contact unless to say she was going to ‘start behaving properly’; but her mother had written secret letters, regularly if not warmly, her most recent hinting at a trip to London to see for herself ‘the fancy house and the grand lady you write about so often’. But it was too late for all that now. Her mother would never meet Lady Gwendolyn or step inside number 7 Campden Grove or see the great success Dolly had made of her life.
As for poor Cuthbert—Dolly could hardly bear to think of him. She remembered his last letter, too, every word of it: the way he’d described in tremendous detail the Andersen shelter they were building in the back garden, the pictures of Spitfires and Hurricanes he’d collected to decorate inside, what he was planning to do with the German pilots he captured. He’d been so proud and deluded, so excited about the part he was going to play in the war, so plump and ungainly, such a happy little baby, and now he was gone. And the sadness Dolly felt, the loneliness at knowing herself to be an orphan now, was so immense she saw nothing for it but to dedicate herself to the work she was doing for Lady Gwendolyn and say no more about it.
Until one day the old woman was ranting about the lovely voice she’d had when she was a girl, and Dolly had thought of her mother, and the blue box she’d kept hidden in the garage beneath Father’s tyre pump, filled with dreams and memories that were now nothing more than rubble, and she’d burst into tears, right there on the end of the old lady’s bed, nail file in hand.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Lady Gwendolyn had said, small mouth falling open to register the same amount of shock she might have felt if Dolly had taken off her clothes and started dancing round the room.
Caught in a rare unguarded moment, Dolly had told Lady Gwendolyn everything. Her mother and father and Cuthbert, what they were like, the sorts of things they’d said, the times they’d driven her mad, the way her mother used to try and brush her hair smooth and Dolly had resisted, the trips to the seaside, the cricket and the donkey. Finally, Dolly had recounted the way she’d flounced out of home when she left, barely stopping when her mother called to her—Janice Smitham who’d sooner have gone without food than raise her voice in earshot of the neighbours—and ran out wielding the book she’d bought for Dolly as a going-away present.
‘Harrumph,’ Lady Gwendolyn had said, when Dolly finished speaking. ‘It hurts, of course, but you’re not the first to lose your family.’
‘I know.’ Dolly drew in a deep breath. The room seemed to echo with the sound of her own voice of moments before, and she wondered if she was about to be let go. Lady Gwendolyn did not like outbursts (unless they were her own).
‘When Henny-Penny was taken from me I thought I’d die.’
Dolly nodded, still waiting for the axe to fall.
‘You’re young, though; you’ll make a go of it. Just look at her across the road.’
It was true, Vivien’s life had turned up roses in the end, but there were a few marked differences between them. ‘She had a wealthy uncle who took her in,’ said Dolly quietly. ‘She’s an heiress, married to a famous writer. And I’m …’ She bit her bottom lip, anxious not to start crying again. ‘I’m …’
‘Well you’re not entirely alone, are you, silly girl?’
Lady Gwendolyn had held out her bag of sweets then and for the first time ever offered one to Dolly. It had taken a moment to realise what the old woman was suggesting, but when she did, Dolly had reached tentatively inside the bag to withdraw a red and green gob- stopper. She’d held it in her hand, fingers closed around it, aware that it was melting against her warm palm. Dolly had managed a solemn whisper: ‘I have you.’
Lady Gwendolyn had sniffed and looked away. ‘We have each other, I suppose,’ she’d said, in a voice made fluty by un-expected emotion.
Dolly reached her bedroom and added the newest copy of The Lady to the pile of others. Later, she’d take a closer look and pull out the best pictures to glue inside her Book of Ideas, but right now she had more important things to take care of.
She hopped down on all-fours and dug about beneath her bed for