A Time of Peace Page 3

  ‘Just for tonight,’ Annie told her. ‘We’re leaving for France in the morning for a holiday and then we’re going to stay with Sam and his family for a few days.’

  ‘Oh, lucky you.’ Sam, Maria and their son, Jacques, were as close as family to the Freemans. They had met during the war, when Annie had been working with the Frenchman. He had escaped to Britain when France had been invaded, believing his family had been killed. Against all the odds he had found Jacques first, bringing him back for Rose to look after, and then Maria. They had been firm friends ever since. Kate grinned. ‘Give Jacques my love.’

  ‘You sure you want us to do that?’ Reid didn’t hide his amusement. ‘He’s loved you ever since he arrived in this country during the war.’

  A moment of sadness clouded Kate’s eyes as she remembered Sam’s traumatized little boy, who had been plucked out of France by a father he hadn’t known. Then her expression cleared. ‘He’s growing into a fine man, isn’t he?’

  Annie nodded. ‘And at nineteen he’s the image of his father.’

  ‘Hi, Kate.’ Annie and Reid’s two sons erupted into the room. Paul at thirteen was like his father, strong and confident, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He’d been named in memory of Reid’s brother, who had also been a fighter pilot and had been killed in the war. David was eleven and took after his mother, with her fair looks. Paul was doing a business course at college, intending to take over his father’s engineering firm when he was old enough. David hadn’t made up his mind what he wanted to do yet.

  Kate turned to say hello and then lunged to rescue her precious camera from them, gasping as a pain shot through her injured foot. ‘Be careful!’

  Paul hid it behind his back. ‘We’re only looking.’

  ‘Give it to me,’ Kate demanded. ‘It isn’t a toy.’

  ‘Stop teasing your sister,’ their mother ordered.

  David took the camera away from his brother and handed it back to Kate. ‘I don’t know why you keep saying that, Mum, she isn’t our sister.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Reid put his arm around Kate’s shoulder and smiled affectionately at her. ‘She offered to be our pretend daughter before you were born, and that’s how we think of her.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Kate inspected the camera lens for finger marks, and, finding it undamaged, she grinned at the boys. ‘So don’t argue with your elder sister.’

  ‘We wouldn’t dare!’ Paul feigned horror. ‘You’re too much like Auntie Rose, and no one crosses her if they’ve any sense.’

  She watched the boys disappear into the garden and smiled at Annie and Reid. Annie was her mother’s younger sister, and her husband Reid was a wonderful man. She loved them both very much.

  ‘Talking of Mum’ – Kate glanced around the spacious kitchen of their Roehampton house – ‘where is she?’

  ‘Gone to collect your father from the office,’ Reid told her. ‘She’ll be back any minute.’

  ‘I’m so relieved he’s retiring. James has already taken on most of the responsibility, so there’s no need for him to stay any longer.’ Kate loved her father dearly and she had been worried about him lately.

  ‘He knows that but he’s been reluctant to give up the work he loves,’ Annie told her with a wry smile. ‘He can be just as determined as your mum when he wants to.’

  ‘I know.’ Kate went upstairs to put her precious camera in her chest of drawers. If the boys were staying for the night then she didn’t want to put temptation in their way.

  She heard a car pull up and went to the window to watch her father get out. Although he insisted that he was fit, Kate knew better. From a child their closeness meant that she’d been able to tell if he was troubled or not well, and he might deny it now, but she had a strong feeling there was something wrong. It was a huge relief to know he was giving up work at last. Their building firm of Grant Phillips would be in secure hands with her brother.

  Their sitting room was packed, and, as it was a lovely warm evening, their guests were spilling out into the garden. The table in the kitchen was groaning from the amount of food on it, and in the background the old Glenn Miller tune, ‘In the Mood’, was playing on their gramophone. The room was really swinging, and Kate perched herself on the windowsill to watch everyone enjoying themselves. Her parents and brother were laughing over something Uncle Reid was saying; Aunt Annie was telling the boys to help collect the empty glasses. Rose had two brothers, Charlie and Will: Charlie and his wife, Madge, were living in Scotland now and couldn’t be at the party; Will and his wife, Dora, still lived next door and were both here. Beth and her boyfriend Steve had come from Putney, and Steve seemed a nice, steady sort. Kate was very pleased for her friend, as she was definitely the settling-down kind. She gazed at the room filled with family and friends. She was lucky, and she knew it. Perhaps that was why she felt so strongly for those less fortunate than herself.

  Suddenly her brother stopped the record playing, dived behind the settee and emerged with Grandpa Wally’s old accordion. The whole room began to vibrate as James played ‘Knees Up, Mother Brown’. Kate laughed, joining in and hanging on to Reid and Annie as they danced. Her brother couldn’t play the instrument anything like as well as their grandpa had been able to.

  When James stopped playing, they all collapsed on to the nearest chairs, out of breath.

  ‘Where did you find that?’ Rose asked her son.

  ‘I’ve held on to it ever since Grandpa Wally died. He did love a party.’

  ‘He certainly did,’ Bill said.

  Kate was alarmed at how old her father looked at that moment. Thank goodness he was going to take life easier at last.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s just over a year since Wally and Marj died,’ Reid said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘Neither can I.’ Annie’s expression softened as she remembered. ‘He was our stepfather, but we couldn’t have wished for a better dad, could we Rose?’

  ‘You’re right there. He was a good husband to Mum. And the first thing Mum would have done after a knees-up would have been to put the kettle on.’ She headed for the kitchen as everyone agreed.

  Kate propped herself on the windowsill, still thinking about her grandparents.

  Wally had been Marj’s second husband; the first one had been a brute, Annie had told Kate. When he’d been killed in the First World War, Marj had married Wally. They had been very happy together. So happy in fact that they’d died within a few weeks of each other. She looked up as Dora came over to her.

  ‘Beth seems happy,’ she said pointedly. ‘Have you got yourself a nice boyfriend yet?’

  ‘No,’ Kate laughed, knowing Dora’s desire to see everyone as happily married as she was. ‘I don’t want one at the moment.’

  ‘Well, you ought to. You’re twenty-three now and James is almost thirty-one. It’s time you had families of your own.’

  ‘He’s quite happy, Aunt Dora, and so am I.’

  ‘Leave my niece alone.’ Annie appeared beside them. ‘Don’t take any notice of her, Kate. She was continually badgering me when we were in the WAAF, and she hasn’t changed much.’

  ‘Well, I was right, wasn’t I?’ Dora gave Annie a satisfied smile.

  ‘You were, but that’s no reason to try to arrange everyone’s life. Come on, let’s give Rose a hand with the tea.’

  Kate watched them walk towards the kitchen, laughing over something. They had been good friends since they’d served together in the war, when Dora had been a fun-loving typist. From what Kate had been able to find out, they’d had a hilarious time in the WAAF; even though life had been hard and dangerous, Dora had kept everyone laughing through it.

  Kate wandered upstairs to get her camera and take pictures of the party. She found her nephew Paul sprawled across her bed, turning the pages of a scrapbook. When she arrived, he shut the book with a thud.

  ‘Just looking. I’m not doing any harm, Kate.’

  She sat beside him and picked up the scrapbook. It fell
open at the photograph of a man, one that Kate knew well. Its subject looked tough and uncompromising, but he’d have to be like that to do the job he did.

  Paul gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘I know of him. His name’s Jon Devlin and he’s a war correspondent.’

  ‘I noticed those cuttings are all about wars and things in other countries. Are you interested in that sort of thing?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I am.’ She closed the book and tossed it on to a chair beside the bed.

  Paul was puzzled. ‘Why do you bother yourself with things going on a long way away? We’ve had our war, and our teacher said that for us this is a time of peace.’

  ‘In a way he’s right, but that isn’t the case for everyone,’ Kate explained. Paul was a thoughtful boy, and she was always happy to talk to him. ‘There’s still too much suffering in the world. Many are homeless, hungry or living in fear under brutal regimes.’

  Paul slid off the bed and pulled a face. ‘You sound just like Auntie Rose.’

  ‘Well, I am her daughter.’

  When Kate came down to breakfast the next day, she was surprised to see her father at the table reading his newspaper. She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. ‘What are you doing up? I thought you’d still be in bed after that riotous party last night.’

  ‘Force of habit, I’m afraid. It’ll take me a while to get used to not going out to work.’

  ‘You’ll soon get the hang of it. What do you think of my photo?’ she asked, seeing that the photograph on the front page was hers.

  ‘Excellent, Kate.’ Her father smiled at her. ‘Making your mark already.’

  ‘Hmm, but there’s been a hitch to my plans.’ As this was the first time she’d been able to talk to them alone, she explained about the student demonstration and how Mike had been injured. ‘So the Chief has exiled me to the fashion pages!’

  ‘You won’t let that stop you for long,’ her mother remarked.

  ‘Not if I can help it.’ Kate sat down. Last night’s party had swept away all her concerns about the job, and even her ankle was feeling easier. It must have been all that dancing last night, she thought with amusement.

  Rose placed a cooked breakfast in front of her husband and daughter. ‘We’ll nip over to France and see Jacques before the autumn sets in.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Bill started to tuck into his eggs and bacon. ‘It must be a year since we’ve been over there, and the boy’s growing fast. I’d like to see him again.’

  ‘Me too.’ Rose gave a faint smile. ‘Where have the last fifteen years gone?’

  ‘Don’t ask me.’ Bill sighed, then glanced at his daughter. ‘Why don’t you come with us, Kate?’

  ‘I might do that,’ she told him. ‘If I’m still taking fashion photographs, I’ll need a break.’ She pulled a face at the thought of doing that for the next two or three months.

  Her father’s eyes glinted with laughter at her disgusted expression ‘Should be an interesting job.’

  ‘Dad!’ she exclaimed. ‘I didn’t join the paper to waste my time like that.’

  He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon. ‘Just what do you want to do?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got some wild scheme, but it will probably come to nothing, so I think I’ll keep it to myself,’ she told them.

  There wasn’t time to pursue the subject further, as Annie and Reid appeared in the kitchen, with the boys hovering in the doorway.

  ‘Thanks for putting us up for the night,’ Annie told Rose.

  ‘Give our love to Sam and his family,’ Bill said. ‘And tell them we’ll be over to see them in September. We might bring Kate with us if she can drag herself away from glamorous models.’

  ‘That will please Jacques,’ Annie said.

  Kate hugged them both and turned to Paul and David to do the same. They nipped behind their father for protection. ‘Cowards,’ she muttered.

  ‘Pretend sisters don’t kiss their brothers,’ David protested.

  ‘You always want to kiss people,’ Paul told her with a look of disgust on his face.

  They were all laughing as they left.

  ‘Whoops!’ Kate picked up her camera bag and slipped it on to her shoulder. ‘I’d better get going. Mustn’t be late or I’ll be in for another telling-off.’

  She waved and set off to spend her first day as a fashion photographer, determined to prove herself worthy of a more responsible job.

  3

  Standish House Children’s Home in Wandsworth made Rose furious every time she stepped through the door. She’d just come from another row with the council, and still nothing had been done. For months now she’d been trying to improve the conditions for these kids. The children ranged in age from newborns to five-year-olds. It was clean enough and the staff did their best, but they just couldn’t cope with the huge number of toddlers and babies. The answer would be to move the toddlers to new smaller units, a solution that was deemed too expensive.

  Rose sighed in exasperation. Things hadn’t changed much; that was the same argument she’d battled with when she’d been a councillor in Bermondsey. How could you relate the welfare of these poor little things to numbers in a ledger?

  She swept one three-year-old off his feet and away from a small girl he was tormenting. ‘Stop that or I’ll put you in a cage!’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ the boy chortled, not at all upset by the threat.

  A young girl called Hetty came and took the child from her. ‘You can’t frighten him, Mrs Freeman, he knows you’re too kind.’

  ‘I am?’ Rose said in disbelief. ‘How did I ever give him that impression?’

  The boy giggled again as Rose walked away, declaring that something had gone seriously wrong with her image.

  A deep masculine laugh caught her attention. Sitting on the floor was a man she’d never seen before, nursing a baby on his lap and trying to play snakes and ladders with a four-year-old girl. He had fair hair and vivid green eyes – good-looking in a rugged way.

  Miss Palmer, the woman in charge of the home, came to greet her. ‘I’ve just heard that they won’t be sending us any more babies for a while, as we’re overcrowded already.’

  ‘That’s a start, I suppose.’ Rose glanced at the man again.

  ‘That’s Jon,’ Miss Palmer explained. ‘He started life here and comes to play with the children when he can. Jon, this is Mrs Freeman. She’s just been banging a few heads together, trying to improve our overcrowding problem.’

  He clambered to his feet, holding the baby in the crook of his arm, and smiled at her. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Freeman. Someone needs to do that.’

  She shook hands with him and then pointed to the child on the floor. ‘The little girl has just sneaked your counter down a snake, I think.’

  ‘She does like to win.’ He grinned, sat down again and carried on playing.

  The next morning Jon walked the short distance from his Wandsworth flat to another children’s home, Wilkins House. Smaller than Standish House, it took boys from the ages of five to ten, and it was the one he devoted most of his time to. These boys were old enough to know that they didn’t have any family and, in his experience, they were the most vulnerable.

  Jon strode along, enjoying being home again after another stint abroad. He loved London – it had a special atmosphere all its own. He’d travelled widely but never found anywhere he liked as much. He took a deep breath: it even had a unique smell. Not that everyone liked it, but he thought it was wonderful. Some of the places he’d found himself in were disgusting. And with that thought, the memories of his early life came flooding back. He had been only a few days old when he’d been dumped on the orphanage doorstep. The overriding impression he had of that time was one of loneliness, but it wasn’t until he went to the infants’ school that he realized how different his life was from that of the other children. The mothers used to wait at the gates, smiling, when they saw their children, but he was ushered on to
an old bus with the name STANDISH HOUSE on the side in big black letters. He’d begun to ask questions then, becoming angry and rebellious, resulting in the loss of many a meal in punishment.

  But there was worse to come. At six, he had been transferred to Wilkins House and found himself in the care of a brutal man. That made him even more difficult to handle, and for years he fought everyone in sight. The anger was still there when he remembered the thrashings and the long dark hours shut in the cupboard under the stairs. Oh, that man really knew how to punish small boys! Some of the other poor little devils hadn’t coped as well as he had, and he could remember sitting outside that cupboard talking to the terrified child inside to stop him feeling so alone. Jon clenched his hands, wanting to hit that brute, even after all these years. He had got out as soon as he’d been old enough and had been working ever since. Ten years ago he’d got the job as war correspondent because he had a fluency with words and didn’t care where he went. And he was damned good at his job.

  He was still fighting, really, and didn’t dare let himself become too fond of anyone – except when he thought he would marry Jane and have a family of his own. He gave a snort of disbelief. What a crazy idea that had been, but he honestly had tried to get back in time for the wedding. Still, he had been on his own all his life and that’s how he would remain. It was for the best. He was not good husband material.

  As soon as he walked in the front door of Wilkins House, he noticed the neglect. He wiped a finger over a small table and left a mark in the dust. Knowing the children would be having their lessons, he charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and inspected each bedroom. The sheets didn’t look as if they’d been changed for weeks, and the whole place was filthy. What the hell had happened here?

  He thundered back downstairs and into the housekeeper’s room. There was a scruffy man sitting with his feet on a table and smoking a cigarette. Jon waved his hand to clear the air. ‘Where’s Mrs Green?’