by Maggie Ford
He watched her as she retrieved the bag, then said softly. ‘Come here a minute, Maddie.’
Not knowing why, she went over to him. She felt him take her arm; pull her gently down towards him. She let herself slip on to her knees without effort, his arms closing around her, lips closing on hers. Savouring the touch of those warm lips she was lost to the world, but only momentarily as sudden fear gripped her at the thought of his mother coming into the room wondering why she was taking so long and catching the two of them. What if she told James? She pulled away sharply.
‘I have to go!’ she heard herself gasp.
As she came upright, her face burning, her hand still gripping her handbag in a most ridiculous manner, she expected to see an amused look in his eyes. Instead, there was such a depth to his gaze that she drew in a sharp breath, instantly interpreting its message.
‘No, Anthony! We mustn’t! I’m married,’ she gasped.
‘Maddie.’ It was all he said, his tone imploring.
She was about to enforce those last words of hers when his mother’s voice sounded from the hall, growing louder as she approached.
‘Are you all right, Madeleine? Haven’t you been able to find your handbag?’
Madeleine sprang away from him as if shot from a cannon. ‘I’m… Yes… it’s all right. I’ve found it.’
Leaping across to where her handbag had previously been found by an armchair, she was just in time to seem to grab it up as Mabel came into the room.
‘I was looking in the wrong place,’ she said quickly, knowing that she was breathing fast, her face flushed.
She glanced hastily towards Anthony. He was reclining in his chair as if completely at ease, his eyes closed as though wearied by her visit, but she knew instinctively that every muscle was taut.
‘I did wonder if you were having trouble finding it,’ Mabel was saying in an easy tone as she led her from the room.
‘It wasn’t by the place where I was sitting,’ Madeleine managed to reply by way of explanation as she followed Mabel to the front door which the maid was now holding open for her.
Having kissed Mabel goodbye, she was glad to be outside, her nerves still all a-jangle by what had happened, grateful for a chance to calm herself during the short walk to the end of the road where she could hail a taxicab.
Anthony loved her. He’d not said as much but she knew from the tension she had seen in him as he lay back in his chair. He was in love with her. And she with him, but being in love was now coupled with a craven fear of being so, not daring to look into the future with its lies and hurt and misery. And there was nothing she could do and that in itself was fear enough.
Fourteen
The war was over. Most chose to ignore that it hadn’t been so much won as hostilities brought to an end by a signed armistice. It was good enough to know that the fighting and the dying were finally over.
‘God knows why celebrations were delayed until today,’ Madeleine said as she and James made their way through the prancing crowds to his sister-in-law’s house. Though Big Ben had struck one o’clock to announce the official start to the celebrations, flags of all the Allied nations had been flying from every building and crowds thronging the streets all morning.
‘They’re naming it Victory Day even though the armistice was signed on the eleventh, five days ago on Monday.’
‘I suppose they had to be sure, make it official,’ James said, his eyes taking in the antics of the crowds beyond the motor car window.
They drove along at a snail’s pace to safely negotiate the groups of revellers too happy to pay heed to pavement, kerb or road as they danced and hugged and sang, waving flags and kissing everyone whether they were friends or strangers.
‘After all,’ he went on, still watching the crowds, ‘I suppose it does seem an odd way to end after four years of slaughtering each other, neither side having won outright – just a piece of paper signed by a civilian and a couple of minor army officers with a white flag. It could be that’s why it’s taken five days to really be sure. Maybe the stock market will start to pick up now,’ he finished hopefully. ‘It’s been a difficult four years.’
She wasn’t interested in stock markets. ‘I wonder how Anthony is, knowing it’s over and that he won’t be sent back?’ she said, only half her mind on what James had been saying.
‘Damned relieved I shouldn’t wonder,’ James said, continuing to gaze through the window, ‘like those out there.’
Madeleine leaned back in her seat. She wasn’t interested in those out there. She was thinking more of that last meeting with Anthony eight days ago. She’d not had the courage to go near his home since then. Even now she could still feel his lips on hers.
How she’d got through this week, she didn’t know, her mind removed from all else as she relived that previous Friday over and over again. Even on Monday as people began to pour on to the streets at the news of the armistice having been signed that very day, it hadn’t touched her other than to breathe a thankful prayer that Anthony would no longer be in danger of a return to the front to fight and probably to die.
James had been in his office at the time. He had telephoned through to her even as she sat at her window watching the growing crowds. She hadn’t gone out to join them, mostly thinking of those who must have been sitting behind their own curtained windows mourning their lost ones, some perhaps in the very last days of war.
Her first desire had been to run to Anthony’s side, but that had been impossible with James on his way home. Nor indeed could she have brought herself to do it with the memory of that kiss still so strong in her mind.
On the phone James had said, ‘I’m coming home, my dear. I do not want you to be on your own on this great day.’
All she had said, her mind miles away, was, ‘Thank you, James.’
He was a kind man, thought of her every comfort, did all he could to make her happy, bought her whatever she asked for, totally unaware that the one thing she was most thankful for was that he had never attempted to consummate their marriage. She didn’t think she could have taken that.
She was aware that he saw her as a companion who had helped fill a void left: by the death of his wife, whom he never referred to or mentioned by name. She knew too that he was deeply grateful to her for – as he’d once put it – ‘so generously accepting my offer of marriage as a good friend.’
Yet despite his kindness and his concern for her happiness he would not agree to her request to search for the baby taken from her. Although after all this time it could prove futile and the memory ceased to bite as much as it once did, it still lay there in the background… and she yearned for his consent to at least try.
This had been the main reason why she had married him, that his money might help find her daughter, yet it was the one thing he had never granted, almost wilfully it seemed to her at times. In every other way he was so generous and understanding and kind that she’d become almost reluctant to push him any further on the matter.
Now that lurking wish was raising its head again. Her thoughts returned with a rush to Anthony. It could happen that in the not too distant future she could find herself widowed. James wasn’t getting any younger and who knows, maybe sooner rather than later she and Anthony would be together, legally married, he young enough to accept a ready-made family and happy to help trace her baby. But not just that, she loved him. But what if James went on into his seventies? To find out about her and his own nephew would break his heart, his world would crumble; of that she was sure. How could she do that to him?
He must never know. But where did that leave her and Anthony? All these thoughts crowded her mind enough to make her head spin as they drove almost at a snail’s pace through the singing, dancing, laughing throng.
* * *
Anthony was standing at the window, leaning on his stick as he gazed out at the celebrations; they were, perhaps, somewhat less exuberant here, a little more sedate. He turned from the scene as Madeleine and Jam
es came into the room accompanied by his mother.
‘Looks like everyone’s enjoying themselves out there,’ he said without a smile or one word of welcome, almost as if they’d been there for hours.
‘Yes, it certainly does,’ James returned cheerily, seeming to be quite comfortable with such a reception. ‘And how are you?’
‘Fine.’
He’d still not smiled and Madeleine realized that he was continuing to gaze at her, his eyes fixed on her face, and immediately she felt her heart turn over. She looked away quickly, fearing her face might betray something she didn’t wish James to see. But he probably wouldn’t have noticed, utterly innocent of how she felt.
‘Well,’ cut in his mother. ‘That is a fine greeting, I must say, dear, after your uncle has taken the trouble to come and see how you are on such an occasion as this. The least you could say is “hello”.’
‘Hello,’ he repeated, parrot fashion, his tone mocking.
Mabel gave an impatient click of the tongue, saying, ‘I’ll ring for tea,’ and turning to her guests, added, ‘I expect you both would like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you, dears?’
Madeleine found her voice. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’
She could still feel Anthony’s eyes trained upon her even though she refused to meet them.
Then suddenly he said, ‘Well, sit down, Uncle James, Aunt Madeleine. Make yourselves comfortable. It’s so nice of you to come. I very much appreciate it, after you’ve been pushing through hordes of people.’
Addressed as Aunt, almost deliberately it seemed, made her squirm but she betrayed nothing. Was he being sarcastic or was it for his uncle’s sake, or maybe he was trying to convey to her some second thought over what had transpired between them the last time they’d met.
Moving away from the window, he returned to his own seat, Madeleine looking from beneath her brow noticed that he no longer needed to use his stick for support, merely holding it clear of the floor; that beyond a hardly discernible limp he seemed perfectly fine. James had noticed it too.
‘I see you’ve got rid of the plaster,’ he remarked.
‘Yesterday,’ Anthony said. ‘Almost back to normal and just in time to savour the peace, long may it last!’
He spoke brightly, yet Madeleine felt she could detect a trace of strain in his tone. She wished he would cease throwing glances at her, too many for comfort. Evading them made it seem all the more obvious that something deeper than family friendship existed between them. She lifted her face to him, her expression hopefully betraying nothing.
‘You must be so deeply relieved in not having to be sent away over… I mean, well, not finding yourself having to be packed off back to France,’ she said, stumbling awkwardly over the words and feeling instantly stupid.
He was looking at her, a faint smile now hovering on his lips. Was he mocking her or embracing her? She couldn’t tell.
‘Yes, very relieved.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Hopefully I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now. You too, Uncle James,’ he added almost as an afterthought which to her ears had a far too significant ring to it for her own peace of mind.
But James hadn’t seemed to notice, saying easily, ‘Yes, of course, as often as we can.’
Mabel had returned followed by her maid carrying tea on a silver tray together with a plate of dainty biscuits. She placed it on the small round table standing between Mabel’s armchair and those of the guests and hurried away on being told, ‘Thank you, Susan. That will be all.’
They watched as Mabel poured, helping themselves to milk, sugar and biscuits. Beyond the window the continuing celebrations penetrated the quiet room as little more than a low murmur. James was first to break the silence.
‘So… Anthony, old chap, I expect we’ll soon be seeing you dashing around again, no doubt looking to find yourself a nice girl – unless of course you’ve already found someone.’
His voice was hearty, overloud, almost forced, and Madeleine shot a glance at him with an instant sense of guilt. What did he mean, found someone? Had he detected something in that possibly unguarded look which had passed so briefly between her and his nephew just a few moments ago? But Anthony was already answering him, his own tone easy.
‘I’m not intending to look, Uncle. If it happens, that’s fine, but I’m not ready to deliberately go seeking anyone, that’s for certain.’
To her ears it was a foolish thing to say. She cast a surreptitious glance towards her husband but he appeared to be satisfied and muttering an amiable, ‘Of course not,’ turned to his sister-in-law.
‘I’m so happy for you, my dear, having your son home safe – nothing worse than an injured leg, but it’s healing well, and not at all impairing his future.’
‘You cannot begin to imagine, James, how happy I am for that,’ she returned. Her tone was lighter than Madeleine had ever known. She sounded almost a new woman as she added brightly, ‘The Dear Lord has answered all my prayers.’ Leaning forward he patted her hand reassuringly then turned back to Anthony. ‘And you, my boy, will soon be returning to normal life, no doubt settling back into banking, hopefully putting these past four years behind you.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Anthony said a little brusquely and lapsed into silence.
Again that faintly awkward atmosphere settled over the room. Madeleine and James drained their teacups and returned them to the tray together with their plates, biscuits untouched. Mabel continued taking minuscule sips from her own cup. She did not like steaming hot tea, preferring to drink hers lukewarm. Anthony had also drained his, now leaning over the arm of his chair to put the cup on the floor beside him.
As he did so, he looked towards Madeleine. The movement took her attention and as their glances met and held for a second, a meaningful look passed between them, almost tangible, Madeleine hurriedly looking away as she heard James say with a polite sigh, ‘Well, I suppose we’d best be going.’
‘You’ve been here barely half an hour,’ Mabel protested. ‘We shall be having dinner earlier than usual. Why not stay? We had lunch very early, well before one o’clock chimed the commencement of the official Victory celebrations – we didn’t want to be eating then, so dinner will be a little earlier. Do stay.’
But James seemed to have made up his mind, leaving Madeleine to ponder if he’d noticed the look that had passed between her and Anthony, reading something into it.
‘We merely came to see how you were on this special day, my dear,’ he was saying. ‘Make sure you’re not feeling down you might say. I’m glad to find you both so cheery but I do have some work I need to finish ready for tomorrow.’
‘Well, then if you must,’ she said somewhat begrudgingly. ‘Though how you can think of working on a day such as this…’
‘Life goes on,’ he cut in with a small laugh. ‘Perhaps we can take up your offer, my dear, not tomorrow but Sunday, when I have more time. And now we really must be away,’ he added as she nodded her acceptance of the arrangement. ‘And I am so glad to find you well, my dear, you too, Anthony.’
Madeleine too wanted to be away. She could feel herself trembling inside from the look that had passed between her and Anthony, such a depth of meaning that if James had been looking in their direction, which she fervently hoped he hadn’t, he couldn’t have helped but notice.
Without daring to look back at Anthony she quickly followed James out to the hall, his sister-in-law accompanying them, cheerfully bidding them goodbye as they donned their hats and coats and left.
‘I thought Anthony looked very well,’ James said as they drove off, the crowds still clogging the roads. ‘You did too, didn’t you, my dear?’
Nerves still raw from the way Anthony had looked at her as he placed his cup down beside him, she felt herself reading more into those last few words than maybe she should have and cringed inwardly but managed to answer in a small voice, ‘Yes, dear, I did.’
Left wondering just how much he was aware of the feelings between Anthony and her
, she found herself reading all sorts of innuendos into almost everything James said when speaking to her. It made her wish they were not going there on Sunday. She wanted so much to see him, the next day seeming to drag, yet there was fear. He would undoubtedly look at her in the way he’d done yesterday. If their eyes met she was sure she would betray herself. If James didn’t know now what was going on, he soon would if this continued.
The best solution would be to cry off going there tomorrow altogether but the thought of not seeing him so tore at her that she found herself counting the hours, willing them to pass, at the same time dreading their passing until she wasn’t sure what she wanted, her mind in turmoil.
Being driven through the Sunday streets, the November afternoon dull and overcast with daylight seeming already to be fading to an early evening and everywhere strangely deserted after the jubilations on Friday, she remained quiet, hoping James wouldn’t notice the turmoil inside her which she was sure must be showing on her face.
It had been suggested they come to dinner but James having a need to work that evening in readiness for Monday morning, it had been arranged they come to Sunday lunch instead. The nearer they got to Mabel’s home the more Madeleine’s agitation increased, her mind repeatedly asking what if hers and Anthony’s glances met the way they had on Friday? Yet to avoid his gaze altogether, would it not leave him wondering what he’d done to upset her? Over and over she wished with all her heart that she’d concocted an excuse not to go – a headache, over-tiredness, feign the onset of a cold perhaps? Yet she knew she couldn’t have kept away.
But it wasn’t as she’d expected. He hardly looked at her, his greeting when they arrived almost offhanded, avoiding her eyes as they sat across the table from each other. He hardly spoke the whole time, his mother doing all the talking, a totally different woman to the desperate one of six months back. And as they retired to the sitting room to relax after the meal, he seemed preoccupied, hardly joining in the general conversation and to Madeleine’s mind, totally ignoring her.
