Page 164 of The Gathering Storm

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It was not until the next day that Polly went to look at the damage to the chapel. She was shocked at the sight, but Lennie told her it wasn’t as bad as it looked. ‘Once the debris is cleared away, you’ll see.’ Workmen had been up on the roof already, to stretch a tarpaulin over the hole.

‘But the Lady altar!’ Polly said. ‘We must get that beam off it straight away. It’s not respectful. Oh, and the memorial!’

The marble memorial to their ancestors was in the form of an elaborately carved sarcophagus, though it was thought the bodies were not actually inside, but down in the crypt. On the top life-size marble effigies of the couple lay side by side, hands folded in prayer, Robert’s head resting on a lion and Eleanor’s on a unicorn. Around the frieze ran the words, ‘The brave heart and the pure spirit, faithful unto death. In God is death at end.’ But the impact of the end of the beam had chipped off a corner of the lid’s lip and broken away the ‘ath’ of ‘death’ and all of ‘In’.

‘It’s nearly as old as the house. Can it even be repaired?’ Polly mourned.

‘Anything can be repaired,’ Lennie said. ‘They’re only material things. Just be thankful no-one was hurt.’

She had turned her attention to the altar, on which the main body of the beam rested. It had split the wooden panelling right down the front to the ground, but more alarming, the ancient wooden statue of the Lady was missing. ‘It must be under all the rubbish,’ Polly said, anguished.

Lennie saw she was about to get down on her knees and search, and caught her arm. ‘Leave it for now.’

‘But she looks after the house. It would be terribly bad luck if anything has happened to her.’

‘I never knew you were so superstitious.’

‘It’s not superstition,’ she said indignantly. ‘There are lots of stories about how she weeps real tears if anything bad is coming to the house.’

‘Stories.’

‘Not stories as in fiction. Things that really happened and have been handed down.’

‘All right, but she’s probably under the beam, and you can’t look for her until that’s been taken away.’ He patted the beam. ‘Amazing, this old oak – it’s so weathered, it’s like iron. You’d never be able to drill into it.’

‘Lennie!’

‘Don’t be upset. I’ll get some men together this afternoon, and we’ll see how best to lift it. Some kind of crane-and-pulley system.’ He looked up. ‘We’ll have to see if it can be used to repair the hole – put it back where it came from. It’s no use for anything else. You couldn’t cut it up for firewood, for instance – you’d never get a saw through it.’

‘I should think not,’ Polly said, obscurely comforted by ‘crane-and-pulley’. It was lovely to have a man again, to do the man things in her life.

Charlotte got back late from Charles Street, where she had supervised the packing of her personal belongings. She wasn’t taking any of the furniture, but she had still accumulated a worrying amount, given that Molly and Vivian lived in a flat with no cellar or attic. But the guest room was large and well provided with cupboards, and Molly had said her trunks could be stored in the nursery for the time being, since the children were away.

She didn’t see Milo while she was there, which was a relief. She said goodbye to the servants. They hadn’t been with her for long enough to be tearful, and – having called at the bank on her way there – she gave them all a parting tip. She knew they would easily find new positions: good servants were hard to come by in London. And in any case, as soon as the war started, there would be a multitude of other things they could do, and perhaps would have to do.

When she got back to Arlington Street, it was almost dinner time, and Basil was there. ‘How did you know?’ she demanded.

He kissed her cheek. ‘That’s not much of a greeting.’

‘Hello, Basil. How did you know?’

‘Kit rang Uncle Oliver, and he rang me. Was it meant to be a secret?’

‘Not really, but I wasn’t expecting my shame to be broadcast all over London.’

‘Oh, Charley, there’s no shame to you,’ Basil said, so tenderly that Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. She was used to being teased by Basil, not petted.

‘But you never trusted him,’ she said. ‘I should have listened to you.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. My prejudice was just that – a prejudice. It wasn’t based on anything. And you were in love with him. And he made you happy.’

‘Yes, he did. For a while. I don’t regret that part.’

‘You should never regret anything. It’s a terrible waste of time and energy. Do what you do, then move on to the next thing. Which is?’

‘Everyone keeps asking me that. Something useful, if I can. Is there really going to be a war? Vivian is sure of it. I expect you know more than most, being in the news business.’