The Forgotten Daughter

by Mary Wood

  ‘I doubt that’s true. Mags knows me far better than you do. Anyway, what about Francis – will you put him in a home? There are some good private ones for officers who are impaired, physically or mentally, due to their war service. He can afford to pay for himself, and he will be much better cared for by professionals than by me, here.’

  ‘I’ve tried that, but he refuses. Would you at least come and talk to him? He may listen to you.’

  Flora was afraid to do this. Afraid that she would weaken, if faced with Francis’s plight. Going to France was the only hope she and Cyrus had. She had to resist this emotional blackmail. But her heart ruled her head and, reluctantly, she arranged for Rowena to stay a little longer, and donned her coat and went with Harold.

  ‘Is Mags still at the house?’

  ‘No, she has gone home. She is very upset and fragile over what happened, and I am anxious to get to her.’

  ‘Poor Mags; in some ways she is very strong, but in others she can become almost childlike.’

  ‘Has this happened before? You seem to know a lot about how she is feeling.’

  ‘We went through a lot together, that’s all; there were some very bad situations, and we all had breakdowns at times.’

  Flora stared out of the window of the car, willing herself to be strong. She had to resist, no matter how much Francis needed her. He had to be persuaded to go into a home, if he was as ill as Harold described; it was the only way.

  Flames lit the night as if it were day, as they turned into the street where the house stood. ‘Harold, that’s our house. Oh God, it’s on fire!’

  ‘That bloody idiot! Christ, I didn’t believe he’d do it.’

  ‘What do you mean – Francis? Did he threaten to do this?’

  ‘Yes, the stupid bugger. Francis said that rather than sell the only home he had, he would burn it to the ground.’

  ‘You pig, Harold! You forced him. He was of sound enough mind to refuse to sell. How could you? No wonder his condition has worsened. Well, Francis has had the last laugh.’

  ‘Only if he isn’t in the house. If he is, then I will laugh all the way to the bank, with Mother’s trust fund and the insurance money – and no more mad Francis to bother me.’

  ‘You’re vile. Vile! I’m ashamed to be related to you.’

  Harold laughed as he pulled up outside the house. ‘Lovely blaze – well done, Francis. Good job.’

  As they got out of the car Flora screamed at him, ‘For God’s sake, we have to check if Francis is safe, and get someone to go for the firefighters. And what if the staff are trapped? This isn’t about you and your gains. People could die! Francis could—’

  ‘Oh God, no . . . I hadn’t thought. Susan! No, not my darling Susan!’

  Flora felt as if she would collapse. History was repeating itself. The saying ‘like father, like son’ was coming true. She’d been sure Susan and Harold were continuing their relationship, and now she knew they were. And his mistress meant more to him than the safety of his own brother. A sick feeling took hold of her. She wanted to claw at Harold, to make him realize the path he was taking and how much pain it would cause, but she had no time to deal with that now.

  ‘Get back into your car and go for the firefighters, Harold. Quickly!’

  A distant clanging of bells stopped him. ‘Sounds like someone already did that. I’ll go round the back to see if anyone got out.’

  Flora followed him, the heat from the burning inferno scorching her face.

  ‘Oh, Master Harold and Miss Flora. Oh, thank God!’

  ‘Cook, is there anyone in the house?’

  ‘M – Master Francis, he – he . . . Oh God, he smashed things, then he set fire to the furniture, and it all went up so quickly. I – I tried to stop him, but it was no use. I screamed to everyone to get out, but no one has come out this way, and I couldn’t get back in. I sent the gardener’s boy running for the firefighters.’

  Flora took hold of Cook and held her shaking body to her. She couldn’t speak to try and comfort her, as her own fear was strangling her.

  But Harold’s reaction was what she would expect. ‘Never mind all of that: where is Susan?’

  ‘I – I don’t know.’

  Anger gave Flora her strength back. ‘There’s more than just Susan to worry about, Harold. Cook, how many staff were there in—’

  Screams of ‘Help me. Help, I’m up here!’ stopped Flora from saying any more. Susan appeared at an upstairs window. ‘Help me, Harold. Help me!’

  Her desperate plea spurred Flora into action. ‘Get the ladder from the garage, Harold – hurry.’

  ‘What? No . . . no, wait, the bells are louder now; the firefighters will be here any moment. Leave it to them.’

  ‘That may be too late. Look at the flames around Susan. Please, Harold, I’m not asking you to go up to her. I’ll do that – just fetch the ladder!’

  To Flora’s despair, her cowardly brother stared back at her, and she realized that his fear had frozen him and she’d have to take charge. ‘Cook, come with me. Come on! We can carry the ladder between us.’

  Thankfully, Harold had left the garage door open. And as it was a separate building from the house, it wasn’t in danger of catching fire. The inside of the garage was lit by the flames, helping them to locate the ladder quickly.

  ‘You grab that end, Cook, and I’ll get the other.’

  When they reached the house, Susan could no longer be seen.

  ‘Oh no. Help us, Harold, help us.’ Still Harold didn’t move. ‘We’ll have to do it ourselves, Cook. Put the ladder on the ground, then we’ll get hold of the middle section and lift it into place. That’s it; now, hold it steady while I go up.’

  ‘No. Please don’t, Miss Flora. Harold should do it. You may harm yourself, or your baby.’

  Flora didn’t have time to try to persuade Harold, but lifted her skirt, thanking God for the new fashion of shorter clothes, and headed up the ladder. The heat was unbearable. Smoke stung her eyes and made her cough, but she wouldn’t give up. ‘Susan? Susan, can you hear me? I have a ladder. Come on, Susan – please make a last effort. Please.’

  Susan’s head appeared, her coughs pitiful to hear.

  ‘Climb out. I’ll steady your footing, then I’ll stay behind you to guide you down. You can do it, Susan. You can!’ Susan sat on the ledge and swung one foot out. ‘Turn around, as you have to come down backwards – that’s right, good girl.’

  Praying that Cook could hold the ladder steady, Flora guided Susan’s foot down to a rung.

  ‘That’s it, Susan. Now the other one; you can put your weight on this foot, as you’re on a rung of the ladder.’ Susan managed to get her other leg out. ‘Now, I’ll lift your foot and put it on the next rung. This foot that I am tapping now.’

  Three rungs had been negotiated when the ladder slipped. Flora screamed out, ‘Ha . . . rold, help us!’ The ladder slipped again. Susan screamed. ‘Hold on, Susan, but keep still.’ The clanging of bells now drowned Flora’s words. ‘Oh, thank God!’

  The ladder slipped again, this time more than it had done previously. Instinctively, Flora put her hand out and grabbed at the ivy clinging to the wall. It came with her, but then stopped. She clung on, praying to the God she had long thought had forsaken her.

  ‘Grab the ivy, Susan. It needs the strength of us both to hold the ladder still.’

  ‘I can’t. I can’t take my hands off or I’ll fall.’

  Below them, Flora could see firefighters running towards the ladder. But too late, for the weight of Susan was too much for her to stop the slide. Flora’s grip on the ivy loosened and the ground came hurtling towards her. Her scream merged with the blackness that seized her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  From a distance a voice called, ‘Open your eyes, Miss. You’re all right. We caught you. You fainted. We’ve got the young woman you were helping. She’s badly burned, but hopefully she’ll make it. Well done, you’re a very brave young woman.’

&nb
sp; ‘M – my baby.’

  ‘Is your baby inside the ’ouse, darlin’?’ This was another voice. Flora patted her stomach.

  ‘Oh dear, she’s in the family way. Let’s get her to the ambulance. Don’t you worry, I’m sure everything will be all right.’

  The other man spoke then. ‘In my book, though you were foolish to put yourself and your baby in jeopardy, you’re a ’ero, Miss. A true ’ero.’

  ‘Sh – she saved lives in the war, Officer. She’s one of the bravest women on earth.’

  Dear Cook.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’

  ‘She is, love; now move yourself. Let’s get her into the ambulance.’

  Showing no concern for her, Harold shouted, ‘Officer, there are others in the house, and one of them is my brother.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, there’s nothing that can be done for anyone in there. My officers will concentrate on bringing the fire under control.’

  Harold’s protest was meant to show concern, but to Flora it was sickening, as she knew how hollow his pleas were.

  Poor Francis. Harold knew you had threatened this action, and probably took himself out of the way to give you a chance to do it. Using me as an excuse for why he was out.

  Harold came into Flora’s view. ‘Officer, the girl who’s burned – can I go with her to the hospital? She needs me.’

  In that instant Flora felt rage enter her. A noise came from her, rasping her sore throat and giving her the taste of the smoke she’d inhaled. ‘I HATE YOU!’

  Harold’s face registered his shock. Is he so self-centred that he can’t see what he does to others?

  ‘Now then, don’t go upsetting yourself. I don’t know what has ’appened between you and this gentleman, but, darlin’, you have to think of your unborn child. He’s had a jolt and must be scared stiff. He don’t want his mother giving in and sending bad feelings through him, now does he, darlin’?’

  This sounded strange to Flora – that a man should think like that.

  ‘I’m from a big family, and me sisters are always ’aving kids. Me ma gets on at them if they don’t keep a ’appy disposition; she says as the baby can sense it. She should know: she birthed fourteen.’

  Flora felt safe with this man and didn’t want him to leave her. He was right, there would be time enough to live without Harold in her life, and to grieve for Francis. At least the Francis that she remembered as a child. Reaching down to her stomach, she gently massaged her bump. In doing so, she hoped she conveyed that everything was fine.

  As they lifted her onto a stretcher, she looked over at Harold once more. Still he stared at her as if she’d gone mad. And although she didn’t want to speak to him, she had no choice. ‘If you never do anything else for me in your life – and, God knows, I don’t ever want you to – will you do one thing for me? Please go to the St Pancras Hotel and tell Cyrus what has happened. Harold, please, I beg of you.’

  ‘Still hankering after him, are you, Sis? Anyway, I wouldn’t if I could. But in any case, I’m going to the hospital with Susan – she needs me more than you do.’

  ‘Harold!’

  ‘Don’t you worry, love. I’ll get the ambulance driver to get a message to Cyrus for you. Is he your man?’

  ‘No! He’s not her “man”, he’s her brother, who—’

  ‘Harold!’

  ‘Oh, as you please. I wouldn’t want anyone to know, either.’

  Thankfully, the officer didn’t respond to this, but inside, Flora wished with all her heart that it had been Harold who’d died in the fire, and vowed never again to have anything to do with him. In coming to this decision, she felt a release, and yet sadness, because in cutting him out of her life, she knew she was cutting Mags out, too.

  This left her feeling further bereft, but she was so tired, and the blessed relief of sleep called to her as the vehicle trundled along. Not even the clanging of its bells could keep her from drifting off.

  The feeling of hands on her had her opening her eyes. ‘I’m the doctor. I’m just checking you over. You’ve been very lucky, from what I have heard, and very brave, too. Everything seems fine with your baby.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor. Can you tell me how the girl is; she was brought here, she was in the fire and – and was anyone else . . . ? I – I know about my . . . my brother, but –’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about your brother. I understand he didn’t get out. But there was no one else injured in the fire, or any other deaths. They found a man and a young girl, on the lawn at the back of the house. The man had carried the girl to safety. Both were fine, if a little shocked. The girl you saved is badly burned and in shock. She faces a long road to recovery, but she will recover. She has her young man with her, and he is helping her. Now, I think you are well enough to go home. There is a man in reception – a Cyrus Harpinham. Is it all right to let him in? He says he is your friend.’

  The relief Flora felt, knowing that Cyrus was here, had the effect of breaking down the barrier she had put up to prevent acknowledging the true horror of everything that had happened. She couldn’t answer the doctor’s question; she could only stare at him, without really seeing him.

  ‘Nurse! She’s going into shock: wrap her up, and elevate her legs. She’s breathing all right at the moment, but give her oxygen if there is any sign of that deteriorating.’

  Knowing what shock can do, Flora tried to keep calm and breathe slowly and deeply to steady herself. Inside, she wanted to scream out and rid herself of the tight knot of emotional pain that clutched at her, but she knew that to do so would leave her out of control, and she needed to fight.

  ‘That’s better, love; your temperature’s back to normal and you’ve stopped shaking. I reckon you’re all right now. You helped yourself with your breathing technique. Where did you learn that?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Nurse, a very long story.’

  ‘Well, I’ve no time for one of them, but it stood you in good stead. I’ll fetch the doctor to check you over, and then we’ll let your friend in, eh?’

  Her friend . . . My Cyrus, the best friend I’ll ever have. With him by my side, I can get through this. I can.

  When they got into the car, Cyrus told Flora that from tomorrow he would never leave her side. ‘That’s if you feel well enough to take the first step of our journey into our new future tomorrow, darling. I have everything ready.’

  ‘I will. Nothing will stop me. Only, can we possibly go? I – I mean . . . oh, I want to, my darling. I want to go now, this very minute, but, well, Francis . . .’

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling. But there is nothing we can do. I know you will grieve for Francis, as you have told me how good your relationship with him was as a child, but, darling, there will be no funeral, as there were no remains. And knowing what I know of Harold, no memorial service, either.’

  ‘If there was, he wouldn’t invite me. And neither will he think of the livelihoods of the staff. At least, with a sale, they could have been kept on by the new owners. I worry about them, especially Cook. I’ve always loved her.’

  ‘Did she live in?’

  ‘No. She used to, but she married. But her husband is a lot older than her, and she is the breadwinner.’

  ‘Well, at least she has a home, which is a blessing. And we can help her. I’ll go to the bank and draw out a sum of money and we can drop it in to our solicitor, with instructions to give it to Cook. He can tell her that it is from you, to tide her over till she gets another position.’

  ‘Oh, darling, you’re so thoughtful, thank you. With that done, I can go with a clear conscience. Although Cook does need more than money; she needs support, after what she witnessed yesterday, but I will have to hope that her husband can give her that. I think she will understand that I had to leave, as she knows more than anyone what I have suffered.’

  ‘Good girl, thinking of yourself for a change. Sometimes we have to. We and little Freddy – and our unborn child – are the important ones now. It has to be so.
No matter what happens, no one is ever going to part us again.’

  ‘Will our sin corrode us in time, Cyrus?’

  ‘We were sinned against, especially you. I won’t let guilt at our situation enter me at all. I love you. You are my wife, and nothing else, and yet you are everything . . . everything. I can’t live without you, and that living has to be complete – we have to be as one.’

  ‘Oh, Cyrus, I’m so glad you feel like that, because it is the same for me. Finding out about our relationship means nothing to me, because who we are is nothing to do with that. We are husband and wife, and I love you dearly.’

  ‘That’s that then. We must make a pact never to speak of this again, ever!’

  ‘But the children: will they have to know?’

  ‘One day it may have to be addressed, but I hope not. I hope they grow up as French citizens and never learn the truth. And as long as no one who would harm us ever finds us, then there is no reason why they should ever know.’

  ‘There is one thing that I worry about, darling. I have read that children born of incest can be defective in some way. Alice wasn’t, and nor is Freddy, but our unborn child . . . I am afraid.’

  ‘Don’t be, Flora. I think that as our first two were fine, that must show we haven’t done any harm by coming together.’

  Flora snuggled into Cyrus. It felt so good to be held in his arms. All her worries left her as she thought about how God would view them. What was meant when the words Let no man put asunder were spoken at their wedding? Innocent then of the truth of their birth, had they done wrong? At this moment she didn’t care. She had a lifetime of being with her Cyrus, and that was all that mattered.

  EPILOGUE

  France, 1920

  Flora, Cyrus and Freddy

  A New Life Is Forged

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘Freddy, I’ve brought your nephew, Freddy, to meet you. How I wish you could be here to meet him properly.’

  Flora felt Cyrus’s arm round her shoulder. Freddy’s little hand clasped hers, as she read the inscription on the cross marking her brother’s grave: ‘Frederic Hatton, Private. Essex Regiment – killed in action 1916.’