she smiled, ‘but I remember you very well. You were a tiny baby when I saw you last. The prettiest baby I’d ever seen, I knew you’d grow up to be beautiful. Pete must have been proud of you.’
‘No.’ Sylvie burst into tears again, and started to gabble about being on the boat. Millie drew her away and it was left to Helen to explain Sylvie’s problem.
‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you must let me know,’ Hattie said as she kissed Millie goodbye.
James was woken every morning at nine o’clock when his man, Jasper Dando, came to his room to open his curtains and plump up his pillows. This morning when he set his breakfast tray across his legs, James saw there was a letter propped against the teapot.
‘From my younger son,’ he said, recognising the writing, but he liked to eat his boiled egg and toast before they grew cold so he put it aside until he had poured his second cup of tea.
Dear Father,
Thank you for your assurance that the firm will welcome me back. It has been frustrating waiting so long for my turn to be demobbed. I’m very much looking forward to returning to civvie street and getting down to the job of putting the old firm back on its feet.
I shall be free of the army by Wednesday next and expect to be in Liverpool on Thursday. Would you be willing to put me and Elvira up until we can find a house of our own? I hope we won’t be a burden on you for too long.
The shock gave James such a jolt that he spilled tea on his eiderdown. Irritably, he tossed the letter aside and mopped at the stain with his serviette. It hadn’t occurred to him that Marcus would want to come and live with him. The lad hadn’t been able to get away quickly enough when he’d been twenty years of age, and he’d only been back for two or three days at a time since.
Thursday next? And bringing his wife too? James felt quite agitated. He’d lived alone with Dando since Lilian and Roderick had been killed, and he’d reached the time of life when he needed peace and privacy. He’d already been upset by Peter’s death and the worry about his will, but now in addition it seemed his domestic life would have to change.
For years he’d organised it to suit himself. Almost every evening Dando drove him to the Connaught Club by seven o’clock where he ate a light dinner. He let it be known that it was a private club for gentlemen but it was actually a gaming club. In his youth he’d played roulette and blackjack and stayed until the early hours of the morning, but now his ill health prevented that and he had Dando bring the car to the door at ten thirty.
He knew many of the members and met them in the bar where he enjoyed a pre-dinner drink. Like him, many were widowers; mostly they were retired and had run Liverpool’s largest businesses in their working life. They provided interesting conversation over dinner and James counted it his social life.
But as Marcus was being demobbed and had decided to return to Liverpool to work in the business, he really should . . . Yes, he felt obliged to provide a roof over his head. Perhaps it wouldn’t be for long, although he couldn’t count the number of times he’d discussed with his friends the acute shortage of residential property in the city in the wake of the bombing. Perhaps Elvira’s family could help. Anyway, they must have enough money to buy a place of their own. It would just be a question of them buying a house when a suitable one came on the market.
When Dando came to take his tray away, he asked him to tell Mrs Trotter, who came in to clean on three mornings a week, to prepare a room for his son and his wife.
‘Which room did you have in mind, sir?’ Jasper Dando was a small and slightly built man, with a thin ferrety face and a deferential manner.
‘The big one overlooking the back garden.’ It was at the other side of the house and well away from his own. Dando slept in the old servants’ quarters in the attic. He’d taken over
‘No.’ Sylvie burst into tears again, and started to gabble about being on the boat. Millie drew her away and it was left to Helen to explain Sylvie’s problem.
‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you must let me know,’ Hattie said as she kissed Millie goodbye.
James was woken every morning at nine o’clock when his man, Jasper Dando, came to his room to open his curtains and plump up his pillows. This morning when he set his breakfast tray across his legs, James saw there was a letter propped against the teapot.
‘From my younger son,’ he said, recognising the writing, but he liked to eat his boiled egg and toast before they grew cold so he put it aside until he had poured his second cup of tea.
Dear Father,
Thank you for your assurance that the firm will welcome me back. It has been frustrating waiting so long for my turn to be demobbed. I’m very much looking forward to returning to civvie street and getting down to the job of putting the old firm back on its feet.
I shall be free of the army by Wednesday next and expect to be in Liverpool on Thursday. Would you be willing to put me and Elvira up until we can find a house of our own? I hope we won’t be a burden on you for too long.
The shock gave James such a jolt that he spilled tea on his eiderdown. Irritably, he tossed the letter aside and mopped at the stain with his serviette. It hadn’t occurred to him that Marcus would want to come and live with him. The lad hadn’t been able to get away quickly enough when he’d been twenty years of age, and he’d only been back for two or three days at a time since.
Thursday next? And bringing his wife too? James felt quite agitated. He’d lived alone with Dando since Lilian and Roderick had been killed, and he’d reached the time of life when he needed peace and privacy. He’d already been upset by Peter’s death and the worry about his will, but now in addition it seemed his domestic life would have to change.
For years he’d organised it to suit himself. Almost every evening Dando drove him to the Connaught Club by seven o’clock where he ate a light dinner. He let it be known that it was a private club for gentlemen but it was actually a gaming club. In his youth he’d played roulette and blackjack and stayed until the early hours of the morning, but now his ill health prevented that and he had Dando bring the car to the door at ten thirty.
He knew many of the members and met them in the bar where he enjoyed a pre-dinner drink. Like him, many were widowers; mostly they were retired and had run Liverpool’s largest businesses in their working life. They provided interesting conversation over dinner and James counted it his social life.
But as Marcus was being demobbed and had decided to return to Liverpool to work in the business, he really should . . . Yes, he felt obliged to provide a roof over his head. Perhaps it wouldn’t be for long, although he couldn’t count the number of times he’d discussed with his friends the acute shortage of residential property in the city in the wake of the bombing. Perhaps Elvira’s family could help. Anyway, they must have enough money to buy a place of their own. It would just be a question of them buying a house when a suitable one came on the market.
When Dando came to take his tray away, he asked him to tell Mrs Trotter, who came in to clean on three mornings a week, to prepare a room for his son and his wife.
‘Which room did you have in mind, sir?’ Jasper Dando was a small and slightly built man, with a thin ferrety face and a deferential manner.
‘The big one overlooking the back garden.’ It was at the other side of the house and well away from his own. Dando slept in the old servants’ quarters in the attic. He’d taken over
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