A Time of Peace Page 5
‘You’ll get them,’ she told him with confidence. ‘Who is he?’
‘I don’t suppose you’ll have heard of him,’ was the curt reply.
Kate sat back and didn’t bother to ask any more questions. In fifteen minutes they stopped outside an imposing building in Knightsbridge, older and more elegant than many of the newer business premises. She looked at Robert in surprise. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘I’m interviewing the new MD of Grant Phillips.’
‘Really?’ Kate pretended to be checking to see she had everything with her, but it was to hide her amusement. She felt like howling with laughter. Did Andrew Stevenson have a sense of humour after all? He must have, because he’d sent her on this job without saying anything to the reporter.
‘Hurry up,’ Robert ordered as he got out of the car.
Kate and Pete followed him into the reception area. She whispered to Pete, ‘Stick close to me. This is going to be fun.’
They were taken up to the top floor and shown into a spacious and comfortable office. The man behind the huge oak desk stood up and his gaze fixed on Kate, one eyebrow raised in query. She gave a quick shake of her head, and the corners of his mouth twitched; he then turned it into a smile as he shook hands with Robert.
‘It’s good of you to spare me the time, Mr Freeman. I hope you don’t mind if my photographer takes a few pictures while we talk?’
‘Of course not, Mr Sinclair, please sit down. Would you like coffee?’
‘Thank you.’
‘What about your photographer and her assistant?’ the managing director asked, a look of polite inquiry on his face.
‘That won’t be necessary. They’ll be too busy,’ the reporter said dismissively.
The owner of Grant Phillips called his secretary. ‘Coffee for two, please, Janet, and …’ He paused and looked across at Kate, who hung her tongue out, indicating she was thirsty. ‘… two teas for the photographers.’
Kate grinned at him from behind Robert’s back and set about making ready to take the pictures.
The men talked politely while they drank their coffee, and Kate gulped her tea. She’d been on the go all morning without a chance to stop for a break, and she was gasping for a drink. She and Pete devoured the plate of biscuits the secretary had given them. Janet knew Kate, but she was well trained and showed no sign of recognition.
As soon as the interview started, Kate went into action, being as unobtrusive as the flash would allow. Her concentration was total and she took little notice of what was being said. It was only when she handed the camera to Pete for him to reload another film that she listened.
‘Why is a prestigious company like Grant Phillips building cheap homes in the suburbs?’ Robert waited, pen poised in readiness. ‘Not the sort of high-quality development associated with this firm.’
The man behind the desk frowned slightly. It was an expression Kate knew well. If the reporter had any sense, he would watch his words.
‘Just because it’s affordable housing doesn’t mean it’s inferior. We build to the highest standards, whether it’s a manor or a small two-bedroom house.’
‘I wasn’t inferring that they were of poor quality,’ Robert hastily assured him. ‘I was just wondering why you had taken on such a project.’
‘This company was involved in slum clearance as far back as the 1920s,’ he said. ‘My mother has always had a keen interest in providing homes for the less well off, and she likes us to take on schemes like this.’
‘Ah, yes, your mother is Rose Webster, daughter of Sir George Gresham.’ Robert looked pointedly at the man sitting on the other side of the desk, making it obvious that this was of great interest to him.
‘Illegitimate daughter, Mr Sinclair.’
The pride in his voice made Kate smile broadly at him. There was no shame in their family about their mother having been born out of wedlock and brought up in the slums – quite the reverse in fact. The way she had fought and dragged herself and her family out of appalling conditions was an inspiration to them all. And after the devastation of the war, housing had been of prime concern to her mother. Over the last fifteen years she’d had many a battle with councils and unscrupulous landlords. He winked back at her when Robert turned his attention to his notebook.
‘Your mother was a remarkable woman in her youth.’ The reporter gave him a broad smile. ‘Would she allow me to interview her?’
‘She still is a remarkable woman, Mr Sinclair.’ It was a rebuke. ‘To this day my mother works tirelessly for the underprivileged. And she never gives interviews.’
‘That’s a pity.’ Robert Sinclair was obviously disappointed. ‘Would you contact me if she ever changes her mind?’
The man behind the desk merely nodded.
‘I think you’ve taken enough photos,’ Robert told Kate curtly when the flash lit the room again.
She beckoned to Pete, indicating that he should sit with her on a sofa by the window. He looked at her strangely, then at the man being interviewed. He seemed to be intrigued and was much more observant than the reporter, she noted.
They waited patiently until the interview was over and then stood up when the men did. After shaking hands with the reporter the managing director held his hand out to Kate. She went over and kissed his cheek, much to the consternation of the reporter.
He swore under his breath. ‘What’s your surname, Kate?’
‘Freeman,’ she told him, and her grin broadened as he groaned.
‘Andrew should have introduced us properly. You’re clearly related.’
‘She’s my sister, Mr Sinclair,’ James told him.
Robert viewed her with anger simmering under the surface. ‘That’s obvious now that I look.’
As Robert left the office, Kate slung her camera on her shoulder, gave James a wave and saucy wink, then hurried after the reporter and Pete. She could hear her brother’s deep chuckle as she left.
Once outside, Robert turned on her. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me when we arrived?’
‘You didn’t give me a chance.’
‘You should have made me listen.’ Robert Sinclair opened the car door and she slid in; Pete had already settled himself in the back. When they were on their way, he said in a friendly way, ‘It’s nearly five o’clock, so would you like me to drop you home?’
‘No, thanks, we still have our fashion photos to develop.’ Kate hid a smile. He didn’t think she was going to fall for that one, did he? ‘My parents are on holiday this week.’
‘Ah.’ He shot her a glance. ‘You can’t blame me for trying.’
‘Was it my brother you really wanted to interview, or was he to be the gateway to my mother?’
‘No, I wanted to talk to your brother. He’s a very shrewd businessman but it would have been a bonus to have a follow-up about his mother. Last year I was doing some research about the slums of London just after the end of the First World War, and I came across your mother’s name. I’ve been trying to get close to your family ever since, and to Rose Webster in particular.’
‘Well, you’re wasting your time, because she’ll never speak to reporters; nor will my father.’
‘I know. I’ve tried to interview him several times, but he wouldn’t see me.’ Robert Sinclair sighed. ‘You’ve an interesting family, but your brother is the first one I’ve been able to get near.’
‘James is more outgoing. Our parents have never courted publicity.’
‘So I’ve found out.’ He paused while they waited at traffic lights. ‘Tell me about your mother.’
Kate snorted inelegantly. ‘Do you ever give up?’
‘Never. I wouldn’t be much of a reporter if I did, would I? Tell me what you want to achieve in life.’
‘I haven’t done anything yet.’ Kate laughed at his persistence.
‘No, but if you’re anything like the rest of your family, you’re going to.’
‘I hope you’re right, but that remains to be seen.’
When they arrived back, Kate promised Robert his photos by lunchtime the next day, then she went with Pete to catch up on their work.
‘I don’t know how that reporter didn’t recognize you were related to Mr Freeman,’ Pete said. ‘You’re so like each other.’
‘We have the same colouring, but to Robert Sinclair I was just the paper’s photographer; I don’t think he looked too closely. We’re photographers, Pete, and we see things other people miss.’
He smiled proudly at her in the gloom of the darkroom light. Calling him a photographer had obviously been a huge compliment, and he’d loved it. She was even more determined to do something for him now. He had handled himself quietly and efficiently today. He was showing a great deal of promise.
5
The next week passed quietly for Kate and she managed to stay out of trouble. Robert had written a complimentary article on her brother and Grant Phillips. He didn’t appear to have mentioned his anger at not being told who she was, not even to the Chief. However, Kate was sure that Andrew Stevenson had known, and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d tried to cause trouble for her and embarrassment to Robert. If so, then it hadn’t worked. In fact Robert was now very friendly with everyone, and often joined them in the Hare and Hounds for a drink after work.
When she arrived home on the Friday evening, she was delighted to see her parents there. ‘Hello, I didn’t expect you back yet.’ Kate hugged her father and smiled at her mother, who was busy preparing a meal for them. ‘Couldn’t stay away, eh?’
‘Two weeks in strange beds was enough for me,’ her father complained as he rubbed his back.
Rose chuckled. ‘You’re getting soft in your old age, Bill.’
‘You might be right.’ He pulled a face at his daughter. ‘I’d better make the most of the next few days because I’m being uprooted again.’
‘Where are you going this time?’ Kate asked.
‘Wales,’ her mother said. ‘We’re going to get the Haven ready for the school holidays. Annie and Dora are taking the kids up there for a couple of weeks.’
‘Wish I could come with you.’ The Haven had been their home for most of the war and held fond memories for Kate. It had always been full of people and laughter, but there had been worry and sadness as well. She knew memory played strange tricks and was inclined to select only the good times of childhood, but the Haven, as its name suggested, would always deserve a fond place in her heart. Grandpa George had bought it at the start of the war as a safe place for her and James, and anyone else who wanted to stay there. James had inherited the house after their grandpa had been killed by a flying bomb. It was still used by the family for holidays.
‘We’ll be back by early September,’ her father told her, ‘and then we’re going to France for a week.’
‘Are you coming with us, Kate?’ her mother asked.
‘I haven’t been at the paper long enough to have holiday time, but I’ll see what I can do.’
‘You can tell that tyrant that you’ve got to keep your poor old dad company.’
Kate chuckled and settled down to enjoy her own meal. ‘I think you’re already getting used to being a man of leisure.’
‘I must admit that it’s pleasant to wake every morning and know I don’t have to rush off to London,’ said her father. ‘But James is keeping me up to date with what’s happening, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Rose and Kate smiled knowingly at each other.
The frantic hammering on the front door of his flat had Jon tumbling out of bed. Who the hell was that at seven in the morning?
‘Mr Devlin!’ a young voice bellowed.
He wrenched open the door and saw Tom, a nine-year-old boy from Wilkins House, hopping about on the step.
‘You’ve got to come quick.’ Tom grabbed hold of his arm and tried to pull him through the door.
‘Hold on a minute,’ he ordered. ‘Let me get some clothes on first. Come in and tell me what this is all about.’
Tom scuttled in and followed him to his bedroom. ‘Mrs Green said to fetch you, urgent like.’
‘Will you stop prancing about and tell me what’s happened?’ Jon pulled on the first pair of trousers he could lay his hands on.
‘Ed’s run away again and we’ve got babies.’
He stopped in the middle of dressing. ‘Babies?’
‘Yeah, two left on the step and bawling fit to wake the dead.’
‘And how long has Eddie been missing?’
‘Don’t know. He was in his bed last night, but he’d gone when we woke up. He left a note saying he was going to look for his mum. At least that’s what we think it said; his writing’s awful.’
Jon swore so vehemently that Tom’s eyes opened wide.
‘Don’t you dare repeat any of those words,’ he told the boy sternly. At his age he was likely to think it was big to cuss like that.
Tom smirked but said nothing.
Jon’s Wandsworth flat was only a fifteen-minute walk from Wilkins House. So he grabbed his jacket, and, with the boy trotting beside him, hurried to the home to find out what was going on. Mrs Green looked relieved when he appeared.
‘Oh, thank you for coming. I shouldn’t be worrying you with this, but it’s too early to get hold of anyone else. Eddie’s run away again and – ’
Jon stopped her. ‘Tom told me. Now what’s this about babies?’
‘Come with me.’ She took him into her own room. A drawer had been emptied out and lined with a blanket. Sleeping peacefully in it were two tiny babies with identical tufts of fair hair sticking up.
‘Good Lord,’ he breathed. ‘How old are they?’
‘I would guess not more than a week,’ Mrs Green whispered. ‘They’re boys and look like twins.’
As Jon gazed at them, fury raged through him and his hands clenched into fists. How could anyone do this? How could a mother abandon her babies?
‘As soon as the council offices open, I’ll take them there. I suppose they’ll put the poor little things in Standish House …’
‘No!’ Jon exploded. ‘Christ, no, Mrs Green.’ He shuddered. This is just what had happened to him, and he’d never forgotten the awful sense of loneliness. The institution was too big and impersonal. It wasn’t the staff’s fault; there were just too many children and not enough helpers.
‘But what are we going to do with them? The council would never let us keep them here. We’re not equipped to deal with babies.’
‘Then get equipped,’ he growled, ‘and leave the council to me. I’ll threaten them with a visit from Mrs Freeman if they give me any trouble. But first I’ll have to go and report this to the police.’
Mrs Green shook her head sadly. ‘Of course, I forgot about that. I’d love to keep them, but we’ll need more help and our budget won’t run to that.’
He took all the money from his wallet and handed it to Mrs Green. ‘Take this for the moment. I’ll get you more today.’
‘Well …’ She gazed at the banknotes. ‘My sister’s girl is out of work and she loves babies.’
‘Get her and I’ll pay her wages.’
The housekeeper’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’re a good man.’
‘No, I’m not; I’m a bloody furious one.’ He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. ‘Now, about Eddie, I think I know where he’ll have gone. I’ll find him first, then deal with the authorities.’
There wasn’t a bus in sight, so he jogged to Wandsworth Common. The last time Eddie had run away he’d come here, and Jon was banking on him doing the same again. A forlorn little figure was sitting hunched under a tree, just as he’d expected.
He went and sat beside him. ‘Hello, Ed.’
The five-year-old turned a dirty tear-stained face towards him, looking utterly dejected. ‘I don’t know where to look for her.’
‘Neither did I.’ Jon wanted to hug the boy but felt it wouldn’t be the right thing to do at the moment, so he talked as if this were a casual meeting.
‘Oh, yes, until I saw what a waste of time it was. I realized she didn’t want to be found.’ He smiled down at Eddie, who was now listening intently. ‘At least you’ve got a proper name: it was pinned to you, but my name’s made up.’
‘Is it?’ Ed rose up on his knees. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No, it isn’t a bad name. Now, you’ve got a home and family with Mrs Green and the others. They’re worried about you.’
‘Are they?’
‘Tom came hammering on my door at seven this morning, frantic because you’d gone.’ Jon stood up and held out his hand. ‘Shall we go back and show them you’re all right?’
Eddie nodded and took hold of his hand. ‘I won’t run away again.’
‘Good.’ He smiled at him. ‘I’m starving, aren’t you?’
Ed trotted beside him, seeming quite bright now. ‘Yes, I only brought a chunk of bread with me and I gave that to the dicky birds. Mrs Green gives us boiled eggs for breakfast on Friday.’
The council officer listened to Jon and then shook her head. ‘We can’t allow that.’
‘Why not?’ He was determined not to lose his temper, but it was damned hard. ‘Standish House is full to capacity, and Mrs Green is willing to take responsibility for the twins.’
‘Wilkins House is only for boys from five to ten years of age.’
He clenched his jaw in irritation. He bloody well knew that! ‘Can’t you bend the rules just this once? Didn’t you promise Mrs Freeman that no new children would be sent to Standish? I’ll have to bring her here again. She’ll soon sort it out,’ he threatened.
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr Devlin,’ the woman said with an offended expression. ‘I’m only trying to do my job. We want what’s best for all the children. As you have rightly pointed out, we do have a problem placing children at the moment, and I’m sure they will be well looked after at Wilkins House, for the time being. I’ll send someone round to check that the babies are in good health, and then prepare the papers for Mrs Green to sign.’