‘From what we understand she is very bright. Stephen intends her to go to a good school, to turn her into a lady of quality.’
‘But if I say no, what then?’ Charity couldn’t bring herself to admit she considered Stephen spiteful enough to do something disastrous to all of them if she refused. ‘Will it spoil it for Toby? And James is only a baby. What about him?’
‘Stephen is a little hot-headed. He hasn’t thought all this through yet. My suggestion is that he leaves all three of them with the Charleses for the time being, then once you’re settled here and their schools are sorted out, they spend the holidays with us.’
That last evening, as she sat with her grandmother, Charity learned what had happened to her mother. Grandmother stated the facts in a cold, detached way, almost as if she were talking about someone else’s daughter, but Charity could see that dredging up the past cost her dear.
Though Stephen went away to Eton, followed by Sandhurst, Gwen’s education had consisted of scratchy lessons with a governess. The summer of 1939 she was eighteen and left to her own devices because of the threatened war.
‘All the male staff enlisted,’ Grandmother explained. ‘Jackson joined the brigadier as his batman. Even Miss Cody the governess left to offer herself as a nurse. When Rory Calhoun came by one day and offered his services I was delighted. The house and grounds were becoming terribly neglected and able-bodied men were much in demand.’
Charity sat very still on the bed. She wanted to picture the scene and find the missing piece in what she knew of her mother.
‘The man was an Irish gypsy,’ Grandmother said. ‘He had been turned down for active service because of an old injury to his leg, though aside from a slight limp I could see nothing wrong with him. At the time I saw him as a godsend: groom, gardener, plumber, carpenter and chauffeur, he handled it all. Henry held him in very high regard, even gave him a room above the stables. It never occurred to him that the man would seduce his daughter.’
‘Mother fell in love with him?’ Charity had read enough romantic books to identify with a happy black-haired Irishman, even if she was too young to understand about first love.
‘But why wouldn’t you let Mother marry him if he was nice?’
‘Oh Charity! Your grandfather was an officer and a gentleman. It just wasn’t done. Gwen was an innocent trusting girl who was taken in by a charming wastrel.’
‘But poor Mother – was she very upset?’
‘She ran off! We sent her to some relatives in Sussex once we’d dismissed Calhoun, but she never arrived. Henry refused even to try and find her. As he pointed out, there was a war going on and he didn’t want her shaming the family further.’
‘When did you see Mother again, then?’ Charity asked. She had a strong feeling her grandmother was only telling her part of the story.
‘Not until ’44. It was chaos here. Bitterly cold. What with rationing and no help in the house it wasn’t very welcoming. On top of that the house had been requisitioned by the military, so there were strange men coming and going at all hours. I was in bed with influenza when Gwen just arrived out of the blue with your father, Bertram, in tow and informed me they were getting married.’
‘Did you like my father?’
Isobel Pennycuick gave her granddaughter an odd look, as if she wondered what had prompted the question.
‘I was impressed by him,’ she said. ‘He was a handsome man, big and strong with a beautiful speaking voice. But he made me nervous. He was too forceful, too opinionated.’
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Charity the whole truth; not now, not ever. Gwen had become a different person in her long absence. The old Gwen had been vibrant and confident, could ride as well as any man, dance, sing and charm anyone. But that pretty daredevil was gone. In her place was a clean but shabbily dressed woman, her hair scraped back in a tight bun, looking much older than a twenty-three-year-old. The old Gwen had gone for ever.
‘Why did she have to marry Father? Couldn’t she have got a job somewhere?’
The old lady hesitated. It was a golden opportunity to warn her granddaughter against the dangers of tasting the sweetness of first love without the security of marriage. Something worse than losing Rory Calhoun had robbed her daughter of her looks and youth.
Charity picked up the picture of her mother that had been taken at her uncle’s wedding. She felt unbearably saddened by the fact that such a happy, pretty girl should grow up to become the defeated, bitter woman she remembered. ‘I wish she’d told me about all this. I shan’t ever keep secrets from my children.’
‘You might.’ Isobel Pennycuick caught hold of her granddaughter’s hand tightly. ‘You’ll understand that one day. None of us goes through life without being ashamed of something.’
It was the first time she’d touched Charity since the girl had arrived.
Chapter Five
‘How could that old bastard make her help give him an enema?’ Lou ranted to Geoff. ‘I suspected he was a pervert!’
Charity had told Geoff most of the tale about her stay with her uncle during the ride home from the station but it was heavily censored for the benefit of the children. Later she spilled out the whole story.
It was raining heavily, as it had been all day, but in the den it was cosy, the curtains drawn and a large jigsaw Lou had been doing with the children left out on the table.
‘I hate the man without even meeting him.’ Geoff moved from a seat at the table and flung himself down beside his wife on the settee. ‘I don’t like any of his ideas, but most of all I despise his plans for Charity.’
Lou had a really bad feeling about Stephen Pennycuick. It seemed to her this man was seeing the children as lumps of clay he could mould as he chose, without any thought to their needs, personalities or talents. Although at the moment Charity was their prime concern, Toby was another problem area.
As the months had passed it had become clear that Toby was a little disturbed. He was sneaky, told lies and on several occasions Lou had suspected he stole pennies from her purse. Worse still in her eyes was his tendency to bully other children. He seemed to look for weakness and then prey on it.
Yet however much they felt for all four children, they had no choice but to comply with the colonel’s wishes. He was their legal guardian and to go against him would only jeopardise the future of the entire family.
‘We’ll have to move fast,’ she said. ‘Find Charity a job he can’t argue about.’
‘But what?’
‘It would have to be a live-in one.’
‘A school?’ Geoff raised one eyebrow. ‘Under-housekeeper, assistant matron or something? We could suggest it was good training for her.’
‘If we side with Charity, he might take the others away,’ she said in a weak voice. ‘What do we do, Geoff?’
Geoff pondered the question for a moment, stroking his wife’s neck comfortingly.
‘There’s no guarantee he’ll let us keep them anyway,’ he said at length. ‘But if we didn’t try to protect Charity’s interests, we’d never forgive ourselves.’
‘I’m not so worried about Prue,’ Lou said. ‘A good school and an upper-class environment wouldn’t do her any harm.’
Geoff smiled. Neither of them had any doubt that Prue would pass her eleven-plus with flying colours. She liked order and nice things, gravitated to those children at school who came from good homes. She was anxious to have ballet and piano lessons and expressed a strong dislike for all things ‘common’. The truth was, she was a little snob and at heart she was very much a Pennycuick. If she knew her uncle was intending to turn her into ‘a lady’, she would heartily approve.
‘It might turn out all right for Toby too,’ Geoff said reluctantly. ‘You know my views on public schools, but he’d probably relish it – all that sport and plenty of male company.’
‘But the holidays?’ Lou pulled a face. ‘I bet that stupid man hasn’t even thought of that! Toby’s a little rascal and he needs love
and stability. A bully of an uncle is hardly a good role model!’
Geoff patted her hand.
‘Let’s concentrate on Charity first,’ he suggested. ‘Who knows, he might lose interest in the others when he’s had a chance to think about it.’
‘Pigs might fly!’ Lou said darkly.
‘It looks a nice place!’ Charity studied the Bowes Court school prospectus intently. It was in Heathfield, Sussex, a part of England she’d been told was very lovely. The photographs showed a splendid mansion set in acres of playing fields and it had a reputation for being a fine, if lesser-known, public school for boys. ‘But what would I do there?’
‘They are looking for a kitchen maid.’ Geoff smiled reassuringly. ‘That doesn’t sound very thrilling, but the vicar’s niece worked there for a year and she loved it. You’d be helping the cook, laying tables, all the things you help us with here, only on a bigger scale. There’s other staff for company, you’ll have a nice room and long holidays you can spend with us. If you continue to study, in a year or two’s time you’ll be able to move on to something better.’
Charity was nervous about working anywhere and the thought of having to leave the Charleses’ home was terrifying. But this was a better prospect than working for Uncle Stephen, and she trusted Geoff’s judgement.
‘When can I go for an interview?’ she said in a tremulous voice.
‘I’ll ring now.’ Geoff smiled encouragingly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take you down there. We aren’t just going to abandon you.’
Geoff went off to this study to telephone the school, but his heart was still heavy. Charity had been back from her uncle’s for two weeks now and he knew she was still brooding about it.
Miss Downes, whom they thought they could count on, had taken the colonel’s side. In fact she described Charity’s reluctance to live with her uncle as ‘ingratitude’ and stated quite bluntly that she believed the girl was being malicious towards him.
In another child Geoff might have suspected this too, but Charity was very honest and the kind of detail she’d given them was too clear to be anything but the truth. Evidently Colonel Pennycuick had charmed the social workers, and suggested she was incapable of earning her own living. Now Charity had to prove she was.
‘I didn’t expect it to be as lovely as this,’ Charity said breathlessly as Geoff drove in through huge wrought-iron gates and up the long gravel drive. ‘It looks like a palace, not a school.’
Lush green playing fields surrounded the I-shaped house, with a tower at each end. Mullioned windows twinkled in the bright sunshine and brightly coloured flowers cascaded over two huge urns on either side of steps up to a vast studded front door.
‘Well it was a home to the Bowes family for three hundred years before it became a school,’ Geoff told her. Charity’s mood on the drive from London had swung between sheer terror and excitement and he wished he could find the right words to soothe her anxiety. ‘Now all you have to remember is that it is a school. They are used to young people and they won’t be cruel to you. It may seem huge and scary, but it’s run just like any other household.’
He glanced round at Chàrity as he drove past the front of the school towards the side door Mr Alderton the head had directed him to. She looked so small and vulnerable in the navy blue suit Lou had bought her for this interview. Her knees sticking out from the straight skirt were thin and childlike and her white blouse too severe for one so young; even her hair tied back with a ribbon at the nape of her neck merely accentuated her tender years.
‘It must need dozens of people to look after it,’ she whispered in awe. ‘It’s even bigger than Studley!’
‘You’ll find it’s better run. Most of the domestic staff come in from the village,’ Geoff said. ‘I shouldn’t fancy the job as groundsman, though. Imagine if Lou sent me out to cut all that grass!’
Charity laughed. Auntie Lou was always badgering him to cut their lawn, and compared to this it was nothing.
‘Imagine me cooking bacon and eggs for two hundred boys,’ she retorted. ‘I hope I don’t have to peel all the spuds on my own!’
A slender grey-haired lady in a dark blue uniform and stiffly starched cap came out of a semi-basement door and up a few steps to greet them as Geoff stopped the car. She had a severe face, with a chin that disappeared into her neck, and the kind of bright, dark eyes that suggested she missed nothing.
‘You must be Miss Stratton,’ she smiled as she came forward. ‘I’m Miss Hawkins, the school housekeeper. Do come in, I trust you had a pleasant drive down?’
Uncle Geoff thrust out his hand. ‘Geoffrey Charles,’ he said, shaking the housekeeper’s firmly. ‘Would you prefer to speak to Miss Stratton alone? I could wait out here.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Miss Hawkins held out her hand to Charity. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer your uncle to stay, wouldn’t you? May I call you Charity?’
She ushered them back down the steps and through a huge deserted kitchen. ‘It’s not usually like this.’ She smiled. ‘This is the hub of the whole school during term time. Sheer bedlam.’
Charity noticed the grease-free pale blue walls, the spotless tiled floor, vast cooker and two big sinks in an adjoining room. Afternoon sunshine came in at the windows, and despite its size the kitchen had a homely look.
Miss Hawkins led them through an arched door into a stone-flagged lobby.
‘I’ll show you round a bit later, but for now I think tea in my office will suffice while we have a little chat.’
Charity lost her bearings almost immediately as they were led up a narrow plain wooden staircase, and down a corridor past umpteen doors. There was complete silence everywhere and although Miss Hawkins explained that a skeleton staff was still here cleaning up now the boys had gone home, they neither saw nor heard anyone.
‘It’s like a rabbit warren,’ Miss Hawkins said cheerfully. ‘Staircases and doors all over the place. I was enchanted with it from my first day here over twenty years ago.’
The office was a bright sunny room at the back, overlooking the quadrangle with steps down on to the playing fields. In the distance Charity could see a wall; beyond that were woods and farmland. The office was furnished with only a desk and a few chairs, yet the walls were covered in shelves holding everything from cans of cleaning materials to recipe books, and even a few sad-looking soft toys.
Miss Hawkins followed Charity’s glance.
‘Left behind by boys that outgrew them,’ she smiled. ‘I can’t bring myself to throw them out. Now do sit down, Carol our other maid will bring up the tea shortly.’
She outlined the duties expected of Charity: helping prepare meals, cleaning the refectory between meals, washing up, laying tables and generally helping with anything that needed doing.
‘We work it on a rota system,’ she explained. ‘Some days you will start work early and go right through till after lunch, with the rest of the day off. Others you will start at noon and work through the afternoon until supper. You will have a regular day off once a week, but these can be arranged sometimes so you have two together; then you can go home if you so wish. I have a curfew for my younger staff of ten. If for any reason you wish this to be extended, or you wish to have a night away, you must ask my permission.’
They were interrupted by the girl Carol coming in with the tea. Aged around eighteen, she was a buxom, fresh-faced girl with a mop of red curly hair, wearing a blue and white striped overall. She put the tray of tea down on the desk and smiled at Charity with obvious interest.
‘This is Carol Lomas,’ Miss Hawkins introduced them. ‘Should you decide to come, she will show you the ropes and I hope you will become friends. How long have you been with us, Carol?’
‘Two years, ma’am, come this September.’ She had an engaging accent that Charity didn’t recognise, and sparkling brown eyes.
‘Carol, like most of the domestic staff, is cleaning up now after the boys. Next week she will be going home for the rest of the holida
ys. Where is home, Carol? It’s slipped my memory.’
‘Newton Abbot, ma’am.’
‘Thank you Carol.’ Miss Hawkins dismissed her. ‘I may call you later to show Charity the staff rooms if I don’t have time for the full tour.’
Charity realised that Uncle Geoff had told Miss Hawkins a great deal about her, for she asked few personal questions. Instead she asked her about what books she liked, and her ambitions.
‘Nursing or looking after children,’ Miss Hawkins said thoughtfully. ‘Well being here might change your mind about the latter. But at seventeen you can apply to a hospital or even a nursery nursing college. Now, how do you feel about the position? Have you any questions?’
‘I’d like to work here, please,’ Charity replied quickly. ‘Do I have to wear a uniform?’
‘An overall, cap and apron.’ Miss Hawkins smiled at her eagerness. ‘I’ll kit you out on arrival. Sensible, flat shoes and your hair tied back at all times when you are working. Your salary will start at four pounds ten shillings a week for a trial period of one term. That of course includes your room and board. If you are considered suitable, this will be raised then.’
‘It’s wonderful, Uncle Geoff,’ Charity trilled as they drove back out of the gates. She’d seen her little room up on the top floor, with Carol right next to her. She’d seen the classrooms, the refectory, the kitchens and staff-rooms and although her head was swimming with it all she was so excited she couldn’t wait to start in September.
‘It sounds like quite hard work,’ Geoff reminded her. ‘Those huge pans and trays of food looked pretty heavy to me.’
‘I’m sure no one will be like Uncle Stephen,’ Charity giggled. ‘I’ve had plenty of training with grumpy, difficult people.’
She really liked Carol. She said she was glad Charity was young because they could spend their spare time together. She also said the cook Mrs Cod was a witch, but Miss Hawkins was ‘fair enough’, but as long as she did her job properly it was quite a ‘cushy number’.
‘I don’t want you to go away,’ Prudence whined as Charity folded her clothes into her case. ‘I’ll miss you so much.’
Charity Page 9
