Journey to the River Sea

Clovis went downstairs and out into the garden where the little banshees were waiting for him to play ball with them. If he didn’t have to ride, maybe he could hold out another week or two before he confessed. The idea of confessing was nasty; not just because everyone would be so angry with him, but because Sir Aubrey would be disappointed. He’d obviously mellowed a lot since Bernard was a boy – old gentlemen did that, Clovis knew, at the end of their lives.

It was while they were having lunch that Clovis decided he would find a way of visiting his foster mother in the next few days. She would know what to do for the best – and he wanted to make sure that she was still there, in her cottage on the village green, before he gave himself up.

The butler took away Clovis’ pudding plate and filled it up with a second helping of apple crumble. The way the young master enjoyed his food gave great pleasure below stairs. It was a pity that the cook was engaged to be married and would soon be leaving.

Mrs Bates, Clovis’ foster mother, lived in the end cottage of a row of small farm cottages on Stanton Green. Her husband had died even before she took in Clovis, but she was thrifty and hard-working and though she had to go out to work in some of the big houses in the neighbourhood, she kept her house and her garden spotless.

Clovis had come by bus. Sir Aubrey had given him a ten-shilling note for pocket money, so there was no need for him to use the money Finn had given him.

As he crossed the green, it seemed to Clovis that nothing had changed. The well was still there in the centre of the common, and the old oak tree, and some boys were kicking a football on the grass. He had been gone four years; they were too young to remember him.

But when he knocked on the door of the cottage and opened it, Mrs Bates went red and then white and hugged him while the tears ran from her eyes.

‘Jimmy,’ she kept saying. ‘Well, well, you’re back, Jimmy! And how you’ve grown. And my, don’t you look well, and so smart! So those Goodleys did right by you after all!’

‘Well, not exactly. The company folded up so I came back.’

‘Aye, and don’t you speak nicely. Oh, I can’t believe it! I was thinking as how I wouldn’t ever see you again. Sit down, boy. There’s some scones in the oven, they’ll be done in a jiffy. And there’s some buttermilk fresh from the cow.’

While she spoke, he looked round the room. He’d been Jimmy Bates, and then Clovis King and now was Finn Taverner – but here nothing had changed. The cross stitch sampler was still above the mantelpiece, the brass kettle was on the hob, there was a pink geranium on the windowsill. But everything looked smaller, and ... poorer, somehow. Had things been hard for his foster mother? Her apron was neatly darned but there seemed to be more darns than cloth – and had the rug always been so threadbare? ‘Have you been all right, Mother?’ he asked her.

‘Oh aye, times aren’t easy, but I do some cooking for people in the village and I manage, with the garden and all. Oh yes, I manage fine.’

She went to the oven and took out the scones.

‘Well, now,’ she said, putting out the butter and the home-made strawberry jam. ‘You start talking, boy. You start right from when those Goodleys took you away. I want to know everything.’

So Clovis began. He told her about the years of travelling, the discomfort, the low pay – but also some good times at the beginning when the Goodleys had made a pet of him, and he’d enjoyed acting. ‘I sent you some postcards but they’d never remember to let me have stamps.’

‘I just got the one,’ said Mrs Bates. ‘Oh, I did miss you, Jimmy boy.’

‘And I missed you,’ said Clovis, biting into a scone. The scones at Westwood were very good but these were better.

And then he told her about his last voyage out to the Amazon, about meeting Maia and Miss Minton, and about the disaster of the Lord Fauntleroy matinée.

To Mrs Bates it was like a fairy story. ‘Go on. Go on,’ she kept saying.

So Clovis went on to what had happened with Finn at the lagoon, and the plan they had worked out to set Finn free and get Clovis back to England.

But now poor Mrs Bates began to be very muddled and very upset.

‘You mean you’re pretending to be someone else?’

‘Well, that’s what actors do,’ said Clovis.

‘Yes, but everyone knows it’s only pretence.’ She shook her head. ‘You mean at Westwood they think you’re the heir? And they’re still thinking it?’

‘Yes. But I know I’ll have to confess.’

‘Of course you will, Jimmy. You couldn’t live a lie. That grand place – I’ve heard it’s splendid. You must tell them straight away. And of course you can come here. Times is hard but we’ll manage.’

‘Thank you,’ said Clovis.

He looked round the cottage again. Funny how small it was. He’d wanted so much to be back here when he was with the Goodleys, but now ...

But he knew his foster mother was right. He would confess. He’d do it the very next day.