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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

A selection of letters: September

Dear Susan,

 Mummy has found a house for us. It has lots of rooms. School is nice.

Love from Bridget

Dear Susan and Titty,

I’ve found a house for us, for a year at least. Supposedly, it is furnished and I did wonder if we would have room for our things, but it is one of the least furnished fully furnished houses I have ever seen. What is does have is lots of rooms. At the moment Polly has a nice big room to himself. It has no carpet and no furniture, so he can’t really do much damage and it keeps him away from Sinbad. Polly and Sinbad are not getting on all that well, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to say that Sinbad started it by attempting to pounce on Polly. Since then Polly retreats to his cage whenever he sees Sinbad and has nearly given Sinbad a couple of pecks when he sticks his paw through the bars. Polly started moulting feathers fast than usual and I was quite concerned about him but he has lost no more since he had a room to himself. Bridget goes up and talks to him twice a day. I sometimes go up there with mending or a book to keep him company, while Bridget is at school. She goes every morning now and will go for full days after half term.

 The house has six bedrooms, although the three upstairs don’t actually have furniture in at all. The first floor has three bedrooms and the bathroom. Hardly any of the floors are level, quite a few of the walls have cracks in and as your father says, it is definitely a house to rent not buy. I imagine it was built about forty years ago and not on one of the builder’s best days.  We will have beds for you all by half term! Are you still happy to share a room? The house isn’t actually in Shotley, but in a very small village called Kirby Green just outside Shotley. Your father tells me it’s a hamlet because it has no church.

Much love,

Mother (and Daddy)

PS. Feathers enclosed. Do Nancy and Peggy still want them?

Dear Nancy and Peggy,

I know you’ve only just arrived, but I’m writing to tell you to expect a visit from your Great Aunt. She is intending to visit you and take you out for tea on Saturday. She writes that the train-timetable won’t allow her to take you out for lunch as well and she will be on her way here, so it will only be for a couple of hours. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about best behaviour.

I’m glad you like your new form-mistress, Nancy. If she’s new you won’t rag her, will you? Who have you got for your form-mistress this year, Peggy? You didn’t say.

Be good, both of you!

With lots of love to you both,

Mother

Dear Titty,

Three cheers for Polly! (Although I’m sorry he’s having a hard time with Sinbad). A room to himself to fly around in must be wonderful for him. Uncle Jim couldn’t really trust him not to peck at things or drop them over the side in the houseboat. Polly’s having a much better time with you. Thank-you for writing, and for sending the feathers on so quickly. It was very kind of your mother to remember about them. I’m glad Bridget likes school. Don’t worry too much about the lacrosse. Everyone finds it difficult at first. If you caught the ball even once in your first lesson you’re doing rather well, from that distance anyway.  The great-aunt is coming to take us out to tea tomorrow on her way to Beckfoot. We’ll have to keep her sweet because mother will have a whole fortnight of her.

Chin up Able-seaman, you’re a Swallow. You crossed the North Sea in a howling gale, got the others safely out of that tunnel, discovered the North-west passage, fought a fire and discovered a well. You did all that just this summer, so a little thing like a new school isn’t really going to be a problem for long. By Christmas you’ll have loads of friends and be wondering what you were worried about.  

Swallows and Amazons for ever!

Love, Nancy

Dear Susan,

         How is your term going so far? Ours is pretty much the same as usual, except that the Great-Aunt has been to visit us and take us out to tea. We had to be on our very best behaviour because she was following it up with a whole fortnight with Mother. I expect she’ll complain like mad about the wallpaper, so I don’t want to give her anything else to complain about. The GA asked to be shown around school and then asked to speak to our form-mistresses. Peggy’s was on her afternoon off. Lucky her!

The real reason I’m writing to Titty and you separately is that I wanted to apologise for going off surveying the last morning without telling you. I didn’t want to tell John, in case we couldn’t do it for some reason, because that would mean we would have been letting him down again. I could easily have left a note for you or even told you the night before, but I was such a galoot I just didn’t think of it at all. In fact I didn’t think of it until I was on the train coming to school. My fault entirely. I’m sorry if there was a row about the paint and Bridget’s dress, too.

Love, Nancy

Dear Captain Flint,

I’ve got some good news and some bad news.

The good news is that Gibber is a father! The Zoo sent us a picture of Gibber and his family. The baby monkey is a girl.

The bad news is that they want Gibber to stay in the zoo to live permanently. In his sort of monkey apparently the mother and the father help to look after the baby. Mother and Father say it would be unfair to say he had to come back and live with us. I expect Mother is thinking of how Mrs Gibber would feel.

I’m really glad you gave me Gibber, and I don’t want you to think I’m being beastly giving away your present to the zoo, but I can see that this is the best thing for Gibber and his family.

Yours sincely   sincerely

Roger

Dear John,

I hope your term is going well.

I owe you an apology for messing up the survey and not mapping Peewit Land. I didn’t realise we would be going so early of course, but I ought to have seen how important getting the survey finished was to you and somehow I didn’t, not really, until it was nearly too late. I let you down, I shouldn’t have done and I’m sorry.

It’s still not rained since the beginning of term here and the grass pitches are still very hard, which if fine for us, but I imagine not much good for Rugby.

 I’ve struck fairly lucky in the matter of form-mistresses. She is new to the school – and I suspect it’s her first post. She’s reasonably jolly, although I’ve occasionally seen her looking at me suspiciously since the Great-Aunt visited yesterday. Actually, I will have to put my nose to the grind-stone this year so she has no need to be worry, but I can’t tell her that. I suppose you’re getting that as well. I mean them jawing on about the importance of school cert., not the GA.

Anyway, if I don’t get this into the post basket in the next ten minutes it won’t go in the post tomorrow morning. The postman turns up to collect and deliver really early. I suppose it’s because we are miles from anywhere.

Nancy

Dear Nancy,

I was annoyed with you, but I’m not now, so don’t worry.

The red paint nearly came out of Bridget’s dress, but it is a bit pink and patchy.  I did explain to Mother about that. Luckily it was one of the ones that had been mine, so it has been worn quite a bit. She would probably have grown out of it by next year. Anyway, that was Titty’s fault really or Daisy’s.

Mother has found a house to rent, so I’ll send the address in my next letter to Peggy. I am in the netball team (wing attack) which I am pretty pleased about. Titty was a bit anxious at the start of term but she seems to have cheered up now.

Love to you both,

Susan

Dear Roger,

That is excellent news about Gibber and I think you have made absolutely the right decision. I hope little Miss Gibber is the first of a long family. I’m very impressed as a lot of animals don’t breed in captivity. Do you get a say in choosing Miss Gibber’s name on Gibber’s behalf? Or do the zoo staff get to choose?

I’m glad your letter reached me when it did, as I’m off looking at mines (NOT searching for gold) in a couple of weeks’ time. I may not be back for the Christmas holidays but I’m sure I shall see you all in the summer.

Best wishes,

Jim Turner (alias Capt. Flint)

Dear Captain Nancy,

I hope term has started well for you.  They go on a bit much about school cert. but otherwise things carry on as normal. Other than that school is going reasonably well.

John stared at the letter. He couldn’t think of anything else to say to her. Nothing he could write in a letter, anyhow. “I know I said it couldn’t be helped, but I’m still really annoyed with you” was hardly the sort of thing he could write. It wasn’t really the sort of thing he could say. He would let her write first and then he would have something to reply to.

Chapter Text

Dear Uncle Jim,

Good for Gibber! Pretty decent of Roger to put the Gibber family first, especially when Titty still has Polly. I bet the zoo people are glad, too.

Look here, do you absolutely have to go off and look at mines? The whole point of the SAD mining company was for you NOT to go running off to different parts of the world at a moment’s notice! Where is it you’re going anyway? South Africa? Australia? South America? We’re only forgiving you because you’re going in term-time (you will be back for Christmas won’t you?) and because you stuck around to help mother with the GA. Was she very beastly about the wallpaper?

We’re both being good, little though you might believe it, mostly because we’re too busy to be anything else.

Much love, Nancy and Peggy

Dear John,

Beds have been bought, so you will have something to sleep on at half-term. There are three top floor rooms in the house and I have put you and Roger in the smallest. It’s still quite big enough for both of you, and we’ve put the chest of drawers from your room in the old house there. It does have an electric light, although it’s quite dim and your father says we shouldn’t put a stronger bulb in for fear of fusing the whole lot. Susan and Titty are sharing the other upstairs room. We have put Bridget in the room next to ours.

Bridget is already looking forward to seeing you all at half term. Your father has next Saturday free and is hoping to come and see you at school. I shall stay home with Bridget. Bridget loves the idea of coming to see you, but I thought you would prefer to have your father to yourself. I don’t think Bridget has either the patience or the understanding to watch a whole game of Rugby, whereas I know your father will enjoy seeing you play.

Much love from us all,

Mother

Dear Peggy,

I hope everything is going well with you. Titty has cheered up considerably and has now decided she likes it here. There are some girls in her form who are not completely pony- club-mad and she seems to have made friends with them. Mother has sent no more feathers, because Sinbad and Polly are now being kept well apart. I’m looking forward to half-term.

I thought about knitting Christmas presents, too, but I’m not being quite as ambitious. I’ve decided to start a pullover for Bridget. I’ll do the front and back first, then if it’s a lot slower than I expect, it can be a sleeveless pullover. I suppose you’ve got a problem as Nancy is the smallest person you could knit a present for.

Hope you’re both well,

Love from Susan

Dear John,

I hope you are well and things are going alright at school. I imagine they’re piling on the prep. for you as much as they are for us. I have to give it my best efforts, as I’ve pretty much made up my mind that I’ll train to be a PT teacher if possible. It’s not ideal – it doesn’t get me out of school for one thing! – but it is a long way better than sitting in an office somewhere and it is something I will be able to do. School are being jolly decent about it, actually, and have got me helping coach the junior hockey team, which I am really enjoying. They haven’t actually won anything yet, but they are, as they put it, losing better. Since they are losing against much bigger schools, they are really not doing too badly. I keep telling them it will make it all the sweeter when they do win!

So currently, I am a Reformed Character (my form-mistress actually said that and I felt I had to something desperate to make up for it, but remembered in time the importance of a Good Reference) with a definite career plan. A pity piracy is not a viable career option – but it would put us on opposite sides of the fence and I’ve learned my lesson about that. Much as I hate to admit it, when we’re on different sides you always end up winning. Having said that, there’s always next summer and I wouldn’t like to let the Swallows get complacent.

How are things going for you?

Nancy

Dear John,

I hope you got my last letter and that school is going well. Uncle Jim told us about Gibber’s family. It seems a bit hard lines on Roger, but a jolly good thing for the monkeys.

I am very sorry indeed about nearly not getting the survey done. I suppose you’re more annoyed with me for saying I would do it, than for the actual not doing it and I don’t blame you for that.

Term is going as term usually goes – too slowly. Uncle Jim is off again, looking at mines. His letter doesn’t tell anything useful, such as where he is looking at them. It could be South Wales or New South Wales for all he tells us. It’s more likely to be Australia – he doesn’t bother to write a “be good” letter if he’s going to London, so I doubt he would write one if he was just going to Wales.

Peggy sends her best wishes too,

Nancy

Dear John,

I hope you are well.

I’ve written you three letters, and it is nearly half term and I haven’t heard from you. If anything really dreadful had happened to you I would have heard about it from Susan writing to Peggy. So I’m guessing that you are still really angry with me about the survey.

I am, as I wrote before, very sorry for not getting the survey done before the Corroboree. I can’t think of anything more I can do to make up for it. Otherwise I would have done it by now.

Nancy

Dear Nancy,

Look, you let me down about the survey and I said all the right things about it not mattering. Of course I minded. You would too if it was your father. But then you not even being bothered to write is really

John screwed up the paper and threw it in the fire, furious with himself. He remembered the day on the top of Kachenjunga and the expression on Nancy’s face as she had handed the scrap of paper over to Peggy to read. However angry he was, that would be an unforgivably unkind thing to write. He would write later, when he was less annoyed and less likely to make stupid mistakes.

Dear Captain Nancy,

I’m quite surprised not to have heard from you, but I expect you’re very busy. Does Daisy write to you? I imagine she’s quite an interesting correspondent. I wonder how

John looked at his letter in disgust. It looked as if it had been written by an eleven year old – and a rather snide one at that. Titty would be ashamed to write a letter like that. He would be rather worried if Titty was making the sort of friend who would write a letter like that. That letter ended up on the fire as well. He’d just say what he felt.

Nancy,

I’m fed up with you for not bothering to write. If I thought you were just busy, I wouldn’t mind. You’ve always been a good correspondent, so I suppose you can’t be bothered to write because you’re too busy writing to Daisy.

He stopped again. Adding “It’s not fair.” would make him sound about Bridget’s age. Adding “If you don’t want to be friends any more I’d rather you said so” didn’t sound much better. Besides, now he actually thought the sentence, he realised it was the worst thing she could possibly write to him. He forced himself to imagine summer holidays without Nancy. Would they go to the Lake? No reason why not. All the natives would assume that they would still be friends. All the others would still be friends. Would they just be coldly distant with each other? How would an unfriendly Nancy actually behave? He thought just for a moment that he had rather never sail Swallow again, than have to spend weeks together like that. He squeezed “Dear” into the space before her name. It didn’t make the rest of the letter any better. That letter went on the fire too.

“Walker, do you have to be such a perfectionist? Can’t you just cross something out and carry on like everyone else.”

“Must be writing to a sweetheart.” suggested Webber

“He’s probably writing her poetry.”

And they were off. Once his classmates were in this mood, there was no stopping them. He could cheerfully thump Webber.  Since they were likely to be sitting next to each other until they left school (unless a boy named Ward or Warren or Watkinson improbably joined the class), he had better not. John tried to let the comments flow over him and wrote a perfectly innocuous letter to Dick about the new sailing dinghy the Professor Callum was thinking of having built. Tired of the lack of response, Webber grabbed the letter.

“Read it out then.” John said calmly.  

Everyone was so busy envying Dick his good fortune, that John’s letter writing habits were forgotten. All the same he would be a little more circumspect about where he wrote his letters in future.

Dear Captain John,

It occurred to me that maybe letters weren’t reaching you at school, so I’ve got your new home address from Peggy and will send this there. I’ve written to you three times at school.

Just in case you haven’t got my previous letters, I am sorry about nearly not finishing the survey. I should have understood a lot better how important it was to you.

I hope this will reach you in time for half-term and that you have a decent one. We haven’t got much news. They are piling on work for the sake of school cert. I expect you’re getting same thing. Uncle Jim is off again looking at mines. The Great- Aunt inflicted herself on Mother for a fortnight so we should be safe for another year. Jolly decent Gibber having a family.

Dear Dorothea,

I hope you had a good half-term – or are going to have it. Ours was pretty good, and luckily we all had about the same days off, although John didn’t get as long as we did.

Mostly, we were just exploring around where we lived now. The house is the biggest we’ve ever lived in and also the wonkiest we’ve ever lived in. If you jump around in one room, something is almost certain to fall over in another. Roger jumped down some of the stairs and things fell off the shelf in the front room. The kitchen floor is about six inches lower in the middle than at the doors. Daddy and John spent ages trying to get the kitchen table level, pushing different bits of tiles and thing under the legs. Sinbad loves the kitchen, because the Rayburn is there and he curls up in the chair in front of it. Daddy has already put a cat flap in the scullery door for him.

There’s a yard at the back, with a couple of outhouses and garden round the other sides and front of the house. No-one’s done much to it for a few years, besides mow the lawn, so it’s an interesting sort of garden with plenty of bushes and no-one minding much about it if you tread on the beds. There’s quite a big oak tree in one corner, but all the lower branches are higher than even John can reach. John did climb it - Susan and I gave him a boost up - to get Sinbad down. It turned out Sinbad wasn’t really stuck and got himself down as soon as he saw John wriggling along the branch towards him. The branch had cracked a bit, so when Daddy came home he said it had better be taken down before it came down and tree-climbing is banned for the moment in the garden, because of the tenancy agreement and not having to take off any more branches. I think John was pretty annoyed at this – he hadn’t even had a chance to see how high he could go. Anyway, we (that is Bridget and me) got a lecture on not neglecting Polly for Sinbad just because Sinbad is a new pet! As if we would. Mind you, John pets Sinbad enough himself if he thinks no-one else if looking. None off the rest of us even got a chance to try the tree.

You remember me telling you about the Eels at the end of last summer? They came round to see us one day in the holidays. It seemed awfully queer all being in ordinary clothes, and them arriving by car. Daisy really liked Polly, who was quite happy to show off for her. The boys mostly played football. I think Daisy was a bit disappointed it was just us and not Nancy and Peggy, too, but she tried not to let it show. Roger was disappointed that the Mastodon hadn’t come too. I hope that didn’t show. Daisy didn’t offer to write or anything.

After this long letter, there might not be another one until Christmas. You are lucky to be going on a proper archaeological dig in the Christmas hols, and it’s not as if the lake is likely to freeze over again. We’ll be at home for Christmas of course, because Daddy will only have a few days off. This is the first Christmas that I can remember Daddy being at home for, although John and Susan say there was one before Roger was born. I can’t remember that though.

With love from Titty.

Dear Nancy,

John stared at the piece of paper. Each time he started, it got harder. He should have finished and sent the first letter. If he had, she would have had to write back. But suppose she hadn’t. Was she, too, sitting at a desk somewhere wondering why he hadn’t written, following the thread of her thoughts round in a hopeless tangle? It seemed unlike so Nancy.  He would just not think about her at all. She was mostly likely rushing around a field, armed with a hockey stick or lacrosse stick, terrifying the opposition into meekly giving up possession of the ball.  He couldn’t help smiling at the idea, however furious he felt with her.  It was dark, so any matches would be long since over. Well, she was re-doing a prep that she had hurried through carelessly, or making a plan for the Christmas holidays. (Did she make plans when it was just her and Peggy?).  As the elder brother to two sisters, he now regretted the lofty, rational attitude he had taken when their best friends had decided to be best friends with someone else. He and Roger had agreed that girls, even the best of them, could be a trifle silly about this. He would be a bit more sympathetic with Bridget. John cut the top off the piece of paper and started a letter to Titty.

John,

I’ve written and written and written. All the letters can’t have gone astray.

If you can’t or won’t forgive me, then say so and that’s the end of it. I dare say we can keep out of each other’s way if you come to the Lake next summer. However angry you are with me, I don’t see why Peggy or Susan or the others should have their holidays spoiled.

Nancy

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Chapter Text

Molly watched as her elder daughter walked calmly to the lectern to read the sixth of the nine lessons. The school was not a large one and even with the addition of a sprinkling of parents, did not fill the large and extremely drafty parish church. Only girls with good records for behaviour were allowed to do readings. Last year, Nancy had sat next to her mother. This year, Molly was pleased to be sitting by herself rather near the back, while Peggy sat with the rest of the choir and Nancy sat with the other readers in the second- to-front pew. Aunt Maria might criticise Nancy’s voice as unladylike, but her clear tones reached Molly apparently without effort.
“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed …….” With a delicious shiver that had not changed since she had been a girl herself, Molly Blackett felt that Christmas had really begun.

The service took place in the morning, which seemed to Molly strange as she had always associated the nine lessons and carols with Christmas Eve evening. It was, as Peggy pointed, out very practical. Once the girls had walked back up the long hill to school in a crocodile and reports had been given out, those parents who had come to attend the service could take their daughters home with them.
As Molly waited in the entrance hall for Nancy and Peggy to do last minute packing and farewells, Nancy’s form-mistress approached Molly with a small packet in her hand. They exchanged greetings and the form-mistress, somewhat awkwardly, held out a small, neatly tied pile of letters.
“Here are the letters.” The mistress said hesitantly, and continued with a rush. “I’ve only taught Ruth for a term, but I hope you don’t mind me saying that I think it would be better to simply ask her to promise not to write to this boy. I’ve found Ruth to be very honest.”
Molly was for once lost for words. The young woman (and surely she could not be any older than twenty- five, Molly thought) stumbled on with her explanation.
“……. didn’t like not telling Ruth. I feel if we expect the girls to behave honourably we must be straightforward with them, although the other staff did say Ruth should could be quite ingenious in getting round the rules and your aunt did say quite definitely that I was not to tell Ruth.”
Molly fixed the unfortunate teacher with a glare which the mistress immediately recognised. She had, one day in October, happened across Ruth speaking to two of the second form who had been taking it upon themselves to torment a new girl.
“It is a great pity you did not have the sense to write and ask me. John’s mother is a good friend and I consider her children to be a very good influence on my girls. My aunt was speaking entirely without my knowledge and permission. In future, kindly do not accept anything she may say as coming from me. My daughters do have my permission to correspond with any of the Walker children.”
The form- mistress quailed slightly but said, “In that case, I had better explain to Ruth and apologise.”
“I think you had better.” Molly heard herself saying. This form- mistress of Nancy’s might be unwise, but she was no coward. Molly knew how difficult it was to stand up to Aunt Maria. Explaining to Nancy that you had been picking certain of her letters out of the post basket before they were sent would take a considerable amount of courage.
The school had once been a rather grand house, so the entrance hall was spacious with a number of ornately carved wooden pillars. When Nancy came downstairs, her form-mistress drew her a few feet aside behind one of these. The form-mistress’s voice was quiet, but Nancy’s voice carried clearly and Molly could not help hearing some of what she said.
“Mother would never do a mean trick like that……she likes the Walkers……..John is my friend not…. …..He’s not a bad influence, none of them are. They’re a lot better behaved than we are. …….. No, please don’t write to the Great Aunt; she’ll only be piggish to Mother about it. She bullies everybody and always pretends it’s for their own good……. Only are you quite sure you didn’t take any letters to me? Did the Great –Aunt speak to any of the other mistresses? Are you sure? ………. Well I suppose it was more the Great-Aunt’s fault. Once I write to John he’ll understand. I’ll do it as soon as we get home.”
Molly was rather relieved to see Nancy shake hands with her form mistress in the approved end of term manner.
“Christmas the day after tomorrow.” said Peggy, cheerfully as they scrambled into Rattletrap. “That’s the lovely thing about breaking up so late.”
“Do you think we’ll get back in time for me to write a letter and get it in the post?” asked Nancy.
“Not a chance.” said Peggy. “And what do you want to post anyway? Did someone give you a card that you weren’t expecting?”
“Something like that.” Nancy replied. In fact a rather shy, newish second former had thrust a Christmas card into her hand at the last moment for some reason, so it wasn’t completely untrue, she reassured herself.
“We’ll stop for dinner on the way back, and you can send a post card then, but I want to get home before it’s really dark.” Her mother said.
“Not a postcard, a letter.” said Nancy hastily.

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Susan and Titty had come home on the Wednesday; Roger had come home from school on Thursday. By the time John arrived home on the Friday, Christmas preparations were already in full swing. He felt irritably that his sisters, at any rate, had started Christmas without him. The best bit of Christmas decorations was putting them up. After greetings had been exchanged Mother and Susan had returned to the kitchen and Roger went upstairs. John grinned as cheerfully as he could and dutifully admired Bridget and Titty’s efforts in the rather gloomy hallway.
“We haven’t done the tree yet. Don’t worry.” said Titty.
“I don’t see why not.” Bridget said, “Daddy said we might, but Susan wouldn’t let us.”
“Susan was right.” said John.
“Anyway, I am standing under the mistletoe, so that means you’ve got to kiss me.” said Bridget. Someone had indeed tied a small bit of mistletoe around the glass lightshade with a piece of red knitting wool, so John duly kissed his youngest sister and took his suitcase upstairs.
Roger, sitting on his bed, started to hide something as John came in.
“Should I go out again?” John inquired.
“No, this is Titty’s present. Susan wrapped yours. It’s from all of us. I thought I should get my presents done while the girls were all downstairs. Bridget is a menace with that mistletoe.”
“She’s only a little kid.”
“She’s a brat.” said Roger with a certain amount of feeling. “According to her, we mustn’t leave her out of anything because she’s the youngest, but if she doesn’t want to do anything then suddenly she can’t because she’s too young. I never used to try to slide out of chores like that.”
“No. Occasionally because you were Roger, but never because you were the youngest.” John agreed with a grin.
The pillow Roger launched at him was completely expected. By the time they went downstairs for tea, both pillows had lost a few feathers and both brothers felt a lot happier.
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They had been to church and sung carols. They had opened presents. Titty had read the first story in Winnie – the – Pooh to Bridget who was wearing a jumper with one sleeve longer than the other. Roger had nearly let the cat out of the bag about Father Christmas twice and been stopped just in time – once by Susan and once by Father. Susan had opened the box of her 2000 piece jigsaw but it had agreed it was more sensible not to start it until Boxing Day. The boomerangs (surely the least surprising present ever to unwrap) and been taken out to the garden and thrown about a bit. That way they could all write with a clear conscience to their grandfather saying how much they had enjoyed playing with them. Sinbad had feasted on boiled turkey giblets. Dinner had been eaten and dishes had been washed up and now they were all sitting in the front room, admiring the tree (which was a good tall one).
All five of them were squashed onto the sofa, with Mother and Father in the two armchairs. Titty spoke for all of them.
“This is the best Christmas day we’ve ever had. Are they all going to be this good now?”
Their parents exchanged glances and laughed.
“We hope so.” Mother said. “Do you want to tell them, Ted.”
“No time like the present. How would you like to spend a week with the Blacketts?”
They all responded at once.
“We’d love it.” said Titty.
“When are we going?” asked Susan.
“Do I go too?” asked Bridget.
Roger cheered.
“Are you both coming as well?” Titty asked.
John said nothing, but Susan, squashed against his left arm with Titty’s elbow digging into her ribs on the other side, felt him suddenly go very still. She remembered how tense he had been the summer before last, when the Amazons had failed to meet them on Wild Cat Island and his initial lack of enthusiasm when Nancy extended their winter holiday by getting mumps. Really, in his own way, John got just as wound up about things as Titty did.
Their parents laughed.
“Maybe I didn’t put that very well.” said Father. “The Blacketts are coming here the day after tomorrow and staying until the second.”
“Mrs Blackett, too?” asked Bridget
“Mrs Blackett, too.”
“That’s why you gave the girls the bigger room then? So there was room for Nancy and Peggy.” Roger suggested.
Mother laughed.
“I hadn’t thought of that then, but I’m very glad I did it that way – or we’d have to move you round.”
“Or they could share with Polly.” suggested Bridget.
“I don’t suppose they’d mind about the lack of wallpaper or even carpet, but the lack of curtains could be a problem.” Mother said. “It’s much better to keep that as a playroom.”
Even John, who felt the word playroom was somehow undignified, had no objection to that. In fact it wasn’t until much later that Susan realised that he had had very little to say about it at all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 : 27^th December

Breakfast was early on the Tuesday. Titty looked with disfavour on her father’s uniform.

“Don’t you get an extra day for Christmas day being on a Sunday?” she asked.

“No, but I don’t think anything unusual will come up. I doubt I’ll be late. Who’s going to meet the Blacketts at the station?”

“Aren’t they coming in Rattletrap?” asked Roger

“I’m sure it’s much too far.” said Mother hurriedly.

John, who had once been a passenger in Rattletrap, saw his own look of horror at the idea reflected on Susan’s face.

“Mrs Blackett collects them at the end of term sometimes in Rattletrap, Peggy says.” said Roger.

“That’s about a quarter of the distance, probably less.” said John.

“No need to check it now.” Mother said hastily, as John showed every sign of fetching a map to go and check – or to prove his point. “I would like one of you, John or Susan to stay at home. I’ve got some shopping I need to do.”

“I’ll stay if you like.” John offered. “What’s up, Titty?”

“Nothing, my foot just slipped.” said Titty, rubbing her ankle where it had jarred against the stretcher across the table legs. “But I need to go shopping too.”

“So do I.” said Bridget.

Titty glared at John. “I think most of us do.”

“Well I don’t, so I’d better stay behind.” John replied, maddeningly.

“That’s the post.” said Susan and went to fetch it from the front door.

“Giminy, don’t you realise, John, we’ve got to buy Susan’s birthday present.” said Titty as soon as Susan was out of the room.  “We don’t want to waste time going to the shops when Nancy and Peggy are here. I was trying to kick you. It’s going to be much harder with Susan with us. Why don’t you want to go?”

Susan came back into the room at this point, sparing John the necessity of replying. It was entirely natural that Titty was picking up odd phrases from Nancy, and he was irritated with himself for minding.

There were two letters for Father and a late Christmas card for Mother.

“One for John from Nancy.” said Susan handing it over.

“What does she say?” asked Titty.

“I bet it says three million cheers again.” said Roger.

“It’s alright Susan, its ages yet until your birthday. The cards won’t have got here yet.” said Bridget.

“It doesn’t matter about that, Bridget. Is it plans, John?” Susan asked

“Let’s see.” said Roger

“Is it semaphore?” Titty asked.

“I don’t think Nancy knew she was coming when she wrote this.” said John. Susan thought he had gone a shade paler, but the kitchen was the only room in the house with poor daylight and it was still early, so it was hard to tell. “It’s postmarked the twenty third.”

“We agreed with Mrs Blackett that you would all be told on Christmas day.” Mother said, as John folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

“Well the sooner I go, the more I get done and the sooner I’ll be back.” said Father. “Will you walk to the end of the lane with me, John?”

John went and got his coat.

Bridget bounced up and down in her chair.

“I bet Nancy and John have got secret plans and John’s telling Daddy about them.” said Bridget happily.

“There’s no need for you to wave marmalade everywhere even if they have.” said Susan austerely.

“What’s the matter, son.”

“Nothing is the matter. I’m fine.”

“I thought you’d be staking first claim to go and meet your friends at the station.”

“They’re just as much Susan’s friends as mine.”

“You’ve got your present for Susan already?”

“I thought I’d make something for her to put her jigsaw on. A bit like a folder, two pieces of plywood with a hinge and some ties. As long as she keeps it level, she should be able to move the jigsaw off the table back on again. You saw how far we got yesterday, with all of us helping. It’s going to take her ages to finish.”

“Yes, although Sinbad’s help is something she can do without. I wondered if you were being a bit ambitious giving her one with quite so many pieces.”

“It’s the size Titty said she wanted.” said John, who was beginning to wonder the same thing himself.

“What were you going to do for the plywood?” his father asked

“I was hoping to use some of the stuff you had left over from making Bridget’s dolls cot. I might need to buy more, and I’ll need to get varnish.”

“You can use what’s there but why not go and buy what you need today?”

“I’ll need to work out exactly what I do need – and I wouldn’t be getting it from the same sort of shop anyway. Titty and Roger are buying Susan a book. I don’t know what Bridget’s doing.”

 “So you haven’t fallen out?”

“With whom?”

“Nancy. You didn’t seem very pleased with your letter this morning.”

“Oh that, no, that’s just something about last term.” They were at the end of the lane now and John was not sorry. Father never seemed to press you very hard, but somehow it was easy to find yourself telling him far more than you had intended.

 “There hasn’t been a row or anything.” John said with careful truthfulness. Was he imagining it, or did he hear his father say “Maybe there should be”, as he turned away. It seemed such an unlikely thing for his father to say that John decided he must be imagining it.

Friday 23^rd December

Dear John,

If I wait until I get home, I won’t get this in the post before Christmas. I’m sorry you had no letters from me. It turns out that the GA told my form-mistress to stop any letters to you without telling me.  The stupid galoot believed the GA was speaking for Mother. She handed the letters over to mother just after the carol service and it all came out. She says she didn’t pick out your letters to me, and I believe her because she did own up quite handsomely about the letters once she realised the GA was pulling the wool over her eyes.  So I don’t know what happened about your letters to me, if any. The main thing I wanted to say was that I was sorry about nearly not getting Peewit land mapped. I’ll write properly after Christmas.

Surely if she had written many letters she would have realised that something was wrong? She must know that he wouldn’t ignore letter after letter from her, however annoyed he was. Anyway, she had not known that he was annoyed. She couldn’t have written that many letters. Maybe she had written one or two, and then moved on to more interesting correspondents. Daisy, for example.  And now here was this letter, breezy, Nancy-ish and not the slightest bit perturbed as far as he could see. Maybe he should have sent that first letter. He would see her in a few hours anyway. She was a duffer not to think of writing to Susan or Titty and find out what had happened. Perhaps she hadn’t really minded enough to find out.

Susan stayed behind at home too.  When the others set off on their shopping expedition after an early lunch, Susan was quite happy to start cooking stew for the evening. Father has been using one of the outhouses as a workshop while he was making Bridget’s present and John went to see  whether making Susan’s birthday present would be feasible.

There was a tin of varnish, tucked away on the shelf, but further investigation showed that it was solid and had probably been there for years. There was plenty of sand-paper, but he would need to buy a second sheet of plywood. He poked around optimistically in the jar-jar that held an odd assortment of spare bits and pieces. He did find one with a hinge, but it would not really allow two piece of plywood to lie flat against each other. Perhaps the small brass sort that people used in cupboards would be better. He could glue a piece of fabric to the top bit of plywood to help keep the pieces in place. There was an old flannelette sheet that Father had used to hide Bridget’s Christmas present while he was making it, but that wasn’t really thick enough. Perhaps an old blanket would do, or a big piece of felt.

John had cut the first piece of plywood and had made a good start on sanding the edges smooth, before the fading light forced him to go indoors. The stew smelt good. Susan was curled up in the armchair by the stove reading her Christmas present. John decided to look in the cupboard under the stairs for any old blankets or tablecloths that could be pressed in to service, although he did still have enough money to buy cloth if he needed to. Fortunately one of his aunts had sent a postal order rather than handkerchiefs.

There was no suitable cloth, but he did find two table tennis bats, a net ( with more holes than the maker intended ) and an old shoe box with table-tennis balls. He went to show his finds to Susan.

“We could fix the net to the kitchen table I suppose.” said Susan. “It’s bigger.”

“Not a lot of room around it.”

“Couldn’t we move the tables around? The dining room table is much smaller.”

“We’d have to take it to pieces, Dad and I measured it at half term. You can’t get it through the door to the hall in one piece.”

“How did they get it in?”

“Maybe through the scullery and the back door.” John suggested

“Perhaps they ordered it and when it arrived they could only get as far as the kitchen. It doesn’t really look like a kitchen table. Anyway, it’s the only table we can fit ten of us around. You had better see if you can get the extra leaf to come out or it will be very cosy. And we’ll need those extra chairs in from the hall.”

“What do you call that sort of material? The underneath table cloth I mean?”

“This is baize, but there’s a piece of felt underneath that. Someone is sure to put down something they shouldn’t. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason.” said John hastily, “Where’s Sinbad?”

“I haven’t seen him since lunch.  Why?”

“Titty will be disappointed if he’s not there to be shown.”

“He’ll turn up for food.” said Susan easily. “He’s a greedy cat. Look at the size he is, and he’s still a youngster.”

“I bet Bridget is giving him more than she says she is when we’re at school.”

“We’d better put the kettle on, they’ll be here soon.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: 27^th January

With all the greetings and explanations and hanging up of coats and carrying upstairs of suit-cases and “did you have a good journeys?” and everyone having to kiss Bridget because she was standing under the mistletoe, John found it quite easy to not actually shake hands with Nancy, although he greeted her politely enough.

 In the interval between tea and Christmas cake in the drawing room and supper, the Blacketts had to be shown the entire house. Piracy had been put aside for the time being.  Nancy and Peggy were obviously bent on being the perfect guests.  John had reluctantly to admit that Nancy, as usual, was accomplishing exactly what she set out to do.

After supper, Bridget was adamant that they should play “Sardines” a game she had recently leaned at a friend’s birthday party.

“I suppose she’ll be learning all sort of games and making us play them.” muttered Roger to John quietly.

“You don’t mind really do you?”

“As long as they aren’t too babyish. This isn’t.”

Bridget, of course, had to hide first and was easily found in the larder. Susan, arriving last, eyed the jar of raisins doubtingly but said nothing. Susan hid in the under-stairs cupboard.

“But how did you actually do it?” asked Peggy. “We were waiting in the hall and it’s a tiled floor. How did we not hear you?”

“I went out of the back door and slipped round through the front door once you had all gone upstairs.”

“That’s not fair – we said no hiding outside.” Bridget objected.

“She wasn’t hiding there – she just went round.” said Titty.

“Anyway, I lost that round.” said Nancy soothingly, although she had arrived at the same time as Bridget. John had been the first to arrive and was squashed well towards the back of the cupboard.

John was fairly sure that he heard one of the upstairs floor boards creak, so he took good care to search the every room on the ground floor first. He was not entire surely how he felt about Nancy at the moment. He was did not want to talk to her yet about anything that mattered quite yet, and certainly not while squashed together in a wardrobe.

He was the last to find them all, under Titty’s bed – although there had been no room for Susan, Bridget and Peggy under there. It wasn’t until John was settled under the sideboard in the dining room that he realised his mistake. Nancy scrambled in next to him in a flurry of skirt and jumper and long woollen stockings.  Suddenly the hiding place seemed far too small.

“John,” she began in a whisper, “Look here, I’ve been trying to speak to you all evening about those letters.”

“Shhh, we’re meant to be hiding.”

She might have carried on anyway, and part of him wanted her to, wanted it to be so important to her that she had to say it anyway, but the door creaked open and Bridget came in. Automatically, they both held their breath. Nancy let her breath out slowly and silently. They were so close that John could feel it as a soft warm breeze against his cheek in the chilly air of the room. Bridget trotted around the room and went back towards the door.

“Bridget.” John said softly.

As a delighted Bridget joined them under the sideboard, John realised he had made a second mistake.

“Scrunch up again properly Nancy. We’ve got to be hidden.” Bridget commanded.

“Yes, but it’s not fair to squash John.”

“John doesn’t mind. We’re meant to be squashed. That’s the point.” Bridget explained, patiently. John made no attempt to hush her. He wasn’t really squashed, but Nancy seemed far too close, and the hiding place was much too warm.

“Nancy, you’ve got your jumper sleeve turned up on one side too.” Bridget observed, “Just like me”

“Peggy knitted it for Christmas.”

“Susan knitted mine.”

“You’re not meant to talk.” said Titty joining them, “Budge up, Bridget.”

To John’s relief, Nancy had managed to wriggle round so that her back was to him. If he spoke, he would have mouthful of her hair, but that didn’t matter so much. He had just decided that when the next person came in he would declare the game to be over and suggest something else, when the clock on the mantelpiece chimed.

“Bed-time, Bridgie.” He said as well as he could for the hair.

“The grown-ups are talking, they won’t notice for ages.” Bridget argued.

“Let her get out, Titty.”

“It’s not as if it was school in the morning.”

“That’s not the point.” he said firmly.

“You’re not a proper grown-up. You can’t boss me about.” Bridget wriggled out from under the side-board and stood with her hands on her hips.

“It’s Mother’s rule, not John’s. He’s just reminding you.” Titty pointed out.

“What’s up with Bridget?” asked Roger coming in.

“Didn’t like being reminded about bedtime.” John replied shortly as he wriggled out from under the sideboard. By looking at Roger he managed to avoid seeing Nancy’s hand extended to help him to his feet.

“Well you’re being awfully strict about it.” Roger remarked. “Is that the end of the game?”

“Yes.  We aren’t playing sardines any more. ” John replied and went out of the room without catching anybody’s eye.

He went to keep Polly company. Polly didn’t want John’s company (once he had established that John had brought no sugar). John sat on the window seat in the moonlight, not bothering to put the electric light on.

 He didn’t know whether he was angry with her or not. All he felt sure of was that he could never feel as confident in her company as he had been until the end of the last holidays. He thought he had forgiven her about the survey at the end of the summer holidays, and then he found himself thinking bitterly again about how she had let him down. How ridiculous of him to think that once they saw each other, everything would somehow be alright again.  And now here she was, cheerfully and maddeningly herself and disturbingly and strangely different. She had not, he realised, shivered any timbers or indeed used any of her other usual exclamations since she arrived. She had conversed quite sensibly at supper time, explaining her plans for training to be PT teacher when Father had asked about them. She seemed quite as confident and happy as ever, however. Nancy had warned him that first day on Wild Cat Island that she was ruthless. (Or Peggy had. He could not remember now.) Of course he wasn’t used to seeing her in ordinary clothes; perhaps that was what made the difference. He found himself smiling into the darkness at the thought of Nancy in bathing-dress, feathers and mud stripes last summer. Perhaps he should have let her finish whatever it was she was going to say when they were underneath the sideboard. Maybe it would all have been sorted out and everything would be as it used to be between them.

He was horrified to feel a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. Biting his lip did not seem to help much. Polly was fluffed up and asleep. No-one would see. It didn’t matter.

“John?”

 Nancy would find him, just when he didn’t want her to. She was standing just inside the door, probably letting her eyes become accustomed to the dark. She would think to feel for a switch in another minute. There was no way he was going to let her see he had been weeping. He stood up and crossed the bare floorboards.

“Polly will be glad to see you. I’m sure he still remembers you.” John said pretty much the first thing that came into his head. Still, his voice sounded steady. He brushed past her as he went through the door. He went down the stairs and shut himself in the bathroom.

Polly’s room was above the bathroom and his parents’ bedroom. He heard Nancy’s footsteps on the bare boards and the creak of the window seat as she sat down on it. He washed his face and left the bathroom. It would be better on the whole to go and sit with the others.

Titty was sitting on the landing, her ear pressed to Bridget’s bedroom door.

“Titty,” he said, horrified, “you can’t go around listening at doors.”

Titty held a finger up to her lips and beckoned him over. She seemed not the slightest bit embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping.

“Listen!” she whispered. “He’s doing the voices ever so well.”

He was. John stayed there with Titty, listening to Father reading  Winnie the Pooh to Bridget until the end of the story.

“Come on,” he said. “Listening to stories is one thing, but we can’t listen to people’s conversations. Let’s go downstairs.”

“We missed out on that, didn’t we?” Titty asked rather sadly.

“Daddy read to us sometimes, it’s just that he wasn’t there that much. And Mother reads aloud jolly well, too.”

“Maybe there were times I can’t remember.”

“Sure to have been. And Titty?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t say anything to Nancy or Peggy about it. It’s a lot worse for them.”

Titty nodded soberly.

It had been a long day, since the railway connections were so awkward that they had had to start very early from Beckfoot. All the same, Nancy did not fall asleep easily. She had given John the opportunity to have a row if he wanted to, to yell at her if he wanted to, to demand explanations if he wanted to or to forgive her if he was willing to. He didn’t even seem prepared to talk to her. For someone seemingly so straight-forward he was infuriatingly difficult to understand. If only he would say what he felt. She was tired of playing guessing games. She wouldn’t think about him anymore. She tried make herself sleep, but her mind kept coming back to the game of Sardines and Bridget pushing her against John in the narrow space under the side board, at once comforting and unsettling. She slept.

“So was it a good idea?” Ted Walker asked his wife.

“Yes, I think so.” She shifted her head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. “John and Nancy seem a bit awkward about each other.”

“Probably embarrassment. Apparently Bridget had them all playing Sardines. She’s a bit indignant because John put a stop to it after a few turns. Well if you think that idea was a good one….”

“Ted, what have you done?”

“You remember Arthur Curtledge?”

“Yes? The one who sent that telegram for you this summer?” Mary did not sound as if she approved greatly of Captain Curtledge.

“Well, I spoke to him today. Asked how his Christmas had been, you know how you do. He’s got a married brother with a family, so I assumed he had spent it there.”

Mary sighed. “I suppose he didn’t?”

“They’d gone to the in-laws. He spent Christmas by himself”

“So you asked him to spend New Year’s Eve with us, I suppose?”

“I did say I would check with you and make sure you hadn’t made other arrangements, just in case you didn’t like the idea.” said Ted.

“Where are we going to put him? We’ll have to put him up overnight.”

“He’ll be fine on the sofa. I told him we had other visitors. So he can come then?”

“I don’t see why not.” she said, settling herself more comfortably.

“I’m so lucky I’ve got you.”

There was a few minutes pause, but he could tell she hadn’t gone to sleep.

“Ted?”

“Yes, darling?”

“No trying to match-make my friend with your friend.”

“I hadn’t even thought about it.” his voice sounded just a shade too innocent.

“Ted!”

“Well, only in passing.” he added, with more honesty.

Chapter Text

 28^th December morning

“What have you got planned this morning?” Mother asked, when John came into the kitchen next morning. He was the first of the children downstairs.

“I really need to get varnish and things for Susan’s present. That doesn’t mean that anyone else has to come.”

“Oh John, you can’t possibly go off by yourself like that the first day visitors are here.”

“We could go for a walk then, I suppose, this morning. It’s quite fine. Well, it’s dry anyway.”

John lifted down piles of plates, cups and saucers, bowls and cutlery from the cupboard to the table.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Nancy.”

“Good morning.” 

With quiet efficiency and no further talking Nancy, helped John lay the table. Mrs Walker suppressed a sigh. Whatever was wrong was more than simple embarrassment. They still worked as a perfectly efficient team, she noticed.

28^th December -  afternoon.

“No, I haven’t been moving your stuff. And I’m fed up with being growled at. If you want a row with someone, have a row with Nancy.” Roger fished the table -tennis ball out from the drawer where he had been hiding it from Sinbad.

“It’s…” John began and then bit off his words abruptly. However furious he was with her, he was not going to criticize Nancy to Roger.

“Don’t tell me, tell her.” And Roger folded his arms and sat on his bed.

Out-manoeuvred, since he could hardly say Clear out, Roger, because I want to mope by myself, or possibly read if I can keep my mind on a book for five minutes together, John went downstairs. There might be some job he could do outside. His mother intercepted him in the hallway.

“Nancy’s still doing the washing up. You couldn’t go and help her could you?”

Not trusting himself to speak, John nodded curtly. He felt more like throwing plates than wiping them.  There were three doors between the hallway and the scullery. John slammed them all.

Nancy heard the doors slamming. She was rather surprised that John was holding a tea-towel however.

“I don’t mind finishing that off, if you’re busy.” she said civilly as she could.

 She would admit that she hadn’t got the tone perfect, but there was absolutely no need for him to say,

“And what are you so annoyed about? Or is that none of my business?”

“It is entirely your business. You are the one who decided not to speak to me. You’re the one who walks out of a room if I’m in it. You’re the one who cuts me off if I try to say anything. You got my letter at end of term.”

John nodded. “It arrived yesterday morning.”

“So you know I’m sorry, and you know what happened to my other letters. If you’re still angry and won’t accept an apology, then say so. It’s a pity you didn’t say so before we came, because I wouldn’t have come. You might have written once, just once.”

“You were probably too busy writing to Daisy to be bothered whether I wrote to you or not.” he said

“That’s unfair and untrue. I don’t even have Daisy’s address. I was so bothered about getting Peewit Island done that I never thought to ask. I don’t just drop my friends like that, whatever you do. I wrote to you and I kept writing to you.”

“So you say.” He regretted it almost as soon as he said it, but he wasn’t going to back down now.

“How dare you? Don’t you dare you say that John Walker. I suppose everyone’s got to believe you but you don’t have to believe them.”  In the narrow scullery she had to brush past him to get to the door to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the letters that my form-mistress gave to mother and she gave to me. You can read them if you don’t believe me.”

He wasn’t going to go after her. Besides, the others had probably heard them yelling and he had rather not see any one else just at the moment.

She was back downstairs very quickly.

“There.” Nancy, who generally hit almost anything she aimed at, was clearly aiming at John, but the letters landed in Sinbad’s empty basket. “Of course you never wrote at all.”

 She turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming both the doors from the kitchen to the hall behind her. Only then did John allow himself to pick the letters up. The little bundle was tied with an un-Nancyish bow. Doubtless it was the work of her form-mistress. He heard the front door shut firmly after her.

He lost patience with the string, cut it with the bread knife, read the letters. Her last, hurt, bitter little message was on the top of the pile. As he read backward to the first letter she wrote in September, John had to admit that the letters must have cost her something in pride and persistence to write. Why hadn’t she realised that of course he would have written back if he’d got the letters? Couldn’t she see that he must have been having an equally miserable time?  Why didn’t Nancy realise that he could never have ended their friendship like that? How could she possibly think he would fail to forgive her when she apologised like that?

He shoved the letters in his pocket and left the washing up as it was. Nancy walked quickly.

She was standing on a cart-track, looking over a gate at a perfectly ordinary ploughed field, when he found her. She had her back to him, and he could see her shoulders shaking slightly. Perhaps it was just the cold.

“How am I meant to find you if you forget this?” he held out the red knitted cap. She turned and after a moment took it.

“Thank you for bringing it. That was kind of you.” Nancy’s voice was formal, brittle, as if she was another person entirely. She was rather red about the eyes and her eyelashes looked wet (although that might be the cold). She pulled the hat on. The wind tugged at their coats and whipped the ends of Nancy’s hair about. The silence lengthened. There was a strong stench of pig manure, although it was not clear if it was from the field they were staring at or further away. Perhaps they stood there for five minutes between the two hedges under the featureless, dry, grey sky. John looked at Nancy who was studying the field with an almost expressionless face. If he said “Let’s go home” would she come with him or would she continue to stand there? She was shivering, although it was clear she was trying very hard not to.

“Well, you’ve found me, commodore, even without the hat.” she said eventually. She might have been aiming for her usual cheerful tone of voice. If so, she missed it.

All the things he had meant to say when he flung out of the house after her were gone, lost in the forty minutes he had spent hurrying along lanes and footpaths looking for her.

“Nancy, I’m sorry. Of course I trust you really. I’m sorry I was such an idiot.” He felt a great deal better now that he was saying it, so why was there a lump in his throat? “I know I should have written to you and I’m very sorry I didn’t.” He paused.

Nancy glanced at him, gave a tiny smile and held out her bare hand to shake his gloved one.

“That’s alright.” she said. “Am I forgiven too?”

“Of course you are. You would have been the moment your first letter arrived, if it had got there. You were, really, when I realised what you had done to finish the map.”

“Are you still so angry with me you can’t look at me?” he asked, as they started to walk back the way they had come.

“It’s not that. If I look at you, I’ll start to blub again and I’ve used up all three hankies.” She looked at him with a rueful half-smile as she said it, and it turned out that her prediction was accurate.

“The thing about being fifteen,” he said handing her a clean one, “is that you seem to get nothing but handkerchiefs for Christmas.” 

She accepted the handkerchief with a hiccupped “thank-you”.  He wondered if he should put an arm around her. Suppose she shrugged it off and was angry with him all over again?

“I was afraid you just didn’t want to be friends anymore.” he said, “Afraid you just thought I was boring.”

“I will always be your friend, John and you are never, ever boring. Infuriating maybe, but not boring” Nancy said fiercely, tucking the hankies in her coat pocket. She was still shivering.

 “You’re cold. Shall we run for a bit?”

“Race you to the lane.”

He could have beaten her easily, he realised in some surprise.

“Warm enough?”

“Better.”

They continued down the lane at a brisk walk.

“So how was your term?” she asked, rather awkwardly.

“Worst I’ve ever had.”

“Same here. I think the actually school bit went alright, just the rest of it was so unbearable.”

As they walked they began, slowly at first, to talk of ordinary things. Nancy had heard from Dot, full of excitement about having their own sailing dinghy next summer. Dick had written to John on the same subject but with rather more practical details. Piecing the information together, John and Nancy agreed it was a thoroughly good plan and Professor Callum seemed to be going about it the right way.

“Their parents are going to stay at the Dixon’s part of August and learn to sail.” said Nancy. “Mother did ask if they wanted to stay at Beckfoot, but Mrs Dixon was Mrs Callum’s nurse, so naturally she wants to stay with her.”

“I never really understood,” said John, “if Mrs Callum is from the Lake District or not. The first winter we met them they spoke as if they had never been in the North before at all.” Even as he said it, he remembered that it was Nancy who had persuaded them to let the Callums join in with their plans. If he and Susan had been making all the decisions, would they have been polite and distant and never seen the Callums again after the first day? Nancy was explaining,

“Mrs Dixon’s family were from Keswick, but she was sent to London as a nursery maid and then as a nurse in Mrs Callum’s family. Mrs Callum was the eldest but there were younger sisters – three or four I think. Anyway, the youngest was just getting to not really needing a nurse anymore and Mrs Callum had was properly grown up and going to dances and week-ends at people’s houses and so forth. Mrs Dixon talks quite a lot about how pretty Mrs Callum was and how beautiful her clothes were when she gets reminiscing. The war broke out, and Mrs Callum volunteered as a nurse, and Mrs Dixon got a job in the same hospital. Mr Dixon was injured and that’s how Mrs Dixon met him. He didn’t have the farm then, of course, it was his uncle’s.”

“So his uncle died, and he inherited the farm and married her?”

“It’s not quite so simple. They had got married before he knew he was going to inherit the farm and Mrs Dixon’s family didn’t approve. The uncle had two sons. The elder had to stay and help with the farm, of course. The younger one was killed in the war. The elder one died of the ‘flu and then the uncle died few days later.”

Nancy stopped speaking abruptly. John wasn’t sure if it was the war or the ‘flu or something else entirely that had stopped her. He waited to see if she would say anything else, but they had walked as far as the first house in Kirby Green, before she said anything.

If they had been talking, perhaps they would not have noticed the cat trotting along the lane in the dusk and slipping between the bars of a wrought-iron gate.

“Isn’t that Sinbad?” Nancy asked.

“One easy way to find out.” said John, although he was far from sure that Sinbad would in fact come when called unless food was on offer.

“Sinbad! Sinbad!”

Sinbad hesitated on the path leading up to the front door of the small modern house. He was just venturing slowly back down the path when the front door opened. Electric light spilled out from the door and they saw a woman’s figure silhouetted against it.

“Lucky! Lucky!”

The cat turned, hesitated and then went towards the house. The woman scooped it up.

“What are you looking at? Are you planning to steal my cat?” she said, before turning back into the house and slamming the door behind her.

“I’m fairly sure that was Sinbad.” said John.

“So am I, but I don’t think that will be a problem.” said Nancy in her usual cheerful, confident voice.

“Titty and Bridget will be really upset if that woman’s swiped Sinbad.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be easy to swipe a cat who doesn’t want to be swiped. And I bet this happens nearly every day. Sinbad will turn up about supper time. I suppose he’s getting four meals a day, greedy cat. Clever though.” Nancy chuckled appreciatively. “Supper at home, breakfast at home, off for a second breakfast and out for afternoon tea.”

“I don’t think that diet Titty has put him on is going to work.” said John as they passed the little triangle of grass with the fingerpost that was dignified with the name of “The Green.”

“All the same,” said Nancy, “He does actually have a collar on, and he’s obviously very well-fed and cared for. She must know she’s trying to swipe someone else’s cat. And she did seem a bit strange.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Any hope they both had of slipping quietly into the house and joining in with what the others were doing as if nothing had ever happened, were scuppered. They realised that as soon as John opened the wrought iron gate which shrieked and squeaked terribly.

“Visitors.” John said.

“Drawing room tea?” Nancy asked.

“We don’t usually.” he confirmed “Yesterday was just because it was so close to suppertime. Mother wasn’t expecting anyone. We’d better go round to the backdoor.” Although it wasn’t completely dark and the curtains were open, the lights were on in the front room, spilling light onto the lawn. The top lights in the window were pink and yellow coloured glass, arranged in a chequered pattern and looking, as Roger said, like Battenberg cake.  John wondered if they slipped into the kitchen whether they could escape drawing room tea entirely   if they slipped into the kitchen. They could raid the larder for mince pies and bread and butter instead. His stomach suggested doing without tea entirely was not an option, both of them had eaten just enough to escape comment at lunchtime.

“Let’s try not to be seen.” he suggested.

This suited Nancy perfectly and they slipped through the shrubs to the right of the front path, across the steps that went up to the porch and under the front room window, bending double so as to keep their heads well below the level of the sill. Unless someone was standing right in the bay window they could not be seen. They saw a silhouette cast over the light on the lawn. The curtains were closed.

Even with the dry weather and the cold wind, the paths had been sufficiently muddy to make taking off their boots in the scullery a necessity. Inside, doing ordinary things once more, John felt awkward again.

“Why don’t you warm up by the Rayburn and I’ll see what I can find in the larder?”

The kettle was already half – filled with water which still seemed quite hot. John put it back to boil and started searching for the small teapot his parents used when they were alone.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Nancy asked, and John could not have said what he found so disturbing about the conventional little question. He was spared the necessity of replying when Titty came in. She looked rather curiously at them both. Whatever she saw appeared to reassure her slightly. Of course Titty would have seen that something was wrong, John thought and of course, being Titty, it would bother her.

“Mrs Scott is here.” Titty said “And you’re to come in to tea. There’s not much left except Christmas cake. She smiles a lot and is very gracious and I don’t like her. It was her who made a big thing about you coming in and forgiving you for being late.”

“Cheek. That’s for Mother to say.” John was indignant.

“So much for slipping in quietly.” Nancy said.

“It’s that gate.” Titty explained. “I closed the curtains, so she didn’t actually see you lurking about, I think. I could see you.”

“Neither of us does it as well as Peggy or you.” said Nancy. Titty looked rather pleased.

“Neighbour or naval?” asked John. “Or both?”

“Neighbour. Quite definitely not naval. Mr S probably isn’t allowed to go anywhere but his office by himself.”

“Titty you can’t call him that.” John protested.  

“She does.” Titty replied, “Like that woman in Emma who married the curate. Come and see for yourself.”

Mrs Scott thought that Nancy should sit down by the fire to warm up. Mrs Scott wondered that Mrs Blackett should care to let Nancy expose herself to such a cold wind, but then Mrs Scott had suffered so greatly with her health herself. Why, Mrs Scott had suffered agonies of anxiety when Mr S had bronchitis last winter. Nobody could understand the how she had felt and how it had Lowered her Spirits until the doctor assured her that Mr S was in no danger. 

“Shall I put the kettle on again for another pot of tea, I expect that one is tepid by now?” said Mrs Blackett, “No Susan, please let me go.”

Of course it was a great burden to be so sensitive, Mrs Scott continued. How lucky for Mrs Walker that she did not share the same burden and was able to contemplate long absences from her husband so cheerfully. Of course having so many children must be a help. She had only the one son and after he was born the doctor had said

“Come on Bridget, we must give Polly his food. You’ll excuse us Mrs Scott, but it most important that parrots are feed at exactly the right time.”

“But Susan, Titty said.” began Bridget.

“I’ll come and help too.” said Titty hastily.

To everyone’s relief, they never did hear exactly what the doctor said. Mrs Scott’s son was a paragon of virtues with perfect manners who adored his mother. This was as it should be, as she had made his upbringing her life’s work, always being vigilant, never letting him leave food on his plate (She glanced pointedly at the piece of marzipan and icing left on John’s plate.)  and always making sure she knew Where he was, What he was doing  and Who he was with. Smile still firmly in place, Mrs Scott let her glance flicker from Nancy to John and back even more pointedly.

Mrs Blackett returned with the refreshed teapot. In the ensuing handing round of cups, only Roger who was fond of marzipan himself, noticed that John’s plate had been swopped with Nancy’s empty one. Still, as the one slice of cake was all they had had, he shouldn’t really grudge Nancy an extra piece of marzipan. Roger had hoped that Mrs Scott’s fashionable clothes and hair would mean she was the sort of native who was always watching her waist-line. She had however, to Roger’s regret displayed a great appreciation of Christmas cake, mince pies, scones and the drop-scones that Susan had hastily made. All the time she had grilled them about school, where the Walkers had met the Blacketts, where the Blacketts lived and what Roger planned to do when he grew up. The girls, rather unfairly, Roger thought, had been spared this item on their inquisitors list. 

Roger was wondered if Susan could be persuaded to make more drop-scones tomorrow. He had not had any at all, as thanks to the grilling, he had not finished his mince pie before they had all gone. (And that was one happy month next year gone, as everyone knew you had to eat in complete silence from the beginning of the mince pie to the very last crumb for it to work.) Mrs Scott was questioning John now, and Roger went back to wondering whether the happy months came consecutively and whether they started in January. He was only up to seven, and the holidays really mattered most. He would have to eat at least one more in silence, two possibly because Bridget had made him laugh while he was eating the first one. Did laughing count or was it only talking? He realised that Mrs Scott was going when John leapt to his feet and prodded Roger to do the same.

Sinbad slipped in through the front door when it was opened.

“Isn’t that Mrs Smith’s cat? Well, she calls herself Smith and she claims to be a widow, but I have my suspicions.”

“This is quite definitely our cat, Sinbad.” John said firmly, scooping him up and taking him back to the kitchen.

“I thought she’d never go.” said Titty coming into the kitchen a few minutes later. “We’re playing sardines again.”

“I’ll wash up.” said John hastily. Titty eyed him questioningly.

“Everything’s fine,” he said hastily, “I just don’t want to play Sardines.” Anxious to change the subject he continued, “Nancy and I saw Sinbad hanging around another house today, one at the other end of the village. Nancy reckons he’s getting food there and food from us.”

Titty look at Sinbad, curled up in his basket.

“It could be.” she said.

“Titty!”

“That’s Bridget. You better go.”

“Is it just Sardines? Or do you feel you’re too old for games now?”

“I’m not too old for games. I just don’t like that one.”

Or at least, he thought guiltily as the kitchen door closed behind Titty, I really shouldn’t.

He had barely started on the washing up when Nancy joined him.

“None of them came in here, I’m afraid.” he said.

“It’s not that – although I am supposed to be playing.” she said. “Peg said that Bridget said Susan’s birthday is on New Year’s Day.”

“It is.”

“The thing is we didn’t know we were coming until Christmas day, so we haven’t got her a present or even a card.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Well Peggy thinks it does, because we are here, even if we carry on not normally doing birthdays.”

“I’m going to have to go and buy stuff to finish making her present. Titty and Roger have already got theirs. What were you thinking of getting her?”

“There’s a book Peggy thinks she might like, if getting to a bookshop won’t cause too many problems.”

“If you want to get a particular book, we had better go to Ipswich. Will it be very hard to find?”

“Peggy doesn’t think so.”

“Does Peggy want to come too?”

“She might, but isn’t that a bit unfair on Susan?”

John grinned. “I bet Susan’s Christmas money is burning a hole in her pocket. She likes to put it all towards once big thing. We don’t have to stay together for the whole time. We can go tomorrow. Do you want a mince pie before I put the tin back in the larder? Roger reckons each one you eat in silence gives you a happy month next year.”

When Bridget came in to scold Nancy for not playing properly, neither of them answered.

It was arranged at supper that John, Susan, Nancy and Peggy should take the bus into Ipswich the next morning. The younger three children felt they had had enough of shops for the time being.

“Towns aren’t good for much,” said Titty, “except buying things and libraries.”

“And theatres.” said Bridget. “It’s a pity we aren’t going to see a pantomime.”

“We could make our own.” said Titty, “and you could watch that.”

“Does that mean I can’t be in it?” asked Bridget suspiciously, “I’m not going to be left out.”

“You can be in it, Bridgie” said Susan hastily. “Mother and Father and Mrs. Blackett can be the audience.”

“If you like to perform it on New Year’s Eve, Captain Curteledge can see it too.” Father added.

Chapter Text

The shopping trip had been extremely successful. The ‘bus timetable had been awkward, so they had agreed to have lunch in Ipswich. In the morning, Peggy and Nancy had headed for the bookshop while John and Susan drifted around Woolworth’s.  Susan eventually decided to not to buy anything. This seemed rather a waste of effort to John. Susan disagreed.

“I’ve got a much better idea of how far the money will go now, when I do spend it.”

Susan had suggested that they meet the Amazons for lunch at twelve o’clock.

“Otherwise everywhere will be full up with shopper and we might not get four seats together.” she had explained. It was John who pointed out that they were going to be late if they did not hurry. As they scurried along the wet, crowded pavement, Susan began tentatively.

“John, you and Nancy….”

John slightly resented the tactic Susan was using. Both his parents, on occasion, waited until he was doing something that demanded at least half his attention and then asked him about something that he wasn’t certain he wanted to talk about. He couldn’t really say he objected to them doing it. Susan, however, was eighteen months younger than he was, and although most of the time they were quite happy to forget this. John was well aware that Susan sometimes thought that extra year and a bit did not count simply because he was a boy. Susan needn’t act as if she was the eldest. Perhaps it was this that prompted him to let her come to a floundering but tactful halt. John counted silently to twenty before saying, very mildly,

“Nancy and I what?”

Susan began again with more determination.

“Well, I could see neither of you were happy, and a I wondered…”

Suddenly, John felt ashamed of himself.

“That’s all sorted out now. It was my fault really. That wretched Great Aunt of theirs got her school to stop her letters to me and she didn’t know. I thought she hadn’t been writing and, I wasn’t as decent about as I should have been. Let’s not talk about it.”

They arrived at the appointed meeting place only a few minutes after the Amazons, who seemed very pleased with themselves. Nancy and Peggy were too polite to say it and Susan and John were too loyal, but it was pleasant to sit and talk without the younger ones there, perpetually impatient to be up and doing something. After lunch, Susan and Peggy went shopping together and Nancy and John went to buy the plywood, varnish and a few other bits and pieces. The four of them had arranged to meet at the ‘bus stop.

All the other shoppers seemed to have the same idea and Peggy and Susan were lucky to find two seats together on the ‘bus. Nancy perched on the end of a seat next to a rather portly gentleman, who had made such a point of compressing himself as much as possible and apologising that she felt she really could not say she would rather stand. John was already standing up. They had gone only one stop when  Mrs Scott boarded the ‘bus followed by a woebegone young man. He looked as if he might still be at school, but was older than John. All the seats were taken, so Nancy now stood up, followed by the portly gentleman.  Mrs Scott settled herself into the seat with a vague and self-consciously graceful nod. The unfortunately youth plumped down next to her with a scowl and a woman in the seat in front of them recognised Mrs Scott and twisted herself round for a chat. Two seats behind, Susan and Peggy shuffled up to make room for Nancy on their seat.

The portly man remained standing, so they could not see the women, but were unfortunately obliged to hear fragments of the conversation.

“ tea yesterday… dear Ralph …. no, I didn’t like to take him, in case they weren’t quite the sort of people….. they said they had a parrot, but I didn’t see it….. I didn’t ask to…..I believe these parrots are taught the most shocking language…not your friend’s  parrot of course, she always seems such a lady and her husband always most smartly turned out…… well this would be a naval parrot I suppose.” At this point, Nancy felt Peggy shaking slightly and gave her a gentle dig in the ribs. Peggy simply could not bring embarrassment on Susan with a fit of the giggles now.

“…..Friends staying, of course I don’t know what sort of people they are…. Went out for a walk….likely thing in the middle of winter…. didn’t seem to be bothered ……..one must be charitable… perhaps she’s being rather clever really… after all the older girl is nothing much to look at…. the younger one might turn out prettier…. after all if the boy follows his father into the Navy …I suppose it’s a steady profession……if I had a daughter I wouldn’t want her to end up as a spinster……school teachers…  ”

 Nancy’s fit of coughing still did not manage to drown out Mrs Scott’s voice entirely.  Concerned, the portly gentleman offered her a pastille from a small tin drawn from his waist-coat pocket. Nancy saw nothing for it but to accept and then wished she hadn’t. It really was vile. The portly gentleman beamed with approval as she stopped coughing.

“Ah, I thought that would do the trick. They taste totally disgusting but they do the job.”

Eyes watering, Nancy was gratefully to feel Peggy’s hand slip under her arm and give it a little squeeze. Happily the disruption caused by the gentleman reaching his waist-coat pocket through layers of overcoat, woollen scarf, and jacket had been enough to change the subject of Mrs Scott’s conversation.

“So called Mrs Smith… leaving at the end of the month…Rent unpaid I expect… no better than she ought to be…”

Gradually, the crowded bus thinned out. The man who had been standing talking to John alighted as did the gentleman with the pastilles, Mrs Scott’s conversational partner and five or six other people. John sat down in an empty seat. Nancy remained where she was, cheeks still uncomfortably pink and grateful for the comfort of Peggy’s unspoken support. It was true that eavesdroppers never heard any good of themselves, although she hadn’t actually been eavesdropping – after all Mrs Scott could hardly have failed to notice that Nancy had in fact stood up for her.

When they got of the ‘bus and walked through Kirby Green. John and Nancy carried the plywood. (Susan doesn’t need to know it’s her birthday present, John had said. Nancy thought very fact that Susan hadn’t asked about it showed that she had a pretty good idea.)

“Well if that’s the good manners she’s so proud of, I’d hate to see what she thinks are bad manners.” John said as they started to walk back to the house. Walking behind him with the other end of the plywood, Nancy blushed miserably again. She had at least hoped that John was too far away and too involved in own conversation to have heard anything.

“Who was that you were talking to?” Susan asked her brother, “Anyone I should have recognised?”

“I was rather hoping you had recognised him.” said John, “He obviously recognised me and asked after all of us, but I hadn’t the faintest clue who he was. He must someone who works with Father.”

“We’ll be able to ask Father at supper time.” said Susan as she struggled with the shrieking front gate. John and Nancy took the plywood straight round to the outhouse.

Nancy found Peggy sitting on her bed waiting for her when she went upstairs to change her shoes and rain-soaked stockings.

“She was pretty beastly on the ‘bus Nancy, but it’s honestly not worth worrying about.  There’s nothing wrong in intending to be a teacher, especially if it’s something interesting, like Games. And you’re not un-pretty. Who’d want to look like her anyway? So you needn’t mind.”

So Peggy really hadn’t realised what was being implied in Mrs Scott’s flow of malice? Maybe this was one of those times when Peggy being that little bit younger made a difference. Maybe Susan hadn’t noticed either.

Nancy hugged Peggy, but all she said was, “Let’s wrap Susan’s present while she’s not here. I’ve kept the wrapping paper dry inside my coat. Have you got the book?”

“Ipswich was fine.” John said changing his socks, “Who would you least like to meet on the ‘bus?”

“Of people we know or anyone?” Roger asked.

“People we know.”

“Well, Ainsworth in my form is a bit full of himself, but you don’t know him. Mrs Scott then.”

“And her son!”

“What was he like?”

“Dreadful manners. Some chap sitting by the window in the seat next to Nancy had stood up to give Mrs Scott his seat. Of course Nancy had to stand up to let him passed and Mr Perfect-manners sat down in Nancy’s seat cool as you please.”

“Perhaps he thought she had offered it to him.” said Roger, “You know, being polite to grown-ups.”

“Well he had no business taking it if she had. He didn’t look properly grown-up himself. I bet he’s younger than Jim Brading. Could you see Jim expecting a girl to give up her seat for him like that?”

“Well no, but I don’t see why you’re that bothered about it.”

“Oh, it was just that his mother kept going on about how wonderful he was.”

Roger eyed his older brother curiously, but then offered.

“She was pretty bad –mannered too.”

After tea they discovered that left to themselves, Roger, Titty and Bridget had been unable to decide on a story for their pantomime.

“All the usual ones have too many people, or too few or things we haven’t got.” Roger explained.

“I wondered if we should make up our own story, pantomime-ish with all the usual people and things in it, but not exactly the same as any other story.” said Titty.

“Then we wouldn’t need to have things we haven’t got.” Susan agreed.

“We could all decide what we want to be and then make up the story.” Nancy suggested.

Titty produced a pencil and as half filled –exercise book to write it down. Catching Susan’s eye she said hastily,

“It’s not from this school. No-one will mind.”

Both John and Roger wanted to include a pantomime horse or cow, and everyone could see that Nancy and Peggy were being swayed by the idea, but Susan vetoed it on grounds of practicality. Roger then opted to be the comic servant.

“That means you’ll have to be the Dame.” He pointed out to John

“John – Dame.” wrote Titty.

“Can I be a princess?” asked Bridget, “I’ve got a costume in the dressing up box already.” 

They agreed that Peggy should be the principal boy. Susan could be the heroine. Titty could be a good fairy wearing the wings Bridget had used in the nativity play. Nancy, who didn’t mind having a moustache drawn on her, would be a villain. Then they started the story. Bridget, as the youngest had started first.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess, but nobody knew she was a princess.”

“Why? There’s got to be a reason, Bridgie.”

“Why does there? Can’t she just be one and no-one knows.”

“She was taken out of the palace by her forgetful nurse when she was a baby – we can do that bit with a doll, and the Nurse put her down somewhere and forgot her.” said Roger. “You can be the nurse, John.”

“She’d have remembered eventually.” said Titty, “The villain stole her from the nurse because..”

“Because I was angry with the king for sinking my ship. I had to swim for it and only succeeded in rescuing my faithful parrot.” suggested Nancy.

“So the villain abandoned her and she was found by Susan” said Titty scribbling away in the exercise books.

“You can’t just say by Susan,” Roger objected, “you have to say what Susan is going to be.”

“A shepherdess” said Susan.” We can make a crook quite easily with one of those bamboo poles in the wash house.”

“ Who… brings… up…. the… Princess… as… her… little.. sister.” said Titty writing as fast as she could.

“The king announces that everyone in the kingdom has to look for the princess and they look for years.” suggested Peggy

“Seven years” said Bridget, “then I can be seven.”

“Who’s going to be the king?” asked Peggy.

“No-one, because of making another costume. He sends the comic servant to make the announcement.” Susan said firmly.

“And whoever finds the Princess gets to marry her and rule the kingdom with her after the king dies.” said Peggy. “That’s how these things always go.”

“So the Prince of another country comes looking for the Princess,” suggested Titty, “that’s you Peggy.”

“Can’t I be poor and honest instead?” asked Peggy. “Why should I get to rule two countries? One country would always say I was making favourites of the others.”

“Alright, you can be a farmer’s son.”

“We’ve got to have something good for the fairy to do.” Put in Nancy.

“I don’t mind if there isn’t really a part. I could narrate or something.” said Titty quickly.

“The fairy gives the prince, sorry farmer’s son, a magic compass which points towards the princess.” suggested John.

“Why does she do that?”

“She helps me when I’m disguised as an old woman. My cat has fallen down a well.” Titty suggested.

“Let’s not have Sinbad and  Polly onstage at the same time.” Said Susan firmly

“So the Peggy finds the princess and marries her and they all live happily ever after.”

“I can’t marry Peggy; she’s a girl. Why can’t I just rule the kingdom by myself?” objected Bridget.

Susan and Titty explained the idea of a Principal Boy in vain.

“Sorry, Peggy, but you’ll just have to marry Susan.” said John in the end.

“The compass can point to your heart’s desire or something.” suggested Titty.

“And the comic servant has to marry the dame of course.” said Nancy with a grin.

“So long as I don’t have to kiss him.” said both brothers simultaneously.

“What happens to the villain?” asked Bridget.

“Oh, Titty waves her wand and I drop down dead or something.” said Nancy easily. 

“It’s quite short.” said Titty.

“We haven’t got long to practise.” Susan said.

“Are we going to have songs?” asked Peggy.

“Let’s not.” said John.

“We don’t have to write out the lines either.” Nancy pointed out. “We know what’s going to happen. So long as we say words that meant the same thing and everyone knows what to do next that’s all that matters.”

“But we must have rehersals” said Titty.

“Lots of time for rehearsing tomorrow,” John suggested, “especially if it stays wet.”

Chapter Text

After lunch on New Year’s Eve, Mrs Walker decreed that all rehearsals and costume-making activity must cease and they should all lie down on their beds.

“Nancy, Peggy, Susan and John may read quietly if they really can’t sleep, but if you’re all going to stay up to see the New Year in and enjoy it, you’ll do a lot better if you have a nap now. I’m not saying I might not do the same myself.”

Titty opened her mouth to object.

“No, Titty, the cat flap is still there. You’ve looked everywhere for him. He’s only been gone since breakfast time.”

“Probably down at that other house stuffing himself silly and having a great time.” said Nancy.

“He’ll be back for his supper.” said Susan.

“But then he’ll forget he’s our cat.” protested Titty.

“Not the amount you spoil him,” argued Roger.

“Anyway, if that woman on the ‘bus is right, the woman in that house is moving out today. Once he only gets fed at home, I bet he’ll be home more often.” Peggy suggested.

After that they all trooped upstairs with fairly good grace.  

Nancy did try to go to sleep but found herself unable to settle. Her bed was nearest the door and she heard Titty slip past and go down the bare wooden staircase to the floor below. Nancy gave up the unequal struggle and picked up Aunt Helen’s present to her from beside the bed. After a couple of pages of “I sailed with Chinese Pirates” she stopped. Titty had not come back upstairs. She had heard Titty’s shoes on the stairs. Shoes not slippers. Titty had almost certainly gone out to look for Sinbad.

Nancy was no expert on Titty, in the way that Susan might be, but she knew well enough that Titty was unlikely to tamely give up and come back after a brief, unsuccessful search. There was a viciously cold wind again and daylight was already fading. There didn’t have to be snow on the ground for cold to be dangerous, and Titty got so desperate about things. Nancy put her shoes on and slipped out of the bedroom. Susan and Peggy were asleep.

She paused on the landing. It was no part of Nancy’s plan to get Titty into native trouble, but she had no local knowledge to rely on here. Besides she was beginning to suspect where Titty was.  Mrs Smith’s manner had been….odd. Could she wake John without waking Roger? If she could, she would. Otherwise she would just have to manage by herself. The boys’ bedroom door was ajar, but it creaked and so did the floor boards

John was deeply immersed in “I Sailed with Chinese Pirates”, his Christmas present from his siblings when a tiny paper pellet landed precisely in the middle of the page. He knew perfectly well who had thrown it before he looked up at the partly open door. Carefully he picked his way past the creaking floor boards.

“Titty’s gone out looking for Sinbad. We have to find her.” Nancy whispered in his ear.

 John nodded, and they crept downstairs and put their outdoor clothes on. Once outside, it was John’s turn to whisper.

“Climb over the gate – we’ll never get it open quietly.”

Once they were both in the road John looked at Nancy enquiringly and she pointed in the direction of the house they had seen Sinbad entering.  They set off at a run.

When they reached “the green” Nancy made John slow to a walk.

“We’re too old to be running along lanes without someone looking at us twice. It’s noisier anyway. We don’t want to get Titty in trouble if she isn’t already.”

“You think Titty has gone to this woman’s house?” John asked.

“After what Peggy said at dinnertime, probably.”

“Do you think Titty thinks that woman is going to take Sinbad with her? Did you say anything to Titty about her?”

Nancy shook her head. “Only what you heard me say; I didn’t say anything about the woman seeming so peculiar.”

“Neither did I.”

“Anyway, let’s scout the situation out. Titty will be trying not to be seen, too.”

“Unless she just marched up to the door and demanded Sinbad back. There’s a gap between these two gardens that gets you round to the field at the back of the row of house.  You see what you can from the front, I’ll try the back and we’ll meet past the next bend in the lane.”

There was a furniture van with doors open at the back, blocking most of the road. A lot of furniture had already been loaded on the van, more surely than someone would be likely to buy for a house she had only rented. There was no cover in the tiny front garden or behind the low wall. The field opposite had a ditch but no hedge on the side nearest the road. That seemed very strange to Nancy, but it had wheat or barley growing in it - perhaps it was always used for crops and not livestock. She would just have to be openly nosy. The curtains had been taken down from the windows. There was no sign of either Titty or Sinbad.

 From behind the house, Nancy heard an owl call - that was John. There came another hoot. John again or Titty? She couldn’t tell.  Considerably more hooting. Nancy grinned. Someone was going to notice a pair of owls hooting in Morse code eventually, but he might just get away with it.  Two men in overalls came out of the front door, carrying a dismantled iron bedstead. Nancy hurried on round the bend in the road. After a short while John joined her at a run, breathless and pale. It took her a moment or two for her to realise that he was white with anger.

“She’s locked Titty up in one of the outhouses.”

“Can we get round the back?”

“There’s a wall, brick and quite high. But if she’s got Titty locked up, we should just go round the front and make her be reasonable and let Titty out.”

“Suppose she won’t be reasonable? There are at least two removal men as well. There could easily be more.  They’ve locked Titty up. Suppose they capture us? Nobody else knows we’re here.”

John had to admit they were not likely to be a match for three fully grown adults.

“So you think we should go home and tell Mother?” John clearly didn’t think much of this idea.

 “I think we should go round the back, rescue Titty and then think about who to tell. Let’s do it now, while they are still putting furniture in the van.”

John was all for doing something immediately. They went round through a field of turnips to the wall behind the house.

“We can’t both climb over and end up getting caught.” John said.

“So let me go. I can climb just about anything you can. If I do get into trouble no-one knows me here. It won’t be a problem for your parents.”

“And if it comes to a fight?”

“You know I’ll fight.” Despite the gravity of the situation, Nancy grinned and her eyes glittered in the fading light. John returned her grin. Sometimes a pirate was exactly the right person to have on your side.

“Suppose the ground is lower on the other side? Or the wall is in better shape?” he asked.

“I’ll boost Titty over and slip out through the front door before they can grab me.”

She was already on top of the wall, when he whispered, “Nancy, getting Titty safe is all that matters.”

“I don’t care what I break, and Sinbad might have to take his chances.” she reassured him.

Nancy couldn’t see to find footholds on the other side of the wall, but dropping down into the small backyard would be fine. Glancing around the backyard, she saw a large, empty plant pot of the type that sometime held tomato plants. She up-ended it and placed it next to the part of the wall she judged best for climbing. It would help anyone who was chasing them too, but that couldn’t be helped. There were two outhouses, side by side. She wasn’t as good at owls as John, but a duck was plainly out of the question in this situation. Titty hooted back promptly. It was the outhouse without the window that the sound came from. The key was still in the lock, a four-inch long iron affair stuck in the lock at a slight angle.  It seemed as if this was going to be almost ridiculously easy.

Three minutes later Nancy was still wrestling with the key and wondering how noisy kicking the door off its hinges would be. She never had done it before and had no idea if it would take one kick or many. Sooner or later she would be seen from one of the back windows. She had to get the door opened before that happened. Without expecting anything very much to happen, she took the key impatiently out of the lock, pushed it back in and turned it with both hands. The lock turned as smoothly as if it had always worked and the door, which had no other latch on it, swung inwards.

“I still haven’t found Sinbad.” whispered Titty.

“Never mind, I’ll give you a boost over the wall. John’s on the other side.”

“You don’t understand. She’s got Sinbad somewhere still. You’re not going to let her get away with this are you, Nancy?”  

“The idea of rescuing you was for you to escape, not for you to fall back into the clutches of the old bag.” whispered Nancy, cheerfully ignoring the fact that Mrs Smith did not look as old as forty.

“I thought you liked Sinbad.” Titty was growing indignant.

“I do.” replied Nancy “But making sure you’re safe is more important.” Why did Titty have to be so stubborn now.

“We rescued him before and we’ll rescue him again.” said Titty.

“You might think of John. He’s not going to forgive me if I let you get captured again.” Nancy had said all this in pure exasperation, and perhaps it was a little underhand, but really it was true and if it was the only thing that would get Titty over that wall to where John was probably worrying himself to bits, then it was worth it.

Two minutes later they were running back to the Walker’s house as fast as Titty could go, with the other two keeping pace with her easily.

Chapter Text

 They met Commander Walker arriving at the front gate at almost the same time they did. Once they were inside and beginning to warm up, they found themselves being questioned closely and in less trouble than they anticipated.

“That’s because they’ve only just woken up and had less time to worry.” John suggested very quietly to Nancy. She was not so sure. The look Peggy was giving her suggested that there was going to be an argument and a half once they were out of the Swallows hearing.

When Titty and John, had finished their explanation, Mrs Walker turned to Nancy and asked,

 “What sort of furniture was in the van?”

Slightly taken aback, Nancy described it in as much detail as she could. There had been a dresser, two wing chairs, a wardrobe, two chests of drawers and antique looking wooden settle and some carpets rolled up. She thought she had seen the legs of quite a big table sticking up.

Mrs Walker looked across at her husband.

“That was the place I looked round furnished, Ted. The one that was too small. I think I’ve still got the owners’ telephone number. We had better ‘phone them.”

No-one seemed to require them just then, and Nancy felt they were less likely to be asked difficult questions if they weren’t there. No one so far had really questioned how Titty had come to be in the backyard so that she could be so easily pushed into the coal store (which had fortunately contained mostly wood, and very little of that.) If Mrs Walker had looked at the house, it was only a matter of time before she realised that Titty must have walked into someone else’s house uninvited. Titty was unhappy enough as it was. If there were going to be any explanations, the fewer people there were around the better. If Peggy wanted an argument, Nancy supposed she had better get it over with. She knew what Peggy was going to say.

Peggy said it. They had retreated to Polly’s room. It wasn’t much of an argument after all. Nancy thought she put her side of the argument fairly well. As Peggy wasn’t listening, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t have a proper row in someone else’s house anyway.

“I’m your sister and I’m the mate of the Amazon. You should have woken me.” was pretty much the beginning, middle and end of Peggy’s argument.

Peggy, stalking out onto the top landing, nearly walked into John coming into the room.

“I’m sorry; I couldn’t help over hearing the last bit. I’ve just had the same sort of thing from Susan.”

“Do you think I should have woken Susan?”

John shook his head. “She would have worried so much. I’m glad you told me, though.”

They smiled at each other. Nancy felt there was something more to be said, but didn’t know quite what it was.

 After a few moments, John said, “Shall we go and help make the tea?” which meant that he didn’t know either.

Commander Walker was talking on the telephone in the hall as they passed through it. He was speaking in that tone of voice which people use when they think the telephone call is nearly over.

“..last thing, if you do happen to find a cat there…know he’ll probably find his own way home, but… yes, my little girl is breaking her heart over it….probably used up some of his allotted nine already.. Yes, she’ll be here until Monday. … No, this evening would be fine..”

Captain Curteledge arrived in time for tea. Tea was rather late, since supper would be late too. He carried in an interesting assortment of parcels, two of which clinked together. The top one turned out to be some unfamiliar kind of cake that was placed immediately on the table. When it was served, Nancy decided that she approved of the captain’s taste in cakes. It was pretty much marzipan with cake, rather than the other way round. John ate none of his after the first bite. He swopped plates with Susan while Bridget was showing the captain her Susan-knitted Christmas present. Peggy saw Nancy noticing and gave her a private little smile. Trouble with sisters had evidently been brief. Just as well with the pantomime to perform.

They had only just begun to get into their costumes, when Mrs Blackett came upstairs to tell Nancy and John that they were wanted downstairs.

Peering over the banisters of the first floor they saw a policeman’s helmet on the hall table.

“Do you think they know about Titty going into the house?” John whispered.

“No, otherwise they’d want to talk to her. I think this is just about the furniture.”

“Let’s not mention her then, unless they do first.”

“Anyway, she went in by daylight, so they can’t say she was burgling.” John looked curiously at Nancy as she said this. “Sammy told me about it once.” she explained, “And Titty walked through an open door, so it isn’t even breaking and entering.”

“Look here, Nancy, if they know someone climbed over the wall, we had better say it was me. It might easily have been.”

Nancy looked at him in astonishment. John Walker was offering to tell a lie for her? She knew perfectly well that the lie would bother him far more than any subsequent trouble.

“I don’t want you to tell lies for me,” she said, her voice far more gentle than it usually was. “but thank you.” She felt a sudden ridiculous urge to hug him, but captains did not hug each other and he would be appalled by such a display of sentimentality. Instead, they continued downstairs.

The policeman was sitting, notebook and pencil tidily in front of him, at the long side of the oval dining room table.  Commander Walker was sitting at one end of the table, chair pushed back slightly. Two of dining room chairs were already set for them on the other side of the table. It felt so unpleasantly reminiscent of being summoned to the headmistress that Nancy wondered if they were expected to remain standing. She glanced at John and then realised that he was simply waiting for her to sit down first.

Titty and Sinbad weren’t mentioned at all. The policeman was most interested in what she had observed in the removal van and the time they had seen it. The awkward question came at the end, when she was beginning to relax.

“So Miss Blackett, why were you two walking along that road at that time in the first place?”

“Well, we don’t get much chance just to talk with our younger sisters around all the time.” It sounded pretty unlikely even in her own ears and she glanced quickly at John for support before realising how guilty it must look and bringing her attention back to the policeman. The knowing smile vanished from the policeman’s face almost as soon as it had appeared. She found herself blushing furiously. The policeman’s interpretation of their behaviour was clearly not too far away from Mrs Scott’s.

“Well that covers most of it. A pity the young lady can’t remember all the registration of the van, but that should be enough to go on. If we find the cat, I’ll send someone round with him, but the odds are pretty good that he’ll turn up in his own good time.”

As the commander ushered the policeman out through the front door, Nancy turned to John. She was dreading what he might say. He smiled back at her quite cheerfully.

“Well if he’s met Bridget about the village, he should see why anyone might want a bit of peace and quiet. Not” he added conscientiously, “that she’s bad for her age.”

Immensely relieved Nancy jumped to her feet.

“Come on, let’s get ready for this pantomime. Are Peggy and Titty just going to mime the cat?”

“Using a stuffed toy of Bridget’s. It’s actually an elephant but it will do.”

Closing the door behind the policeman, Ted Walker watched Nancy and John going upstairs, carrying drawing room cushions. Nancy had deflected the policeman’s last question very neatly. He was glad she and John seemed to have made up their differences, whatever they were.

The stuffed elephant was not in the end required. About fifteen minutes after the first policeman had left there was a knock on the door and a much younger policeman handed a distinctly unimpressed Sinbad into Titty’s welcoming arms.

“He was quite comfortable, sitting there in his nice basket next to the stove, a happy as you please with his saucer of milk and his little plate of fish next to him.” said the policeman reassuringly to Titty. Susan, busily putting props where they would be wanted for the performance, did not think Titty looked quite as reassured as she might be by this. Sinbad was borne off to the kitchen for his supper and to rest before his performance.

“I’ll take the bit of paper for the well off his basket until he’s ready to go on stage, in case he doesn’t quite like it.” said Titty.

Chapter Text

Eventually, after a certain amount of confusion, the stage was set. The stage was the staircase side of the hall, with four of the dining room chairs set out on the other side for the audience. Having a stage curtain had proved totally impractical.

“We’ll just have to tell them to turn round and not look,” said Peggy, “when we want to move props about.”

The under-stairs cupboard and its alcove were officially deemed to be off-stage, as were the bottom few steps of the staircase. Half-way up the stairs, which the audience could just see by craning their necks a little, was “in the palace”.

“Although you can’t have fights on it.” Susan had said rather anxiously.

Inside the palace, the dame, padded with cushions and rouged and the comic servant were gossiping about the imminent birth of a new prince or princess. The dame was sure s/he would be promoted to nurse from kitchen-maid. The comic servant rudely decried the dame’s intelligence and sense. Roger was enjoying this bit enormously and went on for longer than he had in rehearsal. John found that he was slightly distracted from his side of the repartee because cushions were not staying in place as well as he had hoped. Eventually, the servant was dispatched to the market with a basket to buy vegetables, and John retired to the upstairs landing to adjust his cushions.

Descending the stairs, Roger crossed the hall (market place), encountering a dastardly and desperate character. Peggy and Susan had really done their best with Nancy’s costume, pleased that she did not care how ridiculous she looked. Susan had adapted an old pair of school trousers from the “pass-on” box to serve as a pair of breeches. Peggy had tacked some of the lace doilies with which the house seemed plentifully provided on to Nancy’s longest blouse to make a ruffled shirt.

“If you leave it un-tucked and put a belt around it over the top, no one will be able to tell the trousers don’t really fasten properly.” Susan had said. Susan and Peggy had bought a black eyebrow pencil as well as the rouge in Ipswich and Nancy now sported an extravagantly curled moustache and sinister goatee beard. There had been a little of the pencil left after they finished, so Roger had been allowed a moustache too.

Nancy had turned up the side of Titty’s school hat brim with a safety pin and added the remains of an ostrich feather found in Bridget’s dressing up box. This looked quite dashing, but Polly took exception to the feather. Nancy had to hurry through her lines, explaining that her ship had been sunk by the King’s Navy (Cue cheering from the audience) and that s/he might have to resort to honest work. The comic servant explained about the expected Royal baby.

“…..and if it’s a girl she’s going to be called Princess Gertrude Geranium.”

“I am NOT.” Came an indignant little voice from the under-stairs cupboard. The laughter from the audience further unsettled Polly and the servant had plenty of time to make his exit before the villainous pirate could spare the attention to inform the audience of his dastardly plan for revenge and follow this up with evil laughter and sinister hand-rubbing.

Nancy took Polly upstairs back to his cage rather quickly.

  The comic servant (now a royal herald with the addition of two red cushion covers tacked together worn as a tabard) re-entered, and after a fanfare on a penny whistle, announced:

“The happy arrival of the Princess Doreen Petunia, oh alright then Bridget, Princess Bridget.” He then followed this with a competent and quite loud rendering of Ten Green Bottles. Roger could hear the hear voices from the landing and hoped the audience could not.

“I don’t know where the baby is, Susan.”

“I wish people would look after their props.”

“Jib-booms and bobstays, how am I meant to tie a knot in your apron with you wriggling around like that, John?”

“Here’s you are, it was in Bridget’s doll’s cot.”

After two verses, the impromptu recital stopped, the tabard was hastily whipped off and the dame was ready to gloat over her promotion to nurse and explain that she was about to take the darling little princess out for an airing. The comic servant warned the nurse about the villainous character lurking about up to no good, before exiting up the stairs, loftily ignoring the villain creeping down stairs under a sinister green light. (Susan’s electric torch with a silk scarf of her mother’s held in place over the bulb.)

Nancy and John had rehearsed the “look behind you scene” many times under Titty’s critical eye.  Really, it was fair to say that Titty had directed most of the acting. Roger had been privately amazed when the two captains had meekly obeyed the injunctions to “do that bit again” for the umpteenth time. Peering over the banisters unseen, Roger had to concede that the efforts had been worth it. The audience, though few, were doing their bit enthusiastically. Eventually, the villain managed to snatch the “baby”. The dame grabbed the villain’s arm and belaboured her head with a hand-bag (a decorative sponge bag Susan had received that Christmas from cousin) in an attempt to retrieve the baby.  

This fight went on until the villain muttered, “Shivers my timbers, John, I’m supposed to win, remember?” and was allowed to flee (to the under-stairs cupboard) with the doll princess.

The herald appeared to announce that that was the end of the first act and would the audience please close their eyes and turn round for a few moments.

The distinctive creaking of basket work was heard and the rustle of paper.

 “Sinbad doesn’t like it much.”

“Just get on with it and he can go back to the kitchen.”

When the audience turned round, they beheld an old woman leading on a walking stick and wrapped in a cloak, bemoaning the fact that her cat had fallen down a well.

“Are they doing nursery-rhymes too?” Ted murmur to his wife.

“I hope Susan hasn’t damaged that table-cloth. Surely she can’t have done it all with safety-pins.” she whispered back.

If Susan and Peggy had been pleased with the villain’s costume, they had excelled themselves with the principal boy. A pair of shorts and some woolly stockings had been sewn into an approximation of trunk hose. (“It doesn’t matter whether it’s all the same period so long as it looks like it’s meant to be olden times.” Titty had said.) Peggy wore Susan’s school hat with the brim turned up to one side, trimmed with a feather Bridget had found in the garden. (Maybe a goose, John had said.)  Susan had raided her father’s wardrobe for a shirt and waistcoat in which she had proceeded to sew various darts and gather. A red kerchief in place of a collar completed the ensemble. Peggy looked nothing like a young man about to seek his fame and fortune and very like a principal boy.

Her appearance at the foot of the stairs brought an immediate round of applause from three of the audience. Commander Walker joined in a fraction of a second later. After all, it was only a waist-coat. The herald appeared, played his fanfare and made his proclamation. He then hastily held up a large piece of paper on which Titty had painted the words seven days later just in time before the principal boy encountered the old woman and her now very impatient cat.

Sinbad was now very willing to be rescued from his well and leapt into Peggy’s arms. However, he resisted all attempts to hand him over to Titty and stalked off to the kitchen door. This brought the action to a halt until doors were opened and the basket replaced in the kitchen in a position acceptable to Sinbad.

Titty threw off the cloak, revealing herself to be a disguised fairy in a very old pale blue evening dress of her mother’s and pair of wire and fabric wings.

“I remember that dress. Why don’t you wear it anymore?”

 Ted Walker whispered very quietly in his wife’s ear. Nevertheless, Mary blushed as well as smiled and did not reply.

“Strange sort of compass that won’t point in a straight-line.” Capt. Curtledge murmured to Peggy’s mother as Peggy herself took a circuitous route around the stage until she encountered Susan drawing water from a non-existent well. Peggy explained her quest to Susan in a Lancashire accent, which she kept up perfectly. Even her mother and sister were amazed that she never let it waver into a Westmorland one.

“Why?” Roger had asked at rehearsals, for once not in cheek but merely curious.

Peggy had simply replied “Why not?”

Roger, again leaning unseen over the banisters, still could not have explained why. He could recognise that Peggy’s decision had made the scene, which had hardly any jokes in, it go very much better. Susan had raided her mother’s wardrobe this time, and made a very pretty heroine in long white petticoats and a pink summer blouse, her costume completed with shawl and a pair of Dutch clogs, now rather tight.

Susan explained how she had found an abandoned baby seven years ago and brought her up as her little sister. She called Bridget, who entered holding  a woolly lamb somewhat battered by its two and a half years with Bridget. Bridget in a too-small princess outfit that her mother had made for her a year ago declined to marry the principal boy. The principal boy promptly proposed to the shepherdess, suggesting that they could run the sheep farm together and was accepted. Princess Bridget then decreed she would forgive the dame her carelessness on condition she married the herald.

 The princess decreed that the happy couples must kiss. The principal boy kissed the shepherdess with no display of reluctance. Titty had decided to make a comedy routine of her brothers’ absolute refusal to do “anything in the least bit soppy.” Three times the herald, hamming it up terribly, nearly worked up the courage to kiss the dame and three times his nerve failed him at the last moment. Just as the happy couple settled for a hand-shake instead, the villain crept downstairs wielding a cardboard-and-silver-paper cutlass. The good fairy eventually heard the shouts of “look behind you” from the audience and cast a spell on the pirate villain, causing the villain’s dramatic death (on the door mat).

Bridget stepped forward and announced, “They all lived happily ever after. The end.”

The human members of the cast lined up and bowed. Nancy called for “the director” and urged Titty, blushing furiously but delighted, forward to take another bow. John called for “the wardrobe mistresses” who received their share of the extra applause. Nancy called for “the musical director”, which made Roger grin and play a bar or two on his penny-whistle before taking his bow. John, observing Bridget’s face rushed in quickly with “thanks to Miss Bridget Walker for lending so many of the props.” 

Then the pantomime really was over.

Chapter Text

The cast of the pantomime resumed their normal clothes. John found that the rouge easy enough to wash off with enough soap, but Nancy and Roger were having a lot of trouble with the waxy eyebrow pencil until Mrs Blackett came to the rescue with some face cream.

Supper was a hilarious meal. Captain Curtledge and Roger were both interested in finding out how many other accents Peggy could do.

“It isn’t that I can do accents.” Peggy explained. “If I know someone with a certain accent and I hear them enough, I just think about how they speak – the details that are different.”

“Are you rather good at languages?” Captain Curtledge asked.

“I’m not bad in French conversation.” Peggy admitted, “But I’m not so good at grammar.”

“How can..” began Roger, but subsided very quickly. He had sat next to John deliberately, for any marzipan that was going. This did allow John to prod him into silence, but after all, eating was the main point of supper.

“She’s pretty good at music – well singing anyway.” said Nancy. Peggy went slightly pink. “Go on, Peggy, do Miss Hamilton.”

Peggy cheerfully gave her impression of the music mistress, who came from Edinburgh.

After supper had been cleared away and washed up, they left the still offended Sinbad in possession of the kitchen and played games in the drawing room. Bridget stoutly resisted all attempts to send her to bed but curled up in a corner of the sofa and took little part after the first game. Being awake when you are normal asleep makes you hungry, as Roger had pointed out. Fortunately his mother had anticipated this and had provided sandwiches, little sausage rolls and mince pies. Titty and Roger argued in a comfortable sort of way over whether it was a late supper or an early midnight feast. To the envy of the younger ones, John and Nancy were allowed a glass of the champagne that the Captain brought.

“You won’t like it much, Nancy. No-one ever does the first time they try it.” Her mother warned her. Nancy glanced at her mother’s own glass with the expression her uncle called fifteen going on twenty-one. No-one was going to get her to admit her mother was quite right. Nancy was quite happy to let Peggy take a sip from her glass and watch her make a face. She glanced across at John’s face to see what he thought. She couldn’t tell.

“Daddy,” Roger asked, between mince pies. “What was that woman up to with the furniture?  Did the policeman say?”

“Well it seems that Mrs Scott, whom you were all so delighted to see the other day was right about some things.” His father replied.

“Who’s Mrs Scott?” Captain Curtledge asked.

“A neighbour who came to call.” said Mrs Walker.

“She smiled a lot and then tried to boss Mother about and she tried to, not exactly say outright but….” said Titty.

“Insinuate?” Nancy’s mother suggested.

“Yes, insinuate that other people didn’t care as much about things as she did.”

“She said beastly things about.. about Polly on the ‘bus.” said Peggy.

“She kept going on about how wonderful her son was and what a marvellous mother she was.”

“He looked completely miserable when we saw him on the ‘bus.”

“He deserved to be, plonking himself down in Nancy’s seat like that.” said John. Nancy felt her cheeks growing hot. Perhaps that was what John had meant when they were carrying the plywood. Perhaps he hadn’t over-heard anything. How ridiculous of her to feel that relieved!

“I didn’t mind. I don’t mind standing.” said Nancy quickly.

“Well, I minded!” John retorted. He wondered why a sudden grin had flashed across his father’s face and stopped abruptly.

“She implied that she didn’t think Mrs Smith was called Mrs Smith.” Mrs Walker said quietly.

Roger, now happy that the months up November were provided for, asked again, “So what did she do?”

“It seems that they – there were three of them, one was her husband – rented houses for a short time, defaulted on the last month’s rent and stole the furniture. They only selected small houses with a lot of furniture, preferably including some nice antiques which would sell well. They’ve been doing this for a year or so, but never twice in the same area. Sometimes “Mrs Smith” rents the house, sometimes it’s Mr and Mrs Jones.”

“I suppose that they would have had to live somewhere anyway so the rent wasn’t an extra expense.” said Susan thoughtfully.

“But why did they want Sinbad?” Roger asked. “I mean, you couldn’t sell him surely?”

“It would seem that she genuinely loved him. She seems to have been catering for him in fine style.”

“But she can’t have done. She stole him. She was our enemy.” Titty exclaimed fiercely.

“She probably never thought about someone else missing him.” said Mrs Blackett soothingly.

Nancy had been finding that the champagne tasted a lot better than she had thought at first. In fact, it was nice enough to make her drink the last bit slowly to make it last as long as possible. Now that Mrs. Walker was making has everyone had enough remarks and gathering plates up with Susan’s help, she finished up what remained in her glass before Susan collected it from her. She saw John doing the same and they exchanged conspiratorial grins.

After some discussion of rules it turned out that the game that the Blacketts knew as book titles was the same one that the Walkers knew by a different name. They played in pairs. Peggy and Susan were the first pair to go into the hall and agree their choice. They did not take long to decide and Titty and Mrs Walker guessed Little Women fairly quickly. They chose 39 Steps which Mrs Blackett and Captain  Curtledge guessed almost as soon as Titty had finished miming 39. They took longer to decide on a title, but Nancy guessed Cold Comfort Farm immediately. Mother really wasn’t trying very hard. Nancy had given her that book for Christmas. She must know Nancy would guess.

In the hall, John said, “The others gave me a book for Christmas that should be easy to do. It’s pretty decent. I’ll lend it to you but I haven’t finished it yet. It’s called..”

Nancy pointed to the door of the drawing room. It fitted poorly, with a big gap at the bottom. Electric light filtered out under the door, except where there was the shadow of a foot. They stepped into the middle of the hall, away from the door.

“Roger listening.” John whispered.

Nancy nodded.

“It’s called I sailed with Chinese pirates.” John continued.

Nancy grinned. “No need to lend it – Aunt Helen gave me the same book. I was going to tell you about it but…”

John abruptly stopped smiling. “I’m sorry.” he said. “I really shouldn’t have been so..”

“That’s over and done with.” she said firmly.

They were standing under the mistletoe. Nancy had been avoiding it all week. She had seen John doing the same. She had only intended to kiss him on the cheek, as she might her Mother or Peggy or even (when she had to) the Great Aunt. Possibly he had intended the same thing. Whatever they had intended, their lips met in a gentle kiss that felt nothing at all like kissing Mother or Peggy.

They smiled at each other, each seeing their breathless, bubbly, happy feeling reflected in the other’s face. For once Nancy was speechless and it was John who started to ask, “Nancy..”

She never heard the end of the question. The drawing room door opened a fraction and they could hear Commander Walker with his back to them saying, “I’ll go and hurry them up.”

“First word”

“See?”

“Eyes?”

“I?”

“Fifth word.”

“Girl?”

“Nancy?”

“Person?”

“School girl?”

“Ruth?”

Nancy scowled horribly at her mother.

“Nancy and Peggy?”

“Sisters?”

“Amazons?”

“Sailors?”

“Pirates?”

“Second word.”

Nancy had barely taken an imaginary tiller, leaving John to hoist an imaginary sail before Susan said, “I sailed with Chinese pirates.”

Peggy and Susan, looking at the time, said that Roger and Commander Walker could have their turn. Mrs. Walker gently started to wake the sleeping Bridget.

“There will be all kinds of trouble tomorrow if she finds out we let her sleep through the New Year.” Susan explained to Captain Curtledge.

They never did find out what the last book title was. Captain Curtledge was duly handed the coal, bread, coins and a holly twig and went out of the back door (to Sinbad’s disapproval) and in through the front door. Kisses were exchanged (within families) and hands were shaken (all round). Auld Lang Syne was sung.

“Why do people sing it, if they don’t know the words?” Bridget asked.

“It’s traditional not to know the words.” Peggy had replied.

The two mothers chased their offspring off to bed promptly after that.  By half past twelve the house was quiet. Quiet enough for Titty’s muffled sob to be heard in the girls’ bedroom.

“Titty?” Nancy started to slide out of bed, feeling for her dressing gown, but Susan was before her.

“It’s not fair, Susan. We love Sinbad and feed him and do everything for him and we rescued him and then he goes and cares more about that woman than us.”

“He doesn’t know she’s a thief. And he probably can’t remember being rescued, which is just as well really. He’ll forget her in a week or so when he forgets about being fed there.”

“But I love Sinbad.”

“Cats don’t think like humans. You can’t make someone love you just by loving them. That’s not how it works.” came Susan’s voice softly out of the darkness.

Warm, yes, but soft and gentle were words John had never associated with Nancy before. He was glad, now, that he had never asked his question. He was not quite sure, now, what the question had been. Perhaps he had just been trying to hold on to the moment. She had been going to kiss him on the cheek. He had intended the same, if he had intended to kiss her at all. He didn’t know what had made him change his mind at the last moment. She hadn’t been angry and she had smiled at him and had shaken his hand at midnight in the friendliest manner. That was the important thing. They were still friends. He wanted to carry on remembering exactly how it had felt to kiss her, but despite himself, John fell asleep.

Chapter Text

"Nancy, do you know where Titty is?”

The anxiety in Susan’s voice woke her more effectively than an alarm clock.

“Downstairs fussing over Sinbad?” she suggested hopefully.

“I’ve looked. No Titty and no Sinbad.”

Nothing for it but to get up then. It was still dark. Nancy felt about for her clothes. Winter clothes were always worse in a hurry, with fastenings that didn’t just when you wanted them to. Nancy had tried cajoling her mother into buying her a pair of slacks, hopefully pointing out that Aunt Helen wore them. So far she had had no success. Perhaps if she could prove she had stopped growing?  Her marks on the kitchen door post had scarcely changed from July to Christmas. Peggy had grown over half an inch.

Susan was already dressed, but then Susan had left her clothes neatly folded in two piles – last night’s best frock and ordinary clothes to put on this morning. Nancy tossed last night’s crimson velveteen frock, that she secretly rather liked, on the bed and found yesterday’s skirt and jumper underneath.

“He isn’t sleeping on someone else’s bed is he?” Nancy asked.

“It’s Titty we’ve got to find.” Susan was impatient.

“When we do find Titty, it will be a lot easier to get her to come back with us if we can tell her that Sinbad’s safe.” Nancy pointed out. Susan looked at Nancy even more anxiously.

“Shall I check in Mother’s room?” asked Nancy. “I can do it without waking her.”

Mother thought she woke up easily. Nancy knew otherwise. There had been the little matter of the back-door key once or twice. The trick was to get back before anyone noticed it was unbolted. It had been a close call the night of the war with the Swallows, and that hadn’t been the only close call.

Sinbad was not in Mother’s room. Nancy slipping out of Mother’s room met Susan coming out of Bridget’s room.

“Shall I wake Peggy to help look for her?” Nancy whispered.

“She’ll have gone back to that house. Let’s just go and fetch her back now. John woke up when I checked the boys’ room. I told him where we were going.”

They bundled themselves into coats, hats and gloves and set off down the road. It was definitely getting lighter now, although there was still an iron-hard frost. Nancy wished she didn’t feel so thirsty. They had nearly reached “Mrs Smith’s house” although of course it wasn’t, when they met Titty, with Sinbad in her arms walking along the lane before them.  

“I knew there wasn’t anyone there, so there was no danger.” Titty was almost defiant as she said it. Susan shot an expressive and apologetic look at Nancy. Nancy picked up her pace to get out of ear-shot.  She was well ahead of the other two and the sky was washed with orange and gold and pink when she met John.

“Susan’s talking to her.” Nancy said, by way of explanation. “She found Sinbad.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged out.”

“Well, I’m not.” Ten minutes ago, Nancy would have said that and hoped she meant it. Now that the sun was just beginning to rise and she was walking briskly beside John towards breakfast, she knew she meant it. It was just misty enough for them to watch the sun rising comfortably.  They walked in silence. Nancy waited until the complete disc was above the horizon before saying, “Happy New Year.”

John stopped and turned to her.

“Happy New Year.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. Nancy was not even quite sure what she wanted to happen next. Perhaps John felt the same. There was the scraping sound on an upstairs window in the house behind her.

“That Scott creature scraping ice off.” said John. They carried on walking.

Nancy was expecting a certain amount of trouble when they got back. It was after eight o’clock and Peggy would have been furious to wake up in an empty bedroom. She had better let Peggy have her say. Nancy got as far as the first floor landing when she met her mother coming out of the bathroom.

“Nancy, could you come into my bedroom for a moment.”

Mother slightly flustered might be cajoled. A calm, composed Mother meant more trouble. Mother sat down on edge of the bed and patted the space beside her.

“Sit down here, Nancy.”

Reluctantly, Nancy sat. This was getting worse by the minute. There was a pause. Mother was setting her words in order before she started.

“Nancy, I know you like Mrs Walker and wouldn’t wish to cause her any trouble. And I’m sure you never even thought about this, and I’m rather glad in a way. I’ve don’t like to sound like Aunt Maria, but perhaps you and John taking yourselves off for a walk quite so early wasn’t the best thing you could do. It looks as though you were avoiding being seen. People can be uncharitable.”

“Mrs Scott can be, you mean.”

“Mary Walker has to live with her neighbours. Things are not quite the same here as they are at home, where people know you.  I just want you to think about it.”

The last thing Nancy wanted to do was think about it. Mother put a reassuring arm around her shoulder. It was completely unbearable. Nancy jumped up and went to look out of the window. John was carrying the Susan’s present in, from where it had been drying in the outhouse.

“Susan woke me up. She couldn’t find Titty or Sinbad and she had searched the house for them. We went out to look for Titty. We were already on our way back when John came out to meet us.” Nancy said all this in a low, steady voice. She could see that Mother was a little upset, but Nancy could not bring herself even to smile at her. She left Mother sitting on the bed and went downstairs again.

John was in the hall, propping the jigsaw holder carefully against the umbrella stand.

I’m not absolutely sure the varnish did dry.” he explained. “It was probably too cold out there. Once it’s been inside for a day, I’m sure it will be fine. You gave me so much help with it, that it is really just as much a present from you.”

“You did most of it. I just held things still.” Nancy said hastily. John looked at more closely at her, as well as he could in the dim, chequered light that came through the glass in the front door. The Battenburg-cake pattern matched the other windows at the front of the house.

“You don’t seem quite yourself.” he observed, very cautiously. 

She didn’t feel like herself. She certainly wasn’t Captain Nancy, Terror of the Seas and Amazon pirate at the moment.

“Mother wasn’t very happy.”

“Oh.”

After a pause he said, “I think Susan and Titty might be feeling the same way as you do at the moment.”

She was sure they were not, but didn’t say so.

Really, if it hadn’t been for the combined efforts of Captain Curtledge and Bridget, Susan might have had a very much less happy birthday. They, however, were determined to be cheerful. Peggy and Roger, both inclined to be offended at being left out again, had cheered up by the time everyone reached the toast and marmalade stage of breakfast.

 John was not really surprised to see Titty that looked as though she might have been weeping or to see Susan still looking worried. He was surprised to see Nancy so subdued.  Her vocabulary had gradually been recovering some of its normal piratical flavour over the past day or so, but not a timber had been shivered this morning.

When breakfast was over and Susan had opened all her presents, Mrs Walker sent them all out for a walk, declining all offers of help. In the crisp air and bright sunlight, even Titty and Susan began to cheer up.  They walked along showing the Blacketts paths and places that were barely familiar to the Swallows, although Father and Bridget knew them well enough. Little groups formed, split up and reformed in various combinations as the explorers found something of interest, decided to see what was on the other side of the hedge or thought of something they had to tell each other.

They had been walking for hour before John realised that he would not be able to speak to Nancy by herself. She was not avoiding him, but whenever they were walking together, someone else also seemed to be there. If they lagged behind, she challenged him to race her until they caught someone else up. If they were ahead of the others, she managed to find something in a hedgerow that would interest Bridget, or remember something she wanted to tell Susan or Titty. John, not sure what she meant by it, walked on ahead to join Father while Nancy was showing Bridget a birds’ nest from the previous year.  It took only a few minutes for Nancy to catch up and ask Father a question about the Mediterranean.  Apparently, she was determined to spend as much time as possible with him but not to allow any chance for private talk. He didn’t know why. This time, he was determined to trust her, however mystifying her behaviour was.

Molly noticed that Nancy was avoiding her, but wasn’t especially worried. Nancy never really stayed angry for very long. Captain Curtledge seemed very happy to stroll along at the end of their straggling line with her, making sure that no-one, especially Roger or Bridget, got left behind.  He was an agreeable companion and she was enjoying a conversation that did not revolve around daughters or sailing dinghies or the minutiae of everyday life around the Lake. She could not help being aware that the Captain was paying her particular attention and could not help, too, enjoying it. As they approached the Walkers’ house, Molly felt a little trace of regret, strangely mixed with a hint of relief. She was not altogether surprised when the Captain bent down and said to Bridget, who was beginning to tire now and was holding Molly’s hand,

“If you run ahead now you could be the first back.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” began the Captain, “especially as we’ve only just met but if I don’t say something now I think I’ll end up regretting a might-have-been for a long, long time. I wouldn’t like this to be the last time I meet you. I like you very much indeed.”

For the second time that day, Molly found herself picking her words with extremely care. The middle-aged (and she supposed they were both middle-aged, since neither of them was young) can be hurt just as easily as the young and the hurt may last longer. Pretending to misunderstand his tone and respond only to his words would be unkind.

“I like you very much and would value your friendship.” she emphasised the last word. “We would always be happy to see you, and I think you would like the Lake, if you ever chose to visit.”

She looked up into his face. He was smiling slightly and looking anxious. He had not understood.  She would have to be a little plainer. She took a deep breath.

“My husband was..” she stopped, unable to carry on. There were days, and this was one, although they were becoming fewer, when even to think his name brought down a crashing wave of despair and loneliness, far too bitter for mere tears.

His grip on her hand, firm but not ungentle, brought her back to the present, to the winter sunlight and the bare hawthorn hedges and a thrush singing somewhere nearby.

“Thank you for helping me understand.” he said softly. “I should not have spoken and caused you such distress. I’m sorry.”

She took his the arm he offered, as they started to walk slowly back to the house. “I’m glad you did say something. For such a mild word, regret is a very cruel emotion. I would not wish it on anybody, let alone a friend.”

By the time they reached the front door, the children were all inside. They could hear the tap running in the bathroom above the porch. Muddy shoes and boots were lined up in a neat row on one side of the tiled floor. An enticing smell drifted from the kitchen. Sinbad darted across the threshold behind them and stalked across the empty hall, through the open door into the equally empty drawing room. Still with her hand on his arm, she stopped in the middle of the hall, under the electric light. He was not an especially tall man, but she was short and had to stand on her toes to reach his cheek.

“Mistletoe kisses don’t have to mean anything but friendship.” she said.

John, waiting impatiently on the landing for Roger to finish in the bathroom, had heard the front door open. The moment Mrs Blackett started to speak, he started to hurry upstairs to his own bedroom, but could not help hearing the whole sentence. He supposed it answered the question that he had, perhaps, been meaning to ask Nancy. Anything else was, after all, rather improbable.  A fortnight ago, a week ago, even he had felt he would have given anything to be certain he and Nancy were still friends. They still were and he was grateful. Resolutely, he pushed the vague wish for something involving more kisses to the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

“Washing up can wait.” said Mrs Walker cheerfully when they had finished lunch. “Outdoors clothes on again, everybody.”

“Outdoor muddy or outdoor tidy?” asked Roger, and seemed disappointed to be told it was outdoor tidy.

“But not best frocks.” added his mother.

“Pity,” said Roger, “John was looking forward to wearing his again.”

John could put a surprising amount of spin on a flung cap. Roger rubbed the back of his leg. He would have to get John to show him how to do that before he went back to school. It would definitely put him one up on Ainsworth, who couldn’t put spin on a top, let alone anything else.

They nearly missed the ‘bus. If there had been fewer of them, they might have done so, but they managed to all file on so slowly that Bridget, one hand held by each parent, had caught up with  them before the ‘bus was ready to pull off.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Roger “and I’m fairly sure it’s……..”

“Don’t say it, in case you guess right.” said Titty.

“Do you really not know?” Peggy asked Susan quietly.

“Not a clue. We don’t generally have birthday treats. Not John or me anyhow. Roger and Titty are always at school for theirs. There aren’t many places it can be on New Years’ Day and a Sunday of course.”

Whether or not Susan had really guessed – and Peggy privately thought she might have done- she didn’t seem very surprised when they arrived at the cinema in Ipswich. The special programme did come as a surprise, although as Peggy murmured quietly to her sister, they might have realised it would attract more interest here than in most places.

 The cinema was only half-full however. Nancy, still feeling injured and indignant by her Mother’s gentle remarks this morning, held back from settling herself into a seat, taking more notice than she usually did of where the others chose to sit. Peggy had sat herself down promptly next to Susan. Easy enough for them. No Mrs Scott stirring up the natives into worrying what other people thought. Really it would be easier if John was a girl. Irrationally, Nancy found she couldn’t bring herself to think that, nor to wish herself a boy. Well, that would be giving in to the Mrs Scotts of the world after all. Bridget had firmly seated herself on the other side of Susan. Roger had claimed the seat next to his father, who was sitting next to Mrs Walker, in the row behind Susan, Peggy and Bridget. Mother was sitting next to Mrs Walker with Captain Curtledge in the seat next to her.

“I can’t see with you three hanging around. Do stop dithering and sit down.” Roger said.

“Sit next to me, John.” said Bridget.

Titty gestured politely for Nancy to sit next to John and then sat down herself on Nancy’s other side.

In the generally removal of hats and gloves and scarves, Titty bent towards Nancy and whispered,

“I say, I’m very sorry about being an idiot and making you feel you’d got to go after me.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think it’s silly to get so upset about a cat?” Titty asked rather shyly.

“Everyone gets upset about something sometimes. Even Amazon pirates.”

And with a fleeting exchange of smiles, the topic was closed.

After the newsreel, the words “Sailing adventure” came up on the screen and the Swallows and Amazons sat enthralled as the Peking sailed from Hamburg round Cape Horn.

Once, Bridget whispered “Was it like that when you were in the North Sea, Susan?”

“No, not that bad.”

Once, Roger, in excitement, swallowed a piece of toffee before he was quite ready to and had to be patted in the back.

Once, John gripped the arm of his seat without really meaning to, only to discover that Nancy was already doing the same.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Apart from this, scarcely a word was uttered until they bade Captain Curtledge farewell outside the cinema.

The six of them were so determined to make the most of the evening that they found it difficult to settle to anything. They tried ping-pong on the kitchen table and bagatelle and eventually settled down around Susan’s jigsaw, occasionally adding two pieces together but mostly just talking.

“It’s a pity, really, that we haven’t done anything else with the Wild-Cat.” said Titty. “I mean, she a perfectly good schooner.”

“Peter Duck?” said Susan doubtfully. She did not consider Peter Duck to be an entirely good influence on Titty.

“We could go round the world.” John suggested.

“Round Cape Horn.” said Roger.

“Polly could visit his relatives.” said Peggy.

“And Gibber.”

“We could sail through the Red Sea and visit Egypt.”

“Or round the Cape of Good Hope.”

“We could go to Ceylon and see the elephants carrying whole tree trunks in their own trunks.”

“Discover a small island in the Pacific that no-one else has found yet. There might be a few little ones left over.”

“Go to Australia.”

“Go to Hong Kong.”

“South China Sea and meet some pirates.” said Nancy.

“We could take all year.” said Roger.

“School?” said Peggy doubtfully.

“We could make something up about that.” Titty said confidently. “We’ll have to be a bit older anyway, because Peter Duck won’t want to go that far, not now he has Bill to think of.”

“It’s a pity we only have tonight. You can’t get much done in one evening.”

“We don’t have to do it all tonight.” said John. “Or even all at one time. There’s bound to be wet weather or calms occasionally.”

Titty smiled at him, pleased that, after all, her older brother did not think he was too old for made up stories.

2^nd January

 Dear Nancy,

I’ve almost no news at all to tell you, which is hardly surprising since it’s only a couple of hours since we waved you off at the station! Titty has cheered up considerably, partly because it turned wet this afternoon so Sinbad is hanging around the house. Polly is happier because Titty is paying him more attention again. The rest of us are feeling rather flat and thinking that next summer is a long time away. I did ask Mother what we were doing in the Easter holidays, but didn’t receive a very encouraging answer. Anyway, there will be five whole weeks of the summer holidays to look forward to.

John

Nancy, sitting on the edge of her bed smiled and folded the letter. Peggy was safely in the dining room, struggling with her holiday task. Nancy carefully lifted up the paper that lined her underwear drawer and slide the letter underneath, next to a handkerchief that had been carefully washed, ironed and folded.