overheard conversation in the hallway.
‘That would be Colonel Harding – the chief of all the Luddites. I drive past Newbolt Hall every day to annoy him!’ He chuckled, then ducked back down inside the machine. His muffled voice came floating up to her. ‘No news about your father, then?’
‘He hasn’t come back. That’s why I have to go and look for him.’
But even as she was speaking, she suddenly wondered why. Why hadn’t he come back, why should it be down to her to go looking for him? How dare he bring her here and just leave her! How
dare
he! It was wrong. It was cruel. It was …
selfish
!
She was choked with rage, knocked off balance by it, flooded with guilt too because Papa wasn’t cruel or selfish, of course he wasn’t. He was the kindest, the best man who’d ever lived! But just at that moment she couldn’t quite believe it. It was as if the world had been tipped upside down.
Tears sprang into her eyes. The wind whipped her. The big, grey, empty sky made her want to cower and hide.
‘Why did he leave me?
Why
?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper but Henry must have heard because his head reappeared and he regarded her thoughtfully.
‘Who can say why parents do anything?’ he said at length. ‘Take my mother, for instance. She’s forever trying to marry me off. She won’t let it lie. I’ve told her time and again that it’s too early for all that. I’m only twenty-two and I’ve no intention of getting married until I’m thirty at least. But she won’t have it. Says I need a steadying influence. Can’t imagine why.’ He wiped his hands on the oily rag, put it aside. ‘Hey now! Don’t look so glum! I’m sure your father only wanted to do right by you. He wouldn’t have left you at Clifton if he didn’t think it was for the best. And I don’t suppose he’s gone for good. I daresay he’ll turn up again sooner or later. Which is more than can be said for my pater.
He’s
dead and buried.’ She caught her breath and he glanced up and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, it all happened long ago, I’m over it now.’ But as he closed the bonnet and climbed back into the seat beside her, a faraway look came into his eyes. ‘Funny thing, really. I haven’t thought about it for years. It hits one hard at the time but I’d almost forgotten. Cried my eyes out, I seem to remember. But I was only ten.’
Dorothea looked at him – his plain but affable face, his thin moustache, his deep eyes. He looked so grown up that she couldn’t imagine him aged ten. Had he really cried for his father? Mickey would have died of shame at the very idea. But Henry was not like Mickey. He was not like anyone she had ever met.
‘I wish I could live with you, Henry, instead of at Clifton!’
He smiled. ‘That wouldn’t work at all. I’d drive you up the wall. I do Mother. Me and my fads, as she puts it. She thinks it’s high time I took a more serious view of life. But why would you want to live with me when you’ve an aunt and an uncle and all the comforts of Clifton Park?’
‘Nobody there wants me. They keep me locked in the nursery, I never see anyone. Roderick has gone away and Nanny is horrible and – and—’
‘Well I never! What a life! But it can’t all be bad, surely? As for your nanny, I wouldn’t take too much notice of
her
. It’s her job to be horrid. All nannies are. Mine used to lock me in a cupboard for misbehaving. It didn’t make a better boy, but I’m jolly well terrified of the dark even now!’
Was it true, she wondered? Could someone as brave and wise as Henry
really
be scared of the dark? She watched him rubbing his chin. There must have been a speck of oil on his fingers because when he took his hand away, there was a black smudge on his jaw.
‘I’m sure your aunt and uncle will be wondering where you are. They’ll be worried about you, mark my words!’
‘But I never even see them. And my uncle—he and Papa—they had the most terrible
‘That would be Colonel Harding – the chief of all the Luddites. I drive past Newbolt Hall every day to annoy him!’ He chuckled, then ducked back down inside the machine. His muffled voice came floating up to her. ‘No news about your father, then?’
‘He hasn’t come back. That’s why I have to go and look for him.’
But even as she was speaking, she suddenly wondered why. Why hadn’t he come back, why should it be down to her to go looking for him? How dare he bring her here and just leave her! How
dare
he! It was wrong. It was cruel. It was …
selfish
!
She was choked with rage, knocked off balance by it, flooded with guilt too because Papa wasn’t cruel or selfish, of course he wasn’t. He was the kindest, the best man who’d ever lived! But just at that moment she couldn’t quite believe it. It was as if the world had been tipped upside down.
Tears sprang into her eyes. The wind whipped her. The big, grey, empty sky made her want to cower and hide.
‘Why did he leave me?
Why
?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper but Henry must have heard because his head reappeared and he regarded her thoughtfully.
‘Who can say why parents do anything?’ he said at length. ‘Take my mother, for instance. She’s forever trying to marry me off. She won’t let it lie. I’ve told her time and again that it’s too early for all that. I’m only twenty-two and I’ve no intention of getting married until I’m thirty at least. But she won’t have it. Says I need a steadying influence. Can’t imagine why.’ He wiped his hands on the oily rag, put it aside. ‘Hey now! Don’t look so glum! I’m sure your father only wanted to do right by you. He wouldn’t have left you at Clifton if he didn’t think it was for the best. And I don’t suppose he’s gone for good. I daresay he’ll turn up again sooner or later. Which is more than can be said for my pater.
He’s
dead and buried.’ She caught her breath and he glanced up and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, it all happened long ago, I’m over it now.’ But as he closed the bonnet and climbed back into the seat beside her, a faraway look came into his eyes. ‘Funny thing, really. I haven’t thought about it for years. It hits one hard at the time but I’d almost forgotten. Cried my eyes out, I seem to remember. But I was only ten.’
Dorothea looked at him – his plain but affable face, his thin moustache, his deep eyes. He looked so grown up that she couldn’t imagine him aged ten. Had he really cried for his father? Mickey would have died of shame at the very idea. But Henry was not like Mickey. He was not like anyone she had ever met.
‘I wish I could live with you, Henry, instead of at Clifton!’
He smiled. ‘That wouldn’t work at all. I’d drive you up the wall. I do Mother. Me and my fads, as she puts it. She thinks it’s high time I took a more serious view of life. But why would you want to live with me when you’ve an aunt and an uncle and all the comforts of Clifton Park?’
‘Nobody there wants me. They keep me locked in the nursery, I never see anyone. Roderick has gone away and Nanny is horrible and – and—’
‘Well I never! What a life! But it can’t all be bad, surely? As for your nanny, I wouldn’t take too much notice of
her
. It’s her job to be horrid. All nannies are. Mine used to lock me in a cupboard for misbehaving. It didn’t make a better boy, but I’m jolly well terrified of the dark even now!’
Was it true, she wondered? Could someone as brave and wise as Henry
really
be scared of the dark? She watched him rubbing his chin. There must have been a speck of oil on his fingers because when he took his hand away, there was a black smudge on his jaw.
‘I’m sure your aunt and uncle will be wondering where you are. They’ll be worried about you, mark my words!’
‘But I never even see them. And my uncle—he and Papa—they had the most terrible
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