‘Well. I think he did in his heart.’
She nodded, sombre. I heard the lavatory flush, and then footsteps, first over the landing and then on the stairs. ‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘now he’s back, and he’s here, and he’ll be expecting to see you for breakfast. It’s lovely for you, to have a daddy.’ In the mirror I saw her get out of bed and pull her nightdress over her head.
‘So he can be Daddy,’ she said, when her head appeared. ‘And you can be Mummy.’ She sat down on the floor with her back to me and put her knickers on. Her hair was like a bird’s nest where she’d slept against the pillow. ‘And we’ll all live here with Elizabeth and the hens.’
I unpinned my hair and started to brush it out. Some of it fell across my face so that her reflection, as she pulled on the tunic dress, was obscured by a golden sort of mist. ‘Oh, Pamela. What about Mr Parr?’
‘He’ll be Grandpa, of course.’
‘Crack Daddy’s egg for him.’
The dining room was cool, an early sun edging towards the table. Pamela did as she was told, with concentration, tapping the teaspoon on the top of the egg. Steam rose from the egg and from the teapot.
‘Now scrape it out carefully, in big pieces,’ I said. ‘So that Daddy can eat it with his fork.’
His face was crumpled from sleep and he had a small red cut on his chin. He watched her wield the spoon, and then looked at me, smiling. ‘May I observe what an absolute pair of beauties you two are.’
Pamela emptied the egg and put the shell on her plate. ‘Ellen’s more beautiful because she’s got yellow hair, not brown.’
‘No, I’m not, Pamela. Your hair is beautiful.’
Mine was falling around my shoulders. He held my eyes. He had no tie: he noticed me noticing. ‘It’s the one thing. Well, and shoelaces, of course.’
‘We’ll see to that after breakfast. Pamela and Aubrey, do please eat.’
‘Did you get your cut in the war?’ Pamela raised her hand towards his chin.
He grinned. ‘No. In the bathroom.’
‘But you are still in the war, aren’t you?’ She was making headway into her toast, lips and cheeks now shiny with butter and covered in crumbs.
‘I am.’
She slipped off her chair and came and murmured greasily in my ear. ‘Is it completely bombed off, his hand?’
I whispered back. ‘No. It’s just a little hurt.’
‘Because if it was, we could get Mr Kennet to come and show him a few tricks. How to do things with one hand. Like driving and making fires and so on.’
‘I can hear you, Pamela.’ Aubrey was smiling. ‘My hand will be completely better before long.’
‘In the meantime you’ll want to work, though, or you’ll get awfully bored.’ Pamela spoke through her munching. ‘You could do a job pressing buttons, couldn’t you? In my book about London there’s a chap who stays in the lift all day going up and down and pressing buttons. You could do that, I expect.’
‘Pamela, pop that crust in your mouth, and go into the kitchen to wash your hands and face.’
She did as she was told. We ate, and I poured him a second cup of tea. The clock struck once, for half-past seven. He lifted up his cup, saying, ‘You’re very good with her.’
‘She’s spent almost half her life here.’ I filled my own cup, my hand steady. ‘It was hard in the beginning, in the winter. You must tell Hester that sometimes she’ll go to the bedroom and take a pillow and tie something round the middle, like a dressing-gown cord, to make a person, and then she’ll lay her head on the bosom of this person.’
The sunlight had reached the table. He sat still, his cup in mid-air.
‘There’s no talking to her during this time,’ I went on. ‘No cousins romping on the bed, please. And if Hester has Marmite, she should make toast fingers, and bring them to her after a while. Those will cheer her up. She’ll say they don’t, but they do.’ I stood up, and went to the window and pulled the curtain across, so that the light didn’t shine in his eyes. ‘I’m assuming you’ll be able to stay with them a little, in Ireland.’ I arranged the folds in the thin curtain. ‘That would mitigate the rupture. Not that she’s overly familiar with you, come to that.’
Outside in the garden a male blackbird jabbed for worms. I turned back to him. ‘When were you planning to take her?’
‘I thought perhaps the day after tomorrow.’
I nodded. Still grasping the bunched, soft linen of the curtain. ‘That would give you time to tell her, I suppose. For her to try and understand the idea, at least. I assume you are going to prepare her in some way?’
His face puckered. ‘Of course. I just don’t know how to start.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Parr—’
‘Ellen.’
‘Ellen, please don’t quiz me like this. Please help me.’
I didn’t speak. Simply sat down again, but this time on Pamela’s chair, the one next to him. Pamela came in, clean. She climbed onto my lap and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Regarded him, blinking slowly. She hadn’t sucked her thumb in a long time. I smoothed her skirt and mine, and held his gaze. ‘Pamela, you can practise your bows. Daddy’s shoes need tying. Sit sideways,’ I bid him, as Pamela slid off my lap. She kneeled at his feet and pulled the laces tight.
‘One loop’s always bigger than the other one.’ She looked up at him. ‘Do you mind?’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I could do a sheet bend.’
‘There’s not a great deal to do, here in Upton,’ I explained. ‘Selwyn’s been through the book of knots.’
He grinned. ‘It’s the same with Hester’s children. Deep on a farm, no outings or treats.’
‘Is there a family likeness?’
‘In myself and Hester, yes. The children take after their father. Rusty hair and freckles.’
‘Why is Hester in Ireland?’
‘She was a nurse in Dublin. She met her husband at a dance. He’s Church of Ireland, I should say.’
As if I cared about their denomination. Why was I even asking, when each question brought another lance of pain? I couldn’t manage any more. He seemed to know it, because his voice was very soft. Pamela, chirping in self-congratulation, moved on to the second shoe. Then I said, ‘Have you got your tie?’
‘Oh. Yes.’ He hesitated. I could see he’d been going to ask Selwyn to help him with that task. I waited for him to say so, but he didn’t. Instead he leaned to one side, produced the tie from his pocket and held it out to me. It was thin, old, a dark maroon, with a coarse grain. With a single clumsy hand he tugged his collar up, and then bent his head forward. I invested him with the tie and he raised his chin.
‘This may not be very expert, I’m afraid.’ My only experience of ties was watching Selwyn, when we were newly married and I lay in bed, in love, while he dressed. Those days were far off now.
‘You’ll make a better job of it than me.’ He was smiling.
I started to make the knot. The fabric slithered through my fingers. A fumbling novice. Out in the kitchen the back door creaked open. I heard Elizabeth say, ‘There’s an egg for you, Mr Parr,’ and Selwyn reply, ‘Splendid.’
‘Darling,’ I called, ‘help us.’
Selwyn came in, grinned, finished the job. ‘Where’s Pamela?’ he asked, when Aubrey had thanked him.
She stood up. ‘I’ve just been lacing those big shoes.’
We all laughed a little. ‘Ah.’ Selwyn sat down. ‘Good morning, Pamela. How helpful. You made a good breakfast, I hope.’ He turned to me. ‘Darling. Look at your hair in that flowing style. You look positively Pre-Raphaelite. And Pamela. What a pair of beauties.’
Aubrey smiled. ‘That’s what I said.’
Elizabeth came in with Selwyn’s breakfast. ‘I can’t answer for the egg, how hot it is any more,’ she said.
‘I’m sure it’ll be perfectly good.’ Selwyn glanced at me and then at Aubrey.
‘Pamela,’ I said, ‘will you go upstairs please?’
To my mild astonishment she did exactly as she was told.
‘When are we going to tell her?’ I said, when she was out of earshot. ‘We can’t just leave it, and leave it. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand she’s going.’