In Love and War (11 page)

‘You should take a lot of the credit, Elsie. Your ability to converse with them in their own tongue has made all the difference. The Flemish speakers seem to understand French almost as well as their own language, which is a great help.'

‘Don't overtire yourself, Mrs Johnson, but I'm sure everyone would appreciate a few more dances.'

‘I could go on all night. I rarely see my husband looking so happy. He is the one who works tirelessly for all his parishioners. I'm merely his helpmate.'

‘And I know he couldn't manage without you.'

‘Your young man is coming to ask you to dance again,' Mrs Johnson said, smiling. ‘He's very nice, Elsie. Quite a gentleman.'

Elsie looked round and saw Guy walking towards them. ‘He's not my young man,' she said hastily. ‘We only met this evening. I hardly know him.'

‘Well he likes you, dear, and he doesn't look the sort of man who is normally at ease with young ladies.'

‘How can you tell?'

‘Many years of listening to the woes of young curates and parishioners have made me sympathetic to the emotional problems of others. Life is very difficult for people who are shy.' Mrs Johnson struck a chord on the piano and started playing a waltz. She looked up and gave Guy an encouraging smile. ‘Everyone can waltz, Mr Gifford. Even my husband, and he most definitely has two left feet.'

Guy bowed politely. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, Elsie?'

She took his hand. ‘I'd be delighted, Guy.'

‘I'm glad I stayed,' he said as he whirled her round in time to the music. ‘To tell you the truth I wasn't looking forward to this evening, but it's turned out much better than I expected.'

She met his candid gaze and realised that it cost him a lot to make such an admission. ‘Why was that?'

‘I don't go to many parties,' he said slowly. ‘I usually find it hard to socialise.'

She smiled. ‘You're doing very well tonight.'

‘Thanks to you, Elsie. I usually find it quite difficult to get on with young ladies.'

‘So how do you know Marianne?'

‘We work in the same department at the War Office. Algy is my boss, and we get on tolerably well, but I wouldn't say we're bosom friends. I'm not even sure why he invited me to Frascati's.'

‘I'm very glad he did, or I would have had a miserable time.'

‘Shall we sit the rest of this one out? I hate shouting above the music.' He guided her to a row of empty chairs set against the wall.

‘What did you want to talk about, Guy? Or are you simply tired and need to rest?'

His eyes twinkled and he laughed. ‘Are you saying I'm an old man, Elsie?'

‘I don't know how old you are.'

‘I'm twenty-seven. I suppose that is old to someone like you.'

‘I'm twenty-one, and age doesn't come into it. I like you, Guy. You're easy to talk to and you don't make me feel inferior.'

He stared at her in genuine surprise. ‘Why would you feel like that?'

‘As I said before, I was in service. My father died when I was very young and Ma and I were poor. We had a struggle just to survive.'

‘It doesn't change who you are as a person.' Guy leaned back in his chair. ‘I don't agree with unthinking acceptance of the class system. In my opinion people should be judged for their own qualities and capabilities and not because of some accident of birth. This war is a terrible thing, but if it brings about social change, then some good might come out of it.'

‘Why should that be? There have been wars before.'

‘But not on this scale. The whole world is being drawn into the conflict and I don't think anything will be the same when it comes to an end.'

She looked up realising that someone was trying to attract their attention. ‘It's the vicar. I think he's trying to tell us that this is the last waltz.'

Guy leapt to his feet. ‘We mustn't miss this opportunity. May I have this dance, Miss Mead?'

‘Certainly, Mr Gifford.' She stood up and stepped into the circle of his arms. ‘It's been a lovely evening, Guy. I've really enjoyed myself, and everyone here seems to have absorbed a little of the Christmas spirit despite their personal problems.'

‘May I see you again, Elsie?'

She had been comfortable in his company, but her heart and her head were filled with romantic thoughts of Henri and it would be unfair to lead Guy on. ‘Yes – perhaps – but I'll be back at work on Saturday. I've already had too much time off.'

‘But it's Boxing Day. I was hoping we might go for a walk in the park.'

The disappointment in his voice was echoed in his eyes, and she felt a sudden sense of panic. He might be looking for a romantic attachment, but she was not. Henri was definitely beyond her reach, but she had fallen in love with him the first moment they had met, and she was certain that no one could take his place. ‘I'm sorry, Guy. Another day, maybe. Now I really should be getting home, but thank you for coming here with me. It's been lovely.'

‘At least allow me to see you home.'

She could not refuse and somehow she did not want to. ‘Thank you,' she said simply.

‘What on earth will we do without Violet?' Anthea demanded, waving a slice of toast and marmalade in the air before taking a bite.

‘I'll put an advertisement in
The Lady
,' Marianne said with a careless shrug. ‘At least Cook is staying on. We can manage for a few days without a maid, but I'd be lost in the kitchen.'

Anthea swallowed and licked her lips. ‘Me too. I can't even boil an egg. I suppose we could get food sent in from Fortnum's.'

Marianne turned to Elsie. ‘Can you cook?'

‘Yes, a bit.'

‘That's all right then. You can make breakfast and we'll eat out for the rest of the day.'

‘But Cook isn't the one who's leaving,' Elsie pointed out. ‘I'm going back to my lodgings after work tomorrow, so I won't be able to help. How are you both at cleaning and lighting fires?'

Anthea pushed her plate away and stood up. ‘It can't be that difficult, but I've no intention of putting myself to the test. Anyway, Tubby will be arriving soon and then we're going to his family seat for the grisly get-together for all his ghastly relations. I'll be staying the night, heaven help me. Their house is ancient, cold and draughty and I'll probably catch pneumonia, but hey ho, one has to do one's duty.' She grabbed another slice of toast and left the room, munching it as she went.

‘That leaves us and the turkey, darling,' Marianne said, filling her cup with coffee. ‘Algy invited me to stay with his family in Buckinghamshire, but I couldn't face it.'

‘He seems keen on you,' Elsie said cautiously. ‘Don't you like him?'

‘Oh, he's fun and good-looking, but it's never been serious. Not on my part. Now if Henri had asked me to spend Christmas in Paris I'd have swum the Channel to get there, but I haven't heard from him since he left.'

‘You're very fond of Henri, aren't you?'

‘Of course I am. I told you, Elsie, we're like brother and sister. I adore his parents but there's nothing serious between Henri and me.'

Elsie was not sure she believed her. She rose to her feet. ‘Violet has the day off, so perhaps I'd better clear the table.'

‘You're a guest here, but since you've offered, thanks.' Marianne reached for her handbag and took out a silver cigarette case. ‘With Felicia away it's all right to smoke in the dining room. She says it puts her off her food.' She selected a cigarette and lit it with a match, inhaling with a satisfied smile. ‘I'm afraid I haven't got a present for you, Elsie, because I had no idea we'd be spending Christmas marooned in this flat like pirates on an atoll.'

‘That's all right, Marianne. I haven't got one for you because I'm a bit short of the rent money this week.'

Marianne stared at her through a haze of smoke. ‘Really? I don't know how the landlady has the gall to charge rent for that dreadful attic. How much do you need?'

‘No, really. Thank you, but I'll manage somehow.' Elsie began stacking the plates.

‘Nonsense. Call it a loan, or perhaps it can be the Christmas present I neglected to buy. How much?'

‘Five shillings,' Elsie whispered. ‘I had to buy some stockings and have my boots repaired. I'm not normally so extravagant.'

Marianne took out her purse. ‘Good God, I don't call that being extravagant. You must be working for next to nothing.'

‘I'm doing something for other people. It's a charity and I'm lucky to get anything at all.'

‘You're being exploited,' Marianne said, taking another puff on her cigarette. ‘It's slave labour, if you ask me.'

‘I'm not complaining and I enjoy helping the refugees. I'm glad to do something to help win the war, even if it's only in a small way.'

Marianne leaned back in her chair, staring at Elsie as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I'm not sure if you're heading for sainthood or if you're a gullible fool.'

This made Elsie laugh and she tossed a table napkin at Marianne. ‘I'm neither, and it wouldn't hurt you to help out. Poor Mrs Beale is slaving away in the kitchen just so that you and I can gorge ourselves on turkey and the trimmings. I think she needs a break as much as anyone.'

‘Oh my God,' Marianne said, rolling her eyes. ‘You're not going to make me give my Christmas lunch to the poor like Marmee in
Little Women
, are you?'

‘Don't tell me you actually read the book?'

‘My governess adored it and insisted on reading it to me.' Marianne stubbed her cigarette out on a saucer. ‘I'll make sure the next maid puts an ashtray on the table, just until Felicia returns, of course.' She took two half-crowns from her purse and laid them on the table. ‘Merry Christmas, Elsie.'

Elsie smiled and pocketed the coins. ‘Thanks. I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I can.'

Despite her initial refusal to help in any way, Marianne relented when the festive meal was served and insisted that Mrs Beale should join them in the dining room. She plied her with sherry and wine and when the pudding had been flamed, served and eaten, she told her to take the rest of the day off.

‘You're not going to leave me with the washing-up, are you?' Elsie demanded.

‘Actually, I'm not such a heartless bitch,' Marianne said, laughing. She rose to her feet and rolled up her sleeves. ‘I'll wash, you can wipe.' She leaned over Mrs Beale who was suspiciously red in the face and seemed to be having difficulty in keeping her eyes open. ‘Mrs Beale, I think a nap would be beneficial, and don't worry about preparing supper. We'll help ourselves. There's plenty left.'

Mrs Beale staggered to her feet. ‘Thank you, Miss Marianne. It's been very enjoyable.' She teetered towards the door and Elsie rushed over to open it for her.

‘Can you manage?'

‘Thank you, miss. I'm perfectly capable of getting to my room unaided. Merry Christmas.' Mrs Beale marched out of the room, swaying a little, but keeping her head held high. ‘I can manage perfectly well.'

‘Come on then,' Marianne said, pulling a face. ‘Let's get this over and then we can sit down and relax, although I don't know what we'll do for the rest of the day. I'm beginning to wish that I'd joined Algy in Bedfordshire, no offence meant, Elsie. But I was never one for purely female company, as you might have guessed.'

‘We could always go for a walk,' Elsie suggested eagerly. ‘Maybe we could go to Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens.'

‘Walk?' Marianne glanced down at her high-heeled shoes. ‘In this weather? Are you completely mad?'

They spent the next half hour in the kitchen, tackling the washing up. Marianne did her best, although Elsie had to slip the occasional piece of crockery back into the hot water to make sure that it was clean, but when it came to the roasting tin and saucepans Marianne gave up. ‘My hands are raw,' she complained. ‘I can't imagine how anyone could do this day in and day out. I need a sit down, a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Leave the rest, Elsie. Violet can do it tomorrow.'

‘You've done your bit. Go and sit down and I'll make the coffee.'

‘You are multi-talented, darling. I love you.' Marianne breezed out of the kitchen, leaving Elsie to finish cleaning the pots and pans. She could not simply walk away and leave the detritus for Violet to find in the morning, and her conscience would not allow her to leave the kitchen in anything but a pristine state. She made coffee and took a tray into the drawing room.

Marianne looked up and smiled. ‘You took your time. I suppose you stayed like a good little slavey and left the kitchen spotless.'

Elsie put the tray down and poured the coffee. ‘Of course.' She grinned. ‘I wish that Phyllis and Nancy could have seen you washing dishes. They wouldn't have believed their eyes.'

‘Well it won't happen again, Elsie. I'm not the domesticated kind. When I decide to marry it will be a man who can keep me in the way to which I am accustomed, as the saying goes. I don't believe in love in a garret. No sugar, darling, and just a dash of milk.'

Elsie placed the cup of coffee on an occasional table beside Marianne's chair. ‘I'm very grateful for everything, but I'm going back to my lodgings tomorrow. I have to work.'

‘You did say that, but surely they won't expect you to work on Boxing Day?'

‘I volunteered a week or so ago. I didn't know I'd be spending Christmas with you, and anyway, I don't want to outstay my welcome. You and Anthea have been marvellous, but it's time for me to go.'

Marianne leaned forward in her chair. ‘You could stay here, you know.'

‘Me? Stay here?'

‘That's what I said. To be honest, Elsie, with Violet leaving us in the lurch like this, Anthea and I are going to find it very hard to manage.'