Sister Monique emerged at the door of the kitchen, followed by a young nun called Sister Véronique, and then the Reverend Mother. Moses, seeing Federico charge towards him, shouted out, a garbled sound, indistinguishable as words, but loud.
On the Sparrowhawk, Elsie pricked up her ears.
Federico, oblivious to danger, galloped on. This was the life! This is what he was born for! This …
Ow!
Moses’ blow caught Federico off guard. It wasn’t a hard blow – it was aimed to deflect, rather than hurt – and it only clipped his shoulder, but it was enough to send him rolling into the long grass. Dazed, Federico staggered to his feet. Moses brandished his rake.
Federico prepared for war.
Behind him, he heard human voices, Lotti running, now followed by Clara and Sister Véronique. Circling him, there was the gardener with the fierce stick. Behind him, there were six fat hens …
And now, there was something else …
More barking, the thud of familiar paws …
Past him, a streak of black, heading straight for Moses …
Up went the rake, up and back, aiming at Elsie. Federico prepared to leap to her defence, but it was too late …
Elsie had already leaped.
*
The black and white dog hit Moses full in the chest. He staggered and fell, seeing stars. Barking, strangers, shouting … Someone crying. A voice he had heard before, somewhere …
Where?
Hot breath on his face. A rough tongue licking his cheek. A whine in his ear …
He reached up and sank his hand into thick fur.
In his wandering mind, something shifted.
He opened his eyes. Two wide golden eyes gazed back.
He knew those eyes. He’d known them since she was a puppy.
‘Hello, Elsie,’ he said.
And then a boy was running towards him, and the boy was screaming and sobbing and laughing all at once, and hurling himself on top of him and Elsie so that boy and man and dog were all lying in a tangled heap together in the grass, and Sam said, ‘Hello, Ben.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ben began to cry again, not quiet tears now but great, hulking sobs which went on and on as Sam rocked him in his arms, also crying, and in a voice unused for months hoarsely whispered his name, over and over, while Elsie pressed close into them, nuzzling first one brother and then the other.
At last, with a shuddering sigh, Ben pulled away, and looked at his brother, still not able to believe what he was seeing.
‘You’re here.’ He reached up and touched Sam’s scar. ‘Does it hurt?’
Sam smiled, a tentative grimace, rediscovering forgotten muscles. ‘Not any more.’
‘I waited and waited,’ said Ben. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m … not sure,’ croaked Sam.
He looked towards the house, where Lotti with Federico, Clara, the Reverend Mother and a number of sisters had gathered by the back door, witnessing their reunion from afar.
‘Come,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘Must we?’ asked Ben regretfully.
‘Yes,’ said Sam. ‘Not for long. But these women have been good to me, and I think … I think the Reverend Mother might help.’
When she saw the brothers begin to walk towards the house, Mother Julienne sent all the other sisters away. As Sam and Ben drew close, she held out her hands in a gesture of welcome.
‘So, Moses,’ she said. ‘Or should I call you Samuel? You have returned.’
‘I have.’ Sam’s voice quavered. ‘And I owe you and my brother an explanation. Especially my brother.’
The Reverend Mother nodded and then, in her crisp way, offered her parlour as a calm, private place to talk.
Ben pulled on his brother’s sleeve.
‘Can Lotti and Clara come too?’
‘It’s not necessary,’ said Clara, seeing how tired Sam looked. ‘You’ll be wanting privacy.’
‘But I want to hear,’ Lotti hissed at her. ‘Clara! After all we’ve done to find him!’
‘Anything Ben wants is fine with me,’ said Sam.
In the parlour, under the Reverend Mother’s steely eye, the dogs settled angelically on the hearthrug. Lotti sat beside them and pulled Federico into her lap. Mother Julienne, Clara and Sam sat on chairs. Ben sat on the floor close to his brother, as if fearful that at any moment he might disappear again.
In a halting, unfamiliar voice, Sam began to piece together what he could remember of his story.
‘Nathan … he shouldn’t have come, but it was so good to see him … He looked after me, we went for walks, little ones, a bit longer every day, him fussing … me leaning on him, him leaning on his stick … it was funny! And then on the day it happened, on the day the planes came …’
Sam paused. The door opened and Sister Monique appeared bearing a tea tray.
‘Just in time,’ said the Reverend Mother crisply.
After tea had been poured and cups distributed, Sam resumed.
‘On the day the planes came, we walked as far as the river, and I … oh, it sounds so trivial now … The weather was warm, and I took off my boots because I wanted to paddle and Nathan said … oh God, I wish I hadn’t done it … Nathan said, you’ll be cold, I’ll go and fetch a blanket …’
They all steeled themselves, guessing what was coming next.
‘Nathan went to fetch a blanket and … well, that’s when it happened … when the planes came. The last thing I remember was hearing the planes and seeing Nathan … seeing Nathan …’
Sam began to cry. Lotti stole a sideways look at Ben, saw that he was crying too and felt a lump rise in her throat. Clara was also wiping away tears.
‘Go on,’ said the Reverend Mother.
‘Then I don’t remember … not clearly … it’s just like pictures, like photographs … trees on fire … and a nurse with blood on her face … and a great hole in the ground … and I just … I put my boots back on and then I just … walked away, following the river … I walked for days, and I slept in barns, and sometimes I stole food … clothes … at some point I must have thrown away my dog tag … I didn’t talk to anyone, I just walked and walked, and then when I did need to talk to someone I found I couldn’t … There was a farmer … he kept asking me my name, and I couldn’t remember … It’s so strange …’
‘I believe in English it is part of a syndrome called shell shock,’ said the Reverend Mother. ‘It is strange, but also common. What happened next?’
‘In the spring I came here, and you were all so kind, and the woods and the river so lovely … I think, now, that it reminded me of home, the Sparrowhawk, the canals … So I stayed.’
Ben could see from the Reverend Mother’s reaction that she thought Sam’s condition quite normal, but he was struggling to understand, and couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. ‘But you must have recognised the Sparrowhawk?’ he asked. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Yes … no … I don’t know …’ Sam looked apologetic. ‘A little, maybe … I watched her …’
‘I saw you,’ said Clara. ‘You frightened me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam apologised again. Then, looking puzzled, he asked, ‘How did the Sparrowhawk get here?’
‘We drove her from England,’ said Lotti.
‘But that’s …’
‘I know.’ Ben grinned. ‘Nathan would be livid.’
‘He would.’ A slow smile spread across Sam’s face, a proper one this time, and Ben breathed a sigh of relief.
At last, Sam looked like himself!
‘She took a bashing, the Sparrowhawk,’ Ben said. ‘She’s making this rattling sound. We’ll have to check her properly before we take her home.’
‘I’ll come down and look with you now,’ said Sam. ‘I can’t wait to see the old girl again.’
‘And Sam … Elsie’s had puppies!’
At this, the Reverend Mother smiled and stood up.
‘In such a moment, I think puppi
es may be just the thing,’ she said. ‘If after all the excitement you are hungry, lunch will be served in half an hour in the refectory. We eat simply here, but there is plenty for everyone, and you are welcome to join us.’
She paused at the door. ‘Ben, Charlotte … I have not forgotten what I told you when you first came, that your search was impossible. It appears I was wrong. Well done.’
With another smile, the Reverend Mother left. Sam slung his arm round Ben’s shoulders.
‘Come on then, little brother, let’s go and look at these dogs. And the Sparrowhawk! Tell me, is the kingfisher still there above my berth? That I do remember!’
*
The brothers followed the Reverend Mother out of the room. Lotti let out a deep breath.
My berth, Sam had said. Well, of course it was. His berth. Not hers.
‘Let’s go and help Sister Monique with lunch,’ said Clara. ‘Give Ben and Sam some space.’
‘Not right now,’ said Lotti. ‘There’s something I have to do.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lotti followed Ben and Sam down towards the river. The brothers were deep in conversation. From Ben’s hand gestures, Lotti knew that he was talking about the Channel crossing.
He didn’t look back to see if Lotti was following. She was hurt, but a part of her was glad.
It made her decision easier.
At the Sparrowhawk, she sat quietly on the foredeck with Federico while inside Sam and Ben fussed over the puppies. She listened as Sam walked about the cabins, his conversation peppered with ‘I’d forgotten’ and ‘I remember’.
Ben laughed a lot, and Lotti was glad of that too.
After about fifteen minutes, Ben came out to find her.
‘We’re going up for lunch, are you coming?’
‘In a minute. I’d just like to sit here for a while.’
He looked at her and frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am completely and absolutely fine!’ Lotti said. ‘I’m just being quiet for a bit because it’s been such an exciting day. Go! I’ll join you in a minute.’
She watched him walk away through Nathan’s workshop with quick, elastic steps she had never seen before.
‘Ben!’ she called, just before he reached the door into the cabin.
He stopped and turned. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m glad we were friends.’
Ben laughed, then left.
*
The strangeness of Lotti’s parting remark didn’t strike Ben until he stood before the convent’s refectory table, listening to the Reverend Mother say grace.
I’m glad we were friends, Lotti had said.
Not are friends.
Were.
What was that supposed to mean? And why wasn’t she here?
They sat down to eat, and Lotti didn’t come.
‘Where is she?’ asked Clara.
‘She said she wanted to be quiet for a bit.’
Clara looked worried. ‘That’s unlike Lotti.’
Yes, thought Ben. It is.
Suddenly, he had a very bad feeling. He pushed back his plate.
‘I’ll just go and make sure she’s all right.’
He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped on board the Sparrowhawk. Lotti wasn’t on the foredeck and the cabin hatch, which he’d left open when he went to lunch, was closed. He pushed it open, and Elsie began to whine, then shot past him on to the rear deck and began to bark, facing the path which led past the door of the orchard wall into the woods.
Ben went down into the cabin.
At first glance, the Sparrowhawk seemed exactly as he had left it earlier. His unpacked bag lay where he had slung it on his berth. There was a half-drunk glass of water on the fold-down table, beside a copy of Great Expectations Clara had been reading. But something was missing …
‘Oh no.’
Lotti’s berth was neat as a pin, the pillow plumped, the blanket smoothed and folded back.
But her mother’s soft blue butterfly shawl, which had covered the bed from the day she moved in, was gone. Ben opened the drawer at the foot of the berth where Lotti kept her clothes, but he already knew it would be empty.
*
Elsie was still on the rear deck, barking towards the trees. Ben knew exactly what she was telling him.
Running faster than he had ever run, Ben headed into the woods. As he ran he seethed with rage, first with Lotti for leaving without an explanation, then with himself for not understanding earlier that she was saying goodbye.
I’m glad we were friends.
But why?
After a few minutes, he spotted her through the trees, walking resolutely along the path with her rucksack on her back and Federico beside her. He yelled her name, and she stopped. Ben’s lungs were burning but he carried on running until he reached her.
‘What are you doing?’ Lotti looked upset. ‘I didn’t want you to follow me.’
‘What am I doing?’ he panted furiously. ‘What about you?’
She raised her chin. ‘I’m going to find my grandmother.’
Ben was bewildered. ‘I didn’t even know you had a grandmother!’
‘Well, I do,’ said Lotti calmly. ‘She lives in a town called Armande, and I’m walking to the station to catch the train to go there.’
‘But …’ Ben sat down on a tree stump, too baffled to stand. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘Well, I didn’t know myself for sure until we got back from Buisseau,’ Lotti admitted. ‘It’s an idea that’s been growing. You see, she stopped writing to me shortly after my parents died …’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lotti. ‘But earlier today, Clara said something that made me think; I can’t go home until I’ve spoken to her. Not until I’m sure.’
‘But why didn’t you say anything?’ Ben felt an almost overwhelming desire to cry. ‘You didn’t even say goodbye!’
Lotti looked a little ashamed. ‘Frank didn’t say goodbye.’
‘At least Frank left a note!’
Lotti bit her lip. ‘Well, you have Sam now …’
‘So you thought I didn’t need you any more!’ Ben’s expression was thunderous. ‘You thought I was like your grandmother who stopped writing to you, or like your horrible uncle, that I could just … throw you away!’
‘No!’ Lotti looked stricken. ‘No, I never thought that! Not really. Just, you all want to go home, and Clara thinks I should go too, and …’
But Ben was fully launched.
‘Well, I’m not like your uncle!’ he shouted, quivering with indignation. ‘Do you think I’d let you go on your own after everything you’ve done for me? To a horrible old woman, who stopped writing to you when you needed her? We are going back to the Sparrowhawk RIGHT NOW and then me and Sam are going to FIX HER and then we are taking you to your grandmother ON the SPARROWHAWK because that is WHERE YOU BELONG and if she isn’t nice to you I WILL THUMP HER!’
He glared. Lotti, trembling, began to laugh, then tried to say something and burst into tears instead.
‘Does that mean you won’t go on your own?’ Ben demanded.
‘No! I mean, yes! I just thought … oh, never mind. I think I am used to people throwing me away, like you said … and I’m used to doing things for myself … but oh, Ben, thank you! I’m so scared, you know, that Moune won’t want to see me; that she’ll turn me away or send me back to Barton. It will be so much easier if you’re with me.’
Ben, fighting a fresh urge to cry, said, ‘We’ll ask the sisters if they have a spare mattress or something. We can put it in the workshop.’
‘How crowded we’ll be!’ said Lotti. ‘Eleven of us, and we started with just four!’
‘We’ll need more food,’ said Ben. ‘Maybe the sisters could spare some. And we’ll have to look at the map …’
Smiling and full of plans, Ben and Lotti walked together back towards the Sparrowhawk, but as they arrived their faces fell.
Clara a
nd Sam were standing on the jetty, and Clara was holding a telegram.
‘It’s from Henri,’ she said when they reached her. ‘Albert Skinner’s on his way to Buisseau.’
Lotti swallowed. Ben looked at her. She was scared, and with good reason – there was barely a household in Buisseau that didn’t know their story.
‘We’ll leave straight away,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Sam.
‘I’ll explain later. Sam, get your things. We’ll say goodbye, and we’ll go.’
‘But the Sparrowhawk … you said she needed fixing.’
‘She’ll be fine until we get to Lotti’s grandmother.’
Clara’s eyes widened. ‘Lotti’s …?’
Oh, why did grown-ups always have so many questions?
‘WE NEED TO GO,’ Ben yelled. ‘BEFORE ALBERT SKINNER GETS TO BUISSEAU AND SOMEONE TELLS HIM WE ARE HERE!’
Clara and Sam exchanged looks.
The Sparrowhawk left the convent within the hour, waved off by the nuns.
Because she loved Sister Monique and now wouldn’t drink anything but goat’s milk, they left the little puppy Delphine behind, as a token of their thanks.
PART V
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ever since the Sparrowhawk left, visits to the convent had not stopped.
The first to come, on the morning after her departure, was a grumpy Englishman, completely bald under his flat cap, and wearing an ancient patched jacket. He came by the river on a small, Belgian-registered motorboat, and he spoke no French. The nuns took him to the Reverend Mother, who spoke to him in private, then Sister Véronique accompanied him back to the river and stayed to wave him goodbye.
Next, a few hours later, came Henri de Beauchesne, roaring up on Madame Royère’s cousin’s motorbike. He did not even enter the convent, but spoke to a gaggle of nuns out in the courtyard. Had the English travellers come? They had? And left one of the puppies? Goat’s milk! How extraordinary. And had they found the English boy’s brother? A gardener! It was like a miracle. Captain de Beauchesne could hardly believe it. And they had received his telegrams? And had she – they – all of them – returned to England? No? Did the good sisters know, by any chance where she – they – all of them – had gone? He had to find her, he said, finally giving up all pretences that what he cared about more than anything in the world was Clara. He could not live without her! He roared off again as soon as he had his answers, waved on his way by an admiring crowd.
Voyage of the Sparrowhawk Page 16
