‘You’d better look the candles out,’ Gerry said to Tommy, coming into the kitchen. ‘We’ve just heard it on the wireless. They’re going to ration electricity. Gas too.’
‘What?’ cried Tommy, dismayed.
Gerry nodded. ‘It’s the shortages. We’ve got to turn the electricity off for five hours every day. And they’re stopping the television broadcasts and cutting down the radio transmissions.’
‘Oh my goodness. It’s really very serious,’ Tommy said. ‘I mean, we knew that. But still.’
They all gathered around to listen to the next broadcast, the grown-ups solemn as they realised that the crisis was becoming a desperate emergency.
‘Luckily we don’t have a television so it doesn’t matter to us if they turn it off,’ Gerry said cheerfully, but no one smiled. The newsreader went on with the litany of woe: transport across the country was at a virtual standstill. Coupled with fuel shortages, the result was that industry was seizing up, leaving thousands unemployed. Coal could not get to the power stations, and without that, there could be no electricity.
‘This smacks of incompetence,’ Fred said gravely.
‘But what are they do to, with conditions like this?’ demanded Tommy, looking at him furiously. He looked sadly back, and she flushed, turning her face away.
‘I shouldn’t think this happens in Russia,’ Roger remarked.
‘I imagine it’s probably worse,’ Tommy snapped. Her nerves felt frayed and her ability to cope was wearing thin. But she knew that the tension she felt came partly from this unbearable situation with Fred, and partly from the way she could feel Barbara burrowing into their lives. At some point, Barbara had turned from an admittedly cool friend to foe, and she didn’t know when or how it had happened. She didn’t even understand what Barbara hoped to achieve. ‘I’m going to get out the old lamps and see if we have any spirit left. Otherwise it’s candles for us during the day.’ She sighed. ‘I thought things couldn’t get any harder. Thank goodness for our coal.’ She shuddered, thinking of what life might have been like but for their delivery. ‘Well, chin up. It has to be done. And it can’t last forever.’
‘How will you finish your painting?’ Gerry said to Fred. ‘You can’t do it by candlelight, can you?’
‘It’s coming on very well,’ Fred said lightly. ‘I’m almost finished and I’ll use the few hours of daylight we get. If I move the easel to the window, I should be fine.’
‘What are you painting?’ Barbara asked, and Tommy realised she must never have been in the library to see what Fred was up to. For some reason, she was not very bothered with Fred. It was noticeable that she had a harder tone when she talked to him, quite unlike the soft, winsome girlishness of her conversation with Roger.
‘I’m making a copy of the Gainsborough portrait. Just for my own amusement.’
‘Really?’ Barbara blinked at him slowly.
‘That’s right,’ Fred said politely. ‘It helps pass the time.’
‘Are you a painter?’
‘Only in the most amateur way.’
‘I see.’ Barbara nodded and looked over at Tommy. ‘Isn’t he clever?’
‘Very,’ Tommy said. She didn’t look at Fred again. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and look out those candles.’
Tommy was in the storeroom, scrabbling about among all the old items in there, sure she had seen an ancient bottle of spirit for the lamps, when there was a sound behind her. Before she could turn around, she heard Fred’s voice.
‘Tommy . . . are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes . . . Oh, where are the blasted things?’ She stumbled over a box of rubbish and banged her head on the shelf. ‘Ouch! Oh God.’ She rubbed it and, to her horror, burst into tears.
‘Tommy.’ He was at her side in a moment. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, not really, but . . .’ Now that she had allowed the tears to come, they fell fast. ‘It’s all so terrible! The cold, the blasted awful cold . . . and the struggle to feed us all and keep warm, and now there’ll be no electricity. Oh God, I can’t bear it.’
Fred hugged her, pulling her to him, and for a moment she let herself lean against him, feeling the scratchiness of his overcoat against her cheek. Then she pulled away, sniffing.
‘I’m sorry. I’m being pathetic.’
‘No. You carry the worry for all of us,’ he said quietly. ‘I can see that. Everyone relies on you. It isn’t fair.’
‘It’s perfectly fair. It’s what I’m for.’ Tommy wiped her eyes. ‘Please forget you saw me give in like that.’
‘I’m glad I did. It makes me realise you’re only human, like the rest of us.’
‘Of course I am,’ she said with a small laugh.
‘I shall stop painting at once,’ he said gravely. ‘I came to tell you. We can’t light the fire in the library just so I can dab away with my paints. And I won’t be able to see much without the lights anyway. The daylight is too gloomy.’
‘I miss the sun,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Do you think it’ll ever be warm again?’
‘You said yourself it had to end sometime.’
Tommy was overcome with a tremendous sense of exhaustion. The struggle was so hard and so ongoing. Tomorrow she’d have to try and get to the village again, and the snow had fallen once more last night. She couldn’t sleep for fear the pipes would freeze and there would be no water.
‘Tommy,’ Fred said quietly. ‘What happened between us . . . you’ve barely spoken to me since—’
‘Please don’t,’ she said quickly, flushing. She looked away, embarrassed.
‘I have to talk to you about it. I know you’ve found it hard to forgive me, but please . . .’
‘Forgive you? Of course I forgive you.’
Fred looked at her, puzzled. ‘But I must have offended you very badly.’
She shook her head. ‘But that wasn’t about you at all. It was about me. I daren’t be around you, I can’t trust myself.’
He stared at her, absorbing what she had said. ‘But—’
‘Don’t you see?’ she said, suddenly sharp. ‘I’m the one at fault, not you. And it’s better for you if I simply stay away. I’m sorry, Fred, but it’s for the best. Now, I’m going to ask Ada if she and Thornton want to move back in during the cuts. If you want to help, you could see if you can find the spirit before we turn the lights out.’ She made her way past him, and hurried away, hoping he hadn’t seen the pain on her face.
They turned the lights out that afternoon at exactly two o’clock on the grounds that they might as well get used to it and start saving power right away. It seemed such a strange idea, that the lights going out in a house in the middle of nowhere would contribute something towards resolving the crisis.
‘I suppose it’s like everything during the war,’ Tommy said, as she went around switching off lamps and lighting candles, Gerry helping her. ‘It’s all the little, individual efforts that seem like nothing but put together with thousands and thousands of others make a difference.’
‘It’s wonderfully eerie. We should tell ghost stories,’ Gerry said, not listening.
‘I suppose so. That reminds me, don’t let the children have candles at night. It’s far too dangerous. We can put the lights on again at four, but we should leave them off as long as we can.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Gerry saluted her. ‘You run a tight ship.’
Tommy laughed. ‘What else is there to do?’
They went back to Mrs Whitfield’s sitting room where Barbara, Roger and their mother were playing cards. Fred had taken the children off for a drawing session, and the room was quiet, lit by candles and the glow of the stove. Tommy sat down in an armchair and picked up a book but couldn’t concentrate on it. Gerry settled on the hearthrug and stared at the trio playing cards. Eventually she said, ‘That’s a pretty brooch, Barbara.’
Tommy looked over and saw that on the lapel of Barbara’s jacket shone a large diamond brooch.
Gerry went on: ‘It looks just like one of Mother’s. She has a lover’s knot like that. Almost the same, in fact.’
Barbara looked over from her card game. ‘Oh, it is the same.’
‘Really?’ Gerry asked in surprise. She turned to her mother. ‘Is it yours, Mother?’
‘It’s a very sweet little loan,’ Barbara said quickly. ‘Isn’t it, Nancy?’
‘No it’s not,’ Mrs Whitfield said in her most imperious tone. ‘It’s a gift. I’ve given it to Barbara. She’s been such a help and support to me over these difficult times.’
Tommy looked again at the glittering jewel. Barbara had sat next to Mrs Whitfield and had her ear bent, and folded silk into neat figures-of-eight, or split threads. For these arduous duties, she had received a family jewel. Tommy, on the other hand, slaving to protect the estate and worrying how to feed them all and keep them warm, had barely received a kind word.
Gerry looked scandalised. ‘Mother, you can’t give away your possessions! They’re family things. They belong to the house!’
‘They certainly do not,’ Mrs Whitfield said. ‘They are mine and I shall do what I choose with them. I choose to give this to Barbara.’
Roger spoke up, as he examined his hand of cards. ‘I think it’s a very good idea. I can’t imagine them looking finer anywhere else.’
Tommy turned to him, astonished. She had never heard anything like this clumsy gallantry from him before.
Barbara said demurely, ‘You’re too kind, Roger.’
Gerry looked over at Tommy and mouthed a word that no one else could see.
Trouble.
Tommy gave her a warning look and Gerry, with obvious effort, said no more.
Tommy had gone to the dining room to set the table for dinner when Gerry came to find her as soon as she could escape from the sitting room.
‘What’s Mother playing at?’ Gerry demanded. ‘She can’t just give away those things. That brooch was Grandmother’s. It ought to go to you, or to me. That’s what Father would have wanted. Now it belongs to Barbara?’
‘It’s not the first thing.’ Tommy loaded a tray with cutlery. ‘Barbara has a ring and earrings as well. I can’t help feeling that Mother is trying to get at me. But Barbara said she considered it a loan, so no doubt she’ll give it back.’
‘I’m not so sure. She’s wearing it so the rest of us can see that she’s claimed ownership, I bet. And if darling Barbara is such a help, why isn’t she here with us, instead of sitting in the warm with Mother?’ Gerry started distributing the cutlery from Tommy’s tray. ‘And what about Roger taking her side like that?’
‘They all like her,’ Tommy said. Her spirits were low and she felt as if all the fight had gone out of her. ‘I thought you did too.’
‘I did at first but now I don’t,’ Gerry said. ‘Do you know how much notice she takes of Molly? Almost none. Ever since I’ve been minding the children, it’s quite clear that Babs doesn’t give a toss about poor little Molly. She’s never there at bedtime. I think it’s wonderful for Molly to be here, if I’m honest.’
‘So do I,’ Tommy said, cheered a little. ‘She’s a sweet little girl, quite different from my two with that quiet thoughtfulness of hers.’
‘Yes. We love her, and she gets friendship from Antonia and Harry, and attention from me. She’s quite blossomed since she’s been here, even though she never sees her mother. Barbara’s always somewhere else, oiling up to Roger or Mother. She’s got a plan and I don’t think I like it.’
‘I think you could be right. But what I don’t understand is what she hopes to gain.’
‘As much of our loot as she can pocket probably.’
Tommy stopped short in the middle of placing a knife. ‘Is that it?’ she asked. ‘Just simple, vulgar theft? I find it hard to believe, but you must be right.’ She told Gerry about the things in Barbara’s bedroom.
‘There you are. Proof,’ Gerry said darkly. ‘She strikes me as the kind of person who looks out for herself, and has the audacity to get away with whatever she wants.’
Tommy thought of Arabella Guthrie’s pen. Audacity was right. Barbara had got away with so much. Many times, at school, she’d caught Barbara out in some tiny act of selfishness. She’d always taken the largest serving, or ensured she was first in line, or helped herself to things that weren’t exactly meant for her. One can’t help but see a pattern. And she has no qualms about buying things on the black market.
‘As soon as this weather is over, she’ll leave. She can’t do much harm in that time.’
‘I think she should know we’re on to her. Come on, while she’s busy with Mother and Roger.’
Gerry hurried out of the room and Tommy put down her tray and followed. Upstairs, Gerry went straight to Barbara’s room and flung open the door. Going inside, she stopped short, gasping in surprise. ‘Oh my goodness – the nerve!’
Tommy followed her and saw that there were even more of their possessions scattered about than there had been. ‘She’s taking advantage of the fact that we’re not using the drawing room. Look, all the snuff boxes are here now. And the painted miniatures from the cabinet.’
‘How dare she!’ exclaimed Gerry furiously. ‘Come on.’ She started to go about the room, picking up ornaments and silver and stuffing them in her pocket. ‘We’ll put it all back. She can hardly complain. And perhaps it will stifle her kleptomaniac tendencies for a while.’
Tommy followed her, taking up more of the borrowed possessions. ‘Unless she’s given more by Mother.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Gerry said sternly. ‘I think it’s time we stopped dear Barbara’s tricks. And as soon as the weather turns, she’ll be out on her ear.’
Tommy was walking slowly up the stairs later that afternoon when the sound of her name being spoken made her turn around. Barbara was standing there, on the cold stone flags of the hall, her breath coming out in clouds of steam.
‘Tommy, you’ve been in my room.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Tommy said, outwardly calm but wishing Gerry was there.
‘You know very well. You’ve taken things your brother said I could have.’
‘Have or borrow?’
Barbara shrugged. ‘A little of both.’
Tommy was outraged. ‘Roger can’t simply give away the things in the house! Does he really know how much you’d smuggled upstairs?’
Barbara smiled thinly. ‘Careful, Tommy. I don’t like your language. I think you’ll find Roger can do what he wants with his possessions.’
Tommy gaped at her. ‘This is extraordinary. I’ve welcomed you here, as my guest. Have you forgotten that this is my house, and my family?’
Barbara smiled coldly. ‘It’s not your house. It’s Roger’s. And I’m Roger’s guest – you’d do well to remember it.’
‘If you think you can turn my family against me, you’re wrong.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Barbara. ‘I think you’ll find you’re already on the back foot.’ Then she turned on her heel and stalked away.