LITMIR.BIZ

      THREE

      In the woods beyond the hospital, one of Dulcie’s fellow lodgers, Sally, was walking with her fiancé, New Zealander George Laidlaw. Sally’s two-year-old half-sister, Alice, was between them as, securely, they each held one of her hands.

      Sally and George had originally met when she had left Liverpool to work as a nurse at Bart’s hospital in London where George had been training as a registrar. George was now working in East Grinstead under Archibald McIndoe. When the war was finally over they planned to marry and live in New Zealand close to George’s parents.

      ‘Have you had no word yet from Callum about us adopting Alice when we get married?’ asked George over the child’s head.

      ‘Not yet,’ Sally answered. ‘I’m not sure where his ship is and it may be difficult to get post to him. But I don’t think he’ll object, he wants what’s best for her, that he brought her straight to me when her parents were killed goes to prove it.’ A small shadow crossed Sally’s face. She had been adamant she would have nothing to do with her orphaned half-sister when Callum brought her late that night. After all, it was Callum’s sister, Morag, who had been her best friend before betraying her in the worst possible way by marrying Sally’s father within months of his wife’s death and had then become pregnant with Alice.

      It had come as a great shock and Sally, usually so caring, was determined that Alice should be handed over to the authorities and put into a children’s home. Olive, her wonderful landlady, had taken over in that gentle way she had and before she knew what had happened for sure, Sally discovered the little girl had found a place in her heart.

      Now she couldn’t envisage a life without her any more than she could imagine one without her darling, steady and caring George, whom she loved so very much. It seemed laughable that she had once had a youthful crush on Callum, who’d been a school teacher before joining the Royal Navy, imagining herself in love with him.

      ‘Swing!’ Alice commanded firmly, bringing Sally out of her reverie and causing the two adults to exchange understanding looks before obliging the toddler and lifting her off her feet in a swinging motion that had her laughing with innocent delight before demanding, ‘More, Georgie, more …’

      Georgie was her own special name for George and it never failed to touch Sally’s heart to see how much the little girl adored him and how very much she was adored in return.

      ‘Every day she reminds me more of Morag,’ Sally told him as they strolled through the leafy wood and was quite surprised when he said, ‘She has your mannerisms.’ She had never imagined the child had watched her so closely as to pick up her ways and those of the other girls back in Article Row, where she also loved trotting around in Olive’s heels ‘helping her’ around the house. Sally knew that one day she would tell Alice the story of her parents and her loving home. She was determined now that the child would know the security and happiness of that kind of secure home life.

      In Hyde Park another member of the household at number 13 was also enjoying the July sunshine. Tilly, Olive’s eighteen-year-old daughter, was sitting on the grass with her head in her American boyfriend Drew’s lap, whilst she read the newspaper article that carried his by-line.

      ‘Oh, Drew, it’s sooo good,’ she exclaimed when she had finished. ‘I do wish you’d let me read your book though.’

      ‘It’s our book,’ he told her, ‘but I don’t want you to read it until it’s finished. You know that,’ Drew reminded her, as he had done every time she begged him to let her read the book he’d started writing shortly after his arrival in London after the beginning of the war. But he softened his refusal with a tender smile and Tilly smiled back.

      ‘I can’t wait for you to finish and for it to be published. I think it should be published now.’

      ‘It won’t be finished until the war is over,’ said Drew, ‘and besides, there isn’t any paper to publish new books at the moment.’

      ‘That’s so true,’ Tilly said with a tinge of regret. ‘Like so much else,’ she mused as the country prepared to enter its fourth year of the war in September. ‘You could get it published if you took it back home to America. Your father owns a newspaper and publishing group after all.’

      Immediately Drew sighed and then took hold of both Tilly’s hands, gently pulling her upright so they could face each other.

      ‘You know I can’t do that, Tilly,’ he said firmly. ‘My father wants only one thing from me and that is to step into his shoes and take over the business – to live the life he wants me to live and not the life I want to live.’ With you, he thought silently.

      ‘There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here with me, you know that, Drew, but I can’t help feeling guilty sometimes. Your family, especially your mother, must miss you so much.’

      Drew sighed again. He knew that he’d never be able to make Tilly understand how different his family values were to those of her own. Tilly might be an only child, but Olive had given her far more love and a happier, more secure childhood than he’d had from his parents and his sisters too. There was a coldness that came ultimately from his father and it affected everything he grasped in his icy, domineeringly cruel embrace in the same way as the warmth that came from Olive’s love for her daughter reached out to all around her.

      ‘They might miss the person they want me to be, a figment of my father’s imagination,’ said Drew, ‘but that person isn’t me, Tilly.’ He looked away for a moment and then turned to her again, his eyes red-rimmed as if he was stemming unshed tears. ‘Please believe me when I tell you, honey, that I have spent the happiest days of my life here with you and your family.’

      Tilly gave him a look of adoring love, although as her mother had brought her up to be considerate to others she felt compelled to say, ‘America is your home though, Drew, and seeing so many of your fellow countrymen over here since America joined the war must make you feel so homesick. I know it would make

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