‘I … I didn’t make a single friend,’ he stammered. ‘They all hated me from the start. The other boys made fun of my accent. Said I was “proper Cornish” and called me a peasant. When I told my housemaster, he said I should harden up and stop being a crybaby. And I tried, Aunt Selly. Only, the other boys were cross that I’d told on them. They called me a weasel, and stole my books, and scribbled rude words over my homework so I’d get in trouble for it. And sports was the worst thing ever … You know how rubbish I am at rugby. The others said I was letting the side down. They took turns punching and kicking me to make me tougher.’
‘Good God!’ Selina trembled with rage at how badly her nephew had been treated. ‘I should drive straight back there and explain all this to that awful headmaster.’
‘Please don’t,’ Peter begged her, bursting into fresh tears. ‘I never want to go back to that school. I’d ratherdie!’
‘It’s all right, I won’t take you back. There’s no need to cry, it’s all over.’ She started the engine again. ‘Let’s go home to Thornton Hall.’ As she pulled away, she felt the tyres slither and slide under them, and pulled a face. ‘Oops … That’s assuming I can get us home in one piece.’
‘I believe in you, Aunt Selly,’ Peter insisted, wiping hisdamp face with his sleeve. ‘By the way, this is a smashing car,’ he added, with a touch of his old enthusiasm. ‘Not as bang-up as Mr MacGregor’s Wolseley, of course. But still smashing.’
It took twice as long to return in the dark, especially with snow on the roads, but Selina felt proud of herself on reaching Thornton Hall by late evening without once crashing into a ditch on the snowy roads. Wearily, they let themselves into the hall, only to find the girls running towards them, with Nancy and Mrs Hawley behind.
‘Welcome home, Peter!’ Jemima cried, and threw herself into his arms.
Faith danced about them, clapping her hands for joy. ‘Peter, Peter,’ she chanted until he bent to give her a hug too.
‘You’re here very late, Mrs Hawley. Nothing wrong, I hope?’ Selina asked anxiously.
‘No, ma’am. I couldn’t go home without knowing whether you’d got back safely with Master Peter,’ the housekeeper admitted. She beamed at the lad indulgently. ‘It’s marvellous to see you home again,’ she told him, and Peter grinned, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. ‘I’ve kept supper warm for you both. Shall I serve it in the dining room, ma’am?’
‘Yes, please, Mrs Hawley. We’re famished.’
‘Oh, and this letter came for you.’
‘Thank you.’
Jemima was excitedly introducing Peter to his cousin Nancy, so Selina tore open the envelope and quickly read over the contents. It was from Caroline, begging her again to visit Postbridge Farm, and telling her there would be plenty of room if she came straightaway, as Mrs Newton wasgoing to stay with Lily and Tristan in Penzance for at least two weeks. And Violet’s permission had already been sought and given, so there would be no trouble from Mrs and Mrs Postbridge.
‘Does this mean you’re home for good, Peter?’ Nancy was asking. ‘Or has the school sent you home because you’re unwell?’
Selina watched unhappily as a stammering, red-faced Peter tied himself in knots, trying to explain his return without admitting that he’d been expelled. It was clear the boy wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, not even with family. But his expulsion could hardly be kept a secret for long.
She dreaded to think what might have happened if Peter had been left in that horrid place even a single day longer. But she could see that bringing him home had only been half the battle. He would not readily get over all the beastly things they’d done to him at that school. The thought of him suffering such torments made her heart ache with guilt, knowing she was partly to blame for having sent him away against his will.
Perhaps a trip to Porthcurno might be just the thing for her nephew. Somewhere new, with people who didn’t know him or his history, where he could relax for a week or two before knuckling down to books and learning again with Mr Harrington. And she felt sure his sisters would be perfectly happy here alone for a short while, now their capable cousin Nancy had come to stay. Nancy had originally asked to be their nanny, after all. It could be a trial run for her, to see how the young woman coped with the girls on her own. And if she got into difficulties, Mrs Hawley was usually around, and William was only a telephone call away.
Yes, a few days in Porthcurno sounded like just the ticket. Folding Caroline’s letter back into its envelope, Selina smiled, wondering if Violet Postbridge wouldn’t mind catering for an extra guest …
CHAPTER TEN
Bernie came into the farmhouse kitchen, stamping snow off his boots. ‘That’s the last of your bags packed in the car, Sheila. And I’ve put a blanket on the back seat in case you need it.’
‘I’m not going to need a blanket,’ Sheila told him firmly.
Violet glared. ‘It’s bloomin’ freezing out there, Mum. You can’t drive all the way to Penzance without a blanket. What if snow starts falling again and you get stuck?’ Violet handed her a hamper. ‘Talking of which, I’ve made paste sarnies for you both. And a tidy slice of pork pie. It’s only what we’re having for lunch ourselves, so that’s your portion and a bit more besides for Bernie.’ She drew a sharp breath, glancing at him. ‘Erm … I mean, Mr Bailey.’
He grinned, shaking his head. ‘Bernie’s my name and you’re welcome to use it, Mrs Postbridge.’
‘When you two have stopped playing silly beggars,’ Sheila said before Violet could respond, ‘perhaps we could get going? I told Lily we’d be there by lunchtime.’
Bernie’s grin widened. ‘You make it sound like we’reheading for the Outer Hebrides, not Penzance. Goodness, you even suggested taking the bus there the other day.’
‘And then I decided your car would be more comfortable,’ Sheila said loftily, and handed him the hamper. ‘You can put that on the back seat too, thank you very much.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ he said with a mock bow. ‘I’ll wait for you in the car, then.’
As soon as he’d gone, Sheila whirled to face Violet, suddenly panicking. ‘Thanks for the sarnies … I haven’t forgotten anything, have I? I’ve got the Christmas presents, and that Victoria sponge you baked for Lily, and all my bags.’ She looked at her daughter, stricken. ‘You’ll be all right without me, won’t you, love? Because if you need help, you can always ask one of the Land Girls to pitch in.’
Caroline, hurrying into the kitchen with a letter in her hand, and still in her dressing gown, said quickly, ‘Oh yes, just holler if you need a hand in the kitchen, Mrs P. Not that any of us are much good at cooking. But we can peel vegetables and lay the table, and we’re always happy to wash up.’
