The Granville Affaire

by Una-Mary Parker

  Louise watched, reminded of the pheasants as they were shot out of the sky when she’d stayed with Juliet at Glenmally.

  ‘They’ll be killed, won’t they? The German crew, I mean,’ she asked with a catch in her voice.

  Dudley glanced at her stricken expression. ‘Please come downstairs now, Miss Louise. Her Grace will be really angry if I let you stay up here. It’s not safe.’

  Louise turned to look at him over her shoulder. ‘I’m not afraid of dying, you know.’

  ‘Maybe not, but if you stay by that window, you risk having your face cut to ribbons by flying glass,’ he said firmly, adding slyly, ‘I was about to cook lunch, Miss Louise. Would you like some chocolate pudding?’

  Louise hesitated for a moment, torn between her inner childish self and the new person she’d become.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said, finally, following him obediently down to the basement, where he settled her in the shelter. He turned on the wireless. ‘Music While You Work’ was on, a programme lasting several hours every day, for the benefit of the young women working in munitions factories. Glenn Miller and his band were playing ‘In the Mood’.

  Dudley whipped up a tomato omelette, thanks to the supply of vegetables and eggs Juliet had brought up from Hartley. There was also a portion of chocolate mousse in a glass dish, and cheese and biscuits, ‘I hope these are not your rations?’ she asked, amazed, as soon as he set the tray before her.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, Miss Louise. I have a few contacts, you know? I can obtain most things for Her Grace,’ he replied gravely.

  ‘Really?’ Louise was fascinated. ‘Can you ever get oranges? Or bananas?’

  ‘They present a certain difficulty, because they come from abroad. But I will certainly find out if there are any available.’

  ‘I can hardly remember what an orange tastes like. Aren’t you having lunch?’ She looked around to see what he had cooked for himself.

  ‘I’ll have mine later, Miss Louise,’ he said diplomatically. His Army life had been good training for this new lark of being a butler, he reflected. Troops never sat down to eat with officers; likewise, servants didn’t eat with the gentry. Even if the bombs were dropping all around and the THRUM-THRUM-THRUM of the German planes was getting on his wick.

  He looked at Louise again, as she sat eating at the small table he’d put in the shelter. He’d guessed from the beginning she’d got herself into trouble. Judging by her figure, she’d only just given birth, too. Her expression was the picture of misery, and he could only guess at the upset such an event must have caused in a family like the Granvilles.

  Later that afternoon, Dudley went up to the drawing room, carrying a basket. ‘This has arrived for you, Miss Louise,’ he announced primly, setting it on the floor in front of her.

  Louise put down the book she’d been reading. ‘For me?’ she queried. ‘What is it?’

  At that moment there was a tiny yelp from the basket. Bemused, she lifted the lid, and found a little scrap of a puppy looking up at her, with two round black eyes, and a tiny blob of a black nose.

  ‘Where did this come from?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s a present from Her Grace. She asked me to find a puppy for you, which is quite a problem at the moment, seeing as so many dogs were put down at the beginning of the war, but I managed to get this little bitch, through one of my contacts.’

  Louise froze, aghast. How could Juliet, of all people, have been so insensitive as to imagine a puppy could take the place of Rupert?

  ‘Take it away…!’ she exclaimed, bursting into tears. ‘I don’t want a dog. I want my baby.’ She threw herself sideways along the sofa, sobbing dementedly, tugging at great handfuls of her hair with both hands. ‘How dare she think… I want Rupert… it’s my baby I want…’

  Dudley quickly closed the basket and hurried out of the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he placed a cup of camomile tea on the table beside her. Then he left her again, still crying, to make a telephone call.

  Juliet rushed back to the house an hour later, having got permission to take the night off, to look after her ‘ill’ sister.

  By then Louise had gone to bed, worn out with grief, pining for her baby.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked in a flat voice.

  Juliet sat on the side of the bed and spoke directly. ‘Dudley says you thought I’d got you a puppy, to take the place of Rupert. How could you get such an idea? You know that’s not what I meant, Louise. Remember, I’m the only one in this family who understands what you’re going through. When my baby died, I wanted to die, too. I felt I had nothing to live for.’

  ‘Then why did you get me the dog?’ Louise asked angrily.

  ‘Dogs need exercising, and I thought it would get you to go for walks in the park, which would be good for you,’ Juliet lied. In fact, she had thought it might divert Louise’s maternal feelings, giving her something small and dependent to look after, but that had obviously been a mistake.

  ‘It’s insulting to the memory of Rupert to think he could be replaced by a dog,’ Louise snapped. Her face was blotchy and swollen, her eyes dulled by grief.

  ‘I never thought that, for one moment,’ Juliet assured her. ‘And you shouldn’t talk about Rupert as if he’s dead.’

  ‘He’s dead to me. I’ll never see him again, and I don’t think I can bear it. I loved him. He was so exquisite. How could I have let him be taken away from me?’ She lay down again, and pulled the covers up over her head. ‘Go away,’ she said harshly, her voice muffled. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

  Louise awoke in the middle of the night. She’d refused to have dinner, and now she felt hungry. Slipping out of bed, she pulled on the silk dressing-gown Juliet had lent her, and slipped down to the kitchen. In the house of plenty, she was sure she’d find some bread and cheese in the larder, and maybe some fruit.

  Switching on the light, the kitchen was immediately filled with brilliance, and she found herself looking into two button bright dark eyes, and a little black nose.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. She had forgotten about the puppy, who was now making friendly little squeaks, and trying to climb up her ankles. Lifting it up, Louise realized it was the smallest and lightest little dog she’d ever seen. It had soft silky grey and tan hair, feathering around her face and legs, and a tail that wagged furiously.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Louise asked matter-of-factly, and slightly resentfully. She looked around for something to give the puppy, and found Dudley had also acquired everything a dog could need, from a bed to sleep in, to a collar and lead. She took a small biscuit out of one of the packets, and placed it, with the puppy, on the floor, while she raided the larder for herself.

  When she’d eaten, she went to leave the kitchen, but the puppy followed her, and although she tried to shut it in, it was too quick for her. Irritated, she stomped back up the stairs to her room, with the little creature trailing at her heels. One thing was certain. She was not going to have this unwanted, un-asked for and unwelcome creature sleeping with her.

  Again the puppy was too quick. The minute Louise opened her bedroom door, it shot ahead of her and, with a feisty leap, jumped on to the chaise longue that stood at the foot of the bed. From here it scrambled up on to the bed, and headed for the down pillows, where it proceeded to scrabble for a moment, before making a comfortable bed for itself.

  ‘The cheek of it…!’ Louise muttered crossly, too tired to take it down to the kitchen again. ‘You’d better not make a mess.’

  * * *

  ‘Your Grace, shall I take Miss Louise a cup of tea, or shall we not disturb her?’ Dudley asked the next morning, as he placed Juliet’s cup of Lapsang Souchong on her bedside table.

  ‘Leave her to sleep for the moment, Dudley.’

  ‘Very well, Your Grace.’

  But when he’d gone downstairs again, she got out of bed, worried about Louise. If she was as distraught as she’d been yesterday, she’d have to call the doct
or again. Barefoot, she crept along the corridor, and opened her sister’s door very quietly.

  Two silky ears pricked up from the pillows, and a pair of bright dark eyes looked at her enquiringly. Curled up against Louise’s bare shoulder, the puppy was luxuriating in the warmth and comfort of human contact and a downy bed.

  Louise was still fast asleep, her face turned towards the dog.

  Juliet tip-toed away, closing the door soundlessly again. Perhaps the puppy, after all, was going to help distract Louise from her deep sense of loss. It had to be better than the path Juliet herself had chosen, which had, at times, been deeply decadent and self-destructive, to say the least.

  Part Three

  Into the Light

  1943–1945

  Six

  ‘Henry, is it all right if I bring Gaston to lunch again on Sunday?’ Candida asked. ‘He’s got a few days off and I’m going home for the weekend. I feel like a troglodyte. I don’t think I’ve seen daylight or breathed fresh air for weeks.’

  ‘You poor old thing,’ Henry sympathized, from the comfort of his fairly opulent office at the bank. ‘Are you having to sleep in the cabinet rooms?’

  ‘Mr Churchill keeps us all sleeping in those wretched cellars. He’s even brought his own bed! The rest of us sleep on bunks in a corridor, in an even deeper cellar, which we have to reach through a trap door in the floor. I can tell you, Henry, there are times when I feel like getting out and running naked around Whitehall, bombs or no bloody bombs, just to get out of the wretched place!’ she boomed, with a loud laugh.

  ‘It’ll be nice to see you and Gaston again.’

  ‘You don’t mind if I bring someone else as well, do you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Good. He’s called Andrew Pemberton. He’s at the War Office. We’ve been seeing a bit of each other, bombs permitting,’ she added with sudden coyness.

  ‘Goodness!’ Henry sounded surprised but pleased. ‘I’ll look forward to meeting him.’

  ‘See you Sunday, then. Oh, God! The red alert phones are flashing; got to go.’ There was a click and she’d hung up.

  For once, the whole family was gathered together for lunch that weekend.

  Lady Anne was delighted at the prospect of seeing all the family, while Liza’s excitement at having an opportunity to entertain knew no bounds. Rosie, Mrs Dobbs and Warwick were rather dismayed though. The leaves would have to be put back in the dining table to enlarge it, rations would have to be stretched, and ingenuity brought into play.

  Spence was instructed to bring in all the garden vegetables he could find, and to kill three of the chickens. But only when Charlotte wasn’t around.

  It was the first time Louise had been back to Hartley, clutching her puppy, Bella, and feeling full of trepidation. Not that she need have worried. Her arrival was somewhat overshadowed by the carload of food that Juliet brought with them.

  ‘How do you get all this stuff?’ Rosie asked jealously, as the kitchen table became piled up with supplies, including caviar.

  ‘I’ve got a present for you,’ Juliet countered, whipping a flat package out of her suitcase.

  ‘Stockings!’ Rosie gasped with delight. ‘Silk stockings? I haven’t had any for years.’

  ‘I’ve got some for Mummy and Granny, too,’ Juliet added nonchalantly.

  ‘Where did you get them from? And all these chocolates?’ Rosie asked, suspicious.

  ‘You do know the Americans have joined the war, I suppose?’ Juliet asked scathingly.

  ‘So…?’

  ‘London is flooded with GIs. They’re lonely, and they’re loaded, and they’re lovely boys.’ She saw Rosie’s expression of horror. ‘I didn’t have to sleep with them, stupid. They’re naturally generous, and when I give a drinks party, to introduce them to some of my friends, they bring me all these marvellous presents. If you don’t want the stockings, give them to someone else,’ she added tartly.

  Rosie clutched the precious package to her chest. ‘No, no. I love them. Thank you very much. I’ve been reduced to painting my legs brown, and drawing a line up the back with an eyebrow pencil.’

  In the end, thanks to Juliet’s contribution, it was quite a feast, with smoked salmon to start with, and a ripe Stilton to have after Mrs Dodd’s apple pie. To add to the festivity, Henry brought up some precious bottles of wine from the dwindling stock in the cellar.

  ‘I know a friend of yours,’ Gaston said to Juliet in much improved English, as they gathered for drinks in the library before lunch.

  ‘Oh, yes? Who was that?’ Juliet asked, uninterested.

  Gaston looked terrible today; unshaven, dirty, and dressed like a French onion seller. It was an insult to her grandmother, she reflected, not to have made an effort.

  ‘Daniel Lawrence.’

  The blood drained from Juliet’s face and for a moment the room seemed to spin around her. She stood quite still, letting the shock waves ricochet through her body and settle before she spoke.

  ‘Daniel?’ she repeated hoarsely. She was trembling so much she had to put down her glass. ‘How do you know him?’

  He shrugged elaborately. ‘How you say…? Talk costs lives. I cannot tell. He ask me if I know anyone in England, and I say the Granvilles… then he ask if I know you.’ He gave a garlic-laden laugh. Juliet stepped back, feeling nauseous, whether from shock or the pungent smell she wasn’t sure.

  Gaston continued, ‘I said we were related; he was very interested.’

  ‘How is he?’ Her voice sounded strange to her ears.

  ‘How is anyone in this war? Over-worked. Very tired, I’d say. Have you known him long?’

  Juliet wondered if she was dreaming. He knew Daniel. She realized he was looking at her, waiting for an answer.

  ‘I’ve known him for some time,’ she croaked. ‘Is he still working in London?’

  Gaston spoke cautiously. ‘Sometimes. I cannot say more.’

  ‘Luncheon’s ready,’ Liza trilled at that moment. ‘You’re sitting next to me,’ she said archly to Andrew Pemberton, Candida’s new beau. ‘I want you to tell me all about yourself.’

  Candida cast her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I hope you’ve put an intelligent young girl, like Juliet, on his other side, Liza,’ she remarked.

  Liza gave a silly giggle, ignoring the remark. She never knew how to cope with Henry’s sister; never knew whether she was joking or not. Candida was so loud, so bursting with what people called personality, but Liza privately thought was bumptiousness. And she seemed to take up half the room with her large bosom and broad beam. Liza patted her own flat stomach with a self-satisfied smile as she led the way into the dining room. Norman Hartnell was always saying what a marvellous figure she had for someone who’d had five children.

  ‘What’s the matter, Juliet?’ Louise asked, as they sat, side by side, at the table. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘I feel as if I have,’ Juliet admitted, wondering if Daniel had said anything about her. And what type of war work were they doing that could possibly bring them together?

  She gave a wobbly smile. ‘Gaston has just told me he’s met Daniel.’ Apart from Henry, Louise was the only person she’d confided in about her baby being Daniel’s child.

  ‘That’s good news, surely? What’s to stop you seeing him again?’

  Juliet shook her head. ‘He thinks I’m a bad lot. He thinks I just use men, and in a way I suppose he’s right, although I’ve never used him.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘He knows where I live and he knows where I work; it’s up to him, really. I can’t go chasing after him.’

  Rosie leaned across the table. ‘What are you two hatching?’ she asked, hating to be left out of anything.

  ‘We’re making plans for when Louise starts to train to be a VAD,’ Juliet replied airily.

  ‘Is that what you really want to do, Louise? It sounds dreadful,’ Rosie remarked critically.

  ‘I want to work in a chi
ldren’s ward in a hospital,’ Louise replied. ‘St Stephens said they’d take me on, once I’m qualified. And Juliet says I can go on living with her, which means I can have Bella with me.’

  ‘Bella’s a great hit with Dudley,’ Juliet agreed, then added laughingly, ‘not that he doesn’t adore Louise, too, so it’s going to be fun.’

  ‘I bet,’ said Rosie bitterly, flushed with vexation. Now, not only was Juliet having an exciting and luxurious life in London, with a butler who had black market contacts, but Louise was going to be sharing in all the luxury, too. Why did nothing nice ever happen to her? Why did she have to be stuck down here, with two small children, helping Mrs Dodds cook for everyone, and doing most of the house-work, because Warwick was too decrepit, and her mother was too lazy?

  Rosie had got over Charles’s death, and Freddie’s betrayal, and now she longed to live a bit. Find someone else to love her and take her out, and offer her an exciting future. It simply wasn’t fair that Juliet always got everything, and now Louise was following in her footsteps. They’d both behaved terribly badly, causing scandals within the family, while her affair with Freddie had been the essence of discretion. It seemed, she reflected bitterly, that bad girls had a much better time than good girls.

  Gaston, sitting between Lady Anne and Henry, watched the family with whom he now had a tenuous link, and felt much more at ease this time. Brought up on his own by his mother and stepfather, he’d often wondered what it would be like to have siblings. Looking around the table now, he felt almost glad he’d been an only child. The atmosphere bristled with rivalry and discontent between the Granville sisters, who were all so different. Charlotte seemed the most uncomplicated one. In contrast, Amanda was a bossy little fire-cracker, squinting through her glasses with a critical expression, and tossing her head with irritation every time her mother spoke. Louise looked sad and quenched, and Rosie, who he remembered as an English-rose type of beauty, now resembled a frustrated, harassed housewife.