Worthwhile Folly, 1947
No one called English anywhere. You'd think it would be like bloody Smith but apparently not. I've harassed more languishing curates than you've eaten hot dinners and no one has a marriage record or birth certificate or anything. Query: Where was Robin born, do you know? Because if it was Over There then you'd better believe I'm strong-arming Emmy into this operation. She's a nice, nimble type and she can charm the Singaporean curates. How many do you reckon there are?
Another Query: What was the name of the nice man that ran the Anglo-Chinese School? He was clergy, wasn't he? Would he know anything about this? Bernice always got the idea he fancied you, so could be useful. Might also save Emmy considerable work.
Final query is unrelated: How do you know any of the geography of that flat, and why am I hearing about it second-hand from the good doctor?
Write and tell an old biddy you're having heaps of success, will you? Lay it on nice and thick. Joan and I need rallying. She's having the Devil's own time getting a hospital to take her. Bloody nitwits, the lot of them. Query the fourth: How do you feel about crucifying the English Medical Board? Personally, I relish it. Might make a change from the curates.
Cressida
Larkrise, 1947
Crucifixion much too good for the Medical Board. I'm surprised at you. Don't do anything without me. Whatever you're planning, count me in.
Robin must have been born in Singapore. Remember how young she was when Elise marched in with her? Shall you write to Emily or shall I? It will give her something to do when not being courted by my nephew.
Speaking of, you can tell Bernice from me she is barking up entirely the wrong tree concerning Rev. Peach, who is the nice clergy you ask after. The young woman he fancied, to the best of my recollection, was Miss Mackay. Even without Bernice inventing needless romances for me, I have absolutely no idea where he ended up after I joined you heathens.
You didn't strike me as the sort who wanted exegeses on houses. Will adjust our correspondence accordingly in light of this revelation. Cannot possibly imagine Joan is making an intrigue of it, so shall suppose that's you. Circumstances of arrival at that flat entirely unremarkable. Not even you can overegg a cup of tea between friends, Cressida.
I got the distinct sense Elise was making that last name up, but not for any particular reason. Except that maybe I had my own version of that. You can ask Bernice sometime. She'll enjoy the telling. That won't help you find Elise –perhaps try the boat records? If Elise didn't pick the name up at camp she might have changed it on a dock somewhere.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Trinity House, 1947
Don't know why we bother. Got that graffiti off, and some mob put it right back on again. Much more vitriolic, too. How do you feel about leaving it up indefinitely? There's only so much Sisyphean labour I can take in one lifetime and that blasted camp got the lot. Emily isn't daunted. Wants to paint some Chinese over it. Thinks that will deter the blaggards. Nice to know someone still believes the world is kind, eh? Personally, I blame your nephew. He'd better not be planning any disappearing acts. I realize that all things being technical he's more your family than I am, but that won't stop me murdering him if necessary. You can tell what's-his-name at the bookshop the same from me. I am thoroughly sick to death of people disappearing on you, Miss Meredith.
Also, thought I'd better warn you that a Very Officious Woman dropped by with some languishing cat – seemed very anxious to confirm that you were A) not dead and B) ensure we took on this cat. Lovely accent, despite officiousness. I make her Indian? Anyway, it's come to several people's notice that Trinity House takes on hopeless causes and we've since acquired an injured bird and an otter in need of mismothering. If you come back and find this place a regular animal sanctuary, it is Not My Fault.
B.
Larkrise, 1947
Dear Pot,
I take it you have now met Kettle. Tell Frenny Razdan (she is indeed Indian) she can foist animals on you whenever fancy takes her. In the days before camp she was always haranguing me to eat enough. She did this right until the guards marched me away to you lot. I owe her considerably. Also, Carl would approve. Nothing can hope to equal the evening he came home with a buffalo. Go out and look at your otter and think about how blessedly small it is. I'll send advice on the care of it by next post. If Shirley Blythe doesn't know then my Jerry's girl Mandy does.
Emily can paint whatever she wants on the front of the house if she thinks it will make a blind bit of difference. We were always doing the place up for Li's high days and holy days. I don't suppose this is so different. Oh – and Cressida has a project for her. (You, too, if you want a break from otters and Monica Radcliffe Centre.) She needs you to try and track down Robin's birth certificate. We think she is Robin English on it, but the way Cressida tells it, anything goes.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Trinity House, 1947
Una,
They have not hanged the Commandant. Bernice and the others are furious, especially Iain. He can't get over how few Japanese they have hung, considering. But – I'm glad. Is that awful? Probably Essays in Idleness has a quote for the occasion of the failed hanging of an enemy one neither likes nor wants dead, but I find I forget more of its quotations as time goes on.
Told Cressida but will tell you too. Robin's birth certificate found at Edward VIII. There's no father given. Any name she got was definitely Elise's. As for whether English was Elise's name, I leave to experts.
Una – she was younger than we ever thought. Robin and Leesey both. Did you know? You must have known. Joan always suspected you thought Leesey more girl than young woman. She said it was why you mothered her like that.
Requested copies of the document for Cressida, but God knows if I'll get anything back, being Chinese and manifestly not Leesey's family. Nearly got you a copy and then thought it was too much like handing you a sprung grenade.
The otter is for Robin. It's from the same market stall. Can't imagine they really do come in that particular shade of eye-popping green, but it made me think of the poetry you used to quote – one tremor in a verdant wood may teach you more of man…You see, I don't forget all quotations.
Love to you both. Kiss Robin for me,
Emily
Larkrise, 1947,
Emily,
I'm glad, too. For a man who prided himself on dignity and honour, hanging would have been a sin. I know he was awful – I know Bernice will tell me he withheld supplies that could have saved hundreds. I know she is right. But 'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.' Justice isn't my provenance. Forgiveness is. I don't know if I can do that – but I know I can't sanction death on my account, either.
Strange you should mention it – I spoke recently with a friend about our enemies never staying monsters. There's music in that piano bench – tell Bernice to fish out the piano rendering for Onegin. Don't give her the context or she won't do it. It's what I used to play to keep the seams of the universe unravelling.
The white poppy is for you. You won't need to explain that to Bernice, she will hate it on principle. People almost always do when they're that colour. But they mean peace, and if it helps, wear it. If it doesn't, don't.
Robin adores the otter. Where do you find these animals? Presently she has got them adventuring with her as per Blyton, probably up some tree overhanging a river, I shouldn't wonder. I don't particularly like to think about it. I never could stand heights. Much more Elise's legacy to Robin, that.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Una
Worthwhile Folly, S. England, 1947
Whatever Cressida is doing, talk her out of it. A crusade headed up by Lady Cressida Worthing is the last thing I need if I'm ever to get a job. Now, if she'd offer to sit on a medical board of advisory…
Expect she's also told you we're having no luck with Robin's great-aunt. It's my private opinion she doesn't exist. I think she was Elise's fantasy to keep her and Robin going until they got out. They never had to go meet this grand old lady with her doilies and high teas, they just needed her to counterbalance how bloody awful our lives were.
Will, of course, keep looking until you say otherwise. Assuming I can land work, I'm hoping the medical connections might help locate her. There must have been a nurse or a midwife or someone who remembers Elise.
Kiss Robin for me. Love always,
Dr. Joan M. (would be, anyway, if a hospital would sign me on…)
Larkrise, 1947,
Dr. J. Makori (whatever hospitals have to say about it)
Cressida got to me first. Apologies. In deference to you, I promise to persuade her to hold off her offensive until you've landed a position. Will that be a suitable compromise?
Consulate again advised me I should stop looking for Li and Iris. Apparently, this is what he would do had his sister married, quote, one of those foreigners. End quote. Did not clip him round the ear as per Bernice's instructions but only because he doesn't appear to have any colleagues to hand the case over to. Perhaps you could suggest his imminent demise to Cressida as a diversionary tactic? It might keep her out of trouble until you're working. Equally, it may lead to an international catastrophe. I leave it with you.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch,
Una
Larkrise, 1947,
Dear Miss Forster,
Forgive the liberty of my writing to your. My sister passed on your address on the off-chance you might succeed where others have not finding the rest of our family from Singapore. I enclose particulars and also photos for reference.
Regards,
Una Meredith.
Returning photos as I can cadge several off of Mrs. Ford. I recall she kept in regular correspondence with your brother?
Will of course look for him and the others – no liberties taken. My love to Larkrise and assorted gremlins. Tell Teddy I'll never forgive him if he makes good on threats to name that baby Catherine, and tell Sophy not to do anything I wouldn't.
From the Desk of Catherine Forster
News Desk
Globe and Mail
Auntie
What do I have to do to get Bernice on side? I ask because you obviously did it. Can it be done if one is anything other than a terrifyingly efficient woman?
What do you think about goats? Emily thinks we should rescue some for the garage.
I found the stall whence came the lizard and otter (Emily's been guarding it from all of us jealously – no easy feat!) and hope this offering won't alarm Robin. But then I thought, she's seen her share of dragons. Probably a blue plush one here or there doesn't signify.
Iain
Larkrise, 1947,
Iain,
You are asking entirely the wrong person re Bernice. She and I spent a week arguing each other hoarse. Ask Emily. Forget now what made the difference in the end. There was a moment where we could have throttled each other or become fast friends and went for the latter. Think it was because Stella Bowen was dying by inches in front of us. They'd tied her up and denied her water. Bernice and I couldn't bear watching, so started covertly nursing her. Bernice fetched water, I kept watch. When it came to the point, Bernice nominated me as less likely to shout blue murder at the Commandant, which I didn't. I quoted Yeats and Psalms. But ask Bernice. Bet she tells you something else entirely.
Tell Emily goats eat everything. Really. They are single-handedly responsible for eradicating half a dozen plants from New Zealand at least. Carl lectured on it once – at me, apparently. But if you do get goats, don't let Emily get them from the market, because that's asking for trouble. Drive up into the country and buy them from someone who knows goats. And for God's sake ask Bernice first or I won't be held accountable for her reaction! I think she is still recovering from encountering Frenny Razdan.
Robin and I have our hands full as Mr Swallow gone off, to borrow his phrase, to see man about a dog. Not remotely clear what this entails, though sense from chat over sewing Judith Carlisle does. This by way of Geordie Carlisle, one presumes. All I know is it leaves Robin and I attempting to wrangle the bookshop into order.
Take care – I don't like the sound of the riots you describe at all. Nor the bandits up-country. And don't, whatever you do, get yourself killed. I have the distinct impression your mother will hold me personally accountable if you do, and I shouldn't like to see her crossed if her Elektra is anything to go by. Think how upsetting for Robin it would be if I died, too. You don't want that on your conscience.
I don't suppose you need the telling, but you needn't spoil Robin or me. You're well into our good books without it, and it sounds like there are far better causes closer to home. Treat Emily for me - Camp never let me do it.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch,
Una
P.S. What does Bernice mean they've arrested Emily for 40 days after stealing a tin of pineapple? Where were you when this happened? Come to that – where was anyone?
P.P.S. Dragon a success. Have never seen such a dizzying concoction of blues, florals and greens mixed together like that. Robin's menagerie now beyond exotic and Carl will be delighted to meet it – and you, I shouldn't wonder.
Trinity House, 1947,
Needn't worry. Emily safely returned. Also needn't have sent the food parcel but am not complaining as things are either scarce or impossibly expensive. Well, you remember.
Would like to know what you mean about that bookseller disappearing. Thought I was very clear that that was Not Allowed. Take it you did pass that on? God knows you're together often enough.
Cannot think, by the way, why I am hearing about this from Iain, and not you. Realize you have your hands full with managing of bookshop that isn't yours, Robin, chasing down family and Robin again, but really.
Suppose it does give you something to do, so there is one virtue. Mind you, I thought Emily was proving quite nicely that love affairs made for excellent diversion.
(Emily, reading over my shoulder, thinks you don't need the telling. Would that be accurate?)
B.
Larkrise 1947,
Bernice,
It's all quite all right. Can stand disappearances when they don't happen in the middle of Occupied Singapore at no warning. As you say, trying to re-order a hopelessly disorganized bookshop makes for a diversion. That was something I didn't have that evening Carl vanished. It was me, Puck and Akela and hours of not knowing.
Robin and I manage all right, even if she does give me fits forever climbing the stacks, shelves and ladders or slithering along the rafters. You remember what I was like with heights. You can infill how well that goes over.When he's here I think Mr. Swallow finds it funny - both her propensity for acrobatics and my nascent horror of same.
The other half of the time it's as if someone cuts the strings and she drops down to read for hours. Nancy Drew is a favourite now we've run out of Adventure Books. Likewise the rest of Blyton, of which there is a disproportionate amount. Neither Famous Five nor Secret Seven makes the same impression with her. Can't decide if it's the lack of a parrot or the bizarre unconcern of parents not myself and Allie Mannering for the fact that their children are gadding about the English Countryside unsupervised.
Anyway, Robin has obviously read more than her share adventures, because she looked up at me, eyes gone lambent in lizard-lazy sun to ask if I thought our Mr. Swallow was a spy in the mode of Bill Smuggs. (I refer you to the Adventure Books.)
Should have been a highly improbable thought, except there was still the outstanding question of the connection to Geordie Carlisle during our war. Faith always did wonder why a Superintendent was so conversant in codes as Geordie is, and Mr. Swallow is equally fluent. (Arrived one afternoon to find him teaching Robin a playfair. Must have told you this.)
Suggestion got still less improbable when we received a call at the bookshop from what I make the bottom of a well but was probably only miles upon miles away to ask how we were getting on. Said we hadn't murdered anyone yet, consul inclusive. This partly because, as you'll appreciate, I can't hover over the consul and keep the bookshop organized on account of not being St. Ursula.
Whereat there was one of those lightning-flashes of clarity you sometimes get on trunk calls, so heard quite distinctly Mr. Swallow say would make it up about the consul, as had contacts elsewhere and would ask them about Carl and the others if I thought it would help. Didn't think, just agreed.
Clarity didn't last – it never does – so a combination of line spitting like a wildcat and evasive answers meant I never got a clear answer as to nature of contacts. Except Geordie Carlisle could but wouldn't answer if asked. Said I was grateful for the effort, which I was. All my connections are scattered to the corners of the earth or feels that way. Frenny Razdan obviously was let well alone during the occupation. But the remainder of the ACS is a jumble, being charitable. And I have no idea what happened to the other teachers –except Stella Bowen obviously. The Barker Road school doesn't exist and God alone knows what happened in Ipoh, because Naomi Blake does not.
Can't remember the last time I felt relief that keenly – should say when the British finally arrived but by then I was exhausted and unbelieving, so didn't have much gratitude spare. Think it must date to before all that – Li stealing bread? The men declining to search the attic as we hid there? No idea. Must have looked as I felt though, all unspooling nerves and water-liquidity, because Faith descended as the line was tending more towards spitting wildcat than clarity and proceeded to misconstrue conversation. Let her tease on the basis that possibly someone competent was now looking for Li, Carl and Iris.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch,
Una
Trinity House, 1947,
Grateful indeed. Rapidly coming round to Emily's way of thinking, as I make you in great danger of falling in love with Mr. Swallow if not already. Needless to say, was not talking about Carl. Rather thought you'd had your share of waiting indefinitely for people to come home to you?
Sorry, don't mean to sound like an interfering aunt. Actually, I do a bit, but only because I know enough of your history to guard you rather jealously from interlopers. Apologies.
B