Sons and Daughters (50 page)

‘Now look here, young ’un, I’ve been good to you, I have.’ The man smirked. ‘And even better to yer ma, so don’t you go bad-mouthing me to these nice people.’

Jenny cowered behind Miles, her boldness deserting her suddenly.

‘Mrs Mercer . . .’ Miles released himself from Jenny’s grasp and strode towards the woman, holding out his hand in welcome. ‘Shall we go inside and have a cup of tea and maybe something to eat? I’m sure you must be—’

‘We gotta get goin’ if we’ve to be back before the blackout,’ the woman said. ‘It’s a long way to London.’

Keeping the smile firmly fixed on his face, Miles glanced towards the man and spread out his hands. ‘You could both stay here tonight. You’re more than welcome.’

‘Nah thanks, guv’nor,’ the man answered again. ‘Like the little lady ses, we’ve got to get back. I’ve got mi business to think of.’ He winked broadly at Miles. ‘Know what I mean.’

Miles didn’t, but he could make a shrewd guess: black market ‘business’.

‘I’m staying here,’ Jenny’s shrill voice piped up. ‘I ain’t going back wiv ’em.’ She turned to Miles. ‘I’m all right here, ain’t I?’

‘Of course you are, Jenny.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘But let’s go inside and talk it over.’

‘Well – ’ the woman hesitated and glanced at the man. ‘Just a cuppa while she gets her things together.’

They turned towards the house, all except Jenny. She tore her hand from Miles’s grasp and began to run across the grass towards the little gate leading to the lane to Buckthorn Farm.

‘ ’Ere, come back, our Jen. Don’t you want to come home with your ma?’ the woman called after her, but Jenny kept on running.

Inwardly, Charlotte smiled. She guessed exactly where the child was heading. Buckthorn Farm. But she wasn’t worried. Mary would look after her. And, later, when the couple had gone, Charlotte would fetch her back. But meanwhile, she would play the perfect hostess.

When they’d had tea, Charlotte offered, ‘Would you like to see Jenny’s bedroom? To see for yourself how well we’re looking after her? Won’t you leave her with us a while longer, Mrs Mercer? She’ll be so much safer here.’

‘No, I want her home. She’s been away a whole year now, an’ I don’t want no one sayin’ I’m a bad mother, sending my child to live wiv strangers.’

‘I’m sure no one would think that,’ Miles said smoothly, carefully avoiding Charlotte’s glance lest his face should give him away. ‘In fact, quite the contrary. You’ve shown remarkable unselfishness in sending your daughter to safety. You are to be commended.’

The woman stared at him, clearly not understanding if she was being insulted or complimented. She sniffed. ‘Well, that’s as may be, but we want her home now, don’t we, Arfer?’

Arthur shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, Dot.’ Again he winked at Miles. ‘Just like to keep the little ladies happy, don’t we, guv’nor?’

Miles beamed at him, recognizing an ally, albeit for very different reasons. The man didn’t want Jenny back with them any more than Miles wanted to let her go.

But Dot was the little girl’s mother and she was adamant. ‘All the other kids is back now. Jen’s the only one in our street not back home and folks is talking.’ She nodded towards Arthur. ‘’Specially now Arfer’s moved in. But we’re getting married, ain’t we, Arfer? And we want her back. We want to be a family.’ She smiled archly. ‘You never know, there might be a little brother or sister for ’er one day.’

Miles was amused by the flash of sheer terror which flitted across the man’s face, but Arthur hid it manfully and forced a thin smile. ‘Yer never know yer luck,’ he murmured.

‘So,’ Dot said, standing up, ‘if you can let me have her things, missis, we’ll be on our way. Arfer, go an’ call ’er. She can’t be far away.’ She shuddered dramatically. ‘She’ll not like all them open spaces we drove through to get here, I know.’

‘
I
don’t know where she’ll be. Look, Dot, she don’t want to come home. It’s obvious. Why don’t you—?’

‘Shut up, Arfer. She’s comin’ back with us and that’s final.’ She turned back to Miles. ‘You’d best find her, mister, ’cos I ain’t going back without her.’ Dot sat down again, a stubborn look on her face.

‘She could be anywhere – ’

‘Then you aren’t looking after ’er very well if you let her run wild like this.’

‘We don’t – I mean – ’ Miles was floundering and Charlotte stepped in.

‘Jenny will be quite safe,’ she said calmly, pushing aside the memory of their own panic when the girl had gone missing. ‘She knows the area well now, and—’

‘Well, you’d best find ’er, missis,’ Dot said again. ‘ ’Cos I’m staying here till you do.’

Charlotte caught sight of Miles’s face and her heart turned over with love for him. They were going to lose Jenny and he was devastated. They were no match for this determined woman, who was, after all, the girl’s mother. Miles sighed heavily and turned away. ‘I’ll send out a search party,’ he murmured.

‘I’ll go,’ Charlotte said at once and hurried out of the room before anyone could stop her. ‘I’ll organize it.’

The November afternoon was turning to dusk and there was still no sign of Jenny.

‘Dot, we’ll have to go,’ Arthur insisted at last. ‘We’ll be all night getting home now. Have to go slow, y’know,’ he winked at Miles, ‘in the blackout.’

Miles nodded absently. He rather thought the man would break the blackout regulations, put his car lights on full beam, and drive like the wind.

‘Oh, all right. Have it your way.’ Dot stood up and wagged her finger at both Miles and Charlotte. ‘But I want her home. I’m going to the authorities when I get back.’

Miles’s face was bleak. But, at least, for the moment, Jenny would be staying.

Charlotte found Jenny in the place that had been her own childhood hideaway; the hayloft at Buckthorn Farm. The girl had fallen asleep, nestled in the dry hay. Charlotte sat beside her, gazing out of the small, square window until Jenny roused herself, rubbed her eyes and sat up.

‘Have they gone?’

‘Yes – for the moment. But your mother wants you home, darling.’

Jenny’s lower lip trembled. ‘But I don’t want to go. I like it here. Don’t you want me any more?’

Charlotte put her arm round Jenny’s shoulders. Her voice was husky and not quite steady as she said, ‘Miles and I would like you to stay for ever, and that’s the truth, but your mum loves you. She wants you to go home.’

The girl was silent for a long time before she said in a small voice, ‘Are they coming back to get me, then?’

Charlotte sighed. ‘Your mother said she would be going to the authorities when she got home. Darling – if she does – there’ll be nothing we can do.’

‘I could hide here again. They wouldn’t find me.’

Charlotte was silent. She didn’t tell her that she’d told the searchers not to go into the hayloft at Buckthorn Farm. She’d guessed that was where the girl would be. She’d deliberately prevented them from finding Jenny. She sighed inwardly. She knew the girl would have to go back to London sooner or later, but at least she’d won them a little time. Time in which they could all get used to the idea.

Especially Miles, though she doubted he would ever come to terms with letting Jenny go.

Christmas was always going to be difficult. It was their first since the awful news that Georgie had been posted missing and now it was likely that very soon Jenny would have to leave them. There’d been no word yet from Dot, but they all knew it was only a matter of time. Even if she’d changed her mind and decided to let her daughter stay in the country, once the war ended the little girl would have to go home.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Miles murmured one night as they lay in each other’s arms, ‘that they’d let us adopt her?’

Charlotte sighed. ‘I don’t think so. The mother seemed – well – possessive. It didn’t seem like real affection to me, more like a status symbol. That she wanted to appear a good mother in front of her neighbours. I got the impression that was why she wanted Jenny home. Because all the other children in the street were back.’

‘Mm. She said as much, didn’t she?’

There was a pause before Charlotte said, ‘Maybe Dot latched on to what you said and has gone back lording it over everyone about how she had been selfless in allowing Jenny to stay with us.’

‘Perhaps,’ he murmured, sounding doubtful.

Philip arrived home on Christmas Eve. ‘I’m one of the lucky ones,’ he told them, dropping his kit bag and a pile of gifts on to the floor of the hall. ‘I’ve got five whole days.’ His face sobered as he took a deep breath, ‘But it’s likely I’ll be posted abroad soon after Christmas, so . . .’

He forced a bright smile and, before either Miles or Charlotte could make any comment, added, ‘We’re going to make it a good one, especially for little Jen.’ Seeing their subdued faces, he glanced from one to the other. ‘What? What is it?’

Charlotte sighed and moved to kiss his cheek, whilst Miles held out his hand to shake his son’s. Drawing Philip into the morning room whilst Charlotte sent for tea, he told Philip about Dot Mercer’s visit.

‘I doubt we’ll be able to hold out for ever. She was very determined and – ’ he sighed heavily – ‘she’s the girl’s mother.’

‘Then let’s do our best to make it a memorable Christmas for her.’ Philip glanced at Charlotte as he added softly, ‘It’s what Georgie would have wanted us to do.’

To everyone’s amazement, Philip was the ‘life and soul’ of Christmas. Ben hadn’t been able to get leave, so it was Philip who took Jenny out that afternoon to collect holly and ivy to decorate the house. Then in the evening he commandeered everyone into helping with the decorating of the Christmas tree in the hall. And just before Jenny’s bedtime, he suggested she should ask Mrs Beddows for a mince pie for Father Christmas and a carrot for his reindeers.

‘We’ll put them near the tree in the hall. He’ll be sure to find them there.’

‘Whatever made you think of doing that?’ Charlotte asked. ‘What a lovely idea.’

‘One of the lads at camp was talking about his kids and it’s what they do.’ For a brief moment, his eyes were haunted. ‘Poor feller. He was posted abroad last week. He’ll not get home for Christmas.’

Just after midnight, Philip dressed up in a red dressing gown and cotton wool beard and crept into Jenny’s bedroom with an armful of presents to fill the pillowcase that the excited little girl had hung on the end of her bed. And he was up at six o’clock the following morning, grinning from ear to ear as Jenny woke the whole household with her cries of ‘He’s been! He’s been!
And
’ee’s eaten the mince pie.’

‘Who’d have thought it?’ Miles murmured as they watched Philip kneeling on the bedroom floor helping Jenny open her presents. ‘It’s as if—’

He stopped, not wanting to bring sadness to the moment, but Charlotte added softly, ‘Yes, it’s as if Georgie’s here, isn’t it? That’s just what he’d’ve been doing.’

Christmas Day and Boxing Day passed all too quickly with noisy games and such a wonderful array of food that Charlotte wondered if Mrs Beddows had links to the black market.

Miles threw back his head and laughed. ‘I don’t think so, my dear, though I wouldn’t put it past Brewster. No, Charlotte, she’s been holding secret meetings with Mary and Peggy for weeks.’ He chuckled as he added, ‘She’s become a real country woman and revels in learning your ways.’

Charlotte was about to ask him if he had any regrets about moving to the country all those years ago, but at that moment, Jenny grabbed his hand and pulled him into a game of hide and seek through the rambling house.

‘You too, Charlotte,’ she insisted. And neither of them could refuse – even if they’d wanted to.

As he left on the morning after Boxing Day, Philip put his arms round Charlotte’s waist. ‘Charlotte, thank you for a lovely Christmas.’

‘Thank
you
, Philip. You – you’ve been wonderful.’ She kissed him and then, drawing back a little, murmured, ‘Please, take care of yourself.’

For a brief moment, the same haunted look she had seen in Georgie’s eyes was in Philip’s. ‘I’ll try,’ he said huskily and turned away abruptly.

He swung Jenny high into the air, making her squeal with delight, before setting her down again and shaking his father’s hand.

And then he, too, was gone.

There were two serious air raids over Lynthorpe during January and February 1941, killing at least two residents. Soon after news of this had spread, the moment they’d all dreaded came when they saw Mr Tomkins riding up the drive on his bicycle.

Jenny ran and, for once, Miles and Charlotte let her go, preparing to face Mr Tomkins together. He dismounted from his bicycle, leaned it against the pillar at the foot of the steps, and climbed to the front door. Miles opened it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Tomkins said at once as he stepped inside. ‘The girl’s mother’s demanding we send Jenny back. She heard about the air raids here. One of the other evacuee children who comes from the same neighbourhood as Jenny wrote home and Dot got to hear about it. She’s saying the girl’s no safer here now than she would be in London. Her argument is that at least they’ve got the Underground to shelter in.’ He sighed. ‘And – in a way – you’ve got to agree with her. We’ve nothing like that here. Even an Anderson isn’t quite the same, is it?’