‘Good on you Pete, I think it’s great.’
‘So how goes it with you, Tom?’
‘It’s been hard. I suffered like you wouldn’t believe under the Japs. When I was fighting, it all seemed worthwhile. You were doing something for your pals and your country. Once captured, you felt worthless, a failure somehow.’
Tom opened up and recounted the hell ships and his survival of the A-Bombe at Nagasaki.
Peter was aghast.
‘I knew it must have been hell, but I had no idea.’
‘Yeah, it was fucking horrible. Don’t tell Mum – it would distress her too much.’
‘OK.’
They hugged each other and retired for the night.
4 July 1948
The Dohertys had breakfast together in the summer room: Pancakes with strawberries, blueberries and vanilla ice cream; red white and blue to honour the day.
The men each took a bottle of wine while the women carried the food, which was to be their Independence Day lunch.
Once boarded, the skipper asked the Doherty men to cast off the ropes, and they were under way. The weather was perfect, blue skies with the odd puffy white cloud. The only negative was that the wind had picked up and was quite strong. Inclement weather was of no concern to the Intrepid; she was 100 feet long and powered by an 800 horsepower diesel engine.
About an hour out from the shore the women started to prepare the lunch in the galley while the men were on deck talking, smoking and enjoying themselves.
At 1p.m. Julie called the boys down to have their lunch. Harry had just lit a large Cuban cigar and was annoyed that he had to throw it over the side; however he did as he was told.
The group including Joe, the skipper, were seated at the yacht’s dining table and presented with various dishes, all decorated with the stars and stripes.
‘Well, who’d have thought this could happen just eighteen months ago, sitting down to a fabulous Fourth of July lunch on a luxury yacht in the middle of Chesapeake Bay’, said Tom.
Peter agreed. ‘We’ve all very lucky considering what we’ve all been through.’
‘I smell smoke. Can anybody else smell it?’ asked Julie.
‘It’s probably the smoke from Harry’s cigar still lingering about,’ replied Pete. ‘Bloody cigars – they’ll kill you one day, Harry.’
‘No, it’s not cigar smoke. I quite like the smell of a fine cigar,’ commented Julie.
‘The hot plates aren’t on, are they Mum?’
‘No, I haven’t used them today. We cooked up at the house.’
‘Look! There’s smoke coming in under the galley door. There must be a fire up on deck.’ Joe’s voice sounded panicked.
‘You ladies stay down here, and we’ll check out what’s happening!’ instructed Pete.
‘Shit, the door’s locked! No, that’s impossible. Must be jammed.’
The four men tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. They grabbed the fire extinguisher and began bashing the door with the heavy cylinder. Not what it was designed for in the case of a fire. The galley was filling with smoke and everybody started coughing uncontrollably. They tried bashing the portholes with the fire extinguisher, but it made no impact. Harry told the women to lie on the floor below the smoke cloud although that seemed to make no difference. The heat from the fire became intense, singeing the hairs on the men’s arms.
What Harry or any of the others hadn’t realised was that the cigar had blown back onto the rear deck. It landed on a loosely coiled rope and began to smoulder. The wind and the cruiser’s movement fanned the small fire and within a few minutes it had become a major outbreak. Unfortunately, the blaze was located over the reserve fuel tank setting off an explosion that could be heard miles away. Intrepid burned furiously and within thirty minutes was a smouldering wreck barely above the waterline.
All aboard perished.
The Dohertys had survived the war, POW camps and the Titanic. Now they were gone, apart from Lara.
Poor Little Rich Girl
Chapter 2
1948
Don Bradman scores 201 in 272 minutes versus India
Executive order ending racial segregation in US Armed Forces
Mahatma Gandhi assassinated
July 6 1948
Lisbeth Forsyth was an experienced nanny who had cared for many children of the British aristocracy over the years. She was only twenty-six, and although attractive and quite vivacious she was unmarried. Being a nanny was what she wanted to be, even at high school and she wasn’t about to let a love interest get in the way.
Sometimes when she was alone in her room, she felt lonely, but that feeling of loneliness soon disappeared when she saw her children.
Lisbeth had been Lara de Neville’s nanny from the time her parents Julie and Harry brought her home from the hospital. Lara was now a happy, healthy six-year-old. She was a very pretty girl with long blonde hair, which she usually wore in plaits. Lisbeth was always delighted when she heard Lara’s infectious laugh, which was quite often.
Lisbeth and Lara were playing on the front lawn of Westmoreland Manor, the family home, when they saw a black Rolls Royce approach along the long driveway.
‘Who’s that Nanny?’
‘I don’t know, darling. Judging by his car I think he’s somebody important. Why don’t we go and meet him.’
‘OK.’
The car pulled up under the grand portico. A man with white hair, and a dark pin-striped suit alighted from the back of the vehicle.
‘Good morning. My name is Sir Horace Winterbottom. I’m the solicitor for the de Neville family. I take it you must be Lisbeth Forsyth?’
‘I am. And this is Lara de Neville.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you both. I was wondering if we could have a private word, Miss Forsyth?’
‘Yes, come into the house. We can speak in the library. Lara, why don’t you run into the kitchen and ask Mrs Potter if you can have a glass of milk, and a biscuit.’
Lara skipped off to the kitchen. Lisbeth ushered Sir Horace into the magnificent library and closed the large oak door.
‘I’m afraid I have some very disturbing news, Miss Forsyth.’
The solicitor recounted what had happened on the Chesapeake Bay. Lisbeth was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe the whole family had perished.
‘I can’t believe it. The Earl and Countess were like family to me and what’s to become of little Lara?’
The distraught woman couldn’t contain her grief and began to sob. Mr Winterbottom waited patiently before continuing.
‘What this means Miss Forsyth, is that young Lara has no legal guardian.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Well, if you are agreeable I’d like you to care for Lara until a decision is made about her immediate future. Mr Bryant will still