– well – loud. Anyway, my mother had a title. In Russia in the Czar’s days, the daughter of a count was entitled to call herself a countess and Grandmother Clementina seized on it like it was the answer to all her dreams. A real countess at Pendenys Place! Uncle Igor thought it was pathetic.’
‘And what else did he tell you?’ Daisy was intrigued.
‘I’ll tell you – one day. Right now, I’m enjoying being home – when I can keep out of the Petrovska’s way, that is. I wish she’d take herself back to London and look after Uncle Igor at Cheyne Walk, but I think she’s still scared of the bombing. I notice Uncle Igor isn’t falling over himself to persuade her back. I think he’s quite contented on his own. He lives in the basement kitchen now. The rest of the house is closed up except for what was once the servants’ sitting room, next to the kitchen. That’s where he sleeps.’
‘I wonder why Mrs Clementina ever bought a house in London,’ Daisy frowned. ‘She hardly ever used it.’
‘A whim. That’s all it was. Did you know,’ Tatiana giggled, ‘that when the Petrovska and Mother and Uncle Igor first went to live there – when they had to get out of Russia because the Communists took over – Grandmother Clementina complained bitterly that Eastern European refugees had taken over the property next door, and the value of her own house would go down.’
‘I bet she soon changed her mind about her next-door neighbours when she found they had titles! Is Cheyne Walk as nice as Aunt Julia’s little house in Montpelier Mews?’
‘No. The Cheyne Walk house is much, much bigger and not half so cute. I love being at Montpelier with Sparrow. She’s a darling. We might even have Kitty living with us if she gets sent down to London to work.’
‘You won’t get yourself upset though – Kitty going on and on about Drew, and you – well …’
‘Loveless, and wanting Tim? No. That part of my life – and it wasn’t much more than three months, remember – is most times locked up inside me. I only let it out when I feel very brave, but one day I’ll be able to think of him without hating the world, I suppose. Sparrow says I will.’
‘Mm.’ When Tatiana talked about Tim, Daisy felt guilty because Keth was safe in Washington and it made her want to hug her friend and tell her she understood, but there was still a coldness around Tatiana that warned everyone away.
‘Well, that’s life, as they say.’ Tatiana’s attempt at a smile failed dismally. ‘And here we are at the crossroads so do we go to Denniston or your place?’
‘Whichever you want.’ Daisy would rather not go to Denniston House because Countess Petrovska always looked at her in a very peculiar way. As if, almost, the daughter of a gamekeeper had no right to be best friends with the daughter of a countess. And that was very stupid of her, Daisy thought hotly, when that gamekeeper’s daughter was rich enough to buy the entire Rowangarth estate and Denniston House too, had she wanted to.
But she tried not to think about the money because it must not be allowed to come between her and Keth. Hardly anyone knew about it; only her parents, Aunt Julia and Drew and Keth – not even Keth’s mother knew. Money left to her by an eccentric old bachelor when once they lived in the New Forest. Money that never seemed quite real because she had only got it legally on her coming-of-age last June, and now there was nothing to spend it on because the shops were empty and Wrens were not given clothing coupons, so she couldn’t go raving mad and buy a fur coat – just for devilment, of course!
‘Hey!’ Tatiana was snapping her fingers in front of her nose and Daisy blinked and smiled guiltily. ‘You were miles away in a trance!’
‘No. In Washington,’ Daisy said without so much as a blush. ‘So where are we going then?’
‘Your place,’ said Tatiana promptly. She liked Daisy’s parents and she loved the cosy kitchen and always being made to feel wanted. ‘And you never showed me what Keth gave you for your twenty-first. A case full of make-up, you lucky dog! Are you sure you won’t use it till your honeymoon?’
‘Absolutely sure. I keep it in the pantry where it’s cool so none of the pots of cream will go off. It would be awful if they did.’
‘They’ll be all right, but shall we just have a gloat over them and maybe a sniff? It’ll be positively sinful to see so much make-up all at once. It’s ages since I got even a pot of cold cream. I suppose that now Keth’s been sent back to America he’ll be sending you silk stockings and all sorts of things.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a few pairs of stockings, for going out in, I suppose, but such a lot of parcels get torpedoed these days, crossing the Atlantic. Mind, the last one Kitty’s mother sent from Kentucky got through, and would you believe it, she had sent glace cherries? Tilda was speechless – well, she hasn’t been able to make cherry scones for ages, there being no cherries in the shops. I shouldn’t wonder if she didn’t bake some for Drew, when he was on leave.’
‘They were lovely days, weren’t they?’ Tatiana sighed. ‘When we were all young, I mean, and Bas and Kitty came over on one of the liners and the Clan was together. Will we be together again, do you think?’
‘Yes, we will. There are five of us here already. Whoever would have thought Bas and Kitty would make it to England with a war on, an’ all? And Aunt Julia says she feels it inside her that Keth will get home too. She’s getting as bad as Jinny Dobb, but oh, if only he could come back …’
They had climbed the far fence of Brattocks Wood and were standing beneath the elm trees where the rooks nested. Daisy looked up at the big black birds that circled overhead.
‘Have you ever told it to the rooks, Tatty?’
‘Told what to the rooks?’
‘Oh – things. Special things like secrets and wishes and fears – anything, I suppose. They always keep secrets and sometimes I think it helps to tell them your worries.’
‘Isn’t that a bit pagan?’
‘No. Country people often do it. Some people tell things to the bees, but Mam and I tell it to the rooks.’
‘Your mother does it?’
‘Yes. Always. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Aunt Julia doesn’t have the odd word with them from time to time, even though she’s the wife of a vicar!’
‘But how do you do it?’ Tatiana wasn’t at all sure that Grandmother Petrovska would approve of such things, her being devoutly Russian Orthodox still, and always crossing herself and praying to her icon.
‘Well, you lean your back against the tree – any tree where rooks nest, then you put your arms behind you, palms touching the tree and you close your eyes and you do it.’
‘But what if someone saw you, or heard you?’
‘Oh, they’d have you branded a witch and it would be the ducking stool for you!’ Daisy gave a shout of laughter. ‘You don’t actually say things out loud. You think them and your thoughts go up to the rooks.’
‘And it works?’
‘I’m not sure – but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’
‘And could I talk to Tim?’
‘No. You’d need a medium for that, and only Jinny Dobb was any good at it.’
‘And Jin’s dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘The same night as Tim died. When his bomber crashed.’
Daisy nodded her head. She didn’t want Tatty to talk about that night.
‘It’ll soon be a year since he died, Daisy.’
‘I know, love. But Reuben died that night too, and your Grandfather Sutton and Mrs Shaw and Jinny.’
‘And all Tim’s crew!’