Sons and Daughters

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll get in touch with the authorities. The Red Cross, perhaps.’

  ‘Is it a German POW camp?’ Philip asked.

  ‘I believe it’s a place called Colditz.’

  Philip raised his head, stared at his father for a moment, and then began to laugh.

  Mystified, Miles and Charlotte glanced at each other and then looked at Philip questioningly.

  ‘Dad, that’s the safest place in Germany at the moment. It’s a castle where they send unruly prisoners. All the escapees end up in Colditz Castle. Good old Georgie, he must have been giving the Germans a right run-around to end up there.’

  ‘You mean, he’s been trying to escape, Phil?’ Miles asked.

  ‘Several times, probably. It’s the place they send POWs who keep trying to escape. Good old Georgie.’ Philip raised his glass again. ‘Give ’em hell, little brother.’

  ‘I must go to London,’ Miles said suddenly the following morning at breakfast.

  Felix and Charlotte exchanged a puzzled glance.

  ‘To see the authorities, you mean? About Georgie?’

  ‘Well, perhaps, but I want to tell Jenny myself. She adored Georgie. I want her to know that he’s alive.’

  ‘Of course.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’

  ‘If you’d like to. But what about old Felix here? He’s our guest . . .’

  ‘Goodness, don’t worry about me, my dears. I still have a lot of work to do on my painting. I shall be quite happy. And I’ll keep Philip company too, when he’s feeling up to it. No, no, you two go. And take my key. You can stay at my flat overnight, if you have to. Travelling is abominable just now.’

  ‘We must take some food for Jenny’s family,’ Charlotte said, getting up from the table. ‘I’ll go and see Mrs Beddows.’

  As Felix had predicted, their journey was fraught with delays and the carriages were packed with troops. But everyone was good-humoured and the soldiers readily gave up a seat for Charlotte.

  At last they arrived in the city and it was already mid-afternoon by the time the taxi cab dropped them off at the end of the street where Miles knew Jenny lived.

  ‘Bombing’s not so bad now, mate,’ the friendly taxi driver told them as he handed Miles his change. ‘But you’ll see for yourself how bad we had it in the Blitz. Let’s hope it don’t all start up again. It’s like this all over the city.’

  He nodded down the street where Jenny lived. ‘You can see for yourself. That happened earlier this month. They reckon there was a hundred thousand bombs dropped on poor ol’ London in one night. Poor devils down this street got it bad. Direct hit on those houses in the middle of the street.’

  ‘What?’ Miles’s face paled and he turned around to look. ‘Oh no – no!’

  The taxi driver was pulling away from the kerb, leaving them standing on the uneven pavement.

  Sensing Miles’s anxiety, Charlotte linked her arm through his. ‘Let’s go and see before we start to panic.’

  ‘But – but their house is in the centre of the row. Oh Charlotte . . .’ His voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

  They walked down the rubble-strewn street, appalled to see huge piles of debris where once a house – someone’s home – had been.

  Suddenly Miles stopped in front of a mound of bricks and shattered glass. A door lay drunkenly on its side and amongst the rubbish they could see torn curtains, a table, a broken chair, and even shattered pots and dented pans.

  ‘Is it – is it their house?’ Charlotte whispered.

  ‘I – I don’t know. I can’t quite get my bearings. I only came that one time and Jenny led me here, so . . . There were children playing in the street.’

  But today there were no children anywhere.

  ‘It’s number fifteen,’ Charlotte ventured. ‘That’s where we’ve been writing.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course, then . . . ?’ He glanced around and saw a woman climbing over the rubble further down the street. ‘Let’s ask her. She might know.’

  They picked their way carefully towards the stranger, who was bending over, picking up bricks and discarding them, obviously trying to uncover some of her precious possessions – anything that she could salvage.

  ‘Excuse me . . .’

  The woman looked up at the sound of Miles’s voice. She didn’t smile and Charlotte was shocked by the look of defeat and hopelessness in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude,’ Miles said gently, ‘but we’re looking for number fifteen.’

  The woman’s face was grim as she pointed to the ground beneath her feet. ‘This is it. I lived at number seventeen – right next door.’ She scrambled over the rubble towards them. Miles held out his hand to help her step down on to the pavement.

  ‘Ta, mister.’ On firm ground, she glanced from one to the other. ‘You want to know what happened?’

  Charlotte nodded.

  ‘Took a direct hit, our houses did. Mine and Dot’s. Well, what was Dot’s. Rest of the street – ’ she glanced behind her and waved her arm – ‘damaged, o’ course, but most of ’em’s still standing. Still, we was lucky in a way. No one was killed in this street.’

  Charlotte’s heart lifted. ‘So – where are they? Where’s Jenny and her mother?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘Gawd knows. Done a moonlight weeks back. Just after Jenny came back from the country.’ She glanced at them, searching their faces keenly. ‘Are you the folks the little lass stayed wiv?’

  When Charlotte nodded, the woman actually smiled, though it was a sad, wistful smile. ‘Eh, fancy that. She never stopped talking about you. About the fields and the beach and how you let her paint pretty pictures. She loved it up there wiv you, she did.’ Her face clouded. ‘But Dot got a bee in her bonnet that we were thinking she was a bad mother ’cos all the other kids’d come home and hers hadn’t. Silly cow,’ she added with feeling. ‘If my lads’d had a nice place with you, I’d’ve left ’em there till all this bloody lot’s over. Hadn’t got the sense she was born with, Dot ’adn’t. And then she buggers off without a word of goodbye, an’ we’ve lived next door to one another for ten years or more.’ She shook her head. ‘I blame that feller she took up with. A right spiv, if you ask me. I reckon the law was on his tail and that’s why they ’opped it.’

  ‘I should have fought harder to keep Jenny,’ Miles murmured heavily. ‘But Dot was the girl’s mother and—’

  ‘I know,’ the woman said with feeling. ‘More’s the pity. Oh dear – there I go again. Dot was all right in her way, but she was a selfish cow. Everything always had to be what she wanted. Even that Arfer had to dance to ’er tune. She should’ve left the little lass with you. Jen was happy wiv you.’

  Miles smiled feebly and said huskily, ‘Thank you for that.’

  ‘Have – have you any idea where they’ve gone?’ Charlotte asked.

  Again, the woman shook her head. ‘Nah, an’ if she’s still with that Arfer, then I don’t want to know. Tried to get my son involved with ’is black market racket, he did. I gave him a clip round the ear.’ She laughed and her whole face was suddenly younger and free of worry for a brief moment. ‘My son, I mean. Not Arfer, though for two pins I’d have given him a fourpenny one, an’ all.’

  Charlotte held out the basket of food they’d brought. ‘We brought this for Jenny and her mother, but please, we’d like you to have it.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, an’ I ain’t too proud to say “yes”. Not just now, I ain’t.’

  ‘Come,’ Charlotte said softly to Miles. ‘We’d better go.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cup of tea. I would, but . . .’ The woman gestured towards her flattened house.

  Miles roused himself. ‘Have you somewhere to go? I mean, you and your family could come to us if—’

  ‘Now that’s real generous of you, mister. I ’preciate that, I really do. But we’ll be all right. We’ll tough it out now. Can’t last much longer. ’Sides, I need to be here when my ol
d man comes home on leave. An’ we’ve got a good shelter to go to. The Underground. We have a sing-song down there most nights. An’ to be honest wiv you, the bombing’s not been so bad just lately. Mebbe ol’ ’Itler’s realized he can’t beat us Londoners.’

  On that note, they said goodbye and made their way back to the station.

  ‘Do you want to stay at Felix’s flat, Miles?’ Charlotte asked as they walked, clinging to each other for comfort and support.

  ‘No. It was good of him to offer it, but I just want to get home. If there’s a train, I want to get home. Oh Charlotte, where can she be? How can we find her?’

  Sixty-Four

  ‘You look a little pale this morning, my dear,’ Felix said as they sat together working on the final stages of their two paintings. ‘Is the strain getting too much for you?’

  It had been a week since they’d returned from London and since then, Miles had shut himself away in his study, hardly eating, hardly speaking and not sleeping well, either. He’d spent hours on the telephone and written countless letters to anyone who might be able to help them locate Jenny. Charlotte often woke in the night to find the place beside her in bed empty. When she crept downstairs, she would find him sitting at his desk, staring at one of the pictures Charlotte had painted of the little girl and which Miles had insisted should hang in his study.

  ‘Will we ever see her again?’ he asked repeatedly, but Charlotte was unable to give him a hopeful answer. All she could say was, ‘Perhaps we should be grateful they’d left that street. If not . . .’ She left the words unsaid, but even the thought that Jenny was still alive somewhere in the world didn’t seem to bring Miles any comfort. He wanted the little girl who’d become like the longed-for daughter here at the manor, safe and well with him. ‘I’ll never stop looking for her, Charlotte,’ he vowed. ‘Never.’

  Nightly, as she said her prayers as she always had, Charlotte asked, ‘Please, Dear Lord, bring him comfort. He has borne so much sadness, please – if there’s any way – let me help him.’

  Now, in answer to Felix’s question, Charlotte laid aside her brush and sighed. ‘Maybe. I’ve been feeling unwell for a few days, but please, don’t say anything to Miles, will you? I’m so worried about him. First, the wonderful news about Georgie, and then finding Jenny had gone and we can’t find out where she is. It’s too much of a see-saw of emotions for anyone to bear. Even for someone as strong as Miles. He’s just devastated. And, of course, poor Philip . . .’

  ‘My dear girl, Miles has a right to know if you’re feeling under the weather. He’d want you to see the doctor.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. I don’t want to cause him more worry.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Felix said gently. ‘But you should look after yourself, too. Please, go and see the doctor. For me, eh? If it’s nothing, then you needn’t even tell Miles, but you should go.’

  Charlotte smiled at him, trying to quell the queasiness in her stomach. ‘I will.’

  ‘Then I’ll make sure you do.’ He winked broadly at her. ‘We’ll take a little ride in the pony and trap tomorrow morning by way of the surgery in Ravensfleet.’

  When she walked out of Dr Bennet’s surgery, Charlotte was in a daze.

  Felix could not read the expression on her face. There was something, he could tell, but wisely he asked no questions. Whatever it was, Miles should be the first person she told. They drove home in unaccustomed silence. Even the ebullient Felix could think of nothing to say except the question uppermost in his mind. And that he could not ask.

  When she climbed carefully down from the trap, she smiled her thanks and walked slowly up the steps into the house. Felix watched her go with a heavy heart. Sighing, he took the pony and trap round the side of the house to the stable yard, where he whiled away the time petting the horses and talking to the stable lads.

  ‘You know, I’ve never painted a horse. Perhaps I should try,’ he murmured, trying to keep his thoughts away from what was happening in Miles’s study at that very moment.

  Charlotte opened the door to her husband’s study very quietly and, for a few moments, stood watching him seated at his desk. His head was bent over the papers he was reading, his brow creased in concentration. She was pleased to see that at least he was starting to take an interest in something again other than his letters about Jenny. But she wasn’t sure just how he would take her news.

  Becoming aware of her presence he looked up and began to smile. But then his smile faded. He rose slowly.

  ‘What is it, my dear? Is something wrong? Is it Philip?’

  He came swiftly round the end of the desk towards her, holding out his hands.

  Charlotte shook her head and said huskily, ‘No, no. He was fine when I left.’

  She closed the door quietly and then put her hands into his. She stood looking up at him, drinking in every detail of his face – the face that had become so very dear to her.

  ‘Left?’ Miles frowned. ‘I didn’t know you’d gone out. Where’ve you been?’

  ‘I – I’ve been into Ravensfleet to see Dr Bennet.’

  ‘Dr—? My dear, are you ill?’

  Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but she was laughing. ‘No – no. I’m gloriously, wonderfully well. Oh Miles, I’m – we’re – going to have a baby!’

  He stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment. Then he whispered hoarsely, ‘Pregnant? You’re – you’re pregnant?’

  ‘Yes – isn’t it wonderful?’

  But it didn’t look as if he shared her joy. She felt his hands holding hers begin to tremble and he was biting down hard on his lower lip.

  ‘Aren’t you pleased? It’s what we’ve wanted.’ She paused and added uncertainly, ‘Isn’t it?’

  It was certainly what she’d always wanted but now, watching the fleeting emotions on his face, she wasn’t so sure about Miles. ‘Yes – yes – of course it is, but—’

  Her heart seemed to turn over in her breast. ‘But – what?’

  He drew her into his arms and buried his face against her neck. ‘Oh, Charlotte – I’m so afraid. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, my love.’

  She nestled against him, revelling in his tender words, words and emotions she’d never dared to hope to hear from his lips. She understood why he was afraid for her. He’d lost Louisa through childbirth and he was fearful of it happening again.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ she said softly. ‘I’m fit and healthy and strong.’

  He drew back a little and traced the line of her cheek with a gentle finger. ‘But – but you’re too old to be having a baby.’

  Charlotte chuckled and her eyes sparkled. ‘Evidently Mother Nature thinks otherwise.’

  ‘But it could be – dangerous.’

  She hugged him. ‘Please don’t worry so. Don’t spoil it, Miles.’

  ‘That’s the last thing I want to do, but I’m afraid I can’t promise to stop worrying.’

  She took his hand. ‘Let’s go and tell Philip – and Felix. He took me into Ravensfleet but of course I said nothing on the way home. The poor man was bursting to ask questions, I could see. But he didn’t.’

  Miles began to smile. ‘That’s not like Felix.’

  ‘No.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘He showed remarkable restraint.’

  They began to climb the stairs, hand in hand, but halfway up Charlotte stopped and turned to face Miles. ‘You do think we should tell Philip, don’t you? I mean, he – he won’t mind, will he?’

  Miles reassured her. ‘Philip has changed from the resentful young man he was, though I’m sad that it has taken a war and the prospect of death to do it.’

  They entered the room together to find him sitting up in bed reading, looking the best he had done since arriving home. He looked up and smiled. ‘What’s this? A state visit?’

  ‘You could say that,’ Miles said as they sat down on either side of the bed. ‘Charlotte has some news for you.’

  ‘The portraits are finished
? When can I see them? How long will they take to dry enough to hang?’

  ‘They’re nearly ready, but drying thoroughly will take a while, though Felix thinks we can frame them and hang them, if we’re very careful.’

  ‘But that’s not what she wanted to tell you,’ Miles chipped in.

  Philip turned enquiring eyes towards Charlotte, who blushed. ‘I – we’re going to have a baby.’

  She held her breath whilst Philip stared at her and then, to her enormous relief, his face broke into a wide grin. ‘That’s the best possible news I’ve heard since we heard Georgie was alive. But there’s just one thing, Charlotte.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s got to be a girl!’

  The three of them burst out laughing.

  Sixty-Five

  Over the next few weeks, Philip joked, ‘I’m hanging on until your baby’s born, Charlotte, and maybe even until old Georgie gives the enemy the slip and comes home.’

  ‘I do hope he won’t do anything silly.’

  ‘He might try to escape again – if you call that “silly”. Perhaps he’ll just turn up on the doorstep one morning.’ He chuckled at the thought.

  Charlotte sighed. ‘I just want him to be safe. It’s all I wanted for all of you.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said softly. ‘If he’d just hang on a while longer, I don’t think the end will be long coming now.’

  Charlotte glanced at him. She knew he was referring to the end of the war, but no doubt he was also thinking of his own end, too. Could he do as he wished and hang on until Georgie came home or until her child was born in six months’ time?

  The weeks passed and to her infinite sadness, Charlotte began to see a steady decline in Philip’s condition. The doctor visited every other day and at Miles’s insistence, he kept an eye on Charlotte too.

  ‘She’s fit and healthy and remarkably strong,’ she heard Dr Bennet say as she showed the doctor into Miles’s study after his visit to Philip’s room and after having had a chat with her. ‘I wish I was as happy about all my mothers-to-be as I am about Charlotte. All that farm work when she was a young lass, I expect,’ he added dryly as Charlotte smiled and turned to leave the room. A newcomer to the district, he’d learned about Mrs Thornton’s early life at Buckthorn Farm.