The young woman in the starched apron tapped on the door of the tiny office.
‘Someone to see you, Stella.’
She looked up from some bookwork. ‘Oh, thank you, Sarah.’ The girl turned to leave. ‘Wait,’ Stella called. Sarah halted, looking alarmed. ‘Your apron tie is coming loose. Come here, let me fix that.’ Stella stood and pulled the ends of the sash. ‘Hmm, your uniform is looking a bit worse for wear too, isn’t it?’
Sarah looked sheepish. ‘I didn’t want to ask but I know how much importance you place on how we turn ourselves out for the customers.’
‘That’s right. We never drop our standards. Indent for a new one. I’ll make sure Miss Baker is aware that I’ve authorised a new uniform.’
‘Oh, you’re very kind, thank you,’ Sarah gushed.
‘How’s that young man of yours?’
‘I’m worried he’ll be conscripted.’
She nodded. There was no answer for this, other than an empty placation. Instead she gave her staff member a cheer-up smile. ‘Well, we just have to hope it doesn’t come to that, Sarah. No one wants another war.’
‘That Hitler does.’
The name sent chills through her. Stella had worked hard not to think upon that meeting in Kensington Gardens in five years but she wondered now whether Basil Peach ever did take any action based on the hard-won intelligence that she had smuggled out of Africa. Britain and its allies had granted the Führer, as he was known, the right to annexe Sudetenland, which suggested the warnings had fallen on deaf ears. Uncertain and rocky times certainly felt like they were travelling towards them and Stella hated that she had been living with the fear of this situation since 1933.
She cast a look over her shoulder at the paperwork that would have to wait and walked out to the front of the tearooms, anticipating a supplier wanting to offer wares at a discounted rate to her current one. But the woman waiting for her near the door, clearly feeling awkward, and who raised a nervous hand in salutation, was possibly the very last person in the world Stella imagined would come looking for her. There was a real nip in the air now that warranted the dove-coloured overcoat trimmed luxuriantly with fur at the cuff and collar. Stella’s still keen buyer’s eye noted expensive leather shoes and an even more costly handbag, that even conservative styling couldn’t hide. Golden hair was cut shorter with soft curls emerging from beneath a matching grey-blue, broad-brimmed hat of satin. She looked lovely, relaxed, even tanned. Stella stopped behind the counter, stunned, to take a moment and be sure she wasn’t imagining it.
‘I can’t believe it! Georgina Ainsworth?’ she exclaimed in disbelief.
It was a quiet morning, so there were only a few people enjoying a pot of tea, but they all looked up.
The newcomer ignored the scrutiny and, pulling off her tan suede glove, twisted her upraised left hand, grinning. ‘It’s Mrs Rex Frobisher now,’ she said, a diamond solitaire glittering above a gold wedding band.
Stella hurried around the counter and then halted again, unsure. It was Georgina who moved to gather her up and hug her tight. ‘Stella,’ she breathed, not letting her go quickly. ‘I’m so glad you’re here and that I can see you again.’
They stood back from each other and Stella was shocked to discover that she was feeling a pang of bright sentiment. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be delighted to see this person, she’d have smirked in disbelief. ‘Gosh! Look at you, you haven’t changed a bit!’
‘Oh, I think I have, Stella,’ she murmured, her smile faltering. ‘But only for the better,’ she added. It’s why I’m here. I need to . . .’ She searched for the right word. Stella sensed that to apologise wasn’t enough for her. ‘To atone,’ she said, and shook her head.
Stella felt happy within to realise she felt nothing but warmth to see a familiar face. This was no time in her life for grudges or regrets. ‘What can I get you?’
Georgina looked around. ‘A cup of tea, perhaps?’ she said in a gently wry tone. ‘Only if you can spare the time?’
Stella waved away all protestation. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Rex figured we’d like some time to ourselves. He went to the library to read the papers. We’re on honeymoon.’
‘Oh, Georgina! This has made my day. Is Grace up north with you too?’
‘No, she’s at school but I’ll tell you everything about her over that pot of tea,’ Georgina replied and Stella heard the hesitancy.
‘Let’s find somewhere private then. Come with me,’ she said, relieved to be welcoming her former nemesis as a friend. Rafe would be proud and she felt a gust of happiness spread like a warm blanket around her shoulders. ‘Sarah, be a darling and bring a tray out into the garden, would you?’
‘In a jiffy,’ she said.
Stella led her guest out through the back of the tearooms and into a conservatory.
‘What a lovely place this is, Stella – so much light, and as though the gardens are inside.’
‘It reminds me of Harp’s End because of the conservatory. I decided it made the perfect gathering place for taking tea and passing time with friends.’
‘You’ve even got a fireplace!’ Georgina exclaimed.
‘I felt that was lacking in the Harp’s End conservatory . . . though I’m channelling Mrs Boyd and trying to hold off lighting it for another week before I give in to winter.’ She winked.
‘I like the colour palette throughout your tearooms,’ Georgina noted.
‘Eau de nil,’ they said together and laughed.
‘Come on,’ Stella said. ‘We have so much to catch up on.’ She led her guest down the corridor. ‘I live upstairs. That’s our office,’ she gestured and then walked Georgina through a side door to outside. ‘Just around here is my private courtyard, where I can find some sanity, but it’s a sunny day despite the cool, so maybe let’s head down into the garden. The orchard should be lovely – we can get drunk on the smell of all the apples I can’t keep up with. Apple chutney, apple jam, apple paste, even dried apples . . .’
‘Apple tea, perhaps?’ Georgina offered and grinned, allowing Stella to lead her to where a table and two chairs sat beneath a laden apple tree and looked back upon the house at the back of the tearooms. ‘It’s lovely. I swear even the little I’ve seen makes me believe I could live in Harrogate.’
‘Spa towns always have a particular atmosphere and Harrogate has a rich history – it’s certainly an easy place to call home. Please, do sit,’ she said. ‘I can’t quite believe you’re here.’
‘Me either,’ Georgina admitted. ‘I’m only sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve thought about you many times,’ she said, no doubt watching Stella’s expression frown with surprise, but she pushed on. ‘However, the truth is it wasn’t until Rex suggested York and Scotland for our honeymoon that I realised we could easily swing through Harrogate and see you.’
‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘The letter, the one you sent Mother about five years ago.’
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘that’s right, I would have just moved up here. I left the south around mid ’33. However, my short time at Harp’s End left unfinished business, particularly Grace. Do tell me about her.’
Again she noted Georgina’s reluctance. ‘My mother was wrong to deny you contact. You can imagine what a traumatic time it was for Mother . . . for all of us.’
‘Yes, and that’s why I didn’t pursue it. I hoped time would heal and permit me to at least be able to write to your sister.’
‘I’m so sorry it’s all taken so long.’
Stella looked at Georgina with a sense of wonder. ‘Is this really the Georgina I knew talking to me? You’re apologising?’
‘I’m deeply sorry about all of that too.’ She laughed. ‘I was every inch the little beast you accused me of being. I’m horrified, Stella, when I think back at my behaviour. Amazing what five years of growing up does. I was sent to a finishing school in Switzerland. They were so strict. It didn’t matter how much I cried, they wouldn’t let me go home. By the time the first holidays came around, though, the strange thing is I didn’t want to leave . . . Finally I fitted in: I had some real friends, I wasn’t being allowed to get away with my awful behaviour,’ she admitted. ‘I improved my French,’ Georgina threw Stella a glittering smile, ‘I met Rex and he changed everything for me. He wasn’t chosen by Mother, he wasn’t even from our circle of people – he’s a farmer! That wouldn’t have been my mother’s choice at all. Good heavens, I’m a farmer’s wife,’ she declared and they both laughed. ‘Who’d have thought?’
‘Marriage suits you,’ Stella said. ‘So does smiling and being happy. You look so radiant.’
Sarah arrived with a tray of tea implements. She expertly laid it out on the table between them, together with a slice of fruit cake. ‘That’s Stella’s French mother’s recipe,’ she said in a well-rehearsed line, smiling politely at their guest. ‘Is that all, Stella?’
‘Perfect. Everyone happy in there?’ She nodded back towards the tearooms.
‘Calm waters,’ Sarah said. ‘Peg’s headed out to do the midday pick-up.’
‘That’s fine, thanks.’
Sarah left them in the dappled sunlight. They both watched her leave and Stella sensed she needed to let Georgina approach the topic of Grace in her own way.
‘Congratulations. You’ve clearly built a wonderful life and business.’
Stella shrugged. ‘I enjoy my life. I have about a dozen staff and several people help with the baking. We’re doing nicely and beginning to make quite a name for Stella’s Tearooms around the region. We’ve been approached to open one in York too, can you believe? I shake my head. But tell me more about you! It’s so exciting to have you here.’
‘You’re being awfully decent. I wasn’t sure what sort of welcome to expect. Rex promised me that the passage of time would make things easier between us but I was scared you hated me.’
‘Oh, I did. But as you have, I grew up too. You were just a silly twit of a thing, Georgina, so dreadfully indulged it was almost like parental cruelty.’
Georgina exploded into laughter. ‘Yes. Mother has much to answer for, although I can’t blame her entirely.’
‘No. She bears the major share but I blame all the adults around you.’ They both looked down immediately as Rafe loomed between them. ‘Do you take milk and sugar?’ Stella quickly asked, reaching to pour.
‘Just a dash of milk would be lovely, thank you. Where are your brother and sister? I hope they’re well?’
‘They’re at school. They should be home after four. They’re doing just fine. Rory wants to be a footballer and Carys thinks she may be an actress – well, that’s this month’s plan anyway.’ Stella raised her eyes to the heavens with an ironic grin and Georgina smiled.
‘They have ambition. That’s great.’
She couldn’t bear it a moment longer. ‘Please tell me about Grace.’
‘I’m sorry that I sound so reluctant, but Grace is not a happy child at the moment.’ Georgina shrugged. ‘She’s a teenager and that rebellious mindset is compounded by the fact she’s dreadfully smart, as you no doubt recall . . . but she’s also deeply traumatised by losing both her parents.’
‘Both?’ The teacup stopped before it reached Stella’s mouth, her hand frozen with shock. ‘What happened?’
‘My mother’s lungs were pocked with cancer tumours. The physician suggested it was her smoking. They tried surgery twice but she was very ill after the second hospital expedition and truly, Stella, I don’t think Mother wanted to fight it. Apparently the disease has been on the rise since the Great War.’
‘In men, surely?’ Stella remarked, feeling obliged to say something.
Georgina shook her head. ‘Her physician told me that so many more women have begun smoking since the war that they are noticing a steep rise in deaths from my mother’s complaint. She was never far from a cigarette. Kept her slim, she said, but I think it was to calm her nervous agitation. She had terrible bronchitis as a child, I gather, and her lungs were not strong anyway, so smoking was really a very bad idea – she couldn’t walk up a hill, for instance. Another reason my parents didn’t connect. You know how my father was always such a great outdoors person. My mother was the antithesis of that.’ She sighed. ‘How did they ever imagine themselves as a couple, one wonders?’
‘I’m so sorry, Georgina. Was she even forty yet?’
‘Nearing forty-eight.’ Stella felt surprised to hear this but recalled learning that Beatrice was older than Rafe.
‘She always looked younger than her years,’ Georgina continued, ‘but frankly, Stella, she wanted to die. She’d been dying a little each day since . . . well, since that cruise.’
And with those words the five years of distance that Stella had worked so hard to put behind her closed up and she was back in Marrakech watching Rafe leaving her.
‘Anyway,’ Georgina continued, ‘she’s been gone now for three months and it’s time I sort out things for Harp’s End when I get back from my honeymoon. We may not sell it – Grace is against that, so is Rex – but it needs to be cleared out. I came here for several reasons, but one of them is to see if there is anything of my father’s that you might like to have . . . I mean, perhaps some of his sketches? You are in a few of them.’
Stella looked back at her guest in deeper shock, unsure of how to respond because there was so much to say, but she couldn’t imagine in that moment where to begin.
‘I’m . . . I’m really lost here. But as you’re asking, there’s a wonderful photo of him peering out of a tent that was in the nursery. If the family doesn’t want it, I’d be glad to have that – it’s the original and has much meaning for me.’
‘Consider it yours. It’s the least I can do for you.’
‘But really, Georgina, I don’t need anything from Harp’s End.’
There were a few moments of silence between them as Stella added hot water to the teapot, waiting for the topic of Grace to be addressed properly. A bird, smaller than a crow but bigger than most garden birds, landed on the fence to watch them.
‘Good grief, that’s a large bird,’ Georgina remarked.
Stella cocked her head in thought as she handed the cup and saucer to her guest. ‘Well, I never; that’s a young jackdaw. Do you know, I saw one the day we took over the premises and came out to admire the garden and I haven’t seen one that close up since? Look at his glossy feathers in the sun – almost purple they’re so black.’
‘I’ve not seen one before.’
‘I happen to know a lot about jackdaws.’
‘Really? How come?’
Stella’s gaze softened at the memory and decided they might as well confront the spirit of the person who swirled around them. ‘I discovered they were your father’s favourite bird. I have one of his notebooks that I carried to Morocco for him; he wrote at length and with affection about them, especially their intelligence. Interestingly, there’s a myth that suggests if a jackdaw appears it is foretelling the arrival of someone into your life.’ She smiled. ‘And here you are.’
Stella looked back at the dark bird observing them and she had the most fanciful notion that Rafe was there in spirit, watching over them. It felt comforting but she chose not to share this with Georgina. ‘As a species they are hilariously attracted to shiny objects and will distract you in order to thieve a silver milk-bottle top. They store up anything that reflects the sun like a horde of treasure and unlike the rook or raven, these little fellows don’t eat carrion so I am happy to make them feel most welcome in my garden.’ She didn’t add that she hoped this one would linger now that she’d had the whimsical thought that it carried the soul of Rafe within it.
It was that thought that made her take full control of the conversation. ‘Georgina, let me make this easier for you; do you want to talk about your father?’
Her guest looked down and seemed to gather her courage before she spoke again. ‘It’s just, I know you were with him before he died. Mother’s death has sharpened my resolve to be a better daughter – it’s a pity I made this decision so late. Of course, the authorities couldn’t explain anything to us about how and why he died in a desert with a German man beside him. Witnesses placed you at the hotel. I was told that an elderly couple helped with enquiries. They said they saw him leave you and that you went back to your hotel with a man from the café, or something. But even so, it’s all such a mystery and Mother refused to demand more – she let it all slide, as she let herself slide away from both of her daughters as if we didn’t matter much any more, especially since I met Rex, but I do worry about Grace.’
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Stella admitted.
‘I’ve always loved her. Even now when she’s making herself hard to like. She was always so wretchedly sunny but right now I’d give anything to see her happy again. Anything. She likes Rex because he accepts her exactly how she is, so I’m fortunate in that regard. But she seems to think I’m bossing her around when really all I want to do is make sure she’s strong here.’ Georgina tapped a finger to her temple. ‘I need to know she’s healing.’
‘I know all about losing parents too young. It’s not just the shock of losing people you love but your whole life seems to change in that moment. Everything you’ve known is thrown in disarray. And she’s a teenager – it’s a lot to handle at once. You have Rex, you’re in love; I’m sure she’s feeling lonelier than ever.’
Georgina nodded, frowning as if absorbing this thought deeply. ‘And she lost you too. Even though she won’t hear of it being sold yet, she couldn’t bear to return to Harp’s End, demanded to go to boarding school, which to be honest was probably a good decision because she has a lot of support there. She’s such an emotional sort of character.’ Stella nodded, impressed by Georgina’s display of wisdom. She really had grown up fast in these last few years.
‘She’s a carbon copy of her father,’ Georgina continued, ‘although I see lots in her that reflects Mother too. She won’t have it, of course, as Mother was not terribly affectionate, but Grace is a moody fourteen-year-old now, so you can imagine what that’s like.’
‘Yes, indeed. I’m experiencing similar trials with my sister. They’ll come through it – I mean, look at you!’ They shared a sad smile. ‘I did write to her a few times. Has she ever mentioned my letters?’
Georgina nodded, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry she hasn’t responded. She blames you, Stella.’
Stella had to look away and swallow her distress. ‘I wondered if that was the case.’ The jackdaw still observed them. She cleared her throat. ‘I wish I could change that. I’m a firm believer in talking things through . . . if I could see her, perhaps?’
‘We can try. She’s angry at the world. It stole you, for a start, and she worshipped you; but then it stole her father, and when she discovered the truth of what had occurred between you both, she went into deep shock. She didn’t speak for weeks and then only in French for a while.’
Stella looked up, startled.
‘She’s past all of that now but you know what a chatterbox Grace used to be – that’s no longer part of her personality. She’s lost that glow that she seemed to shine on everyone. I think time will help Grace see it all in a new light. She needs to forgive you, I suspect, for apparently deserting her, taking away her father, allowing him to die, making her mother so miserable to the point of her wishing away her health. In her angry mind, Grace wraps it all up in the ribbon of Stella.’
Stella moaned. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked on her chair. ‘I must see her. Let her rage at me if she wants, but I know it will be better if she can see me, blame me to my face, ask me whatever she wants. Will you tell her you’ve visited? Please, Georgina, try and make it possible for me to visit Grace or vice versa. I have to set things right between us.’
Georgina drained her tea, put down the cup and saucer and squeezed Stella’s arm. ‘I didn’t come here to upset you about Grace. I promise I will do my utmost to bring you both together.’ Stella’s shoulders slumped with relief. ‘I also didn’t come here to ask you about your relationship with our father. I’m here to make amends for the way you were treated and to ask you to teach me about the man I ignored. Losing Mother has forced me to confront how you felt when you lost your parents and we mocked and punished you further at such a time of grief. I’m deeply ashamed, Stella. My parents were far from perfect but without them I feel rudderless and I know the angels are giving me a second chance with Rex. He is strong and steady.’ She ran a hand through her hair that fell in soft waves to frame her exquisite face. ‘Heaven knows why, but he loves me and I know it to be real because he doesn’t let me get away with any of my former bad behaviour. He spoils me in ways my mother wouldn’t understand. Rex might take me for a simple picnic as his idea of a treat before he’d buy me a new dress. He sits of an evening and talks to me about anything from . . . oh, I don’t know, seashells to politics, and never tires of my opinions, my dreams. He wants me to study again. He encourages me to take up hobbies that don’t require me having to buy my fun or friendship. In fact, he has introduced me to so many lovely people that I feel I now have a circle of friends in Hampshire – people who enjoy me, look forward to seeing me and I can count on. I’ve never had that before. I was such an empty person until Rex and he’s filled me up with everything I lacked, especially love, Stella.’
She smiled, understanding completely. ‘How long have you known him?’
‘We met in Geneva. He was delivering his little sister to the same school I had returned to in order to do a term of volunteer work for. My role was to introduce the new girls into the dorm, help with their homesickness and how to fit in,’ she said, breaking into bright laughter at the memory. ‘It was love at first sight for me. There I was putting my arms around his weeping baby sister and desperately wanting him to put his arms around me! Of course Mother came to the realisation that Rex is almost everything she had hoped for in terms of my marriage. From a disgustingly wealthy family; eldest son . . . he ticked the most important boxes for her. But in truth he’s everything she wouldn’t like. Rex is tough – hard, some say – but only in the right ways, I’ve come to appreciate. He doesn’t believe in frittering away money on things that don’t matter – I don’t know how many times he’s said to me that I don’t need a new frock for every occasion, and that we only require the minimum of staff. I run my own household and just have some help in every few days to do laundry, look after the grounds. There’s a massive family home that’s his but he prefers the gatekeeper’s lodge – more than big enough, he says, and doesn’t cost as much to heat!’ She said this affecting a deep voice that made Stella laugh. ‘And you know, Stella, I don’t care – I need so much less than I ever imagined would be possible for me – because I love him and I love our life. I even cook a meal for him each night, can you imagine?’
Stella shook her head. No, she definitely couldn’t imagine that. She reminded herself to remain focused on the pleasure of reconnecting with Georgina rather than lose herself in dark thoughts about Grace that were trilling in her mind.
‘And it delights me to plan a dinner that will please him. He seems to enjoy my cooking even when it flops – he can make me laugh about it, want to get it right next time. Now we’re married I’m going to try and entertain . . . up at the big house. I shall plan my own menu, supervise the cooking, arrange the flowers myself and . . .’ She shrugged.
‘Suddenly what to wear becomes the least of your problems?’ Stella offered and Georgina let out a gust of laughing agreement. ‘So he’s shifted your perspective.’
‘He has. Now I appreciate what is important because I can actually feel it. I think I was moving through life without any emotional compass. Rex looks at me the way I saw my father looking at you. I understand how he must have felt now. Did he tell you that he wrote to me?’ Stella shook her head, privately shocked to hear it but then Rafe was always full of surprises. ‘It was a long letter, about ten pages, which I reread from time to time to remind myself. He told me about him and Mother, about him and you, about him and me. He said he needed to explain it to me this way in case he never had the opportunity to tell me to my face. He wrote it on the ship, I gather. Perhaps he knew he’d never return.’
Stella hated to revisit this topic but indulged Georgina’s need to uncover truths. ‘I have never forgiven myself about how you found out about your parentage.’
‘It’s their fault, not yours. They hid it. Why? Did they not think I’d discover it eventually?’
Stella shrugged. ‘I’m sorry that I can’t explain it.’
‘Why the secret?’ Georgina wondered. Stella could tell she was thinking aloud.
‘Shame, perhaps? Your mother was all about appearances. She tolerated plenty so long as life appeared to be perfect and harmonious. I like that you still call him your father, despite what you’ve learned.’
‘He’s the only father I’ve known and I punished him for all the time he was alive.’
‘Why, Georgina? I never understood that.’
‘I think I knew. Somewhere in the pit of my subconscious I recognised that Grace was his and I wasn’t. I don’t know how. Call it instinct. When I was little and it was just me as the youngster in the family I worshipped him – although he was so rarely at home and when he was I felt he didn’t notice me because my mother just dominated every moment with him. I wanted him just for a while to myself. I was never happier than when he’d let me sit in his lap and he’d read to me, or let me look at his sketches. And then when I was eight along came my sister and I could tell, as young as I was, that he instantly loved her more. As she grew, began to look like him, even show some of his mannerisms that people remarked on, I began to hate them both. They were like a little club of two and I wasn’t allowed to join. I looked like Mother and yet I didn’t have her shaped eyes or her mannerisms. When I mentioned this, she’d fob me off and as I grew up all that sense of not belonging turned outward I suppose and became vicious. I don’t think I enjoyed a single happy day from turning thirteen onwards. I hated both of my parents for a while, then I fixated my despair upon him . . . and Grace, although I had to work at it because they were both so irritatingly easy and pleasant. I just wanted to be part of their club. I sensed the oddity of my father but Mother just seemed to look past it; pretend it wasn’t there. I couldn’t imagine how he could be so successful in his business dealings and yet be such a stumbling, bumbling character – it didn’t add up. Mother liked him weak and his laughably gentle hobbies of bird watching or butterfly spotting. It only made me madder, whereas it just seemed to entertain Grace. Perhaps I sensed it was a ruse.’
Stella now understood why Georgina was here. ‘You want me to tell you about the man I knew, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. It’s the only way I can let it all go because it’s important to get on with my life – a life that can now finally be happy because of Rex. But the shadow of the family and its secrets lingers. I want to set it free. I just need to understand.’
And so Stella began, first by pouring a second cup of tea. She told Georgina everything she could about the character of the man she loved that his daughter so badly wanted to know, including their happy times in Brighton and in Marrakech. It took close to an hour of Stella talking and Georgina barely blinking, listening in rapt attention.
Finally, Stella shrugged, not prepared to share her suffering of his loss, ending her tale in the café with Margaret and Harold coming to her aid. ‘That was the last time I saw him.’
‘A spy?’ Georgina whispered, her tone awed.
‘A real chameleon, but then you know that. The man I met in Piccadilly that night you would not recognise as your father. I fell in love with an entirely different Ainsworth to the one you knew. He was effortlessly charming, ridiculously handsome, highly aware of his surrounds and people around him, a fantastic dancer – and he didn’t wear spectacles. Did you know, all of those pairs he possessed had clear glass in them?’
Georgina sighed. ‘Is that meant to make me feel better?’ Her query wasn’t asked unkindly.
‘No. Just a way of explaining that I was duped too. Nothing shocked me more – apart from losing him – than the day I met him at Harp’s End and then helplessly had to join the guile to protect him. It was a burden I neither chose nor wanted. But I loved that stranger I met in London and hated discovering that I was working for his wife, looking after his children. Honestly, Georgina, it was untenable, and I tried to get away but was dragged in further when the need for him to get to Morocco for the government arose. He needed my help, your mother insisted I come . . .’ Stella shook her head. ‘It was awkward and you were difficult. It was always going to implode. What I didn’t know is that he was orchestrating it. He had to get himself off that ship but without your mother – and not for the reason you think; more for her safety and the protection of his family. I now believe that it was he who manipulated poor little Grace into spilling what she heard. I might even be persuaded to believe that he deliberately goaded your mother to have that argument in Grace’s bedroom that night so that, even though vaguely conscious, she would soak up what she heard.’
‘But why?’
‘To get me thrown off the ship too. He used the same trick, don’t you see, to get me away from your mother’s employ and under his authority. I can see that all so clearly now. So should you. It was cynical but your father was trapped, in a way; he was a patriot and he was putting his country’s needs ahead of his own. I have no doubt in my heart that he was a thoroughly good man, but spies have to be cunning, manipulative, shadowy people who live by their wits.’
‘Did he tell you he was working for the government?’
‘No. That secret I worked out alone; I discovered it by chance on that same evening of Grace’s fall. I challenged him on it, he was truthful and then of course he needed my help. He couldn’t trust anyone else to smuggle the information back to London.’
‘What have they done with the information?’
‘Who knows, Georgina? I’m not privy to that. Going by what’s happening in Europe, absolutely nothing, I suspect. Our government seems to be appeasing that man in Germany but they’ve had more than five years’ warning of his intent. There are senior people working behind the scenes who have been suspicious of him since he first came to power and what your father and his friend Joseph delivered was simply proof of their collective fears.’
‘You think we’re going to war?’
Stella nodded sadly. ‘I don’t think handing over Czechoslovakia to Germany is going to keep his hunger for power sated.’ She gave a low sigh. ‘But then, what would I, a lady who owns a tearoom, know?’
‘You call him Rafe . . . I’ve never heard that name.’
She explained.
‘I really didn’t know him at all, did I?’
‘But you do now. He so desperately wanted to be a good father to you but you were difficult to love, Georgina. You pushed him away viciously, but you need to know that he genuinely wanted to help you through your difficult period. He ran out of time.’ She watched Georgina’s eyes water. ‘I’m sorry to upset you.’
Georgina pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and sniffed into it. ‘Don’t apologise. I deserve to confront all my terrible behaviour and it makes me feel even more generous towards my sister who is growing up through far more difficult circumstances. I must try and remain understanding of her mood swings. Nevertheless, I envy your knowing the darker, more heroic side of him.’
‘You mustn’t, because look at me . . . he’s ruined me for others!’ At Georgina’s look of pity, she grinned. ‘But that’s how I want it. I’ve loved, I know how wonderful it is and I don’t want to try and recreate it with anyone else. You’ve found it with Rex. You know what I’m talking about. Besides, he gave me all of this too,’ she said, waving her hand and more. ‘He so wanted me to follow my dream to open the tearooms and I couldn’t let him down. It was him who found this place and bought it. I only learned about its existence a week or so after returning to Britain and accepting that he died over there.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘He had a colleague deliver a letter that explained his hopes for me. I couldn’t let him down, especially as he’d given me my future . . .’ She stopped before she said more. Was she ready to share it all?
‘Please don’t think I begrudge you any of this, Stella,’ Georgina assured, cutting into her thoughts. ‘I have more money than I’ll ever need.’
Stella had to laugh at her candour.
‘I’m glad he made amends for how our family treated you.’ Georgina looked at her watch. ‘Speaking of Rex, I can’t believe how the time has flown. I need more time with you; there’s so much more to talk about.’
She nodded, stood and Georgina followed suit. They walked slowly out of the orchard and up the garden. ‘Promise me again that you will remember me to Grace. Please tell her I would love to speak with her, or write to her . . . perhaps I could visit her at her school?’
‘Of course I shall. And maybe next time she and I can come together.’
Stella’s hopes lifted. ‘Next time? I like the sound of that. Please do persuade her to come as well. Talking together, hugging again, it will help us all heal. Where in Hampshire is home for you?’
‘A village called Sonning. Grace’s school is on the East Sussex coast. But Rex is worried that should war come, we’d be vulnerable. He’s talking about sending Grace and myself away, but . . . to where? I don’t want to live alone, raise Grace, and raise our child.’
‘Child?’
‘Um . . . I’m expecting, Stella. I thought we’d get to all of this so much earlier but then Rex said put women together and they’ll talk forever and still say it’s not enough time.’ She smiled brightly. ‘I’m just eight weeks, so I’m not telling anyone. We had to take our honeymoon late, you see, because of Mother’s passing. She lived long enough to see me married but then we couldn’t go off on a romantic holiday as she was dying. Rex was all right to wait for the honeymoon but that didn’t mean he waited on everything!’ she said, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow to make Stella chuckle. ‘Now we’re going to have a wonderful few weeks driving around England. He wanted to take me to Europe but I prefer to be closer to home. Morning sickness is such a killer.’
Stella nodded. ‘I know. Oh, congratulations, Georgina.’ She hugged her. ‘Listen to me now, why not come here?’
‘Pardon?’
‘If you need to leave the south, come here. This house is enormous – there are eight bedrooms up there. We use four. Look at the size of this garden: more than enough room for a school of children to play. And perhaps Rex would feel safe having you in Harrogate? Think about it. The offer’s there any time for you, for Grace . . . and for your child. Lots of help here too, and together perhaps we can help Grace heal,’ she said, taking Georgina’s hand and feeling the wonder of this new connection.
‘You were always so generous, thank you for forgiving me. But would you really want a baby around . . . I mean . . . I know you have your brother and sister, but they’re growing up. A crying baby is —’
‘I would love it. I’m not nearly as removed from infants as you imagine,’ she replied with a wry smile.
Georgina frowned, trying to catch her meaning, but she was interrupted by the sound of a young voice approaching where they were standing in the middle of the pathway. A woman emerged from the back door, chasing after a child who looked to be around four years old.
‘Oh, hello Peggy.’
‘I’m sorry, Stella. We’re just home from school but he saw you from the window.’
Georgina watched Stella bend down and open her arms with a look of pure affection. ‘Rufe! I was hoping you’d be back in time.’ She shook her head at Peggy. ‘I wanted him to meet our guest.’
The little boy ran into his mother’s embrace, chattering about a painting he had done for her today.
‘Ooh, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, darling,’ Stella said, loving the smell of shampoo she could still detect in her child’s soft dark hair, but now it was time to meet his stepsister, if that’s what Georgina was. ‘We shall go and view your painting, darling, but first, would you say hello to Georgina? She’s a very special person. Georgina, this is Rufus, my son.’
Young Rufe squinted up at Georgina. ‘Hello. Are you a friend of Mummy’s?’
‘Er . . . yes, I am,’ Georgina answered, glancing at Stella with a look of atonement. ‘Hello, Rufe,’ she breathed. ‘What a handsome little boy you are.’
He nodded with a wide grin that reminded Stella, as it always did, of Grace. ‘Mummy says I look like Daddy.’
‘I think you do too,’ Georgina admitted, and Stella heard her fighting back the emotion. ‘Just like the photos in the nursery.’
Little Rufe didn’t understand, and grabbed his nanny’s hand. ‘Come on, Peggy, I want to fetch my painting for Mummy.’
Stella threw her a look of gratitude as she moved off with her son before turning back to the stunned Georgina. ‘You see, Georgina, he gave me everything . . . not just his love, the roof over my family’s head, a business to keep me financially stable, but my whole future. I need no other man but that little one for now growing up behind Rory . . . I shall keep him safe, teach him well, ensure he’s loved by his family . . . and greater family,’ she said, squeezing Georgina’s hand again, ‘if you’ll help him to be part of your lives.’
‘Oh, Stella . . . why didn’t you tell us?’ Georgina sounded cut.
She shook her head. ‘Imagine your mother’s response. Apart from the pain it surely would have caused, she would have thought only the worst of me; that I was hoping for some sort of financial support. And you’ve just finished telling me how you felt about Grace usurping your place in the family; Grace would have hated Rufus for the same reason.’ She shrugged. ‘She may still do so, although I doubt it somehow.’ She took Georgina’s arm. ‘Please don’t be angry with me. Rufus is all I have and need of your father. He, with my beautiful brother and sister, complete me – I’m happy, independent, optimistic. That’s more than most might be able to claim.’
‘Would you have told me about Rufe?’
‘Not without your visit, no, but to be honest, I wanted to tell you the moment I hugged you hello. I’ve been desperate to share him with his other family but we’ve been talking nonstop since you arrived, finding the right moment was hard! I’m just glad he got home from school in time.’ They laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have let you go without knowing about him, or seeing a photo of him, though.’
‘So our father lives on through your son. New beginnings,’ Georgina whispered, tearily.
To new beginnings, Stella echoed in her mind, deciding that this really was the start of a new era in her life.
They hugged, holding the embrace as Stella looked over Georgina’s shoulder to where the jackdaw perched. He blinked his near human-looking eye of silvery iris and neat pupil with what Stella took to be approval before the curious bird leaped from the fence and was gone from them.
Dance on, Rafe, she cast to its disappearing outline, feeling that he would return to check on her and their two families coming together. I’ll keep them all safe, I promise.