The Big House
Page 25
There was a shocked silence. Dorothy never cried. Then they all joined in.
Mr Lovett looked at the four weeping children. He couldn’t understand it. After all the horrors they’d been through without turning a hair! Passing over a box of tissues, he wondered if he should postpone the meeting. Beverley stood up, and the wailing stopped immediately. The last thing they wanted was her poking her nose in and telling them what to do. Dorothy sat up straight and mopped her face.
*
Ten days later, Miss Clements had prepared yet another feast. The leaves of the mahogany dining table had been pulled out and it was no longer round. Miss Clements sat at one end and a stout Italian gentleman sat at the other. The children sat with a grandmother halfway up on each side. Gwen Jones wore her best summer dress, stitched on her sewing machine more than sixteen years ago, and Dorothea Ferranti’s skeletal frame was draped loosely in fine, black velvet appliquéd with roses.
“Such happiness!” exclaimed Paul.
Mrs Ferranti smiled at him. Her soft silk scarf threw gentle colours up into her haggard face, and her skin seemed to glow. “You are right, Paul,” she murmured. “I never thought I could be happy again, but now I have new blessings.”
Her brother, plump and genial, looked round the table at the four children. “You and I have found a family, Dorothea,” he said, “and now we can go forward.” He tucked his napkin into his collar. “This meal is delicious, Miss Clements. If this is how you intend to feed my sister, she will soon find that her clothes are no longer too large for her.” His eyes fell on Dorothy. “Your nonna was once a great beauty like you,” he said, “and she will be again if Miss Clements has her way.”
“That’s enough about me, Mario!” said Nonna Ferranti. “Perhaps this is a good time for the children to reach a final decision on their new name.”
Gwen agreed. “You only have two weeks, remember, and time is nearly up.”
Despite days of constant discussion, the only thing the children had managed to agree was that they should all have the same surname.
“Now we’re all here round this table, let’s make one big, final effort,” said Dorothy, as she passed up the Cumberland sauce. “As you already know, I want it to be something really glamorous. What about Mariabella, or Vanderbilt?”
David was horrified. “No way! Imagine being called David Mariabella! I want something plain, like Jones. And Jones would be convenient because that’s how we’re already known at school.”
“You can’t have that,” said Dorothy. “There are too many David Joneses, and we wouldn’t know which one was you. There are two in my class.”
“I’d like something in the middle,” said Lucy, “not so different as to make us stand out too much, but enough to make people know us from other people.” She turned to Paul. “What would you choose for our family name?”
He thoughtfully chewed a tender piece of honey-roasted gammon and followed it down with a bit of roast parsnip and some potato gratin dauphinoise. The others waited. All faces were turned towards him.
“Two grandmothers, two names, like my teacher,” he said at last. “Ferranti and Jones. Dorothy, David, Lucy and Paul Ferranti Jones. One family.”
There was a long silence.
“I like it,” said Mrs Ferranti, “but it’s a bit long. Does it have a hyphen?”
“We don’t use hyphens for surnames in Wales, Mrs Ferranti dear,” said Miss Clements. “It’s so that you can use either one or the other, or both together — whatever you want.”
“Good!” exclaimed David. “I’ll use Jones most of the time and Ferranti Jones for special occasions — like when I’m an ambassador, or something like that.”
“Paul and I could be Ferranti,” said Lucy. “It’s more unusual than Jones, but not too noticeable.”
“No!” Paul was firm. “My name is Paul Ferranti Jones, in full.”
“Same here,” said Dorothy.
When they had finished savouring their new family name and were starting on a summer pudding with cream, Miss Clements remembered something. “Lucy, I forgot! You’ve got a letter. It came while you were up in London, so that was a few days ago. It’s from the United States of America, which gave me quite a turn, and it looked like my sister’s writing. I put it in a safe place.” She pushed her chair back and heaved herself to her feet. “Now where did I put it?” she asked herself.
Lucy had never had a letter in her life. She and the others waited on tenterhooks. Miss Clements found it eventually, in a jug in the kitchen, and returned triumphantly to the dining room. “I knew it was safe,” she said proudly, “No one would have found it there.”
She had a good look at the writing before handing it over to Lucy. “It definitely looks like Marilyn’s writing, but it can’t be if it’s from America.”
For a moment her usual bland expression was replaced by one of terrible hurt. “She wouldn’t speak to me after she came out of hospital, and then she went away. Found it all too distressing, I expect. Such a shake-up to the system, don’t you think?” she said sadly. “I heard she won some important prize for her work, but I’ve not seen her since our accident and that was many weeks ago.”
Lucy didn’t know anyone in America. The others crowded round as she opened her letter and read it aloud.
“Dear Lucy,” it said “Thank you for visiting me in hospital and bringing me my work. It won me an award. I am now a university professor and am very happy. If you ever come to the States I’d be pleased to see you. I have a husband called Dwight, who is also a professor. We are soul mates. Yours sincerely, Marilyn Clements.
They all looked at each other in wonder.
“Such a relief!” said Miss Clements, her face clearing. “A married woman! Now I can stop worrying about her. So disturbing, you know. Dorothy, dear, please will you pass the cream up to Nonna Ferranti. We must build her up, must we not?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dorothy burst into the sitting room.
“I’ve found a job,” she announced triumphantly.
Three pairs of eyes looked up from their various tasks. David put down an incomprehensible article on stocks and shares, and Lucy set aside her book. Paul added two more strokes to his drawing of the house and then gave Dorothy his full attention.
“I’m going to be a chambermaid!” Dorothy’s face was flushed with excitement. “I went into all the hotels along the promenade asking if they needed someone to help cook and, when I’d nearly given up, this woman said I could be a ‘kitchen-stroke-chambermaid’.”
The others were impressed.
“Wow!” said David. “The first step in our plan is achieved! When do you start?”
“Next Monday. I have to be there by seven o’clock in the morning to help with the breakfasts, then work in the kitchen from half past nine to half past ten, and then help clean the bedrooms – which is the chambermaiding bit – and I’ll work in the restaurant from half past twelve to two, and then clear up in the kitchen and help with the dinner, and I’ll finish at five.”
“That’s a lot of work,” said David. “It’s ten hours.”
“I know, but she said I’d have a coffee break, and lunch and tea breaks, if they can fit them in, so it’s really only eight hours. I’ll be on three months’ probation, but I’m sure I’ll be OK. I’ve got a feeling that this is the job for me. I’d love to run a hotel, but I’ve got to learn all about it first – like an apprenticeship.”
She was too excited to sit down.
“Thank goodness I’ve finished my exams! They won’t be hanging over me all the time, unless of course I’ve failed. Now I can really look forward – especially to helping in the kitchen. Perhaps they’d let me do some of Miss Clements’s pudding recipes. They’re going to pay me minimum wage, even though I’m not eighteen yet, provided I work as hard as an adult. I thought that was very fair.”
“If I put in a bit of my wages every week,” said Dorothy, “It’ll grow.”
“We shouldn’t keep it in a box,” said David. “We should invest it. I’ve just read a book which says you should invest one tenth of your earnings each week and forget about it, so that it grows and you become rich without even noticing.”
For weeks now Lucy had noticed that, ever since David had discovered the truth about his mother, he’d had an increasing obsession with how to make money. He used to love doing practical things, like mending Miss Clements’s shopping trolley or changing the light bulbs, but now he was too busy for that sort of thing, always with his nose in a book on finance. She supposed there was no harm in that, but he didn’t seem the same. The life had gone out of him somehow.
“How do we find out how to invest something?” she asked. “Obviously we’ve heard of stocks and shares, whatever they are, but I suppose you have to have quite a lot of money to start with before you can do anything.”
“I‘ve been reading about these things,” said David, “but I don’t really understand them yet. I really do want to learn because it could be useful to us. It could help us buy our house. We can ask Great-Uncle Mario when he next comes over from Rome.”
*
Dorothy’s alarm went off at six. While the others were just getting up for what was left of the school summer term, she was already being shown where everything was kept in the hotel kitchen and how to set out the breakfast buffet. Her day flew past, and the conversation that night at supper revolved around the new job. She was full of stories about difficult guests and grumpy staff, and she lectured her attentive audience on the various ways in which the hotel could be run better if only they would take note of her suggestions.
Her grandmother smiled at her enthusiasm, but Miss Clements anxiously shook her head. “You must take care of yourself, dear, and not overdo things,” she said. “All things in moderation, isn’t that right, Mrs Ferranti?”
“Now that we’ve reached step one of our plan,” said Dorothy, “we must find somewhere to rent, so I can look after everyone.”
“Oh, but you don’t have to do that yet, dear!” Miss Clements was quite hurt. “You can stay here till I marry Mr Nicholas. I’m not sure what happens after that, because he wants me to live at his house, and I can’t keep putting him off forever. But, you know, dear, I do think you might have difficulty finding anything that you can afford if you’re only getting the minimum wage.”
“Oh,” said Dorothy, slightly dampened. “It seemed like a lot of money to me.”
“And so it is, dear, for someone just starting, is it not Mrs Ferranti? But when you have to pay for rent and bills and food, nothing goes very far.”
Mrs Ferranti nodded agreement, and Miss Clements briefly noted how much better she looked these days – and only after a fortnight! Or was it three weeks? Or a little more? Never mind. She was living proof that good food was a wonderful medicine.
“Now I mustn’t sound negative must I, Dorothy dear? Help yourself to some more apple tart. You’ll need all your energy for work tomorrow.”
After supper, the children cleared the table and filled the dishwasher while Miss Clements worked out her menus for the following week. They wouldn’t let Mrs Ferranti help.
“The doctor said you’ve got to build yourself up gradually, Nonna,” said Lucy ushering her into the children’s sitting room. The empty fireplace had been filled with vases of roses, and Lucy put her next to it in a comfortable chair. “Now you can smell the roses,” she said. “Just another month, according to the doctor, and you’ll be fit for next year’s Olympics, and we could all go to Athens to watch you with our new passports.” She laughed. “We’ll be in as soon as we’ve cleared up in the kitchen.”
When they had finished their chores and were gathered in the sitting room, Nonna Ferranti asked them to explain their plan to her – unless, of course, it was a secret, she said.
“No, it’s not a secret. It’s our motivation, and we’re always talking about it,” said Dorothy. “It’s just that, because we’ve all missed such a lot of schooling, except for Paul, we’ve got no education except in maths and languages and praying. So I’m going to get a job – well, I’ve got one now, so that’s step one – and the others will work really hard at school to catch up.”
She embarked on a convoluted explanation of the plan, but stopped when she noticed the confusion on her grandmother’s face.
“So you see,” explained David, hoping to put it more coherently, “step one was for Dorothy to get a job so she can look after us – and you, of course, because you’ll come with us and we’ll all look after you. Finding somewhere to rent is important, because we have to leave here when Miss Clements gets married and we don’t want to go into care again. But step two is for us all to get an education and good jobs; and step three is buying a house of our own, so we can feel safe.”
“I suppose we’ll still get money from Mr Lovett till after the other trials,” said Lucy, “but things will probably change after that. We’ll have to find out so we can plan it all properly.”
“Perhaps I can help you,” said Mrs Ferranti.
The children were shocked.
“Oh, no! It’s we who’re going to help you,” exclaimed Dorothy. “You must concentrate on getting well again, and when we get our own place you’ll live with us, and we’ll take care of you. And – when you’re really strong, and if we’ve got enough money – we can all go on a holiday to Italy, and you can show us where you were born.”
Mrs Ferranti smiled. She looked at the four eager young faces and her eyes filled with tears.
“And we can go and visit Great-Uncle Mario in Rome,” added Dorothy.
*
David was alone in the upstairs sitting room. He needed to think.
So, minimum wage wouldn’t be enough! Well, it wouldn’t be fair to put all the burden on Dorothy. There must be a way of making money while he was still at school. It was surely just a matter of finding an idea and working out a strategy. There was a book in the charity shop which told you How to make a million in ten easy steps. That was absurd, of course, because if you could do that, everyone would take the ten easy steps and make a million. But there was something irresistibly exciting about the possibility of making money quickly. He just had this feeling he’d be really good at it if only he knew how to start.
Chapter Thirty
On a beautiful, breezy morning at the beginning of July, the two grandmothers sat in the sun on the promenade and looked out to sea. They made a contrasting couple, one supremely elegant in a light wool Italian jacket and linen trousers, and the other in an old washed-out floral dress and shapeless cardigan.
Gwen Jones was working shifts at the hospital and had Tuesdays off.
“I’m thinking of selling the house,” she said. “It’s got such sad memories for me, and I need to start afresh. I’ll get something smaller up the hill near the hospital. Then I won’t have to walk all that way down into town at night when I’ve finished a late shift. Also, it’ll release a bit of money for me. I really do need some new clothes, but I’ll have to make sure the children are all right first.”
Mrs Ferranti lifted her collar up to keep out the sea breeze, and looked over her shoulder. “Is that the hotel where Dorothy’s working?” she asked. “I do hope they don’t exploit her.”
“Not Dorothy!” laughed Gwen. “She’s strong. They all are – even little Paul. She won’t be put upon! Have they told you about their three-step plan?”
“Yes. I could help them, but they seem so concerned about helping me that it hasn’t occurred to them that they too could do with a little help.”
“Well, they’ve had to think for themsel
ves for so long, I don’t suppose they expect anything from anyone else.”
“I could make things a bit easier for them, though,” said Mrs Ferranti, “and they don’t need to know anything about it. I too have a plan, but I thought I’d discuss it with you first.”
Gwen was interested. She listened quietly while the idea was put to her. If Miss Clements were to sell the big house to Mrs Ferranti after the wedding, there would be no need to tell the children. Miss Clements could go and live with Mr Nicholas, and the children would be under the impression that Mr Lovett was still organising their accommodation while they stayed on in the house.
“And,” said Mrs Ferranti, “I don’t know what you’ll think of this suggestion, but if you do decide to sell up, and if Miss Clements does let me buy her house, perhaps you would like to come and live with us? There are so many rooms, and you could have your own sitting room and bathroom.”
Gwen was taken aback. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.
“It would be very handy for the hospital,” added Mrs Ferranti.
“It would indeed,” murmured Gwen. “Also, there would surely be no need for the children to go into foster care if there were two grandmothers in the house. I think it’s a wonderful idea! I’d pay you rent, of course.”
*
Isobel was in court awaiting sentencing. She had pleaded guilty with tremendous pride. The police had found the holy leaders’ records when they raided head office, and even she had been astonished to hear the actual number of disposals she had performed throughout her career. Purifications, she preferred to call them, and over the years she had performed purifications in the hundreds, even thousands. The Magnifico’s world was a purer place thanks to her unflagging loyalty and diligence.
A whole life order! That’s what the judge said. Her cup of joy ran over when it struck her that the Magnifico had bestowed a great honour upon her. As soon as she was settled in prison for the rest of her life, she would have the privilege of being in a position to set up His mission. There would be an endless influx of souls for conversion to the Holy Cause, and she would ensure that when their time came to return to freedom, they would carry His word with them and broadcast it to the outside world. She would even be able to teach a few carefully selected disciples the theory and techniques of lethal injection. That fool, Drax, had taken the coward’s way out. She was the Chosen and her future in Paradise was now assured.