Maude was aware of a moment’s irrational panic. First herself and Alice and now Amy and Maggie. Was it history repeating itself? Could it be a recipe for disaster? She had vowed never to think again of Alice or Lionel but it had proved difficult. Seeing this child, who was Alice’s daughter, had thrown her off balance – but suppose she was wrong. Suppose she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She found herself stammering, ‘Are you sure you want to do cartwheels, Amy? I don’t think you . . . you might hurt yourself.’
Maggie took Amy’s hand in hers. ‘I’ll teach her.’
Mrs Surridge said, ‘Maggie’ll look after her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.’ She sounded impatient and glanced at the mantelpiece clock.
Maude gave in. ‘Oh, very well then, but stay where I can see you. Just outside the window.’ She was opening the letter with shaking hands.
Was this wavering handwriting Alice’s? She took a deep breath and began to decipher the clumsy, pencilled words which straggled drunkenly across the page.
Dear Maude,
I’m going to die. They say I won’t but I feel that I will and I don’t want Maggie to go into an orphanage. She doesn’t deserve it because she’s not to blame for anything that happened. Can you put the past to rest and take pity on my little girl? If not, I will understand but I know you have married and have a daughter so perhaps you will be kind . . .
Alice.
Mrs Surridge watched curiously as Maude wiped away her tears.
Maude handed her the letter and watched as her visitor also struggled with the almost illegible handwriting.
When she handed the letter back she regarded Maude silently. Feeling that the woman deserved an explanation, Maude said, ‘We knew each other a long time ago. We were friends but . . . then we parted on bad terms. Something rather dreadful happened . . .’
Playing for time, Maude replaced the letter in the envelope, placed it behind the clock, then sat down heavily. ‘I’ll show it to my husband when he gets back.’ Her heart hammered behind her ribs and she seemed trapped in the chair, unable to get up, undecided what to think and wondering how to deal with an impossible situation.
Mrs Surridge said, ‘A bit of a shock for you, I should think. Are you all right?’
‘Not really. I don’t think we can . . . Really, she shouldn’t have asked . . . I mean, it’s not something you can do lightly.’
‘Not fair of her to ask, Mrs Jayson, if you want my opinion.’ She looked round helplessly. ‘A bit of a shock – springing it on you like that.’
‘But she was dying!’ Maude regretted the words immediately. Why on earth had she sprung to Alice’s defence? She must not be swayed by sentiment. She would tell Derek that it was out of the question. This was Lionel’s child! How could she be expected to love her?
Mrs Surridge crossed to the window and glanced out. A smile played across her face as she watched the children. ‘Cartwheels indeed!’ she said. ‘Maggie is very keen on acrobatics. She’s got so much energy. And your little girl is having a go! Oops! She hasn’t quite mastered it.’
‘Is she all right?’ Maude forced herself up from the chair and joined her visitor. Amy’s face glowed with excitement as, with her hands held high, she hurled herself across the grass in a vain attempt to produce a cartwheel. To Maude’s relief, Amy collapsed laughing and Maggie pulled her to her feet again.
Mrs Surridge said, ‘She’s nearly there! I didn’t think she’d do it.’
Maude saw Derek turning in at the gate and saw the two children rush towards him. Obviously delighted, he allowed himself to witness Amy’s attempt at a cartwheel followed by Maggie’s more polished version. He glanced up at the house, saw the women at the window and waved cheerfully. Maude wondered just how happy he would be when he learned the identity of the older girl.
So poor Alice was dead, she thought with a lump in her throat. What a terrible way to die. Diphtheria was such a scourge – it was time the scientists found a cure. She could visualize Alice in her hospital bed, near to death, and wondering what would become of her daughter. Alice had been a healthy, cheerful woman with a future ahead of her until she met Lionel Brent – and until he discovered the Barlowe Gallery and the chance of cheating Maude out of a large sum of money! The three of them had been so happy together at the beginning. If only they could have continued . . . If only Lionel had not been a liar and a cheat!
She hurried to meet Derek at the door and thrust the letter into his hands before he could ask about their visitors.
‘Read it!’ she hissed urgently. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘You’ve been crying, Maude!’
‘Just read it, please, Derek!’
Hovering beside him she watched his expression change – shock and grief followed by the beginnings of understanding.
‘Good God!’ he muttered. He slipped an arm round her shoulders and drew her close. ‘So that child is . . .?’
‘Alice’s daughter, Maggie. Lionel’s child.’ Maude clung to him, her thoughts chaotic. If he agreed to keeping Maggie . . . But if he said no . . .
‘It’s a tough one!’ he said, as though reading her thoughts.
‘If we keep her, we’ll spend the rest of our lives remembering what happened.’ She pulled back from him, studying his face.
He nodded slowly. ‘But if we turn her away we’ll spend the rest of our lives wondering about what has happened to Maggie – so we’ll still be remembering!’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Maude, I’ve never said this before but, in spite of all that happened, some good came out of it. Alice and Lionel brought us together. You and me. I’ll always be grateful for that. Tell me what you want to do, Maude. You’ve suffered most. I can live with either decision.’
‘Can you? With Lionel’s child?’
‘Yes I could. I would. It’s up to you, Maude. I won’t try and persuade you either way but I’ll support you.’ He pulled her close and kissed her. ‘Now, put me in the picture, please.’
‘The woman’s a Mrs Surridge and Alice was her housekeeper – under another name, Alicia Brand.’ Quickly she filled him in on the rest of the story and he listened intently.
He said, ‘So she was making a new life for herself and Maggie. Well done Alice – Sorry! Alicia.’
There was sudden rush of footsteps and a knock on the door. Derek opened it and the two girls rushed inside.
Amy’s pale face was flushed with excitement. ‘Please may I show Maggie my room and my teddies and—?’
‘And the doll’s house!’ Maggie prompted eagerly.
Maude was staring at them, her mind churning, and it was left to Derek to say. ‘Yes, of course! Off you go.’
As they went upstairs Maggie told Amy, ‘We have to be quick because we can’t stay long. Mrs Surridge plays cards tonight.’
Maude said, ‘We shall have to think this over . . . Take our time . . . Oh! They shouldn’t have come!’ She stepped back, leaning against the hall stand for support as fresh tears pressed against her eyelids. Her hands balled into fists and she crossed them in front of her chest defensively.
A silence deepened between them. It lasted minutes but to Maude it felt like hours. She said, ‘Help me, Derek!’
He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t believe we have anything to discuss because I think you already know what you are going to do, Maude. We both know it’s inevitable.’ He reread Alice’s last words then gently opened the fingers of Maude’s right hand and closed them round the crumpled letter. ‘Little Maggie is Alice’s child and Lionel’s child but they are both gone from us. We have each other and little Amy, but Maggie has no-one. I don’t think we can let her go into an orphanage. She can be ours now. An unexpected gift from Alice.’
‘A gift!’
‘Exactly. She can be Amy’s big sister.’
‘It may not be as easy as we think.’
‘Nothing worthwhile ever is, Maude!’
Maude was smiling through her tears. ‘We can love
her, can’t we?’
Derek held out his arms. ‘Love her? Most certainly we can.’ Peals of girlish laughter came from Amy’s bedroom and they smiled at one another. He wiped her eyes with his handkerchief. ‘We’ll go and tell Mrs Surridge and then set the wheels in motion.’
Maude nodded, slipping her arm through his. ‘Do you think, in a strange way, that it was meant to be?’
‘My dearest Maude, I’m sure of it!’
Truth Will Out Page 22