To this day she couldn’t remember how her father had found her in the park and got her out, but it was that night, at home, after he’d put her in the bath and dressed her ready for bed, that it started.
‘I know you miss your mother,’ he said. ‘Just as I do. But you see, running away won’t help. It makes thing worse. And it was a very naughty and selfish thing for you to do. You were only thinking of yourself, weren’t you? What about me? Don’t you care about my happiness?’
‘I don’t know why I did it,’ she said, ashamed of herself. ‘I just wanted to stop feeling the way I do.’
He’d stroked her hair. ‘I understand. But what you have to understand is that you’re old enough now to do what your mother did to make me happy.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘It’s your duty to replace your mother,’ he explained, his large rough hand now stroking her shoulder. She could smell the tobacco from his pipe on his fingers, combined with the earthy smell from what he’d been doing in the potting shed. ‘Your mother wouldn’t want me to be lonely,’ he went on, ‘so now that you’re a big girl, it’s your duty to make me happy. It’s what your mother would have wanted. Do you think you can do that?’
‘How?’ she asked.
‘I’ll show you. It might hurt to begin with, but it won’t always be that way.’
‘Mummy, why are you crying?’
Her son’s question, as he burst into the room out of breath, took her by surprise. Wiping away her tears, she forced her lips to smile. ‘I was remembering something from a long time ago,’ she said.
Closing the door behind him, he came towards her. ‘Was it a horrid Christmas like the one we’re having today?’
‘No,’ she said sadly. She held out her arms and he came into her embrace. Just as he always did. Her precious child. ‘I’m sorry you’re not having a good time,’ she murmured into his baby-soft hair.
‘It’s not your fault,’ he said, leaning back to look up at her. ‘It’s father. Why does he have to be so mean and nasty?’
‘He’s not always mean. I just think he’s unhappy. People who are unhappy behave strangely.’
‘Do you know what he’s doing right now, this very minute?’
‘He’s not having another row with Ralph, is he?’
‘No. He’s drunk and smashing up the presents under the Christmas tree, including the one I put there for you. I call that pretty mean, don’t you? He said I had to watch him do it, but I refused and ran off.’
‘Oh darling, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t keep apologising for something that isn’t your fault. It’s him. It’s always him. I hate him. I hate him so much I never want to see him again. Not ever!’
‘But he’s your father.’
‘I don’t care. He’s a fat pig of a man who I hate!’
Behind him the door opened again and fearing it was Arthur, Julia jumped up from where she was sitting, ready to shield Charles from his father’s drunken fury. But it was Ralph.
‘What have you been doing all this time?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been waiting here for ages.’
‘Sorry about that, it took me longer than I thought to organise things properly. Now, are you both ready?’
Her nerve going again and frightened of the consequences of what Ralph wanted her to do, Julia looked at him anxiously. ‘Are you sure running away is the answer? Won’t he just come after us?’
Standing in front of her, Ralph looked at her sternly. ‘Julia, listen to me. The man has been hitting the whisky decanter and right now he’s downstairs going berserk with a hammer.’
‘See, Mummy, I told you he was drunk and smashing the Christmas presents.’
‘But—’
‘No buts,’ said Ralph. ‘The mood he’s in, there’s no knowing what he might do next. And do you think for one minute he’ll get more than a few yards on foot?’
‘What about the car? He’ll use that, won’t he?’
Ralph smiled. ‘No he won’t. I have the keys.’
‘Oh, Ralph, I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing. If only you hadn’t made him so angry, he wouldn’t be in the state he is. Why don’t we just apologise to him and—’
He interrupted her once more. ‘That man was born angry. Now fetch your coat and come with me. Charlie-Boy, do you have your bag ready as I asked?’
‘Yes. It’s in my room.’
‘Go and get it now and meet us on the landing. We’re then going to use the servants’ staircase and go down to the boot room.’
‘What about Miss Casey?’ asked Charles.
‘I’ve locked her in her room.’
Julia stared at him open-mouthed. ‘You’ve done what?’
‘That’s what took me so long, I had to wait for her to stop trying to calm my father down and go up to her room. Now come on, let’s get out of here.’
Chapter Eighty-Four
Melstead St Mary
December 1962
Romily
At Edmund’s insistence, nobody else was allowed to see Hope. She needed to rest, he had explained. He and Annelise were going to stay the night with her, even if it meant sleeping in chairs either side of the bed.
After clearing the snow from the windscreen of the Land Rover, and sharing round the food and drink they had brought with them, Romily embarked on the slow drive home. Kit and Evelyn had volunteered to go in the back again, leaving Red to have the more comfortable seat next to Romily. She was glad of his company. ‘I doubt you anticipated spending Christmas Day quite like this,’ she said to him.
‘No, but then as I’m fast discovering, life with you is never boring, it’s one surprise after another.’
‘That’s not a bad summation. Although I have to say, you’re the biggest surprise to come my way in a long while.’
‘A good one?’
‘You’re fishing again, Mr St Clair.’
‘God loves a trier, Mrs Devereux-Temple. And so do you, if I’m not mistaken.’
She smiled, but kept her gaze straight ahead on the road, which was hardly visible beneath drifting banks of snow whipped up by the wind. The half-light of the afternoon was fast seeping from the leaden sky, and they were now reliant on the Land Rover’s headlamps to guide them.