Lorimers at War (38 page)

On that day of his return, Frisca had run away to weep. And she had wept again often in the five weeks which followed when, sitting beside the bed in which he drowsed the days away, she realized that he was not exactly sure who she was.

It was her aunt who comforted her then, in a way which perhaps Margaret herself did not realize.

‘He's had a bad time, Frisca, and he's very tired. You must be patient. It will take a little while before he sorts out what really happened and what he only dreamed. It's one of the effects of a wound in the head. Nightmares become more real than reality. He doesn't even remember very much about Jennifer, you know. I had to tell him she was dead. He told me how much he'd clung on to the thought of the happiness he'd had with her, and yet he wasn't absolutely sure whether it was something he'd truly enjoyed or whether he'd only dreamed it because he wanted it so much.'

It was in that moment that Frisca had realized how
completely her rival for Robert's affections had disappeared. Jennifer was more than dead: she had never quite existed.

By now, of course, Robert had recovered and remembered. He would always be deaf in one ear and Frisca had noticed that he was apt to become dizzy and lose his balance if he lowered his head too far – for example, to tie his bootlaces. He was more serious, as well, than before he went to fight. But he still seemed to regard Frisca only as a little cousin, to be romped with and teased. He greeted her now with a pretence of shock.

‘And who is this long-legged creature? My, Frisca, how tall you're growing! Have you come up to London for Armistice Day?'

‘Mother wants to spend the night at Glanville House. It's more because it's the anniversary of Poppa's death, I think.'

Frisca's real father had died before she was born. ‘Poppa' was Lord Glanville, whom she had loved even before he married Alexa and became her stepfather. ‘I came round to find out how your examinations are going.'

‘Over,' said Robert. ‘Last one today.'

‘How did it go? Did you know all the answers?'

‘Hope so. I'll be pretty fed up if I have to take any of them again. I can manage any practical job they set me, but all this book work gives me a headache.'

‘What's the point of it, then?'

‘Assuming I've passed, I'm now a qualified civil engineer. Rather different from being a military engineer. Instead of blowing bridges up or laying temporary railway tracks, I now know how to build them so that they'll last for ever; and the certificate which proves that I know should get me a job anywhere in the world.'

‘But you won't
go
anywhere in the world, will you?' Frisca expected his reassurance and did not receive it. ‘Robert! You're not going away?'

Robert's expression was a curious one, mingling excitement and uneasiness. ‘I can't tell you anything yet, Frisca,' he said. ‘I must talk to Mother first.'

‘Oh do tell, Robert. I can keep a secret. I promise I won't say a word. Honour bright.'

She could see how much he wanted to share his news, and all her shyness disappeared as she took his hand and set herself to charm the secret from him.

‘Well, not only must you keep quiet now, but when you hear the news from Mother you mustn't let on that you already know.'

‘Promise!'

‘All right, then. I was offered a job this morning – a job I applied for a few weeks ago. It depends on passing the exams, of course. But if that's all right, I shall go off to India in January.'

‘India!' Frisca made no attempt to conceal her dismay, but Robert was too excited to notice.

‘That's right. Down in the south. There's a big project afoot to build a series of dams. The people who live there have a terrible time. Either it rains too much and all the land floods and they get drowned. Or else it doesn't rain at all and all the crops die and they starve. The dams will help them both ways. They'll hold back the floods, and then release the water down irrigation canals when it's needed.'

‘But it's so far away,' Frisca wailed, making no attempt to conceal her distress.

‘I want to do something worth while, Frisca. If that bullet had killed me, I should have died without ever having been of any use to anyone. It wouldn't have been my fault then: I was too young. But if I die in ten years' time I want to leave something behind me which will make somebody grateful that Robert Scott was once alive. I spent too long killing people. Now I have the chance to help people live a little longer. Do you understand?'

‘Aunt Margaret won't let you go.'

‘I think she will,' said Robert. ‘She won't like it. She'll be unhappy at first. That's why it's very important that
you mustn't say anything to her at all. You must leave it to me. But Mother has spent the whole of her life helping other people. She'll be pleased, in her heart, that I want to do the same, even if it's in a different way and in a different place.'

Frisca was not convinced. Although in some respects she was selfish, demanding to get her own way and taking for granted the admiration she excited, she was sensitive to other people's feelings. She knew, for example, that Alexa, her own mother, had no very deep feeling for her, and she had learned this by recognizing the overwhelming love which her aunt Margaret felt for Robert. Frisca herself had been in a position to see how her aunt had changed in the two months after Robert's return. Once Margaret had survived the first shock of his appearance, all the strain and tiredness of her work at the hospital had fallen away. She looked ten years younger, and the bustle and energy with which she had organized the return to her London home while still occupied in winding down her responsibilities at Blaize had been those of a woman made happy by the presence of the one person to whom she was devoted. Frisca understood the feeling, because she shared it. Aunt Margaret would be very miserable indeed if Robert were to leave.

With such an ally, Frisca decided that she need not upset herself too much just yet. And even as she assured herself that Robert would not be allowed to go, she began to wonder whether it would after all be such a disaster if he did. In India, presumably, he would meet only Indian girls, and he would surely not want to marry one of them. He would work hard while he was out there and then at some time – when he was about thirty, perhaps – he would decide that it was time he looked for another wife. He would come home on holiday to find one – and in the meantime Frisca would have had time to grow up. It had been the only tragedy of her life that she was too young for Robert, and when he married Jennifer
she had thought that she must have lost him. But now she had another chance, and she was growing older all the time. Four years would be enough, or even three. If Robert went to India in January for three years she would be just seventeen when he came back. She was so intent on her calculations that she did not notice the firmness with which her cousin changed the subject.

‘And now suppose you lell me why you were wearing such a face of thunder when I came into the room.'

‘Was I?' Frisca had genuinely forgotten; but not for long. ‘Oh yes. Robert, do you know what Mamma is going to do with me?'

‘Tell me. One secret in exchange for another.'

‘This isn't a secret, worse luck. It all started with my ballet teacher. Beastly old Benina. She measured my feet and my fingers and pretended she could tell from that how much I was going to grow. And she says I'm going to be too tall to be a ballet dancer. So I'm to be sent to prison instead.'

‘Sounds a rather drastic solution,' agreed Robert, but he was laughing. ‘I take it you mean you've got to go to school at last.'

‘Yes. But why does it have to be beastly old boarding school? I agree with Mamma that Mademoiselle is useless and that we've both only put up with her because a ballet dancer doesn't need to be brainy. But there are other kinds of dancing besides ballet, and other kinds of school.'

‘Not near Blaize. The village school would hardly be suitable.'

‘Well, I could live in London and go somewhere every day instead of being bullied and starved and made to wear a beastly uniform.'

‘I expect your mother wants to stay at Blaize, though.'

‘Well, that's exactly it.' Frisca put on her most conspiratorial voice. ‘She has her reasons for that, and for wanting me out of the way. She can't confess them, so she has to make up this ridiculous story about me being a giant.'

‘I'm sure you'regoing to be an absolutely perfect height for being a beautiful woman, Frisca,' said Robert firmly. ‘All that Benina means, I take it, is that it's no good if one cygnet or sugar plum fairy is waving her wrist about several inches above all the others. And you'll like boarding school. I did, tremendously. Even Grant's enjoying himself now, although at a boys' school it's difficult if you don't play games. You'll make hundreds of friends and have lots of fun. Why should Aunt Alexa want you out of the way, anyway?'

‘So that I don't find out about the new man in her life. He's coming to live at Blaize. She's trying to pretend that he's family. In fact, she says he's a cousin of mine, but that's ridiculous. I've seen him. He's older than she is.'

‘Who is he?'

‘Matthew Lorimer, his name is.'

‘Well then, he
is
your cousin,' said Robert. ‘He's Arthur's elder brother. What's more, he was very badly hurt in the war. If you've seen him, you must know that he's in a wheelchair.'

‘What's that got to do with anything?' Frisca demanded.

‘Well, it means that he can't exactly be the new man in your mother's life in the way you seem to think.'

‘Why not?' Frisca waited for an answer, but was not given one. ‘I've seen the way they look at each other, Robert.
I
know when people are in love. She pretends it's all work, that he's just going to design a bit of scenery for her opera house. But that would only take a few weeks, and she's fitted up a whole new studio for him, big enough for him to move around in his wheelchair and paint people's portraits. He's moving in for good.'

‘It's not easy for a man who's been badly wounded to build up his career again, Frisca,' said Robert firmly. ‘You should be more tolerant. Your mother is Matthew's aunt, and if she's decided to help him, that's just generosity on her part. I'm sure she's very fond of him, but there couldn't be any question –'

Even if there had not been an interruption he would not have succeeded in convincing Frisca, but at this moment the maid knocked on Robert's door.

‘If you please, sir,' she began; but she in turn was interrupted by his mother's voice calling from below.

‘Robert! Robert, come quickly. There's a message from Russia. It's about Kate. She's alive!'

It was a new miracle, a second rising from the dead. Margaret read the message over and over again. First Robert had returned to life, and now Kate, although she had not come in person. Margaret looked at the one-armed stranger who had brought the letter. He had introduced himself in careful English as Sergei Fedorovich Gorbatov, but without explaining how he came to be acting as Kate's messenger.

‘It gives no address,' she said.

‘She lives as a Russian. No one at the orphanage where she works knows she is English. If the letter had been read and had provided enough details to be traced back to Katya, it would have had bad consequences for her. You must understand that the Civil War has caused harsh feelings in the country, and the support which the Whites have received from England is well known. It was the British blockade, too, which caused many deaths from starvation last winter. Katya has asked me to tell you that she dare not receive letters directly from you. If you care to give me any news of your family, I will write to her in Russian and pass it on in a way that does not reveal where you live.'

‘If it's so dangerous for an Englishwoman to live there, she ought to come home,' said Robert. ‘If you were
allowed to leave the country, sir, presumably she would be as well.'

‘It's not easy to get permission,' Sergei said. ‘I'm allowed to travel because I'm on a government mission. I don't think Katya's papers would stand up to the inspection needed for a passport. But the truth is that she has chosen to stay.'

‘Read the letter, Robert.' Margaret passed it across. In the excitement and shock of its arrival she had kept it to herself, only exclaiming aloud over the facts it revealed. ‘She's married a Russian, but apparently he's disappeared. She has to stay where he can find her if he ever turns up. She has a little girl, as well, who must be about the same age as Barbara.'

‘This is not only a matter of family,' said Sergei. ‘The work she is doing is of great value. If I were to tell you how many children were orphaned in our country by the years of war you would hardly be able to believe me. Katya is the doctor for two thousand of them. They are all undernourished and some of them are maimed and in winter most of them are cold. There is plenty for a doctor to do, I can tell you. I have the greatest admiration for your niece, Madame. I met her first in Serbia – it was she who taught me my first words of English. From the very first day of our friendship one thing has been clear to me; that she has no barriers of nationality in her mind. When she sees a need, she hurries to fill it. She has seen such a need in the orphanage. She told me that you yourself had undertaken the same kind of work once and that you would understand.' Sergei paused for a moment. ‘My affection for your niece is very deep. You must believe that. If she had asked me to help her leave the country, I would have done everything in my power. But she made no such request. She has made the decision to stay, and I respect her for it.'

‘What happened to her husband?' asked Robert.