‘Beautiful as ever, Celia. You must be thrilled to have this handsome dog back where he belongs. Isolde and I always said how unfair it was that they sent him away for saying what all of us with any sense thought.’ There was a pause as he glanced around. He raised his voice slightly. ‘Thought at the time. Before the war, of course. Very different now, what?’
My murmured response was ignored as he turned to Cedric, who had been giving his full attention to Isolde Ramsgate. Her look of fierce longing at Cedric made me aware – I hadn’t been before – that she must have been one of his many lovers. Isolde was a year or so older than I. She had a sulky mouth that men seemed to find attractive, but I had always thought that the deep lines from her nose to the corners of her mouth gave her a cross, ill-natured look. We had never been close.
‘Are you still being unbearably brave, driving ambulances in air raids?’ she asked, and flicked a glance at Cedric who was talking to Archie.
‘Still driving ambulances,’ I admitted.
As Cedric, Archie and Isolde began a low-voiced conversation about Cedric’s months of incarceration, I looked around the dance floor. I couldn’t see Simon at first. Eventually I located him at a table across the room. He seemed to be enjoying himself, or at least he and his friend were both laughing a great deal.
‘I hear he spends every weekend at Chequers,’ said Cedric. I turned my attention back to those at my table, thinking that Cedric was unhealthily obsessed with Churchill.
‘But he’s sure to be on the streets after a raid, trying to win the approval of the masses,’ said Archie.
‘He’s a madman,’ said Isolde in a low, intense tone. ‘He wants to lock up anyone who disagrees with him, and he will let London burn rather than treat for peace.’
Captain Ramsgate’s eyes flicked around the crowded room. ‘Isolde,’ he said warningly, ‘not at all the thing to say in a place like this.’
‘What is the general view of Churchill?’ asked Cedric quietly. ‘Almost the first thing he did when he became prime minister in May was to – to send me away. All I hear now is what a magnificent war leader he is. And yet, look at London. Look at our defeat in France. How can he be so respected?’
‘He’s very popular, old man,’ said Archie, in a low voice. ‘Adored, even. Don’t speak out against him publicly, no matter what you think.’
My attention wandered. Simon was dancing again with the dark-haired girl. Their laughter never seemed to cease. Miriam’s demeanour was at odds with a woman who was mourning David, I thought. And then I took myself to task. David had been so very alive. He would never have wanted or expected Miriam, or me, or Simon, or anyone who had loved him, to give up on life because he had died. David would have thought it risible to be seen as a ghost, tagging along with the living, dragging them down, preventing them finding happiness again.
‘Didn’t you, darling?’ Cedric asked me.
‘Please forgive me, I was somewhere else entirely.’
‘We were talking about Cedric’s return to politics,’ said Isolde. ‘I expect you will be very useful.’
‘Useful?’
She gave me a look of surprise, and glanced at Cedric.
‘Celia is charming and decorative. She is not at all a political creature, are you, darling?’ said Cedric, cutting smoothly into the conversation.
I decided to say what Cedric obviously wanted to hear. ‘No, not at all political. Cedric has never discussed such matters with me, and I’m really not interested.’
She frowned. ‘But you should always be interested in such matters. Politics is the breath of life.’
Cedric leaned towards me and whispered, ‘Your nose is shiny, darling. Why don’t you…’
I took the hint by excusing myself and heading for the ladies’ room, where I spent as long as I could, fixing my hair and then reapplying my lipstick. The familiar routine of doing my face and hair calmed me, although my hand had begun to throb painfully in its tight glove and I wished I could go home.
Eventually I could delay my return no longer. I pushed open the door into the lobby and entered into a sea of uniforms. A cavalry man with colourful stripes on his trousers and chain mail on his shoulders bumped my shoulder. He apologised profusely but I scarcely noticed because Simon and his companion were standing in front of me, apparently having just collected their coats. The dark-haired girl murmured something to Simon and I saw his shoulders stiffen. When he swung around he showed the expressionless mask he had worn when meeting Cedric on the dance floor at the Dorchester.
‘Good evening, Simon,’ I said, and I was annoyed at the high pitch of my voice.
‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘Why yes, I am,’ I said lightly. ‘You?’ I flicked a glance at his companion, who gave me a slight, embarrassed smile.
When Simon said nothing further she held out her hand. ‘I’m Miriam Rosenfeld,’ she said. ‘I believe you know my mother, Lore.’
‘Of course.’ I forced a smile and replied in a light, conversational tone, ‘And you obviously know I’m Celia Ashwin. It’s lovely to meet you. Your mother has spoken about you often. I’ll be seeing her again on—’
‘Won’t your husband have something to say about that?’ Simon’s voice was cold but now his eyes were blazing and an expression of brooding bitterness twisted his mouth. My heart gave a sickening jolt, but I raised my chin and met his eyes squarely. Head high, walk tall.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘My work at Bloomsbury House has nothing whatever to do with Cedric. We’re estranged. You know that.’
He raised his eyebrow at that and gave me a look that was frankly disbelieving. And then my temper was up. I am red-haired after all.
‘Whom I accompany to dinner is none of your business,’ I fairly spat at him. ‘None at all.’
‘It is if my mother allows you to work in her charity and trusts her foster-child to your care.’ His voice was low, tight and controlled.
‘That’s ridiculous. I—’
‘So this is dealing with him is it?’ His voice was no longer controlled. ‘You don’t seem very estranged to me. What did it take? A few compliments and an invitation to the Ritz? We trusted you, and all the time you were—’
‘What? I was what? Just what are you implying? That because I am seen in public with Cedric, I have somehow betrayed you?’
He flushed. ‘Not me. My mother. Leo. The children in my mother’s charity.’
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Miriam slip away, out into the night. ‘Your girlfriend’s going,’ I said, with as much of the grand manner as I could summon. ‘If you’re quick you might catch her.’ I wheeled around to descend the stairs to the restaurant.
‘Not so fast,’ said Simon and grabbed my bruised hand to pull me back.
I gave a sharp yelp of pain. ‘Don’t,’ I said, through clenched teeth, trying not to whimper. ‘Please let go.’
Simon released my hand at once, but moved his grip to my upper arm, above my evening glove.
‘What is it? What have you done to your hand?’ His voice was now entirely dispassionate, a doctor asking a patient for information upon which to form a diagnosis. His hand was steady on my arm and his face showed no expression but cool interest. ‘I’m sorry to have hurt you. What have you done to yourself, Celia?’
‘It’s nothing. Really. I hurt it. At work.’
‘How?’
‘It was, ah, crushed. In a door.’ He began to unbutton the glove. I tried to break his hold. ‘No, please leave it alone. The hand is very swollen. If you take the glove off I’ll never get it back on again.’
Simon did not reply. Instead he pulled me through the crowd into a corner of the foyer where the light was better. He gently palpated my hand through the glove, then the wrist and asked me to move my fingers. I wriggled them obediently.
‘I don’t think you’ve broken any bones, but from what I can tell through the glove it seems to be badly bruised,’ he said. ‘When did this happen?’
‘This aft
ernoon.’
‘You weren’t on duty today.’ His voice had an edge to it that I had not heard before. I looked up at him, met squarely the hot fury in his eyes. He was still holding my upper arm in a firm grip.
‘I wish to return to my table. Please release my arm.’
Simon became very still, but high in his throat a vein pulsed in fast fluttering beats. He said, quietly, ‘Was it your husband? Is that why you’re here with him?’ And even more quietly, ‘Did he do anything else to you?’
‘He hurt my hand but he did nothing else. I swear it, Simon.’ I spoke quickly and urgently, because I had not seen him look like that before, like he wanted someone’s blood. The last thing I needed was Simon marching downstairs to have it out with Cedric.
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘When we were dining this afternoon I asked him for a divorce. He squeezed my hand, hard enough to hurt me. He did it to teach me a lesson.’
‘He won’t divorce you?’ Again my eyes were drawn to that fast pulsing vein high up in his throat. ‘So he wants you to return to the marriage? You can’t—’
‘No. I can’t,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m not going back to him. He knows I’m not returning to the marriage.’
The tension in his face lessened and he took a few fast breaths. Then his eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth twisted into a sort of smile. ‘I don’t understand. Why are you here with him?’
‘He – we made an agreement. I must talk to you about it, but I think he’s having me watched.’
Simon thought about this. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow. When I bring Leo to see Bobby.’
‘All right.’ I hesitated. ‘Simon, watch out for Leo, will you? I’m worried that Cedric might—’
‘I can protect Leo.’ He glanced at stairs leading down to the restaurant. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’
I touched his shoulder. ‘I’ll be fine. Now, you’d better find that girl of yours, or she’ll never forgive you.’
He seemed puzzled, then said, ‘Oh. Miriam. Of course.’ He glanced around. ‘Where did she go?’ I indicated the door and he gave me a shamefaced smile. ‘As I said before, she’s a forgiving sort.’ He turned away, but immediately twisted around to say, ‘Keep the hand elevated. Put ice on it. I’ll look it over tomorrow.’ He pushed through the blackout curtains and disappeared into the night.
‘Celia, darling. It’s been such a long time.’ The voice was high and fluting, and sounded ever so slightly tipsy. I turned to see Peggy Needham, who had been a debutante with me. I smiled at her, as if she was my dearest friend.
‘Peggy. Lovely to see you.’ And I took her arm and walked her downstairs into the Grill Room.
As I explained to Cedric and the others when I returned to the table, ‘You know the way it is with old friends. I’m sorry I was so long away, but Peggy simply would not stop talking.’
When the taxi pulled up outside St Andrew’s Court, Cedric asked the cabbie to wait. He walked me to the entrance but did not open the door. Instead he put an arm loosely around my shoulder.
‘Would you like a cigarette, darling?’ His voice was light and I could hear a smile in it. Or was it a smirk?
‘Thank you, no. I’m very tired, Cedric. And my hand hurts.’
‘I did squeeze rather hard, didn’t I.’ Now his voice sounded mocking. ‘But darling, you were behaving abominably.’ His hand fell away from my shoulder to cover my right hand, the undamaged hand. Through my glove I felt the warm strength of his fingers as he squeezed softly. He released my hand and slid his arm up and around my shoulders again.
‘Cold, darling? Let me warm you.’
I pushed back involuntarily and his grip tightened. I knew then that I’d have to pay the ferryman before I was allowed inside, so I made an effort to relax. The last thing I wanted was an undignified tussle on my front step. Two months. He had given me his word. For two months I could play along. Cedric breathed a laugh and pulled me towards him.
Cedric kissed me with practised ease. I let myself relax into it because I had no choice. He used all his tricks, the ones that in our early days had so dazzled me. I wondered how long I would have to stand there, submitting, and hoped that if I did nothing he might finish sooner. I knew he wouldn’t expect much from me. When I had confronted Cedric about his infidelities, he had intimated that he needed other women because I was, in his words, ‘rather wooden’. He had told me once, ‘You really don’t have much of a flair for this sort of thing, do you, darling?’
David had disagreed.
Eventually the kiss ceased. Cedric waited and for a moment I wondered what it was that he wanted. An invitation to spend the night in my flat? A declaration of undying love?
‘You know I adore you, darling,’ he said, at last.
‘No, Cedric, I don’t know that.’ My voice was dry. ‘You were constantly unfaithful when we were married, and that’s hardly a sign of adoration. Then today you bruised my hand, bruised it badly. Once again, not really an indication of adoration.’
‘Darling, I married you. Those other women meant nothing. I told you that. And I have already apologised for hurting you.’ His voice became petulant. ‘You hurt me when you asked for a divorce.’
The darkness of the blackout seemed to press into my body, my mind, my very soul and my voice was apathetic as I said, ‘I would like to go now, please, Cedric.’
He leaned in towards me. ‘Of course,’ he said, and released me with a sigh. ‘You always were peevish when tired,’ he said. ‘Off to bed with you, darling. I’ll let you know when I want you again.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Simon rapped on my door at three o’clock that afternoon. When I opened it, Leo stood beside him, holding Simon’s hand and bobbing up and down excitedly. His smile at me was the open, happy smile of an eight-year-old boy who was looking forward to a treat. I had the impression that Leo was somehow taller than he had been when I first met him. Then I realised that Leo no longer stood with his head pulled down into his shoulders as if he were expecting a blow. He had come a long way in a few weeks. I knew it was not just Bobby, although the bird may have helped. It was the love of the Levy family that was releasing the boy from his demons.
As usual, Leo’s manners were excellent. He bowed to me and wished me a good afternoon, but his eyes were searching the flat for the parrot. I opened the door more widely and ushered him in. He barely took time to shrug off his coat before he went to Bobby’s cage, opened the door and presented his arm. Once Bobby was on his shoulder he moved over to the window.
‘Leo Weitz,’ said Bobby, and snuggled his head into Leo’s neck.
‘Good bird,’ replied Leo, in his accented English. ‘Good bird.’
‘How’s the hand?’ asked Simon.
I presented my hand for medical inspection. The discolouration had advanced to a lurid collection of reds, purples and yellows. He stroked it gently.
‘I’d like to take a closer look at it.’ He called over to the boy, ‘Leo, Celia has hurt her hand and I want to examine it. We’ll just be in here, in the bedroom.’
Leo and Bobby turned to look at us and Leo nodded gravely.
‘I am now talking to Bobby in English,’ said Leo to me. ‘He likes it better than German.’
‘Quite right,’ I said.
Simon and I entered the bedroom and he was careful to leave the door wide open so we could keep an eye on Leo and Bobby. They were standing by the window and Leo was keeping up a constant low-voiced chatter to the bird.
‘Rather a one-sided conversation,’ said Simon. ‘Leo is talking quite a lot at home now, too.’
‘I’m so glad.’
‘He is still very fragile emotionally. Wets the bed. Retreats into lengthy silences, or flies into quite terrifying rages over trifles. My mother is very patient with him. Actually, she’s coping with it all much better than I had thought she would.’
‘I suspected she might. She probably needs him almost as much as he needs her.’
‘Leo adores that bird. Seeing Bobby seems to have helped him enormously.’ He gave a laugh. ‘I think he feels that he can talk to the bird, without worrying about the response.’
I hesitated. ‘Simon, last night—’
‘First your hand,’ he said. I held it out to him.
His touch was gentle as he palpated the fingers. ‘No broken bones, but he certainly made a thorough job of it.’ His tone was light and conversational. ‘I must say that I think your estranged husband is a bully, a coward and a cad.’
I matched his tone. ‘And yet he dresses well and tips liberally.’
‘The hallmarks of an English gentleman.’
‘Oh, a right proper gent he is. Cabbies say so.’
Simon looked at me and raised an eyebrow. ‘You do meet the oddest cabbies, Celia. I’ve never met one yet who discussed proper gentlemanly behaviour with me or mentioned the Devil’s pants.’
I gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Not the Devil’s pants, you idiot. The Earl of Hell’s waistcoat. Because it was such a dark night.’
‘I knew it was some form of diabolical underwear. Damned peculiar simile.’ He smiled, then gave me a searching look. ‘Last night.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry to have misjudged you.’
‘I can see why you did. It must have looked as if…’
‘Did you ice the hand?’ His voice was brisk and business-like.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you keeping it elevated?’
‘Not really.’
‘Good thing I brought this with me, then.’ He reached into his tunic and pulled out a bandage. ‘I’ll use this for a sling.’
Ambulance Girls Under Fire Page 24
