by Mary Wesley
‘It doesn’t matter whether you do or not. I’m not in love with you. To be honest, I don’t think I’m the sort of girl who can love. I married you for your money and to give you an heir. That’s the deal, whatever way you wrap it up. I’ll keep my word and I hope you won’t get drunk and violent too often. I promise I’ll keep it. I only hope he’s not a sod like you.’
‘We’ll make a fine pair of parents,’ Hector shouted up the stairs. Then—‘What the hell are you laughing at?’
‘I left your—Oh Hector, I left your precious car at Paddington. I took it to go and see Polly then I took Uncle Richard to Paddington in it. Oh!’ she wailed. ‘Your precious car. I came home by Underground, forgot I’d had the car. Oh!’ She gave a whoop of laughter. ‘It’s by Platform One.’
‘And the keys are in the ignition, I suppose?’
‘Yes, they are. Why are you laughing?’
‘Because you are so funny. I’ll ring the police about it, then I’m coming to bed.’
‘Not with me, you’re not. I’m not keeping that promise tonight.’
‘I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m too bloody tired. I’ve been working like a dog all day with the most diabolical hangover.’
‘And bad conscience.’
‘That, too.’
‘It was months later,’ Calypso whispered to Hamish.
‘What was? Don’t tire yourself.’
‘Months later I kept my promise. I never let him promise, it would have been too humiliating.’
‘What would have been humiliating?’ Hamish wondered whether her mind was affected by her stroke.
‘Never mind,’ she said and reached for his hand. ‘Look, I can move my arm. I shall get well.’
Thirteen
OLIVER TELEPHONED. ‘CAN YOU have dinner with me?’
‘When?’ Calypso lay on the sofa.
‘Tonight. Please. I’m going away.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll come round at once.’
She met him at the door. ‘Darling Olly.’ She hugged him.
‘I’m going to Norway.’
‘Oh, my God! Hector says it’s ill-fated. Why you?’
‘They want people who know mountains. They are even flying chaps from India who’ve done mountain warfare. I’m being given a commission.’
‘What about your principles?’
‘No commission no action, so I take it. I’ve been so bored doing nothing, it’s demoralizing.’
‘Where shall we go? Hector’s in the House, won’t be back till late.’
‘Berkeley?’
‘Fine. I’ll dress.’
‘No, don’t waste time.’
‘Talk to me while I tidy, then.’
Oliver followed her to her bedroom. ‘You do live in style.’
‘Nice, isn’t it? I’m changing the house quite a lot. Hector doesn’t mind what I do here as long as I don’t interfere in Scotland.’
‘What’s that like? Antlers and kilts?’
‘It’s Hector’s place,’ she said drily.
He watched her brush her hair, touch up her face, put on a coat, move about the room. He kept his eyes away from the bed. Hector’s bed, her rich husband.
‘Polly’s got a bigger one.’ She stared at him from the mirror, a finger smoothing her eyebrows.
‘Bigger what?’ She’d noticed.
‘Bigger bed. She’s moved into her mum’s room to have the telephone near her. It’s not so high up if she gets bombed.’
‘I suppose there will be raids sometime. Hurry up, Calypso, I’m starving.’
‘I must just telephone.’
Oliver waited impatiently. Calypso appeared to be breaking an engagement. She rang off.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just someone I was having dinner with tonight. I can go out with him any time.’
‘Like that sailor?’
‘He was only in London for a night.’
‘Like me.’
‘I didn’t know him like you. Did you take Sophy out faute de mieux?’
‘Polly left her alone.’
‘I bet she enjoyed it. Sophy is going to be a beauty. She adores you.’
‘She loves us all because we are so much older.’
‘We represent glamour.’
They walked along the street. Oliver held Calypso’s arm. She wore an expensive fur coat, smelled of scent, clipped along in high heels. He remembered holding her on the cliff, the feel of her breasts. He stopped a taxi. They got in.
‘You smell different.’
‘So will you when you get your new uniform.’
They sat side by side in the restaurant. Calypso knew people at other tables. She waved.
‘Tell me about your rich husband.’
‘He’s busy. He’s clever. He’s ambitious. He’s doing well. He will do better. He visits his constituency. He lets me do what I want, within reason.’
‘Are you happy?’
‘I’ve got what I want.’
‘That’s not the same thing.’
‘When do you go to Norway?’
‘I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you if I knew. I leave London tomorrow, tonight, really, at dawn.’
‘I see.’
‘What about my comforts? You swore you’d sleep with me.’
‘Did I?’
‘You know you did. I’m off to war.’
‘I keep my promises. Where shall we go?’
‘I’m not staying anywhere. I telephoned from the station. Not your house.’
‘Where, then?’
‘Mine? My parents are away. I have the key. Let’s go there.’
‘All right.’ She was docile. They drove to his home. The house was dark, the flower-boxes on the balcony empty. Oliver put his key in the lock and pushed. A bit of newspaper rustled in the hall. No light came on when he pressed the switch.
‘It’s empty. They’ve moved the furniture. You knew?’ He held her arm.
‘Aunt Sarah told me. They’ve taken a house in Bath near your father’s war job, moved everything there.’
‘You bloody bitch. I shall fuck you on the floor.’
‘Not in this coat you won’t. Hector said if I bought mink I must make it last.’
‘Damn and blast Hector.’
‘Oh, well.’
‘Come in. They may have left something, a sofa, a bed, a carpet.’ He pulled her into the house, slamming the door. Holding hands they climbed the stairs, their feet loud on uncarpeted boards. They stood in the drawing room, empty, the long windows black, the trellised balcony just visible.
‘How damnable.’
‘You explore. I’m afraid of breaking a leg. I won’t run away.’ She listened to him walking about the house, his feet stamping in their Army boots. He came back.
‘You can lie on my uniform.’
‘That scratchy thing!’
‘I’m randy as hell.’
‘I’m not. I’m cold.’
‘You promised.’
‘I know I did. Let’s go to Polly’s, see if she’s in.’ She took his hand. ‘Come on, Olly, have some sense.’ He pressed himself against her, pushing her against the wall.
‘Not a tuppenny upright!’
‘All right, we’ll go to Polly’s. I bet she’s out or having a party. This is bloody hell.’ He slammed the door. They were out in the street walking.
‘I’ve got a large sofa.’
‘I don’t want a sofa or your rich husband’s bed.’
‘You are hoity-toity.’
‘No I’m not. I suggested the floor.’
‘And I refused.’ They walked along, he holding her arm. ‘It’s not that I’m unwilling, Olly, it’s just, well, I do like a bit of comfort when I make love.’
‘You don’t know what love is.’
‘I don’t think I do.’
‘This is the street, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ They stood and rang the bell, looking up at the blacked-out win
dows.
‘She’s very particular about her blackout is Polly.’ He could see her neck as she looked up at the house white against the black mink collar. ‘But she doesn’t answer the bell. Polly’s out.’
‘What’s the time?’
‘One-thirty. What about an hotel?’
‘I haven’t got enough money.’
‘I’ve got money.’
‘I don’t want your rich husband’s money.’
‘My sofa?’
‘Your husband will be back.’
‘Probably, but he’ll be asleep.’
Oliver put his arms round her, holding her close to him. ‘You used to smell of camomile and salt.’
‘Oh Olly, dear Olly, that was so long ago.’
‘Last August.’ He kissed her hard. ‘I’ll walk you home. I’m not randy any more.’
When they reached her street she felt very tired. Her feet were hurting. ‘Better luck next time.’
‘I may not come back.’
‘We’ll arrange it better. Take care of yourself. Of course you’ll come back.’
Oliver gave her a push and watched her until she reached her door and let a shaft of light escape as she opened it. Then it closed and he began a long walk to the station, to the train, to the camp, to the war which for him was beginning at last.
Calypso got into bed beside Hector, who sleepily put an arm round her.
‘Where have you been?’
‘Having dinner with Oliver. He’s off to Norway.’
‘Poor devil. It’s a crazy mission.’
‘He’s got a commission.’
‘So have I.’
‘What?’ She sat up.
‘Lie down, you are letting the cold in. Snuggle up.’ He smelt of cigars.
‘I hate cigars. What did you say?’
‘Got a commission, it came through today. In the Guards. Can’t leave it all to the young boys. It’s a nice surprise for you.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Aren’t you pleased?’
‘No, I’m not. You’ll go away.’
‘You won’t mind.’
‘Yes, I shall.’
‘You’ll get used to it, sweetie. I’m forty-four. I don’t suppose they’ll let me do anything dangerous. If I’m sent overseas I’ll send you up to Scotland where you’ll be safe.’
‘Oh no you won’t. I’m staying here, whatever happens. I’m quite fond of you,’ she said, snuggling up. ‘How nice and warm this is.’ She thought of Oliver and sighed. Hector slept, turning away from her.
Oliver sat, crushed among others, sleepless in the train taking him back to camp. Soldiers sang in the next compartment. Wryly Oliver thought how bad their songs were compared to the last war’s.
Fourteen
WHEN THE ERSTWEILERS REAPPEARED from internment the Rectory was full of evacuees. Helena, using Richard’s leg as a pretext, had escaped her quota of unwilling London children but was glad to welcome Monika and Max as paying guests. In camp the Erstweilers had not been idle. In a way they had rather enjoyed it. While Max found friends with similar interests, Monika discovered a cousin in international banking who was prepared to chance his arm and help them financially. They were no longer humiliatingly penniless. Max, using introductions from musical friends, started a cat’s cradle of correspondence which was to lead first to employment in orchestras up and down the country and soon to playing solo in London.
Helena, tone deaf and uninterested in the arts, had not realized the Erstweilers’ former position in Vienna, Prague and other European cities and found herself playing second fiddle to Richard, who emerged in the guise of a lover of music, a taste she had never suspected he had. His knowledge of the subject was, she discovered to her annoyance, considerable.
Max’s English was poor. Richard made himself busy translating his mittel-European letters into plain English, bought a typewriter and became Max’s secretary and adviser.
With Monika’s help Helena adjusted to the changes brought about by the war. Her first hurdle was the disappearance of domestic staff. It had never occurred to her to manage the house on the cliff with less than three servants. Daisy, the parlour maid, was the first to defect, giving in her notice and going home to her parents’ farm to become a land-girl. Janey, who had housemaided for years without complaint, left to join the A.T.S. When Max and Monika arrived Helena was managing alone with Cook, a placid woman fond of Helena, agreeable to Richard, devoted to Sophy and exhilarated by the annual visits of the nephews and nieces. Whereas Helena was relieved to be spared the threat of evacuee children by the advent of the Erstweilers, she was not prepared for their effect on Cook.
Monika, eager to make herself useful, helped in the house, proving better and quicker at sweeping, dusting and polishing than Helena, clever at ironing, quick to make labour-saving, comfort-enhancing suggestions which Helena would never have thought of. It was when she moved into the realm of food that clouds gathered.
It began on the two women’s walks together. Monika picked herbs and berries and brought them home. She acquired a clove of garlic and showed Helena how to grow it.
‘If you grow herbs and garlic, darlink, we will transform the rations.’
‘Richard won’t eat garlic, he hates it.’
‘Do not tell him, he will not know. I will tell Cook.’
‘Do you think that wise?’
‘Helena, she must learn. I find her throwing away sour milk.’
‘Well, if it was sour-’
‘She must make cheese! She must use it for cooking.’
‘I don’t want to upset her.’
Monika smiled. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘don’t worry, I am going to the woods. Also yoghourt!’ she called over her shoulder as she set off inland with Richard’s dachshund, sadly in need of exercise. Helena waved and called after her, ‘Yoghourt.’
‘Helena is learning German.’ Richard looked up from the letter he was translating.
‘It is food.’ Max’s brow was furrowed. ‘I need a music stand, a piano and a stool. I cannot work without.’
‘I’ll ring the General. He had a piano at one time, his mother’s.’
The General refused to part with the piano. ‘I’m not lending it to the enemy.’
‘Look here, old boy, he’s not the enemy. He’s a refugee working for us, I ask you.’
‘Call that work? Why doesn’t he join the Home Guard, not that they’d have him. Chap’s a spy, making a fool of you. Get him to do something useful. You heard what’s happened to the hounds.’
‘You put them down.’
‘So I did, but the farmers have collected others, formed their own pack, not going to be done out of their fun. It’s mutiny.’ The General laughed. ‘Rather enterprising. Showed the proper spirit, even had the nerve to ask me for a subscription.’
‘Did you give them one?’
‘Said I’d think about it. I’m rather in favour of a mounted Home Guard.’
‘What for?’
‘Get an allowance of corn. Be able to keep my horses. Damn good idea, if you ask me.’
‘What about that piano? It’s in a good cause.’
‘What good cause?’
‘Entertaining the troops, boost morale. Let me bring Erstweiler over to look at it. You never use it, it just sits in your house. There’s a war on, I ask you.’
‘Oh, very well,’ the General grumbled.
Max got the piano and had it tuned. The Rector found a music stand. Monika returned from the woods full of hope for the autumn crop of fungi to enrich their diet, but long before the autumn Cook left. Monika was making yoghourt. Cook went to Birmingham to work in a factory, a move she had been planning for months. Helena wrung her hands while Monika moved smoothly into the kitchen to produce Continental meals both delicious and nutritious and still found time to accompany Max on the piano when needed.
‘She’s taken over everything,’ Helena wailed down the telephone to Sarah in Bath. ‘I’m left with nothing but the shoppin
g and driving the car.’
‘You should be thankful,’ said Sarah. ‘You hate cleaning and can’t cook. Consider yourself lucky. I wish I had some Erstweilers.’
‘But the drawing room’s become a music studio. I can’t go in without appearing to interrupt.’
‘You will find some solace. Our three minutes are up.’ Sarah, with no news of Oliver in Norway, had little sympathy for Helena. Where was Oliver? Dead or alive? News gleaned from the wireless was of retreat. Desperately anxious, she telephoned Calypso. Could Hector get news?
‘No, Aunt Sarah, he knows no more than you. Try Polly.’
‘What good would she be?’
‘She works in an office which is in the know—’
‘But she’s not allowed to tell.’
‘There is that. If I hear a whisper from any quarter I’ll give you a ring.’
‘If there’s any news he’ll get it to you, he loves you.’
‘I did get a letter,’ Calypso admitted.
‘What did it say? Quick, tell me.’ The line from Bath was faint but Sarah’s anxiety strongly conveyed.
‘Nothing much. It was censored. He just said, “This is worse than the Terror Run”.’
‘That game you all played? What does it mean, for God’s sake?’
‘I don’t know. Don’t worry, he’ll be back safe.’ Calypso knew well enough what the message meant. Oliver was afraid. She telephoned Polly. ‘Polly, Aunt Sarah’s having kittens about Oliver. Have you any tit-bit of news in your office?’
‘Nothing good.’ Polly was cagey.
‘The radio says they are retreating and Hector is pretty glum about it.’
‘I can’t tell you anything, it’s no use asking me. I don’t know and if I did I couldn’t tell you.’
‘Damn and blast!’
‘Come round and have supper. Are you doing anything?’
‘Twiddling my thumbs.’
‘Come to supper. I’ve got a friend here who wants to meet you.’
‘Would I like him?’ Calypso was doubtful.
‘Yes. Light entertainment. Just the job.’
‘All right,’ said Calypso, ‘but I can’t stay late, Hector said he’d be back tonight.’
‘There you are, she’s coming.’ Polly turned to the man beside her. ‘I promised you should meet her, didn’t I?’
‘You did.’ He grinned.
