At the door, Cissie informed her that her mother had gone out for the evening with Mr Dewhurst and that there was a visitor waiting in the drawing room for her with Tom.
‘Who is it?’ Sunday asked as she took the hat pin out of her hat and removed it, along with her coat, which was whisked away by Ethel.
‘No idea, pet.’ Cissie shrugged, then she ushered the children off to wash their hands before going in for their supper.
Sunday had been looking forward to a nice quiet evening with her feet up and the chance to start on The Return of Sherlock Holmes. Her feet were throbbing as it happened and she could hardly wait to get her shoes off, but she supposed she should go and see who the visitor was, first. As far as she knew, they hadn’t been expecting anyone. As she headed for the drawing room, the appetising smell of Mrs Cotton’s beef stew and dumplings wafted up to her and her stomach grumbled. Apart from the ice cream in town she’d had little to eat today and she’d just realised how hungry she was. Still, first things first, she thought and plastering a polite smile on her face she entered the drawing room.
Her eyes were instantly drawn to a neat and tidy-looking little woman sitting in one of the fireside chairs. Her clothes were very respectable but they put Sunday in mind of something a governess or a nanny might wear. She certainly didn’t look to be dressed like a lady and her grey hair, coiled simply at the nape of her neck, was not at all styled as a lady’s might be.
‘Ah, Sunday, here you are.’
At a glance Sunday saw that Tom was looking concerned and the smile froze on her face as the woman rose to greet her.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Branning. I’m Miss Fox – Phyllis Fox.’ The woman had a London accent – Sunday recognised the sound of it from her holiday there, aged fifteen, and also from the weekend she and Tom had spent in the city when London had hosted the Summer Olympics in 1908. They’d had a wonderful time. But what could this woman want with them?
‘How do you do, Miss Fox,’ Sunday answered, somewhat bemused. And then as she noted the way Tom was fidgeting a cold finger ran up and down her spine.
‘Miss Fox has come because …’ Tom seemed reluctant to go on ‘… because of Kitty.’
‘What – our Kitty?’ Sunday’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. ‘But what could Kitty possibly have to do with you?’ she asked.
‘I’m the one who has brought the money for her keep each year,’ the kind-faced woman told her. ‘And of course you’ll have noticed that there wasn’t an envelope this Christmas past, and you must have wondered why. The long and the short of it is, her mother is now in a position to have her back.’
Giddy from the shock, Sunday swayed, and Tom rushed forward to catch her and help her into the nearest chair. Inside, her heart was crying, No, no, I can’t lose Kitty! Little by little she felt as if her life was falling apart. First she had lost Maggie, then her special loving relationship with Tom, and now it looked as if Kitty was to be taken from her too. Just the thought of it was almost more than she could bear.
Chapter Twelve
‘Would you care to explain yourself?’ After managing to pull herself together with an incredible effort, Sunday eyed the woman coldly. ‘You can’t just expect to turn up here out of the blue saying Kitty’s mother suddenly wants her back after all this time. You could be anyone, for all we know!’
Miss Fox began to delve into her handbag and after a moment she produced a list of all the dates when she had left the money for Kitty’s keep, along with the correct sums.
‘I’ve also got her birth certificate here, although her mother called her Katherine. You’ll see it’s all legal like, if you care to look, Mrs Branning.’
Sunday took it from her with shaking fingers and was forced to admit it did look official. It read: Father Unknown; and the mother was: Ruby Smith, Professional Singer. Before she could look for an address, Miss Fox took it from her and replaced it in her bag, which she closed with a snap.
‘But our Kitty is a young woman now and she’s lived here all her life,’ Sunday said with a note of desperation in her voice. ‘I doubt very much indeed if she will wish to leave Treetops. This is her home.’
‘Perhaps she herself should be allowed to make that decision, my dear,’ the woman replied and it was then that Tom stepped in. He could see how upset Sunday was becoming, just as he had feared. She adored Kitty and always had.
‘I’ll go and fetch her. You sit still, pet.’ And then he was gone, his limp pronounced as it always was when he became agitated. He found Kitty down in the kitchen having a game of cards at the table with Ben.
‘Kitty, love,’ he began hesitantly, ‘you have a visitor in the drawing room. Would you like to come and meet her?’
Kitty looked intrigued. ‘A visitor? For me?’ She grinned at Ben, laid her cards down, then skipped ahead of Tom up the stairs towards the drawing room. She rarely got visitors and wondered who it could be.
When they entered the room the little woman’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, ‘Lordie, you look so like your mother, my dear! You gave me a rare old turn when you came in then.’
‘M … my mother?’ Kitty’s heart began to pound. All her life she had yearned to know who her mother was, and she had always dreamed that one day, she would come and fetch her. Kitty knew she was pretty, and so she had always assumed that her mother would be too – and now here was this older woman confirming it.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked Sunday then, and slowly Sunday began to explain.
‘This is Miss Fox. She works for your mother and says that your mother is now in a position where she can offer you a home with her. Of course, you don’t have to go,’ Sunday said as Kitty stared incredulously. ‘You’re quite old enough to make your own mind up. I just wonder why your mother wants you back all of a sudden and after all this time. Why, Miss Fox hasn’t even told us where she lives!’
‘Don’t you worry about that, my dear,’ Miss Fox stated, smiling at Kitty. ‘The thing is, your mother wasn’t in a position to keep you when you were born because she wasn’t wed. Your father was wed all right – but to someone else, see? He was a well-known politician in London. Your mother wanted to keep you, of course she did, but it was decided it would be best for all concerned – yourself included – if you were to be fostered out. It would have caused too much of a scandal if she’d kept you. Now at that time we had a young maid working for us who came from round these parts, and it was she who told us about the Treetops Children’s Home. So the day after you were born I brought you all the way here on the train, all bundled up you were in the December cold. It did my poor old back not a bit of good, I don’t mind telling you. So I left you on the step outside, then I banged on the door good and hard, then I watched from behind that big tree on the lawn till you came out, Mrs Branning, along of a maid. So I knew you were safe and in good hands, Katherine. I’ve brought the money each year since then, but last year your father sadly passed away and so Ruby realised that there was nothing to stop her having you with her now.’
Kitty’s eyes were on stalks. ‘Is that my mother’s name – Ruby? And where does she live?’
‘Yes, Ruby Smith is her name and she has a fine house in Chelsea which your father bought for her,’ the woman informed her solemnly. ‘Your mother is a well-known singer in the music halls. She’s sung with the best during her time on stage and that’s the truth. Her stage name is Ruby Darling.’
‘Oh!’ To Sunday’s horror, Kitty appeared excited. ‘And you say I look like her?’
The woman nodded. ‘The spit out of her mouth and that’s the truth, though she’s a bit older now, of course, and not in the best of health. She’d like you to come back with me on the train and live with her so that you can both get to know each other before it’s too late. But not tonight, of course. I’ve got myself a room in a lodging house in town and I’ll be going back to London tomorrow afternoon if you’ve a mind to come with me.’
‘I think Kitty needs some more time to
make up her mind. This isn’t a decision to be made at the drop of a hat,’ Sunday butted in desperately, but already she saw the stars in the girl’s eyes and knew that she was losing her.
Feeling torn in two, Kitty looked from Sunday to Miss Fox, then taking a deep breath she said shakily, ‘Sunday, forgive me but this is a chance to meet my real mother, so I feel I must take it. You do understand, don’t you? It’s what I’ve always dreamed of, and the chance might never come again.’
Sunday felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach as she stared at the girl from stricken eyes. She had loved her as her own since the moment she had clapped eyes on her as a tiny baby – and yet she did understand, for during the years that she and her own birth mother had been parted, hadn’t she too dreamed of being reunited with her, one glorious day? Even so, she wasn’t prepared to let the girl go without a fight.
‘How do we know you’re who you say you are?’ she challenged Miss Fox. ‘You haven’t even given us a proper address.’
The woman said kindly, feeling her pain, ‘But I’ve already shown you documents to prove that I am who I say I am, Mrs Branning. Kitty is returning home at last. The address is hers to give you. I’m sure she’ll forward it to you just as soon as she’s settled in.’
Tom placed his hand gently on his wife’s arm, and seeing the warning in his eyes, Sunday felt deflated.
‘You have to let Kitty make up her own mind, lass,’ he told her.
She could only nod; words failed her for now as Kitty turned back to the woman with that same excited gleam in her eyes.
‘So what will happen tomorrow?’ the girl asked.
Tom hastily stepped in there. ‘I dare say we could take you to the railway station to meet Miss Fox there, if she tells us what time the train leaves and if you’re quite sure that is what you want.’
Kitty glanced at the woman, who nodded.
‘That would be most helpful, thank you. Our train leaves at 3.30 p.m. so that should give Kitty plenty of time to pack, although she doesn’t need to bring too much. I’m sure her mother will want to take her shopping for some new things.’
‘Is she rich?’ There was so much that Kitty wanted to ask but she didn’t like to in front of Sunday.
The woman smiled. ‘Let’s just say she is comfortably off,’ she suggested and with that Kitty had to be content.
Satisfied that she had done what she had come to do, Miss Fox rose then and held her hand out to Sunday, who took it tremulously. She daren’t say so much as a word for fear of bursting into tears.
‘Thank you for all you’ve done for the girl, Mrs Branning,’ Miss Fox said. ‘I know her mother appreciates it. And I must say, from what I’ve seen of her she’s a credit to you. But now I’ll wish you goodbye and leave young Kitty here to get on with her packing. Good day to you.’
Tom escorted her from the room as Sunday was left trembling like a leaf in the wind. It was then that the enormity of what had just happened hit Kitty and she too began to shake. She was going to meet her mother!
‘I, err … I’d better go and tell Ben what’s happened,’ she said, and Sunday nodded as the girl left the room.
‘You’ll never guess who that was!’ Kitty told Ben breathlessly when she burst into the basement kitchen. He was still seated at the table where she had left him and he looked at her, eager to know what had made her look so happy.
‘It was a lady called Miss Fox. She lives in London – with my mother – and tomorrow I am going to live with her – my mother! Can you believe it?’
Both Mrs Cotton the cook, who was sitting in the chair at the side of the fire with a cup of tea in her hand, and Ben stared at Kitty as if she had lost her senses so hurriedly she told them what had transpired. When she was done, Ben whistled through his teeth.
‘Crikey, what with what’s happened to me and now you finding your real mother, it’s hard to guess what might happen next. But I’m happy for you, Kitty – although I’ll miss you. We all will.’
Kitty’s smile vanished as she stared at the dear familiar faces. They had all been her family up until now and she knew that she would miss them too. Ben in particular. But then this was an opportunity not to be missed. It wasn’t every day that you were offered the chance to live with your real family, so she knew that she must grasp it with both hands.
‘I shall miss you too,’ she told Ben. ‘But I shall write to you, and as soon as I’m settled you could perhaps come for a visit. London isn’t so very far away on the train, is it?’
‘I suppose not,’ he answered, then surprised her when he rose abruptly and said, ‘Right, well, I’d best get on. I’ve work to do and I dare say you have a lot of packing to get on with so I’ll leave you to it and see you later.’
‘He’s hurting, lass,’ Dora Cotton said as she saw the distress on Kitty’s face. ‘He’s pleased for you – we all will be – but it won’t stop the pain of seeing you go.’
Kitty gave her a quick hug, then made her way upstairs. She would need to sort out what she wanted to take with her and there seemed no sense in delaying. This time tomorrow she would be gone, possibly for good. It was a sobering thought, for although she was eager to meet her natural mother she was sad to be leaving Treetops and Sunday and Tom, who had been like parents to her – the best any child could have wished for.
After seeing Miss Fox out and into the car, with George at the wheel to drive her to her digs for tonight, Tom went back to the sitting room where he found Sunday sitting with tears streaming down her face. She found it strange that at one time she would never allow herself to cry, since she had learned at a very young age that tears got her nowhere in the workhouse, and yet recently it seemed to be all she had done – but only when Tom wasn’t there to see her. Today, however, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Tom tried to take her in his arms to comfort her, but she shrugged him off and moved away. He sighed. She even kept to her own side of the bed now instead of cuddling into him as she had used to, and he wondered if things would ever go back to the way they were before they had discovered that Ben was his son.
‘She’ll be all right,’ he assured her. ‘Kitty is tougher than she looks and we’ll keep in close touch with her. She can always come home if things don’t work out in London.’
‘Of course.’ Sunday answered him as if she were talking to a mere acquaintance and Tom’s frustration grew although he didn’t say anything.
‘I must go and sort out some luggage for her,’ Sunday said then, after drying her cheeks on a scrap of lace handkerchief. ‘It wouldn’t do for her to arrive at her mother’s with shabby bags. I shall give her the two I bought last year.’
He didn’t respond. Sunday clearly didn’t expect him to, and then she left the room without another word, leaving Tom with a heavy heart. They had lost poor little Maggie, and now they were about to lose Kitty, the girl he had loved since she had come into his care. These days, he had seriously begun to wonder if he had lost his wife too.
Chapter Thirteen
Kitty stood staring at the rabbits playing on the lawn from her bedroom window. Behind her, the smart leather travelling bags that Sunday had gifted to her stood packed and ready to go, and it hit her afresh that this would be the last time she would ever look out upon this beloved view. Sunday had never made a secret of the fact that Kitty was a foundling and yet strangely, although she had fantasised about her mother coming for her, the girl had never felt that she had missed out on love. At Treetops, she had been a part of one great big happy family. She stared at the woods rolling away into the distance and the spring flowers that were peeping from beneath the hedgerows as if she was trying to commit every tiny detail to her mind. It was doubtful there would be such wide-open spaces and panoramic views in London. She would probably have to find a park to stroll in if she wished to see a green space. But then she shook herself. She was going to meet her birth mother – and that would make up for everything she was leaving behind, surely? Already she could pic
ture them arm in arm making up for all the lost time.
A tap on the door interrupted her thoughts and Ben stepped into the room, his face solemn.
‘I’ve come to take your bags downstairs if you’ve finished packing and to tell you that Tom has brought the car around to the front door. He says that you’ll be leaving in ten minutes.’
‘Very well. I’ve just got to put my coat and my hat on.’
He nodded, then lifting the bags he quietly left the room as Kitty sat down in front of the dressing-table mirror to secure her hat with a pin. She was wearing her newest outfit, which had been made by the local seamstress to a pattern that the woman had assured her was the very latest fashion. It consisted of a long, dark green skirt that hung straight at the front and had a slight train at the back. With it she wore a lace-frilled white blouse with a high ruffled neckline and wide sleeves, and over the top of that she donned a short jacket cinched in at the waist with a flared peplum. The jacket was made of the same material as the skirt, trimmed with cream cord, as was the wide-brimmed hat, which also boasted some long cream feathers which floated about each time she turned her head.
With the jacket buttoned and the hat firmly in place Kitty looked in the mirror for one last time and was pleased with what she saw. With her hair combed into a neat chignon on the back of her head she felt extremely grown up and hoped her mother would approve of her when they met. But first there were the goodbyes here to get through and she wasn’t looking forward to that one little bit. Still, it could not be postponed so, bracing herself, she picked up her small bag and sailed from the room and down the wide staircase.
She was surprised and touched to find the entire household waiting for her in the hallway. The children, ranging from the youngest to the eldest, were all there, as well as the staff, who were all teary-eyed.
The Little Angel Page 10
