by SL Beaumont
“Don’t worry about James,” Ellie said patting Stephanie’s arm. “If he’s anything like his great uncle there will be a fine line between anger and passion.”
Stephanie blushed and Ellie looked at her knowingly. “I have Sophie’s diaries here somewhere. They may help you to better understand the difficulties of those times. But please be careful, dear – I’m afraid the Knox’s are not a family that I can trust.”
Chapter 9
Stephanie saw James again sooner than she expected. He was leaving the cafe, just as she was arriving to start her shift, the next day. After an evening to reflect, she felt guilty that she had responded so badly to him the previous day. Her grandmother was right. Those revelations would have been hard to hear. She imagined that she would have reacted in a similar way if it had been the other way around.
“James?” she called, a feeling of nervous anticipation running through her.
“What?” he said stopping and glaring at her, his voice hard and his eyes distant. He didn’t so much say the word as spit it at her. Oh great, she thought with a sinking feeling, he’s still angry.
“I’ve come across some of Sophie’s old journals – they are fascinating. Edward is mentioned quite a lot. Would you like to look at them?” she said. Just say you are sorry, an internal voice was telling her, but she just couldn’t make the words come out.
He looked at her coldly and said, “No – I’m not interested in anything your family has.”
Stephanie flinched and felt the sting of rejection hit her. Ouch, she thought.
“Good to see you’ve cooled off then,” she said sarcastically.
“What? I think I’m entitled to be pissed off after what your grandmother, and you, insinuated yesterday,” he said angrily.
Yeah that’s right, take the moral high ground, Stephanie thought annoyed. She slowly shook her head. “I see the Knox’s have taught their sons to hold grudges,” she retorted.
“Us hold grudges?” James said incredulous. “Your grandmother’s been harbouring one for 70 years.”
“Whatever James – let me know when you decide to stop being such an arrogant git,” Stephanie said turning and walking quickly into the café, tears stinging her eyes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cry.
Over the next few days, after dinner with her grandmother, Stephanie curled up on the sofa with Sophie’s journals. She was enjoying being pulled back into another time. She had started reading at the beginning of 1939 and was now through to August. Sophie had been to a dinner party with Edward and her brother David, while they were home on leave.
David and I had dinner at Knox Manor last night. We were not the only guests. Edward’s father and brother Charles were entertaining foreign visitors and looked none too pleased when we arrived. Edward was called aside and we heard the word Wakefield said in not a very nice manner!
However, Edward’s mother, always charming, introduced us to Baron von Katsburg and Herr Ritter, business acquaintances from Munich and Herr Hoffman, the curator of the National Gallery in Berlin.
Herr Hoffman was a curious fellow. He was very quiet at dinner and talked only with Charles. It was only after dinner when Mr Knox and Charles retired to the study with their other guests, did Herr Hoffman join us in the drawing room.
He told a most unusual story about the Berlin Fire Brigade setting fire to countless items of irreplaceable art on the orders of Hitler himself! I do believe he had tears in his eyes as he described the beautiful paintings that he had witnessed being burned. He told us in a whisper, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the study, that he thought Hitler to be a madman. He didn’t find anyone in our little group to contradict that opinion! He swore that he would spend the rest of his life trying to safeguard these irreplaceable paintings that were being needlessly destroyed!
Stephanie worked several afternoon shifts at the café during the week, while Andy rehearsed with the band. The conversation on Friday, as she made numerous coffees, teas and hot chocolates, was dominated by the fact that The Fury was playing at the pub again that night.
When her shift finished she collapsed on a sofa in the corner, with a flat white and her book. Michael arrived a short time later to discuss some updates to the band’s website, with Andy.
“Are you coming tonight, Steph?” he asked. Stephanie looked up from her book, The Origins of World War II. Having spent the week reading her diaries, Stephanie felt like she was really getting to know Sophie. And that in turn, had rekindled her interest in mid-twentieth century European history. She had briefly studied it at school, but it somehow seemed more relevant, less abstract, living in England with family connections to anchor her to the past.
“No. I don’t think I’d be very welcome,” she said as she noticed James, who had arrived with Andy, holding court on the opposite side of the room. He caught her eye, scowled and looked away. Ouch, you arrogant, conceited…Stephanie quickly looked back at Michael. “And besides, I have an action packed evening with a bunch of dull old lawyers,” she said with a wry laugh.
“Lucky you.” Michael noticed the look that passed between Stephanie and James. “Hey, what’s happened between you and Knox?” he asked. “I thought you two were getting cosy, but he’s been shooting you daggers all week.”
“Long story and one I won’t bore you with. Suffice to say the feud between our families is alive and well,” she said. She went back to her book, feeling miserable, while Michael sat up at the counter with his iPad open and chatted to Andy.
She heard laughter across the room and looked over and saw James, Jack and Dave with their heads together.
She sighed and gathering her things, waved to Andy as she walked to the door.
As she passed James’ table, he glanced up. “What are you looking at?” he asked cruelly.
Stephanie stopped and very obviously looked him up and down. “I’m not sure, but there are a number of labels that could easily fit,” she retorted grimacing.
Behind him Jack hooted with laughter and hi-fived Dave.
James’ lip curled, “You little…”
With a toss of her hair she strode from the building before he could finish.
* * *
Stephanie arrived home to find her father’s meeting was underway in the conference facility in the old guesthouse.
She flopped on the sofa in her bedroom and picked up Sophie’s diary from 1940.
Dinner at the Knox’s again. It’s getting more and more uncomfortable. Only Edward’s mother speaks to me – even the staff are rude! I know it’s difficult for Edward – they are his family after all, but really! I am not my father. Their behaviour is the height of bad manners!
Several foreign visitors tonight. One gentleman spent the evening speaking in whispered tones to Charles at one end of the table. It was very strange and they excused themselves to his study after the main course. When Edward went to get them for dessert, they were gone. It was as if they had vanished. Charles returned and said Herr von Gutenberg was tired and had gone up to bed. Strangely, Charles had dirt on his hands and cuffs and his usually tidy hair was dishevelled. It was all very mysterious.
Stephanie paused thoughtfully. The next entry looked like it was written hastily.
Edward was in the drawing room when I arrived at Knox Manor last night, admiring a new painting that Charles had acquired. Quite where from with the war, I don’t know.
Edward showed me into Charles’ study. It was jammed with all sorts of treasures. I had never seen anything like it – books, unframed paintings, various ornaments stacked on the bookshelves and mantle, and jewellery just lying on his desk. But it was the paintings that caught my attention. There was a Matisse, a Degas, a Chagall and a Monet among others. Unfortunately, he came in while we were admiring his art collection. He went mad! I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone as angry.
He went so red in the face that I thought he might explode! We were ordered from the room. Edward told me today that
I was not to mention our discovery to anyone. Apparently Charles is helping out some European friends by storing their valuables so that the Nazis can’t get their hands on them.
Stephanie grabbed a notebook from her desk and turned to a fresh sheet. She began listing the names of the foreign visitors mentioned in Sophie’s diary and the dates of their visits with the Knox’s. Very quickly, she had a list of twenty five individuals. Opening her iPad, she started searching each name and artist mentioned by Sophie, on the internet. There were hundreds of combinations and potential website links. Interestingly a number of the searches came up with results relating to looted Nazi art, which distracted her momentarily.
There has got be a quicker, more accurate way of doing this, she thought, picking up her mobile and speed dialling Michael’s number.
“Hi Michael. I was wondering if you were doing anything this afternoon? I need some help doing an internet search,” she said.
“Sure Steph, I’ll be there shortly,” he sounded delighted.
True to his word Michael arrived about 10 minutes later.
“Ok. So what are ya trying to search for?” He asked.
“Well, I’m trying to cross reference a list of artists with a list of people to see if there are any links between them. And I can’t work out how to do it other than one by one. Even then I get hundreds of search results. I’m not sure how to narrow the search down,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders and waving her hands in frustration at her laptop.
Michael nodded. “It’s a common problem with search engines. You need a special programme to run a search like that.”
Stephanie’s face fell.
“However, I happen to have such a programme. I wrote it for computer science last year, but I haven’t had a real world scenario to test it on,” he said proudly.
Stephanie smiled. “Great! What do you need?”
“Just email me your lists and I’ll get going on it,” Michael said.
“Ok – but don’t let me hold you up on your other work – this is just a side project,” Stephanie said. Michael had a successful part time website building business, the proceeds of which would more than pay his way through University.
“Hey, it’s no problem – I will have it running on a spare computer,” he said.
Stephanie returned to Sophie’s journals after Michael left. They were mainly filled with her love for Edward, but there were several entries concerning her dislike of his brother Charles, who frightened her. Stephanie checked the date – April 1940, before reading.
Father gleefully slammed the newspaper down upon seeing the main headline at breakfast this morning announcing an investigation into the Knox family for collaborating with the enemy! He said that this just confirmed his suspicions that the Knoxs were rotten to the core. ‘They should all be shot as traitors!’ He stated, before forbidding David and I from ever setting foot in their home again.
Collaborators? That’s treason!
I pray that Edward isn’t somehow involved.
Hang on, Stephanie thought, her heart racing. I’m sure an official investigation would be part of the public record. She picked up her iPad and looked up a telephone number and dialled.
“Hello, Carlswick Museum and Historical Society,” a pleasant older woman answered.
“Hello, my name’s Stephanie. I’m doing some research on events in the village before and during World War II and I was wondering if you could help me?” she said.
“I’m sure we can, dear,” the woman sounded helpful. “Were you after anything specific?”
“Actually, yes - I’m interested in the collaboration claims made against the Knox family and the subsequent investigation,” Stephanie said.
There was a brief hesitation on the line. “That’s very specific dear. But I’m sure that we have some information here on that. I would have to look it out for you. Can you come in next week?” the woman said.
“Yes. Thank you very much. I’ll pop in on Monday.” Stephanie clicked the phone off and kept reading.
Later that evening, the woman from the museum visited her sister for their weekly gossip.
“I had an interesting phone call today from a young woman doing some research on World War II and the Knox’s. She wants a copy of the collaboration report,” she said.
“Really?” her sister Grace, answered. “Old Charles won’t like that.”
Chapter 10
Max Cooper’s meeting adjourned at 5:30pm and Stephanie and Ellie had been invited to join them on the terrace for drinks. Stephanie had rolled her eyes and sighed heavily at hearing her father’s request the night before. Dinner with a bunch of corporate lawyers – just what she didn’t need. Maybe I can cite jetlag and escape straight after? Bit of stretch given that I’ve been here two weeks, but worth a try.
She put on her favourite mini dress with blue knee high boots and tied her hair up into a loose knot on top of her head. Ellie looked her over when she skipped down the stairs and smiled indulgently. “You are certainly not one to blend in, are you dear?” she said.
Stephanie grinned and took her grandmother’s arm, helping her out to the terrace. The ten lawyers were already sipping gin and tonics and admiring the view out over the countryside. The village was nestled into the hillside opposite appearing as if it were tumbling down into the valley, and the river wound its way lazily towards the coast. One edge of Knox Manor peeked out from the trees on the ridge opposite.
“Ah, here you are,” her father turned and smiled. Max was impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, with a pale blue striped shirt and a red silk tie dotted with a pattern of tiny pale blue diamonds. “May I introduce you all to my mother and my beautiful daughter Stephanie – some of you will already have met?” There were nods and murmurs of hello from the group. Max took his mother’s arm and kissed her cheek.
Stephanie looked over the group of lawyers – seven men and three women. All mid 30s or older, except for one guy standing slightly off to the side with his back to her – there was something familiar about the way he carried himself.
Mm, she thought. You’re a little young to be one of the usual clones. As if he sensed her looking at him, he turned, smiled and walked toward her. Stephanie gasped. Sam. She had dated Sam in London over the winter, before he had announced that he was off overseas on his gap year and broke up with her. All of the angry bitter comments that she had stored up to say to him the next time she saw him, suddenly eluded her. She opened and closed her mouth in surprise. What is he doing here?
“Well, this retreat just suddenly got a whole lot more interesting,” Sam murmured conspiratorially, leaning down towards her. “How are you, Stephanie?”
Stephanie looked him over, catching the oddly familiar smell of the hair product he used – funny what your nose remembers. “Hi Sam – I wouldn’t let my father hear you say that,” she said, recovering somewhat.
Six months in the sun hasn’t done him any harm, she thought noticing how the tan he was sporting made his hair seem blonder and eyes bluer. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a pale pink shirt and matching blue and pink tie. His straight hair had been cut shorter than she remembered, and was parted so that it swept across his forehead. His relaxed smile showed off straight white teeth and his eyes were full of mischief.
“Are you visiting too?” He held her gaze for a second or two longer than was necessary or comfortable.
She bit her lower lip to stop herself blushing at his obvious flirtation. There was no way I am going to fall for his charm again. Despite what Anna says, there is no unfinished business here. But, a little harmless flirtation couldn’t hurt, could it?
“No. I’m spending the summer here, trying to keep out of trouble before Uni starts,” she said, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.
He chuckled, a low deep laugh that she remembered so well. “Somehow, I don’t see that happening.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she exclaimed.
“Look at you,” he r
eplied, very deliberating looking her up and down. “And with that cute accent thrown in, those poor country boys don’t stand a chance,” he replied.
She inclined her head and smiled, acknowledging the compliment.
“What about you? How did you end up working for dear old Dad? I thought you were in the depths of South America,” she asked. Bedding as many voluptuous Brazilians as possible, she thought.
“Internship before Uni. My father insisted that I do some work after travelling,” he explained. Sam’s father, Peter Jones, was one of Max Cooper’s oldest friends and business partner in his city law firm. “The boys and I spent the summer in Vietnam, Lombok, Laos and Thailand, before heading to South America - we surfed in Mexico, dived in Belize and partied at the carnival in Rio. I’d like to head back there for a holiday before Uni starts.”
“That is so cool.” Stephanie couldn’t help but be impressed. “I haven’t been to South America,” she said.
Sam reached out to brush away a stray hair that had blown across Stephanie’s cheek. “Maybe you could come with me,” he suggested.
Stephanie bit her lip again. The nerve endings in her cheek tingled where his fingers had brushed it. Oh. I had forgotten how charming you could be, she thought a little wary, her senses on high alert. Still it felt really nice to have some male attention after the frosty reception she had been receiving from James all week.
“I do hope you are not flirting with my granddaughter, young man,” a sharp voice called. Stephanie blushed and spun around. Ellie had ignored the wicker chair that Max had provided for her and was leaning back on her stick watching them with amusement.
Stephanie recovered her composure. “Grandma, you remember Sam. He’s interning with Dad before Uni,” she said.
Sam extended his hand and said, “Hello again, Mrs Cooper.” He flashed his charming smile at her. Ellie looked him up and down, unimpressed. “I remember your father at your age – Peter was good looking and charming too,” she said. She turned to Stephanie. “I’d watch this one,” she advised.
