Free Heirs of Ravenscar by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page A

over the ensuing years, and Amos had been delighted to see them whenever they arrived on his doorstep.
    It was a happy day for Amos when the famous letter came,announcing Maisie’s marriage to her young Irishman, who, as it turned out, was the eldest son of Lord Dunleith, an Anglo-Irish landowner with a splendid Georgian mansion called Dunleith and vast acres surrounding his county seat.
    All of these thoughts were swirling around in his head as Amos tramped towards Trafalgar Square. There were a good many people circulating in the area, and especially around the statue of England’s greatest hero, Horatio Nelson. Revellers were singing and waving the Union Jack and dancing. Some were shouting, ‘We beat the Hun!’ Obviously they were celebrating because it was the end of the war, not because it was Christmas, which was still a week away.
    At the other side of Trafalgar Square somebody let off a Catherine wheel, and bursts of sparkling lights rushed up into the night air. More and more fireworks began to explode for a wonderful display of colour and brilliance, and there was applause and laughter and more songs.
    Unexpectedly, a clear soprano voice rang out above the din. The woman began to sing Land of Hope and Glory , and after the first verse other people joined in, and soon everyone was singing. Including Amos, who discovered he had a funny lump in his throat. He felt an enormous swell of pride, and realized he was as sentimental and patriotic as the rest of them were.
    Eventually, he moved on, walking through the square, heading West to Piccadilly and the Ritz Hotel.
    Thank God the fighting has ended, he thought. For the first time in history, a war had exploded and engulfed the entire world, destroying the old order of things. He understood that nothing would ever be the same again. But thankfully the world was at peace tonight, after four years of hell and millions of young men dead, mowed down before they had had a chance to live.

EIGHT
    W hen he reached Arlington Street, just off Piccadilly, Amos crossed over to the other side where the entrance to the Ritz Hotel was located.
    Nodding to the doorman, attired in a uniform of dark blue and black top hat, he pushed through the swing doors and entered the lobby.
    Glancing at the large clock on the wall, Amos was gratified to see that he was not late. It was exactly seven o’clock. After depositing his overcoat in the gentlemen’s cloakroom, he went into the promenade area where English afternoon tea was served without fail every day of the week.
    He stood glancing around, and a split-second later he spotted Charlie coming towards him. Slowly . He had an extremely bad limp and was using a walking stick, leaning on it heavily. A captain in the British Army now, having received many promotions, he looked very smart in his officer’s uniform and Sam Brown belt.
    Amos lifted his hand in a wave, and Charlie waved back.Hurrying forward to meet him, Amos’s step faltered slightly as he drew closer to his old friend. But he quickly recouped, took a deep breath, and continued down the plush carpet, hoping Charlie hadn’t noticed.
    Pushing a smile onto his face, Amos thrust out his hand when they came to a standstill opposite each other, and Charlie grasped it tightly, held on to it for a moment.
    Amos felt his heart clench and he had to swallow hard. The young actor would never act again, not with that ruined face. One side was badly scarred by burns, the skin bright red, puckered, and stretched tightly over the facial bones. The scars ran from his hairline to his jaw, and looked raw.
    As if he had read Amos’s thoughts, Charlie said evenly, ‘I’ll have to find a new profession, I’m afraid, Amos. But at least I got out alive, and you know what, the doctors thought they’d have to amputate my leg, but they didn’t. Somehow they managed to save it for me.’ His voice wavered slightly as he added, ‘I’ve been