Holding On (51 page)

That's where he'd found them, together in the playroom.

‘It's supposed to be a lorry,' she was saying, ‘just in case he turns up tomorrow and shows it to you himself. I wouldn't like his feelings to be hurt,' and she'd smiled at Hal over Jo's head. ‘Fred hasn't developed a great sense of perspective yet.'

‘He's only three.' Jo had defended his small cousin, turning the odd Lego shape in his hands, and then he'd set it down and gone running out to find the others. She'd raised her eyebrows questioningly and Hal had nodded.

‘I think it's going to be OK,' he'd said, moved as always by the sight of her. How familiar she was, how very dear. ‘Bless you for warning Bess and Jamie. They're doing splendidly.'

‘They're very fond of Jo.' She put some books back on the shelves and he knew that she was feeling just as he did. ‘Thank you for letting us use The Keep as our home while Miles is . . . away.'

‘It's just as much your home as mine, you know that,' he'd answered, ‘but I'm very glad that you'll be around whilst I'm driving
Broadsword
. Oh, Fliss, I'm so sorry about Miles and Hong Kong and . . . well, everything.'

‘It's not as if it's the end,' she'd said rapidly. ‘We're giving it two years to see how things work out. I've got to keep trying. I've promised Uncle Theo . . .'

He laughed, stretching out a hand. ‘And I've promised Jo. So where does that leave us?'

‘Friends?' She put her hand in his and he held it tightly, aware of her fears, acknowledging their shared weaknesses, their shared love.

‘Friends,' he said gently, and raised her hand briefly to his lips before going back to the others in the hall . . .

Now, listening to the noisy sparrows, he groaned again, knowing how difficult it would be.

He thought: Uncle Theo and Jo will keep us up to the mark if we start to waver.

He settled himself more comfortably and, as the early morning light filtered between the curtains, he fell at last into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

Bess woke suddenly. She lay quite still, with her eyes shut, until she remembered where she was. It always took her a little while at the beginning and end of the holidays, or at exeats and half term, to get used to the change, and she liked to do this little test; feeling the shape of the mattress beneath her, aware of the direction of the light, listening to the different sounds. She wriggled about, pulling her quilt right up over her head, making a kind of tent. Keeping her eyes closed she imagined this room which was to be her bedroom while they lived at The Keep. It had been her mother's room when she'd been a child and Bess liked it much more than the bedroom at the house in Dartmouth. She and Jamie had slept in lots of different beds considering that they were only eleven and a quarter. They were always moving about – well, every two years, anyway – and it could get a bit muddly after a bit. It would be awful if they had to change schools as often as they changed houses. That's why she and Jamie felt sorry for poor old Jo. It was horrid for him to have to suddenly leave all his friends and go to a school where he didn't know anybody. She'd been glad that she'd had Jamie with her when they went off to Herongate and they'd promised that if Jo decided to board that they'd look out for him.

‘Poor old Jolyon's had his nose put out of joint with Edward getting this scholarship,' Mummy had said to them and she'd felt quite envious of Ed getting a scholarship to a choir school. Not for the singing but for all the other music. There was a lot of interest in music at Herongate but it wasn't as good as a choir school. ‘He's coming down with Hal to see
Broadsword
, and then they're coming here for a day or two so please be specially nice to him. Tell him about Herongate if he asks. And try not to frighten him to death, please, he won't be in the mood for jokes.'

James had asked, ‘Why “nose out of joint”?' and she'd just known that he was imagining Jo with his nose pushed sideways. Mummy had laughed. ‘It does sound silly, doesn't it?' she'd agreed. ‘It means that Edward's getting all the attention at the moment and Jolyon's being rather left out of things.'

There had been that usual awkward bit when he and Hal had first arrived. The ‘not quite knowing what to say' bit while the grown-ups told you that you'd grown and asked how school was and all those things but almost at once Hal had asked to see Rex and they'd all gone into the kitchen and everything was suddenly easy. Aunt Prue and Caroline had made loads of really nice things to eat and they'd had a huge noisy tea round the kitchen table. She was glad that they all knew that she hated playing the piano in front of them. It was difficult to describe how she felt inside but it was as if her music was very private and that if she talked about it too much it would disappear. Sometimes she had tunes in her head, little bits and pieces which she could imagine quite clearly written down on manuscript paper, but she'd learned that it was best to keep it inside, private even from Mummy or Miss Pearson who taught her at school. She'd play a few party pieces if pressed but she liked best to be alone, shut in with the piano and no one else about. If people went on about it she could hear herself getting all gruff and rude. She simply couldn't help it. She guessed that it was because it was so important, more important than anything – so precious that it might disappear at any moment unless she guarded it carefully.

‘So what about a recital?' Daddy had said when he came over to The Keep to see them settled in. ‘Let's hear what all the fuss has been about,' and when she'd refused he'd laughed – well, it wasn't really a laugh because there had been no fun in it but it was a
kind
of laugh – and said, ‘Thank goodness I didn't waste my money on a piano if you won't play for me.'

Bess pushed herself up in bed, still clutching her quilt, feeling uncomfortable inside. She knew that she should have played for him. He'd gone away for two whole years to Hong Kong and they weren't going out to be with him. Mummy had explained that this was sensible, just in case he didn't like the job or he wasn't happy out there and decided to come back before the two years were up. Moving the whole family would be much more difficult and so she would stay here with them until they knew whether it was going to work out.

She and Jamie were privately glad that Mummy wasn't going. It was such a long way off and although it might have been fun flying to and fro for holidays it was much nicer to think that she would be here at The Keep and that they would all be together, not just for the long holidays but half terms and exeats as well. It would be much more fun than being stuck in a flat in Hong Kong. Daddy's flat was on the third floor so he didn't have a garden or anywhere to play and he certainly wouldn't have a piano . . .

She wished she'd played for him. He'd been rather quiet during the last week before he went and she'd had the feeling that he was cross in some way with her and Jamie. A few days after the holidays started it was decided that she and Jamie should stay at The Keep while Mummy and Daddy packed up the Dartmouth house. They'd been so pleased to go although they tried not to show it. The trouble was that Daddy seemed so . . . well, as though he wasn't really quite with them. He'd never really joined in anything or taken much interest in them . . . She clutched her quilt miserably because then, when he
had
shown an interest and asked her to play, she'd refused in her gruff voice, frightened that she might be made to perform. Mummy had driven him to Heathrow to catch the plane and when she came back the next day she looked awful and she and Jamie knew that she'd been crying . . .

Bess scrambled out of bed, knowing she might cry too if she didn't think about something else. Outside the birds were singing. One bird in particular sang a whole range of notes, far more than the other birds, and she kneeled up on the window seat, trying to follow them until it blended with another tune in her head . . .

She was still sitting there, wrapped in her quilt, when the boys came in to see if she were ready for breakfast.

 

‘Did you hear the stormcock earlier?' asked Caroline, slicing cooking apples. ‘He was singing in the orchard when I woke up. Hope it's not going to rain.'

‘Stormcock?' Prue was mashing potatoes for the shepherd's pie, Rex sitting beside her, watching hopefully. ‘What on earth is a stormcock?'

‘Ellen used to call the thrush the stormcock,' said Caroline, smiling at private memories. ‘Country people called it that because it continues to sing even when it rains. You know, I was wondering whether we ought to rethink where we should eat if Fliss and the twinnies are going to be here for a while. It's going to be a real squash round the kitchen table with all of us here. Do you think we should start using the breakfast room again when everyone's together?' She sighed happily. ‘It's lovely to think that the twinnies are up with me in the nursery quarters. Just like old times.'

‘I thought that we'd never persuade Fliss into Freddy's rooms.' Prue chuckled a little. ‘Mind you, I know just how she felt. I couldn't have used them myself but I think it's right for Fliss to take over her grandmother's rooms, don't you?'

‘Quite right.' Caroline was very definite about it. ‘My only fear is that she'll be afraid to change anything. Mrs Chadwick would have been delighted to know that Fliss was in those rooms but she'd have wanted to think that she could put her own stamp on them.'

‘I wonder.' Prue reached for the dish of minced beef, fried with carrots and onion and a hint of tomato purée, and deftly covered it with the creamy potato. ‘Oh, not that she'd have minded Fliss using the rooms but whether she would have approved of Fliss not going with Miles. She was rather strict about things like that, wasn't she? Your place is with your husband and all that.'

‘I think she'd have been more disappointed that Hal and Maria aren't moving down now that he's been posted to Devonport. It was always her dearest wish that he should make The Keep his home.'

Prue sighed. She felt as if it were all her fault that Maria and Hal were not fulfilling Freddy's hopes.

‘I can see that Maria is unhappy about Edward boarding,' she began excusingly. ‘He's a very shy little boy, isn't he? A tiny bit of a Mummy's boy if we're honest, and not really ready to board. But it's such a splendid opportunity . . .'

‘Of course I realise that.' Caroline didn't want Prue to feel guilty. After all, no one could plan other people's lives for them with any real hope of success. ‘It's just a pity, that's all. Never mind. We'll have Fliss instead and we're bound to see a lot of Hal with him being based down here.'

‘It'll be such fun,' agreed Prue, brightening up at the prospect. ‘And if Jolyon decides to go to Herongate he might come home sometimes with Bess and Jamie. Oh, it would be such a treat. I see so little of my grandsons.'

‘It's just what we need.' Caroline began to line a pie-dish with pastry. ‘It'll stop us getting old and fuddy-duddy. Thank goodness you have a light hand with pastry, Prue. Mole could use mine as ballast. Do you remember Ellen's pastry? Light as a feather and quite delicious. Which reminds me. Susanna phoned earlier. She's bringing Podger and Fred to tea. Thank goodness there's some cake left over from yesterday. It's like the feeding of the five thousand . . .'

 

‘I just have this feeling,' Prue said to Theo when she took up his morning coffee, ‘that Miles will never come back. It's odd. Like a premonition.'

She pottered about, picking up a book and putting it down again, screwing up the top of his fountain pen, straightening his blotter. He watched her compassionately, guessing what might be at the back of her mind. In this new situation, with the inevitable future proximity, might not the love between Hal and Fliss flare up again? He knew Prue, like Freddy, had questioned their earlier joint determined belief that the two young people should be separated, had even regretted their interference, but now there were the children to consider, as well as Maria and Miles.

‘I'm quite certain that Fliss doesn't feel the same way,' he said gently. ‘She is looking upon this exactly as she might any naval posting except that there isn't the naval safety net if anything goes wrong. If the job works out she might well decide to join him much sooner than planned but I think it's sensible to give themselves a moratorium rather than disrupting the whole family for what might be a false step. It's a big change for Miles, after all.'

‘I'm sure you're right.' Prue smiled at him, reassured. ‘These children. Such a worry. Miles going off to Hong Kong and poor Jolyon trying to decide whether he can cope with boarding school. By the way, Susanna's bringing the children over for tea so we shall be a houseful . . .'

When she'd gone Theo sat down at his desk and emptied his mind of the worries of his family. Closing his eyes he opened his heart to his own source of strength and courage: the quiet, secret inflowing of God.

In the small sitting room overlooking the courtyard Fliss sat on the window seat and communed silently with her grandmother. Here, in this room which had been her private sanctuary, Fliss was aware of her personality and presence all about her and was comforted. A cool, quiet hand was laid upon the confusion and anxiety which seethed in her mind; her thoughts flowed more peacefully. During the last two weeks she'd clung to Uncle Theo's advice; her determination to abide by it surrounded her and held her from tumbling into the abyss which yawned continually before her feet. Although Miles had accepted her compromise, this acceptance had not prevented him from attempting to break down her resolve. It had been hard – oh! how hard – to resist him.