The Postcard Read Online Free

year she had stayed here to recover from her fiancé, Arthur’s, death felt like a far-off dream now. Away from prying eyes she’d grown to love the staff, the village
folk who admired the Seton-Ross clan and had been so kind when they learned she was Arthur’s fiancée, receiving a telegram of his death only days before their wedding.
    Then the pull of the greasepaint and limelight began to draw the former Gaiety Girl back south. It began when she made guest appearances at Erskine House, the magnificent mansion turned into a
hospital by the River Clyde, a specialist centre for limbless soldiers and sailors. She’d started to entertain the boys in the Great Hall with songs from the shows, taken tea with them on the
terrace, watching the great ships slowly gliding out into the estuary. Sometimes she’d taken Caroline to cheer them up until the child became frightened of the disfigured men. Then the call
came back to rejoin the YMCA Concert Party tours, and Phoebe knew her duty was to them, not to sit idly in a houseful of women. It was hard to let go but when Caroline hardly noticed her absences,
attached as she was to Marthe, she knew she’d done the right thing.
    It was only when Kitty had arrived home from Salonika, sick with dysentery, and Phoebe had brought her up to Dalradnor to recuperate that she’d got the hard word from her best friend.
    ‘What on God’s earth are you thinking of, leaving that child up here in the wilds?’
    ‘Everyone thinks that I am her aunt, not her mother,’ Phoebe confessed, and Kitty looked at her in horror. ‘It’s for the best,’ she continued, hoping she’d
understand her motives.
    ‘Best for whom? A lie like this is dangerous,’ snapped Kitty. ‘The trouble with you is you’ve always wanted the cake and the bun, Phoebe. She is your daughter – how
can you think of deceiving her like this?’
    ‘She’s too young to be told the truth. I’ll explain when she’s older. You can see how happy she is up here. It’s a beautiful place to bring up a child.’
    ‘You’ll both pay for this one day,’ said Kitty with a sharpness that was wounding. ‘I can see its charms, and the staff are kind and Callie is happy, but it’s all
founded on lies. Oh, do be careful. It’s not too late to rectify your mistake.’
    Much as Phoebe respected her friends’ honesty, she wasn’t ready to heed their warnings. They just didn’t understand. Poor Kitty was stuck nursing ageing parents and trying to
adjust to life back in a London hospital after the freedom of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals. Maisie Gibbons, her other friend and flat-mate from those dizzy theatrical years, surprised
everyone by leaving the stage to set up a school of dancing and stagecraft in Kensington with Billy Demaine, her co-star. All of them had been there at Caroline’s birth, keeping this secret,
but none of them approved of her decision.
    She hadn’t told Kitty that Billy, on hearing about Arthur’s death, had written offering to marry her himself to give the baby a name. That would have been a worse disaster than the
solution she had found. Billy was a dear friend, but as a husband he was out of the question. She knew he was being generous, but a little careful, too, for his own reputation. As a married man
he’d be safe from gossip, although all the theatre world knew of his proclivities. Their marriage would have been a farce.
    Maisie adored baby Caroline. ‘You will miss all her childhood,’ she warned Phoebe. ‘If I had a little girl, I wouldn’t leave her with strangers. You are so lucky to have
her.’
    Phoebe didn’t feel lucky; at times she found it a burden to be responsible for everything. She had to be father and mother to the child, making sure they received the right income from
shares and funds, running the Dalradnor household from a distance, ensuring accounts were filed and expenditures tallied, while furthering her own career to fit in with everything. As an aunt