‘Yes, I did,’ Helen admitted, surprised that Anne had kept them, unused, but she might not have wanted to let family and friends see them and ask questions. By all accounts Stepney was as full of busybodies as any other community. ‘It was a bit of a shock seeing the shawl again, but don’t worry about it. I am happy for you to use them. Do you call him Robert or Bob?’
‘Bob was his father’s name, so I thought Robby.’
‘Then Robby, he is.’
‘Tell me about Beckbridge,’ Laura said now.
‘It is only a small village, so everyone knows everyone.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘But living in what they like to call the “big house”, I’ve never really socialised with them. It was not my choice but the way things were in the old days; the village was the village, the big house was the big house, and they don’t seem able to break out of the habit. There is my cousin, Kathy, who lives just down the road. She’s married to a farmer. I’ll take you to meet her when you’re ready.’ She stopped speaking to overtake a military convoy and Laura bent her head to kiss Robby’s cheek. Her breasts were feeling heavy and she would need to feed him as soon as they arrived.
‘Your furniture arrived safely,’ Helen went on, as they passed the leading vehicle. ‘I’ve had it put in the east wing. I thought you might like a little self-contained apartment, so when the builders were doing the repairs, I had them install a kitchenette and bathroom for you. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay there. You are free to go anywhere you like in the house; it is your home, yours and Robby’s. Any time you feel like company, I’m always somewhere about and you’ll soon make friends with the people in the village. But if you want privacy, you can just shut yourself away.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Lady Barstairs.’
‘Not at all. You are doing me a favour. A big one. But please don’t call me Lady Barstairs, it sounds so stiff.’
‘What shall I call you then?’
Helen longed to say ‘Mother, of course,’ but that was not an option, not now, perhaps not ever. ‘Please call me Helen,’ she said.
‘I gather you have already been in touch with someone about using the house as a hospital?’
‘Yes, they’ve inspected everywhere and they think it will be ideal. It has to be equipped, of course, and there might need to be a few partitions, more electrics and plumbing and things like that, so when you feel up to it, you can liaise with the medical people.’
‘I’m raring to go. I hated giving up nursing but if I can get back to it and help our injured airmen into the bargain, it will feel as though I am doing something to help the war effort.’
‘You have to get over the birth first.’
‘That won’t take long.’
‘I wondered if you might like a little help with the baby. I thought perhaps a girl from the village, just to mind him when we are both busy.’
‘Yes, it would help, but I’m not sure I can afford it.’
‘I think we can manage that. We’ll talk about it later when you’ve rested and fed the baby and settled him.’ They were driving down a gentle hill towards a village. Like everywhere else they had passed, it was devoid of a signpost. ‘This is Beckbridge.’
Laura looked about her as they drove down the main street. There didn’t seem to be much of it: a church, a school, a couple of pubs, a butcher, a blacksmith, a cobbler and a post office cum general store. There were a few cottages and one or two more substantial houses and little else.
‘We go into Attlesham for anything the village can’t provide,’ Helen said as they left it behind. ‘It’s a typical market town, but it does have a cinema and a railway station. Oh, and a petrol station, when they have any petrol, that is. Do you drive?’
‘No.’ She didn’t add that they could never have afforded a car, so what was the point?
‘Might be a good idea to learn. You could use the car then, so long as we can get a petrol allowance. Might be able to swing that, if we are doing essential war work. That’s the lane to Bridge Farm on the right.’
Five minutes later she was turning left into the drive of the Hall. Laura leant forward to catch her first glimpse of her new home. She had known it was large because her mother had told her so, and Helen’s nonchalant reference to the east wing seemed to confirm it, but she was unprepared for the sight that greeted her at the end of the half-mile drive. It was massive. And old. Its red brick walls were covered in creeper; its rows of sash windows gleamed in the sunlight, making her think what a headache organising the blackout must have been. The huge oak door was in the centre of the front elevation under a columned portico and was reached by a wide sweeping carriage drive.
‘Beckbridge Hall has always been handed down from father to son ever since the Restoration, when it was given to my ancestor by Charles II as a reward for his loyalty to his father – the one the Roundheads beheaded, you know,’ Helen said. ‘It was only a small house then, stone-built, solid as a castle. It looked a bit like a castle, too, with crenellated walls and a tower or two, and a baronial hall, but over the generations, more has been added until it has become a conglomerate of several styles, but I think it is still a beautiful building. My Regency forebears refurbished it, lined some of its walls with panelling, plastered and painted others, enlarged the windows, which had been kept small until then, and added carpets and curtains, chandeliers and fine furniture. They made the cold castle into a comfortable home. My home, Laura. And now yours.’
She stopped the car at the front door and Laura, carrying Robby, was ushered inside. She found herself in a huge entrance hall; the house in Axholme Avenue would have comfortably fitted inside it. Immediately opposite her was a staircase with an ornate iron balustrade. To her right and left were doors.
‘I’ll show you round after you’ve settled Robby,’ Helen said, leading the way down a corridor to the left of the staircase and through a door at the end, which gave onto a long gallery going to the left and right. It was lined with antique chairs, wall tables and niches containing statues and seemed to stretch forever. ‘The house is built on four sides of a square,’ Helen explained, turning left. ‘The front elevation has the hall in its centre. What was the baronial hall and other smaller rooms are on one side, and a large reception room, the main dining room and the domestic offices are on the other. This gallery runs behind those and joins the two wings. On the opposite side of the square is a row of rooms which form offices and workrooms for the domestic and outside staff. It has an archway through to the yard, stables and kitchen garden. It was a very inconvenient arrangement to have the dining room and parlours so far from the kitchens and so over the years it has been changed about and now I live on one side only. That’s why it will make such a good hospital; it will be easy to divide it off from our living quarters.’ She made her way up another set of stairs and along a corridor. ‘Here’s your apartment.’ She flung open one door to reveal Laura’s sitting room furniture. ‘This was once a bedroom but I thought you might like it as a sitting room. It has a nice view over the park. Next door is another bedroom with an adjoining dressing room, which I thought might make a nursery. On the other side of the corridor is a small kitchen and bathroom. Of course, if you want to change anything, feel free to do so.’
‘Oh, no, it’s wonderful.’
‘You’ll find your cases in the bedroom. Is there anything else you need?’
‘No, thank you. I’m overwhelmed by your kindness. It’s like a dream.’ Impulsively, she leant forward and kissed Helen’s cheek.
Helen rubbed the spot thoughtfully. Her daughter had kissed her! Oh, she never thought it would ever happen. She blinked back tears. ‘Oh, please don’t keep thanking me. I shall love having you here and I’m sure we’ll make the hospital a great success.’ She had to continue the charade that it was the hospital that mattered. ‘I’ll leave you to sort yourself out and look after that young man. When you’re ready, come back downstairs and at the bottom turn right. You’ll find me in the kitchen.’
> Laura found her cases, took out a clean nappy and some gentle skin cream and went into the bathroom to change Robby. The bathroom was big, obviously converted from another bedroom. The bath stood to one side of the window under which was a central heating radiator which was hot to the touch, making her wonder how much it cost to heat the whole place. There was a large cupboard from floor to ceiling, a WC and a washbasin. Against one wall was a table, which was just the right height for changing nappies. Laura set about making Robby feel and smell fresher, then lodging him on her shoulder and supporting his head, she went to explore the kitchenette. Helen had equipped that too. Its window overlooked the courtyard. There was a disused fountain in the middle and a small triangular flowerbed in each corner. There were rose bushes in need of pruning in the centre of each and they were surrounded by daffodils. The cheerful yellow blooms poking out of what was left of the snow seemed to tell her that life was most definitely worth living. It was down to Mum, of course, who had looked after her through life and continued to do so even as she lay dying. Dear Mum. The best of mothers.
Robby’s grizzle, reminding her he was hungry, saved her from shedding more tears. She went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed to feed him and, when he was replete and winded, she put him on the middle of the double bed while she made up his cot, which Helen had put together for her. Or perhaps she had instructed servants to do it. A place like this would need servants. Lots of them. He was asleep almost as soon as she had tucked him in, and she crept away in search of her hostess.
She found her in the kitchen cooking. ‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating a place at the big table. ‘I rarely use the dining room nowadays. It’s only mince. I thought I’d make a shepherd’s pie.’
Laura sat down and wondered again about staff. ‘That’s lovely. I’ll give you my ration book later. And rent.’
‘The ration book I’ll take, the rent, no.’
‘But I can’t stay here for nothing. It’s not fair on you.’
‘You won’t be staying here for nothing. You will be paid a salary by the Air Ministry, and that includes board and lodging. They will pay me, so there’s no need for you to.’ She brought the dish to the table and spooned some of it onto two plates.
‘We shall need staff.’
‘Yes. We used to have dozens in the old days but they drifted away one by one until there was only Mr and Mrs Ward. Then when the bomb dropped, they took fright and left too.’
‘You mean you are managing this great place all alone?’
‘That’s just it, I’m not managing. I’ve shut up all but a few rooms. The poor house has a neglected air, but I hope that will change when we get it up and running. It’s going to be quite a challenge.’
‘Yes, but I think it will do me good.’
‘Would you like some more to eat?’
‘No, thank you, that was delicious.’
‘I used to like to help our cook when I was a child. My mother didn’t approve and we had to keep it a secret from my father, who considered it degrading, but I’m certainly not sorry. The ability to produce a meal has stood me in good stead since this war started. I’ve got an apple crumble and I begged some cream from William. He’s my cousin’s husband. Would you like some?’
‘Please.’
They moved on to talk about the war in general and life in the village until the washing-up had been done, then Laura said she would like to have a little rest and went up to her room. Robby was still sleeping. With a bit of luck he’d be a good baby, but Helen was right, they would need some help with him when the Ministry people came and laid out their plans for the hospital. She took off her dress and crept under the eiderdown, but her head was buzzing too much to allow her to sleep. After an hour or so, she got up and decided to explore the house.
There were three storeys and dozens and dozens of rooms, some small, some vast with ornate ceilings and huge gilt-framed pictures. Helen found her in what must have been the baronial hall, converted into a ballroom with plasterwork and chandeliers and cherubs painted on the ceiling. ‘They will give our brave airmen something to think about as they lie on their backs staring at the ceiling,’ she said.
‘Yes.’ Laura laughed suddenly. ‘I remember one of my patients regaining consciousness and saying he had gone to heaven and I was an angel—’
‘Was he your…Robby’s father?’
‘No. Bob was never a patient.’
‘I’m sorry, perhaps I should not have mentioned him.’
‘I don’t mind talking about him. At first it was difficult, but now I can look back on the happy times and thank God I had that little time with him and that he left me a precious keepsake. Robby is all the world to me.’
‘I am sure he is.’
They were silent for a time, each thinking their own thoughts. Laura realised that what she had said was true; she could look back and be thankful, even smile a little at the jokes she and Bob had shared. Helen, too, was glad, as she realised that she was no longer dwelling on the past, but looking forward to the future. She had spent years and years of her life in idle longing, wishing and dreaming of being reunited with her daughter, of hearing her call her ‘Mother’. Twenty-three years gone in a flash, gone while she vegetated. Was that indolence or a perverted sense of justice – that she had no right to happiness because she had betrayed her husband? They were wasted years. It did not seem to matter any more whether Laura called her ‘Mother’ or not. She was here, and they had established a relationship which promised to be close, and that was enough. She had been telling herself that ever since Anne died, but now she realised it was true.
‘Kathy, I’ve brought Laura to meet you.’
Kathy looked from Helen to the young woman who stood beside her and was taken aback because she was so like a young Helen it was uncanny. She was smiling and holding out her hand. Kathy recovered quickly and shook the hand. ‘Do come in. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Laura picked Robby out of his pram and the two women followed Kathy into the sitting room, where she invited them to sit down, then she left them to go and make tea. Laura wandered to the window to look out on a substantial garden, alive with daffodils. ‘Kathy’s like you,’ she said. ‘Not quite so tall and a little plumper.’
‘Our mothers were sisters. Mine was the elder.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘They said she had made the best marriage when she married an earl and moved to Beckbridge Hall, but Uncle Daniel was a parson and a good man and Kathy had a happy childhood.’
Laura turned from the window and wandered round the room with Robby in her arms, looking at the photographs that stood on the mantelshelf. ‘Steve!’ She picked one up, as Kathy returned carrying a tea tray. ‘This is Steve, isn’t it? Steve Wainright.’
‘Yes, he’s my son,’ Kathy answered, setting the tray down on the table. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Yes, he was a friend of…’ There was a slight pause, which only Helen understood. Laura covered it by returning the picture to its place on the mantel. ‘…my husband.’
‘Was it Steven who helped you when Robby was born?’ Helen asked.
‘Yes. He was on his way to see me when he found me struggling to get to the hospital. He saw me safely there and went away before I could thank him properly.’
‘What a small world it is, after all,’ Helen said, though she, like Laura, was wondering about the implications of claiming Laura was married, when Steve knew perfectly well she was not.
‘He didn’t say a word to us,’ Kathy said, pouring tea. ‘He said he’d been delayed on the way home by an air raid.’
‘That was certainly true.’ Laura laughed. ‘It was a particularly bad one. They shipped me out to Epping to get away from it. I wrote to Steve to thank him, but I wasn’t sure he was at the same base.’
‘He’s just been moved. He decided to transfer to bombers, though I don’t suppose they are any less likely to be shot down than fighters. I worry about him all the time.’
‘I’m sure you do. When you w
rite to him, will you tell him you’ve met me and how grateful I am?’
The door opened and William came in. He was wearing green corduroy trousers and a jumper and thick socks, having left his boots on the kitchen doorstep. He was introduced and shook hands with Laura. He was followed a few minutes later by Kathy’s mother, who stared long and hard at Laura. ‘Did you say Laura was the daughter of a friend?’ she demanded of Helen after the introductions had been made.
‘Yes, I knew her years ago.’
‘Not a relation?’
Her aunt’s bluntness took Helen by surprise but she answered quickly enough. ‘No, why do you ask?’
‘She is uncannily like you. She has that little widow’s peak in her hair, hadn’t you noticed? I’ve got one, so has Kathy.’
Helen had been so happy to have Laura with her, she hadn’t thought of anyone noticing a family likeness. If too many people commented on it, she might be forced into telling Laura the truth. At one time it was what she wanted more than anything but now she was afraid. Her relationship with Laura was still too new and untried for upsets. She looked apprehensively at Laura, but the young woman didn’t seem unduly perturbed. ‘Lots of people have those.’
‘I suppose so.’ But Alice didn’t sound convinced.
They heard voices in the kitchen. ‘That’ll be Meg and Daphne,’ Kathy said. She went and called them to be introduced. They stopped long enough to say hallo and admire Robby before going back to work.
After that the twins arrived, but they soon disappeared again, passing Jenny on the way. She did not immediately notice they had visitors, being more concerned with detaining the boys. They were about to sit the scholarship exams and she had been coaching them. They were bright kids and ought to pass but she wondered what they would do if one passed and the other did not. They were not so bound together as they had been and were developing separately, but going to different schools, one academic where the leaving age was sixteen and the other a secondary school where pupils left to find jobs at fourteen, might not go down too well. Would the one who passed expect to have to forgo his place at grammar school? If it happened, it was likely to be Donny who was successful; he was altogether more self-assured. For that reason she had been concentrating a little more on Lenny’s weaknesses. ‘Where are you two off to?’
Summer House Page 20
