‘I thought it would upset you.’
‘It upset me more to have him turning up like that. He’s changed so. I’m not sure I’d have recognized him if I’d seen him in the street.’
Juliet led the way upstairs. ‘He’s grown up, darling. Like you have.’
Louise followed, her legs still shaky. ‘I don’t think I’ve changed, though. Not much, anyway. It was awful. He wanted us to get back together.’
Juliet looked at her sister curiously. ‘Would you have gone back to him, if you weren’t for Shane?’
‘No, never.’
‘Really? You’re sure of that?’
‘Absolutely! Is that terrible of me?’
‘Of course it’s not terrible, sweetie. Are you going to tell Shane?’
Louise nodded. ‘We’ve already made a “no lies” pact.’
Juliet smiled at her sister’s youthful naivety. ‘Really darling? Don’t you think it might unsettle Shane?’
In her experience, the odd lie, albeit a white one, was vital in a marriage. There were certain things husbands didn’t want to know. Confessions could be the death-knell to any relationship, in her opinion.
‘Shane will understand,’ Louise replied confidently. ‘After all, it’s him I’ve chosen to marry, isn’t it?’
* * *
Shane did understand, and two months later their wedding took place, witnessed by their family and friends. Little Sophia was a bridesmaid and Jonathan a page. Amanda refused to ‘get tarted up’ for the occasion, saying photographs of her in a picture hat and flowery frock would ruin her career in years to come when she was the first woman Prime Minister.
As at Rosie’s wedding, nearly seven years before, the bride was outshone by one of her sisters, whose outstanding looks caused heads to turn and people to whisper, in awe-struck admiration. Only it wasn’t Juliet this time who stole the show, it was Charlotte, who showed a promise of beauty far greater than any of the others.
‘What are we going to do with Charlotte?’ Liza asked Henry nervously, as they lay in bed that night, in their small new Knightsbridge apartment. Experience had taught her that exceptionally beautiful daughters weren’t necessarily a blessing.
‘Keep her at school and in the country for as long as possible,’ Henry advised. ‘Anyway, I don’t think she’s interested in boys yet, do you?’
Liza rolled on to her back, her hands cupping the back of her head. ‘Not that I know of. Lady Diana Cooper told me at the reception that she could be a film star, with her looks.’
‘Oh, God!’ Henry groaned. ‘I hope Charlotte didn’t hear? She’ll be off to Hollywood the minute the war’s over.’
‘Yes,’ Liza replied thoughtfully. Charlotte Granville… the next Veronica Lake? The next… Betty Grable? A blonde edition of Hedy Lamarr? Liza turned quietly on to her side again. ‘Anyway, it was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it? Louise looked really happy.’
‘Yes, she did.’ Henry sounded slightly mollified, ‘I wish Salton would get on and marry Rosie, though. I don’t think long engagements are a good thing.’
‘Why not?’
‘They’re rather working class, aren’t they? You know, waiting until the couple have saved up enough money, and that sort of thing.’
‘Henry, you’re actually being snobbish,’ Liza giggled, prodding him in the back. ‘I thought that was my department?’
He grunted amiably. ‘Maybe it’s an American custom?’
‘Should we say something?’
‘Definitely not,’ he replied firmly. ‘He’ll marry Rosie when he wants to.’
* * *
A week later there was an unexpected bombing attack, unexpected because there’d been no warning, no siren, nothing to prepare people for what was to happen.
The first V-2 had landed. This was not an un-manned aircraft like the doodlebug, but the first of many rockets, launched from the other side of the Channel.
Juliet, writing letters in her study, heard the explosion and suddenly she had the most dreadful premonition. It was so strong and frightening that she sat rigid for a moment, almost unable to breath.
Daniel! She could picture him in her head as vividly as if he stood before her. She felt an over-powering desire to see him again. He was rarely out of her thoughts, and she dreamed about him almost every night; but this was different. She must go to see him now, no matter what.
Grabbing her handbag, she flew down the stairs, shouting to Dudley, ‘I’ve got to go out. I’ll be back later.’
Then she ran along the pavement towards Marble Arch, and turned right into Green Street, where she’d parked her car opposite the now boarded-up ruins of her old home.
With shaking hands, she put her key in the ignition. Minutes later she was speeding down Park Lane, free of traffic at this time in the morning. At Hyde Park Corner, she headed in the direction of Chelsea.
Juliet knew, even before she’d reached Bywater Street, that her worst fears had been realized. The road had been taped off. Air Raid Wardens, the police, several ambulances and the fire brigade were out in force; it was a scene she knew only too well.
Abandoning her car in the King’s Road, she climbed out, her legs almost giving way beneath her as she crawled under the cordon.
‘Sorry, Miss, you can’t come here,’ an Air Raid Warden told her. Under his tin hat, his weary face was covered with grime, and his eyes had the look, as did the eyes of all the rescue workers these days, of having witnessed sights that were too hideous to bear.
‘I’m a nurse on an ambulance unit at Kingston House,’ she explained, her heart thumping in her rib-cage, her throat dry with terror. She looked beyond him, and then she crumpled, bending over as if she’d been punched in the stomach.
Daniel’s house had been destroyed. Dust, sand, concrete, plaster and earth had coalesced in a hovering cloud above the ruins. On one side the party wall was left standing. There was even a painting of a landscape still hanging high up on what had been the wall of his bedroom.
The Warden stepped forward, gripping her elbow in his strong hand. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’
‘Was… w-was th-there…?’ she stammered, unable to continue.
‘Anyone in the house?’ he prompted, gently. ‘Yes. A man and woman were living there. We got them out, but there was nothing we could do for them.’
* * *
The world was a dark frozen place, devoid of feeling, hope, or love. Juliet continued to go on duty, tend to the injured, meet her parents for dinner, play bridge with her friends, all in a soulless vacuum; along with Daniel, something inside her had died.
Eddie’s death paled now to a mere regretful sadness in her mind. So did everything else that had happened to her since she’d been a child. What was real, the only thing that seemed real, was that Daniel was no more.
In her numbed state, she was able to go through, almost dispassionately, every moment of the times they’d been together. While she longed to cry, to grieve, to lose control, to die from a broken heart, all she could summon up was a calm clarity. She recalled his deep rich voice which had thrilled her from the beginning. And his almost black eyes piercing hers and in so doing making her feel she’d known him for ever. They had been a part of each other.
She even played gramophone records of their favourite dance music, and remembered the feeling of his hands as they’d held her tightly. The whispered words of love, in bed. The closeness that was like nothing she had ever known before. And the baby daughter she had borne him, who had died unknown and unloved by him.
But still, her heart was empty, her mind a blank screen where there should have been emotions. The tears simply refused to come.
‘I’m worried about her, Daddy,’ Rosie confided to Henry, when she finally found out what had happened. ‘It’s three weeks since she found out he’d been killed, and I don’t believe she’s broken down once.’
‘It’s shock, sweetheart. Nature’s way of protecting people from the pain of their own feelings. It won’t last. Juliet will sud
denly start to feel again, the emotions will thaw and then she’s really going to need all our support.’
‘Oh, dear, I feel so sorry for her,’ Rosie lamented. ‘Especially as Daniel seems to have been with a woman at the time. Juliet must wonder if it was his wife or a new girlfriend, mustn’t she?’
‘She didn’t go to the funeral, did she?’
‘From what I can gather, she refused to even read the death columns in the newspapers, far less go to his funeral. In fact, she didn’t even tell me about it for over a week. Then she got cross with me one day, about something trivial, and mentioned, almost in passing, that Daniel had died when his cottage was bombed. It’s as if she’s pretending nothing dreadful has happened. I can’t even talk to her about it. I don’t think she’ll ever fall in love again, after this.’
‘I know.’ Henry sighed, feeling wrenched with sympathy for his secretly favourite daughter.
‘How long will this shock last, Daddy?’
Henry hesitated. Sometimes people never recovered from something like this. Juliet, though, was strong. She had guts. He felt sure it was only a matter of time before the barriers of shock gave way.
‘It could last weeks or months. We must all keep an eye on her.’
‘Yes. Thank goodness we’re all in London. I don’t know what we’d do without you, Daddy,’ she said softly.
‘At least you’re happy, my sweet,’ he replied, smiling.
‘I’m so happy, Daddy. I never thought I’d be happy again, but Salton is the most marvellous person in the world.’
‘Let’s hope one day someone marvellous comes into Juliet’s life, too,’ Henry replied, fervently.
* * *
Rosie, shaken by Juliet’s loss, felt compelled to get Salton to marry her, before anything could go wrong in their relationship.
‘We’re winning the war, aren’t we, Salton?’ she asked, as they strolled in the garden at Hartley, one Sunday afternoon. ‘Why don’t we get on with it and have a quiet wedding, down here? I don’t want another white meringue “do”. And we could have a luncheon party in the house afterwards; what do you say?’
Salton hesitated. ‘I want to make sure it’s right for you, and also, that your children are prepared to accept me as a stepfather,’ he replied slowly. ‘When the war ends, we’ll be living in Washington. Do you really think you’ll like that? Won’t you miss your family? And what about Jonathan? One forgets, because he’s so small, that he’s actually Lord Padmore now. You’ll want to send him to Eton, I imagine? All these things have to be taken into consideration, Rosie darling.’ He slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her close to his side.
‘Jonathan doesn’t have to have an English education,’ Rosie protested. ‘And I’m sure I’d adore living in Washington,’ she added, a note of panic entering her voice. She was going to die if he changed his mind about marrying her now.
‘As you say, we’re winning the war.’ Salton looked into her eyes with such earnestness, she knew he was being truthful. ‘I think it will be over in another twelve months, God willing. What I suggest then, is that as soon as we can, we fly, with the children, to Washington, and we all stay in my apartment.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, to still the alarm in her expression. ‘It’ll be all right, honey. I’m sure you’ll love it. You’ll get to meet all my friends, and you can check out schools. Of course, you might want to run, screaming, to get on the first plane home,’ he said jokingly. ‘But, if you and the children like it, then we’ll think about actually getting married.’
Rosie hung her head, unhappily. ‘I know I’ll like it, Salton. I want us to be a proper family.’
He turned to face her, looking at her squarely. ‘Trust me, sweetheart. In the last three years, I’ve seen dozens of English girls getting married to Americans and already many of those marriages are on the rocks. The divorce rate is going to rocket off the Richter scale when some of those English brides actually arrive in the States. About all we have in common, in reality, is the same language, and even that differs when you get down to it. You may hate the American way of life, and not want to bring up your children that way. And you’ll only find out if you come over for a while and see it for yourself.’
‘I’d be happy with you in Timbuktu,’ Rosie said coaxingly. ‘I don’t want to wait, Salton.’
He smiled, pulling her close. ‘What I think you need is a romantic weekend away. Just the two of us. That will reassure you that I love you, and want you, more than anything.’ He kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘What do you say? As we can’t fly to Paris or Rome for the time being, how about a cosy, olde worlde hotel, in Gloucestershire?’
‘I’d say you’re boringly sensible,’ she teased, clinging to him. ‘I just hope the war ends soon.’
* * *
You’re the top… you’re the Colosseum…
Juliet gave a convulsive sob, as the little card fell out of one of the pigeon-holes of her desk. After all these years…! She started scrabbling frantically amongst the letters and old postcards in the same compartment, wondering if she’d kept the others. All written in Daniel’s hand. Every one an invitation to experience an affair of such extraordinary potency that the passion had never died for her.
You’re the top… you’re the Louvre Museum…
Those were the only two she could find. The others, in the tumultuous excitement she’d felt at the time, had probably been hidden or destroyed for fear her mother would find them.
‘Daniel…’ she sobbed now, overwhelmed with anguish and longing. There was anger, too, now the dam of pent-up grief had burst; who was the woman he’d been with? And why, why hadn’t it been her? Then they could have died together as she’d told him she wanted, on that far distant day, when the war had broken out.
In an agony of thawing emotions, like frost-bitten fingers held to the heat, she doubled up, sobbing her heart out, inconsolable and desolate.
Hearing her distress through the closed drawing room door, Dudley entered the room quietly, and placed a glass of brandy on the desk. She didn’t seem to notice, she was so demented with grief, so he left the room again quickly, and hurried to telephone Henry Granville.
* * *
‘The tragic thing is, if Daniel Lawrence had lived she’d probably have got over him by now,’ Henry whispered to Liza that night as they got ready for bed in Juliet’s spare room, having insisted on staying with her for the next few days. ‘By dying, Daniel’s going to remain like an icon, never ageing, never having any faults, the perfect man,’ he added drily.
‘Don’t you think she’ll fall in love again one day?’ Liza whispered worriedly.
‘You’ve got to remember he had the fascination of being forbidden fruit from the start and I fear he’s still got a grip on her psyche. I hope she doesn’t turn into a sort of modern-day Miss Havisham,’ he said gloomily, as he buttoned up the top of his silk pyjamas.
‘Oh, nonsense, Henry. She’s just had a bad shock. Of course she’s upset, but she’ll get over it,’ Liza replied robustly. ‘I think she ought to get compassionate leave for a while and go down to Hartley. Your mother will cheer her up, if anyone can.’
When Henry suggested this to Juliet the next morning, as they had breakfast in the dining room, she flew into a tearful rage.
‘What good is that going to do, Dads? Daniel wasn’t just a boyfriend, you know. Someone whose death I’ll get over in time. He was like the other half of me and he understood me and taught me how to like myself.’
Liza looked at her, mystified. ‘What do you mean, darling? Like yourself?’
Juliet covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. ‘He took away my terror of sex. My fear of men, although I pretended to like them…’ her voice broke and she couldn’t continue.
Henry, watching her with narrowed eyes, frowned with concern.
‘I don’t understand, Juliet,’ Liza said. ‘Why were you ever afraid of… men?’
As if she hadn’t heard, Juliet continued, �
�Daniel made sex beautiful for me, not a disgustingly dirty act. Not something horrifying and painful that made me feel sick and gave me terrible nightmares for years and years. And now he’s gone. I shall never find that special closeness again, that understanding. It’s as if my life is over, and I wish I was dead, too,’ she wept despairingly.
Henry got up from the table and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘But why did you have these feelings in the first place, darling? Did Nanny tell you nasty things? Is that it?’
Juliet pushed him away, her eyes stricken with rage.
‘Do you really want to know?’ she asked, with hysterical fury. ‘Do you really want me to tell you who robbed me of my innocence? Who ruined my life? Because I sure as hell wasn’t able to tell you at the time, because you’d have said I was a wicked girl.’
Henry looked at her, appalled by her words, and Liza gave a shocked little cry. ‘For God’s sake, what is it, Juliet?’
Juliet suddenly subsided, like a rag doll with the sand draining out of its limbs. When she spoke her voice was small and thin.
‘I was sexually assaulted by Ian when I was seven.’
The loudest noise in the room was the discreet ticking of a small silver carriage clock on the mantelshelf.
‘Ian…?’ Henry croaked, his skin waxy white, his eyes wide with disbelief.
‘What?’ Liza demanded shrilly after a moment. ‘Ian? Daddy’s best friend, Ian?’
Juliet nodded, her head bowed, the tears dropping onto her folded hands in her lap.
‘When?’ Henry’s single word flew like an arrow through the air, as he continued to look at his daughter in horror.
‘You were going to send Meads to collect me from a children’s party at the Mansion House, but the car broke down, and Ian… “Uncle Ian”, saintly godfather and your best friend,’ Juliet raged with dangerous quietness, ‘offered to pick me up in his car. You were both at a wedding or something. It was already dark. But instead of taking me back to Green Street he parked the car in a narrow alleyway. Then he said…’ she faltered, her throat clogging with tears, ‘he said… let’s get into the back of the car and play a game.’ Juliet closed her eyes, unable to continue for a moment. ‘… A game that he said was to be our little secret, because you’d be very angry with me if I told anyone. I was so frightened. Then he did these dreadful things to me.’
The Granville Affaire Page 28
