Rosie (35 page)

‘I wonder what I’d think if I went by May Cottage,’ Rosie said thoughtfully.

‘There’s nothing there now. They pulled it down back in January,’ the older woman said hurriedly. ‘I drove past the other day and I couldn’t pinpoint where it was exactly: weeds and grass had covered any bare soil.’

Rosie knew she would be able to pinpoint it. She knew that even when she was as old as Miss Pemberton she’d be able to pace out exactly where the front door of May Cottage had stood. But she made no comment.

‘So what do you think of my little home?’ Miss Pemberton asked once she’d taken Rosie on a quick tour of the little two-bedroom cottage in Chilton Trinity. They were in the tiny kitchen and she was lying a tray with tea things.

‘It’s lovely,’ Rosie said with enthusiasm. ‘Can I go out in the garden?’

The cottage wasn’t quite as old and quaint as Rosie had expected. Miss Pemberton said it had been built in 1880 and it had the plain no-nonsense look of the artisans’ cottages of that period. Grey stone, a trellised porch around the front door. One window up, one down. Inside there was one big room with the staircase going out of it and a small lean-to kitchen. Originally there had been no bathroom, but Miss Pemberton had had the back bedroom divided in two to put one in. What Rosie liked best about it was the simplicity: walls painted white, polished wood boards downstairs and a thick colourful fringed rug to make it cosier. Each piece of furniture looked as if it had a story attached to it. There were a couple of low carved tables Miss Pemberton said she’d brought back from India, a highly polished desk with a leather top which had been her grandfather’s. The settee was an old brown leather one, and two armchairs which didn’t match had buttoned backs and looked very old.

Miss Pemberton unlocked the back door. ‘I’d forgotten how much you love gardening. I wish I had more time to spend in it. But spring is always a good time to see it, with all the bulbs coming through and before the weeds shoot up.’

The moment she stepped outside and saw the secluded garden surrounded on all sides by six-foot-high thick hedges, Rosie knew that she and Miss Pemberton had far more in common than she’d originally supposed. Only real flower-lovers planted their daffodils in clumps in the grass that way; pretend gardeners put them tidily in beds. It made her heart ache to see that mass of yellow against the lush lawn. As she walked down the path with Miss Pemberton just in front of her she noted with approval the bird table with a hunk of coconut for the blue tits, the way purple aubretia was pushing its way out of the crazy paving, and the dozens of rose bushes with shiny new leaves.

She stopped to take a deep breath, savouring the clean, sweet-smelling air, with just a faint whiff of farmyard manure coming from the fields beyond the hedge. It took her straight back to May Cottage; if she closed her eyes she could imagine she was down in the orchard. Then she saw the tree beside the shed.

‘What is it?’ she asked in awe. Pinkish-white candle-like flowers were just beginning to open on almost bare branches.

Miss Pemberton turned and smiled. ‘It’s a magnolia. Do you like it?’

‘It’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen,’ Rosie whispered, and to her embarrassment she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Miss Pemberton slid her arm around Rosie’s shoulder. ‘There’s not a lot wrong with your heart and soul,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘That tree has moved me to tears many a time. To me it’s God made visible. And you’ll see it in all its full glory too before you have to leave.’

Later that evening as they sat companionably in front of the fire, Miss Pemberton told Rosie she was taking her to Taunton the next day to see Alan.

Rosie yelped with excitement and hugged the older woman impulsively.

‘You’ll find him very different,’ Miss Pemberton warned her. ‘He’s grown in every direction, bigger, more confident, sometimes even a little cheeky. You may find he ignores you, as he does Thomas.’

‘Does Thomas still come down here to see Alan then?’ Rosie asked. As the social worker hadn’t mentioned him, Rosie assumed he’d cut himself off entirely since the trial, just as he had with her.

‘Of course, my dear.’ Miss Pemberton seemed surprised by the question. ‘In fact he’s coming down tomorrow too. We’ll be meeting him at the Hugheses’ and I offered him the couch here for the night so you’d have the opportunity to see him again.’

Rosie was astounded. When she hadn’t received so much as a Christmas card from Thomas she’d presumed that her brothers’ lies in court had killed any interest he’d once had in her. Just the thought of meeting him again made her feel jittery.

She explained this to Miss Pemberton and asked why he should want to see her now.

‘I think you are forgetting what an honourable and courageous man Thomas is,’ Miss Pemberton said soothingly. ‘I think once he’d hit rock-bottom emotionally he realized just how bad it must have been for you too. He said he needed to face you again if only to square things up.’

Rosie took a deep breath to try and stop the butterflies in her stomach. ‘He’s probably right, we ought to meet again, but I’m still scared of seeing him.’

‘You don’t need to be, my dear. Although I haven’t yet met Thomas in person, I’ve come to know a great deal about his character from our correspondence. He’s a gentle, lonely man; the many tragedies in his life have given him great reserves of compassion and endurance. You won’t find him hostile towards you. Besides, the greater part of this meeting will be to discuss Alan’s future, and I’m sure that is one area where you will be in complete harmony.’

‘Alan’s future?’ Rosie sat up straight. ‘Does Thomas want to take him back to London?’

‘No, my dear, Alan is far too happy to even consider that as an option. Mr and Mrs Hughes would like to adopt him legally.’

Rosie gasped.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Rosie, by throwing something like that at you,’ she said quickly, patting the girl’s hand reassuringly. ‘Wait till you see Alan with his new family, and discuss it with Thomas before you pass judgement. Alan is very, very happy and settled with them, my dear, and the Hugheses adore him. Adoption would give him absolute and permanent security.’

Rosie’s first thought when she saw Alan was that this sturdy little boy was an impostor, not her baby brother. Nothing was the same. His hair was a shade darker, more brown now than red, he had rosy plump cheeks and the dark brown eyes which met hers were bold and fearless. Even his clothes were different – smart grey shorts which fitted properly, a neat little checked shirt and navy blue handknitted jumper.

‘Hullo, Alan,’ she said, almost overcome by emotion. She wanted to scoop him up in her arms. ‘Do you remember me?’

The Hugheses’ sitting-room was like one from an Oval-tine advertisement. Very post-war, chintzy and comfortable. The garden beyond the french windows had a swing and a sandpit. A tricycle stood on the path, washing on the line.

‘You’re Rosie,’ he said, without smiling. ‘But your hair’s different.’

‘I had it cut because it got so messy,’ she said. ‘Yours has got darker. And you must be two inches taller.’

He came and sat next to her on the settee later. He told her about his school and demonstrated that he could read with his Janet and John book. Thomas sat in an armchair watching. Miss Pemberton had gone out into the kitchen with Mrs Hughes.

It felt very strange too to see Thomas again in such unfamiliar surroundings. She wished they could have met up before being confronted with one another here. He made her feel jumpy and uncomfortable as they’d had no opportunity yet to clear the air. He looked strained and pale and she couldn’t tell if that was because he was tired or nervous.

It wasn’t helping that Alan was totally ignoring him. He hadn’t spoken to Thomas directly at all. He said things politely for both their benefit. But when Thomas asked him questions, he looked at Rosie as he replied. Mr Hughes had apparently taken his son and daughter out soon after Thomas arrived, because he thought it would be easier for Alan with less of a crowd. But Alan only seemed to want to talk about Jennifer and Raymond and the dog Rex.

It hurt Rosie to see that Alan had transferred all the love he once had for her to his new family. She was sure he hadn’t forgotten that she had once been important to him, because on several occasions she noticed him looking at her thoughtfully. But if he recalled any incidents he didn’t speak of them, and Rosie didn’t dare prompt memories in case it upset him.

Mr Hughes came back later with the other two children and it was almost a relief to have the pressure of talking to Alan alone lifted from them. Seen together, the Hugheses looked like the kind of ideal family portrayed on holiday posters: Mrs Hughes in twinset and tweed skirt with tightly permed hair; her pipe-smoking husband a head taller, wearing a handmade Fair Isle pullover; Jennifer a dimpled five-year-old blonde in a blue wool pinafore skirt; and Raymond, typical of all nine-year-old boys with thin much-scarred knees and drastically cut hair.

Alan made it quite clear where his affections laid. He climbed on to Mr Hughes’s lap and leaned back comfortably against his chest, smiling rather smugly at Thomas. Jennifer was more interested in Rosie, admiring her hair and her costume and asking if she had any lipstick in her handbag that she could try.

As they all had tea and a slice of fruit cake, it seemed to Rosie that she had at last stumbled on the kind of happy, warm, uncomplicated middle-class family hitherto only glimpsed in Enid Blyton books. Alan fitted in as if he’d always been one of them, he even spoke like them now. He had a slight West Country accent but not the broad one he once had. She felt a stab of envy, yet the sorrow at losing him was greater. In her heart she knew this was the last time she’d see her little brother.

When they got back to the cottage Thomas saw to lighting the fire while Rosie helped Miss Pemberton prepare ham, eggs and mashed potato for supper, and although all three of them chatted comfortably, about the cottage, living in the country as opposed to the town, and the forthcoming Coronation, Alan wasn’t mentioned.

‘Well, I think it’s time we discussed Alan,’ Miss Pemberton said as she handed round cheese and biscuits. ‘One of the main reasons Mr and Mrs Hughes are anxious to adopt Alan now, rather than waiting a few years, is because they fear as he grows older he might begin to ask difficult questions about his family.’

‘Adopting him won’t stop that,’ Rosie shrugged.

Thomas and Miss Pemberton looked at one another and Rosie suddenly realized what she meant.

‘You mean, if he doesn’t see Thomas or me there’s no reason for him to ask questions?’

Miss Pemberton nodded.

Thomas put his hand over Rosie’s on the table. ‘So you see the Hugheses’ point?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Rosie said in a small voice. ‘I don’t want him ever to know either.’

Helping Miss Pemberton clear away the supper things later, Rosie mulled things over again in her head. She found Thomas confusing. Each time she’d seen him he’d been slightly different. In some ways he was very assertive, in others he seemed weak. Sometimes he was boyish, sometimes like an old man. She had thought at first that she knew so much about him and his character, but now after all these months away from him she felt she didn’t really know him at all. It bothered her.

The next morning, after Miss Pemberton left the cottage, Rosie made another pot of tea for herself and Thomas. It wasn’t nine yet, a cold but sunny morning. Miss Pemberton had just gone into her office for a couple of hours, but would be back in time to take Thomas to the station at eleven.

Thomas was prodding a little more life into the fire and Rosie brought the tray of tea over to him.

‘When will Alan’s adoption be?’ she asked. Yesterday she hadn’t been totally convinced it was the right thing to do, but she’d woken this morning knowing for certain it was.

‘I think it ought to be as soon as possible, don’t you?’ Thomas said with a sigh. ‘But let’s leave that subject for another day. I want to know about your job. You haven’t said a word about that.’

Thomas had sensed Violet had gone out specifically to give them time to talk alone. He had no idea what she thought he ought to discuss with Rosie, but he knew it wasn’t just Alan’s adoption.

‘There’s nothing much to say,’ Rosie shrugged. ‘I’m going to look around for a new job when I get back.’

‘That bad, eh?’ Thomas pulled a face.

‘It’s not all bad,’ she smiled. ‘One patient called Donald I really love, some of the others I’ve got quite attached to. I like the other girls and there are times when it’s quite good fun. I’ve learned a lot there. Last year when I saw you I thought I’d never get used to some of the awful things. But I have.’

‘All of them?’ Thomas raised one eyebrow.

‘No.’ She dropped her eyes from his. ‘There’s Matron, and the secrecy about what goes on upstairs.’ She told him just a little, but brushed it off with a tight little laugh. ‘The trouble with me is that I am a nosy parker. If I could be like everyone else and just do my job without wanting to know the ins and outs of everything, I’d be a whole lot happier.’

Thomas thought Miss Pemberton would probably winkle all this out of her and she was better-placed to advise Rosie what to do about it. ‘Well, I’d be a whole lot happier if you’d meet me in London,’ he said. ‘How about we arrange a regular evening, say once every three weeks or so, and I’ll take you out to supper somewhere?’

‘Why would you want to do that?’ she asked.

‘Because I think we need one another.’

Rosie looked at him and frowned. She knew she wanted to see him, but she couldn’t imagine why he should want to. ‘To talk about Alan, do you mean?’

‘Well yes, but not just that. There’s a great deal of unfinished business between us. I haven’t told you why I didn’t contact you before.’

‘But I know why that was,’ she said.

All at once Thomas knew what Violet wanted them to talk about. ‘Maybe you think you do, but we haven’t discussed it,’ he said. ‘Perhaps too I just want you as a chum. Or don’t you fancy a one-legged old crock as a friend?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said indignantly. ‘I just don’t see how we can be, not after all that stuff in the trial.’