Rosie Read online

  The short coppery urchin cut was a little avant-garde in a period where most young girls favoured permed, blonde locks, and it gave her a delightful pixie image. Her apple-green costume with its flared mid-calf skirt and fitted jacket flattered her slim figure, while the bright colour enhanced her pink and white complexion. It was clearly a cheap outfit, perhaps bought in a street market, but on her it looked chic, not tawdry.

  Adding all she had observed today to what she already knew about her, Norah felt Rosemary was something of an enigma. Basically a little country girl with her soft Somerset burr, her love of flowers, patience and gentleness, yet there was a steelier side too. Although unfailingly polite, she wasn’t servile. She liked challenges, she was also very adaptable. Norah knew by the awed expression on the girl’s face this morning that she had never before set foot anywhere as smart as this apartment. She was probably unaccustomed too to meeting people of a different social class, but yet it barely showed as she pitched in with the children, offered to make tea, and quietly fitted in with the family as if she were part of it.

  It had been gratitude which had made Norah and Frank ask Rosemary to join them today. Before her arrival at Carrington Hall Donald had often been fearful, sullen and withdrawn when they visited. Now thanks to her interest in him, he was almost the way he had been as a little boy, sunny, engaging and loving. In truth she felt they owed Rosemary far more than a ringside seat for the Coronation.

  Matron hadn’t liked it one bit when they informed her of their plans for today. Just as she’d always claimed Donald put on his bad moods purely to upset them, she insisted a day out with them would set him back even further. She was even less pleased when asked if Rosemary Smith could join them too, and had suggested she wasn’t a girl to be trusted. But Norah didn’t believe that for a minute and she could be very insistent, especially when she had a long-term plan in mind.

  Today wasn’t just a day out for Donald. It was intended as a test to see if he was stable enough to bring home for good. Through Rosemary and their secret telephone conversations, both Norah and Frank were convinced the girl was right in saying Donald was no danger to anyone, providing he had a little supervision. Just looking at him now, seeing his happiness at being surrounded by his family, confirmed they had made a grave mistake in allowing outsiders to influence them into sending him away.

  Norah’s thoughts about her youngest son were interrupted by her discovering that the baby had wet her dress. ‘I think Robin has been affected by the subject of lavatories,’ she laughed, getting up with the baby in her arms. ‘I’ll go and change him and then make some tea and sandwiches, before the crowning,’ she said.

  ‘Let me do it,’ Rosie said, holding out her arms for the fat, smiling baby.

  ‘Do you know how to?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Rosie grinned. ‘I used to change my little–’ she stopped, suddenly aware she was about to say ‘brother’ ‘- cousin, all the time,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Is that okay with you, Alicia?’ Norah asked. She didn’t like to take liberties with her daughter-in-law; she could be very possessive about her children.

  Alicia nodded and smiled warmly at Rosie. She might have only met this girl for the first time a couple of hours ago, but she understood exactly why her in-laws thought so highly of her. She was a natural mother, and both Clara and Nicholas had taken to her immediately. ‘If you really want to,’ she said. ‘All his things are in the bathroom. I’ll help Mum with the sandwiches.’

  As Rosie disappeared out of the door with the baby in her arms, Michael got out of his seat. ‘Suppose I take the kids and Donald for a quick walk around the park?’ he suggested to his mother. ‘It’s going to be at least half an hour before they get to the crowning ceremony and they’re getting a bit restless.’

  Norah hesitated. She was all for the idea of Clara and Nicholas going out for a while, but she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to take Donald too. He hadn’t been out on a street for years and the huge crowds and the noise might make him nervous. She looked to her husband to make the decision but he was talking to Susan and didn’t appear to have heard what Michael suggested. To her consternation, Donald had heard though and he jumped up, grinning broadly.

  Norah looked from Donald back to her older son. She wished Michael had consulted her out of Donald’s hearing. She was afraid he might fly into a tantrum if she refused to let him go. Clara touched her arm. ‘Don’t worry, Granny,’ she said. ‘We’ll look after Uncle Donald. I’ll hold his hand very tightly.’

  Norah sighed. Nicholas and Clara were already holding each of Donald’s hands, and with Michael insisting too she felt powerless. Michael and Donald were so alike physically and there had always been a very strong bond between them as Michael had looked after Donald a great deal as a boy. She knew too that Michael felt guilty that he didn’t see his younger brother very often now that he had a family of his own. He wanted time alone with him.

  ‘Very well,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘Just be careful.’

  It was some ten minutes later that Frank came out into the kitchen where the women were making sandwiches. ‘Where is everyone?’ he asked, sitting down at the central table and picking at some sliced ham.

  The apartment was large, with two bedrooms, a dining-room and a big family-sized kitchen aside from the huge drawing-room. It had such thick interior walls it was quite possible for the children to be playing in one room without being heard.

  ‘Rosemary’s changing Robin, and the others have gone out,’ Norah said as she carried on buttering bread.

  Frank looked up at her. ‘Not Donald too?’

  Norah hastily explained.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Frank said in alarm, moving his seat back with such force that it fell over with a clatter. ‘Whatever were you thinking of, woman? It’s like a circus out there. Donald can’t cross a road on his own, let alone cope with all those people.’

  Norah looked at her husband with some indignation. Like Michael he was kind-hearted, but he was a big man with a big voice and he tended to forget when he reared up that he made people nervous.

  ‘It was all talked about while you and Susan were in the room,’ Norah retorted. ‘So why didn’t you say something then instead of snarling at me now?’

  Frank shot her a withering look as he made for the door. ‘I didn’t hear you. And I sometimes wonder if anyone in this family has a brain. I’d better go and find them and bring Donald back.’

  Along the passage, Rosie was oblivious to what was going on. Robin was lying on a towel on the bathroom floor waving his chubby legs in the air; she was kneeling beside him washing his bottom. She thought that next to Alan he was the nicest baby she’d ever known.

  She lingered over the task, tickling him to make him laugh, playing ‘this little piggy’ with his toes, and wishing that she had a job looking after babies rather than minding mentally deficient adults.

  Miss Pemberton had urged her not to be too hasty in changing her job and she’d dismissed Rosie’s ideas that something bad was going on up on the second floor. She pointed out that many people who worked in mental institutions were a little odd, but that didn’t mean they were cruel. Her view was that Rosie should give the job a full year, and look around London properly before deciding what to do next.

  Yet it wasn’t Miss Pemberton’s opinion, as much as she valued it, that stopped Rosie from leaving Carrington Hall.

  It was Donald.

  He had crept into her affections without her really noticing, and each time she thought of moving on she found herself thinking of what it would do to him to suddenly find himself without his special friend. The other girls teased her, saying he sat in the corner and hardly spoke when it was her day off. So how could she leave when he depended on her so much?

  On days when Carrington Hall got her down she mentally listed all the things in her life that were good: she had friends, her bust had finally grown enough for her to wear a bra, even if she did have to make it a
padded one so she could wear fashionable tight sweaters, without looking like Olive Oyl; she’d even grown an inch to a respectable five-foot-four; at dances with Linda and Mary she found she could chat to boys easily, though she hadn’t yet met anyone she liked enough to make a date with; and she knew her way round many parts of London, and once the weather got better she intended to explore further afield.

  Then there was Thomas. She’d met him twice for supper in Finchley since Easter and it felt so good to be with someone she didn’t need to hide things from.

  Alan’s adoption was in hand and would almost certainly be finalized this summer, but they didn’t speak of that much. They hadn’t spoken of Cole or Heather again either. It was almost as if by unspoken agreement they’d moved up a floor, leaving down below all those things which had hurt them both.

  Their conversations were all about what was happening in the world now, of films, books and music. Thomas was good for her, he challenged things she said, made her think for herself rather than repeating things she had been told. He said she was good for him too because she reminded him he was still a young man, made him laugh and even made him forget he had only one leg.

  Donald was also on that list of good things. Right at the top. He was her undemanding friend, willing pupil, sometimes her child. Because of him she could bear Matron’s spite and prying, she could close her ears to the noises from upstairs, Maureen’s dirty habits and the claustrophobia of being shut in all day when the sun was shining outside. He might be simple, but he filled a deep need inside her. To see his bright smile when she walked into the dormitory in the mornings lifted her spirits and it was so fulfilling to teach him little things. It was her hope that his parents would take him home as this was the only way she could leave Carrington Hall happily.

  ‘Up you come,’ she said to Robin, lifting the clean dry baby up into her arms and kissing him. ‘Let’s go and see what your brother and sister are up to.’

  As Rosie walked back down the passage towards the drawing-room she heard Mrs Cook’s voice ring out from the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, where are they, Susan? I shouldn’t have let them go, and now Frank’s out there too. What if Michael leaves the children to run off after Donald?’

  Rosie felt a stab of anxiety. Mrs Cook sounded upset. She stopped short at the kitchen door. Mrs Cook, Susan and Alicia were in there in a huddle; all three looked towards her and their faces were strained. ‘What’s wrong?’ Rosie asked. ‘Has something happened to Donald?’

  Mrs Cook explained. ‘Then Frank went out to look for them,’ she added. ‘Now Roger has gone too. Do you think Donald might run off?’

  ‘He wouldn’t intentionally,’ Rosie said, but her heart plummeted. She couldn’t believe a sensible adult like Michael would be so irresponsible as to suggest taking him out. It didn’t bear thinking about what might happen if someone frightened Donald, or they just got separated in the crowd. He had been locked away for nine years, deprived of any chance to think for himself and she doubted he had any sense of direction. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone where his parents were, and if he was really upset she didn’t think he’d even manage his full name. ‘I’ll go out and look around too.’

  ‘You might get lost as well,’ Alicia said and started to cry.

  Rosie realized Alicia was frantic that her two children might at this moment be all alone somewhere and she hastened to reassure her. ‘Michael would stay with Clara and Nicholas whatever happened,’ she said more calmly than she felt. ‘He’s bound to bring them back here first, even if he’s lost Donald.’ She passed the gurgling Robin back to his mother and turned away towards the front door, picking up her raincoat as she went.

  ‘Be careful, Rosemary,’ Mrs Cook called out, her voice squeaky with fright.

  It was raining heavily now and it took Rosie some time to fight her way through the crowd, the sea of umbrellas and the barriers to cross the road. She had just got inside the gate of Green Park when she caught a glimpse of Michael’s head through a gap in the crowd. He was some twenty yards from her and there were too many people surrounding him to tell who he was with.

  Rosie elbowed her way through the throng. It was difficult because she was going the opposite way to them. From time to time she had to jump to see over people’s shoulders to check she wasn’t going right past Michael.

  ‘Michael,’ she yelled and wriggled round the last few people separating them. Clara and Nicholas were with him, but not Donald. Both children looked frightened. ‘What happened?’ she asked as she got nearer.

  ‘Some mounted police came by and Donald just took fright,’ he said shrugging his shoulders. ‘I tried to follow him, but I couldn’t with these two. You can’t see anything through the crowds. Heaven only knows where he is now.’

  ‘Take the children back to Alicia,’ Rosie said without thinking how presumptuous it was for her to give orders to a grown man. ‘I’ll carry on looking. Which way did he go?’

  ‘I didn’t see, he just disappeared, but it was about halfway towards the Mall when he bolted.’

  Rosie didn’t stop to say anything more and shot off down through the park. She jumped up on each bench she came to to survey the crowd, looking for that familiar blond head. But she couldn’t see it.

  Her pulse began to race. She tried to picture what he might do once he found himself alone and that made her even more scared. He might just grab hold of someone he liked the look of and give them one of his frightening bear hugs, and who knew what that might lead to! On the other hand if he was really scared he might just stand and cry. Most adults would approach a crying child to ask what was wrong, but a grown man was a different proposition. People fought shy of the mentally handicapped and today of all days, when they were intent on finding a position to see the procession, they certainly wouldn’t want any hindrances.

  All she could do was keep on looking, she wished she was taller so she could see over people’s heads. Umbrellas and the rain obscured so much. Stupidly, she hadn’t even thought to ask if Donald had put on a raincoat, or what colour it was.

  As she got to the other side of the park near the Mall, the crowd was even more dense than it had been in Piccadilly. It was impossible to see anything other than the people closest to her. Worse still, she was being swept along by them, trapped on all sides. Realizing this might be happening to Donald too she knew she must find something to climb on to so that she could survey the crowd.

  Once out on to the Mall Rosie clawed her way against the flow of people back to where she could see a high wall. Dozens of people had already taken up every available inch on it as it was one of the best vantage points. Taking her courage in both hands she reached up and wiggled one man’s shoe. He looked down at her in surprise.

  ‘Can you help me get up there for just a minute,’ she shouted. ‘I’ve lost someone and it’s about the only place I might be able to spot them from.’

  She felt she’d approached a decent sort. He was a tough-looking working man in a cloth cap, not so different from the men around Catcott. Besides he had a warm smile.

  ‘You can sit on me lap if you like,’ he laughed down at her. ‘Give us yer ‘and, I’ll ‘aul you up. I’m not giving up me space, not even for a pretty little thing like you.’

  Rosie held up her two hands and he grabbed them, dragging her up; his friend beside him caught her round the waist and suddenly she was up between them.

  ‘Who you lost?’ the first man asked. ‘Your boyfriend or your ma?’

  ‘Neither,’ Rosie said, struggling to her feet between the two men. His cockney accent reminded her of Heather. ‘I’ve lost a patient from the home where I work. He’s about six-foot tall, twenty-four, with blond hair. He’s never been in London before and he’s a bit simple.’

  The view over the Mall was astounding, she had never seen so many people in her entire life. It was like seeing the Christmas Market at Midsomer Norton a hundred times over, and the crowds were so closely packed it was impossible to make out an
ything about anyone. She realized she was looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

  The word was passed along the wall that she had lost someone, and suddenly a pair of binoculars was passed to her.

  Rosie scanned the crowd again and again. She could see detail now with the binoculars, a small girl on her father’s shoulders, hats of all colours, redheads, brunettes and blondes, but no Donald.

  She sighed deeply and passed back the binoculars. ‘Thanks anyway. I suppose I’ll just have to go to the police.’

  ‘If we see anyone who looks like ‘im, we’ll ‘old on to ‘im for yer,’ the man said. ‘What’s ‘is name?’

  ‘Donald Cook,’ she said. ‘Tell him to wait for Smith, will you?’

  She was just going to ask to be helped down again, when she looked to her right and Buckingham Palace. In a flash of intuition she knew Donald would make for it if he’d come down this far. She’d shown him some pictures of it just a couple of days ago and he would almost certainly recognize it.

  The men lowered her down again and she set off towards the palace. The crowds were virtually impenetrable the closer she got. It seemed the whole of England was determined to see the crowned Queen come on to the palace balcony later to wave and everyone was jealously guarding the tiny space they’d managed to find for themselves. But pure terror made her strong enough to push her way through. She had to find Donald soon. A gut feeling told her wherever he was he was badly frightened and although Donald wasn’t ever violent, he just might turn that way if he felt threatened.

  Miraculously as she got to the end of the Mall where the road swept round on both sides of a big statue, she saw a slight thinning of the crowd. She darted into the space and elbowed her way right down to the barrier holding the crowd back from the road.

  ‘Oi, this is my space,’ a woman sitting on a camp stool said indignantly. ‘I’ve bin ‘ere all night keeping it. You ain’t barging in now and spoiling my view.’