Another red-jacketed Guardsman pitched forward and fell, to lie stiff and lifeless at my feet. Quickly I loaded my cannon and fired: Eddie’s crow of pleasure became a howl of dismay as the dried pea demolished three kilted Highlanders with one lucky shot. Robbie and I took heart and the tin cannons jumped and recoiled as we fired round after round, until only one prancing Hussar was left of Eddie’s once-mighty army, while behind our lone crouching Rifleman a column of Life Guards still stood firm.
But at Nanny’s ‘Just five minutes more, then it’s teatime’ Robbie grew reckless: his missiles flew wide while Eddie, chin jutting and lips set, trained his cannon mercilessly on our men. One by one our cavalry fell, until only Hussar and Rifleman faced each other across the carnage, locked in a last deadly duel.
‘Up you get now, Jem’s here with the tea tray.’ Robbie gave a last desperate tug at the string - and watched disbelieving as the Hussar shivered, toppled, and slowly fell to the rug.
‘We’ve won, Hellie, we’ve won!’
‘Who’s won then?’ Jem dropped down beside us. ‘Why, if it isn’t a rifle-and-pack man, just like me!’
I reached for the green-tuniced Rifleman. ‘Did you look like him, Jem, when you were a soldier?’
‘Just like him, Miss Helena.’
I felt a rush of pleasure, and gently stroked my little lead Rifleman - he was real now, he was Jem. Jem had often told us how he had run away to take the Queen’s Shilling - ‘When I was no older than Master Guy is now - silly young blockhead I were then.’
Eddie butted his way in between us. ‘Tell us about the Fuzzy Wuzzies, Jem.’
Jem shook his head, ‘It’s your teatime - Ena’d give me what for if I started yarning on when yer tea’s on the table.’
Eddie, lower lip thrust forward, reached out a sulky foot to my Rifleman - I snatched him up and clutched his small hard body next to my chest.
‘All away in their boxes, at once.’ Nanny’s voice was inflexible. Reluctantly I opened my fingers and slowly reached out to the box. But I saw now a tiny grey patch where the green paint had flaked off his shoulder, and even as I restored him to his comrades I knew I would be able to recognize him again, my Rifleman. Satisfied, I jumped up and headed for the table.
When Robbie and Eddie were splashing in their bath Mrs Hill came to the nursery. Her hand smoothed the black silk of her dress as she spoke softly to Nanny. Nanny frowned and nodded and I wondered whyever Mrs Hill had come all the way up the back stairs herself instead of sending one of the maids.
After we were in bed we heard footsteps and voices next door, and -something heavy being dragged across the nursery floor. Next morning three large boxes stood beside the screen. Eddie ran to them and tugged at the heavy leather straps.
‘Leave those alone, Master Eddie.’ Nanny’s voice was sharp; Eddie turned reluctantly away.
We looked at each other as we drank our milk - what did it mean?
As soon as we had finished Nanny said, ‘Now you’ve to be good children today, and behave yourselves.’ She looked round at each of us in turn; we nodded. ‘Your grandpapa is poorly and wants to see you, so we’re all going to Cheshire.’ ^1^
Cheshire! I slid the name over and under my tongue. Cheshire - it sounded smooth and silky, not like our hard blunt Yorkshire. I felt a thrill of pleasure.
It seemed a very long time before we were all buttoned into our boots and gloves with our hat ribbons tied. Hands tightly held, we set out behind the oddman, our trunk balanced on his shoulder.
The engine came thundering into the platform, with its exciting, heart-stopping clamour. As the brakes squealed I glimpsed high above us the dark, godlike figure who ruled all this noise and power.
Robbie clung to my hand and whispered, "gine driver, Hellie - Robbie be ’gine driver when he’s big.’
Mr Lewis, glossy top hat in his hand, stepped forward to find our compartment for us. He swung the door open and we clambered in.
Eddie began to bounce on the seat, but Nanny was in no mood for play today. ‘Stop that at once Master Eddie - and no taking gloves off until I say.’
We waited obediently while Nanny produced a cloth from her large handbag and dusted the compartment.
Jem jumped in seconds before the whistle blew. ‘Trunks in safe and sound, Mrs Whitmore.’ And as we watched, the platform slid slowly away from us, then faster and faster, until it disappeared. I gasped with excitement and pressed my nose against the windows to stare at the toy houses and tiny white sheep and rushing green fields.
Eddie began to jiggle on his seat, ‘Wee wee, Nanny, wee wee!’ Robbie’s voice joined in. Nanny reached into her bag and produced the squashed india-rubber cocked hat. Ena unbuttoned Eddie and held him still, then Nanny tipped the hat out of the window with a quick flick of the wrist and it was Robbie’s turn. I watched him longingly - my own discomfort was increasing, but Jem sat solidly in the corner, reading his newspaper. I pressed my legs together and sighed as Nanny stowed the hat away. Ena patted my hand.
As we drew into the next station Nanny said firmly, ‘I’m sure you’ll want to go back for a smoke, Jem lad.’
Jem looked up, surprised. ‘No, no, that’s all right, thanks Mrs Whitmore.’
There was a pain in my belly now. I looked up pleadingly at Ena. She jumped to her feet, opened the door and said firmly, ‘Out you get, Jem Barnett, we’ll see you at York.’ She snorted ‘Men!’ as his bewildered face disappeared.
I hung on grimly, but Nanny did not fail me. The black hat reappeared in a trice and Ena was unbuttoning the flap of my drawers even as the train began to move. I sank down on to the squashy rubber in an ecstasy of relief.
Eddie said loudly, ‘Why Hellie sit down, Nanny?’
‘Because little girls are made differently from little boys, Master Eddie, and I’ll thank you not to comment on it.’
We left our beautiful green engine at York. Jem strode ahead, elbowing his way through the bustling crowd. We fixed our eyes on his broad shoulders and followed anxiously, clinging to Nanny and Ena, while Rose pressed close and the porters rattled their trolleys behind us. At last we were safe in our new compartment, watching Nanny’s duster carry out its familiar ritual.
Manchester was a vast gloomy cavern - hissing, clanking, clattering. As we drew level with the shining black monster which had pulled us so far, so fast, I hung back and gazed up in awe at the red-faced driver leaning over the side of the cab. He looked down, saw me and touched his cap. ‘Good afternoon, Missie.’
The engine driver had spoken to me! I drew a deep proud breath as Ena tugged me on.
We had pea soup at Manchester. As she placed my bowl in front of me the waitress said: ‘My, are these young men your brothers?’ T nodded proudly. ‘Well aren’t they alike. Do you know which is which?’
I ducked my head in turn and whispered, ‘Robbie, Eddie.’
‘Aren’t you a clever girl - but don’t you get them mixed up sometimes?’
I shook my head indignantly. Mama and Alice could not tell them apart, and even Ena and Guy got them muddled sometimes, but Nanny and I - never. Eddie was Eddie, and Robbie was Robbie.
Jem found us a cab and we sat mute while traffic rattled and thundered past. Dark high walls hemmed us in, and we could not see the sky. We climbed out, dazed, and stumbled along another platform and on to another train.
Robbie’s soft hair lay against my cheek; Eddie sprawled on the seat beside him, fast asleep with his head in Nanny’s lap. I struggled to keep my eyes open.
Ena whispered, ‘Wake up, Miss Helena, we’ve arrived.’
The porter called: ‘Hareford, Hareford,’ as a strange stationmaster swung the door open. We tumbled out and stood shivering in the cold air, then we were hustled through the barrier and into the waiting carriage. Nanny bundled us up in our rugs again as with a ‘Gee up’ we jolted forward and bounced out on to the cobbled street. It was dusk now but I could see pale faces peering out of shop doorways. Hands were raised to foreheads and women’s white aprons bobbed in clumsy curtseys as we rattled past. Then we were through the street and slowing down for the park gates. A plump woman swung them open and I glimpsed a row of noses pressed flat against the lodge window, round heads outlined in the lamplight.
The steady clip-clop and the familiar jingle of the harness closed my lids; I could scarcely prise them open when at last Nanny lifted us down. We staggered after her and stopped, blinking, in the bright light of a strange hallway. A butler with a long, sad face murmured to Nanny, and I caught the words: ‘He’s sinking fast.’ Who was sinking? Where? And why didn’t someone pull him out? But Nanny was chivvying us on, up the wide staircase, along a corridor, up again, and into a dimly lit passageway - until, finally, we came into a strange, shadowy nursery.
But our tired legs were not allowed to rest. With hands and faces quickly scrubbed, we were out and down again. A wide door opened; we walked into warm air and Papa came forward. He led us to a high bed, and then I was swinging up and up, and there, sunk into the pillow, was the grey-maned lion - Grandpapa. He was a very tired old lion now, his yellow skin stretched tight across his face, his beard straggling over the counterpane. His weary eyes gazed up into mine, his lips moved and I just caught the muttered: ‘God bless you, my child.’ Papa swung me down and the twins were lifted up in turn. Then we were all hustled out again.
When I woke next morning I clambered out of the unfamiliar bed and ran through the open door into the day nursery, then stopped, bewildered: Ena sat by the fire threading shiny ribbon through the skirt of my petticoat, just as she did every morning - but today the ribbon was black.
Nanny told us our Grandpapa had died in the night: ‘Gone straight to heaven my dears.’ Her tone forbade questions - but I wondered how he could have gone to heaven when he had no wings? The dead bird had had wings, but Grandpapa was a dead lion - how did dead lions fly to heaven?
We all wore black sashes on our frocks now. Then one afternoon Nanny made us sit down in a row with our backs straight while she read to us from the Bible - but it was Thursday, not Sunday. Faintly in the distance we heard the dismal toll of a church bell - on Thursday?
Nanny was reading the story of the Good Samaritan when Jem came in; she closed her Bible with a snap and took me by the hand. I walked beside her along the passageway and down the endless flights of stairs until we stood outside a high panelled door. The sad-faced butler swung it slowly open and his heavy voice announced: ‘The Lady Helena.’ I stood in the doorway looking for this strange lady with my name, until Nanny tugged me in. Papa led me over to Grandmama; she bent over me - her face a carved ivory mask - and murmured my name, then dismissed me. So I found myself on a window seat, my back against the black menacing glass, with Alice beside me. She flicked back her glossy dark curls. ‘How dull. I wish Juno were here - but Lady Maud came without her.’
I reached out and touched Alice’s sleeve. ‘Alice, which one is ‘Lady Helena’?
She brushed my hand away and began to laugh, then hastily converted it to a cough. ‘Really, Hellie, you are so silly -you are Lady Helena.’ I stared at her. ‘You’re Lady Helena, I’m Lady Alice.’ It was clear from her tone that Lady Alice was far superior to Lady Helena. I was still bewildered. Alice went on: ‘Grandpapa’s died, and now he’s buried we’re Ladies - so much nicer than plain Miss Alice, don’t you think? There must be lots of Miss Alices, but I bet there’s only one Lady Alice.’ She looked at me condescendingly. ‘I daresay there’s lots of Lady Helenas though - still, it’s better than Miss Helena, don’t you think?’
I did not know what to think, but I nodded: I knew Alice liked to be agreed with.
She turned and exclaimed, ‘Why, there’s Muirkirk, talking to Great-Uncle John - I didn’t see him come in.’
I followed her gaze. ‘Papa?’ I could not see him, only Guy looking very stiff and strange with his dark hair slicked down either side of his white parting.
Alice shrugged her shoulders exaggeratedly. ‘Oh Hellie, Papa isn’t Lord Muirkirk any longer - don’t you know anything?’ She sounded impatient, but Alice always did sound impatient. She went on, ‘You must call Guy “Muirkirk” now - he’s Lord Muirkirk.’
This was too much: my whole world was crumbling. Lady Alice, yes, this seemed only right and proper; Lady Helena - well, I didn’t believe that, I knew I had not changed - but Guy, turning into Papa, that was too much! My lip began to quiver. And suddenly I thought - what of my twins, Eddie and Robbie - my brothers - surely they were not changed? I turned to Alice and whispered, ‘Eddie? Robbie?’ I gazed despairingly up at her.
‘Oh, they’re still just Eddie and Robbie,’ she said impatiently. A wave of relief swept through me. ‘Except on envelopes,’ she added, ‘they’ll be ‘Honourables’ on envelopes.’
Whatever were ‘Honourables’? A sudden picture came before my eyes: Eddie and Robbie, pinned to two enormous white envelopes, transfixed like the butterflies in the glass case in the library at home. At home, when were we going home? Guy was beside us now - I opened my mouth to ask him, but Guy was now Muirkirk – I did not know who he was anymore. I looked up helplessly.
‘What’s the matter, Hellie?’ And it was Guy’s concerned eyes which looked down into mine.
At last I whispered, ‘When are we going home?’
Alice broke in, ‘You are a baby, Helena - we’re not going home, this is our home now.’
I looked round at the sombre black-filled room and the tears began to trickle down my cheeks.
Guy - or Muirkirk - took my hand, led me out of the room and hauled me up the steep stairs, along the gloomy passageways, back to Nanny. I ran across the nursery floor and threw my arms round her and clung as though I would never let go. She dried my tears and told me firmly that we were all going to stay at Hatton: Jem was already here, and Jem’s friends Albert and Frederick would soon be coming with Mr Cooper; Mrs Hill and Cook and the maids would arrive as soon as they had packed; and Mr Jenkins would be bringing all the horses, and especially Bessy, my grey pony. I looked at her, and then away at the strange bare nursery, and asked, ‘Dapple?’
‘Yes, we’ve sent for Dapple.’ I breathed a long sigh of relief. Nanny hugged me. ‘Now see how silly you were to get upset, Lady Helena.’ I jumped, but then I lay back again on Nanny’s large warm bosom. If Nanny said I was Lady Helena, then I was Lady Helena - but it would be all right.As long as Nanny was with us nothing could go wrong.