crowded and she tried not to run but when she came to a line of shops close to South Caro-lina Avenue, she found herself darting into a shop, breathless and sweating with fear.
‘Can I help?’ A woman, also in black, stepped forward. ‘There’s a man following me,’ Celeste blurted. ‘A man in a black homburg, He’s been
following me.’ She could hardly spit out the words. ‘Come with me,’ said the woman kindly. ‘There’s a back entrance out of the store. If he
comes in here, he’ll wish he hadn’t. Where’re you heading?’ ‘D Street . . . South. Thank you.’
‘You’re not American?’
‘English,’ she smiled. ‘Which is the quickest route from here to D Street?’ ‘Make for 12th or 13th and keep heading down towards Kentucky Avenue. There are
plenty of back alleys for cover. You just leave him to me, honey. Out the yard and down the passage. Good luck.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Celeste stammered.
‘We widows must stick together. They think we’re easy pickings without a man.’ Celeste didn’t contradict her. All she could think of was getting back to Roddy. What if
Grover had sent this man to snatch him? What if he had him already? May had told her about the photo and the studio address on the back. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to make enquiries about obtaining a copy. He didn’t know her new name but perhaps the assistant would ferret out their appointment date or something? What if this man had been following her routine and she hadn’t noticed until now? She ran until her lungs were bursting, not daring to see if he was in sight. It was such a relief to see Roddy, waiting on the step for her return, oblivious to her panic.
‘Come inside!’ she yelled, her hands shaking as she tried to turn the lock. ‘Aw . . . Mom!’
‘Come inside now!’ she screamed, dragging him out of sight of the street, bolting the door behind them. ‘Has anyone been here asking for me?’
Roddy looked up, shaking his head. ‘Do I have to get changed?’ ‘Not today. I want you to pack all your favourite things in the carpetbag, the one under
the stairs, and some books –just special ones, though. I’m going to pack our case.’ ‘We’re going on a vacation?’
‘Sort of . . . a trip north.’
‘But you’ve got the tea party. It’s Thursday,’ he said. ‘Not today. I’ll leave a note on the door. Hurry, there’s not a moment to lose. This is go-
ing to be a big adventure.’
‘Yippee,’ Roddy yelled. At least someone was happy. Her mind was whirling. How were they going to get across Washington to Union Sta-
tion? Take a tram? Or risk walking in the open? Or stay here until dark? If Grover’s gum-shoe was watching the house, it could be dangerous. What if Grover was lurking around, ready to pounce on his son himself? Perhaps she’d imagined the whole thing but the look of triumph on that man’s face remained imprinted in her mind.
Calm down! The moment you’ve been dreading has come but you knew it would. Everything is ready enough for your flight.
It was then she had a crazy idea to put the man off her scent. It was dangerous but worth a try. They must leave; she couldn’t risk another failure. No one would be taking her son, not now, not ever.
Calm down, think it through. If he’s out there with Grover, he’ll be expecting you to dash out now. Wait, there’s another way not so obvious that might just work, but you’ll have to act fast.
Later Celeste tried to stop her hands shaking as she rattled the teacups and passed the cakes around.
‘Now, girls, we’re going to play a game today, a sort of dressing-up and changing clothes game to know how it feels to be different. A lady must judge people not by outerwear, plain clothes or being in servants’ uniforms but by the kindness of someone’s actions. I want you to see how it feels for me to put on one of your uniforms and remember how it felt when I was fourteen. We’ll take a walk in the street together and pretend.’
‘Like charades?’ said Mabel, one of the girls from church. ‘Not quite,’ Celeste replied, sensing their confusion. ‘Let’s have some fun walking
around outside, seeing how it feels going shopping in someone else’s clothes, perhaps. You all know how to take tea politely now. I think it’s time for us to learn how to walk in each other’s shoes for a change.’
She could sense they were intrigued and up for a diversion from the usual polite regime. It was risky, but worth a try. Trying to persuade Roddy to put on a girl’s frock was another matter.
‘Oh, Mom! I’m not playing this stupid game.’
‘Please. Do as I say,’ she whispered. ‘IT IS IMPORTANT! It won’t be for long, I prom-ise.’ His disguise was the key to their escape. ‘And you must wear a hat too.’
The smallest girl swapped her dress and petticoats to squeeze into his sailor suit. They plonked his boater on her head with her pigtails stuffed inside. Everyone laughed. Roddy sulked. Celeste slipped on Mabel’s school uniform, and everybody laughed again. She was so slim she could fit into it easily. She covered her hair with a beret and made for the door, trying to look as if this was just a silly game and not a deadly serious attempt to avoid de-tection.
She looked back with regret at what she was leaving behind. It had been a safe haven un-til now, four rooms they could call their own. This was not time for sentimentality, though; there was no room for anything but essentials and documents. She was prepared for this journey, and she was not making the same mistake again.
‘Round the block, just for fun, and look out to see how it feels,’ she ordered. There was a lot of giggling as they made for the front door and down the steps to the
sidewalk, all dressed in each other’s clothes and hats. She waved back to the empty win-dow as they left the house, her eyes darting to the street corner. And yes, the same man was slouching there, pretending to read a paper, trying to ignore the gaggle of noisy schoolgirls as they walked past on the opposite side of the street and turned round the block. Would it only be a matter of time before Grover arrived too?
The man was still waiting when they turned the corner and made for 16th Street. Celeste stopped them. ‘This is where we must part company. I’m sorry to deceive you all with this charade but we must go,’ she whispered, and she darted to the back yard where the bags were tucked out of sight behind the door. The girls all changed back, puzzled and silent. Roddy threw off the dress, watching as she said goodbye to each girl in turn, kissing each on the forehead.
‘Tell your parents that I’m taking a sudden vacation and I’ll let them know when we re-turn by letter. Thank you for being such sports but I have one favour to ask. Mabel, can I keep this uniform on for a few more hours? I’ll leave it at the left luggage in the station.’
‘What’s happening, Mrs Wood?’
Celeste didn’t answer. How could she explain the bizarre behaviour of these last precious minutes? There was no time. She and Roddy needed to get downtown before the investigat-or rumbled their deception. ‘Let me just say, girls, thanks for going along with this. It may seem silly to you but you’ll never know how much we appreciate your playing this little game today. Remember, never be afraid to step out of line for what you believe in. Make sure you choose your path carefully, not drift into what others want you to do and you’ll do just fine.’
Two of the girls picked up the travel bag between them and the other was taken up too. ‘We’ll walk you to the bus, if you like.’
‘No,’ said Mabel Whiteley ‘I‘ve got a better idea, let’s go to my house and Bluett can drive you there.’
Celeste could have broken down right there with gratitude but she smiled and merely said, ‘Thank you, how kind.’
It was hard to leave but they had no choice. Grover knew where they lived and what they looked like, and there would be photographs. But with the minimum of fuss and disguise she’d bought some time. This time they had the right papers and the passage fare. This time she was going home.
All the way to
Union Station, Celeste was sweating, peering out of the window in case they were being followed, certain Grover would not be far behind them now. The traffic suddenly slowed and the limousine drew to a halt. She wanted to run the rest of the way but knew it was better to sink down into the leather seats and relax, plan their exit, and calm her nerves. No one would expect them to be driving there in style.
Had her husband put a watch on the station? They should hide in the ladies’ rest room after they had their railroad tickets to New York. Once on board, she was sure they’d be safe enough, though the thought of boarding a transatlantic liner again filled her with dread.
Pull yourself together. May did it in worse conditions than yours. Show some true grit. Lichfield
One afternoon, unaware of Celeste’s dramas, May was summoned after school to see Miss Parry. What was wrong? Was Ella ill? But she was sitting outside the office reading a book, looking surprised by her mother’s flustered arrival. May was ushered in and the door closed behind her.
‘There’s just a little confusion I need to clear up, Mrs Smith. Don’t look so worried but Ella has been telling her class that her father was lost with Captain Scott. We were doing a topic on brave men and I was telling them to write about snow and ice. Ella prefers to draw, as you know. She said her father sailed in the captain’s ship and fell in the water.’
May felt herself go hot and cold. Miss Parry continued, not looking at her but fingering the papers on her desk.
‘It’s not the first time, Mrs Smith, that we’ve had pupils who are not quite sure of their parentage, who are perhaps not the result of a legitimate union. We’re very understanding on these matters, of course, but it is not wise for a child to know of such affairs.’
‘I’m sorry,’ May spluttered, ‘but she’s got it all mixed up. Yes, it’s true, my husband died at sea, Joseph Smith. He was going out to America to prepare a home for us. It was a terrible accident. Ella doesn’t know the real circumstances. I saw no reason to tell her much. She’s that fanciful, she’s made this up. We have no grave to visit, you see. I’m sorry, I didn’t think. How can she say such things?’
‘I understand how difficult that must be, of course,’ said the teacher. ‘You know she’s a very bright girl with a big imagination, and her drawing is well advanced for her age. Bright girls tend to romance and daydream. We hope she’ll take a Minor scholarship in due course to the High School . not that we’d want to lose her but I am aware of your circumstances.’ She coughed. ‘Was your husband artistic?’
‘He was good with his hands,’ May offered. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. She’ll get her backside tanned for this.’
‘No, please, Mrs Smith, this is a simple misunderstanding. She’s just a little girl and like so many now she has no daddy to pin her dreams on. The war has torn so many families
apart. She’s too young to understand what she was saying. It’s hard to work and raise a child on your own. She is a credit to you.’
May bowed her head. ‘I want Ella to have the chances me and Joe never got. My husband I were both orphans up north, we planned to start a new life in America. His loss was a terrible blow.’ She felt herself welling up and ferreted for her hanky sniffing. ‘And now this.’
‘Forget the whole matter. I’m so glad you told me. It will stay within these walls, I can assure you.’
‘I don’t like to think about it or care to remember the past. What shall I do about Ella then?’
‘Nothing, just tell her the truth and make sure she knows who her real father is. Paint a mental picture so she can draw him and imagine him. Tell her his story and then she won’t need to pretend.’
May left the study shaking. ‘Come on, you have caused enough trouble for one day.’ How could she be cross with Ella? But she was, for dredging up all their business and re-minding her again of what she had lost and how she was lying to everyone around her. For many nights afterwards she lay awake mulling over Miss Parry’s sensible advice.
How can I tell her the truth about her dad? I don’t know who he was or is . . . or her mother, either. I have taken a child from her parents, dead or alive. How can I tell even more lies to cover this up? What do I do now?
Dear Celeste
Where are you now? Are you safe? I’ve not been able to sleep since the business with Mr Parkes. How silly of me to leave Roddy’s picture on view.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but my nerves are all jangled. Ella’s been playing up at school, telling fibs about her father being one of the explorer Captain Scott’s crew. How his ship froze in the Antarc-tic and her father fell out into the ice. How can she think up such things at her age? Miss Parry said she may be pining for her daddy but she never knew him. I’ve told her what she needs to know, but not about the Titanic. She’s too young for all that.
Sometimes it is so hard to keep up with her questions. I try to keep her busy. She goes to Miss Francetti’s dancing class on Saturday mornings and to an art class after school. She has Sunday school and there is something called Brownies I have heard about in the paper. I take her to the picture house but that only makes her fancies worse. I hope she doesn’t get teased at school for having such an ordinary background. Sometimes she clings and says her tummy hurts and that she doesn’t want to go to school.
My mind has been going over and over the sinking and I keep hearing those voices crying for help from the waves. My appetite isn’t what it was. You’d find me a poor wreck if you saw me just when I thought I was getting some spark back. I find everything an effort. I don’t know what’s happening to me. If only I could sleep better, but I lie awake going over things in my head, then I’ve no patience in the morning. Tell me to pull myself together. There are others far worse off than me. Please help me clear my head.
Yours, restless in the night,
In the morning she read over what she’d written and tore it up. No one wanted to hear such nonsense.
SS Saxonia, August 1919
Roddy looked up at the huge ship in the dock. ‘Are we going on this?’ Celeste nodded, gripping his hand. ‘All the way to England to see your grandfather and
Uncle Selwyn.’
‘But what about school?’
‘I’ve written to the principal and to the parents of my etiquette classes. Now all the sol-diers are back from war, they no longer want ladies in the government offices. You’ll be going to a new school in the fall . . . which we call autumn, by the way.’
‘But why did we have to go away so quickly?’
It had been a long trek from the echoing noisy station to the docks, and the journey overnight to New York had left them tired. Celeste had paced up and down all night in case they were being watched. She couldn’t believe they’d got here without trouble.
‘Roderick, remember there was a nasty man following us. Well, he can’t find us here.’ ‘Why was he nasty?’
‘It’s a grown-up story, darling. One day when you’re a bit older I’ll explain, but when anyone asks you about your papa you must say very politely that you haven’t got one. He died in the war.’
‘Did he?’ Roddy asked puzzled.
‘You just say you have no father now and people won’t ask any more questions. You’re not to tell anyone our business, not on board ship or when we get home. Do you understand? It’s really important.’
He nodded, not really understanding any of it.
‘Oh, and one more thing . . . you must keep this spare life preserver on at all times, no matter what anyone says.’
‘I’m not wearing that thing. It’s silly!’ he said, pushing the child’s yachting vest back at her.
‘Make sure you keep it in sight when we set sail. There’s a good reason why I’m asking you,’ she pleaded. ‘Things happen out of the blue.’ She straightened her short wavy hair and
grey tweed suit with the fur collar. In her rush she’d come without a decent hat and felt underdressed.
‘Like wha
t?’
Celeste looked up at the lifeboats, automatically counting them. ‘If you hear a buzzer, run to the lifeboats and get in, no matter what they tell you. Promise me . . .’
‘Yeah, Mom, but where’ll we live? Why are we in such a hurry?’ ‘I told you, we’re going home to Lichfield to see your grandfather and we’ll stay with
Uncle Selwyn until I can find work. He’ll take us in. You’ll meet my friend May and her little girl, Ella. She’ll be there to play with.’
‘Do I have to? I hate playing with girls. I’m not dressing up again.’ ‘That was just a game. That nasty man was watching our house and we had to get out
without him following us.’
‘Have we run away to sea?’ Roddy looked up at her and she smiled. ‘I suppose we have, Roddy. I’d never thought about it like that, but yes, I think we have.’ ‘Great! That’s OK then,’ he smiled, staring up at the ship. ‘Nobody else in my class will
be doing this, will they?’
Celeste was relieved to see his excitement. ‘Come on, Jim Hawkins, the adventure be-gins.’
On the second day into the voyage, Celeste leaned over the railings, rain beating on her face, as the Saxonia glided through the choppy grey waters. They were out in the Atlantic, far from the haven of New York Harbour. How different from the last time. The surge of relief to be homeward bound was tinged with a shiver of fear that she was putting her trust in the ocean again. She’d tried not to think about her nightmares: screaming passengers, floating bodies, the sight of the mighty ship on its end, sliding down into the watery depths. In some strange way, Grover’s investigator had diluted her dread of coming aboard. They had to get away, but she felt sad to be telling Roddy a pack of lies, to be depriving him of
Fleming, Leah - The Captain's Daughter Page 19
