Once Emma had filled in the Stanford application form, she wrote a long letter to Cyrus to thank him for making it all possible. She then turned her attention to a bulky package that contained profiles of Sophie Barton, Sandra Davis and Jessica Smith. It only took a cursory reading for her to realize which candidate Matron favoured, and it certainly wasn’t Miss J. Smith.
What would happen if Sebastian agreed with Matron or, worse, decided he preferred someone who wasn’t even on the shortlist? Emma lay awake wishing Harry would call.
Harry thought about calling Emma, but assumed she would already have gone to bed. He began to pack so everything would be ready for the early morning flight, then lay down on the bed and thought about how they could convince Sebastian that Jessica Smith was not only the ideal girl to be his sister, but his first choice.
He closed his eyes, but there wasn’t any hope of snatching even a moment’s sleep while the air-conditioning thumped out a constant rhythm as if auditioning for a place in a Calypso band. Harry lay on the thin, lumpy mattress, and rested his head on a foam pillow that enveloped his ears. There certainly wasn’t a choice between a shower and a bath, just a washbasin with constantly dripping brown water. He closed his eyes and reran the last three weeks, frame by frame, like a flickering black and white movie. There had been no colour. What a complete waste of everyone’s time and money it had all been. Harry had to admit he just wasn’t cut out for the author tour, and if he couldn’t even get the book into the top fifteen after countless radio and print interviews, perhaps the time had come to pension off William Warwick along with Chief Inspector Davenport and start looking for a real job.
The headmaster of St Bede’s had hinted quite recently that they were looking for a new English teacher, although Harry knew he wasn’t cut out to be a schoolmaster. Giles had graciously suggested, on more than one occasion, that he should join the board of Barrington’s so that he could represent the family’s interests. But the truth was, he wasn’t family, and in any case, he’d always wanted to be a writer, not a businessman.
It was bad enough living in Barrington Hall. The books still hadn’t earned enough money to buy a house worthy of Emma, and it hadn’t helped when Sebastian had asked him quite innocently why he didn’t go out to work every morning, like every other father he knew. It sometimes made him feel like a kept man.
Harry climbed into bed just after midnight, even more desperate to call Emma and share his thoughts with her, but it was still only five in the morning in Bristol, so he decided to stay awake and ring her in a couple of hours’ time. He was just about to turn off the light when there was a gentle tap on the door. He could have sworn he’d left the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. He pulled on his dressing gown, padded across the room and opened the door.
‘Many congratulations,’ was all she said.
He stared at Natalie, who was holding up a bottle of champagne and wearing a tight-fitting dress with a zip down the front that didn’t need an invitation to pull it.
‘What for?’ said Harry.
‘I’ve just seen the first edition of Sunday’s New York Times, and Nothing Ventured has come in at number fourteen. You’ve made it!’
‘Thank you,’ said Harry, not quite grasping the significance of what she was saying.
‘And as I’ve always been your biggest fan, I thought you might like to celebrate.’
He could hear Great-aunt Phyllis’s words ringing in his ears: You do realize you’ll never be good enough for her.
‘What a nice idea,’ said Harry. ‘Just give me a moment,’ he added, before walking back into the room. He picked up a book from a side table and returned to join her. He took the bottle of champagne from Natalie and smiled. ‘If you’ve always been my biggest fan, perhaps it’s time you read this,’ he said, handing her a copy of Nothing Ventured. He quietly closed the door.
Harry sat on the bed, poured himself a glass of champagne, picked up the phone and booked an overseas call. He’d almost finished the bottle by the time Emma came on the line.
‘My book’s crept on to the bestseller list at number fourteen,’ he said, slurring his words.
‘That’s wonderful news,’ said Emma, stifling a yawn.
‘And there’s a ravishing blonde standing outside in the corridor holding a bottle of champagne, and she’s trying to break my door down.’
‘Yes, of course there is, darling. By the way, you’ll never believe who asked me to spend the night with him.’
6
THE DOOR WAS OPENED by a woman in a dark blue uniform with a starched white collar. ‘I’m Matron,’ she announced.
Harry shook hands, then introduced his wife and son.
‘Why don’t you come through to my office,’ she said, ‘then we can have a chat before you meet the girls.’
Matron led the three of them down a corridor that was plastered with colourful paintings.
‘I like this one,’ said Sebastian, stopping at one particular painting, but Matron didn’t respond, clearly believing children should be seen and not heard.
The three of them followed her into her office.
Once the door was closed, Harry began by telling Matron how much they’d all been looking forward to the visit.
‘As I know the children have,’ she replied. ‘But first I must explain a few of the home’s rules, as my only interest is the well-being of the children.’
‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘We’re in your hands.’
‘The three girls you have shown an interest in, Sandra, Sophie and Jessica, are currently in an art lesson, which will give you a chance to see them interacting with other children. When we join them it is important that we allow them to continue their work, because they must not feel they are taking part in a competition. That can only end in tears, and might well have long-term repercussions. Having been rejected once, they don’t need to be reminded of that experience. If the children see families walking around, of course they know you’re thinking about adoption. Why else would you be here? What they mustn’t find out is that you are only considering two or three of them. And of course, once you’ve met the three girls, you may still want to visit our homes in Taunton and Exeter before you make up your minds.’
Harry would have liked to tell Matron that they’d already decided, although they hoped it would look as if it was Sebastian who made the final choice.
‘So, are we ready to join the art class?’
‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, leaping up and running to the door.
‘How will we know who’s who?’ asked Emma, rising slowly from her seat.
Matron scowled at Sebastian before she said, ‘I will introduce several of the children to you, so none of them feel they are being singled out. Before we join them, do you have any questions?’
Harry was surprised that Sebastian didn’t have a dozen, but simply stood by the door impatiently waiting for them. As they walked back down the corridor towards the art class, Sebastian ran ahead.
Matron opened the door to the classroom, and they entered and stood quietly at the back. She nodded to the master in charge, who said, ‘Children, we have been joined by some guests.’
‘Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Clifton,’ said the children in unison, several of them looking round, while others carried on painting.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Harry and Emma. Sebastian remained uncharacteristically silent.
Harry noticed that most of the children kept their heads bowed and appeared somewhat subdued. He stepped forward to watch a boy painting a football match. He obviously supported Bristol City, which caused Harry to smile.
Emma pretended to be looking at a picture of a duck, or was it a cat, while she tried to work out which of the children was Jessica, but she was none the wiser by the time Matron joined her and said, ‘This is Sandra.’
‘What a wonderful painting, Sandra,’ said Emma. A huge grin appeared on the girl’s face, while Sebastian bent down and took a closer look.
Harry wal
ked across and began chatting to Sandra, while Emma and Sebastian were introduced to Sophie.
‘It’s a camel,’ she said confidently, before either of them could ask.
‘Dromedary or Bactrian?’ asked Sebastian.
‘Bactrian,’ she replied equally confidently.
‘But it’s only got one hump,’ said Sebastian.
Sophie smiled, and immediately gave the animal another hump. ‘Where do you go to school?’ she asked.
‘I’ll be going to St Bede’s in September,’ Sebastian replied.
Harry kept an eye on his son, who was clearly getting on well with Sophie, and feared he’d already made up his mind, but then suddenly Sebastian switched his attention to one of the boys’ paintings, just as Matron introduced Harry to Jessica. But she was so engrossed in her work she didn’t even look up. However hard he tried, nothing would break the girl’s concentration. Was she shy, even petrified? Harry had no way of knowing.
Harry returned to Sophie who was chatting to Emma about her camel. She asked him if he preferred one hump or two. While Harry considered the question, Emma left Sophie and strolled across to meet Jessica, but, like her husband, she couldn’t get a word out of the girl. She began to wonder if the whole exercise was going to end in disaster with Jessica going to Australia while they ended up with Sophie.
Emma moved away and began chatting to a boy called Tommy about his erupting volcano. Most of his paper was covered in deep red flames. Emma thought that Freud would have wanted to adopt this child, as he daubed even more blobs of red paint on to the canvas.
She glanced across to see Sebastian chatting to Jessica while staring intently at her painting of Noah’s Ark.
At least she seemed to be listening to him, even if she didn’t look up. Sebastian left Jessica and gave Sandra’s and Sophie’s paintings one more look, then went and stood by the door.
A few minutes later, Matron suggested they all return to her office for a cup of tea.
After she had poured three cups and offered them each a Bath Oliver biscuit, she said, ‘We will quite understand if you want to go away, give it some thought and perhaps return later, or visit one of our other homes, before you come to a final decision.’
Harry remained resolutely silent, as he waited to see if Sebastian would show his hand.
‘I thought all three girls were quite delightful,’ said Emma, ‘and found it almost impossible to choose between them.’
‘I agree,’ said Harry. ‘Perhaps we should do as you suggest, go away and discuss it between ourselves and then let you know how we feel.’
‘But that would be a waste of time if we all want the same girl,’ said Sebastian, with a precocious child’s logic.
‘Does that mean you’ve made up your mind?’ asked his father, realizing that once Sebastian had revealed his choice, he and Emma could outvote him, although he accepted that might not be the best way for Jessica to begin her life at Barrington Hall.
‘Before you decide,’ said Matron, ‘perhaps I should supply a little background information on each of the three children. Sandra has been by far the easiest to keep under control. Sophie is more gregarious but a bit of a scatterbrain.’
‘And Jessica?’ asked Harry.
‘She’s undoubtedly the most talented of the girls, but lives in a world of her own and doesn’t make friends easily. I would have thought of the three, Sandra might well suit you.’
Harry watched as Sebastian’s frown turned into a scowl. He switched tactics.
‘Yes, I think I agree with you, Matron,’ said Harry. ‘My choice would be Sandra.’
‘I’m torn,’ said Emma. ‘I liked Sophie, bubbly and fun.’
Emma and Harry stole a quick glance at each other. ‘So now it’s up to you, Seb. Will it be Sandra or Sophie?’ asked Harry.
‘Neither. I prefer Jessica,’ he said, then jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Matron rose from behind her desk. She clearly would have had words with Sebastian if he’d been one of her charges.
‘He hasn’t quite got the hang of democracy yet,’ said Harry, trying to make light of it. Matron headed for the door, looking unconvinced. Harry and Emma followed her down the corridor. When Matron entered the classroom, she couldn’t believe her eyes; Jessica was unpinning her picture and handing it to Sebastian.
‘What did you offer her in exchange?’ Harry asked his son as Sebastian marched past him clutching on to Noah’s Ark.
‘I promised her that if she came to tea tomorrow afternoon, she could have her favourite food.’
‘And what is her favourite food?’ asked Emma.
‘Hot crumpets covered in butter and raspberry jam.’
‘Would that be all right, Matron?’ asked Harry anxiously.
‘Yes, but perhaps it would be better if all three of them came.’
‘No thank you, Matron,’ said Emma. ‘Jessica will be just fine.’
‘As you wish,’ said Matron, unable to mask her surprise.
As they drove back to Barrington Hall, Harry asked Sebastian why he’d chosen Jessica.
‘Sandra was quite pretty,’ he said, ‘and Sophie was lots of fun, but I’d have been bored with both of them by the end of the month.’
‘And Jessica?’ asked Emma.
‘She reminded me of you, Mama.’
Sebastian was standing by the front door when Jessica came to tea.
She climbed the steps, clinging on to Matron with one hand and clutching one of her paintings in the other.
‘Follow me,’ declared Sebastian, but Jessica remained on the top step as if glued to the spot. She looked petrified, and wouldn’t budge until Sebastian returned.
‘This is for you,’ she said, handing over her painting.
‘Thank you,’ said Sebastian, recognizing the picture he’d spotted on the wall in the corridor at Dr Barnardo’s. ‘Well, you’d better come in, because I can’t eat all the crumpets on my own.’
Jessica stepped tentatively into the hall, and her mouth opened wide. Not because of the thought of crumpets, but at the sight of real oil paintings with frames hanging on every wall.
‘Later,’ promised Sebastian, ‘otherwise the crumpets will get cold.’
As Jessica walked into the drawing room, Harry and Emma rose to greet her, but once again she couldn’t take her eyes off the pictures. She eventually sat down on the sofa next to Sebastian, and transferred her longing gaze to a pile of sizzling hot crumpets. But she didn’t make a move until Emma handed her a plate, followed by a crumpet, followed by a knife, followed by the butter, followed by a bowl of raspberry jam.
Matron scowled as Jessica was about to take her first bite.
‘Thank you, Mrs Clifton,’ Jessica blurted out. She devoured two more crumpets, each accompanied by a ‘Thank you, Mrs Clifton’.
When she turned a fourth down with ‘No thank you, Mrs Clifton’, Emma wasn’t sure if she would have liked another one, or Matron had instructed her not to eat more than three.
‘Have you ever heard of Turner?’ asked Sebastian, after Jessica had finished her second glass of Tizer. She bowed her head and didn’t reply. Sebastian stood up, took her by the hand and led her out of the room. ‘Turner’s quite good actually,’ he declared, ‘but not as good as you.’
‘I just can’t believe it,’ said Matron as the door closed behind them. ‘I’ve never seen her so at ease.’
‘But she’s hardly uttered a word,’ said Harry.
‘Believe me, Mr Clifton, you’ve just witnessed Jessica’s version of the Hallelujah Chorus.’
Emma laughed. ‘She’s quite delightful. If there’s a chance of her becoming a member of our family, how do we go about it?’
‘It’s a long process, I’m afraid,’ said Matron, ‘and it doesn’t always end satisfactorily. You could begin by having her here for the occasional visit and, if that goes well, you might consider what we call a weekend leave. After that, there’s no turning back, because we mustn’t s
et up false hopes.’
‘We’ll be guided by you, Matron,’ said Harry, ‘because we certainly want to give it a try.’
‘Then I’ll do everything I can,’ she replied. By the time she’d drunk her third cup of tea and even managed a second crumpet, Harry and Emma had been left in no doubt what was expected of them.
‘Where can Sebastian and Jessica have got to?’ asked Emma, when Matron suggested that perhaps they should be on their way.
‘I’ll go and look for them,’ Harry was saying, when the two children came bursting back into the room.
‘Time for us to go home, young lady,’ said Matron as she rose from her place. ‘After all, we must be back in time for supper.’
Jessica refused to let go of Sebastian’s hand. ‘I don’t want any more food,’ she said.
Matron was lost for words.
Harry led Jessica into the hall and helped her on with her coat. As Matron walked out of the front door, Jessica burst into tears.
‘Oh no,’ said Emma. ‘And I thought it had all gone so well.’
‘It couldn’t have gone better,’ whispered Matron. ‘They only start crying when they don’t want to leave. Take my advice, if you both feel the same way, fill in the forms as quickly as possible.’
Jessica turned around and waved before she climbed into Matron’s little Austin 7, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
‘Good choice, Seb,’ said Harry, placing an arm around his son’s shoulders as they watched the car disappear down the drive.
It was to be another five months before Matron left Barrington Hall for the last time and headed back to Dr Barnardo’s on her own, another of her waifs and strays happily settled. Well, not so happily, because it was not long before Harry and Emma realized that Jessica had problems of her own that were every bit as demanding as Sebastian’s.
Neither of them had paused to consider that Jessica had never slept in a room on her own, and on her first night at Barrington Hall she left the nursery door wide open and cried herself to sleep. Harry and Emma became used to a warm little object climbing into bed between them not long after she woke in the mornings. This became less frequent when Sebastian parted with his teddy bear, Winston, handing the former prime minister over to Jessica.