“Wait.” The request had been unpremeditated, and Janice’s startled expression prompted Gemma to back it up. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but it’s obvious he doesn’t respond well to authority. He’ll just be shouting for his solicitor. Let me go and have a word with him.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s only half-nine. I doubt buskers leave for work very early.”
Janice stared at her, her hand still poised over the phone; then, with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. “On your head be it, then.”
LEWIS DID NOT MEET EDWINA BURNE-JONES that day. After he had finished a breakfast in which the rashers of bacon seemed endless, John had taken him back to the stables and allowed him to help polish the autos. This Lewis had done with reverence, rubbing at the merest smudge on the Bentley until its black paint shone like glass. For the rest of his life he would associate the scent of automobile wax with comfort; for those industrious hours spent with John, listening to his stories and receiving the occasional word of praise, held homesickness at bay as nothing else could.
In the afternoon, John officially introduced him to the horses, showing him how to fill their water troughs and mangers and how to sweep the soiled straw from their stalls, and promising that when Lewis felt a bit morecomfortable, he would teach him how to use the curry comb and brush.
There was no further sign of the elegant William Hammond, and by the time Lewis fell into bed after supper, he had almost forgotten about him.
Sunday, September 3rd, dawned clear and mild. Lewis woke to a chorus of birdsong floating in through his open window. Not liking to think what his mother would have said about his consorting with Methodists, he’d refused John’s invitation to attend chapel, and so found himself at a loose end after breakfast.
Cook, seeing a pair of idle hands, set him to work at the kitchen table peeling carrots and potatoes for Sunday dinner.
It was there, in the warm steaminess of the kitchen at eleven o’clock in the morning, that he heard Prime Minister Chamberlain announce over the wireless that Britain had declared war on Germany.
Cook sat down, fanning herself and clucking with dismay. “Oh, Lord, who’d have thought it, after the last one? All the young men will go—such a terrible waste.” She shook her head. “I lost both my brothers in the Great War. Just boys they were, too young to die in the trenches.”
At the sight of Lewis’s face, she reached out and pressed her damp, red hand against his. “Oh, dearie, I am sorry. You told me you had brothers, didn’t you?”
