Octavia's War (25 page)

Ben Hardy came to collect his darling halfway though the afternoon on Christmas Eve and by teatime he'd bought the ring and they were engaged. Lizzie thought it was the prettiest ring she'd ever seen, made of tiny diamonds set round a central amethyst like the petals of a flower, but it cost the unheard of sum of £14 and seeing so much money being handed across the counter worried her.

When they were out of the jewellers and walking towards the fish and chip shop, he stopped to take the ring from its box and put it on her finger. ‘You do like it, don't you?' he said. That anxious expression of hers was worrying him.

‘It's gorgeous,' she said, gazing at it. ‘I shall wear it all my life. It's just…'

‘Just what?' he asked. ‘Go on, Lizzie, spit it out. What's worrying you?'

‘It was so much money,' she said. ‘It makes me feel like a gold-digger.'

He gave such a roar of laughter that passing shoppers stopped to peer at him. ‘Oh that's priceless!' he said. ‘You, a gold-digger! The idea! No one could ever think that.'

‘But it
was
a lot of money.'

‘I've been saving up.' They'd reached the chippie. ‘Cod and two penn'orth?' he asked and teased, ‘It's OK. It won't break the bank.'

So cod and two penn'orth it was, and when they'd eaten it and licked every last trace of grease from their fingers, they went to the local dance hall, which was a pink confection known as the Ata, where they danced quicksteps and foxtrots on the famous sprung floor and admired the way their ring sparkled in the light from the glitter ball and held one another breathlessly close through every waltz. They had to leave early so that she would be back at Downview at her appointed time and there were too few moments for kissing but she didn't mind. She would have to keep her beautiful ring hidden away while she was in the school house but she didn't mind that either. They were engaged and tomorrow was Christmas day.

It was dank and cold and trying to rain, the sort of day for sitting indoors by the fire with your family opening presents or throwing a big school party with lots of games and presents in a bran tub, or if you were newly engaged, walking beside Horsell Moor with your fiancé and taking off your glove so that you could look at your ring. And suddenly realising that you knew where you were.

‘I came down this way on Thursday,' Lizzie said. ‘Me and the others. We were getting sawdust for the bran tub.'

‘I know.'

That was a surprise. ‘How do you know?' she said. ‘Did I tell you?' She hadn't, had she? She'd have remembered if she had.

‘I have my spies,' he said, laughing at her.

‘No seriously. How do you know?'

They'd reached a line of small, terraced houses, backin
on to the canal, with grey slate roofs and prettily patterned brickwork and a warmth of smoke rising from the chimneys. ‘Come and see,' he said, leading her to the house in the centre of the terrace. ‘This is where I live.'

There were faces looking out of the downstairs window, all wide eyes and welcoming smiles and the door was opened before he could knock. Then they took two steps into a room crowded with more people than she could count, all talking at once saying ‘come in' and ‘make yourself at home' and ‘pleased to meet you' and Lizzie smiled until her jaw ached as she tried to work out who they all were, looking from one to the other. But it was all a blur. She had an impression of a crowded table in the middle of the room set about with a collection of chairs, a fire blazing in the hearth, paper chains strung across the room from side to side, a black and white dog sitting on the hearth, watching the action as she was, turning its head from side to side. And she turned her own head to look for Ben and found herself staring at the broad shoulders and amiable face of the foreman from the wood-yard.

‘Good heavens!' she said. ‘Bert!' and then corrected herself. ‘I'm sorry, I should have said Mr Hardy.'

‘Bert'll do fine,' he said. ‘I knew it was you last night. The minute he told us about you, I said to Min, “That's the girl that came to the yard. Couldn't be two as pretty as that.” Didn't I, Min?'

She was blushing but nobody minded, and a tall, smiling woman came and stood beside her husband and took her hand and led her to the table. ‘Never know'd him so sure about anything,' she said. ‘The minute our Ben said long blonde hair. There now, if you'll sit here and make yourself comfy and then Ben can sit beside you and I can dish up. I'm so glad you could join us. We've been dying to meet you.'

There was a scramble as they all sat down and then the blur resolved itself into individuals. She was introduced to ‘my brother Bob' who was tall and gangly and smiled at her shyly, and ‘my cousin Heather' who was very like her mother with the same brown hair and grey eyes, and, as her heart steadied, she recognised that there were only five of them after all, not dozens, and a serving plate containing two plump chickens was carried proudly into the room and Bert said grace and the meal began.

After so many Christmases at home with just her and Ma and Pa on their own in their vast dining room, this crowded, happy meal was a revelation. Passing the vegetables was like some complicated dance, carving the chickens was a splendid ritual, offering a glass of Hock made it an occasion. As they ate and talked and questioned, she watched and answered and warmed to them. They were so loving with one another and so happy to be together. ‘Happy Christmas,' she said, joining the toast. And it was. It was. Pa could be as cross as he liked, but she was engaged and there was nothing he could do about it and Ben's family had welcomed her.

Tommy came home from his trip to the States saying he was totally exhausted. ‘We've been hard at it, dawn to midnight every blessed day,' he complained to Octavia, when he came down to visit her. ‘I don't know where Winnie gets the energy from. I need to marry and settle down and get a bit of peace in my life.'

The two of them were sitting in the armchairs on either side of the fire and for the moment they were on their own together, as the children were in bed and Edie and Em were doing the washing-up. But the one thing Octavia didn't want to talk about was getting married. She still hadn't made up
her mind what to say and her unusual indecision was making her nervous and rather irritable.

‘You'd be bored stiff if you had to settle down,' she said, trying to make a joke of it.

He understood her motive just a little too well. ‘Give me the try,' he said. ‘You might be surprised.'

‘I doubt it,' she said. ‘You're too used to being in the middle of the action.'

He leant forwards towards her, his hands on his knees. ‘Tavy,' he said, ‘I'm asking you to marry me.'

It couldn't be avoided. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I know.'

‘And?'

She tried to temporise. ‘We'll talk about it.'

‘I don't need to talk about it,' he said. ‘We've said all that has to be said. All I need is an answer. Will you or won't you?'

He was so straight and to the point. But what could she say? She thought for a little and then offered, ‘Well then, the answer is yes, but not yet.'

‘Oh, come on, Tavy, what sort of answer is that?'

‘It's the best I can do at the present moment.'

‘What's wrong with the present moment?'

‘There's too much going on.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like getting as many of our girls into colleges and universities as I can, your Lizzie among them. I can't arrange a wedding in the middle of all that.'

It was a clever answer, if not entirely honest, and it was unanswerable. ‘All right,' he said. ‘Have it your own way, but I shall ask again.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘And I will tell you. As soon as I can. I promise.'

He grunted and turned away from her to take out his cigarette case, obviously annoyed.

‘Tell me how you got on,' she said. ‘Apart from being driven to exhaustion.'

He took a cigarette from the case, tapped it on the lid and lit it. Then he sat back and put his feet on the fender and inhaled deeply. ‘Pretty well, all things considered,' he said. ‘They should be in action by the end of the spring or early summer at the latest. Everything's being set in motion. And of course the Yanks are always very hospitable. Poor old Tubby got the short straw this time. He had a very rough ride by all accounts.'

She was relieved to see how deftly he had followed her suggestion. This is better, she thought. Talking about diplomacy is a lot easier than discussing a possible marriage. ‘Where was
he
?'

‘Moscow.'

‘Ah.'

‘Went with Anthony Eden,' he told her. ‘It was a tricky delegation. He says Stalin is a very difficult customer. Wants his own way all the time. Won't sign any treaty with us or America unless we recognise his 1941 frontiers, which is quite out of the question. I mean, that would give him part of Finland, the Baltic States and Bessarabia, and we can't have that. Out of the question. And on top of all that, there's another chap there called Molotov who would keep banging on about when the Second Front was going to begin, and that didn't make matters easier either.'

‘We'd all like to know that,' Octavia said. ‘I'm on his side. I mean, we're never going to end this war until we invade France, now, are we? I'm not surprised he's pressuring you. They want to know when it's going to happen.'

‘They don't want to know,' he told her. ‘They want to give orders and have them obeyed. Dictators are bloody hard work.'

‘Does that surprise you?' she asked. ‘These are men who get their own way all the time. They're not open to compromise like you and me.'

He gave her his wry grin. ‘I might have accepted a compromise this time,' he said, ‘but that's because of Lizzie's career. I shan't be so amenable next time round. Be warned.'

At that moment, Emmeline and Edie came back from the kitchen and, to Octavia's relief, the subject had to be changed. But the question was still there, charged and unanswered, filling the space between them and sooner or later she would have to tackle it.

When Tommy drove off to London the following morning, Octavia was left feeling the most disquieting pangs of conscience. It wasn't her style to indulge in introspection, there being very little to be said for it and even less to be gained, but that morning she sat at the kitchen table not drinking her tea and feeling troubled and ashamed. She really had treated him extremely badly, poor Tommy. She should have given him his answer at Christmas the way she'd promised. It was ridiculous to be still making excuses. It wasn't as if she didn't want to live with him and she loved him almost as much as she'd ever done, given that they were both older and wiser, so she ought to have said yes  and agreed to a date. Was it any wonder he was upset? But she'd been right to point out how busy she was going to be. That was true too and they had to accept it. They were both busy. It was the nature of their lives and it was bound to make problems for them.

‘Have you finished with that tea?' Emmeline said.

Octavia sipped at it and grimaced.

‘There you are, you see, you've let it go cold,' her cousin rebuked. ‘Shall I make you a fresh pot?'

‘No thanks, Em,' Octavia said. ‘It's time to go. I'm seeing
Poppy Turner at half past nine and it's nearly that now. What did I do with my gloves?'

There were seven possible candidates for universities and training colleges that year and, as always, she wanted to be sure that the girls applied to the best possible places in the best possible way. She would interview them all, as she always did, one after the other, explaining and encouraging. Some, like Poppy, were unsure of their abilities and would need to be told how talented they were, others would need help with applications for grants to ensure that they had enough to live on, some were still undecided about the course they ought to follow and would need practical advice about their careers. In fact, they all required care of one kind or another. It was only Lizzie Meriton who was straightforward. Tommy would pay for her and see that she had everything she needed, she had a first-rate attitude to study and would pass all her examinations with distinctions, she was widely read, she'd been an excellent head girl, there was nothing to stop her upward path. Her interview would be the easiest of the lot and she would save it until last as a special treat when all the others had had their lives settled.

It took the entire week to see them all and to make all the necessary arrangements. It wasn't until late on Friday afternoon that she finally got around to fixing Lizzie's appointment and she only managed to do it then because they passed one another on the stairs.

‘Ah, Lizzie,' she said, pausing with her hand on the banister. ‘Could I see you on Monday morning, do you think? Period three?'

A smile, an agreement, then a request. ‘I shall be going out with Ben tonight,' Lizzie said. ‘Is that all right?'

‘Of course,' Octavia said. ‘As long as you're back by ten-thirty.'
And she walked off towards her teaching room thinking how sensible her head girl was being and what a pleasure it would be to interview her.

It was a miserably cold evening and Lizzie was quite glad that she was going to have supper with Aunt Min and could sit by the fire for a little while afterwards. Fires were the one thing she really missed at Downview and Aunt Min always kept a good one going, as she had that evening. The warmth of it reached out to her like an embrace the minute she stepped into the house.

‘You're like ice, child,' Min said, when she kissed Lizzie's cold cheek. ‘That won't do. Come and sit by the fire and get yourself warm. It's no weather to be out walking. I've only got the tea to make and we can have our supper. We're a bit early tonight because we're going to the club. Gala evening tonight. Mustn't miss that.'

Lizzie looked a question at Ben.

‘It's the highlight of the year,' Ben told her, grinning at his aunt. ‘The one club meeting nobody misses.'

‘You could come with us if you like,' Min offered.

‘No thanks,' he said. ‘We're going to the pictures, aren't we, Lizzie?'

But when they'd eaten Min's rissoles and he and Lizzie had washed the dishes and stacked them neatly away and the table had been cleared and folded and set against the wall and the rest of the family had bundled themselves into coats and scarves and woolly hats and gone giggling off to the gala, he didn't seem inclined to go anywhere. He pulled the settee up to the fire, switched off the light, settled them both among the cushions and began to kiss her, luxuriously as if they had all the time in the world, as if they were a married couple on their
own in their own home, as the fire flicked shadows on the wall behind them and the coals shifted and shuffled and the dog slept on the hearth rug beside them.

‘We don't really want to go out, do we?' he asked, when he finally paused to take breath.

It was an unnecessary question. She was so drowsed with pleasure she barely had the sense to answer it. ‘Um,' she said, reaching up to kiss him again.

He turned as they kissed until he was lying on top of her. The shock of it was so delicious she could hardly breathe. She put her arms right round him and held him close, kissing and kissing. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, such a strong insistent beat, and his legs were heavy as if he was pinning her down, and his hands were warm and tender and coaxing, persuading her further and further. ‘Darling, darling Lizzie,' he said. ‘I love you so much.'

After a while she realised that she was actually rather uncomfortable and struggled to sit up.

He raised himself to give her room to move and looked down at her, his face gilded by firelight. ‘What is it?' he said.

‘You're squashing me,' she told him. ‘There's a lump in this settee and it's sticking in my back.'

‘I tell you what,' he said. ‘If we were to go upstairs, we could have a bed to lie on.' His expression was at once hopeful and bashful and touching. ‘Only if you want to though.'

She stayed quite still for a few seconds, half-sitting
half-lying
, and thought about it while he waited. ‘They won't come back, will they?' she asked. ‘I mean, I wouldn't want them to come home and find us upstairs. I mean, I wouldn't want to shock them or anything.'

‘On gala night?' he laughed. ‘No fear. They'll be there till midnight. So what do you think? Shall we…?'

She knew exactly what he was asking her and that she ought to say no but she couldn't do it. She was swimming in sensation, carried along by it, impelled by the urgency of it.

‘I won't do anything you don't want me to do,' he urged. ‘I mean, if you say no, I'll stop, no matter what.'

How could she possibly refuse an invitation like that? ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I know.'

‘Then you will?'

‘Yes,' she said, and kissed him to prove it.

They walked up the dark stairs with their arms round each other, stopping to kiss on every step, and he led her to a small cramped bedroom with two beds in it, both with the covers tightly tucked in. She was vaguely aware of a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a bookcase full of books, but by then she was too breathless to care about any of it. He stood in the darkness of the room with one arm holding her close and switched on a little bedside lamp. It shed a circle of yellow light across the pillow of the nearest bed, pointing the way, and she took it, eager and uncertain, allowing him to take off her jersey and her blouse and her petticoat and her shoes and stockings, watching him all the time.

She felt cold and exposed and as if she was being judged and she tried to joke the feeling away. ‘Will I do? Only I'm getting cold.'

He answered her seriously, cupping her breasts in his hands. ‘You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life,' he said. ‘Come under the covers and get warm again.'

It wasn't until much later, when she'd got her breath back and they were lying cuddled together under the eiderdown for warmth, he half asleep and grinning like the Cheshire cat, she wide awake and thoughts drifting, that she realised that her life was now totally changed. She was married now, or as good
as married. They were one flesh and they belonged together and they would make love again whenever they could. She wasn't at all sure how they would manage it but she knew they would. And sooner or later, when she'd left school, they would marry properly in a church and belong together as man and wife, and live in their own home, all on their own together and make love whenever they wanted to and stay in bed as long as they wanted to afterwards, instead of having to get up and go back to Downview. The thought of her billet brought her to her senses with a start. She had to get back. She'd almost forgotten. What was the time? Did he have a clock in the room? She sat up, clutching the eiderdown about her, and peered at the clutter of books and boxes on the bedside table.

‘Ten o'clock,' he said from the pillows. ‘It's just struck. There's no rush.'

She was looking for her clothes, searching with her right hand while her left still clutched the eiderdown. ‘There is,' she said. ‘I mustn't be late. I've promised Smithie.'

‘You and your Smithie,' he laughed. ‘All right then. Don't worry. You won't be late. I'll take you back on my bike. You can ride on the crossbar. Only on one condition, mind.'

She'd found her petticoat and was pulling it over her head. ‘What's that?' she said from among the folds of cloth.

‘That you see me all day tomorrow and all day Sunday.'

‘And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,' she promised.

‘Well, no,' he said seriously. ‘Only Saturday and Sunday. I've got to be back in camp by midnight.'

It was a difficult weekend. Saturday was cold and spitting with rain and there wasn't much they could do in the morning except walk on Horsell Common with nowhere to go to be
warm and private. In the afternoon they went to the pictures where it was warm but not exactly private. It gave them a chance to sit in the back row and kiss one another but that was as far as they could go. By the time they emerged into the darkness of the winter night they were both aching with frustration.

‘If we were married we could have a room of our own and stay in it all day and do whatever we liked,' Ben complained, as he cuddled her back to Downview.

It couldn't be denied. ‘But we can't, can we?' Lizzie said. ‘Not till I leave school.' And possibly not even then if her father had anything to do with it. She couldn't imagine him giving his consent. And what if she went to Oxford, the way she was planning? They didn't take married students at university did they? She'd never heard of such a thing. But she did so want them to be married. Oh, why was life so complicated?

‘I tell you something,' he said, ‘it's going to be a long time till my next leave.'

‘I'd make it come quicker if I could,' she said.

Sunday was easier, although it took a bit of crafty persuasion. He met her at the school gate in the early afternoon glowing with the news that the folks were going to tea with their cousins and that they'd have the house to themselves for an hour or two.

‘Are they all going?' she asked.

‘No,' he said, ‘just Aunt and Uncle and Heather. I've given young Robert the wherewithal to go to the flicks. I had to twist his arm a bit but he agreed in the end.'

‘That's bribery,' she laughed. Oh, it was good to think they were going to have time on their own!

‘That's necessary,' he said and kissed her. ‘Come on.'

They stayed in the warm until his family came home,
bubbling with news of their cousins and then, after a decent interval when they listened to the gossip, they walked slowly back to the school house. They were languid with love and torn with the misery of being parted again and stood just out of sight of the school with their arms round each other in the darkness kissing goodbye again and again.

‘Come back soon,' she begged. ‘It's going to be awful not seeing you.'

‘I'll do what I can,' he said, ‘but I can't promise anything. We're going on manoeuvres.'

‘Which means weeks, doesn't it,' she said dolefully. ‘I hate this war.'

‘We all hate it,' he said, suddenly feeling far older than she was and very protective. And he tried to cheer her. ‘It could be worse. We could be sent to Africa. At least we're not going there yet.'

That didn't cheer her at all. ‘Don't even say it,' she told him, fiercely. ‘Manoeuvres are bad enough without you going to Africa.'

‘We shall have to go eventually,' he warned. ‘That's what we're training for.'

It was all too much. After such a weekend her emotions were raw. ‘I can't bear it,' she said and burst into tears. It took him a long time and a lot of gentling before he could comfort her calm again and consequently she was more than twenty minutes late. Mary was in the bathroom and Poppy was already in bed, sitting up against the pillows with her face creamed and a comb in her hand, putting in her curlers.

‘You're late,' she said, mildly. And then she stopped because she'd caught the gleam of the ring on her friend's finger. ‘Lizzie Meriton! Is that an engagement ring? Oh, do show.'

Lizzie looked at the ring and felt cross with herself. Fancy
forgetting to hide it. That's what comes of getting upset. ‘Well, yes,' she said, holding out her hand so that Poppy could see the ring. ‘It is. But it's a secret.'

‘It's gorgeous,' Poppy said, touching it reverently, and Mary came shivering back into the room. ‘Look at this, Mary! What do you think? Lizzie's engaged.'

‘That corridor's like ice this evening,' Mary said, getting into bed. ‘You get nice and warm in the bath and then freeze to death on the way back. So come on then, tell us. Who's the lucky man?'