Octavia's War

by Beryl Kingston

  Lizzie was thrilled with it. It was so green and peaceful and countrified. ‘It’s like walking through a green tunnel,’ she said as they reached a spot where the trees curved towards each other across the water.

  ‘There’s a swan,’ Poppy said. ‘It won’t attack us, will it?’

  ‘’Course not,’ Lizzie said, although the big bird was hissing at them even before they were anywhere near it. ‘Just walk past.’

  ‘Maybe we should walk back,’ Poppy said.

  ‘Come on,’ Lizzie said, striding along the towpath. ‘There’s a barge up there. Look.’

  It was a big barge and it was being pulled towards them by a large mud-spattered horse which was plodding as though it had all the time in the world. As it came nearer they could see that the boat was painted scarlet and gold, which made it look very bold among all that greenery, and that there were two scruffy-looking men, sitting on very small camp chairs on what little deck there was, smoking pipes. As the two girls drew level, they waved and the older one called out, ‘You got a lovely day for it!’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie agreed, ‘we have.’

  ‘You ’vacuees, are yer?’

  ‘Yes,’ Poppy said. ‘We got here yesterday.’

  ‘Fancy! Well you got a good day for it.’

  ‘I’ll bet it’s fun to live on a boat,’ Poppy said, when they’d walked on and were out of earshot. ‘Sitting out there in the sun with nothing to do.’

  ‘It’s another world,’ Lizzie said. ‘Like Wind in the Willows. Look at all those reeds. I can just see Mole and Ratty rowing along down there. It’s all browns and greens and blue sky and ducks and swans. Oh look, there’s a damsel fly. Over there on the reeds, long blue body, very pretty. Do you see it?’

  Poppy was impressed. ‘How do you know what it is?’

  ‘We have them on our pond at home,’ Lizzie said. ‘There’s another one. And two more over there. Aren’t they pretty? Like little slices of sky. I tell you what, Poppy, I think being evacuated is going to be fun.’

  Poppy was getting hungry. ‘Is it time for dinner?’

  ‘If we want it to be,’ Lizzie said. ‘We don’t have to wait for mealtimes. We can do what we like.’

  They found a grassy spot to sit on and unpacked their sandwiches. They were a bit soggy but they made good eating and the apples were lovely, very crisp and tasty.

  ‘I’ll bet they came out of her garden,’ Poppy said. ‘I’ll bet she picked them this morning. I wonder what sort of apples they are.’

  That was a bit too prosaic for Lizzie’s present mood. ‘This,’ she said, gazing round at the scenery, ‘is the most romantic place I’ve ever been in. It’s like something out of the pictures. You know? The part where the hero meets the heroine and they fall in love and there are violins playing. It’s just the place for a love scene. I tell you what, Poppy, I’m going to meet the man of my dreams by this canal. I can feel it in my bones. He’ll come walking along this towpath and he’ll see me walking towards him and it’ll be love at first sight.’

  Poppy threw her apple core into the water. ‘How can you possibly know?’ she said.

  ‘I told you, I can feel it in my bones. It’s a premonition. He’ll be walking along, all tall, dark and handsome, not thinking of anything in particular, and then he’ll see me and our eyes will meet and that’ll be it.’

  ‘You’re potty,’ Poppy said. ‘Do you think we ought to go and find some of the others?’

  ‘There’s no romance in your soul,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘How can you even be thinking about looking for the others when we’re in a place like this?’

  Poppy persisted. ‘But don’t you think we should? I mean, we are supposed to be looking after them.’

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘Let’s see if we can find Woolworths. I bet that’s where they’ll be, and there’s bound to be a Woolworths.’

  There was and sure enough it was crowded with girls in navy blue uniform. It didn’t take Lizzie long to find Iris and Sarah who were mooching about by the lipstick counter.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ she said. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Iris said. ‘They eat some jolly funny food down here, though. We had the weirdest stuff for breakfast, didn’t we, Sarah?’

  ‘Baked up crumbs,’ Sarah said. ‘What did she say it was, Iris? Grape something or other? Didn’t look much like grapes to me. Have you seen Miss Bertram?’

  ‘No. Have you?’

  ‘She was in here a minute ago,’ Sarah said. ‘She says we’re still on holiday. Isn’t that wizard? She said there’s a letter in the post for us telling us all about it, and they’re going to write again and tell us when we’ve got to go to school and where it is and everything. We’ve been looking round, haven’t we, Iris?’

  An extended holiday was good news but there were practical matters to be attended to. ‘Where’s your billet?’ Lizzie asked. ‘I need to know where you are.’

  It was rather a disappointment to find that the letter that was waiting for her and Poppy when they finally went back to their own billet had a different message. The gist of it was the same as the message Miss Bertram had given the little’uns – the holiday was to be extended until air raid shelters had been built at the school they would be sharing – but in their case, as they were examination candidates, lessons would begin at Ridgeway in two days’ time at nine o’clock, when they would meet their teachers and be given their syllabuses.

  ‘What a sell!’ Poppy said.

  ‘She’s right,’ Lizzie said, defending her heroine’s decision. ‘We’ve got a lot of work to get through. We’ll just have to make the most of tomorrow.’

  Tommy and Elizabeth were discussing the next day too, sitting in the comfort of their elegant parlour as they drank their after-dinner coffee. It was the smallest of their four reception rooms but they liked it better than any of the others, partly because it was set apart from the rest of the house, but mostly because they were the only ones who ever used it. The windows gave out to the green of the garden, it was decorated in pale blue, cream and biscuit brown, which were their favourite colours, with blue and cream swagged curtains to frame the view and heaps of pale blue tasselled cushions on every seat. They had their own easy chairs by the fireside, their favourite books were on the shelves above the chaise longue, and their favourite pictures adorned the walls. It was, in short, a calm and private territory in a house which was too often crowded with other and important people. And, naturally, it was the place where they had their most private conversations.

  ‘I shall take the afternoon off tomorrow,’ Tommy said, ‘and we’ll go down and see her. I’ve spoken to Toby about it and he’s quite agreeable.’

  ‘We mustn’t rush her,’ Elizabeth warned him. ‘I’m not saying I don’t want to see her. You know I do. But she wants to be independent. She was really quite stern about it. Maybe we ought to write back and ask her if it’s all right.’

  ‘No, no,’ her father said. ‘That’s just our Lizzie being Lizzie. She was always independent. It’ll be different when we arrive. We’ll take her out to tea somewhere special and spoil her a bit. It’ll be a nice surprise.’

  Chapter Seven

  The two cars passed one another on the Weybridge to Woking road. Octavia recognised the Silver Cloud as it approached, but it took Tommy several seconds to realise that the black Ford he’d just passed was being driven by Tavy, and then he felt irritable. What did she think she was doing? She should have been in Woking looking after her girls, not driving to London. Then he saw that she’d pulled up, so he stopped too and, as there was no other traffic in the road, reversed until the two cars were boot to boot. Then he got out to find out what she thought she was playing at.

  ‘Is the war over then?’ he said, as he reached her open window.

  ‘Pa’s got bronchitis,’ she told him shortly. ‘Emmeline phoned me yesterday. I’m going back to see him.’

  The news changed his irritation to concern. If poor o
ld J-J was ill, that was different. He altered his tone at once, standing there in the strong sunlight, elegant in his grey suit, aware that she was anxious and doing her best to conceal it. ‘I am sorry.’

  She changed the subject, talk of her father being a little too hard to handle, when she hadn’t seen him and didn’t know how bad he was. ‘Presumably you’re going down to see Lizzie.’

  ‘Spur of the moment sort of thing,’ he explained. ‘Little surprise. Thought we’d meet her at the school gate and take her out to tea.’

  ‘Ah!’ Octavia said and, explained why that wouldn’t be possible.

  He was irritable again. ‘Oh well, I suppose we’ll have to go to her billet then,’ he said, ‘and hope she’s there.’

  ‘If she’s not, try Woolworths,’ Octavia advised. ‘That seems to be our unofficial annexe.’

  His eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘Woolworths?’

  ‘It’s where they meet one another,’ Octavia explained, ‘so Miss Bertram says. The first-formers love it. It’s familiar, you see, a sort of home from home.’

  ‘Well, thanks for the tip,’ he said. ‘We mustn’t keep you. Give our regards to your father.’

  ‘Well?’ Elizabeth asked, when he eased his long legs back into the car.

  ‘J-J’s got bronchitis.’

  ‘Poor man,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We must hope it doesn’t turn to anything worse.’

  It felt most peculiar to Octavia to be driving alongside Wimbledon Common again. After the crowds of children she’d left behind in the streets of Woking, the wide expanses of the common looked empty, and Parkside Avenue was so quiet it could have been a Sunday.

  Emmeline busied out into the hall the minute she heard the key in the lock. She’d been waiting in the kitchen for nearly an hour, fiddling with the tea cups, and with the kettle on and off the boil and the clock ticking the minutes away. Now she ran to her cousin in relief.

  ‘How is he?’ Octavia asked when they’d kissed.

  ‘Bit worse, I’m afraid,’ Emmeline admitted. ‘The doctor came again this morning. He seemed to think it might be turning to pneumonia. He’s asleep at the moment, poor old love. I went up to him a minute ago and he was quite peaceful. Let’s have some tea, shall we, and then we’ll go up and see him.’

  The tea was very welcome after her drive and it gave Emmeline a chance to tell her everything that had been going on. ‘I’ve been at my wit’s end,’ she said as she poured the first cup, ‘what with Uncle ill and Edie not going with the girls, and those poor children all by themselves in the country.’

  ‘They’re probably having the time of their lives,’ Octavia told her. ‘My lot are. There are lots of people looking after them and they can’t go to school yet because the building isn’t ready for them, so they’re roaming the countryside like gypsies.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ Emmeline said. ‘But they’re older. They can cope with it better. My poor little David’s only eight. Would you like some fruit cake?’

  ‘Oh, Emmeline, nothing changes,’ Octavia said, smiling at her. ‘Tea and fruit cake in the kitchen. When did you make it?’

  ‘As soon as I knew you were coming,’ Emmeline said. ‘It gave me something to keep myself occupied.’

  Octavia understood that perfectly. It was a pattern that had withstood every change, an easy, comforting pattern. Tea and fruit cake.

  But change was waiting for them when they went upstairs and it was the change that both of them had been secretly dreading.

  The bedroom was quiet except for the intermittent buzzing of a fat bluebottle that was pinging against the window. Everything was neat and tidy. There was a carafe of water on the bedside table with her father’s spectacles folded beside it, the carpet was swept clean and the counterpane was so straight there was barely a crease in it. But there was a faint and oddly familiar smell in the room, a sour, troubling smell that reminded Octavia of something she found herself straining to remember. Her father lay on his back with his mouth open and his eyes shut so tightly they seemed to have sunk into their sockets. He was so still it seemed a pity to wake him but she walked to the bedside nevertheless and sat down in his little bedside chair.

  ‘Pa,’ she said gently, and leant forward to take the quiet hand on the counterpane. ‘It’s Tavy.’ But the hand was limp and there was no response. He didn’t even stir. And leaning forward she realised that his face was empty, vacated, not Pa at all, and then she remembered exactly what the smell was. It was the horrible sour odour that had filled her mother’s room when she lay dying. She put her hand at her father’s throat and felt for a pulse, knowing she wouldn’t find one. ‘He’s gone, Em,’ she said. ‘I’ve got here too late.’

  ‘He can’t have,’ Emmeline said, her face crumpling with distress. ‘He was all right just a minute ago. I mean, I was up here and he was sleeping like a baby. I mean, he was all right.’ Then she began to cry.

  The two women wept together for a very long time, holding on to one another in an extreme of grief, until the clock in the hall struck six and they came to their senses a little and knew that there were things that had to be done. There were people to notify. The doctor must be called.

  ‘You stay here and look after him,’ Emmeline said. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘No,’ Octavia said. ‘I’ll do it. He doesn’t need looking after now.’

  Dr Mullinger came within half an hour and certified that Professor Smith was indeed dead. ‘It was pneumonia, you see,’ he explained to Octavia. ‘It can be very quick sometimes. And merciful, I’m glad to say. He wouldn’t have suffered.’

  It was a consolation, but only a faint one.

  ‘I must phone Janet and tell her,’ Octavia said, when the doctor had signed the death certificate and suggested the name of an undertaker and left them. ‘She’s expecting me back for supper.’

  ‘You go back,’ Emmeline said valiantly. ‘I can manage. I’ve done it enough times, God knows, over the years.’

  ‘It’s very dear of you, Em,’ Octavia said. ‘But I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone. The idea! No, we’ll manage this together, and when everything’s settled and the funeral’s arranged, you can come back to Woking with me and let me look after you for a change.’

  ‘Haven’t you got to get back?’ Emmeline worried. ‘I mean, haven’t you got things to do?’

  ‘The staff will cope,’ Octavia said, and it was a great pride to her to be able to say so. ‘I’ll send them a message to say I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,’ Emmeline said.

  Tommy Meriton had spent the entire afternoon searching for his daughter – without success – and he was feeling very irritable indeed.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said to Elizabeth, as they drove down Chertsey Road for the third slow time. ‘This place is heaving with little girls. Look at them. They’re all over the place. We must find her.’

  ‘We should have sent her a card to let her know we were coming,’ Elizabeth said. This was so typical of Tommy. As a diplomat he was exceptional, and everything he did was thought through and planned to the last and smallest detail, but when it came to this precious daughter of his he lost all sense of proportion and was as thoughtlessly impulsive as a child. ‘I did tell you.’

  Tommy didn’t want to hear it. ‘Now, look at that,’ he said scowling at a group of girls who had wandered into the road. ‘Damn nearly under my wheels. This is ridiculous.’

  ‘So you keep saying,’ his wife said.

  ‘And it’s so damned hot. What’s the good of us bringing her summer clothes if we can’t find her?’

  ‘You could have given them to her landlady.’

  He snorted. ‘What earthly good would that have done? The woman’s a fool.’

  ‘Just because she couldn’t tell you where your daughter was doesn’t give you the right to impugn her intelligence,’ Elizabeth said, teasing him. ‘I thought she was rather nice. Shy, of course, but very pleasant.’

  ‘O
h, come on, child,’ Tommy said to a small girl hesitating on the kerb, ‘if you’re going to cross the road then do it. Don’t dither.’

  He was waving his hand to urge her to cross when another larger schoolgirl suddenly appeared, took hold of her hand and led her into the road. And it was Lizzie. Just when he wasn’t actually looking for her, it was Lizzie.

  ‘My dear child,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere. I’d almost given up hope of finding you. I was just saying so. Hop in and we’ll go and have tea. How about a teashop in Guildford? How would that be?’

  ‘Can Poppy come too?’

  ‘The more the merrier,’ Tommy said. He was in the most affable mood.

  So the two girls climbed into the back seat and they all drove off to Guildford where they had a sumptuous tea, with buttered scones and cream cakes and éclairs.

  ‘Would you like some more?’ Tommy asked happily when their plates were empty. ‘You’ve only got to say the word.’ Oh, it was so good to see her again and looking so well and so pretty.

  ‘Better not,’ Lizzie said, ‘or we shall never eat our supper.’

  It was Elizabeth’s chance to ask how they were getting on. ‘I gather your landlady is looking after you.’

  ‘She’s nice,’ Lizzie said. ‘The food’s a bit dull, between you and me, but she’s doing her best. I mean she wasn’t expecting two huge great girls like us.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call you huge great girls,’ Tommy protested.

  ‘Nor did she,’ Lizzie said quickly, and explained. ‘It’s just we were a bit of a shock to her. She was expecting two nursery school kids. Her face was a study when we arrived, wasn’t it, Poppy?’

  ‘It was priceless,’ Poppy confirmed. ‘We laughed for ages.’