Sing as We Go (40 page)

The new house Mr Wainwright had bought was situated on a road at the opposite end of the town to the one where he’d lived with his wife. It was a grand house, set high on a ridge of land that ran parallel with the shore and overlooking the sea. She was surprised that he had chosen one that had such a similar setting and view to his old home. But perhaps, she thought, he wanted to live with his memories and wanted to be reminded of his wife. She let herself in with the key he had given her and wandered through all the rooms until she came to the one that had been decorated and furnished as a nursery. The workmen he had employed must have worked very hard to have everything completed so quickly. She crossed the room to the connecting door and found herself in the neighbouring room, which was obviously to be hers. Fresh flowers had been placed on the dressing table, by the daily help, Kathy presumed. She couldn’t imagine the career-minded Mr Wainwright taking the time to get the flowers himself, much less arrange them in a vase and place them in her room.

Mrs Talbot, the “daily”, turned out to be a jolly round little woman who lived two streets away. She arrived later in the afternoon to prepare Mr Wainwright’s dinner and to see that the new nanny had everything she needed.

‘Ee’s told me you’re going to fetch the little one.’

‘Yes, I’m going tomorrow morning.’

‘Like me to go with you?’

Kathy hesitated. She had formed a plan. A daring one, certainly, but she hoped that with her new-found acting skills, learned while taking part in the numerous sketches which were part of the concert party’s show, she could pull it off. But Mrs Talbot would undoubtedly think it strange and would more than likely mention it to her employer.

Kathy smiled widely at her. ‘That’s awfully kind of you, but if you wouldn’t mind being here and having something ready for him to eat.’

‘Oh aye, that’s mebbe for the best. Let’s see, how old is he now?’

Kathy knew to the minute, but she pretended uncertainty. ‘Er – I think he’s about two years old.’

‘I’ll make him one of my special egg custards. Little ones love my egg custards.’ She winked and tapped the side of her nose. ‘And made with fresh eggs, let me tell you. But don’t ask me how, ’cos I aren’t telling.’

Kathy laughed. It seemed they both had secrets they were not about to share, though she liked Mrs Talbot. In some ways she reminded Kathy a little of Auntie Betty.

‘The mester said you was to take a taxi tomorrow morning. It’s a long way out to Willow House. D’you know where it is?’

‘I think so,’ Kathy made the pretence of sounding doubtful.

‘Well, the taxi driver’ll know anyway.’

But Kathy had already made up her mind that she would walk there, because first there was somewhere else she had to call.

Thirty-Eight

‘Well, well, fancy seeing you here again. Come for your old job back, Kathy? We’ve got a vacancy for an usherette. You can start tomorrow and I don’t need references.’

‘Thank you, Mr Johnson, but I have a job.’

‘Shame. You were a good lass. I haven’t had one since who’s prepared to do all the jobs you didn’t mind turning your hand to, I must say. Anyway, what can I do for you?’

‘I’ve come to ask a favour. I – I’ve been invited to a fancy dress party and – and I wondered if I could borrow some props.’

Larry Johnson waved his arm in the direction of the room where the props were kept. ‘Help yourself. Mrs Jervis isn’t here at the moment, but I’ll square it with her. Mind you let us have whatever you borrow back though. Costumes are hard to come by.’ He adopted a comic sarcasm. ‘There is a war on, you know.’

‘I had noticed.’ Kathy giggled.

Kathy found what she wanted and, alone in the dressing room she had shared with Rosie, donned the black wig and the spectacles. The false hair hung to her shoulders, and she covered it with a wide-brimmed felt hat, which she pulled down low over her forehead. She decided to wear her own clothes, but now she was wearing a smart, tailored suit and looked nothing like the waif in a cheap cotton dress who had presented herself at the door of Willow House seeking admittance. She found some gloves that almost matched her suit and regarded herself in the mirror. Well, she looked the part. Could she now play it?

She picked up her handbag and the copious shopping bag she had brought with her. She walked out of the dressing room and along the passageway towards the stage door that led to the street behind the theatre. Luckily, there was no one about backstage and, once in the street, she let out her breath and began to walk briskly away.

She took a taxi from the town out to Willow House. She didn’t want any delay in her getaway. At the gate of the home, she hesitated for just a moment to look up at the forbidding building. The next few minutes would certainly decide her fate one way or the other. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the driveway and knocked boldly on the door. It was answered a few moments later by a heavily pregnant girl. Kathy’s heart went out to her and she longed to smile warmly and talk to her, but she had a part to play. The most important part she would ever undertake in her life.

Feeling like a traitor to her own kind, Kathy looked the young girl up and down disdainfully and saw her cringe. Her courage almost failed her, but instead she took a deep breath and said in an affected, upper-class tone. ‘I have come to collect the child, James Wainwright. Whom do I have to see?’

‘Come in, please, ma’am,’ the girl said and pulled open the door. ‘If you’d just wait here in the hall, I’ll tell Matron.’

The girl walked away with that peculiar rolling gait reserved for the heavily pregnant towards the door of the matron’s office.

Kathy remained in the shadowy hall, praying that she would not be invited into the woman’s office, where she knew she would be obliged to stand facing the bright light from the windows.

But the matron came bustling out of her room. ‘Oh good morning, Miss – er . . .’

Kathy felt panic twist her stomach. She hadn’t thought of a false name. But then, she thought, I have to use my own. Mr Wainwright will have used my real name in the letter. Oh, how foolish she’d been. She was about to be discovered and all because she hadn’t thought soon enough to use a pseudonym.

Deciding that the best form of defence was attack, she said in imperious tones that implied that giving her name to such a woman was beneath her, ‘You have the boy ready?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The matron seemed quite flustered and so unlike the woman Kathy remembered that she almost laughed out loud. ‘Mr Wainwright telephoned this morning. Everything is in order.’

Kathy made no attempt to hand over her letter of authority from Mr Wainwright and, silently, she blessed him for having taken the trouble to contact the home in person.

‘You, girl—’ The matron now spoke in the manner that Kathy remembered so well. She shuddered inwardly, but managed to keep her authoritative composure. ‘Go and bring the child here. Mind you bring his belongings with him. Get one of the other girls to help you.’

The girl hurried away as fast as her bulk would allow her.

‘Would you care to wait in my room?’ the matron asked with an obsequious smile once more.

‘No, thank you,’ Kathy replied stiffly, avoiding meeting the woman’s eyes. She gazed at the staircase, willing the girls to hurry, but she knew the poor creatures would be unable to do so in their advanced condition.

‘You’re to be Mr Wainwright’s nanny, I understand?’

‘That is correct.’

‘He’s a lovely boy. You do know he’s adopted?’

‘So I understand.’

‘He came from here. His natural mother was a lovely girl, but you know how it is. The best of them can make mistakes.’

Kathy almost laughed aloud to hear the kindly understanding in the matron’s tone, when she knew how very different the reality was. Oh, how she’d love to wipe that false smile off her face.

‘Such a tragedy, Mrs Wainwright being killed like that, but I’m so pleased to hear that Mr Wainwright has decided to keep the child. Ah, here they come . . .’

Kathy held her breath as two girls now descended the stairs, the first one leading the little boy by the hand as he carefully negotiated each step, the second carrying a bag of his belongings.

There we are . . .’ The matron took hold of the child’s hand from the girl and passed him to Kathy. Deliberately, she avoided meeting the matron’s glance and kept her gaze fixed on her child. At last, she had him back where he rightly belonged. No matter that no one knew he was hers, just so long as she could be with him.

‘Do you need any help? The bag’s quite heavy.’

‘I have a taxi waiting . . .’ Kathy snapped and turned towards the door, anxious to make her escape. The matron herself opened the door. ‘Bowen, carry the child’s bag out to the taxi for Miss – er . . . for the lady.’

Kathy was out of the door and down the steps and willing herself to walk sedately down the drive to the waiting vehicle as she matched her step to the child’s. But all the time she felt a prickling sensation down her back as she felt the matron’s gaze still upon her. Any moment she expected to hear a shout, ordering her to stop. But she walked on and with every step she breathed a little more easily.

The taxi driver leapt out of the vehicle and, taking the bag from the girl, opened the door for Kathy to lift the child in and then climb in beside him. As the girl lumbered back up the drive, the driver started the engine with a twirl of the starting handle and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘Eh, it’s grand to see another little chap leaving that place. He’s not yours, I suppose, is he? He’s older than the ones I usually have in my taxi. Not meaning to pry, like, but I just wondered if he was actually yours and you’d come back for him.’

Kathy decided that it was better to keep up the pretence a little longer. The fewer people who knew the truth, the better. You never knew, she thought, in a small town like this just who knew who. If she were to confide in the taxi driver, he might well turn out to be Mrs Talbot’s second cousin twice removed. You just never knew.

Although she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Yes, he’s mine. Of course he’s mine. Instead she said, ‘His mother was killed in the air raid . . .’

‘Oh, poor little chap.’

‘But from now on, yes, he’s mine.’

‘Then his luck’s changed, madam, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘Thank you.’

In the back of the taxi, Kathy removed her black wig and the glasses. She pulled the hat back on and tucked her own blonde hair beneath it, hoping, at the last ditch, that the taxi driver wouldn’t notice the sudden dramatic change in his passenger’s appearance.

He didn’t. When the vehicle pulled to a halt outside the house, James started to whimper and the driver quickly helped her out and carried her bag up the drive to Mrs Talbot waiting at the door. He hardly gave Kathy a second glance as she handed the child to the daily help and then paid her fare.

At last, the door closed on the outside world and they were safely home.

‘Isn’t he a little love?’ Mrs Talbot cooed. The child’s tears dried instantly and he smiled, his whole face lighting up as he beamed and chuckled. ‘I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? I bet they’ve not fed you right at that horrid place. Now, you come with me and we’ll see what we can find for you in my kitchen.’

Kathy smiled. She had her son back. She could be with him all day and all night too. For the moment, she was quite content to let Mrs Talbot fuss over him. Time enough for her to cuddle him and get to know him when they were alone.

He had Tony’s eyes and his dark hair too. Even his nose had the makings of being the same shape. As she bathed him that night, Kathy examined every inch of him, touching him with gentle, loving fingers, revelling in the smooth skin, the rounded arms and legs. She kissed his forehead, his feet and his hands.

‘Oh, my darling boy,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll never let you go again. Somehow, I’ll find a way to stay with you.’

And James smiled his beatific smile.

Mr Wainwright had certainly not misled Kathy in his attitude towards his adopted son. He hardly saw the child. Though he made sure that Kathy had everything she needed for him and for herself, he wanted nothing to do with little James. That first evening, Kathy brought him down to the dining room where Mr Wainwright was eating his meal alone at one end of the polished mahogany table.

‘We’ve come to say “Goodnight”,’ Kathy said.

Mr Wainwright looked up, a startled expression on his face. ‘Oh – er – yes – right.’ He made no move to get up but just gave a curt nod and said, ‘Goodnight then.’

Kathy stared at him for a moment and then looked down at the child standing quietly beside her. He was gazing at the man with a blank look, as if he was a complete stranger.

‘That’s your daddy,’ Kathy said.

Mr Wainwright set his spoon down in the empty dish. ‘Er – I’ve never liked the term “Daddy”. I always called my father by his proper title. “Father”. And I’d be obliged if you would teach James to use that name for me.’

Again Kathy stared at him. What a cold, unfeeling man he was. But she smiled dutifully and said, ‘Of course. Is there anything else I should know? I mean, when would you like to spend some time with him?’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Mr Wainwright said bluntly. ‘He’s your responsibility – entirely. Please ask me for anything you need and I’ll see you get it – if possible, of course, in these difficult times. But – I don’t want to have anything to do with him. I – I’m not good with babies or toddlers. Perhaps when he gets a little older. School age, perhaps, then I might find him a little more interesting.’

‘I see.’ Kathy tried very hard to keep any note of disapproval out of her tone. She didn’t want to do anything that might endanger her position here. But she couldn’t resist the urge to say, ‘Don’t you even want to see him in the evening, just – just to say “Goodnight”?’

For a moment Mr Wainwright regarded the child thoughtfully. James beamed and waved his chubby hand at him. ‘ ’Night, ’night,’ he said, endearingly. Kathy saw the man’s expression soften a little.

‘Very well, then,’ Mr Wainwright said at last. ‘Just at night, when I’ve finished my dinner, you may bring him to my study.’