by Nicola Slade
Her chuckles were infectious and she patted my arm. ‘I like to help young women when I see them working hard. There but for the grace of God, you know…’ she said. ‘He’s a good man, a dear man, though I wish his sense of duty hadn’t made him go off to war when he didn’t have to, but then they relaxed the age limits and here he is recovering from a shoulder wound. Still, I wouldn’t have him any different.’
She was such a nice woman that I volunteered to bring her a cup of coffee in the drawing-room.
‘Thank you, but no. I think I’ll suggest a walk into town. Pamela needs taking out of herself.’
I said nothing and looked sympathetic though Miss Peebles always looked perfectly composed to me. It seemed, however, that this was a brave front.
‘The shame, my dear,’ breathed Pamela’s mother, gustily. ‘At the altar, it was! As good as, anyway, for the bounder didn’t show his face. He’d run off with Pamela’s best friend, her bridesmaid no less. Much good it did either of them for he was shot through the lung three weeks later when he was back in France and died soon after, and the silly girl left in the family way. Which explained their haste.’
Her pretty, powdered face set in determined lines. ‘That was two months ago and Pamela is determined to get herself married as soon as may be,’ Mrs Peebles told me. ‘A good match will be the making of her for she’s a quiet girl, though she’s our only chick, and quite the heiress. She’s had such bad luck, for her first boy proposed in a letter that she only received a week after he was killed last year, so this latest affair has made her very downcast.
‘If it happened that she met someone in the hospital here, so much the better. A whirlwind romance would hush the wagging tongues.’
Before I could sit down to my own work, Henry Makepeace looked in through the back door. Granny had told him he could turn up at any time with no need for formality. He had evidently made quite an impression as it was rare for her to be so friendly outside the family.
‘I’m not stopping,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Bobs, I can’t take you out just now. I’ve been invited to luncheon in town, Christabel, with my father’s cousins, Bertha and Edgar. Remember I told you about him? Cousin Bertha is his younger sister. He sent such a kind invitation. He hopes I’m recovering well and he wants to discuss the idea that I should join his practice, if it still appeals to me.’
‘And does it?’ He’d mentioned this before and I was struck again by the thought that Henry, from what I’d observed, would be a round peg in a round hole: a completely upright and principled lawyer who would do his utmost for his clients.
He beamed at me. ‘Even Father agreed a lawyer in the family would be useful. I’d like to have gone to Oxford first but he was against that so when I turned seventeen he articled me to his own solicitor. I wanted to enlist but Father wouldn’t sign my papers, so I was there until I was called up. The good thing is that I gather the Law Society allows time spent in the armed forces to count as being under articles. I loved the law but not my employer, who luckily died last year so I’m free to join Cousin Edgar. However, he has to approve of me first and he hasn’t seen me since Father’s funeral, so I’m not counting my chickens. If I’m back in time I’ll call in and tell you about it, otherwise we’ll meet at the At Home this afternoon.’
He paused as Addy flounced past with her nose in the air. ‘What’s up, Addy?’
‘I’m cross,’ she declared, scowling fiercely at us. ‘Anyone else would have been given a Kodak for her birthday, but not me.’
‘Why do you want a camera?’ Henry ignored my exasperated shake of the head and lounged against the door frame, looking solemnly at Addy, though I could see a glimmer of quiet amusement in his eyes.
‘I should think you’d know,’ was the answer but before he could protest his ignorance, she went on. ‘If I had a Kodak I could take it up to the Hall today and take photographs of the officers. They might let me take snaps of their wounds.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘A cunning plan to ingratiate yourself into their good graces. What did you get for your birthday, Addy?’
She frowned at him and I could see she was wondering whether he was laughing at her. ‘A new winter coat,’ she said coldly. ‘It was January.’
‘You can borrow my camera if you like,’ he offered and the glare was replaced by delight.
‘I’ll get the film developed for you too,’ he added, ‘but only on condition that you don’t pester anyone. If you’re very good I might let you look at my scars one day.’
As I settled to my latest chapter my mind was far away from the tribulations of Jackson Minor, the wronged former prefect of St Chad’s who was now, yet again, under suspicion of something he hadn’t done. This time, as a subaltern in the trenches, such a suspicion was downright dangerous, particularly when his hostile Commanding Officer had turned the fluffy head of Jackson’s best girl with expensive gifts while on home leave.
I counted my blessings – well, one blessing at least: a couple of weeks of first-class teaching for Addy. I sighed with relief and decided that she should not return to school until after Easter or at least until Miss Evershed had to leave us. I’d say she had a feverish cold, if necessary but Addy isn’t popular at St. Mildred’s so it was unlikely anyone would make enquiries. I was determined she should not miss this chance.
For the time being, one sister was off my mind which was, in any case, occupied with domestic worries and going over and over the circumstances of young Trevelyan’s death. But what of Alix? I hoped she could stay clear of Matron today and I should warn her that there was a cuckoo in our midst in the form of Pamela Peebles who, although nowhere near as pretty as my sister, did have the advantage of wealthy and indulgent parents. And those divine clothes…
And Henry hoped he might be about to take up a post in Ramalley, did he? I had no idea why that cheered me except that we were all glad to have made friends with him.
That afternoon, the family party, augmented by Miss Evershed but minus Alix who was already at her post, arrived at the main entrance to Groom Hall just as the remaining ladies from next door were disgorged from the station taxi, an ancient governess cart belonging to the stationmaster.
‘Who are those peculiar women?’ Mother asked in her usual clear and ringing tones, and I hastened to usher her out of their hearing.
‘Hush, Mother.’ Alix emerged from the drawing-room to meet us. ‘It’s all dreadfully sad. They are relatives of some of the wounded officers here and you must be very polite to them. You need only nod, they don’t expect anything more.’
No, indeed they did not. Alix, whose charm resembles Papa’s but fortunately without the criminal bent, had primed our lodgers to understand that Mother was an internationally famous authoress, a genius in fact, and that this meant she was just a trifle eccentric. They had readily accepted what was, in fact, the truth (apart from the famous bit, though as she had sold several books in America that counted as international.) The genius bit was debatable, but the lodgers were impressed. Even the Gorgon, Mrs Mortimer, was in awe though she tried not to show it.
We were out of mourning, such as it was. Bertie would have hated it and when he left, that last time, he had given us our orders.
‘Remember,’ he’d said – as though we could ever forget. ‘If I don’t make it home I don’t want you looking like a flock of miserable black crows.’
It had been a joint decision not even to wear black armbands and some of the neighbours had been scandalised, but Bertie’s wishes prevailed.
Today we had mustered enough respectable garments to present a good appearance, thanks to the occasional donations from Alix’s employer. Luckily, she is a small, skinny old lady much the same size as Mother, who, though she had no idea of it, was elegant and forbidding today in a hand-me-down grey silk and a smart hat placed on top of curls that were, for once, tidily brushed. In Mother’s world, clothes, like food and fires and a comfortable bed, all appear as if by magic. To be fair, I suppose that’s what many peo
ple, particularly men, expect from life as a matter of course.
Granny bears herself always with the dignity befitting the only child of the last Earl of Inverboyne, so people tend not to notice that her severely plain black coat and even plainer black velvet toque are venerable enough to qualify for Ancient Relic status. Today, Alix wore her best skirt and blouse, rather than her usual plain volunteer outfit, while Addy and I did the same, topping this finery with our winter coats. Addy’s was the despised birthday present, and mine had served me well for several winters. We have all fortunately stopped growing, even Addy – I hope. Alix forced me to borrow her blue felt hat which she had trimmed with tail feathers filched from Kaiser Bill (the hen, not the Emperor) and Addy wore the least shabby of our velvet tam o’shanters. She and I felt horribly uncomfortable about the whole affair though Addy cheered up at the prospect of borrowing Henry’s Kodak camera.
Granny made up for Mother’s social deficiencies by being particularly gracious to our lady lodgers and she concentrated on Mrs Mortimer so that our most difficult guest was putty in her hands. Nice Mrs Peebles surprised me with a slight wink when she nodded towards the pair as they entered the grim lobby adorned with black marble columns, matching mantelpiece and heavy side tables.
I could tell that Mrs Peebles, at least, understood Granny’s motives. ‘Very kind of Lady Elspeth, I’m sure,’ she whispered. ‘The best butter never goes amiss with some people, does it, dear?’
I could only smile but I resolved to ask Granny to be extra kind to Mrs Peebles, who was a darling. She appreciated everything we did, devoured what she was given to eat and never failed to praise or to offer her thanks.
There was no time for further chat, but I smiled at her, then we were welcomed to the large inner hall by Dr Pemberton. He was beside himself with obsequious delight, false teeth clicking as he welcomed his titled visitor with a deep bow. Granny was on her best behaviour and murmured graciously to him and to Matron who, with a crackle of starched apron, bowed rather deeply. (For a moment it looked as though she might curtsey.) Mother looked bewildered as she was accorded a slightly less fawning obeisance from Matron, but she inclined her head just as Alix intercepted her once more and tried to head her off towards the library.
Although they visited the hospital every day our lodgers had all made an extra effort to honour the occasion. Miss Evershed wore a stylish dress in violet cashmere and sported a dashing little hat with a silver buckle, an outfit that Alix had already priced at far above the salary of any High School mistress, and certainly out of our reach. Mrs Mortimer was monumental in maroon brocade with a large brooch of coloured pebbles pinned to her generous bosom and Mrs Peebles had adorned her plump curves with an elegant though slightly too youthful tea gown in muted pinks and greens.
I looked round for the silent Miss Peebles and saw her circling the room with a speculative look in her eye.
‘She shouldn’t wear such a short skirt,’ hissed Addy in my ear. ‘Her legs go straight down without bothering to curve in at the ankles.’
‘Shhhh,’ I hissed sanctimoniously. ‘That’s not very charitable. I’m sure she has admirable qualities.’
Addy sneered but I was lost in admiration of Miss Peebles’s dress. Like her mother she wore a tea gown, a Liberty silk in a lovely dull blue with tasteful embroidery that made me yearn for something similar. For a moment I slipped into a dream of that literary salon that is to be mine when Alix marries her millionaire; I shall wear just that shade when I entertain famous authors. I came out of my daydream with a jolt, but Addy was correct and the sight of our youngest lodger’s thick ankles helped me regain my balance.
I watched in fascination as I remembered her mother’s confidences and realised that Pamela Peebles was working from an invisible list. She avoided the lieutenants, only deigning to speak to the captains and the higher-ranking officers, to whom she was all graciousness. Talkative too, unlike her usual silence under our roof. I felt a slight pang when I realised she had Henry in her sights – and why not? He was a captain; he was apparently in comfortable circumstances; he was good-looking – in fact I hadn’t actually noticed just how good-looking until now.
Pamela Peebles clearly thought Henry was eligible but – is it horrid of me? I was extremely pleased to see him rebuff her advances. He was perfectly polite but clearly indifferent and I tried not to look smug as he headed in our direction.
Most of the remaining officers had at least one visitor and Henry greeted us with heartfelt thanks.
‘Lady Elspeth, Mrs Fyttleton, I’m so glad to see you. My cousins in Ramalley are otherwise engaged so I’d have been the only chap with nobody to show off, apart from poor Halliday.’
Mother looked blank but, having left Lady Esmerelda at home, was not proof against Henry’s eager smile, so she shook hands quite graciously before turning to look at her surroundings in the bewildered manner she has when winkled out of her natural habitat. She allowed Alix to tug her forward and I heard my sister speaking slowly in the kind of clear voice you use to a recalcitrant child. ‘Do come, Mother. You still haven’t seen the library. There are some interesting books in there. You’ll like that, won’t you?’
Henry’s grey eyes sparkled; he was beginning to get the measure of our (fingers crossed) only remaining parent and he took in Granny’s appearance with an appreciative grin.
‘May I find you a seat, Lady Elspeth?’ he enquired, gently steering her towards the fire.
‘Your grandmother looks like a much better-looking Queen Mary. Is she all right?’ he asked me in a whisper as one of the volunteer nurses poured tea for her. ‘She looks awfully stiff and uncomfortable.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I murmured. ‘She’s making a huge effort today, being charming to Mrs Mortimer and the rest, but really she’s frightfully shy and not at all happy in society. It stems from when she was presented to Queen Victoria at one of the Buckingham Palace Drawing Rooms during the Season. Her parents were hardly ever at home and resented her for not being a son and heir, so Granny was brought up by the old nurse-turned-housekeeper and her husband the gardener, while the Head Gamekeeper taught her everything he knew. Her mother’s ancient governess taught her how to be a lady, but the end result was that by the time her parents forced her to be a debutante she was an expert poacher, a competent cook, and had green fingers too. Sadly, she’d never been anywhere and had no experience of polite society. It ended in disaster, of course, poor Granny. She was shaking with nerves but although she managed to make her curtsey when her name was announced, she was promptly sick – all over the Queen’s glacé kid slippers!’
Henry took a few minutes to instruct Addy in using his camera though she impatiently insisted that she knew what to do.
‘I’m sure you do,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’m just checking. Remember, you’re not to poke the camera into anyone’s face and today, at least, you’re not to ask about their wounds.’
He grinned in my direction as my sister stalked round the room choosing her victims when she wasn’t hanging on to Miss Evershed’s every word. At least she was happy and not being a nuisance.
I noticed that Matron was eyeing Miss Evershed with suspicion, though what that meant, heaven only knows. In turn, our schoolmistress lodger shot a couple of puzzled glances in Matron’s direction before shaking her head and moving away.
To most people it would probably have seemed a dull party, but we had such a limited social acquaintance that it was unaccustomed gaiety. Although Alix had managed to inveigle her way into parties last autumn, Bertie’s death had put a stop to all that.
Just like Grandpapa, Mother is awkward at the best of times. Like him, she never looks anyone directly in the eye and cannot make polite conversation, so she usually hides in a corner with a book. Addy is a law unto herself although she can be surprisingly forthcoming if she chooses. As for me, I’m shy like Granny, though less gauche than Mother, (I hope), but today’s social whirl was made bearable by the presence of our lady lodgers who wer
e beginning to seem familiar, and that of Henry who had become almost a member of the family in a remarkably short time. Once it was bearable, it was interesting.
It was unsettling to be at Groom Hall again after our night shift, with the memory of that poor young man’s death so vividly in my mind. The drawing-room door was firmly shut so I couldn’t take another look round, even had I wished. I cast my mind back to Sunday night, to the last half hour of our time there, and shivered. Here in the great hall at this moment, I could see Matron. Alix had seen her coming out of the conservatory, where she had either been picking dead leaves off the plants or, if Hutton could be believed, having a sneaky cigarette. Unless, as Alix had suggested later, Matron had been returning to the conservatory from the drawing-room after… yes, after what? Somehow silencing Lt Trevelyan’s anguished screams? Which would mean… I scolded myself for thinking such nonsense and remembered that I had seen both Capt Halliday and Major Larking up and about before I went into the kitchen. Were they all three, Matron included, to be suspected of some indefinable evil?
I forced myself to stop this nonsense (with the proviso that I really must talk to Alix again soon) so I took a stroll round the hall, trying in vain to avoid the coils of smoke from what seemed like a dozen pipes, which made my eyes start watering. When I recovered I saw that Addy, who was now in the throes of a violent schoolgirl infatuation for Miss Evershed, was now dogging the teacher’s footsteps and asking incessant questions. To be fair, it wasn’t Miss Evershed’s charm of person that attracted Addy, so much as her intellect. I intercepted our quiet lodger.
‘Don’t let Addy monopolise you, Miss Evershed. We’re so grateful that you are helping her with her work, but she mustn’t encroach on your free time.’ This earned me a scowl from my affronted sister and a faint smile from her mentor.
