Wordlessly she allowed him to lead her along the street, past the derelict Duke and into the café next to the air raid shelter on the corner of Hope Street. He pushed the door open and they went inside. Charlotte sat down at one of the wooden tables in the window while Harry went for tea from the counter.
How strange, Charlotte thought, that the last time I was with Harry we were in a café. It was something she hadn’t remembered before, but being with Harry now brought it back. Her hand went to the necklace she always wore, the blue beads Harry had given her a lifetime ago. Harry came back to the table and said the tea was on its way. He sat down opposite her and for a moment neither of them said anything, then they both spoke at once.
‘What happened...?’
‘Where have...?’
And they both laughed, but their laughter had broken the ice and Harry said, ‘You were on the bus, going home. You must have been caught in that first raid of the Blitz.’
‘I was. Someone found me unconscious with a broken arm and I was taken to hospital. When I came round, well, I couldn’t remember anything, not my name, where I came from, nothing.’
‘So what did they do?’
‘There was a man found with me...’
‘A man? What man?’ Harry looked stricken. ‘I knew I should have come with you!’
‘Just a man. He was dead. They said he was lying on top of me and that’s probably what saved my life. His identity card said he was Peter Smith. I didn’t have mine with me and they thought I must be his daughter, so they wrote me down as Smith.’
Harry listened, dismayed, as Charlotte told him of the intervening years.
‘We all looked for you everywhere,’ Harry said. ‘Your aunt Naomi went round all the hospitals, but she couldn’t find you. They thought you must have got back to Hilda’s and been killed there.’
‘What?’ Charlotte stared at him in horror. ‘What d’you mean, killed at Hilda’s? Is she dead?’
Harry nodded. ‘Whole family,’ he said. ‘Direct hit.’ He saw the colour flee from Charlotte’s cheeks and said, ‘Sorry, of course you didn’t know. Naomi and Dan were desperate to find you, to believe that you hadn’t been in the house, but it all came back to the fact that that was where you were going. The house was totally destroyed and it was impossible to know how many people had been inside.’
The waitress appeared at the table carrying a tray of tea, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Charlotte felt sick. She’d been imagining Hilda getting on with her life in London, back at Francis Drake Secondary. She’d been going to walk round to Grove Avenue this afternoon and surprise them all.
‘Is that what the Federmans thought?’ she asked when the waitress had gone again. ‘That I’d been killed by that bomb?’
Harry reached over and took her hand. ‘It’s what we all thought,’ he said.
‘I wrote to them,’ Charlotte said. ‘As soon as my memory came back I wrote to them, but I heard nothing back. Then Miss Morrison, who I work for now, came to Kemble Street to tell them where I was and that I was OK, but she found the house burnt out. She couldn’t find anyone to ask.’
‘So they don’t know you’re alive?’
‘No, and I don’t know if they are, either.’
‘They were last time I heard,’ Harry said. ‘Mrs had moved out of Kemble Street before the house was burnt, she went somewhere safer to have the baby.’
‘Baby!’ exclaimed Charlotte. ‘What baby?’
‘Didn’t you know she was having one?’
‘No.’
‘Well she was, and she went away. Dan stayed on. He still drove his cab. Had to make a living, didn’t he?’
‘So when was the house destroyed?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Don’t know, I’d been banged up by then.’
‘Banged up?’ Charlotte was puzzled. It wasn’t an expression she’d come across.
‘Yeah, interned, you know.’
She didn’t know and Harry proceeded to give her an edited version of his arrest and internment.
‘So you don’t know where the Federmans are now?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Nope. Just out of town.’
Charlotte looked disappointed. Now she knew they were alive and well, she wanted to find them; to tell them she was all right. She longed to see them and explain what had happened to her. She wanted to see the baby.
‘Perhaps someone in Kemble Street has an address,’ she said hopefully.
‘Maybe,’ Harry said, but he didn’t sound encouraging. He wasn’t keen to find the Federmans, not while he was still using their house. To change the subject, he asked her about the village where she’d been evacuated and thus succeeded in diverting her thoughts. There were several ways they might be able to find the Federmans, but for the moment Harry decided to keep them to himself.
Together they sat at the little table in the window, talking, their tea grown cold in the cups until the waitress appeared at their side and said, ‘Sorry, but we’re closing now. I have to ask you to leave.’ She looked down at the half-drunk cups of tea and said with a sniff, ‘Hope you enjoyed your tea, then. That’ll be a shilling.’
Harry rummaged in his pocket and paid up and then they went out into the evening air.
‘So, where’s this place you’re working at?’ he demanded.
‘Livingston Road. It’s a children’s home.’
‘How’d you get here?’
‘I came on the bus, Harry.’
‘Still no Tube?’ he teased.
‘No,’ she said sharply, ‘not if I can avoid it.’
‘Well, I’ll come back with you,’ he said, ‘so’s I’ll know where to find you.’ He took her hand and together they walked to the main road to catch the bus.
When they reached Livingston Road he followed her to the gate of a large double-fronted grey stone house. ‘Looks a bit grim,’ he said, looking up at the three rows of windows. ‘I wouldn’t want to live here.’
‘You might if you had nowhere else,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘Most of the kids don’t want to live here either, but they haven’t any choice.’
‘All right, all right, keep your hair on.’ He raised his hands placatingly. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to Miss What’s-her-name?’
Charlotte hadn’t thought of it, but as Harry had asked, she might as well. ‘All right,’ she said, and opening the gate she led him up to the front door.
Caroline Morrison was in her box of an office just off the hall and Charlotte knocked on the open door.
‘Oh, Charlotte, good, you’re back. Have you had a nice afternoon?’
‘Yes, thank you, Miss Morrison.’ She paused in the doorway and Caroline looked up from what she was doing and said, ‘Did you want something?’
‘Just wanted you to meet someone,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I met an old friend this afternoon.’
Caroline put down her pen and got to her feet. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Who is it?’ She emerged into the hall and saw a young man standing there. He was in workman’s clothes, a blue checked shirt open at his throat, his big boots sticking out from under his well-worn dungarees.
Charlotte turned back to her, her eyes dancing. ‘This is Harry, Harry Black. He comes from my town in Germany and I knew him in London when...’ she hesitated, searching for the right words, ‘before I came to St Michael’s.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Harry said, treating Miss Morrison to his most dazzling smile and sticking out his hand. ‘Lisa’s been telling me all about what happened to her in the raid and that.’
Caroline Morrison shook the proffered hand. Lisa. He means Charlotte, she thought, but of course he’s never known her by that name. ‘And I’ve heard about you, too,’ was what she actually said.
‘Harry just wanted to see where I live,’ Charlotte explained, ‘and he wanted to meet you.’ Her face was bright with happiness as she looked at her old friend; someone who had known her ‘before’. Miss Morrison was pleased to see the change in her meeting Harry
had wrought, but she wasn’t at all sure about Harry himself. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about him that made her distrust him. Which isn’t fair, she told herself firmly. You don’t know the lad from Adam, you’re in no position to make judgements, especially as he’s so important to Charlotte.
‘I’ve got to work, now,’ Charlotte was telling him.
‘That’s OK,’ Harry replied as they went back out into the street. ‘I know where you are now.’
‘But I don’t know where you are,’ Charlotte reminded him. ‘You don’t live at Kemble Street, do you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Just keeping an eye on it for Dan.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I can’t believe I’ve found you, Lisa,’ he said. ‘It’s a miracle.’
Impulsively she flung her arms round him and gave him a huge hug. ‘I can’t believe it either,’ she said. Pulling away, suddenly shy, she added, ‘But I still don’t know where to find you, Harry.’
‘Told you, I’m working at the docks, I got a room down there. Don’t worry, Lisa, I shan’t lose you again, I promise.’ With that he turned and with a jaunty wave, set off back the way they’d come.
Charlotte watched him as he rounded the corner before she turned and slowly went back into the house. It had been a miracle to find Harry and in his company she had forgotten, for a while, the feeling of emptiness that she’d been carrying with her for so long. But as Harry had disappeared from sight, it returned, a slow, smothering cloud descending on her. She was here in London, alone, and despite living in a house full of children, she’d never felt so lonely.
That evening, when Charlotte had gone up to bed, Caroline sat in her office and thought about her. She had seen the happiness in the girl’s face when she introduced Harry, and despite her own inexplicable reaction, Caroline was pleased for her. However, when he’d left and Charlotte had come back in to the house, that spark had been extinguished. Caroline had called her into the office for a chat.
‘How lovely to meet up with Harry,’ she said. ‘Where did you find him?’
‘I went to Kemble Street,’ Charlotte said. ‘I told you I was going.’
Caroline nodded. She hadn’t been sure that was a good idea either, but realised that though it might be painful for Charlotte to see the remains of her former home, it might help her to put that part of her life behind her and look to the future, rather than the past.
‘Well, it looked like you said, probably worse. Nothing has been done to clear the ruins or mend the houses.’ She sighed and rubbed her eyes as if trying to wipe away the sight of number sixty-five and its neighbours. ‘Anyway, I went to look inside.’
‘Oh, Charlotte, that was dangerous!’ exclaimed Caroline.
Charlotte shrugged. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘The house wasn’t going to fall. Anyway, I went inside. It’s a complete ruin, still covered in soot. I went into the kitchen and was looking at the cellar door – we used to hide in the cellar during raids – when he came in through the door.’
‘Harry did?’ Caroline was amazed. ‘What was he doing there?’
‘That’s what he asked me,’ Charlotte smiled. ‘I didn’t recognise him at first. I couldn’t see his face and anyway, he’s changed. Grown up, I mean. He was a boy when I last saw him. He’s not a boy any more.’
‘No,’ agreed Caroline, remembering the broad-shouldered young man who’d tried to charm her with a smile.
Charlotte described how they’d sat over a cup of tea, talking and talking. ‘It was as if I’d seen him yesterday, not two years ago.’
‘I think that often happens when you meet up with good friends after a time apart. You pick up where you left off.’ For a moment Caroline’s thoughts flew to Henry Masters. It was just like that whenever they met and she felt a secret glow.
‘They all thought I was dead,’ Charlotte went on and she explained why. Her eyes filled with tears as she told Caroline about Hilda and her family. How kind they’d been to her when she’d arrived as a refugee, how Hilda had befriended her at school and how they’d all helped her with her English. ‘I can’t believe they’re all dead, Hilda, her brother, her parents. All gone.’ She pulled out a hankie and blew her nose. ‘All this time and I didn’t know.’
‘What was Harry doing at the house?’ Caroline asked, more to change the subject than wanting to know.
‘He said he was keeping an eye on it.’
‘Keeping an eye on it?’
‘Yes, he told me he’d stayed with the Federmans for a while when he had nowhere else to live. When they moved, so that Aunt Naomi was away from the bombs when she had her baby, he said he’d stay and keep an eye on it.’
‘But it’s a ruin.’
‘I know,’ agreed Charlotte, ‘but when he found me with my hand on the cellar door, he thought I was trying to go down there to see if there was anything to steal.’
‘And is there?’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I couldn’t open the door and then Harry came. Still,’ she brightened a little, ‘I know Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan are alive... and that they’ve had a baby. I didn’t know they were having a baby!’
‘How exciting,’ Caroline said. ‘And where are they now?’
‘Harry doesn’t know. He just knows they were moving away from the bombing.’
That’s strange, Caroline thought, if he promised to keep an eye on their house, he must know where they’ve gone. But for the time being she kept this thought to herself.
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, that’s a pity, because I’m sure you want to find them and tell them you’re alive and well.’
This drew a smile. ‘Oh yes,’ cried Charlotte. ‘Oh, I do want to find them.’
‘Well, we’ll have to see what we can do,’ promised Caroline. ‘I expect if we ask around in that area, someone’ll know where they went. At least then you can write to them, if nothing else.’
‘I wrote to them before,’ Charlotte said, ‘but they didn’t answer.’
‘I know you did, but that’s almost certainly because they never got your letter. The posts went completely haywire during the Blitz. There could be a hundred reasons why they never got your letter.’ Or there could be just one, she thought privately. Harry.
When Charlotte went up to bed, Caroline stayed sitting at her desk, thinking. In her desk drawer was a letter she’d received from Avril only a couple of weeks earlier. It brought news for Charlotte and Caroline had been deputed to tell her about it at an opportune moment. Up until now she hadn’t managed to find the right moment and with the reappearance of Harry Black, she was glad that she hadn’t. It wasn’t news she wanted to share with him. She got the letter out and re-read it.
St Mark’s Vicarage
Wynsdown
Dear Caro,
I know you’re safely back at Livingston Road now and hope that Charlotte is settling in. It can’t be easy for her to come to terms with yet another loss, but I’m sure you’re keeping her busy which will help!
We had some interesting news the other day with regard to Charlotte. A few days after you left, Mr Thompson of Thompson, Harris and Thompson came up from Cheddar. He was Miss Everard’s solicitor. Anyway, he came to see David about her will. Apparently she’s left a small bequest to the church but everything else is left in trust for Charlotte. Till she’s 21. You can imagine we were amazed! What’s more, she’d named David as a co-trustee with Mr Thompson. You could have knocked us down with a feather! David had no idea. She certainly hadn’t asked him. Mr T says he told her to speak to David about it first and he assumed that she’d done so. David can refuse if he wants to but he’s not going to. In the meantime it means that Charlotte is quite well off. Miss Everard had some shares or bonds or something that gave her a reasonable income and all that is Charlotte’s now. Mr T said Miss E made the will several months ago. Blackdown House is Charlotte’s as well, of course, so she does have somewhere to live if she wants to leave London again.
All
this is most unexpected. Mr Thompson is also the executor, but he agreed to leave it to us to tell Charlotte of her inheritance. David and I have discussed it and decided that it isn’t something to put in a letter. It would be better to tell her face to face and be ready to answer the questions she will surely have. So, dear Caro, we’d like to leave it to you to break it to her at a suitable moment. You’re in loco parentis now... maybe not legally but certainly de facto. What about all my Latin tags!! Father would have been impressed, don’t you think? Still, I know you’ll agree it’s better to deal with this face to face. I think Mr T is opening a bank account for her, so that she’ll have access to some of her money. Not the capital of course, enough to pay her way and for a few little extras, but not so that anyone with an eye to the main chance can get his hooks into her.
Do come down and see us again soon, Caro. Poor Henry is pining away!
Give my love to Charlotte and lots to you,
Avril xx
Though she doesn’t know it, Caroline thought now, Charlotte is a wealthy girl and with the recollection of Harry, standing charming and confident in the front hall, she was glad he didn’t know it either. He seemed to be a cross between a spiv and a docker and she didn’t trust either of them.
35
Naomi was catching a few minutes’ rest while Nicholas was having his afternoon nap when there was a sharp rap on her door. She heaved herself to her feet and when she opened the door she found Shirley Newman outside.
‘Shirley,’ she said, standing aside for her to come in, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘I got some news I thought you’d want to hear,’ Shirley said, flopping down into a chair. She and Naomi had remained friends over the months they’d both been living in Feneton, but they were not close. Naomi was busy, living and working at the Feneton Arms and Shirley, tired of being at the beck and call of her cousin, Maud, had found work in a factory outside Ipswich and went in daily on the bus.
‘What’s happened?’ Naomi asked.
‘Derek’s come home on leave,’ Shirley said.
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