“So my grandfather believed, Simon. He bought this house and would not touch the acres that went with it. Sold them all. Clever of him! We have prospered ever since, because we did not have the drag of farmland emptying our purses.”
They basked in the appreciation of their own wisdom.
“My income, sir, is three thousand a year plus my pay. A comfortable sum on which to keep a wife, I believe.”
“Ample, Simon. Will you hold your own house or use the property in Kent?”
“I have yet to speak to my uncle on that, sir. Whichever, I do not doubt that I can cope.”
“Agreed. Alice is a younger child, of course, will come with her bottom drawer, as they say, and some thousands, but no income of her own.”
Simon had assumed such.
“My Will leaves the bulk to my eldest son, naturally, but there will be legacies to each child, in the neighbourhood of fifty thousand. I trust they will survive to receive them. All three boys have now gone off to war.”
“Your eldest as well, sir?”
“He took a commission last month. He could not remain here in effective idleness, he said. To an extent he is right – having no land is a benefit but leads to a lack of occupation for us. I use managers in the City, as you know, so there was nothing for George to do in the ordinary way of things. No difficulty in time of peace – London close to hand, he keeps rooms in Town and occupies himself as any young man of leisure might, sport and clubs and such. With the nation at war, he found he could not remain at home. The more so, of course, for his youngest brother, your ‘Polly’, distinguishing himself as he has done. Your much decorated presence is also something of an embarrassment, as you will appreciate. His second brother is in the Trenches now. He could not stay at home.”
“Which regiment has he joined?”
“The Suffolks. Our own county regiment, as is right. I believe he sailed from Dover yesterday. Six weeks at the depot learning the ropes is normal for a young second lieutenant.”
The word was that the life expectancy of new lieutenants was measured in weeks. Perhaps one half died in their first month of service in the Trenches. Those who survived the baptism seemed to last a long time, or so it was hoped.
There was nothing to say.
“Have you heard from Polly, sir?”
“He is in the Mediterranean in command of his own destroyer, as you know. The few letters we have received suggest he is enjoying himself as captain. Ridiculous, of course – he is barely more than a schoolboy! This war has forced so many boys to become men before their time, Simon!”
“It has, sir. What will become of them when it is all over, I cannot imagine. We have an easier life in the Navy, that I am sure of. Even so, we are pushed to take responsibility undreamed of even two years ago. In October ’13 I was a sublieutenant, a very minor specimen of humanity and expecting with luck to become lieutenant in ’15 or ’16. Now, I am a lieutenant commander with a half-flotilla of my own and every prospect of stepping up in the naval world again if the war lasts another two years.”
“It will, Simon. Every rational prospect says it could last another ten. There is nothing to stop the stalemate we can see in the Trenches dragging on for a decade. Russia is collapsing and Germany will soon be able to feed herself from the steppes, making the blockade a nonsense. Kitchener sits in his office and proclaims the need for more men to go out to France while Churchill wastes resources in Turkey. The fleet sits in idleness in the Shetlands. I can see no hope of winning this war, and no likelihood of losing it. Such being the case, it can never end.”
“What of America, sir?”
“Profiting greatly from us. Quite rightly, too. We desire to buy from them. They wish to sell to us. Perfectly normal business. They would be fools to join in on either side. Mind you, there are rumours that Germany is trying to make some sort of connection with Mexico, offering them the lands America stole in the South West. They could use that threat to force America to become truly neutral.”
It seemed far-fetched. The whole war was crazy – it was possible.
“I am told that the Japanese are sending a fleet to the Mediterranean, Simon. Have you heard of that?”
No word had reached Harwich if that was so.
“Enough of gloom, Simon. Off you go with my blessing to find Alice.”
The proposal was made in form and accepted with delight, elder sister and mother joining the pair after ten minutes to express their joy and prise them apart.
“When can you wed, Simon?”
“I have a long leave now, will not get another this year in the ordinary way of things. In early ’16, I might hope.”
Alice looked hopeful.
“The war should end then, Simon. Kitchener’s New Army is to be trained and ready to go in the summer. It must end the war, all of the newspapers say so.”
“The newspapers may say that, my love. Outside of Fleet Street there is less optimism. They may be very good – the flower of English youth, I believe – but they will still be a bare quarter of a million against an estimated two million Germans in the trenches. The French have taken huge losses already and will not march in Flanders, we are told. The British Army will not win this war without a huge number of allies.”
“What of the naval war, Simon?”
Alice’s sister, Sarah, had rarely spoken in company. She was, he thought, still grieving for her fiancé, lost in the war of movement the previous year.
“None as far as the Grand Fleet is concerned. For us, the small ships, predominantly a defensive war. Above all, we must protect the Channel and the unending flow of troopships and ration carriers. Until we take our war to the German-held ports, we will be holding, not advancing. We have been successful so far in keeping the German destroyers and submarines at a distance. It needs only a single night of failure for the war to take a turn for the bad. A dozen torpedoes could cost us a division, and that would be a disaster.”
“I have been thinking of taking up nursing, Simon. A year to learn the necessary skills… It seems that my services might still be required then.”
He had nothing to say, could not encourage her if her parents were opposed. Nurses were needed and every girl with an education should be doing something for the country… Not Alice, however. She was not the practical sort, he suspected.
“When will the notice reach The Times, do you think, ma’am?”
Better to turn the conversation to the banal.
“My husband will be setting that in hand now, I much suspect, Simon. Is your Uncle Sturton aware of your intentions?”
“He has signified his happiness with the marriage, ma’am. We must make the necessary arrangements, I do not doubt.”
“A dinner for our acquaintance is all that can be convenable in wartime. No doubt the Viscount could be invited to attend.”
Simon suspected he would be a prize to be unveiled to the County, aristocracy being uncommon among their guests.
“If you can set a date, ma’am, I must be in London next week and will speak to him in person.”
Alice was dismayed.
“Oh, can you not stay for your whole leave, Simon?”
He could not – there was family business to attend to and he needed to inform his Grandfather Isaacs in person of his engagement. He had sent him a letter, courtesy demanded that he speak to him.
“I intend, if it is convenient, to remain for this week, spend much of next in London and then come back for the last weekend and few days of my leave. Will it be possible to arrange the dinner in that time, ma’am?”
Mrs Parrett was sure that it would be. She would make very certain of it.
“Will your Uncle, Viscount Perceval, be able to stay here overnight, do you think, Simon?”
It was likely, Simon assured her.
The most distinguished guest to stay at the Hall in her time as chatelaine. Mrs Parrett would ensure he was immersed in luxury. She would also be careful that the whole County would be aware of his pre
sence.
Days of idleness and pleasure in Alice’s company and intentionally not looking at the newspapers – a complete break from the strain of taking a ship to war. He had not known just how much pressure he had been under until it came to a temporary end. He slept for twelve hours, three nights in a row, lazed in a chair or outside on a bench for those days.
Towards the end of the week he found himself awake and alert again, apologised for being such bad company.
“You were exhausted, Simon. You needed the rest. My mother is going into Ipswich today Shall we accompany her?”
The town was dull, too many of the smaller stores displaying knots of black ribbon for sons and counter jumpers who had gone off to war and would not return. The selection of goods inside the expensive places – the only ones they patronised – was almost unchanged. There was even a supply of caviar again, more costly for having crossed to Vladivostok by rail then to San Francisco or Vancouver and across the continent before taking ship a second time. Where there was the need, and the money, life’s little luxuries were available.
There was some talk of rationing. Mrs Parrett was dismissive.
“Not for the likes of us, Simon. The government knows better!”
He made no answer, seeing poverty that she evidently did not notice. There were poorly clothed women and children, some of whom were barefoot, with oilcloth shopping bags showing almost empty. A loaf of bread, a bottle of milk and little else for most.
“Prices do seem to be higher, Mrs Parrett.”
“Oh! Are they? I just put our purchases to the account. I do not look at the cost. That is cleared every month, or is it quarter? By the housekeeper, in any case.”
Alice seemed to regard this as an entirely reasonable way of life. Simon feared he might have to hold a discussion with her regarding money. He was well off; he could hardly cope with Mrs Parrett’s level of expense.
They took a light lunch at the County Hotel before making their way to a jewellers for the important business of the day, the selection of a ring.
There were any number of stones on display and the prices seemed less than Simon might have expected. A quiet word to the proprietor disclosed that the war had led to widows with children to keep and suddenly inadequate incomes.
“Several of the leading professional gentlemen of the town, sir, went off to war last August. It was quite the thing among them to join the Territorial Army before the war, almost a local club, one might say. Away they went and only too many will not come back again. Some. naturally, sir, have distinguished themselves and others are respectably commissioned now, having risen quickly from the ranks, as is only to be expected. At least a dozen of the town’s solicitors and accountants and surveyors and architects and such have fallen, sir. As a Naval officer, of some distinction, you may not be aware of the casualties the infantry have experienced. Three of my sons marched in August, sir. Two survive, one of them at home again, possibly for life, wounded.”
Simon had noticed the black band on the jeweller’s sleeve. He murmured appropriate words.
“Several of the ladies have found it necessary to sell their rings and necklaces and brooches. I have made it a policy to break them up so that the pieces might not be recognised and commented on. I would not normally hold a stock of the larger stones in the provinces, would send them up to London to be disposed of. So many have been put on the market that their price has fallen substantially in Town and it is as well to hold them here. I can place a most respectable brilliant on Miss Parrett’s finger, sir, at less than pre-war price.”
An hour and the stone was chosen and the ring commissioned to be ready in the following week. Simon made a note to speak to his uncle about precious stones. When the war ended, it was likely they would rise again.
His uncle agreed, thought it a clever notion.
“A young man to travel the county towns of East Anglia and then across the western parts. From Shropshire down into Hereford and Gloucester and into the West Country proper. Cash in hand will be welcome to jewellers who are finding more clients wishing to sell to them than buy. The Home Counties, closer to London, might not be so fruitful… It might be possible to sweep through the west and north of Wales and then into the rural parts of the North. We might put twenty or thirty thousand pounds out, Simon, having the advantage that the Inland Revenue will know nothing of the business. We could well sell quietly to the trade in as much as ten years from now. I can see a respectable profit there, Simon! Well thought, young man!”
Simon wondered just how large ‘respectable’ was, did not ask further.
“I do not have it in mind to remain in the Navy after the war, sir. I must bend my mind to consideration of business, I think.”
“Not necessarily, Simon. A number of years as a Member of Parliament followed inevitably by your translation to the House of Lords on my death would be the basis of a sound political career. You cannot ever be Prime Minister as it is accepted now that he must sit in the Commons. Foreign Secretary, second in importance, would be well within your reach. As a Cabinet Minister you would be in a position to serve country and family both. A distinguished wartime career with decorations for gallantry means that either Party would snap you up as a candidate – you could achieve a seat with no difficulty. Your grandfather would be much in favour of such a course, I know. He is a Tory, has slipped a good few thousand into party coffers over the last few years, so it will be easier to find you a seat in their interest – somewhere safe in the Shires with a massive majority so you will not have to worry about electioneering and such. You would not have to worry about an income either. Your grandfather and I would both see to the extra money you would need.”
It was an attractive prospect. With Alice at his side, all that a political wife should be, he could enjoy a busy and prosperous existence. He would also be known in his country – that might be attractive, he admitted.
“All I have to do is survive the war, sir, and my future is made.”
“You could leave Harwich, take a position in the Admiralty, Simon. Or at Scapa Flow, perhaps?”
He shook his head brusquely.
“No, sir. I have work to do in the boats. I cannot leave the job undone, step back to allow a lesser man to stand in my place. It sounds arrogant perhaps, sir. It is. I am still one of the best of the destroyermen and performing a task that others could not do so well. Duty, sir, drilled into me by the Navy and part of my very existence. I cannot refuse the task allotted to me.”
“I can only cry ‘well done’, Simon, and wish that you were less of a man. No, withdraw that, how could you be? You are what you are and I admire you for it. Your grandfather wishes to speak to you this week. Shall I arrange for Thursday?”
The old gentleman was as alert and upright as ever. Simon had a suspicion that he would die still at the height of his mental powers, sat at his desk having just completed a piece of work and able to give his attention to mortality, to accept that his heart had stopped.
“Coffee, Simon? My congratulations on your forthcoming marriage, my boy! A sound family, the Parretts. I have instructed my people to speak with their managers, give them a pointer or two to bring them into the circle of those who know what’s going on.”
Simon suspected that his father by marriage was about to become far richer. Not a bad thing.
“Your uncle suggests that you are thinking of a political existence, after the war that is.”
“It seems a sensible idea, sir. The Navy will have little for me, for having achieved too many promotions, too young. I am certain to become Commander within two years. Far too young for the peacetime sailors. I could expect ten years of polishing the brasswork and indulging in futility if I remained in the service. Post captain at thirty-five and then what to do with me? Five years to the command of a capital ship and ten to rear admiral, all the time giving orders to older men with many more years of service and regarding me as an upstart who had a lucky war. Better to enter another career entirely, si
r.”
The old gentleman accepted the argument.
“Well thought. I agree. Better you should sit as a Conservative – not much difference between the major parties, after all, and I can find a good safe seat for you. There will be an election soon after the war ends. I shall see you become a Member then. If not me, in person, whoever sits in this chair will deal with the matter. My sons are aware of my mind on this. You will need a place in Town – more convenient than hiring rooms while the House is sitting. I shall see to that, and another in your constituency. Always goes down better if the MP is a local man, or appears to be for living in the area.”
Simon felt much as if he had stood in front of a steamroller. His life had just been packaged up neatly and tidily for him. All he had to do was show his face at the right place and correct time.
“Funny, sir. On my bridge, I am lord and master of all and command their comings and their goings…”
“And here, young man, you obediently say ‘aye aye, sir’ and do as you are told. I understand that I am somewhat brief in my ways. You have permission to tell me so, when necessary. As a Minister of the Crown, which you will certainly be before too many years have passed, you will have a duty to King and Country, Simon. I will make my voice heard, do not doubt that, but the final decisions must be yours. I shall not disown you in a fit of pique if you decide it is better to go against me.”
“I had worried about that, sir.”
“Do not. I may be a king of finance, I do not consider myself to be a Pope as well, infallible and to be blindly obeyed. Now then, Miss Alice Parrett, what sort of betrothal gift should I send her?”
Simon had not the slightest idea.
“As I suspected. Leave it to me. A necklace will never come amiss, in my experience of the female! What does the Navy most need in Belgium, do you think?”
The sudden change of topic flustered Simon for a few seconds. He was able to find a reply.
“Bigger and faster destroyers and some means of locating submarines under the sea. More minesweepers, designed for the job. Some imagination amongst the admirals.”
The Death of Hope Page 13
