by Susan Firman
CHAPTER 12
Tea at the Turners
The government declared the General Strike over on May 12th. During that time, England was almost brought to her knees. Jimmy Thomas, the Secretary of the National Union of Railwaymen said:
“I have never disguised that, in a challenge to the constitution, God help us unless the government won.”
And win, the government had. But what a struggle! At the end of it all, workers returned to work and employers pushed for greater production output to make up for all the hours lost. As a consequence of this drive, Erwin Hans Resmel made the decision to stay a while longer working for Mr Scrover in London. All the necessary arrangements were made and the paper work completed.
Hans wanted to be close to Caroline. He wanted to be able to cuddle her whenever he felt the urge. He wanted to kiss her and fondle her and every time he thought about it, his body reacted as though he could taste her breath and smell her body and feel the soft silky touch of her beautiful black hair. It was torment. Being apart from her even for three weeks made his whole body ache. It was torture to be so young, so in love and be so far apart.
His mind could think of nothing else and his letters to her told her of his longing and thoughts of the day when they could finally be together. He told her how he would love to take her to Austria and let her see the beautiful mountains which wore a green coat during the summer months but became white and glistening during the winter. He promised to show her Berlin, the lively city where his father had taken the family to live just prior to the war. He wanted to show Caroline off to his uncle and aunt, to show them that he, too, had captured the heart of an English girl. And he wanted Renard and Axel to be envious, especially Renard.
In the meantime, Hans made the slow journey from London southwards to the town where Miss Turner lived. He had promised uncle Karl that while he was in London, he would keep in touch with Miss Turner but he could not understand why this should be so. Except that Caroline was a second cousin to Jan. But his uncle did not know that.
Once a month he knocked on the Turner door and once a month he took high tea with her in the afternoon. Sometimes he saw Jan but most times she was not to be seen. He heard her, in the front room, practising her pieces on the piano. And each time, Miss Turner lectured him about the problems of young people setting out in married life when the country’s economy was beginning to flounder again.
“I still maintain you are both far too young. Hardly even adults. That may be what happens in the lower classes but not here. You’ve not set yourself up in life properly or secured a position with excellent prospects. Have you thought about that? As for wanting to take on a wife, why, Mr Resmel, you won’t have enough savings behind you to run a decent household.”
“That won’t stop Caroline and myself making plans. ”
Miss Turner curtly cut him off, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown of disapproval.
“I still do not think it’s a good idea. I do not think your uncle would be pleased and I know for certain that Caroline’s father is very much against any idea of his daughter leaving the protection of his home. A longer courting period would be so much better.”
“Caroline’s already said me she will come to London. She wants to be with me.”
Hans waited patiently for Miss Turner to answer. He watched as a mixture of shock and disgust swept over her face leaving her lips in a tight line. Finally, she managed to speak.
“Mr Grace has insisted Caroline remain under his roof. Did you not hear me? She is far too young and still needs her father’s protection and guiding hand. London is such a large city and Caroline does not have the experience to cope.”
“I can protect her if she comes to London.” Hans snapped his lips together in a strong, thin line. He was angry with all these obstacles. How could these adults ruin his and Caroline’s happiness.
“Do not dare think of leading her astray, young man!” Miss Turner waggled a finger at him. “A young and vulnerable girl like Caroline is easily be taken advantage of. I can’t see this affair . . . and it is only an affair . . . lasting. Cannot you see, it is only puppy love. Teenagers! You’re not mature enough to know what a real love is.”
“I say I love her. She says she loves me. What else is there?”
“True commitment together with a good income if you want your love to last.”
“I know how I feel and I know what I want. Money is not important, only our love for each other. Nothing will stop us loving each other and you’re not going to stop us, either!”
He was beginning to sound just like that obstinate boy who walked into her life two years ago. The idea of living in sin was almost too much for a staid lady like Miss Turner to even contemplate. The very suggestion shook her moral foundation just as if she were experiencing an earthquake full of devastation and she was left speechless and shaken again. Hans could see why she should feel it her duty to try and save Caroline from doing such a terrible thing as it would bring dishonour to the family. She pleaded with him some more.
“In the end such wickedness will be punished. God will punish you even if Mr Grace won’t! Think carefully about it. Think what you would be doing to Caroline’s reputation. I dread to think of the pathway where you will drag the poor girl down, especially if marriage is out of the question. If you leave England, what would happen to her then? Why, she would be ruined, Mr Resmel, ruined.”
“If I leave, Caroline goes with me. She has already said she would.”
“Today is a far different world from forty years ago!”
Hans didn’t see the connection so he did not answer. They stood for another five minutes in relative silence. Miss Turner offered him the last butterfly cake. She crumpled up her napkin and he had the impression that it could have been his neck. Then, she pulled the bell cord to summon the servant.
“Mary will show you out. Now, please excuse me. I’ve got some work to prepare.”
With those words, she turned and left him standing in the middle of the room until Mary entered and escorted him to the front door.
“Come back t’morrow mornin’ . . . a’ ten thirty,” she said quietly so that her voice did not carry back down the hall. “Miss Grace’ll be coming over to see Miss Janine an’ Miss Turner’ll be busy at the school. I’ll keep me eye out f’you and let you in. Come round t’ back and make sure no-one sees you. It’ll only be a few minutes, though. Now, Mister Resmel, you’d better go.”
She began to close the door until only part of her face was present.
“Thanks, Mary,” he whispered.
“Now, go! Bye.” She began to shut the door.
“Good bye. Until tomorrow.”
The night time waiting was unbearable. Hans tossed over and over as his mind thought of nothing else but the horrible discussion with Miss Turner. It was a restless sleep so when he awoke, it was much later than anticipated. When he arrived at the Turner house, it was exactly half past ten to the second. He remembered Mary’s instructions and slinked along the side wall and round to the back of the building where the back entrance was. He knocked, and waited. Slowly, the door opened.
“You! What are you . . . ?”
Jan appeared stunned. His arrival that morning was unexpected. “My aunt was not expecting you. And why have you come round to the back entrance?”
“I . . . I forgot something,” he mumbled. It sounded awfully weak and unconvincing.
Jan’s mood changed to one of suspicion. She shoved her glasses back vigorously hard up against her face. Hans knew in an instant that he was in for an attack.
“If you left something here, what exactly was it?”
“It was . . . er, I think I left . . .”
“I don’t believe you!”
Jan slammed the door in his face before he could say one word more. He stood there fuming, annoyed with himself for being humiliated and also annoyed with Mary for not being there to let him in. Then he began to wonder why Jan had been in the kitchen area anyway and had o
pened the door in the first place. Had Mary been forced to tell her that he was there to meet with Caroline? That would certainly explain the outburst. He was still standing in the porch looking at the closed door when it re-opened and this time it was Mary who peered around its edge.
“What happened?”
“Miss Janine come in ‘ere f’r somethin’ and before I could warn you, you ‘ad already knocked on the door. She’s gone now but you’ll ‘ave to be ever so quick. If I’m caught lettin’ you in ‘ere, I could lose me job. I’ve told Caroline ‘n she’ll be ‘ere in a minute.”
“Hans!” Caroline was delighted to see him. She gave him a peck on his cheek. “I thought you’d already gone back to London.”
“I’ve got another hour before I catch the train,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and pulling her towards himself so that he could give her a better kiss. “Jan knows I’m here. She answered the door.”
“I guessed that. She came back into the room looking as though she’d lost a fortune.”
“I hope I haven’t made things too difficult for you,” he said releasing her. “But I had to see you once more.”
“I wish we didn’t have to meet like this. Daddy was ever so angry when I told him we were going out together.”
“Why when he does not even know me?”
“He says you’re not Chapel,” she replied.
“And your mother?”
“She says nothing. She obeys.” Caroline brushed something off her skirt. “I do wish I could come away with you.” She took his hand. “Don’t be too long before you come again. I don’t know how I’m going to bear it if I can’t ever see you again. I think I would curl up and die.”
“Meet me at Anne’s. She’s on our side. She could bring you up to London for a day. Think of it, my love, mein Schatz.” He squeezed her soft, round breast and it made his pulse race. She gently removed his hand.
“Not yet.”
How his body ached for her. He never knew a body could ache so much for what it most desired. He took her hand in his and kissed her again. He stepped backwards, backing out of the doorway until their fingers could no longer touch. Then he doffed his hat slightly, turned on his heel and hurried away. He did not look back. He did not want to be reminded that he had to leave her behind.
His apartment in London was small, only a couple of tiny rooms and a small kitchen on the first floor of a converted house. He was glad that he was able to walk to work especially when the cold, dank London fog rolled in from the river. Sometimes it was so thick, he had to feel his way along the buildings until he rounded the corner into Chancery Lane where the traffic moved faster. Bus and motorcar lights glowed dim and pale through the impenetrateable gloom but it was a place he could now think of as ‘home.’ Until he had worked his way up the ladder a little more, and had spent at least another year with the firm, the premises he called ‘home,’ the two-roomed apartment down the narrow crowded side street would have to suffice. But, at least it was better than the slums closer to the river bank.
He was desperately trying to put a portion of his weekly wages in a savings account for the day when he would be able to afford taking Caroline on as his wife.
Shortly after New Year, the storm hit. Slashing rain and howling gales made travelling to work one of the most difficult things he had done in his life. The entire city was on a knife-edge as the dark waters of the Thames began to rise. On the night of the seventh, Hans was woken by shouting and banging somewhere down in the street under his small bedroom window. He peered through the opaque glass panes but it was difficult to see anything through the pouring rain and refracted weak light of the street lamp two doors away.
Hans switched on his bedroom light and tried to focus on his clock. It was shortly after one thirty. Everyone should have been asleep.
Someone was banging furiously on his front door as though they wanted to break every board and rush inside.
“Mr Resmel! Mr Resmel, are you awake?” the voice of the outsider shouted above the howling wind.
Hans cracked open the door, leaving the safety chain securely latched. He was still feeling groggy from sleep but aware enough to realise the figure outside was meaning no harm.
“What? What do you want? Do you not know it is one in the morning and I have to be at work in another six hours?”
“Not this mornin’, you won’t, sir,” the man replied. “Many ’ave halready ’ad to leave their ’omes ’cos of the rising wa’ers. The Thames is above the wall, sir ’n’ the Embankment is all under a foot or so of wa’er. So, we’re warnin’ ev’rybody t’ take care!”
It was almost a week before Hans was able to walk to work again but then Mr Scrimager did not mind for the storm had brought many areas of central London to a standstill.
Miss Turner’s advice concerning financial arrangements had made sense and Hans was grateful to her for that. Uncle Karl had always encouraged the boys to save a little by themselves and when they had been able to prove to him they could, he had added that little extra. Until money went crazy, that was and Hans had seen his precious savings lose their value. Yes, he remembered that part now. But it could never happen again so in the meantime, there were the long hours of work, the weekly visits to the bank and making the remainder of his money stretch out until the next pay day. He did not forget to drop spare pennies into the jar for he knew that when they reached the line he had painted on the outside, the accumulated pennies would be enough to buy the next train ticket and that ticket took him to Caroline.
He managed to make several visits to see Caroline during the winter months but it was difficult to find warm, safe places where they could meet in secret.
“I adore you, Caroline Grace,” he murmured in her ear. His tongue rolled around the warm inner surface of her ear. But, there was always the clock ticking, always the appointment to keep at the station and the sad drawn-out farewells as the London train began to pull out of the station. They held hands as long as they could and as Hans leaned out of the open window of the carriage door and as the train gathered its breath to rent them apart, they held on until only their longing for each other could be felt in the stretched out tips of their fingers and at that point they lost sight of each other in a swirl of steam and smoke.
One day he missed that parting appointment. The rain that afternoon came down heavily, forcing them to seek shelter like stray cats in a nearby barn. They squeezed through the doorway and discovered they could climb into the loft over a tangle of farm implements and tools. It was warm and dry and had the smell of sweet hay which had been stored there for the winter. Hans pulled at the hay and moulded them a cosy nest where they could lie down.
Hans smoothed the crinkled dress. Caroline was warm and her thighs were soft and silky. His fingers fumbled to unbutton the top of her dress and his hands snuggled gently against her rounded pliable breasts. She sighed and willingly allowed herself to yield to his attentions and for the next hour, they caressed each other and found delight discovering desirous aspects of each others bodies they had previously no knowledge of. Then suddenly, the rain stopped and ouside was quiet, except for an occasional drip that fell from the roofing iron and landing with a muted squalp on to the concrete pad in front of the barn doors.
In a flash, they realised the time but it was too late. The last train had already left and after Hans had seen Caroline home, he retraced his steps back to the barn where he spent that night curled up like a vagrant, wrapping himself in hay in order to keep himself warm. And throughout that long night, he could hear the dull creaking of the rafters and in between the lull of the pounding raindrops on the iron roof.
He kept in touch with Anne. He managed to write every few weeks so it was no surprise when a letter arrived saying that Anne would be driving up to London. She would be visiting a friend for a day or two. Then, as he read through the first page and began on the second, his heart made a leap when he read that Caro
line had decided to accompany her. His own sweet Caroline coming up to London to visit him. It would make such a change from him always travelling south to find a few precious hours during which he could be with her.
He must get his rooms tidied and made respectable for he did not want her to see the usual muddle he had been living in lately. Work had been so demanding and Mr Scrover had insisted he stay at the office until mid-evening which did not leave him much time to keep the apartment clean and tidy. It looked more like student accommodation than the rooms of a respectable young man with reasonable prospects of advancement.
Hans managed to find a packet of biscuits to have with their tea. He had developed a liking for English tea and always kept some handy should anyone pay him a visit. When he could, he still preferred to drink coffee or make himself a peppermint tea; without milk, of course. Caroline was surprisingly quiet this time. She left most of the talking to Anne who talked constantly of things that were happening in town. Then, there were snippets concerning the school and Miss Turner. Finally, Anne blurted out that she and Gerald were now formally engaged and that Gerald had secured himself a wonderful job with one of the flying schools.
So Gerald has found himself the job of his dreams as well as getting one of the best girls in the world, thought Hans. He hoped that his own life and prospects would turn out just as well.
Too soon, Anne announced that they must be getting back. She did not want to be driving after sundown and after all, it had only meant to be a fleeting visit to show Caroline where Hans lived.
Another few weeks passed and this time Hans had been so busy at Mr Scrover’s that he did not have any time to get away from London. He had worked all Saturday morning as usual but then had to put in extra hours in the afternoon. He was determined to rest on Sunday so after a very late breakfast, he decided not to attend church but to stay in and listen to the wireless. Besides, when he opened the front door to collect the milk, he noticed a few spots of rain on the step and now that it had begun to rain, there did not seem much point in going out. He lay back in his armchair and closed his eyes as the voice coming from the speaker described one of the small picturesque villages one could find in the Wordsworth countryside.
Suddenly, there was tapping on his door and when he did not immediately respond, the tapping became a much louder and more frantic knocking. He walked over and opened the door on to the stairwell. Standing before him was Caroline and a large suitcase. She was wet, exhausted and very upset. She almost fell forward on to him.
“My goodness! Caroline! What are you doing here?”
“My father threw me out!” Tears began to flow down her face.
Hans pulled her and her bag into the room and proceeded to take off her coat and hat. Caroline did not resist and it was like undressing a rag doll.
As soon as Hans had made her more comfortable and she seemed more willing to talk, he began questioning her until she admitted that she had been sick for several weeks and when her mother had noticed that she had stopped needing rags because the monthly curse was not turning up, there had been more and more questions until both her parents had come to the conclusion that she had been a wicked girl and brought disgrace upon the family through her disgusting wayward behaviour.
“I’m so frightened,” she continued, tears already filling her eyes and beginning to form droplets, wetting either side of her cheeks. “ Father called me such dreadful names and told me I was only fit for the workhouse. He said he couldn’t bear to look at me and said I was no better than might be expected of a slut and that I was no daughter of his any more. Oh, Hans, I’m in a delicate condition.”
“Bitte?”
“I’m going to have a baby!” Caroline blurted out.
Caroline’s mother never said anything about babies other than they were found in the cabbage patch and then only after a couple had been married for many months. That is what happened to good girls from good families. And now Caroline was about to disgrace hers but how could she be a good girl when no one had told her how babies were made or where they came from. They just turned up one day, mysteriously, for she had looked under the cabbage leaves and had never, never found a baby there. Maybe she had not looked properly or maybe you had to be grown up, for she could remember that whenever she had a new brother or sister, she and her older siblings had been quickly dispatched like parcels and sent to some aunt for a holiday and when they returned, there was their mother nursing a new baby. From then, all household chores revolved around the newest arrival and mother was so occupied with her little one that she hardly noticed she had the other children. And after a while life continued as it had done before until the next time when another little one arrived just as mysteriously as the one before.
“Father said I have bought shame to the family and have allowed myself to be tempted into a disgraceful life by the Devil.” She covered her face with her hands for a few seconds as if trying to keep the Devil away. “He called me ‘wicked’.” She looked at him with soft, pleading eyes and he loved her, oh how he loved her. “Do you think I’m wicked?” she asked him.
“No, I don’t. You’re beautiful and I love you, every single bit of you, Caroline Grace.”
He kissed with a loving gentleness on her eyes. He wanted to share her feelings and hold her close to him for ever and ever and never let her go. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to dab her tears away. He led her to the setee and and they sat down together.
“You’re not afraid at being a father?” she said when she had composed herself.
“A father?” He jumped up as his voice went up several octaves. He had not been ready for that. Not yet. The shock of her news must have registered over his face for Caroline immediately burst into tears.
“I am really wicked!” She cried. “Even mother said I will grow fat and ugly. I am afraid that you won’t like me any more. Father said that no-one will want me. Ever.”
She pulled up her jumper and smoothed her blouse tight around her pregnant form. It was only a very small enlargement as if she had eaten a huge meal. Hans did not know what to say. This was right out of his depth of understanding but he did realise that two people were needed to make a baby and if Caroline was one, then he would have to be the other. He looked at Caroline’s stomach again and wondered how much of a baby might be in there.
“What can we do?” he asked. “I don’t know what to do in this case.”
“Father said I should get rid of it. Find someone who will make the baby go away.”
Hans was deeply shocked. He had read about women who were found dead lying in some dark and dismal alley after trying to get rid of their unwanted child. It was too horrible to think about. He had not been brought up to even think of anyone wanting to kill their baby.
“No! That would be murder! I will not allow that to happen! It’s against everything I believe in.”
“What am I to do?”
“You must have the baby. God has allowed it the right to live.”
“Well, who’s going to help me when the baby wants to be born?”
Hans was out of his depth. Like Caroline, he had never had to deal with a baby before. The desire to cuddle her was exceedingly strong. He sat close and took her hands in his.
“I don’t know. What normally happens?”
“I do not know. I think grandmama was there for my mother. Cynthia my friend said that was what happened when she was born.” Caroline brushed back her hair as she swallowed back more tears. “Mummy won’t help me. Father called me one of the ‘unfortunates’ and said I would be treated as mentally defective and that if I had the baby it would be taken away from me and . . .” Caroline was beginning to panic and lose control.
“Nobody’s going to take away your baby. Our baby,” he corrected himself. He put his arm around the frightened girl and coaxed her towards him.
“I don’t want to go into one of those workhouses where your baby is taken away. I want to be with you. I want
us to keep our baby.”
Hans patted the top of her head. Caroline snuggled closer.
“We’ll keep our baby. I promise.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. A faint smile relaxed him a little. She said softly,
“I’ll have to find a nurse. I need help with my confinement. Who could we ask?”
“I don’t know anyone.”
Hans bit his lip and chewed the end of his little finger. He always did when he was deeply worried or upset about something.
“We both know Miss Turner. She’ll tell us what to do.”
“Mein Gott, no. No! She’s the last person to ask! Miss Turner knows nothing about such things and she already thinks I’m leading you into temptation. We don’t want her to know that I already have! She’ll hear of it, sooner or later and the later she finds out, the better.”
“Is having a baby so sinful, Hans?” Caroline asked, hoping for reassurance from him. “Is it a sin to love each other?”
“No. Men and women are supposed to love each other. Adam and Eve taught us that.”
Hans wished he had the comfort of the church and priest to help him solve their problem. If he had been in Salzburg he would know exactly where to go but this was London and it was difficult to find just the right priest to talk to. He could ask Father Stevens but that meant he would have to leave Caroline on her own for a while. He was not prepared to do that. Or ask her to return home. In the meantime, they would have to share the cramped conditions of the apartment until he could hope to find something larger, even if it meant moving closer to the East End where living conditions were not as good but where rents were a lot cheaper. Hopefully, he could ask his uncle to send him some funds and make the situation easier for Caroline, him and the coming baby but that would mean telling his uncle and aunt about Caroline and he did not want to do that. Not yet.
“We will get married, won’t we?” Caroline hoped that by saying this everything would be put right and she would become a respectable person again.
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
“When then, Hans?”
“When I have more savings.”
“Will that be soon?”
“Before the baby is born, I should think.” He hoped that it would, for he had no idea how long it took before a baby was born. “My dear Caroline, do not worry. Everything will be fine.” He kissed her on both her wet cheeks and used his clean handkerchief to dry them.
They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled in each others arms until Caroline had to get up and prepare supper for them. Hans insisted she take his bed and that night he wrapped himself up in a couple of blankets and curled up in the armchair. He heard the gas lighter put his ladder onto the lamp bar and then the soft glow of the street light filtered in through the window. Hans slept fitfully, waking early to the clip-clop of the milk horse and the jangle of milk bottles being placed on the doorstep.
Each week now seemed like an eternity: the birth being so near and yet still so far away. Caroline had so much to do: knitting and sewing, finding a cot for their baby, gathering a huge pile of cloth nappies and keeping their tiny apartment clean and tidy. Money was put in his bank account. Uncle had not even asked why he needed the extra and that made Hans pleased although it still was not enough to pay rent for a larger place but at least they could remain where they were. Besides, Caroline did not want to move any closer to the rougher streets, saying she would not feel safe, especially during the evenings when Hans was asked to do more hoursso she was also relieved to learn they did not have to move. They had enough money to investing a little in stocks and shares which were rising in value and providing a healthy interest rate. Mr Scrover had helped Hans with his decision and there was optimism and hope throughout not only the office but within the streets of London. Fleet Street seemed to be humming with business transactions.
Finally, Caroline suggested that they should visit Miss Turner. The school matron was the only person they both knew and the closest one Caroline could call ‘family.’ Miss Turner was knowledgeable in many things, so why not about babies? With the baby’s time nearing, Caroline hoped that Miss Turner could give them much needed advice.
It was strange being driven by taxi up to the front door of the large house in the college grounds. They had received an encouraging reply from Miss Turner, who said she would be more than happy to meet with them both again. No mention had been made of Caroline’s condition so they were not sure if the family had told her the news.
Hans helped Caroline carefully out of the vehicle. Her bulging pregnancy had made her round like a blown-up balloon and movement had become quite difficult for her.
A young maid answered the bell. Hans had not seen her before. She took their hats and coats from them and hung them up on the coat hooks in the foyer. She opened the front room door and announced their arrival to Miss Turner.
“What a surprise when your letter arrived.” Miss Turner’s eyes focussed on the expanded belly but she said nothing as she indicated for them to sit. Caroline carefully lowered herself into the chair, using her arms for support. Hans paced nervously up and down the room until he was told to stop his prancing around and sit down. Miss Turner sat on an upright chair near the table, her torso straight and erect, just like she always did. She tilted back her head and spoke to her maid.
“Millie, fetch the tea. Oh, yes, you can bring some of those nice biscuits that you made yesterday. The weekend china will do nicely.”
Hans looked around the room. No, still the same. It was as if time had stood still. They made small talk: the weather, London, things that had happened at school and in the town since he had left. Millie brought in the afternoon tea on a tray and set it down on the table beside Miss Turner.
“Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Millie.” Millie dropped a small curtsey and quietly left. Hans noticed that the voice still sounded frosty, for Miss Turner showed very little emotion. “So, you are going to be parents? I do not remember hearing about any wedding. Not from your parents, Caroline. I would have thought they would have informed me. I did not expect an invitation. I know pennies are short in that household. So, your father did give his permission, then?” Caroline did not answer. “Was it a registry wedding, then?” Caroline nodded. Hans did not comment. Miss Turner continued in a lighter tone, “I still do not approve of the marriage but I hope, for your sakes and the baby that it all works out most satisfactorily.”
“We do want this baby,” said Caroline. “Both of us want this baby.”
Miss Turner clicked her teeth together. She spoke slowly and deliberately, addressing the pair of them as she prepared to pour out the tea.
“Caroline and you, Resmel, I think you are both too young. Of course, one would expect the lower classes to begin a family so soon but both of you should have thought about the conditions and situation the country is in. Things will be difficult for some time yet but the economy looks as though we are finally in for some improvement. I just hope you’ve made the correct decision. Time will tell. In one way, I am pleased that you have decided to remain in England, Mister Resmel. You’ve appeared to have settled in.” Miss Turner swilled the tea in the teapot round three times. She always did that when she was ready to pour out. “I have been informed that you have a good and secure job. Put some of your wages away. Invest for the future. That is what everyone has been told to do.” She handed a cup and saucer out for Caroline. “Now, you wrote and asked for my help. I shall endeavour to advise you both but I have the impression your parents are not pleased with the arrival of this baby you are having.” Caroline shook her head and took a biscuit from the plate which Miss Turner had held in her direction. “Mixed marriages always pose problems.”
“It’s father,” exclaimed Caroline. “He did not want . . .”
Miss Turner cut her off.
“So that is why you had to use a registry office? It is always difficult to know which church to use, too: the Baptist or the Catholic one. I
expect you would want it to be in a Catholic Church. Is that not so, Resmel?” She inclined her body more in his direction as she asked her question. Those eyes behind the glasses made him feel hot and unsettled.
“Well, yes, but . . .” he mumbled.
“Then, I am not in the least surprised that your parents were upset, Caroline. I have always thought your father as extreme in his beliefs; a good church man but he has never tolerated the beliefs of others very well and your connection with someone of another faith must have been a huge shock for him.”
“I thought it was because I’m not English!” Hans had been taken back by Miss Turner’s last remark.
“No, not that, although he would have preferred his daughter to have married an Englishman.” She smiled to herself, and then added, “Well, part of you is but whether that would be enough for Mr Grace, one cannot begin to address.” She took another sip of her hot tea. “It is all to do with God and what church you worship in. To Mr Grace, that is a mixed marriage. Wouldn’t that be a fair assessment of the situation, Caroline?” Caroline nodded and Miss Turner drew in a deep breath as she put down her cup and saucer. “That is why he did not want his daughter seeing you, Resmel. He could not bear the thought of any of his grandchildren growing up in the Catholic religion.”
“Caroline and I don’t see it as a problem. We will make our own decision where we worship and how we want our children brought up. At the moment, we love each other and want to be together. Nothing else matters.”
“Yes, I understand. I have heard those very same words many years ago and it is exactly what young ones in love say today and have been saying all the time. But you cannot expect to get your way all the time. There are others to consider.”
Caroline and Hans looked at each other for a while before it was Caroline who asked what they could do regarding the birth when their baby was due. Miss Turner was in the process of describing the ins and outs of the various options open to them, when Jan appeared in the doorway. Hans stood. Miss Turner who was sitting with her back to the door, called out.
“Is that you, Janine? Are you back?”
“Yes, Aunt,” came the reply from across the room. She acknowledged Hans in silence. Then she glimpsed the top of Caroline’s head in her aunt’s chair. “Hello, Caroline.” Caroline attempted to move. Jan noticed that Caroline’s new plumpness was not from good food. She tried to hide her emotions but she was visibly upset by the encounter. She mumbled something inaudible and at the same time adjusted her glasses. “Sorry, can’t stop.”
“Won’t you wait at least a few minutes, Janine and take some tea with?” Her aunt held up the teapot. “They have come all the way down from London to tell us their news.”
Jan stiffened and looked thoughtfully in Hans’ direction. She adjusted her glasses again. Hans knew by now that it signified that she was not pleased. Maybe it was seeing him again after so long or maybe it was seeing her cousin and not having heard the slightest murmur of their new family situation. Jan always acted strangely when a situation confronted her she did not like.
“N, n . . . no, aunt. S, sorry Caroline,” she stammered. It was clear now that her exit was going to be imminent. “I’ve got things to do.”
With those last words, she hastily left the room, shutting the door behind her with considerable force so that the light ornaments on the mantlepiece rattled.
With lack of funds to go private and pay for a doctor to attend, there was no option but to have the baby at home, in their London apartment. Caroline had wished the last days of her confinement could be spent with her mother but her father had forbidden any connection. Both parents acted as if their daughter had committed some vile and treacherous act. Eve’s original sin had become Caroline’s sin and as Adam and Eve were cast out of Paradise, so Caroline and the father of her bastard were expelled by the family. With her time closing in, Caroline was definitely beginning to feel very alone and afraid for her baby and herself. What if something should go wrong? It was not unknown for mothers to lose their babies during the time waiting for help to arrive. London was a large city and the midwife nurse had to cycle across several districts to reach her. The uneasy thoughts raced through her mind gathering momentum until, in an overwhelming bout of anxiety, she reached over to Hans and squeezed his hand very,very hard.
Miss Turner did not seem to have noticed but she did get up in rather a haste and left the room. Caroline made a face at Hans which signified she had no idea why they were suddenly left alone. As she began to relax, her grip became less and Hans was able to remove his aching hand.
“Everything will be fine, Caroline, you’ll see.” He leaned forward and smiled into her face. “Cheer up, my sweet.” He made a kiss with his lips and she returned one likewise. That made her feel a lot better.
Less than ten minutes went by. Miss Turner returned and handed Hans a note on which was a name and address.
“Mrs Martin is a midwife near to where you live. She has a good reputation and is well recommend. When you contact her, say that Miss Janine Turner suggested her. That should help.” Miss Turner held out the notepaper with the name and address. “This is the best we can do.”
“J, Jan?” Hans was almost too taken aback to speak properly. His eyebrows rose as he caught his breath. “Why Jan?”
“She has been staying in London herself and as Caroline’s her cousin . . . ” Miss Turner broke off her sentence as she noticed the look of surprise that had come over Hans’ face. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Janine is training to become a nurse. Janine did some of her midwifery training with that nurse.”
Early in July, Anne wrote to Hans and Caroline and told them that women had just been given the vote . . . that is, if one had reached the great age of one and twenty. Hans had always thought Anne was brave standing up for the things she believed in. She had even got a mention in the newspaper in April when she, along with six other young women had disrupted a meeting of the local councillors by chanting ‘votes for women.’ His father had paid for his wayward daughter to be released from police custody as long as she did not repeat such public behaviour again. And now she would not have to for her supporters had changed things for ever. Knowing Anne, Hans wondered what was next on her agenda.
One lovely summer morning, just as a warm, fine weekend was beginning, Hans made two important phone calls. First, he left a message for Miss Turner saying that Caroline was due to have her baby any day, and then he phoned Anne a few hours later to say that the baby was expected within the next ten or twelve hours. Anne offered to drive up to London but Hans assured her everything was under control and that a Mrs Blossfield, and not the usual Mrs Martin, would be calling in throughout the day.
However, this was Caroline’s first baby and her labour pains dragged on and on. There was little that could be done, but wait.
“The ween ’ll come when ‘ez ready.” Mrs Blossfield had seen many children into the world and so far this labour was no different.
The pains continued intermittently throughout the night. Caroline cried out in agony each time one of the shooting labour pains wrenched her abdomen in two and by five in the morning, Hans could no longer remain in the front room. Just before six, Mrs Blossfield arrived with her delivery bag and quickly shooed Hans out of the tiny bedroom as one would shoo a stray chicken out of the house. In the bedroom, on the other side of the door, the moans and cries continued until Hans could not stand to hear Caroline suffer a single minute longer. He banged frantically on the door.
Mrs Blossfield opened the door just enough to squeeze her head through.
“Yes, I agree, Mr Resmel,” she said. Her face was drawn and serious. “Seems this little mite’s really takin’ ‘is time and giving ‘er a difficult labour. I offered ‘er some medicine but she’d t take it. I think now the best is to get ‘er into the ‘ospital. ‘ave you got enough to pay for that?”
“I’ll raise the money. Anything. Just as Caroline’s taken care of.”
“
I’ll go wiv ‘er. It wouldn’t be right for you to come in the taxi as well, ‘er bein’ in the condition she is. You can get the bus. There’s one that’ll drop you right off in front of the ‘ospital.”
Later that afternoon, a neighbour knocked on the door. He had been willing to receive any calls from the hospital and relay them on to Hans. When Hans opened the front door, he was told he was now the father of a little girl.
The bus did drop him off in front of the hospital.
“Can I see them now, please?” He leaned on the edge of the counter waiting for the receptionist to find the room number. “Caroline Resmel. She was brought in earlier this morning.”
The receptionist looked through the admissions and then shook her head.
“Are you sure she’s here? What was she admitted for?”
“She was having a baby.”
The woman on the counter quickly fingered through the records again. She looked up.
“Who came with her? Her mother?”
“No. Her midwife. Mrs Blossfield. They arrived by taxi.”
“There’s nothing here regarding a Mrs Blossfield. Are you sure you have the name right?”
“Yes. No. What I mean is it’s Caroline . . . Caroline Resmel who’s having the baby.”
The receptionist re-checked the admissions. She kept her finger on one line of the page.
“Yes. There is a Caroline who has been admitted but not a Mrs Caroline Resmel. It says ‘Grace’ on the admission slip. Are you sure they’re the same person?”
“Yes. Yes. That’s her. She must have given her maiden name. She was in such terrible pain. She didn’t know what she was doing.”
He spoke quickly, banging the flat of his hand down on the counter. If only the midwife had stayed there, things might have been easier. Instead, as soon as she had checked Caroline into the hospital, Mrs Blossfield had rushed off to another of her expectant mothers. The receptionist glanced up at him.
“You’re her husband, then? You are the Dutchman?” And when Hans did not affirm, she added, “Oh, not? This must be wrong. Then, from? You’re not from round these parts.”
Hans nodded. He wondered whether she really thought he had come from Holland but before he could make up his mind, the receptionist had turned to the telephone on the wall behind her and had started to vigorously wind the handle round and round. A nurse turned up and motioned him to follow her and together they negotiated countless turns and doorways in a maze of corridors. Their footsteps echoed loudly and although only the tow of them were walking together, Hans thought they sounded very much like marching soldiers. As they walked, he noticed his shadow shedding a dimness across the highly polished wooden floor every time they passed one of the narrow windows and after ten minutes or so the corridor made a final bend and ended directly before two large glass swing doors. They had finally arrived at the birthing wing.
The nurse pointed to a small side room that contained a few hard-seated chairs and a low coffee table.
“You can wait in here, sir, while I check with the ward sister.”
The room was dim. One narrow window provided the only light and on a low table was a folded newspaper. Someone else had obviously already looked it over as the pages had been roughly put together again.
Hans sat awkwardly. Another young man paced the up and down the floor, looking more like a frustrated caged animal than a father-to-be.
“About five minutes, sir.”
The nurse rushed away again. Hans coughed but that did not stop the pacing.
“Your first?” he asked as the stranger turned for the umpteenth time and headed back in Hans’ direction.
The young man did not answer straight away. His head was bent forward as if he was studying the joins in the boards.
“No, second. You?”
“First.”
At that point the conversation ceased. The other man spun round on his heels and began his pacing back towards the doorway. Hans sat in silence. He waited as the minute hand on the clock ticked past the four and then another five minutes past the five. Hans had not thought that giving birth was such a long-winded affair.
“Gosh, seven and twenty past.”
He spoke to no-one but just the sound of his voice calmed him. The hand jumped to the half past.
“Mr Resmel, you may go in now. Please, do not stay too long. Your wife’s very tired.”
Hans crept into the single room where his beloved Caroline lay.
Strange, he thought, for he had been led to believe all the new mothers would be in the large maternity ward together. They had decided to call their baby, Andrew should it be a boy and Andrea if a girl.
His eyes fell on his beautiful, young Caroline, as pale as the white linen on her bed. Her black hair made her face appear paler than ever. Her eyes were closed, and as he bent over her and kissed her gently on her cheek, she opened them and they smiled lovingly up at him.
“Hans,” she murmured, “We have a beautiful daughter.”
“Then, she will be Andrea.” He whispered the word and was pleased with how it sounded. “I’m so proud of you, my love.”
Caroline tried to raise herself but fell back onto the starched pillowcase. She pointed list-fully at a small wicket-basket bassinet not far from her bedside. Hans crept over and peeped inside.
He gently drew back the soft, baby wrapping to see his little daughter. She smelt sweet and like soap. The baby yawned and stretched out one of her spindly small arms like the princess in the fairy stories who woke from her hundred-year old sleep. Truly, she was the most appealing baby Hans had ever seen. He had never thought he could feel like this . . . not for a baby. His own little princess . . . but, then, he had not seen many babies in his life. Never matter. This small, tiny child was all his, and Caroline’s; a little bit of both. How tiny she was, much, much smaller than he had ever imagined. He touched the top of her head. It was soft and warm. She had silky, soft down-like dark hair and when she opened up her little eyes, they were quite dark, like two black shining opals. He was sure she was looking at him. And then her face screwed up into a frown and a little pink tongue rolled slowly in and out between her lips.
“What do you think of her?” Caroline’s voice was hardly audible.
“She’s beautiful!” As he spoke, he noticed that Caroline had dropped back off to sleep. He waited a while, looking at them both, unable to move as the emotion of the moment welled up inside him.
“Are you finished?” The nurse popped into the room and glanced at her sleeping patient.
“She’s sleeping,” Hans replied.
“She’s had a very hard time,” answered the nurse. Hans followed the nurse quietly out of the room and silently shut the door behind himself. “Before you go, the sister on the ward would like a word. Wait back in here and I’ll get her.”
This is worse than having to wait outside Miss Turner’s office door, thought Hans as he tried to shut out the anxiety he was feeling. He tried to remember exactly how his new daughter was. He said her name over and over in his mind to calm himself and the more he said it, the more he liked the sound of it: Andrea . . . Andrea Caroline Resmel.
The sister arrived. She was as starchy as her uniform and she reminded him of his first impression of Miss Turner. Sister wore a long white gown that covered most of her body and below were two, just as white, stocking-covered legs and bleached white boots. He noticed that the few strands of greying hair that had escaped her tightly bound clinical white scarf proved that this woman meant business. She was not a tall woman but as she entered the room, her presence brought with it an air of experience and determination. However, when she spoke, her voice was not of the hard woman he expected but was soft and warm.
“Mr Resmel? I’m Sister Ellsworth.”
She held out her hand. Her grip was firm and sincere. Hans could not think why the ward sister should want to talk with him. After all, babies and their needs were a woman’s domain. Very little to do with him. “You’
ve noticed that your wife is extremely tired. Well, it’s not completely unusual after such a difficult birth but . . . ” Hans felt a shot of adrenalin shoot through his body and make his heart jump. It was that word ‘but’ It had been spoken with such clarity and precision. The tone sounded ominous. “. . . as she is still hemorrhaging and has lost a lot of blood, she is very weak and together with a slight heart condition . . .”
“Heart condition?” Hans had no previous knowledge and Caroline had never said.
“Minor. There is a very slight misbeat. Do you know if she had ever had rheumatic fever?”
“Sorry, no. Is it a bad thing?” He had never heard about this condition and did not like to show his lack of knowledge.
“Not to worry.” The sister put away the small notepad she had been holding into her top pocket. “You are lucky the midwife decided to bring her in or you would not be looking at such a beautiful baby. You realise your wife will have to stay in hospital as she needs complete bed-rest until she’s strong enough to cope. Have you got anyone who could help you when she goes home? Her mother, perhaps?”
“No. There’s no one.” Hans felt a tugging in his heart as though his whole chest was about to explode. Alarm made his voice shaky. “She will be all right, won’t she?” he asked.
Sister did not directly answer his question. She reached out to him and gently touched his arm.
“We will wait until the doctor has been,” she said. “With such cases as your wife’s, we must wait and put our trust in God. You may visit every afternoon at two but visits must be kept very short. Now, I suggest you return home and rest yourself. There’s nothing you can do. She is in good hands. Nurse will see you out.”
“You will keep me informed?” There was concern in his voice.
“Of course. We have the telephone contact number. What a godsend these modern devices are.” She smiled briefly but her eyes betrayed her concern. “Try not to worry. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
When he left the hospital grounds, all he wanted to do was walk. It didn’t matter where. He had to do something. He caught a tram to the Victoria Embankment terminus and wandered along the wide Embankment footpath. He watched the barges and boats going up and down the dark-grey Thames for a while. It had started to drizzle yet he ignored the fact that it was beginning to dampen his clothes. In his haste to see his new daughter, he had completely forgotten to grab his umbrella from the stand in the hall.
After a few hours Hans returned home. The place was silent, cold and empty. He had not realised how lonely a small place could be when there was no one to welcome you home. He had become accustomed to Having Caroline there whenever he arrived each evening from work. Now he realised how much he missed her. Oh, God, was it awfully quiet.
He walked into their small bedroom and gave the wooden cot a push with his hand to make it rock. Caroline had prepared it well and had placed baby clothes neatly on top of the soft, warm blankets. Soon, their tiny baby would lie there and then they would be complete as a family.
He returned to the front room and poured himself a drink. He still did not like English ale much but in such a situation he would have drunk anything. He decided to forego his meal and go straight to bed. Tomorrow would be another day.
Hans visited the hospital every day for almost a week, each day talking to Caroline and telling her how much he loved her. Occasionally she would open her eyes and smile at him. Her beautiful, warm, loving smile. And then she would go back to sleep and he would sit and stare at the bland, blank walls of the room.
Late on Tuesday morning, Mr Scrover called Hans into his office. They had all been working hard to complete some accounts that had been requested by one of the firms they dealt with. Hans could not think of any mistakes he might have made but with the events over the past week he was no longer sure of anything.
“There’s someone on the telephone asking to speak to you, Mr Resmel. Normally, I do not allow employees to make use of our telephone facility but this time I think it sounds rather urgent.”
Hans nodded but said nothing. Someone ringing this number? A coolness crept across his shoulders. At first he wondered whether it was Renard ringing because he had found out about Caroline but he quickly put that idea out of his mind. On the otherhand, it could be Uncle Karl as news coming out from Germany was not good at the moment and uncle wanted someone to complain to. He took the microphone from Mr Scrover as if it were made from delicate glass and brought his ear as close as possible to the fixed ear-piece on the centre of the wooden box.
“Hello. This is Mr Resmel.”
The reply came instantly. It was not a call from Germany. Hans recognised the voice: it was the hospital sister only this time she sounded very serious and stiff and reminded him somewhat of Miss Turner when she had scolded him.
“I think you should come immediately,” said the voice on the end of the line. She sounded serious. “Your wife is very ill. The bleeding has been far heavier than it should be.”
Hans was almost unable to comprehend that his dear Caroline could be in so much danger. He could only mumble faintly.
“I’m coming.” Then, he suddenly remembered where he was. “That is allowed, is it not, Mr Scrover? It is Caroline. May I leave?”
“You may, me lad,” answered his boss as he took the ear-piece from Hans and replaced it on its hanger. “Take the rest of the day and the next, if needed. I’ll get one of the lads to cover your area. ‘n good luck, lad. We’ll all be thinking of you.”
Hans found himself biting hard on his little finger. He had not done that for a long time. It had become a little habit he had acquired during childhood ever since Mutti had taken sick and died.
What followed became an echo of reality, a dreamlike state in which he reacted without consciously being aware of his surroundings. At some time he must have contacted Anne, for when he arrived at the nursing home, there was Anne waiting for him.
“Try not to worry. It’s probably not as bad as everyone thinks.”
When the sister spoke to him he couldn’t remember what the details were only that Caroline was bleeding far heavier than normal and there was nothing they could do about it. All Hans could think of was, that his beloved Caroline was going to die and that he was on the brink of losing her just as they had their whole life ahead of them. Finally, his dry throat managed to make a feeble sound and the half-whispered question was the result of a great effort.
“Can I see her?”
“Only for a very short time. We’ve done all we can for her. It’s now up to nature. We just hope there’s no infection. We cannot do much to stop that. We’ve only got one chance left, a new way of trying to stem the flow of blood. We need your consent.”
She held out a consent form, and after dipping the pen in the bottle of ink, he wrote his name. It was hardly a signature, more of a shaky mark.
Caroline’s eyes were closed when he tip-toed into the room. Her face felt cold when he bent over and kissed her cheek yet her body was moist and hot with sweat. She stirred. Her eyes opened as if from a deep sleep. Her beautiful grey-blue eyes were now dull and listless.
“Hello,” she whispered faintly. “Don’t you think she has grown these past few days?” She paused and drew in a lingering breath. “She’s a strong baby. Do you think our daughter beautiful?”
“Yes,” he answered bending over the bed. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I think she is the most beautiful baby in the world.”
Caroline suddenly winced and he shared her pain. If only he could do something. His body ached for her to be well again. He wanted to take away all her misery so that she could tease him and laugh with him, as she used to. His need for her was greater than ever now. She was the mother of their daughter and who would not love little Andrea more than her own mother? He felt utterly helpless as his wonderful world began to grow ugly.
“Hans. Erwin . . . ”
It sounded just like Mutti. This was the first time Caroline had ever calle
d him that. Despair overtook him and he buried his grieving face in his hands. Surely, there was hope. Had not the sister given him a little hope?
Ach, Du, lieber Gott! He cried out in silent desperation. He stared down into the little bassinet beside the bed. Only the top of the baby’s head was visible under the tightly wrapped cloths. He turned away. He was not ready to leave but he knew his time was up. The nurse held the door open for him and he stumbled out of the room. His legs were weak and shaky and his face an ashen-grey. He braced his hands against the wall and let the quietness of the ward wash over him like the waves on a lonely beach.
