Coming Home to Island House

by Erica James

  ‘He’s a friend,’ she explained, ‘one who adds a refreshing male presence to the house. He cheers us all up. I think we do the same for him.’

  ‘He seems rather taken with you,’ Roddy said, ‘if you don’t mind me saying.’

  ‘I enjoy his company, no more than that, Roddy.’

  ‘Jack wouldn’t want you to be lonely, or to feel that life has to grind to a halt, you know.’

  ‘I do know that,’ Romily said with a smile, ‘but Jack is going to be a hard act to follow. For any man.’

  ‘Even one as charming and dashing as Tony Abbott?’

  She tutted. ‘Even him.’

  ‘I’ll wager he’s a patient fellow.’

  ‘Nobody is patient now,’ she said with a shake of her head, ‘not with this war. Everybody’s in a terrific hurry; look how quickly both Allegra and Florence rushed to marry. But to put your mind at rest, I have no plans to rush into anything. Especially not now.’

  After Romily had driven into the centre of the village, then turned onto Station Road, Roddy said, ‘I do hope you won’t think badly of me about keeping Allegra’s wishes secret, but client confidentiality is at the crux of what I do; I was bound to remain silent. Moreover, I never thought we’d be in the position we now find ourselves.’

  ‘Of course you couldn’t breathe a word of what she discussed with you, I’d be shocked if you had.’

  ‘Thank you for your understanding. And I’d like to thank you personally for agreeing to the terms of the will; it’s not what everybody in your situation would do.’

  Romily turned briefly to look at him. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Roddy, it’s not what I ever thought I would end up doing. Especially as I had begun making plans for the future; I’d decided to apply to the ATA to see if they’d have me.’

  ‘I see,’ said Roddy thoughtfully. ‘And now you feel you can’t do it, that you’re trapped by the promise you made to Allegra?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say trapped exactly, but certainly outmanoeuvred by such a tragic turn of events.’

  ‘You could employ the services of a first-class nanny and still go off and do your bit.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t abandon Allegra’s baby into the care of somebody else right away. And this may surprise you – it certainly surprises me – but I have to admit to possessing more feelings of a maternal persuasion than I would have ever thought possible. Which all adds up to a desire to do the best I possibly can.’

  ‘I applaud you for your altruism, and I have no doubt that Jack would too. But what about your writing? You will still keep that up surely? Your readers would be very disappointed if you stopped. Not to say your publisher.’

  ‘Oh yes, I shall continue writing, and to that end I shall find a way that enables both Hope and myself to pursue our work.’ Romily kept to herself that she thought she knew just the person to help in that respect.

  ‘You have it all worked out by the sounds of things,’ said Roddy.

  ‘Not by a long chalk, but I feel that to a degree, Jack left me custodian of his family, so all I’m doing is trying to honour the faith he had in my ability to succeed where, of his own admission, he failed.’

  After she’d waved Roddy off from the station platform, Romily returned to her car and started for home.

  She was halfway there when she spotted Arthur in a taxi on the other side of the road, presumably heading towards the station and the next train for London. He gave her what she could only describe as a sardonic wave of the hand. She had exchanged no more than a few words with him and was sorry to say she didn’t care if she never set eyes on him again. Her custodianship of Jack’s family stretched only so far. Yet even as she thought this, and acknowledging that Arthur had made the effort to attend Allegra’s funeral, she had to consider the chance that there was perhaps a very small shred of decency to be found within Jack’s eldest child.

  She continued on for a few yards, then had a sudden change of mind. Instead of returning to Island House, she would go to Winter Cottage to check on the house.

  She left the car by the gate and went round to the back of the cottage, knowing that Allegra had kept a key hidden under a flowerpot. But the key wasn’t there. She looked around for another suitable hiding place, and then, out of curiosity, she tried the door. To her surprise, it opened. How strange, she thought. Had somebody been here before her and taken the key away with them? But seeing the key in the lock on the inside, she closed the door behind her and ventured further into the cottage.

  ‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘Is there anybody here?’

  There was no audible reply, but there was the unmistakable sound of movement upstairs. On the kitchen table there were signs of somebody having recently eaten there – an opened tin of corned beef with a fork sticking out of it, together with a half-empty glass of water, gave the impression of an improvised meal of sorts.

  She moved towards the spiral staircase, picking up a china vase from the dresser, and called out again with fearless authority: ‘I know there’s somebody up there. Come down now and make yourself known.’

  Footsteps sounded again over her head, and as she gripped the china vase, a grubby face appeared at the top of the staircase.

  ‘Stanley!’

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  ‘Please don’t be angry, miss, I didn’t mean no harm. It’s just that I missed Bobby. I missed Island House too. And school with Miss Flowerday.’ His words tumbled out of him in a hurried rush.

  ‘I’m not cross with you, Stanley, far from it,’ said Romily. ‘But you did give me a terrible fright just now. How long have you been hiding here? And how did you know the cottage would be empty?’

  ‘I got here late in the night after getting the last train from London. I kept my fingers crossed that Miss Allegra would still be with you at Island House. I knew where she kept a key and I walked over the fields so no one would see me. Only trouble was, it was so dark I got lost and then I fell in a ditch and got all wet and muddy.’ He grinned. ‘I’d forgotten how bloomin’ muddy the countryside is.’

  Romily smiled too. ‘Well, that certainly explains the filthy state of your clothes. We’ll have to get those laundered, and then we’re going to have to think what we’re going to do with you.’

  ‘You ain’t gonna send me back to me mum, are you? You can’t do that. I won’t go back!’

  Romily raised a hand to calm him. ‘For now, let’s not talk about that. Far more important to me is when did you last eat properly?’

  ‘I found a tin of peaches and some corned beef in the larder last night. There weren’t nothing else, other than some flour and sugar. ’ow’s Miss Allegra? ’as the baby come now?’

  Romily drew in her breath and braced herself. ‘I’m afraid I have bad news,’ she said at length. ‘Allegra died after having the baby. We held her funeral today.’

  Stanley’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. ‘But she can’t be. Not bleedin’ dead! Not ’er!’

  ‘That’s how we all feel. We’re in a state of shock.’

  ‘What about the baby?’

  ‘It’s a girl and she’s beautiful, just like … just like her mother.’ Grief welled up inside Romily with a painful suddenness. All day she had kept her emotions in check, but now, explaining to Stanley what had happened, and seeing the look of shocked disbelief on his grubby face, it pierced the veneer of self-control she had mastered for the funeral. His reaction, so raw in its sincerity, brought home to her how close they had all become at Island House. Even a ten-year-old boy had been touched by knowing Allegra for so short a time.

  ‘You all right, miss?’

  She plucked a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, forcing a brightness to her voice. ‘It’s been a long day. Let’s go home and see what Mrs Partridge has got to say when she sees you.’
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  Stanley grinned. ‘She’ll probably threaten to box my ears.’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ said Romily with a small smile, thinking that having the boy back with them would cheer them all up. ‘We’ve missed having you around,’ she added. ‘Especially Bobby.’

  At the mention of his beloved dog, the grin grew even bigger on Stanley’s face. ‘I can’t wait to see him.’ Then his expression abruptly turned serious. ‘’e won’t have forgotten me, will ’e?’

  For the first time in many days, Romily laughed. ‘That’s about as likely as Hitler admitting ’e’s mad.’

  ‘’itler is mad, ain’t ’e, miss?’ Stanley said when they had locked up Winter Cottage and were in the car.

  ‘Dangerously so,’ she replied. ‘And therein lies the true menace we’re fighting. One can’t reason with a madman. All Hitler understands is fighting to the bitter end, and at any cost.’

  ‘Is that what you really think, miss?’

  ‘Sadly I do. All this talk of the war being over before Christmas came to naught, and now there’s no telling what will happen next, or how long we’ll have to wait for an end to it.’

  ‘Maybe the war will go on long enough for me to sign up. I reckon I’d make a good soldier.’

  Regretting how honest she’d been, forgetting that she was talking to a child, Romily changed the subject. ‘Now tell me the real reason you ran away from home.’

  ‘I was ’omesick for ’ere,’ he said. ‘Like I told you.’

  ‘Just that?’

  ‘What else could it be?’ he said, his tone belligerent.

  ‘If it is only homesickness,’ she said slowly, ‘then I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to your mother. It’s simply not a good enough reason for you to stay with us.’

  He folded his arms across his chest and stared grimly out of the window. ‘I won’t stay there if you do send me back,’ he muttered. ‘Nobody can make me stay.’

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  No sooner had Romily pulled to a stop than, in an uncanny display of canine telepathy, Bobby came tearing across the lawn barking loudly. The dog practically flew at Stanley when the boy leapt out of the car. Romily stood for a moment to enjoy the reunion.

  When they eventually made it inside the house, with Bobby still barking excitedly, as though announcing to the world that Stanley was back, Florence was the first to appear in the hallway. The look on her face when she saw the cause of the commotion was priceless.

  ‘I found him lurking at Winter Cottage,’ said Romily. ‘Could you rustle up something for him to eat, please? After he’s had a wash, that is. A jolly good scrub behind the ears is in order, I think.’

  ‘At the very least, I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Florence with a smile. She ruffled the boy’s hair, then gave him a hug. ‘Lucky for you we kept the clothes you left behind,’ she said.

  ‘How’s Isabella?’ asked Romily.

  ‘She’s fine. Hope is giving her a bottle of milk in the kitchen, with Annelise’s help, I might add.’

  ‘Can I see them?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘You can when I’ve scrubbed you with carbolic, young man,’ said Florence. ‘Come on, upstairs you go, and then you can tell me what on earth you’re doing here.’

  ‘I see you ain’t stopped being a bossy-boots,’ he said with a wink.

  She tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘And you’re as cheeky as ever.’

  ‘Can I sleep in my old room, please?’ Romily heard him ask Florence as they reached the landing.

  Florence made up the bed in his old room and dug out a pair of pyjamas, along with the dressing gown Allegra had bought him for Christmas. Florence had suggested they kept everything in case they were allocated a new evacuee, but a small part of her had wondered if Stanley would run away from his mother and come back here. Question was, what were they going to do about it?

  The bed made, she knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Stanley,’ she said, ‘time for me to check how clean you are.’ Earlier he had undressed on his own, making it obvious that he didn’t want her to see him without his clothes, which could have been due to shyness, though Florence knew it wasn’t. She’d felt how he’d flinched when she’d hugged him downstairs in the hall.

  Not giving him the chance to protest, she went straight in. What she saw made her feel physically sick. The poor lad was in a terrible state. She suspected he’d been thrashed with a belt; there were long welts, and marks that could only have been made by a buckle. There were also small round livid circles on his back and stomach. She had the dreadful feeling they were cigarette burns.

  ‘Who did all that to you?’ she said when he was out of the bath and she was carefully wrapping the towel around him.

  ‘I fell,’ he said, avoiding her eyes.

  She knelt in front of him and rubbed at his scalp with another towel to dry his hair, at the same time checking to see if he had brought any lice with him. He hadn’t. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, Stanley,’ she said when she’d finished combing his hair. ‘Not to me of all people. Did I ever tell you how I ended up working for Mrs Devereux-Temple?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘My dad used to beat me something rotten; my brothers too if they’d had a skinful at the pub. It was like a sport to them. And do you know, the worst thing about it was that for years I blamed myself. I thought it was my fault they hit me, that I deserved it, and so I never told a soul; I was too ashamed. What I eventually came to realise was that I had to get away. Then one day, when I was preoccupied with figuring out how I was going to do that, I nearly got myself run over. The driver of the car was Mrs Devereux-Temple, and to cut a long story short, she offered me a job and the chance to escape. So I grabbed that chance and made a new life for myself.’

  ‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hit you, Florence,’ he said quietly, while Bobby nuzzled in closer, as if sensing they were talking about something serious. ‘You’re far too nice and pretty.’

  ‘Yeah well, often it’s the nicest people who get treated the worst. Now tell me the truth: was it your mum who did this to you?’

  He nodded. ‘And ’er new boyfriend. ’e don’t like having me around. I don’t think she does much neither.’

  ‘Why was she so keen to have you back at home, then?’

  ‘She just wanted my ration book, I reckon. But I took it from the kitchen drawer before I left.’

  Florence had heard that this sort of thing was now common; that people would go to any lengths to get their hands on an extra ration book. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘tomorrow I’m taking you to see Dr Garland. I want him to look at those burns; they look infected to me. I’m assuming they are cigarette burns?’

  With the smallest of movements, Stanley nodded again. ‘What will ’appen to me? Will I have to go back?’

  ‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ she said, ‘I’ll find a way to keep you safe if it’s the last thing I do.’

  His eyes brimmed, and near to tears herself, Florence gently slipped her arms around him, taking care not to cause him any pain. ‘Put your slippers on,’ she said, ‘and let’s go downstairs and see what Mrs Partridge has got for you to eat.’

  That evening, after Annelise and Stanley had gone to bed, and after Romily had sat for an age giving Isabella her bottle and then put her to sleep in her cot, she held what she laughingly called a pow-wow in the kitchen.

  With Mrs Partridge presiding over a big pot of tea, everyone gathered around the kitchen table, their faces wreathed in concern as though they were about to hear yet more bad news. Keen to put their minds at rest, Romily began.

  ‘I’ll keep this as brief as I can,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day for us all, but I wanted to thank you both, Florence and Mrs Partridge, for all your help with the funeral. I’d like to think Elijah would have approved of the way it went, and of your support. I’d also like to thin
k that together we make quite a team, wouldn’t you agree, Hope?’

  Hope nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Which leads me on to what I really want to discuss. We have to accept that life has changed yet again for us here, and I think we can safely say that not one of us could have predicted where we are now. And who knows what tomorrow will bring?’

  ‘Who indeed?’ murmured Mrs Partridge, pouring out their tea.

  ‘The way I see it,’ Romily continued, ‘is that to keep the show going, we have to pull together even more, and perhaps our roles here at Island House will have to change accordingly.’ She paused and looked around the table.’

  ‘This sounds terribly ominous. What on earth do you have in mind?’ asked Hope, taking her mug of tea from Mrs Partridge.

  ‘We need somebody to be in charge of the children; somebody caring and dependable, and above all somebody the children will love.’

  ‘You mean hire a nanny?’

  The expression on Florence’s face as she asked the question told Romily that she hated the thought of that happening. Hope didn’t look too happy either.

  ‘Not as such,’ said Romily. ‘What I have in mind is this: Florence, I’d like you to take on the job of caring for the children. Annelise and Stanley already adore you, and Isabella will—’

  ‘But I’m not qualified,’ interrupted Florence, clearly taken aback at the suggestion. ‘I mean, I’m just a housemaid.’

  ‘You’re not just a housemaid,’ said Romily with a frown, ‘and don’t let me ever hear you say that again. You’re blessed with common sense, firmness, and a loving and kind heart, I don’t believe there is anyone better qualified than you to be the children’s official nursery nurse.’

  Hope smiled at Florence. ‘Romily’s right, you’d be perfect. Annelise would hate the idea of a stranger playing with her or putting her to bed now.’

  ‘But what about my other duties? I’m not lazy, Miss Romily, you know that, but there’s only so much time in the day. As it is, there are things I have to skimp on.’