The Little Angel

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘Yes, that’s how I found you, I saw a piece about you in the paper.’ Sunday was bemused and finding Kitty difficult to talk to, when she had been expecting a joyful reunion. ‘And how are you enjoying living with your mother?’ Sunday asked then.

  Kitty glanced at her in the mirror. ‘Very much,’ she lied. How could she admit that she missed Sunday every single day and the happy life they had once shared?

  ‘Oh … good.’ Sunday gazed at the girl, thinking how very much she had changed. She was harder now and more brittle somehow, although she looked well enough. ‘I err … was thinking that after your performance we might meet, go out for dinner and have a catch-up,’ she suggested. ‘Or if you’re too tired this evening we could perhaps make it tomorrow morning?’ she ended hopefully.

  Kitty steeled herself. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ she managed to say. ‘I’m being taken out to supper this evening immediately after my performance and I have plans with my mother tomorrow. But it was very nice to see you.’

  For the first time, Sunday felt a flicker of annoyance. She and Tom had come all this way to surprise the girl but she was acting as if they were being dismissed.

  ‘So when will you be available?’ she asked sarcastically.

  Kitty swallowed then and answered, ‘I’m not sure without consulting my diary.’

  ‘Consulting your diary!’ Sunday was appalled at her flippant attitude. ‘I thought you would be pleased to see us,’ she went on, and there was a wobble in her voice now. Tom, who had said nothing, held her hand – and for once, Sunday didn’t pull away.

  ‘I am, of course – but I’m so busy, you see? But it was very good of you to call.’ Kitty felt as if her heart was being ripped out but she knew that it was time to let them go once and for all now, for their own sakes. They must never be besmirched by what she had become, and the things she had done. She loved them too much to let that happen.

  Sunday’s shoulders sagged as she realised that Kitty was truly gone from her now. She and Tom were no longer needed – or even wanted, if Kitty’s attitude was anything to go by.

  ‘So,’ Sunday said, ‘I suppose we’d best be off then.’ She desperately wanted Kitty to ask them to stay but the girl merely nodded as she returned to applying her greasepaint.

  ‘Yes, I mustn’t hold you up,’ came that artificial voice. ‘Goodbye then. Have a safe journey home.’

  Blinded by tears, Sunday turned and allowed Tom to lead her from the dressing room and only when she was sure that they had gone did Kitty allow her emotions to bubble to the surface. That night, when she sang the tragic song by Irving Berlin, called ‘When I Lost You’, she gave the words such meaning that the audience wept with her.

  One overcast day early in August, Sunday descended the stairs at Treetops to find Tom waiting for her in the hallway. The adults always rose before the children to enjoy a hot drink and ensure that the preparations for the children’s breakfast were well under way and that the fires were lit, for although it was August the early mornings could be chilly in the big house.

  ‘Good morning,’ Sunday greeted him, much as she would have a stranger. She had grown even more distant since her encounter with Kitty in London, as if it was somehow his fault. Then when there was no answer she noted his grave face and asked, ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m afraid there is. Would you come into the day room with me?’

  Sunday followed him, closed the door and looked at him questioningly.

  ‘There is news from Nuneaton. As of eleven o’clock last night, Britain is at war with Germany.’ There seemed no easy way to tell her, so he had just come out with it.

  ‘Surely not! You must be mistaken.’ Her face paled as she thought of what this might mean to them.

  ‘I’m afraid there is no mistake,’ he told her soberly. ‘Our Prime Minister, Herbert Asquith, issued an ultimatum to Germany requesting that they get out of Belgium by midnight on August the third – and when they failed to do so he felt that he had no alternative but to declare war. People are already gathering outside Buckingham Palace in London to state their allegiance to the King and Queen, who have appeared on the balcony.’

  ‘So what will happen now?’ Sunday asked in a wobbly voice.

  ‘Recruitment centres are springing up all over the country – no doubt there will be one in Nuneaton too – and all young men are being encouraged to join to go and fight for their King and Country. I should tell you that I have just spoken to Ben and he has told me that he intends to enrol this very day.’

  ‘Oh no! Surely not.’ Tears sprang to Sunday’s eyes. Now, too late, she realised how estranged they had become since they had learned about his birth mother and the fact that her own husband was his father. None of it was Ben’s fault, and yet she had treated him abominably, holding him at arm’s length and denying him the affection he had always known. No wonder he wanted to enlist.

  ‘But he’s too young to go off fighting a war,’ she objected. ‘Perhaps we can encourage him to change his mind?’ She stared at Tom hopefully but he shook his head.

  ‘His mind is made up. And I should also tell you that I intend to enlist too.’

  Sunday clutched at the back of a chair as her head wagged from side to side. ‘B-but your leg! Surely you are not well enough to fight.’

  He shrugged. ‘There are many people involved in fighting a war apart from those who go to the front. They need stretcher-bearers and men to care for the horses. I could do either of those jobs.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to go! I need you here!’

  He gave her a sad smile. ‘We both know that you haven’t needed me for some time,’ he said, but there was no recrimination in his voice, only hurt. ‘I think the time apart might do us both good. The way we have been living isn’t natural for a man and wife.’

  ‘And that’s all my fault,’ she wept. ‘Oh, Tom, I so wanted to bear your child and then when I heard that Ben was yours and that some other woman had given you what I was unable to, I couldn’t bear it.’

  He sighed. There had been so much pain, so much sadness. ‘Somewhere along the way I think you lost sight of the fact that the only one I ever really wanted was you. A child would have been a bonus but it never affected my feelings for you. The trouble is, I don’t know if we can ever go back to the way we were now.’

  She wanted to rant and rave, to throw herself at him and plead with him not to leave and yet somehow, she knew that he would not change his mind. And so she simply stood there as the only man she had ever loved quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

  When Ben and Tom drove into town they found queues of young men standing outside the hastily improvised recruitment office in the town centre. There was almost a party atmosphere amongst them, as if they were going off on some big adventure. ‘After all,’ Tom heard one young chap say, ‘they reckon it will be all over in no time so we’d best get in while the goin’s good.’

  He and Ben joined the back of the queue and as Tom glanced at his son he wondered if they would be shipped somewhere together. He hoped so. Once they had given their details, birth date, address, et cetera the young men in front of them were being shown in to see a doctor for a hasty medical, to check whether they were fit enough to enrol. From the brief amount of time each of them spent in there with the medic, Tom could only surmise that the examination must be a very cursory affair. At last he and Ben reached the desk and after giving the required information Ben was ushered into the doctor. When it was Tom’s turn he went in to find an elderly, harassed-looking little man in a white coat with wire spectacles perched on the end of his nose, sitting at a desk with a mountain of paperwork teetering at either side of him.

  ‘Name?’ he barked, then paused with his pen mid-air and frowned as he saw Tom limping towards him. ‘No disrespect intended, my man, but aren’t you a little long in the tooth to be here with the youngsters? And I can’t help but notice you have quite a pronounced limp.’

  ‘I’m i
ntending to enrol as a stretcher-bearer or a groom to care for the horses,’ Tom answered calmly.

  ‘I see, and apart from your limp are you healthy or are there any other medical conditions I should know about?’

  ‘None. I’m fit as a flea except for my leg.’

  The doctor wrote for a while then, coming around the desk, he looked into Tom’s eyes, throat and ears and listened to his chest.

  ‘You’ll do,’ he said. Then issuing Tom with a pass he waved him away, saying, ‘You will receive information as to where you will be stationed to receive your training within the week. Next!’

  Tom limped away to rejoin Ben who was waiting outside for him smoking a cigarette. It was done, there could be no going back now and he prayed that God would have mercy on their souls.

  Their faces anxious, Lavinia and Sunday were waiting for the men when they got home.

  ‘So … did they accept you?’ Sunday asked, her eyes trained on her husband. When he nodded, she let out a deep sigh. She had been praying that they would turn him away because of his limp but her prayers had gone unanswered.

  Cissie and George were also there, and William who was listening gravely.

  Lavinia spoke up. ‘William and I should inform you that because of the latest developments we have decided not to wait until Christmas to get married. I want all my family present for this event, and that includes you and Ben, Tom. William has been to get a special licence this morning and we shall be married in two days’ time. Let us hope it is before you both have to leave to start your training.’

  ‘But I thought you wanted a big affair?’ Cissie queried.

  Lavinia shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t seem right now in view of what’s happened. How could we enjoy our day, knowing that young men and our loved ones were away fighting for our country? No, William and I will be quite content with a nice quiet affair. I was hoping that you would give me away, Tom.’

  Tom flushed with pleasure. ‘It would be an honour. But now I must go and see to the horses if you’ll all excuse me. From what I heard whispered in town it won’t be only the men that are going to be shipped off to war. They intend to take all the healthy horses too.’ He left then without looking so much as once at his wife as she stood there tearing at the handkerchief in her hands.

  Cissie and George drifted away too then. George had decided that for now he would remain at Treetops to try and keep the place running, although he couldn’t promise that he would never enlist if hostilities didn’t end as quickly as everyone was forecasting. There was no way he wanted to be branded a coward.

  ‘Why don’t you go and persuade Cook to make us all a nice cup of tea, darling?’ Lavinia suggested to William and he obligingly went off to do as requested although he wondered if he would get any sense out of Mrs Cotton. Her loud sobs had been heard echoing all along the hallway for most of the morning, for her grandson had enlisted too and she was already worried sick about how he would fare. Even the children were subdued; they had picked up on the uneasy atmosphere and were drifting about the house like silent little ghosts.

  Once alone with her daughter, Lavinia told her, ‘William and I have also decided that due to the circumstances we shall live here rather than in his townhouse after the wedding. With Ben and Tom going you will need all the help you can get, but I’m sure we shall manage between us.’

  Still stunned at the developments, Sunday merely nodded and deciding that it was time she spoke out, Lavinia said: ‘Don’t you think it’s time you and Tom were friends again? Do you really want him to go away to war with things so strained between you? I don’t want to interfere between husband and wife, sweetheart, but this estrangement has gone on for long enough. How will you live with yourself if anything should happen to him, knowing that you sent him away feeling unloved and unwanted?’

  For a moment Sunday merely chewed on her lip as she blinked back tears. But suddenly they gushed from her eyes and poured down her cheeks. ‘But I do still love him and want him,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Then tell him before it’s too late,’ her mother advised and drawing her into her arms she held her convulsing frame close to her.

  That afternoon was unbearably hot and even when darkness cloaked the landscape there was no escape from the humidity. There was not so much as a hint of breeze, and Sunday’s wide-open bedroom window did nothing to ease the heat. The house was quiet as she lay on her bed thinking on her mother’s words. She was very aware that Tom was only yards away along the landing, but it felt as if they were miles apart, and now at last she allowed herself to admit how much she had missed his nearness. Soon she would miss him even more. He would be gone, possibly for ever, and the thought was unbearable.

  She tossed and turned for some time, eventually clambering from the bed and going to the window to look out across the moon-washed grounds. Beyond the copse she could see the lake glistening like liquid silver and somewhere an owl was hooting. Everything looked so peaceful that it was hard even now to believe that they were at war. And then finally she knew what she must do and she prayed earnestly that she hadn’t left it too late. On bare feet, she left her room and tiptoed along the landing to the room where Tom now slept. Then mustering every ounce of courage she had, she gently tried the door. It was unlocked so she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. She had expected to find Tom in bed but was surprised to see his silhouette in the window. He was quite naked and as he turned to stare at her questioningly, she suddenly started to cry.

  ‘Oh, Tom, I’ve been such a fool,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I’ve punished you for having a relationship with someone you knew before we were even together, and I’ve punished Ben too. Do you think he will ever be able to forgive me? Can you forgive me? I’m so, so sorry …’

  There was a prolonged pause and she was so terrified that her husband had gone from her for ever and her eyes were so blinded by tears that when his arms came about her, she started in shock.

  ‘You silly little goose,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘Of course I forgive you. You must know by now that you are the only girl I’ve ever loved.’

  ‘But – but you’ll be gone soon.’ Her voice held a note of panic.

  ‘Aye, I will, pet. But now I’ll have someone to come home to again, so you can be sure I’ll be careful.’

  And then his lips tenderly found hers and as he lifted her and carried her to the bed she forgot all about the war; all about everything but the man she adored.

  Chapter Forty

  ‘I’m afraid the fact that we’re now at war is going to affect Kitty’s bookings badly,’ Max told Ruby as he sat poring over the newspaper in her drawing room.

  ‘Why is that?’ Ruby asked, selecting another sugar candy from the large box at the side of her.

  ‘Well, for a start, half of the young men are flooding into the recruitment offices, and without them it’s doubtful their young ladies will want to visit the music halls alone.’

  Ruby licked her lips. She couldn’t see what all the fuss was about or why Britain had volunteered to enter the war in the first place. Why should something that was happening hundreds of miles away affect them? But then Ruby had never been very politically minded.

  ‘Will you have to go?’ she asked then.

  Max shook his head. ‘Not immediately. They’ll be looking for younger men to start off with and I’m well into middle age now.’

  ‘There you are then,’ Ruby replied smugly. ‘They’re saying it will all be over by Christmas, aren’t they?’ Privately, she wasn’t too concerned about Kitty’s singing career taking a dive. The girl was earning far more now entertaining Richard’s wealthy friends, although she couldn’t tell Max that, of course, and Kitty had no idea how much money was changing hands either. Ruby was raking it in, thanks to her beautiful daughter, and Kitty was now so besotted with Richard that Ruby was sure she would have jumped off Tower Bridge had he told her to.

  Max stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. He could hav
e told her that he thought everyone’s life would probably change because of the war. If there was an invasion, no one would be safe and it seemed certain that shortages of food and clothes would occur. But he didn’t bother. He had finally realised that Ruby’s whole world centred around Ruby – and sometimes now he wondered how he had ever thought her attractive. There had been a time when he would have walked through fire for her. She had been one of the best-loved music-hall singers in London, but then her looks had begun to fade and she had blamed him for the decline in her career. His thoughts were interrupted then when the door suddenly burst open and Kitty’s puppy came gambolling into the room.

  ‘Ugh! Get that disgusting creature out of here before it wees all over my carpet,’ Ruby cried. She well and truly hated the dog, and she and Kitty had exchanged more than a few harsh words when Ruby had ordered that Tallulah should live outside.

  ‘She most certainly will not,’ Kitty had said indignantly, standing up to her mother for the first time since her arrival. ‘She will sleep in my room with me and that’s an end to it! Otherwise I shall have to look for somewhere else for us to live where we can stay together.’

  Ruby had instantly backed down. She couldn’t afford for Kitty to leave now; the girl was paying for her to carry on drinking, eating expensive chocolates and treating herself to anything she fancied.

  Max laughed as Tallulah rolled onto her back for a nice old belly-rub and seconds later Kitty pounded into the room and came to a skidding halt when she saw her pet.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologised as she bent to scoop the wriggling pup into her arms. Knowing how much Ruby disliked dogs she did try to keep Tallulah away from her, but was not always successful, as now.

  ‘Can’t you take her out into the back garden?’ Ruby enquired peevishly.