The Silent Speaker by Noel Streatfeild

Author:Noel Streatfeild
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2018-07-25T13:46:22+00:00

CHAPTER 9

It was Tim who brought Tom to his senses. The doctor, to Matron’s satisfaction, had decided a day or two of bed and petting would be the best thing for him, so it was an unnaturally clean, tidy Tim who greeted his father.

“Hullo, Daddy,” he said as soon as Matron, murmuring something about tea, had left them. “I can’t think why I’m in bed, it was Monday I fainted.”

Tom accepted that as chatter to cover an awkward moment. He was sure he knew how Tim felt. Not about his mother, he had no memory to help him there, but about the future. Tim was himself as a small boy, not as insecure as he had been for Tim had himself and Verily, but insecure enough to believe, his mother having gone, everything might go.

“I am sorry not to have got here sooner, old man, but there’s been a lot to do. I am going to Wyster now—you remember you and Verily stayed there once. Lord Worn has arranged for Mummy to be buried there.”

Tim pleated the sheet.

“Verily came to see me.”

“I know all about that, she was as upset as you were, it took you both different ways, that’s all. I saw her this morning.” Tom felt a little prevarication was necessary. “I told her I was coming to see you, she sent you her love.”

“Is she at home then?”

There was envy in Tim’s voice.

“No—she stayed with Selina last night. She’s back at school now.”

“Is Selina coming to live in our house?”

Tom tried desperately hard to sound unembarrassed, but he was no actor.

“No. No, of course not, she’s got her own home.”

“Then who’ll look after our house?”

“Mrs. Simpson.”

Tim felt his father, who was at work all day, had illusions about the part played by Mrs. Simpson, but at least it was comforting to know that no changes were planned.

“I expect Field will help her.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s been around the last day or two. It’s much too early yet to think about next holidays, but we’ll plan something you’ll both like.”

Anxiety showed in Tim’s eyes.

“What sort of thing?”

Tom’s remark was only intended to be soothing. He felt far too battered to think ahead to next week, let alone Christmas. He had talked to help Tim because at his age, when the ground was cut from under you, it was a help to see a solid landscape on the horizon. Now, faced with Tim’s question, he had to peer at December, to the dismaying picture of Verily and Tim returning from school—to what?

“I don’t know yet, old man. We’ll have to make plans. I’ve always wanted you two to learn to ski . . .” Tom’s voice trailed off. He could not see the three of them spending Christmas in a Swiss hotel.

Tim tried to help.

“I wouldn’t worry, Daddy. Selina will think of something.”

It was at that moment that Tom dropped his plan for blaming himself publicly for Helen’s death. Nothing could change his conviction that he was to blame, but he knew now he could not pay tribute to Helen in that way.

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