Flight of the Jabiru (47 page)

“Elsie! Come in and sit down,” Walter said happily. “I've been hoping you'd stop by. I have some news for you.”

“You're going home soon,” Elsie supplied.

“How did you know it?”

“Our daughter told me,” Elsie said.

Walter could tell by Elsie's expression that she and Lara had made peace. It made his heart swell with joy. “You've spoken to Lara.”

“Yes, she came to see me this morning. She's even invited me to your home to visit after you're discharged.”

“That's wonderful, Elsie,” Walter said. He really wished he could share memories about Lara with Elsie, but he couldn't. They'd just have to make new memories.

“She was an adorable little girl,” Elsie said with a relaxed smile. “Do you remember that fluffy toy rabbit she had? She wouldn't go to bed without it.”

“Yes, she kept it until its ears fell off...” Walter stopped, and gaped. “How ... how do you recall that?”

“I have my memory back, Walter,” Elsie said. “There might still be a few gaps you could help me with, but I remember our past and how much we loved each other.”

“How? Did it just come back one day?”

“I fell over and hit my head on the pavement two years ago. When I recovered, my memory started coming back. At first it was just flashes, but as each day passed, more memories flooded back.”

Walter put his hand up to his mouth and his eyes misted. “Oh, Elsie. That's wonderful.”

“It wasn't for awhile, Walter. It was torture remembering I'd left my little girl, and you, but I am starting to believe that things will get better.” She reached for Walter's hand and squeezed it. “Is steak and kidney pie still your favorite?”

“Yes, it is, but no one makes it the way you used to.” Walter remembered that Elsie hadn't liked it after her accident.

“It's my favorite again, too,” Elsie said, smiling. “I'll make one and bring it around to your place when you get home.” She smiled and Walter's heart skipped a beat.

“My mouth is watering already,” he said.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

March 1943

“Winston, I'm glad I caught you.” Nicole sauntered into Judge Mitchell's chambers, forgoing the courtesy of knocking. She was ensconced from neck to knee in the fur of many unfortunate creatures, at a cost that would've surpassed the combined yearly salaries of every person waiting to be brought up before the court that day. Winston felt exasperated. How many times had he advised his sister not to flaunt her wealth in front of society's desperate and unlawful element? How many times had he reminded her that his chambers were his work sanctuary and it was polite and necessary to knock in case he was in counsel with solicitors? He may as well have spoken to a chair for all the notice she took.

“I'm on my way out, Nicole,” Winston replied, shrugging into his overcoat.

“Where are you going?” she asked feeling slighted.

“To the Hot Pot Cafe for a bowl of Mrs. Fellowes's wonderful chicken soup and a meat pie.”

“That can wait,” Nicole said dismissively.

“No, it can't, Nicole. I'm meeting Paul Fitzsimons.”

“He won't mind if your tardy, Winston.”

“Unlike you, Nicole, I pride myself on being punctual,” Winston retorted as he headed for the door.

“I just came to tell you that Roy would like to see you at Fitzroy Park, and he's very upset.”

With his hand on the doorknob, Winston groaned. Why would he want to see Roy when he was upset? There again, was he ever in a more convivial mood? “Has one of his polo ponies had a set of shoes stolen and he'd like the thief to be given fifty lashes with the cat-o-nine tails?”

Nicole pursed her coral lips. “Very funny, Winston,” she said dismissively. “My husband has learned that Lara Penrose is back in Newmarket much sooner than she should be. Roy is seething about it.”

Winston was startled by this news, and not sure he believed it. “Is he certain?”

“Yes, of course. One of our servants has a sister who works as a nurse's aide in the White Lodge Hospital where Walter Penrose was a patient. She saw Lara visiting him on several occasions.”

“Why was Walter Penrose a patient?”

“What does it matter?”

“He must've been extremely ill to be in hospital.”

“He had double pneumonia, I think.”

“What do you mean you think? Isn't he still one of your employees?”

“Well, yes, he was before he became ill. We found out about his illness when we received a message from a neighbor of his, and we haven't seen him since. Roy hasn't been able to find a replacement either, and that's made him moodier than usual.”

“Are you telling me that Walter Penrose, an employee of many, many years, has been ill in hospital and no one from Fitzroy Stables has visited him to see how he was?”

Nicole's expression became defensive. “Not that I know of,” she said. “My point is that Lara shouldn't be in England and Roy wants you to have her thrown back in Hollesley Bay Prison for breaching the terms of her sentence. You promised us that she'd be banished to the God-forsaken Top End of Australia for two years.”

“I don't believe I called the north of Australia the God-forsaken Top End.” Winston felt like venting, but he bit his tongue. “Tell Roy that I will look into it,” he said, intending to do just that.

“See that you do, Winston,” Nicole insisted.

“It's good to see you again, Paul,” Winston said breathlessly as he took his seat in the warmth of the Hot Pot Cafe. There were a few more customers than usual, which obviously pleased a beaming Mrs. Fellowes.

“Same here, it's been awhile. Have you been running?”

“No, I walked briskly. I needed to expel some tension,” Winston explained.

“Ah, it's been one of those mornings.”

“Where've you been on your travels this time? Australia again, perhaps?”

“No, I've been in Scotland. I won't go again to Australia until the bombing raids stop. There'd be no need for more teachers out there, though. Most of the white population has evacuated. Even though a lot of them went before the first attack by the Japs, between two and three hundred people were killed. I believe the Japs dropped more bombs on Darwin than they did on Pearl Harbor. Luckily, most of the teachers I sent out there had evacuated with the rest of the population. A few remained behind, those working in outlying communities.”

“Like Miss Penrose,” Winston said, thoughtfully. When he heard about the bombing of Darwin he was eaten up with guilt for sending her out to Australia.

“That's right. Miss Penrose. I had heard reports that she was doing very well with the school in Shady Camp, but the day the city was first bombed was the day the teachers in outlying communities might've been in the city to pick up their salaries at the education department Office. I have to be honest, Winston, and admit that I don't know if any of the teachers were killed because I haven't had word yet. Communication is very sporadic since February last year.”

“I appreciate your honesty, but just this morning I was told that Miss Penrose is back in Newmarket.”

Paul sighed with relief. “Thank God she's all right,” he said.

“Yes, it's a miracle she's safe. I suppose most of the children she was teaching might've evacuated with their families, anyway.”

“Quite likely. How will this affect her sentence?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

After lunch, Winston went to White Lodge Hospital and spoke to Walter's doctor. Then he headed for the Fitzroy estate. Upon his arrival, he stopped by the stables before going up to the house. The only member of the staff he could locate was a stable boy who was cheerfully whistling while cleaning stalls.

“Good afternoon,” Winston said as he walked up behind the lad, stopping to admire the magnificent horses with their heads over the stall gates. He could smell fresh hay and saddle soap. He thought Roy might've had many faults, but possibly his only virtue was making sure his horses were well taken care of.

Billy Cobb was startled by Winston's voice and dropped the rake in his hand. “Good ... afternoon, sir,” he stammered, relieved that Winston wasn't Lord Hornsby because he was supposed to have finished cleaning stalls an hour ago. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Winston said, putting his foot on the head of the rake and applying pressure. The handle shot up. The stable boy grabbed it before it hit him in the face.

“If its information you want about any of the horses, Lord Hornsby should be up at the house.”

“I want to know if you were aware that Walter Penrose had been in hospital.”

“Why, yes sir,” Billy said carefully.

“Have you or any of the other staff paid him a visit?”

Billy shuffled uncomfortably avoiding eye contact. “No, sir, we haven't.”

Winston had been a magistrate long enough to know when someone was being less than truthful. “Didn't you like Mr. Penrose?”

“Yes, sir,” Billy rushed to say. “Walter is a real gentleman and very good with the horses. We've missed him around here.”

Winston could tell this was the truth, but something wasn't right.

Billy stroked the head of the white horse in the stall he'd been cleaning. “Old Ajax missed Walter so much that he wouldn't touch his food for days.”

“Walter has been very ill indeed. Why wouldn't you visit him?”

“Is he all right, sir?” Billy asked in genuine concern. “He hasn't passed away, has he?”

“No, he's been discharged, but I believe it will take some time before he gets his strength back. I want to know why no one here cared enough about him to visit him?”

Billy thought it was an odd question and presumed that Winston was a friend of Walters. He glanced around to make sure that no one would overhear his next words. “I did go and see him once, sir, but if Lord Hornsby found out, I'd lose my job here. None of the other staff have gone because they're all scared stiff of the master. He can be ... well, a bit of a tyrant.”

He wasn't telling Winston anything he didn't already know. “Why would he object to the staff visiting Walter?”

“I dunno, sir. He gave orders that no one was to visit the hospital. He was very insistent about it.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“You won't tell Lord Hornsby that I went to see Walter, will you, sir?”

“No, you have my word.”

“Thank you, sir. If you see Walter, tell him we're all thinking of him and missing him, especially the horses.”

“I will,” Winston promised.

Nicole happened to be at the bottom of the stairs when Winston knocked on the front door of their home, so she let him in. “Roy is in the library,” she advised him.

“Where are the children? I'd like to visit them before talking to Roy,” Winston said.

“Isabella is at a girl's party on the Hartford estate, just down the road,” she said, clearly elated as the Hartfords were one of the most respected families in Suffolk County and extremely wealthy. “Harrison is in his room. I think he's reading a book,” Nicole added with far less enthusiasm.

Her lack of acceptance for Harrison's academic pursuits always annoyed Winston. “Books are educational, Nicole. It wouldn't hurt for Isabella to be reading instead of wasting her time with your snobby friend's children. I'll see you in the kitchen in a few minutes. I'll need a strong coffee, laced with a good splash of Napoleon brandy before I speak to your husband.”

Nicole scowled as Winston climbed the magnificent mahogany staircase, overlooked by eighteenth-century tapestries. The children's rooms, just two of about twenty, were off the landing on the first floor of the oversized and underutilized mansion.

Harrison was sorting stamps at his desk when Winston knocked on his door, which was slightly ajar. His face lit up when he saw his favorite uncle peering around the door.

“Uncle Winston,” he said in delight as he rushed towards him with open arms.

Winston had always insisted on a hug from his niece and nephew. He abhorred the cold handshakes his father advocated. “Hello, my boy,” he said fondly ruffling his hair. “How are you?”

“All right, Uncle Winston. I was just looking over my stamp collection. I've got five albums now. Do you want to see them?”

“I'd be delighted. As a matter of fact, I have some stamps for you.” He produced an envelope from his pocket and opened it.

“What are they?” Harrison asked excitedly.

“They feature birds from Southern Rhodesia.”

Harrison looked delighted. “I haven't any of those.”

“Three are of the Lappet-faced vulture and the other two are of the Black Breasted Snake eagle. I think they are magnificent.”

“You are quite right, Uncle Winston,” Harrison said, gazing at them in wide-eyed wonder. “Eagles and vultures are the most amazing birds of prey. Thank you so much.”

“You're very welcome.” Winston loved to see Harrison happy and he enjoyed sharing his interests in birds and stamps. He knew Roy did not support or encourage his son's interests, and he doubted his shallow mother did, either.

“Where did you get these stamps, Uncle Winston? They're in very good condition.”

“A former colleague works in Rhodesia, so I kept the stamps from letters he sent me. I removed them from the envelopes just the way you showed me.”

“You did a great job.”

“Thank you. I had a good teacher.”

Harrison flicked through the pages of his albums and found the perfect place for the stamps.

“Can I ask you something, Harrison?” Winston said carefully.

“What is it, Uncle Winston?” They sat side by side on Harrison's bed.

“Do you remember the day your father had his front tooth knocked out?”

Harrison nodded, but dropped his head, a flicker of pain crossing his features. “I fell off a polo pony that day and hurt myself,” he said. “And Miss Penrose wasn't my teacher after that.”

“I know. But do you recall how your father's tooth was knocked out.”

“Yes,” Harrison said. “But I won't get in trouble for talking about it, will I?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Papa told me not to talk about it. He said it was because he didn't want to think about losing his tooth.”

“No, you won't get into trouble for telling me what happened. You and I can talk about anything.”

“Papa got hit in the face by the handle of a rake.”

“Oh, so you actually saw it happen,” Winston said cautiously.

“Sort of. It happened very quickly. Papa was going towards Miss Penrose, who was by the stall gate. He was angry because she'd called him a bully. She looked frightened and I was worried for her. Papa had his back to me, but through his legs I saw something move. It must've been the rake handle. It hit him and then he fell backwards and bumped his head on a bucket. He didn't move and I thought he was dead.”