The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  Florentyna rose the next morning, bade Miss Tredgold bonjour and disappeared into the bathroom. After feeding Eleanor, who now seemed to eat more than she did, Florentyna read in the Chicago Tribune that FDR and Churchill had conferred on the unconditional surrender of Italy and told her mother joyfully that that meant Papa would be home soon.

  Zaphia said she hoped she was right and commented to Miss Tredgold how well she thought Florentyna was looking. “And how did you enjoy Washington, my dear?”

  “Very much, Mama. I think I’ll live there one day.”

  “Why, Florentyna, what would you do in Washington?”

  Florentyna looked up and met Miss Tredgold’s eyes. She hesitated for a few seconds and then turned back to her mother. “I don’t know, I just thought Washington was a nice city. Would you please pass the marmalade, Miss Tredgold?”

  Chapter

  Five

  Florentyna couldn’t be sure how many of her weekly letters were reaching her father because they had to be mailed to a depot in New York for checking before they were sent on to wherever Major Rosnovski was stationed at the time.

  The replies came back spasmodically, and sometimes Florentyna would receive as many as three letters in one week and then no word for three months. If a whole month passed without a letter, she began to believe her father had been killed in action. Miss Tredgold explained that that was not possible since the army always sent a telegram to inform a family if a relative was killed or missing. Each morning, Florentyna would be the first to go downstairs to search through the mail for her father’s handwriting or the dreaded telegram. When she did receive a letter from her father she often found that some of the words were blocked out with black ink. She tried holding them up to the light over the breakfast table but still she couldn’t decipher them. Miss Tredgold told her that this was for her father’s own safety, as he might inadvertently have written something that could be useful to the enemy if the letter fell into the Wrong Hands.

  “Why would the Germans be interested in the fact that I am second in geometry?” asked Florentyna.

  Miss Tredgold ignored the question and asked if she had enough to eat.

  “I’d like another bit of toast.”

  “A piece, child, a piece. A bit is something you put in a horse’s mouth.”

  Every six months Miss Tredgold would take her charge, accompanied by Eleanor, to Monroe Street to sit on a high stool with the dog on a box by her side, to smile at a flashbulb so that Major Rosnovski could watch his daughter and the Labrador grow up by photograph.

  “We can’t have him not recognizing his only child when he returns home, can we?” she declared.

  Florentyna would print her age and Eleanor’s age in dog years firmly on the back of each photo and in a letter add the details of her progress at school, how she enjoyed tennis and swimming in the summer and volleyball and basketball in the winter, also how her bookshelves were stacked with his old cigar boxes full of butterflies caught in a wonderful net that Mama had given her for Christmas. She added that Miss Tredgold had carefully chloroformed the butterflies before she pinned them and identified each one with its Latin name. How her mother had joined some charity committee and started taking an interest in the Polish League for Women. How she was growing vegetables in her victory garden, how she and Eleanor didn’t like the meat shortage but that she liked bread-and-butter pudding, while Eleanor preferred crunchy biscuits. She always ended each letter the same way: “Please come home tomorrow.”

  The war stretched into 1944, and Florentyna followed the progress of the Allies in the Chicago Tribune and by listening to Edward R. Murrow’s reports from London on the radio. Eisenhower became her idol and she nursed a secret admiration for General George Patton because he seemed to be a little bit like her father. On the sixth of June, the invasion of Western Europe was launched. Florentyna imagined that her father was on the beachhead and she was unable to understand how he could possibly hope to survive. She followed the Allies in their drive toward Paris on the map of Europe that Miss Tredgold had pinned to the playroom wall during the days of her lessons in Polish history. She began to believe that the war was at last coming to an end and that her father would soon return home.

  She took to sitting hour after hour on the doorstep of their house on Rigg Street with Eleanor by her side, watching the corner of the block. But the hours turned into days, the days into weeks, and Florentyna only became distracted from her vigil by the fact that both Presidential conventions were to be held in Chicago during the summer vacation, which gave her the opportunity to see her political hero in person.

  The Republicans chose Thomas E. Dewey as their candidate in June, and later in July the Democrats again selected Roosevelt. Congressman Osborne took Florentyna along to the Amphitheater to hear the President make his acceptance speech to the convention. She was puzzled by the fact that whenever she saw Congressman Osborne, he was accompanied by a different woman. She must ask Miss Tredgold about that; she would be sure to have an explanation. After the candidate’s speech, Florentyna stood in a long line waiting to shake hands with the President, but she was so nervous that she didn’t look up as he was wheeled by.

  It was the most exciting day of her life, and on the walk home she confided her interest in politics to Congressman Osborne. He did not point out to her that despite the war there wasn’t a woman sitting in the Senate, and there were only two women in Congress.

  In November, Florentyna wrote to her father to tell him something she imagined he hadn’t heard. FDR had won a fourth term. She waited months for his reply.

  And then the telegram came.

  Miss Tredgold could not extract the missive before the child spotted the small buff envelope. The governess immediately carried the telegram to Mrs. Rosnovski in the drawing room with a trembling Florentyna following in her wake, holding on to her skirt, with Eleanor a pace behind them. Zaphia tore the envelope open with nervous fingers, read the contents, and burst into hysterical tears. “No, no,” Florentyna cried, “it can’t be true, Mama. Tell me he’s only missing,” and snatched the telegram from her speechless mother to read the contents. It read: “DEMOB PAPERS ISSUED. HOME SOONEST. LOVE ABEL.” Florentyna let out a whoop of joy and jumped on the back of Miss Tredgold, who fell into a chair that normally she would never have sat in. Eleanor, as if aware the usual codes could be broken, also jumped on the chair and started licking both of them while Zaphia burst out laughing.

  Miss Tredgold could not convince Florentyna that soonest might turn out to take some time since the army conducted a rigid system in deciding who should come home first, awarding points to those who had served the longest or had been wounded in battle. Florentyna remained optimistic, but the weeks passed slowly.

  One evening, when she was returning home clutching yet another Brownie badge, this time for lifesaving, she spotted a light shining through a small window that had not been lit for over three years. She forgot her lifesaving achievement immediately, ran all the way down the street, and had nearly beaten the door down before Miss Tredgold came to answer it. She dashed upstairs to her father’s study, where she found him deep in conversation with her mother. She threw her arms around him and would not let go until finally he pushed her back to take a careful look at his ten-year-old daughter.

  “You’re so much more beautiful than your photographs.”

  “And you’re in one piece, Papa.”

  “Yes, and I won’t be going away again.”

  “Not without me, you won’t,” said Florentyna, and clung on to him once more.

  For the next few days, she pestered her father to tell her stories of the war. Had he met General Eisenhower? No. General Patton? Yes, for about ten minutes. General Bradley? Yes. Had he seen any Germans? No, but on one occasion he had helped to rescue wounded soldiers that had been ambushed by the enemy at Remagen.

  “And what happened—?”

  “Enough, enough, young lady. You’re worse than a staff sergeant on dr
ill parade.”

  Florentyna was so excited by her father’s homecoming that she was an hour late for bed that night and still didn’t sleep. Miss Tredgold reminded her how lucky she was that her Papa had returned without injury or disfigurement, unlike so many fathers of the children in her class.

  When Florentyna heard that Edward Winchester’s father had lost an arm at somewhere called Bastogne, she tried to tell him how sorry she was.

  Abel quickly returned to the routine of his work. No one recognized him when he first strode into the Chicago Baron: he had lost so much weight and looked so thin that the duty manager asked him who he was. The first decision Abel had to make was to order five new suits from Brooks Brothers because none of his pre-war clothes fitted him.

  George Novak, as far as Abel could deduce from the annual reports he had been through, had kept the Group on an even keel in his absence, even if he had taken no great strides forward. It was also from George that he learned that Henry Osborne had been re-elected to Congress for a fifth term. He asked his secretary to call Washington.

  “Congratulations, Henry. Consider yourself elected to the board.”

  “Thank you, Abel. You’ll be glad to learn,” said Henry, “that I have acquired six percent of Lester’s stock while you’ve been away rustling up gourmet dinners on Primus stoves for our top military brass.”

  “Well done, Henry. What hope is there of getting our hands on the magic eight percent?”

  “A very good chance,” replied Henry. “Peter Parfitt, who expected to be chairman of Lester’s before Kane arrived on the scene, has been removed from the board and has about as much affection for Kane as a mongoose has for a rattlesnake. Parfitt has made it very clear that he is willing to part with his two percent.”

  “Then what’s stopping us?”

  “He’s demanding a million dollars for his holding, because I’m sure he’s worked out that his shares are all you need to topple Kane, and there are not many stockholders left for me to buy from. But a million is way above the ten percent over current stock value that you authorized me to proceed at.”

  Abel studied the figures that Henry had left for him on his desk. “Offer him seven hundred and fifty thousand” was all he said.

  George was thinking about far smaller sums when he next spoke to Abel. “I allowed Henry a loan in your absence, and he still hasn’t paid the money back,” he admitted.

  “A loan?”

  “Henry’s description, not mine,” said George.

  “Who’s kidding who? How much?” said Abel.

  “Five thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Abel.”

  “Forget it. If that’s the only mistake you’ve made in the last three years, I’m a lucky man. What do you imagine Henry spends the money on?”

  “Wine, women and song. There’s nothing particularly original about our congressman. There’s also a rumor around the Chicago bars that he’s started gambling quite heavily.”

  “That’s all I need from the latest member of the board. Keep an eye on him and let me know if the situation gets any worse.”

  George nodded.

  “And now I want to talk about expansion. With Washington pumping three hundred million dollars a week into the economy, we must be prepared for a boom the like of which America has never experienced before. We must also start building Barons in Europe while land is cheap and most people are only thinking about survival. Let’s begin with London.”

  “For God’s sake, Abel, the place is as flat as a pancake.”

  “All the better to build on, my dear.”

  “Miss Tredgold,” said Zaphia, “I’m going to a fashion show this afternoon, a benefit for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and I might not be back before Florentyna’s bedtime.”

  “Very good, Mrs. Rosnovski,” said Miss Tredgold.

  “I’d like to go,” said Florentyna.

  Both women stared at the child in surprise.

  “But it’s only two days before your exams,” said Zaphia, anticipating that Miss Tredgold would thoroughly disapprove if Florentyna attended something as frivolous as a fashion show. “What are you meant to be doing this afternoon?”

  “Medieval history,” replied Miss Tredgold without hesitation. “Charlemagne through to the Council of Trent.”

  Zaphia was sad that her daughter was not being allowed to take an interest in feminine pursuits but rather was expected to act as a surrogate son, filling the gap for her husband’s disappointment at not having a boy.

  “Then perhaps we’d better leave it for another time,” she said. Zaphia would have insisted her daughter accompany her but realized that if Abel found out, both she and Florentyna would suffer for it later. However, for once Miss Tredgold surprised her.

  “I am not sure I agree with you, Mrs. Rosnovski,” she said. “The occasion might well be the ideal one to introduce the child to the world of fashion and indeed of society.” Turning to Florentyna, she added, “And a break from your studies a few days before exams can do you no harm.”

  Zaphia looked at Miss Tredgold with new respect. “Perhaps you would like to come yourself?” she added. It was the first time Zaphia had seen Miss Tredgold blush.

  “No, thank you, no, I couldn’t possibly.” She hesitated. “I have letters, yes, letters to attend to, and I’ve set aside this afternoon to pen them.”

  That afternoon, Zaphia was waiting by the main school gate dressed in a pink suit in place of the usual Miss Tredgold in sensible navy. Florentyna thought her mother looked extremely smart.

  She wanted to run all the way to the Drake Hotel, where the fashion show was being held, and when she actually arrived she found it hard to remain still even though her seat was in the front row. She could have touched the haughty models as they picked their way gracefully down the brilliantly lit catwalk. As the pleated skirts swirled and dipped, tight-waisted jackets were taken off to reveal elegantly bare shoulders, and sophisticated ladies in floating yards of pale organza topped with silk hats drifted silently to unknown assignations behind a red velvet curtain. Florentyna sat entranced. When the last model had turned a full circle, signaling that the show had ended, a press photographer asked Zaphia if he could take her picture. “Mama,” said Florentyna urgently as he was setting up his tripod, “you must wear your hat further forward if you want to be thought chic.”

  Mother obeyed child for the first time.

  When Miss Tredgold tucked Florentyna into bed that night she asked if she had enjoyed the experience.

  “Oh, yes,” said Florentyna. “I had no idea clothes could make you look so good.”

  Miss Tredgold smiled, a little wistfully.

  “And did you realize that they raised over eight thousand dollars for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra? Even Papa would have been impressed by that.”

  “Indeed he would,” said Miss Tredgold, “and one day you will have to decide how to use your wealth for the benefit of other people. It is not always easy being born with money.”

  The next day, Miss Tredgold pointed out to Florentyna a picture of her mother in Women’s Wear Daily under the caption, “Baroness Rosnovski enters the fashion scene in Chicago.”

  “When can I go to a fashion show again?” asked Florentyna.

  “Not until you have been through Charlemagne and the Council of Trent,” said Miss Tredgold.

  “I wonder what Charlemagne wore when he was crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,” said Florentyna.

  That night, closed into her room, with only the light of a flashlight to go by, she let down the hem of her school skirt and took two inches in at the waist.

  Florentyna was now in her last term of Middle School, and Abel hoped she might win the coveted Upper School Scholarship. Florentyna was aware that her father could afford to send her to Upper School if she failed to win a scholarship, but she had plans for the money her father would save each year if she was awarded free tuition. She had studied hard that year, but she had no way of knowing how well she had done when the
final examination came to an end, as there were 122 Illinois children who had entered for the examination, but only four scholarships were to be awarded. Florentyna had been warned by Miss Tredgold that she would not learn the result for at least a month. “Patience is a virtue,” Miss Tredgold reminded her, and added with mock horror that she would return to England on the next boat if Florentyna did not come in in the first three places.

  “Don’t be silly, Miss Tredgold, I shall be first,” Florentyna replied confidently, but as the days of the month went by she began to regret her bragging and confided to Eleanor during a long walk that she might have written cosine when she had meant sine in one of the questions, and created an impossible triangle. “Perhaps I shall come in second,” she ventured over breakfast one morning.

  “Then I shall move to the employ of the parents of the child who comes first,” said Miss Tredgold imperturbably.

  Abel smiled as he looked up from his copy of the morning paper. “If you win a scholarship,” he said, “you will have saved me a thousand dollars a year. If you come out on top, two thousand dollars.”

  “Yes, Papa, and I have plans for that.”

  “Oh, do you, young lady. And may I inquire what you have in mind?”

  “If I win a scholarship, I want you to invest the money in Baron Group stock until I’m twenty-one, and if I’m first I want you to do the same for Miss Tredgold.”

  “Good gracious, no,” said Miss Tredgold, stretching to her full height, “that would be most improper. I do apologize, Mr. Rosnovski, for Florentyna’s impudence.”