‘That’s very profound for the early hours of the morning,’ Tilly said.
‘Tilly, what would you do if you found out that Albert was not your dad?’ Ronnie asked.
‘What a strange thing to ask,’ Tilly said. ‘What’s troubling you?’
‘Ma just told me this evening that Albert is not my true father,’ Ronnie replied. ‘My real father is dead. Died at the Battle of the Somme. Someone called Philip. The son of the people she worked for.’
Tilly listened while Ronnie relayed everything that Kate had told him. When he’d stopped talking, Tilly stared at him, astounded by Ronnie’s explanation.
‘We have a right to know about our past, don’t we, Tilly? I’m glad she told me. No wonder she was so upset when I joined up. The outbreak of this war must have taken her back to the horrors of the first one. When she first told me, I was upset that I’d not been told before but, now I think about it, I understand her reluctance. She’s right, Albert has earned the right to be my father and I couldn’t wish for a better one. But now I know about Philip and the circumstances of my birth, I want to see where I was born. I want to meet the family of the man who is my birth father. Will you help me, Tilly? Will you come with me?’
‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do?’ Tilly asked.
Ronnie paused for a while. ‘Yes. I want to do this. I want to know,’ he replied.
‘All right,’ Tilly said. ‘But we’ll have to go soon. Now I’ve got Dot settled here with the family, I feel much more able to leave and resume my duties. We must both return though. Just don’t build your hopes up too high. Be prepared for them not to want to see you. That’s if they still live in the same place — if they are still alive. I’m not sure what you think you are going to achieve by this,’ she said, ‘but I will come with you.’
Chapter 26
When they exited the station at Forest Hill, Tilly and Ronnie were shocked to see the bomb damage to several of the houses. One of them had an enormous hole in the roof, over which a flapping tarpaulin strained in the wind in an effort to keep the rain off. The house next door had taken the brunt of the hit and the whole of one side had collapsed, leaving a pile of rubble. The arm of a child’s doll poked out from beneath some bricks as if waving to them and Ronnie found himself thinking of the pilots responsible for releasing such weapons of destruction on the unwary, innocent population beneath them. He felt a wave of relief sweep over him that he was a fighter pilot and his finger was not on the release button that would unleash the power to obliterate people on the ground. But that did not make him innocent. He recalled his own escape from the cockpit. When it came to it, war was all about survival. Kill or be killed. He had shot down many German planes. He was responsible for those pilots’ deaths. He could not allow these thoughts to enter his head when he was flying, though. He had to push all guilt to one side and do what he was put in that aircraft to do.
His mother had told him that the Wintons’ family home was Vanburgh House, Vanburgh Hill, Forest Hill, London, and that the workhouse was fairly close by. They determined to set out for the workhouse first and wound their way through the streets asking for directions as they went. It didn’t surprise them when they arrived at the gates to discover that the Greenwich Union Workhouse was now a rest home for injured soldiers. There were many buildings in the cities and towns of England that had been given over to the convalescence of the hundreds of casualties.
‘Even though its purpose now is much more positive than when I was an occupant, it still looks grey and grim. What must my ma have felt when she arrived here, heavily pregnant and allalone in the world? What sort of family would throw a young woman out on the streets to fend for herself? A heartless one, if you ask me,’ Ronnie said.
‘That’s how things were for young women in service,’ Tilly replied. ‘The shame that Kate’s pregnancy would have brought upon the family was more important than her welfare and yours come to that.’
‘But I was an innocent baby,’ Ronnie said.
‘Don’t you want to go inside?’ Tilly asked.
‘No, all those injured servicemen. The nurses have far too much to do than to talk to me about the history of the workhouse. Let’s go to Vanburgh Hill. The house shouldn’t be too difficult to find,’ Ronnie replied.
They turned away from the building and retraced their steps to find the Winton residence.
‘Don’t expect too much, Ron,’ Tilly said. ‘They may not still live there. People move on. What did Kate say? Mr Winton was a banker. He’s probably retired now and bought a mansion in the country.’
They stood outside Vanburgh House and looked at each other. Ronnie paused to take in the elegant façade, the glossy black painted door and the brass knocker. His gaze moved upwards towards the windows in the loft.
‘That would have been Ma’s room, right up there in the servants’ quarters,’ Ronnie said. ‘She was happy here, so she told me.’
‘Do you suppose the family knew about you? That the father of her child was their son?’ Tilly asked.
‘Ma says not. That she couldn’t tell them. After they got the news about Philip’s death, she couldn’t burden them with her problems. I think she should have told them. They might have wanted to meet me. I might have given them some of their son back, don’t you think, Tilly?’
‘She did what she thought was right at the time,’ Tilly replied. ‘Well, are we knocking on the door or have you changed your mind?’
Ronnie gave three firm taps on the brass knocker and waited.
A maid in a neat black-and-white uniform answered the door. ‘Winton residence. May I help you?’ the squat, rounded figure asked.
‘Are Mr and Mrs Winton at home?’ asked Ronnie.
‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘They won’t know me, but my name is Ronnie Locock. I’m a pilot on leave. I was hoping to see them before I return to active service,’ Ronnie explained.
‘Oh, do you know Mr Simon? Are you from his squadron? Do you have news? He’s missing, presumed dead, you see. Poor Mrs Winton. She’s distraught. Lost her husband and now her son is missing. Please, come in. I’ll go and tell her you’re here.’
