Ruth eventually let go of George, but only because he refused to allow her to help him up the steps and into the house. As she walked beside him into the drawing room, George demanded, “Where’s my little girl?”
“She’s in the nursery with Clare and nanny. I’ll go and fetch them.”
“What’s her name?” George called after her, but Ruth was already halfway up the stairs.
George propelled himself into the drawing room and fell into a chair by the window. He didn’t remember a chair being there before, and wondered why it was facing outward. He looked at the English countryside that he loved so much, reminded once again of just how lucky he was to be alive. Brooke, Herford, Wainwright, Carter minor, Davies, Perkins…
His thoughts were interrupted by cries that he heard long before he set eyes on his second daughter. George heaved himself up as Ruth and Nanny Mallory entered the room with his two daughters. He hugged Clare for some time before taking the little bundle in his arms.
“Fair hair and blue eyes,” he said.
“I thought you already knew that,” said Ruth. “Didn’t you get my letters?”
“Sadly not. Only your messenger, Geoffrey Young, who just about remembered that it was a girl, and certainly couldn’t recall her name.”
“That’s funny,” said Ruth, “because I asked him if he’d be godfather, and he agreed.”
“So you don’t know her name, Daddy?” said Clare, jumping up and down.
“No, I don’t,” said George. “Is it Elizabeth?”
“No, Daddy, don’t be silly. It’s Beridge,” said Clare, laughing.
More unusual than that, said George to himself, recalling Geoffrey Young’s words.
After only a few moments in George’s arms, Beridge began howling, and nanny quickly took charge of her. The child obviously didn’t appreciate being held by a strange man.
“Let’s have half a dozen more,” said George, taking Ruth in his arms once nanny had taken Clare and Beridge back to the nursery.
“Behave yourself, George,” teased Ruth. “Try to remember that you’re no longer on the front line with your troops.”
“Some of the finest men I’ve ever known,” said George sadly.
Ruth smiled. “Will you miss them?”
“Not half as much as I’ve missed you.”
“So now you’re back, my darling, what’s the first thing you’d like to do?”
George thought about Private Matthews’s response when he’d been asked the same question. He smiled to himself, realizing that there wasn’t a great deal of difference between an officer and a private soldier.
He bent down and began to untie his shoelace.
/> BOOK FOUR
Selecting the Team
1921
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 22ND, 1921
WHEN GEORGE CAME down to breakfast that morning, nobody spoke.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he took his place at the head of the table between his two daughters.
“I know,” said Clare, “but Mummy told me not to tell you.”