Page 133 of The Gathering Storm

‘Well, it would be nicer for them, I should think, if they were about my Alec’s age, so that he could befriend them, and for the same reason a boy would be preferable. But I leave it up to you.’

‘You are very good,’ said Mrs Hughes. ‘And the financial pledge … ?’

‘I can write you a cheque,’ said Polly.

‘No need, the guarantee is all that’s required. I know you won’t let us down.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I have a child for you. And thank you. If only everyone were like you,’ said Mrs Hughes. ‘Forgive me, I must dash now. I have to catch Mrs Ditcham before she goes to Leeds.’

And she was gone, like a kindly, brown-haired whirlwind.

Ethel, predictably, raised an objection, but when she discovered everyone else was very much for the idea, she switched sides and became unbearably sanctimonious. ‘It’s our Christian duty,’ she said. And ‘People in our position must set a good example. We who have so much must never forget the needy.’ And, most annoyingly, ‘Suffer the little children,’ which she repeated frequently with a sweet, saintly smile.

Polly was driven to mutter privately to John Burton, ‘She won’t have to suffer the little children. It’ll be someone else’s job.’

He laughed. ‘It’s important that you have one thorn in your rose bed, or the gods might get jealous.’

‘I know. It’s not much to put up with, when I’m so happy. And Alec is being really sweet about it, looking through his toys to see what he can spare for the refugee. He’s borrowed a German language book from a master at school to learn some phrases.’

‘He’s an ingenious boy. How will he share his pony, I wonder?’

‘Hmm. I wish now we hadn’t parted with Mr Pickles. Oh, and Nanny’s as pleased as a cat with one kitten. Alec’s too old for her petting, but she’s licking her lips over a poor homeless child. I think she’s imagining a barefoot ragamuffin saved from the gutter. I’m worried the first thing she’ll want to do is burn his clothes and put him in a carbolic bath.’

‘Even if he comes from a fairly prosperous home, he’s going to find Morland Place overwhelming, let alone all the strange people,’ said Burton.

‘Some stranger than others.’

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do …’ he concluded.

Mrs Hughes was able to give twenty-four hours’ notice of a little boy called Benjamin – Bibi for short – who was eight years old, and an orphan. ‘His mother died when he was very young,’ she told Polly, over the telephone. ‘His aunt went to live with them, but then his father was taken away during Kristallnacht to a concentration camp, and died a few days later. Terribly tragic.’

‘How horrible,’ Polly said. ‘The poor child. I hope he won’t be too—’

‘I expect he will be. So many tragedies in one short life. His aunt was naturally eager to get him away. But are you worried about taking care of him? If you think it will be too much—’

‘What? You’ll send him to someone else? I don’t imagine you have a large number of alternative homes lined up.’

‘None,’ she said bluntly. ‘But—’

‘I have a houseful of people to help me. And Nanny is so eager for it, she would never forgive me if he didn’t come now. Don’t worry, it will all work out for the best, I’m sure.’

The following day the snow came, and from midday it started to settle, but it was not yet so heavy as to make travel impossible. Everyone was wound up, waiting for the child to arrive. The servants kept finding things to do that meant passing through the Great Hall. Alec had been jumping around like a clockwork toy, so much so that he had finally exhausted himself, and had fallen asleep in the big armchair by the drawing-room fire. Ethel was knitting a colourful scarf from left-over wools, hoping to have it finished by the time of arrival. They had no idea when that would be. Lunch was delayed, until Polly said they had better have it and get it over with.

The afternoon advanced and the early winter dark came. The snow had stopped, and it was freezing hard. Burton went home to his wife and child, telling Polly he’d be in early the next day in case there was anything he could do. John got back from work, bringing a miniature dynamo he had made that he thought the boy might like. Alec started to say why couldn’t he have it, then nobly stopped himself.

And finally there was the sound of the door knocker, and everyone jumped, and hurried into the hall.

Barlow let in Mrs Hughes, alone. Her eyes sought Polly even as she brushed away Barlow’s efforts to take her coat. ‘Mrs Morland, I must speak to you. There’s been a development.’ She took Polly’s arm and stepped aside with her.

‘A problem?’ Polly said.

‘Not necessarily. A development.’

‘No Bibi?’

‘Bibi is here – he’s waiting outside in the car.’

‘Well, bring him in,’ Polly said impatiently. ‘It’s cold out there.’

‘He’s not alone,’ said Mrs Hughes. ‘There’s a little girl, Miriam, Mimi for short, nine years old—’