‘Folks are stocking up on tinned food,’ Mrs Bunch said. ‘And you can’t blame them, can you?’
Thinking of the tins Mrs Partridge had already squirrelled away for what she called a rainy day, Florence said, ‘Another guest was saying that the threat of war is more real than ever now that Hitler and Stalin have formed an alliance. And there’s talk of children being evacuated from London.’
‘Evacuated to where, that’s what I’d like to know,’ said Mrs Bunch.
A short while later, after Mrs Bunch had left to go home, there was a knock at the kitchen door and Miss Romily came in. She had a frown on her face and was holding the baby in her arms.
‘I think the poor thing might be hungry,’ she said anxiously. ‘I was playing with her in the garden but can’t seem to settle her now.’
A widow who’d never had children of her own and who would have given anything to have a dozen grandchildren to cluck over, Mrs Partridge sprang into action. ‘We’ll soon have the little mite sorted. Florence, warm some milk for me and then make a fresh pot of tea for Miss Romily while I knock up some scrambled eggs. I’ve yet to meet a child who didn’t like my scrambled eggs.’ Within no time she had the infant contentedly sipping milk from a small cup and eating the eggs from a spoon.
‘You’re a miracle-worker,’ said Miss Romily, sitting at the table with them and drinking her tea.
‘Nothing to it,’ the older woman said, smiling happily at the little girl and spooning in another dollop of egg.
‘How’s it going in the dining room?’ Florence ventured to ask.
‘You may well ask. It was cowardly of me, but I left poor Roddy to deal with them. I’d had enough.’
‘What could they possibly be talking about all this time?’ asked Florence. ‘Sorry if that’s impertinent of me.’
Miss Romily waved the apology aside. ‘That’s all right. You and Mrs P are fully entitled to know what’s going on, as I’m afraid the outcome might mean more work here for you both. You see, Jack’s will has an unusual twist to it. In order to inherit, his children and Allegra have to spend a week together here at Island House. If they don’t agree to it, or if one of them drops out, nobody gets a penny.’
‘Gracious!’ exclaimed Mrs Partridge. ‘How’ve they taken that?’
‘Not well. Particularly Arthur. Which is why I left when I did, before I was extremely rude to him.’
‘Why do you think Mr Devereux put that in his will?’ asked Florence.
‘I think it was his way of teaching them to realise that they’re a family. And also, perhaps more importantly, that one has to pull together and work as a team in life to get the best out of it.’ She paused and drew a line with her finger on the table. ‘I happen to believe it’s a sentiment that couldn’t be more true if there is a war, and it looks increasingly likely that there will be.’
‘War or not, people will do all sorts for a bit of money,’ said Mrs Partridge, spooning the last of the egg into the compliantly open mouth of the child on her lap. ‘Doesn’t mean they’ll play fair.’
Miss Romily nodded slowly. ‘I expect Jack understood that all too well, but he probably wanted them to have the chance to put the past behind them. I fear it may well come down to how much they want, or need, the money.’
‘And what about you?’ asked Florence. ‘Will you have to be here with them?’ Privately she thought the poor woman had suffered enough and would be better off escaping to her flat in London.
‘It was Jack’s intention that I should stay to try and keep the peace. And knowing how much I love Island House, he’s left the place to me, so his family will have to jolly well play by my rules, or else. Moreover,’ she went on, ‘I don’t want them taking liberties with you two if I’m not around.’
‘Oh don’t you be worrying about us,’ said Mrs Partridge. ‘We can look after ourselves. Isn’t that right, Annelise?’ She tickled the little girl under her chin and was rewarded with a gurgle of unfettered laughter. ‘Now there’s a sound we could all do with hearing a bit more round here. Nothing like a baby to put you in a good mood.’
Florence exchanged a look with Miss Romily. ‘Looks like Annelise has found herself a new champion,’ she said.
‘Well, the poor little darling needs all the love she can get if you ask me,’ said Mrs Partridge. ‘Lord knows how her parents could have parted with her, and to send her so far away… it quite breaks my heart to think about it.’
‘They did it because they had no alternative,’ said a stern voice at the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. It was Mrs Meyer, and she looked far from happy.
Chapter Thirteen
‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Meyer,’ said the woman who had Annelise on her lap. ‘I meant no harm; I was just saying what a desperate wrench it must have been for the parents to do what they did.’
‘It was, I assure you,’ Hope said coolly. ‘It was not a decision they took lightly.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
‘I am.’ And feeling she ought to, that the child was her responsibility, Hope lifted the infant up and held her against her shoulder. But then something in the juxtaposition between the little girl’s softness and the harshness of her own tone of voice made her relent. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to be so short. It’s just that … ’ She broke off abruptly, not sure what to say to them. Oh, but why bother to waste what little energy she had in explaining to these people? Let them think what they wanted to. What would they know of the daily fear Otto and Sabine lived in, of the sacrifice they had made in giving up their child? What would they think if they knew just how tiring Hope found the task of looking after her, or how guilty she felt when she found herself wishing she had never agreed to it.
‘I hope she hasn’t been too much trouble,’ she said, realising that everyone was waiting for her to go on. She looked directly at the woman who was now her stepmother – a woman with whom she had exchanged no more than a few words since arriving yesterday. ‘Thank you for amusing Annelise, that was kind of you.’
