The Orphan Twins

by Lesley Eames

  ‘That’s my girl. I’ll leave you to your tea now.’

  Lily sipped it slowly, surprised how welcome it was. She nibbled a little of the sandwich too though she hadn’t much appetite. Crossing to the window, she stared out at the sky, praying for Artie still to be alive.

  More time passed and Lily heard Elsie calling goodnight to departing customers. The tea room and shop were closing. Getting up, Lily headed downstairs.

  ‘I can clear up,’ Elsie assured her.

  ‘I need to be busy.’

  Elsie gave her a searching look. ‘I suppose it’s never been your way to give in, whatever life throws at you. All right. Help if you must, but don’t feel you’re being weak if you need to stop.’

  Over the days that followed Lily worked as hard as ever though she slept little and her dozes were haunted by terrible dreams. Artie was in her thoughts constantly but to sit brooding was torment. Activity was much to be preferred.

  Three days after the first one, another telegram arrived. Phyllis brought it up to the tea room, her face sombre. ‘You should sit down,’ she advised, but Lily couldn’t delay a single second before she opened it.

  She read it and swayed a little before she steadied herself, breathing out slowly as relief bathed her limbs in a feeling as soft as golden honey. ‘He’s alive. Artie’s alive.’

  ‘Thank God!’ Phyllis ran to the top of the stairs and called the news down to Mr Bax who was pounding his way up with Elsie and Pierre following.

  ‘Does it say what happened?’ Elsie asked.

  ‘Just that he’s been wounded and he’s in hospital. In England already.’

  ‘Let’s hope that means his wounds aren’t bad,’ Phyllis suggested.

  ‘Which hospital?’ Elsie wondered.

  ‘A place called Elmsfield in Sussex.’

  ‘Call it,’ Elsie said. ‘You can use our telephone.’

  ‘My telephone,’ Pierre corrected. ‘But yes, please use it to call.’

  It took some time to be connected to a Matron who had information. Yes, Lieutenant Tomkins was there. Yes, he’d a sustained a wound. A leg wound. No, he hadn’t lost the leg and no, his life wasn’t in immediate danger. Certainly, Lily could visit but it would be better if she waited and telephoned for more news tomorrow as Lieutenant Tomkins was still being assessed.

  The Matron was unflustered but firm. Despite her eagerness to see Artie, Lily didn’t insist on visiting earlier. The hospital staff needed to devote their time to looking after patients instead of being troubled by visitors.

  ‘You must let me pay for the call,’ Lily told Pierre.

  Pierre wouldn’t hear of it. Neither would he let her pay when she telephoned the hospital the next morning to be told that she might visit on the following afternoon. He gave her chocolates for Artie too, but Lily insisted on paying for others she hoped to give to the Tibbs sisters. Having learned that Elmsfield wasn’t far from Hastings, Lily planned to call on them after seeing Artie, time permitting.

  She walked from the station to the hospital, a distance of almost two miles but she was keen to save on taxi fares when possible. The hospital had been set up in an old mansion house and as she walked through the gardens Lily thought they’d be wonderfully soothing for patients to look out onto once they were sufficiently recovered. It was merely a passing thought, though. Lily was too worried about Artie to dwell on the future.

  She was directed to a long ward that must once have been a gracious drawing-room. It had magnificent fireplaces at each end and several tall windows along the outside wall but now it was fitted-out with at least twenty beds arranged in two rows down the length of the room.

  Lily was about to ask a white-aproned volunteer nurse for directions to Artie’s bed when she saw him, halfway along the ward.

  Emotions cascaded through her. Love. Anxiety. And then relief for, despite the cage that kept the blankets from touching his injured leg, he was sitting up, reading. Glancing round and seeing her, a smile of welcome dawned like sunshine on his beloved face. ‘Lil!’

  She hastened towards him then reached down and kissed him, wishing she could gather him up and hold him close. ‘It’s so good to see you!’

  ‘It’s good to see you too but I don’t know why you’re crying.’

  Laughing, Lily dashed her tears away.

  ‘I’d fetch a chair for you but I’m somewhat incapacitated so you’ll have to fetch one yourself,’ he said.

  Looking round, Lily saw several chairs nearby. She brought one over and sat, unable to resist the urge to take Artie’s hand. ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  ‘They’ve saved the leg and they think I’ll be able to walk well enough but running may be beyond me. I’ve been lucky to escape infection. Gangrene sets in with astonishing speed over there and— But enough of that.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We were on a night raid of German trenches when a shell landed nearby. I was rescued the next day but a message to that effect got lost somehow.’ He frowned. ‘You didn’t think that I was missing?’

  ‘Only briefly,’ Lily said, glossing over the agony of those three uncertain days. ‘I soon heard that you’d been found. I’m sorry about your leg but at least you won’t be going back to the fighting. Or so I assume?’

  ‘I won’t, and I’m thankful for it. But I can’t help feeling bad for the chaps still over there.’

  ‘You’ve played your part. You’ve no need to feel guilty.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, but Lily could see he felt guilty anyway.

  She could also see that, beneath his sweet smile, his face was wan. ‘Have the doctors said how long you need to stay in here?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet, but my impression is that it’ll be weeks before they get me walking again.’

  ‘Do you realise this place is only a couple of miles from Hastings? If you need to convalesce when you leave, perhaps Hilda and Marion will look after you.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Artie nodded. ‘Now tell me some news. How are you, Lil? How is everyone else? How’s the tea room?’

  Lily laughed again. ‘Give me a chance to answer!’

  ‘Sorry. I just feel so… out of things.’

  Lily told him about her friends and the businesses though she had nothing to say that she hadn’t already mentioned in her letters.

  ‘Have you heard from Luke?’ he asked next.

  Lily had been prepared for the question because it was natural for one soldier to be interested in another soldier’s experiences, even if they’d never met. But her cheeks still felt warm as she answered. ‘He always sounds in good spirits but I expect he feels grim much of the time.’

  ‘All the chaps put on a show,’ Artie said, then winced.

  ‘You’re in pain.’

  ‘It’s just a twinge.’

  But he looked exhausted too. ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘It seems feeble for a chap to be tired when he’s just lying in bed talking to his sister. Especially when she’s come a long way to see him.’

  ‘Can’t be helped.’ She got to her feet, returned the chair to its place against the wall and saw Artie was already drifting into sleep. ‘I’ll come again,’ she said, kissing him.

  She walked back into Hastings feeling immensely grateful that Artie was alive and likely to make a good recovery. He’d made no mention of Celia Grover. Was that because one or both of them had lost interest in the relationship or because the Grovers had put a stop to it? Lily hadn’t asked, not wanting to upset her brother when he was already low, but she hoped to find out as time went on.

  Marion Tibbs answered the door to Lily’s knock. ‘What a lovely surprise! Come along in and I’ll put the kettle on. Hilda’s a little unwell as you’ll see, but she’ll be all the better for seeing you.’

  Hilda did look unwell. She was sitting in an armchair, swathed in blankets, but her eyes glowed when Lily walked in. ‘I’m so sorry you’re ill,’ Lily said, kissing her old friend’s cheek.

  ‘I’m just
a bit badly in my chest but it’s a real tonic to see you.’

  Lily explained about Artie but made no mention of his convalescence. Clearly, the sisters were in no fit state to look after anyone at the moment, though hopefully that might change.

  Marion brought the tea and Lily spent an hour chatting about life in Highbury until she noticed Hilda starting to tire as Artie had done. ‘I’ll come again soon,’ she told them, feeling a tug on her heart at Hilda’s increasing frailty. ‘You must both come to London too when you’re well enough.’

  ‘We will, we will,’ they chorused, but Lily wondered if it might be too much for them. Even Marion looked tired.

  Lily left them with hugs and sincere affection. Heading for the station she noticed a shop that sold flowers. Dashing in, she bought a bunch of daffodils and ran back to the sisters’ house. ‘I couldn’t resist them,’ she said, pushing them into Marion’s hands.

  ‘You already brought us chocolates!’

  ‘You’re two of my dearest friends,’ Lily explained, and ran off to catch her train.

  Back in Highbury, pleasure over Artie’s good prognosis was tempered with concern for the Tibbs sister. ‘I must visit them once I can persuade this slave driver to give me some time off,’ Elsie said, scowling at Pierre who rolled his eyes.

  ‘So must I,’ Phyllis said.

  ‘We’ll close the tea shop occasionally if necessary,’ Lily suggested. ‘I know we need the income, but friends come first.’

  She wrote to Artie that evening, mentioning Hilda’s indisposition without dwelling on it as a serious concern. Artie had his own recovery to worry about. She enclosed jokey notes from Elsie and Phyllis, knowing they’d cheer him up and also give him occupation in writing back. Two days later she received a reply in which Artie mentioned having received a parcel from Celia containing two issues of Strand magazine and a tin of Fortnum and Mason biscuits. Wasn’t that kind? he wrote.

  Lily wondered if Celia’s parents knew of the parcel and, if so, whether they were aware of the attraction between Artie and their daughter. Again, Lily decided to wait and see what happened.

  A letter also came from Luke. He’d got into the way of writing separate notes for each of them as he seemed to have decided that was the best way of feeding their interests. To Elsie he passed along jokes and funny stories. To Phyllis he wrote about the war and politics as far as was allowed when letters from the front were censored. To Lily he wrote about Artie, the cafés he managed to visit on rest periods, and his observations on anything from moonlit skies and forlorn flowers to the local children who’d only ever known life in a war.

  In return Lily told him about the tea room, life in London and Artie’s progress. She visited Artie for a second time a week later and was pleased to see he had more colour and sparkle. ‘Have one of Celia’s biscuits,’ he suggested, nodding at the Fortnum’s tin that stood on his bedside table as though in pride of place.

  ‘Perhaps later,’ Lily said.

  Artie frowned. ‘You do like Celia, don’t you, Lil? She always speaks highly of you.’

  For a moment Lily was unsure how to respond.

  ‘She’s such an angel,’ Artie added.

  ‘She looks exactly like an angel with that fair hair and those blue eyes,’ Lily said, and was relieved to see Artie relax again.

  She wondered if she should caution him against getting involved with Celia too quickly but remembered what Luke had said about trusting Artie to figure things out for himself. It was hard to break old ways of thinking but Artie wasn’t her little brother running around the Bermondsey streets anymore. He was a grown man and might resent even well-meant interference. Besides, while he was injured and unwell he needed his spirits to be brought up instead of taken down.

  She turned the conversation to Hilda and Marion. ‘I’ll look in on them before I leave,’ she told him.

  ‘You haven’t actually asked if I might convalesce with them?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘There’s no need to put them to any trouble. It’s been suggested I go to a convalescent home in Hampstead. I’ll be closer to you, Lil. To the Grovers too.’

  And especially to Celia. Had the suggestion been hers?

  ‘I’ll be able to start learning the business sooner,’ he added.

  ‘From your convalescent bed?’

  ‘Mr Grover wants me to learn tenders, contracts and schedules of work. I can do that easily from my bed as there’s nothing wrong with my brain.’

  ‘You’ll need to rest.’

  ‘Only some of the time.’

  With that Lily had to be content.

  She was glad to see Hilda looking a little better too, though nothing could take away the air of frailty that was creeping over both sisters despite the fact that neither was particularly old. Lily had brought more gifts – tinned pilchards, beef paste, marmalade, jam and tea as well as Mr Bax’s bread and cakes. ‘Just leftovers from the tea room,’ she said, though that wasn’t entirely true.

  Worried that the sisters might be short of money as they were in no condition to take in paying guests, Lily had brought everything that could be spared from the bakery cupboards and trawled the shops for foodstuffs too.

  ‘What a kind girl you are, Lily,’ Marion said. ‘You’ve always had a big heart.’

  Lily took more supplies each time she visited though early in April Artie moved to the Hampstead convalescent home.

  It had been agreed that Lily should be the one to visit the Tibbs sisters while Artie was in hospital but it was time to give the others a chance.

  ‘I’m keen to visit,’ Phyllis said. ‘Now I have special news to share.’

  ‘Special news?’ Elsie asked.

  Lily was puzzled too, but after a glance at Phyllis’s deliciously happy face she looked down at Phyllis’s left hand. ‘You’re engaged!’ she cried, seeing a ring.

  ‘Engaged?’ Elsie questioned.

  ‘To be married, of course,’ Phyllis told her.

  Elsie shrieked and threw her arms around her friend.

  ‘You’re crushing me!’ Phyllis protested.

  Lily joined in the hug. ‘Congratulations, Phyll,’ she said. ‘I’m so happy for you. Michael is a lucky man.’

  ‘I’m a lucky woman.’

  ‘You’re both lucky.’ How lovely it must be to love someone and know you were loved in return.

  Typically, Phyllis’s ring was neat instead of fancy – a modest ruby with a modest diamond on each side. ‘Very pretty,’ Lily told her. ‘That ruby suits you.’

  ‘Red for a rebel,’ Elsie agreed.

  ‘I’m not a rebel exactly,’ Phyllis said. ‘I just like—’

  ‘Fairness and justice,’ Lily supplied.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Pierre should cook a celebratory dinner,’ Elsie said.

  ‘You can’t ask him to cook,’ Phyllis protested. ‘He might not want to bother.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of asking him. I’m going to tell him.’

  With that Elsie left, returning later to report that Pierre would cook dinner two nights later. ‘Mr B and his sisters are coming. Is Artie well enough to come?’

  ‘I doubt it, but I’ll let him know he’s invited,’ Lily said.

  Artie sent a note saying he couldn’t be at the dinner in body but he’d be there in spirit. I’ll drink a toast to Phyllis and Michael from the comfort of my armchair with my gammy leg up on a stool, he wrote, even if the toast is only tea.

  It was a lovely evening but, despite being delighted by her friend’s happiness, Lily woke the next morning struggling to catch hold of some happiness of her own. As always, she reminded herself of her blessings. Artie had survived the war. Luke was still alive as far as she knew. She had friends and work she enjoyed. Even so Lily’s heart ached when she thought Luke might not love her and Artie might be heading for disappointment too.

  But it did no good to brood and who knew what the future might hold? Lily got up and went about her day

 
; ‘You should take Artie some cake,’ Phyllis suggested, for Mr Bax had baked a cake to celebrate her engagement.

  Artie was delighted to receive it. ‘You’ll pass on my thanks to Phyllis and Michael?’ he asked, then his attention was caught by someone coming into the lounge. Celia.

  She looked exquisite though a little disconcerted to see Lily. Not that she let her manners slip, but there was awkwardness in her greeting as though she had no idea what she and Lily were going to find to talk about. ‘I’ve brought more papers from my father, Artie,’ she said.

  ‘Excellent. I’ve finished with these ones.’ He passed an envelope to her. ‘Is Violet still unwell?’

  ‘Another headache,’ Celia said, but her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink and Lily guessed she was lying.

  Violet had stayed behind because Celia wanted to be alone with Artie. The fact that the sisters had conspired about it suggested to Lily that Mr and Mrs Grover preferred Celia to be chaperoned when acting as messenger for the business. Was that because they wanted to impose a boundary with the boss’s daughter on one side and the humble employee on the other? It wasn’t as though Mr and Mrs Grover had visited Artie as friends might have done.

  ‘Your father is busy, I expect,’ Lily said.

  ‘Yes, it’s difficult to keep staff when there’s a war on.’

  ‘So I imagine. He’s lucky he can ask you and your sister to carry messages for him.’

  Celia nodded but another blush gave away the fact that she’d done the asking.

  She turned back to Artie. ‘Oh, Artie, I saw the sweetest little dog on the journey here. I’d love to have a dog one day. I’d have one now if dogs didn’t make Mother sneeze.’

  ‘I like dogs too,’ Artie said, going on to tell Celia about the neighbour’s dog he’d exercised when living with Mr Alderton as a boy.

  ‘If I had a dog, it might eat all the food in the tea room,’ Lily said.

  ‘I can just picture Mr Bax running after it shaking a tea towel,’ Artie said, smiling.

  ‘How is your little tea room?’ Celia asked. ‘I thought it was very… quaint.’

  ‘I enjoy working there very much.’

  ‘How nice.’ Clearly, it didn’t sound at all nice to Celia.