Memories of You (3 page)

‘Anything Gardiner's won't take you can have,' she'd said condescendingly to Mrs Andrews.

‘Good of you,' their neighbour had replied dryly. ‘And I suppose you'll be keeping the jewellery for Helen and Elsie?'

Aunt Jane had pursed her lips and nodded and no more had been said.

Mrs Andrews came into the parlour carrying a jug of milk. ‘I've warmed it for you,' she said. ‘You need a hot drink on a day like this.'

While she was pouring the milk into their cups there was a knock at the front door.

‘I'll get it,' Aunt Jane called out from the kitchen and Helen heard her hurrying along the passage.

Mrs Andrews saw Helen's enquiring look and shook her head. ‘Don't ask me,' she said. ‘It's too late in the day for Gardiner's men to come, and the rent collector won't come for the keys until the end of the week.'

They heard the door open and Aunt Jane asking someone to come in. The door closed and a soft voice asked, ‘Which way?'

‘Just here,' Aunt Jane said. ‘The girls are having tea in the front parlour.'

A moment later their aunt ushered the most beautiful woman Helen had ever seen into the room. She felt a moment of guilt because of course their mother had been beautiful – but work and worry had etched sad lines into their mother's gentle face, whereas this woman had the unlined features of a delicate porcelain doll.

She was wearing a belted camel coat with a fur collar, and her silvery-blond hair hung down to her shoulders in a long bob. She looks like the film star Constance Bennett, Helen thought. She remembered the night when Mrs Andrews had looked after the younger children and she had gone to the pictures with her mother to see a film all about spies. They had both been overwhelmed by the leading lady's beauty. Helen looked at their visitor and frowned. Whether or not their visitor reminded her of her mother's favourite film star, she was sure she had seen her before. But she couldn't remember where or when.

Without being asked their visitor had taken a seat at the table. ‘The boys have gone?' she asked.

Aunt Jane glanced briefly at Helen and then replied, ‘You've just missed them. I'm sorry, did you want to see them?'

‘Oh, no. That's all right. I just wanted to know that they are safely on their way to Haven House. It's an excellent facility. I know how much you wanted to keep your nephews with you but you won't regret this. They will both continue their education and be trained for some sort of occupation.'

And then Helen remembered where she had seen their guest. It had been on the day of their mother's funeral. She had been sitting at the back of the church but she had not joined the funeral party. When the service was over she had exchanged a brief word with Aunt Jane, but their aunt had never explained the incident.

Now Helen thought she understood. This lady was obviously rich and she was some sort of do-gooder. She had heard of the family's plight. Maybe she had read the report in the newspaper and that was why she had attended the funeral. Their aunt must have gone to meet her one day – the day she had told them she had some legal business to see to – and the arrangements had been made to send the boys to Haven House. But fancy Aunt Jane telling the lady that she didn't want to part with the twins. She must have been overjoyed that what she saw as a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?' she asked their guest.

‘No thank you.'

Helen's frown deepened. For some reason their visitor looked and sounded nervous – but it was an excited kind of nervous, as if something special was about to happen.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Quite sure. I'll just wait until Elsie has finished eating and then we should go.'

We
, not
I
. Helen fought down a feeling of alarm. She glanced at her younger sister. Elsie still had not spoken but she was staring at their visitor with wonder in her eyes. The lady smiled at her. ‘Have you had sufficient to eat?' she asked gently.

‘She hasn't eaten anything,' Helen said, knowing how hostile she sounded.

‘Hasn't she? Oh dear, we shall have to see if we can persuade her.' She smiled encouragingly at Elsie and said, ‘I wonder what you would like? How about jelly and ice cream? Would you like that, Elise?'

‘Her name's Elsie,' Helen said and was rewarded with a brief impatient frown.

‘Oh yes, of course. And what about chocolate biscuits? Would you like that, my dear?'

‘She'd just be sick if she had all that, and in any case we haven't got any.'

‘Helen, mind your manners!' Aunt Jane said. ‘You must talk politely to Mrs Partington.'

‘Why?' Helen began to feel frightened. Something was going to happen. Something had been planned and she was filled with a sense of foreboding.

‘Because—' Aunt Jane began but Mrs Partington smiled and shook her head.

‘It's quite all right, Mrs Roberts. It's natural for the child to be upset at such a time. She will feel better when you're settled in your own comfortable home.'

‘I like chocolate biscuits.'

They all turned to stare at Elsie. She was looking at their visitor and smiling shyly.

Mrs Partington was delighted. ‘Of course you do. Come here, child. Come and tell me what else you like.'

Elsie slipped down from her chair and went up close to Mrs Partington, who immediately lifted her up on to her knee. Elsie looked up at her wonderingly and then raised a hand to stroke the fur collar of her coat. Their visitor laughed.

‘Do you like that?' she asked. ‘It's nice and soft, isn't it?'

Elsie nodded shyly.

‘Would you like a coat with a fur collar? And perhaps a little fur muff to keep your hands warm?'

‘Yes, I would.'

‘No!' Helen exclaimed. ‘You're going to take her away, aren't you? You're going to take her away from me!'

Mrs Partington put both arms round Elsie and held her close. ‘Please don't make a fuss,' she said. ‘Your aunt and I have discussed this and we think it would be best for your little sister to come with me. Don't you want her to be happy?'

‘Of course I do! But I want her to be happy here with me in the home she loves.'

Mrs Partington looked at Helen over Elsie's head and her blue eyes suddenly looked like chips of ice. ‘But you're not staying here, are you? You are going to your aunt's house. Elise has never lived there.' Her soft voice and gently reasonable words belied the look in her eyes as she continued, ‘I know you love her, my dear, and what sort of sister would deny this little girl the life that I can give her?'

‘You mean because you're rich!'

Mrs Partington's eyes widened as if Helen had said something that no reasonable person could argue with. ‘Of course,' she said. ‘And now, I think it's time we went home. Do you want to come with me, Elise darling?'

Elsie did not reply and hope leapt in Helen's breast until she saw that her sister had fallen asleep in Mrs Partington's arms. Her head was resting against the soft fur of the coat's collar and she was smiling peacefully. She hadn't smiled like that since before their mother had died.

Mrs Partington rose carefully and looked at Aunt Jane. She spoke in a whisper. ‘If you could open the front door for me I'll carry her out to the car.'

Aunt Jane spoke equally softly. ‘I'll get the child's clothes. They're all ready in a little suitcase.'

Mrs Partington smiled and shook her head. ‘There's no need,' she said. ‘Elise won't require them now. We'll just go quickly. The poor child has suffered enough and I don't want her upset by any display of hysterics.' Those last words were spoken directly to Helen.

Aunt Jane fixed Helen with a steely gaze as if to say:
Nothing will make me change my mind
.

She hurried out into the passage. Mrs Partington, carrying Elsie, walked out leaving a subtle waft of floral perfume behind her. Helen hurried to the window and pulled the curtain and the net aside. A large motorcar was parked outside, gleaming wetly in the light from the streetlamps. The house door opened, spilling light on to the glistening pavements, and a man in uniform got out of the car and opened the door.

Mrs Partington slid into the back seat still cradling Elsie in her arms. She nodded to Aunt Jane before the chauffeur closed the door. Aunt Jane hurried back into the house and the car started up and slid away along the street into the enveloping shadows.

Helen heard her aunt hurrying along the passage to the kitchen and then the sound of voices as she and Mrs Andrews held a brief conversation. There was a moment's silence before Aunt Jane left the kitchen and went upstairs. Helen leaned her head against the windowpane, closed her eyes, and began to cry.

‘There, there, pet, don't take on so.'

Helen opened her eyes and saw in the reflection of the room in the window that Mrs Andrews had entered carrying an empty tray.

‘Did you know this was going to happen?'

‘No, pet. I didn't.' Mrs Andrews began to clear the table. ‘And your aunt wants you to get ready to go now. She's gone upstairs to collect her things and then you'll be off to her place.'

‘I won't go!'

‘You'll have to. I'm clearing the house and handing the keys back to the landlord.'

‘I'd find somewhere else.'

‘Mebbes you would, but if you ran away and the Welfare found you they'd put you in a home for bad girls, and then when would you see your brothers and sister again? You've promised them that you'll all be together one day, haven't you?'

Helen clenched her fists. ‘Yes, I did. And I meant it.'

‘There you are, then. And think on this, Helen. Your little sister will be better off living with that kind lady than with your Aunt Jane.'

They arrived at Newcastle Central Station with fifteen minutes to spare. Just enough time to pop into the station buffet to fortify himself with something stronger than a cup of tea. Mr Jenkins eyed his charges doubtfully. Would they bolt? Certainly on the way here one of them had looked fidgety every time the tram stopped, but Mr Jenkins had taken the precaution of sitting between them on the bench seat at the rear of the carriage. This meant that although it would be easy for one to run for it, he wouldn't be able to communicate with the other and, even if he did manage to, Mr Jenkins would be able to hold on to him. He knew instinctively that one would never leave without the other.

The weather was foul and the deputy head of Haven House thought he had more than done his duty in leaving his cosy private sitting room to take the uncomfortable local train into town in order to collect the Norton lads. Furthermore he didn't think the soft felt of his trilby hat would ever recover properly after the drenching it had received.

Normally it would have been the job of one of the younger teachers to collect the boys, but with the Partingtons' involvement in this matter, the headmaster, Mr Ford, had thought it best to send a senior member of staff. Hugh Partington was immensely rich and even though he must have taken a financial hit just a month ago when the Wall Street Crash affected stock markets worldwide, he was still one of the wealthiest men on Tyneside. Mr Ford was keen to encourage the Partingtons' continued support, so his request that they should take in the Norton brothers could not be refused.

In George Jenkins' opinion, such devotion to duty deserved a little reward. But what would he do with the twins? He scanned the other passengers crossing the concourse and smiled when he saw a familiar face. Constable John Robinson was one of the police officers regularly on duty at the Central Station who were under specific instructions to look out for the unfortunate starvelings, both boys and girls, who pestered travellers with outright begging, or picked their pockets or even ran off with their luggage.

John Robinson had seen George and he smiled as he walked towards him. ‘Another two lads for the Haven?'

George nodded.

The constable stared at them and his eyes widened. ‘Twins, are they?'

‘Yes indeed.'

‘I don't think I've ever seen a couple more alike. Peas in a pod, as they say. How on earth will you tell them apart?'

‘That's what I was wondering until I noticed that one of them is left-handed and the other right-handed. And look at their hair – those cowlicks are on opposite sides. Now I've just got to attach the appropriate name.'

‘So what's the story?'

‘Father died years ago, mother was killed in a traffic accident, and their aunt can't cope.'