know what’s going to happen to the baby, do you? You hear terrible things.”
“That’s in the past now, Mrs. Mason. But I have to know—do you have her birth certificate? It’s important to know where it is.”
“Are you sending her away?”
“No, she’s staying until the war’s over, then we’ll have to see. But the billeting officer was talking about finding a birth certificate.”
The woman shook her head. “Mary had the baby at home. Only a local woman came in to her—she delivered all the babies around our way. And Mary never registered the baby. She didn’t want it to be seen that Anna didn’t have a father.”
Maisie regarded the woman’s countenance, her brow furrowed with worry. And as she held her hand, she felt the weight of a lifetime’s hard work in her bones.
“Let’s not worry about that,” said Maisie. “I am sure it can be rectified.”
“I wish I’d not let her go now—I was panicking. I was bringing up blood, and I didn’t want her to see it. I knew the evacuation was coming, so I thought I’d take her down and perhaps she’d end up with children she would’ve known at school. And I was going to send her to school, really I was, but I wanted her to get ahead before she got there—you know, because the teachers might not have paid attention to her. I wouldn’t have kept her away forever—after all, I didn’t want the school board man coming round.”
“I understand, and I promise you Anna’s all right. Would you like me to bring her in to see you, Mrs. Mason? I can talk to the staff nurse. They’ll give you something to make you feel better when she visits.”
“I—I don’t have time. There’s not enough time in me.”
“You have enough, Mrs. Mason. I can bring her tomorrow afternoon, if you like.”
As Louisa Mason began to weep, Maisie encircled her birdlike shoulders in her arms, and felt her give in to the grief of relinquishing Anna. In time the tears subsided, and the woman looked up at Maisie.
“I’ll smarten myself up. I’ll not let her see me like this.”
The tinkling of a small handbell coming closer signaled the end of visiting time.
Maisie settled Louisa Mason, ensuring she was comfortable. She gave her another few sips of water and pulled up the sheet and blanket so she was warm.
“Tomorrow, Mrs. Mason—I’ll be back with Anna then.”
But Anna’s grandmother was already asleep by the time Maisie had spoken her name.
Having had a word with the staff nurse, Maisie and Billy left the hospital and began the journey back towards Fitzroy Square.
“How’re you going to get her here, miss?”
“Frankie and Brenda—they can come up on the train, and I’ll take them back afterwards. I’ll make the telephone call as soon as I get to the office.”
“Not enough hours in the day, eh, miss? I reckon MacFarlane will be on the blower soon enough, calling you over there to Whitehall.”
“My guess is he won’t, Billy. This is a delicate issue. Dr. Thomas will be all right—they all need her too much, and she hasn’t really done anything wrong.”
“Withholding information.”
“It could be argued that she wasn’t sure of the facts—and I don’t think she was sure. The Gervase Lambert she knew was a very amenable young man. As I’ve already said, I think we will find that Rosemary Hartley-Davies contributed financially to his education, and she might well have kept it a secret from her brother—given his condition, that wouldn’t be too hard. If Lambert had seen Hartley-Davies on occasion, then Emma knew him, and so did Mrs. Bolton.”
“They’d’ve known him all right, with that stuff he put on his hair—all done up like two penn’orth of hambone.”
“He only used the hair cream when he intended to take a life. Perhaps the disguise was all a part of showing that he was a man now, and not the boy they saw in him.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean—I don’t see men when I look at my boys. I feel like I was putting bandages on their scraped knees only last week.”
Almost as soon as Maisie drew the Alvis into Fitzroy Street, she saw an official vehicle waiting outside the office.
“He’s not supposed to stop there,” said Billy.
“He can stop anywhere he wants. That’s Caldwell.”
“Blimey—he chooses his moments.”
“Nothing I can’t deal with.” Maisie parked the Alvis and began to walk towards Caldwell, who was waiting at the bottom of the step, Sergeant Able at his side.
“Good afternoon, Detective Inspector Caldwell.”
“I wish it was, Miss Dobbs. I truly wish it was.”
“Would you like to come up to the office?”
“And have you butter me up with tea? No, not this time.” He gave a theatrical sigh, looked around to ensure there were no passersby, and turned back to Maisie. “What happened to ‘share and share alike’?”
“Inspector Caldwell, I am sure you know my hands were tied. There was a point when there was absolutely nothing to tell. So I decided to take a chance and go to Belgium just for a day. As soon as I returned, I had to move very quickly through official Foreign Office channels. Inspector—we both hit the wall
called diplomatic immunity.”
“That means the bugger will get away with it,” said Caldwell.
“Language,” said Billy, stepping forward. “There’s a lady present.”
“You’re telling me to mind my language in this business? She’s heard it all and talk more ripe than that into the bargain, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think he will get away with anything, Inspector Caldwell,” said Maisie. “We might not know the outcome—that depends upon the government’s stance at this point, given Belgium’s situation as our ally. Releasing details of the killer might give an indication of resistance operations in the last war—which will in turn provide the Nazis with a clue as to Secret Service plans in this one.”
“Nothing’s been happening in this one so far,” said Caldwell.
“Something will happen. We both know it will.”
As soon as they reached the office, Maisie asked Billy to find out what Albert Durant had done with his wife’s remains. Had she been buried or cremated? And if she had been cremated, were the ashes interred, or had he chosen to keep them? She could not recall seeing an urn when she visited the flat he had shared with his late wife. For her part, Maisie placed several telephone calls—the first to the Dower House, to ask Brenda to bring Anna up to London to see her grandmother the following day. Next she telephoned Priscilla with an urgent request, and also her solicitor, Bernard Klein, who made room in his busy day to see her before he left his office.
After Billy had left Fitzroy Square, as Maisie once again wove her way through London traffic, she reflected on her father’s frustration on those occasions when she tried to do more than perhaps she should for little Anna Mason. She wondered—again—if she were doing the right thing, though, as Klein had pointed out, there were few laws to protect children in Anna’s position. He’d also drawn her attention to a proposed law that might affect Anna, though debate about it would now be delayed until after the war. She hoped that by circumventing any action by the authorities, she would be standing up for the child, even if she might again incur her father’s disapproval.
Frankie and Brenda did not at first see Maisie on the other side of the gate where a guard checked tickets. Anna was walking between Maisie’s father and her stepmother, her gas mask bobbing up and down on her hip when she gave a little skip as she walked. Frankie said something to her, and she looked up at him and chuckled, turning to Brenda as if to check that she was laughing along with them. Maisie felt her heart leap. How would she ever find the right home for this little girl when the end of the war came, and it was time for her to leave?
“I’m here!” Maisie called out to the trio, standing on tiptoe and waving.
Brenda leaned down and spoke to Anna, pointing to Maisie in the distance. Frankie released her hand at the same time as Brenda, and after a second’s hesitation, Anna began to run towards Maisie.
“I’ve trotted on Lady. I’ve trot-trot-trotted!” Anna’s excitement seemed to bubble up and overflow as she threw her arms around Maisie’s legs. Maisie looked down, ran her hand across the child’s dark hair, and without thinking reached out and picked her up.
“Are you ready to see your nan, Anna?”
Anna nodded, burrowing her head into Maisie’s neck before looking up again. “I’ll tell her I trotted on Lady. And I drew pictures for her—Auntie Brenda’s got them.”
“Auntie Brenda? Good, that’s wonderful—come on then, let’s be on our way. Nan’s waiting for you.”
“She does look lovely,” said the staff nurse, leading Maisie, Anna, Frankie, and Brenda to the end of the ward, where Louisa Mason lay in her bed. “Your friend’s a bit pushy though—I dreaded Matron coming in, because I’m sure they would have had a bit of a barny, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, yes, I know very well what you mean,” said Maisie. “Mrs. Partridge is nothing if not forthright—but she acts quickly when required to do so.”
“She brought a lovely nightdress, with Chantilly lace at the neck and wrist—from Harrods, no less. Must’ve cost a packet, that. And a quilted bed jacket—beautiful peachy color, it is. Anyway, I’m not supposed to let you all in at once, but Sister is turning a blind eye in the circumstances, and if the child wants to get on the bed, just remember to take off her shoes.”
Maisie thanked the nurse, who pulled back the screen so the group could cluster around the bed, then replaced it to give a modicum of privacy.
Anna clambered onto the bed, aided by Frankie, with Brenda unbuckling her shoes just in time.
“Oh, my lovely one, my lovely girl.” Louisa held Anna’s face in her two hands and looked at her with intensity, as if to commit the child’s image to memory.
Anna reached out and with her small fingers began to trace around her grandmother’s mouth and across her eyes before leaning in so that their foreheads touched. Frankie glanced at Maisie, then Brenda, and they stepped out behind the screen. In time they heard Anna telling her grandmother about her pony, and about Emma and Jook, and about living at the Dower House. When she could hear the deep fatigue returning to Louisa’s responses, Maisie drew back the screen and joined Anna.
“Is it time to go, Anna?” asked Maisie.
“Yes, Nan’s tired now.”
Maisie watched as the elderly woman and her granddaughter held each other. She helped the child off the bed, and as she was about to join Frankie and Brenda, Anna looked up at Louisa and said, “I’ll see you in heaven, Nan.”
“See you in heaven, my lovely one.”
Maisie remained at the woman’s bedside, and did not speak until she heard Frankie and Brenda taking Anna from the ward, the echo of their footsteps diminishing as they walked away.
“Mrs. Mason, I know you are so very tired, but there’s something we should discuss, and I don’t think it can wait.”
“Right you are. Is it about Anna?”
“Yes, it is. I’ve spoken to my solicitor about your situation—Anna not having a birth certificate, and your desire that a good home should be found for her, after the war—if not before.” She stopped speaking, gauging whether Mason had heard and understood her. The woman lifted her hand, indicating that Maisie should continue.
“I have a couple of documents here. Both have been drawn up to protect Anna. One is an application for a birth certificate. We don’t know the father, but we do know the mother, your daughter, who is now sadly deceased. I would need your signature here to that effect. But wait a moment.” Maisie moved the screen to look at the ward. She waved, catching the attention of the staff nurse, who was just leaving another patient’s bedside. “I need a witness.”
She explained the situation and handed the documents to the nurse to peruse while she continued to speak to Louisa.
“This other document is ‘To Whom It May Concern’ and allows my solicitor to protect Anna’s best interests, especially when it comes to placing her with a family. I can read it all to you, and I am sure the staff nurse will tell you if anything sounds wrong.”
“I trust you,” said Louisa Mason. “You brought her to me, and I trust you.”
“This looks perfectly all right, Mrs. Mason,” said the staff nurse, handing the documents back to Maisie. “It means Anna is fully protected.”
In her spidery hand, Louisa Mason signed the documents, which Maisie then passed to the nurse to countersign as witness. She thanked the staff nurse, who reminded her not to be too long.
“Thank you, Miss Dobbs,” said Louisa. “Thank you for bringing her. I never thought I would see her again.”
“We were worried about her for a while. She was completely silent.”
“No, she wasn’t. Anna’s never silent when she’s not talking. That’s how I knew in my heart she was really all right—she was talking to me.”
Maisie was about to reply when the old woman’s eyes closed, and her breathing slowed, as if she had slipped into a deep sleep. For a few moments Maisie watched the troubled rise and fall of Louisa’s chest, and felt, then, as if s
he were lingering in a place between one world and the next. It was time for her to leave.
As Maisie departed the ward, she stopped to thank the staff nurse again.
“It’s all rules in a hospital—it’s nice to break them every so often, I must say.” The nurse giggled. “And I’m glad the little girl saw her nan before she passes on. Funny little thing, isn’t she?” She picked up a thermometer, ready to check a patient. “But I think you’ll have trouble finding her a home. She doesn’t look English, does she?”
“She has a lovely heart, that’s the main thing.”
“Yes, but people wanting to adopt don’t always look at the inside, do they? They want a child who looks like them, so no one asks questions later.”
Maisie drew the motor car to a halt outside London Bridge Station, and opened the rear passenger door for Anna to alight, as Frankie helped Brenda on the other side. The four stepped onto the pavement to say their good-byes, with Maisie confirming that she would be at Chelstone on Friday. She knelt down to Anna’s height.
“Nan told me she would be in heaven tomorrow,” said Anna.
Maisie could feel Frankie and Brenda’s attention on her, waiting to hear her response.
“When did she tell you that, Anna? I don’t think I heard her.”
“Oh no, she didn’t say it out loud. She told me here.” Anna touched her forehead. “We talk like that sometimes, when we don’t want anyone else to hear.” She stared away from Maisie, as if into a distance only she could see. “And she told me she would see me in heaven. It would be a lot of years in my life, but not a lot of years in hers. Heaven’s different.”
Maisie reached out and stroked Anna’s hair, feeling its softness under her fingers. Thick and strong, yet soft jet-black hair.
Epilogue
“She was cremated,” said Billy. “I spoke to Mrs. Durant’s father—very nice man, devastated at losing his daughter and then his son-in-law. He was widowed, so I felt sorry for the old boy. But he has another daughter, and apparently he sees a lot of her.”
In This Grave Hour Page 28
