by Rosie James
She half-smiled to herself. If the war went on long enough, perhaps all would be revealed…
She glanced over at Fay who had her eyes closed. ‘How’s your head?’ she asked softly.
‘Slightly better, thanks,’ Fay said. ‘I think I’ll be able to go to sleep now – if Evie doesn’t wake me up when she eventually comes home…’
But Alice didn’t feel sleepy at all. She was wide awake, going over and over the events of the last few hours. Of how the three of them had been approached by lots of people, and several friendly local lads – which included the two guests of honour – of how Fay had responded to their somewhat naïve advances in her usual hearty, somewhat suggestive way, of how Eve had shyly accepted all the compliments thrown at her, her eyes dancing and bright and alive.
But being in such a gathering didn’t make Alice feel particularly alive. However happy the surrounding circumstances were, or however much attention she might be given by members of the opposite sex, it made little difference. Because, ridiculous though it was, in her heart she had betrothed herself to Sam, and it would feel disloyal to look at another man in that certain way…
Presently, being careful not to disturb Fay, Alice got out of bed and reached for her suitcase, her fingers closing over what she was looking for. Then she got back into bed, and sat up cross-legged.
It was high time she took herself, took her life, in hand and stopped pussyfooting around her emotions, she scolded herself. What had this war done to her ambitions, her dream, her determination? When was the last time she did any scribbling? Some real scribbling? Alice was ashamed to realize that she’d done precious little writing for quite a long time…and for heaven’s sake, wasn’t there enough going on all around her that should inspire her? She’d only had that one short story published since she’d left college, but it should have fired her up to go on and finish the novel that she was determined would be in print one day. Bound in red, with gold lettering on the spine. She could almost hear Ada’s voice, reminding her to be dedicated and persistent. But forging her office career had seemed to get in the way, take up too much of Alice’s time and attention, followed closely by Hitler interfering in everyone’s lives and plans, like he had, and then coming to work here… Alice sighed. These were only excuses. Excuses typical of writers. Excuses not to actually pick up her pen and get on with it.
Realizing that she was not going to be able to see a thing in this light, Alice bent down to her case again and found her torch. She was going to have to balance it between her knees somehow, so that the beam allowed her to make out the pages.
She opened her exercise book and unclasped the little wallet holding her fountain pen. Then she switched on the torch – and remembered! Blast. The battery had gone – she’d forgotten to buy a new one at the shop the other day.
Never mind, she thought, putting everything back into her case. At least she had chivvied her creative brain up – hopefully. Had given herself a bit of a talking-to.
Well, the night of the Welcome Home concert would be her welcome home to a new determination to reawaken her ambition, and make that dream come true.
‘For heaven’s sake, let’s clear out of here and have a breath of fresh air!’
Thankfully, Eve followed the soldier out of the hall and into the field alongside. The hall had become overwhelmingly hot, and she was glad to escape for a few minutes. But she had never felt so happy, so excited, in her entire life and wished this night could go on for ever and ever and ever…
‘Well, what a grand night you’ve given us, Evie,’ the soldier said. ‘I think you’re…you’re absolutely spiffing! I’ve never seen anyone play the piano like that…it was…marvellous. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
And he hadn’t. He had been standing next to her all night. And Eve had been well aware of it. Had let him keep filling up her glass with more cider.
‘I wish I could put you in my kit bag and take you back to camp!’ the soldier said. ‘Except that I’d have to share you with too many other men! I’d want you all to myself!’
Eve laughed. Well, she could have laughed at anything tonight! ‘I’ve told you my name,’ she said, ‘but what’s yours?’
‘Mike.’ He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered her one. And Eve took it, waiting for him to light it for her. Then they wandered across the narrow field towards the white five-barred gate at the entrance, and stood leaning there together, puffing away, Eve trying not to cough, or look as if her cigarette was about to explode.
Mike leaned in closer. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,’ he murmured huskily. ‘Where do you live…can I see you again, Evie?’
‘Oh, I don’t actually live here,’ she said. ‘That’s to say – I’m on war work. On a farm. My real home is in Bath.’
‘I could easily come to Bath. On my leaves.’
It was quiet out here in the field, quiet and secretive. By now, almost everyone had gone home, and there was only muted sound coming from the open door of the hall as people were clearing up. Mike took one last drag on his cigarette, then dropped the stub and ground it beneath his heel. After a second, he took Eve’s half-smoked one from her hand and did the same to hers. Then, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, lowering his head to rest his cheek against hers, to find her lips.
The roughness of his uniform made her skin tingle, tingle deliciously, and she could smell his breath…smoky and beery. But she didn’t mind that. It felt good…it felt so good…to have his arms around her protectively, to feel his strong body against hers. She had never been held by any man like this before. She leaned into him, giving in to the sudden wave of sensuousness engulfing her…
‘Evie,’ he whispered. ‘Oh Evie…’
Chapter Ten
1934
The August holidays had arrived at last. And Sam was coming home tomorrow.
Up in the nursery, Alice helped the nine-year-old twins to get ready for the day. They looked so sweet in their matching pink and white print dresses with the Peter Pan collars, the Clarke’s canvas sandals on their dainty little feet. Alice had whitened the sandals with Blanco last night so that they would be ready and clean for today.
Although there were obviously no lessons again until September, it was always going to be Alice’s job to keep them occupied. But as they were growing up they’d become far more sensible, hardly wrangling at all, and very interested in learning how to sew and knit.
‘It’ll be lovely when we go to the seaside, won’t it,’ Rose said, peering closely at the blue wool she was knitting into a square. They were making blankets for their dolls’ cots. ‘I can’t wait.’
Every summer, the Carmichaels rented a house in Cornwall for three weeks – though the professor sometimes had to leave them for a day or two if an urgent case came up that required his immediate attention.
Ada – and Alice, of course – had always gone to Cornwall as well, Helena making sure that they had a good time despite being on duty with all the children. But by now, with Alice solely in charge, the two eleven-year-old boys were quite capable of amusing themselves on the wonderful beach, and roaming the surrounding countryside.
Naturally, Sam, at almost eighteen, was not expected to be there with the family all the time. Alice had found out that he was going to travel down with them next week, but that he would be going back home after a few days to spend some time with his friends – all of whom seemed to come from very rich families as far as Alice could make out. This year the usual group of six were apparently being given the use of a fishing lodge somewhere in Hampshire, and the professor had said that he expected to see some photographs of what they’d been up to, and more importantly what they’d caught, and that he hoped the week-long event was not going to turn into one long drinking session.
But before any of that could happen, the day after tomorrow Millicent was coming to stay, and Alice had heard that she might be coming with them to Cornwall as well. Al
ice tried to take this piece of information in her stride – after all, it wasn’t Millicent’s fault that she was apparently beautiful and clever – and one of the family – but still, the girl’s presence was definitely going to take the shine off things for Alice, she knew that very well.
‘Come over and sit by me for a moment, Alice,’ Helena said. ‘We ought to talk about things we should be taking with us at the end of the week…every year there seems such a lot to pack!’
Alice did as she was asked, but she was only half-paying attention. Instead, she was watching. Watching Millicent. Watching Millicent and Sam.
And Cook had been right. Millicent was beautiful…tall and slender, with a vivacious, confident personality that automatically drew people in towards her. She had an abundance of blonde hair framing a face which was an almost perfect oval, and her dark eyes were fringed with long, curling lashes. And it hadn’t taken Alice long to spot how very similar she was in appearance to her aunt Helena. Truly blood relations, after all.
Earlier, the whole family had sat down to evening dinner at the long table in the dining room – with Alice naturally included. It had been a lovely meal, a lovely occasion, with everyone chattering and laughing…well, holidays were here, exams, for some, over at last…and Cook, in her element, had bustled about bringing in all the food. And when everyone congratulated and applauded her for her imagination and expertise, she had insisted that she couldn’t have done it without Alice, who, too, had been in the kitchen helping her for much of the day.
But now, the younger children had gone off to amuse themselves elsewhere, the professor was in his study, and only Helena and Alice, Sam and Millicent were in the morning room having their coffee.
And Alice had never felt so completely alone, so utterly miserable for a long time – not since the death of her mother – as she watched Sam and his cousin together. So familiar with each other…so confident with themselves, with life, as they discussed the exams they’d both so recently had to endure. To Alice, they already looked the typical happy couple, and one day they would surely get married – as Cook had confidently expected. What could possibly stop them?
And what on earth had she, Alice, been thinking about when she’d had even the tiniest, weeniest hope that she stood a chance with her employer’s son? It was a ridiculous thought! And more fool her for letting her imagination wander! For letting her believe that Sam might find her special enough to love her in that intimate way that men and women apparently did. Like her mother and father had. A few letters between two people who, it had to be admitted, knew each other very well, did not equate with that kind of relationship. A liking relationship was what she and Sam had always had. Nothing more. Face reality squarely, Alice reminded herself savagely. Some things can never, will never, be.
As if to support every thought she’d just tormented herself with, Sam went over to the gramophone to put on some records, and Alice’s mouth went dry as she heard the first one begin to play. Oh no…please, not this one…this was her song, their song, the one Sam had always played when he was teaching her the difficult foxtrot…when she’d been as close to him physically as she’d ever been – or would ever be – when his hand had rested lightly around her waist to support her, their hands held together, his palm warm and protective against hers, their fingers gently interlaced as he’d guided her through the dance…
When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, when you wish upon a star your dreams come true…
The beautiful melody, the beautiful words, melted into the room and Alice thought – Please, Sam, don’t start dancing with her…at least, not this dance… Please…
Alice glanced over at him. He was looking out of the window, his hands in his pockets, while Millicent was thumbing through the rest of the records on the table. She wasn’t even listening to the one being played…it meant nothing to her at all. Well, why should it? In fact she was looking thoroughly disinterested…
But by now, Alice’s eyes were so full of tears that she knew she had to make her excuses and leave the room…if she could do it gracefully…but not before the final, beautiful words of the lyric drifted through the room, cutting her heart up into little pieces – when you wish upon a star your dreams come true…
She stood up decisively. ‘I think I’ll go and see what the girls are up to,’ she said, and Helena glanced up at her. Seeing the expression on Alice’s face, she said quickly, ‘Are you all right, dear?’ She frowned. ‘You look rather pale.’
Alice shook her head quickly. ‘No, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.’
Millicent, who’d been half taking this in, strolled over and looked down at Alice. ‘Well, you’ve apparently been working your fingers to the bone all day on our behalf, haven’t you?’ she said lazily. ‘I do hope my aunt and uncle are not slave-drivers.’ She paused, looking Alice up and down, and Alice wished the floor would just open and swallow her up. What must Helena’s niece be thinking of Alice’s little-girl outfit – a neat, dark blue and white striped, short cotton dress, with the wide, sailor collar? Her mother had made it for her, and Alice treasured it because it reminded her of her papa’s life at sea. But Millicent’s get-up was high fashion. Pale coffee-coloured chiffon, with a fine, draped shawl feature at the neck – and which floated softly to the waist line. The skirt was calf-length, showing off a pair of the latest high-heeled, black patent shoes…to Alice, Millicent could have graced the pages of one of the glossy magazines.
Before Alice could reply to what Millicent had said, the girl went on casually– as if making polite conversation – ‘I believe your mother was employed here for some time, wasn’t she – and now you’re here in her stead? Quite a convenient arrangement for you, I suppose.’
Helena interrupted at once. ‘Alice, and Ada before her, have lived with us for many years,’ she said firmly. ‘They’ve never been thought of as employees, because they very quickly became part of the family – and we miss Ada terribly.’ She smiled up at Alice. ‘But now we have Alice, and she is as essential to us as her mother was, and we are very grateful that she lives under our roof. It would not be the same here without her.’
Millicent turned away, conscious of her aunt’s rebuff. ‘Yes – I’m aware that good staff are very difficult to come by these days,’ she said, determined to have the last word.
21st January, 1935
It was Monday, and today was Alice’s fifteenth birthday. Helena had insisted that a little party should take place in the afternoon, even though there would be so few of the family there. The boys were back at boarding school, and Sam was already heavily into his second term at university. But the professor had promised to come back in time to share some of the cake which Cook had made. And to play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, which he was always very good at.
Helena had suggested that it might be nice to have the party down in the morning room for a change, but Alice had wanted it up here in the nursery instead. Because she knew she would feel her mother’s presence. She wanted Ada to be there as well. Apart from that, the nursery was always so cosy, usually with a small fire burning in the grate – even though there was central heating in the house, coal-fired by a huge boiler down in the basement.
Besides, there was everything upstairs which they might need for a party – there was the children’s gramophone with all their favourite records, and of course their games, and puzzles – and plenty of room for charades. And between them, Helena and Cook had made up a pass-the-parcel, with small gifts inside – and there’d be some forfeits, Cook had warned them. And Rose and Margaret had screamed in mock terror when they’d heard that.
‘When the music stops on a forfeit and it’s me holding the parcel I want to run away!’ Rose exclaimed. ‘Because I can never do forfeits as well as Margaret does! And she always seems to get the easy ones!’
‘Well, you’ll just have to do your best if it’s your turn for a forfeit,’ Alice had said. ‘And try and beat Margaret. Competition is
good for everyone!’
At 3 o’clock, after the twins’ lessons had finished for the day, Alice helped Cook bring all the food upstairs, and set the table, the girls dancing around excitedly.
‘There are all my favourite things here!’ Margaret exclaimed. ‘There’s the bunny rabbit blancmange with sultanas for his eyes, and green jelly for him to sit on…and…egg sandwiches…I love egg sandwiches…and…’
Rose interrupted, joining in the admiration of everything on the table – ‘Oh and there’s the shortbreads! All with all our names piped in white icing…look, there’s several with mine on!’
‘And mine are all piped in pink icing,’ Margaret said, peering closely to examine the plate of biscuits so lovingly made by the best Cook in the world. ‘And Alice’s are all in green!’ she cried. ‘They all look so pretty!’
‘And coconut fingers! Millions of coconut fingers!’ Rose said. ‘Yummy, scrummy!’
Helena stood back and looked down fondly as her daughters. ‘You do realize that this is Alice’s party, not yours?’ she said. She looked across at Alice. ‘I hope your favourite things are here as well, Alice!’
‘They’re all my favourites,’ Alice said, knowing that presently Cook would bring up the huge chocolate birthday cake to take pride of place in the middle of the table. Well, Alice had actually helped to make the cake herself, though Cook had done the icing, with “Happy Birthday Alice” written on it, and fifteen candles all around the edge, ready to be lit at the appropriate time.
Later, after they’d got tired of playing games, they all sat around the table and started on the food. Helena glanced at her watch.
‘I thought the professor would have come home by now,’ she said. ‘He’d hoped today was going to be a short one – for a change. But’ – she smiled – ‘we must make sure we save him some of that wonderful birthday cake.’
