She wasn’t smiling now. Everything inside her was a tangle of knots, that only one bright thread could unravel, if only she could find it.
She was thirsty and generally uncomfortable. Her back ached. But by leaving the chair she knew she’d be tempting fate.
She and Leo had achieved nearly everything they’d set out to do, and together. They married, worked and saved, and produced a beautiful son. It wasn’t fair that he should be raised without Leo as his father.
It was a shame that the war had intervened in their plans, but that was an interlude. When it was over they intended to go to Australia and she’d give him another child, and they’d live happily ever after in the sunshine.
If the phone rang and she missed Leo’s call she might never hear from him again. So she sat there and waited for the telephone to ring. She didn’t know what else to do.
Meggie discovered her aunt there when she came back with the shopping. ‘The queues are getting longer and longer, but I managed to get some pork—’ She scooped in a breath. ‘Something awful has happened, hasn’t it?’
Her aunt didn’t answer. She gripped the seat on either side of the chair; her face pale and set.
‘Aunt Es,’ Meggie said gently, her voice thickening with tears when she saw the yellow envelope in her lap. ‘I think we need to get you to bed.’
Esmé’s fingers tightened, anchoring her to the chair. ‘I’m waiting for Leo to call. He promised to ring me yesterday.’
Plucking the envelope from her aunt’s lap she said, ‘You haven’t opened this.’
‘I can’t. What if he’s . . . what if he’s not coming back. He said he’d telephone me. I’m waiting for his call.’
It was likely that he might not be coming back if she’d received a telegram. ‘The telephone is still out of order.’
‘No, it’s not. It rang earlier, someone asked for you.’
Tearing the envelope open Meggie read the message out loud. ‘
Regret to inform you that Squadron Leader Leo Thornton did not return from an air operation, and at this time is reported as missing.’
When Esmé made a little moaning noise, Meggie told her, ‘They go on to say that this doesn’t mean he’s been wounded or killed, and if they get any further information they’ll let you know, to alleviate any anxiety the news may have caused you.’
The sudden clamour of the telephone made them both jump.
A smile appearing on her face, her aunt snatched it up. ‘Leo?’
Her face suddenly crumpled. She dropped the telephone and buried her face in her hands. ‘It’s not him . . . it’s someone called Constance Stone. She rang before.’
Picking up the receiver Meggie said, ‘Mrs Stone. It’s Margaret Elliot. If it’s not urgent, may I call you back?’ Bad news couldn’t strike twice in one day, surely. ‘Is it . . . Rennie?’
‘No, my dear. It’s Foxglove estate business so it can wait. Is everything all right?’
‘We’ve had some rather disturbing news. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, probably tomorrow, and if necessary will make an appointment to see you. Thank you for calling.’
As soon as she’d replaced the receiver Meggie put an arm round her aunt and encouraged her to rise. ‘Come with me, Aunt Es. You’re going back to bed while I cook dinner. I’ll call you if there’s any news.’
‘I don’t feel like eating dinner.’
‘You must, for the sake of Johnno. We eat little enough as it is on rations. I’ll sleep up here too . . . keep you company, so you won’t feel you’re alone. I have two weeks off so I can look after you. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea. And don’t worry about the telephone, I’m here to answer it.’
‘Tea . . . the panacea for all evils.’ Esmé got to her feet and gazed into the baby carriage at her son. ‘It would be a shame if he never knew his father.’
‘He will know him. Stop thinking the worst. Go on, off you go and get into bed. I’ll bring Johnno up when he wakes for a feed.’
Meggie gazed at the child. How brand new and dear to them he was, sleeping soundly in all innocence of the devilry going on around them. He didn’t know there was a war on, and he didn’t know yet that he’d picked out a wonderful mother for himself. And he’d know his father was a man to be proud of, whatever happened, as Meggie had known her father, because he was part of a family who loved and cared for each other.
As for Leo, she was sure he’d come home . . . if not today, then another day. And the war would end and they’d all start rebuilding their lives.
Dashing away her tears she rang her mother, nearly crying again at the sound of her calm voice.
‘Meggie, my dear. Is everything all right?’
She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Leo is missing in action.’
‘Oh . . . how dreadful.’ In the poignant silence Meggie imagined her mother staggering back on to the chair kept by the instrument, her palm pressed against her chest. ‘How’s Esmé taking it?’
‘All right I think. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I found her with the telegram unopened in her lap, waiting by the telephone for Leo to call. I’ve just got her up to bed. I don’t know how to handle the situation. It’s so very dangerous in London now. The house up the road was bombed and there are raids day and night. Leo wanted Aunt Es to go and stay with you, but she refused. Now she has the baby to look after, and it would be horrible if anything happened to them – especially since Leo might turn up.’
‘She must come to me as soon as she’s over the birth. Denton has some time off coming. He can take the train up to London and persuade her. Better still, I’ll send Chad up. Their twinship has always made them close, so she’ll listen to him.’
‘Leo’s car is garaged. Chad could drive that back. There’s probably enough fuel in it, and if not I know someone who can get us some.’
‘Black market?’
‘It’s a way of life here, Mummy. People aren’t as honest as those in the country . . . probably because there are more of them.’
‘Country people help each other out.’
‘So do Londoners. They’re so wonderfully brave and resilient in the face of the danger.’ Nick came into her mind and her mouth drew into a smile. ‘Sometimes they can be foolhardy too.’
‘Tell Esmé she and her son can live in Nutting Cottage. Chad and Sylvia have bought their own place now . . . one more convenient for Chad’s rounds. He does a duty drop-in every day at the convalescent home though. There’s no chance that you could come down with Es, I suppose? I haven’t seen you for ages, and I do miss you.’
A warm feeling lodged in her heart. ‘I miss you too, but I can’t at the moment. I’ll try and get a weekend pass in a month or two.’
‘What is it you do that’s so important?’
‘Secretarial work.’
‘Can’t you get a posting? I’m sure we could find room for you here. I could put the refugee children in the sitting room. Their mother came down to visit, and there was a scene when she had to return to London. Poor little girls were so unsettled after she left.’
‘Yes, I suppose they would have been. You don’t understand, Mummy. I like what I’m doing. It’s challenging.’
‘What’s challenging about typing up other people’s letters? It all sounds rather dreary to me. I suppose it’s that boyfriend of yours . . . the one with the odd name.’
‘Rennie? What a coincidence that you should mention him. His mother rang me earlier . . . something to do with Foxglove House. By the way, Rennie is fighting overseas and his mother is now acting as trustee.’
‘Ah, yes . . . of course, he would be. It’s hard to think of war down here, though it’s only a hundred and twenty miles away. It’s something to do with the entail, I expect. Who can understand all this legal mumbo-jumbo that goes on? Denton got a letter just the other day. Apparently an estate that’s no longer viable to maintain can be disposed of.’
‘Oh . . . good.’
‘I’m sure the solicitor can explain it to you much better than I, but that’s the gist of it. In another year you’ll be of age. If you decided to dispense with it, act sensibly. There will be hidden costs.’
Johnno gave a huge yawn then a few fretful whimpers of discontent.
‘Your latest nephew is beginning to wake up.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then. Ask Esmé to ring me when she’s able. I’ll try and talk some sense into her.’
Johnno managed a long, warbling high note and waved a fist around before cramming the whole hand in his mouth and taking great smacking sucks on it.
‘That bad, huh?’ she whispered, and lifted him from his pram. His little flannel nightie, the yoke smocked in blue knots, was damp. She took him upstairs and laid him on the bed to change his nightie and tackle his napkin.
Folding the corners into a kite shape like she’d seen her aunt do, she brought the ends across and the last one up through his legs. She pinned it in place. ‘There,’ she said, and kissed him. ‘You mustn’t munch on your fist, you’re not old enough for solids.’
When she lifted him the nappy slid down his legs on to the bed. ‘You did that on purpose, you rogue. Stop showing your manly bits off.’
There was a chuckle from behind her, and she turned.
‘I’ll show you how to do it properly. Who were you talking to on the telephone?’
She could have lied, but she didn’t.
‘It was my mother. I was asking her advice.’
‘And she planned it all out for you . . . my life and that of my son.’
‘You frightened me, Aunt Es. She only wants what’s best for you and Johnno.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. I scared myself. Shock affects people in different ways. For me, it was as if the world had come to a halt. I’m well aware that Leo is missing . . . but he’s not dead. He’s alive . . . I know it. What was Livia’s plan?’
‘She’s sending Chad to persuade you to return to Eavesham. You and the baby can live in Nutting Cottage, which is now vacant. That’s the first place Leo will think of if he can’t find you here. My mother wants you to give her a ring.’
‘I will . . . in a day or two, when I decide what I want to do.’
‘It would be better for the baby.’ But her aunt already knew that.
A week later there was a rattle of a motorbike outside and a young man presented himself at the door. ‘I’m Eddie Richards . . . I was the Doc’s wingman.’
It took a moment for Meggie to think of who the Doc was, and the man’s face was vaguely familiar.
‘We met once before. You were taking a flying lesson and I was rude to you, I think. For that I apologize, Mrs Thornton.’
‘I’m not Mrs Thornton. I’m Margaret Elliot . . . Doc Thornton’s niece. And it was me who was rude to you, I think.’
He gave a faint smile, as though he remembered their meeting. ‘Sorry, of course you are, I recognize you now. It seems a long time ago that we met, and now we’re much older. It’s nice to see you again, Miss Elliot.’
Esmé came down the stairs, the expression in her eyes wary. ‘Thank you for coming, follow me into the sitting room if you would. I’ll get us some tea.’
‘I’ll make it,’ Meggie said.
As she walked away, she heard, ‘I was with the Doc when he was shot down. His chute didn’t open properly and he ditched into the channel. His cords caught on the tail of his Spit and it pulled him under when it sank . . .’
So Leo had drowned. How could Eddie Richards be so matter-of-fact about it, and so insensitive in telling his wife what had happened.
Eddie Richards’s report knocked the stuffing out of her aunt, and robbed her of hope. The colour ebbed from her face and she buckled at the knees.
When Meggie heard her sobbing her heart out that night she got into bed with her and held her tight. She couldn’t bear knowing her aunt’s heart had been broken.
‘I could kill that man with my bare hands for telling you that.’
‘It’s all right, Meggie. He needed to tell me and I needed to know.’
‘Leo has given you Johnno to love,’ was all she could think of to say, but despite that, she was in tears herself.
When Chad arrived a few days later Esmé was packed ready to go.
Dear, sweet Chad . . . so responsible and kind to his twin sister, as he had been since their time together in the orphanage as children.
‘Oh, my poor, dear Es,’ he’d said and had held Esmé tight while she cried and cried.
Leaving them together, Meggie walked to the garage and fetched the car. It was difficult to start, but finally came alive with the help of a man polishing a motorbike in the adjoining garage, who fiddled with this and that under the bonnet, and then said with great satisfaction when the engine fired, ‘There she goes. The engine’s been lying idle and needs a bit of coaxing. Drive her around the block a bit.’
She remembered Leo calling the car a cantankerous old cow, his accent flattening the vowels a little. She smiled and whispered. ‘If you’re still alive you’d better find your way home, Leo. Es needs you.’
They piled her luggage into the back of the car, and tied the pram Leo had been so proud of on the top.
‘There’s an extra can of petrol in the boot,’ she told him.
Meggie hugged her aunt and whispered, ‘Don’t you give up on him.’
She had a strong feeling that Esmé still held a little hope inside her, for she found Leo’s clothing neatly folded in the drawers, and his best uniform hanging in the wardrobe along with a change of clothing, as if it had been placed there, waiting for its owner to come back. There was an envelope addressed to him on the dressing table.
Not that Meggie didn’t believe Eddie Richards’s account of what he’d seen, but he’d been in a fast moving aircraft dodging the enemy planes and was probably as exhausted as he’d looked.
Was her aunt being stupid, choosing to believe that Leo was still alive? Was she? Meggie didn’t care. All she knew was that she’d rather hope he was alive than know that he wasn’t.
As Meggie’s mother had told her, the Foxglove estate, which was no longer affordable as a country house and was entailed to the Sinclair bloodline, could be sold if permission was gained from the courts.
Constance Stone said, ‘I’ve spoken to your stepfather, Doctor Elliot. He suggests that I prepare a case to put before the court, with your permission. By the time it’s gone through the system you will be of age I expect. The law acts slowly in such matters, especially when dealing with the estates of minors.’