Saplings

  The train roared and clanged. The carriage full of children grew sillier and sillier and screamed their sillinesses above the noise of the train. Albert and Ernie screamed as loud as the rest. Noise and throwing things about, that was the stuff, that was the way to kill fear.

  One of the children started to sing. Soon the whole carriage was howling, ‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.’

  XIV

  The children reached their grandparents’ front door to find another car was before them. In the hall a woman driver was delivering Albert and Ernie. Miss Plant, she told Elsa, had especially selected these two nice clean-looking children. In her mind’s eye she could see Miss Plant in the station yard surrounded by several hundred more children. She could not wait so she gave Albert and Ernie a gentle push towards Elsa and hurried out of the front door, colliding with Ruth and Tony who were coming up the front steps.

  Laurel had held all day to her father’s words. Everybody was having to move. Nobody, except Kim, was making a fuss. She had tried to be an example of helpfulness on the journey, but there had been no opportunity. Nannie and Ruth had done everything that wanted doing, like passing round food, and books to read, and keeping Kim quiet. It had been a let down really. She had meant to be splendid, and not being allowed to be had rubbed her up the wrong way. She was not cross exactly, just that sort of miserable that wants to kick something. But now they had arrived. In the hall would be Gran and Grandfather, waiting as they always did when they came to stay. After kissing they would look at them to see how they had grown, and then Gran would tell them the lovely things she had planned that they should do. Grandfather would not say much but he would look pleased and smiling, and he would go off with the dogs and he liked it if you came too. But the most unchanged thing would be her bedroom. She loved it almost as much as her room at home. She had slept in it since she had been six. The first time she had slept alone was in that room and when Gran came in to say goodnight she had asked if she would rather sleep in the nursery. But she had felt grand and said ‘no’ and could it be her own room for always. Gran had said yes, other people would sleep in it when she was not there but it should always be known as ‘Laurel’s room’. It was a beautiful room, she thought. Gran’s was the only house she knew where there were wall papers. The one in her room, roses against silver-grey stripes, she considered perfect. She liked too the pictures. Landscapes painted in water-colour by forgotten friends, framed in gold with gold surrounds. There was something fascinating too about the heavy mahogany furniture. Laurel often lay in bed and worked out schemes by which it had been brought in. Her favourite put it in place before the ceiling or roof had been built. Sitting in the train, weighed down by flat greyish gloom, her room had been a shaft of light. However awful the day, presently she would be in her room, and her door would be shut, and then, if she wanted to, she could cry as much as she liked. Crying in your bedroom with your doors shut was not what Dad meant by ‘fuss’.

  Everything in the hall looked exactly as usual except that there were two little boys with labels round their necks standing beside Grandfather and Gran. Laurel gave her grandparents a cheerful smile, even seeing them made her feel better. It was then things began to go wrong. Gran, instead of hugging her, gave her a quick nod and spoke over her head to Nannie.

  ‘The nurseries are ready.’

  Nannie looked round the hall. There was no more surprise in her face than there is on a hen’s who has been presented as nurselings with chicks which are none of hers. Nannie’s reaction was identical with the hen’s. Here were chicks and here was she, the where and why-fors could be left to wiser heads. In that second she added Albert and Ernie to her family.

  ‘I’ve put Kim in the double spare room for the moment,’ Elsa went on. ‘Until he goes to school Tony can share it. You’ve the little single blue room as usual, Miss Glover.’

  Grandfather felt too much attention was being paid to his grandchildren and insufficient to Albert and Ernie.

  ‘And where are these young men sleeping?’

  ‘Laurel’s room.’ Elsa turned back to Nannie. ‘I’ve put a second bed in there. Laurel dear, you’re in Grandfather’s dressing-room, it’s rather a makeshift, but you won’t be here for long.’

  Everything had been planned. The servants placated. Things had turned out far better than they might have done. It had been a great relief to see Albert and Ernie, who seemed quiet little boys. So much easier to have children than expectant mothers. Elsa would be seventy in two years time. She loved her grandchildren, but as visitors. She had brought up five children of her own and had no wish to reopen her nurseries and schoolrooms again as a permanent thing. She loved her home and the routine of her life and flinched from change and upset. She was fond of her servants and they were fond of her. She disliked the alteration in her relationship with them which had been forced on her. Her voice saying, ‘I know you’ll manage splendidly. You always do,’ and the doubtful, ‘We must do our best, ’m.’ It was so false. Elderly servants used to looking after two elderly people, with only short visits from the grandchildren, could not be expected to be enthusiastic at the arrival of a governess, nurse and four children as permanent residents, and two more who would be with them all the school holidays. Elsa was courageous, nothing showed on her face but serenity and cheerfulness. She was not insensitive as a rule. It was extraordinary for her to give away Laurel’s room as if it were a matter of no moment. The truth was that, busy organising, she did not consider the children’s angle except to suppose they were, as usual, happy. They always had enjoyed coming to stay and Laurel was old enough to realise what was going on and was sure to be splendid and helpful, dear child.

  Ruth could remember embittered moments in her childhood when she had been forgotten and pushed on one side. ‘Oh, we needn’t count Ruth, she’ll be packing, her term starts the next day.’ She moved towards Laurel. Nannie, her foot on the stairs, turned.

  ‘Perhaps you’d take the two little boys up and unpack for them, Miss Glover.’ She looked enquiringly at Albert. ‘What are your names, dears?’

  Albert, from fright, had lost his voice. Tony looked first at his label and then at Ernie’s.

  ‘This is Albert Parker and this one is Ernest Parker.’

  Nannie nodded.

  ‘Albert and Ernest. Well, Miss Glover, if you’d see to them and then bring them up.’ She glanced at Elsa. ‘Where’ll we be having our dinner, ’m?’

  Elsa had not dared to hope that Nannie would immediately adopt Albert and Ernie. She was sure, knowing her, that she would help, but she might think having them to nursery meals going rather far. She had visualised that they would have at any rate their first meals in the servants’ hall, which might be disastrous. She smiled gratefully at Nannie.

  ‘In the nursery. Laurel and Tony will lunch in the diningroom.’

  As she took hold of Albert and Ernie’s hands Ruth tried to catch Laurel’s eye, but Laurel was staring at the floor.

  Tony and Kim raced up to their room. Tony had been immensely cheered at the sight of Albert. Someone to play with! He would show him all the special things in the grounds after lunch. Because he felt better he butted Kim in the small of the back.

  It was Laurel’s first experience of bitterness. She had never known people could be cruel. Her bedroom given away! Poked into grandfather’s dressing-room! Gran had not said it but what she had meant was anything will do for Laurel. It was agony. She sat on the edge of the little bed in the dressingroom rocking to and fro, her arms folded as if to protect her heart.

  XV

  The car was full, the luggage was strapped on the back. There were hugs and kisses and last minute tips. Nannie and Ruth sat in the corners with Tuesday and Kim between them. Laurel and Ernie had the little seats, Tony and Albert were in front with Williams, the chauffeur. The picnic lunch had been Ruth’s idea. Laurel and Tony had not to be at the junction to meet the school train until three. A picnic lunch would be a nice send-off, and as well a
relief to the household to have them out of the way for a day; but it had been a mistake. Laurel, who had looked wretched enough before, poor child, had become infinitely worse. It hurt Ruth to look at her. She was never pretty but since they had arrived she had gone about with a perpetual scowl and the corners of her mouth turned down. Ruth had tried to talk to her but Laurel, usually so affectionate and forthcoming, was in a black-dog mood and refused to come out of it. There were good moments, of course, when she laughed and was her usual self, but they were ephemeral; in a second some unskilfully worded remark, even a misunderstood glance, and her animation died and she sank back amongst her scowls. Her grandparents had noticed, of course, and had supposed the child was worried about being sent to school. At every meal her Grandmother told her stories of her aunts at school. ‘Your Aunt Dot said . . .’ ‘Your naughty Aunt Lindsey!’ ‘I can see your Aunt Sylvia as if it were yesterday. . . .’ ‘Your Aunt Selina, funny little thing. . . .’ Often the stories beguiled Laurel for the time being, but Ruth knew that, though she dreaded her school, it was not the bottom of her trouble.

  Nannie kept an eye on the back of Tony and Albert. The two had become enormous friends but had an exciting effect on each other. ‘I’ll give you such a slosh’ had become Tony’s favourite expression, and unless prevented he carried out the threat. Nannie expected boys to be rough but objected when they were rough at the wrong times, and in a car was a wrong time. On the whole she approved of Albert and Ernie. They had what she called ‘common voices’, but that was only to be expected. They had not so much bad table manners, as different, but she was putting those right. In being good to those younger than themselves she had never in her long experience met their equals. Tuesday was unused to it. She was the only really nursery one left and was more or less ignored by the others. But not by Albert and Ernie. At their very first meal in the house Tuesday had asked for Pincher. Could Pincher come up? Could Pincher sleep on her bed? Nannie had been vague. ‘I dare say, dear. We’ll see, dear.’ Albert had been so shocked that his voice, up till then a whisper, had come back. ‘’Oo’s Pincher?’ Kim had told him. ‘’Oo’s Sims?’ Albert had wanted, and indeed expected, to take Tuesday into the garden with him after lunch, but when she was not allowed to come he found Sims on his own. ‘Give us a loan of Pincher.’ Sims considered Albert. ‘You’ll be one of our ’vacuees.’ ‘Give us a loan of Pincher,’ Albert had repeated and then had explained, ‘It’s for the little ’un.’ He had brought Pincher up to the nursery and, mainly through his efforts, Pincher spent most of his days with Tuesday. It was the same about everything where Tuesday was concerned. Offered sweets, Albert, Ernie, or both, immediately asked if there were any for Tuesday, and at intervals all day they were up in arms before they were convinced that she was not in some way being neglected or slighted. Not that either of them cared especially for Tuesday, but she was the youngest, the little one and the whole of their upbringing had taught them to put the welfare and happiness of small children before everything. Apart from this chivalry to Tuesday, Albert and Ernie had the natural entrée to Nannie’s heart. They were in her eyes thin and peaky and they were homesick. For some nights Nannie had sat with them until their sobs died down and they fell asleep. Then, as the first pangs of homesickness evaporated, she taught them not to be afraid of the silent corridor and the big house. She gave them a night light and left the door open so that the gleam from the passage light came in. It was Nannie who saw Elsa about the school situation.

  ‘’Tisn’t right nor what any child would think fair to send them to the village school while Tony and Kim are still having their holiday.’

  ‘But it’s the law,’ Elsa objected. ‘They’re of school age and ought to go. I’ll have Miss Plant after me.’

  ‘Another fortnight running round will set them up for the winter. Ernie’s still too pale for my liking and Albert’s bowels are stubborn.’

  Nannie, watching Tony’s and Albert’s backs to see there was not a scrimmage, felt placidly pleased. Tony had enjoyed his time with his grandparents, bless him. It was wonderful really for he was such a father’s boy.

  ‘I hope his father gets to see him for his birthday,’ she said to Ruth.

  Ruth pulled her mind from Laurel.

  ‘November.’ She smiled at Laurel. ‘Both their father and their mother will have been down to see them before that.’

  Albert and Tony were not fooling but having a quite serious conversation.

  ‘We didn’t ought to ’ave been sent,’ Albert explained.

  ‘If your father, who’s a warden, says you can come back at Christmas I should jolly well think we could too. I shall write and tell Dad your father says it’s safe.’

  Williams had Albert next to him.

  ‘Your father better leave you where you are. The war hasn’t started, not properly. You can’t tell what’s coming.’

  ‘But his father’s a warden.’ Tony’s words fell over each other. ‘He ought to know if anybody does.’

  Albert felt in his pocket and produced a crumpled post card from his mother. He read it out loud.

  ‘Your Dad says he should not wonder if there was not no bombs after all and you can be home Christmas. . . .’

  Williams was unmoved.

  ‘We’ll see. Anyway you and young Ernie are looking a sight better since you came here. I shouldn’t think you’d want to be in a hurry to go back.’

  Albert did not answer Williams, his face was blank but behind it his being was in revolt. It was all right here, but it was not home. He wanted his Mum and the small flat, and the smell of the food cooking. The clatter of feet on the stone steps of ‘The Buildings’. He wanted the black and white of London, the screaming noisy games in the sunlight, and the whisperings and half understood goings on in the shadows. He wanted cinemas, and the doors of stores standing wide so that wireless sets could shriek into the streets. He wanted excitement of living huddled against your neighbours. To hear the groans, to watch somebody running for the doctor. To see the blinds down in his home for a dead baby whom nobody knew. To have the right to be pushed forward to peer at the coffin. There was an edge and a smell to life at home. There were scenes and makings-up and danger round the corner. Here there was nothing, the meals were dull and there was a sameness about life. He and Tony had managed a bit of fun but Tony was going. He would have to stick it out a bit longer but they would be home for Christmas. Trust Mum for that.

  They found a little wood in which to eat their lunch. It was not by design that Ruth was alone with Laurel. They had gone to the brook to wash. Laurel, in her green tunic and crested cardigan, looked unlike herself. She made Ruth’s heart ache and gave her courage to say what in recent days she had not risked in case Laurel snubbed her, and the bloom was brushed from their friendship.

  ‘Oh, Laurel, my pet, I am going to miss you.’

  Laurel looked up from the water. There was a moment when it seemed that a snub was on her lips. Then she was up, her arms round Ruth’s neck, sobbing.

  ‘It was always my bedroom – even Tony never speaks to me, he’s always playing with Albert and Ernie – Gran’s glad I’m going to school, she doesn’t pretend she isn’t – everybody’s glad I’m being sent away – Dad promised we’d have a lot of riding, we haven’t ridden once – it’s extra awful me going to school, I’m ugly and I’m not good at anything – ’

  Ruth surreptitiously looked at her watch. It would do the child good to say all that was in her mind, but she could not plant her in a railway carriage filled with strange girls with her face swollen from crying. She gave Laurel a kiss.

  ‘Mop your face. I can’t hand you over to your housemistress, or whoever it is, looking as if you’d got mumps.’ She waited a moment while Laurel struggled for self-control. ‘I’m sorry about the bedroom, but where else were Albert and Ernie to be put?’

  ‘I know that and it makes it worse because there’s no one to be angry with.’

  Ruth laughed though she did not entirely agree. Elsa
had been rushed but she had not shown tact in handling a child that she should have guessed was already upset.

  ‘You know why you didn’t ride.’

  ‘Yes. I quite see what Grandfather means about us not doing things Albert and Ernie can’t do. But the other part of me sees Tony and me having our holidays spoilt because of Albert and Ernie.’

  ‘Tony’s holidays haven’t been spoilt, and you don’t really mind his making friends with Albert, and you’re not plain, and though I know you want to be champion class at something, you’re a nice average all-rounder.’

  ‘Not really. Everybody at dancing was better than me but three. Everybody at gym except the people who don’t like gym. I’m nearly always beaten at games. I haven’t ever won a swimming cup, and you’ve often said there were days when I seem to go backwards at lessons. And it’s no good saying I’m not the plainest in the family, I can see my own face in my looking-glass.’

  Ruth took out her comb and tidied Laurel’s hair.

  ‘It’s a terrible picture. From the sound of it the Abbey School won’t keep you.’ She took the child’s chin and turned her face towards her. ‘You know you’re talking nonsense.’

  There was a moment’s pause. Laurel gulped, her voice was a whisper.

  ‘Nearly everybody is glad the holidays are over and I’m going to a boarding school.’

  It was true. The house was overcrowded. They were all waiting for Laurel and Tony to leave to get in a routine. Albert and Ernie would go to school. She could get on with Kim’s lessons. Kim was to move into his grandfather’s dressingroom. One less bedroom and two less beds for the housemaid. Cook’s burden would be eased. The dining-room menus could be thought out without considering favourite dishes or what children ought to eat. There would be no light supper meal at seven for Laurel. There had been, especially during the last few days, an attempt to devise treats, even now probably the grandparents were enjoying their after lunch coffee the better because they had only themselves and their pleasure and comfort to consider, and had not to be wondering what was making Laurel so awkward. Ruth would not insult Laurel by lying.