HEBE SWEPT A MILE down through Exeter on the bus and walked back up the hill cursing Mungo. She did not think Alison had recognised her; it was years since they had met when she had first gone to work for Mungo’s mother. In those days she’d had a fringe, now her glasses were an added disguise. With an effort she dismissed Mungo and his wife from her mind. The day, which she had planned as a peaceful shopping day, had lost its appeal. What mattered was to be in time for the train bearing Silas from school and his other life. She just had time to return the bikinis and get her money back. She forced herself to be patient, not to hurry getting her car from the car park, not to drive too fast to the station, to park tidily, to comb her hair, adjust her skirt, relax, concentrate on Silas.
Always after the separation of term Hebe feared Silas would be changed, no longer hers, that he would not accept her. She was afraid of embarrassing him by too great a show of affection. She paced the platform in painful anticipation.
When the train arrived on time she was surprised. She had persuaded herself it would be late. When Silas hugged her she nearly wept with relief. When they had piled his belongings into the car and he sat beside her as she drove he said, sounding heartfelt, ‘It’s great to be home.’ She felt overwhelming joy at having so miraculous a child. She loved his chestnut hair, his wide mouth, his nose jutting large, his slightly haughty expression which his eyes belied.
‘You have grown,’ she said.
‘What do you expect?’ he answered. Her euphoria evaporated.
‘What do you want to do these holidays?’ she asked. She had been about to ask, ‘What shall we do these holidays?’
Annoyed with himself but anxious to assert his independence, Silas said, ‘I thought Giles and I could go exploring. There are places we have not been to.’
‘I could take you in the car.’ Involuntarily Hebe included herself in his life.
‘We rather like going by bus, if you don’t mind.’ Silas looked at her sidelong.
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Hebe said sharply. ‘Why should I?’
She thought my role is to cook, give him pocket money, be there when needed, if needed. For God’s sake, she adjured herself, don’t cling, don’t be possessive.
‘One of the boys offered me a lift down. His father’s taking him to Cornwall,’ said Silas. ‘The Scillies, actually.’
‘Why didn’t you accept?’
‘I’d rather come by train. I look forward to seeing you waiting on the platform. I like this long drive home with you.’
‘Oh, darling.’ Her heart leapt.
‘Of course it would have saved the train fare.’
‘To hell with the train fare,’ cried Hebe and they both laughed, mocking the ruinous train fare.
‘How are the jobs? When did you get home? Do you mind that sort of work?’
‘It’s the only work I’m any good at, it pays. Do you mind me doing it?’ She feared his criticism.
‘Why should I?’ Silas was genuinely surprised. ‘One of the boys has a sister who cooks for shooting parties. He says some of the guns try and lay her.’
‘Oh.’ What did Silas know about laying? Academic knowledge, surely.
‘I told him you specialised in old ladies because they pay more and he said he’d tell her. Would it spoil your market, Ma?’
‘Of course not. There’s room for all.’
‘D’you never get asked to do jobs in the holidays?’
‘I wouldn’t take one,’ said Hebe quickly. ‘Holidays are my only chance of seeing you.’
‘You could take a quickie, go for a week, I wouldn’t mind.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you send me away to school I could quite well stay at home while you work.’
Oh my God! What a deadly barb.
Silas, who had been meaning to say something of the sort for some time, thought perhaps he had said too much.
Hebe wondered whether she was losing touch, whether she had ever been in touch with Silas.
‘Are you happy at school?’ Ask a silly question.
‘It’s all right.’
‘What sort of answer is that?’ she cried in distress.
‘I’m perfectly happy, Ma,’ Silas lied, already at twelve adept. ‘I’ve lots of friends,’ he added, knowing that such a statement would assuage her fears. ‘How is the street?’ he asked sweetly, conscious that she thought it ugly.
‘As ugly as ever.’ Hebe glanced at him, wondering where he got that large nose. ‘But you used to like it.’
‘I do like it. It’s full of secret people.’
‘Hannah, Giles, Amy Tremayne.’
‘And other people. You never seem to get to know them. Don’t you think you might like some of them?’
‘Not really.’ Hebe spoke truthfully, I’m not sociable. I’m never at home long enough.’
‘You think the street’s too ugly to have anyone interesting living in it. I heard you say so to Hannah.’
‘You make me sound snobbish.’
‘We wouldn’t be any different if we lived in another street.’ Silas felt protective towards the street, which he found fascinating in its dark conformity.
‘I would be different in a Georgian square or a country cottage,’ said Hebe, thinking how different she was while away on her jobs. ‘As long as it was beautiful.’
‘It’s home, you are there.’
Hebe was afraid to speak. One minute he snubs, the next he gives me courage. She wished she knew her mysterious child better.
‘I am happy you like it,’ she said. ‘And,’ she joked, ‘if by some miracle a job turns up in mid-holidays you can see how you get on by yourself.’
‘I’d get on all right.’ He was serious.
‘They always pay twice as much.’ She hardly believed it was herself speaking. Would it be good for him to find out what it’s like to be alone? ‘You’d be alone,’ she said, expecting him to protest.
‘I’d get meals off Hannah or Amy if I needed to.’ Silas mocked her, thinking that being alone would be wonderful, very different from the loneliness of school.
Nearing the steep street, Hebe feared she would never really know Silas. Then she remembered the nightmare of the day before and realised, as she stopped at her door, that she seldom experienced her panic when away working. She thought with amusement of her meeting with Mungo and was laughing as she drew up at her door, enjoying her fondness for Mungo.
‘Here we are, my old Miracle,’ and Silas too laughed, delighted to be back, glad that his mother was apparently unhurt.
‘I’ll change my clothes,’ he said as they carried his luggage upstairs, ‘then find Giles.’ He was anxious to slot back into his home environment.
‘I will get tea.’ Hebe wished she was not shy with Silas, that he did not keep her at arm’s length. He has inherited my secrecy and reticence, she thought. Then, remembering her unfortunate rencontre with Mungo, she wished it were possible to share the joke.
Silas came down wearing jeans and a T-shirt. ‘D’you mind if I go and find Giles now?’
‘There’s a letter for you on the mantelshelf.’
Silas opened the letter. ‘Oh, great!’ he exclaimed. ‘Magic! Michael Reeves’ mother is asking me to stay. How brilliant!’
‘Who is Michael Reeves?’ Hebe felt a chill.
‘A boy at school. They’ve taken a cottage on the Scilly Isles. They sail. You won’t mind, will you? It’s only for three weeks.’
‘Three weeks?’ She tried to keep her voice level. ‘When?’
‘That’ll be terrific’ Silas was overjoyed. ‘Three weeks’ sailing. Just imagine, I’ve never sailed.’
‘When?’ She felt cold, he was sure he was going.
‘She says to say what date suits you. She’s quite nice. She came to the sports at half-term.’
‘I was working and couldn’t get away.’ Hebe avoided school functions.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Silas looked anxious. ‘It’s the boy who offered me a lift down.’
‘I see.’ She was stunned by disappointment.
‘Sure you don’t mind?’ Silas assumed he would go, did not question.
‘Of course I don’t. It’s very kind of Mrs Reeves.’ I must not cling, she told herself. ‘I must write to her. It will be fun for you.’
‘Can’t we telephone?’ Silas was in a rush to fix a date, seize the opportunity, pin it down.
‘Yes, love, we will telephone tonight.’ She surrendered.
‘Good. I’ll be off now and find Giles.’ Silas left the house, leaving all the doors open as he ran, hungry for life.
For several minutes Hebe was in misery. Then she made her decision. She would work. Not Mungo, that would be too soon, he would think he’d won a point. Mrs Fox would do, no complications there and quite good money. She was smiling when Silas came back, bringing Giles with him.
‘And how was Paris?’
‘Wonderful.’ Giles was a masculine version of Hannah.
‘Tea?’
‘I’ve had mine.’ Giles smiled, showing crooked teeth. Would George Scoop fix these for free if Hannah married him?
‘Have another.’
‘Thanks.’ Giles was fond of his friend’s mother, considered him lucky. ‘I wish my mother was a cook.’
‘It’s a useful trade.’ Hebe offered Giles cake. ‘I shall go to Mrs Fox in Wiltshire while you are in the Scillies,’ she said to Silas.
‘Who is Mrs Fox?’
‘One of the old ladies who can afford a cook now and then to jolly her up.’
‘Will you be back when I come back from the Scillies?’
‘I will be back,’ she said. ‘Of course I will.’