The History Room (31 page)

No time to think about Dad now. He wouldn’t want me even to look at him to make sure he was all right. The play was the thing now. If the children could carry off the second part it would
be a huge vote of confidence in him and everything he had done at Letchford. Hugh shifted his prosthetic leg to let me through to my seat.

‘Well done,’ he murmured as the curtain reopened. ‘You managed that excellently.’ Parents were still whispering but growing quieter now.

We were looking at the children on the stage, a little flustered-looking but in their positions. I nodded at them and crossed my fingers so hard they ached.

‘Enough of what Emily said was true,’ my father said. We were in his sitting room. We’d spent some time talking to Sofia, reassuring her. Then she’d left
to spend a bit of time with Olivia. ‘Noel and I had talked about money, about the baby being ill and the difficulties of raising the funds to take him to America. Perhaps I did casually say
that I would help if I could. I meant me personally, Merry, not the school. I never meant him to take money from Letchford.’ He stared at the carpet. ‘I must just have forgotten about
the conversation. He didn’t mention it again. And I was over-involved in the building work.’

Once again I reassured him that we knew all this. Nobody had believed every word of Emily’s address. Several of the governors had come up to Dad after the play to congratulate him and to
offer a quiet word of support.

As for the rest of what Emily had said, the personal details of my father’s flight from Czechoslovakia, I wasn’t sure how much of it could have been heard by the audience. Most of
the cast and backstage crew would have heard that part of the narrative. At least they and, more importantly, Olivia wouldn’t know whom Emily had meant when she referred to the
granddaughter.

‘I should ring Clara,’ I said. ‘Before she finds out by text, like last time.’ I felt in my handbag for the mobile and touched a whistle I sometimes used when walking
Samson. All the time I’d been sitting here with Dad I hadn’t been looking for the dog. I should have been emailing DogLost again, ringing the dog warden, friends in the village.

‘I’m going out to have one last look round the grounds.’ Hugh must have been thinking exactly what I had been. ‘I’ll check the cricket pavilion and the sheds. He
might have got locked in.’

I was about to say that nobody had been in the pavilion since August, but stopped myself. Hugh would feel better if he knew he’d looked everywhere.

‘You’ll find a spare set of keys in my desk drawer,’ my father told him.

Hugh had only just left when someone knocked on the door.

‘Sofia.’ She seemed to have aged in the hours since the play had started. I’d assumed that she’d left the school by now.

‘I start to drive home,’ she said. ‘Then I come back again.’ Her eyes were on my father. ‘There is something I must tell you.’

‘Please.’ He was already standing. ‘Do sit down.’

I moved up on the sofa so that there was room for her to sit.

Her mouth moved as though there were words she wanted to say, but nothing came out. ‘You will be very angry,’ she said. ‘I did not mean to deceive you. I would never have told
you that Olivia . . . that she was your granddaughter. I was just going to tell you there was a connection, that is all.’

‘What do you mean?’ Dad frowned.

She took a deep breath. ‘Olivia is my daughter, not Jan’s. She is Hana’s granddaughter but not . . .’ She shook her head.

Every fibre in me stiffened. ‘What?’ The word came out almost as a snarl.

‘Not my grandchild,’ said my father quietly. He didn’t sound as surprised as I felt. ‘I see.’

‘How could you do this to us?’ I asked her.

‘I’m sorry.’ She hung her head. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I thought if you knew she wasn’t related to you, you might be angry with us. With her. She’s
happy here. I didn’t want to spoil it.’

‘You know, when I saw her this evening on the stage there was something about her that I couldn’t put my finger on.’ Dad was still speaking in the same quiet way. ‘She
didn’t remind me of anyone, not in our family, anyway. I thought I could see Hana in her.’

‘Olivia does look like Hana,’ Sofia said. ‘And a little like my former boyfriend.’ She paused. ‘He didn’t die, Mr Statton. And he never married me. I just
changed my name to make it look more English. He left me before I even knew I was expecting a child.’ She seemed to draw herself in, looking smaller and both older and younger at the same
time. ‘I was young. I didn’t know what to do.’

‘I know that feeling,’ Dad said softly. I thought of him alone in that forest, looking for Hana. Not knowing whether to go on alone to the border or not.

‘Why did Maria tell us that Olivia was Jan’s daughter?’ I asked. ‘That’s where this all started.’

‘Maria is becoming, how do you say, distracted.’ Sofia made a circular motion with her finger above her head. ‘Muddled in her mind. She never recovered from the death of Jan and
his daughter, my niece.’

‘Jan’s daughter died in the same accident as he did?’ I asked.

She nodded. ‘Maria loved Irena so much. She was distraught. Then I had my baby over here in the UK. I called her Olivia because it is a good English name and I sent Maria photos. But Maria
always called her Irena. The two girls looked alike. They were first cousins, so no surprises. After a while Maria forgot that Olivia was my child, not Jan’s. Perhaps she was a little ashamed
that I had a baby outside marriage, just like my mother.’

‘I see,’ my father said again.

‘And as I started taking on various . . . jobs it was better for me just to say I had a niece not a daughter.’ She put a hand to her mouth briefly. ‘I thought it would distance
Olivia from me if people here found out what I did. Otherwise they might use it against her.’

‘Didn’t she mind having to pretend you weren’t her mother?’ I asked.

‘I told her that the people here would look down on her for being the daughter of a housekeeper, a servant.’

Dad made a sound denoting distress but said nothing.

‘I am sorry.’ Sofia blinked hard. ‘When I heard you’d been to Prague and spoken to Maria, I knew she would have told you things that aren’t true. And then you wanted
me to tell Olivia. I didn’t want to do that.’ She fell silent for a moment and nobody filled the silence.

‘I knew I had to see Maria in person and remind her of the truth before she told Olivia the same story. But I couldn’t take time off as I have to save all my leave for the school
holidays.’ She opened her forearms in resignation. ‘But then these strange things happened at the play tonight.’

‘Strange things indeed,’ my father said. The ageing process he seemed to have undergone since Mum’s death had accelerated tonight. He might have been ten years older. Hope had
given him a temporary lift and now he was sinking again.

Shouts came from outside. I went to the window and drew back the curtain to look out. Hugh was approaching the house carrying something in his arms. Behind him trailed another person, smaller,
slighter, who hesitated on the steps of the house as though uncertain whether or not to come inside. Olivia.

With a muttered explanation I ran to meet them.

Hugh laid the muddy bundle on the ground. ‘Not there,’ I called, dashing down the stairs. ‘The marble is freezing.’ Samson’s tail flickered
briefly as he saw me. ‘Bring him upstairs.’

‘He’s very muddy.’

‘Dad won’t mind.’

Sofia was suddenly beside me. ‘I find towels. We put him by the radiator, yes?’ She ran upstairs.

Hugh lifted the dog again.

When we reached the door to the apartment, Sofia was waiting with towels and a blanket. She acknowledged the appearance of her daughter with a quick but wide smile.

‘Bring him in here, this radiator’s the warmest.’ She pointed to the study. ‘But not too close.’ Sofia indicated a space a foot or so from the heater. ‘Too hot
is bad for him.’ We laid the dog gently on the towels.

‘Where was he?’ I stroked his head.

‘Tied to a tree in the woods. Olivia had already found him.’

‘I couldn’t get him to walk.’ Olivia patted his side. ‘And he was too heavy for me to carry.’

Samson whined gently.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘I’ll ring the vet for advice.’ Hugh pulled out a mobile. I noted that he obviously still had the vet’s number programmed into it. I rubbed the dog with one of the
towels. Sofia appeared with a saucepan of water.

‘It is lukewarm,’ she said. ‘Here, boy, you must drink.’ He lifted his head and managed to lap a little. He’d started to shiver. ‘It’s good that
he’s doing that,’ Sofia said. ‘It will warm him up.’

‘Who did this to him?’ Dad asked.

‘Take a guess,’ I said. ‘I hope to God she’s out of our lives now. If I get hold of her she’ll wish she was miles away.’

‘I saw Emily getting into a taxi,’ said Olivia. ‘She’s gone.’ She spoke the last words with near triumph.

‘The vet says to do all we’re doing,’ Hugh said, putting his mobile away. ‘Warm him up very gently and keep his fluids up. Samson is young and fit, but you can take him
in first thing tomorrow if you’re still worried.’

The temperature had fallen below freezing the last few nights. Emily had hated us so much she was prepared to harm an animal. ‘I’ll go and ask my housemistress if I can stay for a
bit,’ Olivia said. ‘I want to make sure Samson’s all right.’

‘Emily was the one who told me about Letchford,’ Sofia said, when the girl had left. She explained about the nightclub. How Emily had suggested taking on extra work to help pay the
fees. How Sofia had worked at jobs she hated even more than the nightclub, relieved that her daughter was safely tucked away at boarding school and distanced by being known as her niece. ‘But
Emily was right. Being an escort meant I could afford Letchford.’ She kept her eyes on the floor as she mentioned this part of her life and did not offer details. My father looked
troubled.

She composed her features. ‘Then Emily arrived unexpectedly at Bellingham one Saturday morning and asked if there was a parcel for her. It was that doll. The courier had just delivered it.
I was angry. Mrs Smirnova would have flipped if she’d known her address was being used. And I still needed that job for when I quitted the escort work.’

‘She just laughed at me.’

‘Emily hated us so much.’ I felt the dog’s cold coat. ‘It seems unbelievable that she could have planned all this.’ I thought of the forged email. And the note to
Dad, implicating me in the doll business.

‘Olivia told me that Emily was telling her strange things, encouraging her to make cuts in her arms, trying to get her to do herself serious harm. But as the play went on Olivia grew
bolder. She said she wouldn’t cut any more.’

And Emily had pushed her down the stairs. Instead of making Olivia fear the older girl it had broken the bond. Olivia had stood firm. I felt a rush of pride in the thirteen-year-old.

‘You should have told me,’ Dad said. ‘Or another teacher or housemistress.’

‘Emily scared me,’ Sofia said frankly. ‘She knew too much about me. She knew where I’d been working.’

Then the troubled look on Dad’s face reappeared. ‘I was worried she’d tell Olivia. Or . . . you.’ She looked at him. ‘I thought you’d be appalled. Tell Olivia
to leave.’

‘Never.’ He sat straighter, his eyes blazing.

‘I drove up here to beg her not to.’ Sofia put a hand to her forehead, as though about to beat her brow. ‘I feel ashamed about . . . that part of my life.’

Beside me Hugh shuffled slightly. His leg must be hurting after the exertions of the evening.

‘I’m sure you have nothing to feel ashamed about,’ Dad said. ‘It’s the men who use these places who worry me. But perhaps I am just old-fashioned and out of
touch.’

‘I’m going to ring for a taxi,’ Hugh said, his voice sounding distant and abrupt. ‘Would you like me to carry Samson back to your flat before I leave?’ he asked me,
as politely as if he were addressing a stranger.

The snowy lawn crackled under each footstep as we walked. Although I always thought I preferred Letchford in early summer, around exam time, when the herbaceous borders burst
with lupins and delphiniums, there was a pared-down beauty to these winter mornings that showed off the lines of the house and grounds. All was white light, except for the stone walls, which were
the colour of pale honey. Samson scampered behind us, fascinated by the feel of the snow on his paws and nose. Every year he forgot about winter and every year was a new revelation.

‘Sofia sent me a Christmas card from Prague,’ Dad said. ‘She has talked to Maria about Olivia not being the same girl as Irena. She doesn’t think that Maria understands
though, not completely. Maria shouldn’t really be living alone, she said. So Sofia’s thinking of moving back to Prague, trying to find work there as a pharmacist.’

‘What about Olivia?’ I felt Olivia’s possible departure as a stab in my ribs. She might not be my niece but there was something about her that made her stand out from the other
pupils. And I’d liked Sofia, too, felt a kinship for her.

‘Sofia doesn’t know what’ll happen yet. But she can’t afford the fees if she goes back to Prague. I don’t know if I could put Olivia forward for a
bursary.’

It would do neither of them any good, I thought.

‘Even though she’s not a relative there’s still a family tie,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be right.’

People had been sympathetic to Dad. The governors had held an extraordinary meeting and passed a vote of confidence in the head. Clara had not attended the meeting, to allow them the chance to
express any doubts they felt. Few had been expressed. No parents had withdrawn their children. We’d heard nothing more of Emily and were very happy with this state of affairs. Dad had sent
warnings to every school he knew. The police had told us that it would be hard to bring a prosecution against a woman who seemed, on paper, to be guilty of no more than a macabre fondness for
pranks involving lifelike dolls.