‘Every time we go out,’ she told him, ‘I always feel this might be our last night together.’
‘Can’t you wait to get rid of me?’ he joked.
‘Aw, you know I’d miss you!’ She tapped the arm that linked with hers. ‘But I must admit you’d look lovely in uniform. Wouldn’t you like to see yourself in an outfit like that?’ She cocked her head at an officer and his lady.
‘I can’t see me in a velvet hat and high-heeled boots somehow.’
‘Dozey! I mean the officer – wouldn’t you like to look like him?’
Not if I can help it, thought Nat, but answered laughingly, ‘I don’t think you can go straight in as a Major but I’ll do me best for you, Olive.’
They sauntered on down the street, chatting quite amiably in the evening sunshine. Indeed, at that moment, even under threat of conscription, Nat felt happier than he had done for a long time: he had his daughter under his roof, a nice fiancée… of course, everything could look black in the morning, he never knew what mood he was going to wake up in, but for now he enjoyed his brief moment of contentment. He lifted his smiling eyes from Olive’s and directed them ahead. A couple were walking down the narrow street towards them, an old woman and a bandy-legged man. It took only a moment for their identity to register. It had been twenty years since he had seen Denzil Kneebone but that did not lessen the shock of electricity that ran through his body and pulled him up in his tracks.
Olive felt the jolt, and glanced up enquiringly. Nat proceeded forward at a slower pace; there was no way to avoid Denzil, no turning to right nor left, they were on collision course. What would he say? The gap between them narrowed. In middle age Denzil’s legs had become more bowed than ever. He cut a comic figure as he waddled along from side to side towards Nat, but Nat was not laughing. Olive was still looking up at him for explanation but he did not respond, eyes fixed on the pale blue ones which were staring right back at him. Denzil was almost level. Nat gripped the arm that was hooked through his. Not for a long time had he experienced fear like this… and then it was gone! Denzil walked past him without so much as a hint of recognition in those pale blue eyes, and waddled on down the street arm in arm with his mother.
The sweat of relief sprang to Nat’s armpits. For twenty years he had lived with the threat of the lunatic’s retribution, all for nothing. Denzil had not even recognized him! He wanted to burst out laughing.
‘Nat, you’re holding my arm a little too tightly!’
He looked down at the hand upon Olive’s arm. His knuckles were white. ‘Oh, sorry!’ Releasing his grip, he rubbed her arm in a gesture of comfort. ‘I’m just frightened you’re going to get away from me.’ Wearing a broad smile, he continued on to the theatre.
Olive was a giggler. She giggled all the way through the comedian’s act; though Nat did not find it particularly funny her laughter was infectious and at the end of the turn his jaw was aching. She giggled all the way through the magician’s act too, and the singer’s – well, it was a rude song. She was still giggling when they came out, until a siren began to wail. ‘Oh, good heavens, it’s an air raid!’ She clung to her partner and squinted first at the sky, then up and down the darkened street; only on busy corners was there electric lighting. ‘Which way do we go?’ Vehicles were shooting in all directions.
‘This way!’ As if in answer, a special constable appeared out of the night piloting the anxious crowd of theatre-goers towards a sign that invited them to Shelter Here. Taking Olive’s arm, Nat escorted her across the road, dodging the traffic and hurrying in the direction of the constable’s pointing arm.
‘Oh, God, what an end to a lovely evening!’ Holding onto her hat, Bright hurried alongside Noel to the air raid shelter where they squeezed in amongst the rest of the crowd. ‘I hope Oriel’s all right.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Noel reassured her. ‘She’s a sensible girl. It may just be another false alarm.’
Bright was not to be pacified. ‘No, I think it’s our turn this time.’ She pressed herself against Noel’s side, clutching his arm, hemmed in by all kinds of people, sweet perfume mixed with body odour, tobacco, spirits and cooking smells; all as one in their fear of the bomb. Please, please, God don’t take her.
Oriel had been mixing her bedtime cocoa when the gas pressure lowered, causing her to freeze. Spoon hovering over mug, she waited, listening. All at once she felt very young and alone. Leaving the mug on the table, she hurried around the room, turning off gastaps as she had been warned to do in the event of a raid. Then, feeling her way through the darkness she made for the cellar. It was just too cold and dark; she could not sit down there alone, and so knowing that to do so was foolish, she went upstairs to bury her head under the sheets. As she reached the first landing she paused and drew aside the curtain to look across the back gardens in the direction of the river. There came the distant rumble of thunder, yet there was no rain, the sky was clear and full of stars. For a moment she thought she heard a low growl, but then it seemed to disappear and though she listened for a while all she heard was ringing silence. She stood there, ear cocked for a moment longer, then hurried on up the staircase. It was as she reached the second landing that she heard the growl again, louder this time. Peering out through the tall arched window she examined the sky. There was nothing to be seen except twinkling stars. She waited, craning her neck for the source of the growl that grew louder by the minute, the hair on her scalp bristling. Imagination rife, she was about to rush on up the stairs when she saw it, a huge cigar-shaped craft over Knavesmire. Fascinated, she stood pinned to the spot, watching as the zeppelin, like a prehistoric monster, sniffed out its target. There came a flash of blue light; Oriel squeaked and ducked into her dressing gown. Then there was an enormous impact and she began to pelt back down the stairs, a second explosion lighting up the whole staircase even through the blackout curtains. Oriel gasped and fled to the cellar where she cowered, shivering, on the icy stone steps, hands over her ears as a number of explosions shook the house in quick succession. Then silence. Trembling, arms pressed into her sides out of fear and cold, Oriel removed her hands from her ears and listened. There was no sound. After a few moments of peace she was about to open the cellar door when the zeppelin dropped the rest of its load. She cried out and once again cowered in a ball at the foot of the steps, hands over ears, for interminable minutes until all was quiet again. This time she was not so quick to emerge. Even when the growl died away she remained wary until a muffled all clear signal reached the cellar, allowing her to escape its cold depths and hurry back to the kitchen fire.
Once warmed through, though still shuddering from fright, she summoned enough courage to peep from behind the curtain again. Against a ruby sky, the zeppelin’s trail of black smoke was just beginning to melt away, leaving behind the reek of explosives to tease her nostrils. Only now did Oriel register: her mother was out there!
In the darkened shelter, eyes pressed shut, Bright was clutching Noel’s arm when the all clear wailed, allowing her shoulders to sag in relief. A combined sigh went up from the theatre-goers, then shoulder to shoulder they began to drift towards the exit, chattering and laughing, yet apprehensive also at what damage they might find outside. Bright chattered too, though her loquaciousness was more from worry. ‘I wish they’d hurry up,’ she muttered to Noel, ‘I have to get home to see if Oriel’s safe.’
‘Come on, we’ll try and squeeze round this way.’ Leading her by the hand, Noel edged around the mass of human flesh and managed to reach the exit, but there found his way blocked again. ‘Sorry, after you.’ He stepped back to allow another couple to go through the exit first, then his lower jaw fell open.
Bright gaped too, and for that second managed to forget all about her daughter. There stood Nat, his wife on his arm, staring her right in the eye. Heart in mouth, she could not tear her gaze from him. If there had ever been any doubt in her mind over how she would feel if they met, then it was dispelled now. The pain was unbearable.
Nat’s blue eyes stared back at her, then slowly with a glint of enlightenment they rolled to her partner. For twenty years he had thought that Denzil was the one to watch out for, when all the time it was Noel who was the real enemy. How long had he been taking Nat for a fool?
No words were spoken between the two couples. Nat was first to turn away, shepherding a bemused Olive through the door.
‘Bright, I’m truly sorry about that.’ Noel tried to comfort her. ‘I had no idea… what a thing to happen.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Bright was trembling. ‘Come on, we’ll have to go. I’m very worried about Oriel.’
On the latter account there was much relief when they arrived home to find Bright’s daughter frightened but unharmed. Voicing his gladness, Noel bade them both good night and nothing was mentioned about the disastrous meeting with Nat, though this did not prevent Bright from going to bed in tears.
* * *
At the next morning’s surgery the doctor had a visit from his erstwhile friend. ‘I thought you’d be here.’
‘You thought right then, didn’t you.’ In a sombre mood, Nat took the proffered chair and looked Noel in the eye. ‘Did you just forget to mention, when you told me to leave Bright alone, that it was because you had a vested interest?’
The doctor groaned. ‘It wasn’t like that! She was genuinely worried about the effect that your spying would have on Oriel. I’ve only recently started taking her out.’
The wounds of betrayal that Nat had experienced last night were still sore. ‘Why her, when you could have anyone you want?’
‘You talk about Bright as if she’s not worthy of attention! She deserves some happiness after all the years of misery.’
Nat took this to mean that it was he who had inflicted that misery, and his words reflected the insult. ‘So you’re just taking her out because you feel sorry for her?’
The physician replied with dignity. ‘No, because I’m very fond of her. I’ve known Bright a long time. Granted we’d seen each other only periodically before her employer died, but since then I’ve been calling on her as a friend and we get along very well.’
‘Aye, I could see that from the looks on your faces last night.’ Nat lit up a cigarette, not offering one to Noel. ‘Didn’t expect to see me there, did you?’ He forced a vicious plume of smoke at the ceiling.
‘Nat, when I acted as go-between I had no ulterior motive, it was only when I was certain that you weren’t going to reappear on her doorstep that I made my feelings known.’
‘You didn’t make them known to me though, did you?’ Nat donned a crafty and unpleasant smile. Had they been strangers to each other the doctor might well have felt rather menaced, but he had known Nat a long time and he had no reason to expect violence.
‘Well, no, but I’ve nothing to hide so you might as well know this too: I asked Bright to marry me.’
Nat took the blow well, not questioning the fact that Bright had accepted. ‘I’d wish you good luck but you obviously don’t need it. I can’t see a servant turning down the opportunity of being a doctor’s wife. Somehow, though, I don’t think the pleasure’ll be reciprocated by your mother.’
‘I’m well accustomed to my mother’s snobbery,’ Noel assured him. ‘It has no bearing on my decision. Besides, Bright isn’t a servant any more.’
‘She’s not exactly a woman of means though, is she?’
Noel looked hesitant, then sighed. He had nothing really to lose by hiding it now. ‘You might as well know the rest. Bright’s daughter inherited all the old lady’s money, the house, everything.’
Nat frowned. If this were true, then why did Oriel need to work for him? But he put this out of his mind for the moment and sneered at Noel. ‘I suppose that had no bearing on your decision either? It’s all falling into place now. You won’t be badly off yourself then, and dear Mother can be pleased she’s got a wealthy woman as a daughter-in-law. Is that why you’ve waited so long? Cause you knew the old lady was going to leave her summat?’
‘Don’t be so bloody insulting!’ Noel decided not to reveal now that Bright had turned him down. Let the bugger stew. ‘I told you, I held back because I knew you were Oriel’s father and there might be a chance that you would do the decent thing but—’
‘All right, all right, you’ve made your point. I didn’t want her so she was fair game for anyone else. Enough said.’
‘No, no, I want you to understand that I wasn’t being devious… oh, very well I was.’ Noel flashed a mischievous smile. ‘I should have told you, I’m sorry, but I genuinely didn’t think you were interested any more.’
Nat straightened. ‘I’m not. You go ahead and marry her, I’m sure she’d rather wed a doctor than a rag and bone man. Anyway, I didn’t come here for any of that. What I really want is for you to give me something that’ll make me fail a medical.’ He nodded as the other raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s right, I’ve finally got my marching orders. I presume there are things you can give me?’
‘There are, but why should I risk my good name for you after you’ve accused me of all manner of dirty deeds?’
‘Good name? Your name’s not very good in my book, Noel. I think you owe me this much at least after the lies you’ve told me. Anyway, why this sudden show of integrity? I don’t see you rushing to join up. Admit it, you’re as frightened as I am.’
‘I doubt it’s for the same reason,’ retorted Noel. ‘I just don’t want to kill people.’ He tutted. ‘You’ve heard most of my confession, so you might as well hear the rest. I’ve enlisted – yes, even though I didn’t have to. Aren’t I noble!’ There was more than a touch of sarcasm to the latter announcement. Then his voice became even once more. ‘I’m going to join the Medical Corps in a few days. I was rather hoping you’d come for a drink with me and a few pals before I go. All fair in love and war and all that.’
The dark-haired man gasped. ‘By heck, Noel, I’ve never known anybody who could match you for cheek!’
‘Wouldn’t you feel awful if we parted with such bad blood between us and I got killed?’ The tone was ironic.
Nat could not be bothered to argue. ‘Oh, what the hell. Yes, I’ll come. Now, will you gimme summat to fool this army doctor?’
Noel leaned back in his swivel chair and linked his hands behind his head, his tone affectionate. ‘You silly sod, you don’t need it! Your lungs are wrecked with all the bronchitic attacks over the years. It’s a miracle they haven’t packed up altogether. I could give you something that’d make interesting listening for the stethoscope but it’d probably kill you into the bargain. Take my word for it, you won’t get through.’
Nat was wary, finding it hard to equate this look of fondness with the act of treachery that had gone before – but then he had never understood Noel. ‘You’re not fobbing me off with kiddums just to get me out of t’way?’
‘Ooh, nasty! If I’m wrong you can come back and shoot me.’
Nat fired one last question concerning Bright. ‘Will you get wed before you go?’
Even now Noel did not confess that she had turned him down. ‘Probably.’ He did not want Nat sniffing around whilst he was away. ‘Now, about this night out…’
* * *
As soon as Nat entered the public house in which he and Noel had arranged to meet he knew that he was not going to enjoy this evening. It had nothing to do with their previous exchange, nor with the tap room which was cosy with its dark oak panels and the glow of copper in the yellow gaslight, but more to do with Noel’s companions. Nat had always felt uncomfortable walking into a roomful of people, especially if those people were of a higher class than himself. He could buy as many fancy clothes as he liked but the moment he encountered anyone with an upper crust accent he was plunged back into his old rags.
‘Nat!’ The young doctor’s face lit up and he waved. ‘Come and join us. I’ve just got here myself.’
‘You’d better grab yourself a drink first,’ advised one of the others. ‘Some party, when
the host refuses to get his hand down.’
Noel feigned disability. ‘Don’t you know I suffer from spondulicksitis? Parting with money causes acute inflammation.’ The others groaned at his pun, which Nat did not understand. ‘Anyway, there’s no treating – have you forgotten there’s a war on? It’s every man for himself, I’m afraid.’
When Nat returned from the bar with a pint glass, introductions were made. Most of the half-dozen men present were colleagues from the hospital, and hence a lot of the banter centred on medical jokes. To his credit, Noel did try to steer the conversation round to topics in which Nat could join, but after only ten minutes he had the feeling that it had been a mistake to try and mix his friends.
Nat had this feeling too, wishing he had turned down the invitation. He had never really been good in a crowd of people, even six was too many for comfort.
‘Come on, Nat, drink up!’ urged one of the group, Arthur. ‘The idea is to see who can get the most down his neck before nine o’clock.’ Due to wartime regulations, drinking hours had been pruned. Tie and hair askew, Arthur looked a possible winner in the race, although the others were not far behind.
Nat went to refill his glass and stood at the bar watching them, feeling rather embarrassed at the growing display of inebriation. They might be well-educated but watching them slopping back the liquor and bandying lewd jokes, Nat reckoned they were no different to the low life he had encountered in his past. Still, this was Noel’s last night at home and he didn’t want to ruin it by playing dog in the manger. Fresh glass in hand, he returned to the table to catch the tail end of an anecdote, which everyone found hilarious and rolled about with laughter. Nat smiled out of politeness but it was obvious that he had not understood.
‘Come on, crack your face!’ Arthur was very drunk now. ‘Don’t you appreciate my jokes?’
Shoddy Prince Page 55
