Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

‘What’s the problem, Miss Tredgold?’ asked Abel, trying to sound unworried. With such a break in routine he dreaded the thought that she might want to give her notice. Miss Tredgold repeated the story of what had taken place at school that day.

Abel became redder and redder in the face as the story progressed and was scarlet before Miss Tredgold came to the end.

‘Intolerable’ was his first word. ‘Florentyna must be removed immediately. I’ll personally see Miss Allen tomorrow and tell her exactly what I think of her and her school. I’m sure you will approve of my decision, Miss Tredgold.’

‘No, sir, I do not,’ came back an unusually sharp reply.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Abel in disbelief.

‘I believe you are as much to blame as the parents of Edward Winchester.’

‘I?’ said Abel. ‘Why?’

‘You should have told your daughter a long time ago the significance of being Polish and how to deal with any problems that might arise because of it. You should have explained the American’s deep-seated prejudice against the Poles, a prejudice that in my own opinion is every bit as reprehensible as the English attitude towards the Irish, and only a few steps away from the Nazi’s barbaric behavior towards the Jews.’

Abel remained silent. It was a long time since anyone had told him he was wrong about anything.

‘Do you have anything else to say?’ he asked when he had recovered.

‘Yes, Mr. Rosnovski. If you remove Florentyna from Girls Latin, I shall give my notice immediately. If on the first occasion the child encounters some problem you choose to run away from it, how can I hope to teach her to cope with life? Watching my own country at war because we wanted to go on believing Hitler was a reasonable man, if slightly misguided, I can hardly be expected to pass on the same misconstruction of events to Florentyna. It will be heartbreaking for me to have to leave her, because I could not love Florentyna more if she were my own child, but I cannot approve of disguising the real world because you have enough money to keep the truth conveniently hidden for a few more years. I must apologize for my frankness, Mr. Rosnovski, as I feel I have gone too far, but I cannot condemn other people’s prejudices while at the same time condoning yours.’

Abel sank back into his seat before replying. ‘Miss Tredgold, you should have been an ambassador, not a governess. Of course you’re right. What would you advise me to do?’

Miss Tredgold, who was still standing — she would never have dreamed of sitting in her employer’s presence unless she was with Florentyna — hesitated.

‘The child should rise thirty minutes earlier each day for the next month and be taught Polish history. She must learn why Poland is a great nation and why the Poles were willing to challenge the might of Germany when alone they could never have hoped for victory. Then she will be able to face those who goad her about her ancestry with knowledge, not ignorance.’

Abel looked her squarely in the eyes. ‘I see now what George Bernard Shaw meant when he said that you have to meet the English governess to discover why Britain is great.’

They both laughed.

‘I’m surprised you don’t want to make more of your life, Miss Tredgold,’ said Abel, suddenly aware that what he had said might have sounded offensive. If it did, Miss Tredgold gave no sign of being offended.

‘My father had six daughters. He had hoped for a boy, but it was not to be.’

‘And what of the other five?’

‘They are all married,’ she replied without bitterness.

‘And you?’

‘He once said to me that I was born to be a teacher and that the Lord’s plan took us all in its compass so perhaps I might teach someone who does have a destiny.’

‘Let us hope so, Miss Tredgold.’ Abel would have called her by her first name, but he did not know what it was. All he knew was that she signed herself ‘W. Tredgold’ in a way that did not invite inquiries. He smiled up at her.

‘Will you join me in a drink, Miss Tredgold?’

‘Thank you, Mr. Rosnovski. A little sherry would be most pleasant.’

Abel poured her a dry sherry and himself a large whiskey.

‘How bad is FDR?’

‘Maimed for life, I fear, which will only make the child love him the more. In the future I have decided FDR must reside at home and will only travel when accompanied by me.’

‘You’re beginning to sound like Eleanor talking about the President.’

Miss Tredgold laughed once more and sipped her sherry. ‘May I offer one more suggestion concerning Florentyna?’

‘Certainly,’ said Abel, who proceeded to listen intently to Miss Tredgold’s recommendation. By the time they had finished their second drink, Abel had nodded his approval.

‘Good,’ said Miss Tredgold. ‘Then, with your permission, I will deal with that at the first possible opportunity.’

‘Certainly,’ repeated Abel. ‘Of course, when it comes to these morning sessions, it may not be practical for me to do a whole month without a break.’ Miss Tredgold was about to speak when Abel added, ‘There may be appointments that I cannot reschedule at such short notice. As I am sure you will understand.’

‘You must, Mr. Rosnovski, do what you think best, and if you find there is something more important than your daughter’s future, I am sure it is she who will understand.’

Abel knew when he was beaten. He canceled all appointments outside Chicago for a full month and rose each morning thirty minutes early. Even Zaphia approved of Miss Tredgold’s idea.

The first day he started by telling Florentyna how he had been born in a forest in Poland and adopted by a trapper’s family and how later he had been befriended by a great Baron who took him into his castle in Slonim, on the Polish-Russian border. ‘He treated me like his own son,’ Abel told her.

As the days went by, Abel revealed to his daughter how his sister Florentyna, after whom she had been named, joined him in the castle and the way he discovered the Baron was his real father.

‘I know, I know how you found out,’ cried Florentyna.

‘How can you know, little one?’

‘He only had one nipple,’ said Florentyna. ‘It must be, it must be. I’ve seen you in the bath. You only have one nipple, so you had to be his son. All the boys at school have two...’ Abel and Miss Tredgold stared at the child in disbelief as she continued, ‘...but if I’m your daughter, why have I got two?’

‘Because it’s only passed from father to son and is almost unknown in daughters.’

‘It’s not fair. I want only one.’

Abel began laughing. ‘Well, perhaps if you have a son, he’ll have only one.’

‘Time for you to braid your hair and get ready for school,’ said Miss Tredgold.

‘But it’s just getting exciting.’

‘Do as you are told, child.’

Florentyna reluctantly left her father and went to the bathroom.

‘What do you think is going to happen tomorrow, Miss Tredgold?’ Florentyna asked on the way to school.

‘I have no idea, child, but as Mr. Asquith once advised, wait and see.’

‘Was Mr. Asquith in the castle with Papa, Miss Tredgold?’

In the days that followed, Abel explained what life was like in a Russian prison camp and what had caused him to limp. He went on to teach his daughter the stories the Baron had told him in the dungeons over twenty years before. Florentyna followed the stories of the legendary Polish hero Tadeusz Kosciuszko, and all the other great figures through to the present day, while Miss Tredgold pointed to a map she had pinned on the bedroom wall.

Abel finally explained to his daughter how he had come into possession of the silver band that he wore on his wrist.