Camilla held up her hand, cutting Fitz off before she’d finished. ‘Stop,’ she said.
‘But you don’t know what I was going to say,’ protested Fitz.
‘Sorry,’ said Camilla. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. It was just purely to say yes.’
Fitz hesitated. ‘To say yes?’
‘Yes.’ Camilla smiled somewhat uncertainly. ‘Well, I assumed you were going to ask if you and Yvette could stay here.’
Fitz was taken by surprise. She looked at her father who gave a shrug, before he spoke. ‘I was going to say, it goes without saying but, on reflection, maybe it does indeed need saying.’ He smiled at Fitz. ‘You know you always have a home here, Geraldine, and so does Yvette.’
‘It will be lovely to fill the house with children’s laughter,’ said Camilla. ‘When we had the two evacuee children here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Michael laugh so much. It was such a shame when they went home.’
Fitz was lost for words. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. She had already decided she wasn’t going to beg. If her father had said no, or rather if Camilla had said no, then she would work something else out. But that didn’t look like it was necessary. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s very kind of you both.’
‘You can stay as long as you like,’ said Camilla. There was a look of happiness Fitz hadn’t seen before on her stepmother’s face and something else, almost gratitude.
‘Claudine. Fitz!’ It was Yvette calling from the top of the stairs. ‘Come and look!’
‘Oh, I’d better go and see what I need to look at,’ said Fitz. ‘Not that I haven’t seen Michael’s train set a million times.’
Fitz spent several minutes admiring the train set for Yvette’s benefit and inspecting the new engine Michael had been given for his birthday, before heading back downstairs.
As she got to the last tread, she heard Camilla speaking. Fitz paused, more out of habit from when she lived at home and used to pause to eavesdrop on anything Camilla might be saying.
‘I’m so glad Geraldine is back,’ came Camilla’s voice. ‘I know you’ve been worried sick about her.’
‘Yes. I think she might have been in France,’ said Edward in a low voice.
Fitz strained to hear.
‘Yes. I thought so too,’ replied Camilla. ‘Especially as she’s now got Yvette. Heavens knows how that has come about. She seems a sweet child.’
‘Yes. I’m going to have to brush up on my French,’ said Edward.
‘It will be nice company for Michael, too,’ continued Camilla.
At that moment, footsteps from the kitchen sounded. Fitz looked around and there was dear Annie, carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches.
‘Oh, Miss Geraldine, Cook said you were coming. How are you?’
‘Annie! I’m very well, thank you.’ Fitz smiled broadly at the young woman. ‘You’re looking well.’
‘Thank you, Miss.’
‘Here, let me get the door for you.’
The conversation between her father and stepmother had stopped and after telling Annie she’d come and see her later, Fitz sat down for what turned into a very civil hour. There was something different about Camilla that she couldn’t quite work out. A thawing, maybe or had Camilla not changed? Was it Fitz who had changed and the angular corners of her younger-self been knocked off and smoothed a little after her experience of being away from home?
She could feel a warmth emanating from her stepmother. Was it a new thing, or had it always been there and Fitz had refused to see it?
The rest of the day passed happily. Fitz didn’t see much of Yvette. Despite the language barrier between the two children, Michael knew enough French to communicate with Yvette and the two of them seemed to have hit it off. Fitz had taken them both for a walk in the afternoon, exploring the gardens, showing Yvette the stables where her father still had his horse, Colonel. A large chestnut hunter whose hunting days were over but Edward hadn’t been able to part with him.
Fitz stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle, thinking of the last colonel she’d come into contact with and wondering what had happened to Hoffmann. Had he been brought to England? Were they both on the same shores once again? Him now the one on enemy territory? She wouldn’t ever know, of course. She was just a mere player in the game of war and espionage.
All too soon, it was time to think about leaving. The children had once again disappeared back to the playroom and Fitz had been chatting with Annie, catching up on all her latest news – mainly that Annie was getting married to her sweetheart the next time he was home on leave.
‘I said she should wait until after the war,’ said Cook, as she peeled potatoes at the large pine kitchen table. ‘War can change a man. The man that left is not the soldier who returns.’
