“What are we going to do?” said Anna. “There’s only me, you and Mr. Stephens the Butler now, and he’s retiring soon.”
“It won’t be our problem in a little while, child. We’ll be off. Elsie has seen a property she likes, and is going to put in an offer on it.”
“That will be wonderful,” Anna smiled. “But poor Mr. Stephens.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ve told him he can retire to our guest house. Mind you, don’t go telling the council. There’s a residency by-law of twenty-eight days in most places. But if you can’t help an old friend, who can you help? He’d only have to go to his sister, and they don’t get on very well. That’s the trouble with this job. It takes your whole life from you the spits you out when you’re no use anymore.”
Although Mrs. Palmer was prone to moaning a little, Anna had never heard her sound so bitter and discontented. She supposed it was because in the housekeeper’s mind, she was already running the guesthouse. Even for Anna, every day at Silverton Hall seemed to drag more than ever. “Have you handed in your notice?” she asked.
“Yes. The new housekeeper will be arriving in a month. Have you?”
“For what reason?” asked Anna. “I’m not really employed. In fact … could we not say that I’m going until the day we leave? I don’t doubt my father and stepmother will be glad to get rid of me, but I’m still afraid there will be bad feeling.” In reality, Anna was terrified that with no servants to run the place, her father and step-mother might actually force her to stay to cook and clean for them.
“This is exactly why I didn’t say anything when I handed in my notice. I don’t want you stuck here doing everything,” said Mrs. Palmer, as if she had read Anna’s mind. “But, whilst I hate to say this, dear, I don’t think your step-mother will be sorry to see you go. I think I know the real reason she doesn’t want you at the front of the house. It’s because you’ve grown into such a pretty girl. She’s like the wicked witch in Snow White. She doesn’t want the competition.”
Anna could not help laughing, but was also concerned. “Please be careful, Mrs. Palmer, if she ever hears you…”
“Oh, what can she do? I’m already leaving and our Elsie won’t see us out on the street until we get the guesthouse up and running.”
“Even so, do be careful.” Anna felt a sudden shiver down her spine as if someone had walked over her grave and a cloud passed across the sun. She supposed that like Mrs. Palmer, she was eager to be gone from Silverton Hall, so her fears that it might not happen, or was not happening soon enough, were overwhelming her. “I’m afraid that even if she can’t hurt you here, she may do something to harm your chances of running the guesthouse.”
“Goodness, child, she isn’t that powerful.”
“I know but…”
“You’re right of course, and my old mother used to say that if you can’t say anything nice about someone you shouldn’t say anything at all. So that’s the last thing you’ll hear me say on the subject.” Mrs. Palmer paused for a beat. “Just don’t go accepting any shiny apples from her.”
Anna giggled and stacked the last of the plates up. “What are we cooking tonight? I’ll go and get the vegetables.”
“With Sir Lionel up at his club in London, there’s only your step-mother and Master Teddy to worry about. I’ll do him the chicken, and there’s a piece of steak in the larder for your step-mother. I gather she’s dining alone tonight. Just as well, as the ration cards only go so far and she expects miracles. The steak is something the butcher got for me, no questions asked.” Mrs. Palmer tapped her nose. “We look after him with vegetables. Or we did when we had more. So hopefully that will keep her happy. I’ll be glad when this rationing is finished with. I don’t understand it. You’d think now the war was over, we’d be getting proper food again instead of all this austerity. And we’re supposed to have won at that.” She stopped scrubbing and paused to think. “Me, you and Mr. Stephens will have that broth left over from yesterday’s lunch. We can bulk it up with a few more potatoes I suppose.”
“Very well. I shan’t be a minute.”
“I’m off to the village as soon as I’ve finished this,” said Mrs. Palmer. “So don’t worry if I’m not here when you get back. Perhaps you could start peeling the potatoes and carrots.”
When Anna reached the vegetable patch, Teddy was there, pretending to fly his plane over the carrots. “Pow pow pow!” he cried. “Take that you evil carrots.” Anna recognised a boy who was ready to be back at school. She felt the familiar pang that she had not been allowed the same chance. She had read as much as she could, when she was able – unpermitted to use her father’s books, she relied on the local library – but it was not the same as structured teaching. She felt that she was very ignorant about many things. It was the reason she also felt that, unlike other girls, she could not go out and get a different job.
Anna laughed. “They’re not evil, Teddy.”
“Oh yes they are. And so are sprouts.”
“Hmm. I see. I suppose that’s because you don’t like eating them.”
“Too true.”
“But they’re very good for you.”
“They don’t taste good. Not like ice cream.”
“I’ll agree with you there.”
“I’d like to eat ice cream all the time,” said Teddy.
“You’d soon get bored with it and long for carrots and sprouts,” Anna teased.
“Anna…”
“Hmm.”
“I asked Mama and Papa about climbing the tree and they said it was alright as long as you were here. Shall I do it now?”
“Well I’m very busy at the moment, Teddy. Perhaps later.” She kneeled down and started pulling some carrots from the ground.
Teddy was not listening. He was already putting his small feet on a large knot on the tree trunk and hauling himself up.
“Teddy…” Anna once again felt as if someone walked over her grave. “No, please don’t Teddy.”
“It’s easy peasy,” he called from halfway up. “Look, Anna, the boys at school won’t laugh at me again.”
“Teddy, please come down.” Why Anna felt so much dread, she did not know. Little boys climbed trees and scraped their knees all the time. But Teddy had been mollycoddled by his mother, and was never allowed to do any of those things. Only then did Anna realise that he had lied to her about getting permission. She felt a little bit angry with him, but reminded herself that he was only a little boy after all. “Dearest, please don’t climb so high. You’ve proved your point, and I’m sure the other boys won’t laugh at you anymore.”
“Oh but I want to sit on the top branch,” said Teddy.
“I don’t think you should do that!” Anna was alarmed. She dropped the carrots she had picked onto the earth, and went over to the tree. “Teddy, I am asking you nicely, dear, not to go any higher. Come down.”
“Look, Anna, I’m on top of the world. Like Jimmy Cagney.” Teddy had reached the middle branches. He lifted his foot, in an attempt to get a grip on the next branch. That was when all Anna’s fears came to fruition. He stepped up badly, and lost his footing, falling to the ground with a sickening thud.
“Teddy!” Anna screamed. He lay on the ground with his eyes closed, groaning quietly. She knelt down and touched his head. He felt clammy and hot. “Teddy, dearest, please speak to me.” He did not answer her. He just opened his eyes drowsily.
Anna jumped up and ran back to the kitchen, calling for Mrs. Palmer. “She’s gone off to the town on the morning bus, lass,” said Mr. Stephens, the butler, who had come into the kitchen for his morning coffee.
“It’s Teddy,” Anna said, breathlessly. “He’s fallen from the tree. I think he’s badly hurt.”
“I’ll go and fetch the Mistress,” said Mr. Stephens, scraping his chair back hurriedly.
It never occurred to Anna at that moment that Teddy’s fall would be seen as anything other than an unfortunate accident. She was too busy worrying if he was badl
y hurt. She went back to the garden and cradled his head in her arms. “Where does it hurt, Teddy?” she asked.
“My leg… and my head,” Teddy said, with tears coming from his eyes.
Seconds later, Geraldine Silverton came running from the house, crying, “My baby boy, my baby boy. Stephens, call the doctor immediately.” She reached the base of the tree where Anna sat cradling Teddy and practically spat at Anna, “What were you doing whilst my son was climbing the tree?”
“Er… I was picking vegetables, Lady Silverton.”
“Picking vegetables whilst my son was getting into danger. Teddy, why on earth did you climb the tree? You silly boy.” Despite her hysterical behaviour, Geraldine made no attempt to touch Teddy herself. It was almost as if she was afraid of catching something from him.
“Anna said I could,” said Teddy, looking sheepishly at his half sister.
“Teddy, that’s not true,” said Anna. “You said…” She was unable to say anything else because Geraldine interrupted her.
“You! You did it on purpose. I know what your game is. You’re trying to harm my baby boy so you can take his place as heir to Silverton Hall.”
“No!” Anna exclaimed. “I would never hurt Teddy. Never.”
“When Stephens comes back, I shall ask him to phone the police. We’ll see what you say to them. Now get away from my child and wait in the kitchen. Attempted murder, that’s what it is.”
“But…” Anna was too upset to say anything else. She scrambled up from the ground and staggered to the kitchen. The police would come and arrest her, and they would believe everything her stepmother said.
Mr. Stephens was waiting by the back door, having just got off the phone to the doctor. “I didn’t do it,” she said to Stephens.
“I know, lass.” He followed her back into the kitchen. “What to do, that’s the problem. If Polly Palmer were here, she would know.” He reached into his pocket. “I’ve only got a ten shilling note, but it should get you on the bus to town. Go and find her, and ask her to help.”
“What about my stepmother?”
“I’ll hold her off. I’ll tell her you’ve gone to your room. Go on, lass. Polly will know what to do. She always does.”
Anna left the house by the front door, knowing that her stepmother was at the back with Teddy. The doctor passed in his car just as she reached the gatehouse. Used to seeing Anna around, he nodded to her politely, but did not stop. No one tallied when Geraldine Silverton summoned them.
Unable to wait for the next bus, because her nerves were so ragged, Anna started to walk the five miles to the town. If a bus passed by she would flag it down, but she could not wait by the roadside.
Walking gave her time to think about the problem. How could she ever convince her stepmother that she had not tried to harm Teddy? The more she thought about it, the more she began to realise that her stepmother thought no such thing. It was just an excuse to get Anna into trouble. The police would listen to Geraldine too. Anna had no friends, apart from Mrs. Palmer and Mr. Stephens. No one else would stick up for her. And as kind as they both were, they were only servants. They had as few rights as she did.
And what if Mrs. Palmer believed Geraldine? She would not want Anna to join her at the guesthouse then? That was assuming Anna had not been carted off to prison first. Unsure of English law, because her life at Silverton Hall had been so sheltered, Anna feared it might even affect Mrs. Palmer’s chances of owning a guesthouse if it was known she fraternised with a convicted felon.
By the time she was halfway to the town, she knew that she could not involve her dearest friend in this scandal. Neither could she return to Silverton Hall. All she owned was there, such as it was, but she dare not go back and collect it first.
At the town, Anna did her best to keep out of sight. If Mrs. Palmer saw her she would surely wonder why she was there. She prayed she would not bump into anyone else she knew. Not that there were many people.
Making her way to the station, Anna bought a ticket to London, using the ten shilling note that Mr. Stephens had given her. She waited on a bench on the platform, aware that she had once again stolen from someone in order to escape. This time with less reason. She was no longer a child escaping the Nazis. She was a teenage girl on the run from the police. With a sob, she put her head in her hands.
Chapter Six
Janek Dabrowski unlocked the door with a feeling of deep satisfaction. It was his at last! He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Streams of refracted light fell from the cracks in the curtains, revealing dusty tables and armchairs. The floor was in need of a deep polish, and the foyer would need a new reception desk, what with the old one having been destroyed during a bombing raid.
Admittedly it needed a bit of work, but he was not afraid of that. “I don’t know how to thank you for your help, Mike,” he said to his friend, Michael Carmichael, who followed him in. Mike was a cheerful Scot, with the red hair to match.
“You’re welcome, Jan,” said Mike. “With your knowledge of running a hotel, and my knowledge of living in them for most of my life whilst dear old pa was in the diplomatic service, we’ll make a good team. Are you sure you don’t mind it being called Carmichaels?”
“Not at all. Given the mistrust of foreigners in Britain since the war, I think that’s the best option, don’t you? Otherwise we’ll never fill the place.” Over the years, Janek’s Polish accent had faded. It was still there, in the way he pronounced certain words, but one had to listen for it. He also looked very different from when Anna had last seen him. Decent food and a reasonably good life since nineteen forty had helped him fill out a little. He had also grown by several inches, reaching over six feet in height. Only his friends noticed that sometimes, when Janek did not think he was being observed, his face was beset by a haunted look.
“Except that you were one of our biggest heroes,” said Mike.
“I don’t think that counts for much.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. So, when do we open this place?”
“As soon as possible. Come on, let’s find some brooms.”
“Hey,” Mike laughed, “When I said I’d be a sleeping partner, I meant it entirely. I’m going to sleep whilst you do all the hard work.”
“No chance,” said Jan, laughing. “Come on, you spoiled Scot. I’m going to teach you the meaning of hard work.”
“Hey,” said Mike, half an hour later, whilst they swept the floors. Unfortunately all they seemed to succeed in doing was move the dust around. “I forgot to tell you. My sister, Mary says to say hello.”
“Tell Mary, hello back,” said Janek, curtly.
“Oh come on, Jan. You know she’s crazy about you since you came to stay at the castle.”
“She’s also very young, Mike. Let the girl grow up a bit before you start trying to marry her off.”
“Mary has been grown up since the age of ten.”
“Hmm.” Janek left it at that, but the mention of Mary at the age of ten reminded him of Anna. He often wondered how she was doing. No doubt her natural charm had won her father over, and she was now a grand lady. He still had some of her letters, but they mentioned very little of her life at Silverton Hall or what she did there. Janek knew he should have replied, but he had made a decision to break off all contact with Anna, for her sake as much as for his own, and he had been determined to stick to it. Only occasionally did the guilt of that abandonment catch up with him.
“Penny for them,” said Mike.
“I was just thinking of that kid. The one I told you about.”
“Oh yeah. Silverton’s girl.” Mike was the only one who really knew how Janek felt about leaving her at Silverton Hall, eight years before. “I’m sure she’s fine, Janek. She wrote to you, didn’t she? Put her out of your mind, chum.”
“Do you ever stop and think about the things we did during the war?” asked Janek, leaning on his broom. “The things we were forced to do to survive?”
�
�Sometimes,” said Mike.
“She’s my greatest regret. I sometime wish I could see her, just to make sure she is alright.”
“Well go down to Silverton Hall and ask after her. It’s only just south of the river, in Surrey.”
“Yes, perhaps I will one day.” Janek nodded. “Good idea.” Thinking about doing something positive about Anna seemed to have the effect of pushing her even further to the back of his head.
***
When Mrs. Palmer returned to Silverton Hall later that day, she found Mr. Stephens sitting at the kitchen table.
“Did Anna find you, Polly?” he asked. His face was lined with worry.
“Anna?” Mrs. Palmer felt a chill on the back of her neck and immediately realised something was terribly wrong. “What has happened, Horace?”
“Young Teddy fell from the tree and the mistress decided Anna was trying to get him out of the way.”
“Nonsense! She thinks the world of that little boy.”
“I thought that. So I gave the girl ten shillings and sent her to find you.”
“I haven’t seen her. Are you sure she didn’t hide in the house somewhere?”
“I don’t think so. The doctor saw her going out through the gates.”
When it became clear, sometime later that evening, that Anna was not going to return, Mrs. Palmer was beside herself.
“Who knows where that poor child is,” she said, sniffing into her hankie. “Out there all alone in the world. Oh it doesn’t bear thinking about. She doesn’t know the world like we do, having been locked up here for eight years. Anyone might take advantage of her.”
“I wonder,” said Mr. Stephens, as he dried the dinner dishes, “whether I should tell Sir Lionel about the ten shilling note.”
“Horace Stephens,” said Mrs. Palmer, taking him by the shoulders, “you know as well as I do that my Anna is not a thief! If you so much as breathe a word to Sir Lionel or the mistress about that ten shillings, you can jolly well find somewhere else to live when you retire! Really, Horace, if the ten shillings means that much, I’ll give it to you, but you will not blacken that poor girl’s name any further.”
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