The Captain's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  Hazel had gone to Prestatyn with her family for a week. Everyone she knew was away. There was no chance Mum would ever go back to the seaside again. Even Ella’s little studio at the top of the garden was full of flies buzzing around, annoying her.

  ‘You’ve got a face on you like a wet wakes week. Be thankful you’ve got a holiday. When I was your age I was going half time at the mill, young lady,’ Mum chided her. ‘If you want to make yourself useful, take this washing soda and dolly blue up to the canon’s house. His nets are getting grubby again. I want to give the place a bottom out while he’s away next week. I’m going to the shops on the way, so I’ll see you there. Run along and smile. No one wants to see a sulky face on such a sunny day.’

  Mum was never happier than when she was cleaning, tidying up Selwyn’s mess, grumbling over how cluttered the house was. At least she was cheerier, and Ella didn’t have to keep watching and worrying in case she became ill again. Aunt Celeste was hoping to get some special work from a company in London, and they were attacking the garden again, pruning back bushes and planting fancy tubs full of flowers, just in case she was called away.

  Ella dawdled through the archway into Vicar’s Close to admire the higgledy-piggledy cottages. She could let herself in with the key under the brick, if the canon was out on his morning walk.

  She knocked but there was no reply. Turning the handle, she found the door unlocked and shouted, ‘Only me, sir!’ He’d gone out and left the door open in his usual forgetful way so she left the shopping on the kitchen table top and turned to leave. She didn’t know what made her look up the little stairwell but her eye caught a boot hanging at an odd angle. In the boot was a foot. She tiptoed up slowly, feeling sick. It was too quiet and too still up there and she was scared.

  Ella fled out of the yard and back down into the town, tears rolling down her face.

  She made straight for the Earl of Lichfield and to the bar stool where Selwyn was supping his beer. ‘Come quick . . . It’s your father. There’s been an accident . . . Please come quick.’

  It was as if the day went into slow motion after that. They’d picked up her mother and rushed back to the cottage. Ella had stayed at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to see what was happening. Mum came down grey in the face. ‘The poor man, taken so sudden like that.’ She’d been helping Selwyn get him on the bed.

  ‘He’s dead?’

  ‘Yes, love, sometime last night before he went to bed. Dropped where he fell . . . He wouldn’t have known about it. Such a kind man. He took us in all those years ago, gave me a job, a real Christian gent.’ They both started to cry and Selwyn came down.

  ‘I’ve put him on his bed. I’ll call the dean. They’ll want to say prayers but first we must tell Celeste.’

  They drove slowly for once, silent, shocked and saddened, each lost in his or her own memories of the man. Celeste was in the garden just where they’d left her, beavering away, her foxy red hair awry, dirty handprints on her garden apron.

  She looked up, smiling. ‘You’re early.’

  Then she caught the look on their faces. ‘What’s happened?’

  Her brother stepped forward and walked her up the garden.

  The next day was taken over with the whole business of funerals and service planning, visitors calling with flowers and letters of condolence. The drawing room was like a florist’s shop.

  ‘Roddy must come back for the funeral. I want him home with us,’ Celeste announced. ‘I’m going to telegram the Potters and ask them to break the news and put Roddy on the next train to Lichfield. Selwyn will see to Papa’s affairs and the undertaker. The College have offered to prepare the funeral tea, isn’t that kind?’

  The grown-ups were all wearing black but Celeste insisted Ella wore her summer clothes. ‘Papa hated black on children. He used to say our children are the hope for our future. Come with me to Trent Valley to meet the afternoon train, Ella. Roddy’s going to be very upset.’

  The morning sped by and there was so much to do, helping Mrs Allen and Mum prepare the rooms and try to keep Celeste’s spirits up. Ella had never seen death at close hand before. It was an awful lot of hard work and she felt important to have been the one to alert the family to the accident.

  They stood on the station platform waiting for the London train to arrive. For once it was on time, and as the crowds poured out they searched up the platform for Roddy.

  ‘The blighter, he’s missed the train!’ Celeste tutted. ‘Still there’s one at six o’clock. Selwyn can come to meet that.’

  Home they went and on the hall’s silver tray was a telegram. Celeste tore it open.

  ‘I don’t understand. It’s from the Reverend Mr Potter. He says he put Roderick on the train at his request two days ago . . . I don’t understand.’

  Selwyn snatched it out of her hands and read it again. ‘What’s he playing at? Where else would he go in London? Pack me a sandwich, Sis . . . I’ll drive down there myself. There must be some mistake . . .’

  Aunt Celeste sat at the foot of the stairs shaking. ‘How could he play silly games at a time like this? Where is he? Why didn’t they let us know he was coming back early? It’s not like him. I think we should call the police. He’s only a child . . . Surely he hasn’t run away?’

  Ella’s mum made cups of tea and supper but no one could eat anything. They went back to the station just in case, but Roddy wasn’t on the platform. Ella felt fear inside. Aunt Celeste collapsed in a chair shaking and crying and Mum made her go to bed with a brandy. Uncle Selwyn had such a worried look on his face as he rang the police station to ask for advice. Something was terribly wrong but no one knew just what it was. A mist of gloom, fear and panic swirled around Red House and Ella didn’t know what to do to help. Boys had no idea; they were useless specimens. She was glad she’d soon be going to a girls’ school.

  73

  Roddy was having a wonderful time with his new father. The plan had gone swimmingly. He’d waved off the Potters on the platform, sat in the compartment for five minutes until they were out of sight, jumped out and ran to the barrier where a tall man in a smart blazer and slacks was waving. He was so handsome and jolly and he’d bought him an ice cream. They went to one of the finest hotels for luncheon and he’d scoffed everything they’d put in front of him.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve still gotten an American appetite, young man. You look just like me at your age. I would have recognized you anywhere. Has your mom found herself a new beau yet?’

  Roddy shook his head. ‘She’s too busy looking after us all for anything like that. There was a kind man we met on the ship home. He’s taught me to play chess . . . Mr McAdam, but she doesn’t like him very much.’

  ‘I shall teach you to ride a horse and play baseball. You’ll love Akron. So many people are dying to meet you back there. I’ve got such plans for us but first we’ll make a little trip to the American Embassy.’

  ‘I’d have to ask Mom first,’ Roddy said, feeling swamped by this information.

  ‘Plenty of time for that, son . . . We’re going to have such a good time. I’ve finished my business early so we can get to know each other good and proper. I want to know all about your life and what you do at that school of yours. Do you play sport?’

  ‘I’m in the second eleven for Rugby and first for Junior Cricket . . .’

  ‘Those are English games. We’ve gotten the best pro American football team in Akron. We can go see them play if you like.’

  Roddy didn’t know how to explain he’d have to go home soon, that term would be starting again. There was no time left to take a trip to America. ‘Thank you for the meal, sir,’ he said.

  ‘I thought we’d go see a show in the West End and Madame Tussauds, but first we’ll call in at the embassy. I have a bit of business there.’

  They took a cab to a grand mansion house with marble stairs and the great Stars and Stripes flag hanging over the door. ‘We have to answer questions when we visit here. It’s a piece of h
ome right here in London so whatever the man asks you, you must give a straight answer . . . understand?’

  It was a funny meeting. They went into a room where the man behind the desk asked Roddy his name and his date of birth and where he was born and was this his true father and who was his mother and where did she live. The man passed his father pieces of paper and smiled at Roddy. ‘Enjoy your trip.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he replied. ‘I am.’

  All the touring and excitement made him very tired and hungry. He bought some postcards as souvenirs to send to Ella and Mom. He always had stamps in his leather school wallet. They went to see a musical, which was all singing and a bit sloppy. He could hardly keep his eyes open and fell asleep in the taxi on the way back to the hotel. His father was so concerned he gave him a warm drink to help him settle for the night and he went into a deep slumber.

  When he woke in the morning he found himself in a railway carriage rattling along the coast with no idea how they’d got from the hotel onto the train.

  ‘Hi there, sleepy head,’ Pa smiled. ‘Welcome aboard.’

  ‘Where am I?’ Roddy asked, staring out half awake.

  ‘On your way home, son, to the U S of A . . . We’re almost at Southampton water. You and I are going on the trip of a lifetime. Back to where you belong on the White Star Liner, Olympic, no less, sister ship of the Titanic . . . what do you know?’

  Roddy felt the panic rising. ‘But I have to go home. Mom will be worried.’

  ‘Don’t you fret about that . . . it’s all sorted. Your mom doesn’t mind. She always knew I wanted you to be educated in the States. She knows it’s for the best.’

  ‘But I haven’t any books. All my stuff . . .’

  ‘You’ve enough for the journey and when we get across the pond, I’ll be kitting you out in some decent clothes. Don’t you just love the idea of living back there again?’

  Roddy didn’t know what to think. His head was fuzzy and his mouth dry, and he wanted to pee. Had his mother given permission? Was this a big surprise they’d thought up together? He didn’t think so. ‘Can I ring her on the ship . . . we have a phone.’

  ‘Sure, if you can get a line free. Why not send her one of these postcards. She’ll like that.’ He handed him a picture postcard of an ocean liner.

  The train slowed down at the dock and a huge ship with four huge funnels rose up over his head. They were escorted up the gangway to a First Class apartment with twin beds, its own bathroom and sitting room looking out onto a balcony. He’d never seen anything so grand. Roddy bounced on the bed, excited but scared to be doing this without saying goodbye to his family and friends.

  How could he get off the ship without hurting his father’s feelings when he’d gone to so much trouble to secure this passage for them together? They’d been apart for so long, perhaps he owed him this time with him. He could always come home at a later date. He sensed this man might get angry if he said he didn’t want to sail. Roddy was torn.

  He sat down and wrote three of the ship’s postcards, one to Mom, one to Ella and one to Grandpa, telling them he was safe and with his father, and going to sea again on a vacation. He walked down the corridor to find a steward and asked him to post them before the ship left the dock. The young man saluted him and put them in his pocket, which made Roddy feel very important.

  Later, Roddy stood on deck watching the liner slowly edge its way from the dock. He saw the passengers waving to friends, waving hankies, and he wished he could have his own family waving back to him. That was when he felt sick. Had he done the right thing? A flutter of panic rose into a wave and washed over him, making him tremble. Now everything was out of his control. He’d set this meeting up in the first place. His father had taken it as a sign that he was important in his life again. There was no turning back. From now on, he guessed, his life was never going to be his own again.

  74

  May was rushing round trying to keep the household running, taking broth up to Celeste, who lay prostrate, under sedation from their doctor. Red House was plunged into a black house of mourning. Everyone was tiptoeing around on the morning of the canon’s funeral, pinning on brave faces. May needed time to get Celeste dressed. She was so weak and exhausted, sitting on the edge of the bed shaking, holding the letter that had broken her heart.

  ‘He’s taken my son. They met in London and he says Roddy wanted to come back to America with him. I don’t believe it! Roddy was settled. How could he go behind my back like this? What have I done, letting him go unescorted to London? He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I have to go after him now.’

  ‘Not today you can’t. It’s your father’s funeral and you have to bury him as he would wish. That’s enough for today. Things will be clearer tomorrow. Let’s find your dress. It’s a beautiful day outside but it will be cool in the cathedral.’

  Selwyn was interviewing policemen and phoning round to his former office in Birmingham to get advice. In fact, he was taking charge like it was a military operation, ordering them about. May had never seen him so bossy, but someone needed to steer this rudderless ship and she was glad of his knowledge of how to go about things.

  Roddy had claimed his American citizenship. The police said they could not interfere in this domestic dispute. He’d gone of his own free will and would now be in international waters, out of their reach, in the care of his legal father.

  One silly postcard had shattered his mother. On it was a picture of the Olympic, the identical sister ship of the Titanic. One look at it and Celeste had fainted clean away in the hall. May had stood firm at the sight of those funnels and bow. She never wanted to see that image again and pushed it out of sight. Then came the letter from Mr Parkes, claiming his right to Roddy as if he was a lost parcel in left luggage, and all this the day before the canon’s funeral.

  ‘Of all the ships in the world, he takes him back on that one! He will ruin my son, teach him to be a bully. His mother will spoil him. I have to have him back with me.’

  Celeste was beyond reason but May sat with her until she fell into an unnatural sleep.

  May’s next job was to be the gatekeeper, ushering out visitors if she thought they were lingering too long with their condolences. How were they going to explain Roddy’s absence?

  The locals thought Celeste a widow, not a runaway wife. This news would be a nine-day wonder in the Close once it was known, so the longer they kept this situation secret the better. Who better than May Smith at keeping secrets? Selwyn would say nothing and Ella must be ordered not to spread any gossip.

  Celeste was glad of the thick crepe veil covering her face as she stood to receive her father’s coffin. The cathedral organ boomed out, the congregation stood in respect as they followed behind it, and she remembered the day of her mother’s funeral and all that had happened since.

  She couldn’t believe Roddy had deserted her like that, her only son walking out of her life as if she was nothing. Anger and sorrow burned in her throat. To mourn her father was natural but the thought of losing Roddy was unbearable. He must have been bribed, bemused by Grover’s attentions. She felt sick knowing how her husband had charmed her so easily. Roddy was an innocent; how would he survive back in Akron without her? How would he go from one world to another? He didn’t even know his grandpa was dead, and he was still little more than a child, and a devious one to hide all this from her.

  She had so few rights in the matter. Selwyn explained that legally she was still a married woman. A custody battle would be useless at this stage. She was so full of hatred of Grover, so angry that Roddy had put her in such an impossible position. She’d worked so hard to bring them back to England and this was how he’d repaid her. The boy had no idea who he was dealing with. Grover wanted him as a trophy, a son he could control. He’d pay her back by making him into a miniature of himself. Roddy wasn’t used to that sort of discipline. How would he cope with Grover’s outbursts if he were to be disobedient?

  As they were walking down
the aisle she caught a glimpse of Archie McAdam staring at her with concern. He knew everything now. He’d turned up on the day of the postcard to offer condolences for her loss and had found himself in the middle of a maelstrom of confusion and tears. There had been no point in disguising from him what was going on.

  ‘My husband’s lured my son back to America,’ Celeste said, showing him the postcard of the Olympic. ‘Better you know the facts. I left him years ago, brought up my son alone and now this . . .’ She’d not been able to continue or look him in the face.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ was all he said. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  She shook her head wearily. ‘Selwyn says we can only wait and plead our case, try to get access and custodial rights. I’ll have to go back to the States. I won’t lose my son, I can’t. He’s the only thing that matters to me.’

  ‘I don’t think you will ever lose him. He’s just temporarily mislaid,’ Archie offered, but she was in no mood for joking. ‘That’s not funny,’ she snapped.

  ‘Forgive me, but it wasn’t intended to be. He’s mislaid, misguided, a young boy on an exciting adventure. Children don’t think of the consequences of their actions. Why should he? He’s been well brought up, loved and cosseted. He trusts people. He may be a little confused right now, but you have to trust that all you’ve taught him won’t be lost. I know a little of young people and Roderick will come through this. Chasing after him will only tighten the noose your husband has thrown around his neck. Selwyn has told me a little of his nature . . . I’m sorry.’ He reached out to her hand but she pushed it away.

  ‘He had no right to tell you about my private affairs.’ Celeste couldn’t believe her brother had been so indiscreet. ‘You don’t understand any of this!’

  ‘Sadly I know only too well what it is to lose a child, but I also know love given freely is never lost. Roddy knows you care. He will find his way back to you in time.’