House of Secrets Read online

  ‘Thank you, Jack. I can see now why Father relied on you so much. You’re a star. Oh, and while you’re at it, if you’re dating my sister, you’d probably better start calling me Madeleine.’

  Madeleine smiled as Jack turned away and blushed.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Frost … er, Madeleine.’

  Her father really had relied on him and now her sister trusted him too and she not only approved of Jess’s choice, but envied them both.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘Poppy, come on now eat your sandwich, or there will be no cake.’ Madeleine looked at her daughter with her best face of authority, but within moments her eyes had softened and her lips turned up at the corners into a gentle loving smile. She looked out of the window in the hope that Jess would hurry up and arrive at the café soon.

  She was late, but for Jess that was normal.

  The café was quaint and cottage-like and reminded Madeleine of her grandma’s farmhouse kitchen when she’d been a small child.

  ‘What’s under there?’ Poppy asked as she pointed to a small dish that had been placed on the table. A circle of material covered it and had small beads attached to its edge.

  ‘It’s the sugar cubes.’ Madeleine laughed as she picked up the material to reveal small cubes of brown and white sugar beneath. ‘The cloth is to keep the flies away.’

  Poppy had immediately lost interest and her eyes now stared impatiently at the huge oak sideboard which stood next to them, with cake domes littering its surface.

  Madeleine watched Poppy eyeing them up over the top of her food, knowing full well that she was carefully choosing which one she would ask for once the chore of eating the sandwich was complete.

  ‘Hey, are you waiting for me?’ Jess asked as she bounced in through the door twenty minutes late and sat down at the table. She picked up the teapot and poured herself a drink into the spare cup that Madeleine had put ready for her. ‘Oh, I need this. That journey over the moors gets worse and worse. I got stuck behind the slowest tractor in the world and those roads, they’re so bendy.’

  ‘I know, they drive you mad, don’t they?’ Madeleine said as she kissed her sister on the cheek. ‘Good to see that you got here safely though.’

  Jess tickled Poppy under the table. ‘Now then, young lady, is that sandwich lovely?’

  Poppy shook her head and held up the sandwich, showing her how much of it she’d already eaten, whilst dipping her head behind the teapot and pointing to the cakes.

  ‘Poppy, I can see you, you know. The teapot isn’t big enough to hide you.’

  Madeleine looked over to where the waitress stood.

  ‘Do you think we might have three pieces of that lovely carrot cake, please?’ she asked, knowing that carrot cake was the favourite of both Poppy and Jess, both of whose eyes lit up at the request and Poppy immediately dropped her sandwich on the plate making it obvious that the task of eating it was over, especially now that the battle to get cake had been won.

  Pulling off her coat, Jess hung it on the back of the chair and then reached into her handbag and pulled out an envelope.

  ‘Maddie, I have a confession to make,’ she announced. ‘When my flat got broken into I said that I thought your locket had gone. Well, that’s only partly true.’

  Madeleine watched as Jess emptied the envelope onto the table. One oval piece of locket fell out and Madeleine picked it up. ‘Where’s the rest, the other side of the locket, the chain?’ Closing her eyes, she knew the answer before she’d finished her question. ‘It’s gone, isn’t it?’

  Jess nodded. ‘I’ve searched and I can’t find it anywhere. I’m so sorry, Maddie.’

  Holding back the tears, she turned the piece of locket over and over in her hand. A single, dated picture of her father remained.

  ‘Why, Jess? Why would anyone steal half a locket? I don’t get it.’

  Jess shrugged her shoulders and watched as the waitress placed the three plates of carrot cake on the table before them. ‘Thank you,’ she said, waiting till the waitress had gone before she continued. ‘Maddie, it’s really strange. There were lots of things broken, but such odd things taken. Nothing that you’d have expected. They didn’t take the laptop or the television, they just smashed it. In fact, they took nothing of any value whatsoever.’

  ‘So, what did they take?’

  ‘The whole flat looked like a nuclear war zone. They took random stuff, really weird bits of jewellery, an old photograph album, a few DVDs and that picture frame that you gave me last Christmas.’

  ‘What use would any of that be to anyone?’

  ‘I have no idea. Especially the DVDs. I only realised that some had gone when I looked for the one where I swam with the dolphins last year.’

  ‘The ones in the Dominican? You probably loaned it to someone to watch.’

  ‘Not a chance. It cost me a hundred dollars, so I protect it with my life. I’d been telling Poppy about it and told her I’d let her watch it.’

  Madeleine thought for a moment before she spoke. ‘Do you want to hear some good news for a change?’

  ‘Go on then, spill the beans.’ Jess sat upright in her chair.

  ‘Well, without going into too much detail because little ears are listening, but in the tunnel there was a … well … what you might call an incident.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Jess raised her eyebrows. ‘You might have to give me just a little bit more of a clue, Maddie.’

  ‘Okay, this morning I had a delivery of flowers.’ Madeleine blushed as she thought of the flowers that had arrived and the note that had simply said, ‘You deserve romance.’

  ‘What flowers? Who are they from?’

  Madeleine looked at Poppy who continued to eat her cake. ‘Well, you know.’

  ‘Oh no, please don’t tell me Liam sent you flowers.’

  Poppy burst out laughing. ‘No, silly Aunty Jessie. It was Mr Bang’it man. He sent my mummy some pretty flowers, the chocolates were yummy too.’

  Jess fell silent and Madeleine giggled. ‘Through the mouths of babes,’ she whispered as she watched Poppy, who had now eaten all of her cake and was eagerly watching Jess in the hope that she might get to share hers.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  October 29th, 1942

  Father made me go to London right after Eddie left for the war. I spent eight long weeks being paraded like a prize heifer before every man that my father thought suitable. They were awful. Complete snobs and most of them spoke as though they still held a plum in their mouth. Besides most of the rich boys all seem to have the most awful spotty chins, I blame it on them spending all their days indoors, they’re not out in the weather, not like my Eddie and I wouldn’t have wanted any one of them to come near me. I rejected them all.

  Rationing was worse in London than it is in the country, however Father seems to be able to buy anything that he needs. But then again he’s rich, whereas the poor go without and barely have any food to eat at all. Most of the men who were too old or infirm to go to war walk around in jackets with elbows that have been patched with old pieces of leather, their boots don’t shine like they used to and the women’s dresses look old, faded or like they were made from old drapes.

  Mother’s baby was born, so thankfully we had to come back to the hall. It’s a girl. They’ve called her Rose after Mother’s favourite flower and both Mother and Father sit beside her crib, watching her for hours. The new nanny should arrive very soon and I often wonder what she will be like, but as long as she stops Mother and Father from drooling all over the child, I don’t care.

  I’ve felt poorly now for a number of weeks. At first I thought I might have the flu, I was tired and couldn’t wake up of a morning. But then, I woke up too quickly and the sickness arrived. My stomach is hard, like a rock and I know that I’m carrying a part of Eddie within me, but what will happen to me if my parents find out? Will I be forced to abort my sweet innocent baby? I can’t allow them to take Eddie’s child away from me, besides I�
��m sure it’s illegal. I’ve heard talk of how it’s done, of the horrendous pain that follows and of how many women die shortly after. Is the shame really so bad that it’s worth dying for?

  I fear the actual birth and have no idea how I will cope. I overheard Mother telling our Father of the torment she went through, the pain she endured. She said that she thought she would die, it had been so bad and that was with her fourth child, not her first.

  I pray daily for Eddie to come home. I need him here before the baby is discovered. Father would have to allow us to marry now. Just think of the shame if he didn’t. But until then, I will hide myself away. I’m lucky it’s turned cold and wintery outside. I wear loose clothes, a pinafore, and even a large jumper to cover my shape.

  I’ve been spending time walking to the summer house during the day. I sit and read while there’s light or look out over the woods. At least there I can act normally without drawing attention to myself. Whereas when I’m at the hall, I just stay in my room and feign tiredness of an evening. I’ve even convinced cook to allow me to take some of my meals in my room too and she doesn’t seem to care. I actually think she prefers this to me being in or around her kitchen.

  Mother is so taken with baby Rose she doesn’t seem to notice anything that I’m doing. But I watch her carefully, when I can. I watch how she holds the baby, changes her and feeds her. I’ve even taken to folding the towelling squares for Mother once they’re washed and dried, just so I can learn how to do it.

  The nights are drawing in, and as the weather turns colder Father will expect us to sit around the log fire in the great hall. He’s decided that it’s cosier that way and has forbidden us to use hearths in mine or Mary’s bedroom. He says it’s far too dangerous in that wing of the house and that if ever a fire were to break out, the whole house would burn like a tinderbox. Of course, I expect it’s because of the fuel rations, even Father’s supplies must be running low by now. The war has caused so much heartache; our men are fighting for freedom but in the meantime we will all freeze during the winter.

  Every day I watch for the postman. Every day I hope for news from Eddie, but after the first letter I received, there has been nothing. I read that letter daily and digest the words. I think by now, I could repeat all the words from memory.

  I need him to come home and pray every day that he will find a way.

  ‘Would there be a way?’ Madeleine looked up to where Bandit sat on the settee in her room. He’d taken as much interest as she had in the diary and over the past few days Madeleine had taken to inviting him up whenever she knew Poppy was busy elsewhere, so they could read it together.

  ‘I’m not sure. I doubt it. The only way they got to come home once trained was if they were injured, in a box or if they ran away. But if he did run away, he’d have most certainly been court martialled.’

  Madeleine closed the diary. ‘But why would they do that? If the men ran, surely they’d know how frightened they were. It’s barbaric to make men fight, especially when they don’t want to.’

  ‘The men took their chance in the hope that they wouldn’t be caught. They hadn’t had a choice about signing up; most hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. They reached eighteen, got called up and were sent to war. Most of them saw things that they could never have imagined. There are things in war that still give men nightmares. He would have seen his friends killed right before his eyes. They’d have known that if they ran, they at least had a chance of freedom. If they stayed, they were almost certainly going to die.’

  Bandit felt his face constrict as he spoke of the nightmare of war. His breathing quickened and he noticed his hands clench together in fists, so tight that cramps immediately shot up both arms. He tried to release them, clasp them in and out, but failed as once again they gripped tightly together, as though ready to go and fight.

  Forcing himself to stand, he picked up a glass of water, took a sip and walked to the window. Opening it, he gulped in the air.

  A crash, an explosion, the screams that still rang in his ears and continued to pierce his mind even after all this time.

  He leaned as far out of the window as he could. Sweat dripped down his face and he grabbed at a box of tissues and pulling one out, he wiped his brow. A flash of pain crossed his face, his eyes suddenly closed tightly and he held his breath, just for a moment. Then his mind returned to the present. He took deep controlling breaths, turned and opened his eyes to see a look of horror on Madeleine’s face.

  She watched as Bandit lived through an internal nightmare; she knew that he must have seen things that he’d rather forget and stood, helplessly wondering what she could do to help.

  ‘Are you okay?’ She rested her hand on his arm, moved it down to his hand and prised his fist apart, to place her hand in his. ‘I’m here, Bandit. I’m here. Do you want to talk about it? I know you saw things. Do you want to tell me what they were?’

  His eyes opened wide and he stared into her eyes, picked up Madeleine’s glass and took a huge gulp of wine.

  ‘There was an explosion. One of many, but this one killed my friends, my girl and the rest of my team.’

  ‘Oh my God, that must have been awful for you. Did you actually see it?’

  He nodded. ‘Not only did I see it. I should have been on board that truck. I should have been with them.’ Once again he took a gulp of wine, picked up a tissue and wiped his face leaving small pieces of tissue behind on his bristles. ‘I had to clean up after it. It was my job. I spent the whole day picking up the body parts of my team, my friends, and of Karen.’

  It was more than obvious that Karen hadn’t been just one of the team. ‘Did you love her?’

  Again he nodded, looked up and stared into her eyes. ‘Of course I did. But Karen was like the most beautiful orchid that I could find and I knew that no matter how much I cared for her, how much I loved her, I knew that one day, especially with the job that we did, I knew that one day I’d lose her, or that she’d lose me. I just didn’t know which one of us would go first, or how awful it would be.’

  Madeleine gasped. ‘Oh, Bandit.’ She knew it must have been bad for him and he was right, love didn’t always last forever but it didn’t mean that you didn’t allow yourself to love. She’d have had to be blind not to have noticed his reaction when he’d saved Poppy from the greenhouse, how he’d grabbed her in the thunderstorm when she’d slipped in the mud and how he’d reacted in the tunnel just a few days before, insisting on safety, checking everything and ensuring that every step taken had been checked with military precision. But never had she imagined that he would compare his love to a beautiful orchid, nor had she imagined in her wildest dreams that he’d had to pick up the body parts of the woman he’d loved.

  ‘Have you been to see anyone, you know, professionally?’

  Bandit shook his head. ‘What, a shrink? I saw the military ones before I left the marines, but no one since. They can’t help me. Nothing can erase what I saw. It’s down to me. I just have to deal with it.’

  Madeleine held out her arms. ‘You don’t have to deal with it on your own. I’m here for you,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘You know, maybe we could be here for each other.’

  Bandit pulled her into his arms. ‘Why would you need anyone to be there for you? You’re beautiful, strong, you have the world at your feet. I mean, look at this place, you’re the owner of this beautiful hotel now.’

  She looked thoughtfully around the room. ‘I’m not the owner of this house, Bandit. No one ever owns a house like this, they just keep it till the next keeper comes along and, to be honest, I may have all of this, but at what price? It’s mine because my father died and if I’m a hundred per cent honest, I don’t believe for one minute that he killed himself.’ She looked at Bandit. ‘I need to find out what really happened to him. Will you help me?’

  Bandit picked up the diary that had been resting on her bed. ‘Deal, I’ll help you and tomorrow, we start looking for clues. If your father didn’t kill himself,
and I too don’t believe for one moment that he did, then there must be something to tell us what really happened.’ He turned the page of the diary and pulled an old crinkled piece of paper from an envelope. The envelope had been glued to the page and looked tissue paper thin with age.

  ‘What is it?’

  Bandit unfolded the paper. ‘I think it’s the letter that Eddie wrote to Emily. You see, there are always clues to what happened in the past.’ He paused. ‘Do you think we should read it?’

  They glanced at each other and then back to the letter. It was really tattered and torn from the obvious reading and re-reading that Emily had done and Bandit carefully unfolded it, placing it on the bed.

  ‘I daren’t hold it in my hands, it might fall apart,’ he said as he stared down at the words.

  ‘Read it to me,’ Madeleine said as she lay back against the pillows.

  ‘The words are hard to decipher. Some of them have disappeared into the creases of the page.’

  ‘Just do your best.’

  My dearest Emily,

  I can’t give too much in the detail. I can’t mention places or dates. My letters are censored and I just hope they will get to you.

  I left with three other lads. We travelled by train and arrived late in the evening. We were met by the Training Centre Staff and were marched to our barracks. Once there, we were all given our numbers. Mine is 14259331 and I have been given the rank of Private. I’m not sure that I like being a number, but here we don’t have a say in the matter. If you write to me, put this number on the envelope of all my mail, otherwise it could go astray and they wouldn’t know where to send it.

  We went to the Mess Room and were given a meal. It looked like slops; all of our food was served in a tin. I think tomorrow, I will buy my food from the NAAFI. I have a little money and can do that for a few days, but doubt that the money will last long and once it runs out I will have no choice but to eat the slops again. I have come to appreciate, however, that the slops will look much more preferable once I have no other choice and it does put a fear into me that if the food here is this bad, what will it be like when we go to war? Will there be any food and, if there is, will the food be digestible at all?