car and aeroplane—to the Riviera, to Africa, to the Mediterranean, or even to Devon and Cornwall? Not that travel was expensive, for the ships of war had been converted for civilian use and prices had tumbled. But one had to have some independent wealth to have the time to travel, so Maisie had ignored those compelling illustrations of a grand ship’s prow or a deep azure sea seen through the branches of an orange tree: the lure of travel to take away memories of trenches, of cold, mud, and blood. For those who are free to leave .
And here she was on a Friday evening with nothing to do unless she worked. Or read, which was of course her other distraction; the quest to learn, to expand her knowledge of the world without taking another step overseas. Perhaps that was why her meditation practice had suffered, for Maisie did not always like the message she heard when she was alone at the end of the day. It was a voice that spoke of her isolation and of her choosing not to move beyond the boundaries of those worlds in which she felt a modicum of safety. What was it that Maurice said, one of his favorite challenges? Seek the opportunity to swim beyond your own little pond . She knew every reed, mud-bank, and fish in her pond. Perhaps it was time to look for that flat after all, sooner rather than later.
After bathing, Maisie telephoned the Lawton residence, expecting Sir Cecil to be there. He was known to enjoy various country pursuits and also the company of a circle of academics with whom he dined at weekends. Lawton agreed to her proposed visit to the house in order to look through Ralph’s belongings, personal items that had been saved by his wife, who had believed that her son would return one day. Maisie was extended an invitation to be a guest at the house, but knowing that the offer was one of protocol, and in the spirit of her musings on travel, she declined in favor of staying at a good hotel—after all, she had been given a generous expense allowance in advance. Yes, she would splash out, she would spoil herself.
O N S ATURDAY MORNING , Billy telephoned, just as Maisie was pulling on her coat, ready to leave Ebury Place.
“Billy, how are you?” Maisie took the call in the library.
“Awright, doin’ well, Miss. Yourself?”
“I’m well. Now then, what news?”
“Turns out Avril Jarvis is from that family. This is what I’ve found out so far: There’s four kids, Avril’s the oldest, but the others ain’t fully related.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her real dad was killed in the war. She never knew ’im, because she weren’t born when ’e went back over there after bein’ ’ome on leave. Mrs. Jarvis was married again after the war to a fella who was in the town lookin’ for work. Little Avril was about four at the time.”
“Go on.”
“The family have gone through difficult times—mind you, so ’ave a lot of people, ’aven’t they?”
“Billy….”
“Well, I’ve found out that the father—the second one, that is—was in some trouble with the law. Done time: theft, burglary. Seems to me as if Avril’s mum married a lot of trouble there, because ’e drinks as well. There are the kids wantin’ for a good meal, and the man’s knockin’ back pints in the local.”
“How did Avril get to London, did you find out?”
“From what I can make out—and I got quite a lot of this from a neighbor—”
“You didn’t say anything?”
“No, said I was from the school board because they ain’t been at school—which was a pretty good guess, because they ain’t. The littl’uns ’ave been put out to work in the fields, doin’ their bit for the family.”
“Poor kids.”
“Poor kids is right. And you should see the mum, all drained and lookin’ double ’er years, she is.”
“Anyway?”
“Well, anyway, apparently the stepdad said that Avril could earn good money in service in London, so—this is what was told to the mum, accordin’ to the neighbor—’e puts
And here she was on a Friday evening with nothing to do unless she worked. Or read, which was of course her other distraction; the quest to learn, to expand her knowledge of the world without taking another step overseas. Perhaps that was why her meditation practice had suffered, for Maisie did not always like the message she heard when she was alone at the end of the day. It was a voice that spoke of her isolation and of her choosing not to move beyond the boundaries of those worlds in which she felt a modicum of safety. What was it that Maurice said, one of his favorite challenges? Seek the opportunity to swim beyond your own little pond . She knew every reed, mud-bank, and fish in her pond. Perhaps it was time to look for that flat after all, sooner rather than later.
After bathing, Maisie telephoned the Lawton residence, expecting Sir Cecil to be there. He was known to enjoy various country pursuits and also the company of a circle of academics with whom he dined at weekends. Lawton agreed to her proposed visit to the house in order to look through Ralph’s belongings, personal items that had been saved by his wife, who had believed that her son would return one day. Maisie was extended an invitation to be a guest at the house, but knowing that the offer was one of protocol, and in the spirit of her musings on travel, she declined in favor of staying at a good hotel—after all, she had been given a generous expense allowance in advance. Yes, she would splash out, she would spoil herself.
O N S ATURDAY MORNING , Billy telephoned, just as Maisie was pulling on her coat, ready to leave Ebury Place.
“Billy, how are you?” Maisie took the call in the library.
“Awright, doin’ well, Miss. Yourself?”
“I’m well. Now then, what news?”
“Turns out Avril Jarvis is from that family. This is what I’ve found out so far: There’s four kids, Avril’s the oldest, but the others ain’t fully related.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her real dad was killed in the war. She never knew ’im, because she weren’t born when ’e went back over there after bein’ ’ome on leave. Mrs. Jarvis was married again after the war to a fella who was in the town lookin’ for work. Little Avril was about four at the time.”
“Go on.”
“The family have gone through difficult times—mind you, so ’ave a lot of people, ’aven’t they?”
“Billy….”
“Well, I’ve found out that the father—the second one, that is—was in some trouble with the law. Done time: theft, burglary. Seems to me as if Avril’s mum married a lot of trouble there, because ’e drinks as well. There are the kids wantin’ for a good meal, and the man’s knockin’ back pints in the local.”
“How did Avril get to London, did you find out?”
“From what I can make out—and I got quite a lot of this from a neighbor—”
“You didn’t say anything?”
“No, said I was from the school board because they ain’t been at school—which was a pretty good guess, because they ain’t. The littl’uns ’ave been put out to work in the fields, doin’ their bit for the family.”
“Poor kids.”
“Poor kids is right. And you should see the mum, all drained and lookin’ double ’er years, she is.”
“Anyway?”
“Well, anyway, apparently the stepdad said that Avril could earn good money in service in London, so—this is what was told to the mum, accordin’ to the neighbor—’e puts