A House Divided: An Easterleigh Hall Novel Read Online Free Page A

pointing out hyacinths, bluebells, peonies and a clump of something which had not yet bloomed. Young Stan looked around, saw Tim, and called across, ‘Hope you put that stub into one of the sand buckets provided.’
    Tim almost stood to attention, before picking up what was left of the stub. He waved it at Young Stan, who nodded before turning back to Herr Bauer. Tim half laughed at himself. Scared of a gardener, for heaven’s sake, but then Young Stan had inheritedhis grandfather’s way with words, and volume, or so Mam said. He couldn’t really remember Old Stan. The laugh died in his throat because Gracie wasn’t his mam. His mother was in Berlin.
    He felt a rush of nervousness at the thought of seeing his mother, but this was mixed with excitement, and anticipation. Heine and Millie had been living in a little town near Hamburg last year, when she had first written to him, but since then Heine had been promoted, and was now an officer in the SS, the Schutzstaffel, a major paramilitary organization under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party, and they had just moved to a smart apartment in Berlin.
    When he arrived tomorrow they would have a dinner party for him, his mother had said, and after that she’d take him to a coffee house. Perhaps they’d have a stroll round the lake, and later, the opera. He walked to a sand bucket and dropped the stub, where it lay amongst others. He sneaked a look at Young Stan, who nodded his approval, then walked on with Herr Bauer.
    Tim moved to the shade of the cedar. Somehow it seemed to block out all noise, though that was impossible; it must just be psychological. He stared up through the branches. He realised he’d never asked who had blown up the original one and no-one ever talked about it. It was so long ago, he supposed, but what a foul thing to do.
    He patted his inside pocket where he kept his mother’s letters. He hadn’t known what to thinkwhen he’d first heard from her. Of course he knew who she was, and that Roger, the valet, was his father, and had discarded her. But she’d left him with Da when he was really young, so the letter was from a stranger and had been a bolt from the blue.
    He groped in his suit pocket for the gold cigarette case which had arrived from Heine and Millie just yesterday. It had a faint engraving on the top. He thought it was a candlestick or something, but it was so worn, he couldn’t really make it out. It was antique, and their generosity overwhelmed him.
    They’d welcomed him on the two occasions he’d visited as the long-lost son he was, and his mother had cried to have him back in her life. She had said she’d left him behind because of the uncertainty over her future with Heine, and that a little boy needed a steady, familiar home. She knew that one day he’d understand, but they had been years which had broken her heart.
    He’d felt so sorry for her.
    He closed the cigarette case, decided against risking Young Stan’s beady eyes when it came to discarding another stub, and sauntered out into the sun again. The smell of hyacinths was carried on the breeze, along with cigar smoke. Ah, there was Colonel Potter, with Sir Anthony. They were both puffing on Havanas, no doubt. Bridie and James were passing, heads down, deep in conversation, and walking towards the back of the marquee. They, in their turn, saw him, and James called across. ‘Tim,Mr Harvey said we’re all needed to take round the champagne and canapés now.’
    Tim sighed, waved. For God’s sake, there was no peace. There was always something needing to be done with this family. If it wasn’t helping amputees to sit on horses, it was serving a load of guests. No doubt someone would hint before the end of the day that he should help Bridie muck out stables, or, because he was an engineer, ask him to design some piece of machinery that would help the wounded with their balance, or . . .
    He thrust his cigarette case back into his pocket. Millie, his mother, was quite