Susan Speers by My Cousin Jeremy

have been said.” The glint in her eyes belied her words. “I know what it is to have your future pulled from beneath your feet. I know how to rebuild. I can help you.”
    An attic room? A cat? “I don’t know.”
    “Perhaps you can help me. I need some maps. Painted ones to illustrate a book of fairy stories.”
    I needed soup and tea and bed. The lump in my throat was choking me.
    A maid brought a supper tray bearing a soup tureen and a pot of tea.
    “You see I do know,” Miss Caleph said.
    I exhaled. Perhaps the waiting could be managed.
    *****
     
    Heartache obscured my adjustment to Brenthaven’s pleasant confines, but day by day the school’s calm atmosphere eased my pain. Miss Caleph and I worked together in harmony. She reminded me of dear Miss Prinn and she was sensitive to my misery. I began to look forward to our time together in her study, as I painted maps for her modern versions of fairy tales.
    I didn’t sleep well. Night after night I prowled the attic halls. One night I heard a wisp of sound travel up the far stairway. Was it sobbing? Were there ghosts? I don’t believe in ghosts and decided to follow the sound down the stairs and onto the almost deserted nursery wing.
    I opened a door to one of the little rooms and discovered two little girls huddled together weeping.
    “I didn’t know there were other pupils here,” I said to their frightened faces. “I’m Clarry. I live upstairs.”
    “We shouldn’t be here at all,” said one. I looked closer. Their faces were identical in the moonlight.
    “We’re twins,” the same girl said again. The other hid her face.
    “How old are you?”
    “Eight years old. I am Marcie and this is Darsie.”
    “I’m seventeen. Why are you here? Where is your nurse?”
    “Down the hall, deaf as a post.” Marcie’s scornful voice dismissed her.
    “Mummy promised we could come to her in Paris,” Darsie’s little voice broke. “But she went to Mos-Moscow with Papa instead.”
    “They’re with the Foreign thingummy.” Marcie produced a tearstained letter and they both began to wail again.
    I peered at the much folded paper and made out the words ‘Foreign Office’.
    “Maybe your Mummy didn’t break her promise. I’ve a friend who wants to join the Foreign Office. He says you can’t always choose your direction.”
    “But she promised. She doesn’t truly love us.” Her words produced another wave of noisy grief.
    “Sometimes people who truly love each other are parted against their will.” My own tears threatened.
    “She won’t come back for us?” Darsie faltered.
    “She will come back.” I would write their mother. “People who truly love each other find a way. We’ll bear up until they do.”
    The school cook and their nurse allowed us picnic lunches every day. I chased the twins up and down the orchard paths and taught them to draw with thick stubby crayons on sheets of butcher’s paper. The exercise did not mend our sleep. I visited them at night to read or tell them stories.
    “Once upon a time there was an enchanted lady named Willow…” I began.
    “The Ledbetter girls.” Miss Quirke’s lips pursed. “I understand you’ve helped them.” She passed a thin slip of paper across her desk. “I know nothing about this, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    Her nod of approval warmed a little of the frost from my heart.
    By month’s end, Evadne Ledbetter returned from Moscow, but I’d heard nothing from Jeremy. Wary of a paper calendar, each day I embroidered a flower on a fantastical garden canvas. One day it would belong to Jeremy, just as I.
    *****
     
    The new term began and Daisy arrived.
    “Did you miss me, Clarry?”
    I hadn’t given her a thought.
    “Never mind,” she said. “I know who you pine for.”
    I couldn’t speak.
    “There’s been no word of him or from him,” Daisy said. “I can tell you that much.”
    She looked at me and her eyes softened. “I’m sorry about what happened.” I had never known her