Coming Home – Part XVI – Chapter 61 through 64
Chapter 61 – Back to School Time
"Sybil we've got to talk this out," Russell said. Sybil was in the morning room unpacking large boxes that had arrived from Ireland. She had stopped at woollen mills, bought fabric direct and had it sent freight.
"Russell, like it or not I need somewhere to work," she replied not looking up. "This room has good light. I'm going to have most of the furniture taken up to the attic and use this as my work room."
"You don't need to work you know," he said tapping his fingers on a table.
"A woman of leisure is not who I am," she replied. "You encouraged me to get an education. I have a career. Working out of the house allows me to spend time with the children and have a career at the same time. I thought that was what you wanted, for me to spend time at home."
"It is and I do. I had these ideas when I was away that I would come home and we'd just have fun for a while. You know kick back and relax."
"It's what I want too," Sybil said. "I find my design work relaxing. Without it it's as though I'm missing an arm."
"Dad sent you a box when I went up to see them. He's not released yet."
"Good that will give me more to work with," Sybil said with a sigh. "Can you order us some tea? There is a lot we need to discuss and make decisions on. I'm sorry you felt left out. I didn't mean to make a mess of your homecoming."
"Where have Bobby and Hope gotten off to?" Russell asked. He'd slept in. By the time he was up the children were nowhere in sight.
"Nanny Marjory has walked them to the hardware. Astrid has gone out to visit a school friend. Bobby is going to try growing lettuce and late potatoes if he can get seed. We might have to cut the eyes from the potatoes for dinner to get enough. It's worth a try. It will give us a little more for the winter at least for a few months."
"Sybil we're not poor. We can afford to buy food."
"Russell, there are long lines at the grocers at times. The butcher is worse. All the money in the world can't buy what the shops don't have. People who didn't have gardens as we did in Horsham had a hard time this last few years. Vegetable soup may not be exciting but it's nourishing. I'm sorry I got so angry about the grass, but the garden is important. Eventually we'll put in a sitting area out there but right now, we need to at least try to come up with something to feed ourselves."
"I didn't realize things were that difficult," he said.
"No you wouldn't, how could you? The only times you were home was in Horsham and there we had lots of extras in the cellar. I really don't know what we're going to do this year."
"I'll get the tea," Russell said.
Sybil was seated at the table in the morning room with a note pad and pen when he returned. She had made a list of things for them to discuss. Russell was surprised by the amount of points they had to go over. He'd never considered how difficult a time Sybil had been through these last few years. Everything had always seemed so together and comfortable when he'd come home.
"I thought we'd start with what we're going to do about school for Bobby this autumn," Sybil said. "Then we can talk about the houses and what we're going to do with your parents' place in Eastbourne."
"I hadn't even thought about the Inn," Russell said sadly.
"I haven't been down," Sybil said. "I was hoping we could do it together. I've got my fingers crossed there is a copy of our wedding picture there. Mummy has one. I could have copied if it comes to it."
"That's gone too?"
"Clothes, pictures, toys, mementos and anything else that was in the cottage is gone. We all need more clothing. I thought I would buy the children each a set of riding clothes before we spend anytime in Horsham again I got them boots before the trip to Ireland. I don't have time to make each of them a new set. They're both growing, store bought will suffice."
"Things are a bit of a mess and I stuck my oar in and made them worse," he said. "I'm sorry. I really was trying to help."
"I know," Sybil said putting her hand over his. "You could really help by repainting the bedroom."
"It didn't look quite like that in the shop," he said with grimace.
"We'll walk down to the hardware after we get through this list and pick something out we both like this time," Sybil said.
-0-
"Take care in England, son," Tom said as they were seeing Bradley off on the train. "It was good to have you home at least for a few weeks."
"I miss it here when I'm there," Bradley replied hugging his father. "This really is home."
"We'll be over to visit next summer once Sybil has the Hall back in order and there is room for everyone," Rose said. "Do well at school and make sure you get enough rest."
"I will Mummy," Bradley replied. He turned to the group of younger siblings.
"I'm trusting you lot to take good care of my favorite fishing spot," he said to the three boys. Lorcan and Rory were snuffling. They both hugged Bradley. Declan hugged him as well once the others released him.
"No tears, now," Bradley said. "You'll all come to visit next summer and I'll take you out fishing and riding in England. There are lots more spots for you to discover."
"I miss you already," Lorcan said.
The two girls each kissed Bradley on the cheek. He kissed Niall on the cheek before he kissed his mother and boarded the train. He couldn't help thinking as he watched the family while the train pulled away how his father was a little greyer than the last time he'd seen him. He'd noticed he was slower getting on and off his horse than he used to be and had been rubbing his wrists when he had taken the motorbike out. Age was catching up to his father and there he was with a flock of little ones to take care of. Da had always said they had enough children they wouldn't be lonely in their old age. With twelve children plus an unofficial older son half of whom wouldn't be grown up until his parents were in their later years, they would certainly never be lonely.
Bradley collected his bags and the two crates of produce and meat his mother had sent along to drop off at his brother's house in Dublin. There wouldn't be a chance of anyone passing through Dublin over the winter without her sending a care package along. There was no possible way on earth he would ever manage it all on the tram. He hailed a cab and set off in search of the house.
Dylan opened the door when he rang. The sound of music lessons going on in two rooms was making a fair amount of racket.
"Sounds like when we were little," Bradley said after he'd greeted his brother.
"We'll head straight through," Dylan said. He grabbed one of the crates after they got Bradley's bags inside the door.
"What are you doing with all that?" Bradley asked in surprise when Dylan opened a cupboard door to find space for some jars of vegetables their mother had sent. There were two shelves packed with bottles of alcohol.
"We've got more," Dylan said. "Do you fancy an ale or maybe a lager?"
"An ale if you've got one," Bradley replied.
"It's a bit of a story how this all came about," Dylan said. He handed his brother a bottle from the icebox and continued unpacking the boxes. "One night last week, Hans got the bright idea to invite three operatic singers over for a bit of a rehearsal. They've got some show coming up. They were all a bit loud of course. The neighbours started showing up to complain about the noise. Instead of stopping what he was doing he invites them in to watch."
"He loves the lime light," Bradley said with a chuckle.
"The whole bloody works of them did," Dylan replied with a grin. "I get home from work and there must have been twenty people in the sitting room. They'd rearranged the chairs and brought all the chairs in the house to watch. The landlady was there busy handing out mugs and cups of tea." Dylan shook his head. "They finished practicing and then decided to have a sing along. Garret gets in the act and drags me in as well. The police showed up at the door and I thought, Oh God we're in for it now. They were going off duty and heard there was a sing along going on. I swear we had everyone in the neighborhood including the milkman here and someone brought a keg. There were at least fifty over or more by the time they all trotted in the door."
"Garret would have been in his glory," Bradley commented.
"The next day, the bottles started showing up and the casseroles and pies along with requests for another neighborhood get together. We had to have two more parties with our friends just to use it all up. Those are the left overs."
"Who did the cleaning up?" Bradley asked.
"We all did and Hans wouldn't let Garret weasel out of it," Dylan said with grin. "Thank goodness Sybil thought to get us a Hoover when she was setting the place up. You staying over?"
"I could," Bradley replied with a shrug. "I'm not in any great rush. As long as I'm back to London within the next three days."
"You'll have to share with me or sleep on the sofa," Dylan said. "I don't want to be separating you and Garret when you try to strangle each other in the middle of the night."
"I'm over it," Bradley said.
"Good," Dylan replied. "Let's sit out back. Do you think we made that much noise when we were learning?"
"Probably worse," Bradley replied with a crooked smile.
-0-
Bradley wandered into the morning room the day after he returned to London. Sybil was sitting at a stool at a large table in the middle of the room going over some papers. There were three mannequins set up with men's clothing displayed on each. He went over and looked at the clothes.
"Very nice," he commented. "I'll take one of each."
"You can't afford me and you know it," Sybil replied with a smile. "Is this your way of asking if I'll put together a new suit for you, since you're a starving student?"
"Now that you've offered, I'll very cordially accept," Bradley said with a bow.
"You've spent too much time around Hans," Sybil said with a chuckle.
"Are these all for him? He'll be spoiled rotten. He's already being a complete ham in the Dublin music set."
"No. The one on the end is for Russell," Sybil said. "I've got a prospective client coming over this afternoon to take a look at them. This isn't the ideal set up but it's what I'm working with at least until next summer."
"What happened to the drawings you had the architect do? This was supposed to be all changed."
"My husband happened. It's all resolved now. I'll make the changes next summer when you're off school. Less noise and dust that way. Come and help me pick a business card design. I can run over and have them printed this morning if I make a decision."
"That one," Bradley said. "It looks more like you."
"I prefer that design as well," Sybil replied thoughtfully. "Russell liked the other one."
"He seems a bit disjointed," Bradley commented.
"He's worn out. He's been helping a bit around here picking out a school for Bobby and getting him registered. The children are busy teaching Russell the fine art of gardening."
"You should go out and have some fun. I'm home now. I'll be here evenings with the kids the next while as soon as they start to pile on the work."
"I'll take you up on that," Sybil replied hoping off her stool. "I'm going to make a dash to the printers. If I'm quick about it I'll have my cards and stationary before my first client arrives."
"I'm jealous. I want a new wardrobe," Bradley teased her.
"Maybe a shirt, or two and a pair of pants," Sybil said with smile before she went for her hat and coat.
-0-
"No, I forbid it," Russell said that evening. He was challenging Astrid over her relationship with Bradley. The two of them had just returned from the cinema to see Brief Encounter and Russell had caught them kissing by the front door.
"Russell, there is nothing going on that is untoward," Astrid said. "You're over reacting. I'm sixteen. Lots of sixteen year old girls have boyfriends."
"Precisely, you're sixteen and he's twenty. He's too old for you."
"I am not," Bradley retorted. "I'm treating Astrid respectfully as she deserves. It seems to me you and Sybil were a couple when she was sixteen."
"I'm not four years older than her and don't try and change the subject," Russell snapped.
"What's going on," Sybil said coming down the stairs. "Hope just got to sleep. Keep your voices down."
"Did you know these two are stepping out?" Russell inquired.
"Yes, they only made it official this summer, but we've all known they liked each other for years or are you forgetting," Sybil said.
"That was with them living in separate houses and seeing each other only occasionally," Russell said. "Astrid is too young."
"You're being a hypocrite," Astrid stated.
"Russell is being a concerned brother as he aught," Sybil defended. "Russell, Astrid and Bradley aren't under the same roof that often. Astrid will be going back to her school in a few days and Bradley will be busy with his studies. He's just returned from working for our father. Really they aren't together that often and when they are there are lots of people around."
"I know what twenty year olds get up to," Russell said. "I've stuck enough of them in the arse with penicillin over the last few years to have a very good idea."
"Why would you have to do that?" Astrid asked in confusion.
"Disease transmitted by the type of relations we aren't having," Bradley said in a matter of fact manner.
"Russell that is disgusting," Astrid said. "I'm not talking to you anymore about this if you're going to be insulting." She turned around and headed up the stairs. "Goodnight," she said with a sniff.
"I don't want you playing around with my sister," Russell said to Bradley with a stern look.
"I'm not playing around," Bradley replied. "Astrid is my girl friend. I've got two years left on my course and she's got another two to finish the school she's at. We'll see how things go and if we both feel the same way in two years we'll talk about something more serious."
"That's playing around," Russell stated stubbornly.
"It's called being cautious," Bradley said just as stubbornly. "We aren't rushing into anything. Redmond got married too soon. He told me so himself. I don't want to make the same mistake he did."
"Why would he say that?" Sybil asked in surprise. "He and Sarah were happily married."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," Bradley said.
"You had better explain yourself now," Russell said. He motioned for them to take a seat in the drawing room.
"Redmond told me to make sure when I choose someone to make things permanent they can stand the long hours," Bradley said. "Sarah had a hard time with his hours and the fact that his work is here in England."
"She did want to move back to Ireland," Sybil agreed sadly.
"They got married before he was done training and he felt pulled two ways," Bradley said. "Redmond said he should have waited and I'm planning to wait. I'm crazy about Astrid, but she's only sixteen. I'll have long hours at school and in the future. She'll have to be independent and ready to take on that kind of lifestyle. I'm not rushing. I'm not pushing and I'm not doing what you suspect me of."
"That can change quickly," Russell said.
"What else can I tell you? I have honourable intentions and we plan on continuing to see each other and write. I'm not going to get myself into anything stupid like Davin did. I'm not going to rush into things like Redmond. I'm nothing like Dylan either."
"What's wrong with Dylan?" Russell asked in confusion.
"He's always got a new girl," Sybil said with a slight smile.
"You're an educated man. What do you want with a girl who can't read?" Russell asked.
"Astrid can read," Bradley said indignantly. "She did well at school last year. Short of forbidding her to ever see me again, I can't say you've come up with one really good reason she shouldn't be my girl friend."
"Just keep your hands to yourself," Russell said.
"I have every intention of doing so," Bradley replied. "I'm going to bed unless there is something else. I've got to get to the university early tomorrow and get my books."
"Goodnight then," Russell said.
"You are being a hypocrite," Sybil said. She went over and slid herself onto Russell's lap.
"Don't call me that," he said sourly.
"Do you remember the first time we did more? How old was I?"
"It was different with us," he said not wanting to give up. "We were planning to get married."
"They're not having an affair, they're taking their time and making sure it's right for both of them." She snuggled down on his lap and stuck a finger between the buttons on his shirt.
"Russell," she said in a playful tone. "We could buy a car and go look for that spot. It's still warm out."
"Spot?" He was still thinking about how much he didn't like having his sister who he still thought of as a child with a boy friend.
"The one where we went on your motorcycle. Do you remember what we did?" Sybil bit her bottom lip.
"It was pretty much our first time, of course I remember what we did," he replied. "We don't have to buy a car to do that, but if you want one, we could get one."
"Something fun and just a little naughty with a convertible roof and seating for four," Sybil said.
"You're determined to make all the decisions aren't you?"
"You can pick out whatever you like as long as it meets my specifications," Sybil replied. "Don't you want to go back to our special spot?"
"I'll take you to the special spot now," he said picking her up in his arms and heading for the stairs.
Chapter 62 – Towers and Tents
Tom got in the house and wanted to crawl up the stairs. He was so stiff he could hardly walk. Niall came running over to him wanting to be picked up. Tom turned and sat on the stair. He pulled the little boy onto the step beside him.
"What are you up to then?" he asked the child.
"I drew a picture to send to Bradley," Niall replied.
"I'm sure he'll like that," Tom said. "Are you being a good boy for Aednat today?"
"I am," Niall said with a large smile. He had an Irish accent but with an upperclass edge to it. He'd been young enough when they adopted him, he accepted Tom and Rose and didn't remember anything from before.
"Daddy needs a bath. You go and play."
"All right Daddy," Niall replied. He tore off to go back to the pile of toys on the floor in the hall.
Tom finally made it to the top of the stairs and went straight to the bathroom to soak in the hot water. Trix was getting too old. He'd known it for sometime but today had been the icing on the cake. She couldn't hear the whistles and was too slow. The sheep had gotten away on her and it had taken three times as long to get them through the gate as it should have. Tom had to do quite a bit of running back and forth himself to get the blasted things where he had wanted them. He'd always thought Trix would die of heartbreak if she couldn't go out to the fields. He had to admit to himself the dog was just as happy these days snoring in the sun under a bush in the garden as she was out on the pastures. After the miserable afternoon, she had limped back to her pallet in the kitchen and promptly fallen asleep without even so much as a glance at her dish.
"I'm going to have to get a new dog," Tom said over dinner.
"What about Trix, Daddy?" Declan asked.
"She's too old to work. She'll stay home and be around the house from now on. I need a young dog that can do the work," Tom replied. "There's a sheep dog trial in a few days over in Gort. I thought I might get the car back on the road now that we can get a drop of petrol. What do you think of taking the children and making a camp over of it?"
There were a great deal of excited faces around the table waiting for Rose's response.
"We're too old," she mouthed to Tom.
"I think we have some of the boys' Boy Scout gear in the attic. We wouldn't need too much more," Tom said coaxingly.
"Except a new back for you," Rose said with trepidation. "Against my better judgment I will say yes."
There were six happy smiling faces around the table.
"We'll need camp cots for us two old fools," Rose added.
"You're only as old as you think, Tom replied hoping that he was right.
-0-
Russell fidgeted with his cuff at a fashion show cocktail party he was attending with his wife. She had him dressed in a new suit she had made him. Sybil had talked him into being photographed by a fashion photographer before she'd let him wear the suit. He hadn't known what he was letting himself in for. The photographer had him stand in at least twenty different poses and they'd tried to put makeup on him before taking his picture. He'd said no to the makeup but hadn't expected the makeup person to attack his eyebrows and nose hair with a tweezers. He'd almost run screaming from the torture. The only thing that had kept him firmly rooted to the spot was that he knew his wife was planning to have that German pilot in Dublin do the same thing and Russell wasn't about to be outdone by some Gerry.
It made his blood boil to think of Sybil making the man not one but two complete sets of clothing plus extra shirts. She insisted it was a business arrangement that would get her more publicity in a few months with the wealthy set in Dublin than she could get on her own in years. Russell knew the crowd she was aiming for did a great deal of their buying from the London scene before the war and probably would again. Sybil had talked about it often enough when she was attending school. He didn't like the idea of her or his children associating with a Gerry officer but she wouldn't be dissuaded.
Today they were at a party that seemed inane to Russell in the extreme. The room was filled with glib chitchat about nothing important. The Americans had brought about an end to the war by dropping the A-bomb on Japan, but it was the furthest thing from the topic of conversation. These people seemed oblivious to the grief that was going on in Europe. He looked at the trays of elaborate canapés and couldn't help but think of the people in Holland that had come through the hospital. Did the people at this party think anyone really cared if the show today had grey or green pants on some particular model? Most of the people in Europe if they would be happy with a pair of shoes or if there would be a home for them to live in over the upcoming winter. It was all at the hands of the Germans and here was his wife planning to dress one of them up like a prize stallion.
Sybil turned and placed a hand on his arm.
"Please try to relax and smile darling. You're glaring," she said.
"Sybil, these people are absolutely clueless. I don't care whether a woman's jacket has two rows of buttons or one," Russell replied quietly.
"They do and I want to show off my work. I need to show off in public and you're it, unless you don't want to help me."
"Of course, I do. I'll try to smile."
"Handsome as ever when you smile," Sybil said before she turned to a wealthy patron at the show and introduced him.
Russell was feeling a bit like a well-presented pork chop on a plate by the time they left the party. He'd had a few of the old biddy's and one man look him up an down in a suggestive manner. The women had made his skin crawl and he'd wanted to punch the man's lights out, but he'd kept his smile firmly plastered in place.
"You were wonderful," Sybil told him after they left. She was smiling at him happily. He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd rather have his eyebrows tweezed again than attend the do she had lined up for the next day.
"Have you noticed Hope talking about my father and mother as though they've just left the room?" Russell asked her as they walked down the street to the underground.
"She's been doing that for months," Sybil replied. "When I remind her they've gone to heaven she says I don't understand. I'm hoping she'll grow out of it in time."
"I don't like the idea of leaving her for four days while we go to Dublin," Russell said.
"She tires so quickly and it's a quick trip. I think she'll be fine here with Nanny Marjory but you don't have to come. I was originally going to photograph the sweater collection Camilla and I decided on when I was there with just Dylan and Hans. It will photograph better and go faster with a third but it's not completely necessary."
"I want to come with you. I'd like to see Dylan, Garret and Camilla and any of the rest of the family who come to Dublin." He didn't add that he didn't like the idea of her staying in a house with an oh so handsome, fencing, pilot, violin player. He'd heard all about how wonderful this Hans was from Bobby and Hope. Sybil had said he was very good looking and a perfect model for her clothing line. He wanted to meet this paragon of German virtue for himself.
"It will be a working trip, but I'm very glad you're coming," Sybil said smiling at him. "When we get back we can look for a car or whatever you like. You choose."
"I don't know," Russell said with a slight smile. "All I know is I've had enough of operating rooms for a while."
"I like having you home," Sybil replied happily. She thought the afternoon had gone splendidly. She already had another two potential clients from the cocktail party. At this rate her business would be well established within the next couple years. She was already thinking about a runway show for next spring.
"I'll be glad when we get Hadley Hall back," Russell commented thoughtfully. "I didn't think I would, but I miss the place."
"It's going to take some time to get it back in order," Sybil said. "We should make a trip over to see George once he's allowed visitors again. He wasn't allowed anyone during the first round of surgery on his leg. They want him to rest and not try to move."
"The doctors had told him at least five surgeries on his leg alone when I stopped in to see him," Russell replied. "I've got a strong stomach, but the burn patients." He shook his head. "It takes a special type to work with that."
"You can go back to work whenever you like," Sybil said. "You don't have to go back to work if you don't want to. I quite like employing you as my model."
"I'm not a puppy on a lead or some kind of gigolo," Russell said suddenly turning sour. "Those women make me feel like meat on a hook."
"I thought you were pleased to be involved," Sybil said in alarm.
"I am," he replied quickly. They had just got off the underground and were almost to the house. "I just don't … it's hard to explain."
"If you don't want to model for me or go to the shows and parties, I can employ a model," Sybil said. "There are more men coming home all the time and looking for jobs. I rather it was you accompanying me to the parties and events. You're my husband. I want to spend time with you and for you to be proud of me."
"No, I'll do it. I'll take this winter and help you. My career and all the rest can wait."
"Those women were looking at you like that because you are so terribly attractive," Sybil said. "Especially when you're wearing my designs."
"I'm glad you think so," Russell replied. "My eyebrows still haven't recovered from the photographer."
"The price of beauty can be a great deal of pain," Sybil said.
"Are you saying I'm pretty?"
"If the booty fits," Sybil quipped before she dashed into the house.
-0-
It had taken longer to pack up for an overnight than Tom had thought it would. Rory had dumped out the pajamas and toothbrush that were packed in his bag and filled it up with toys. Luckily Sean had caught it when he was helping Tom load the car. They promptly checked all the children's bags and vetoed an assortment of blocks, crayons and one doll. They had half a dozen stuff sacks neatly folded and packed for the camp over with ties on the ends. When they got to Gort, they would ask around for a farm with straw, stuff the bags and tie them shut for mattresses. The children were all excited about using actual sleeping bags. Their campout earlier in the summer had been in single beds. This was much more of an adventure. The car was loaded with a rack on the roof as well for all the paraphernalia they were taking along and it wasn't that long a trip.
During the trip to Gort the children and Rose sang songs while Tom drove. There were five squashed in the backseat with the youngest in the front passenger seat with Rose. They were nearing Gort when Aisling let out a scream.
"What, whatever's the matter," Tom said pulling the car to a stop.
"It's true," Aisling said with round eyes. "There really is a tower. Do you think there's a dragon?"
Tom and Rose looked where she was pointing. All of the children started talking at once. "Can we go see Daddy? Can we go in the tower?"
"I don't think you can go up in the tower. That's an old monastery," Tom said. "We'll stop and have a look though."
There was a plaque by the side of the road in a parking area that read Kilmacduagh Monastery. The tower had been built in the tenth century and had a slight lean to it. They walked across the grass until they reached the base of the tower. Tom took Ysuelt's hand so she wouldn't trip on the rocky ground of the ruins.
"The door is up in the air," Lorcan said with slight disappointment.
"They put the doors high and had wooden stairs, so if their enemies came they could knock down the stairs and they couldn't get them," Rose said. "The tower is one thousand years old according to the plaque."
"That's really old," Niall said. "Were you a little boy when the tower was built Daddy?"
Rose was trying not to laugh out loud.
"Twenty grandfathers back or maybe more when this was built," Tom replied. "That's all the grandfathers in our family you could count on all your fingers and all your toes." He smiled at Rose.
"Wow," Rory said. He couldn't count yet either.
"Time to get a move on," Rose said. They shepherded the children back to the car and away from the collection of ruined churches.
They weren't the only family camping over when they arrived at the fair grounds where the dog trials were being held. Tom spoke to a man at the parking area and got directions to the sign in area. It didn't take long to get a chit for a place to park where they could pitch their tents. There was a livestock show going on as well and Tom had no problems getting clean straw from the barns for the stuff sacks. Tom came back across the grounds with Declan and Lorcan carrying two of the sacks between them. Rory had a hold of the end of one Tom had under his arm. Tom had two others over his shoulder. The girls were along and had one sack between the pair of them.
"Camping is hard work," Lorcan said when they got back.
Rose gave everyone a drink before they put up the two tents they had brought along. They had two - four man canvas tents. They put them up so they were end to end since they had doors on either end.
"We wanted our own tent," Declan said disappointedly.
"You're too young to be separated from Mummy and Daddy yet," Tom reminded him. "Mummy and Daddy will sleep at one end. You can sleep at the far end. You can pretend you're out at the Boy Scouts that way."
The children were all so excited to be at the dog trials they were dashing back and forth inside the tents. Rose couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief when they finally found a spot to sit with their blanket, umbrella and picnic basket to watch the dog trials. Once the trials had begun the youngest four children fell asleep after eating their lunch. Tom decided to go ask around for who was selling dogs and look at the stock. Declan elected to go with him.
"Daddy, could I try working with your new dog when you get one," Declan asked.
"You have to pay attention when you're working with a dog. It's not a toy," Tom replied.
"There are boys a year older than me in the juniors. I read it on the program."
"Did you now," Tom said. "I'll take a look at that program. You think you'd like to try working a dog with the sheep?"
Declan nodded.
"When I get a dog, I'll take you out. I don't' know that much about trials. I think the boys have to train their own dog to be in the competition."
"Oh," Declan replied disappointedly.
"We'll do some asking about and see what we can come up with," Tom said. "I'm not promising anything though."
"You're the best Daddy ever," Declan said taking Tom's hand.
"I'm glad you think so, son," Tom replied.
Chapter 63 – Face to Face
"The trip seems shorter than my last one to Ireland," Russell commented when they got to Dublin. They were in a cab on the way to Dylan and Garret's house.
"We don't have to travel across to Galway. It is considerably less travel time," Sybil replied nervously. "I hope everything goes as planned."
"If it takes an extra day, it takes an extra day," Russell said taking her hand.
"Dylan had to do a lot of rearranging to get the one day for the sweater pictures and trying to fit everything into Hans schedule wasn't easy either. They're both being very accommodating."
"You're a professional. You've done very well so far dragging me about the different shows," he comforted.
"Try to be nice to Hans," Sybil said. "He really isn't so bad when you get to know him."
"I'll be on my best behavior," Russell replied. He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with a German officer that wasn't injured. They'd had quite a few come through the hospitals where he was working. The injured had been just another patient in the eyes of the medical teams. The men had been in such dire circumstances there usually hadn't been time to think about their nationalities. Meeting one of them on a social footing was somewhat unsettling to say the least.
"Dylan you look the same," Russell said as he hugged his brother-in-law when he opened the door.
"Don't remind me. I got asked for identification the other day at a pub. They thought my driver's permit was false and tossed me out anyway," Dylan replied with a smile. "It's good to see you back in one piece." He kissed Sybil on the cheek as she came in. The cab driver had followed them to the door with their cases. Sybil and Russell were carrying a variety of garment bags, a hatbox and Sybil's new portable sewing machine.
"Is any of that for me?" Dylan asked hopefully.
"One shirt and pair of trousers," Sybil replied with a smile. "Which you don't get until the photo shoot."
"Darn," Dylan said. "You two will be staying in my room. We can take everything up later. I got yelled at already for making too much noise on the stairs."
"Where are Garret and Hans?" Sybil asked.
"Guess," Dylan tossed his head towards the music room. The sound of two violins could be heard coming from the room. "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik ever since I got home. They've been at it for hours. Hans has a benefit coming up. He was playing at two in the morning the other day."
"The neighbours didn't complain?" Russell inquired.
"They like the free concerts enough they don't complain," Dylan replied with a grin. "I'll make some tea then poke those two out. Come in and have a seat."
"Your design I take it," Russell asked once they had moved into the sitting room and Dylan had gone through to the kitchen.
"One on a very slim budget," Sybil replied. "Do you like the room?"
"It's very comfortable and very you," Russell replied. He felt a little jealous of a stranger living in surroundings his wife had designed. He had to keep reminding himself she had done this for two of her brothers, not for any other reason.
"I'm going to poke those two out. I want to do the fittings tonight."
"Can't it wait until morning? You've got to be tired from the trip," Russell said with a furrowed brow.
"I'm too nervous. You'd think I was doing my first show," Sybil replied.
She went to the double doors and pushed one of them open. Russell couldn't deny the sound coming now fully into the room was the playing of a true master. Whatever else the man was he was definitely a talented musician. He got up to go and stand slightly behind Sybil. The two men were so lost in what they were doing they didn't even realize anyone was watching them.
Russell noted the stranger's clothing looked somewhat worn. His sleeves were rolled up and his brown hair hung partially over his face. Garret looked older than when Russell had seen him last. His body had filled out and he now looked like a man instead of a boy. The last notes of the movement they had been working on faded away. Garret suddenly looked up and noticed them standing there.
"Russell," Garret said with a smile. "Long time no see." He came over to shake his brother-in-law's hand and embrace him after he set his violin on the desk. Hans slowly placed his violin and bow in it's case then turned to greet Sybil and her husband.
"Sybil," Hans said with a slight bow. "I have been anticipating your visit. I am yours for the next two days." He didn't make any move to touch her.
"Hans my husband, Russell Beldon. Russell this is Hans Meyer," Sybil introduced.
Russell had spotted the look on the other man's face when he'd been surprised by their presence. He'd quickly covered the look of longing when he looked at Russell's wife, but it was there. Russell narrowed his own gaze slightly.
"How do you do?" Hans said formally with a slight bow.
"Quite well now that I get to meet the man my children have been telling me about," Russell said not smiling.
"Hopefully only good things," Hans replied. "Please forgive my rudeness by not being available when you arrived."
"You're free now," Sybil said. "I'd like you to try everything on tonight incase I have to do any alterations. Camilla should be here in the morning with the sweaters for day two. Russell will be posing with the two of you."
"As you wish," Hans said.
"Did Dylan offer you anything to eat or drink?" Garret inquired. He was putting away his violin.
"Yes, he did," Dylan called from the sitting room. He was carrying a tray with cups and a plate of biscuits.
"Tea first, then everyone can try on what I brought," Sybil said.
"I look forward to the undertaking," Hans said with a slight smile.
"I just bet you do," Russell muttered.
"What was that?" Garret asked.
"Nothing. Why didn't Sybil rook you into this venture as well?"
"I'm not as pretty as the three of you," Garret said with a laugh at the looks on the other men's faces.
"Truthfully, Garret couldn't get time off from his studies and he and Dylan look too much alike," Sybil said. "Davin would be a good choice as well. I'll try and persuade him next time."
-0-
The next morning Russell was freshly showered and shaved. He was sitting in the kitchen having a slice of toast and marmalade waiting for Camilla to arrive when Hans came in and went to make his breakfast. Hans didn't say anything until he took a seat at the table and set down his plate and cup.
"Your wife has decided to clean out my wardrobe. She has informed me I can keep the clothes I am wearing for the garden," Hans said with a slight shake of his head. "I am wondering now if I should have agreed to this."
"Sybil knows her business," Russell replied coolly.
Hans nodded slightly then set about eating breakfast.
"What are you doing here?" Russell asked.
"I live here," Hans said.
"I'm not talking about this house. What are you doing in Ireland?"
"A quirk of fate. I decided to stay when the war ended. I can build my career from Dublin. It is a good place for me."
"You don't think you should have gone home?" Russell asked.
"There is no home to go to," Hans replied calmly.
"Sybil is counting on you promoting her designs here in Dublin."
"I will do my best," Hans replied with proud a toss of his head.
"She's my wife and I don't take kindly to anyone messing with her," Russell said.
"I do not forget for a minute she is your wife," Hans replied. He meet Russell's stare with a piercing look of his own. "I will do my best to do as she has asked."
"Just so we understand each other," Russell said.
"I understand you wish to protect what is yours. I will not harm your wife or family in any way."
"You do and I'll kill you," Russell said through gritted teeth.
"I would do the same if I were in your position," Hans replied coldly. "Our association is professional only."
"Keep it that way," Russell said. He got up and left the kitchen.
"Fool," Hans said aloud after Russell had left. "She loves you, not me."
-0-
George Crawley was listening to the radio in November of 1945. Trials for war crimes were to begin soon in Nuremburg, Germany. He'd wondered often if it had all been worth what he was going through. What all the lads in this place were going through for that matter. There wasn't a one of them that hadn't been through hell. His face was scared. There wasn't a whisker left on the left side of his jaw and there was a good indentation there, but it wasn't too bad. A good deal of the lads in here looked like something out of a freak show. He couldn't stand the sight of his own body. He'd looked at his left arm and hadn't recognized it. He hadn't the courage to look at his leg yet when it wasn't bandaged. Across his ribs and hip was nothing but a mass of scars.
The doctors and nurses in the hospital specialized in burns. They had a keg of beer on the ward, a radio and everyone used their civilian titles and wore civilian clothing if they were up and around. They were trying their best to get everyone back to some kind of normal life. George couldn't help but wonder what kind of normal there would be for a Lord if he couldn't walk and would probably never be with a woman in his entire life. All his life he'd heard about family duty and responsibility. He had to produce an heir. Who would want to have a child with someone who belonged in a circus freak show? He couldn't help but think this was probably the end of the line for the House of Grantham, the way it had come for Russell's grandfather. The title had faded out into oblivion.
"Mr. Crawley?" a pretty young blonde woman wearing a blouse and slacks with a sweater asked him.
"Yes," George replied. He caught the handhold over the bed with his good hand to pull himself up better.
"I'm Trisha Strudwick. I'll be your therapist for the next part of your recovery."
"I wasn't aware I was starting any kind of therapy," George replied.
"You've been long enough in bed. It's time to get you moving again," she said.
"I can't get up," George replied.
"It's my job to get you ready for the day you will be able to," she replied. "I'll just pull the screens and get you started."
"Where are you from?" George asked her while she was getting set up for the session. He hadn't recognized her accent.
"Who wants to know?" she asked him. She'd had enough flyboys try to chat her up she knew a line when she heard one. Even in the misery they were in the men reacted to a pretty girl. Part of the mental therapy around the hospital was to expose the men to young women who weren't repulsed by what they saw. The majority of nurses and therapists were attractive young women.
"Don't be testy, I was just being friendly," George replied.
"Sussex," she said. "How about yourself?"
"I'm from Yorkshire," George said.
"You don't sound like a Yorkshire boy," Trisha said.
"That comes with a story," George replied.
"One for another day," Trisha said. "Pay attention to the exercises. You don't want to damage the new skin that's already formed or do more damage."
"I don't see how you expect me to do exercises on limbs I can't move," George said.
"We're going to start with the ones you can move you cheeky thing," Trisha replied with a smile. "Time to get rid of that flabby tummy."
"What?" George looked down to see his tummy was sticking out between his pajama top and the bottoms that were loosely buttoned in a diaper affair over his bad hip. It looked like soft bread. He'd never had a flabby stomach before in his life. His cheeks turned red and his male pride was smarting.
"First exercise," Trish began.
-0-
Tom winced when he heard Declan attempting to do the basic piano exercise Rose had assigned him. Their older boys had all taken dance, music and riding and later joined the Boy Scouts. They had thought they would carry on as they had before with this lot, but it was becoming abundantly clear Declan and Ysuelt had the grace of clodhoppers and Declan had absolutely no musical talent whatsoever. The dance they would keep at. The children needed to be able to take part in social activities in the community and dances were a big part of it, but Tom couldn't see putting Declan through the torture of piano lessons. The boy was better suited to farming and had taken to working with his new sheep dog like a duck to water. Declan seemed to know instinctively where the sheep were going to dodge next and could move a flock of sheep with the dog faster than Tom could.
Tom put down his pen and headed up to the day nursery. The three youngest were out with Sean for a riding lesson in the paddock. Rose was upstairs working with Rory and Lorcan on their schoolwork. He found Rose organizing some books on the shelf while the two boys were sitting at the table decorating puppets they had made.
"Daddy, you're not supposed to look," Rory scolded Tom. "We wrote a puppet play and we're going to do it for everyone as a surprise."
"Then I'll just steal Mummy for a few minutes," Tom replied.
Rose stepped out in the hall with him.
"Would I win my bet if they wrote a play about a knight fighting a dragon and saving a damsel?" Tom asked with grin.
"Perhaps," Rose said with a smile. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Declan. I don't think music is the right activity for him," Tom said.
"He is rather dreadful at it," Rose admitted. "Worse than he is at dance really."
"I was thinking, maybe we should put the time he's butchering that piece," Tom winced again at a sour note, "into something more productive. He's good with the dog. Why not get a second dog and let him train it up?"
"Tom, he's only seven and a half years old and he needs to learn how to be a gentleman," Rose said.
"Not all gentlemen know music and there are plenty that are squires or dog or horse breeders. You have to admit, it's torturous to listen to and it doesn't make him happy. He only practices to try and make you happy."
"I'm going to keep trying with the others," Rose said.
"That's fine. Declan can keep taking dance. He is improving with it slowly. I'll get a second dog and make sure I take him out with it everyday for a bit."
"Are you going to tell him the news or should I?" Rose asked.
"We'll tell him together," Tom said.
"Declan," Tom said. Declan turned around startled. He looked like he expected to be scolded. "Mummy and I have decided. No more music lessons."
"I am trying really hard," Declan said despondently.
"Not every activity is right for everyone," Rose replied. She took a seat beside him on the bench. "Daddy and I have talked it over and we think it might be best if we get you a dog."
"A dog," Declan exclaimed. His expression quickly turned to one of excitement.
"It will be a working dog. We'll go out pretty well everyday to work on it's training," Tom said. "You're going to have to be dedicated. A dog is a big responsibility. This is a working estate. It won't be a pet."
"Much," Rose added.
"I'm going to call my dog Skip," Declan said. His face was beaming.
"We'll see," Tom said. "It might come with a name already."
"Trix and Kori will be jealous when my new dog Skip is a better sheep dog than them," Declan said excitedly.
"Don't get too smart. We haven't got the dog yet," Tom replied with a smile.
"Back to the classroom now," Rose said. "Get out your scribbler and write a story about all the things you have to do to take care of a dog. You can show it to Daddy later."
"Thank you, Mummy, Thank you, Daddy," Declan hugged both his parents then headed to the stairs to do as he was told.
"No more music! Hurrah," Declan cried as he dashed up the stairs.
"The opposite to Garret," Tom said with a chuckle as they watched him go.
"The younger ones couldn't be more different from the older ones if they tried," Rose replied with a smile.
"They'll all be fine," Tom said.
Chapter 64 – Keeping His Mouth Shut
Russell Beldon was sitting in the back garden at Evans House with his daughter on his lap. They had put in a small stone sitting area in the center of the garden. The rest of the garden had been planted with vegetables arranged to make an attractive pattern. He had laughed at himself a bit as he helped Bobby put the garden in. Sybil had been right about the grass and the shortages in the shops. They'd had potatoes through Christmas from the late crop last summer. They'd gotten a bit from the house in Horsham, but the military personnel had scoffed most of it before they pulled out. There hadn't been much left.
Once Bobby was out of school for the summer they were planning to move down to Horsham. The house was painted and repaired. The chalkboards and all the rest from the military had taken sometime to remove and the piles of sandbags had been a nuisance to dispose of. The gardeners had moved them out behind the greenhouses and built a potato crib with them for lack of a better use. Sybil's parents were planning a two-week visit mid summer. Russell was feeling a bit at a loose end but he still didn't feel motivated to return to work. Hope wasn't doing so well and he wanted to spend every moment he could with her.
Quite often there was a blue tint to her lips and her heartbeat was more erratic than ever. She was happy and oblivious to what was happening to her. She took a long time to go to sleep in the evenings and usually slept late in the mornings. Neither of them could see any point in changing her routine. They had known all along her life could be short and were giving her as normal life as possible. On the days when her breathing was laboured they had oxygen set up in her room while she slept but it didn't really help all that much.
Hope turned and looked over her father's shoulder when she heard a sound by the door.
"Du bist erwachsen geworden, Herzchen," Hope said.
Russell turned to see Hans Meyer standing slightly behind him dumbstruck. Hans and Dylan had arrived the previous day for Sybil's spring fashion show. Hans had lined up a few musical auditions for London while he was here. He had offered to stay at a hotel but Sybil had insisted the men stay at the house where they were at her beck and call. Russell's father had also been roped in, along with Sybil's cousin Edward, Bradley, Redmond and one of Bradley's friends from medical school who was a regular for Sunday dinners.
"Where did you learn that?" Hans asked slowly.
"The lady told me to say it," Hope said. She hopped off her father's lap and went over to pull on Hans' fingers.
"Come see the onions," Hope said. "They're coming up. They look like little hairs. There aren't any in the shops."
"What Lady?" Hans asked.
"You won't understand," Hope said with a slight frown. "Grown ups don't understand."
"They do look like little green hairs," Hans said squatting down to see where Hope was pointing. "You will have many fine things in your little garden."
"We have a bigger one at our other house," Hope said. "I'm going for a drink, Daddy."
"Take your book in with you," Russell said.
"Did someone teach her to say that?" Hans inquired quizzically.
"Not that I know of," Russell replied. "She says some odd things. I've never heard her speak a foreign language before though. Have a seat. What did she say?" The two men still weren't on friendly terms but they had come to a mutual unspoken agreement to tolerate each other.
"She told me I had grown up and used a term only my mother called me. It does not have a direct translation. It means something like small heart or sweet one. It is a pet name."
"I don't know where she heard it," Russell said. "She absorbs almost everything and repeats bits of conversations. I wouldn't pay any attention to it. You did well this winter finding clients for Sybil. I think she's got eight appointments from Dublin booked for the next three weeks and there were at least half a dozen scattered over the winter."
"A repayment for all she has done to aid my career," Hans replied with an incline of his head.
"It's just bloody clothes, but she loves it," Russell said.
"It is more than clothes. They open doors that would otherwise be shut," Hans said.
"I should go in and see if Sybil and her assistant have finished torturing my Dad," Russell said. "They've got us parading around at the hospital where Redmond works tomorrow like a bunch of dandies as a practice and to give the patients something to think about."
"He was making a loud protest for the manicure when I passed by," Hans said with a slight grin.
Hans stayed out in the garden after Russell had gone in. He'd already run the gamut of being fitted into the tuxedo Sybil had made for him, the hairdresser and the manicurist. Every single one of the men had refused to wear makeup. Hope's words had disturbed him. The only one who had ever spoken to him like that was his mother and she was long since dead.
He had come to London with more than one purpose. He'd been trying to get Sybil out of his mind all winter. He'd had a brief affair with a harpist over the winter and thought perhaps he'd managed to move on. The woman had been offered a spot in Scotland, packed her bags and said goodbye without a backwards glance. The moment he'd seen Sybil again the feelings he kept well hidden had come floating back to the surface in a blink. He knew it was hopeless and that she didn't return his feelings but his heart couldn't help but yearn for what it couldn't have.
Career wise he was already feeling the restraints of Dublin. He was making a good living and had quickly risen to the top. He had auditions lined up in London. If they were successful it would be another step in the ladder towards becoming an internationally known violinist. The agreement with Sybil had been mutually beneficial. He looked the part of a successful musician and had the wardrobe to rub elbows with the elite of Dublin society. He'd handed out quite a few of her business cards and suggested to a number of women Sybil may be able to help them out if they were looking for something unique. For a few days of his time here and there he had a wardrobe that would otherwise have cost him more than he made in a year.
-0-
The nurse pushed George Crawley's wheel chair up to the row of seats that had been set up in the hospital. There were men in beds, some in wheelchairs and some on padded chairs. There was an assortment of wives and girlfriends along as well. Mary, Edith, Cora and Anthony were all down for the show. They had decided to join George at the hospital to show their support for Sybil rather than the following day in London.
Redmond had been by to see George earlier and complained about the treatment of his eyebrows, which had made George laugh. George was finally done the surgeries on his leg. Trisha had made him look at his leg during one of his therapy sessions and he'd been surprised. The surgeries had smoothed out the skin on his leg. His toes were crooked and looked they had been squashed but otherwise he had a fairly normal looking leg other than the surgical scars the doctors said would fade with time. He wasn't up on it yet. He'd only had the last surgery a week before. As soon as he got the go ahead Trisha told him he'd have to try standing. His arm was another matter. It was stiff and had a chunk missing out of his forearm. They'd told him he needed a break between surgeries. It would be at least three surgeries and a great deal of agonizing therapy to get his arm back to functional. He would never have full use of his arm or hand but the medical team would do what they could. He needed to keep his hopes up and remember there was a future.
George thought a future with Trisha wouldn't be a bad prospect, but then over half the lads who were single thought the same thing. Every one of them would stop what they were doing and take a good look when she had them doing exercises on mats on the floor the second she bent over another man. The hospital had strict policies about staff not being allowed to date patients but it didn't stop George from dreaming about the day he got out of there and could ask Trisha out. He called her Miss Strudwick to her face but in his head he thought of her by her first name.
"Why did I agree to this?" Matthew Beldon grumbled in the room where the men were getting changed. "I'm not some toffee nosed blighter that prances around all day drinking tea."
"You're the father of one and you're making your daughter-in-law and your granddaughter proud, now hold still while I do up your tie," Russell scolded his father. "Be happy you're young enough Sybil can still use you."
"I'm a ridiculous old man compared to all you young bucks," Matthew griped.
"Dad, knock it off. You're forty-four if you're a day. With all the grooming Sybil has put you through in the last twenty-four hours you don't look more than thirty-five. Lydia's going to go crazy when she sets eyes on you after this."
"She is isn't she," Matthew said with a grin. "She's all in a titter about coming down for the fashion show in London."
"This lot today should be very forgiving, Dad," Russell said. He put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Try to remember to smile and do what Sybil's been trying to teach you this last few days. This show is going to be slower paced. She's supposed to do a talk about fabrics. Don't be alarmed by any of the men. Just keep smiling."
"Look at that one over there. Cool as a cucumber and wearing a tuxedo in the middle of the day like it was the most natural thing in the world," Matthew said.
"I know Dad," Russell replied "It's not my thing either. I feel like some ridiculous play toy most of the time, but it makes my wife happy. Just grin and bare it."
"I wish I was on horseback for this thing," Matthew said.
"You're dressed for it. Just imagine that you are," Sybil said as she came around for a final check. Her new assistant was following her. Sybil had enough clients these days she couldn't handle all the work on her own. She'd hired an assistant and would have a summer intern from the school she had attended. Her business was growing by leaps and bounds. She was trying her best to have an open door so she was available for the children whenever they needed her and spend enough time with her husband.
Russell was still restless after coming home. He had periods of temper and bad moods then would get himself back together again fairly quickly. He wasn't violent but he had a tendency to forget himself and say things that hurt her feelings. The hardest thing Sybil was finding after their separation during the war was Russell's jealousy. He was jealous of every man she talked to including her own brothers. Sybil was wishing she'd opted for women's fashion rather than men's but men's wear was what she was really good at. She'd think Russell had gotten over one bought of jealousy and things were going along well for a few weeks and then suddenly out of the blue he'd go into another one over her talking to the clerk at a shop or thanking the door man. It was getting on her nerves, but she had decided to ignore it as there was absolutely no basis for any of his suspicions.
One of the nurses came behind the dividers that had been set up and let them know it was time to start. Sybil's assistant got all the men lined up while Sybil went out front to say a few words. The large audience waiting for her surprised her. Ambulatory patients had come from all over the hospital to see the show and every last one of the men from the burn ward was there as well as a large collection of people from the town.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Sybil began. "Thank you for taking time today to come and watch our fashion show. I asked my brother to help me out and act as a model for a show in London. He would only agree if we came down today and I spoke to you about fabric and what to look for in comfort when selecting clothing. It's often said clothes make the man. None of the men modelling the clothes for you today are professional models. We have men from every walk of life including a groom, a musician, students and a doctor. I dare you to guess which one the doctor is."
The audience laughed.
"All joking aside, clothing changes who we are. Clothes can convey a message. Wear something that looks good and you feel good. That's what makes the well-dressed man memorable. At the end of the show I'll introduce the models and let you know who has what job. I think you'll be in for a few surprises."
Sybil's assistant started the record on the portable player that belonged to the hospital. It wasn't the elaborate set up they would be working with the next day and the men had to walk out to a tape on the floor and back but it was still good practice. When Redmond came out there was quite a bit of catcalls and good-natured ribbing. His face turned bright red. He kept the smile on his face and walked back and forth while Sybil talked about different woollens and grades of wool that were softer on the skin. After the final walk through there was a great deal of applause. The men who couldn't clap tapped their good hands on armrests and bed rails. Sybil had the men line up and let them know what each man did for a living.
"Now, one of these men is my father-in-law," Sybil said. "If you don't think clothes make a difference I'll let you in on a secret. He's forty-four years old."
"If you can make me look like that lot, I'll buy every stitch you got up there," one of the men with one side of his face that was severely distorted said.
"My job is to make you look handsome so the girls fall all over you," Redmond said.
All of the men in the audience laughed.
"My father-in-law," Sybil said going over to take Matthew's arm and pull him slightly forward.
"Bloody hell did you have a kid when you were nine?" one of the men blurted out. The rest of the audience tittered.
"Not quite. My daughter-in-law got a hold of me yesterday and decided to make me look like a bleeding dandy," Matthew said.
The men all broke out in laughter.
"I need those fancy riding clothes if you can make him look like that," one of the men said when he finished laughing.
"You'll have to get behind me in line," another said.
The head doctor from the hospital came up and thanked Sybil and the men for taking the time to come out and put on the show. There were a great deal of applause before the men all went off to change. Sybil went directly to mingle with the crowd.
"Sybil is doing marvellously. She'll do well in London tomorrow," Cora said to Russell when he went to speak to the family. Heath was there speaking to George and his parents.
"If this lot is any indication they should snap up every last bit," Russell said.
"How does it feel to have a wife who is well on the way to being a superstar?" George asked him.
"Odd," Russell replied. "It's the same girl who always made me shirts and yet it's not." He looked around the room. Dylan and Bradley were working the crowding handing out their sister's business cards. Hans and his father were nowhere to be seen. Russell excused himself and went to find where the men had gotten themselves off to. The garment bags with their nametags were hung on the rack along with everyone else's. Russell went out the doors of the hospital to find the pair of them sitting on a bench at the front of the building waiting for everyone else to finish up.
"What are you doing out here Dad?" Russell said. He ignored Hans.
"I've held a horse for at least a half dozen of them in there, I'm not about to socialize with them," Matthew said.
"It goes with the territory," Russell said. "There's a pub down the way. Let's go. They'll be another half hour doing the sales chitchat at least. It's painful."
Matthew got up to follow Russell then turned back to Hans.
"Come on, we might as well have a pint. It's better than sitting out here with your mouth practically glued shut so none of them will find out you're a kraut."
"As you have put it so eloquently. I will join you," Hans replied.
Hans was keeping his mouth shut in the pub as well. There weren't many patrons there as all the patients in the hospital were busy with the fashion show. The three of them sat at a table in the corner not saying much.
"How's work Dad?" Russell asked.
"Stables are stables. They're turning the track back into a race course now the air force has pulled out," Matthew said.
They could hear an argument between two older men in the bar. It was getting progressively louder.
"I tell you that picture is of a Messerschmidt," one of the men said.
"Tisn't that's an Folke-Wulf if I ever saw one. I know my aircraft," the other one retorted.
"You're blind," the first one answered back. "What do you lot think. He's telling me I don't know my planes. I spent four years on those guns. I know one from the other."
"We don't have an opinion," Russell said quickly.
"Here come on, help us out," one of the men said.
Hans leaned over to say something to Russell.
"My friend here says the aircraft in the photograph is Blohm and Voss 141," Russell said. "The aircraft in question was a prototype, quiet but underpowered."
"Why can't your friend speak for himself?" one of the older men demanded. "Is he a bleeding Gerry pilot or something?"
Russell exchanged a look with his father. The two older men got to their feet. Russell, Hans and Matthew stood up as well.
"Get out the lot of you, we don't serve German's here," the man behind the bar said. "Especially Gerry pilots."
"Seeing as you just did, I would say you do," Russell said. Matthew rolled his eyes slightly. The last thing he wanted was to get into a pub scrap.
"Why you," the barkeeper stepped out from behind the bar. Hans stepped between Russell and the barkeeper quickly.
"My friends and I are all considerably younger and in better shape than you and your friends. You would not do well against us," Hans said. "We will leave." Hans turned back before he stepped out the door. "Auf Weidersehen," he said with a slight smile.
"Awfully polite for a Gerry," one of the older men said as he took his seat and picked up his pint for a swig.
"Oh, piss off," the other man said to him as he adjusted his chair.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Russell demanded the moment they got outside.
"I gave you my word I would protect your wife's family. I will keep my word. They are stupid heads not worth our time. We will be the toast of London tomorrow. They are the dirt beneath our shoes. It is how it is," Hans said with a shrug. He headed back to sit on the bench in front of the hospital.
"He's either fearless or crazy," Matthew said as they slowly make their way back.
"No, he was born to be a celebrity," Russell said with a sigh. "Like Sybil."