Page 105 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The flat was too big and too empty. Richard couldn’t sleep.

There was no-one to cook meals for him, so he took to eating at a café on the Earls Court Road on his way home.

He had too little to do to tire him out.

The holiday-village scheme was dead for the foreseeable future, the European driving holidays had stopped, and ever fewer people were hiring cars, chauffeured or un-chauffeured.

He sold the house in Ealing without regret – it had never seemed like home to him – and that eased his finances.

With the Air Ministry compensation he now had capital but not much income.

He didn’t like to turn off staff, and kept everybody on, thinking the situation would resolve itself anyway, when the war started.

Two of his drivers had left already to volunteer, and others were talking about seeking other work.

So he was not worried about their immediate safety and comfort.

Williamsburg seemed a nice place, and the Nevinsons had several families nearby who regarded themselves as distant relatives.

It was even just a short trip across the bridge, by bus or subway train, to Manhattan and all its multiple pleasures, if they felt settled enough to consider enjoying themselves.

As he travelled back to England and London and the dreary preparations for war, he even envied them, and wondered if he ought to have stayed.

When he kissed her goodbye at Sala’s door – he had forbidden them to come to the station – her tears wetted his lips.

He felt her heartbreak, and wondered, as he knew she was wondering, if they would ever see each other again.

He felt that in some indirect way he had broken his promise to Samuel.

But he had a duty to his country, and to a wider morality.

If war came, it would be to defeat Hitler and his mad territorial ambitions; but it would also be to punish him and his followers for their hateful anti-Semitism. He owed Samuel that, too.

It took several sleepless nights of soul-searching, but he decided in the end to leave the Earls Court flat.

He couldn’t live there alone, without them.

But it had been Cynthia’s childhood home and he didn’t quite like to sell it, so he let it, furnished, putting their personal effects into storage.

He was prepared to move into lodgings – all he wanted was a bed and someone to cook for him – but he had mentioned his situation when he rang his mother down in Derbyshire to tell her he was back from the States.

And the following day he received a message from Uncle Oliver’s secretary asking him to call in at his consulting rooms in Queen Anne Street.

Oliver got straight down to business. ‘Your mother rang me last night. She told me about your wife and mother-in-law going to America. My condolences – but I can’t say I blame them. Tell me, did that other matter resolve itself?’

‘Not entirely,’ Richard said. ‘Mr Young said there was nothing physically wrong with her, but anxiety about the war, the terrible news coming from abroad …’

‘I understand,’ Oliver said. Richard thought that probably he was the only one in the family who really did. ‘Now, your mother tells me you are virtually homeless and about to move into lodgings.’

‘The flat’s too big for me on my own,’ Richard. ‘And I’ve never learned to cook.’

‘But it’s absurd for you to rough it when your favourite uncle lives in an enormous house in Pall Mall. So I want to offer you a home with me.’ Richard opened his mouth to protest and Oliver lifted a hand. ‘I promised your mother I’d make you accept, so please don’t make a liar of me.’

‘It’s very kind of you, Uncle, but I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of life any more.’

Oliver gave him a sympathetic look. ‘You mean you wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind for society banquets and glittering ton parties every night? My dear boy, what sort of life do you think I lead?’

‘Well, I—’

‘I quite understand that you want to be independent. As it happens, there is a very nice little apartment in the garden wing – just a bedroom, sitting-room, bathroom and small kitchenette – and the offer comes with a housemaid who will pop in to clean, deal with the laundry, and cook an evening meal for you as and when required. It’s not needed by us at the moment, and it’s yours for as long as you need it.

I should add that there’s no requirement to see anything of Verena and me if you don’t want to, but you’ll be welcome to join us as often as you like – and I do hope that you will sometimes accept an invitation.

After eighteen years of marriage we get very bored with each other’s conversation, you know. ’

Richard laughed. ‘I am absolutely sure that’s not true! This really is very kind of you – above and beyond.’

‘Nonsense! The least I can do. Now, have I addressed all your nonsensical objections? Do you accept?’

‘I accept, with the greatest gratitude.’

‘When will you move in?’

‘Today, if I may. I have everything packed up.’

‘Excellent. Call at the main house for the key. And you will dine with us this evening – that’s a command, not a request. It’s the least you can do. The children want to see you. It’s just a family dinner, so we won’t dress.’

A few months ago, Richard reflected, he’d had a house, a business, a wife, and a child on the way. Now he had none of those things. His life seemed to be going backwards.

Barbara’s third child was born on the 28th of June. Thanks to the convenience of the telephone, Helen was able to hurry down and be there the same day. Jack followed on the Friday night, and Basil arrived on the Saturday morning to stay for the weekend.

It was a girl this time. Freddie was happy. ‘I hoped we’d have one. I began to think we could only produce boys.’

‘It’s nice to have a variety,’ Jack said. ‘One girl and two boys, the same as Helen and I had.’

‘You’re assuming they’ll stop there, Pa,’ Basil said.

‘Oh, I don’t think I want to put Barbara through it all again,’ Freddie said, taking him seriously. ‘Three is enough. Though, of course, it’s up to Barbara.’

‘I’d stop there if I were you, Babsy,’ Basil said, when he saw his sister alone for a few minutes.

She was looking remarkably unruffled this time, as if having a baby was as easy as shelling peas.

Perhaps, he thought, it was a matter of practice.

‘It’s not as ugly as your first two, but you can’t depend on improvement every time.

What if it’s a parabola and you’ve reached the apogee? ’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Barbara said, gazing at the baby’s face with satisfaction. ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘Of course, all babies are beautiful to their mothers. I expect even you were.’

‘Oh, don’t be horrid!’ she said, without heat. ‘You’re just trying to tease me, and I won’t be baited. Do you want to hold her?’

‘All right, I don’t mind having a go.’ The baby was tiny and unexpectedly light.

He held it and felt an unexpected tremor of emotion.

He was an uncle again. And this time to a girl – not a nevvy to be rough-and-tumbled, like Douglas and Peter, but a fragile china doll to be protected and cherished and petted.

He thought briefly of the harshness of the world this little thing had been born into.

And then he thought of Gloria, and himself, and felt sad that he would probably never have a child of his own.

Gloria would not want another. And in any case, when the war began, he would be off to do his bit.

He might not survive; and even if he did, when it ended – who knew how many years later?

– what would be left? This was probably the nearest he’d get to fatherhood.

‘She is rather nice,’ he heard himself say.

Barbara flushed with pleasure. His compliments were rare. ‘I’m glad you can see it at last. You’re not a bad old animal really, though you like to pretend.’

‘What are you going to call her?’

‘Helena. After Mummy.’

‘That’s nice.’

The nurse came in and said it was time for Mother to rest, took the baby and drove Basil away. ‘I’ll come up and see you again later,’ he promised his sister at the door.

Downstairs, they were not talking babies, but aeroplanes.

‘The first ever commercial transatlantic passenger flight,’ Jack was saying. ‘You must see how important that is. And the baby was born on the very same day. The 28th of June will be a significant date for ever. Think of Blériot, Alcock and Brown.’

‘I see that,’ Freddie said patiently, ‘but I still don’t think it warrants calling the baby Dixie.’

‘I didn’t mean as a first name,’ Jack urged. ‘A middle name. Helena Dixie.’

‘I adore the name Dixie,’ Basil said, ‘but I’m not seeing the connection.’

‘Basil, don’t stir,’ Helen said sternly.

‘The Pan American flying boat that flew this momentous first crossing is an NC18605 Dixie Clipper,’ Jack explained.

‘It’s also a Boeing B314,’ Helen said, ‘but you’re not proposing to call the baby Boeing.’

Jack lifted his hands. ‘All right, I withdraw the suggestion. But you have to be excited, at least. This is what we’ve been waiting for for years. It’s a new epoch in air travel. Now anyone can fly across the Atlantic in twenty-four hours!’

‘As long as they have the money,’ Helen added.

‘I’ll be excited with you, Dad,’ Basil said. ‘I know how much it means to you. And I must say, I’d like to visit America that way, in one day rather than five. Tell me all about it.’

He had read most of it in the newspapers, of course, but he was fond of the old man, and knew he’d enjoy telling it all again. And it stopped anyone asking questions about his life.