The Postcard (7 page)

‘Can’t we go back again?’

‘Now don’t go getting upset if Marthe isn’t there. It’s late. We’ll call on them in the morning before we leave.’

Callie was puzzled again. Hadn’t she sent the van Hooges a postcard telling them when they would arrive?

In the morning after breakfast, they called again and a woman opened the door. She was not smiling. ‘So you’ve come. I heard there were strangers at my door. Marthe is at work. She
stays at the doctor’s house. The references you gave her were excellent.’ There was a coolness in her voice when she spoke to Aunt Phee, but she saw Callie looking crestfallen.
‘You’d better come in.’ Her English was good. Callie was confused. References were what maids got when they left a house. Why did Marthe need references?

‘Can I go and see her?’ she asked in Flemish. Mrs van Hooge looked surprised.

‘No, dear, not when she is working, but she gave me a letter just in case you called. You speak very well, Callie.’ She smiled, handing her a note in an envelope.

Callie stared at her aunt. ‘Is she not coming back with us?’

There was a moment when no one spoke. The two women looked at each other and then at Callie. ‘She does not know?’ said Mrs van Hooge, folding her arms across her bosom in
disapproval.

‘No, I didn’t want to spoil her holiday. I will explain later. She got so attached . . .’

‘I can offer you some tea,’ Marthe’s mother said very politely but her eyes were angry. She turned to Callie and smiled. ‘You will always be welcome here, Callie. Marthe
is very sorry not to say goodbye. She misses you very much.’ She spoke in Flemish, knowing Aunt Phee would not understand.

‘I think we’d better be off Thank you for seeing us. I think you will agree it was time for Marthe to come home to her family.’

‘That was for her to decide in her own good time, Miss Faye. Timing is important.’

The atmosphere was uncomfortable as Aunt Phee hustled Callie out of the door. Her cheeks flushed as Callie began to cry. ‘Now don’t make a fuss out in the street.’

Callie was too shocked to do anything but walk down the street in a daze, swallowing back tears. Marthe had left her, gone to another position, and she never got to say a proper goodbye. Her
heart was bursting with panic. Who would look after her now?

‘Don’t be sad. We’ll go and have ice cream.’

‘I don’t want ice cream. I feel sick,’ Callie whimpered. She knew it wasn’t polite to howl in the street but she could hardly contain her disappointment.

Later, they sat in the train chugging along the coast back to France. Callie looked out over the flat fields and dykes, seeing the great expanse of blue sky, lost in her confusion. Why had Phee
bothered to take her to Bruges when she knew Marthe was not coming back? What was worse was that Marthe had known this too. They had kept it all a big secret from her and it made her feel small and
stupid. She didn’t understand grownups at all. She turned her body away from Aunt Phee in anger. She could tell her aunt was uncomfortable, trying to smile and offer her sweets.

‘You have to understand, you’re too old for a nursemaid now. Marthe wanted to return to her family . . .’

‘She never said that to me . . .’

‘Grown-ups don’t have to tell children all their plans. Besides, you’ll have a new school to look forward to where you can stay and play with lots of new friends.’

That was how she found out she was enrolled in St Margaret’s Girls’ School on the Scottish east coast. She would not be living at Dalradnor any more except for in the holidays. This
second blow left her momentarily speechless.

‘But what about Cullein and Hector, my pony?’ she asked eventually, her voice trembling.

‘They’ll be well looked after. Mrs Ibell will keep an eye on things and Tam will take the dog.’

So it had all been planned behind her back. Everyone had known but her and now she’d have to stay in London and she felt sick. ‘I want to go home now to see Cullein. He’ll
think I don’t want him any more.’ She felt tears running down her cheeks

‘You’re a big girl now. You’ll love your new school. It’s one of the best in Scotland with lots of games and things.’ Aunt Phee tried to chivvy her up but she
didn’t want to listen to another word. She sat in the saloon in the ferry as the ship rolled one way and another making Aunt Phee go green. Callie smiled at her discomfort, glad she was out
of the way and she pulled out Marthe’s letter. This was not being shared by anyone. It was written in Flemish.

So it was all Aunt Phee’s doing. Marthe was made to leave. Why, why, why? For the first time in her life she didn’t trust her aunt. In fact she hated her and would never speak to her
again. Callie sank into the chair, trying not to cry. It wasn’t fair that Aunt Phee was the only relative she had left in the world who would look after her. She knew deep down that
she’d have to do what her aunt wanted, but the thought of living for months with a bunch of girls she hadn’t yet met, and away from her beloved pets, filled her with horror.

Phoebe retched in the lavatories, feeling like death warmed up. Her daughter was sitting in the saloon in a sulk of gloom and sullen silence. She will thank me for it one day,
Phoebe tried to reason with herself. Going to Bruges had been a mistake and perhaps she should have prepared the girl earlier for the changes to come, but what was done was done, and after all she
had no experience of young girls of this age. The sooner Caroline learned that life sprang surprises on you, the better. It was not as if she was sending her to Dotheboys Hall. St Margaret’s
was a prestigious, progressive and expensive school. She would get a first-class education in fresh air and beautiful surroundings. The school was alma mater to some pioneering doctors and
teachers. Caroline was lucky to be accepted but Kitty and her friend Chrystal Macmillan had put in a word. Sir Lionel himself wrote that he couldn’t have chosen better for such a bright
child. But as they journeyed north, Phee realized that the holiday had ended on a sour note and that it was all her fault. Mrs van Hooge was right. Timing was everything.

They arrived at Dalradnor tired and jaded. Caroline shot off to see her pets without a thank you or a backward glance. If she felt any unease at the decisions, Phoebe did not want to show it to
the staff but busied herself making sure the child had everything on the long list of uniform and equipment. Kitting her out in thick winter coat, a regulation tweed suit for Sunday church,
underwear and sports clothes all took time; then everything had to be tagged with her name by Mrs Ibell, who tutted now and then but said nothing until the trunk was packed full and sent on by
rail.

Phoebe never saw Caroline from morning to dusk for those last few balmy days of late summer, when the walled garden was filled with the hum of bees in the flowerbeds, the smell of ripe apples
and bramble bushes. There was a golden light on the stone house and the water rippled on the loch like diamonds. She had first seen it in this light as she carried the new-born baby into the peace
of the garden, mourning that Arthur would never see it. Now the baby was a strapping girl, all legs and energy. How could she not think of this as home?

Then, on the day of their departure, Caroline stood pale-faced in her new navy-blue uniform like a victim about to be sent to the gallows.

‘It won’t be long to mid-term. You can always come back here and bring a friend,’ said Mrs Ibell, trying to comfort her.

‘I’ll have to go to London with
her
,’ Caroline snapped, staring at Phoebe.

‘Now that’s no way to be talking about your betters, young lady. Let’s no’ be having bad words afore ye go. You’ll have a grand time at yon school and grow six
inches.’

Callie rushed to hug the housekeeper, trying not to cry. ‘I’ll write to you.’

To Phoebe she was politeness itself on the car journey all the way to Arbroath. They left Tam with the car at the gate, and as they walked up the drive, approaching the tall greystone buildings
of the school, built like a castle, Callie was impressed by the beautiful grounds. There were parents, motor cars, chauffeurs, girls with violin cases and hordes of friends greeting each other with
excitement. The new arrivals were ticked off on a list by prefects in gowns with perfect manners.

‘Say your goodbyes here, girls,’ said a teacher, also in a gown and mortarboard.

Phoebe stopped, hoping she would get a hug, a sign that she had been forgiven for being cruel to be kind.

Caroline turned sharply. ‘You can go now. I’ll be fine. Goodbye, and thank you for coming with me.’ For once those Arthur-blue eyes were as cool as ice, her jaw firm and
composed and lips closed in dismissal.

So that’s all the thanks I get, Phoebe sighed as she walked slowly back to the gate. What else did you expect? She could hear Kitty’s accusing tone in her ear.
You take away
everything she’s ever known, even her little dog, and you expect her to be grateful
?
Just give her time
. Will she ever thank me for it, she wondered. Her stomach tightened and
her legs were heavy. She felt so uneasy. Lingering at the entrance, she wanted to turn and rush back up the drive to pull her daughter out of the line of new arrivals, but when she retraced her
steps they’d all gone inside out of view. What have I done? she cried into the wind. Suddenly she felt breathless with panic, as if she’d just thrown something precious away, not
knowing if she might ever find it again . . .

1928

Phoebe travelled north and stayed overnight in a hotel. For the long summer holidays, Caroline was to stay at Dalradnor to give her a chance to catch up with her dog and pony,
Hector. No doubt Sir Lionel would engineer a secret visit as he continued to take an interest in his granddaughter.

Phoebe had just finished filming a silent thriller starring Ivor Novello and directed by Fred Hitchcock. After the success of
The Lodger
, he was doing another creepy one. It was only a
walk-on part but she was in good company. The news was all about talking-picture technology, and that would make a huge difference to her career prospects. Some of the silent actors had terrible
voices. She’d take Callie down to the studios as a treat, and she was sure the McAllisters would ask to her to stay with her school friend Primrose. The two girls made an odd couple but
Caroline liked going to their home in Yorkshire.

Harrogate was only a few miles from Leeds but so different in character and tone. It was where the wealthy lived, with elegant shops, a famous spa, and it had countryside beyond. Phoebe had
never talked about Leeds or her connections there, or elaborated on the myth about Joe and Beryl. Callie had stopped asking about her parents years ago. Sometimes Phoebe wondered about Ted, the
only family she had left, if indeed he was still alive. It was possible they wouldn’t even recognize each other now.

Phoebe liked visiting St Margaret’s. The huge stone school filled her with awe, with its neat trimmed borders, the sea crashing onto the shingle just beyond the grounds. It was a perfect
place for a boarding school. Arthur would be proud that his daughter was being educated here. As her car approached, she could see the bandstand ready for the school orchestra, the sports arena
cordoned off. She found her way to the sixth form and met an enthusiastic group of young ladies all asking intelligent searching questions, and she enjoyed being as honest as she could about her
film and theatre experiences. Luncheon was served in a marquee for special guests and parents, with girls in their smart gingham summer dresses darting around trying to be helpful.

The end-of-year pageant took place on the lawn. It was a depiction of the march of the suffrage movement from Victorians in crinolines through to the Pankhurst militants chaining themselves to
railings and being arrested. It wasn’t a bad show: lots of overacting, melodrama, girls dressed as prisoners in sackcloth aprons and bonnets, girls marching in the colours, carrying silver
arrows to denote being in prison and singing the suffragette anthem ‘Shoulder to Shoulder’
.

Phoebe kept searching out Caroline and her friend in the hordes of girls but it was mainly fifth and sixth formers taking part. They’d meet up for tea.

The pageant reached its climax and everyone was clapping when suddenly there was a loud and unexpected peal of bells from the old bell tower. People looked up to see movement on the roof. Two
girls were climbing up with something wrapped round them. In the sunshine no one could miss that one of them had bright red hair and the other was edging her way up to where the weather vane swung
with the wind. There were gasps from the audience of parents. Phoebe went cold with terror. It was Emily Davison all over again. There was nothing she could do but pray,
Not my child, please,
God, not my child . . .

‘Are you all right? You don’t have to come any further,’ yelled Callie, seeing the look in her friend Primmy’s eyes as they scrabbled on the roof,
edging round the narrow balustrade.

‘I said I’d do it and I will.’ Primmy began to unwrap the banner they’d made from their pillowcases. ‘Here, you grab this end.’

Callie sensed Prim had gone far enough. This was her plan and she must execute it. ‘Go back down now . . . I can do the rest. There’s not enough room for two of us,’ she
ordered, but Primmy clung on. ‘It needs two of us and you know it.’

‘I can do it and that’s an order,’ Callie shouted, seeing all the faces far below looking up at them. Suddenly it didn’t seem such a good idea to raise their banner in
public. It should have been done at dead of night, but they were here now and she’d see it through. Primmy must leave, though, and get to safety. It was higher than she’d thought.
Getting into the old bell tower had been easy enough, but they’d dislodged stones climbing up outside and both girls were unnerved at the ease with which they skittered away beneath their
feet. ‘Go back, Primmy, please,’ Callie yelled, and waited, clinging on tight to her position, for Primrose to back down and out of sight.