‘Where?’ Emma asked. ‘In the hotel?’
‘I thought maybe we could walk into town and find a restaurant?’ Max wondered what kind of tastes she had. ‘Chinese? Indian? Fish and chips?’ He grinned and Emma laughed.
‘Not all at once,’ she joked. ‘A Chinese would be nice.’
Max glanced at his watch. ‘Chinese it is, then.’ He looked along the pier towards the seafront. ‘Shall we go back?’ He held his arm out.
Emma started walking and Max fell into step beside her. For some reason, he expected her to put her arm into his, but that wasn’t the case. He wondered if she was deliberately keeping her distance from him: a kind of sign that this was to be a platonic relationship. He knew it wasn’t something he should fret over. Emma was an engaging companion with the right kind of mystery around her, but he had no right to expect that she, as a stranger, would become instantly friendly simply because they were sharing the same hotel. It was common ground for them both: a point of reference, but beyond that, the relationship would not go any further. After a couple of days, Max would return to the merry-go-round of literary lunches, editorial sessions, contract negotiations and book-tour plans. And Emma? What, he wondered, would she do? Maybe he would find out over the next couple of days, or maybe not; for now he simply had to grab the moment and enjoy it. After that she would probably become a character in another of his books. He did wonder, though, why she continually held her hand to her neck. To hide the scar, perhaps?
Max lay back on his bed propped up on a couple of pillows, his laptop balanced on his legs, and thought about Emma: how they had gelled during the evening at the Chinese restaurant; how they had laughed and how he had enjoyed her company. He thought too of the moments when he had almost revealed too much of his past and wished he could have been thirty years younger and on his first date. He looked at the screen and the page he had been staring at for so long. He thought too of the woman who appeared in the opening sentence and who dominated his thoughts so often. Of the woman who had raised two brothers and how one of them had let her down badly. Kate: Katherine Elliot. He closed the laptop carefully and shut his eyes, thinking and recreating the moment it all began.
TWO
England, summer 1960
Katherine Elliot put her small suitcase on the ground and waited as the coach pulled away from the huge, open gates of Clanford Hall. Smoke billowed from the exhaust as crunching gears signalled its departure until there was just the fading sound of it pulling up the hill and away into the Hampshire countryside. Katherine felt nervous, but this was what she wanted; what she had asked for.
The orphanage where Katherine had lived for the majority of her seventeen years was still a dominant memory: one that would remain with her for the rest of her life. She had been in danger of becoming institutionalized and not able to survive in the outside world, but there were always cases where some girls incarcerated in orphanages actually flourished and grew with the responsibilities thrust upon them, simply because of their exceptional staying power. Katherine, or Kate as she preferred to be called, had a determination to survive that had been a quality one of the nuns at the orphanage had noticed. It was one such sister who helped Kate throughout her time in the orphanage, ensuring that responsibility was handed to her, knowing that it would strengthen Kate’s resolve to survive. Kate knew she had a lot to thank Sister Claudia for, and would always be in her debt.
She picked up her small, battered suitcase, in which she had packed her few belongings, and glanced up at the sky that was laced with thin clouds; she smiled softly: God was on her side, she knew that, and with this thought running through her mind, she walked across the road and stepped through the gates of Clanford Estate.
The house could be seen from the road, although to Kate it looked like it was quite a walk. The long drive curved gently and swept gracefully past the tall, elegant bow walls that fronted the Georgian façade of Clanford Hall. On her left, was woodland with wild flowers growing at the foot of the trees; to her right, was a panoramic view over that part of the South Downs National Park known as Queen Elizabeth Country Park. The rolling, green hills were breathtaking in their natural beauty and Kate had to stop just to take it all in. Her mind went back to the drab walls of the orphanage, the steam-filled interior of the laundry room and the sheer drudgery of her day-to-day existence. She straightened her shoulders and breathed in deeply. This was her new life: this was the release she had been longing for. She turned her attention back to the house and strode purposefully towards it.
There was a polished, brass bell-pull set into the wall beside the front door. Kate tugged on the handle and heard a bell ring somewhere in the distance. The door was eventually opened after what seemed an age, by a woman who looked to be well into her sixties. She was dressed in a simple dress buttoned with a high collar. Around her waist was a broad belt, and hanging from the belt Kate could see a bunch of keys. She was wearing plain shoes with a small heel. There was nothing remarkable about her except that she looked quite stern and unfashionable. Her grey hair was pulled tightly back and finished in a small bun. A silver comb kept it in place. She stared enquiringly at Kate, her face compressed into a frown.
Kate bobbed into a quick curtsey as she had been taught to do by the sisters at the orphanage. She hoped that the clothes she was wearing, which had all been given to her, would look presentable. Her only possessions, apart from her underwear, were all in the suitcase.
‘Yes?’ The eyebrows lifted as the woman’s eyes widened.
‘I’m Miss Katherine Elliot. I believe you were sent a letter about me.’
There was a moment’s silence as the woman gave that some thought. Then she lifted her chin in a quick movement. ‘Of course: the girl from the orphanage.’ She looked Kate up and down with disdain etched on her face. ‘You should use the door at the back of the house. Remember that in future.’ She turned away. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said as she walked into the hallway. ‘Close the door behind you.’
Kate had been holding her suitcase with two hands. It was clutched against her legs. She almost dropped it as she suddenly realized she was being summoned. She hurried through the door, remembering to close it behind her.
The woman stopped. ‘If you wait here, I will let Mr Jeremy know you’ve arrived. Don’t touch anything.’ It was a sharp command, and the resonance in her voice made it quite clear that she didn’t trust Kate.
She disappeared and left Kate gaping in awe at the splendour of the Georgian decor. The magnificent staircase in dark oak was wider than anything she had seen before: it rose up to a magnificent gallery overhead. The paintings on the walls were of people, birds, and landscapes. All the frames were bigger than any bed Kate had slept in. Beside her was a bookcase that lined one wall. It had a ladder and a small set of steps. As for the number of books that populated the shelves, Kate couldn’t even begin to count them. The carpet on which she was standing ran the full length of the enormous hallway. Kate thought it was longer than the train carriage in which she had travelled from Exeter. She could feel the rough handle of her suitcase biting into her fingers and wanted to put it down, but she was afraid of putting it on the magnificent carpet, such were her feelings as she stood among all that Georgian splendour.
She was still admiring the decor when a door opened at the end of the hallway. The woman appeared with a striking-looking man. He wore dark trousers beneath a tweed jacket. Around his neck was a carefully folded cravat tucked into the open neck of his white shirt. His blond hair was combed back over his head. He had brown brogue shoes on his feet. Kate thought he looked exactly as she imagined a country gentleman should look. She bobbed automatically in a curtsey.
The woman pointed at her. ‘This is the young girl from the orphanage,’ she told him. ‘Her name’s Katherine.’
He smiled at Kate and walked towards her with his hand out. Kate wasn’t sure what to do until he touched her hand lightly in a handshake.
‘Jeremy Kennett. I’m
the owner of Clanford Hall.’ Kate bobbed again. Kennett laughed softly. ‘Please, there’s no need for that.’ He leaned forward. ‘Maud will show you to your room and then help you to familiarize yourself with the house. After that she will take you up to the twins.’ He turned to the woman. ‘I’ll leave Kate with you then, Maud.’ He flashed a brief smile at Kate before turning away and leaving the two of them standing there.
‘He doesn’t say too much,’ Maud said after a while. ‘Whenever you speak to him, always address him as “Mister Jeremy” by the way. Is that clear?’
Kate tried not to bob. ‘Yes, Maud.’
‘And you will call me Miss Sinclair.’
This time, Kate bobbed. ‘Yes, Miss Sinclair.’
Kate’s room was on the top floor at the rear of the house. It was frugal but a palace compared to what Kate had been used to all her life. The most amazing thing for Kate was the carpet on the floor beside the bed. Sheer luxury, she thought, as Maud pointed out the obvious.
‘There’s a bathroom down the hallway,’ she was saying as Kate continued to admire the bed, the wardrobe and the dressing table with its jug and basin. Flowered curtains hung over the window, which looked out towards a copse of trees; the same trees in which Kate had seen the wild flowers. ‘I’ll show you the house,’ Maud told her. ‘Then I can introduce you to the twins.’
The tour left Kate with a sense of wonder. In all her young life she had never seen anything so splendid. Maud introduced her to the cook, Martha, as they swept through the kitchen, pausing briefly for a little small talk. Martha’s assistant, Emily, was also introduced, but with a swiftness that had Kate smiling to herself. She knew she would have time later to get to know the two women.
Then out into the garden and Arthur, the gardener-cum-handyman. Kate had asked Maud how many staff worked at the Hall, but was answered with a shrug and a terse ‘Not many.’ And then finally to the nursery which was on the upper floor.
Maud opened the door and held it there as Kate stepped into the room. It was bigger than she expected. There were two cribs with delicate, chiffon drapes forming a covering over them. The two cribs shared an equal amount of the daylight coming through the windows. The room had been decorated in shell blue, and the furniture and curtains were matched perfectly. Kate sensed that she could see a woman’s hand there, and wondered if it had been the mother of the twins. Not that she would have the chance to ask her, because the poor woman had died giving birth a couple of months earlier.
She went into the bathroom. It had been decorated in the same pastel shades as the nursery with the stars, the moon and the sun scattered over the walls as though thrown there randomly. Kate thought it was enchanting; and terribly sad at the same time, that the mother had been deprived of the chance to spend time with her two sons in such a lovely place.
Maud was standing by the cribs when Kate came back out of the bathroom. She held her hand open towards the infants. ‘Paul and Michael.’
Kate could see a change in the woman’s countenance: it showed deep affection. But Kate thought there was something else: a sense of regret perhaps? She wondered if the woman had ever had children or indeed if she had ever married.
‘They are your charges now, Kate,’ she said softly. ‘Please make sure you take very good care of them.’
Kate looked down at the two infants. They were asleep, and only their faces could be seen peeking out from their small bonnets. One of them had a hand just above the top cover, his tiny fingers curled and still. Kate reached into the cot and laid her little finger in the child’s hand. Instinctively, as though the baby knew she was there, the tiny fingers curled around Kate’s. She left her hand there and reached into the other cot and lifted the cover back gently. She placed the little finger of her other hand into the child’s and the reaction was the same. She smiled as a lovely feeling resonated through her body.
‘They’re lovely,’ she said softly, afraid that her voice might waken them. Maud was smiling too.
‘I’ve loved looking after them,’ she told her, ‘but it was really too much for me.’
Kate glanced at her. ‘They look well for it.’
Maud’s smile broadened into a philosophical expression. ‘Would that I was twenty years younger,’ she said. Then she breathed a deep sigh and lifted her shoulders. ‘But they are yours now. You must treat them like they were your own.’
There was a sound at the door and the two women looked round. It was Kennett.
‘Margaret fought so hard,’ he said softly, thinking of his wife. ‘She never saw them.’
Maud put her hand to her face. Kate felt the sadness draped like a cloak over the room. Kennett walked over to the cribs. He stood there gazing down at his two sons. Then he turned suddenly and looked directly at Kate.
‘You come highly recommended. Please don’t let us down.’ He walked out without saying another word.
Maud brushed her hands down the front of her dress. ‘Well, time for me to get on, I suppose. I’ll leave you to it. If there’s anything you need, please find me and ask.’
‘There is one thing,’ Kate said. ‘What’s in the room next door?’ She had seen a connecting door.
Maud lifted her head a little and thought for a moment. ‘Oh, nothing. Why?’
‘I think I would like to use that room as my own so that I’m next to the twins.’
For a moment, Maud looked a little surprised. Then her expression changed and her shoulders dropped a little. ‘Well, I suppose it makes sense. I’ll have Arthur make the room up for you. Anything else?’
Kate shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Miss Sinclair. I’ll stay with Paul and Michael until my room’s ready.’
Within the hour, the room was ready for her, but so were the twins. Kate had already familiarized herself with the contents of the cupboards and located the powdered milk, clean napkins, baby powder and all that was deemed necessary to bathe and feed two babies. It had proved a little difficult even for someone with Kate’s ability, but soon the two boys were fed and watered, and were sleeping again. And while Kate had been bathing the two little souls, she had been able to examine them carefully for any defects or distinguishing marks that could be used to determine one from the other. From birth, Maud had tied a blue ribbon round Paul’s wrist, but Kate was looking for something else that might help. But there was nothing.
Kate realized she was hungry; the time she had spent with the twins had flown by and she had quite forgotten that she hadn’t eaten for several hours. Now the boys were asleep, her stomach began complaining, so she hurried downstairs to the kitchen and sought out Martha who was sitting at the huge table reading a book. She looked up as Kate came in.
‘Hello, Miss Kate,’ she said, turning the book over and laying it down. ‘You’ll want something to eat, I suppose?’
Kate clasped her hands together. ‘Oh, Martha, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m famished.’
Martha picked up her book, dog-eared the page and closed it. ‘When did you eat last?’ she asked, pushing herself away from the table.
Kate thought hard with a frown on her face. ‘Breakfast, I think.’
Martha gave a knowing nod and went across to the enormous larder. ‘Then you had better have something substantial,’ she said authoritatively. ‘You sit there, my love, and I’ll find something for you.’
The following hour was spent in pleasant small talk, and although Kate’s mind was never far away from the twins, she found Martha’s enthusiasm and chatter compelling and endearing; so much so that she thought she could have spent the entire evening there. The meal of chicken, boiled potatoes chopped and fried in lard, a generous helping of vegetables and a serving of delicious gravy was a banquet to Kate. She was able to manage a portion of apple pie and custard, but had to ward off Martha’s opinion that she needed fattening up and should eat more. Martha also made some tea and served it to Kate in a mug. Kate thought she was going to die after what she had eaten. She had never felt so full in her life. Martha had s
miled through all of Kate’s protests and felt she had done the young girl proud.
Kate literally staggered from the kitchen and hurried up to her room. She looked in at the twins, who were sleeping soundly. Kate knew it wouldn’t be too long before they were demanding food again. She smiled as she thought it best to keep Martha away from them and then went through the connecting door to her room. So far it had been a wonderful day, full of new things, new faces, new countryside and a new family. Kate was happy as she laid her head on her pillow and drifted off to sleep.
Jeremy Kennett stood between the two cribs, looking down at his sons. A thin smile lightened his expression as he reached into both cots and took hold of the tiny fingers curled round the edges of the soft cover. He stared wistfully at them, looking first from one, then to the other. There was no obvious difference between the two angelic faces. He sighed and wished their mother could have been there. He thought about the new girl, Kate, and wondered if she could give what a mother could; whether she could provide the love that only a mother could. He thought about himself and how much of a father he would be and how he would have to change. These thoughts were tumbling through his mind when he heard a noise. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kate leaning against the door jamb of the connecting doorway.
‘Oh. How long have you been there?’ he asked.
Kate brushed her hair away from her forehead. It was untidy from where she had been sleeping. ‘Not long.’ The truth was she had been watching him. ‘I heard you come in.’
Kennett looked back at the door leading into the twins’ room and then at the door in which Kate was standing. ‘Are you. . .?’
Kate nodded and smiled. ‘I had Arthur bring my things through. I decided it would be better for me if I slept close to the twins.’
Kennett looked mildly uncomfortable. ‘My goodness, I didn’t realize.’ He pointed back at the main door. ‘I wouldn’t have. . . .’ He left it unsaid.
Past Imperfect Page 3
