by Carola Dunn
Sakari chuckled. “My dear Daisy, I have already visited it, more than once. The exibits are most instructive, though the display of Indian culture is by no means extensive considering the size and variety of my country. They do however give one a starting point for further studies.”
“It sounds interesting for the older girls. I’m afraid it may not amuse the younger boys.”
“For children it is excellent. When they grow restive, they can safely go out to run and play in the gardens. Deva and I will certainly go with you, if we are able to arrange a mutually convenient date.”
“I’ve got a feeling I may be grateful for the presence of another adult. Thanks. I must run now, darling. It’s such a beautiful day I want to take the twins out on the Heath in case it rains later.”
“Let us hope that March will go out like a lamb,” said Sakari, with her usual pleasure at the opportunity to use an English idiom.
Daisy went down to the kitchen for her daily consultation with Mrs. Dobson, the cook-housekeeper, then up to the nursery to see the twins. As always, her arrival brought a frown to Nanny Gilpin’s face.
However, Daisy had long since won that struggle. Her own mother had visited the nursery so seldom as to make each occasion a terrifying ordeal, to Daisy, at least, if not to her brother and sister. Still worse had been the brief and strictly regimented visits to the drawing room after tea. Daisy’s children were not going to regard their mother as a stranger.
The three-year-olds were sitting at the table, drawing with coloured crayons. Nana, sprawled under the table at their feet, raised her head and thumped her tail in greeting.
“Good morning, Miranda. Good morning, Oliver.”
They pushed back their chairs and jumped to their feet. “Good morning, Mummy.” Both glanced at Nanny, waiting for her grudging nod before rushing to fling themselves into Daisy’s arms.
This was Nanny’s kingdom and Mrs. Gilpin granted few concessions to modern notions of parenthood. Nor to modern notions of nannyhood, come to that. The hems of her striped dresses had crept up to mid-calf but her waistline had defied the vagaries of fashion by remaining at her waist, and she still wore her hair in a bun, with a stiff white cap skewered to it by a jet-knobbed hat pin. She insisted on the nursery maid, Bertha, wearing a cap, too.
She pursed her lips as Daisy and the twins exhanged hugs and kisses.
“Mummy, come and see my picture,” said Miranda.
“Manners, Miss Miranda!”
“Please will you please come and see my picture, Mummy?”
“Mine too,” Oliver chimed in. “Please, mine too.”
“Show me, chickabiddies.”
Daisy admired Miranda’s Snow White, without a body but with wings in place of ears.
“Because snow flies through the air, doesn’t it, Mummy? ’Member when it snowed outside? She’s flying away from the wicked queen.”
Oliver’s train consisted of clouds of steam. “You can’t see the engine, Mummy, ’cause there’s too much smoke.”
“Speaking of trains, guess who’s coming home today.”
“Daddy!” cried Oliver.
“Daddy may.” Alec had been sent to Leeds to assist the local force. “If we’re lucky. Someone else—”
“Bel!” Miranda jumped up and down with excitement. “Sister Bel’s coming home!”
“That’s right, Belinda.”
Oliver frowned in thought. “Why because?”
“Because it’s the end of term. The beginning of the Easter holidays.”
“Bel coming on a train?”
“Yes, darling.”
“I go to the station to see the engines.”
“Not today.”
“Why because?”
“Because Mr. Kesin is fetching her.”
“Why because, Mummy?”
“Because Deva and Lizzie are coming home too. Bel will be home by lunchtime. We’ll go to see the trains another time, I promise. Now, we’re all going to walk to the Heath, to feed the ducks.”
At the magic word, the dog sprang up, scampered to the door, and whined.
“We’ll take Nana to the Heath,” said Miranda.
“I want to see trains,” Oliver insisted, pouting.
“Now now, Master Oliver, you’ll do as your mother says, and with a smile, if you please! Come and change your shoes and get your coat and cap on.” As she buttoned Oliver’s coat and the nursery maid helped Miranda with hers, Nanny added in a tone of faint disapproval, “You will be taking the dog, madam, I suppose?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll be needing an extra pair of hands.”
“Certainly, but there’s no need for you to stir, Mrs. Gilpin. Bertha shall come with us.”
Daisy’s walks with the twins and Nana always turned into a romp, very unlike the sort of sedate promenade the nurse considered proper.
“I going to ask Mrs. Dobson for bread to feed the ducks,” Oliver announced.
“That’s a good idea, darling. We’ll stop at the kitchen on our way.”
When they reached the Heath, each twin clutching a brown paper bag of bread crusts, Daisy stopped to look out over the city. For once a propitious breeze had cleared away the usual haze to an approximation of Wordsworth’s vision of London “all bright and glittering in the smokeless air.”
“What are you looking at, Mummy?” Miranda asked.
“The view. Everything.”
Both children stared solemnly into the distance.
“The view is a long way away, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I do believe that glint on the horizon must be the Crystal Palace.”
“Why because?” Oliver demanded.
“Because it’s on a hill and it’s all made of glass, so the sun reflects from it. Can you see that shining spot in the distance? It’s one of the places Bel wants to take the cousins when they come to stay.”
“I go too.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. It’s not really a place for small children. Have you ever been, Bertha?”
“No, madam, but I always wanted to.”
“Well, we’ll see.” Daisy saw Oliver’s lower lip begin to quiver and remembered that to a small child We’ll see generally signifies No. “Let’s go and feed the ducks,” she said quickly. “I bet they’re hungry. I’ll race you down to the pond.”
When they returned to the house, Bertha took the twins up to the nursery to have their lunch, followed by a nap. Daisy retreated to her small office at the back of the house to get her notes in order for an article about Audley End House for her American editor. She wanted to get it finished and posted before the holiday hordes arrived.
Belinda burst in a few minutes later. “Mummy, I’m home!” She kissed Daisy. Her bobbed hair still took Daisy by surprise though Bel had had her ginger pigtails cropped off months ago, at Christmas.
“Hello, darling. Lovely to have you home again.”
Bel perched on the corner of the desk. “What are you writing about?”
“An upstairs coal cellar.”
“No, really.”
“Really and truly. It’s at Audley End House. You remember I went to see the house after last time I visited you at school.”
“I hope you took a photo. I’d like to see it. But now I have to go and see the twins before their nap. Nanny will be livid if I disturb them once she’s put them down. See you at lunch.” She raced out, then, a moment later, she popped her head round the door. “Mrs. Dobson said Daddy’s away. Do you know when he’s coming home?”
“I don’t, darling, but he’s been gone several days, so soon, I expect.”
“Goody. And the cousins are coming on Monday?”
“Yes. Truscott’s driving them up to town from Fairacres.”
“I can’t wait to show them London! I’m going to make a list of places to go. Do you know, they’ve never been to a zoo?” She disappeared again.
Daisy hoped for sunshine. The zoo in the rain was dismal. If bad weather
curtailed outside activities, she was going to have to cope with a houseful of bored children.
The second post brought a letter from Geraldine. She had decided to come up to town after all. Daisy’s thoughts flew to bedrooms. Where on earth was she to put her? One could hardly offer Lady Dalrymple a child’s room. Bel would have to sleep in Alec’s dressing room, then the older girls could have her room, and …
Daisy’s blank gaze caught her mother’s name farther down the page.
Geraldine had had it out with the dowager viscountess, who had been forced to concede that there was plenty of room in the town house for her successor and two of the children. Anita and Dolores naturally had very different ideas from Ben and Charlie about what they wanted to see in London. The girls’ choice would be museums, St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey, a concert perhaps, and hat shops. The boys would like to visit the zoological gardens, the Tower of London, and Madame Tussaud’s, and to witness the Changing of the Guard. Which—Geraldine wondered—would Daisy prefer?
Daisy turned the question over to Belinda, who, after serious consideration, voted in favour of Ben and Charlie.
“You see, Mummy, next year I’ll be older and I’ll probably want to do the same things as Anita and Dolores. I mean, I’ll start caring about hats and things. But I had such fun with Ben last summer, before the others came, I don’t want him to think I don’t like him anymore. By next year, he’ll probably be like Derek and not want anything to do with girls.” Her cousin Derek’s defection when he started at Harrow was a sore point.
Daisy wondered whether her stepdaughter regarded the mayhem of last summer at Fairacres as just part of the fun, but she only said, “I’ll write and tell Geraldine right away.”
“I’ll take it to the letter box. Maybe Nanny Gilpin will let Bertha and the twins come too, and we’ll take Nana. You know, Mummy,” she added, “I bet Grandmother Dalrymple will be relieved to have the girls instead of the boys.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Daisy agreed, laughing. “But I shouldn’t be surprised if she decides not to come while they’re here after all.”
* * *
Unexpectedly, Alec came home that day in time for dinner. He listened to Belinda’s plans to entertain the cousins.
“It sounds as if you’re going to keep them busy, pet. Daisy, if you’re going to the Crystal Palace, you’d better avoid the days, usually Saturdays, when they have football or motor racing. Those events often bring out the rowdies.”
“I’ll check their schedule, darling.”
“I wish you could come too, Daddy.” Belinda was a bit of a worrier; Daisy blamed the years her martinet mother-in-law had had the upbringing of the child.
“I’ll see what I have on at work, but I doubt it.”
“Let’s invite Uncle Tom and Mrs. Tring, Bel,” Daisy suggested. DS Tring, Oliver’s godfather, had been Alec’s right-hand man for years. Since retiring, he had regained his youthful step and his joie de vivre. “I expect they’d enjoy it.”
“Oh yes, do let’s. No one would dare to be rowdy with Uncle Tom there. I’ll write to them after dinner.”
The Trings accepted. The days that suited them also suited Sakari. Daisy and Belinda started to make plans.
“Though there won’t be nearly enough time to do everything,” Bel said with a sigh.
THREE
Belinda sat in the windowseat in the living room. She had a book in her lap but her attention was on the cobbled sweep enclosing the communal garden. A blustery wind tossed the trees and cloud shadows raced across the grass. At last her patience was rewarded. Lord Dalrymple’s new green Wolseley Landaulette turned into Constable Circle and proceeded up the slope at a stately pace.
Dropping her book, Belinda sprang up and hurried to Daisy’s study. “Mummy, they’re here!”
“Oh, good, just in time for tea. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Belinda sped back down the hall. She opened the front door just as the car pulled up at the foot of the steps. When she was halfway down, Ben jumped out of the front, where he had been sitting next to the chauffeur, Truscott.
Charlie, a year younger and therefore relegated to the back seat, hopped down a moment later. He was quite a bit smaller, as well as younger, not having yet had what grown-ups called a “growth spurt.” The European side of his ancestry showed more than Ben’s, lighter skin and wavy rather than tight-curled black hair.
They both called hello and waved to Belinda as she ran down the last few steps, but they turned to thank Mr. Truscott before coming to meet her. It was lucky they had good manners, Bel thought, or Aunt Geraldine wouldn’t have adopted them. Ben would have returned to Trinidad after last summer and Bel would never have seen him again.
She crossed the pavement to join them as the chauffeur climbed out, a bit stiffly. “Hello, Mr. Truscott. Thank you for bringing Ben and Charlie.”
“My pleasure, Miss Belinda.”
“I hope you and your family are well.” She had often heard Daisy enquire after their well-being. Truscott had been in the family since Daisy’s father first bought a motorcar. “My mother said Mrs. Dobson is expecting you for tea in the kitchen. She’s made a cake specially.”
“Thank you, Miss Belinda, I shan’t turn that down.” He headed for the boot. “I’ll just bring in the suitcases.”
“We can carry them,” said Charlie. “You drove a long, long way. You must be tired.”
“You’re a good lad, Master Charlie. It’s all in the day’s work. Suppose you carry the small bags and I’ll bring the big ones?”
“Hello, Ben.” Daisy came down the steps. “Hello, Charlie. How nice to see you both again. Bel, will you take them up to their room and show them where to wash? Good afternoon, Mr. Truscott.”
“Afternoon, Miss Daisy.” The chauffeur handed the boys a couple of satchels and touched his cap. “You’re looking very well, if I may say so.”
Daisy stayed chatting to Mr. Truscott, while Belinda took her cousins into the house and upstairs.
“Mummy thought you’d like to share a room, but if not, one of you can move. There’s plenty of space.”
“Let’s share.” Charlie sounded anxious.
“That’s all right with me,” Ben said good-naturedly.
Bel showed them their bedroom and pointed out the bathroom and the lav. “I’ll come back in ten minutes and we’ll go down to tea.”
“I hope Mrs. Dobson baked a cake for us, too,” said Ben.
“A big one. And lots of little ones.”
“Good. Hurry up and wash, Charlie. Hands and face, and don’t forget to brush your hair.”
“You think you can order me about, just ’cause you’re a year older,” grumbled Charlie, but he went off to the bathroom.
* * *
The day of the Crystal Palace outing was sunny and warm. Belinda was glad, because her cousins were less interested in the contents of the building than the maze and the statues of prehistoric monsters, which were in the park.
Besides the Trings and Deva and Aunt Sakari, the twins were to go with them, along with Nanny and Bertha. When Daisy had told Mrs. Gilpin she was considering taking the twins, with Bertha to help look after them, Nurse Gilpin had said grudgingly that she herself had never seen the Crystal Palace and would quite like to. Bel thought privately that Nanny would be a frightful wet blanket, but after all, she’d be stuck with Mirrie and Oliver and so unable to interfere with other people’s fun.
“How will we all get there?” Charlie asked. “By tube?” They had taken the Underground to the zoo the day before, and the boys had been just as impressed by it as by the animals.
“No, it’s too complicated with so many people, ’specially with Nanny saying the twins have to leave at midday to come home for lunch and their nap. Aunt Sakari’s going to bring her big car—”
“What kind of car?” Ben wanted to know.
“It’s red. A Sunbeam tourer, I think. Mummy was going to drive her car—it’s a Gwynne Eight—but
Aunt Geraldine said she’d send Mr. Truscott with the Wolseley. Uncle Tom and Mrs. Tring live quite near the Palace, so they’ll get themselves there.”
“Uncle Tom’s a detective, like Uncle Alec?”
“That’s right, only he’s retired now.”
“And he’s not our uncle, silly,” Ben pointed out. He had met the sergeant the previous summer. “He’s Mr. Tring to us and don’t you forget it. And Aunt Sakari is Mrs.… Mrs. what, Bel?”
“Mrs. Prasad.” She noticed that Charlie looked worried. “But neither of them would mind if you made a mistake. They’re nice.”
The two cars arrived on time. Mrs. Gilpin and Bertha, wearing identical black capes and black felt hats, packed the twins into the Dalrymple Wolseley. Belinda and Daisy joined Sakari, who was alone in the back of the Sunbeam.
“I bring a disappointment, Belinda. Deva has come down with a feverish cold. She is not fit to go out.”
“Poor Deva! I hope she gets better quickly. My father couldn’t come either. He’s gone away again, to Bristol.”
Though sorry for Deva, Bel didn’t really mind her absence. She was a good friend for quiet times, but keeping up with Ben and Charlie called for plenty of energy.
The boys, having been introduced to Aunt Sakari, vied to sit beside Kesin in the front.
“Two may come,” the chauffeur said good-naturedly. “You sit still, yes?”
They passed through the centre of London in a stately procession. The Wolseley led the way, as Kesin knew the route. Sitting on a fold-down seat, facing backwards, Belinda couldn’t see where they were going, only where they had been. She could hear the boys commenting on the passing scene but she had to twist round to see what they were talking about. It was very frustrating.
After crossing the river, they drove on for what seemed like ages and ages. The close-packed city streets gave way to bigger houses with proper gardens. They turned right, then left, then right again, until Belinda was sure they were going in circles. Did Kesin really know the way? Truscott, with the twins aboard, followed trustfully.
Another turn, then Charlie said, “Golly!” in an awed voice, and Ben said, “Gosh! Look, Bel!”