Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  ‘So Ingrid, James tells us your family are still in Germany? You must be worried,’ Solange said kindly as they ate lunch.

  ‘Yes, my father is in business and my mother is dead. My brother, he is seventeen, lives with him near Frankfurt, in a town called Bernkastel Keus on the Mozelle River. It is very beautiful there. Many vineyards, good for Riesling, I don’t know what is the English word for this.’

  ‘I think it’s just Riesling,’ Solange answered. ‘I remember when I first came here, I tried very hard to think of the English words for encore or finesse only to realise that this is the same word from French. Your English is very good, Ingrid, though I don’t suppose English is being taught in school in Germany these days? When I was a girl, all the German holidaymakers to Brittany could speak so many languages we were amazed, but I think Hitler has put a stop to that.’

  Ingrid smiled but carried on as if Solange had not spoken.

  ‘James and I are lucky, I think, to both grow up in beautiful places. I am so excited to explore this area, especially the ocean. I live far from the ocean so always I like just to look at it.’

  Solange and Richard exchanged glances. They had both noticed that Ingrid chose to ignore the fact that her country was occupying most of Europe and at war with the rest of it. Her tone, while friendly, indicated that she had no wish to discuss anything to do with Hitler. James had warned them in advance that Ingrid said she found the subject boring and would rather talk about almost anything else; he personally took her at her word and avoided the subject altogether.

  This self-assured girl was very beautiful and certainly had James enthralled. He was gazing adoringly at her as she spoke and never lost an opportunity to touch her, leading her to the table, passing her bowls of food. Solange hoped she would be gentle with him; he’d never been in love before and without the watchful eye of his savvier sister, she feared he risked being made a fool of.

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, James was loading the picnic basket into his father’s Wolseley. ‘Mrs Canty, there are only two of us, and it’s just a day trip. I think you’ve packed enough food to feed the whole village,’ James was protesting good-naturedly.

  ‘Sure, the weight is mostly the booze herself is after putting in,’ Mrs Canty said, nodding in Solange’s direction. ‘I told her that ye young people had no interest in her fancy French vinegar, but she said it’s roman-teak if you don’t mind!’

  Solange threw her eyes to heaven at Mrs Canty’s good-humoured teasing. They had become very firm friends over the years.

  Ingrid emerged from the house out onto the gravelled driveway. She looked stunning, her hair plaited down her back. Her olive skin radiated health against the white of her sundress. Solange recognised her as a girl who put a lot of effort into looking naturally beautiful.

  ‘James! Oh how wonderful, you are so, so, kind. A picnic is just the perfect thing! Can we go to the beach? I have brought my costume.’ She indicated the white tote bag slung easily over her shoulder.

  Mrs Canty and Solange both noticed James’s look of embarrassment at the mention of swimming costumes and grinned.

  ‘Mrs Canty got it all ready, I didn’t do much,’ James said, anxious that Ingrid should like and appreciate the old housekeeper.

  ‘Then, Frau Canty, as we say in Germany, Herzlichen dank!’ And with that she kissed Mrs Canty soundly on both cheeks. ‘Auf wiedersein, Solange! Auf Wiedersein, Frau Canty!’

  James held the door open for her, and she got into the front seat.

  ‘We won’t be late back, thanks for the picnic and the wine,’ he winked at Solange.

  Richard opened the window of his surgery and called out, ‘Be careful and take it slowly, those roads are very dangerous out towards Barleycove. And don’t drink too much of that wine!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ James called back. ‘I’ll be very careful. Thanks for the loan of the car; I’ll bring it back in one piece.’

  ‘Try to bring the two of yourselves back in one piece while you’re at it,’ Richard called after him drily before closing the window to the laughter of those outside.

  Richard Buckley still wasn’t very happy about the fact that his son didn’t seem to want to go to college or pursue a proper career but – presumably at Solange’s suggestion – he was keeping his opinions to himself. James had spent the past year painting, in between travelling up to Dublin to visit Ingrid. Even his father had admitted the work he was producing was very good. After his son’s miserable time at the university in Cork, Richard clearly found it a relief to have the old, happy James back again.

  JAMES CLOSED HIS EYES and listened to the sounds of the waves crashing and the seagulls arguing as he lay on the beach beside Ingrid. She had changed into her bathing costume, a black and cream one-piece that accentuated her perfect body. Most other women on the beach wore skirts and blouses, so Ingrid was drawing a lot of attention. He would have loved to sit behind her and have her lean back against him, but the beach was full of families and it wouldn’t do to have the doctor’s son behaving improperly in public with a young lady, particularly one dressed so provocatively. In private, he’d held her hand and kissed her, but he was too shy to go further. He knew if Juliet was around, she’d have quizzed him about that side of things, but he was so mad about Ingrid that he was happy to take things slowly. She seemed to really like him, though she was better travelled and more sophisticated than he was.

  She’d had many boyfriends before they’d met – both Otto and Edith had mentioned it – and he was not surprised, given how beautiful she was. In fact, Otto had chuckled how Ingrid was her own woman and had never seen the need to limit herself to one male companion at a time. Mrs Canty might have called that wanton behaviour, but he wanted everyone in Dunderrig to like her so much that he kept some aspects of her life secret. Like the number of her friends, and how a lot of them were boys. And the fact that she, like Otto and Edith, thought Hitler was doing a good job.

  Ingrid didn’t like to talk about the war he’d discovered, not because she was ashamed of her country’s treatment of other nations but because she didn’t feel it needed defending. Mind you, Dev was doing a good job at keeping Ireland out of the war so far, and maybe Ingrid had a point about the British. They hadn’t treated the Irish very humanely during their occupation so perhaps it was time to stop them. What Germany was doing to Poland and France and all the other countries was only what England had done all over the world itself. He knew Solange saw it very differently, but then she would – being French and having been so involved the last time. And his father just ranted about how all war, no matter what it was for, was immoral and wrong.

  The full realisation of Ingrid’s attitude had only come to him a few weeks earlier when one night after a dinner in Dublin where she and his mother had giggled like schoolgirls about a very good-looking German politician, he had asked her how she really felt about the war.

  ‘I don’t feel anything about it really, except that I wish we’d hurry up and win so things can go back to normal. I like Ireland, of course, and I even liked England, but I want to be able to go home whenever I want. I know National Socialism is painted to be a terrible thing over here, and certainly in England, but it’s because people don’t really understand it. Hitler just wants a strong Germany, and just as a good gardener has to cull some plants so that the strong ones survive and bear good fruit, so does he have to cull some undesirables. It’s not personal, I don’t think, but as my father says, who is the villain is decided by the one telling the story. If you are a farmer, the fox is bad. If you are a wildlife enthusiast, the fox is a beautiful creature. So, it depends.’

  ‘But the bombing of all those cities in England, and just marching in and taking over countries just because you are militarily stronger, you can’t agree with that, surely?’ James didn’t want to push her away but his conscience needed to understand. It would be nice just to accept it and see things as she did, but he just couldn’t. ‘I mean, my sister is
in Belfast and a German bomber could drop his explosives on her and kill her any day – how can that be right?’

  ‘Yes James, and also my brother could be going over the bridge in Bernkastel-Kues one day and a British bomb land on him. That’s not right either, but in order for the world to progress and improve, then changes have to be made and sometimes, at times of great change, bad things happen. It’s a fact of life.’

  She made it all sound so logical and simple.

  ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘England is not the poor innocent little country you seem to think it is. Look at how they treated your country not so very long ago. I’m surprised the Irish have not joined us to rid the world of British Imperialism once and for all. Anyway, what will happen will happen, and there is nothing, my darling James, we can do about it, so let’s forget the topic.’

  Since then, he had realised that if he wanted Ingrid in his life then he would have to accept that she held pro-Nazi views – even if he wasn’t at all convinced she was right. Stop worrying about it all, he admonished himself. Here you are on the beach with a beautiful girl who seems to like you and all you can do is think about politics. He dragged himself back to the present. Fearing she could read his thoughts, he decided to lighten the mood.

  ‘What’s Germany like? Is it like here?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, it’s bigger than Ireland, much bigger, so there are lots of different regions. Where I live, there are lots of vineyards and castles, and in other parts, lots of forests, and then there are the mountains – so yes, lots of different landscapes. But the people are very similar. Germans are a bit more direct that you Irish, sometimes you are all so full of wit and chat that it is difficult to know what is true and what is not. That doesn’t happen in Germany, but the people are welcoming and friendly, just like here. I think you would like it there; there are lots of beautiful landscapes to paint and draw.’

  James smiled and then sighed at the delicious prospect of a life spent painting.

  Ingrid said calmly, ‘The only one stopping you following your dreams is yourself. You know that, do you not?’

  She knew of his dilemma but failed to see why it was such a problem.

  ‘I know you say it’s not that simple, but I think it is. Just tell your father that you have met your mother and you want to build a relationship with her, so you are going to spend some time with her and Otto in Dublin and accept their offer to put you through art college. It’s not like you are asking him to spend time with his ex-wife.’

  ‘But that’s half the problem, Ingrid,’ James explained, ‘she isn’t his ex-wife. Such a term doesn’t exist in this country. She is his wife. I know they haven’t seen each other in years and years, but it doesn’t make them unmarried. How is he – and Solange for that matter – going to react to me bringing her back into their lives?’

  He drew in the sand with a short stick he’d found while they talked.

  ‘Well, I do not see what on earth this has to do with Solange. She is your nanny, yes? Then she stayed on to help your father with his practice once you and Juliet had grown up. She is staff, why does what she thinks about it matter in the least?’

  The way Ingrid was so black and white about issues sometimes took James by surprise. It must be that German directness she spoke of.

  ‘Well, yes, technically that’s true, but Solange means so much more to us than that. She has been like a mother to me and Juliet all our lives. It does matter what she thinks, very much.’ James spoke quietly. If he and Ingrid were to have a future together then it was vital she understood how much Dunderrig and everyone in it meant to him.

  ‘But Edith is your mother and she dotes on you. When you go back to Cork after a visit, she is so sad, and she talks about you all the time. It’s “James said this” or “James likes that”. Even before she was reunited with you, when I met her first, in Germany, she talked about you. It is not as if you will have no family if your father and Solange disapprove of your plan. You will have Edith and Uncle Otto. He is very well-connected, you know. He doesn’t let on, but everyone knows him and he is, as you have probably gathered, extremely wealthy. He adores Edith and could never refuse her anything. When they used to come to visit us when I was a girl, he would bring me the most amazing gifts, and Edith was always dressed in the best couture. Why, even when he was in Berlin over Christmas, he brought her the most exquisite diamond necklace. If you lived with them, you would want for nothing.’

  ‘Otto went back to Berlin at Christmas? He told me he’s not been back since before the war. I thought he was restricted from travel.’ James was confused. Otto was a most affable and easygoing man, and he didn’t understand why he would lie like that.

  ‘Oh, maybe not Berlin, on business, anyway, I’m not sure where.’ Ingrid was dismissive.

  ‘But where could he have gone if not to Germany? He can’t go to England and everywhere else is occupied, so it would be difficult to obtain the necessary papers even if you were a German citizen. What business is he in, anyway? I’ve asked him a few times, but he always says import and export and then gets distracted.’

  ‘Uncle Otto?’ Ingrid acted perplexed, then vague. ‘I think he’s something to do with the trade office or something like that. He had large premises in Frankfurt and another in Heidelberg, I do know that. Oh James, you really must see Heidelberg, it is like a fairytale land. Especially at Christmas, there are skating rinks and gluhwein stalls and a huge schloss… What is the English word…castle, yes, a castle at the end of the main street. It really is magical.’

  Noting she had changed the subject once again, but unwilling to dampen the mood, James decided to leave it.

  ‘It sounds beautiful. Maybe we’ll go there together when this is all over.’ He swept a strand of her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

  She smiled and said, ‘Maybe. But now I want to swim! Are you coming?’ She jumped up and brushed the sand from her long tanned legs. Running down the beach, she called back to him, ‘Come on, James, I thought you Irish boys were supposed to be fit.’

  Laughing, she allowed him to catch her and hand in hand they ran into the crashing surf.

  Chapter 26

  The Battle of Britain raged with the RAF suffering horrific losses. Despite that, Churchill assured his people that they were winning. Juliet listened frantically to the news and devoured newspapers because all she could think about was Ewan and the danger he was facing. Last night, she had listened to Churchill’s speech crackling over the BBC, explaining just how valiantly the RAF was fighting. She and Kitty had tears in their eyes as they heard his gravelly voice.

  The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day, but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate, careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power. On no part of the Royal Air Force does the weight of the war fall more heavily than on the daylight bombers, who will play an invaluable part in the case of invasion and whose unflinching zeal has been necessary in the meanwhile on numerous occasions to restrain.

  She felt terror and pride in equal measure. Maureen and the others insisted she go out after the speech. They all had friends, boyfriends and brothers in the services too, and they knew what it was like. She didn’t feel like going, but Maureen had given her a stern pep talk when she called to Kitty’s do
or to find her in her old skirt and no makeup.

  ‘He’s fighting for you, for all of us to have good, normal lives. What’s it all for if Hitler is going to make us hide under the bed in fear? Or sit at home crying over our boys. If your Brylcreem boy can be as brave as that, surely he’d want you to go on living. Now then, Paddy, pop your frock and lippy on and let’s have some fun!’

  Despite her worry, she actually enjoyed the night. They were approached by a group of soldiers, who did their best to chat them up. One of them, a boy with red hair who was very drunk, had been making lewd gestures at women as they walked past on the way to the ladies. Deciding Juliet was tonight’s lucky girl, he approached their table. Pushing in to sit beside her, though there really wasn’t room, he began by telling her that he was, in fact, French, and so lonely that she would be doing both her country and his great service by allowing him to take her home. Juliet was used to being the object of young squaddies’ attention and usually dismissed them gently but firmly, but this one seemed so cocksure of himself she thought she might take him down a peg or two. Winking at her friends, she spoke enthusiastically to him.

  ‘Oh, you’re French, are you? I love the French. Especially their language, it’s so romantic,’ she said, fluttering her eyelashes theatrically.

  ‘Oh yes, I mean wee, wee, mon French ay trez bon,’ he said with a flourish, in horribly accented French.

  ‘Oh, your accent is gorgeous. Say something else, I could listen to it all night,’ she breathed seductively. The girls were, by now, struggling to remain serious.

  ‘Voullay voo aller to, eh eh, to mon mayson? Voo ay…’ Gestures took over as he indicated what exact moves he planned if she agreed to accompany him. He was revelling in the jeers and applause from his comrades at the bar. Cheekily, he put his hand on her leg.

  The girls at the table giggled, knowing that Juliet was only playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse, but he was beginning to think his luck was in.