Kissed a Sad Goodbye полностью

Reg shook his head. “No. Didn’t they tell Jo?”

Teresa hesitated. This must be horribly difficult for him, she knew, but surely he’d thought of nothing else, and perhaps she could set his mind at rest. “Only that they didn’t believe she’d been … you know … assaulted.”

“And that’s supposed to make it more acceptable?” His tone was bitter. “Along the lines of ‘she led a full life’?” Seeming to sense her shock, he turned towards her, shrugging in a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry. I know that sounds horrible, but just now … nothing seems any consolation. She’s gone and—” He turned away for a moment, then spun round and came back to the sofa. Sitting on its edge so that he could see her face, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t mind me. I’m just feeling bloody.” He smiled and released her hand. “I went to see William this morning.”

With horror Teresa realized she’d not even thought of William, had not thought of anyone’s grief other than her own, until Reg had appeared at her door. “How was he?”

“Shocked. We talked a little.”

“About Annabelle?”

Reg turned her empty mug carefully on its coaster. “And the business. He’s asked me to look after things for a bit. But I can’t manage without your help. Things are going to be difficult enough as it is.”

A jolt of alarm shot through her and she sat upright. “You didn’t tell him what we meant to propose to Sir Peter?”

“Of course not. But we’ll not be able to keep Hammond’s out of the red for much longer without taking some sort of action—”

The phone rang, startling them both. Teresa stared at it as if a serpent had appeared without warning on her coffee table.

“Hadn’t you better answer?” said Reg.

She lifted the phone slowly and pushed the talk button. “Hullo?”

She listened for a moment, then said, “Yes. Right. Half an hour.” She clicked off and looked at Reg. “It was the police. They want me to meet them at Hammond’s.”

LEWIS AND THE THREE OTHER REMAINING children sat on the cold lino in the hall of the village’s Women’s Institute. The two girls were thin and plain and wore spectacles, and fat Bob Thomkins had blubbed so much that his face had come out all splotches.

The adults had come in one or two at a time, walking among the children as if choosing from damaged groceries. They’d taken the smallest and prettiest children first, often separating siblings who had pleaded to stay together. A kind-looking lady in a flowered dress had chosen Simon Goss, shaking her head regretfully when the little boy had clung to Lewis’s hand and cried. So sorry, she’d said, she could only take the one, and she’d a son the same age as Simon.

Lewis had known hunger often enough, and grief, when his baby sister, Annie, had died of the smallpox—but he had never in his ten years felt unwanted. The only thing that gave him a small bit of consolation was that no one wanted the teachers, either, and Miss Jenkins and Miss Purdy looked as forlorn as he felt.

A gas lamp flared as the billeting officer lit it, sendinglong shadows jumping across the walls and floor. A few scarred wooden chairs had been pushed into a circle near the door, and there the officer and the two teachers conferred in low voices. Lewis thought he heard the words “last resort” as they flicked worried glances at the remaining children.