Page 137 of The Gathering Storm

A slow smile spread over Lennie’s face. Now he thought about it, it was obvious that Rose would have to have an older man she could look up to, not some Dean Cornwell or Romano Ortez pretty-boy in love with himself and with nothing to offer beyond his looks. Rose was a smart young woman, and canny, too, when she wasn’t distracted. Van Kerk was clever, charming, sensible, good at his job – and generally no end of a man. He was just right for her.

He turned to Rose. ‘You do know how lucky you are, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I do, believe me, I do. So you don’t mind? You think it’s all right?’

‘I think you’ve chosen the best man you possibly could. I’m delighted for you both. When are you going to do the deed?’

‘As soon as possible,’ Van said. ‘Just waiting for your good offices.’ He looked at Rose. ‘January all right with you?’

‘You will give me away, won’t you?’ Rose asked Lennie.

‘I’ll give you away and dance at your wedding. And then I shall be going.’

‘Going?’

‘Like you I couldn’t think of the right way to tell you. But this seems to be the moment for big news. I’m going to England to marry Polly and live at Morland Place.’ Rose looked stricken, and he went on, ‘To borrow your words, there isn’t anyone in the world I could love as I love her.’

Rose pulled herself together. ‘I suppose I should have realised. Oh, Uncle Lennie, I’m going to miss you like anything!’

‘You’ll be too happy and busy to miss me – married to Van and working on your new movie.’

‘I shall anyway. You will come back sometimes, won’t you?’

‘I’m sure I will. And you can come and visit me. But with your husband and your career and a houseful of lusty young Van Kerks, you’ll have trouble finding the time.’ He bent to kiss her cheek, and she clung to him for a moment. ‘What a happy ending for all of us. Like something out of Hollywood.’

‘Oh, Lord,’ said Van Kerk, ‘don’t say that!’

Richard had been out all day, and returned home late to find Cynthia waiting for him in the hall. The sound of Hannah’s and Leah’s voices came from the kitchen, along with clashing pans. There was a smell of soup in the air, but to him, the flat in Earls Court always smelt of soup. He and Cynthia were still living there, she being reluctant to leave her mother at that time. The house in Ealing languished unused, and he worried occasionally about damp and possible leaks, but Earls Court was more convenient for him for the office and for meetings in Town.

‘Something wrong?’ he questioned his wife’s pensive look.

‘Oh – no,’ she said. ‘Let me take your coat. Is it still snowing?’ She brushed at the shoulders.

‘No, it’s stopped. That fell off a tree as I went past.’ He removed off his hat, and she took that too, but stood holding it and his coat. ‘What’s the matter? There’s something on your mind.’

‘Oh.’ She shook herself and hung the things up. ‘Mummy had a telephone call this morning. From an old friend, Mrs Margolies. She’s working with the Movement for the Care of Children from Germany. Well, she was with the Central British Fund for German Jewry, but they’re all grouped together now for—’

‘Yes, I know – for bringing Jewish children over here. I heard about it on the wireless. What about it? Was she looking for a donation?’

‘She wants Mummy to help. And Mummy really needs something to do, to take her mind off things.’

Richard laid a hand on her arm. ‘Her husband died. Your father. It’s all right to grieve.’

‘We do, and we will. But this is an emergency, Richard. All those children … It’s something we can do, don’t you see? In a world of hate, it’s a little bit of love we can show.’

‘We?’

‘I want to help too.’

‘Of course you do. Where do I come in?’

‘Oh, to give your permission, of course.’

‘You don’t need my permission!’

‘But it will take us away from the office work.’

‘There isn’t much of that, and enough people to do it. It’s the quiet time of year. To be honest, I don’t think there’s going to be much call in future for holidays on the Continent. And there’s not much happening with the holiday village, with the winter weather and Christmas coming up, so you won’t be needed. You couldn’t really think I would object?’