‘Don’t remind me,’ Livvy answered guiltily. ‘But I shall make it up to him if he comes home … when he comes home, that is! But what about you and David? You had rather a turnaround with him as well, if I’m not very much mistaken.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Kathy looked sheepish. ‘I suppose it took the twins to make me realise what a lovely man he was and how stupid I was to spend my life thinking that I’d ever meant anything to Ben. For years I prayed every day that he would come back, and then when he did and took the children away it turned into a nightmare. Still, I don’t like to think about that now. Things turned out all right in the end, thank goodness.’
‘You must really hate Ben for what he did.’
Kathy stared into the fire for a moment before slowly shaking her head. ‘I did at first,’ she admitted. ‘But then I slowly came to realise that he was very unwell and not really responsible for everything he did, and I was able to forgive him. And now Mum has her money back as well.’
‘Hm, but she doesn’t own Treetops anymore, does she?’ Livvy said regretfully.
Kathy shrugged. ‘Maybe not but she still lives here and who knows what the future might hold? They do say everything happens for a reason, don’t they?’
The two sisters lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying the peace and quiet after such a busy day, and making the most of each other’s company. All too soon, Livvy would be returning to her base and who knew when they might be together again?
Chapter Fifty-Two
March 1945
By 1945, the tides of war had truly turned in the Allies’ favour and everyone was feeling more optimistic that the end of the war might be in sight.
Livvy had still not heard from Giles and when John told her that he had been informed that his grandson had been transferred to the Belsen Camp in 1944 her spirits had sunk. Belsen had been set up as a camp for Jewish prisoners so they had no idea why Giles should have been sent there. They’d heard many horror stories of the atrocious conditions the prisoners were forced to live in and now their hopes of seeing him alive again were slim. It was reported that the camp was severely overcrowded, and the prisoners were living on starvation rations in appalling sanitary conditions that led to outbreaks of typhus, tuberculosis, typhoid fever and dysentery. When John rang Livvy at her base to tell her the news she openly wept.
‘Stay strong, darling,’ her mother urged her on the phone. ‘Giles is a young man and he’ll come through this.’
Livvy wasn’t so sure, but she never gave up hope completely.
Kathy was also worried about David. The year before he had been brought back to England on a hospital ship, suffering from a severe case of dysentery, and when she had visited him at a hospital in Portsmouth, she had barely recognised him. He was so thin that he was almost skeletal, and he looked years older than his age.
‘Hey, you’re supposed to be out there looking after everyone else,’ she had teased him as she plastered a bright smile on her face.
He had shrugged. ‘I suppose I’m just a bit run down … but don’t worry. As soon as I’m well enough I shall be out there again.’
As it happened, seeing Kathy was the best medicine he could have had and within a month he was shipped back to the field hospital. She had not seen him since but now every day she lived in hope that the war would soon be over, and they could finally begin their life together.
The years had also taken their toll on both Sunday and John who still lived compatibly side by side at Treetops.
Sunday had slowed down considerably, and though she still spent much of her free time unravelling any old woollies she could get her hands on and reknitting the wool back into socks for the troops, she rarely ventured into town anymore.
‘I’m afraid our age is finally catching up with us. And not just us. Poor Cissie’s knees are playing up and George is needing the children to help more and more with mucking out the stables,’ she told John regretfully one evening as they sat enjoying a cup of cocoa before retiring to their rooms and he could only nod in agreement.
One evening, as they all sat in the kitchen eating their dinner, Sunday suggested, ‘Let’s have a party!’
‘A party?’ Kathy had just arrived home from the hospital and she looked astounded. ‘What sort of a party?’
Sunday smiled. ‘I’ve just got an urge to see as many people from Treetops’ past as we can. I still keep in touch with quite a few of them.’ She paused to look at John and asked, ‘Would you mind?’ Sometimes it was hard for her to remember that Treetops belonged to him now.
‘Not in the least,’ he assured her. ‘But you have to remember that many of the young men you and Tom cared for will still be away fighting in the war. Perhaps you should wait a while?’
Sunday shook her head. ‘No, it’s not wise at our age to put off till tomorrow what can be done today. We might not be here.’
‘Mum, what an awful thing to say,’ Kathy scolded, but Sunday just shrugged and would not be put off from her plan.
‘Let’s do it,’ she said enthusiastically, and her eyes grew misty as she thought back to other parties at Treetops she had enjoyed when her mother and Tom had been alive. ‘When Lady Lavinia, your grandmother, owned Treetops, it saw some wonderful parties and balls,’ she told Kathy dreamily. ‘There would be an orchestra and the women looked like brightly coloured butterflies as they glided round in their beautiful gowns. They were all the colours of the rainbow but not one of them ever managed to outshine your grandmother. She was truly beautiful, inside and out.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Kathy agreed with a smile. She had very fond memories of her grandmother. ‘But then you were very beautiful too, still are, in fact.’
Sunday chuckled. ‘I’m an old woman,’ she said with acceptance. ‘I don’t feel old inside but when I look in the mirror, I wonder who the old woman is staring back at me. And sometimes now I just yearn to go and join your father. It seems so long since I saw him, and I get so tired. But don’t worry. I have no intentions of going anywhere until this damn war is over and I see you and Livvy settled. I promised your father I would look after you both and I will.’
‘Don’t talk like that. You’re not going to leave us for a very long time,’ Kathy said. ‘And just where are we supposed to get all the food for this party?’ she asked, ever sensible. The entire country was heartily sick of the enforced food rationing now.
‘Don’t you get worrying about that. If your mother wants a party, then a party she shall have.’ John grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘I have a few friends who might be able to get certain things on the black market. Not that I approve of it, of course, but sometimes needs must.’
‘Oh yes, and who is going to prepare it all?’ Mrs Gay, the old cook, had retired and gone to live with her daughter close to Brighton the year before and now Cissie and Edith did the cooking between them. The children had all missed her terribly when she first left, probably because of all the treats she used to cook for them.
‘I’m sure me an’ Edith can manage that so long as you don’t want nothin’ too fancy,’ Cissie piped up. ‘But why don’t we plan it for when the weather is a bit better? It’s early in March already so why don’t we aim to have the party in May? People can spill out into the gardens then like they used to. In fact, I reckon George said only the other day that he’d come across the lanterns we used to hang in the trees in the back o’ the barn somewhere. We could use ’em again providin’ the mice ain’t been at ’em.’
‘I suppose that does make sense,’ Sunday admitted. ‘And it will give us all something to look forward to.’ She broke off then to pass Skippy a piece of meat beneath the table as they continued to make plans for the party. Sunday looked around the table with satisfaction; she’d been right to suggest it, the thought of the party had already lifted their spirits, and now she couldn’t wait for the warm weather to arrive.
As March gave way to April it really appeared that the end of the war was in sight, and then on th
e thirtieth word reached them that Adolf Hitler had killed himself rather than admit defeat, and the people of Britain cheered. He had shot himself and died with his lover, Eva Braun, whom he had married the day before, but no one had a shred of sympathy for him. He had been an evil man and was responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths so no one would mourn him.
Shocked soldiers were liberating the concentration camps and the full horror of what had taken place there was being revealed. But for many of the people who had been held there, rescue had come too late. In Belsen alone British soldiers had found 40,000 prisoners, many of them beyond help, suffering from starvation and many terrible diseases. Lying beside the survivors were piles of naked, rotting corpses with the little children who were still strong enough to stand playing beside them. It was a horrific testament to the cruelty and callousness of the SS guards. Almost all of the living were grossly emaciated, stick-like figures, their skin pulled so tight to their skulls that they were hardly recognisable as human beings and their rescuers openly wept at the sight of them.
They were shipped to makeshift hospitals but despite the doctors’ and nurses’ best efforts, hundreds of the ex-prisoners were still dying every day.
‘Livvy and John are beside themselves with worry,’ Sunday confided to Cissie. ‘They still don’t know if Giles has survived.’
‘He’ll survive,’ Cissie said confidently. ‘He has to cos I think it would kill his grandad if he didn’t.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Sunday agreed. John was hovering about the phone like a ghost, praying for it to ring with good news of his grandson, but so many people had been incarcerated in Belsen it was taking some time to get all the names of the survivors. Livvy was phoning daily for an update but all they could do was wait and pray for good news.
David meanwhile had been transferred to a field hospital in France after D Day the year before. Now the doctors and nurses didn’t have as many casualties each day and were concentrating on the patients they already had. In his most recent letter to Kathy he had written:
Word has it that it’s almost over and everyone here is optimistic. And then when I come home, I shall have a surprise for you, my darling, and God willing we shall never be parted again.
The letter lifted Kathy’s spirits considerably and now everyone waited for news of the end of the war with anticipation.
And then at last, on 8 May came the announcement they had all been waiting for. Vast crowds had gathered in the streets around Whitehall and Buckingham Palace for the Prime Minister’s announcement at 3 p.m. when he told them, ‘The German war is at an end, hostilities will cease at midnight.’
Suddenly sirens and hooters were sounded all over the country. Bonfires were lit and pubs and churches were filled to bursting. Flags and brightly coloured bunting in red, white and blue appeared everywhere, and in London, Winston Churchill’s car was swamped by a jubilant crowd as he made his way to the House of Commons. Later he made an impromptu speech from a balcony above Whitehall. ‘This is your victory!’ he told the cheering mass. ‘God bless you all!’
Beside him, Labour’s Ernest Bevin led the crowds in singing, ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow!’
Soon after, King George and Queen Elizabeth appeared on the palace balcony with Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret to wave to a rapturous crowd and, that evening, for the first time since war had been announced, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament were floodlit, while searchlights illuminated the sky. Britain was in a party mood and in London the streets were full of people dancing and singing, and there were chains of people doing the hokey-cokey, or singing ‘Knee’s Up Mother Brown’ as they trailed behind anyone who possessed a musical instrument. Then at midnight when Big Ben sounded the hour of the official ceasefire a great roar went up, the tugs on the River Thames sounded their sirens, fireworks exploded, and bells pealed all across the land.
Everyone at Treetops had waited up to hear the excitement on the radio and their eyes were damp as they hugged each with sheer relief.
‘Now please God our loved ones will come home, and we can all try to get our lives back to some sort of normality,’ Sunday said as she dabbed at her wet eyes.
‘I’ll second that,’ John said archly as he filled crystal glasses from a bottle of his very finest champagne, which he had saved for just such an occasion. ‘And here’s a toast to all the poor souls who will not be returning home who laid down their lives for our king and country. May God bless their souls.’
As they chinked glasses there was not a dry eye amongst them, for although they were elated at the victory, they were also painfully aware of the cost.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Although the war for Britain was over, the war in Japan still raged on but that didn’t stop the people of Britain celebrating their victory.
‘The people in the village are planning a street party,’ Kathy told her mother and Cissie when she arrived home from the hospital late one afternoon in May, shortly after the joyous news had been announced. ‘Why don’t we bring our party forward and have it on the same day? We could have it here during the afternoon so that all the children could come too?’ she suggested as Skippy leapt up at her, giving his usual rapturous welcome.
‘What a good idea,’ Cissie said approvingly. ‘I’ll get George to nip into town and get some flags and bunting … if you’re happy with the idea, Sunday?’
Sunday nodded. ‘I most certainly am. We can invite all the villagers as well as the people I was going to invite, and they can all bring a contribution to the food if they wish. Perhaps a bowl of jelly or some cakes for the children? If the weather is fine, we can have the tables out on the lawn and the children can run about to their hearts’ content. If it’s raining, we’ve still got plenty of room to accommodate everyone inside. We could perhaps pin the invite up on the noticeboard in the church hall at the Holy Trinity. What do you think?’
‘It would certainly save a lot of time having to go round the village inviting everyone individually,’ Kathy agreed.
And so that evening they wrote the invite out and George took it along to the church hall and put it in pride of place on the noticeboard the next morning.
From then on Edith and Cissie spent every hour in the kitchen baking bread and cakes. John meanwhile was true to his word and delighted them when he presented them with six large tins of corned beef, a huge round cheese and enough dried, mixed fruit to make at least a dozen large cakes.
‘I won’t ask where they come from seein’ as they have American labels on ’em.’ Cissie winked as she whisked the things safely away into the pantry.
John gave a guilty grin. Sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.
The day of the party finally dawned, and everyone was suddenly rushing about preparing the tables. Bunting was hung in the trees and the children helped to carry the food out and place it on the long trestle tables. Neighbours had been dropping in all morning with their contributions and soon the trestles were groaning beneath the weight.
There were three types of sandwiches – corned beef, cheese and jam made with the fruit that Cissie had picked from the blackberry bushes the year before. There were dishes full of brightly coloured wobbly jellies and a variety of cakes. Sausage rolls fresh from the oven and huge bowls full of various pickles. One of the villagers had brought in a big tray of scones, another two quivering dishes of blancmange, and as the children greedily eyed all the treats their stomachs rumbled with anticipation.
On the end of each table were big jugs full of homemade lemonade for the little ones. John had provided two large barrels of beer for the men and a selection of wines and spirits for the women, so all in all it looked set to be a very good party indeed.
‘Eeh, we couldn’t have asked fer a better day,’ Cissie said contentedly as she eyed the feast they had laid out. ‘It’s as if him upstairs is smilin’ down on us.’
George glanced up at the cloudless blue sky and nodded agreement. �
�Aye, well happen after all the heartbreak this country has seen over the last few years, we deserve a bit o’ sunshine now.’ He hurried off then to help John and some of the village men who had volunteered to help carry the piano out onto the terrace. Finally, there was no more to be done and the women went to get ready for the first guests to arrive.
Sunday looked very regal in the outfit she had chosen to wear. It was a navy-blue calf-length skirt with a fitted jacket, which showed off her still-slim figure. Around her neck she wore the treasured string of pearls that had been a twenty-first birthday present from her mother, and on her finger the diamond engagement ring that Tom had bought her so many years ago sparkled as it reflected the light. There were also tiny diamond studs in her ears and her still-thick silver hair was dressed in a simple chignon at the back of her head.
As John commented admiringly to Cissie, ‘She looks like a queen. No one would ever believe she was almost seventy-five years old, would they?’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Cissie agreed with an envious little sigh. Sunday had always been a looker. ‘She can still turn heads when she’s a mind to. But if you think she’s pretty now you should ’ave seen ’er when she were young!’
‘Well, if you don’t mind me saying you’re looking very fetching yourself today,’ John said gallantly and Cissie giggled.
‘Get away wi’ you. Flattery will get you everywhere.’ And then she hurried off to help with all the last-minute details with a happy flush on her cheeks.
By mid-afternoon the garden and the house were teeming with people. The wine and beer were flowing like water and everyone was having a fine old time. The children’s laughter floated on the air as they raced about the lawns and Sunday was transported back in time. There were so many of the children she and Tom had cared for there, all grown up with families of their own now. There was Flora and Jamie, Janet, her late beloved Kitty’s friend, and so many more that it took her all her time to catch a moment with each of them. And then there were all the people that had come from the surrounding villages, Witherley, Fenny Drayton, Mancetter and Hartshill. Some people had even come from Nuneaton town.
Time to Say Goodbye Page 31
