Mistress of Greyladies (10 page)

‘Yes, of course. I don’t know what came over me to worry like that.’

But it wasn’t the first time she’d wondered about who would follow her at Greyladies. Or how she would know who ought to inherit. Oh, well, the house would no doubt continue to give up its secrets gradually and then she’d find out.

A few days later, it was sunny enough for the two officers with arms in slings to stroll round the gardens. Inevitably, they found their way to the rear of the old house.

Joseph was returning from visiting a former gardener in the village. Peter was too old and infirm to work, but had spent his life at Greyladies, so they supplemented the government’s old age pension with produce and extra money.

The pension of five shillings at age seventy had been introduced in 1909, and even this small amount made sons and daughters much more willing to house and look after their old folk, because they were no longer a burden. He
could remember the excitement among the older people when they received their first payments. They still found it a matter of wonder that they kept receiving the money without working for it, because they could all remember the much harsher treatment of the old before the pension was introduced. The greatest fear of their parents had been to be sent to the workhouse.

Joseph had been enjoying the fresh air and the fact that no one who lived in the village stared at the way he walked. But the two officers walking round the garden did stop to stare, so he moved forward to introduce himself and offer them a belated welcome to Greyladies.

‘Are we intruding if we walk round this side of the house?’ one of the men asked. ‘The Dragon Lady told us we’d not be welcome anywhere in your part of the house and grounds.’

‘We call her that, too,’ Joseph said with a smile. He tried not to show his annoyance as he added, ‘I don’t know why she’d tell you that, though. Men who’re serving our country will always be welcome in our house.’

The taller officer was still staring at him, but trying not to show it. ‘You’re the owner?’

‘Yes. Or rather, my wife is.’ He held out one hand. ‘Joseph Latimer.’

‘Charles Humphreys. And this is Lucian Averill.’

As they shook hands, Joseph said, ‘I thought I recognised you when you arrived.’

‘Ought I to know you? I don’t know any families of that name, I must admit.’

‘I was born Joseph Dalton, but changed my name when my wife inherited Greyladies.’

‘Ah. You’re Selwyn Dalton’s youngest brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I thought—’

‘That I couldn’t walk? That I was not only a cripple, but a halfwit?’ He was well aware what his oldest brother thought of him. At the other man’s shamefaced nod, he added, ‘My brother doesn’t like the fact that my limp is rather ugly. But my bad hip doesn’t stop me getting around, and it certainly doesn’t affect my brain. Fortunately, as I grew up my health improved greatly. Enough for me to marry and father two sons. Would you care for a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love one.’

A shrill voice called, ‘Major Humphreys? Captain Averill? Where have you got to?’

The two men winced.

‘Can you hide us?’ the major asked. ‘We need an hour’s peace and quiet. That young woman has a voice like a siren.’

Joseph grinned and gestured to the back door. ‘You’d better get out of sight quickly.’

By the time the nurse who’d been calling came round the corner, he was on his own, limping with deliberate slowness towards the door.

‘Excuse me, Mr Latimer.’

He turned.

‘I’m looking for two men with their arms in slings.’

The woman spoke slowly and clearly, as if he might find it hard to understand. Why did so many people assume that if you couldn’t walk properly, you didn’t have all your wits, either? He didn’t allow his anger to show, however. He was used to this sort of treatment by now.

‘Were you speaking to me?’ he drawled, using his most upper-class accent.

‘Um.’ She looked at him as if trying to assess his mental capacity.

‘You must want something if you’re here in the private part of our gardens,’ he continued. ‘How may I help you?’

She began to look a bit embarrassed. ‘I was looking for two of our patients, actually. They have their arms in slings.’

He gestured around. ‘And do you see them?’

‘Er … no.’

‘If you feel they’re hiding in the outhouses, please feel free to search for them.’ He turned and moved quickly into the house, not wanting to lie to her.

After he’d closed the door, he leant against it for a moment, trying not to laugh as he heard her start calling the officers’ names again. Then he walked across the room to where the two visitors were standing in the corridor outside the kitchen. ‘Could we please have a pot of tea and some scones, Phyllis?’

‘Yes, sir. And I’d suggest you draw the curtains in the window opposite the bookshelves. You don’t want anyone peeping in at you if you’re hiding these gentlemen from the Dragon Lady.’

‘Good idea.’ He winked at her and turned to the two men.

‘This part of the house is very old,’ Averill said. ‘I hadn’t realised.’

‘There have been Latimers here since the sixteenth century. Come and meet my wife.’ He threaded his way through the large pieces of furniture, too much of it, but they had to put it somewhere. He pulled the curtains closed as he passed the window.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear. We have visitors, who’re hiding from dragons.’

Harriet came forward, smiling. ‘There’s only one dragon round here.’

‘Sorry to contradict a lady,’ one officer said, ‘but there are other dragons in training even as we speak. The nurses are following her example.’

‘Oh dear. Poor you.’

Soon they had the men sitting comfortably. Within five minutes, Phyllis had brought in a tea tray and some of Cook’s freshly made scones, but it was the company the men seemed to enjoy most.

They chatted pleasantly for half an hour, then the door to the kitchen opened and Phyllis came hurrying in. ‘Excuse me, madam, but them two orderlies are searching the gardens and calling out for your visitors. Everyone seems very anxious. I thought perhaps the gentlemen might want to leave now.’

‘Very intelligent of you, Phyllis.’ Harriet turned to her guests. ‘I could show you an arbour which is hidden from the front of the house. I doubt they’ll have found it, and you can pretend you’ve been there the whole time.’

‘Good idea.’ Captain Averill stood up.

‘You’re welcome to come back at any time,’ Joseph said quietly. ‘If you don’t want to chat, or we’re busy, you can simply sit in the library area and read. Tell the others that.’

The major followed his companion’s example. ‘Thank you. It’s been an oasis of peace already. That woman never stops chivvying people round from dawn to dusk. And she’s forcing the nurses to do the same. Unfortunately, a medical officer is arriving tomorrow and if he’s in cahoots with the Dragon, we might not be able to get away again to see you.
We’ll be here for another couple of weeks or so, apparently.’

‘We can try to get the MO on our side, though,’ the captain said. ‘Is it all right if we tell him you’re opening your library to anyone who likes to read quietly?’

‘Yes,’ Harriet told him.

‘And I also intend to explain that I’m an old family friend of yours, Mr Latimer, if that’s all right with you?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘I’ll show you the arbour.’ Harriet led the way to the back door, and checked that no one was in sight, then showed them the way.

‘That woman is so annoying!’ she said to Joseph when she returned.

‘We can only do our best, darling.’

‘I know. But I can’t help getting angry. This hostility is so unnecessary.’

A letter was delivered to the old house by one of the orderlies an hour later. Noting the man’s wooden expression, Joseph guessed he wasn’t happy about delivering it.

‘From Matron, sir.’

‘I see.’

‘Um, she’d like a reply straight away, if you don’t mind.’

‘You’d better come in, then.’

Joseph took him into the long room, opened the envelope and found a brief note inside.

He stared at it in disgust. What a fool the woman was!

Harriet came across to join him, and he passed the note to her without comment, moving away from the orderly so that they could speak privately.

‘Why does she do this?’

‘She wishes to be Queen of her little world, I suppose. But this isn’t a hospital; it’s a convalescent home, and surely the best thing would be to keep the men happy so that they complete their recovery?’

From near the door, the orderly glanced at the clock and cleared his throat.

‘I will not be bullied,’ Joseph said to Harriet, speaking loudly enough to be heard.

‘Nor will I.’ She spoke equally loudly.

The orderly shuffled his feet and stared at the floor, his expression wooden.

Joseph went across to him. ‘Tell Matron I’ll reply when I have time.’

The man hesitated, so Joseph walked to the kitchen door with him.

Their governess, Miss Bowers, who was as much a friend as an employee, came down from the schoolroom just as the door closed behind the unwelcome visitor. She was followed by their two sons.

Joseph held out his arms and they came running to hug him. Ah, they were two lads to be proud of.

At eight, Jody seemed to get taller every day, while little Mal, at six, followed his brother everywhere, trying to imitate him.

They went on to hug their mother, then asked if they could go to the kitchen and get something to eat.

As they left, Joseph raised one eyebrow at his wife. Harriet understood what he was asking and nodded, so he shared the letter with their friend, who was also disgusted by the mean-spirited approach of Matron Dawkins.

‘You could have provided a quiet reading room for the men who are nearly ready to leave, or taken books round to the other men,’ she said. ‘There are all sorts of small tasks you could have undertaken to help cheer them up. It’s iniquitous for her to behave like that.’

‘What are we going to say to her, Joseph?’ Harriet asked.

‘I’m going to ignore her note till I’m calmer. I’ll just say something rude if I reply now.’

‘Why reply at all?’ Miss Bowers said.

‘Why indeed?’

‘May I borrow the note?’

They looked at her in puzzlement.

‘I won’t say why, so that you know nothing about what I intend to do. I’ve lived in the village nearly all my life and I have friends in London as well. You get to know a lot of people in seventy years. If I can see a way to help you curb that female, I will.’

With a shrug, he handed over the note. He trusted Margie Bowers absolutely. Everyone in the village did.

The following day, Joseph was walking back from the village when a motor car stopped beside him.

‘We can give you a lift back to the convalescent hospital,’ the officer in the back said. ‘You look as though walking is still difficult and you don’t want to overdo things. I’m the new medical officer, by the way – Benedict Somers at your service. I’m commandant at the hospital as well, obviously.’

‘Ah. It’s a kind offer, but I’m not one of your patients. I’ve had a bad hip since birth. I’m the owner and live in the rear part of Greyladies now. Joseph Latimer at
your
service. Any time I can help you or your patients, just ask me.’

‘Oh, sorry. You must come and share a cup of tea with me once I’ve settled in, tell me about the district and the village.’

‘I’d love to, but I don’t think Matron would approve of that.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ He looked puzzled.

Joseph didn’t intend to tittle-tattle about this foolish quarrel, so continued hastily, ‘But you’re welcome to visit us any time, Doctor.’

The newcomer was still frowning but took the hint not to pursue this. ‘I’ll visit you as soon as I’ve settled in, then. I’m still happy to offer you a ride back.’

‘It does my hip good to walk and exercise it, though I know it looks rather ungainly.’

That won him a shrewd look. ‘Good attitude. It must hurt quite a lot sometimes, but at least you’re retaining some muscle tone. So many people stop trying to walk and then, after a while, they can’t. One day, we’ll be able to do more for children born with this deformity. Goodbye for now. Drive on!’

Joseph stepped back to let the car continue on its way. He had taken an instant liking to the MO, and wondered how the man would get on with Matron Dawkins.

That would be an interesting thing to watch.

Phoebe managed a final outing for tea with Corin, walking up and down outside the cafe as she waited for him to arrive, because she was nervous of going into such an elegant place on her own.

‘Sorry to be late!’ he called as soon as he was close enough to speak. ‘I got called to a sudden meeting.’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘I’m under orders, so I can’t tell you where I’m going or what I’ll be doing, I’m afraid. But you can write to me care of this address.’ He held out a piece of paper. ‘You will write, won’t you?’

She saw him watching with a near smile as she put it in her handbag, a large practical affair made of leather, not the fashionable smaller ones used by most young ladies of his acquaintance.

‘I like your handbags,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘They’re as practical as you are. Most of the young ladies I know carry silly little velvet pouches, pretty but useless – like them.’

She was surprised at the bitterness in his voice, but when he didn’t continue or explain anything else, she didn’t push
for an explanation, just said quietly, ‘Yes, of course I’ll write, Corin. I promised I would, didn’t I?’

‘Not everyone keeps a promise.’

He sounded sad as he said that, then he looked at his wristwatch as if time was pressing. He tapped it with one finger. ‘This thing is practical too. I only bought it yesterday. It’s much better than my father’s old pocket watch.’

He put his hand over hers as it lay on the table, and she didn’t even think of pulling away, but twisted her hand round to clasp his properly. That brought a smile to his face.

‘I’m glad I made it today, Phoebe, but I hope they bring our food soon. Half an hour is all I dare take. I would have hated to miss saying au revoir to you in person.’

Thanks to a sympathetic waitress their tea was brought out ahead of other customers’ orders. They didn’t say much as they ate. It was enough to be together. She mentioned a couple of incidents from her training. He replied with an approving comment about her becoming a VAD.

And then it was time to separate.

Outside, he bent his head to kiss her on the cheek, then put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. For a precious few moments, he held her at arm’s length. ‘I’ll remember this day, with the sun shining on your glorious hair.’

‘There will be other days, Corin.’

‘So I pray. Damn this war! I want to get to know you better. Dear Phoebe, don’t fall in love with anyone else while I’m away.’

As she stared at him in surprise, he kissed her other cheek, then stepped back, giving her a smart salute before striding away down the street. He didn’t turn till he reached the corner, where he gave her a final wave, then vanished from sight.

Which made her feel bereft, made her want to run after him. How foolish was that?

She didn’t move for a few moments.
Dear Phoebe
, he’d said. And
Don’t fall in love with anyone else
. Was it possible he was starting to care for her?

She hoped so, because she was definitely starting to care for him, even though they’d known one another for such a short time. She didn’t know why she felt comfortable with him, why she trusted him completely. It was as if she’d known him for ever.

It was a few minutes before she managed to pull herself together and walk back to the hostel to finish her packing.

She too had a duty to her country. Hers might be voluntary, but it was no less important to her to play her part.

A week later Phoebe stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun and she thought she looked both smart and efficient, which pleased her. She turned from side to side. The uniform fitted her well, flattered her even. Beaty had seen to that.

She felt proud that she’d passed the VAD training. Two young women hadn’t. One couldn’t face the menial duties and collapsed in tears when faced with filth of any description. The other had fainted at the sight of blood, upsetting the patient, which had made the sister nursing him furious. The poor girl had fainted on three more occasions, then vanished from the group.

Most of the young women, whether born of rich or ordinary folk, had done what was needed without complaint. They all believed in contributing to the war effort and that was starting to draw them together, for all their differences.

Phoebe had been told she’d be working in auxiliary or convalescent hospitals anywhere in England, doing whatever chores were necessary, except for the nursing itself, of course. They didn’t send VADs to the front. Only men were sent into such immediate danger.

She’d be assisting the trained nurses as asked, and must obey them in all matters, medical or otherwise, or assisting in housekeeping duties, or even learning to drive. That was fine by her.
She
didn’t faint at the sight of blood! Or at her first sight of a man who’d lost his right leg. Or at the thought of scrubbing a filthy floor.

After smoothing down her starched white apron with its red cross on the bib, she turned to close her suitcase. It contained overalls for dirty work, further aprons, several white caps, and plenty of spare white collars and cuffs. There were also six pairs of white sleeves with elasticated ends that reached from wrist to past the elbow, designed to keep her dresses clean.

The ‘ward shoes’ had rubber soles and heels, so that she could move more quietly, and were very comfortable. Beaty had insisted on buying them from a better shoe shop, and had supplied her with extra underwear too, more than she’d ever owned in her life before.

‘You won’t forget to write to Corin,’ she said as she walked with Phoebe to the front door.

‘Of course I won’t forget.’

Beaty smiled. ‘If things change and you have to write to him care of me, I won’t open your letters.’

‘I know.’

The older woman gave her a sudden hug. ‘You’re a good girl, Phoebe. I wish you well and I’ll always have a bed for you any time you come to London, if it’s only on my sofa.’

So Phoebe had to give her an extra hug. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

Today the VAD ‘girls’ were to assemble at the building where they’d attended classes during their training to find out where they’d been assigned. After that, they’d be taken to their new postings straight away.

Phoebe was driven to the meeting place by Beaty’s elderly chauffeur. She felt very grand sitting there as he drove her through the streets of London.

She wasn’t the only one to arrive in a chauffeur-driven vehicle, but she was sure she was the only one for whom this was the first time she’d been driven around on her own in such utter luxury.

Her luggage was unloaded and collected by two orderlies with a trolley, then piled up with some other suitcases.

After thanking the chauffeur, she walked up the stairs into her new life, feeling excited and happy … and just a little apprehensive. Well, more than a little apprehensive. But that was normal, surely.

The VADs were directed to a large classroom where most of the desks had been moved to one side wall. Middle-aged ladies in Red Cross uniforms sat behind two of them, passing out pieces of paper from a box on a third desk between them.

‘Wait here then go to the next free desk,’ the woman at the entrance told her.

Five minutes later she did this.

‘Please sit down for a moment. Miss …? Sinclair, thank you.’ She scanned some large envelopes. ‘Here are your instructions. You’ll be based in Swindon and—’

‘Swindon!’

The woman looked at her over her spectacles. ‘Is there
something wrong with that? You won’t be able to pick and choose where you go, you know.’

Phoebe hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t want to start her new life by being awkward about where she was sent. It might give her a bad name. And surely Frank would have found himself another young woman by now, or at least given up on her?

‘No. I was just surprised. It’s where I come from, you see.’

‘Yes, that’s why we chose it, because you’ll know the area. Though you won’t be in Swindon itself. You’re going to an auxiliary hospital nearby to complete your training. It used to be a large country house.’

Relief coursed through Phoebe. If she avoided going into Swindon, she’d be very unlikely to encounter Frank.

‘There will be four girls in your group. Please go to the hall and wait underneath the letter C. Someone will collect you from there.’

She did as ordered and found herself standing with two strangers. One of them offered her hand and said in what Phoebe thought of as an upper-class accent, ‘I’m Penny. This is Amy. And you are …?’

‘Phoebe Sinclair.’

They all turned as a fourth member joined the group. She’d been in Phoebe’s class, a shy young woman who had hardly said a word. She was small and dowdy in appearance, but a hard worker who’d done anything she’d been told to without flinching.

Penny, who seemed to have appointed herself leader, introduced herself and the two others.

‘I’m Jane Harper,’ the newcomer said in a voice with a marked East End accent. ‘I already know Phoebe.’

‘Any of you done any nursing before?’ Amy asked.

When no one else spoke, Phoebe said, ‘I looked after my mother for two years when she was dying. And I helped lay her out after she died.’ She didn’t tell many people this.

‘You’ll know more about the practicalities, then. Actually, I’m hoping they’ll assign me to driving duties. I can drive already, been practising on my brother’s car. He’s joined the navy, so he’s had to leave it at home. It’s a Model T Ford, not a big Sunbeam like Daddy’s, but it gets you round nicely. My brother only bought it last year. He hated to leave it behind.’

She was obviously a car enthusiast.

A voice called, ‘C Group, please!’ and Amy stopped talking.

A woman in another sort of Red Cross uniform beckoned and led them out of the hall. ‘Step out smartly!’ she tossed over her shoulder, not even looking to check that they were keeping up with her.

They were put into a charabanc. The long vehicle had five rows of bench seats set behind the driver, each with its own door at each end. It looked as if it was ready for an excursion to the seaside – until you saw that the rear seats were loaded with medical supplies and large wooden boxes whose contents could only be imagined.

There was only just enough room for the four young women to cram on to the seat behind the elderly male driver and his younger assistant.

‘Well, here we go,’ said Penny, who seemed unable to keep quiet for more than two minutes. ‘And they haven’t even told us the name of the place we’re going to.’

Jane didn’t join in the conversation unless asked a direct question. She was, Phoebe always thought, like an alert little bird, her eyes darting here and there, bright with interest
and intelligence. But she kept her thoughts to herself and never wasted a word on mere chat.

‘Have you ever been out of London before, Jane?’ Phoebe asked after a while, trying to pull her into the conversation.

‘No. No one in my family has. We were all born in the East End. I’m the first for several generations to go so far away.’

‘Once we arrive, I’m going to get hold of a map and find out exactly where we are,’ Amy said. ‘I’m from Norfolk, don’t know Wiltshire at all.’

‘I’d like to see it on a map, too.’ Jane fell quiet again, huddling down a bit now in her inadequate coat.

Even Penny had stopped talking. After a while she unwound her scarf and passed it to Jane. ‘Here. I have a fur collar. You look cold.’

‘Oh. Well … thank you very much.’

They drove along the dusty roads at a steady pace, stopping once for refreshments and to use the conveniences behind a small pub whose owner seemed acquainted with their driver.

When they entered Swindon, Phoebe shrank down in her seat and refrained from looking round … just in case. She didn’t relax until they left the town and headed north.

‘Is something wrong?’ Jane whispered.

‘I used to live here. There’s a fellow who wanted to marry me, only I couldn’t stand him. I don’t want him to see me. He got a bit violent.’

‘Some men do. My cousin thumps his wife. If any man ever tries to thump me, I’ll take a rolling pin to him.’

‘How do you know your cousin thumps her?’ Penny asked.

‘You can see the bruises. She pretends she’s clumsy, but
she ain’t. It’s him. We all know that. But what can you do? He’s her husband.’

‘Gosh. How awful!’ Amy exclaimed.

‘You have to be careful who you marry,’ Jane went on. ‘Me, I’m not going to get married at all.’

‘I’d love to, but they’ll be short of young men after the war, my father says.’ Penny sighed. ‘Just my luck.’

The other three fell silent at her words. It was as if the world was changing beneath their feet, Phoebe thought, the path different with every step they took. Things were being said and done that wouldn’t have been thought of before. People were working together who’d have walked past each other in the street without even turning their heads.

What would life be like after all this turmoil?

‘Soon be there now, girls,’ the driver said half an hour later.

As they turned a bend, he yelled and braked hard, throwing them against one another. The charabanc came to a sudden halt because their way was blocked by a milling crowd of sheep, two of whom had to skip quickly out of the way of the vehicle, one of which got bumped aside.

It was several minutes before the road was clear and the sheep safely penned in a new field. The farmer waved at them cheerfully and went on his way.

‘There’s no hurrying sheep,’ the driver’s assistant said as they set off again. ‘They scatter if you try. That was a clever dog he had. Worth their weight in gold, good sheepdogs are.’

Five minutes later, the driver said, ‘Here we are, girls. This is it: Bellbourne House.’

The charabanc turned right into a long, tree-lined avenue, at the end of which stood a huge house. It looked more Elizabethan than anything, Phoebe thought, staring ahead
at the big square bay windows, jutting out in four columns across the facade. She’d seen photos of places like this in books borrowed from the library.