***chapter 51***

***Final Chapter***

***Closure***

"Matthew, there are so many things that trouble me about this correspondence that I am seriously at a loss where to begin."

Arthur, who sat behind a mahogany desk, with said letter laid out before him on a large blotting pad, gave a heartfelt sigh, thankful he had been the one to take the telephone call from the principal of Green Willows, and not his wife. They had few secrets from each other, but on this matter he knew he would always keep his counsel. Prudence had disliked Matthew from the very beginning, unimpressed with the youth's behaviour at his job interview, and not seeing, as Arthur did, a confused and frightened young boy, who hid behind bravado because his life was spiralling out of control.

If he were so determined to employ such an "uncouth lout", she told her husband, after he'd suggested they hire him for a trial period, then she wanted nothing to do with the whole sorry business and he could take sole responsibility for him. And he could take responsibility too for the family heirlooms that he would doubtless steal, she added, furiously crashing down a thick law book (Prudence was reading over a speech prepared for Parliament and wished to double-check some facts). She glared stony-faced when Arthur countered in amusement of course they would call the police in that "unlikely event" but he was tremendously concerned about exactly how many of their hundreds of silver candlesticks Matthew could carry without incurring serious injury; should they perhaps plan ahead and arrange now for an articulated lorry? She would be scandalized if she were ever to learn that a commoner had referred to their precious only child as his "kid sister".

Blissfully unaware of his own inherent snobbery, Arthur acknowledged that Prudence could be rather a snob at times, but he was in total agreement when she said class was class and there had to be a clear divide. They had been far too lax in allowing Dora to mix with servants and look at the result! It was so dreadfully embarrassing when their daughter used working class slang at grand dinner parties, and his poor wife had required smelling salts to revive her the terrible day she saw Dora wiping her nose on her sleeve. Friendships between the upper and lower classes should always be discouraged. Admittedly, there were exceptions: Jimmy Turner, for instance, had been born into dire poverty yet had been a great friend to both Lord and Lady Maddocks, as well as Dora. But Jimmy had always been reverential towards his betters, almost having to be begged to join them at Saturday breakfast because he felt it "wasn't his place". Young Davey, for all his faults, never got ideas above his station. Matthew, however, was of the modern world of the 1960s and the modern world was of a different ilk. Instead of being content with their lot, the poor demanded the right to attend university, to have careers, to climb the social ladder. It really was most disconcerting.

But in the end breeding showed. Matthew's barely literate letter was testimony to that indisputable fact.

"Swearing, blasphemy, "up the spout" (though, fortunately, I'm quite sure Dora will be unaware of the connotations) boasting about drinking alcohol whilst being under-age, using a name we specifically ordered our employees they were NOT to use for our child, a shocking lack of respect for Lady Maddocks…did my wife or I ever even give you permission to write to our daughter?

"No, but she's a great kid…" Matt's voice trailed dejectedly away. "Am I fired?"

With contented clicks and sighs, radiators bathed the office in a comfortable warmth, but Matt felt suddenly cold. Thanks to his police record, there was very little chance of employment elsewhere. He'd only been working at Saxe Coburg for a very short while, but he would miss the sense of belonging here. Although it was a bleak early March day, there was even something oddly reassuring about the view of its grounds, where particles of snow clung stubbornly to barren tree branches and large patches of ice lay thick on withered grass. It was still early evening, but already the sky had darkened and shadows crept indoors like fallen dreams. He hoped it wasn't an omen.

"No, Matthew, you are not," Arthur replied. "Not quite. Or perhaps I should say not quit? Whatever would Chris Anther's Mum think?"

The humorous references to his mis-spellings, however, were lost on the teenager and he stared blankly at his employer, wondering if he'd lost his mind. Arthur, for his part, decided against leading the conversation into suggesting the boy might benefit from a crash course in the English language.

"Long, long ago, we had in our employ, another young man of whom we despaired," Lord Maddocks continued. "We had washed our hands of Davey until a good friend of ours intervened and asked that we gave him another chance. It proved to be the making of him." Arthur's voice croaked a little. Even after all these years, Davey's untimely death in the War was a loss that neither he nor Prudence could speak of without emotion. And, as we have seen, emotion was something that both Arthur and Prudence scorned. Mentally admonishing himself, he cleared his throat.

"I have no complaints about your work. You have a kind heart and your contact with Dora was done with the very best of intentions. Which is why earlier I spoke at length with my brother. Henry owns a castle in mid-Wales and, if you so wish, he is willing to offer you a similarly-waged residential position there, which may, in time, lead to being part of his employee entourage when he attends to business abroad. But you are to understand this is your very last chance. There must be no more contact with Dora. My daughter will be moving in much higher social circles and cannot afford to be held back. She will no longer be allowed to associate with serving staff, whether at Saxe Coburg or anywhere else. What say you, Matt? It is an excellent opportunity. Will you accept the post and a fresh start?"

Arthur smiled confidently, expecting the youngster to bite his hand off with gratitude, and was so taken aback by the boy's answer that he actually jumped.

"I'll only take the job if you'll agree to certain conditions, Lord Maddocks."

"Matthew, you are in no position to bargain," his distinguished employer, who had dealt with prime ministers and monarchy without flinching, pointed out, recovering his unexpectedly shaken composure. "But I will at least hear you out. Go on."

"I'll take it if you'll explain to Daz…Dora that I didn't want to break ties and why I had to. That poor kid is cut up enough about losing her mates here as it is. And if you'll still take flowers to Jimmy's grave every week like I promised Dora I would. You're a good bloke and I know if you give your word you'll keep it."

"The flowers for Jimmy's grave, consider it done, I had, in any case, intended to continue the tradition." Arthur shuddered at being referred to as a "good bloke" as though he were a common labourer, but let it pass. "But you're prepared to foolishly throw away your only chance should I refuse your request to explain matters to Dora? It is a most reckless attitude."

"Dora's more important. The kid's had enough let-downs and upsets." In for a penny, in for a pound. Matt took a deep breath. "If you don't agree, sir, then I can't take the job and I'll try and find some way to stay in touch because she'll always be like a kid sister to me. It's wrong to imagine she can only be mates with gentry. One day Dora will make you realise it isn't all about money and power. Those are my terms, Lord Maddocks, what do you think?"

After a stunned silence, Arthur laughed suddenly, half in admiration, half at the absurdity of the situation, that his newest and youngest employee, instead of being immediately dismissed, as Dr Knight of Green Willows expected, was dictating terms and conditions, and picturing Prudence's shocked face at the very idea.

"I think with your fighting spirit you will do very well, my boy! And I agree to them."

Matthew did indeed "do very well" but as our tale is of how Follyfoot came to be I will only mention briefly that, after working for Henry Maddocks for a number of years, he made his career ensuring the welfare of children all around the world.

Lord Maddocks kept his promise and explained to Dora it had not been Matt's choice to end their friendship. She never did mix with the household at Saxe Coburg again nor was she permitted to acknowledge any of the domestics at Green Willows. She must be kept away from her inferiors, for greater things, said Lord and Lady Maddocks, awaited their daughter. Ah, so they did, so they did, but they would not be the "greater things" that they envisaged. No, at a certain picturesque farm deep in the heart of Yorkshire, they would be far greater!

But all this was a long way in the future and the wings of years were yet to fly by. And as they take flight, they will carry us to another time, another place, another person who would come to share the Follyfoot story…

END OF PART ONE