Chapter 10

It was doing nothing but raining again.

In the middle of Summer and the Heavens were opening with rain lashing the windows and beating down on his beloved garden even though the temperature was still almost too hot for comfort. Still though a healthy dose of rain water would help the grass settle in so he had to be grateful for small mercies. The sky, however, looked ready to unleash the most almighty thunderstorm on London.

Standing there watching it, Peter pulled open the back door and tightened the collar of his coat around his neck grimacing at the black cloud laden sky above him. It might have been late August but the weather had taken a turn and warm updrafts of wind gently danced through the leaves signalling what was to come. Yes there was going to be thunderstorm soon enough. He knew he had two bus journeys and a walk on his hands to get to Limehouse and he really didn't fancy it in this weather but it was his only chance to go. Not that he could afford a hansom cab anyway so it was the bus!

Miss Browne had readily given him the day off to see one of his sisters and he was pleased. His nephews would have grown so much since he last saw them and he had truly missed their company even if they could be little monkeys sometimes. Behind him, as he prepared to step outside, he heard a voice and footsteps and turned to find Chummy standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Oh hello Miss!" he smiled, feeling more comfortable in her presence with Sir Rex and Lady Browne gone. "Time to go," he said as he stepped forward.

"When are you back?" she whispered in response. Falling into conversation with him was becoming easier with nobody around to question her and above all she needed him, and indeed every other member of the household staff, to like her. She also know that Evie would want to know too for supper.

"Should be about six tonight" Peter replied, tapping his pocket to make sure he had his fare. "If the buses run on time and my sister doesn't feed me so much I can't move!"

Chummy smiled and nodded. "Which sister are you going to see?" she asked. She knew he had sisters already from when he asked her for the day off. She'd wished years ago that she had been blessed with a sister until Patsy came into her life instead of a string of brothers who spent most of their childhoods just tormenting her to make her cry.

"Mary" Peter replied. His youngest sister; Mary Cynthia and her two children. It would be hit and miss whether this brother in law would be there. He liked Michael, but he wasn't the most reliable of people. "She's just moved house so she wants me to see it".

Chummy nodded, feeling slightly awkward that he was standing there in his coat ready to go and she found herself in the mood to engage herself in conversation with him. "How many sisters do you have?" It sounded to her like she was interviewing him with that slight level of two strangers trying to find out about each other. "Three" he replied. "Mary's the youngest one, then above me there's Winifred and Jane's the oldest. She's a Missionary out in Africa" Peter concluded, itchy to go as his bus was in ten minutes.

"How wonderful!" Chummy exclaimed. How wonderful! It was a dream she harboured to do exactly the same and kept entirely to herself for quite a number of years now for fear of Mater's response. How she would like to write to his sister or even speak to her! Jane must have so many stories to tell. She said nothing further though. She was being familiar enough with him already to start wondering if she could enter into correspondence with a woman she had never met and the sister of someone she barely knew.

They said their goodbyes and Chummy wrapped her shawl around her, more for the feeling of loneliness that arose suddenly rather than the chill breeze, intending to shut out the offending emotion as much as she could. Half way around the back of the house, Peter hesitated and turned back. "Miss Browne?" he questioned, addressing her properly so very conscious of who might be listening with the windows open above his head. "Thank you". With that he was gone to leave her.

Almost as soon as he stepped off his second bus rain began to pour onto the East End in icy sheets. Peter pressed onward, running, and wondering when the spiky drops of rain might really refrain if they could from stinging his face until he finally reached his sisters street and its packed together two up two down terraces. As soon as he pushed open the front door, two young boys ran hell for leather down the brightly lit hallway towards him. His nephews - Peter – named after him and a very proud six years old - and Teddy, two years younger. "Uncle Peter! Mummy! Mummy! Uncle Peter's here!"

His sister, walking straight out of the kitchen took one look at him as he hugged them both. "Bloody hell!" Mary Cynthia responded, wiping her hands on her apron. "Get in here before you drip all over the hallway!"

Peter smiled, let the boys run back into the kitchen and hugged his sister anyway, before she pushed him away with a laugh. He was soaked to the skin.

"So how is everyone?" he asked taking up a seat at the table; his nephews to his side. Mary pushed an almost overflowing plate of bacon, sausages and fried tomatoes towards him, followed swiftly by a steaming cup of milky tea just as he liked it. "Breakfast?" Peter questioned. He had already eaten once but it was almost three hours ago.

"Have you eaten already?" Mary asked before his nephew Teddy chimed in, chin on the table and gazing up at his uncle."We have!"

"So have I" Peter replied in a stage whisper to him, "but if you boys won't tell then I won't!" he said, addressing both of his nephews who were smiling cheekily at him. Peter took two slices of bacon off his plate and passed them to the boys who ate them greedily with greasy fingers.

"Everyone's fine" Mary replied, picking up his question, ignoring him sharing the breakfast with her boys. Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite! "Win is coming round later bringing the baby and we had a letter from Jane the other day". She pointed to the fireplace in the kitchen "Read it if you like". He would later and he hadn't seen his new niece yet either so it would be nice to see Winifred and the baby .

"How about Michael?" he asked, needing to divert the conversation onto his brother in law as he hoped it would segue nicely into a subject with his sister that had been nagging him for months now. The prospect of a new job.

"Oh, he's doing grand" Mary replied. She was still washing her son's first breakfast dishes, her husband long gone now to the Docks for work. She wouldn't see him again until at least Midnight, but needs, rent and food must.

"Has he heard any more from John?" John was Michael's best mate and he was his link to this possible new employ. Quietly and sneakily he saw Teddy's hand reach for his plate. With a finger pressed to his lips, Peter passed the boy another piece of crispy bacon and saw it devoured.

"Not that I know of. But you know what those two are like" Mary responded with a sigh.

"Where was it that John went?" Peter asked, taking up his tea cup. He was fairly sure he knew but would like his sister to confirm it.

"Patrington" Mary replied. "Up near Hull". She turned and leant against the kitchen sink regarding him curiously as she knew what he was like. She could read her brother like an open book; always could."You're not thinking of moving on?" She saw him sit back in his chair with a long breath.

"I was" Peter responded, taking a sip of tea. "I don't mind London. They are too busy with parties and get togethers here but in Somerset…" He shrugged his shoulders. There was something about the place that tired him out. It wasn't the work. He was used to that; but there was something that he just truly couldn't put words to that nagged him about the whole place.

"Well I could always ask. There's bound to be jobs up there the Estate's that big" Mary responded. Indeed in John's sparse letters to his mate, it sounded as though he was well and truly overworked so there was no harm in trying to put a good word in.

Peter rubbed his eyes. "Would you mind?"

"Course not". She was quite used to her brother moving on from one place to the next. So used to watching as he seemed to be searching for his place in the world. It used to break her heart when she was younger to see him wandering from job to job, never settling with anything or anybody for that until she grew and realised that this was just his way. She'd like to see him married and he was so good with her boys that she knew what an attentive father he would make even though he was yet to reach 25. There was always something about her only brother that seemed to make him more worldly wise than most. He had also been her protector for so many years as they were children, but now, as they grew older and she had settled with Michael and the boys, she felt as though she was leaving her beloved brother behind. It saddened her that he couldn't find someone.

"Are you going to see Mum?" she asked, turning back to dry the remaining dishes. Peter nodded through a mouthful of bacon. He should do his duty and go and see her. "Good, you can take the boys and the baby so Win and I can have a gossip in peace!"

Back on the other side of London, Chummy was struggling to find something to do. It had just stopped raining but the ground was soaked. She had eaten, tidied a little even though she should have left it to Shelagh, and wondered whether to ask Turner to take her for a drive. She glanced at her watch and out of the window on the landing to find Turner with his head under the bonnet of the Bentley and the sleeves of his crisply ironed shirt rolled up, taking his chances with the weather. Clearly there was something wrong and bang went her trip out. Chummy sighed at her predicament. The house was so still it was almost ominous, something hiding in the shadows waiting to jump out.

She looked briefly at the sky which was getting dark again. Maybe that was what was making the house feel so disquieting.

Perhaps she would take a look at the garden up close instead of her lofty spot in Pa's study whilst she still could. Trouble was she knew very little about flowers and plants. She could look and say something was pretty but that was far as her horticultural knowledge extended to. As far as she was concerned, she knew she was lacking terribly. Maybe she would wait for Peter or Fred to come back and they could tell her.

Finally, after much deliberation on her part, Chummy decided to take a nap instead until she was was woken almost two hours later by her bedroom door opening. "Afternoon tea's ready downstairs Miss" Shelagh offered.

Chummy could hear voices having to pass the way down to the kitchen to get herself to the dining room. She saw Patrick, Peter and Shelagh standing in a huddle and if she was truthful, looking rather guilty for it as well. "Is everybody tiptop?" Chummy asked and the three nodded. She wasn't sure if they had been gossiping so she decided to ignore it although stepped back for a second. She wasn't sure to call him Peter or Noakes in front of the others. "Would you care to walk me around the garden after tea? One would really like to know a little more about it". With lips pressed together, he nodded.

For a second she wondered why he was back early. He had said six o'clock after all but it was only half past four. In reality, his new niece had been fractious on her arrival with his sister and Win had refused his offer, albeit under the influence of Mary, to take the youngster out. Instead he had played a game of football in the street with the boys and as soon as Miss Browne reappeared in the kitchen after her tea, he decided to commence the tour. The sky was looking almost overpowering again by now but what Miss Browne wanted, she would have.

"You put in a camellia", she said suddenly seeing the white blooming bush at the far end of the garden; eyes for some reason drawn to it immediately as they stepped out. She hadn't spotted it before; maybe it was a new addition in the last day or so. He went red. "They're my favourite flower. How did you know?" she asked, turning to him, quite touched. Whether it was intention or sheer co-incidence she did not know.

"I didn't" he replied as they walked up the path towards it. "I just thought it would be a nice plant to have". It was a half truth. He had deliberately sought it out because it was so similar to her name. He just wanted to do something for her as no-one else seemed to but now she had realised it was there, his logic seemed rather silly and rather pointless. Why on earth would he do that? It wasn't as though he planned on staying with the Brownes for very much longer so why should it matter what plants he put in their newly cultivated garden?

"How was your sister?" she asked, changing the subject as they walked on.

"Mary? She was fine Miss and the boys have grown so big. I saw my new niece" Peter recounted, even if baby Barbara had been angrily squirming in his sisters arms after being poked and tormented by her cousins. Chummy smiled sadly. She had a nieces and nephews out in Australia that she had never seen. It must be nice to have family like that; comforting and warm. People you could run to.

He saw her shivering without a coat or wrap to cover her. "Would you like to go back in Miss?".

"No," Chummy replied almost too sternly. She didn't want to go inside and just sit listening to the radio or sewing wallowing in self pity. She was bored of that. Melancholy was coming over her again like one of those black clouds above her as she had no means to stop it. Her joy at being left in London had slowly started to diminish when she realised she barely had anyone to talk to now. "Do you enjoy working here?" she asked out of the blue. Peter didn't know quite what to say and was immediately wary of her motives for the question. Had she overheard something about him wanting to move on? It was only Jimmy back in Somerset that he mentioned it to although, thinking back, he might have just said something to Patrick in their drunken state whilst the party was rumbling on downstairs. "You can say you don't like my mother. Not many with any trace of human sympathy say they do. Patrick and cook only stay because they are almost family".

"Do you like her?" he asked. He didn't want to tell her his true feelings on the matter of Lady Browne although he would admit that he was surprised that her own daughter had such an opinion upon her.

"I have to love her. She's my mother" she said, continuing to walk with him. Somehow his guided tour of his work had dissipated into much more serious subjects although he noticed immediately that she had side-stepped the question, but he pressed as he was curious. He'd seen some families in his time but this one took the biscuit for its dysfunction.

"You can love someone but not like them", he offered.

Chummy nodded again, considering, and rubbed her arms. A few drops of rain had begun to mar her glasses and she was sure she had heard a deep grumble of thunder some place not too far in the distance. Before either could say anything further there was another tympanic crash of thunder right overhead and within the blink of an eye, the sky started pouring relentlessly down on their heads. Quickly, they both had the same idea and ran towards the summerhouse. It was closer than anywhere else. Chummy sat on one of the wooden chairs. He sat opposite her.

"You are cold Miss" he said, seeing her wrap her arms around herself. He went to take off his jacket and before she knew it he was standing over her putting the garment around her shoulders and arranging it neatly. Peter didn't think it was inappropriate until it was too late and he was bending over, his cheek inches from hers. He heard her breathing change just slightly - either nerves or something else.

It was barely a kiss on the cheek, accident or design he had no idea, but Peter knew that job in Yorkshire had best come through quick before he was sacked.