Octavia's War (35 page)

When he'd got his breath back, he propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her, his face questioning. ‘Are you all right?' he said.

It was too much. ‘No,' she said, turning her own face away
from him. And burst into tears. ‘We're not supposed to do this,' she wept. ‘I shouldn't have brought you here. If they find out I shall get sent down. It's one of the cardinal rules. No men.'

He got up, buttoned his trousers, took command. ‘We'll go out,' he said. ‘Don't worry. I'll say I've come to take you out to tea. They can't not allow
that
. Make yourself respectable. Wash your face or something.' He was straightening the bed as he spoke, tucking in the corners and plumping up the pillows. ‘Wear a thick coat,' he instructed as he moved the chair and opened the door. ‘That other one's too thin. All set?'

Once they were in a tea shop and sipping a cup of very hot tea she felt a lot better. ‘Sorry about that,' she said. ‘Crying and everything.'

‘That's all right,' he said cheerfully. ‘No bones broken.'

‘Do you always take command like that?'

‘I'm a corporal,' he said. ‘These scones aren't half bad.'

‘What made them send you to Abingdon?' she asked, when she'd eaten a scone. ‘I'm not complaining. I think it's wonderful. But why Abingdon?'

‘They're sending us all over the place,' he said, biting into his second scone. ‘We've got to knock the new recruits into shape so's they know what to do when the time comes. Show 'em the ropes.'

‘But you're home,' she said, much cheered by the tea. ‘You're out of it now.'

‘Out of it?' he said bitterly. ‘That's a joke.'

‘You won't have to go back to Italy? Not now, surely.'

‘Not Italy no,' he said. ‘We're being fattened up for France. We're here to spearhead the invasion.'

She could feel her heart shrinking and falling. ‘They can't do that to you,' she said.

‘'Fraid they can,' he said. ‘They don't ask our permission. Anyway, don't let's talk about it. I've got ten days leave coming. What say we go to Weston-super-Mare? I'll write to Mrs Collingwood and fix it up.'

‘I shall have to think of a good excuse to get time off,' she said.

‘Lie through your teeth,' he advised. ‘There's a war on.'

It was bitingly cold beside the sea. Neither of them had realised how bleak and empty their seaside town would be in winter. The pier was closed, the kiosks along the front were shut and shuttered, the sea grey and forbidding, the beaches deserted except for the occasional sea-scuffed mongrel. A walk on the prom left them shivering and pink-nosed and, when they emerged from the pictures on their first evening, there was such a fierce wind blowing that they ran all the way back to their lodgings. But what did it matter? They were together, they had sufficient to eat, a double bed to love in and there was no one to disturb them. What more could they want?

It wasn't until their last morning together that the outside world impinged on their consciousness in any way at all, and then it was because Lizzie was curled up on the bed, twisting her wedding ring round and round on her finger. Ben was shaving and he stopped in mid-scrape to watch her and admire her.

‘Is your Pa still opposed?' he asked.

‘No idea,' Lizzie said. ‘I haven't seen him to ask him. Not since Mark's wedding when he was so… Well, I told you didn't I? Anyway, not since then. And that was months ago. Mark and Joan have got a baby on the way now.'

He put down his razor and came to sit beside her. ‘I'd marry you tomorrow if I could,' he told her. ‘You know that,
don't you. Maybe being a grandfather'll mellow him. What d'you think?'

‘Highly unlikely,' Lizzie said and joked, ‘he's not the mellowing sort.'

‘I'm serious, Lizzie,' he said. ‘I'd like us to get married before the Second Front.'

She shivered. ‘Don't let's talk about the Second Front,' she begged. ‘It's too horrible. I know it's coming but I don't want to think about it until I have to. Wait till after my finals and I'll ask him then. He should be in a better mood by that time. He'll have a graduate daughter.'

‘When
are
they?'

‘May,' she said. ‘Ages yet.'

‘May's too late,' he said, catching her hand and kissing her fingers. ‘I shall be in France by then.'

Her face was full of disbelief and shock. ‘You won't.'

‘That's what they say. Ask him now, Lizzie, and we'll marry at Easter.'

‘He'll say no,' she said miserably. ‘You know what he's like.'

‘You could be wrong.'

‘He'll say no,' she repeated.

‘I tell you what,' he said. ‘Write to Smithie and see what she says.'

‘Smithie's good,' she told him, ‘but even she couldn't persuade him to do something if he didn't want to. I'll write to her, just to satisfy you, but don't hold your breath.'

‘Give us a kiss,' he said, pulling her towards him, ‘you lovely girl.'

‘I can't kiss you,' she protested. ‘You're all over soap.'

‘It'll be a new experience,' he told her, happily.

Tommy Meriton was in Parkside Avenue that Saturday having dinner with Emmeline, Edith and Octavia in their newly cleaned dining room, admiring the newly washed curtains, the newly polished furniture and the sparkling glass and telling Emmeline she was ‘a giddy marvel'. The ‘Little Blitz' was now obviously over and Octavia had driven home the previous evening, bringing some of her precious books with her. She'd spent the afternoon dusting them and restoring them to their places in the book cabinets, while Em and Edith cooked the meal and fed the girls and took them off to bed. Now they were all sitting round the table and Tommy was opening the bottle of claret he'd brought with him to complement the beef.

‘There's a second bottle on the sideboard,' he said, ‘so drink up.'

‘Where did you get it from?' Emmeline said. ‘I thought you couldn't get wine for love nor money.'

He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Black market,' he told her.

‘You're a wicked man,' she laughed. ‘You'll have us all drunk.'

‘And quite right too, after all the work you've done,' he said, beaming at her. ‘Besides I've got something to celebrate.' He paused and smiled at them all before he made his announcement. ‘I am now a grandfather. I can't say I've ordered my pipe and slippers yet, but that's what I am. Little girl, born yesterday, seven and a half pounds and they're going to call her Heather Elizabeth.'

There was a chorus of congratulation.

‘Mother and baby doing well?' Octavia asked.

‘Naturally. And now you must look out your prettiest hat ready for the christening.'

Octavia laughed. ‘Is it planned already?'

‘Got to be,' Tommy said. ‘It's a tight schedule. Bombing campaign's already under way.'

‘So how long will it be before the invasion?' Emmeline asked. ‘If you're allowed to tell us.'

‘Well it's very hush-hush,' he said, ‘but as it's you Em, and I know you won't gossip, we're looking at the end of May.'

‘Three months,' Emmeline said.

‘If everything goes according to plan.'

There was certainly a lot of activity that spring. American troops arrived by the ship load and were soon building new camps and airfields, ready for their bombers to follow them. There were rows of field guns bristling in the fields like some huge alien crop, the roads were clogged with convoys and in country lanes army lorries and troop carriers were parked nose to tail, their roofs and bonnets marked with the familiar five-pointed white star. According to rumour a fleet of minesweepers had gathered in the Channel to clear away the German mines and the skies were loud with bombers on their way to attack marshalling yards and airfields and sometimes, to Edith's approval, to bomb Berlin. ‘Serve 'em right,' she said. Give 'em a taste of their own medicine. See how they like it.' There was no doubt that the invasion was coming and that it was going to be massive. And in the middle of it all, Octavia received her expected invitation to the christening of Heather Elizabeth and a long letter from Lizzie telling her that Ben was home and that they were both very happy but that she had a problem and she would appreciate some advice.

The thing is, Miss Smith,
she wrote,
he wants to get married before the invasion and so do I but I can't see Pa giving his consent. He wouldn't do it before and he's not a man to change his mind. What do you think I should do?

Octavia put the letter down on her desk beside the invitation and began to consider. Lizzie was right. He could be terribly stubborn and he didn't like losing face. So what could be done? She stared down at her desk, idly admiring the elegance of the invitation and noticing the passion of Lizzie's bold handwriting. And the juxtaposition gave her an idea. She took up her pen, found a postcard and sent a quick message to her pupil.
Phone me.
Then she went off to her first lesson, treasuring her plan like the sweetie it was.

Lizzie phoned the following afternoon at the end of the school day, when she knew Smithie would be back in her room.

‘I'll be quick,' Octavia said. ‘I don't want you getting cut off in the middle. Now then. You've been invited to the christening, of course.'

‘I'm a godmother.'

‘Splendid. Now what I advise you to do is this. Write to your brother and ask him to send an invitation to Ben.'

‘Yes but…'

‘Make sure Ben knows how important it is for him to be there. It's a Sunday so it shouldn't be too difficult. But – and this is important, Lizzie – don't arrive together and don't pay any attention to one another when you're in the church. And tell him to wear his beret. Then leave it to me.'

‘I will obey you “point-device”,' Lizzie said.

And did.

The new Heather Elizabeth had a fine day for her welcome to the Anglican Church and behaved herself impeccably, only protesting slightly when her head was doused with unexpected water. Afterwards, cradled in her mother's arms, in her grandmother's crowded front room, she gazed solemnly
at her admirers as they told her what a dear little thing she was and didn't remind her mother that feeding was an absolute necessity until a full twenty minutes had passed.

‘She's a good baby,' Tommy said to her doting father when she'd been carried away to be fed.

‘She's not bad, is she?' Mark said. Then he remembered what Octavia had instructed him to do. ‘You haven't met my friend Ben Hardy, have you?' he asked and signalled to Ben that he should join them. ‘Corporal Hardy. Major Meriton.'

They shook hands and sized one another up.

‘Eighth Army,' Tommy said, noting the beret.

‘Joined at El Alamein,' Ben said, with some pride. ‘Just before the battle.'

‘First-rate show.'

‘Yes. It was. Monty knows what he's doing.'

‘Tell me, what do you think of the new Churchill tank?'

Mark drifted away from them and left them to it. Now he had to find Octavia and tell her the deed was done.

‘Excellent,' she approved. ‘I'll give them a few more minutes to get going. Just one more thing. Could you find Lizzie for me and tell her to watch for my signal?'

‘This is better than a thriller,' Mark said. ‘I keep expecting a spy to leap out and confront us with a Luger.'

‘Keep watching,' Octavia told him, ‘and you'll see a headmistress confront a Major with a Ben.'

She left the two men talking until Tommy moved on to make conversation with someone else, then she inched after him.

‘Nice chap?' she asked, as the christening party talked and laughed and made approving noises around them.

He bent his head towards her. ‘Who?'

‘The soldier you were talking to.'

‘First rate,' he said. ‘Eighth Army. One of Monty's mob. Seen a lot of action. They had a hell of a time at Monte Cassino.'

‘So I believe,' Octavia said. ‘You approve of him then?'

He was smiling at his brother, who was smiling and walking towards him and not paying overmuch attention. ‘Stout feller,' he said. ‘Salt of the earth. We could do with a few more like him.'

‘So he'll make a good son-in-law,' she said.

He turned away from his brother's approach and looked at her quizzically. ‘What are you talking about, Tavy? What son-in-law?'

‘Yours,' she told him levelly. ‘He's engaged to Lizzie. Isn't that right, you two?'

Ben and Lizzie were edging through the crush towards him, hand in hand. ‘And you call me devious!' he said to Octavia. Then he looked at his brother. ‘Hello, James,' he said. ‘You've walked in on a family crisis.'

Octavia felt distinctly anxious. He hadn't refused the idea outright, he'd even made a joke of it but calling it a crisis wasn't a good sign. If only James wasn't there she might be able to tease him a bit, make it easier for him.

The brothers were shaking hands. ‘Have I?' James said, smiling at Lizzie and Octavia. ‘Well bless my soul. I thought it was a christening.'

Now Tommy was turning to Ben, squaring up to him, stretching up to his full height, looking stern. Oh God, the signs
were
bad.

‘You never said you were engaged to my daughter,' he said.

‘No, sir,' Ben said visibly standing his ground. ‘You never asked me.'

Tommy shook his head, paused and began to grin. ‘So I
suppose you want to get married before the balloon goes up,' he said. ‘Is that it?'

Ben grinned too. ‘Got it in one, sir.'

Octavia was so relieved she had to lean on the back of a chair. But she didn't get a chance to say anything because James and Lizzie were both talking at once, James saying, ‘Well, they
are
engaged, Tom,' and Lizzie throwing her arms round her father's neck, saying ‘Darling, darling Pa!'