‘So – you don’t live permanently in London?’ Rosie asked, amazed at the sudden feeling of disappointment she felt at the thought of him returning to America.
He shrugged, grey eyes looking into hers with something like regret. ‘Sadly, no. I’m here for a few months, doing stuff for our embassy, but I’ll have to return to the States, sooner or later.’
‘I see.’ Rosie drank some more wine, determined to keep up with this attractive man, and only by getting slightly tipsy did she think she’d have the confidence to do so. She loved his American drawl, and his easy and relaxed manner. She loved the way he spoke to her, as if he’d known her for years.
‘Meanwhile,’ he was saying, turning to smile warmly into her eyes, ‘would you like to see a film one evening? And perhaps have supper out, afterwards… air raids permitting, of course?’
‘I’d love that,’ she replied, more quickly than she’d meant to. Blushing deeply, she picked up her near-empty glass again.
‘Allow me,’ Salton suggested, reaching for the wine and topping up her drink.
From the head of the table, Rosie was aware of Juliet’s watchful yet slightly amused glances.
Damn Juliet, Rosie reflected, drinking more wine. She’s not the only one who is attractive to men. They used to flock around me, too, when… when… Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. When I was young and beautiful, she reflected, engulfed by a wave of self-pity.
She wished now she hadn’t come to stay with Juliet. It had been madness to think it would work. Juliet was always going to upstage her, make her feel inferior, and whisk the best men from right under her nose.
It had seemed like a perfect idea to stay with her sister, especially as Louise was already here, but now she knew it was a great mistake. Once again, as had happened when they’d been girls, Juliet would undermine her confidence and spoil her chances of success.
Rosie put down her empty wine glass, and Salton once again refilled it, with an easy smile and a vague remark about Juliet giving such wonderful parties.
‘Yes,’ Rosie agreed loudly, fighting back tears. ‘Well, she can afford to, can’t she? With the generous settlement her ex-husband gave her.’
Silence entombed her remark in the ether, so the words remained hovering over the dining table like a banner flung up in a declaration of enmity.
Juliet’s smile was sweet and deadly. ‘You’re right, Rosie. Cameron was so generous, and so kind. I shall always be grateful to him. Shall we go upstairs and have coffee?’
The other women murmured agreement, rising from their seats, while Juliet led the way out of the dining room, leaving the men to enjoy their port and cigars.
Once upstairs, Juliet dragged Rosie into the spare room.
‘How dare you behave like that,’ she hissed, giving Rosie a shake. ‘You’re drunk for a start! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘I hate being here, and I hate you,’ Rosie wept.
‘Fine. Go back to Hartley then. You abused my hospitality tonight, Rosie. I invited a really nice single man to meet you, a man who was obviously taken with you and would have asked you out, and then you go and make bitchy remarks about me…’
Rosie drew herself up, so furious her tears suddenly stopped.
‘I don’t need you or anyone else to find a man for me,’ she stormed, flushed with anger. ‘How typically patronizing of you. Just because you’re rich you think you can lord it over everyone else… but then you were always like that, weren’t you? You ruined my year as a débutante…!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, that was eight bloody years ago! How you harp on, always bearing grudges. It’s time you grew up,’ Juliet growled in a low voice so her guests wouldn’t hear. ‘You’ve had much too much to drink and I think you’d better go to bed, before you embarrass yourself any more.’
With that, she marched out of the room and shut the door, praying Rosie would go to bed. They’d been close for a short while, after the tragic bombing of the Café de Paris, but now Rosie had reverted to being jealous and petty once again, and as far as Juliet was concerned, life, especially in the middle of a war, was too short for such nonsense.
The next morning, Louise came into Juliet’s bedroom, as she was getting dressed into her uniform.
‘What’s up with Rosie?’ she whispered, mystified.
‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘She’s packing her things. She says she’s going to stay with someone called Lady Sonia Musgrove.’
‘Oh, really?’ Juliet chuckled. ‘Sonia Musgrove is also a war widow, but immensely wealthy, and lives in Eaton Square. She’s an extra Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen, and she knows everyone. I’d forgotten she was a friend of Rosie’s.’
‘Why is Rosie going to stay with her?’ Louise asked, amazed.
Juliet’s smile broadened. ‘Because I think our sister is about to turn into our mother.’
* * *
Liza joined Henry at the Campden Hill flat two days later.
‘I’m meeting Rosie and Lady Sonia for lunch at Claridges, tomorrow,’ she told Henry, when he returned from the bank that evening. Her voice was ecstatic. ‘This is the best thing that could have happened to Rosie. Juliet knows such bizarre people; I gather her whole dinner party the other evening was made up of Americans.’
Henry looked pained and remained silent, every word Liza said grating on his nerves.
‘What’s the matter, Henry? Why don’t we dine at the Dorchester tonight? We might drop in to see Lady Cunard; just a courtesy call, you know, to let her know we’re all back in town.’ As she spoke, she was unpacking a large suitcase, full of evening dresses, pushing his suits to one side on the rail, to make room for her things.
‘I would have thought, Liza,’ he said slowly, ‘that with one of your daughters a Duchess, and another the widow of a Baron, you’d have felt you’d arrived.’
‘Oh, Henry, you’re such a stick-in-the-mud,’ she laughed humourlessly. ‘The trouble is, you’ve no ambition.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve never felt the need, my dear,’ he replied quietly.
The Granvilles were now maintaining a divided front on the London scene.
Juliet and Louise continued to live in friendly harmony, Juliet helping her sister with her First Aid and Home Nursing studies, in the build-up to her exams, while herself working twenty-four-hour shifts, at Kingston House. There had been a definite lull in the air bombardments and so, when not on duty, Juliet continued to entertain, while Louise formed friendships with girls of her own age.
Rosie, on the other hand, was leading a flighty and gregarious life, as she continued to stay with Sonia Musgrove.
As if there was no war, apart from Sonia constantly grumbling at lack of staff, they went out every night to meet Sonia’s rather grand friends. Sonia liked Rosie’s company, because she was sweet and acquiescent, and happy to fall in with her plans. Rosie, from her point of view, began to secretly dream that Sonia might put her name forward to be another extra Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen.
Meanwhile, Liza flitted around the perimeter of their lives like an old cat, watching, with envy, the kittens at play.
Henry observed with growing dismay that his wife’s previous pride in her elder daughters, as appendages to her, had now turned to furious jealousy because they were young women in their own right, with their own lives. Lives in which she was no longer included.
Henry decided it was time to issue an ultimatum.
* * *
The wailing sirens suddenly pierced the air with a note of alarm, just as Liza was walking down Piccadilly. This wasn’t the first of the day-time raids, but from the first menacing THRUM-THRUM-THRUM of the German bombers overhead, to the sickening SCHER-RER-RER-RER… BOOM of the falling bombs, it looked like being the most severe.
She started running for cover, hindered by her high heeled shoes. Shrapnel pinged as it hit the pavement around her like hailstones. Sticks of bombs, raining down on nearby buildings, made the ground
shudder. Never before had she been out in an air raid, and she felt enormous relief when she flung herself through the doors of Fortnum & Mason, safe in the knowledge that even if the large store suffered a direct hit, she’d be safe in the beautifully presented delicatessen department.
Other people had run in for shelter, too, and were being advised by the uniformed commissionaire to stay in the centre of the ground floor, away from the glass windows.
To her surprise, Liza realized she wasn’t scared; there was a pleasant feeling of camaraderie. And here, in this exclusive store, strangers were talking to each other, no matter what their background.
When the All-Clear sounded, Liza took a taxi back to Campden Hill, no longer in the mood for shopping – not that the shops had much to sell, unless one had masses of coupons.
The telephone on the hall table was ringing, as she let herself into the flat.
‘Hello?’
‘Mummy?’
‘Oh, hello, Juliet. I’ve just got in this moment. I was in Piccadilly when the bombing started…’
‘Mummy, I’m on duty, so I have to be quick. Have you heard from Daddy?’
‘I told you, darling, I only got in this minute. Why?’
‘I’ve just heard Leadenhall Street has been heavily bombed.’ Juliet’s voice was harsh with worry. ‘We’re on stand-by, in case they need more ambulances…’
‘Leadenhall Street…? Oh, God, the bank!’
‘I’m afraid so. A direct hit, from the reports we’re getting.’
‘Oh, my God! Oh, Juliet, what shall I do?’ She’d slithered down onto her knees on the hall floor, weak and overcome with shock and terror. ‘They have a shelter, don’t they? In the vaults?’ she croaked.
‘Yes, if they had time to get everyone down. I’ve tried phoning them, but all the lines are down, so I can’t get through.’ Juliet sounded as desperate as Liza felt.
‘What shall I do?’ Liza wailed. She was trembling violently by now, more frightened that she’d ever been in her life.
‘Stay by the phone, whatever you do,’ Juliet commanded. ‘Then if Daddy tries to contact you, you’re there to take the call. I’ll keep in touch. I’ve got to go now, Mummy. Talk to you later. Bye.’ There was a click, and she’d gone.
Liza shivered her way restlessly around the dark basement flat, drinking the last of the brandy, and trying to make up her mind whether to phone her mother-in-law or not. Lady Anne was with the two younger children, and Nanny was looking after Sophia and Jonathan; better to say nothing for the moment, she reflected.
Then Liza, unable to bear the solitude of being on her own at a time like this, decided to phone Rosie, at Sonia Musgrove’s house.
Rosie burst into tears when she was told. ‘Oh, Mummy…! I can’t bear it. How can we find out of Daddy’s all right?’
‘Juliet says I must stay here, in case he phones me. I was in Piccadilly when the raid started. If I’d known…’ her voice caught and she was unable to continue.
‘I’ll start ringing around the hospitals, as we did when Charles…’ Rosie sobbed.
Liza’s terror increased. ‘If anything’s happened to Daddy— Oh, God, what shall I do?’
‘Stay by the phone, Mummy. Stay there, like Juliet said. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.’
‘All right.’ Falteringly, and reluctantly, Liza replaced the receiver. Without anyone to talk to, she was distraught. What was happening? Was Henry buried beneath the rubble? Were they digging to get him out, right now? Supposing… supposing he was never found at all? Juliet had told her some people were never found; not even bits of them.
Weeping uncontrollably, she stumbled into their bedroom.
‘Henry… Henry,’ she sobbed, so overwhelmed by grief that she feared she’d go out of her mind. This nightmare can’t be happening, she thought, during moments of agonizing clarity. Henry must be all right. He had to be.
‘Please God,’ she vowed fervently, ‘let Henry be alive. I’ll do anything if only he’s alive. Anything.’ And then she fell to weeping again, for the husband on whom she depended totally, but might never see again…
* * *
Liza awoke later to hear a key turn in the front door of the flat.
‘Ian?’ She scrambled to her feet in panic ‘Ian? Have you heard anything? Is Henry…?’
Henry stepped quietly into the room. He was grey from top to toes. Plaster dust caked his hair, frosted his eyelashes, was streaked on his exhausted face and embedded in his clothes.
‘Hello, Liza.’ He looked steadily at her, his shattered expression telling her more of what he’d been through than words could ever have done.
‘Oh, Henry, darling.’ Liza flew to him, putting her arms around him, holding him as if she could never bear to let him go. ‘Thank God you’re safe. Thank God. Thank God,’ she kept murmuring, her wet cheek pressed to his grimy one.
‘How did you know?’
‘Juliet phoned me as soon as she heard. I’d just got back from Piccadilly; it was a bad raid, wasn’t it? What can I get you, darling? A drink?’ She remembered she’d finished the brandy. ‘A whisky and soda?’
‘What did you say?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m temporarily deafened. The noise was terrible.’ His voice cracked as he lowered himself painfully into a chair.
‘Would you like something to eat? There are a couple of eggs, and some tomatoes. I could make you an omelette?’
‘I’m not hungry. I just need to sit quietly for a while. And I’d like a glass of water.’
Liza phoned Juliet and Rosie, thankful she hadn’t alerted Lady Anne. Then she sat quietly by Henry’s side, remembering her promise to God. She would keep her word, no matter what.
Things would have to change. She was going to have to change. Henry deserved a better wife.
After a hot bath, Henry dragged his bruised and tired body to bed. He’d told Liza briefly about his lucky escape, in which the blast of the bomb, as it exploded on hitting Hammerton’s sturdy stone building, had thrown him down the steep stairs to the vaults, where everyone else in the bank was already sheltering.
‘We were all stuck down there for several hours before the rescuers could get to us,’ he said briefly, ‘but no one was injured, and so it wasn’t too bad.’
As she lay beside him that night, she held his hand tightly.
‘Are you going to retire, now that Hammertons has gone?’ she asked softly.
‘Only the building’s gone,’ he replied in a reasonable voice. ‘Hammertons has to go on, and tomorrow we’re having a directors’ meeting at the Savoy, to see how we’re going to manage.’
‘I only asked,’ Liza said carefully, ‘because if you are going to retire, a couple of years before you’d planned, I’d be perfectly happy to leave London, and live at Hartley, on a permanent basis.’
Henry lay in silent amazement. So Liza’s swollen and blotchy face and solicitous manner really had been because she’d thought he was dead. ‘Are you sure you want to live in the country?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Absolutely sure, darling,’ she said with touching sincerity. ‘Oh, Henry, I wanted to die today, when I thought something had happened to you. I’ll do anything you want as long as we can be together. I love you so much,’ she added, wistfully.
Henry turned to her in the darkness, gathering her to his sore and bruised chest. ‘I love you, too, Liza. I always have, and I always will. Thank you for saying you’ll stick by me, whatever I decide.’
‘I will, Henry. I really will. And if you decide to stay in London a bit longer, I thought I’d join the WVS; they were so wonderful during the raid today, offering tea and hot soup to people in distress. I think it’s something I could really do.’
‘The Women’s Voluntary Service?’ Henry tried to keep the astonishment out of his voice. ‘That’s an excellent idea, darling. They desperately need all the help they can get. It’ll be pretty gritty, you know. Sometimes you’ll be dealing with people who have lost everything. Their homes, al
l their possessions, and maybe a loved one, too. You see them wandering the streets clutching their worldly possessions with nowhere to go.’
Liza lay in shocked silence, and Henry knew she was weeping.
‘It’s pretty rotten, isn’t it, darling?’ Henry murmured, reaching up to stroke her wet cheek in the darkness.
‘This is the most terrible war,’ she agreed brokenly, as if she’d only just realized it.
* * *
There was something familiar about the fireman, as he rolled up one of the hoses. When he took off his brass helmet, to rub the smoky grime off his face, showing his blond curling hair matted to his head with sweat, Juliet knew for certain it was him.
She hurried over to where he stood, her own uniform crumpled and streaked with smuts.
‘Jack?’ she asked questioningly.
He spun round, his expression blank. ‘Yes?’ he grunted uncertainly. Beneath the dirt, she was struck by how young he looked, still a mere boy.
‘I’m Juliet, Louise’s sister. I thought I recognized you.’
Jack flushed crimson, his dark eyes flashing with recognition. ‘’ow’s Louise?’ he asked instantly.
‘She’s all right. She’s living in London with me. She’s a nurse now, working in a children’s ward, at St Stephen’s Hospital.’
‘And…?’ He paused, inarticulate and tongue-tied with sudden anxiety. ‘Did she…?’
Juliet nodded, understandingly. ‘She had a little boy. A beautiful healthy little boy. She called him Rupert.’
A range of expressions shadowed Jack’s face; delight, profound regret, and finally sadness. Juliet could have wept. ‘And what ’appened to ’im?’
The Granville Affaire Page 24
