A Family's Duty

by Maggie Bennett

  ‘Well, yes – knowing our Doreen, she’d tell him herself sooner or later, forgetting all about that Saville man. No, our problem will be how to console her when he goes back to the USA, which I suppose is any day now – that’s why he’s came back to see if she’s still here. Look, Grace, I’ll tell him myself, and get it over with. He’s a decent chap, and deserves the truth.’

  And then he won’t want her, thought Grace, secretly clinging to that hope.

  Doreen greeted her long-absent GI with joy.

  ‘Gus! Oh, Gus, I never thought you’d come back! Never thought I’d see you again!’

  ‘Well, here I am, little girl, and you’re as sweet as ever – sweeter, you look great! Missed me?’

  ‘Oh, Gus, how I’ve missed you!’ She held out her arms, and he enfolded her in a bear-hug which she eagerly returned.

  ‘Mum and Dad thought you’d gone back to America, or that you’d been – oh, Gus, they thought you might have been killed!’

  ‘No way, little Doreen, you were my sweet guardian angel when I was in the thick of it, and I was always dreaming about you. Ah, Doreen, baby – now the dream’s come true!’

  When Mr Richardson came into the shop as he often did, to help Doreen with an impatient customer, he found his lady assistant exchanging a passionate kiss with a happy GI.

  ‘Oh, Mr Richardson, Gus is going to make me his GI bride!’

  ‘Is he? Well, congratulations, Gus!’ Wonder if he knows what she’s been up to while he was away, thought Richardson. Somebody should tell him before she lets it slip out, poor kid. And I’ll have to find another shop assistant.

  Returning to the Nuttalls, the happy couple informed Doreen’s parents that they were to be married, and that she would accompany Gus to a new life in the USA. Rob shot a glance at his wife.

  ‘Your mother’s getting dinner ready, Doreen, so you’d better go and help her. We’ll give the women time to talk, Gus, while we go for a quick one at the Tradesmen’s Arms.’

  As they walked, Rob came straight to the point. ‘If you want to marry our girl, there’s something you have to know, Gus.’ Rob forced the words out of his dry mouth. ‘Since you were last here, she’s given birth to a baby, and had it adopted.’

  Gus stood still, his face registering his shock. ‘For Christ’s sake, who did it to her?’

  ‘Another GI, I’m afraid – said he was a pal of yours, known as Chuck. It was only the one time he took her out. Her mother nearly went out of her mind when we realised what had happened.’

  Having said what he had to say, Rob stood dreading the American’s reaction.

  Gus put an arm around Rob’s shoulder. ‘The unbelievable bastard,’ he said quietly. ‘I should have warned her about that sort of guy. My God, what you’ve all been through.’

  ‘Yes, my wife had to go into hospital over it.’ Rob did not add that they had sent Doreen away to a Mother and Baby Home, a fact about which he now felt ashamed.

  Gus kept his arm on Rob’s shoulder as he continued to speak in slow, measured tones.

  ‘Thanks for telling me, Rob. It makes me even more determined to marry her. Look, I understand how it is with your Doreen. Her mind’s like an innocent, trusting child’s, and it makes her easy prey for reptiles like Chuck. I’d rather marry her and look after her than any of these smart girls who’d show me up for the dunce that I am. I want that sweet angel for my own, Rob, and you can trust me.’

  Rob’s throat tightened, and he could not speak.

  ‘Come on, Rob, let’s get that beer, or we’ll be late for dinner.’

  And so Doreen Nuttall’s future was settled.

  Lady Isabel Neville was unable to make up her mind what to do: how should she advise Geoffrey Bannister who had written to her again, asking if he might visit Hassett Manor before Christmas. It was already November in this year of victory, a time when autumnal mists thicken to fog, and the last of the leaves had fallen, blown by chill winds from the north-east. The war was over, Paul had returned and had applied to theological college, but the hardships of the home front remained: food and fuel rationing had become even more stringent. The Women’s Land Army was being disbanded, though many of the girls wanted to remain where they were for the time being, and Rebecca’s services as Regional Officer continued, though she knew that she must look for useful and challenging work to occupy herself in peace time. Isabel longed for an honest talk with her daughter, the sort they had shared in the past; but Rebecca was now an independent woman of nearly twenty-nine, and resisted confidences. When Isabel took a deep breath and made herself ask a question, the answer was brief and unemotional.

  ‘Have you had any word from Stefano, Becky – since he went away?’

  ‘Only that he’s back in Milan.’ Her tone forbade any further questioning, and her face was as expressionless as flint. Isabel’s heart ached for her, but she dared not show any pity. Was Rebecca clinging to a hope that Stefano might return one day? Or did she intend to devote her life to a career – like training for the nursing profession or the Civil Service? Isabel had no way of knowing, and had no idea of how to answer Bannister. At last she turned to her faithful friend and confidante, Sally Tanner, who had been silently waiting to be consulted. Now she looked thoughtful, and smiled at the woman who had rescued her from despair and the temptations of alcohol in that other war, thirty years ago.

  ‘I think you should be frank with him, Isabel, seeing that he’s asking you straight out what you think of his chances with our Becky.’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t want to take away his last hope, Sally – he’s so right for her in so many ways. On the other hand, I don’t want to build up his hopes if she’s not interested in him – and if she were to suspect that I’d invited him without telling her, it could make matters so much worse.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s why I think you should be honest with him, tell him that her heart’s been broken by another man – you needn’t say he was a prisoner of war who’s gone back to his own country, just that he’s left her for good, and she’s not interested in any other.’

  ‘That’s very drastic, Sally, I don’t want to hurt him, and to tell him that would hurt him badly,’ said Isabel dubiously.

  ‘Maybe so, but this is a case when you have to be cruel to be kind in the long run,’ answered Sally firmly. ‘Tell him to stay away for the sake of his own happiness!’

  ‘But that sounds so unkind, Sally, I couldn’t say that!’

  ‘All right, then, tell him to come over and spoil her Christmas and his,’ said Sally, not usually given to sarcasm. ‘Spoil it for all of us with a big row!’

  Isabel sighed at the sadness of the world, even after victory, and set about writing the letter, apologising for its contents. When she told her husband what she had done, and on Sally’s advice, he agreed that it had been the right thing. And kept his own counsel.

  Isabel Neville would rather have stayed at home. The two aspirin tablets she had swallowed had only partially relieved the throbbing headache behind her eyes, but she put on a determined smile at the last meeting of the Ladies’ Circle before Christmas. At least a dozen had turned up on this damp, cold December afternoon at the Rectory where Mrs Kennard the rector’s wife greeted them pleasantly.

  ‘Today we’re going to talk about Christmas preparations in the kitchen—’

  ‘What, on our miserable rations?’ an anonymous voice cut in.

  ‘—and the theme is Christmas cheer unrationed! We’re going to pool our ideas and suggestions for making the best use of what’s available, and our first speaker is our friend Mrs Pearson, the future mother-in-law of our pianist!’

  There was a burst of laughter and applause when Mr Saville rose from the piano stool and bowed low before them as Mrs Pearson came fussily forward, recipe book in hand. He’s a very different Philip Saville to the one who first played for us, thought Isabel – and Mrs Pearson’s another one whose life has been changed by the war. Her Valerie’s going to be happily married, whereas my Reb
ecca – but no, such thoughts were futile.

  Mrs Pearson’s economy mincemeat was followed by Mrs Goddard’s honey biscuits (Ernie Cooper kept bees), and Mrs Kennard’s festive uses for local chestnuts.

  ‘And now for a special treat, ladies – our own Lady Isabel is going to sing for us “The Holly and the Ivy”, and we’ll all join in with the refrain!’

  Isabel stood by the piano and sang the old carol, each verse followed by the surprisingly sweet voices singing, ‘Oh, the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer—’

  Isabel’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she only just avoided faltering on the last verse. After the applause there was a break for tea and economy scones, accompanied by the usual buzz of talk, which turned to the subject of North Camp girls soon to leave home.

  ‘My Doreen and her Gus will be with us for Christmas,’ said Grace Nuttall. ‘He should’ve sailed for the States a month ago, and Doreen should’ve followed in the New Year with a shipload of GI brides—’

  ‘Babies and all,’ added a voice, but Grace continued, ‘but of course Gus wouldn’t dream of leaving her behind, so they’ll go out together as soon as he can book a cabin for them as paying passengers. Rob and I will miss her terribly, but at least we know she’s got a devoted husband, so we don’t have to worry about her – er – the future.’

  There were significant nods and unspoken sympathy. Eyes turned to Isabel Neville as if they expected her to say something about Rebecca, now reconciled to Grace, but she was silent, and nobody dared question her. They all knew that romance had blossomed between Rebecca and an Italian POW who had left England, but there had been no recent news, and there was a whisper that she was waiting for him to send for her.

  ‘And what about your Dora?’ somebody asked Mrs Goddard.

  ‘Oh, she’s another one bound for America,’ said Mary with deliberate cheerfulness. ‘I mean, she hasn’t lived at home since before the war, and the ATS gave her a taste for travel and adventure. She’s got very good qualifications, and says she wants to work in New York, to start with.’

  The ladies exchanged doubtful glances, clearly wondering why Dora could not settle with her mother and grandfather, and marry some nice local boy. Mary did not tell them that Dora would be spending Christmas at home, and was bringing a friend with her – someone called Pip Seagrave who, as an army sergeant, had taught Dora to drive at her first posting at Inchcombe, and had taken her out before she was posted to the anti-aircraft unit in London. Now it seemed that he had come in search of her again, so he must be serious. It might not come to anything, but Mary and her father had decided not to say anything now, but to wait and see.

  ‘And how’s your Rebecca, Lady Neville?’ asked old Mrs Tomlinson, now retired from the district council, and losing her former quick discernment. The ladies listened eagerly for the reply, but Isabel was brief.

  ‘She’s still needed in the Land Army. Quite a lot of the girls are staying put.’ She turned to Philip. ‘And what about that nice boy Nick, how is he?’

  ‘He’s fine, Lady Neville, thank you. Valerie and I are going to apply to change his name to Saville when we’re married.’

  This brought a chorus of delighted approval, and no further mention was made of Rebecca, at least not openly.

  ‘Surprise, darling!’ called Cedric as Isabel returned to the Manor where Sally greeted her with tea and biscuits. ‘Our son, the future Bishop of North Camp has arrived!’

  ‘Oh, Paul, how lovely! We weren’t expecting you until the end of the week!’ She held out her arms to her son, at the same time giving her husband a grateful look for his little joke and the way he had said our son. She sat down with him on the sofa. ‘Now we shall all be home for Christmas, and Rebecca will be so thrilled. Now, we want to know all about theological college. Do they teach you how to deal with awkward parishioners?’

  ‘Yes, they do, Mother,’ he replied, popping a biscuit into his mouth. ‘Mostly it’s done by listening to them and telling them how valuable they are to the parish – and if they’re in any sort of doubt or uncertainty—’

  ‘I know, you tell them to pray about it,’ said Isabel with a smile.

  ‘Yes, pray by all means, and then let love show them the way.’

  ‘Really? You say that to tiresome old ladies, Paul? Go away with you, you’re pulling my leg!’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Mother – and to tiresome young ones as well.’

  She did not see the glance exchanged between Sir Cedric and Sally Tanner. Sally got up to refill the teapot.

  ‘You’re hiding something, Paul,’ said his mother. ‘And by what you say, I suspect there’s a young lady in the picture – am I right?’

  ‘You might be, Mother, you might be,’ he said with infuriating calm. ‘Be patient, and all will be revealed in time.’

  Isabel shrugged in bewilderment. Paul put down his cup, brushed a crumb from his jacket, and said casually, ‘By the way, I’m expecting a friend over this evening. He should be here round about now, actually.’ He got up and went to the window. ‘Oh, look, here he comes, right on cue!’

  Isabel jumped up and rushed to the window. And saw Geoffrey Bannister coming up the drive, his arm linked with Rebecca’s. They caught sight of the faces at the window, and smiled and waved.

  ‘But Sally, you told me to warn him off – to tell him not to come!’ protested Isabel, happy as she was at seeing her daughter and Geoffrey together, talking easily, laughing at Paul’s cheeky jokes.

  ‘Yes, Isabel dear, that’s what I told you, and I thought to myself if he’s half the man I take him for, he’ll come right over.’

  ‘Sally! And there I was thinking how harsh you were. And yet how right!’

  But in fact Geoffrey had not come over straight away when he received the unwelcome letter, but had contacted his old university friend Paul who had been away fighting for most of the war. The two of them had met, and Paul confirmed that his sister’s heart had indeed been broken.

  ‘Cedric did tell me on the quiet that it had been an Italian prisoner-of-war, so you can imagine the talk. He was a decent fellow, and did the decent thing when the war was over, but Becky was bereft, and never said another word about it to the parents. Look, you’d better hear all about it from her.’

  ‘But if she’s so upset – and her mother’s told me to keep away—’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll give her a ring at her Everham office, and ask if I can come over and speak to her – and you’d better come over as well, old son!’

  When Rebecca saw her brother and Geoffrey Bannister come into the WLA office in the fading December light, it was as if a pent-up dam was released in her heart, and she burst into tears. Paul held her in his arms and gently pacified her, then released her to Bannister. She learnt that there was no need to tell him about Stefano, whose last letter had mentioned his forthcoming marriage to Emilia.

  ‘I knew he wouldn’t write again, but I was angry with my parents, and didn’t tell them,’ she confessed. ‘I know I should have done, and I know Stefano was right, but it was just that – oh, Geoffrey—’ Her tears gushed forth again, and he tenderly drew her head down onto his shoulder. Paul gave him a thumbs-up sign, and quietly left the office.

  ‘I know, Rebecca, I know, it was very hard losing such a splendid man – an honourable man. It’s been a long, long time since I first loved you before the war, and it’s changed us all – but I love you still, and I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to recover. Don’t worry, my love, don’t worry.’ He stroked her hair as he spoke, and she gradually quietened. Paul came in to say briefly that he was returning to the Manor, and told them to follow in about an hour’s time. ‘To give me a chance to prepare the ground and get the red carpet out,’ he said with a wink, though privately he sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

  EPILOGUE

  Christmas 1945

  On Christmas Eve at Hassett Manor the Nevilles welcomed Mr and Mrs Bannister and their son Geoffrey from Shaftesbury, to s
hare their festivities. It was decided that only Paul would attend the midnight Holy Communion service, but that they would all go to St Peter’s on Christmas morning, as a family.

  Sally provided a good supper – her own vegetable and lentil soup, a cottage loaf baked that morning, cold ham with apple chutney and pickled onions. The talk was lively, for people were still rejoicing that the war no longer hung over the country. Mr Bannister was no longer a member of Parliament, having lost his seat at the July election, and he was playing a more active role on the board of directors of a shoe manufacturing firm, drawing up new regulations to protect the interests of the workers.

  ‘But you’ll be much occupied with constituency business, no doubt,’ observed Cedric, and was surprised at Bannister’s wry smile.

  ‘Actually, I’m going to leave politics to Geoffrey in the future. He’ll be standing at the next election, whenever that will be.’

  ‘Yes, as a Labour candidate,’ explained Geoffrey, at which there was a gasp of surprise, followed by silence until Isabel spoke.

  ‘Yes, it looks as if it’s going to be a socialist world in the future, Geoffrey. The whole world’s been changed by the past six years. May you have a good career!’

  Geoffrey gave her a grateful smile, though no other comments were made by the parents, for their opinions had all been well expressed already; but the topic of change continued to dominate.

  ‘Some say there won’t be any more wars because the atom bomb will be the great deterrent,’ said Paul. ‘And I’ve heard others who think that it will bring about the end of the world and humanity with it. Where do we all stand on this apocryphal issue?’

  Sally Tanner spoke up. ‘Same as where we stood before, Paul. None of us can see into the future, so we must go on as we are, doing the best we can.’

  ‘Good old Sally, that’s as wise a saying as any I’ve heard in a sermon!’ Paul said admiringly. ‘I wonder if Alan Kennard will say anything about it tomorrow.’