• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“But David prevailed,” said Maisie.

“A single man is not an army, and a mere catapult is no match for a cannonade—for guns, bombs, tanks. Sadly, in this case it is the small man who has a great army at his disposal, and he will come to power, of that I am sure—look again at Headley and Delphine. Imagine so many dispossessed people following blindly, with misguided hope in their hearts.”

Some moments passed. Maisie and Matthias Roth sat in silence with their thoughts. A guard entered and informed Maisie that her visit had come to an end. She turned to Roth. “You and Dr. Liddicote created a place where young people could learn the true meaning of peace. Your work will continue, of that you can be sure.”

He stood up and held out his hand. “Thank you, Miss Dobbs.”

She bade him good-bye and walked out of Wandsworth Prison and into the bright, low, autumn sunshine. She closed her eyes and held her face to the warmth, then went on her way.

Epilogue

The telephone entered Maisie’s dreams before the insistent ringing drew her to consciousness. She shook her head, heart in her mouth, and ran to the telephone; she always worried that a telephone call at nighttime meant that Frankie was ill.

“Hello, this is—”

“Miss!”

“Billy, whatever is the matter? Is everything all right?”

“Margaret Rose was born at midnight.”

“Oh, Billy—you’ve got a girl. How’s Doreen? Is the baby well?”

“Mother and daughter are in the best of health, though Doreen is a bit tired.”

Maisie looked at the clock. It was past two in the morning. “Where are you, Billy?”

“The hospital. Her doctor reckoned that, with her history—you know—and what she’d gone through last year, she shouldn’t have the baby at home. I had to pace the floor a bit before they came and found me and told me we had a girl, and then after a while they let me in to see them, but then they wanted me out a bit sharpish. I’ll go home now—Mum and the boys will want to know what’s coming home with Doreen—I reckon the boys will be pleased it’s another little sister.”

Maisie laughed. “I’m so happy, Billy. So very happy for you.”

“And you know the best thing, Miss?”

“I think you have the best thing, Billy.”

He laughed, and Maisie heard him yawn. “The best thing is that we’ll be bringing our little girl back to her new home—and it’ll be her really new home. And the other best thing is that I’ll treat myself to a taxi-cab back there without the driver refusing to take me because he’s scared he’ll be set upon; that’s how it was in Shoreditch.” He yawned again. “I’d better be off, Miss. See you on Monday.”

“Night, Billy.”

Maisie set the telephone down and made her way back to the bedroom. She snuggled down under the covers—the nights were becoming colder already.

“Who was that?” asked James, his voice thick with sleep as he put an arm around her.

“Billy. They’ve had a daughter. Margaret Rose.”

“Isn’t that the name of the King’s granddaughter?”

Maisie began to fall asleep again. “I believe she’s her father’s princess already.”

Despite his courtship with Mrs. Bromley, her father still showed no interest in moving to The Dower House, and was perhaps even firmer in his intention to remain in the Groom’s Cottage. James cautioned her not to press him further, advising, “Time will bring him around, though it may be quite a while.”

In the meantime, Maisie was occupied with seeing Sandra well again, and as gently as she could, encouraging the young woman to look to the future once more. She went with her to visit Birkbeck College, a place where many students of more mature years were able to study in the evenings, so that they did not have to compromise a job to get on. Sandra enrolled and was to begin her classes in January of 1933. And it was due to Douglas Partridge that Ursula Thurlow was introduced to his publisher. It was a connection that eventually bore fruit, with a subsequent introduction to a publisher of children’s books, who thought her stories and illustrations excellent, and offered a contract to publish.

As she worked