Her Hungry Heart (13 page)

Max and the brigadier secured their oars. The brigadier shook Max’s hand, congratulating him on his rowing. Pierre threw the line to his father who secured the boat to the dock. They were all there waiting to accompany the Beechtrees sailors back to the house for tea.

Mimi looked so pretty and happy walking next to Barbara. She saw the quality that enchanted everyone who got to know her, that combination of child and waif with maturing beauty and intelligence. A charm not unlike Barbara’s own that had drawn men to her ever since she had been a child. An independence, and yet a streak of vulnerability. And there was, too, something else, a natural sensuality about the child. Barbara had learned how to use those things to her advantage and to protect herself from being taken advantage of, and so would this child have to, all her life. Well, that’s not a bad thing, thought Barbara. It has done me no harm to be strong. On the contrary. The thought prompted her to a decision: she would, until Mimi was back in the bosom of her family, be as supportive as she could of her, while remaining ultra-cautious that Mimi should not become dependent.

She told her, ‘You know, Mimi, life is very strange. When one door closes, another always opens. Take today, for example. I have had the most wonderful day, and soon I will have to leave you all to go back to New York all by myself. Tomorrow is another day, and another door will open, and I will have a different small adventure. That’s how you grow and develop and learn. You make changes and go forward. When you are young, as you boys and girls are, you usually have to wait for your parents or guardians to make those changes for you. But soon you will be making them for yourself, with adults in the background to guide and advise. That will be so much fun for you and the other children. Don’t you think so, Juliet?’

‘I hadn’t thought about it that way. I don’t think Mimi and I have begun to think that way. Maybe we have been
too lazy in our minds, Mimi. We are always letting Pierre find doors to open for us.’

Barbara tried to hide her delight in what she was hearing, wanting not to make too much of it for fear of frightening the girls off, and especially Mimi. Instead she pushed her advantage in the hope she was opening a prospect of some sort of a future for Mimi after the loss of the family hit her. ‘You would go to live in New York if you could, wouldn’t you, Juliet? I mean, part-time. There would always be your other place, Beechtrees. Even if you had to go alone, the way I do.’

‘Oh, yes. I would want to try it out anyway. To really see what’s there.’

‘That’s called experiencing a place. Well, good for you. We all have lots of experiences. Not always good. But one has to be big and brave and keep going forward and adding to one’s life. Every time I leave New York and come to Beechtrees, it’s to experience whatever there is on offer here. Fortunately it is always a happy encounter like today.’

‘Not everyone is a free spirit, an independent creature with a voracious appetite for life like yours, Barbara. You get it from both sides of the family. In you it’s innate. Your mother and father were both like you. But there are those who are happy not to jump into the fast-moving rapids of life, those who settle for the easy-running streams. I’m getting on my bandwagon again, about your settling down. Sorry about that. But you know me, an old army man. Like things to fit into the system. That’s why I am always in conflict about you. I like you too much the way you are, but …’

The girls appeared riveted by the intense exchange developing between Barbara and her uncle. Everything the brigadier said seemed to them to glamorize Barbara even more.

‘Oh, hell, don’t ever change. You’re the best.’ He kissed her on the cheek and strode away towards the Queen,
saying, ‘Ma’am, you have given an old soldier a lovely day. May I take your arm?’

Barbara had not seen her uncle in such high spirits for a long time. He was not among those having a good war: it had been taking a toll on him. He had a controversial reputation as a top army man: hard, ruthless with his men, some said a maverick, insubordinate at times to his superiors. A genius in certain aspects of war, for which he was respected. He had the President’s ear. Men of higher rank and position had to respect that. She had great affection for her uncle, but for the other side of his character, the non-army side. When Mimi asked, ‘May I visit you in New York some time?’ Barbara felt quite relieved. She had, after all, gotten her point over to the girl. She had thought it might have become lost in her uncle’s interjection.

‘Of course, Mimi. And if one day you should find yourself living there, then we could see each other often. You see, you already have a friend in New York, though I hope you understand that, if I cannot see you one day, I will see you another. My work and the art world fill my life: it has to take precedence over most other things. I would have to be a friend who would be there for you, but one you must not be too dependent on. Now, if that’s good enough, we can be fine friends.’

Barbara felt she had said it all. Had done all she could to try to ease the blow that was about to hit Mimi, and without involving herself too much. The girl was no dummy, she had a clever mind, she was a survivor. She had got the message, even if she had no idea why it had been delivered. Hopefully she would remember that a new door could open for her if she gave it a little push. That things had changed for her. That though she might be a victim of circumstances, she need not be a mere victim. Barbara could not but hope for the child’s sake that Mimi would want to take that step forward rather than live alone with
Sophia at Beechtrees. Barbara would be no substitute parent for Mimi: she hoped that she had made that clear. Barbara would be the only thing she could be to Mimi: the best of friends.

It was a soft, warm, rosy and mauve dusk when the family stood on the stairs in front of the entrance to wave the last of their guests a final farewell. They watched the car circle the crescent-shaped drive and disappear down the avenue of beech trees now covered gloriously in small, tender new leaves. The avenue looked like a scene from a French Pointillist painting; a little unreal, enchanting, mysterious. They remained there silent, listening to the sounds of Beechtrees, nature making ready for night fall. The silence was broken by the Prince. ‘Everyone into the drawing room.’

The children, still high on excitement from their day, had expected supper in the playroom and bed to have been the last directive of the day from their parents. And then a postmortem about it in whispers after lights out. For Mimi, an order from Cook to change her clothes, the supper had to be done and the kitchen made immaculate before she could go to bed. For all her new-found wealth and closer relationship with the family, Mimi still had her chores to do. She still kept, more or less, to the dictum that she had to earn her keep in exchange for living at Beechtrees and retaining the family’s and Cook’s friendship.

Looks passed between the children, broad smiles appeared, the day was not over. This was more fun. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to hash over the grand party and the guests without having to sneak around to each other’s rooms in the dark. They should have suspected something important was about to be announced when on entering the drawing room they found the house staff assembled and waiting. But they were overexcited children, still wrapped up in the day’s events and the glamour of so many illustrious visitors. The realization that something more was happening outside their own little world was
missed. It was only when, for the third time, the Prince broke in on their chatter and restlessness with a request for everyone’s attention, that the room went quiet. Cook went to stand behind Mimi, and even before she whispered in the child’s ear, ‘Pay attention,’ Mimi sensed something momentous was about to happen, but not for her. She felt a nervous tremor and began rubbing her thumb across the back of one hand, aware of the smoothness of the skin. She began wringing her hands, but caught herself before anyone could see, stopped, unclasped her hands and placed them by her sides.

‘What we have all been waiting for is close at hand.’ The Prince’s voice was charged with emotion. ‘It cannot be long. Soon the war will be over, and so we are leaving Beechtrees for England, the day after tomorrow, to await the end of hostilities there and to be closer to home. At the right time we will cross the Channel and return with the Allied troops to Europe and our country, liberated from its years of tyranny.’

Ever since her arrival at Beechtrees, Mimi had expected that one day she would have to leave it. Later, when she became less a skivvy for the family and more a friend, that they would vanish from her life was a constant expectation. But no matter how she had prepared herself, expectation and reality are two different things. She had to fight back tears. The pain of seeing Max, Juliet and Pierre jump with joy, whoop and holler and dance around the room with excitement, of listening to their enthusiastic questions, hearing the excited laughter of everyone concerned, was hard for her. But worse: not once did they glance her way. She was forgotten in the rush of such momentous news.

Mimi felt Cook’s hands on her bony shoulders. Sophia gave a squeeze of reassurance. The child sensed that she was telling her, it’s going to be all right, you’re going to be just fine. Mimi turned to gaze into Sophia’s face. The cook’s eyes were filled with tears.

‘Not us,’ she told Mimi. ‘You and I, Mimi, we stay here at Beechtrees.’

It took several minutes before the children could be calmed down. Then the Queen called Mimi and Cook to her side and addressed herself to Mimi. ‘You must know that if it were at all possible we would take you with us. But it is not.’ Her words did little to ease Mimi’s pain at being left behind. Nor the surprise to Max and Pierre, the shock to Juliet. They burst into a shower of pleadings with their parents that Mimi should be allowed to accompany them, but were silenced with severe looks. ‘Children, you are making this more difficult for all of us, mostly Mimi. Miss Dunmellyn has invited Mimi and Cook to stay here at Beechtrees. She will be safe and happy, it has been seen to.’

The sovereign turned to Mimi and took the child’s hand in hers. Stroking it, she told her, ‘You do understand, Mimi? Cook has asked to remain with you until your father returns. She wants to look after you, and you must obey her. You will for the time being live here at Beechtrees with her. You needn’t worry about anything. Mr Peabody has agreed to organize your life here, schools and finances and so on. Be happy for us all, child. We are going home soon, and one day soon, so will you. After the war, when we are settled, the children will ask you to come and visit. Until then you can write to each other, become pen-pals. You must think of our departure as something wonderful. Peace is closer than ever, and soon we will have returned to our normal lives.’

What’s that? Mimi wondered to herself.

The child struggled against her sense of loss by thinking of the beautiful and glamorous Barbara Dunmellyn waving to her through the oval-shaped rear window of the black Chrysler as it disappeared down the avenue of beech trees, swallowed into the rosy-mauve dusk of descending night.

Chapter 11

The house was in turmoil. Everyone seemed dizzily excited and busy. Packing, preparing themselves for the future. Happiness and hope had until now always been in the shadow of war, fear of the future, stalking them. But suddenly those fears seemed to vanish. The family was on the move, about to cross the Atlantic. For the first time, everyone believed that victory was closer rather than farther away.

Mimi tried to enter into the spirit of things but it was impossible. The only thing she was experiencing was a sense of being left behind. Some invisible wall had dropped between her and the family. They were wrapped up in a new life that she could not possibly be a part of, and it hurt. It was only when the last car was pulling away from the entrance to the mansion house to circle the drive and enter the avenue of beech trees that she was able to overcome her feelings of separation and dash after it, all waves and smiles, calling, ‘Goodbye, goodbye, and thank you.’

The cavalcade of cars – three limousines, two station wagons and a large van carrying household belongings – was moving out slowly in the dawnlight just breaking over the leaves of the trees. The headlights of the cars like yellow hazy moons pierced the early morning mist. Jack, on a motorcycle, was bringing up the rear as far as the gate, where he would join Ernie in the black Dodge, to make up the last car in the small convoy heading for the Westover Field military air-base. There a transport carrier was waiting for its precious civilian cargo. Jack stopped for only
a second to sweep Mimi up and give her a ride as far as the gate. There she burst in on the family in the Cadillac waiting for their escort to get into position. Mimi said more enthusiastic and affectionate goodbyes. The family was swept up by the charm she could exude, and for a few moments the invisible wall that separated them vanished and they were together, bosom friends, happy and excited about the future.

Finally the car door was closed and Mimi watched the four motorcycle Massachusetts State Troopers making ready to fall behind the black Dodge, as escort. They revved their motors and circled round Mimi. One of the tall, handsome, uniformed policemen winked at her, another patted her on the head as they passed by to shoot out after the Dodge. She remained standing there, the dust rising up around her spindly legs, waving frantically until the cars and the troopers were long out of sight.

Mimi placed her hands by her sides. It was very quiet now except for the birds. She stood for a long time looking through the entrance to Beechtrees on to the public road. This was the first time she had ever seen the great iron gates of Beechtrees left open. It seemed strange but exhilarating. She had been so unhappy ever since she had heard the news of the family’s departure, but all that was gone now. Her relief at not being so deeply unhappy was to affect her from that moment and for the rest of her life. She made a vow to herself that, no matter what, she would never tolerate such unhappiness again. Mimi made her second independent decision right then and there. Until her father came to claim her, she would do what
she
wanted to do about her future. With, of course, the permission of Mr Peabody and Sophia.

She stood there, in front of the open gates, one lone figure in the morning mist with the sun burning off the remnants of night, until she was moved to walk back to the house and Sophia. Mimi entered a kitchen that smelled of frying
bacon, freshly baked bread, coffee, the sweet scent of hot chocolate. The sad face Sophia had shown as she curtsied and said her goodbyes to the sovereign and her consort, hugged and kissed the children, was gone, replaced by a more placid and content expression. She was standing over the stove, pushing bacon around in a frying pan with a fork and humming a bright tune. Mimi stood watching for several seconds. Sophia, sensing that she was there, turned to smile at Mimi, and ask, ‘Scrambled or fried? One or two?’

‘Scrambled, two.’

‘Good, then we’ll all have scrambled. Go and call the teachers. I left them with long faces in the small sitting room.’ Mimi was amazed at how quickly enthusiasm for change can take over and transform one’s mood.

Those left at Beechtrees made an effort to make a new life for themselves, sometimes in vain. Mimi and Sophia moved into large sunny bedrooms overlooking the park, but Sophia was uncomfortable and, after three days, returned to her rooms off the kitchen. The house seemed much too big for Mimi and the two tutors. They felt lost in it without the family for back-up, but kept their rooms nevertheless. The tutors, contracted until the summer holidays, stayed with Mimi as their only pupil until they took on Sophia too, teaching her English and American history. The four women pretended to themselves that they could live there as happily as they had when the family was in residence; the pretence wore thin. The incredible quiet and beauty of Beechtrees was still there for them, but they missed the adventure, excitement and fun the family generated. No more mysterious guests or endless talk of the war.

As Mimi watched the FBI men pack up their surveillance and security systems and one by one leave the estate, it slowly dawned on her that so would she. Because she and Sophia had choices just as Barbara Dunmellyn had said.

Jack and Ernie were the last FBI men to leave. They were accorded a sumptuous farewell lunch by Sophia, served at a
table set up on the south lawn, with a grand view of the lush green trees and wild flowers covering the surrounding hills punctuated with grand old mansions that glistened white in the Spring sun. The women, the two young teachers and Sophia and Mimi, were dressed in their best to make an occasion of the men’s departure. The lunch consisted of pancakes stuffed with lobster and shrimp and a cream sauce, a cold vichyssoise, luscious and creamy, with snippets of bright green chives floating on top; rib of beef, boned, stuffed and roasted, crispy, mahogany-coloured on the outside, rare and pink on the inside, with roasted potatoes, a lacquered golden colour, crunchy, but soft and buttery-tasting once opened with fork and knife. The beef was stuffed with wild rice, crab-meat and mushroom, and served with baby candied carrots and tiny individual moulds of hot spinach mousse. For pudding, fresh strawberry pavlova. Sophia produced exquisite wines, a Montrachet first, followed by a Chambertin, and, with the pavlova, a Sauterne that was unforgettable.

The Prince himself had selected the wines to be served. It had been he who had ordered the meal to be given to the two men as a parting gift. It was an enjoyable lunch, one impossible to share without reminiscing about the adventures they’d had during the years they had been together, and that of course included the children, the Prince and the Queen. It was to remind Mimi of how empty Beechtrees really was, how much more so it would be once Ernie and Jack left.

Over coffee and long, fat Havana cigars, Jack sprang his surprise. ‘We have good news, Mimi, it came through this morning. Our transfer, and it’s official.’ A large beaming smile crossed his face.

Ernie continued, ‘We were stuck here. Much as we like you guys,
we were stuck here,
and out of it, for far too long.’

Jack interrupted. ‘Now we’ve pulled the plum out of the cake. Our transfer is to the New York office, and that’s a
great posting. Lots of real action. It also means …’ And he smiled at Mimi and Sophia, only this time it was Mimi who interrupted.

‘We can see each other, still be friends?’

‘That’s right, Mimi. And I can still eat your cooking, Sophia. The city is not all that far away.’

Mimi felt a kind of elation, a strange excitement. She felt relieved at the idea that Jack wasn’t going to vanish the same way the family had. He was going to that big New York. Barbara Dunmellyn was in New York, and there was Mr Peabody at the bank, and a place to live, and money in New York. Nothing was the same as it had been when Mimi arrived at Beechtrees. Stop looking back, she told herself. You don’t have to be left behind, Mimi Kowalski, you have something
and
somewhere to go to.

Quite calmly she announced, ‘Sophia and I will be in New York too.’ She looked down the table. Surprise showed on her guardian’s face. ‘Yes, Sophia. I don’t know if we’ll like it there, but we’ll give it a try. Because I have a house there, we have a home, and we can’t stay at Beechtrees as guests for ever.’ Mimi felt a surge of excitement now that she had said it. Only Sophia seemed astonished. The others seemed pleased, relieved even. The following morning Miss Tolset called Mr Peabody for Mimi, and yet another new life began for her.

The next few years were to be happy. Though she might still have been a victim of circumstances she no longer felt that way. Though nothing fundamental in her life had changed, and she was still waiting for her father, she filled her time with real growth. Her spirit no longer trodden down by poverty, confusion, being a prisoner of circumstance, Mimi felt a certain security in herself, and her soul was able to take wing. She no longer felt dependent on strangers but appreciative of their kindness. Throughout that spring and summer she and Sophia lived at Beechtrees
until Miss Tolset and Miss Rifkin, the two tutors, finished their contract. Mimi and Sophia studied hard, Mimi preparing herself for school in New York, the first proper school she would have attended. Sophia, an immigrant woman, quick with other languages, preparing herself with the help of Miss Tolset to learn English and become literate in it, wanting to be for Mimi a mother-figure until her father returned. There seemed no doubt in Sophia’s mind now, any more than in Mimi’s, that that would happen.

The three women and Mimi took sorties into New York to see Mr Peabody, to check on schools, and to stay in the West End Avenue flat, newly decorated with the help of Mrs Peabody, who like her husband and their children had become enchanted with Mimi and her courage in taking on New York. The cook and Mimi eased themselves into the city and a New York lifestyle of a sort that neither of them understood or appreciated. It took time. At the beginning they fled back gratefully to Beechtrees for regular visits.

It was several weeks before Mimi made contact with Barbara Dunmellyn. She felt neither nervous nor awkward when she made that first call. She was only excited about telling Barbara that she was happy at Beechtrees, and she and Sophia were coming to live in New York. And for Barbara, to hear the cheerful lilt in Mimi’s voice was to feel a sense of relief and, yes, delight that she had made the decision to move to the city. There had been no doubt that Barbara had been charmed by the child, certainly as much as she was fascinated that Mimi should be the daughter of a man who represented for her a memorable sexual encounter.

Mimi and Barbara took each other up. In Mimi’s eyes, Barbara was not just her beautiful and glamorous friend, and an artist, but someone who knew how to do everything correctly. Barbara was the person Mimi was truly learning from. She was the most important influence forming Mimi. It seemed to her that everything Barbara did added to life whether it was ice-cream at Rumpelmayer’s on Central
Park South (Mimi’s for the moment favourite treat), a night at the theatre, a visit to a museum, a concert, lunch at Barbara’s house, a restaurant, shopping, meeting friends. Mimi treasured every visit to Barbara. They were not so frequent that the girl impinged on her beautiful, vivacious friend’s work or privacy. It gave Mimi great pleasure, tremendous security, seeing how much Barbara too enjoyed the things they did together.

On arriving on the New York scene it was Mr Peabody’s wife – because she was helping with the furnishing of the West End flat overlooking the park – and the Peabody children who were Mimi’s first city friends. They swept Mimi and Sophia up. From them the odd couple learned quickly about the pace of life in the city. And, just as Barbara had promised, friends led to friends, and there was so much to do. Experiences fill your life in New York. It was Jack who explained that to Sophia and Mimi. ‘To be a New Yorker, a real New Yorker, is to be an experience-freak. You have to go and look, and see, and try everything. It’s all out there for you. No use living here if you don’t take advantage of that.’

Jack, who drifted in and out of the West End flat, took them to the circus when it came to town, to the Statue of Liberty, Grant’s Tomb. Every day was rich and full and Mimi became more secure in herself. She was appreciative of the privileged life she was living, of every morsel of food and fun that now was her life. One day while shopping with Barbara in Saks Fifth Avenue’s Young Miss department, Mimi-walked from the dressing room wearing a navy blue velvet party dress with white lace collar and cuffs to do a twirl in front of her for approval. Barbara was clearly delighted with what she saw. Mimi fussed with the labels dangling from a string at the cuff while she took a long look at herself in the full-length mirror as the sales lady dropped to her knee to turn the hem up.

‘It’s lovely, Mimi. You look so pretty in this one. It’s the
colour. It sets off your blonde hair and violet eyes. Do you like it?’

‘Like it?’ Mimi giggled. ‘It’s just lovely, Barbara. May I really have it?’

‘Yes, if it’s the one you like best. Come over to me. I want to check the collar.’

Mimi obeyed and Barbara rose from her chair and arranged the white lace. ‘It doesn’t seem to sit quite right,’ she told the saleslady. Finally it lay perfectly.

‘There, Mimi,’ said Barbara. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror. How pretty you are, dear. When you grow up, you’ll be a knockout.’

Like you, Mimi wanted to say, but was too shy. Not normally a shy person, she was sometimes that way with Barbara. Instead she gazed into her eyes and said, ‘I never dreamed I would ever have a fine dress like this again.’

Pretty clothes, luscious materials, had long been forgotten, left behind in the house in Prague. Mimi delighted in her new clothes and the knowledge that the cheap and dreadful ill-fitting cotton dresses she had been obliged to wear for the last few years on the Blocks were a thing of the past. It was Lord and Taylor’s Young Girls department, Saks Fifth Avenue, B. Altman, and any number of small boutiques and knowing salesladies on Madison Avenue now. It was pretty and warm well-fitted coats for winter. Mimi need no longer ‘make do’ with one dress for everything. Tatayana’s threadbare coat, cut-down, worn for winter no more. It was sports clothes, party dresses, school uniforms, casual wear, pretty colours, and all sorts of fabrics. And, miraculously, Mimi had places to go where she could wear them.