"There would be great opposition but I could overcome that, if I thought there was someone there to comfort her."
"I am sure you would."
"Oh, I do wish Philip would come home."
"Let's drink to that," he said.
His eyes met mine over the glass, and I thought: Yes, I love him. Where else would I find someone who was so kind, so tender, so loving, so understanding.
What a fool I am, I thought.
And yet the cruel memories came flooding back. It was in a place rather like this that Ann Alice had first seen Desmond Featherstone. He had been seated at such a table. I remembered the description vividly.
Perhaps I would eventually subdue these memories.
I believed I would ... in time.
We were in February when Raymond made the announcement.
He was spending the weekend with us—a habit now for he always came except when he was at home in Buckinghamshire. He had just arrived and we were having tea in Granny M's small sitting room when he said: "I shall be going abroad in March. My father is going with me. We shall be on the Continent... France, Germany and Holland. It's a business trip which we make periodically."
"We shall miss you," said Granny M.
"How long will you be away?" I asked.
"About a month, I should think."
A month without him! I thought. Each day getting up, looking
for news of Philip which did not come, wondering, asking ourselves again and again why we had not heard.
We were beginning to accept the fact that something must have happened to him, but that did not make it any easier. If only we could know, I used to think. Then we might begin to grow away from it.
Now the prospect of a month without Raymond's company was rather depressing.
"Grace wants to come with us," went on Raymond.
"Grace!" cried Granny M.
"We ... the family ... believe it is good for a girl as well as boys to see something of the world. I think she is getting round my father. He is rather susceptible to Grace's wiles. He thinks though that she might have to be left alone a good deal... while we are engaged on business, and she would get rather bored. Now ... if she had someone with her... We thought if she had a companion ... and we were wondering if Annalice would care to come with us."
I stared at him. I felt suddenly happy. To get away ... to forget for a while ... to travel. I had always wanted to see something of the world, to visit those countries which had hitherto been only a blob of pale green or brown on our maps...
Then I thought of Granny M. I looked at her. Her face expressed nothing.
"It would be pleasant for Grace ... and for my father and me, of course. I think that if you agreed to go that would decide Grace's fate. She is very eager to hear your answer." He turned to Granny M. "You would miss Annalice very much, I know. My mother said, why don't you go and stay with them. She says it would be lovely for her to have you there. You know how she is with her garden and her recipes. She wants someone to talk to about them. She says none of us is interested."
There was silence. I dared not look at Granny M. I knew I was betraying my feelings.
"I doubt I could go away for a whole month," she said. "There is the business."
"We are leaving ours in the hands of managers," said Raymond. "Your Benjamin Darkin seems an absolute gem. I wish he were working for us. Sometimes I feel inclined to steal him."
Granny M said slowly: "I think it would be good for Annalice."
I went over to her and kissed her. I couldn't help it. "You are so good," I said. "So very good ..."
"Nonsense," she said. "Gadding about on the Continent. I don't know whether it's right for a young girl."
"I should be in good hands," I said.
Granny M said: "Go and sit down, Annalice. What will Raymond think of us?"
I could see that her eyes were too bright. She was afraid she would shed a tear. I wanted to say: "Shed them, Granny. I love you for shedding them."
There was something very calm about Raymond. He met every situation with a complete lack of surprise.
"My father has travelled extensively," he said, as though our emotional scene had not taken place. "He's always felt that it is a necessary part of business. Is it settled then? May I relieve Grace's anxiety? May I tell her that she is to have Annalice's company on the trip?"
"I suppose so," said Granny M. "But we've not had much time to think about it. What do you feel, Annalice?"
"If you could do without me for a month ..."
"What do you mean—do without you? I can manage on my own, I assure you."
"I know that, Granny. But I should worry about you."
"Why? I shall go to Buckinghamshire as I have been so kindly asked. I am sure I shall be very happy there ..."
Raymond said: "I am going home tomorrow to tell them the good news. You will enjoy it so much, Annalice. Why don't you both come down next weekend and we will make plans."
So we decided to do that.
I was so excited at the prospect that my fears for Philip faded into the background. They would not disappear completely but the best way of preventing perpetual preoccupation with them was for something like this to happen.
We were leaving in the middle of March and would be back in April. There were conferences between the two families and I came to the conclusion that Granny M was as excited about the coming trip as I was. She knew that it was the best way of taking us out of our despondency and with her inherent common sense she knew we were doing no good at all by giving way to that.
I was determined that something was going to be done about Philip. More and more I thought of going out to look for him. I would start in Sydney. Someone must know something. But how could I ever get there? A woman alone! Even this trip to the Continent had to be in the company of the Billingtons.
Raymond and I went riding one morning. I felt so much better since we had been making plans for the trip and that must be obvious.
I could talk to Raymond freely about what was on my mind and I said: "I wonder if I shall ever be able to go out and look for Philip."
"You don't think he's gone native, do you? Perhaps he has married out there and decided he can't come home."
"You never knew Philip. He would realize how worried we would be. Whatever he had done he would tell us... me at any rate."
"I believe you are still dreaming of going out to look for him."
"He said in his letter that there were some islands off the coast of Australia and that there was a ship that went out to them every Wednesday. He must have taken that ship. I would like to go to Australia, get on that ship and go to the islands. I have a feeling that I might discover something there."
Raymond was looking at me intently.
I said: "I believe you think I ought to go. You don't regard this as an impossible dream."
"No, I don't regard it as impossible, and I know you will never be at peace until you have discovered where your brother is and why there has been this long silence. I want you to be at peace. I don't think you will be happy until you know. I want you to be happy. I want you to marry me."
"Oh, Raymond, I can't tell you how happy you make me. Everything has been different since we met. And now this trip. I do believe you thought of the idea of taking Grace so that you could ask me."
He smiled. "You need to get away. You need to stop brooding. You can do no good by that."
"I know. But how can I stop it?"
"By breaking away from routine ... by making a new life. Whatever has happened to your brother, you cannot change it by fretting."
"That's why I can't sit at home thinking about it. You see we were such friends, closer than most brothers and sisters. It was probably due to the fact that our mother died. I never knew her, and he did. He remembered. Children of five do. And then there was the War of the Grannies. They both wanted us you see, my father's mother and my mother's mother. For some time Philip did not know what was to beco
me of us. That has an effect. He thought he might be parted from me, and although I was too young to know of this, when he told me I felt all the horrors of it. There was a special bond between us. I know as sure as anything that if he were alive he would find some means of telling me. Yes, I must find him. I cannot settle to anything until I do."
"You'll have to go out there, I can see that."
"How?"
"As I said nothing is impossible."
"Granny ..."
"Is getting old. She is lonely. She needs her grandchildren round her. But you are not the only one."
"No. There is Philip."
"I wasn't thinking of Philip."
"What do you mean?"
"Our first call will be Holland. We shall visit Amsterdam. I am going to suggest that you write to your father and tell him of your pending visit. Tell him you will come to stay. Get to know your half brothers and sister. Perhaps you could bring them back to England. Perhaps one of the grandchildren could become the compensation your grandmother needs. Perhaps you could have your freedom that way. After all if Philip does not return, one of those boys will inherit the Manor and the business, I presume. He should know something about them."
I stared at him. "Raymond, you're devious," I said. "I would never have believed you could make such machiavellian plans."
"People do all sorts of things when they are in love," he replied.
I wrote to my father and his reply was immediate. He was delighted. His wife, Margareta, his sons Jan and Charles and his little Wilhelmina were all overjoyed at the prospect of seeing me.
I showed the letter to Granny M.
"H'm," she said, sniffing: but I believe she was pleased.
Raymond was delighted.
He said: "It might be desirable for you to spend a month with them."
"A month! But I am so looking forward to France and Germany ..."
"I thought you would want to look farther ahead than that."
I smiled at him and thought: I love you, Raymond Billington. Why do I hesitate? Perhaps when we are away...
But I went up to the room and sat there in solitude. It seemed very quiet, only the sound of the wind in the yew outside the window.
I looked at the bed, the chest of drawers in which I had found the journal... expecting, as I always did in this room, to receive some sign, perhaps to hear Ann Alice's voice coming to me over the years.
Nothing. I even found my thoughts straying to what I must pack; and I realized then that I had not had my nightmare since Raymond had suggested I should accompany him and his family on their trip to the Continent.
I was charmed by Amsterdam from the moment I saw it. I could not believe that there was another city like it in the world. I was sure
of that even at this stage when I had seen few cities, and now when I have travelled farther afield, I still believe it.
There it stands on the dam or dike of the Amstel, on the arm of the Zuider Zee—divided by the river and the canals into nearly a hundred small islands connected by three hundred bridges.
My father's house was large and imposing and situated in Prinszen Gracht where, with Kaizers and Heeren Grachts, most of the big houses were. There was about it an atmosphere which was decidedly Dutch; the steps from the front door to the street went up at right angles with a railing of highly polished brass; the gables at each end of the house were highly ornamental, and inside the house there was an air of spaciousness, but what struck me most was the polished brightness of everything. Cleanliness was the most striking feature of the place. The passages were marble and the walls tiled in delicate blues and whites. I presumed these were used so that they could be easily cleaned; the doors were elaborately carved; the windows were large and at these, mirrors had been placed so that what was going on in the streets could be easily observed. The furniture was far plainer than ours at home.
It might appear that there would be a feeling of coldness or austerity in such a house. This was not so; and the warmth of my welcome was instant.
My father embraced me and within seconds I knew that I had been right to come here. I liked my stepmother immediately. She was plump with a round face and a dazzlingly clear skin and light blue bright eyes. She was a little nervous at first, which I suppose was natural. I took her hands and kissed her. She flushed a little and looked so pleased that I knew I was going to like her. For a few seconds there flashed into my mind a scene from Ann Alice's journal when she had known Lois Gilmour was to be her stepmother. How strange that we both had stepmothers! But the resemblance between Margareta and Lois Gilmour ended there. I must not think continually of what happened to Ann Alice and compare my own life with hers.
I was introduced to my half brothers and sister.
What excitement to be presented with a ready-made family. My first thought was: How foolish we were not to have met years ago! And then how grateful I was to Raymond for having suggested that we should meet.
There was Jan aged fifteen, Charles aged twelve and Wilhelmina nine.
The children clustered round me and Jan said he thought it was the most wonderful thing imaginable to have a big sister whom he had never seen before. They spoke fluent English, although a certain
amount of Dutch was used in the household, so that all the children were bilingual and there was no language problem.
I liked them all very much and was thrilled to discover how pleased they were to see me. I was particularly taken by the eldest, Jan, because he reminded me of Philip. He might have been Philip at fifteen and I felt very emotional when he talked to me and called me Sister.
My father understood and I realized how deeply he regretted that Philip and I had spent our childhoods away from him.
They were very hospitable to the Billingtons and my father expressed his gratitude to them for including me in the trip to the Continent. I was to stay in the house in Prinszen Gracht, and Grace was invited to stay with me. The men would be in a nearby hotel during their stay in Amsterdam.
It was amazing how quickly we all came to know each other. Jan became my shadow. He wanted to show me everything. He came with us on our tours round the city and he thoroughly enjoyed being our guide. Proudly he showed us the landmarks of the city, taking us to the high bridge where the River Amstel enters the city, driving us through the grachts and showing us the fine houses, and taking us round the ramparts where we could see the windmills which were now used for grinding corn.
The Billingtons had arranged to stay only a week in Holland and although I longed to see other countries, I should be loth to leave my newly found family. I had several talks with Raymond about it.
He said: "You are so much at home with them. You are forging a link. If you go away now you will drift along more or less as before. You may be in communication. That much will have changed, but it is not what we had in mind."
"You think I should stay with them the whole month?"
He nodded, rather gloomily. "It seems to me that is the answer. You must make them feel that you want to be with them more than anything else. They must feel that they are indeed your family. You and Jan get on well together. There seems a very special feeling between you two. I think it would be a good idea ... if this is possible ... for you to take him back to England with you."
"Do you think they would let him go?"
"I don't know, but I don't see why not. Suppose he wants to. Why should he not visit his grandmother?" He gripped my hands. "Plans are beginning to mature. You want to set out on an adventure which means so much to you. When you have found the answer you seek, you and I will be married. But I know you well enough to understand that you will never settle to happiness until you have discovered what
happened to your brother. I could say, Marry me and I will take you out there. That would be like a bribe, and much as I am tempted to, I don't want it that way. Moreover it would be very difficult for me to leave my father and the business for so long. It would be a great burden for them. But I suppose it could be
done... as most things can if one makes up one's mind to it. No, it is because I want you to marry me for the right reason ... Am I expressing myself badly?"
"No," I said. "It is very clear. You are a very rare person, Raymond."
"Does that mean you like me a little?"
"Not a little. A lot. Sometimes I think I am foolish not to jump at the chance of marrying you. Thank you ... thank you for your help. You think I might be able to persuade them to let Jan come back with me to England. You think Granny would love him. I am sure you are right about that. And in your heart you think that Philip is never coming back and that Jan is going to take his place not only with my grandmother and me, but as heir to the house and everything."
"I'm afraid I am trying to work it out too neatly and life doesn't often oblige us so precisely, but yes... I was thinking along those lines, and even if you had to abandon your dream—which, forgive me, is a little wild—of going out to search for your brother, I am sure that Jan could help you a great deal, not to forget... but to mourn your brother less."
I said: "Grace would not want to stay in Amsterdam."
"I don't know how she would feel."
"I shall envy you travelling all over Europe."
"You can't decide anything yet. Wait a few days and see how everything turns out."
I did have a talk with my father. I somehow felt he had been waiting for this.
It was after dinner one night. The children had gone to bed; Margareta was busy somewhere and I found myself alone with him.
He spoke very earnestly and was eager to explain his neglect of the past years.
"I always wanted to see you and Philip. I thought about you a great deal. But your grandmother is a somewhat formidable lady. She was furious when she knew I was going to marry again and live in Holland."
I smiled. "That was largely because you deserted maps for export."
"Margareta wanted to live in her native land with her own family. I would have had you children here. But your grandmother was fiercely against that. She said on no account were you coming here. I
had to let it go. I felt I had upset her enough without demanding that she give you up."
Road to Paradise Island Page 19
