Ruby looked around, and she was there again; she could clearly see Babs Wheaton standing in front of her smiling encouragingly, and once again she wondered what path her life would have taken if a different person had picked her from the line-up of children of all ages, back in 1940 …
‘Come along with me dear.’ The woman smiled down at the small child whose eyes were focused absolutely on her feet. ‘Come on, there’s no need to be afraid; you’re going to stay with us for a while, just until London is safe again, and then you can go home.’ She held her gloved hand out. ‘Come along. I don’t bite, you know; really, I don’t.’
Ten-year-old Ruby Blakeley slowly raised her eyes and, knowing she had no choice, she reluctantly picked up her small suitcase. She let the woman take her by her other hand, and together they walked up Melton High Street to the doctor’s surgery at the top of the hill where the woman, Barbara Wheaton, lived with her husband George, the village GP.
Ruby Blakeley had never known such fear; she was petrified to the point of wanting to drop dead then and there to make it all go away. When she had been told she was going to be evacuated, she had cried and shouted and fought against being sent away from the family home in Walthamstow, the only home she’d ever known, but it had all been in vain. Everyone agreed it was best if she was out of London and safely away from the war, which was quickly escalating. She didn’t understand why she had to go and her three older brothers were being allowed to stay behind and carry on their lives as normal, but there was no arguing; she didn’t have any choice. Ruby Blakeley was to be evacuated.
‘Look,’ Barbara Wheaton said as they walked along together, ‘this is the village church which my husband and I go to every Sunday without fail, and these are the shops. There’s everything we need here, but if we want anything else we can go into the next town either on the bus or in the car – petrol permitting, of course.’
Babs Wheaton laughed, and it was such a natural, friendly sound that it comforted Ruby just a little, but still she feared where she was going.
‘I know it probably looks a little cramped to you after living in London, but it’s a friendly village and it’s very safe. There are lots of children around these parts, and you’ll meet them all when you go to the school. Some of the other evacuees who came with you will be at the school as well, so you’ll have old friends and new ones. I think they’re going to adjust the school hours to accommodate you all, so it’ll probably be a shorter school day.’
Ruby couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t care about the church and the shops and the local children, and she was horrified at the thought of living in a strange house and going to a strange school. All she wanted was to be back in her own home with her family, even if it meant cramped accommodation, falling bombs and regular blackouts.
But she had been brought up to be polite to adults, so she forced a smile and carried on walking up the hill to the doctor’s surgery and adjoining house at the top. She didn’t cry, and she didn’t say anything out of place; she simply accepted that she was there and had to get on with it until she was sent home again.
Little had Ruby known on that particular day that her life was about to take a route she could never have imagined, that she was going to be living with the Wheatons for five happy years and would be a part of their lives from that day on. Her successful life and future was all a result of the Wheatons choosing her that day.
There had been both highs and lows in her life since that day, but when things were at both their best and their worst George and Babs Wheaton had always been there alongside her.
But now they were gone. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to get over losing them, and she also feared the task that still lay ahead of her.
Telling Maggie the truth.
Five
Maggie was sitting on the front wall down by the road when the solicitor, old Mr Smethurst, pulled up outside and parked haphazardly with two wheels on the grass verge. Despite her fears about the meeting, she was moved to a slight smile as she watched him climb out of his car and shake his trouser legs straight. He then reached back in for his jacket and briefcase before shaking his trouser legs all over again.
Somehow the fat little man waddling up to the house, carrying an old leather briefcase with broken straps, didn’t match the shiny low-slung convertible Jaguar that he had clambered out of.
He walked over to her. ‘Hello, Maggie, we meet again.’ He smiled and waited for a response, but all he got was an almost imperceptible nod. ‘I’m Herbert Smethurst,’ he continued. ‘The old Mr Smethurst, as opposed to my son, the young Mr Smethurst! I met you at the funeral, but I’m sure that was just a big blur of faces. My condolences again. Terrible day, terrible events. Well, to be honest, we have met before, but you were just a babe in arms then.’ He laughed and again waited for a response, but still Maggie said nothing.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I should have enlarged on that introduction. Just in case, I’m your late parents’ solicitor. Now can you point me in the direction of Mr and Mrs Riordan? We’ve got a meeting arranged. If I’m correct in my thinking, I’m going to have a bit of a chat with them, and then you’ll be joining us.’
‘They’re in there. Go through to the dining room. I’m sure you’ll find your way, though I don’t know why I can’t be there right away, as this is all about me,’ Maggie said pointedly as she turned her head and looked the other way; furious once again that she wasn’t involved in the discussions or arrangements, even though they were about her, she had no intention of showing him the way.
‘You will be in on it all in a very short while, my dear. I just have to talk to Mr and Mrs Riordan first, and then I’ll have a chat with you and you can ask any questions you like of me. It’s what I’m here for.’
He smiled at her sympathetically, but it only made her seethe more. Standing up sharply she marched off across the front lawn in the other direction.
‘Patronizing old bugger,’ she muttered under her breath as he disappeared into the house. Once he was safely inside and keeping Ruby and Johnnie occupied, she went indoors and phoned the Manor House, hoping against hope that Andy would be there. He was the one person who didn’t keep looking at her as if she was poor sick child who had to be treated with kid gloves.
When she’d left the house the day Ruby had first gone to see the solicitor, Maggie had not known exactly what she was going to do; all she’d known was that she desperately wanted to see Andy Blythe because, despite everything that had happened, he was still in her thoughts. She saw him as someone who had nothing to do with any of it; someone who had never met George and Babs, so his sympathy over the accident and its outcome would be for Maggie herself.
Thinking of Andy and fantasizing about their budding relationship instead of the accident and its aftermath had helped her cope in the dark days and even darker nights of despair and guilt. And on that day she’d wanted to see him more than ever.
She’d still felt unwell then, and her arm was still immobilized in a plaster of Paris cast, but mostly she’d felt detached from herself as she walked for over a mile along the country lane, which didn’t have a pavement. The sun was shining down and she could feel the perspiration soaking into her fringe and dripping down her back, but she kept going until she came to the familiar dense hedge which was about ten feet high and bordered the classic property she was heading for. She carried on until she came to a gap where the high wrought-iron gates stood behind a huge signpost stating ‘The Manor House’ in elaborately etched gold script.
As luck would have it, one of the shiny curved gates, which were obviously newly painted, was wide open, so she walked up to the property perimeter and looked around. The tarmac driveway was very black and new and edged with lots of perfectly aligned, identical fir trees which swept regally up to the house. Maggie glanced around, and to the left of the house she could see Andy Blythe banging tennis balls against the wall of the garage, one after the other.
‘Andy,’ she sho
uted. ‘Andy …!’ As he looked across, she waved frantically with her good arm.
He peered curiously in her direction for a moment, then put his racket down and walked quickly over to her. ‘Maggie! Sorry, the sun was in my eyes. How are you? We heard about your accident; how bloody awful was that? I wanted to ring you, but I didn’t want to intrude.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘It was as awful as it gets; still is, actually. I feel I’m stuck in a nightmare and can’t get out. It’s horrible …’
‘Oh, God, I’m not surprised. And your arm! Is it broken? I bet that hurts.’
‘Yes, it does a bit still, but it’s OK, really, not much longer till the plaster comes off, and I feel better now the bloody neck-brace has gone for good. I felt like Frankenstein’s monster walking around wearing that.’ Maggie tried to keep her lips together as she spoke, the way she’d practised in front of the mirror, not wanting him to notice the temporary plate in her mouth in place of her missing teeth. Ruby had arranged for the local dentist to visit Maggie first at the hospital and then again at home, but it was going to be another few days before she was fitted with the proper denture, and she was still mortified at the thought of having false teeth.
‘I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to me. I mean, to lose both parents at once – I can’t imagine it,’ Andy continued, and then paused. ‘But what brings you here? I mean, it’s nice to see you, but I’ve not seen you out this way before. Did you want me to do something? I mean, I’ll help any way I can; you just have to ask.’
‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that. No, I was just out for a walk to get away from the house for a while. The gate was open and I saw you, so I just stopped to say hello. I’m on my way back now before they send out a search party for the orphan Maggie.’
‘Oh, I thought you might have been out here looking for me.’
Maggie was surprised that Andy actually sounded disappointed, and she was glad she’d lied. She didn’t want him to think she was chasing him.
‘Everyone’s talking about the funeral,’ he continued, his eyes flitting around looking in every direction except at Maggie. ‘It’s tomorrow, isn’t it? The tennis club are arranging for the members to line the street near the church, and someone said the road is being closed off and the shops are shutting while it’s on. I said I’d go. Is that OK? I don’t want to sort of, you know, intrude.’
‘Oh, not at all, but I know the church is going to be packed, and the hall after, you won’t be able to get in.’ She paused and looked at him. ‘Though you might get into the hall for a sandwich afterwards.’ She felt confused by his thoughtful reactions and, because her thoughts were not in any rational order, she wasn’t sure what to say. The last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of him, so she changed the subject. ‘When do you start working in London?’
‘I’ve got another couple of weeks at home. My mother wanted me to herself for a while before I fly the nest, but I’ve been going back and forth to the office to learn the ropes. Mum drives me to Cambridge station and I get the train. What about you? What are you going to do? Is your sister going to live with you now or you with her?’
‘She’s not my sister; she’s not a blood relation at all …’ She stopped. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what she’s planning, and she’s driving me mad hovering around behind me. Johnnie, her husband, is OK. But tomorrow everyone’s going to be there. It’s going to be so unbearable; I don’t want to go.’
He looked at her, genuine sympathy etched on his young face. ‘I can’t imagine losing my parents; that has to be the worst nightmare ever, and to be there when it happened, to see it …’
‘I didn’t see it; I was asleep in the back,’ she said a little too quickly. ‘But thank you …’ she added, feeling her eyes prickle, but then the moment between was sharply interrupted.
‘Coo-eee, Andrew,’ a female voice wafted from nowhere. ‘Coo-eee. Can I interrupt you, darling?’
Andy’s head spun round, and Maggie was momentarily irritated, until the owner of the voice appeared in view.
Heading towards them from the direction of the house was an older woman whose age was hard to determine. She walked as gracefully as if she was parading at a fashion show with her shoulders back and her hips forward, and she was dressed and perfectly made up as if for the same. Her flower patterned cotton sun-frock was pulled in tight at her tiny waist by a wide white patent belt which matched her high heels, while her very black hair stood rigid in a backcombed beehive. A huge tortoiseshell comb and a shiny layer of hair lacquer held it all in place.
Maggie stared at her in wonder. She thought she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
‘Maggie, this is my mother. Mother, this is Maggie, a friend from the tennis club. You know, the one I told you about, whose mum and dad were killed in that car accident? She’s got a broken arm, and the funeral is tomorrow.’
Before she could take a breath to say hello, Maggie was swept up into a bear hug and enveloped in wafts of a very heady perfume.
‘Oh, you poor, poor child, what a terrible thing. I said to my Andy here when we heard the news, what a terrible thing to happen. If there’s anything we can do, anything at all, you just have to ask. I’ve arranged to send flowers; they’ll be there tomorrow.’
Eunice Blythe held her close for a couple of seconds longer, and then let her go as quickly as she’d grabbed her. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you young things, especially right now, but Andrew, my darling, Daddy wants you to ring him at the office right away. You know what he’s like – now means this very second.’ The woman shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Maggie. ‘The business world always comes first with Daddy, and it’s what keeps us in this wonderful house! Now, don’t keep Andrew too long, will you, my dear? We have to keep Daddy happy.’
As the woman floated away back to the house, Maggie realized she hadn’t even opened her mouth.
‘Sorry about that,’ Andy said. ‘She does get a bit het up over things.’
‘She is so beautiful. I wish I looked like that.’
Andy looked surprised. ‘Do you think so? I suppose because she’s just my mother, I never noticed, although Dad does call her his beauty queen.’
‘You’d better go and ring your father,’ Maggie said. ‘I have to get back. It’s the funeral tomorrow …’
‘That is so horrible for you, Maggie. I’ll be there on the pavement sending you support as best I can. Depending, of course, if Dad calls me up to London or if he comes home,’ Andy said with a proud edge in his voice. ‘Never know with him; he’s always so busy running his business. I do what I can to help him out, but it’s hard work, and we all have to fit in around him.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll be OK. If you don’t go to London, will I see you around sometime afterwards?’ she asked him expectantly.
‘I’ll ring you, I promise. I really want to see you again, but I must run and ring Dad now.’
He leaned forward to kiss Maggie on the cheek just as she turned her face, and he ended up brushing her lips.
‘Ooops,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Sorry about that. Oh well, good luck for tomorrow. Gotta go …’
Maggie had felt herself redden as she’d watched him run off in the same direction his mother had just gone, waiting until he was out of sight before she’d leaned against the tall brick gatepost.
He’d kissed her. Andy Blythe had actually kissed her.
Upset that she hadn’t been able to talk to Andy on the telephone, Maggie had gone out into the garden. She was sitting on the old moss-covered bench which was tucked away in the curve of the vegetable garden. It had always been her favourite place in the whole garden; it was a hidden corner with a natural canopy of greenery which couldn’t be seen from any part of the house. She’d hidden there as a child, and she was there now, although she wasn’t hiding as much as taking refuge, waiting for the inevitable summons.
Maggie had long had the ability to distract herself with song; whether she was sad or
happy, she would sing. In the bath, in bed, in the garden, even in the church choir … it was her escape from reality. This time she wasn’t singing aloud, but she had an exercise book on her lap in which she’d written the lyrics to her favourite pop records, and she was trying to remember them all by heart. Every time she got a new record she would play it over and over again, write down and learn the lyrics, and then practice singing the song until she was word and pitch perfect.
‘Can you come indoors now, Maggie?’
The song that was going round in her head was interrupted by Ruby calling to her from the back door.
‘We’re in the dining room, and we have to talk to you before Mr Smethurst leaves …’
Desperately not wanting to go and face the inevitable, she carried on staring into the middle distance and mentally reciting lyrics for a few more moments before standing up and heading slowly back to the house.
Maggie Wheaton was an intelligent and well-educated girl with a good general knowledge of the workings of the world; she could hold her own in any adult conversation and had recently become adept at eavesdropping. So even though she didn’t want to face it, she knew her future as an orphan was not going to be the one she had anticipated just a few weeks before. She had only caught snippets of conversation, but she knew there was talk of selling the house, and she simply couldn’t imagine not living there.
Everything in her life was about to change even more, she knew that, and she also knew it wasn’t going to be for the better; she knew the meeting was going to be serious and argumentative, and she had wanted to put it off as long as possible – but now the moment had arrived. All the homely chats with Ruby, Johnnie and Gracie, which had been full of suggestions and questions, meant nothing.
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