Page 157 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘So why did they feel the need to get in touch with you?’ I enquired.
Rupert cleared his throat. ‘Tessie and Teddy’s daughter, Patricia, is not the shy and retiring type of which the palace approve. She is staunchly Catholic, to the point of detriment.’
‘What’s the expression...’ – I searched my head for English phraseology – ‘fire and brimstone?’
Rupert snapped his fingers. ‘Precisely. From what the palace have told me, Patricia herself has two daughters. The first, Petula, was born eighteen years ago. She’s apparently doing very well these days, and is a student at my ownalma materthe University of Cambridge.’
I was pleased to hear it. ‘What a wonderful achievement considering the challenges she must have faced in her life.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Now, in terms of the second child... there is a significant age gap. In fact, it seems that Patricia has only just given birth.’
I was doing my best to keep up. ‘Didn’t you mention that her husband had died?’
Rupert nodded. ‘Precisely. The palace can find no record of the new baby’s father. We can therefore surmise that the child was conceived and born out of wedlock, which would disgust Patricia’s Catholic community.’
‘So what’s happened to the baby?’
Rupert stood up. ‘That, Atlas, is the reason I got a call from the palace a few days ago. It seems that Miss Patricia has given away her new baby to an orphanage in the East End to cover up her perceived shame.’ He crossed over to the old wooden desk which had once been mine.
‘I’m still struggling to understand why the palace saw fit to phone you. If they’re concerned about reputational damage, how on earth could a baby who knows nothing of her ownhistory possibly tell the tabloids that she has a distant claim to the throne?!’
Rupert gave a shrug as he rifled through some papers. ‘I asked this very question myself. The palace said to me that the late king cared greatly about his family, and that they were simply doing their duty by informing me.’ He paused and looked out onto the bustling Kensington Church Street. ‘I suppose the idea in this particular instance is that the baby should be adopted and properly cared for.’
I stood and walked over to the desk myself. ‘But they wouldn’t inform just anyone, I’m assuming...’
‘No. You’re quite right there. It is because I am formerly of MI5.’
‘So, are the palace expecting you to act upon their information?’
Rupert wouldn’t meet my eye, and continued to shuffle through documents. ‘There is a certain element of that, yes.’ He came across what he had been searching for. ‘Now. I have something for you.’ He handed me a white envelope.
It was labelled, in scraggly handwriting:
Eleanor Tanit c/o Louise Forbes at the bookshop
‘A couple of weeks ago, that was dropped through the letter box here, along with a letter for Louise, and a note from Tessie’s solicitor. The note apologised for the time it took to work out who “Louise Forbes at the bookshop” was.’
I examined the envelope, which appeared unsealed. ‘Have you read it?’
‘No, old boy. But I’ve read Louise’s, and I’d imagine the content is quite similar.’
I opened the envelope and scanned the contents.
Hello Eleanor,
Hope you’re well, my dear. Sorry I ain’t been in touch in all these years. I hope you remember me!
I’ve been a bit poorly of late, and I just wanted to make sure I wrote to everyone that was kind to me back in them days at High Weald.
You in particular was always lovely. As you know it was hard back then, and not everyone thought I’d done right in telling people about me and Teddy and the baby.
But you told me to stick up for myself and that I’d be all right.
And do you know what, I was! I went on to have a lovely little girl, Patricia, who has given me a lot of joy over the years. Even if she is a bit prickly on occasion, she means well. She and her husband also gave me a lovely granddaughter too.
I’ve done all right for myself in the end.
Anyway, I’ll wrap up now to save me rambling. Just wanted to say thank you while I’ve still got breath in me lungs. Send my love to that feller of yours, too.
