We Shall Remember

by Emma Fraser

  The woman stood aside. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Sarah followed Lady Glendale through to a large sitting room scattered with toys. She removed a toy monkey from a wing-back chair and indicated to Sarah that she should sit, before lifting the child onto her lap. ‘This is my daughter Chloe. Chloe, this is Miss Davidson.’

  ‘Hello,’ her child said shyly, before giggling and turning her face into her mother’s chest.

  ‘So your mother is one of the mysterious benefactors of Richard’s will,’ Lady Glendale said, patting Chloe’s back. ‘I have to admit, we did wonder.’

  ‘It was as much of a surprise to me as it must have been to you, Lady Glendale.’

  ‘Oh, please, call me Elizabeth.’ She smiled suddenly and it changed her face from plain to pretty. ‘I still haven’t got used to the title yet. Only a few weeks ago, I was plain old Elizabeth Maxwell. To be honest, the British aristocracy scares the living daylights out of me.’ She tightened her hold on the squirming child on her lap. ‘Now what exactly would you like to know? I’m not sure I can be of much help.’

  ‘As I said, I’m at a loss as to why Richard – Lord Glendale – made my mother executor and a possible beneficiary. Unfortunately, she’s not very well at the moment, so I thought I would find out on her behalf. Apparently she’s to inherit his properties in Edinburgh and Skye should the solicitors fail to track down a Magdalena Drobnik. I don’t suppose you happen to know who she is?’ In her haste to explain, her words were falling over one another. She couldn’t shake the conviction that a stern-faced butler would appear at any moment to turf her out.

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. My husband received a copy of Richard’s will from the solicitors and I have to admit he was a little surprised at its contents – we all were. He’d never heard of either your mother or Miss Drobnik.’

  Damn. She’d really hoped she’d find some answers here. ‘Then he doesn’t know why Lord Glendale would have done what he did?’

  Chloe wriggled again in her mother’s arms and Elizabeth placed her on the floor.

  ‘If you’re worried that my husband might contest the will – if that’s why you’re here – I’m afraid he hasn’t made up his mind. I rather think he won’t.’ She gestured to the room. ‘He has this place and when his father died, he inherited another house in Kent. He had to sell that one to pay inheritance tax, but we could have never afforded the upkeep anyway.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘I’m being more forthright than I expect my husband would wish, but I do hope you’re not going to make trouble for the family.’

  Sarah was aghast. ‘Make trouble? Why should I do that?’

  Elizabeth pursed her lips. ‘People can behave strangely when money is involved.’

  ‘I promise you I have no intention of upsetting your family in any way.’ Sarah took the envelope out of her handbag. ‘What I would really like to know is why Lord Glendale would have had this particular photograph of my mother in his possession.’ She handed it to Elizabeth who took a pair of reading glasses from the table by her side and studied it.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I don’t recognise her. I certainly haven’t seen her in any of the family photographs.’

  A bell tinkled from somewhere deep in the house and Elizabeth sighed. ‘Grandmother must have heard the doorbell. She’ll be wanting to know who’s visiting.’

  ‘Your grandmother?’

  ‘Grandmother-in-law, to be precise – Lady Dorothea.’

  ‘Lady Dorothea is still alive? But she must be —’ In the nick of time Sarah stopped herself from saying ‘ancient’.

  ‘Almost a hundred. Ninety-nine and eleven months, to be exact. She wouldn’t thank either of us for adding any more years onto her than she has already.’

  ‘Is it possible I could speak to her? Lady Dorothea might be able to tell me something about Magdalena Drobnik.’

  ‘As you’ll appreciate, Grandmother is very frail.’ Elizabeth’s lips twitched. ‘At least physically.’

  ‘I promise I won’t take up too much of her time. Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I really need to know —’

  Before she could finish, the door was flung open revealing an elderly lady with a shock of white hair and a face with so many lines they looked like cobwebs. She was wearing a bright pink waistcoat trimmed with feathers and leaning heavily on two ebony sticks. However, there was nothing elderly about her piercing blue-green eyes. ‘I heard the door. Why didn’t you come when I rang, Elizabeth?’ She peered at Sarah. ‘I see we have a visitor. Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?’

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet and hurried to help the old lady. ‘I thought you were resting, Grandmother. I was just coming to see what you needed.’

  So this was Lady Dorothea.

  The old lady batted Elizabeth away with one of her sticks. ‘There’s plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. I keep telling you I’m old, not senile.’

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes behind Lady Dorothea’s back. ‘Grandmother, may I introduce Sarah Davidson? It’s her mother who is to inherit Richard’s estate should Miss Drobnik no longer be alive. Sarah, this is my husband’s grandmother, Lady Dorothea.’ She turned back to the old lady. ‘You know the doctor said you were to take it easy.’

  ‘Fiddlesticks! He’s only a child. What could he possibly know?’

  Chloe ran to Lady Dorothea, wrapped her arms around her legs and looked up at her adoringly.

  Lady Dorothea patted her head and smiled. ‘You know I’m not past it, don’t you, darling?’

  When Elizabeth moved towards them, Lady Dorothea waved her stick again. ‘Don’t you even attempt to take my elbow!’

  Sarah suppressed an impulse to giggle. If she did, she wouldn’t put it past Lady Dorothea to whack her too. As Elizabeth backed off, the old lady lowered herself carefully onto the seat of an upright sofa. After she was settled she looked at Sarah. ‘So tell me, why are you here?’

  From what she’d seen of Lord Glendale’s aunt so far Sarah decided it was better to come straight to the point. ‘As Elizabeth said, your nephew left his properties in Edinburgh and Skye to a Magdalena Drobnik, or, should she have passed away, to my mother. Do you have any idea why he should do such an extraordinary thing?’

  ‘None whatsoever. He didn’t choose to tell me what was in his will. That’s as it should be. His business was his own.’ Her eyes softened. ‘He did love that house in Skye. He spent so much time there it’s where we buried him.’

  ‘At the house?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, child! In the cemetery, of course. Glendales don’t get buried in their back gardens!’

  Elizabeth gave Sarah a sympathetic look and took her daughter by the hand. ‘Could you help me make some tea for Grandmother and our guest, darling?’

  When they’d left, Sarah leaned forward in her chair. ‘What I’d really like to know is whether you could tell me anything about Magdalena Drobnik. The woman Richard left his estate to.’

  ‘I know who Magdalena Drobnik is.’

  ‘You do? How? When did you meet her?’

  ‘I didn’t say I had ever met her – just that I knew Richard had left his estate to her. The only Polish woman I knew was an Irena.’

  ‘Irena?’ A frisson of excitement ran up Sarah’s spine. Perhaps Irena and Magdalena were friends?

  ‘A girl who came to stay during the war.’

  ‘Are you sure her name was Irena and not Magdalena?’

  ‘My dear, I might forget what I had for breakfast this morning, but my memory of the past is perfectly intact. The young woman’s name was certainly Irena, although I forget her last name. It certainly wasn’t Drobnik. Polish surnames are so complicated, aren’t they? All I can remember is that it was something that sounded like crash.’

  ‘You’re quite certain you didn’t know a Magdalena?’

  A flash of irritation crossed the old lady’s face. ‘Very certain.’ She fiddled with her stick. ‘I imagine you�
�re wondering why Richard didn’t leave this house in his will, too?’

  ‘Oh no. Absolutely not. To be honest, I’m just surprised he’s left his other properties to my mother – if Magdalena doesn’t claim them of course – especially when he has family alive.’

  Lady Dorothea pinned her with a look. ‘This house was never his. Richard’s father passed it to me after my husband died.’

  ‘He didn’t leave it to his son? Wasn’t that unusual back then?’

  ‘You mean the whole inheritance malarkey being entailed down the male line? Yes, you’re correct. But Richard’s mother – my sister-in-law – bolted after the war. To America. My brother never got over it. Caused no end of upset. Not that I could blame her really.’

  Although this didn’t have anything to do with her Sarah couldn’t help but be intrigued.

  ‘Why couldn’t you blame her?’ she asked. ‘Your brother couldn’t have held Richard responsible for his mother’s actions, surely?’

  Lady Dorothea lifted her chin. ‘That’s family business, Miss Davidson. It really isn’t any of your concern.’

  Sarah winced inwardly. Lady Dorothea was right. She was here to find out about Magdalena. ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’

  A flash of annoyance crossed the old lady’s face. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those young women who are always apologising. Can’t bear it. We had more backbone in my days. If you want to know something, ask. If I don’t want to tell you, I shan’t.’

  Although Lady Dorothea made her feel like a naughty schoolgirl, Sarah told herself not to be a wuss. She might never get another chance to ask her questions.

  ‘What else can you tell me about Irena, then?’

  ‘Not very much, I’m afraid. I only met her once or twice. She arrived on my brother’s doorstep one day – around the end of the Blitz. I gathered she’d escaped from Poland.’

  Sarah’s pulse was bounding. Two Polish women and both with a connection to the Glendales. Surely they had known each other? She sat on the edge of her chair.

  ‘Do you know if Irena’s still alive? Did she have family? Brothers or sisters?’

  ‘I really couldn’t say. As I said, I didn’t know much about her. She was studying medicine, I do remember that. She helped out at one of the first-aid posts during the Blitz. Then the Hun stopped bombing us.’ Lady Dorothea clicked her fingers. ‘Just like that. Irena left London shortly afterwards. The Bolter arranged for her to live at Charlotte Square and I never saw her again. So many people came into one’s lives back then and just vanished.’

  The old lady closed her eyes, seemingly lost in her memories. Thoughts tumbled through Sarah’s head. If Magdalena wasn’t Mum’s mother, perhaps Irena was? If she were a friend of Magdalena’s – or her sister – that would explain the connection between Magdalena and Mum. If Irena was here during the war, and if she was still alive, then she might still be in the country. She might even be in Edinburgh. If Sarah could track her down she might be able to tell her about Magdalena. At least it was a lead of sorts. And Richard could still be Mum’s biological father.

  ‘Do you know why Richard had a photograph of my mother as a child?’ Sarah asked.

  Lady Dorothea’s eyes flickered open. ‘Absolutely no idea.’

  ‘Is it possible that Richard could have…?’ She hesitated then remembered what Lady Dorothea had said about coming right out with her questions. ‘Do you think Richard could have had a child you didn’t know about?’

  ‘Richard? Most unlikely.’ Lady Dorothea shuffled forward in her chair and leaned on her stick, clearly ready to rise. Sarah resisted the impulse to help her to her feet. ‘If he had made some woman pregnant he would have had the decency to marry her.’

  ‘Perhaps he couldn’t? Perhaps they were separated by the war? Or he simply didn’t know he’d fathered a child?’

  All of a sudden Lady Dorothea looked every day of her advanced years. ‘I’ve told you everything I can – or at least everything I know that might help you.’ She looked towards the door. ‘Where on earth is that girl with my tea?’ It was clear that the conversation was at an end.

  Realising that her time with Lady Dorothea was over, Sarah handed her one of her business cards. ‘If you think of anything else – anything at all – could you call me?’

  Lady Dorothea placed the card on the coffee table. ‘Yes. Now you are going to have to excuse me, Miss Davidson, I’m feeling a little tired.’

  Later that evening, Matthew took Sarah out to dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant.

  She waited until they’d ordered, before she told him what she’d learned.

  However, he didn’t seem to share her excitement. On the contrary, he was unusually subdued.

  ‘I’ve been offered a posting in Geneva,’ he said suddenly. ‘My boss called me in this morning and told me that the job was mine.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘You never told me you were applying for a job abroad.’

  He smiled wryly. ‘It’s not as if we speak very often these days.’

  ‘I know.’ She placed her hand over his. ‘I’m sorry.’ The last time she’d seen him was shortly after her mother’s stroke. They’d spoken on the phone once or twice since then but it wasn’t the same. One or both of them was always on their way somewhere and their conversations were always brief.

  He lifted her hand and wrapped it in his. ‘I’m afraid this job makes the question of marriage rather more urgent. I want you to come with me to Geneva – as my wife. You know if your mother does end up inheriting those houses, you could sell them and use the funds to find a decent nursing home for her.’

  Sarah snatched her hand away. ‘I can’t just put Mum in a nursing home and then abandon her!’

  Matthew fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. ‘But it’s not just that, is it? You could have stayed in London. You know I would have supported you until you found a job with another publisher. If you come with me to Geneva you could give up your job. I can easily afford to support us both. You could even start writing that novel you’re always talking about.’

  Sarah cringed. She wished she’d never told him. It was only ever a pipe-dream then and even less likely to be written now. She couldn’t focus on anything except Mum at the moment and if Matthew couldn’t see that… ‘Let me be clear. Are you asking me to leave my mother and come with you to Geneva?’

  ‘I’m asking you to marry me, Sarah.’ He took a sip of wine and swirled it around his mouth before placing his glass on the table. ‘Geneva’s not far. You could fly back whenever you wanted to see Lily.’

  ‘Don’t you realise, Mum could die!’ Her voice rose on a wail. ‘She could have another stroke and die, Matthew. How can you even think I would leave her now?’

  ‘I’m not asking you to leave her right now, Sarah. I’m just asking you to set a date for our wedding.’

  They stopped talking as the waiter placed their plates in front of them, but neither made a move to start eating.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me and come to Geneva?’

  She plucked at the silk of her blouse. ‘I can’t think about anything until I know what’s happening with Mum.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m going to take the job, Sarah. I think I’ve waited long enough for you to decide whether or not you want to marry me. It shouldn’t be a difficult question to answer.’

  Her hands were shaking as she lifted her glass. He was right. She wasn’t being fair. If she loved him the way she was supposed to love the man she was to spend the rest of her life with, shouldn’t she have married him as soon as she could?

  But if he loved her, shouldn’t he wait?

  Chapter 26

  London, 1941

  Two weeks after Irena left Poland she was standing on the steps of a grand building in the centre of London. All she had was one small suitcase, the clothes she was wearing, a few zloty and her mother’s necklace, which thankfully she hadn’t had to sell or barter on the long journey.

  Hen
ryk and Stanislaw had accepted her decision without trying to argue her out of it. But they’d insisted, if she were going to go, it had to be immediately, before Oberführer Bilsen returned. Events had moved quickly. They’d organised false papers for her and injected her with the ‘virus’. She’d spent a couple of days in Henryk’s house being cared for by Elena before Stanislaw had announced her death. As Tata had hoped, the doctors had found a sympathetic undertaker to bury a body – an elderly woman without a family – and so Irena Kraszewska had been laid to rest.

  A man she’d never met before had come for her during the night. As a large part of their journey was to be on foot, her small bag was packed with very little: a dress, a skirt and blouse, a change of underwear and a few toiletries. She hadn’t been able to take the photograph of Piotr with her – if German soldiers stopped and searched her and found a photograph of a Polish cavalry officer on her, it might be enough to make them take her in for questioning. So she’d left it with Elena who’d promised to take care of it until she was able to reclaim it. She had, however, taken her mother’s necklace, sewing it in to the lining of her coat.