‘Yes,’ Artemis stopped for a moment to think. ‘Yes you’re right. He will find something, the idiot. Something incredibly stupid.’
Ellie knew that by incredibly stupid Artemis had meant, quite naturally, the very opposite.
Hugo was away for over two days. He telephoned Ellie on both evenings and said he was unavoidably delayed, but that he would return as soon as possible.
‘Where are you exactly? Suppose I need you? I don’t even know where you are.’
Hugo told her to leave any message at his club and they would guarantee to pass it on to him at once. Apart from that, all he would say was that he loved her, and that she was to take the greatest care of herself.
When he did return, unable to stand the suspense any longer, Ellie confronted him.
‘I told you ages ago I couldn’t stand idle, Ell,’ he said, wandering ahead of her into the room they had made their private sitting room. ‘But then I knew there was a chance they might spin me for my eyes, so rather than that I went to see Charles’s old man.’
‘You mean you were recommended to go and see Charles’s father.’ Ellie could hardly bear to look at him he was so beautiful, his slender elegant figure draped over the old rug-covered sofa. ‘That’s what you’ve been cloistering yourself away with Charles about. I knew it.’
‘Of course you did.’
It seemed that Hugo, desperate to do something other than push a pen or be sidelined into administration when war broke out, which was all he supposed they would let someone like him with such poor eyesight do, had mentioned his unease to Charles who had taken it further. Hence Hugo’s visit to London, and his meetings with General Sir George Hunter, DSO, MC.
‘Yes? And?’
‘He thinks he can find me something useful to do,’ Hugo replied, stretching his arms out up above his fair head.
‘What exactly?’
‘I can’t say, I’m afraid, Ell. Not because I don’t know, but because I can’t.’
‘Artemis said you’d find something stupid.’
‘Sorry?’ Hugo turned to look at her sideways on. ‘Has she been talking to Charles?’
‘No.’ Ellie lowered herself down very slowly into an armchair, letting out a deep sigh. ‘By stupid she meant foolhardy. Or heroic, I suppose you’d say. I mean I take it if you can’t talk about it, it must have something to do with military intelligence. Or whatever.’
‘Ellie, my darling,’ Hugo smiled, and held the smile, looking at her tenderly. ‘If you only knew how much I loved you.’
The plan had been for Ellie to have the baby at a nursing home in London, and for her to move down and stay in the family house with Hugo the week before it was due. But Diana Lanchester on her last visit to the Dower House had told Artemis all the latest news and rumours, which included a real fear in certain government circles of a ‘knock-out blow from the air’, aimed at London, with the intention of paralysing the country. So it was therefore decided that Ellie should not travel to the capital, but should be delivered at a nursing home on the outskirts of Bath.
Artemis rang and asked if she could visit before Ellie left Brougham? ‘Or rather before we both do,’ she said on the telephone.
‘So where are you going?’
‘I’ll tell you over a drink.’
‘Tell me first where you’ve been,’ Ellie said after Artemis with Brutus in tow had arrived, and they’d settled into Ellie’s little sitting room, which Hugo had rechristened the ladies’ sulking room. ‘I gather you’ve been away.’
‘I’ve joined the ARP,’ Artemis said, trying to find room on the sofa beside her large dog. ‘And I’ve joined the WVS. And I’ve had a hysterical time. You see, there aren’t all that many women who can drive, you know.’
‘I know,’ said Ellie with a smile. ‘I happen to be best friends with one who can’t.’
Artemis ignored her and continued. ‘If you think about it, which I admit I hadn’t, it makes sense, you see. Because there aren’t that many women with their own cars, are there? Anyway. I’ve been on a course in Swindon, being taught by the chap who owns the taxi service how to tow trailers containing or rather how to tow trailers which will contain stretchers. On racks. Sort of home-made ambulances, if you see what I mean. And it’s an absolute nightmare when you have to back, or reverse, or whatever you call it. Because the wretched bit with all the stretchers, you see, it goes the other way. I kept getting frightfully stuck. And then we were all sent up to Burnham Beeches, to learn how to drive in the dark. I nearly died. First of all we all had to drive in gas masks, do you see, on just our sidelights in total darkness. You know, about two in the morning. Can you imagine? My gas mask kept steaming up, and I drove into God knows how many trees. I do wish you’d listen.’
Artemis had to stop, while Ellie tried to bring her laughter under control. She wiped her eyes on her handkerchief, and bit hard on her lip. ‘Sorry,’ she said weakly. ‘I really am sorry.’
‘It gets worse,’ Artemis warned. ‘Because after we’d all been driving around in our steamed-up gas masks, they then had this special test, as a kind of pièce de résistance. And we all had to do it. In twos. You each started out at either end of the woods, do you see. I mean miles away from each other. Then you had to drive, without any lights at all, mind. Not even your sidelights. You had to drive along this desperately wiggly sort of road, towards each other in pitch darkness, the point being you had finally to pass each other safely, without stopping. And without crashing. Honestly, I got so nervous about the whole business because I thought I mean knowing me, I thought I was bound to crash head-on with my opposite number, and I mean they all take it terribly seriously. You get badges and things. And a certificate. Anyway. I just couldn’t face it, so I ducked off the road and drove through the woods and got completely and utterly lost.’
Ellie wasn’t laughing now. She was just staring at Artemis with an odd expression.
‘I told you it wasn’t funny,’ Artemis said, picking up her drink.
‘It’s not that,’ Ellie said rather quietly. ‘Is your car outside?’
‘Yes,’ said Artemis. ‘Why?’
‘I think I’ve started.’
‘I thought you weren’t due for a week,’ Artemis yelled as she swung her car out through the main gates of the estate.
‘The baby obviously has other ideas,’ Ellie groaned, lying as far back in her seat as she could and staring at a rain-laden sky. ‘Don’t you think we should have the roof up?’
‘We haven’t the time! It takes ages!’
‘Oh my God!’ Ellie called out in despair. ‘Oh my God!’
‘I hope you know the way!’ Artemis yelled, as she took a sharp left-hand corner on the right-hand side.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea!’ Ellie gasped as another agonizing pain took her breath away. ‘Just head for Bath!’
‘Of all the stupid times for Hugo to be in London!’ This time Artemis took a right-handed corner on the left-side and for a while ran along the neatly trimmed verge. ‘What the hell does he think he’s doing down in London!’
‘What in hell do you think you’re doing up on the grass?’ Ellie yelled back. ‘God only knows what you must be like in the dark! And in a gas mask!’
The Aston Martin came to a standstill on the top of a hill outside Cold Ashton, still some eight miles short of Bath.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ellie asked, unable to keep the hysteria from her voice. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘I don’t know,’ Artemis frowned, pressing and repressing the ignition button to no avail. ‘It seems to have gone out.’
‘Why?’ said Ellie, her voice rising. ‘Why?’
‘How should I know!’ Artemis shouted, getting out. ‘I hate cars!’
Five minutes later, a large black Austin six-cylinder pulled up in answer to Artemis’s distress signals, and a good-looking well-dressed middle-aged man, wearing a dark blue suit and his regimental tie got out to offer his assistance. Artemis explained the situation
and he at once agreed to carry the two women post haste to the nursing home, with whose location he was happily familiar. Together with Artemis he laid Ellie carefully on the back seat, tucked under a travelling rug, with his rolled up jacket under her head, and then proceeded to drive quickly and expertly towards Bath.
‘Ready for the war?’ he enquired.
‘Absolutely,’ Artemis replied, her mind on other matters.
‘Damn business,’ the driver replied. ‘Ridiculous really.’
‘Quite,’ said Artemis, turning round in her seat to watch Ellie, who smiled back at her.
‘No it really is the most damnable business,’ the driver continued, shifting gear. ‘Let’s face it, anybody who’s anybody in this country, they’ve got no argument with Hitler.’
Artemis made to turn back to the driver to engage him in argument, but reading her intention, Ellie held tight to Artemis’s hand and frowned at her to remain silent.
‘No,’ the man continued, ‘we’ve got no quarrel with Herr Hitler. And neither has he with us. He admires us. He does. And frankly, the people who know a thing or two over here, they admire Herr Hitler in return. It’s these wretched radicals who can’t wait to spill blood. Boothby. Sandys. Churchill. Hore-Belisha and Duff Cooper’s little lot. Jew-lovers, the lot of them.’
Hearing this and sensing Artemis stiffen, Ellie tried desperately to hold on to her friend’s hand. But Artemis had got it free and had turned her sole attention to the driver.
‘Artemis –’ Ellie began, but too late.
‘I don’t think I can have heard you right,’ Artemis said, in the clipped way she spoke when angry. ‘At least I hope I didn’t.’
The man turned and glanced at her for a moment, and then smiled, brushing the left-hand corner of his moustache upwards with his index finger. ‘That’s what it’s all about, young woman,’ he replied. ‘No two ways about it. The Jews.’
‘What about the Jews?’
‘If the radicals get their way, don’t you see? All our young men – your young men, your husbands, your boyfriends, whatever. My sons. One’s friends’ sons. One’s friends, damn it. What’ll they be fighting for? A lot of blasted Jews.’ He smiled as he spoke, as if such a thing was beyond comprehension, and then he shook his head ruefully.
‘Artemis –’ Ellie started, but Artemis ignored her, and drew a deep breath.
‘You don’t think much of the Jews, obviously,’ she said. ‘Even though Christ was one.’
‘What did you say?’ the man asked.
‘I said Jesus Christ was a Jew,’ Artemis replied. ‘Remember?’
‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with it,’ he said. ‘No, Hitler’s got the right idea all right. Good lord, they’re everywhere! I was dining at the Savoy last night and the place was crawling with Jews! When you think what the blighters get up to – and then we’re expected to go to war to save the silk shirts on their backs! Dear me. Oh dear me. Don’t you sometimes wonder what this world of ours is coming to?’
‘Only when I meet people like you,’ Artemis said.
Ellie lay back and shut her eyes knowing there was nothing she could do now.
The man slowed down the car. ‘What did you say?’ he asked.
‘I said,’ Artemis sighed, ‘only when I meet people like you.’
The car now ground to a complete halt. ‘You think the yiddisher are worth fighting over, do you?’
‘What I think is you’d better catch the first boat to Germany before it’s too late.’
‘You’re a Jew!’ the man said suddenly. ‘Is that what it is?’
‘Of course,’ Artemis lied. ‘Couldn’t you tell?’
The man’s complexion changed visibly, turning a deep and angry red. ‘I’ve a good mind to kick you out here and let you damn well walk,’ he said.
‘I would hardly call yours a good mind,’ replied Artemis.
There was a groan from Ellie in the back, a sign of her utter dismay. Fortunately the driver mistook it for a sign of imminent birth, and rather than be forced to act the midwife, re-engaged gear and drove on.
No-one spoke another word until the car had turned into the drive of the designated nursing home and had pulled up outside the main entrance.
‘Just remember,’ the driver said as he pulled on the handbrake, ‘when this war breaks out, it’ll be due to you Jews. And no-one else.’
To Ellie’s horror, Artemis turned to the man as if she was prepared to argue. Since her pains were coming now every two or three minutes, Ellie let herself out the back of the car and staggered in to the nursing home. Fifty five minutes later, and fortunately with no complications whatsoever, she was delivered of an eight-pound baby boy. His skin was wrinkly pink, he had Hugo’s fair hair, and Ellie’s dark brown eyes.
‘Well done,’ said Artemis, leaning down to kiss Ellie’s forehead. ‘Jolly good for you.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Ellie replied, taking her hand. ‘You know that? You are. You’re completely nuts.’
This time there was no cheering, not as there had been in 1914 when flags had been unfurled and the streets had echoed with cheers and hurrahs, as a nation in its innocence decided it was time to teach the bosche a short, sharp lesson. This time war came in on thunderclouds, as violent storms swept across the country after a hot and sunny Saturday, as if presaging years of death and destruction ahead. That night the country lay in darkness, blacked out by the new regulations, the only illumination for those hurrying back to their homes from a day at the seaside in darkened railway carriages being the constant flashes of lightning.
‘You could see the same thing on everyone’s faces,’ Hugo whispered to Ellie, as they sat side by side in their darkened bedroom, watching the storm. ‘As I drove down the Strand, all you could see was this extraordinary look. This look of sort of contempt. And – and disillusion.’
‘What’s going to happen?’ Ellie whispered back, moving even closer to Hugo after another clap of thunder had pealed right overhead.
‘I don’t know,’ Hugo replied. ‘With this fool of a prime minister probably nothing. I mean it’s two days now since Germany invaded Poland. And he still won’t declare war.’
Half an hour later, Ellie got up and went to feed James Michael Hugo Tanner, who was sleeping in Ellie’s dressing room which she had now made his nursery. While she was gone, Hugo also got up and went and stood at the window, watching the lightning flicker over the landscape, and listening to the rumble of the thunder as the storm passed, a dress rehearsal for the air raids which soon must come, he thought, bringing death by blast and fire from the skies.
The morning was bright, clear and refreshing, the storms having dispelled the sultriness of the night. Hugo and Ellie were both up at sunrise, which that fateful Sunday was at a quarter past six, and on the first news bulletin at seven o’clock they heard that there had still been no response from Hitler to Britain’s ultimatum that he should withdraw from Poland. Unable to eat any breakfast, they took their coffee outside to the terrace at the back of the house where they sat saying very little and staring at nothing in particular.
Artemis rang at a quarter to eight and asked if she could come up to the house, and Ellie agreed at once. Somehow they all knew that any minute the country would be at war. Artemis arrived ten minutes later with a battery radio to which they could listen outside, and on the next bulletin they learned of the destruction of German tanks and planes by the Poles.
‘Wishful thinking, I’m afraid,’ Hugo said. ‘This time Goliath wins.’
Two hours later it was announced that the prime minister would speak to the nation at eleven-fifteen. In the meantime, while the population held its breath, they could listen to a selection of music ranging from Princess Ida, to ‘The Passionate Shepherd’ sung by Parry Jones, and then to a recorded talk entitled ‘Making The Most of Tinned Foods’.
‘I don’t think so, do you?’ Artemis asked, switching the radio set off. ‘I’d rather listen to the birds.’
; ‘Eleven-fifteen,’ Hugo mused. ‘Damn. Right in the middle of Matins.’
Hugo went to church every Sunday when he was at Brougham, because living in the great house it was expected of him. Everyone from the estate worshipped in the beautiful little church which was part of the house, as did those from the village, a tradition which had its roots long before the present house had been built. So Hugo had felt it incumbent upon himself, as the latest owner of Brougham, to continue the tradition. Ellie, however, never accompanied him, the only time that she had been in a church since taking her vow as a child being the occasion of her marriage.
But she volunteered quite spontaneously to go with Hugo this day, as did Artemis, whose idea it was to take her battery radio with them so that the prime minister’s message could be broadcast to the attendant congregation.
‘Most enterprising,’ the Reverend Slater said as Hugo explained their intentions. ‘I was about to send my daughter home so that she could bring us the news, but this is much more enterprising altogether.’
Just before the broadcast was due, the vicar made an announcement, and the people gathered in the thirteenth-century church sat down in their pews, alongside their boxed gas masks which they all had religiously brought with them, to await the news of their country’s fate. Two minutes later their ageing prime minister read his bulletin over the air sadly, with an air of resignation:
I am speaking to you, from the cabinet room at number ten Downing Street. This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless the British government heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany . . . The situation in which no word given by Germany’s ruler could be trusted and no people or country could feel itself safe, has become intolerable. Now we have resolved to finish it . . . May God bless you all. May he defend the right, for it is evil things that we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution; and against them I am certain right will prevail.
In Sunshine Or In Shadow Page 37
