Just the same as always.Meredith pictured the grimy old streets and her grim place in them, and with a bolt of sickening clarity admitted then how desperate she was to stay on at Milderhurst. She turned towards the castle, knotting her fingers, wishing she could summon Juniper with nothing more than the intensity of her need; wishing that Saffy might appear and say the perfect thing, make Mum and Dad see that taking her home was the wrong thing to do, that they must let her stay.
Perhaps by some strange twin communication, Percy chose that moment to wade in. “Mr. and Mrs. Baker,” she said, tapping the end of her cigarette on the silver case and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else, “I can understand that you’d very much like to have Meredith home with you, but if the invasion should—”
“You’re coming with us this afternoon, young miss, and that’s final.” Mum’s hackles had risen like a set of quills. She didn’t so much as glance at Percy, fixing Meredith with a look that promised fierce punishment later.
Meredith’s eyes watered behind her spectacles. “I’m not.”
Dad growled, “Don’t you talk back to your mother—”
“Well,” said Percy abruptly. She’d lifted the lid on the teapot and was scrutinizing its contents. “The pot’s empty; excuse me while I refill it, won’t you? We’re rather short on help at the moment. Wartime economies.”
They all three watched her retreat, then Mum hissed at Dad, “Rather short on help. You hear that?”
“Come on, Annie.” Confrontation was not something Dad enjoyed. He was the sort of man whose impressive bulk was enough of a deterrent that he rarely needed to come to blows. Mum, on the other hand …
“That woman’s been looking down her nose at us since we arrived. Wartime economies indeed—in a place like this.” She tossed her hand in the direction of the castle. “Probably thinks we ought to be in there fetching after her.”
“She does not!” said Meredith. “They’re not like that.”
“Meredith.” Dad was still staring at a fixed point on the ground, but his voice rose, almost pleading, and he shot a glance at her from beneath his knotted brow. Ordinarily, she knew, he relied on her to stand silently beside him when Mum and Rita started screaming. But not today, she couldn’t just stand by today.
“But, Dad, look at the lovely tea they put on specially—”
“That’s enough lip from you, miss.” Mum was on her feet now and she jerked Meredith up by the sleeve of her new dress, harder than she might otherwise have. “You get on inside and fetch your things. Yourrealclothes. The train’s leaving soon and we’re all going to be on it.”
“I don’t want to go,” said Meredith, turning urgently to her father. “Let me stay, Dad. Please don’t make me go. I’m learning—”
“Pah!” Mum swiped her hand dismissively. “I can see well enough what you’ve been learning here with your Lady Muck; learning to cheek your parents. I can see what you’re forgetting, too: who you are and where you come from.” She shook her finger at Dad. “I told you we were wrong to send them away. If we’d only kept them home like I wanted—”
“Enough!” Dad’s top had finally blown. “That’s enough, Annie. Sit down. There’s no need for all this; she’s coming home now.”
“I’m not!”
“Oh yes you are,” said Mum, pulling back her flattened hand. “And there’s a good clip round the ear waiting for you when you get there.”
“That’s enough!” Dad was on his feet now, too; he grabbed hold of Mum’s wrist. “For Christ’s sake, that’s enough, Annie.” His eyes searched hers and something passed between them; Meredith saw her mother’s wrist go limp. Dad nodded at her. “We’ve all become a bit hot and bothered, that’s all.”
“Talk to your daughter … I can’t stand to look at her. I only hope she never knows what it is to lose a child.” And she walked away, arms folded stubbornly across her body.
Dad looked tired suddenly, old. He ran a hand over his hair. It was thinning on top, so that Meredith could see the marks that the comb had made that morning. “You mustn’t mind her. She’s fiery, you know how she gets. She’s been worried about you, we both have.” He glanced again at the castle, looming above them. “Only we’ve heard stories. From Rita’s letters and from some of the kids who’ve come home, terrible stories about how they were treated.”
Was that all?Meredith felt the bubbling delirium of relief; she knew there had been evacuees less fortunate than her, but if that was all they were worried about, then surely all she had to do was reassure her dad. “But there’s nothing to worry about, Dad. I told you in my letters: I’m happy here. Didn’t you read my letters?”
“ ’Course I did. We both did. Brightest spot in our day, your mum and me, getting a letter from you.”
The way he said it, Meredith knew that it was true and something inside her panged, imagining them at the table, poring over the things she’d written. “Well then,” she said, unable to meet his eyes, “you know that everything’s all right.Betterthan all right.”
“I know that’s what you said.” He looked towards Mum, checking she was still a fair distance away. “That was part of the problem. Your letters were so … cheerful. And your mother heard from one of her friends that there were foster families changing the letters that the boys and girls were writing home. Stopping them from saying anything that might reflect badly. Making things seem better than they really were.” He heaved a sigh. “That’s not how it is, though, is it, Merry? Not for you.”
“No, Dad.”
“You’re happy here, happy as your letters make out?”
“Yes.” Meredith could see that he was wavering. Possibility shot like fireworks through her limbs, and she spoke quickly. “Percy’s a bit stiff, but Saffy’s wonderful. You could meet her if you come inside; I could play you a song on the piano.”
He looked up at the tower, sunlight sweeping across his cheeks. Meredith watched as his pupils shrank; she waited, trying to read his wide, blank face. His lips moved as if he were taking measurements, memorizing figures, but it was impossible for her to see which way the sums might lead him. He glanced, then, at his wife, fuming by the fountain, and Meredith knew that it was now or never. “Please, Dad.” She grabbed the fabric of his shirtsleeve. “Please don’t make me go back. I’m learning so much here, far more than I could learn in London. Please make Mum see that I’m better off here.”
A light sigh and he frowned at Mum’s back. As Meredith watched his face changed, fell along lines of tenderness, so that Meredith’s heart turned a somersault. But he didn’t look down at her and he didn’t speak. Finally, she followed his sight line and noticed that Mum had twisted a bit, was standing now with one hand on her hip, the other fidgeting lightly by her side. The sun had crept up behind her and found glints of red in her brown hair, and she looked pretty and lost and unusually young. Her eyes were locked with Dad’s, and in a dull thudding moment, Meredith saw that the tenderness in his face was for Mum, and not for her at all.
