Maisie had been holding the receiver away from her ear, but she brought it close to speak.
“Here’s what I’ll do, Lady Rowan. I will telephone my father and ask him to come to Chelstone to sort them out. Could you have George collect him in the motor car? He’ll get them organized in no time—a few jobs to do in the stables, and grooming the horses, that will wear them out. In the meantime, I’ve an idea. It sounds as if you are going to have a houseful when the Canadian officers arrive, so I will get Brenda to go up to Dower House to prepare a room for the boys. We’ll put the little girl in the small box room, though we’ll put a pretty counterpane in there to jolly it up for her. I do need beds though.”
“I’ll have beds sent up—they’re old staff beds, cast iron so not terribly attractive, and they’d been kept in one of the barns. Thank goodness no one sought to dispose of them. They’ve new mattresses—Mrs. Jenks ordered them when we knew we were going to have evacuees—so they’re perfectly good for children. And I’ll have her send linens and blankets, though heaven knows no one has needed a blanket for days.”
“All right—and look, as soon as I can get away, I will, but I’m very busy at the moment. I’ll do my best to leave on Thursday. But let me telephone my father and Brenda first—I don’t want them to have too much on their plates, so we’ll have to see what the teacher can do to help. I expect she’s overwhelmed too. Could Cook spare that lovely girl from the village who comes in to help her? If she could lend a hand with the boys in the morning—putting up breakfast—and then help with supper in the evening, I don’t see why we won’t be able to muddle through.”
“Yes, of course, you’re right, Maisie. But I worry about the small girl. They don’t even know her name—apparently she’s said nothing, and the billeting officer says she was lost on the train, probably in the melee at the station. They think she should have been with the lot from Dr. Barnado’s, who were going to another town. They’re trying to find out.” Rowan sighed. “The billeting officer, Jane Smethers, told me the child refuses to speak and will not let go of the little case she carries everywhere—she just pulls back if anyone attempts to take it from her. Miss Smethers told me she’d had enough of the games, and was going to just snatch it from her when her guard was down, but I told her, ‘For goodness sake, allow the child some dignity and privacy.’ Really, one should not bully a child.”
“All right, before this situation gets out of hand with the billeting officer, I’ll speak to Brenda. I know she’ll see to it and get everyone on an even keel. It’s asking a lot of them to leave their bungalow to come to the Dower House, but perhaps it won’t be for long. And perhaps this little girl will be more at ease with other children around, and when the dust settles a bit. Anyway, there’s plenty of room at the Dower House—after all, the last family who rented had four children.”
“She sounded a bit upset,” observed Sandra, when Maisie was finally able to extract herself from the call.
“Oh no, don’t be fooled. My mother-in-law was loving every minute of it. It sounds as if it’s the distraction she’s needed to lift her from the melancholy that at times assails her. Rowan rises to the occasion when the chips are down—she’s enjoyed putting an evacuee billeting officer in her place, and I think she is rather looking forward to having Canadian officers at the house. They won’t know what’s hit them. But I had better telephone my father—he will be more than able to sort out a couple of unruly London lads. He’ll have them exhausted in no time. Priscilla has always said the key to disciplining boys is in wearing them out physically so the birds in their brains fly in formation. And she does a pretty good job.”
“And what was that about a girl?”
“Not sure. Brenda will let me know, and doubtless it will all be sorted out soon anyway. Apparently the little thing just lost her group and probably her identification label, so no one knows who she is. And if she’s not speaking, it’s because she’s overwhelmed, poor love—as soon as they find someone she knows, I am sure all be well. But we can take her in for the meantime.” Maisie looked up as the door opened to reveal Billy wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
“That St. Pancras Station was blooming boiling today. I thought I would sweat myself silly.” He closed the door behind him.
“Why don’t you have a cup of tea, Billy—hot drink to fight the heat. I just have one telephone call to make, then we can discuss what we’ve all found out today.”