“It sounds marvellous. What a wonderful idea. I just came in to see what you wanted, Mummy?”
“I would like you to take some letters to the village to post. And you can get me a few things from the shop. I have a list ready.”
“I’ll be happy to give you a lift,” Paul offered. “If you’re ready to go now?”
“Yes, thank you, that would be nice,” Christine picked up the letters her mother had indicated on the desk. “I’ll be back for tea, Mummy.”
“Yes, darling.”
Beth was already looking through some papers as Christine and Paul Crane walked from the room.
“It was a bit of luck that I bumped into you,” Paul said as they went outside into the sunshine. “I’ve been meaning to ask a favour of you, Miss Kavanagh.”
“Of course – if you’ll do one for me?” He raised his brows at her. “Do you think you could call me Christine, please? Miss Kavanagh sounds so formal.”
“All right – I’m Paul, as I think you know?”
“Yes, Paul. Now what was your favour?”
“I’ve been roped in to help run a sports day for the local children. Cricket on the village green, sack races, a few side stalls and food – that’s where you come in. I want someone to organise the teas. Someone suggested Mrs. Kavanagh but I know she’s always busy. You told me you had nothing much to do so I thought…”
“Do you really think I could do it?” Christine felt pleased. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I’m sure it isn’t beyond your capabilities. We shall have a small marquee because you can’t rely on it not raining, and I’ll arrange all the tables and chairs – but I draw a line at the food.”
“I’ll have to get some helpers,” Christine said, “for preparing and serving it all – but I think I can manage the organisation. Yes, it should be fun. Thank you for thinking of me, Paul. When is the day to be?”
“We’ve chosen a Saturday next month. The details are written down here, May something or other – see what you think. I hope it doesn’t clash with anything else you have on?”
“Oh no, I’m sure it doesn’t. I shall enjoy doing it, Paul. Yes, I shall find it very rewarding.”
“I thought you might.” He drew up outside the village shop, which was also the post office. “Here we are then. I’ll be seeing you, Christine.”
“Yes. We shall have things to discuss.”
She waved as he drove off, feeling quite excited as she went into the shop. It was nice that someone thought she was capable of doing more than running a few errands.
“Oh, Harry,” Christine cried as she answered the phone. “It’s such a shame that Mummy and Henry are both out at the moment. They would have loved to talk to you.”
“Tell them I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for a while but I couldn’t. I’ve been on a training course and I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. You’ll never guess…” She heard the note of excitement in his voice and smiled to herself. “I’m being promoted to Captain. My C.O. says he wants me to consider making the Army my career when all this is over. He seems to think they need men like me at Headquarters.”
“It’s wonderful news about your promotion,” she said. “It won’t mean you’ll be sent overseas, will it?”
Towards the end of March the Allies had successfully crossed the Rhine, capturing the cathedral city of Cologne despite booby traps and fierce resistance from the enemy. It had seemed to signal the end of the war but there was still fighting going on out there. Christine feared for her brother if he was sent over there now.
“Not for the moment but perhaps later. I can’t tell you much, but it’s because of the languages. They seem to think I may be useful when they have to start putting the pieces back together again. Henry will know all about that. He went over at the end of the last big do, helped sort out the mess and get things on the road again.”
“Did he really? I didn’t know that, Harry. He has never mentioned it to me at all. I knew Jack went to France a lot before the war, but Henry never talks about his experiences there.”
“Mother said he was a bit odd about it. She says he was in a funny mood for a while after he came home – but she put it down to the divorce and all that. He didn’t approve of her marrying Father, though once I was on the way he couldn’t do much about it.”
“Harry!” Christine was a little shocked that her brother could talk so easily about the divorce and the fact that he had been conceived out of wedlock. “When are you coming home? Mummy has been talking about giving a little dance as a consolation for my not having a season this year. It would be lovely if you were here. And we’re having a sports day for the local children. I’m in charge of the catering – what do you think of that?”
“Well done, Christine! You haven’t had a sports day since the war started, have you?”
“It didn’t seem right, but people are starting to think of the future now. It would be perfect if you could come, Harry.”
“I’ll try. I’m not keen on the dance idea, but if I can get a few days off we might take a run down to the sea together. Just you and me – how would that be?”
“Wonderful. I should love it, Harry. Do come soon.”
“Are you all right? You sound a bit down.”
“No, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just missing you.”
“With Simon there? That’s a likely tale.”
“He isn’t the same, Harry. Sometimes I hardly recognise him as the Simon we knew. He’s so sarcastic…bitter…” She held back her sigh, not wanting her brother to worry over her unnecessarily.
“Well, I suppose it’s the war. You’ve still got me, love. Keep your chin up and I’ll see you soon. I have to go now, they are waiting for me.”
Christine blew him a kiss over the line. She smiled as she replaced the receiver. It was odd to think of Harry considering an army career. She had always seen him living at Penhallows, running the estate…a family continuing down the years
She gave herself a mental shake. She had some letters to type for her mother, but before that she needed to fetch something from her grandfather’s room. She ran upstairs and walked along the hall towards Henry’s apartments. She had left her notebook there earlier that morning, and she needed it to refresh her memory.
Passing Simon’s room, she heard an odd crashing noise as if something had been knocked over, and then the sound of moaning. She hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open and went in, staring in shock at what she saw. Simon was crouching in the far corner. He held his hands over his head as if protecting himself from something, and seemed to be very frightened.
“What’s the matter?” she rushed towards him. “Are you hurt, Simon? Are you ill? Shall I get a doctor?”
“No!” She wasn’t sure that he knew her. His eyes appeared strange, as though he might be in the grip of a nightmare. “Leave me alone…leave me alone.”
Christine had no idea of what to do. She couldn’t just walk away from him. She reached out tentatively towards him and he slapped her hand away, making a growling noise in his throat.
“I shouldn’t touch him if I were you,” Helene’s voice said from behind her. “He’s got the shakes. He won’t thank you for interfering – just leave him alone. He’ll come out of it in a minute.”
Christine stared at her, hating her for being superior, for knowing things she didn’t about Simon.
“How often does this happen?” she asked as she moved away from him towards the door.
Helene shrugged. “I’ve seen him like it a couple of times. He’s ashamed of it – thinks it’s a weakness. I helped him the first time, but he asked me not to in future. He just wants to be alone. Close the door and leave him.”
Christine obeyed, mostly because she was too distressed about seeing Simon like that to know what to do.
“Of course you would know what’s best for him,” she said angrily. “Why are you always so superior?”
“Because I’ve seen ot
hers like him. If you’d ever been away from this house and the protection of your family, you might know a bit more about real life – about the feelings men have deep down inside.”
“I’m not a child! I know this war has done dreadful things to people.”
“Do you?” Helene looked at her coldly. “I very much doubt it. When have you seen a man with half his brains blown out – or a woman slowly bleeding to death from a gunshot wound to the stomach?”
Christine stared at her in horror, recoiling from the picture her words conjured up. “Of course I haven’t – how could I? But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
Helene gave her a look of contempt and turned away, but Christine grabbed her arm. “Why don’t you leave him alone? You don’t want him. You’re just enjoying yourself setting one against the other – Jack and Simon. I don’t think you really care about either of them.”
“What do you know of how I feel or what I want? You know nothing about my life or me. You’ve always been so safe here, so loved and protected. You can’t know what it’s like to…” She broke off suddenly and pulled away from Christine’s grasp.
“How should I know?” Christine called after her. “You never tell anyone anything. You just hint at your suffering and then say you don’t want to talk about it. I don’t believe you did anything heroic…”
Helene stopped and looked back at her for a moment and then she smiled. “What you believe is of no importance to me. You are less than nothing…”
Christine couldn’t find anything to say. Helene made her feel she was nothing, and there wasn’t any way she could defend herself, because it was true. She had never done anything worthwhile in her life…
Christine pressed the cold flannel to her hot cheeks. She was still trembling, feeling sick inside as she stared at herself in the dressing mirror. She hated to quarrel with anyone, and it had upset her dreadfully to see Simon like that. She’d felt so helpless when he’d knocked her hand away and told her to leave him alone.
She hated the fact that Helene was right and she was just a silly spoiled girl who’d had everything given to her on a plate, and taken it for granted. Until Helene’s arrival she had never questioned her life or her right to live the way she did.
It wasn’t her fault that she’d been sheltered and cosseted. Helene sneered as if she were somehow inferior through something lacking in her character, but it was only that she hadn’t had enough experience of life. She was tired of being seen as a child – but what could she do about it?
At least her mother was pleased with her work. Beth had been surprised at how efficient and quick she was, so that was a step forward.
Christine remembered the letters she had promised to type for her mother, and began to tidy herself. A quarrel with Helene was no excuse for neglecting her work. She would fetch the notepad from Henry’s room and then go down.
Perhaps she might visit Caro in London soon. There really wasn’t much point in staying here and moping all over the place.
Notepad in hand, she approached the study. She could hear voices coming from inside and frowned. Helene again! And Jack this time. They seemed to be having an argument; it was obviously a day for quarrels in this house Christine thought wryly, pausing for a moment as she wondered if she ought to go in.
“But why?” Jack asked on a rising note of irritation. “You know how I feel about you? Why not let me buy you a ring and tell the family we’re engaged?”
“Because I’m not sure I want to marry you. No, don’t glare at me like that, dearest Jack. You know I love you but…” There was a scuffling noise and then Helene laughed huskily. “No, don’t do that, Jack. Let me go. You can’t make love to me in here.”
“You’re a witch,” Jack muttered thickly. “You know what you do to me, Helene. What has happened since you came down here? It’s not that young pup? You can’t be thinking of marrying him? He’ll inherit a fortune, of course, but not for years. He has only the allowance Rupert gives him. You would be a fool to take him instead of me.”
“You are the fool!” There was a sharp slapping sound as if Helene had struck him. “Damn you, Jack! That’s why I’m not sure, because of you – not Simon. He’s just a boy…”
Her words were cut off in mid-flow. Christine backed away, her cheeks flaming as she imagined the scene in the study. There had obviously been a struggle but it seemed that Jack was determined to have his way.
Christine walked through the hall and out of the French windows in the small parlour. It was a pleasant spring day, the air warm and soft, scented with flowers. She could hear the rooks chattering in a dead elm at the end of the kitchen garden. Overhead a light aircraft droned and she glanced up, shading her eyes as it disappeared in a bank of cloud; it was probably a training flight from one of the airfields near by.
After half an hour or so of wandering about the gardens, she decided to walk down to the paddocks. Bumble had been turned out on to the grass for a couple of weeks now and she went each day to see how he was faring. She was almost there when she saw Simon coming towards her and stood absolutely still, her heart racing uncomfortably. Only a short time ago she had seen him crouching in a corner of his room like some terrified creature, and now he looked as normal as ever. She wasn’t quite sure how to react. She waved to him and he sprinted towards her.
“Don’t go to the paddock,” he said as he came up with her. “It’s Bumble, Christine. I’m so sorry…”
“Bumble? What’s the matter with him?” Fear caught at her heart. Simon grabbed her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. She tried to break away from him but he refused to let her go. “What have you done? Bumble…I want to see him.”
“He had broken a leg.” Simon was bruising her arm now as she struggled against him. “No, Christine. Stop fighting me. It won’t do any good. He had to be put down. He was in terrible pain…”
“No! He was all right yesterday…” Noisy sobs built inside her, bursting out as she fought with Simon. “He was all right…I know he was…”
Simon’s arms went round her, holding her pressed tightly against him as she sobbed out her grief and shock.
“He was old,” he said, kissing the top of her head in the way he had when she was a child. “It was going to happen sooner or later. You must have known that, Christine.”
Of course she had known, but she hadn’t expected it to be this way, when she wasn’t there to comfort him and give him one last pat. They should have called her, told her, let her see him! It was always the same, they treated her as if she were a child, and she was sick of it.
“You don’t care – why should you?” She tore herself from his arms and this time he let her go. “He wasn’t yours, he was mine. You had no right to do it! You’ve let them shoot him. We could have had the vet to him…nursed him through it…”
“The vet was with him. It was his decision. You don’t think I would have agreed if it wasn’t necessary?”
“I don’t know.” She brushed the back of her hand across her face, staring at him accusingly. Her soft straight hair was blowing in the wind, getting into her eyes and mouth. “You wouldn’t have once, but you’ve changed. You’re not the same. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. I don’t know you anymore.”
“You’re right. I’ve been a bit of a bastard. Sorry. I can’t seem to help myself, but I don’t really want to hurt you, Christine.” His smile was crooked, rueful. “Forgive me?”
Her heart caught with pain as she caught a brief glimpse of the man she loved. This was Simon as he had been before the war, and she melted inside. It wasn’t his fault that Bumble had fallen and broken his leg; it was something that she had known could happen because the pony was getting old, his bones brittle.
“I suppose so.”
“Good. I was about to ask Helene if she wanted a trip to the sea tomorrow – would you like to come with us?”
“Thank you – but I promised to have tea with Miss Timpson tomorrow. Her mother ha
s been unwell again and I haven’t been for a few days.”
“Couldn’t you get out of it?” He seemed puzzled as he looked at her, as if he didn’t understand why she had refused his invitation yet again. “Oh well, Helene made me promise to ask you the next time we went. Have you seen her around anywhere?”
“She’s in the study…kissing Jack by the sound of it.” The words came flying out. She felt disgusted with herself, as she saw his hurt expression. “He was asking her to marry him.”
“You’re lying. You made that up to punish me, didn’t you?”
“Ask her yourself!” Christine swung away from him, starting to run in the direction of the paddocks. If she hurried she might get there in time to see Bumble one last time.
“Come back here, you idiot. You’ll only upset yourself more.”
Christine wasn’t listening. She was crying, torn between anger and grief. He didn’t really care how she felt; he only cared about Helene. Besides, she had to say goodbye to poor Bumble however much it hurt.
Simon thought she was still a child, but she wasn’t. She knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved; she had wept bitter tears night after night when her father died.
They all saw her as being naïve and young, but that wasn’t fair and it wasn’t true. She was growing up very fast and sooner or later she would find a way to show them!
Chapter Eight
Clothilde 1937
She looked for Andre after the funeral. She had thought he might come, but he hadn’t been there. She was conscious of a deep disappointment, though she tried not to show it as she took her leave of Father Caillebotte afterwards.
It was a cold wet day and, besides Clothilde, only two elderly men from the village and the church warders had attended the funeral. It was as if the passing of Madame Sanclere had never happened, as if she had made no impression on the people who lived here. Clothilde had stood alone at the graveside, hurt and resentful that no one cared enough to come.
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