‘You know, you’re all putting me to shame,’ Edwin said at dinner one evening towards the end of October. He smiled benignly round the table at his family, peering over his spectacles at them, his eyes full of mischief. He was so proud of them all for their different contributions to life at the hall and in the village, not only in ordinary times, but now in war time they were all ‘doing their bit’, as the newspapers were exhorting everyone to do. Edwin still sported his colourful waistcoats that had been a source of amusement for his patients during his days as the local GP. ‘My attire amuses the children and makes the old ladies smile,’ he had always said. He had changed little over the years; he was still a little portly but was just as mild-mannered and kindly as he’d ever been. ‘I feel I should do something,’ he added.
‘My dear, you’re almost eighty,’ Henrietta said. ‘I don’t want you overdoing it and making yourself ill.’
‘What about you, Hetty, my love? You’re seventy-five and yet, here you are, as energetic and involved as ever. I’m still fit and healthy, there must be something I can do.’
‘I’m sure there will be, my dear,’ Henrietta said, ‘but it’s early days yet. We’re still in what everyone’s calling the “phoney war”. At the moment, the only things we can do are to house the evacuees and to make sure we’re “digging for victory”, as they’re asking us.’
‘And are all the children happily settled?’
‘I don’t know about “happily”, Edwin, but everyone is doing their best to care for them and to make them feel wanted – at least in our village anyway.’
Edwin chuckled. ‘Woe betide anyone who didn’t on your watch, Hetty.’
‘Poor little scraps,’ Alice said. ‘Florence was telling me that those little twin girls she took home with her were covered in head lice and she’s had to buy new clothes for them. They didn’t look so bad at first, but underneath their coats, they were virtually in rags.’
‘Ah, well done, Alice, my dear. You’ve given me an idea,’ Edwin said. ‘That is something I could do.’
All eyes turned towards him as he smiled. ‘I could visit all the homes where the children have been placed and give them a medical and see if there’s anything they need. Would that be all right with you, Robert?’
‘It would be ideal, Father. Conrad and I are both rather stretched at the moment. Now we’re almost into November, we’re starting to get the usual winter ills affecting the young and the very old and there’s no knowing what infections will have come in with the evacuee children. Meaning no disrespect to them, poor things, but it’s inevitable.’
Edwin beamed and nodded. ‘I will keep you informed of anything I think you need to know and I’ll ask Jake if he can drive me around when you’re not using the car.’
‘Jake is increasingly busy with the grounds,’ Henrietta put in. ‘Perhaps we should employ a driver for you and Robert now.’
‘That’s a very good idea, Hetty, my love. Leave that with me.’
‘So now,’ Alice said happily, ‘we’re all usefully employed in the war effort.’
‘I’ve got an interview at the Foreign Office late this afternoon. Do you think Matthew has had something to do with this?’
‘Darling, I really couldn’t say.’
Pips arched her eyebrows quizzically, but said no more. Later that day, she made her way to the Foreign Office and was shown into Michael Duncan’s office.
‘Please sit down, Mrs Allender. It’s good of you to come.’
‘I’m intrigued,’ Pips said, smiling.
The man rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. ‘These interviews are very difficult because I am not allowed to tell you very much. All I can say is that you will be engaged on extremely important war work, but you can tell no one anything about it. You can’t even tell your family where you will be. They can, however, write to you here, care of the Foreign Office.’
‘Will I be in this country?’
‘Yes, and not all that far away, actually. You would get leave now and again and you would be able to go home, but because you will have to sign the Official Secrets Act, you can tell no one – absolutely no one – anything about the work you’d be doing.’ He was repeating the same statement and this, more than anything, emphasized the nature of the work. Now Pips really was fascinated.
‘Can I tell my husband? He works at the War Office. He knows how to keep secrets.’
‘Absolutely not.’
She was silent for a moment before saying, ‘Well, I would like to be considered for – whatever it is.’
‘Then I would like you to do this crossword for me and I will time you. It’s the sort that appears in the Daily Telegraph, although it’s not one you will have seen before.’
Pips smiled inwardly as she took the newspaper and the pen he handed to her. As she bent her head and began to concentrate, she was aware that Michael Duncan had glanced at his watch to note the time. She worked swiftly and quietly as the minutes ticked by. When at last she looked up and laid the completed puzzle in front of him, he again looked at his watch.
‘Thirteen and a half minutes, Mrs Allender. Well done.’
‘Aren’t you going to check my answers?’
He chuckled. ‘I can see that you have completed the grid. It’s unlikely to be incorrect if all the words fit with each other. Now, one last thing. Do you play chess?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then,’ he rose from his chair behind his desk and crossed to a small table near the window where a chessboard had been set up, ‘may I challenge you to a game?’
‘I’d be delighted,’ Pips said and followed him across the room.
‘You be black,’ Michael said, as they sat down opposite each other. Pips hid her smile, wondering if this was a deliberate ploy on his part. They began to play and, after moving twice, Pips said, ‘Checkmate.’
She glanced up to see Michael smiling broadly. He said, ‘Fool’s mate. Well done.’
‘You gave me the opening to do that, didn’t you?’
‘Indeed I did and I was not disappointed.’ He stood up and held out his hand.
‘Welcome aboard, Mrs Allender. You will receive instructions within a few days, but we’ll let you have Christmas with your family and start you in January. But remember, not a word to anyone, not even your nearest and dearest.’
She took his hand and shook it warmly. ‘I understand.’
He laughed. ‘I’m sure you don’t – yet. But you will.’
That first Christmas of the war was a strange one for everyone throughout the country, though perhaps in Doddington it was the nearest to normal that they could make it – except that they had evacuee children in their midst. Several children had already been taken back home by their mothers when the anticipated bombing did not occur, despite Mrs Maitland’s advice that they should stay in the countryside. But many still remained and it was for these children that the villagers tried to make Christmas extra special. Henrietta held her usual Boxing Day party, but with a difference. Now the Great Hall rang with the shouts and laughter of overexcited youngsters.
‘You’re running the risk of your precious china being broken, Mrs Maitland.’ Bess cast her eyes around the cabinets which held china and glassware that had been handed down the generations.
‘If Hitler sends his bombs this far, Mrs Cooper, they’ll do far more damage than a few boisterous children can. It’s good to see them enjoying themselves, when I expect they’re missing their own families.’
‘All your family’s here,’ Bess said, ‘even Miss Pips and Mr George, but I don’t see Dr Maitland.’
‘Ah, Edwin has a very special part to play.’ Henrietta’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’ll see, Mrs Cooper.’
‘Aye, well, they certainly look like they’re having fun. In fact, I think we all are.’ Then she chuckled. ‘Except Len over there.’
They glanced across the room to where Len was standing with a glass in his hand, but a frown on his face.
Henrietta glanced around the room. ‘There is one young man who doesn’t seem to want to join in.’
Bess followed her glance. ‘Aye. He’s the lad staying with our Peggy and Sam. Bernard. He’s a bit older than the rest. Maybe he thinks these games are a little beneath him.’
Henrietta chuckled. ‘Well, they’re not beneath my daughter and granddaughter. Oh look, they’re starting a conga. Let’s get out of the way, Mrs Cooper. I don’t want to get caught up in that.’
The music from the gramophone blared loudly and Len’s frown deepened. He sidled towards the door, and as he did so, he passed in front of the young boy.
‘Bit rowdy for my taste,’ he muttered. ‘But aren’t you joining in?’
The boy shook his head. ‘Nah. I’d sooner be outside.’
Len glanced at him. ‘In this weather?’
The boy nodded. ‘I’m used to it.’ He nodded towards the roaring fire in the huge fireplace. ‘We don’t have fires like that where I come from.’
‘And where is that?’
‘Leeds, mister.’ The boy paused and then said, ‘You’re the feller that has the blacksmith’s and that, aren’t you?’
‘I am.’
‘I’ve been to watch Mr Nuttall once or twice. I’m staying with them. I reckon that’s the sort of work I’d like to do when I leave school.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘I like it here in the countryside. Didn’t think I would, but I do.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Twelve, nearly thirteen.’
‘Aye, well, I started work when I was that age. What’s your name?’
‘Bernard Smiff.’
For a moment, Len was very still. Then, in a husky voice, he said, ‘You’re welcome to come and watch us at the workshop any time you want.’
Just before the party was due to end, Henrietta clapped her hands and, after a moment or two, the children fell silent, staring at her with round eyes. Were they in trouble? But all the lady of the big house said was, ‘I hope you’ve all had a lovely time.’
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs,’ they chorused.
‘Good. Now, just before you go, I have a special surprise. Harry – where are you?’ She glanced around and spotted him. ‘Come and stand by me, please.’ Harry, a little embarrassed, moved towards her. He guessed what was about to happen. ‘Daisy, will you and Pips turn the lights off?’
There were a few murmurs amongst some of the little ones, but Alice and Florence soon calmed them. ‘Wait and see,’ they whispered. The door at the far end of the hall opened and Kitty, Sarah and Mrs Warren entered the room, each bearing a big cake with candles. There were ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from all the children.
‘Now, we need to sing Happy Birthday to Harry. He was born here in this house on Boxing Day eighteen years ago.’
Harry actually blushed as everyone in the room sang to him. Then the cakes were cut and pieces handed around.
‘They’re making a right mess on your floor, Mrs Maitland,’ Bess said.
‘It’ll clean,’ Henrietta said and then clapped her hands again. ‘Now, when you’ve finished your cake, I want you all to stand at the side of the room in a long line. There, that’s it. Now, Daisy, will you see if our special visitor is ready? He may need a little help.’
Smiling broadly, Daisy left the room and a few moments later opened the door again to usher in a rotund figure with a long white beard, dressed in a red coat and hat.
‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Edwin boomed as he lugged a heavy sack into the room. Behind him, hardly able to contain her giggles, Daisy dragged in a second bulging sack.
‘Now, children, line up and go in turn to speak to Father Christmas. He has a little present for each of you. The ones wrapped in pink paper are for the girls, the ones in blue for the boys.’
It took almost an hour for each child to receive a gift and then to sit on the floor to open it.
‘By heck, Mrs Maitland, it must have cost you a pretty penny to buy them all.’
‘By the look on their little faces, Mrs Cooper, it’s money well spent.’
‘Ah well, I can’t deny that.’ She glanced around, as if checking to see that everyone had a present. ‘What about the lad over there, standing with Len? He hasn’t been up.’
Edwin appeared to have one present left and he was holding it aloft. ‘Bernard,’ he boomed in his best Father Christmas voice, ‘this must be for you.’
For a moment the boy didn’t move until Len whispered, ‘Go on, lad, don’t spoil it for the little ’uns.’
Bernard accepted the gift with good grace and was rewarded by a huge wink from Father Christmas.
As the door closed behind the last small child to leave, there was only Bernard left. ‘Can I help you to clear up, Mrs Maitland?’
‘That’s very kind of you. I’m sure we could use an extra pair of hands.’ When everything had been cleared away, the floor swept and the room restored to order, Henrietta said, ‘Thank you for your help, Bernard. Peggy and Sam will be here for a while helping in the kitchen so you’re welcome to stay with us until they’re ready to go home. Perhaps you’d like to go to the stables with Jake to feed the horses.’
‘I would, Mrs. Thanks.’
‘I saw you talking to Mr Dawson. Everything all right?’
Bernard frowned a little. ‘He asked me what me name is and when I told him, he said I can go and watch him at work any time I want.’
Henrietta nodded and said slowly, ‘Perhaps I should tell you: he had a son called Bernard who died in the last war. In fact, he lost three of his four sons in that conflict.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t go.’
‘If you want to, you go. Mr Dawson would not have made the offer if he didn’t mean it. Believe me.’
‘’Lo, Harry.’
As the Nuttall family and Bernard left the hall and walked back to their cottage in the dusk of early evening, they heard footsteps behind them. Kitty caught up with them and fell into step alongside Harry, who was carrying the last remnants of one of the birthday cakes.
‘Did you like your cakes? I helped Cook to make them.’
‘Lovely. I’m going to wrap a piece up to take with me. I leave next Monday to join the RAF.’
‘I know. Your mam told me.’ Kitty walked along in silence for a while, but when they reached the point in the lane where Harry and his family turned towards their home, she blurted out, ‘Harry, I’ve got summat else for you.’ She held out a folded piece of paper. ‘It’s another four-leafed clover. I’ve pressed it properly this time so you can put it in your wallet.’
Harry laughed. ‘You must have a right patch of ’em. Thanks, Kitty. I’ll carry it always.’
They stood together for a moment, before Kitty leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she turned and ran down the lane leaving Harry grinning in the darkness.