Camomile Lawn (13 page)

Tony laughed. ‘I shall have to wait till his leave is over.’

‘I suppose so. Would you like to meet our aunt?’

‘Your
aunt?
Not particularly.’

‘Helena. Max Erstweiler’s chum.’

‘That aunt. Yes, I would. Is she here?’

‘Just gone upstairs. She’s bought two houses near here. She’s—well, you’d better meet her.’

‘I saw her at his concert. She didn’t look musical. A dumpy figure.’

‘She isn’t, but she’s learning all sorts of tricks.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Not bed tricks, tricks of speech. She’s taken to ending her sentences with yes or no, like
Ja
and
Nein.
Her life, once so dull, is now far from it.’

‘Lead me to her.’

‘Tony Wood became a great friend of Helena’s,’ Polly later told Iris and James as she drove them to the funeral.

‘Really? Tony Wood? How did that come about? Isn’t he homosexual?’

Polly took a hand off the wheel to stroke her mongrel dog. The dog continued to gaze ahead without acknowledgement. ‘Well, he is, but at one time he was a great one for the girls. I’d call him ambidextrous.’

‘Was he a friend of yours or Calypso’s?’

‘I introduced him to Calypso. We all shared him. Hector found him amusing. Walter liked him, even Oliver grew to like him, I believe, later, but it was Helena who really caught his fancy. He was older than us, just that much nearer to Helena. She made use of his sophistication, he taught her a lot, it helped with Max.’

‘I should have thought,’ said James, ‘that in the war, with the bombing and so on, there wasn’t much time for private life.’

‘That’s where you are wrong,’ said Polly. ‘We all lived intensely. We did things we would never have done otherwise. It was a very happy time.’

‘What about fear? What about anxiety for your loved ones?’ Iris leaned from the back seat to speak to her mother.

‘I was frightened and anxious all the time, but it made the delights all the more so, the surprises more surprising. People like Oliver, Walter, David and Paul appeared and disappeared, it was wonderful that they were still alive. My parents were killed. I thought they were safe in Godalming. In London I survived. Calypso survived. If we were in love it was acute. We had fun. I know Calypso did. I did and Helena, who had never had fun, grabbed it. Tony, who was in London all the war, watched us, was amused by us and in his way loved us. All the other men came and went but Tony was always around.’

‘What about Oliver?’

‘I saw him towards the end of 1940. Calypso had come to see me. He walked her home pushing her bicycle. She had a bicycle.’

Holding Calypso by one hand, Oliver pushed the bicycle with the other. Calypso used her torch with care. ‘The wardens get awfully ratty if one flashes it about.’

‘Is Hector in London?’ Oliver asked stiffly.

‘No. He may turn up but I don’t think so. I haven’t seen him for weeks. I’m alone. I’d come round to see Polly and find out what Aunt Helena is up to.’

‘Who is that man?’

‘Tony Wood. Friend of Polly’s.’

Oliver, holding Calypso’s arm, now said: ‘I’m on embarkation leave.’

‘Again? Where are you going this time?’

‘I don’t know. Not supposed to tell.’

‘Egypt, I bet.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Hector and his friends talk. He was at Dunkirk, you know.’

‘You said Dover last time I saw you.’

‘Well, he went across to collect the French from Dunkirk, then further along to Cherbourg. Some of them are awfully jolly.’

‘Jollier than me?’

‘Much.’ Calypso chuckled as they walked in the dark. ‘One of them, a buddy of Hector’s, rowed himself across to Dover, then got sent back to France only to have to bunk again. Lots of bunking, isn’t there? Look at you in Norway.’

‘Is this your street?’

‘Yes.’ Calypso was silent as they reached her house. ‘Would you bring the bicycle into the hall?’

Oliver propped the machine against a radiator and took Calypso in his arms, kissing her neck gently. ‘My darling.’

‘Darling Olly. Nice sofa. Come.’ She led him to her drawing room. ‘I must pull the curtains. Take off your scratchy uniform. Oh, it isn’t, I’d forgotten you’d become an officer, but take it off, I hate being squashed against buttons. Hector’s make quite a pattern in groups of three, or is it four?’

‘Being snobby about buttons won’t put me off. You’d better unzip yourself this time—’

Calypso laughed, kicking off her shoes. Oliver watched her undress, then walk naked across the room to put logs on the fire. ‘One of my luxuries, having a log fire. We get the logs from a friend of Hector’s in Berkshire.’

‘Stop talking. Come here.’

‘I’m nervous.’

‘No, you’re not. Here. There.’ He held her, stroking her back. ‘Relax. Remember the camomile lawn—magic.’

‘Helena planted it for our games, our plots.’

‘Hush, pay attention.’

‘Oh, Oliver, Oliver.’

‘You didn’t enjoy it. My God, you didn’t enjoy it. Oh, damn and hell and blast.’

‘I didn’t say—’

‘You didn’t need to.’ Oliver was collecting his clothes, pulling on his trousers, buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his trousers, putting on his tie, putting on socks and shoes in bitter concentration.

Calypso sat naked on the sofa watching him, her eyes in her pale face thoughtful. Below them the street door opened with a bang, then slammed shut. There was a clatter of collision with the bicycle, a man’s voice: ‘Whoops!’

Calypso snatched her dress, pulling it over her head, zipping it up. ‘Hector.’ She pushed her underclothes behind a cushion.

‘Whoops-a-daisy.’ The bicycle clattered again. Hector broke into song: ‘And when I’m dead don’t bury me at all.’ He kicked the bicycle. ‘Out of my way, weighy! Just pickle my bones in alcohol.’

Calypso, who had been listening intently, grinned. ‘He’s in a good temper. Thank God.’

‘Is he often drunk?’

‘Sometimes.’ She was evasive.

‘Violent?’

‘I think you’d better go.’ She went out on the landing and leaned over the banisters, looking down. Hector lay entangled with the bicycle. ‘He’s passing out,’ she whispered.

‘Shall I help you put him to bed?’

‘No, no. I’ll see you out from the kitchen, he’s blocking the front door. Come on,’ she said impatiently.

‘Are you sure? Surely I can—’

‘No. Please, Olly, go.’ She took his hand, leading him down to the basement, through the kitchen, up the area steps.

In the street he took her shoulders, looking into her face. ‘Goodbye.’

‘It was small comfort, I’m afraid. Better than none, I hope.’

Almost, Oliver thought, she minded. ‘Better to know.’ His voice was neutral. He kissed her lightly and was gone, his steps diminishing fast in the quiet street.

Calypso noticed the Lagonda at an angle to the pavement, its lights still on. She parked the car properly, switched off the lights. Back in the house she disentangled Hector’s legs from the bicycle, fetched cushions to prop his head and blankets from the dressing room bed, making him as comfortable as possible, unbuttoning his tunic.

‘What a pattern of buttons!’ The affection in her voice surprised her. Hector opened his eyes, focusing carefully, squinting up.

‘I’m drunk.’

‘I know. Come to bed when you can.’

‘I’m not. I’m not—er—er—what do I want to say? Calypso, don’t leave me, stay here.’

She lay down beside him. He put an arm round her while she pulled the blankets up to cover herself.

‘Come close.’

‘Your buttons hurt.’

‘Never mind.’

‘I’m terribly uncomfortable.’

‘Go to sleep.’

‘D’you think you could get up to bed?’

‘All fours.’

‘I’ll help you. Come on, try.’

‘So drunk.’

‘Yes. Try harder.’

Hector suddenly reared to his feet and headed up the stairs at a run. As she propped the bicycle against the wall she heard a crash and Hector laughing. She helped him undress, levering him out of his trousers. ‘There, lie still.’

‘The room’s going round and round and it comes out here.’

‘I’ll make us some coffee.’

When she came back with the coffee Hector was asleep. Calypso drank coffee, watching Hector. He looked vulnerable, eyes closed under his thick eyebrows. She smoothed them gently with a finger and then ran it along his lips, which were slightly rough. Outside the All Clear sounded. She had not realized there was an alert. She put the light out and drew the curtains to look down at the street. Was it possible Oliver was still there? The street was empty.

As she stood looking down a special constable strolled round the corner. He was joined by an air raid warden. She saw them laughing. They walked along to Hector’s car and admired it. The warden patted the bonnet as though it were the nose of a horse. Calypso turned to look at Hector whose eyes were open watching her.

‘Hector?’

He pulled her down. ‘Does my breath smell?’

‘No.’ She sniffed. ‘Yes.’

‘Get in with me. Would you mind?’

‘No. What’s the matter?’ She slipped her dress over her head and got in beside him. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m on embarkation leave.’

‘You too?’

‘Who else?’

‘Oliver.’

‘Was he here?’

‘Yes, he walked me home from Polly’s.’

‘He’s in love with you.’

‘He
thinks
he is.’

‘And you?’

‘No. I like all those boys. They are cousins, might be brothers.’

‘There’s incest.’

‘Not for me.’

‘I might be your father.’

‘My father never behaved like you. Wild.’

‘Ah me. Do you think there’s any Alka Seltzer?’

‘Yes. And coffee.’ She brought him coffee. He drank and lay back with his arm round her shoulders.

‘Will you go to Scotland? Stay there?’

‘Oh
no
!
’

‘Would be safe.’

‘But lonely. I hate it. I’d die of melancholy. When are you off?’

‘Two weeks. Put my affairs in order. Get lightweight uniform.’

‘Egypt?’

‘Probably. I must do a dash north, will you come with me?’

‘Of course I will, just for a day or two, not more.’

‘I wish you’d stay there, safe out of London.’

‘If London gets too bad I’ll go to Cornwall. I’ll take care of myself.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes.’

‘That man Tony Wood is in love with you too.’

‘It isn’t love, it’s lust.’

‘Do you know the difference?’

‘I know lust. I don’t think I know love.’ Calypso leant her head back, closing her eyes.

‘Lucky you, oh lucky, lucky you.’

‘Why? I thought I was missing something.’

‘You are, you certainly are.’

‘What then?’

‘Pain, lots of pain.’

‘You do talk rubbish.’ Calypso chuckled.

‘If you say so,’ said Hector dryly.

‘I don’t even know anyone who is in love. I don’t think it exists.’

‘Quite apart from me, it’s under your lovely nose.’

‘Who, for God’s sake?’

‘Helena, Polly, Sophy.’

‘What a buffoon you are. Perhaps that’s why I put up with you, apart from your money.’

‘That reminds me, I must make my will.’

‘What filthy bad taste.’

‘I’m a hard-headed Scot.’

‘You hurt me.’

‘Good. Another time,’ Hector’s voice was turning nasty, ‘please leave your bicycle where I won’t fall over it.’ They laughed together, relaxing.

‘My mother says she and my father used to laugh together,’ Hamish said conversationally to his passenger.

‘Yes, they did. Calypso had very little humour, but then she had no love either, poor girl.’

‘They say my father had humour.’

‘He also had love.’

‘Did he love my mother?’

‘He adored her and he knew her.’

‘What do you mean? You sound a bit,’ Hamish hesitated, ‘a bit, well, as though you didn’t like my mother.’

‘I like her, she’s always been very nice to me, she’s not a giver, that’s all. She can’t help her character.’

‘She gave my father me.’

‘You were part of a bargain. For his money an heir.’

Hamish pulled across to the slow lane and stopped the car.

‘What’s the matter? Something wrong with the engine?’ Helena watched Hamish get out and stand with his back to her. He reminded her of Hector at his wedding long ago, tall, towering above Calypso, who was a tall girl.

‘Did he love me?’ Hamish got back into the car.

‘He loved you very much.’

‘Are you sure? I never really knew.’

‘Quite sure. He was very happy about you. You are very like your father, less endearing, though.’

Hamish laughed. ‘You are a wicked old woman.’

‘I know I am.’ Helena nodded. ‘Evil.’

P
OLLY ANSWERED THE TELEPHONE.
‘Oh, hullo Monika, how are you? Can you speak louder?’

‘Polly, we only have three minutes, can you find Helena, it is urgent.’

‘There’s a raid on, try to speak louder.’

‘Mein Gott!
I want Helena. She does not answer her phone.’

‘She’s gone to Max’s concert in Liverpool.’

‘There are raids there too,
lieber Gott.
What is that noise?’

‘A bomb.’ Polly crept under the table, taking the telephone with her. ‘Sophy and I are under the kitchen table. What do you want Helena for?’

‘Richard is ill. I think and
der General
and
der Rektor
thinks she should come, and
Frau Rektor.
’

‘I see. I’ll try and get hold of her. She will be back in London tomorrow. How ill is he? What? I can’t hear you,’ Polly shouted.

‘It was flu and now pneumonia.’

‘Poor old boy. Gosh, that was close.’

‘What did you say? Polly, are those bombs?’

‘Yes,’ yelled Polly. ‘I’ll do what I can. Don’t worry, I promise.’

‘We have bombs too in Penzance.’

‘Yes, I heard about them.’

‘They hit
der
wine merchant, your uncle got his chill trying to rescue his wine.’

‘His
what?

‘His wine. He had tree dozen clarets. They got bomped.’ Monika’s voice faded. Polly clutched Sophy as she replaced the receiver.