Ada looked different: younger, her face softer. She had something that Lottie had seldom seen in all the years that they’d been together: a pleasant smile on her face. On first sight she could almost be described as happy and there had been little in her former life to justify that. Was it four or five years since she’d seen her mother? Lottie couldn’t remember, but they had been hard, difficult years for her and those she had left behind.
Her mother lived in a very pleasant though small cottage in the grounds of a much larger house in Island Bay. No wonder she’d left home. Next to her stood a tall young man who must be Jack. There was no embracing, no kissing and, after Ada opened the door and let her in, not even a handshake. They simply stood looking awkwardly at one another.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Hello, Lottie.’
‘Hello, Jack.’
‘’lo.’
Lottie wanted to kiss the little brother, now grown so tall, who she hadn’t seen for years, but then she drew back remembering that, as a family, back when their mother lived with them, they didn’t kiss.
‘Jack, you pop off and finish your homework,’ Ada said, giving him a little push, and he disappeared without another word.
‘He’s grown,’ Lottie said.
‘You look different too, Lottie.’ Ada put her head on one side, appraising her. ‘Quite pretty, in fact.’
Lottie took this as a compliment. ‘You also look different, Mum.’ But she didn’t say how.
‘Sit down, Lottie,’ her mother said, indicating a chair by a window with a view of the pretty garden. It seemed a long way from Broadway Terrace. ‘Now what brings you here?’ She sat down in the chair opposite Lottie. ‘I don’t suppose it’s just a social visit.’ Shades of the old acerbic Ada here.
‘It’s about Bella, Mum. She’s going to have a baby.’
Ada’s pleasant expression promptly vanished and she looked startled. ‘Is she married?’
‘No.’
‘Well . . .’ Ada sat with her hands in her lap, fingers restlessly plucking at her dress. ‘I don’t know what to say. How did this come about? Bella is only . . . Why, she must be sixteen now.’
‘Not quite, Mum. I’m afraid I’ve been in England for a while and, well . . .’ A feeling of hopelessness overcame her at the inadequacy of explaining this to her mother.
‘And I don’t suppose your father was much use looking after her. I hear he has a job now. So she was just left to roam about on her own I expect and get into bad company. It was selfish of you to leave her with her father, who is quite incapable of looking after a young girl like that. But typical of you, Charlotte. You only ever did think of yourself.’
Because she needed a favour from her mother Lottie bit back any retort she wanted to make. She also noticed that her full name was back on her mother’s lips, always a sign of disapproval. How quickly an old habit had instinctively returned, despite the passage of years.
‘I did think she’d want to keep in touch with me after I saw her in town but she didn’t,’Ada continued. ‘Got a job with a hairdresser. Good thing as education is a waste of time – it gives people ideas above their station. Look what it did to you. Well, Lottie, what do you want me to do about all this? I suppose she will have the baby adopted and then try and get on with her life?’
‘No, Mum. She wants to keep the baby. The thing is, I want to go back to England. I like it and have more opportunities there for work. There is not much for me in Wellington as I never got my school certificate, thanks mainly to you leaving us, Mother.’
‘I couldn’t stand it any more,’ Ada said defiantly. ‘I’d had enough of slaving with that worthless father of yours sitting in a corner coughing his heart out all day. What happened to your fiancé, Charlotte?’
‘It fell through. We’re no longer engaged.’
Ada’s eyes were lit by a malicious gleam of satisfaction. ‘I’m not surprised. Everyone was astonished at a Carson getting engaged to someone like you.’
A hot flush sprang to Lottie’s cheeks and she bit her lips hard again, determined to stay in control, and began hesitantly: ‘I wondered, Mum, if you could give Bella a home? She was always very fond of you and . . .’
‘Not a chance, Charlotte.’ There was nothing hesitant about the way Ada sprang rapidly out of her chair. Her pleasant, relaxed expression had entirely vanished and the hard, sour, embittered look of old was back. ‘Me take Bella expecting a baby and not married? Mrs Ellis would give me notice immediately for bringing such shame on the family and I’d lose my job and this lovely house. And this is to say nothing of the effect on Mr Porter, the gardener here, to whom I will be engaged to be married when I have got my divorce from your father, which should be soon, and who has the strictest moral standards. It would completely destroy my life and I have made enough sacrifices for my ungrateful family, slaving after you for all those years. It is perfectly ridiculous for Bella to consider keeping her baby. It will ruin her life. She should put it up for adoption and forget about it. Then I might consider having her live with me if she still wants to and you can go off to wherever you want and well rid of you, I say.’
She pointed towards the door. ‘You had better go now, Charlotte, before I lose my temper with you completely. I think you have a real nerve coming here to see me after all this time and trying to foist on me a pregnant unmarried daughter just in order to relieve you of the responsibility and satisfy your own selfish ends so that you can run off abroad. Just like you, Charlotte. You haven’t changed one little bit and I’m not surprised Doctor Carson wanted to be rid of you once he found out what you were really like behind that attractive exterior.’
Burning with humiliation and anger, Lottie rose from her chair and was about to leave. Suddenly, however, she changed her mind and, crossing the room, looked down at her mother, who remained seated. ‘Bella is your daughter, Mother, and her baby will be your grandchild. You have always made life hard for me, but there is no need to take it out on Bella who was close to you, loved you and was grief-stricken when you left. She was young, vulnerable and still is. Yet she can’t turn to you when she is in trouble because you deserted her, and instead turns to Dad, who you treated abominably, too. You walked out on us all without a word of explanation. You are a most unnatural mother, harsh and unfeeling and I pity the man you expect to marry if he should become ill or in any way dependent on you. I feel this is something I should have told you before and I’m telling you now because I sincerely hope I never set eyes on you again.’
Without waiting for a reply from her mother, whose expression had gradually been transformed from righteous indignation to one of shocked surprise, Lottie turned on her heels and let herself out of the front door.
On the way to the main gate she passed a tall, lean man with a large walrus moustache, doubtless Mr Porter, he of the strictest moral standards, leaning on a hoe watching her indifferently, though he must have known who she was. Once on the road she hurried along to the tram stop, still shaking with emotion after her outburst, and consumed with rage and hatred for a woman she knew she never wanted to see again.
Lottie carried out her duties as a waitress with her customary skill and confidence, blending in easily with the crowd at Sir Eustace’s summer garden party. It was in honour of his and Lady Frobisher’s ruby wedding anniversary and the best of Wellington society were there in full: lawyers, doctors, politicians, prominent and successful business men all with their spouses. It was to be expected that the Carsons would be there too and they were, the whole family as far as Lottie could see from the perch near the serving area where she first spotted them. She had anticipated that this would be the case when she took the job. However, because she needed the money so badly, everything else having failed, she knew an encounter was a risk she had to take.
As far as she could she took care to confine herself to another part of the lawn, well away from her erstwhile fiancé’s relations, a family who had once come to regard her as one of them.
Perhaps she thought her waitress uniform of black dress and white apron would serve as a disguise. However, with the sun shining on her golden hair, which was only partly obscured, perhaps even enhanced, by a black velvet band, she attracted much attention, especially from the older generation of men who maybe indulged some private fantasy inspired by her striking good looks coupled with an air of docile servitude.
She also attracted the attention of the heir to the Frobisher fortune and baronetcy and if she did not at first remember him he remembered her. He had stood for a long time watching her, noticing her as soon as she started to move round the crowd carrying a silver tray full of glasses of champagne.
He stepped forward as she returned to the station to restock her tray. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ he asked.
Startled, Lottie looked up. The face was familiar but she couldn’t place it.
‘We met briefly at Madeleine Carson’s wedding.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Lottie felt confused. ‘Yes, I do remember, vaguely.’
It was very vague indeed. He had the sort of pleasant but nondescript looks that could pass in any crowd. She, however, was worried about keeping her job and looked anxiously at the manager restocking her tray, who was also the boss. But he smiled and indulgently waved a hand.
‘Don’t let me take you away from Mr Frobisher, Miss O’Brien. Have a break for a few minutes. You’ve been very busy,’ and, handing the tray to another functionary, he smiled obsequiously at Mr Frobisher while whispering in Lottie’s ear, ‘Sir Eustace’s son.’
Sir Eustace’s son? She looked blankly at the man in front of her, who said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry if I interrupted your work, but I never caught your name.’
Lottie felt annoyed at this intrusion, but if he was her father’s employer’s son she knew she mustn’t show it. ‘Lottie, Mr Frobisher. My father is your father’s chauffeur,’ she added pointedly.
Now it was Mr Frobisher’s turn to look surprised. ‘You are Mr O’Brien’s daughter?’
‘Yes, I am, sir. I don’t want to be rude, but do you think I might get on with my work? We are very busy.’
She smiled at him politely and, abashed, he stood back. ‘Of course.’
Puzzled, she watched him limp away into the crowd. Then she recalled Hugh introducing him at Madeleine’s wedding and telling her how he had nearly lost his leg in the war.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said turning to her manager.
‘So you know Mr Frobisher?’
‘Only vaguely. We met at some wedding,’ and she held out a tray expectantly.
As she made her way back, weaving in and out of the fashionable, well-dressed throng, Lottie felt increasingly uncomfortable, as if she was here under false pretences, wondering who else she might know or not know, who might recognize her from the days that she had some kind of status as Hugh’s fiancé. She thought that lots of their friends must be here and her disguise was insufficient to protect her from the past.
Did it matter? No. It didn’t matter because she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was cross with herself for even caring. If anyone should be ashamed it was Hugh and, besides, she needed money to help support her sister and, perhaps, a baby later, both of whom she would have to care for.
So she moved about quite freely, dispensing champagne and canapés, aware of the lecherous glances of some elderly men but trying to avoid any more embarrassing contacts that might remind her of how different things would have been had she still been Hugh’s fiancé, or even, by this time, perhaps, his wife.
The Frobisher house was a large mansion set in extensive grounds with a manicured lawn and beds of exotic flowers. It was situated higher up on the hill, not far from the Carsons. From the front aspect there was a wonderful view of the harbour and the mountains beyond. There was a marquee on the lawn where luncheon was served, followed by speeches while the staff cleared up and transported dishes back to the house where other staff were busy washing up. There was much fetching and carrying to be done and Lottie remained largely out of sight, relieved that most of the waiting at the luncheon was done by waiters in tails. All in all it must have been a costly exercise and there was no doubt that Sir Eustace was a very affluent man indeed, maybe even richer than the Carsons.
Lady Frobisher was a tall, elegant woman. Her white hair was fashionably dressed but in a style befitting an older woman with an interesting arrangement of feathers projecting from a gold band. She wore a beautiful long gown of golden brocade and carried a fan which she occasionally used because of the heat.
Lottie didn’t speak to her at all or have any contact with her, and she began to feel increasingly tired as the afternoon wore on. Finally some of the staff were given a break in relays by the side of the house away from the crowd in the marquee.
Lottie was in the act of re-entering the house by the side door when a woman she recognized immediately appeared around the corner from the front.
There was no ignoring Madeleine, who came up to Lottie and, to her surprise, greeted her warmly with a kiss on the cheek while reaching for her hand and squeezing it. ‘Lottie,’ she said, ‘it is so good to catch you at last. I have been looking for you and I didn’t want to disappear before I had the chance to speak to you. You see, I am expecting a baby and as it is so hot in that marquee I’ve asked Andy to take me home.’ Madeleine was speaking rather breathlessly, emotionally. ‘I saw you in the crowd and searched for you and now I’ve found you.’ She let her hand fall. ‘I didn’t know where you were, if you’d come back and I did so much want to see you and say . . .’ She was struggling to find the words. ‘Lottie, I am so terribly sorry about Hugh. I did want you to know how badly we as a family feel about the whole thing. We feel he has behaved disgracefully and, and . . .’
Lottie interrupted her. ‘There is no need to talk about it, Madeleine. Please. What happened happened and it is over now. And, look, Madeleine, I have to get back to work, so if you would excuse me . . .’
‘But, Lottie, is there anything we can do, anything at all? We are so fond of you and don’t want to lose touch and . . .’
‘Absolutely nothing, Madeleine, and thank you. Look, I must go now. Goodbye.’ And with a wave Lottie quickly went inside the house where, for a moment, she leaned breathlessly against the wall in the corridor, trying to control the emotions that this encounter had released in her. One thing she knew for certain was that she did not want to have anything to do with the Carson family again. Although doubtless well intentioned there was still something patronizing about Madeleine’s approach which she deeply resented. After a moment Lottie recovered, but was enormously relieved when the function finished, the occasional staff like her were paid off and dismissed and she could escape and make her way home.
As Bella had said the doctor was a sympathetic, obviously capable and practical young woman of about thirty. She belonged to a relatively new breed of women emerging from the confines of domesticity to train as doctors and take their place in society. Dr Barbara Preston was English, had trained in London and only recently arrived in New Zealand. Lottie liked her and thought that Bella would be safe in her hands.
She sat to one side while the doctor examined Bella behind a screen before emerging to pronounce that everything was satisfactory and returning to her desk, where she made a few notes. ‘Now,’ she said, smiling encouragingly at her patient who had taken a seat next to Lottie. ‘I will arrange for your delivery in hospital and then . . .’ She paused and looked at Lottie. ‘Have you decided what you are going to do?’
‘In what way?’ Lottie asked.
‘Bella is very young . . .’
Lottie interrupted her. ‘Bella wants to keep her baby. There is no question of her giving it up and I am prepared to accept responsibility and look after her.’
‘I see.’ The doctor studied her notes. ‘I don’t wish to interfere, but you are not very old yourself, Miss O’Brien. Is this a sensible thing to do? There are many people unable to have children themselves and only too anxious to adopt small babies. I wonder if, as a family, you have thought this through. Bella gave me to understand that your mother didn’t live with you – indeed, that you were estranged, and that you yourself were engaged to be married and lived in England.’
‘No, I do not live in England. I was there to visit and I am no longer engaged. My home is Wellington and I’m going to stay here and take care of Bella and her baby. My father is also at home with us and between us we will support Bella in whatever she wants to do.’
‘Fine.’ The doctor got up. ‘Then that seems very satisfactory to me. I only felt I should point out the pitfalls, but I can see you are a very capable person, Miss O’Brien, and have taken all this into consideration.’
She extended her hand and shook Lottie’s. ‘I’ll see Bella in a month’s time for a check-up and after that . . . After that Bella will soon be a mother.’
Bella soon to be a mother. The idea, now that reality had set in, seemed incredible. Lottie wondered if Bella had really considered the implications of what she was doing and whether she might change her mind when the time came? She had tried to talk seriously about it, but Bella was concerned with the present and the immediate rather than the distant future, and having a baby to hug maybe answered some deeply felt need she had for mothering, especially after Ada left home, taking the child with her she favoured most over Bella.
When they returned from the visit to the doctor, Bella went upstairs to rest and Lottie got on with the housework until her father came home and immediately slumped in his corner chair and opened the paper, just like old times.
‘You OK, Dad?’ Lottie asked nervously.
‘Perfectly OK.’ Desmond put his paper down. ‘It’s just nice to be looked after again, rather than having to do the looking after.’ He extended a hand. ‘It’s great to have you back, Lottie, and to be spoilt by you.’ His expression became anxious. ‘I do hope you won’t go away again. You seem so restless and we did miss you. I know England made a deep impression on you and my fear is you will be on that boat again and disappear forever.’
Lottie sat down in the chair opposite her father. ‘I won’t be going away again, Dad – not for the time being anyway. I did like England and think there were more opportunities there, but Bella says she wants to keep her baby and I think she means it. I would never leave her. We saw her doctor today, who tried to advise her to have it adopted, said there were lots of nice couples who couldn’t have children, but Bella was adamant and I want to support her in what she wants to do. She is my little sister and I owe it to her.’
Desmond thrust his paper to one side. ‘But, Lottie, I can’t believe this. When she first broke the news to me she indicated that she did not want to keep it. She wanted to be rid of it.’
‘Well, she has changed her mind and as long as it remains that way I will be here looking after her and the baby. I think I may have got a job with Kirkcaldies again. I saw them yesterday and they remembered me. Nothing much, just helping out in haberdashery where I worked before. Very junior.’
‘Then Bella will be all alone here with the baby.’
‘I may sometimes be able to get back at lunchtime, and maybe you could help occasionally, Dad. We’ll work it out.’
‘I’m not happy about it. The only thing that makes me happy is if it persuades you not to go away again. That makes me very happy. Didn’t you want to work with the catering firm, Lottie? I heard they were very happy with you.’
‘I don’t want to go on doing that, Dad. I met or saw too many people I knew from the time I was with Hugh. I want a clean slate. Anyway, there is something demeaning about it, catering to the whims of rich people.’
Desmond chuckled. ‘That’s what I do all the time, Lottie. They have their uses. By the way, someone else was asking about you.’
‘Who was that? The Carsons?’
‘No, Edward Frobisher, Sir Eustace’s son. He said he’d met you before. I didn’t know that.’
‘That’s what I mean. People from the past. I met him briefly at Madeleine Carson’s wedding but I hardly remembered him.’
‘Well, he remembered you. Asked me a lot about you.’
Lottie bridled. ‘I hope you didn’t tell him anything.’
‘Nothing to your disadvantage, my dear. I only told him what a fine person you were, how you’d supported the family when your mother left us and how I was very proud of you. He did know that you had been engaged to Hugh Carson and asked me if you still were, but I told him that was all off and he didn’t ask anything more. Mr Edward is a very nice man. I sometimes drive him.’
‘Is he married?’
‘He has been, but it didn’t work out. His wife was very pretty – rather flighty – I heard, and I think she left him for another man and they are now divorced. He suffers a great deal from the gammy leg he got as a result of the war, is in a lot of pain and I think he relates to me because he says we have a lot in common. He talks about the war and how it affected him to me in a way he says he can’t with other people who wouldn’t understand what we went through. And it’s true. They don’t. No one can possibly understand who wasn’t there. Your mother never understood and never wanted to.’
Lottie got up, started preparing the tea and, with a smile of satisfaction, Desmond resumed his perusal of the paper, happy that things were almost back to normal again.
Somehow it seemed like the rolling back of time when she heard a voice saying ‘Hello, Lottie’ and looked up to see Violet Carson, beautifully dressed as usual and carrying a number of packages, beaming at her.
Lottie had been doing a stock inventory, head bent over the counter in the haberdashery department of Kirkcaldies and there were no other customers around. She was dressed demurely in a uniform black dress with a white collar like the unimportant shop assistant she was.
‘Hello, Violet,’ she said, hiding the surprise and also the dismay from her voice. Somehow, she seemed destined to be pursued by her past.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’
Lottie shook her head and indicated the ledger in front of her. ‘I have a lot to do. Also, I’m alone for the moment.’
‘Look, Lottie.’ Violet deposited her array of parcels on the floor by her feet. ‘Despite what has happened, we all love you. We can’t change just because,’ she lowered her voice and took a cautious look around, ‘Hugh behaved so despicably. We remember the good times, the parties, the dances, the tennis matches, all the fun we had. Just because you are not going to be part of the family it doesn’t mean we have to lose touch. Remember all the fun we had?’
Yes, she remembered. She smiled across at Violet. ‘I do.’
‘Look,’ Violet said purposefully, ‘on Sunday I’m arranging a tennis match at the club. I’d love you to come along. You are such a good player.’
‘I haven’t played for ages.’
Out of the corner of her eye Lottie saw her superior emerging from the door behind the counter. ‘I have to get on with my work now, Violet.’
‘I’ll pick you up. Sunday, two o’clock, no excuse. Right?’
‘I suppose so.’ Lottie shrugged, but had no intention of going.
‘And while I’m here,’ Violet said loudly, ‘please could I have a couple of yards of a pale blue ribbon. See . . .’ She took a dress from the bag at her feet. ‘To go with this.’
Lottie tried to put Violet and her invitation out of her mind but somehow it lingered. She looked out her tennis things, washed her dress and socks, cleaned her white shoes, put them on one side, just in case. A game of tennis sounded wonderful. It would get her out of herself. But it meant engaging with the Carsons again, and that was something she had vowed not to do.
She was very bored, very lonely and, she realized, practically friendless as so much of her time had been taken up with the Carsons and their circle. Also, she had been a successful young business woman as well, highly thought of, given responsibility and destined for promotion. And, yes, she had enjoyed it. It was like inhabiting another fun-loving, carefree world that one thought would never change, so different from the grim years of the past. Now she was back behind the counter selling ribbons and bric a brac with virtually no prospects at all as New Zealand, together with the rest of the world, was entering a time of recession.
So those former grim years were well and truly back, and upstairs was a heavily pregnant and frightened younger sister as uncertain as she was about what lay ahead. There were days when Lottie sincerely hoped Bella would change her mind, have her baby adopted and then eventually she would be free to escape back to England. This unworthy thought she tried to banish, but it was still there.
When Sunday arrived, her one day off, Lottie decided that she could no longer resist temptation. The weather was lovely, warm summer sunshine, not too hot, a gentle breeze blowing from the sea. Her one worry was Bella, who declared she wasn’t feeling very well, her stomach hurt, and spent the morning in bed; but by lunchtime she felt better, decided it had been wind and, uncharacteristically generous, urged Lottie to go out and enjoy her game. Her father was going off to his veterans’ club for some beers and a few games of darts with the boys, so by the time Violet’s horn sounded outside the house Lottie had her tennis dress on and her shoes and racquet packed in her bag.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ Violet said as Lottie got in beside her. ‘I’m glad you decided to come. I thought you might not.’
‘I nearly didn’t.’ Lottie brushed back her hair and closed her eyes against the sun. ‘But it’s such a lovely day and . . .’ She turned and smiled at Violet. ‘You know how it is.’
‘You can’t go on ignoring the Carsons forever. Madeleine told me about her little chat with you at the party.’
‘I was very offhand. I was rude. Please tell Madeleine that I’m sorry. I seem to say this a lot where you and your family are concerned.’
Violet’s hand briefly touched hers. ‘We understand. We really do. We wanted to get in touch with you, but didn’t know where you were or whether or not you had come home. Hugh said you simply disappeared. We were a bit worried, to tell you the truth.’ She paused and concentrated on her driving. ‘I don’t know whether I should tell you but Hugh and his woman, Sylvia’s her name, have got married. She actually seems awfully nice . . . but not as nice as you,’ she concluded hurriedly.
Lottie felt her heart give a lurch. ‘How do you know? Have you met her?’
‘No, but no one can be as nice as you. We all loved you and that didn’t change just because Hugh . . .’
‘Look, Violet. I don’t want to appear to be rude yet again, but I wish you would stop going on about Hugh. He is completely out of my life and I have other things on my mind.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
‘That’s good. You are so pretty, Lottie. You’ll soon have all the men running after you. Actually, there is someone I am very interested in and you will meet him today at the club.’
‘Ah, that’s why I’m invited?’
‘Not at all, but . . .’ Violet blushed. ‘His name is Albert. Isn’t that an awful name? But he is very nice.’
‘Are you dating?’
‘Yes, in a way. We’ve been out a few times.’
‘I’m very glad for you, Violet. What does he do?’
‘He’s a teacher at the same school as me. I actually got a job teaching infants, mainly to please my sister. Albert teaches history in the higher school – very clever and academic, not at all the sort of man I thought I’d fall for but . . . But, well, you’ll meet him soon.’
With that the car drew up outside the tennis club and Lottie, determined to put aside her shock at hearing that Hugh had tied the knot, was looking forward to meeting the man Violet was dating.
Albert may have had an ‘awful name’, according to Violet, but he was a good tennis player. He was also very amiable, natural and reasonably good looking, and Lottie took to him. Her own partner, Frank, who was a friend of Albert’s, was also very agreeable. The trouble for Lottie was that she hadn’t played for some time and was aware of the fact that she was missing too many shots and letting her partner down. Despite this, she was pleased she had come and for a while at least was able to forget her worries and the finality of the rejection by Hugh, now confirmed by the fact that he couldn’t wait to see the back of her before marrying his new love. Perhaps, at last, she would be able to banish his memory entirely.
After the game, which Violet and Albert easily won, there was a break for tea in the clubhouse. When the matches started again, this time she and Frank had to sit it out while Violet and Albert played with the winners of the last game of doubles. Then she and Frank would play the losers of that match.
It was all a little more sophisticated than the games Lottie had played either at school or at the Carsons’, and she knew she was rusty and had let her partner down, for which she apologized. He politely assured her he didn’t mind and trotted off to refresh himself at the bar, and for a while Lottie sat watching the competing couples. Then, aware of a movement on the bench beside her, she turned and was greeted by a familiar face.
‘Hello,’ Ed Frobisher said. ‘So we meet again.’
This was the last place Lottie expected to see a man with a gammy leg, but she managed to hide her surprise and returned his greeting.
‘I saw you play,’ he said. ‘You were very good.’
‘I was hopelessly out of form,’ Lottie replied. ‘I hadn’t played for ages.’ Then, because she was curious, despite her wish to discourage him, ‘What brings you here?’
‘I expect you’re wondering because of my leg.’ Ed touched his knee and gestured towards the stick by his side. ‘Oh, I’ve been a member for years. I used to play a lot when I was younger. A pleasant place to come and socialize on a nice day when one has nothing better to do.’
They fell into a protracted silence, during which Lottie reflected on the fact that they had something in common. They both knew the Carsons and her father was employed by his, which is why she was determined to maintain the distance between them.
‘It’s nice to see you again,’ she said politely and got up, ostensibly to go to the ladies’ room, but in reality she wandered round the clubhouse to familiarize herself with it for a while, then she strolled out to the grounds again to see how the match was going. Ed had also disappeared, so she resumed her seat and watched to the end when she and Frank had to play the losers of the doubles on another court.
Violet and Albert finally won their match and came off the court to applause from the assembled onlookers. She took her seat on the bench beside Lottie, towelling her face which was covered with sweat.
‘Now it’s your turn,’ she said, looking up at Frank, who had just reappeared. ‘Go on and win.’
‘Not much chance, I’m afraid.’ Lottie rose reluctantly and looked apologetically at her partner.
Frank shrugged as though he didn’t care, or didn’t expect too much, which made Lottie all the more determined to put in an extra effort and, as she had innate skill, her game slowly improved and they won their match.
Violet, who had been watching her, joined in the general applause as she and Frank came off the court. Next to Violet Albert was busily chatting to a woman on his other side, and beside Violet was Ed Frobisher, bad leg stretched out in front of him, looking relaxed.
‘Very well done,’ Violet said enthusiastically as Lottie came up to her. ‘I knew you could do it. Lottie, Albert and I have to rush off to another engagement, but Ed Frobisher has kindly agreed to take you home. I hope that’s all right?’
Frank politely shook hands with Lottie, thanked her for the game and then went off to talk with friends on the far side of the clubhouse, while Lottie tried to hide her irritation with Violet behind a practised smile.
‘That is perfectly all right by me. But it is not necessary. I can easily get a tram home.’
‘Oh, please,’ Ed said, getting to his feet. ‘It will be a pleasure.’
Sitting next to Ed in the front seat of his splendid Bugatti, Lottie was reminded of the good times when she’d briefly risen above her origins and enjoyed life in the fast lane of Hugh Carson, his family and friends. She had never been in a Bugatti but there had been plenty of expensive cars, leisurely tennis parties, dinners and glamorous dances.
She could think of nothing to say to Ed, who seemed similarly tongue-tied, and they drove in silence towards her home.
One thing, though, had changed. She was no longer ashamed of where she lived and on his enquiring directed him to her home, expecting anyway that it was unlikely she would ever see him again.
‘Thank you very much, Mr Frobisher,’ she said, preparing to get out as the car stopped outside the front door. ‘It’s a beautiful car.’
‘I don’t suppose . . .’ He began, but at that moment the door to the house was flung open and the neighbour from next door, Gertie’s mother, hurried towards her.
‘Lottie!’ she cried. ‘Thank heavens you’re here. Bella has been taken bad . . .’
‘Oh my goodness.’ Lottie leapt out of the car and ran into the house, where she could hear loud groans from upstairs. She rushed up to the room, where she found Bella lying spreadeagled on the bed, face contorted with pain, clutching her stomach.
‘Oh, Lottie!’ she cried. ‘It hurts so much. I thought you’d never come.’
Lottie sat by her side and put one hand on the heaving stomach, felt the wetness on the bed and said, ‘We’ll have to get you to hospital at once.’ She flew down the stairs again, but Ed was already inside, his face registering concern.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked.
‘My sister is having a baby. I have to get her to hospital. Could you possibly . . .’
‘Of course,’ Ed said at once and, briskly putting aside his jacket, followed Lottie up the stairs and did not appear too disturbed by the sight that confronted him, which he instantly absorbed.
‘Here, I’ll carry her,’ he said and, scooping her up in his arms, carried her carefully downstairs and laid her gently in the back seat of his beautiful car while Lottie, who had followed him with his jacket and a blanket, tenderly covered her.
‘No time for anything else,’ she said, turning towards Gertie’s mother and the few neighbours who, hearing the noise and seeing the splendid car parked outside the house, had come to gawp. ‘When my dad comes home, please could you tell him?’
And she jumped in the car next to Ed, turning so that she could keep an eye on her sister who now lay inert, shocked and terrified by the whole experience and the thought of what was to come.
It was a very long night. Bella had complications, a breach birth and at first Lottie went back and forth from the delivery room trying to comfort her, as she began to be surrounded by an increasing number of medical personnel, always returning to find Ed still there sitting in the bare waiting room, looking as anxious as if he had been the father. Somehow she was grateful for his company and had no time to feel embarrassed. She was moved and impressed by his warm human concern, as well as his efficiency in taking control of the situation which must have surprised, if not shocked him.
‘There really is no need for you to wait,’ she said, sitting down for about the tenth time by his side. ‘There is nothing more we can do.’
‘I think it’s nice for you to have a bit of company,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait until your father comes and if he doesn’t I can take you home when it is all over. It is a very worrying situation for you. I can understand that.’
‘It’s extremely good of you, especially as you hardly know us. I can’t think where Dad has got to. He was spending the day at his veterans’ club but I thought he would be home by now. Perhaps Gertie’s mother didn’t tell him.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay until he comes.’ And he pressed her hand but in a comforting, friendly way, not letting it linger.
Lottie went out again but this time she was not allowed in the delivery room and, although she was told nothing explicit, she understood that the doctors were fighting for the life of her sister and her baby.
This time she was visibly distressed and close to tears when she returned to the waiting room and flopped on a chair, holding her head in her hands. ‘I can’t bear it,’ she said at last. ‘I feel it’s all my fault.’
‘How is it your fault?’
‘I was in England when I should have been looking after my sister. She is only just seventeen. What’s more, I would never have come back if I had not had a wire from Dad, and by that time it was too late.’
‘Is your mother not around?’
‘She left home years ago. I did go and see her when I came back to see if she could look after Bella, but she said she was ashamed of her and wanted to have nothing to do with her. She is trying to make a new life for herself. You see, I desperately wanted to go back to England – that’s how selfish I am, Mr Frobisher. And I have even thought that if Bella had her baby adopted I could still do that.’
‘Well, she probably will have it adopted, won’t she?’
‘If it lives. If she lives. Imagine how I’ll feel if she dies or loses the baby. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. But no she says she will never have it adopted.’
This time she succumbed to tears and Ed put a hand gently on her shoulder.
‘Lottie, I am sure she is in good hands. Look, I’ll go and try and use my influence to get us a cup of tea.’
While he was gone Lottie made a determined effort to compose herself. Confused and distressed by the situation, she was extraordinarily grateful that it was Ed who had brought her back and not Violet. Or supposing she had come by tram? The truth was she should not have gone to the tennis club when Bella was obviously feeling unwell, so once again she had to reproach herself. Perhaps her mother was right and she was someone who was too self-absorbed for her own good.
When Ed returned he was carrying two cups of tea and looked pleased with himself. ‘I managed to extract these from a dragon,’ he said, handing a cup and saucer to Lottie and apologizing for having spilt some of the tea. ‘She seemed to think I’m the father, so it helped.’
‘And did you mind?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’ He gazed at Lottie. ‘Why should I?’ And he took a sip of his tea.
‘I, we, seem to have put you in a very difficult position, Mr Frobisher. You can’t possibly have expected a situation like this. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You have possibly saved Bella’s life.’
And she stopped, feeling close to tears again.
‘Well, you can show your gratitude for a start by stopping calling me “Mr Frobisher”. My name is Edward but I’m known to everyone as Ed, so you must call me Ed like everyone else. Was this exaggerated respect because your father works for mine?’
‘Partly, I suppose so. Yes.’
‘And is your attitude to me, which is wary to say the least, because of this or because you don’t like me?’ His directness was embarrassing.
‘I can’t say I don’t like you Mr . . . Ed. I really hardly know you. I certainly don’t dislike you.’
‘That’s a start,’ Ed said and sat back with a look of satisfaction on his face. Then, his expression more relaxed, he looked at her earnestly. ‘Lottie, I don’t know how much you know or want to know about me, but it may help if I told you that I have been around. I was in the war, wounded like Desmond, as you know. I have been married and I also lost a baby, so I know what you’re going through.’
‘And your wife?’
‘She left me for someone else. We both never recovered from losing the baby, but it happened quite early in her pregnancy. I think it just showed the extent of the gulf between us and that we should perhaps never have married. She also didn’t understand about the war – I married her afterwards, maybe to help me try and get over it, but it didn’t. She never liked to talk about it, just enjoyed fun and having a good time, which I was ill-equipped to give her.’
‘Sounds like what Dad said about my mum,’ Lottie said. ‘They didn’t get on either after the war. In the end she had had enough and just left us.’
‘And how old were you?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘Still at school?’
‘Yes. I had to leave to look after Dad and Bella and get a job to help support the family. Dad just used to sit in a corner of the living room all day doing nothing except coughing and smoking. But Madeleine Carson’s father, Doctor Carson, helped him to recover and we owe them a great debt.’
‘Which is how you know Violet?’
‘And Hugh.’ She looked challengingly at him. ‘You know about Hugh. Dad told me.’
‘Don’t forget I first met you at Madeleine’s wedding,’ Ed said. ‘I remembered you, but I don’t think you remembered me, which is not surprising. I remember how lovely and excited you looked that day, prettier than the bride, and I envied Hugh, who was very attentive to you. I never expected to meet you again, certainly not in these circumstances.’
‘I’m very glad you did,’ Lottie said. ‘Otherwise . . .’
She was interrupted by the door of the waiting room opening and a doctor came in still dressed for the operating theatre. Lottie looked up at him with apprehension, but was immediately reassured by the broad smile on the doctor’s tired face. ‘Your sister is fine, Miss O’Brien, and so is her baby, a very healthy but large boy, which is partly what caused all the trouble. Nine pounds four ounces. It was a very near thing.’ And with the back of his hand he wiped some of the perspiration from his brow.
‘Oh.’ Speechless with joy and relief, Lottie gave vent at last to all her pent-up emotions and, bursting into tears, leaned heavily against Ed who, gently but firmly, put his arms around her and hugged her.