The Brooklands Girls Read online

  Henrietta’s face brightened. ‘Oh, she sounds a nice girl. Perhaps she could introduce you to her circle of friends. And will you be chaperoned?’

  This time Pips dared not catch her father’s glance for fear she would laugh and she had no wish to hurt her well-intentioned mother. One of Henrietta’s priorities had always been to see Philippa happily married and raising a family in her role as a dutiful wife and devoted mother. She had scotched Pips’s ambition to train as a doctor like Robert, but the war had disrupted her plans and now, with the loss of thousands upon thousands of young men, there was a scarcity of the type of husband Henrietta wanted for her daughter. But perhaps . . . Henrietta refused to give up hope entirely.

  ‘Mother dear, I’m sorry, but I think chaperones went out with the war.’

  Henrietta sighed. ‘So much is changing and not always for the better.’ She paused and then asked, ‘Shall you go?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘You sound doubtful,’ her mother persisted.

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘If you’re worrying about Robert . . . I freely acknowledge you and Alice are the only ones who can help him when he gets one of his dark moods.’ Henrietta waved her hand helplessly. ‘Even your father and I can’t reach him. But Alice can manage him, I’m sure. You mustn’t put your own life on hold, Philippa.’

  Pips nodded but said nothing. It wasn’t Robert who concerned her. It was her adorable niece, Daisy, whom she couldn’t bear to leave.

  A week later, Pips replied to Milly’s letter.

  I’d love to come to London, but may we leave it until the New Year?

  Milly wrote again by return:

  All right, though I’m sorry you won’t be here for all the parties my friends and I hope to have around Christmas and New Year. It’s high time we all had some fun. But be warned, Pips, if you don’t come in the New Year, I shall come up there and kidnap you . . .

  Pips showed the letters she’d received from Milly to her brother and to Alice.

  ‘She sounds like a bundle of fun,’ Alice said. She and Robert had left the front before the young woman’s arrival. ‘You should go, Pips.’

  ‘I will, but I want to be here for Christmas. I’ve got such a lovely surprise lined up for Daisy . . .’

  ‘Let’s hope this year will be better than last year,’ Robert said. ‘No one felt like celebrating, not even families who hadn’t actually lost anyone in the war.’

  ‘Sadly, there weren’t many of those,’ Pips said. ‘But at least the soldiers should be home this year. Last year there were so many who hadn’t been demobbed in time. They were getting very disillusioned and fearful that there’d be no employment for them when they did finally get home. It was appalling after all they’d been through.’

  Robert rattled his newspaper. ‘Have you read this in the paper? The King is to host an evening “Banquet in Honour of The President of the French Republic” on the tenth of November followed by a remembrance event to be held in the grounds of Buckingham Palace the next morning. And he – the King, I mean – has written a letter to all his peoples of the Empire suggesting that there should be some sort of commemoration to honour those who gave their lives. Listen, I’ll read an extract:

  ‘To afford an opportunity for the universal expression of this feeling it is my desire and hope that at the hour when the Armistice came into force – the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month – there may be for the brief space of two minutes a complete suspension of all our normal activities. During that time, except in the rare cases where this may be impracticable, all work, all sound, and all locomotion should cease, so that in perfect stillness the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead.’

  Robert looked up. ‘What d’you think?’

  ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’

  ‘Lutyens built a temporary wooden-and-plaster cenotaph for the Peace Day Parade in July, but there’s been such a call for something more permanent that there’s going to be one built in Portland stone on Whitehall. It’ll be the country’s official national war memorial.’

  ‘I must certainly see that,’ Pips murmured. ‘And I expect there’ll hardly be a town or village throughout the land where there won’t be some sort of war memorial erected. I’ll ask Mother what’s going to happen here. No doubt she’ll have given the vicar his instructions for the eleventh of November.’

  Brother and sister exchanged an amused glance.

  Doddington village church, set close to the hall, was packed on the morning of 11 November.

  ‘I think the whole village is here,’ Robert whispered from the Maitlands’ family pew. ‘Even Len Dawson’s sitting at the back.’

  ‘Really?’ Pips craned her neck, but over the sea of heads, she couldn’t pick him out.

  Robert had been reluctant to attend. He rarely mixed with the villagers now and dreaded being the focus of their pitying glances, but even he couldn’t find a convincing excuse for his absence on such an occasion.

  As the hour of eleven stuck, the whole congregation stood, bowed their heads and fell silent. After two minutes, the vicar mounted the steps into his pulpit and looked out across the upturned faces. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his church so full and, for a moment, he felt as if his words would be inadequate. But he caught Henrietta’s steely gaze and knew he must continue. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Dear Friends,’ he began, ‘we meet today to remember all those whom we lost in the recent terrible conflict. We give thanks for those who returned, perhaps maimed in body or spirit . . .’ deliberately, he kept his gaze away from Robert, ‘but who, nevertheless, did come back. As a community, we should do our best to help them in any way we can to put the horrors behind them and to build a new life, whatever that might be . . .’

  Outside the church, as the villagers stood in small groups chatting, Robert tried to hurry away, with Alice and Pips walking on either side of him, but Sam Nuttall stepped into his path and, tactfully, held out his left hand to shake Robert’s.

  ‘Master Robert, it’s good to see you. When can we hope to see you back in harness alongside your father?’

  Automatically, Robert took the man’s outstretched hand, but hesitated over his answer. ‘Um – I don’t think that’s going to be possible, Sam, do you?’

  The young man feigned a puzzled frown. He – like everyone else there – had heard of Robert’s reluctance to try to take up his interrupted career once more.

  ‘Why ever not? Ya can hold a stethoscope in your left hand, can’t you?’

  Robert gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘I suppose so, but what about examining folk? Have you any bright ideas as to how I could do that?’

  ‘Actually, I have. Your dad’s getting on a bit now and although he’s still as spritely as ever at the moment, he can’t go on indefinitely. Folks round here were safe in the knowledge that you were going to take over from him. But now . . .’ He left the words hanging for a moment, letting them sink into Robert’s mind and take root. ‘You see,’ Sam went on boldly, ‘we don’t want a stranger taking over the practice entirely, but I don’t think we’d mind if you had a young doctor to assist you.’

  Robert stared at him and Alice and Pips glanced at one another.

  ‘Now why,’ Pips murmured, ‘did we never think of that?’

  ‘It’s a brilliant idea.’ Over dinner that evening, Pips relayed Sam’s idea to Edwin and Henrietta. ‘Don’t you think so, Father?’

  ‘It would be one solution, I suppose, but it depends on what Robert thinks.’

  ‘Oh phooey,’ Pips said, and, quoting from Shakespeare, added, ‘“He thinks too much; such men are dangerous”.’

  Robert laughed. ‘Ah, but I haven’t got the “lean and hungry look”.’

  ‘That’s because you sit around too much doing nothing,’ Pips shot back, but it was said with affection and the whole family laughed. ‘Robert, honestly, you ought to do something. Mother’s not ready to
hand over the reins of the estate quite yet and besides, I don’t think you’ll ever be ready to take them, will you?’

  Robert grimaced. ‘It’s not what I’d planned. Oh, I know I’m the heir and all that, but I’m hoping that Mother will stick around until Daisy is old enough to take over.’ He grinned. ‘That’d be just perfect for me.’

  ‘In that case, then,’ Henrietta said spiritedly, ‘you ought to find something else to occupy you.’

  Robert turned to his wife. ‘Alice, darling, what do you think?’

  Alice smiled into his eyes and said softly, ‘I think it’s an excellent idea, but you must be the one to decide. We’ll all support you, you know that.’

  ‘Actually, Pips is right,’ Edwin said quietly. ‘Give it some serious thought, Robert. I’m not ready to hang up my stethoscope just yet, but if you were to ease your way back into the work, when I do begin to feel I ought to take things easier, we could get a young doctor who could assist you.’

  ‘Preferably an unmarried one,’ Henrietta murmured and glanced archly at Pips, but even she, this time, was joking.

  Pips caught her eye and laughed. ‘You never know, Mother. You just never know.’

  Six

  ‘Mr Dawson.’ Pips stood in the wheelwright’s workshop as Len packed up his tools for the day. He glanced up and glowered at her.

  ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘I wondered if I might have a word with you?’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Your two grandchildren.’

  ‘What about ’em?’

  ‘They’re very close. They play together a lot.’

  He regarded her sullenly. ‘No harm in that, is there?’ His lip curled. ‘Unless, of course, you think young Luke isn’t fit company for the heir to the estate.’

  Pips sighed and then, determined not to let him get the better of her, she put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Len Dawson, stop being so prickly. They play nicely together and Luke is so caring and protective of little Daisy. We’re very happy for them both to spend time with each other.’

  ‘So – what’s the problem?’

  ‘There isn’t one really. I just wanted your opinion about something. I would like to get a tricycle for Daisy from Father Christmas and wondered if you would be happy for me to get one for Luke too. I presume he still believes in Father Christmas?’

  For a brief moment, Len’s face softened and Pips caught a glimpse of what the man could be like if only he would let go of his bitterness and resentment against the world.

  ‘Aye, he does, but it’s his mam you should be talking to, Miss Pips, not me. You should ask her permission.’

  Gently, Pips said, ‘But you’re the man in his life, Mr Dawson.’

  Len nodded. ‘Aye, sadly I am.’ He paused and then added, ‘The only thing I would say is that I wouldn’t want him to get the idea that Father Christmas is – well – wealthy. We won’t always be able to give him such a grand present in the future.’

  ‘I will always treat them equally, Mr Dawson. I can’t speak for the rest of my family, but knowing them as I do, I think they will feel the same. They are first cousins, after all.’

  ‘Aye well, as you know, I didn’t hold with Alice marrying above ’ersen.’

  ‘She’s a wonderful wife to my brother,’ Pips said softly. ‘I don’t know how he would manage without her.’

  Len shrugged and seemed to be struggling with a decision. ‘I’ll show you summat.’ He beckoned her. ‘Come through to the back.’

  He led her out of the workshop, across a small backyard and into a shed. He removed a tarpaulin to reveal two identical wooden go-carts. ‘I made ’em one each.’ He glanced at Pips and for the first time in a long time, Len Dawson smiled. It made him look ten years younger. ‘Like you, Miss Pips, I wanted to treat them both the same. They’re both my grandchildren even if one was born on the wrong side of the blanket and the other’s the daughter of a toff.’

  ‘They’re wonderful,’ Pips said, inspecting his handiwork. ‘What fun they’ll have with those.’

  ‘Not as grand as a tricycle,’ he murmured.

  ‘They’re better. You’ve made them yourself – with love.’

  Len cleared his throat. ‘Aye, well. ’Tis the least I could do. But don’t you go telling Norah and Ma. I want it to be a surprise on Christmas morning.’

  ‘Of course I won’t, but maybe I’d better think of something else to get them.’

  ‘No, no. A tricycle each’d be grand. Kids can’t have too many toys.’

  As Pips walked back to the hall, she smiled inwardly. Were two little children beginning to thaw Len’s cold heart?

  ‘Has Jake sorted out a Christmas tree yet, Mother?’

  Jake Goodall had worked at the hall for several years. At the age of about twelve, he’d run away from a boys’ home for orphans, where he’d been raised, to look for work. Finding him sleeping rough, Henrietta had taken pity on him and had employed him. He had been too young to volunteer during the war, besides which he would never leave Henrietta, who had his undying and lifelong devotion. He was still small for his age, but wiry and deceptively strong.

  ‘Yes, he’s bringing it into the hall this afternoon. I was thinking you might like to decorate it with Daisy.’

  ‘And Luke? She’ll want Luke to help.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll ask Peggy to tell him to come to the hall tomorrow afternoon. We’ll do it then.’

  ‘I’ll ask Wainwright to get the decorations ready for you. We’ll all come and watch.’

  The whole family gathered in the Great Hall the following afternoon to watch the tree being decorated and to offer unwanted advice as to where each decoration should go. The room, where the family always dined, was long with antique oak chests, tables and chairs. Mahogany china cabinets held valuable heirlooms and the front windows looked out over the driveway, down to the gatehouse and beyond. To the left stood the village church.

  ‘Luke and Daisy, you do the lower branches whilst I climb up the steps to reach the top.’

  ‘Oh, do be careful, Philippa,’ Henrietta said worriedly. ‘Shouldn’t you let Jake do that?’

  ‘I’m fine, Mother. Alice, will you hold the steps?’

  The two children ran around the tree deciding where to hang each shining bauble.

  ‘You do the branches at the very bottom, Dais,’ Luke instructed. ‘I can reach a bit higher.’

  ‘I can do it.’

  Luke – two years older – grinned. He was at least six inches taller than his cousin, but the kindly boy said, ‘’Course you can, Dais. But if you can’t, then I’ll lift you up.’

  ‘Are we putting candles on, Mother?’

  Henrietta shook her head. ‘Too dangerous. It sparkles quite enough with all the baubles.’

  Pips put the finishing touch on the topmost branch – the fairy – and climbed down. ‘Well, if we ever get electricity at the hall, Mother, I shall insist we have lights on the tree.’

  ‘If it’s safe, then, yes, I agree.’

  ‘You’ve done a wonderful job, children,’ Edwin said. ‘You too, Pips. Now I feel as if Christmas is really here.’

  ‘My birfday tomorrow,’ Daisy said. ‘Cake.’

  ‘And it’s my birthday three days later,’ Luke said. ‘Me gran’s making me a cake and said I could ask if Daisy can come to tea with us on Thursday. Would that be all right, Aunty Alice?’

  ‘Of course. And you must come to Daisy’s birthday tea tomorrow, Luke. Pips, if you’re walking back home with Luke, please would you ask Mam if she and Ma would like to come too. And Dad too, if he’d come. They’d all be very welcome. Peggy has already said she’ll stay on after her normal hours and help.’

  Luke whispered something to Daisy and at once she said, ‘Can Sam come?’

  For a moment, Alice looked startled and turned towards Henrietta for approval, but the older woman merely smiled and nodded. ‘Of course he may. Are there any other friends
you’d like to invite? Other children from the village, perhaps?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘No, ma’am. Just Sam.’

  Henrietta smiled and ruffled his hair. ‘Very well, then. But I think it’s high time you called me something a little less formal than Mrs Maitland or ma’am. How about Aunty Hetty?’

  The boy looked up at her. ‘Are you my aunty?’

  ‘Not really, but we are connected . . .’ She waved her hand towards Alice. ‘Your real aunty is my daughter-in-law, but “aunty” is a courtesy title given to older ladies.’

  He glanced at Pips. ‘Like I call you “Aunty Pips”?’

  Pips nodded.

  He turned back to Henrietta, grinning. ‘Thank you – Aunty Hetty – I’d like that.’

  Robert chuckled. ‘You’re very privileged, Luke. Only my father ever calls her “Hetty”.’

  Henrietta brushed it aside saying, ‘I just think Henrietta is such a mouthful. Besides, I prefer Hetty.’

  Later, Henrietta asked, ‘Why do you think Luke wants Sam to come to Daisy’s party?’

  Alice volunteered an answer. ‘Luke spends a lot of time at my father’s workshop and I think Sam is very good with him. Besides, Sam was good friends with Harold. He talks to the boy about his father when it’s perhaps too painful for my parents and Ma.’

  During the month of December, 1919, the Maitlands and the Dawsons began to try to put the horror of the war and their terrible loss behind them. Not that they ceased to remember or to think about their loved ones, but all of them tried to move on.

  The birthday parties of the two young cousins seemed to set the tone for Christmas and by the day itself, the children’s excitement had reached fever pitch. Pips and Alice took Luke’s tricycle down to the Coopers’ cottage late at night after they knew Luke would be in bed.

  ‘I hope he’s asleep.’

  ‘You must be joking. I used to stay awake deliberately to see if I could see Father Christmas.’

  Alice chuckled. ‘And did you?’

  ‘Not once, but years later, my father told me that he once had to sit up until almost two o’clock in the morning before he could fill the stocking at the end of my bed.’