Octavia's War (22 page)

By the time she got home that afternoon, she was tired to her bones and an unnecessary phone was ringing. She was glad to see Emmeline walking out of the kitchen to greet her and thought yearningly of a cup of tea but thought, with a sigh, the phone would have to be attended to first.

‘Yes,' she said wearily.

‘Tavy,' Tommy's voice said. ‘Sorry about last night, old thing. Look, I've been thinking. I think I ought to come down and see my Lizzie and sort this out. Find out what she's been up to, sort of thing. Bit of straight talking. Don't you think that's right? I can't come next Saturday, I'm afraid. We've got a big reception and I'm hosting. But the Saturday after. How would that be?'

It took her an effort to drag her mind back to what he was saying. Why do so many men think a problem can be solved by straight talking? she thought. It isn't straight you need with problems, it's devious. He's a diplomat. He ought to know that. But she didn't have the energy to argue with him. ‘Yes,' she said and her voice was flat.

‘Tavy?' he said. ‘Are you all right?'

‘No, Tommy,' she admitted. ‘To tell you the truth, I'm not.'

Now, and rather late in the conversation, he was worried. ‘It's not me storming off, is it?'

‘No,' she reassured him. ‘Nothing like that. I had a terrible letter this morning from Mr Manheim. He says the Germans are building gas chambers to kill the Jews.'

‘Ah!' he said and there was a long pause. ‘He's heard it too.'

‘So it's true.'

‘We're afraid it might be. Yes. There've been quite a few reports about it recently. Can I see the letter?'

‘I'll show it to you on Saturday.'

‘Chin up,' he said. ‘I'll see you then.' And rang off.

Emmeline was still standing in the hall, waiting for her to finish. ‘So it
is
true,' she said.

‘Seems like it,' Octavia told her. ‘He's heard it too.'

‘Heaven help us all,' Emmeline said.

It was such a beautiful summer morning, warm and languid even at nine o'clock and the sky was a perfect cloudless blue. The narrow High Street in front of Woking station, which Lizzie had never seen as a particularly exciting place, was transformed by a singing alchemy of love and sunlight. The long posters on the hoardings called with colour, the bus clonking to a halt outside the station entrance was as green as grass, the news vendor was actually smiling, the Albion Hotel, with its solid porch and its high wide windows, looked positively benign, the dust in the air swirled like specks of gold. As she walked into the station and stood on the platform waiting for Ben's train to come in, Lizzie felt she had never been so happy in all her life. Oh hurry up do, she urged the train. I want to see my darling Ben. My dear, darling Ben. There isn't a minute to spare.

He was standing on the step even before the train came to a halt, the door swinging open, his handsome face bright with greeting. She hurled herself into his arms and kissed him openly, the way she'd seen so many people do on the films, smelling his skin and thrillingly aware of him. ‘Darling, darling Ben,' she said.

‘You got time off, then,' he said.

‘'Course,' she told him. ‘It was easy.'

‘Two whole days,' he said rapturously. And kissed her again.

To Flight Lieutenant Johnnie Thompson, stepping more circumspectly from his own carriage further down the train, the sight of them was more heart-tugging than he cared to admit. Lovers always made him feel envious and aware of how shy he was. That chap's a tankie, he thought, noticing his insignia, so good luck to him. He knew what happened when a tank ‘brewed up' and the occupants were burnt to death, and he had a profound respect for anyone who was prepared to run such a risk. They were on a par with flyers. The hazards were similar and so was the style. His girl's a peach, he thought. Just look at those pins! She'd rival Betty Grable. Well, good luck to her too. I wonder where he found her – and whether she's got a sister. Not for the first time he wondered if he would ever get a girl. It was all very well for the other chaps. They weren't tongue-tied like he was. They knew what to say. Life was very odd. Up in the sky, among the shredded clouds, with the intercom crackling and the engine purring, he could fight like a maniac and take impossible risks without even breaking into a sweat, but one look from a pretty girl could reduce him to uncontrollable blushing and stammering. He stopped in the station entrance and lit a cigarette to cheer himself up. Then he stepped out into the sunshine and went strolling off to visit his mother.

Tommy Meriton had risen early that morning too, woken by the twin demands of strong sunshine and his determination to drive down to Woking as soon as he could and sort out all this damned silly nonsense once and for all. He arrived at
Ridgeway minutes after Johnnie had come striding through the door. A good chap, Johnnie Thompson. Flyer of course, like Mark and Matthew.

‘I'll put the coffee on,' Emmeline said happily. ‘Then you can tell us all your news.'

‘Not for me, thanks,' Tommy said. ‘I've just come to see Tavy for a minute or two and then I must be off to the school to pick Lizzie up.'

Emmeline was remembering what Octavia had told her about young Lizzie. ‘Did you tell her you were coming?' she asked.

‘No,' he said, grinning impishly. ‘It's a surprise. I'm going to take her out to lunch and devote the afternoon to her. Where's Tavy?'

‘In the garden with Edie and the girls. Shall I call her?'

‘No,' he said. ‘It's OK. I'll find her.'

She was sitting on a bench under the rose arch where it was marginally cooler, dressed in a biscuit-coloured skirt and a rather pretty blue blouse, taking pretend tea with her nieces. ‘You're early,' she said.

‘I thought I'd go to the school first,' he said, ‘then we can talk over this letter of yours later. I've been making enquiries.'

‘And?'

‘It
is
true, I'm afraid,' he said. ‘There's been quite a lot of information coming through recently. I'll tell you this afternoon.'

‘Pas devant les enfants
,' she warned.

‘No, of course not. Naturally.'

‘Would you like a slice of cake, Aunt Tavy?' Maggie offered with solemn politeness, holding out a raspberry leaf.

‘That would be delicious,' Octavia said, receiving the leaf. She smiled at Tommy. ‘Good luck with your lunch.'

‘It'll be a piece of cake,' he said, looking at the leaf.

Octavia watched him as he strode out of the garden, admiring his broad shoulders and those long legs and his easy way of walking. He's so confident, she thought, so much the master of his universe. And she offered up a silent prayer that it
would
be a piece of cake and that he wouldn't be disappointed.

To Tommy's surprise, Downview was completely empty, the front door wide open and no sight or sound of any pupils at all. It was rather off-putting to find himself in a deserted schoolhouse but he walked in nevertheless and strode along an echoing corridor to see if he could find anyone at home. Presently he heard the chink of spoons in china and followed the sound until he discovered the kitchen. There were two women in aprons sitting at the central table drinking tea and chatting. The older of the two looked round as he walked in and asked if she could help him.

‘Where have all the girls gone?' he asked, smiling at her.

‘They're having a picnic on Horsell Common, sir,' the cook told him. ‘That's where you'll find most of them. Or at the swimming pool, a' course. There's a group gone swimming. Only a little group though. Who were you looking for? We've got the lists here.'

‘Lizzie Meriton.'

‘Ah now, you won't find her at either place,' the cook told him. ‘She's one of the ones off on her own today, isn't she, Mavis.'

‘Day out with her father,' Mavis said. ‘Went off at the crack of dawn. Ever so excited she was. I'm afraid you won't find her here till tomorrow, 'cause she gets back ever so late when she's with her father, and you'll have to be quick to catch her then
because he's down for the weekend and she's going to be with him all the time. She told me so.'

The shock of it made him feel as if he'd been punched in the stomach. So she
was
using him as a cover. Tavy was right. Naughty little thing, he thought. No, dammit, this is worse than naughty. This is devious. ‘Well, thank you,' he said, remembering to be polite. ‘Sorry to have troubled you.' And he left them to their tea.

God dammit, he thought as he walked back to his car, she's got no business treating me like this. If I hadn't handled that well I could have looked a complete fool. A complete and utter fool. He couldn't think what had got into her. No, that wasn't true. He could think but he didn't want to. How could she do this to me? When I've loved her so much, all these years, and looked after her and given her everything she could possibly want. It's downright treacherous. He drove back to Ridgeway in a mounting temper, roared down Kettlewell Hill in a scowl, turned in at Octavia's drive in a bad-tempered screech of brakes, hurt and furious.

Octavia was still in the garden, only this time she was picking lettuces for lunch. ‘Ah!' she said when he frowned towards her. ‘She's told you.'

‘She wasn't bloody there,' he said. ‘She'd told them she was going out with me and she wouldn't be home till late. Going out with me! The nerve of it! She didn't even know I was coming because I didn't tell her. It was going to be a surprise. So she was lying. My little Lizzie was lying! How could she do this to me, Tavy? It's cruel.'

‘She's in love,' Octavia said, sitting back on her heels. ‘We do cruel things when we're in love. It makes us careless.'

‘
We
didn't.'

She ignored that. ‘What will you do now?' she asked,
standing up and hooking the loaded trug over her arm.

‘God knows,' he said. ‘What can I do?'

Octavia was cleaning her trowel on a piece of mud-coloured rag. ‘Talk to her?' she suggested.

‘I'd like to give her a damned good hiding,' he said angrily. ‘That's what she needs.'

She ignored that too. ‘Would you like me to talk to her?' she offered.

He was relieved and his expression showed it. ‘It might come better from you than it would from me,' he said. ‘If you wouldn't mind.'

‘It's part of the job,' she said, heading towards the house and thinking what a difficult job it would be. ‘
In loco parentis.
'

‘How could she do this to me?' he mourned, following her. ‘That's what I don't understand.'

‘Come and help us with the lunch,' she said, holding his arm with her free hand. ‘We've got a full house today.'

So he helped prepare the salad, under Tavy's instruction, while Edie and her brother set the table and Emmeline did what she could to cook omelettes with that ‘ghastly scrambled egg', and by the time he sat at the table he was beginning to recover. He and Johnnie spent the first part of the meal talking about the RAF and what a top-hole plane the Spitfire was.

‘I saw one of the prototypes,' he said. ‘At Southampton in '36. We knew we were onto a winner then.'

‘I can remember you telling us about it,' Johnnie said. ‘Back in Parkside Avenue. I can remember sitting at the dining room table thinking “that's for me”.'

‘And you were right,' Tommy said. ‘I don't know what we'd have done without the RAF.'

Johnnie made a self-deprecating face. ‘Don't forget the Merchant Navy,' he said. ‘You think of the great job they've
been doing. We'd all be half starved if it wasn't for them. First rate chaps. They've taken some terrible casualties And the tankies, of course, battling on in Africa. It's not just us.'

‘Very true,' Edie said, encouraging him. ‘We're all in this together.'

‘Which reminds me,' her brother said. ‘I saw a tankie in Woking this morning, down at the station, kissing his girl. Very pretty girl she was, long blonde hair and legs like Betty Grable. I felt quite envious.' And he gave the studied chuckle he'd learnt to use to cover any possible embarrassment there might be when he'd dared to admit a weakness.

But it didn't work that time. They were sending eye messages all round the table, Edie to his mother, his mother to Aunt Tavy. He was rather alarmed. Were they warning one another? And if they were, what about? What on earth had he said? And what should he say
now
?

Fortunately he was rescued by Joanie, who picked a lettuce leaf from her plate, held it up in the air in front of them and declared it had got a fly on it.

‘Eat it up then,' Tommy teased. ‘Good source of protein, flies.'

The child wasn't impressed. ‘Ugh! That's disgusting.'

And Barbara, ever curious, asked, ‘What's protein?'

‘Now look what you've started,' Aunt Tavy said to Tommy. ‘We shall be questioned to within an inch of our lives.'

So the moment passed, as the fly was removed and Barbara was given her explanation, and Johnnie was able to relax.

‘Tell us about this new base of yours,' Emmeline said to him when order had been restored. ‘What's it like?'

‘Within flying distance of France,' he told her.

She was instantly anxious, her forehead puckered. ‘But you're not going there, surely to goodness.'

‘We go where we're sent, Ma,' he said, piling food on his fork.

Emmeline shook her head. ‘Heaven forbid,' she said.

‘Oh Ma!' he said, laughing at her. ‘You never change.'

Her face darkened. ‘We've all changed, Johnnie,' she said ‘Every single one of us. That's what war does to you.'

After the meal, Tommy told them he'd got to go back to London. ‘Duty calls and all that,' he said, speaking to Emmeline but looking at Octavia out of the corner of his eye. ‘I was hoping I might persuade your cousin to come with me. Tickets for the theatre and that sort of thing. What do you think?'

‘And a chance to tell her what you know about Mr Mannheim's letter,' Emmeline said, looking at the children.

He smiled at her. ‘Exactly so.'

‘I'd go if I were you,' Emmeline said to Octavia. ‘Have a night off. It would do you good.'

So they went, leaving Emmeline on her own with her family. But of course it wasn't Mr Mannheim's letter they talked about as he drove back to Wimbledon, it was Lizzie's incomprehensible behaviour.

It was a difficult conversation because Tommy had recovered himself sufficiently to start giving orders. ‘You must make her see sense, Tavy,' he said. ‘Send for her first thing on Monday morning and tell her she's making a big mistake.'

‘By falling in love or not telling you about it?' she said, trying to tease him away from being dictatorial.

‘Both,' he said decidedly. ‘Sneaking off to see some stupid young man is quite bad enough, without using me as a cover for it. That's bloody devious, and it's got to stop. I mean any one can see that. And bloody dishonest. You must tell her she's not to do it. Keep her in detention or something. Give
her lines. Lay down the law.'

The idea of giving a sixteen-year-old lines for falling in love struck Octavia as so ridiculous that she would have laughed out loud if it hadn't been for the determined expression on his face. ‘Now look,' she said, turning in her seat so that she could face him. ‘If I'm going to handle this for you, you must allow me to do it as I see fit. I'm not one of your subordinates to be told what to do and how to do it. I have my own way of handling things and you must allow me to use it.'

‘OK. OK,' he said, lifting a placatory hand. ‘I'm only giving you a few suggestions.'