Aub’s face did not look splendid. She called after him, ‘Spoils of war, Aub?’
She waited for them in the Blue Drawing Room, standing at the window looking over the balustrade to the distant hills. Some of the harvest had been taken in, and the sun on the stubble seemed almost rosy. They had looked so sombre. Was it because the Foreign Secretary had proposed a meeting of the major powers to try to stop Austria and Serbia squabbling over the assassination? But surely no country would be stupid enough to go to war. It was more likely that their exercise had come adrift somehow. Men took their games so seriously.
The door opened. She turned and Richard entered, his face drawn and weary, and she experienced the same pang of guilt she felt whenever he returned on leave. She should be warmer towards him, but she couldn’t or perhaps wouldn’t. She breathed in deeply. She must try harder and perhaps tonight she would, if she possibly could. She said, ‘You look tired, my dear. Everything is ready for the party but perhaps we’ll have to settle for lobster vol-au-vents after all. I know your favourite is crab . . .’
He shook his head. ‘Please, Veronica.’ He joined her at the window, standing at her side and staring at the view as though he was soaking in every curve, every shadow, every birdsong, for now there were blue tits on the balcony. Without turning he said, ‘It really doesn’t matter to me about crab, my dearest. You see, I’m so sorry to leave you with it but I won’t be here. I’ve been recalled. Well, we’ve all been recalled. This is still the precautionary period officially, but you need to prepare yourself for my absence. Prolonged, perhaps. Not that this will be a hardship for you.’ His smile was wry, his eyes held their usual hurt. ‘So, continue with your party. I have asked Roger to pack me and I will come to you here before I leave. I have asked Stuart to drive me, if you can spare the Rolls-Royce for a few hours.’
Then he was gone. His words registered at last. She ran after him. ‘What do you mean, recalled?’
He was pounding up the stairs. ‘The Navy has been ordered to sail north to take up position at Scapa Flow. God knows what’s going to happen. The German troops are gathering.’
He was gone, into his bedroom. He shut the door, firmly.
She did not see him again until he presented himself in the drawing room at eight. She said, ‘I’ve held dinner for you and Aub.’ She should have gone to him while Roger packed, but what would she have said?
He sighed. ‘I have no time for that, my dear. I leave now. James is bringing my valises.’
She walked from the room with him. ‘You should eat. I’ll ask the kitchen to pack something for you.’
‘I’ll eat on the way.’ He was almost leaping down the stairs, and she ran to keep up with him. At the front door he shook Mr Harvey’s hand. ‘Thank you for your kindness. Look after Lady Veronica, Mr Harvey. She will explain.’
Behind them she heard Auberon calling at the top of the stairs, ‘No, I’ll take the valises, thank you James.’
He also ran down the stairs, washed, looking marginally better. He carried the valises to the car and Stuart stowed them. Richard stood with Veronica beneath the porticoed entrance, staring at the cedar tree. ‘It looks as though it will withstand anything.’ His voice was quiet.
‘Will it have to?’ Veronica asked.
He took her hand, and kissed it. ‘I think we’ll all have to. If it’s war I doubt it will be over soon, no matter what the newspapers say. Look at our industry, our machinery. Think of the size of the artillery, the submarines. Think factories, think armaments. It will be a different sort of a war, Ver. A damned slog, and that’s what my general thinks too. I will try and get word to you, of course.’ He dropped her hand but made no effort to kiss her. He just walked away, in uniform, perhaps to war.
Veronica wanted to run after him, but to say what? She did nothing except watch as he and Auberon shook hands, and talked, intensively, but only for a few moments. Then he turned and waved before entering the car. Stuart rolled away along the drive.
By morning she had received phone calls from most of her guests to explain that they could not attend because all the trains had been commandeered by the government. She knew it was for troops. It was all happening too quickly, far too quickly and she couldn’t really think. Was Richard based locally, or embarking, and if so, to where?
Aub told her over breakfast that Richard had arranged to have him gazetted into the North Tyne Fusiliers along with any of his Territorials who wished, as they had excelled at exercise and their warfare training almost equalled that of the regulars. ‘He was reluctant, but I insisted. I don’t want to miss it. I gather Father had already had a word with the general, who was a sobersides and said it would not be quick, but that’s not what everyone else is saying. I’ll be talking to the men later today at their fete day, because they won’t want to miss it either.’
‘It won’t be over soon,’ she snapped. ‘Take Richard seriously, if he says it’s going to be a slog, then it is. I forbid it. Stay here. It’s not a damned game and what am I to do with all this food? I’ve no one coming, not even Father.’
Auberon laughed through his swollen lips. ‘Well, there’s a silver lining to every cloud.’ Within a second they were both laughing but it was high-pitched and strange, and Mr Harvey was standing by the sideboard looking as though his world was steadily crashing around him.
Veronica stopped laughing quite suddenly, feeling cold and frightened. ‘Mr Harvey, let’s not worry the staff with any of this until we know for sure. Would you mind?’
It sounded like a question, but it was an order.
Veronica and Auberon visited the kitchen after breakfast and informed them that there was a problem with trains and most of the guests would be unable to attend, so they had cancelled the party altogether. ‘Captain Williams is unable to be here either,’ Lady Veronica said.
There was a long silence and Evie wondered if upstairs had overlooked the fact that those downstairs had eyes and ears and read newspapers, and had the brainpower to put two and two together and make four. Did they really think they hadn’t noticed that Simon, Bernie and James were back early from exercises, the captain had disappeared quick as a wink and that they of course knew the trains had been cancelled, for James had overheard Mr Harvey telling Mrs Green.
‘We would like you to take the food down to the fete, if that is all right with Mrs Moore. You must all go, have a good time. One never knows . . .’ Veronica tailed off.
The next day, 4th August, the Germans marched into Belgium. Britain as guarantor of Belgian neutrality handed an ultimatum to the German ambassador in London and by eleven o’clock that evening Russia, France and Great Britain were at war with Germany and Austria.
Chapter Nineteen
THOSE WHO WISHED had been accepted immediately and unusually into the North Tyne Fusiliers and had left yesterday, within days of the declaration of war, just like that. The house seemed half empty. Evie prepared Lady Veronica’s breakfast which she had thought to restrict to a few dishes – a decision that had been vetoed by Mr Harvey, who insisted that standards were to be maintained, at least until further notice.
Archie delivered the food to the dining room. Evie had to prepare the porridge and take it to the servants’ hall, because Dottie had left three days ago for Newcastle. She would be looking for work in one of the new war industries that were already setting up, as though they had known for a while they would be needed. Kev the bootboy had gone too, to the recruitment office. Evie and Annie cleared the table, feeling the loss of Sarah, who had followed Dottie yesterday.
Mr Harvey entered the kitchen with Mrs Green. Mrs Moore was stocktaking in the big pantry. He called her out and explained that Lord Brampton had telephoned late last night, requesting that he raise Lady Veronica from her bed as he wished to speak to her. Mr Harvey had done so, and this morning Lady Veronica had conveyed to him his Lordship’s request that they use Easterleigh Hall as a convalescent home for the troops. Mr Harvey’s mouth was so pursed it must have hurt.
E
vie smothered a smile. The telephone had only been installed a few months ago, and Mr Harvey felt it was a machine liable to explode at any moment and held the receiver with trembling hands. But a convalescent home? Perhaps that was the only good idea the Bastard had ever had in his life.
Mr Harvey asked Mrs Moore and Mrs Green to accompany him to his parlour where they would discuss the viability of such an undertaking, as Lady Veronica had requested. He ended, ‘We should consider whether to lay in extra supplies anyway for our day-to-day needs, as others are doing, or to lead by example and not panic buy; patriotism versus pragmatism, to buy or not to buy?’
Evie watched the house servants hurry to their tasks. Lil had left for London. James and Arthur and three of the other male indoor servants had left with the platoon. Bernie, Thomas and Simon had gone too, and several more of the other under-gardeners, and over half the grooms.
Evie sat suddenly at the kitchen table. Simon.
She’d said, gripping his suit lapel, ‘You can’t go.’
‘I must,’ he’d replied, his hands covering hers. She could remember the feel of those hands, warm and strong. ‘But Si, not you.’ She mouthed those words again now. ‘You’re safe here. Someone must live. Jack’s going, Timmie’s gone. I need someone to be safe, can’t you understand?’ She’d been shouting by the end. He’d pressed his mouth on to hers, saying, ‘I’ll live, I know I will and it will be over soon. The gang are going, so I must. It’ll be exciting.’
She looked down at her white knuckles, which were gripping the table so hard that her fingers had gone numb. The oven cloth lay in a heap and she picked it up and threw it across the room. ‘Exciting? What about our gang, you stupid, lovely lad? Damn the war. Damn it to hell, and damn Auberon for taking you.’
She reached for the photograph she carried in her apron pocket. They had gone to Gosforn, he in uniform, she in her best dress, and found the studio. There they were, with an aspidistra poking up behind, as though they were frozen in black and white. Soon she must put it in a frame, but not yet. She replaced it, patted it. Not yet.
Annie called from the scullery, ‘Fat lot of good that little tantrum will do, Evie. They’re marching round some square near Newcastle with Roger buggering up the about turns, so what’s all the fuss about? It will all be over before they’re needed, the daft beggars, and if they do go they’ll be as much use as that oven cloth and be sent home. They’re not soldiers, so they’ll just get in the way.’
Mrs Moore was opening the door into the kitchen. ‘The generals would differ. They’ll say they’re needed, pinch their cheeks and take them away.’ Suddenly everyone was laughing. What else could they do, really?
Mrs Green came into the kitchen and sat at the table. How strange. ‘We can’t manage on the staff we have left if this is to become a convalescent home for the soldiers, so what do you suggest, Evie?’
Mrs Moore settled herself beside the housekeeper. ‘I told her you’d have some ideas, Evie. You always do.’ Both women looked at her as though she had the answers to the problems of the world, but she had none. Mrs Moore called through to the scullery, ‘Stop lurking over those pots and have a cuppa with us, Annie. We need to put our heads together if we are to convert this place as Lord Brampton wants. It’s just nonsense. It won’t be needed.’
Evie poured tea. Perhaps it wasn’t nonsense, and if any of the North Tynes were injured she wanted to be one of those that helped. As she passed around the tea she wondered if Lady Veronica would want Captain Williams here, poor devil, taking with him the merest kiss on the hand, or so James had reported. And why no baby on the way? They’d only been married in May, sure enough, but even so.
Annie joined them, her hands as red and raw as always. Evie insisted, ‘We need experienced staff in the kitchen, because this is the powerhouse. Food is vital, for staff and patients. Annie, you must take the position of kitchenmaid now that Dottie’s deserted us.’ She held up her hand at Annie’s shaking head. ‘I know you like your little empire in the scullery and think it will be too difficult out here in the kitchen, but it won’t. You’ve seen we have a method that works.’
She had to be careful because nothing must be said about Mrs Moore’s limited involvement in front of Mrs Green and she merely looked hard at Annie, who finally changed the shake to a nod, and a grin. Mrs Moore was looking into space. Evie continued, ‘We must get at least one more, if not two, for the kitchen as well, and perhaps two in the scullery, then there’s the laundry. By, it will be heavy on that, but that’s your pigeon, Mrs Green.’
Mrs Green pulled out the notebook that she attached to her belt with string, and wrote furiously. Mrs Moore sat with her swollen hands around her cup, and set her lips. Evie stared; she’d never seen the cook look so serious and felt a tension build. Mrs Moore spoke. ‘Yes, indeed we must have Annie promoted, and others to help because, Mrs Green, I confess I barely manage and haven’t been able to for a long while now.’
There was a long silence with just the range crackling and the stockpot bubbling, and Evie’s heart sank. Why now? When she was needed like never before.
Mrs Green said quietly at last, ‘We all understand that, Mrs Moore, and are, and have been, cognizant of the situation.’ What long words you use, Evie thought. But what do you really mean, because if you cause Mrs Moore to be dismissed then I go too. As the sale of the guest house has been cancelled, I will find war work. But she said nothing yet because Mrs Green was smiling slightly, with a kindness that was not often evident.
Annie said, ‘I don’t understand the words, but I’ll go if Mrs Moore goes.’ Mrs Green shook her head. ‘I don’t think anyone is thinking of any more of the staff leaving. Mrs Moore might not have the hands any more but she has the wisdom, don’t you agree, Evie? I think everything should remain as it is and I’m sure, as is Mr Harvey, that you have already come to an amicable financial arrangement?’
Evie and Mrs Moore looked at one another. All this subterfuge, and the upper staff knew all the time. Mrs Moore reached out and touched Evie’s hand. ‘Yes, indeed. I persuaded Evie just a few months ago, at last, to share my income and since Lady Veronica was kind enough to increase my wages at about the same time, it has made it more equitable for us both.’
So there, Evie grinned to herself, Mrs Moore can use long words too but any further discussion was interrupted by shouting from the yard, and the sound of horses, hooves, many of them. Dear God, not fire again?
Evie and Annie ran out of the kitchen and up the steps. In the stable yard several khaki-clad soldiers were struggling with roped horses who were shying and baulking as Raisin and Currant barked and snapped at their heels. At the entrance to the stables the head groom barred the soldiers’ entrance with a pitchfork.
He yelled to Evie, ‘Fetch help.’
A sergeant was bearing down on him, shouting, ‘Stand aside. This is necessary for the war effort.’
Mrs Green puffed up the steps. ‘You’ve got young legs, Evie, so run upstairs and fetch her Ladyship from the dining room.’
Evie rushed back down the steps, up the back stairs, her heart hammering, turning off for the first floor. She slammed back the green baize door into the dining room and tore in.
Lady Veronica was reading The Times. Mr Harvey swung round, moving from his position as guardian of the kedgeree at the sideboard, his hand up, his face appalled.
‘Excuse me, my lady, but they’ve come for the horses, the army that is. The dogs are down there too. It’s bloody chaos, begging your pardon.’ Evie was panting. ‘They’re taking the lot, or I think they are. They’ve already got some roped from somewhere else.’
Lady Veronica threw down the newspaper. ‘Come with me, Evie, I’ll need you.’ She ran round the table towards the landing. Mr Harvey stuttered, ‘This is most unusual, Your Ladyship. Staff should use the baize door.’
Lady Veronica didn’t slow but shouted from the landing as she headed for the stairs, ‘Oh be quiet, Harvey. Come on Evie, I won’t have them just barging
in. It will be stones through the window next. Remember the hat, Evie. I need you. Mr Harvey, get Stan, the head gardener, and what men you can summon.’
Evie joined her, rushing down the main stairs and across the hallowed ground of the front hall. She opened the huge door for Lady Veronica, then they were both through, running and crunching along the drive towards the stable yard. Evie’s ankle twisted, the pain stabbed. She ignored it and ran on, catching up and keeping pace with Lady Veronica, then into the stable yard. Here, three soldiers were holding back the grooms, whose numbers had been depleted as half went to war. Other troops led startled horses, rearing and bucking, out into the yard. Some already had their halters threaded through with ropes.
The horses had spilled into the kitchen yard as well. Raisin and Currant were still barking and milling and Mrs Moore and Mrs Green had corralled the sergeant at one side of the huge stable doors, blocking his way. Annie was there too, with a saucepan which she brought down, trying to hit his head. The sergeant parried the blow, twisting the saucepan from her hand, and brushing aside the elderly women as though they were nothing.
Evie was charging now and hurtled into him, knocking him off balance. He stepped backwards and she charged again, pursuing her advantage, pushing at him and now Annie was with her. They jammed him against the stable wall. ‘Don’t you touch them,’ Evie was shouting. ‘Don’t you dare touch these women.’
Annie yelled, ‘I’ll clobber you if you move.’
Rough hands were on them, dragging them back, but now Lady Veronica stood beside them, so that the sergeant would have to push against her if he moved. He put up his swagger stick as though to strike. ‘Put that down this instant and instruct your men to unhand Miss Forbes and Miss Fisher. And before you take any horses from this establishment you will talk to me, do you understand, or has common courtesy deserted you in this rush to abscond with our possessions?’ Lady Veronica snapped.
In her voice was all the fury and frustration of years of . . . well, what. Bastard Brampton, perhaps, Evie thought. Currant was jumping up at the sergeant now, and only stopped when Lady Veronica roared at him, ‘Enough, for God’s sake, you ridiculous dog.’
Easterleigh Hall Page 30
