Uncle Peter had joined them in the meadow and there seemed to be some sort of game of rounders or French cricket going on. Edie could hear the twang of an old tennis racket as it hit the ball.
“We could go down if you like?” said Aunt Roberta.
“Not yet.” Edie shook her head. As she rolled over she was surprised to see Aunt Roberta had kicked off her shoes and was now lying stretched out on Greta’s little white bed.
“This used to be my side of the room,” she said, staring up at the ceiling above her. “I always liked to be in the bed next to the wall, because it made me feel safe and cosy. But Phyllis had the one you’re in. She liked to be nearest the window, so she could see the sky.”
“Really?” Edie sat up and hugged her knees. She liked the thought that Aunt Roberta and Fliss had shared this same little bedroom all those years ago. “Perhaps Fliss was dreaming of flying,” she whispered. “Even then.”
“Perhaps.” Aunt Roberta laughed. “But mostly she was always complaining about how hungry she was and how cold … and how many scabs she had on her knees from tripping up!”
“I wish you hadn’t fallen out with each other,” said Edie, blurting it out just like that. But she realized she’d been wanting to say it since the moment she had first arrived at Three Chimneys. “Was it really so terrible that Fliss had a baby… Even if she wasn’t married? Was it really so bad that she wanted to keep me?”
“Oh, Edie! Is that what you think happened between us?” Aunt Roberta sat bolt upright. Her eyes were wet with tears. “It was never about anything like that. I never judged her for having a baby. Never!” The pain on her face told Edie that what she was saying was true.
“I was so happy the day you were born,” said Aunt Roberta, swinging her legs off the bed and taking hold of Edie’s hands. “You were so perfect. My little baby niece. A brand-new hope for all our family.” She swallowed hard. “I knew I would never have a baby of my own, you see… ”
“Because of Jim?” whispered Edie, remembering the young boy who had been killed in the war. The one who had written the inscription in the front of her book.
“Yes.” Aunt Roberta’s eyes darted towards the copy of Heidi on the bedside table.
“You were in love?” said Edie, and Aunt Roberta nodded.
“After I lost him, I knew I would never give my heart to anybody else,” she said. “That’s why Fliss and I fell out – not because I judged her, but because I knew how precious you were: the gift of life. Yet she was determined to go back to flying when you were only a few weeks old. I told her she had responsibilities. I said she ought to behave like a proper mother from now on… Fliss was furious. She never forgave me for trying to interfere with the way she lived her life.”
“Oh,” whispered Edie. “Was that all?” She reached out and took Aunt Roberta’s hand. “You can make up now. I’m sure you can. None of that matters, not now.”
“You’re right,” said Aunt Roberta.
Edie felt as if a great stone had been lifted from her chest – Aunt Roberta hadn’t been judging her for who she was, or how she was born. She was just trying to look after the people she cared for… She was trying to keep them all safe from harm. That’s what Aunt Roberta always did – what she’d done since the first moment Edie arrived at Three Chimneys. It was the same with Gus and Greta and Uncle Peter. And her patients too, of course. She was a nurse, just like the inscription Jim had written – a wonderful nurse, always looking out for everyone.
“There is one thing, though. I’m glad you didn’t stop Fliss from flying,” said Edie, glancing towards the window and staring up at the darkening sky. “That’s part of who she is. She loves adventure… ”
“I know that now.” Aunt Roberta kissed the top of Edie’s head. “I was wrong,” she said quietly. “Fliss has always behaved like a perfect mother. She has loved you in the very best way she can… That’s what being a mother is.”
“Yes!” said Edie. “I suppose it is.”
Then they both lay back on their beds again. Neither of them said anything else for a while. There was no need. They just stayed there, listening, as a train rattled past on the railway at the end of the meadow.
“I’ll send your love to Fliss in the morning, if you like,” whispered Edie. “I’ll send it from both of us. Uncle Peter too. I’ll send it by the 9.15.”
“Thank you. I’d like that,” said Aunt Roberta. Edie could tell by her voice that she was smiling.
The next morning, Edie very nearly overslept. The kitchen was empty when she came downstairs. The others must all have been out doing chores already. She didn’t even stop for breakfast. She dashed out straight away so as not to miss the 9.15. There was no point in looking for Gus or Greta and asking them to come with her; they didn’t need to send love to their papa any more – not now he was here.
She ran flat out across the long meadow and reached the fence just as the train roared past. She blew a kiss and waved and shouted. “Send our love, Green Dragon! Send it from me and Bobbie and Pete. Send our love to Fliss.”
She leant against the wooden railings until she caught her breath again. After the huffing of the smoke and the rattle of the carriages was
