Summer's Out at Hope Hall Page 3

  If life had gone smoothly, she would probably never have had to put that question to the test. However, when her mother was suddenly taken very ill and unable to live alone, Kath had known what she should do. Her sister Jane was happily married and living in Australia, so Kath had been the only one able to help her beloved mum. The only thing that would have stopped her leaving London to come back and look after Mum was a marriage proposal from Jack. Her mother would certainly have approved of that, because there was nothing she wanted more than to see her much-loved daughter happily settled.

  That proposal never came, and Jack hadn’t made the slightest attempt to stop Kath leaving. He simply showed his usual understanding of the difficulty of her situation and the inevitability of her decision to leave. With a heavy heart, she had packed her bags and turned her back on the job she loved. Jack had hugged her and wished her well, and as he walked away Kath knew he would not be keeping in touch.

  And, as expected, there had been no contact for the four years she’d been here until just a few months ago when she’d reluctantly accepted an invitation to a gathering of former work colleagues at the hospital. One of those colleagues was Jack, who had recently accepted the post of Senior Consultant Paediatric Surgeon at the major hospital in Southampton, a city that was less than an hour’s drive from her home town.

  That evening, when they found themselves slipping back into the familiar ease of each other’s company, they agreed to carry on seeing each other, even though the demands of their jobs and the geography of where they now lived would be a challenge. Neither of them had given this rekindling of their relationship a name. Were they a couple? Were they just old friends enjoying the comfort of many years of knowing each other well? And what about love? Was that part of what they now shared? Was she still in love with him?

  Kath was aware that, because she couldn’t answer that last question with any certainty, she was keeping Jack slightly at arm’s length. That wasn’t difficult when they lived an hour’s drive apart. Occasionally they had met up in a restaurant halfway between them, which meant Jack always had his eye on the clock, because his call time the following morning was extremely early. On one occasion he came to look round Hope Hall to see what her job now entailed, but he had seemed preoccupied and restless. He had also invited her to spend an afternoon with him in Southampton, starting with a tour of the hospital, but he was plainly exhausted, his phone never stopped ringing and finally he had to cut her visit short because he was urgently needed for emergency surgery.

  And now this. He did ring, but only every four or five days, and then often, in the way of this last call, leaving an impression that ringing her was not something that ranked very highly on his list of priorities.

  She closed her eyes to help clear her mind a little. This thing with Jack was just whatever it was, with no conditions or expectations. She needed to understand and remember that. She would go along to the Family Fun Day at the hospital and do her best to make a success of it. She would enjoy his company, based on the long and loving friendship they shared, but she didn’t fool herself that he was in love with her. And, with surprise and even a little relief, she realized that, although she loved him dearly, she was no longer in love with him either.

  From the moment Mili had walked into the English for foreign students class, her life looked up. Until then, the three weeks she’d spent in England had been thoroughly miserable.

  The whole idea had been suggested by her priest in the local Catholic church back in the Czech Republic, to which every member of her family went each week without fail. To do otherwise would be unthinkable. In their small town on the outskirts of Prague, being Catholic was simply a way of life. All occasions, great or small, were celebrated and marked in church along with the neighbours – weddings, funerals, first communions and a dizzying calendar of saints’ days that had shaped her life for as long as she could remember.

  But Mili had wanted a change. Not from the Catholic faith, because that was as much a part of her as her character or intelligence, but a change about where she practised it. The life she had always known was choking her. She watched documentaries on television, she read magazines, she listened to the news, and she longed to break the chains of her smothering family and their small-town existence. She wanted to travel, see the world, experience life in all its adventure, challenge and beauty.

  Mind you, trying to tell her father how she felt had resulted in a row during which he told her in no uncertain terms what a stupid and ungrateful idea her moving away was. Her mother had said much the same thing but in kinder tones, reminding Mili how lucky she was to have a good, solid job at the local food-processing factory, and how much Pavel, the next-door neighbour who liked to think of himself as her boyfriend, loved her – and how he had told his parents he planned to ask Mili to marry him as soon as he’d saved up enough money for a ring. She was left feeling deflated and full of frustration, but her determination to leave had been stronger than ever.

  With her twentieth birthday looming, and no proper idea about how to make her dream a reality, she had found an ally in the most unexpected place. One evening when she was leaving the church after taking her turn to refresh the flower arrangements, she bumped into Father Peter, who had come to see if the church was now empty so that he could lock up.

  Father Peter was new to the church, in his early thirties, with an enthusiasm for faith and evangelism that didn’t sit all that comfortably with the more conservative members of the Catholic hierarchy in the town. But his sermons rang bells in Mili’s heart whenever she heard him, as he spoke of the two years he’d spent with the monks in the monastic community in Taizé, near Cluny in France, where young people in their thousands flocked every day to be part of their fellowship. He had studied for a while in Canada and travelled across the States, and he had trained in a seminary in Rome in the shadow of Vatican City. He connected with young people, but also seemed to have the general approval of their parents, who mostly warmed to his enthusiasm and obvious devotion.

  “Hello, Mili. You’re here late. Are you finished now?”

  “Yes, I’ll just drop this bag of rubbish in the bins on the way out before heading home.”

  “If you wait a minute or two, I’ll walk with you. I have to call in to see a neighbour of yours this evening. You know Eva? She’s recovering physically now, but I hear she is still feeling very low and in need of encouragement.”

  “She’d like that,” agreed Mili. “Losing her baby so late in the pregnancy was a terrible blow. They have been longing for a family for so long.”

  That fifteen-minute walk back from the church changed everything. She couldn’t quite remember what led her to start telling Father Peter how trapped she felt, but once she realized he was listening with genuine interest and not just dismissing her thoughts as rebellious and outrageous, she found herself pouring out her heart to him. More than that, he responded by telling her how he’d felt exactly the same way at her age, but had finally found the courage to leave home in spite of his parents’ protestations.

  “How do your parents feel about you now?” Mili had asked.

  Father Peter grinned. “They are a devoted Catholic family, and they now have a son who has chosen to become a priest. God has answered their desperate prayers, and I am redeemed!”

  “Did you ever imagine becoming a priest when you were living at home?”

  “Never in a million years! That was the last thing I ever thought would happen. I hated the church. I hated the routine of having to go every week. I hated confession, and usually lied my way through it just so no one would know what I had really been up to. I hated the way in which my life seemed to be planned out for me, so that I had no choice in my future. So, I ran.”

  “They didn’t know you were going?”

  “I left a letter on the table when I left one morning before the sun was up. I caught the milk train to Prague and found a bed in a youth hostel until I met a few other boys who were sharing a very
cramped apartment and invited me to join them. They helped me get myself a job working nights in a factory, and I grabbed every hour of overtime I could until I’d saved up enough money to start my journey.”

  “How did you travel?”

  “Sometimes by bus, if I had the fare. Often I hitched. God was good. I always found a way to move on.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Across Europe. It took me about a year, because I didn’t really know where I was heading, but God did. He brought a couple of young Christians into my life who had just spent several months at Taizé. I only spent one day in their company, but I knew from what they told me that Taizé was where I had to be.”

  “What was it like?”

  “It was the body of Christ. It was the gathering of Christians from all countries, traditions and backgrounds. It didn’t matter what denomination of church they came from, or if they’d never been inside a church at all. Christ called them there. He called me. I found true, lasting faith there in a God who is present and real.”

  “So did you decide to become a priest while you were at Taizé?”

  “No, not at all. I knew that my life was God’s and that he would show me where he wanted me to be, but it took a long time for me to realize that he had always had a plan in mind for me.”

  “And now you’re here.”

  “I’m here, just fifty miles from the town I grew up in, and a priest in the Catholic church that nurtured me. This is my home, but God understood that until he took me away from what I’d always known, I couldn’t recognize that this was exactly where I belonged and where I had most to give.”

  Mili was silent as she wondered how his experience could possibly be reflected in her own.

  “Do it, Mili. Follow your heart. Trust God to show you the way.”

  She gave a rueful smile. “I might need more practical plans than that. Where would I go? How would I live if I weren’t with my parents?”

  “Step out in faith. Ask for help. I will help you.”

  “You will?” Her eyes were huge as she turned to him in hopeful astonishment.

  “Have you thought about becoming an au pair? Many young girls go to other countries around the world to learn the language, and earn their keep by helping out with the care of children in families there.”

  “I love children! I have two brothers and a sister who are younger than me, and four nieces and nephews. I’m always babysitting.”

  “Then you have the perfect qualifications and experience for the job.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  Mili thought for a while before answering.

  “To England, I think. It is not as far as America, and I already speak a bit of English.”

  Then we’ll find a family who would like you to join them.”

  “How?”

  “There’s sure to be somebody in the church who knows someone who knows someone who lives in England. Let me put a few feelers out, not mentioning your name at this stage, of course.”

  Mili’s face shone with excitement. “What about my parents? Should I tell them about this conversation?”

  “Why don’t you wait until we have something really positive to report to them? If your ideas are vague and indefinite, of course they will worry about letting the daughter they love head off to heaven knows where.”

  “So, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  “And I promise I will start my research on your behalf as soon as I can.”

  Mili felt as if her feet were inches off the ground, she was so elated.

  “Thank you,” she said at last.

  “Wherever you go, dear Mili, I know you will go with God. I will come back to you the moment I have some real news.”

  And that is exactly what he had done. Just a week later, he introduced her to a lady she only knew by sight in the congregation. The lady explained that her daughter had married an Englishman and now lived in London, but her husband worked with a colleague whose wife was looking for an au pair to join their family at their home in a town not far from the south coast of England. There were two children, one of them at school and another who was younger, but their current au pair, also from the Czech Republic, had announced unexpectedly that she was leaving within the week, and they were desperate for help. Bubbling with excitement at this news, Mili listened as she was told that she should send by email a resumé of her experience, along with a reference as to her character and honesty. If that looked promising, the English mother would like to have a conversation with her online. All being well, a flight would be organized immediately so that she could join them within the week.

  Seeing that Mili’s head was reeling, Father Peter quietly took her arm and suggested that he should come with her to tell her parents about this exciting opportunity, so that their permission could be sought for Mili to take it further. Her parents were filled with curiosity and a sense of foreboding when Father Peter invited them to join him for a quiet talk in the vestry, and they listened in stunned silence as he explained the offer that was being made. Her father’s immediate reaction was complete refusal, but it was a priest who was asking, so he held his temper in check as Father Peter quietly explained that this family were recommended through members of their own congregation. It was Mili’s mother, once she’d got over her surprise, who quietly asked questions that she sensed would provide answers her husband could not dispute. In the end, although he was plainly put out and felt his authority had been undermined, he had no choice but to recognize that his own priest would not recommend an arrangement unless it was safe and proper.

  After that, things moved quickly. Father Peter had helped her to write a resumé that sounded a lot more impressive than Mili thought she actually was, but by the end of that day, a message had come back from the English family saying they’d like to speak to her over the internet the following morning. That interview took place in Father Peter’s office, with Mili’s mother and father watching from the corner of the room. They all saw a woman on the screen who looked to be in her mid-thirties, smartly dressed with a fashionable hairstyle and immaculate make-up. She spoke rapidly in English so that Mili struggled to follow her, but then a young girl, the present au pair, was introduced on the screen so that she could translate into Czech. She didn’t smile much, perhaps because she was concentrating on getting the translation right, but she explained that Mili’s duties would be to look after the house and the children, do the shopping, cook the meals and generally be in charge while the mother, a lawyer, was at work. She explained that Mili would have a nice room of her own and access to a car during her working day, and that she would be paid £60 a week. To Mili, that sounded like a very respectable sum of money, and she looked across anxiously to gauge her father’s reaction. He didn’t smile. He didn’t ask any questions. He looked straight into the eyes of his wife for several seconds, and when she gave the smallest of nods, he turned to Father Peter and also nodded his agreement.

  By that evening, a flight had been booked for Mili to travel to London, a new suitcase had been bought for the journey, her wardrobe had been updated, she had been given a new pair of boots – and she was off! Father Peter came to bless her before she left the house, and her brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces lined up alongside her father’s car as she climbed into the back next to her mother.

  And suddenly, she was here – and she cried herself to sleep each night thinking of all she’d left behind. She hated living in a household where everyone spoke at breakneck speed in a language she barely understood. She found the children difficult – Savannah, a precocious seven-year-old who was rude, dismissive and pretended she couldn’t understand anything Mili said to her, and Brandon, a whining three-year-old who hated going to his pre-school class on three mornings each week, and thumped her in the face whenever she tried to comfort him. The parents, Alan and Samantha, were hardly ever there. He commuted to London every day, where he worked somewhere in
the City, and she was something called a barrister, which Mili didn’t really understand except that it meant she was some sort of lawyer. The previous au pair had left for home the day before Mili arrived, and Samantha found it difficult to fit in any time to explain to Mili what her duties would be. She was given a list of tasks: several pieces of paperwork covered in tick boxes which she had to fill in throughout the day to ensure that the children read enough, had sufficient exercise, ate healthily and had plenty of sleep. Mili also had to ensure they didn’t watch too much television, were limited in their use of electronic gadgets, and that they attended a range of out-of-school activities that included horse-riding, ballet, French lessons and piano for Savannah, and Music for Toddlers, Tumble Tots and Tiny Talk Sign Language for the under-fives for Brandon.

  Mili was up at six thirty each morning, and literally didn’t stop working until she fell into bed, totally worn out, before nine each night. Once she’d bathed both children, got them into their pyjamas, heard Savannah do her homework reading, and read a bedtime story to Brandon, she had to make sure they were both settled and ready for the parents to sweep in and kiss their offspring goodnight as soon as they got home, which was never before half past seven and often later. And while Samantha and Alan checked their emails and drank gin and tonics while they swapped stories of their day, Mili would be preparing their supper in the kitchen, then filling the dishwasher so that she could leave the couple to enjoy a nice meal and a restful evening in peace.

  At the end of the first week, during which she’d worked every day, neither of the parents made any mention of paying her. When she finally plucked up enough courage to ask for some payment, the little she understood from Samantha’s answer was that she wouldn’t be paid for the first week, but that money would be kept to give her when she left the family, whenever that might be. She got the message that this arrangement was usual in the UK, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. All she knew was that there was no money, and that was that.