Choices?Una’s arms tightened round Margaret.All the choices Una wanted at present were to go on doing what she knew how to do—what she was good at—in the only home she’d ever known.Did that mean she was trapped?
“Anyway, I’ve told Gwendolyn to visit,” Edith said, smiling.“It’s beenfartoo long.You can discuss it with your sister yourself when she comes.”
Una smiled politely.Edith was always writing to Gwendolyn and telling her to visit, and yet Gwendolyn very seldom appeared.Una had no reason to think things would be any different this time.
Edith pushed the jam pot suggestively close to Una’s roll and reached out her arms to Margaret, who lurched into them, freeing Una to have her own breakfast.
“May I ask Irene to try again in six months, at least?”Edith asked, almost shyly.
Una smiled.“Of course.Though I don’t suppose very much will change in six months.”
“Oh, Una,” said Edith almost pityingly, “the whole world can change in six months.”
Una, who had had quite enough of change for the time being, felt a little shiver go over her at the thought.
Why couldn’t everyone just stay still—just for a while—and not change things?
Chapter forty-five
Skipton, Yorkshire
Ifithadn’tbeenFate, it wouldn’t have been so easy.Or at least, that is what Pip told himself.
Pip didn’t mean to meet the man at the Yorkshire Unicorn.But it felt so much like fate, being asked to take the camera to Skipton on Friday like that—the very same day that the meeting had been arranged in that mysterious letter.
After he dropped the tourist’s lost camera at the address provided by Mrs Alfred, Pip found himself with more than an hour to wait until the next train.He would take a stroll through the town.He did not look for the Unicorn, did not ask a passerby where it was, but when he saw it across the street, it was simply too easy to go inside and order a pint while he waited.
Pip was brooding over his pint and his misfortunes in a dark corner when a man sat across from him.He had sharp lines, lean and cockney.Pip knew the type from London.
“Good morning, Philip,” he said, just as if they knew each other.“Sent you on an errand, did they?”
“How did you know that?”Pip asked, feeling a pinprick of fear for the first time.
“Who do you think left the camera, my boy?There’s not a lot we don’t know,” he said.“We know they’ve strung you along with false hopes.How do you like being an overgrown errand boy?”
“Who’s we?”Pip repeated, ignoring the jibe.
The man made a pattern on the tabletop with one finger and lowered his voice.“The Brotherhood of Saint George.”
Pip jerked back.These must be the fanatics who had hurt Una.Such things as horsewhips and the local constabulary crossed his mind.
“See here,” he said, “you oughtn’t to have hurt Una like that.”
The man spread his hands and raised his eyebrows.“Settle down!She hurt our Harold worse than he ever hurt her, I’ll have you know,” he said.He looked Pip over.“Loyalty.I like that.The Brotherhood likes it, too.But here’s what I want to know: what did Miss Una Worms ever do for you?”
“She wrote to me when I was at school,” Pip said, and then bit his lip.It sounded so juvenile.
The Cockney laughed.“Doesn’t take much to earn your devotion, does it?You ever heard of those old maids who write to prisoners?They send them improving books, too, and jellies and what-have-you.”
“What do you want from me?”Pip asked, looking way.He didn’t like the way this man had commandeered the conversation.“Why did you send that letter?What does my father have to do with any of this?”
“Steady, Philip,” cooed the Cockney.“We’ll get to that.I’m putting you first, see?The Brotherhood don’t ask where it don’t give.”
“And just what do you think your Brotherhood can give me?”Pip said.He tried to say it defiantly, but it came out hungry and grasping.
“First of all, the truth,” said the Cockney softly.“Then, whatever you want, my lad.Whatever you want.”
The words hung between them.
