Читать книгу The Crooked Olive Branch - Frederick Munn - Страница 32

Chapter 24

The sun was about to drop behind the rooftops as they turned into The Green, casting an ethereal golden glow over the scene. The lengthening shadows of the houses accentuated the light. The sunbeams streaming through the garden’s birch tree, creating a dapple effect over the grass in front of Greensleeves, taking the eye away from a small knot of welcoming neighbours standing in the shadows. Several of the others came to their garden gates to wave.

In front of the house a reporter and cameraman were waiting at the request of Sir George.

Sadly, for Sir George, they were only from The Bugle. The national newspapers approached by him, had failed to show any interest.

“Sir George has been hard at work,” said Peter climbing out of the taxi clutching Mim’s attaché case.

“Thank God, at last we are here,” Then turning to the little girl he stretched his open hand towards the house while at the same time looking anxiously for Pen. He then announced, with just a hint of triumph, “Mim, this is your home.”

Scrambling over Hal’s lap she jumped down on to the path.

“Mein hause?”

“Your home,” Peter repeated.

Hal felt bereft. His only semblance of reality was that he was losing his grip on this little girl.

Pamela had not been still since learning about the plight of this tiny refugee.

The nursery had been re-established. New clothes had been bought. A special diet planned. All this had kept her mind away from the ghastly thoughts of what had happened to Miriam and her family. How she might help repair and rebuild this shattered little life.

The drama had been amply ‘embroidered’ by Sir George to anyone and everyone willing to listen.

As soon as Pamela saw Miriam jump down from the taxi, she ran to The Green. She knelt on the grass holding out her arms. Mim instinctively ran to her.

Through the sunbeam curtain of multi-patterned light, Hal saw Pamela’s arms enfold Mim. This vision was despatched by the flash of a camera, leaving Hal with black shadows across his eyes.

The press interview, conducted outside on The Green, was dominated by Sir George.

He gave the impression that he had orchestrated the whole affair. Sadly, this was witnessed by just the local newspaper and a small band of curious neighbours.

After the first photo shoot Hal, Peter and Pen left the scene to Sir George and Lady Amelia. They followed Pamela inside with the very tired little girl.

“The nursery is ready. I think milk, supper and a quick warm bath then bed is called for,” Pamela announced, once again inhabiting the world she loved and understood.

“I’ll go and run the bath,” said Pen and turned quickly to Peter.

“You and I can say our hellos properly when all the fuss has died down.”

She gave him a quick second kiss before disappearing upstairs.

Mim looked at Hal. “Unsere haus?”

“Yes.” It was Peter who answered. “Your home.”

“Und mit Papa Yo?” she asked, looking to Peter this time for an answer.

Peter, whilst acknowledging Miriam’s ability to pick up on the vibes, didn’t have the answer. Pamela looked questioningly at both friends who were looking very uncomfortable.

“What is she saying?”

The two looked at each other for some seconds before Peter broke the silence.

“Tell you all over dinner, meanwhile it is perhaps best if Hal helps you settle Mim in.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Pamela agreed.

“Where did they go to with that child?” Lady Amelia complained as she and her husband returned to the house.

“I suppose, Old Girl, Pamela is putting the little girl to bed. She must have been through Hell and back.”

“Are you so sure we need to do this, George?”

Amelia was far from convinced that this was a good idea to take Miriam into their home.

She was only persuaded because she believed the whole thing to be exaggerated and that the child would be back with her family or the German authorities soon.

“Most certainly, old girl. Take my tip there will be thousands more like her before long,” he assured her.

Amelia was still far from being convinced.

“How can you possibly know, George? You’ve been listening to Randolph’s boy Winston.

You know what Jellicoe said about him at the Jutland Memorial dinner.”

“No, what did he say?” Sir George asked, looking out of the window. He was deliberately showing disinterest in Amelia’s argument and also noting that the curtain had now fallen on his moment in the spotlight.

“That he is a loose cannon on the poop deck.”

Sir George sighed as he turned away from the window.

“I don’t think so Old Girl. I heard that story. Lord Jellicoe wouldn’t have said that and in any case, that was years ago, 1926 wasn’t it? As far as I understand it there is not one shred of truth in it. Spread by his enemies no doubt.”

At this point Peter came into the room closely followed by Pen.

“Good.” exclaimed Amelia. “Now we can have dinner. You, Peter, can tell us all about your adventures.”

“Shall we wait for Henry?” Peter suggested. “He’ll be down shortly.”

Amelia looked pained. “Down? You mean your American friend is up my stairs?”

Only Pen managed a smile. “Don’t worry Mummy we’ve set for six.”

Amelia froze and managed to impersonate a slow worm caught in the gaze of dog, much to the discomfort of Peter and, despite years of marriage, Sir George.