The child was due at the end of February, but Marigold did not expect her sisters to return to England until May at the earliest. She decided to go into partnership with Bill just for the hotel in Coventry, and the winter was fraught with problems getting this latest hotel ready for opening. She was thankful not to have to worry about Ivy and Poppy.
The last letter had been from Poppy at the end of January, saying the doctor in St Moritz expected the child to come early. Marigold heard no more but was too busy to be concerned. Then on the first of March Poppy and Ivy arrived in Edgbaston.
'Where is the baby? What happened?' Marigold demanded of Poppy, for Ivy had retired to bed before Marigold reached home.
'It was born three weeks ago and died almost at once,' Poppy said brusquely.
'Poor mite! Was it small or weakly?'
'It was large and seemed quite strong, had lusty lungs, anyway. Ivy refused to feed it, gave it a bottle, and in the morning it was dead in its cradle. Apparently it happens sometimes like that, especially in the valleys where people are rather backward.'
Marigold was puzzled by Poppy's tone.
'You sound cynical,' she said questioningly. 'Which valleys, and what has that to do with Ivy and her baby?'
'Valleys in Switzerland, everywhere. Villages and towns where people have too many babies and cannot feed them all. They take care to smother those extra mouths they cannot feed, the inconvenient children.'
'Poppy! Are you suggesting that Ivy – no, it's impossible!'
'Is it? She never wanted the baby. She managed to make you believe it was George's child and tried to foist it off on me.'
'You still believe it wasn't his?' Marigold asked gently.
'Of course it wasn't! But it was very convenient for her that he'd been in London at the same time, and then that he died and couldn't deny it!'
'Perhaps she was frightened to admit anyone else could be the father. Oh, Poppy, she was so young!'
'She knew exactly what she was doing, believe me. She wasn't the slightest bit interested in it while she was carrying it, and never once said anything about what we might do once it was born.'
'Perhaps she dreaded having to give it up,' Marigold suggested.
'You always try to see the best in people but there isn't any best in Ivy! She never had a moment's feeling for the poor little child. Perhaps as well it died with a mother like her!'
'What happened?'
'She insisted on having it left with her the night it was born, even though the nurse wanted to take it out of the room for her to have a good sleep. In the morning it was dead. She maintained she had slept heavily all night, not heard a sound. Why did she want it left with her when she didn't care a jot for it? She didn't shed a tear and immediately began planning the journey home.' Poppy heaved a great sigh.
'She is an unnatural monster,' she said quietly.
Marigold shook her head quickly. She could not believe this of her little sister, but obviously Poppy did.
'Have you decided what you want to do now?' she asked instead.
'I don't want to stay here with Ivy.'
'I wonder if she'd like to go to an art college in London?'
'No. I asked her that when we on the way home, but according to her she knows more than they do and it would be a waste of time. She has a crate of paintings coming, that she did while we were away, and she talks of opening a gallery here to sell them.'
'That might be quite a good idea,' Marigold said thoughtfully. 'She would have responsibilities and be independent. But she would need a manager. She doesn't know how to run a gallery and she wouldn't have time to paint if she did. But what about you? You have enough from what George left to buy a small house somewhere, and probably enough left to live on.'
'I want to work. Could I do something in one of your other hotels?'
It was eventually decided that Poppy would move to Coventry and supervise the work there until the hotel was ready for opening. Afterwards, if she thought she could cope she would manage it. Bill, anxious primarily to please Marigold, readily agreed.
'I will be able to go over regularly and help her if necessary,' he said later to Marigold, and she smiled gratefully at him.
'I'd do anything to help her forget George. She's been so good.'
'The holiday in Switzerland was a good idea, it helped her get over the shock,' he agreed, for that was the story everyone had been told.
Ivy herself never mentioned the baby and Marigold forbore to ask. She thought it was too painful a subject, perhaps, although try as she might she could not quite push Poppy's accusations out of her mind.
The next few months were busy. The Coventry hotel was nearing completion, Poppy was grappling with the many problems there, and finding some satisfaction in it, and Ivy had found a suitable shop and was planning her gallery.
'Will you buy it me and let me live in a flat above it?' she asked Marigold. 'There are two floors above, it would make a very good flat.'
'You're too young to live on your own,' Marigold replied. 'And it would not be a good idea to buy until we see whether it is successful or not. If it is we'll think about it, but for the moment I will rent the shop and we will let the flat.'
Ivy protested but in vain, and when Marigold, exasperated, asked her if she wanted to forget the whole idea she shrugged her shoulders and agreed.
'You all go away from me whenever you want, but you won't let me leave,' she complained. 'Poppy's gone again and we hardly ever see her. And you go to see Dick every Sunday. I never see you at weekends and you're too busy in the week to talk to me. What's the point in living here?'
'I admire you for the patience you show,' Bill said. Ivy had just flounced out of the room one evening after trying unsuccessfully to enlist his help.
'She's very young,' Marigold excused her sister. 'She's the baby of the family and after she was burned everyone gave in to her, I suppose, so it's mainly our fault if she thinks the whole world revolves round her.'
'There you go again, blaming yourself. She has some responsibility for her own actions.'
'I know, but I've been in charge so long I can't let go.'
'You could if you married me. I want to take care of you, Marigold. Surely by now you must have given up hope of Richard being alive?'
Marigold shook her head vehemently.
'I know he's alive somewhere. I just do. If he were dead something in me would have died.'
'That's hope, or superstition. He would surely have come back by now. It's over six years since you last heard from him. He must have died when his aeroplane crashed.'
'What does the length of time matter? Six days or six years, it's all the same. I love him just as much, Bill, and apart from the fact I could not love you I'd feel disloyal, I would be doing something wrong if I were to marry you.'
*
Ivy roamed restlessly about the new hotel. The first wing of it had been open for a week and they would open the rest in stages, for it was the largest yet and there was still work to be done. She had come to fetch some clothes Marigold had left behind after the grand opening.
Eventually she went and ordered tea and occupied herself with a small drawing pad, sketching a border of entwined leaves and flowers round the edges.
Poppy was engaged with a visiting representative of a pottery firm who was trying to persuade her to buy china for the restaurant from his firm, and who did not appear to understand that the family connection with Endersby's Pottery meant they did not wish to buy elsewhere.
'So you see, Mr Travers, it's impossible,' Poppy said firmly. 'Now can I offer you some tea before you go?'
He gave in, accepting his dismissal and the tea. Poppy felt uncomfortable about entertaining him in her office so she led the way into the café where a small orchestra played softly at the far end.
Ivy saw them come in and waved vigorously. Poppy had hoped to avoid her but it was impossible, and she had to lead Mr Travers across to Ivy's table and introduce them.
He looked casually at the pad Ivy laid down and raised his eyebrows.
'I say, this is good!' he exclaimed. 'It looks like the border of a plate. Is that what the design is?'
'It could be, I suppose,' Ivy said. 'I just like drawing flowers.'
'May I take this to show my boss? We want some new designs and this is the kind of thing he's looking for. The shapes are so natural and yet so vital, they could be alive. Would you like it if he offered to buy something?'
'Ivy already sells lots of drawings and paintings,' Poppy said.
'But I could always sell more,' Ivy said quickly. 'I've never thought of doing designs for pottery, that's all.'
Mr Travers arranged to contact Ivy in Birmingham the following week, and when he did he told her his boss wanted to see some finished paintings suitable for repeating on china.
'Just two colours and gilt edging,' Mr Travers told her.
A month later Ivy's gallery was open, with Herbie installed in the flat above. Ivy was busy with commissions and Mr Travers often came. By chance when she went to check on the Coventry hotel Marigold discovered he was a frequent visitor there too.
'He's nice,' Poppy said defensively. 'Do you think I'm wrong to see him? It's almost a year since George died and it wasn't as if we were really married.'
'Of course I don't think you're wrong,' Marigold reassured her. 'I'll be glad if you can be happy again.'
Would she be able to think about another man if she'd seen Richard die, she wondered afterwards. She doubted it, but if they hadn't had the bliss of loving perhaps it would have been different.
'Will you bring him home? To Edgbaston?' Marigold asked, but Poppy shook her head swiftly.
'No. It would be too painful,' she added after a pause when Marigold looked startled at her abrupt negative.
Then Poppy begged her not to tell Ivy.
'I can't bear her everlasting questions and comments, and David hasn't spoken yet anyway. Please don't say anything, Marigold?'
'If you don't want me to of course I won't,' she promised. 'Ivy's found a manager for her gallery, did she tell you?'
'No. Who is it?'
'Some student from the art college, Herbie Cole. He used to study with Mr Frome and is quite a good painter, I believe. But not many people can make a living from it like Ivy does,' she added proudly.
Poppy sniffed.
'She earns more money than most people but it still isn't enough for everything she wants,' she commented. 'She says the clothes here are too dowdy and the dressmakers too inferior, she plans to go to Paris to buy some.'
'Paris! She hasn't said a word to me.'
'She'll probably go off one day with her secret hoard of money and bring a trunkful back. Either that or she was making some subtle criticism of my clothes, for she said they looked dull. I'm still in mourning so what does she expect? And I wouldn't wear bright colours and these new flimsy materials for work anyway!'
'Of course not. I must go now, Poppy, but will you come up to The Place next week for Dick's birthday party?'
'Is Ivy going?'
Marigold's face clouded over.
'No, she says children bore her. So you can safely come, she won't be there,' she added, refusing to let Ivy's attitude to her son depress her. 'Bill's coming too, he's never met Dick.'
*
Sophia Endersby welcomed them graciously. Since the end of the war they had moved back into the main part of the house, and the party for Dick was to be held in the largest drawing room, and if the weather were fine on the terrace outside.
Dick, six years old, was a tall, handsome child, becoming so like Richard Marigold's heart turned over with longing for her husband every time she saw him.
A dozen children were there, being carefully shepherded by their nannies or their mamas, and eagerly awaiting the conjuror who had been booked.
'I thought we could have the entertainment first, then tea, and they can go and run about and work off surplus energy outside afterwards,' Sophia explained.
Mr Endersby, an unwilling participant in the revels, soon became engrossed in business talk with Bill. Marigold was not surprised to see them slide guiltily out of the room as soon as the conjuror began pulling playing cards and long gauzy scarves from improbable places.
'Mr Thomas seems a very pleasant young man,' Sophia said to Marigold as they sat and watched Poppy and some of the younger nannies organising games for the children on the terrace after tea.
'He's a very helpful partner. We are thinking of expanding and opening another hotel in Walsall.'
'That might not be wise, my dear. Mr Endersby says the post-war surge of prosperity has reached its peak and there will almost certainly be a recession soon. Then your hotels will not be so busy.'
'Bill is confident it will not be severe when it comes.'
'I trust he is right.'
There was silence for a while. It was a companionable silence and Marigold marvelled that she and this woman now got on so well. Sophia had mellowed, and her gratitude to Marigold for being able to have Dick showed itself in all sorts of thoughtful ways.
'Have you ever thought of marrying again?' she asked abruptly.
Marigold glanced at her but Sophia was busy brushing a speck of fluff from her pleated skirt.
'Richard is still alive,' she said softly.
'You know all hope of that vanished when he didn't come home after the war,' Sophia said wearily. 'If he'd been hiding somewhere he'd have been able to come. If he was injured he'd have been found in a hospital somewhere. No, my dear, you must accept that he's dead. He wouldn't want you to waste your youth in this vain wait for him.'
'I don't consider it a vain wait. I have no desire to marry again whether Richard is dead or not.'
'But this man Bill, it's clear he adores you. He could make you very happy and be a father to Dick. Mr Endersby and I will not be here for ever, my dear.'
'You're not trying to tell me you're ill, are you?' Marigold asked in alarm.
Sophia laughed.
'Of course not, child, though who can tell what disaster might strike at any time? But we are older than you and may die before Dick is able to take over the management of the firm. He will need a friend and some good advice then.'
Marigold laughed aloud.
'You want me to marry Bill so that I can provide Dick with a business advisor!' she accused, smiling.
Sophia shook her head quickly.
'Not altogether,' she protested. 'I want you to be happy again too.'
Marigold pressed her hand. Their relationship had progressed a good deal since that first disastrous meeting.
'I think Poppy may have found someone else,' she said. 'He works for one of the other pottery firms, a salesman only, but she seems to like him.'
They chatted about other friends and soon it was time for the children to depart.
'I've had a lovely party,' Dick said sleepily later as Marigold tucked him into bed. 'I like living with Grandpa and Grandmama, but I'd rather be like the others at school and live with my proper Mummy and Daddy.'
'One day, perhaps,' Marigold managed to say, blinking back the sudden tears.
It was the first time Dick had expressed such a wish. She'd always felt jealous of the love he showed Sophia, but now he was old enough to understand and had friends who lived in normal families he was beginning to question his own situation.
Would Sophia give him up if she were married again? She appeared to approve of Bill and recognised that there might be advantages for Dick in having a father.
For the first time Marigold admitted to herself the possibility of remarriage.
Was she being stubborn, relying too much on her desperate hope that Richard would come back to her? All rational argument was against it. No one else believed Richard could possibly be alive.
Bill had remained faithful for years. He loved her but she could never love him in return. Her heart would always be faithful to Richard. But people did make successful marriages without the sort of passionate love she and Richard had enjoyed. Would that be fair to Bill? Would he settle for second best?
She was very quiet as they drove back to Birmingham in Bill's car. When he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the cheek she didn't draw away as she normally did.
'Good night, Bill. I'll see you at the meeting with the bank manager in the morning. Thank you for coming.'
'I enjoyed it. Dick's a grand little fellow but he could do with being amongst younger people more.'
*
A month later, before Marigold could bring herself to decide on her own future, Poppy forestalled her by telling her David had asked her to marry him.
'Poppy, I'm so glad. You've accepted?'
'Yes, but he understands I don't want a big wedding. We won't marry yet, it's still rather soon after George, but I am happy, Marigold, truly.'
Ivy was openly contemptuous. 'All you want is a man and a ring on your finger,' she said scornfully. 'George is barely cold in the ground and you want another man.'
'That's enough, Ivy!'
'But Marigold, it's true. She hardly knows the man and what is he? A miserable commercial traveller. He'll either never be at home, and he'll be up to all sorts of mischief travelling round the country, or he's marrying her thinking he'll be given a cosy little job in one of your hotels.'
'David is willing to work for me and I shall go and live with him in Stoke-on-Trent,' Poppy retorted. 'He doesn't want a job with Endersby's and he doesn't want me to go on working after we're married.'
'That's what he says now,' Ivy muttered. 'Marigold, I haven't had time to tell you before but I'm going to stay with Johnny and Lucy for a few days.'
Before Marigold could reply she left the room, and her sisters looked at one another with rueful resignation.
'In other words she's mad at me and going to pour out her woes to Lucy, hoping for sympathy,' Poppy said with a shrug.
'Lucy can cope. She's one of the calmest, most level-headed people I know. Johnny was so lucky to find her.'
It was, therefore, a total surprise when Lucy appeared in Birmingham three days later.
'Is Ivy ill?' Marigold demanded before even greeting her sister-in-law.
'Ivy? How should I know? Marigold, what's the matter?'
Apologising, Marigold led her to the private parlour and explained.
'She said she was going to stay with you, and we know she often does, so we let her be. Didn't she come?'
'No. Where can she be? Ought we to tell the police?'
A sudden suspicion entered Marigold's mind.
'Wait, let me get the diary and work it out,' she said and rooted in her desk. 'When did she last come and see you?'
'Before she and Poppy went away,' Lucy said promptly. 'Has she been telling lies?'
'It seems so,' Marigold said unhappily. 'She said she was staying with you three weeks ago, just for a couple of nights. I wonder where she goes? Lucy, what have I done wrong? Why is she like this? Surely it can't all be because of the scars?'
'None of it's because of the scars, she's just wicked!' Lucy declared angrily. 'Marigold, she's played on those scars and tried to make you feel guilty ever since she was a baby! It wasn't your fault but she makes you believe it was, and ever since she's had you doing exactly what she wants!'
'I've never heard you speak badly about anyone before,' Marigold said in astonishment.
'I hate doing it now,' Lucy said gently. 'I wouldn't if I thought there was the slightest good in Ivy. I believe that if a sinner repents God can forgive and we should forgive too. But Ivy only says she's sorry if she can see some advantage in it for herself.'
'No, she's not that bad,' Marigold said, distressed. 'She may be selfish and thoughtless, but not deliberately wicked. That I can't believe.' 'Then you're more of a saint than I am. Heavens, listen to me, all this talk of saints and devils! It must be my Irish ancestry coming out,' she said more lightly. 'They believe in evil and original sin and the devil. Perhaps Ivy is possessed of a devil. I'm sorry, Marigold. I'm teasing you but it's not a fit subject for jokes. Just wait until I see that little madam again, I'll give her a large piece of my mind. How dare she tell lies to you and use us into the bargain!'
'Let's forget her. How long can you stay?'
'Just an hour or so. We're going on holiday to Blackpool next week and I thought I'd come and see you before we went. I wish you'd open another hotel there. That would be very popular with your niece and nephew! They love the sand and the sea.'
The following day Ivy reappeared and Marigold tackled her about the lies she told.
Ivy turned an innocent gaze towards her sister.
'I didn't tell lies deliberately,' she said in an injured tone. 'I decided on the spur of the moment that I'd go to Stoke. I wanted to look at some things in the potteries there. Ideas for the paintings I'm doing for them.'
'Lucy was most upset and she says you haven't been to see them other times when you've told me you were there.'
Ivy frowned. 'I hate having to tell you every time I go out of the house where I'm going!' she declared petulantly. 'I don't want to be spied on all the time! That's why I don't tell you where I'm going.'
'But need you involve Lucy?'
'You fuss so if I tell you I'm going somewhere on my own. Lucy is respectable, not one of my disreputable artist friends! I can't stand your fussing!'
She ran out of the room and Marigold sighed. Ivy was getting much too difficult for her to deal with. The thought crept insidiously into her mind: would Bill have any greater success?
*
Marigold was surprised when Mr Endersby was announced. She rose from behind her desk and walked to meet him, hand outstretched.
'How pleasant to see you! Will you have some coffee? Joan, bring some for both of us please.'
Mr Endersby seemed ill at ease. He muttered inaudibly until Joan reappeared with the coffee and after Marigold had poured he heaved a deep sigh.
'I'm afraid it isn't a pleasant mission I come on,' he said at last.
'Dick? Is he ill?'
'No, no, nothing to do with the lad. Look, I'd best start at the beginning. It's an odd business.'
He paused, gulped some more coffee, and as Marigold remained silent reluctantly began to speak again.
'A few days ago I received some drawings in the post, designs for china, and with them a letter from a fellow called Travers. David Travers. Do you know him?'
'Yes. He's just become engaged to Poppy.'
Marigold waited, puzzled.
'He works for one of my rivals, he's a commercial traveller and he wrote to say he'd acquired these designs and wondered if I would be interested in them. I was suspicious because normally designs are kept very secret and the employees of one firm don't approach another firm unless they're hoping to get a better job. He didn't ask for a job, however.'
He paused again, set down his coffee cup, and refused when Marigold offered more.
'No thank you, my dear. Well, before I'd decided what to do about it I had a visit from this man's employer. He demanded to know if Travers had offered me some designs. He'd been sent a letter with a rough copy of the one Travers wrote to me, and a single drawing which was one he'd just bought himself, the same as one I'd been sent. Well, as soon as I said I had received a letter he went raging off and promptly sacked Travers.'
Marigold looked at him, her eyes wide with pain. She had a horrible, dreadful premonition of what was to come.
'Go on,' she whispered.
'I sent for Travers. His employer had given him no chance to deny the accusation, no chance to offer an explanation. He admitted having found the designs, and of course you can guess they were Ivy's, but he utterly denied having written to me or sent me any of them. So who would do this? Who is capable of doing it, of forging his handwriting? Who wants to get him into trouble?'
'You think it's Ivy?' Marigold said dully.
'She had copies of the drawings. She is such a clever artist she can probably copy handwriting. She is such a selfish little, self-centred grasping creature she can't bear anyone else to be happy if it means they pay her less attention. I wondered why she should have it in for Travers but you've just told me. She wants to spoil Poppy's engagement.'
Marigold did not try to defend Ivy or deny it. It seemed only too true.
'What will you do?' she asked wearily.
'If Travers goes to the police, as he talks of doing, it will cause a dreadful scandal. It won't get him his job back though, his employer is adamant. It will probably lose him Poppy and they'll both be unhappy. And that, incidentally, would be exactly what Ivy wanted.'
'But she'd be in dreadful trouble if it could be proved!'
'She is probably so supremely confident she doesn't even consider the possibility!'
'Can David be stopped?'
'I wanted to ask your opinion first. If there's some way of bringing it home to Ivy that she must not do these things, I'm willing to give Travers a job providing he'll forget the matter.'
'Ivy no longer listens to me,' Marigold said reluctantly. 'Would you speak to her? Impress on her how criminal such behaviour is?'
'That is what I'd like to do, if you permit. You and her brother are technically her guardians, but if you give me permission I would willingly speak to her.'
'I'll see Johnny and perhaps we could all meet here in a week's time, whenever convenient?' Marigold suggested. 'Lunchtime on Saturday week, perhaps?'
*
Richard was more restless than usual. The challenge of setting up the hotel and expanding it into the neighbouring house had occupied him fully for a while, but now it ran so smoothly there was little for him to do.
He suggested to Inge that with the profits, which were healthy and growing, she ought to move to still larger premises. He also had plans for offering instruction to potential skiers during the winter, as well as guided walks in the mountains during the summer, but she would consider neither suggestion.
'I am earning enough to live very comfortably, thanks to you,' she replied. 'Why should I want to earn even more money?'
He could not explain. It was not the money but the satisfaction of taking on a more difficult task and succeeding that he craved. She had the peasant mentality of being satisfied with obtaining just sufficient for her needs, and then keeping her head down for fear of disasters.
If only he had the capital to buy her out. He knew she would retire quite happily to a small house now she was accustomed to living in the town, and enjoy the social round of tea parties and dances. If he could offer her a fair price she would be able to buy a house and invest enough to live on.
He had no capital. If he approached his parents he would be able to buy Inge's hotel a dozen times over with the money that rightly belonged to him, but he felt as bitter towards his parents as he had the day he read his mother's letter.
His father would never have rejected Marigold if it had not been for his mother's attitude, he knew. But by remaining silent and ignoring her unreasonableness he was equally guilty. Again the utter desolation of loss swept over him, and he resorted to his normal outlet of chopping wood. If any of the guests expressed surprise that the manager should occupy himself with such a menial task, he laughingly replied that it was an excellent way of getting exercise, which he could stop the moment a guest required his services.
An hour later he carried a basket full of logs through to Inge's private sitting room and found her sitting side by side with Dieter on a small, brocade-covered sofa.
'Good afternoon, Dieter,' he said with a smile. Dieter had become a good friend although he did not often come to St Moritz. 'How is everyone?'
'Well, thank you. I'm pleased you are here. Can you spare a few minutes?'
'Of course. You came alone?'
'Helmut is busy on the farm. He is planning to marry soon and will be living in Herr Müller's house. I have decided that farming is not for me. I prefer a livelier existence than that of the high valleys, shut in for months of the year.'
'Are you looking for a job in St. Moritz?'
'Dieter thinks he could teach the visitors to ski,' Inge said importantly.
Richard regarded her quizzically. When he'd suggested the same she had not been in the least interested. He saw the shy but fond look she was turning on Dieter and suddenly understood.
'Would you be looking for a base here at the hotel?' he asked carefully.
'If it is possible. I would rent a room here, and if Inge allows use it also as an office for booking lessons and so on.'
'Of course you may,' Inge said swiftly. 'It will be pleasant to have someone here who knew Uncle Friedrich and Aunt Gertrude.'
'When do you wish to come?'
'As soon as possible. I came today to ask Inge if she agreed. Helmut's wedding is next week and I would like to come as soon after that as I can, to make ready for the winter season. You are both invited to the wedding, by the way. It would be pleasant to see you again.'
'I'd love to come!' Inge exclaimed.
'I must decline,' Richard said slowly. 'It would not be possible for us both to be away for several days, and we cannot make the journey there and back in a day.'
For the next few days Inge was more animated than Richard had seen her for a long time. It was decided that Dieter would drive her back and she would stay with his mother until the wedding.
'And I can bring back my belongings afterwards, if that isn't too soon.'
After they had gone Richard spent some time musing on this development. It would not be long, he opined, before Dieter asked Inge to marry him, and from the fond looks she had been giving him she was bound to agree.
She had a year or so ago hinted that it would be suitable if Richard married her but he had gently told her it would not do. Apart from her lack of intelligence, which he knew would be an insuperable barrier to happiness, he still felt married to Marigold. However long she had been dead he could never imagine taking another woman in his arms, making love to anyone else. His heart would always be entwined with hers.
Dieter would doubtless consider it his right, after they married, to manage the hotel for Inge. There was not enough work for him alone and certainly not enough for both of them, even if Dieter spent all the daylight hours teaching visitors to ski. It was time to move on.
Inge had insisted on paying him a generous salary, saying he had spent long enough at the farm helping her for no more than his keep.
'I was not able to pay you then,' she'd protested. 'You must have what is fair. I have asked what other managers are paid and that is what I shall give you.'
He had few needs and most of his salary had been saved. Did he want to remain here or should he perhaps go to America? Soon he would have to decide.
*
Mr Endersby came alone to lunch, saying he hadn't thought it appropriate to bring his wife. For similar reasons Johnny had not brought Lucy. Marigold greeted them and handed round sherry in the private parlour where they were to eat.
She dreaded the confrontation that was to come, but sadly realised Ivy had now gone too far and was beyond her control. She ignored all the pleas Marigold might make. She needed a shock such as the combined fire of Mr Endersby and Johnny to bring her to her senses, and prevent her from doing something from the consequences of which they could not hope to save her. Poppy was not yet there but Marigold expected her soon, and David was to come with her.
'Where is Ivy?' Johnny asked after they had exchanged polite greetings and Marigold had asked after Lucy and the children.
'She's at the gallery seeing some potential customers. She promised to be here by one o'clock.'
Mr Endersby grunted.
'Does she know we're here?'
Marigold shook her head, a distressed look on her face.
'I didn't dare tell her,' she confessed, ashamed. 'She does normally come for meals if she says she will, so don't worry, I'm sure she'll be here.'
There was a tap on the door and Joan came in with a letter.
'It's just been delivered, Mrs Endersby,' she said apologetically. 'The man said it was very urgent or I wouldn't have disturbed you.'
Marigold's heart was in her mouth. Had Ivy somehow discovered what was awaiting her and taken this way of avoiding it? She took the letter and paced across to the window, her hands trembling.
The same thought had occurred to Johnny.
'Is she running scared?' he asked bluntly.
Marigold, her fingers clumsy, had managed to open the envelope. She shook her head.
'No, it's from Poppy,' she replied, her tone puzzled.
Rapidly she skimmed the letter, which was brief, and then felt behind her for a chair.
Mr Endersby was beside her at once, and guided her back to the chair beside the fire.
'Read it,' she said tonelessly. 'Read it.'
Johnny came to read it with him and exclaimed in dismay.
'America! Why has she gone without saying goodbye? Do you think they really have got married? And why does she say she's scared for David?'
'She says they were married at Gretna Green at the beginning of the week, and by the time we receive this they will be on a boat from Liverpool,' Mr Endersby said. 'That's plain enough, but why should she be frightened?'
'I didn't even know she wasn't at the hotel in Coventry. The staff there told me she'd gone out when I went on Thursday. I suppose she must have arranged for them to send this letter. They shouldn't have deceived me.'
Marigold spoke tonelessly, and with a swift glance at Johnny Mr Endersby indicated the brandy decanter on the sideboard. Johnny fetched a glass and Mr Endersby forced Marigold to drink the brandy.
While she was sipping it, and some colour had returned to her cheeks, Ivy swept into the room, stopping short for a moment when she saw the visitors and then running with arms outstretched towards Johnny.
'Johnny darling! How lovely to see you! Where's Lucy? Did she come too, and the children? How are they?'
Johnny stepped back behind a chair and fended off her embrace.
'Don't come near me, you despicable little liar!' he said furiously. 'Johnny!' Marigold said warningly, but Johnny, normally slow to anger, was in a positively deadly rage.
Ivy halted and turned a wide-eyed stare towards her sister.
'What's the matter?' she asked, glancing around nervously. 'Is someone ill?'
Mr Endersby cut off Johnny's impetuous reply and took charge.
'Let's all sit down calmly. Johnny, sit beside Marigold. You, young lady, come and sit here beside me.'
Ivy approached slowly, looking from one to the other. Johnny was glaring at her, Marigold was staring down at the hands in her lap, twisting them together in agony, and Mr Endersby, a man she had up till now regarded as a rather amiable old buffer, had taken on the aspect of a stern and rather fearsome judge.
She wanted to defy them all, turn and saunter negligently out of the room, but to her surprised astonishment she discovered that with his eyes fixed unblinkingly on her she dared not.
'Johnny?'
Mr Endersby's calm tones gave Johnny time to collect his thoughts. Raving at Ivy would do no good. In brief sentences and unemotional tones, he informed his sister that her habit of making use of his family by untruthfully pretending she was staying with them when she wanted to absent herself from home was despicable, abusing his and Lucy's hospitality and his brotherly love for her.
'I do not wish to see you at my home ever again,' he said coldly. 'I will not have Lucy subjected to such discourtesy and my children exposed to such a corrupting influence. They are being reared to be honest and your company will contaminate them.'
Ivy, her face white, tilted her chin defiantly. She could see that this time tears would avail her nothing. Johnny was in no mood to be swayed by sobs and protestations of sorrow and remorse.
Telling lies would serve no purpose either. Marigold could disprove them if she claimed she had not said she was going to visit Lucy.
She glanced again at Marigold. Always, before, Marigold had believed and supported her. Surely Marigold would have sympathy with her, if only she could think of a convincing reason for her actions. But Marigold too looked stern and implacable.
'You also seem to have been instrumental in driving an honest young man out of a job and forcing him and your sister to flee the country,' Mr Endersby said evenly.
'What?' Ivy was shaken out of her stubborn calm. 'Poppy has – what do you mean?'
'After your inexplicable behaviour towards David Travers, which unjustly caused him to lose his job, he and Poppy were married earlier this week and have gone to America. She says to escape from you, for she fears what else you might do to anyone she loves. No doubt you understand the reference.'
'She didn't even say goodbye!' Marigold said, deep pain in her voice.
Ivy stared at her.
'Poppy's left us?' she whispered, and slid silently to the floor.
'Ivy?' Marigold ran to her sister, but Ivy was in a deep swoon. 'Fetch the doctor, please! Help me get her onto the sofa!'
Ivy had recovered her senses before the doctor arrived, but after examining her he left a sedative and advised she be kept in bed for a few days. Marigold and Joan helped her upstairs, and the moment she was in bed Ivy fell into a deep sleep.
'She'll be better in the morning,' Marigold said to Johnny and Mr Endersby, who were waiting rather uncomfortably in the parlour.
'Was she faking?' Johnny demanded harshly.
'No, it was a genuine faint. She seems quite distraught at the news that Poppy has gone.'
'But she didn't deny her actions. Marigold, my dear, will you be able to manage if we leave you?' Mr Endersby asked, worried.
'Yes, of course. She's asleep now, but I'll give her the sedative as soon as she wakes and that will ensure her a good night. She'll be able to take it in tomorrow.'
To her relief they soon left, and she sank down into her chair to absorb this latest disaster. Poor, unhappy Poppy, forced to flee from her family because of her fears about her sister, still a child, and yet so deviously determined to make her family dance to her tune.
'Thank God Pa and Mom aren't alive to see this!' Marigold whispered to herself. At the thought her control gave way and she wept piteously.
She didn't hear the tap on the door and was unaware Bill had entered the room until he gathered her into his arms. He stroked her hair, talking gently to her until she was able to sit up, blow her nose, and tell him what had happened.
'I don't know what to do with her,' Marigold said wearily.
Bill was about to reply when the door of the parlour opened gently and Ivy, her dressing gown wrapped tightly round her, came in.
'Ivy! You're supposed to be asleep!' Marigold exclaimed, standing up and taking a step towards her sister.
'I couldn't sleep,' Ivy whispered. 'Have they gone? They didn't want to listen to me. Everyone thinks the worst of me and never lets me explain.'
'What is there to explain?' Marigold asked sharply. 'You told lies about staying with Lucy, and you deliberately made it appear that David Travers was cheating his employers.'
'But I didn't mean it to get him the sack! I just wanted to frighten them! I didn't want Poppy to leave me again!' she wailed, casting herself into Marigold's arms. 'Marigold, don't be angry with me!'
'Don't be taken in by her!' Bill exclaimed.
Ivy swung round towards him, her eyes suddenly blazing.
'What's it got to do with you?' she demanded furiously. 'Poppy's my sister! She shouldn't have left me!'
'She was afraid for David,' Marigold said slowly. 'Ivy, what did she mean?'
Ivy gave a bitter laugh.
'I expect it was that stupid accusation she made when George died, that I poisoned him!' she exclaimed scornfully. 'Just because her wretched little dog died of eating some rat bait and George ate a tainted mushroom, she has to blame me! Well good riddance to her! America is welcome to her crazy ideas!'
'Poison? You poisoned George?' Bill was staring at her in utter amazement.
'Whether she believes that or not you've driven Poppy away from us, Ivy!' Marigold said slowly, and Ivy turned on her, at last losing control.
'I haven't! She was always trying to get away from me!' she screamed, and although Bill tried to hold her she shook him off and stormed around the room. He shrugged, hoping she would exhaust her fury the sooner if left to vent her spleen unchecked.
'You all tried to get away from me!' she gabbled, the words tumbling over each other. 'Why blame me for everything? It was your fault I fell on the fire, and Johnny's that Pa didn't get better, and he started it by stealing and having to be sent away from home! If he hadn't gone you wouldn't have had to go to that horrid Oxford, and you wouldn't have met beastly Richard and spoiled everything! I hate you! None of you love me, and you're always trying to get away! But Poppy had to come back from her horrid factory and you had to come back as well, I made you, but now she's gone again! I hate her!'
She was striding about the room, while the others looked on in amazement. Suddenly she seized the decanter and hurled it at the window. Then, as the shattered glass slithered crackling to floor and Bill rushed to grab her, she tossed the glasses furiously into the fireplace, sobbing wildly.
'Be quiet!' he commanded. 'You can be heard all over the hotel! There's no need to display such a temper just because you've been told a few unpalatable home truths and for once cannot scheme or lie your way out of trouble, you little hell-hound!'
Ivy went limp suddenly, and he laid her on the sofa.
'Should we call the doctor again?' Marigold asked, habitual concern for her sister overcoming her revulsion at the girl's behaviour.
'You'd be better advised to forget all about her and leave her to her own devices,' Bill said soothingly, crossing to clasp Marigold in his arms. 'Give up, my darling Marigold. Marry me and stop worrying about her.'
Marigold began to say this was not the time or the place to discuss her future but Ivy, hysterical and beside herself with fury, shouted her down.
'That's where you're mistaken, Mr Colonel Thomas! Marigold can't marry you or anyone else because her beloved Richard's still alive, in a love nest in Switzerland!'
***