Requited

By Baron Alexander

A long-buried secret seeks out an orphan who has grown to find love and happiness. Middle-aged with daughters in the throes of life decisions, the protagonist learns that her actual father was a Nazi officer stationed in Jersey (Channel Islands) and that her mother was a Jersey girl who waited for him after the war. She learns that she was ranso

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wilderwick Press
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781915756008

Baron Alexander

Baron was born in Winnipeg, Canada.He currently lives in South East England. Sightings vary.www.baronalexanderbooks.com

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REQUITED

Rose’s Story

Baron Alexander

Wilderwick Press

Forest Row, United Kingdom

Copyright © 2021 by Baron Alexander

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Baron Alexander/Wilderwick Press

Unit 4 Ashdown Court, Lewes Road

Forest Row, East Sussex, RH18 5EZ

United Kingdom

www.baronalexanderbooks.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Dedicated to Rose

CONTENTS

Mayfair, London, England, 1955

Siron House, Sussex, England, 1958

Siron House Annex, Sussex, England, 1969

Twenty-eight years later. Savoy Hotel, London, England, December 1999

Savoy Hotel, Reception London, England, 1999

Williams’ home, Hampstead, London, England, 1999

Johannesburg, South Africa 1972

Hampstead, London, England, 1999

Sussex, England Spring, 2000

Hampstead, London 2000

Williams’ Home, London 2000

Outside of London, England May 2000

New York, USA April 2000

Hamptons, New York April 2000

New Delhi, India April 2000

Taj Hotel, New Delhi,  India, April 2000

Heathrow, London June 2000

London, England June 2000

William’s kitchen, Hampstead London 2000

London, England June 2000

Bariloche, Argentina Late July 2000

Otto’s Story 1919-2000

Bariloche, Argentina July 2000

Hampstead, London, England, July 2000

London, England August 2000

Hampstead, London Mid-August 2000

London September 2000

London, England September 2000

Hampstead, London September 2000

Siron House, Sussex, England, September 2000

Paris, France September 2000

New York City, USA September 2000

Williams’ House, Hampstead September 2000

Siron House Sussex, England September 2000

Chapter One

Mayfair, London,

England, 1955

What if she dies?

There was a pause as the three adults turned to the solicitor.

Then it will be up to the courts to decide what happens to the house and everything else in the estate.

You mean it wouldn’t come to us?

No. His answer was curt. Although he was seated, his body and feet were swivelled and pointed to the door of his firm’s conference room as though he was trying to remove himself from her presence.

You expect us to raise Otto’s daughter, care for her, house her, and get nothing for it?

The solicitor turned to face her, a forced expression of calm on his face. You can move into the house, enjoy a small stipend from the estate, and receive sufficient monies to keep the property in fair repair. A condition of this is that you must take care of Rose until she is the age of majority.

Age of majority? Rhona squinted as she spoke, trying to comprehend the meaning.

Until she is legally allowed to own property, the solicitor said. His fingers rested on his closed briefcase.

That’s another eighteen years!

The solicitor tried to refrain from smiling. Yes. But, I’m sure it won’t be all that bad.

She’ll eat us out of house and home.

You’ll be getting money for all her needs from the estate, he said. "And you are benefitting from staying at her house for the next eighteen years without paying rent or any expenses." The emphasis on her went unnoticed.

Rhona was quiet and looked at her husband and sister. There were imperceptible nods between them. She turned to the solicitor.

When can we move in?

As soon as you sign the documentation.

Will there be a court official monitoring us? Do we need to report to anyone? Her eyes narrowed as her mind darted among various scenarios.

I don’t see any reason why you need to be monitored, do you? It was the solicitor’s turn to eye her carefully.

She drew back, her cheeks momentarily depressed into the vacuum of her mouth.

No, she said. I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine. My sister Charlotte and I have three girls between us. We’d love to give them another sister.

And your husband?

He’s delighted at the chance for us to help someone less fortunate than ourselves—aren’t you, Calvert? She took his hand as she said this.

Uh, yes, of course, dear, he said.

Then that’s that, the solicitor said. He pulled the prepared documents from his briefcase and lay them in front of Rhona and Calvert Wilson. You must sign each document and I must file them with the court.

Rhona signed without reading, as did Calvert. Charlotte, Rhona’s sister, looked on.

When do you think you’ll be able to move in? the solicitor asked as he returned the papers to his briefcase.

Within the week.

When do you think you’ll be ready to take custody of Rose?

Rhona paused a moment too long. Now, of course. She’s family. If your family won’t help you in times like this, who will?

The solicitor clicked the clasps of his briefcase shut. Yes, who will? he repeated.

All four stood and shook hands and then the lawyer left the room, the other three watching.

Can you imagine it? said Charlotte. To live at Siron House? That stingy Otto would barely invite us to tea. Now we’re the owners.

"Not the owners, corrected Calvert. Just custodians for Rose."

Pff! Rose is a baby. It’s our place now, said Rhona. Do you think I’d slave the next twenty years of my life just to give it all to her? She was already gathering her belongings and readying to exit the solicitor’s offices.

Calvert opened the door and watched his wife and sister-in-law walk out of the conference room. He followed.

∞

Calvert drove their new 1955 Chevrolet station wagon up the lane. Rhona was in the passenger seat next to him with Rose on her lap. Charlotte was in the backseat with her daughter and Rhona’s daughters were in the very rear seat, looking back in the direction whence they came.

The court had sanctioned a payment to allow for the purchase of the new car. Calvert had never owned a car before; he only learned to drive because of his time in the army. He didn’t care that it wasn’t his car; it was his to use as much as he wanted. He loved the solid top painted white. The body was in candy apple red with bright chrome. They could fit nine people comfortably inside and could drive anywhere their fancy took them. He could see himself arriving in Margate or Broadstairs to enjoy the beaches. Or taking his wife to a show in London.

How do you like this? Calvert said.

It’s exactly as I remember it, Rhona said. It’ll do nicely.

It’s a dream, Charlotte said. Look at the wild garlic. And the crops are looking very good. Then a thought suddenly struck her. Are we going to be farmers?

Rhona laughed. Not if I can help it. The existing farmer will continue to work the land with his crew. He’ll pay rent plus a share of the profits from the crop. It’s the same people Otto used. I don’t think we want to change anything if we can help it.

I agree, Calvert said. I don’t fancy farming over a thousand acres.

You want to be smoking your pipe and watching the sun rise? Rhona asked.

And overseeing things. I’ve always wanted to live on an estate.

Rhona tried not to sneer at her husband. Her smile came out twisted. Lovely, Cal. I’m sure we’ll be very happy here.

The road was narrow, but there was no one coming in the other direction. To his left was a large ditch for the sheep to run between fields when the time came. He was keeping his eyes open for the sign that indicated where he needed to turn off the country lane and onto their new estate. It was hidden behind some long grass but Rhona spotted it and they turned right. The estate road was stony and pot-holed. It must have been almost a half mile before they reached their destination.

Siron House was a hodgepodge of buildings and extensions constructed from the fifteenth century until the present. Otto had made some modifications to the outside entrance shortly before he died a few weeks earlier, in June 1955. Sandstone and brick were the main finishing materials and the outside was predominantly burnt red in colour. There were numerous chimneys that stuck out of the roof. There was also one grand chimney that looked large enough for a grown man to descend. The roof was covered in a tile that matched the vertical hanging tiles that gave the Sussex homes their distinctive look. Age, mould, soot, and neglect had darkened the roof into a slurry of rust, green, and black.

Fewer than a hundred paces away was another building, lower and longer. It housed cattle. It also had a lodging for a person if need be.

Both buildings overlooked an undulation of golden fields of wheat with a dense wood in the distance. Three hundred paces behind the main house was a cluster of ponds surrounded by trees. These ponds were stocked with fish but were equally enjoyable to swim in.

Calvert allowed the scenery to flow past him as he pulled alongside Otto’s home. His home, his and Rhona’s. He never thought of Otto as a friend. Otto’s wife was friendly with Rhona, but that was to be expected. They weren’t family. He couldn’t understand why all this, especially orphaned Rose, was given to them to care for. He shook his head to clear the thoughts that threatened his inner peace and turned the key to the off position. His hand still held it in position as the silence replaced the reassuring power of the V8 engine. No sooner had calm descended than the children erupted in a blizzard of questions.

There’ll be room for all of us, Rhona said. Her face was red and her eyes darted from feature to feature, taking it all in.

We’ll each get a room? Vivien had already clambered out of the rear seat and was running on the grass.

Slow down, dear. I don’t want you getting hurt. We need to get to know the place first. Rhona was looking at Vivien with one eye and Pauline with the other.

OK, Mum, Vivien said, as much to herself as her mother. She hung her head and slouched back toward the car.

I hope you didn’t forget the keys, Charlotte said as she straightened herself.

Right here, Calvert said. He patted his pocket reassuringly.

Then let’s open it up and see how it looks, Rhona said. She was more anxious than her children. She had left Rose in the car. No one had noticed.

As she walked into the foyer, her eyes took in the ancient oak doors, the plastered walls, and lead windows. The floors were tiled and she had to take a step over the oak threshold. The kitchen was large for the era and there was no danger of her banging her head. The kitchen had an Inglenook fireplace, large enough for small children to walk in. On the other side of the fireplace wall was another room that mirrored the kitchen and had another large fireplace. The ground floor had a further two rooms, one of which was a study, each with a fireplace. Upstairs, there were five bedrooms, three on the first floor and two on the second.

She ran her hand along the sandstone finishes inside where the plaster allowed. The ceilings all had solid oak beams that ran across in clean lines. The spaces in between were also plastered. The house was cool, despite the heat of summer.

I love it, she said to herself as much as the others.

I want the top bedroom, squealed Vivien.

I want the other one, Pauline quickly said.

They both ran upstairs and staked their claim. Inside their rooms, the ceilings were slanted, following the lines of the roof.

You two, take the master bedroom and I’ll share the large one with Mandy, Charlotte said.

For now, Rhona said, almost in a trance. I don’t want you being cramped.

Rhona, it’s far better than where we were. Besides, Rose needs her own room eventually.

I’ll worry about Rose, Rhona said.

Calvert followed behind without saying a word. He had his eye on the study and looked forward to playing lord of the manor, even though the house wasn’t large enough for that name.

We’ll need more furniture, Cal.

Ask the estate trustee, he replied. Besides, there is enough here already.

We’ll see what we need and then make a list. It isn’t fair for us to have to live in Otto’s leftovers, she said. But there are some pieces I would like to keep. She allowed herself to sit on the Chippendale furniture and open the sideboards to examine the china.

At least the house is in good condition, Charlotte said as she returned to the kitchen.

Of course. I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it hadn’t been.

When was the last time you were here?

Not too long, Rhona said. Maybe a few months before Rose was born.

The mention of her name caused a slight panic in Charlotte. The baby! She quickly ran across the kitchen and out the back door toward the parked car. Its doors were still open and she rushed to the passenger side. She was still a mother, and the thought of losing another child was too much for her. It was why her husband had left her.

Inside, the bundled Rose hadn’t moved. She was sleeping as a result of the journey and still lay where she had been placed.

Thank God, Charlotte muttered. She pulled Rose to her and carried her inside.

They’re very resilient, Rhona said. I wasn’t worried.

She’s still a baby.

I don’t want her to get any special treatment. We’ll have seven mouths to feed now that she’s here.

Charlotte was grateful to Rhona for taking her in. She had no income and fewer prospects. Her Mandy was almost school age and she was thankful that she would be in an area where education was free.

"I’m not disagreeing, Rhona. This is her house, though."

Rhona snapped out of her reverie and looked straight at her sister. "This is my house and don’t you forget it."

Chapter Two

Siron House, Sussex,

England, 1958

Rose was an early walker and talker. Her hypnotic blue eyes, porcelain white skin, and jet-black hair entranced all who saw her.

She must get the hair from her mother, God rest her soul, Charlotte said over breakfast. Rose is becoming more beautiful every day.

No more beautiful than my children, Rhona said. Mine walked and talked at the same age—probably earlier, now that I think about it.

Charlotte took another sip of coffee.

Everyone at their school comments on what wonderful students they are, Rhona continued. I don’t doubt that they’ll blossom later in life to become real beauties.

Rose was playing near the fireplace with the poker. The other children were having a snack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Charlotte gave Mandy a cucumber to eat because she was afraid the peanut butter would choke her. Each had a glass of milk. At that moment, Vivien pointed toward Rosie.

Look! Rosie fell!

Oh, look what you’ve done now, Rhona said. I don’t know why we buy you clothes. You’re always getting them dirty. How am I going to get this soot out of them?

She looks like Cinderella! said Vivien. I know—we can call her Cinderella!

The three girls started chanting Cinderella and Rose looked at them, not knowing if it was a good thing. Seeing from their faces that they were taunting her, she decided to cry.

Stop crying! You’re not a baby anymore. Learn from your older sisters. See how they eat? They’re clean and aren’t crying, Rhona said. I don’t know why you’re so stubborn.

She grabbed Rose and started unfastening her clothes. Soon, she was in her undergarments. She’d potty-trained early. Her face and hands were full of black soot and it wasn’t long before she balled her fists and rubbed her tears. The stinging blindness brought fresh tears and more earnest cries.

Don’t touch me with your dirty hands. Stay there until I get a cloth. Charlotte, can you please hand that to me? Thanks. Stay still. Stop squirming. I hope this teaches you a lesson. Rhona finished wiping Rose and then stood up to survey her work. There, that’ll do.

The other children continued to call her Cinderella and Rose continued to cry. Rhona took another sip of tea. Charlotte, after a moment’s hesitation, took another sip of hers.

∞

The mere presence of Rose made Rhona tense. She would play with the wood next to the fireplace, stacking it in lieu of toys. The sound of her voice rose above the voices of Rhona’s children—sometimes crying but mostly singing. That was the worst, Rhona thought. Where did that voice and contentedness come from?

She thought of Sandrianne, Rose’s mother, and how beautiful she’d looked in Otto’s arms. Everyone called her Sandy. The two would dance to invisible music when they thought no one was looking. Rose’s mother had the same glassy black hair and milky white skin. Otto would trace Sandy’s neck with his finger, kissing her shoulder down to her fingers before taking her in his arms. Rose had the contentment of her mother without the love. Her very presence annoyed Rhona, as though Sandy was still there. Her effortless beauty taunted her.

I think it is time for Mandy to have her own room, don’t you agree, Charlotte?

They’ve been sharing Rose’s room for a few years. I don’t see why. They both seem happy.

Rhona’s face retained its smile. Yes, but Mandy is almost ten and Rose doesn’t seem to care where she sleeps. I have been thinking about this for a while.

There aren’t any more rooms in the house. Do you want me to move out? Charlotte could feel her neck become warm as the prospect of finding a new home passed through her.

No, never. I’d never do that to you! I was thinking that Rosie needs some more space. She doesn’t play with the others and keeps to herself.

You want to send Rose away? This thought was equally frightening. She knew the court would never allow that.

Never! I could never send our lovely Rosie away! I was thinking of a more permanent solution. One where everyone would be happy.

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. She knew her opinion would be whatever Rhona told her it would be.

I noticed it on the first day we arrived. Naturally, she was too small then. But I kept my eye on it and I think it is perfect.

Where?

Over there. She indicated with her chin in the direction of the low building across the track from the main house.

Where? I only see the cow shed.

Not a cow shed, Rhona said gravely. Yes, the cows are stored there, but there is a perfectly good accommodation that will give our dear Rosie the space to grow.

But it’s a cow shed.

Come with me and we’ll look at it together. You’ll see that there is an entire flat there that is very comfortable. She can come and eat with us, naturally, but she would sleep over there at night.

Charlotte had heard many things come from Rhona’s mouth over the years. She was used to it. Growing up, Rhona had a confidence that eluded Charlotte. She had the confidence to talk to the boys, even bully them if need be. Teachers trusted her and she would punish any students who crossed her. She had learned early in life that it was easier to agree with Rhona than to voice an opinion. Besides, it had landed them in a beautiful estate and they were living in real comfort for the first time in their lives. Miles better than their old flat in Putney.

What about the court?

What about it? They tell us when they come. Rosie is here and we still take care of her. From my perspective, she is getting a better deal than all of us. She’ll have the biggest room and the most freedom of all the children. How can that be bad for her?

She’s only five years old, Charlotte almost whispered.

She’s as smart as a ten-year-old. And she knows it. Have you seen the way she looks at me sometimes? It isn’t respectful.

I’m not sure, Rhona. But you know best. You are the guardian. It’s your call.

Shush. We’re both raising her. I couldn’t do this without you, you know that.

The compliment warmed Charlotte in ways she didn’t expect. Let’s take a look at it. Perhaps we can make it more comfortable for her with some furniture and a good clean. You’re right. She’ll have the best place on the estate.

Rhona walked over and hugged her sister. We’re a team, you and I. Nothing can come between us.

The barn smelled of cows. But the annex was perfect in every way. The building was of block concrete construction and had been built within the last ten years. The outside was clad in blackened timber and had the same vertical rust-red tiles as the house tiles. It could have been a comfortable home for a family if it wasn’t for the two dozen cows that inhabited most of it.

The section that was suitable for people was nicer than Rhona’s previous flat in Putney. The walls were nicely plastered and pictures of Otto and his wife, Sandy, hung on the wall. There was a large space where a dining room and lounge would need to co-exist. There was a good-sized bedroom, a bathroom with indoor plumbing, and a kitchen with a working oven. There was electricity as well, with some bare lights hanging from the ceiling. In the lounge was a large sofa, chair, and a small table with a Bible on it.

Otto must have made this place up for guests who visited or when he needed to get away from the wife.

I think I’m being more than fair in giving this to Rosie.

She is the owner, Rhona. She felt a sharp tug at her elbow as soon as she said it.

This is my home, Charlotte. I don’t want her hearing you say that. Do you understand? Her neck was blotching white and red, and a vein appeared on her forehead. And I don’t want to start hearing about Otto or her wretched mother, either. She took the photos off the wall and stomped out of the room.

∞

I love it, Mummy, Rose said when she was shown her new room. Is Mandy coming, too? Her small hand clutched Charlotte’s.

Rhona looked at Charlotte.

No, dear. This is your special place.

Rose’s eyes followed the corners where the walls and ceiling met. She looked outside the windows at the birds eating the remains of the harvest and the two deer that stopped just beyond her favourite tree. When she looked at Rhona, her eyes welled up with tears.

I’ll be here by myself?

Don’t you want that? Every good girl wants her own room. This will be your place where you can play and sleep and even eat.

Don’t you want me anymore?

Charlotte found it difficult to swallow as she watched her sister.

How can you say that, Rosie? You know we all love you and do everything for you. None of the other children has such a great place. You’re special.

Rose stopped rubbing her eyes and began smiling. Special?

Of course. You are a princess. And this is your castle.

Princess?

When you want, you can come and visit us in our home. We’ll ring the bell when it is dinner time so you’ll know when to arrive.

Rose was grinning and the tears stopped. She found a doll on the sofa and ran to it. Is this mine, too?

Everything here is yours, Rosie.

Can Mandy come and play?

Rhona paused briefly before responding. We’ll see, Rosie. Let’s get you settled in first. As Rose ran off to explore the flat, Rhona felt a pang of something approaching guilt. She couldn’t look Charlotte in the eye and so left her sister to deal with Rose. She had dinner to prepare.

The first night alone was the most difficult for Rose. She missed the sound of Mandy’s breathing and the familiar noises of the house as it creaked or when a pigeon would fly up to her bedroom window and stop to look at her. She could hear its wings touch the window as it flew away. She imagined conversations she would have with the birds and even the deer. She consoled herself that she was special and that her new room was especially for her.

Mandy came to play with her briefly the next day. But the day after that, she was too busy with her schoolwork. At other times, it was because she was reading.

Rose loved the sound of the brass bell that hung outside the