‘Darling boy.’
‘Is she my mother, Auntie Connie?’
Clovis swans towards him.
‘Yes, Rafe, I am your mother.’
He stares up at her for an uncomfortable moment, and all wait for his response.
‘You look similar, but you do not look like me.’
Clovis stares back at him, undaunted by his remark. She takes him in with a swift glance and would of course never admit that the sisters have done a perfect job of moulding him into a little gentleman.
‘I have come to take you home with me.’
‘Today?’ Verity gasps.
‘Thank you, madam. But I do not wish to go,’ he says.
‘Please. We would like a few minutes alone with him,’ Constance entreats her.
Clovis weighs this request. The boy begins to screw up his face and she cannot have that. Perhaps, she thinks, it is better to let them do this last, most difficult work rather than she.
‘Why, of course. I completely understand. In the meantime, if your maid could call my girl inside to help.’
‘Is your husband not with you, Mrs Fowler?’ Verity asks.
‘No, I am afraid he is attending to urgent business.’
‘It must be very urgent indeed to be absent from this first encounter with his son.’ Verity throws the remark over her shoulder as they usher Rafe up the stairs.
As soon as the door to the Tower Room is closed Rafe pushes his toy trunk to the door to block it.
‘Please, aunties. Do not make me go with her.’
‘Rafe.’ Verity is shaking now. ‘She is your mother.’
‘I do not care! Please, Auntie Connie,’ he pleads.
‘Listen to me, Rafe. This is very important. I want you to repeat the agreement we made. Right now. You know the one. When you come of age …’
‘No, no. I can’t. I don’t want to remember that. Please, aunties, please do not let her take me away.’
‘Constance, why are you asking him do this? We should be telling him that he will visit us and we will visit him and there is so much to look forward …’
‘Verity, please, trust me.’ She draws a breath. ‘Rafe, when you come of age … go ahead now, finish it.’
And now the tears come, and his nose runs, and his young voice, still high and clear, full of gulps and mucus, recites his instructions.
‘When I am of age …’
‘That’s right, darling. Keep going.’
‘When I am of age. I shall meet you in our special place on the 17th of December.’
‘At what time, dear Rafe?’
‘Three o’clock.’
‘And should we not be there for reasons that we are unaware …’ Constance prompts him.
‘Then I will go each year until we meet again.’
‘Yes, darling. Each year. If we are not there do not despair, come again the next year and the next.’ Verity manages.
‘Yes, aunties. Each year.’
‘Never forget this, Rafe. No matter what happens. No matter how many years it takes.’
‘But won’t I see you before then?’
‘I have always been honest with you, haven’t I? I shall be so now. Your mother may very likely wish to have you to herself for a while … and …’
‘No!’ Verity says.
Constance throws a sharp glance at her sister.
‘She has not seen you for such a long time, since you were a wee thing in her arms. And you have a father who will want to spend time with his fine, brave son. So, it may very well be that …’ She cannot go on and looks to Verity for help.
‘We will come to you as soon as we can. But we must respect your mother’s wishes. We have our beautiful rings and our necklaces …’ Verity adds.
‘And will you always wear blue and lavender so that I may find you, aunties?’
In that moment, their hearts break. Another fracture to add to the scarring.
There is a soft knock on the door.
‘Mrs Fowler is ready to leave, madam,’ the petite maid, Rachael, says.
‘Rachael.’
‘Yes, madam?
‘I would like you and Nancy to gather Rafe’s things, as many things as you are able, pack them into the trunks. Be sure to include all of his painting boxes and utensils. Quickly, quickly. And for God’s sake, tell Nancy not to break anything. Do not stand there with your mouth open. Go.’ Constance turns back to Rafe.
‘There are so many things we wish to tell you. You are so clever and good and your heart is strong and generous. Remember these things to be true. Continue with your painting and be vigilant about the way you experiment and play with your paints and materials. Be brave, Rafe. Most importantly, remember that we love you more than life itself.’
‘And we will do everything in our power to see you again as soon as possible,’ adds Verity.
‘Even if she will not let you?
God above! How quick he is!
The sisters answer as one. ‘Yes, my darling.’
The maids rush about, their faces red and upset.
Clovis waits in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs.
Rafe takes one step at a time, so slowly, as if any second he will turn back. When he reaches the last step Clovis offers her hand. He turns away and throws himself into Verity’s skirts and clings to her legs.
‘I cannot do it,’ he says.
The sisters stand on the staircase, mute.
Clovis grabs Rafe’s wrist with a firm hold and pulls him down. Not willing to risk his taking flight, she commands the maid to open the door.
Clovis drags Rafe out and through the front garden to the pathway where two people stand waiting outside the carriage. Constance and Verity follow, but stop short at the garden when they see that the Fowler servants are the picture of health, appearing as the exact same young people they were almost ten years ago. Distracted for a moment by this surprise, Rafe’s crying shocks them back to their last sight of him.
Constance runs to the carriage and Rafe breaks free.
‘Auntie Connie!’
Before he reaches her, Clovis snatches him back by the tail of his black coat.
‘Remember, Rafe. Remember everything,’ Constance calls out.
He nods to her and places his hand on his chest where under his white shirt
