‘What is it?’ she asked, concerned. ‘Is it bad news?’
‘I … I don’t know what to make of it,’ he muttered, then holding it out to her he urged, ‘Read it for yourself.’
Sunday took the paper from his shaking fingers and bent her head to the neat writing on the page.
Dear Tom,
I fear this may come as something of a shock to you after all these years, but as my days on this earth are now numbered I felt I had to share with you the terrible secret I have been forced to keep all this time – and I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.
It seems so long ago since you worked for my father and I have never forgotten the times you and I spent together, although I always knew deep down that your heart belonged to another. My own heart was broken when you left, although I lay no blame at your door. What we shared was beautiful but you never told me that it would be for always and I accepted it for what it was. However, shortly after you had gone I realised that I was carrying your child.
I was in a predicament. My father was, as you know, a kind but stern man and knowing that he would be deeply ashamed if he found out, I ran away and travelled to your home town. It took some time to find out where you were living – in a little house in Shepperton Street – but I also discovered that you were now reunited with the girl you loved and I didn’t wish to cause you pain. And so I took a job and worked right up until our child’s birth and then, God forgive me, I left the baby on the steps of the workhouse – the very same one that you had told me about. The child was a little boy. I called him Benjamin and pinned his name to his shawl.
I stayed in the town for some while after that, by which time you had married. And then I discovered that you and your wife had taken the child to live in the foundling home that you had opened, and I thanked God that at least my darling boy would know one of his parents. I then returned home and told my father that I had run away to find you. He accepted this but I never married and I often think of you and our son and pray that you are both healthy and happy.
By the time you read this I shall be gone to meet my maker. Whether or not you decide to acknowledge the boy, or the man as he will be now, as your own, will be up to you and your wife – but at least I have salved my conscience by telling you the truth and hope that you will not think badly of me.
Affectionately yours,
Cecile Randle
Sunday stared up at Tom with her emotions in a whirl. This couldn’t be true, surely? And yet as she began to work out the dates in her mind, everything fitted together like the pieces of a jigsaw. The child must have been conceived when Tom had run away from Mrs Spooner’s following his sister Daisy’s death.
‘So Ben is your son?’
Tom looked away from the confusion and the pain in his wife’s eyes. ‘It would appear so, but I swear to you I never had an inkling.’
‘And you remember this Cecile?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I briefly worked for her father and we … well, we sort of came together a few times. I was in a very dark place in my mind, as you know, and I was hurting and not thinking straight. But I never dreamed that I had left the poor girl carrying a child.’
They both lapsed into silence for a while as they tried to digest what they had just discovered until Kitty poked her head around the door to ask, ‘Are you ready to start exercising the horses now, Tom?’ She stopped abruptly as she saw the looks on their faces.
‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked, and pulling himself together with an effort, Tom managed a weak smile.
‘No, pet, everything is fine. You go on out and start. I’ll be with you in a moment or two.’ Kitty, with Tom’s careful training, was now an accomplished horsewoman.
Tom heaved himself out of the chair. ‘Can we, err … speak about this later on when all the young ’uns are in bed? We can decide what we’re going to do about it then.’ He stared anxiously at his wife’s pale face.
‘Yes, of course.’ But she avoided his eyes and for the first time in their marriage Tom felt as if a chasm had opened up between them. Half of him, now that he was getting used to the information, was delighted to know that Ben was his son. After all, he was a fine upright chap, the sort any father would be proud of. But the other half of him was worried about how this earth-shaking news would affect Sunday. She was bound to feel hurt to know that he’d had a previous relationship with another girl, especially as that girl had given birth to his child when she herself had never been able to get in the family way. Would she feel jealous and resentful of Ben? he wondered. It was all very confusing and worrying.
With a sigh, he left the room, leaving Sunday to her own jumbled thoughts. Tears pricked sharp as needles at the back of her eyes. She supposed she should be pleased that now they had some legal claim to Ben, for hadn’t they loved and cared for him since he was a tiny baby? And yet she couldn’t get the picture of Tom with another woman out of her mind. And what were they supposed to do now? Should they tell Ben that, unknown to all of them, his natural father had brought him up? How would he react to the news? Would he be upset – or ecstatic? A headache began to throb behind her eyes.
The atmosphere between Sunday and Tom was strained that evening and Kitty, who was very astute, immediately picked up on it.
‘Are you two all right?’ she asked innocently as they all sat over steaming bowls of Cook’s leek and potato soup and fresh baked bread.
‘Oh yes, pet, I just have a bit of a headache, that’s all. In fact, I’m not really hungry so if you’ll excuse me I shall go and lie down for a while.’ With that Sunday rose from the table and left the room without even a glance in her husband’s direction.
Tom watched her go with a worried expression on his face. He’d been in an agony of indecision all afternoon as to what he should do, and found that he could barely bring himself to look at Ben. Through no fault of his own the poor lad had grown up knowing neither of his natural parents, and when he discovered the truth – if Tom decided to tell him, that was – how was he going to react? He could understand Sunday feeling shaken or jealous even – but it wasn’t as if they had been together when he’d had his brief affair with Cecile, was it? Once she’d got used to the idea she’d be pleased for him, surely? Tom himself was already beginning to feel a tingle of excitement. He had a son, his very own son – and that was something to celebrate, wasn’t it, however the lad had come about?
‘Are you going to swish that soup around your dish all night, Tom?’ Ben asked, interrupting his thoughts. ‘You haven’t touched a drop and it must be stone cold now. Are you not feeling well either?’
‘What? … Oh, I’m fine, thanks. But I think I’ll just pop upstairs and see how Sunday is, if you’ll excuse me?’
As the door closed behind him Ben and Kitty exchanged glances and shrugged before going on with their meal.
Sunday was standing at the window staring out into the darkening night when Tom entered their bedroom. The grounds of Treetops were a haven for the local wildlife and she often stood there watching the muntjacs, foxes and rabbits on the lawns and the squirrels in the trees. But tonight, he could tell that she wasn’t really seeing anything. Her mind was no doubt full of the latest developments and how they should handle the situation.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she mused as she heard Tom come to stand behind her. ‘I think you should tell Ben about the letter and let him know who he is.’
‘Really? You wouldn’t mind?’ Tom couldn’t stop the joy from showing on his face as she turned to face him, appearing calm although inside she was in turmoil.
‘The girl must have held you in very high regard and cared for you deeply to do what she did. She could have gone to you and told you of her condition so that you would do the right thing and marry her, but she didn’t. Ben is your son … probably the only one you will ever have, so he should be acknowledged as such.’ The words were threatening to choke her but she forced herself to go on. ‘He deserves to know about his true parentage.’
Then, when Tom went to embrace her, she sidestepped him, lifted the fluffy towels Bessie had laid ready on the end of the bed and went and locked herself away in the bathroom, leaving Tom to chew on his lip as he watched her go. Once there, her chin drooped to her chest and she sobbed, broken-heartedly.
Chapter Eleven
‘What do you think is wrong with Sunday and Tom?’ Kitty asked Ben two days later as he helped her to saddle her horse in the stable. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but they’re still being very cool towards one another. It isn’t like them, is it?’
‘Yes, I have noticed and no, it isn’t like them.’ Ben tightened the straps on the saddle. ‘Perhaps they’ve had a tiff?’
‘Sunday and Tom?’ Kitty snorted. ‘I shouldn’t think so. I’ve never known them to argue before. Still, I suppose there’s a first time for everything. If that’s the case, it’s a matter of least said soonest mended.’
Ben cupped his hands then and when Kitty placed her foot onto them he hoisted her up into the saddle, thinking how beautiful she looked in her dark green riding habit. But then Kitty looked beautiful in anything. She had turned into a remarkably pretty young woman and he and Tom regularly had to fight off would-be suitors, much to Kitty’s amusement. He felt colour stain his cheeks and quickly lowered his head as she edged her mount out into the stableyard. When had his feelings for her developed? he wondered. They just seemed to have crept up on him all of a sudden and now, instead of seeing her as a nuisance little sister, he found himself looking at her through the eyes of a would-be lover. As she rode out into the bright early morning, the sun caught her hair and it gleamed like spun copper, making his heart do funny little cartwheels. But then she gently dug her heels into the horse’s flank and was off, galloping away down the drive with the wind in her hair, as free as a bird.
‘Ben.’
He turned to see Tom crossing the yard towards him.
‘Could I have a word … in private?’
Ben tensed. Tom looked very solemn and he wondered if he had done something wrong.
‘Perhaps we could go into the library. We won’t be disturbed in there,’ Tom said, and with a nod, Ben followed him back to the house. As they entered the hall they almost bumped into Sunday who had her arms full of clean bedlinen that she was taking upstairs. She gave Ben a polite smile, but hurried on without even glancing at Tom. The young man felt apprehensive. He sensed that Tom was about to tell him something he wouldn’t like to hear.
With the library door firmly closed, Tom joined his arms behind his back and began to pace to and fro as Ben looked on bewildered. And then Tom suddenly stopped and delved in his pocket to withdraw a rather wrinkled envelope.
‘This came for me very recently,’ he told Ben. ‘I think you should read it.’
Ben had no idea why Tom should wish him to see his private mail, but he obediently took it and began to read the letter in front of him.
‘Phew!’ he muttered when he was done. ‘So you had a child that you never even knew about by another girl. It must have come as a real shock! No wonder Sunday’s been looking a bit preoccupied. And what a coincidence that the child’s name was Ben, eh?’ And then as comprehension suddenly dawned he gripped the back of the nearest chair until his knuckles bled white.
‘The child … Ben – it was me, wasn’t it?’
Tom nodded as the two stared at each other, neither of them quite knowing what to say or do. It was Tom who finally broke the silence when he muttered thickly, ‘I can’t think of anyone I would rather call my son. I’m right proud of you and right sorry that I didn’t know about any of this before. Can you forgive me?’
Ben reeled for a moment at the enormity of what Tom was telling him. He had a father! A father! It was hard to take in, but eventually he answered chokily, ‘There’s nothing to forgive. How could you be blamed for something you didn’t even know about? But … it’s nice to know now who my parents are – or in my mother’s case, were, God rest her soul. It were clearly very hard from what she says in this letter for her to leave me at the workhouse.’
‘Her father would never have allowed her to keep a child who was born the wrong side o’ the blanket,’ Tom tried to explain. ‘He was a good man but very God-fearing, and he would have died of shame if his only daughter had presented him with an illegitimate grandchild. But if only she had told me I would have stood by her and given you my name.’
‘And then you wouldn’t have married Sunday and you would never have been truly happy,’ Ben pointed out. ‘My mother understood that, and so she did what she thought was best. I wish I could have met her,’ he said wistfully. ‘She sounds as if she was a nice person.’
‘She was a lovely person,’ Tom agreed. ‘And I’m ashamed now to think I left her in such a predicament. I was so fond of her, but I could never love her, you see? Not the way Cecile deserved to be loved. It was always Sunday, but she was there and I was mourning Daisy, my sister who had died … and somehow we … Well, it just sort of happened. I suppose we were both looking for comfort.’
‘There’s no point in whipping yourself,’ Ben said, and Tom admired the maturity of his reaction. ‘You ended up bringing me up, after all, didn’t you? I’ve always looked on you as a father, so things needn’t change that much. But how does Sunday feel about all this? I mean, she makes no secret of the fact that she’s always wanted children of her own. It must be hard for her to know that you already have a son.’
‘I think she’s finding it strange,’ Tom admitted. ‘But she doesn’t blame you. She’s always loved you, since the day we fetched you from the workhouse. I think knowing that I have fathered a child is just making her feel rather inadequate but she’ll come to terms with it. As a matter of fact, it was Sunday herself who encouraged me to tell you about all this. So, all I can say now is … Welcome to the family, son. I’m going to make it all up to you, you just see if I don’t.’
He took Ben’s hand then and shook it as the two men stared at each other with happy tears in their eyes. And all the time Tom was thinking, Why didn’t I see the resemblance before? Ben had dark hair just like his, his eyes were the same colour as his, and they were of a similar height. Eeh, there was no doubt about it, life had some funny cards up her sleeve, so she did!
That evening when Sunday climbed into bed beside him she asked, ‘How did Ben take the news?’ They’d had little time to talk as two of the younger children were recovering from chickenpox so she had spent the majority of the day looking after them up in the nursery.
‘As you’d expect,’ Tom responded, turning over to her and leaning up on one elbow. ‘He was shocked, as we were – but pleased, I think. At least the lad knows where he came from now.’
‘Good.’ Sunday tossed her long plait across her shoulder and turned her back on Tom as she struggled to keep a check on her emotions. Tears were never far away at present. ‘Then I’m very pleased for you both. You have a legitimate heir now when anything happens to us.’
Tom frowned as she dimmed the oil lamp and lay as far away from him as was possible, then there was only silence save for the sound of an owl in the branches of the cedar tree outside the bedroom window.
‘Things are looking bad abroad,’ Tom commented the following week as he sat reading the newspaper after breakfast. ‘There’s a lot of unrest. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t end up at war with Germany.’ He always read the newspapers religiously from cover to cover each day and was very well informed about world events.
‘Why should trouble abroad affect us?’ Sunday asked as she poured herself another cup of tea.
‘War has a way o’ suckin’ different countries in, but I hope I’m wrong,’ Tom commented distractedly, but then brightening his tone he asked, ‘An’ what have you got planned for today, pet?’
Sunday was still a little reticent with him although she had officially welcomed Ben into the family and told him that she was proud to be his stepmother. But Tom was missing the free and easy,
all-enveloping warmth they had shared before the revelation about Ben. Still, give her time to get used to things, he told himself, they’re bound to come right in the end.
‘I’m taking all the children into town to have their photographs taken,’ Sunday informed him. ‘I thought it would be nice to have one of all of them together on the mantelshelf and I’m told the new photographic studio in town uses all the latest equipment.’
‘That’s if you can get the little ones to sit still for long enough,’ he quipped. Normally, Sunday would have giggled but today she just shrugged.
‘I can only do my best,’ she answered primly, and pulling her gloves on she swept from the room leaving Tom to sigh and wonder how much longer this cold shoulder treatment was going to go on for.
The day was actually a huge success although the handsome young photographer almost drooled over Kitty when he saw her and could hardly take his eyes off her – a fact which Kitty quickly latched on to.
‘Have you ever thought of being a photographic model?’ he asked as Kitty flirted and batted her long dark eyelashes at him.
‘No, she has not thought of being a model and no, she is definitely not interested!’ Sunday interrupted him sternly and Kitty giggled as she then ushered all the children outside and towards the ice-cream parlour. They had all been promised a treat if they behaved, and they had … well, most of them had.
‘You know, I wouldn’t mind being a model,’ Kitty mused when they were all seated in the parlour with huge ice-cream sundaes in front of them.
Sunday almost choked as she glared at the girl. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! It’s not respectable,’ she snapped. ‘You could be taken advantage of.’ And then as a squabble broke out amongst two of the younger children about whose sundae was the biggest, she turned her attention to them and the subject was dropped.
It was late afternoon by the time they trooped down the drive leading to Treetops and the children were somewhat subdued. It had been a long walk from the town and they were tired.
The Little Angel Page 9
