“I know, Maisie. But first, I must answer the question I knew you would ask. The truth is, my daughter would listen to you because she wants your forgiveness. That is the bottom line, as my husband would say. She believes it was her fault, the terrible tragedy that befell you. She almost cannot bear to be with herself, so now she is living another life, and I fear that life is destroying her. She believes herself to be of no account, unworthy of her son. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about that husband of hers. The family are snobbish scavengers who are only interested in Otterburn money. They think we don’t know. Ha!” Lorraine clasped Maisie’s hand as a drowning woman might grasp the hand of a rescuer. “Elaine wants to be absolved. There was no reason for her not to fly that day, no reason whatsoever. I knew she was experiencing the unrequited love that girls of that age often indulge in, and instead of telling her to get a grip and stop her daydreaming, I allowed her to remain at home and wallow in self-interest. I bear the blame too.”
Maisie drew breath and, almost fearing the sound of her own voice, met the pressure of Lorraine’s grasp. This was her moment too, to voice words she had kept inside since the loss of her husband.
“James made the decision to fly, Lorraine. James knew what was at stake, and he broke a promise. That is the truth I live with, that my husband and child died in a moment of hubris, of—what did you call it? Self-interest? Yes. James loved to fly, and there it was, on the day he died, one more opportunity to be borne up into the clouds by a very fast aircraft, a chance to show everyone on the ground that he was still the fearless wartime aviator. More than anything, there was the desire to do his duty to his country, even though at that moment the duty could have been postponed until another day. Now he is gone, it serves neither his memory nor that of the unborn child I cherished—and indeed my life, which has to be lived—to bear ill will toward the husband I loved. That is the truth as I have come to understand it—that everything came to pass as it should, and I must remember and hold in my heart the gifts our courtship and marriage brought me. If I do not move toward light, Lorraine, I will go in the opposite direction, and I cannot do that again.” Maisie pulled her hand back and regarded her hostess. “And I almost slipped.”
She paused. “Elaine is in the dark place of regret. I will do my best to bring her home, but there are no guarantees. Now then—we have work to do. Another cup of coffee would go down a treat, and I have more questions for you. Her father says she has not been in contact, but I would imagine she has communicated with you, without her father’s knowledge. Am I right?”
Lorraine pressed a button behind the sofa, summoning the butler. “Yes, there has been a communiqué—a letter sent via an old school friend. That does not mean I know exactly where she is, but I do know roughly where she has taken on some sort of flat with one or two other girls.”
“Good. That’s a start. And I think it’s time to stop calling her a girl. She is a woman with responsibility to her child, her husband, and her parents. It’s time she grew up.”
The butler entered, and Lorraine asked him to bring some freshly warmed milk. As he was leaving, she added, “Oh, and please tell Nanny to bring the little man down in about half an hour. I am sure Miss Dobbs would love to meet him.”
By the time Maisie left the Otterburn home, she was anxious to visit her father. She made her way to Charing Cross, where she placed a call from a telephone kiosk to Priscilla’s home, leaving a message with the housekeeper to the effect that she would not be in town until Sunday evening, and Mrs. Partridge should not worry—she would be with her father and stepmother. Exiting the kiosk, she joined the queue at the ticket office and paid her fare to Chelstone Station, a branch-line halt requiring a change of trains in Tonbridge. That she had not brought a case with clothing did not concern her. There was still an unpacked trunk at her father’s home; it would be taken to the Dower House as soon as she was ready to resume residence. Though her tenants had left, she had not yet felt secure enough to live in the house on her own once more.