The Postcard Read Free Page B

hospital and quite strict. Marthe was so excited when she visited. It was Aunt Kitty’s father, the Reverend Mr Farrell, who’d rescued her family and given them
a home in the war. She would bring news of Marthe’s family. Marthe’s sisters and parents were back in Belgium in a town called Bruges, where they were teachers, but one of her brothers
had gone to Canada. Callie couldn’t bear to think that one day Marthe might leave and join them, especially not just before her birthday . . . Would that old man in the hall really bring her
a present too? She reached out for her little toy cat, Smoky, shut her eyes tight and hummed her favourite Belgian lullaby: ‘
Slaap, kindje, slaap. Daar buiten loopt een schaap .
.
.’

2
    Phoebe Faye stared out of the carriage window as the view changed from the tunnels and smoke-filled dark recesses of Buchanan Station, to sandstone tenements and the great
shipyard cranes of the Clyde, onwards north to the leafy suburban gardens of Bearsden and Milngavie, then out onto the moors and the rise of the Campsie fells. She never tired of the last part of
her journey, knowing Nan, Effie and Marthe would have a warm welcome for her. Tam would be waiting at the station and she had a surprise for him. She’d ordered a new automobile from a garage
in Glasgow to be delivered tomorrow, one that he could soon learn to drive and would store in the stables.
    Leaving London, with all its glamour and busyness, was never easy, but now there was a telephone at Dalradnor Lodge she could be in touch for any new auditions. The Season was always quiet with
everyone out of town for the shooting and school holidays, but the Scottish school year had different terms from the English, with breaks in September, so she would make the most of her visit and
relieve the household of their duties towards Caroline. Picnics, outings, treats – she would spoil her for a few days. It was her birthday, after all. It was months since Phoebe’s
Easter visit and she wondered if the child had grown and if the clothes she’d bought her would fit. She’d meant to come earlier but the play had had a decent run for once, then
she’d stayed to audition for a new film, though that had come to nothing.
    Watching through the train window as the hills became steeper and the landscape more rugged, Phoebe felt the return of the excitement, anxiety and not a little guilt that always tinged her
coming back to Dalradnor. She recalled that very first visit, when she was still reeling from Arthur’s death and the reading of the will that had left her this house. The long journey north
with Marthe and the baby had felt like an exile. Yet when she opened the large wrought-iron gates and saw the fine house in the starlight she just knew she’d found a refuge. The lamps were
lit and the door flung open.
    The housekeeper gathered them in with surprise. ‘We were awful scunnered to hear of the master’s death. So who do we have here?’ She peered at the baby swaddled in thick
blankets, her face peeping out from the covers. ‘I wasnae prepared for a bairn.’
    Then came the big lie. ‘This is my niece, Caroline. Her parents are dead in an accident. I am her sole relative now. And this is her nursemaid,’ she added, pointing to Marthe.
    Now she had been living this lie for years but it still didn’t sit easy. What the child didn’t know wouldn’t harm her. Better this than to be labelled a bastard. The deception
had given Phoebe the chance to continue her war work. It was a drastic solution but what else could she do to protect them both?
    This was Caroline’s home and the decision to leave the girl here with Marthe had not been straightforward or easy to make, but it did have much to recommend it. The house stood in open
grounds with magnificent views. The village was only half a mile down the road. They had a tennis court and a paradise of grounds for a child to roam in safety. There was clean fresh air.
    The first