Nettie’s Secret. Dilly Court
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‘Don’t make this even harder than it is, Byron.’
He brushed her cheek with a kiss and turned away. ‘I’ll go now. I hate goodbyes. Take care of yourself, Nettie.’
She followed him out of the waiting room and watched him stride away, passing Robert, who was returning with the tickets clutched in his hand. He waved to Nettie.
‘Our train leaves in five minutes. We’d better hurry.’
It was still early morning when they arrived in Dover, and after making enquiries, Robert announced that the next ferry was due to sail at midday. This gave them time to have breakfast in a hotel close to the harbour and to rest before the crossing. Nettie sat on the terrace enjoying the warm spring sunshine with only a slight breeze to ruffle the feathery tops of the pampas grass that towered over the neatly kept flowerbeds. The air was so fresh and clean after the soot and smoke of the city, and the scent of spring flowers was sharpened by a salty tang from the sea. Nettie would have been happy to remain here all day, but she had to face the fact that they would be leaving soon and might never return. It was a disturbing thought. She sat back and closed her eyes – the sound of birdsong and the mewling of seagulls was a pleasant change from the clatter of boots on cobbled streets and the rumble of cartwheels, the shouts of costermongers and the porters bellowing at each other in Covent Garden as they went about their work. She was slipping into a deep sleep when she was awakened by someone shaking her shoulder.
‘Is it time to leave, Pa?’ she asked sleepily.
‘It’s me, Nettie.’
She opened her eyes and sat up straight. ‘Byron. What are you doing here?’
He pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘You don’t mean it.’
‘Yes, I do. I hate my job at the law firm. It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life, and I don’t trust Mr Carroll to take proper care of you.’
‘But I don’t know where we’re going, or how we’ll live.’
‘All the more reason for coming with you. I’m strong and I can earn money doing manual labour, if necessary. I won’t allow your father to drag you into poverty, and I’ve always wanted to travel, so this is a good opportunity. Besides which, there’s something you don’t know about me.’
Nettie gazed at him in amazement. ‘What is it, Byron?’
‘My mother was French. She left home when I was very young and I never saw her again, but my first language was French.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘It didn’t seem important. When I was younger I tried not to think about the mother who’d deserted me, but recently I’ve been considering going to France to look for my French relations. I even have a passport.’
Nettie gazed at him, too stunned to put her thoughts into words. ‘That’s so strange, but how did you know we were here?’
‘The cabby who picked me up at the railway station had taken a fare to this hotel, and when he described the pretty, dark-haired young lady and a much older man, I knew it must be you – or at least I hoped it was – and I was right. Here I am and here I stay. I’ve paid for my passage and I’m ready to go.’
‘I don’t know what Pa will say about this, Byron.’
‘There’s not much he can do about it. I’m free to do as I like, and I intend to travel to France.’ He hailed a passing waiter. ‘A pot of coffee, if you please, and some bread and cheese. I didn’t have time for breakfast.’
Nettie waited until the food arrived. ‘I think my father is in the hotel lounge. I’m going to tell him you’re here, Byron. If he comes upon us together he’ll be angry and the last thing we need is a scene. If the cabby remembers dropping us off here it won’t be hard for the police to trace us and, if Pendleton talks, I don’t think it will take them long to associate Pa with the forgeries.’
Byron had just bitten off a chunk of bread and cheese and he nodded wordlessly. Nettie would have gone anyway, regardless of anything that he might have said. The main thing was to keep her father behaving in a manner that would not draw attention to them, which was difficult for someone who loved being the centre of attention.
It was sad to stand on deck watching the white cliffs fade into the distance, but in some ways it was also a relief, and Nettie began to relax. Her father had been angry at first, but he had been quick to admit that having Byron with them might prove advantageous. Nettie did not enquire further, but she suspected that her father would happily devote himself to his art, leaving Byron and herself to support him.
‘A penny for them?’ Byron appeared at her side.
‘I was just thinking that we’ve done it now. We’re on our way to goodness knows where. It’s not the first time I’ve been homeless, but at least everyone at home speaks English.’
‘Then it’s just as well I decided to join you.’ Byron leaned on the railings, staring at the rapidly disappearing shoreline. ‘I’ll translate for you.’
‘Tell me about your mother. How did your parents meet?’
‘Father was a medical student, and he went to Paris to attend a series of lectures. He was out one evening with friends and they saw a man beating a young girl. They intervened and took her back to her lodgings in a poor quarter, but Father was concerned for her welfare and he returned next day to make sure she was all right.’
‘And they fell in love at first sight. How romantic,’ Nettie sighed and closed her eyes. ‘It sounds like a fairy tale.’ She could see it all in her imagination; it would make a wonderful start to her next story.
‘Not really. It didn’t have a happy ending,’ Byron said with a wry smile. ‘I was only four when my mother left home. I remember her putting me to bed one night, and I can still smell her perfume when she kissed me and told me to be a good boy. She was gone next morning and I never understood why she had deserted me.’
Nettie reached out to lay her hand on his. ‘Byron, that’s so sad. It’s amazing that you still remember how to speak her native tongue.’
‘We always spoke in French together, and when I went to school I told my teacher that I wanted to learn the language. She loaned me the books and I studied French on my own. It made me feel closer to Maman.’
‘How brave of you, Byron. It must have been such a difficult time.’
‘I don’t think my father ever really got over it. He never remarried and he devoted himself to his patients in one of the poorest parts of the East End.’
‘He sounds like a very good man.’
‘He was, but he passed away five years ago. I think he died of exhaustion, because he gave so much to others.’
Nettie slipped her arm around his shoulders. ‘I am so sorry, Byron. I wish I could have known him.’
‘It’s all in the past, but you can understand why I have no ties in London, which leaves me free to accompany you and see that you’re kept safe.’
‘And you might find your mother’s family.’
‘Yes. I doubt if I’ll ever see my mother again, but I’d like to learn more about her and why she left us like she did.’ He glanced up at the darkening sky. ‘Let’s go to the saloon. I’m hungry and a cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘I expect Pa’s there already. He’ll probably have found an audience to impress with his tales of his life as an important artist. He likes to tell people that he’s been all over the world, although, in fact, he’s never been any further south than Dover.’
‘Let’s hope there aren’t any off-duty policemen on board,’ Byron said, chuckling.
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