That part was true. Since the end of the war, Felix’s business had blossomed and now he travelled the world. ‘I won’t charge you a huge amount for your board and lodging.’ His eyes were twinkling as he added impishly, ‘Perhaps a painting now and then.’
‘I thought you said her paintings were going to be worth a fortune once day?’ Georgie said.
Felix gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
And so it was settled. Jenny would accept the place at the famous art school and would stay at Felix’s flat in the city during term time, coming home to Ravensfleet during the holidays.
There was only one other cloud on her bright horizon – other than leaving Georgie, of course.
‘I suppose,’ she said slowly. ‘I shall have to visit my mother.’
To this no one made any answer; that decision was entirely Jenny’s.
Sixty-Two
Leaving Ravensfleet was hard and she shed a few tears at the station when Miles and Charlotte waved her off. But once term started, Jenny found she was so busy that she hadn’t time to brood, although not a day went by that she didn’t think about Georgie and all of them at the manor and wonder what they were doing.
And there was no denying that she loved her life. She could never have dreamed that the scruffy little evacuee urchin could have ended up a student at the famous art college and living in a luxurious apartment nearby. When he was home, Felix insisted on expanding her education by taking her to the theatre, the ballet, the opera and, of course, every art gallery in the city. They got on well. Despite his creative talents, Felix was not a temperamental man; he was easy-going and generous. But there was one thing that he insisted she should do.
‘You should see your mother, my dear, and visit your old friends. Have you told them you’re in London?’
Jenny bit her lip and shook her head.
‘I thought not.’ He said no more, but his words had pricked her conscience. So, the following Saturday morning Jenny announced at breakfast that she would go to the East End to see if her mother was still there.
‘Haven’t you been in touch with her at all since you left?’ Felix was appalled.
‘Only through Bobby and Aunty Elsie. I’ve been writing to them. But Mum made it very clear she didn’t want anything more to do with me.’ Felix was still looking shocked. She glanced at him. Perhaps he didn’t know the full story.
‘Did – did Charlotte ever tell you what happened?’ When Felix frowned in puzzlement, she added, ‘Why I left home and – and went back to Ravensfleet.’
He shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. ‘I presumed – perhaps incorrectly – that your mother had sent you back to them towards the end of the war when the doodlebugs started.’
Jenny sighed.
‘Look, if you’d rather not tell me, I’m not prying.’ But she could see that Felix was itching to know, even though he said candidly, ‘And if it’s a secret, you’d certainly better not tell me. I never could keep a secret. I’d certainly have been no good as a spy in the war.’
Jenny giggled. ‘I think you’d have made a very good one. No one would ever have suspected you.’
‘That’s true,’ Felix agreed. False modesty was not one of his strong points either.
Her face sobered. ‘I don’t mind you knowing, Uncle Felix. I – I just hope you won’t think too badly of me.’
So she told him everything and in the telling, all the nightmare of her life with Dot came flooding back. At the end of her story she was in tears and Felix felt guilty for having pressed her to tell him. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m so sorry, my dear. And of course you have no duty to see your mother. Not ever again, if you don’t want to.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘No, I should go. I owe it to Aunty Elsie if not to Mum. And then there’s Bobby. I’d like to see him again.’
‘Oho, do I detect a little romance?’
Jenny shook her head and opened her mouth to explain, but then she closed it again quickly. The time for confidences was gone. If Felix couldn’t keep secrets then there was no way she was going to tell him about her feelings for Georgie. Instead she said, brightly, ‘I’m far too busy for such nonsense, Uncle Felix.’
Little did she guess that Felix knew all about her feelings for Georgie. The flamboyant artist was a better keeper of secrets than he gave himself credit for.
When she knocked on the door of the terraced house where she’d last seen Elsie and her family, she didn’t recognize the tall young man who opened it. The Hutton family must have moved. ‘I’m sorry, I thought . . .’
The young man’s mouth widened into a grin; a grin she’d have known anywhere.
‘Jen!’
‘Bobby!’
They both spoke at once and then he was stepping into the street, picking her up and swinging her round.
‘Mam,’ he hollered. ‘Just look who’s turned up like a bad penny.’
Elsie appeared in the doorway drying her hands on a towel. She stared at Jenny for a moment before recognition dawned. ‘Blimey, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’. Come on in. Have yer seen yer mum?’
Bobby set her down on the ground but grasped her hand and pulled her into the house. ‘Get the kettle on, Mam. This calls for a celebration.’
When they were seated in the small kitchen, Jenny said, ‘Where is she now? D’you know?’
Elsie nodded her head in the direction of the house at the end of the street. ‘Still there with his nibs.’
‘Oh!’
‘S’all right, Jen. If you want to see her, I’ll come with you,’ Bobby said. His grin broadened. ‘I always looked out for yer, didn’t I?’
‘You did, Bobby, and I’ll never forget it.’
‘’Ere, don’t you talk posh now? Don’t she talk posh, Mam?’
Elsie smiled. ‘She talks very nicely, Bobby, and don’t you tease her.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘Don’t you apologize, Jen. We want to hear everything. Oh, I know you’ve written letters, but it ain’t the same as hearing you tell us face to face.’
They sat around Elsie’s kitchen table until the clock on the wall struck twelve. ‘Oh look at me, yer dad’ll be home for his dinner any minute and ’ere’s me gossiping. He’ll ’ave me guts fer garters.’
But as she got up from the table, Elsie was smiling. Sid Hutton would no more harm a hair of his wife’s head than fly to the moon.
‘Your mam told me in her letters that your dad had come back safely. Is he all right?’ Jenny asked Bobby softly.
‘Yeah, right as ninepence, he was. We was lucky. Dad, Ronnie and Sammy all came back. Sammy got wounded, but he’s recovered well, though he’ll always limp a bit.’
Like Georgie, Jenny thought.
Soon all the family arrived home and the little house was filled with merry chatter and laughter. It felt as if the years dropped away and Jenny was back in the bosom of the family that had always felt like her own; more so than life with Dot had ever done. At last Sid glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and with one accord the menfolk of the household stood up.
‘Time we was going, Elsie love.’ He kissed her fondly and reached for a scarf from the peg behind the door. The boys, too, wound identical scarves around their necks. Jenny stared in amazement, until, noticing her puzzled look, Bobby laughed and said, ‘It’s the Hammers’ colours, Jen – claret and blue. Mam knitted us one each. We’re off to the match. We always go when it’s at home.’
Jenny’s face cleared. ‘Of course. How could I have forgotten?’ The memories came flooding back once more. Arthur had never missed a home match, though Jenny now wondered if his attendance hadn’t had more to do with his nefarious business activities than actually enjoying the football.
‘Hope you win.’ Jenny smiled as she and Elsie stood at the door waving them off.
Now that the house was quiet, Elsie asked seriously, ‘Are yer going down to see yer mam, Jenny?’
The girl sighed. ‘That’s what I came for, except for seeing you all, of course.’
‘Of course.’ They smiled at each other. ‘Like me to come wiv yer?’
Jenny shook her head. ‘No. Thanks all the same, but I’d best do this on me own.’
‘He’ll be at the shop this afternoon, if that’s any help.’
Jenny nodded. ‘Then I’ll go now.’ She stood up and hugged Elsie; she couldn’t put off the moment any longer.
As she walked down the street, her legs were trembling and her palms felt sweaty. It was ridiculous, she thought, feeling like this when she was only going to visit her own mother.
‘Oh, look what the cat’s dragged in.’ Dot opened the door to her knock. She hadn’t changed a bit; she was still dressed in a short skirt, her dyed blond hair brassier than ever and her make-up plastered on her petulant face even more thickly.
‘Hello, Mum. Just thought I’d – er – come and see you.’
Dot shrugged and turned away as if she really wasn’t bothered one way or the other, but she left the door open for Jenny to follow her. Entering the kitchen, Jenny glanced around her and when she saw that Donald Jenkins wasn’t there, she began to breathe more easily.
‘Did you get my letters, Mum? You never replied.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Dot said vaguely, drawing on her cigarette. ‘But I’m not much of a letter writer, Jen, you know that. And after you accused my Donald like you did, well, I didn’t really want to know.’
‘You’d believe him rather than your own daughter, would you?’ The words were said without malice or reproach; Jenny was merely stating a fact, but Dot turned on her. ‘Don’t you dare come back here in your fancy clothes and talking all posh and start that again. He’s a good man. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and you’re nothing but a dirty little trollop that’s landed on her feet. So don’t you come here causing bother. I’ve got a good one in Donald, I have. He’s not a spiv like Arfer.’ She smiled maliciously. ‘The coppers come asking me about him, but o’ course I couldn’t tell them anything.’
Jenny held her breath, expecting an onslaught of accusations. The police must have paid her mother a visit after Jenny had confessed to PC Webster. But it seemed as if her name hadn’t been mentioned as Dot went on, ‘Did you see it in the papers? About Arfer?’
Jenny shook her head.
‘Got caught, ’ee did. Up in Manchester. Got done for black market trading. Six months, ’ee got. Just think, we could’ve got done an’ all if we’d still been with him.’
Jenny didn’t quite know what to feel. Arthur Osborne had been a criminal, there was no denying that and she’d hated him for involving her in his activities. And yet in a lot of ways he’d been good to her. Her drifting thoughts came back to what her mother was saying, ‘I ’ad a lucky escape there, and from that Jim, but now me an’ Donald are doing all right together, see? So don’t you spoil it.’
‘I’ve no intention of spoiling it for you, Mum. And I’m glad you’re happy. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, that’s all.’
‘I’m all right and I always will be.’ She fluffed her hair with the gesture that Jenny remembered so well. ‘I’ve still got me looks.’
Jenny gazed at her with pity. Maybe once, when she’d been a young girl, Dot had been pretty, but now the years, and the way she’d lived, had taken their toll. But she was lucky. She still had a man at her beck and call and she appeared to be as happy as she ever would be. Jenny felt any burden of guilt slip away. She could leave now with a clear conscience. She’d always keep in touch with her mother, but she could get on with her own life without forever looking back over her shoulder.
After a long silence when it was obvious that they had nothing to talk about, Dot said, ‘You’d better go. He’ll be home soon.’
Jenny nodded, kissed Dot’s cheek and left the house.
Sixty-Three
At last life seemed to be settling down for Jenny; she was truly happy living in London in Felix’s apartment, working hard at college and at home, too, for Felix gave her free run of his own cluttered studio and there her talent really blossomed. Once her homework was done, she painted for pure pleasure working in every different media and honing her skills. Her paintings of London scenes were pounced upon eagerly by Felix and carried off to his gallery.
‘You’re getting better and better, my dear.’
There was only one cloud on her otherwise clear blue horizon: Georgie. Whenever she visited Ravensfleet, he was as kind and affectionate as he always had been, but now Jenny wanted more. So much more.
‘But at least he hasn’t found another girlfriend,’ she comforted herself.
Another Christmas came and Jenny and Felix travelled together to Ravensfleet to be met at the station by Miles in the motor car.
They saw him standing on the windswept platform, huddled in a thick overcoat. To Jenny’s perceptive eyes, he looked suddenly much older than she remembered him. Maybe it was just the winter weather.
‘Is everyone all right?’ was Jenny’s first question as she scrambled into the back seat, leaving Felix to take the front passenger seat.
‘Fine,’ Miles said as he started the engine. ‘How are you both? Good journey?’ He was asking all the usual questions and yet he seemed distant, as if there was something on his mind that was troubling him. Felix, however, didn’t seem to notice. He chattered on the short journey to the manor, but Jenny was acutely aware of Miles’s silence.
Charlotte opened the front door as the car drew to a halt in front of the steps. Smiling, she threw her arms wide to envelop them both, but Jenny could see that the smile did not reach her eyes. ‘Come in, quickly. We’ve tea waiting, you must be frozen.’
Amidst the flurry of their arrival, Jenny had no opportunity to question Charlotte, but later, as she took her suitcase up to her old room, Charlotte followed her and closed the door behind them.
‘Charlotte, what’s the matter and don’t tell me “nothing” because I know there is something.’
‘I won’t,’ Charlotte said softly. ‘Let’s sit down, here on the side of the bed.’
As they sat together, Charlotte took her hand. ‘Darling – ’
Fear clutched at Jenny’s heart. ‘Georgie? It’s Georgie, isn’t it? Oh – he’s had a crash in his aeroplane. He’s—’
‘No, no, nothing like that. I promise you – he’s fine.’ Charlotte bit her lip. ‘But it is about Georgie.’
‘Then tell me quickly.’
‘Cassandra’s back.’
Jenny stared open mouthed at Charlotte. Then she ran her tongue round her lips. ‘How? What happened?’
‘Georgie’s business is flourishing and expanding. He’s got another plane and taken on another pilot. A pal from his RAF days. They make a great team. Georgie was doing some work for a businessman in Nottingham and he went out to dinner with him one evening and there was Cassandra. She came over to their table and started chatting. The following day she rang Georgie and asked to meet him.’ Charlotte sighed. ‘I don’t know what passed between them, but they’ve started seeing each other again. Oh Jen, I’m so sorry.’
Despite her heart feeling as if it was dropping like a stone and her hopes and dreams once more fading into the mist, Jenny asked, ‘Is that what’s troubling Miles?’ Jenny asked.
Charlotte nodded. ‘Darling, he’s known for a long time how you feel about Georgie and he’s worried – as I am – about you.’
‘Has she altered at all?’
‘No, she’s just the same. She sticks her nose in the air at just about everything. The house is too cold for her. There’s nothing to do. No dancing, no parties. And she’s for ever referring to here as “this Godforsaken place”.’
‘And Georgie? Is he happier now she’s back?’
Charlotte wrinkled her brow. ‘Hard to tell. He’s fond of her, I’m sure – though I’m sorry to have to say it. But maybe this time there is a wariness about him where she’s concerned
. You know, as if at the back of his mind he thinks she might up and leave him again.’
Jenny laughed wryly. ‘Let’s hope she does.’
‘And there’s one more thing to tell you. She’s coming for Christmas.’
‘Right,’ Jenny said firmly, ‘then I’m declaring war. I was too young to do much about it before, but now I’m going to fight for him.’
Georgie’s greeting when he arrived home that night was as affectionate as ever. He picked her up and swung her round just as he had when she’d been a little girl. But, of course, Jenny made no objection. She hugged him back and, for two pins, would have snuggled on to his knee and begged him to read to her.
Cassandra, when she arrived, was just as beautiful, but still had the same haughty, disdainful expression on her face.
‘Shame the samphire’s not in season,’ Jenny murmured to Charlotte, who chuckled deliciously and whispered back, ‘Oh, you wicked girl!’
Miles and Charlotte were polite to their guest but Ben disappeared as often as he could, pleading being short-staffed on the farm over the Christmas holidays. ‘The animals still need feeding.’
‘Can’t you get someone else to do it?’ Cassandra said, fixing yet another cigarette into a long holder and lighting it. Jenny saw Charlotte and Miles exchange a glance. Miles smoked a pipe but in deference to the rest of the family he only ever smoked in his study. Cassandra hadn’t even asked if anyone minded; she just lit up whenever she felt like it.
‘Would you like a walk this morning?’ Georgie asked her.
‘A walk?’ Cassandra was appalled. ‘In this weather?’
‘A drive out to the airfield, then? I’d like to show you my new plane.’
Before she could answer, Jenny chipped in, ‘Charlotte said you’d got another one. I’d love to see it.’
Failing to inspire interest in Cassandra, Georgie turned to Jenny. ‘I’m hoping to license it to carry passengers. In the summer I want to take the holidaymakers up in it to show them the sights from the air, like I planned.’
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