The Girl on the Cliff (24 page)

Mary no longer had control over her daughter’s life. And, as Anna was now earning a good wage of her own, she could not complain about some of the daring dresses she wore – often without a corset – or the amount of red paint she applied to her lips. She was aware from the number of bouquets that were delivered to their home that Anna had a stream of male admirers. Whether there was one in particular, Mary didn’t know. Any enquiries made in this direction were always stonewalled.

When Mary complained to Jeremy that Anna’s social life was a worryingly unknown quantity, especially the male element of it, Jeremy would comfort her gently. ‘My dear, Anna is a young and very b-beautiful woman. She is also a star. She will behave as she wishes.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ Mary commented irritably one evening, ‘but I’m not happy about the smell of cigarette smoke that drifts into our bedroom in the small hours. And I know she’s drinking.’

‘Smoking and the occasional gin are hardly crimes, Mary. Especially for a young woman who is under so much pressure to give of her best every night.’

Mary turned and eyed him, frustrated that Jeremy always seemed to be on Anna’s side. ‘I worry for her, that’s all. The crowd she runs with …’

‘I know, darling, but she’s a b-big girl now. And you have to let her go.’

The tension between Mary and Anna came to a head a few weeks later, when Anna decided to invite, unannounced, a posse of her friends back home after the performance. The sound of Cole Porter on the gramophone and the shrieks of laughter from Anna’s guests in the drawing room kept both Mary and Jeremy awake until the early hours. The following day, determined to speak to Anna and lay down some ground rules, Mary knocked on Anna’s door and entered the bedroom. Anna was fast asleep. So was the young man lying in bed beside her. Breathless and choking with horror, Mary slammed the door behind her and left the room.

Ten minutes later, Anna appeared downstairs in the kitchen in her robe. She smiled sheepishly at her mother, who was crashing breakfast plates into the sink. ‘I’m sorry if I kept you awake last night. I should have asked. It was late and I th-thought –’

‘Never mind about that! What was … 
who
was …’ Mary could not bring herself to voice the words.

‘You mean Michael?’ Anna pulled her cigarettes from the pocket of her robe, lit one and perched gracefully on the edge of the table. ‘He’s my d-dancing partner, Mother. And we are … lovers.’ She took a drag of her cigarette.
‘You don’t mind, d-do you? After all, I am over twenty-one now.’

‘
Mind?
Of course I mind!
You
might live in a world where that kind of behaviour is acceptable, but you have a sister of ten years old. And while you’re under my roof, you will behave with some common courtesy. What were you thinking of, Anna? Sophia could have walked into your bedroom at any time and seen –
him
!’

‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ Anna shrugged. ‘I mean, the world has changed, and these d-days, no one minds about se–’

‘
Don’t
even say the word!’ Mary shuddered. ‘How could you even think of being so
brazen
? You should be ashamed of yourself! And I’m ashamed that I failed you, that I brought you up to believe that kind of behaviour wasn’t a sin!’

‘Mother, you’re sounding awfully p-parochial, and rather Catholic and –’

‘Don’t you
dare
talk to me like that, my girl! I don’t care how big a star you are on the stage, when you’re under my roof you abide by our rules! And I will not have –’ Mary pointed upwards to the ceiling – ‘
that
kind of shenanigans beneath it!’

Anna sat calmly, smoking her cigarette. Mary watched as the ash fell to the floor and Anna made no move to prevent it. Eventually, Anna nodded. ‘All right, Mother, I understand. And if you d-don’t approve of my life, well, I’m a big girl now, with my own income. Maybe it’s time I found my own roof.’

Without another word, Anna removed herself from the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

A day later, she packed her suitcases and moved out.

Jeremy tried to comfort his wife, assuring her that Anna’s behaviour was normal for a young girl in the modern age. A girl who was not only finding her feet as an adult, but was increasingly fêted by an adoring public. Despite the sense in what Jeremy said, Mary struggled to come to terms with Anna’s abrupt departure.

In the following weeks, Anna made no attempt to contact her mother. Anything Mary heard of her was gleaned through the many newspaper articles and gossip columns, of which Anna seemed to be a regular feature. She was pictured with stars of stage and screen at glittering gatherings, and on the arm of various aristocratic men. The shy little girl that Mary had sacrificed so much to rescue had turned into a creature she did not know or understand. And yet … Mary acknowledged there had always been a rod of steel running through her daughter. Whatever Anna had wanted, she’d usually achieved. The fact she was now at the top of her chosen profession was testament to that. And the ease with which Anna had cut her mother, her father and her sister so completely from her life, illustrated a hitherto unseen callousness.

However, as the storm clouds of war gathered over Europe again, Mary had problems enough under her own roof. Jeremy, who had come so far from when she had first met him, began to have nightmares again. The tremor in his hands and the stutter became more pronounced. Every morning he would read
The Times
and his face would grow grey. His appetite diminished and Mary watched as he withdrew into himself. No matter how many times she told him that if there was war, no army
would want him, Jeremy’s fear of returning to his nemesis grew apace.

‘Y-You d-don’t understand, Mary. They may not want me initially, but as they grow desperate for ca-cannon fodder they’ll take anyone to throw at the Krauts. Believe me, I’ve seen it, men older than me thrown over the top to keep the n-numbers up.’

‘Jeremy, pet, it’s in your medical records that you suffered from shell-shock. Of course they won’t want you back.’

‘I was sent b-back to the t-trenches four times, Mary. In a far worse state than I am t-today.’ He shook his head despairingly. ‘You can’t understand war, Mary. Please don’t t-try.’

‘But everyone says it’ll be different this time. There won’t be trenches, pet,’ she entreated time and again. ‘This war, if it comes, will be fought with the new modern equipment that’s been developed. No one in their right minds will be after losing a whole generation of men like last time. Please, Jeremy, things have changed.’

Jeremy would stand up, anger, frustration and fear plain on his face, and leave the room.

As the news became worse and the inevitability of another war became more certain by the day, Mary keened inside for her husband. Jeremy no longer joined his wife and daughter in the kitchen for supper, preferring to eat alone in his study.

‘What’s wrong with Papa?’ Sophia would ask as Mary tucked her up for the night.

‘Nothing, pet, he’s just not feeling himself at the moment,’ Mary would comfort.

‘Will there be war? Is that why Papa is so worried?’ she’d question, her huge green eyes, so like her daddy’s, staring up at Mary from the pillow.

‘Perhaps. But if there is, there is. Don’t you be worrying, pet. Your daddy and I lived through the last one to tell the tale, and we’ll do it again.’

‘But everything’s different now, Mother. Anna’s gone, and Papa feels …’ Sophia sighed, ‘as if he’s gone too. Nothing is the same as it was. I’m scared, Mother, I don’t like it.’

Mary would hold her daughter in her arms, stroking her hair, just as she had held Anna long ago, and murmur soothing words she no longer believed.

The summer dragged on, and signs of preparation for impending war began to appear in the city. Mary felt as if the entire country was in a state of suspended animation, holding their breath for the inevitable. Jeremy was catatonic. He had even moved out of their bedroom and now slept in his dressing room, citing the fact that his nightmares were disturbing Mary’s sleep. Brow furrowed with anxiety, Mary begged him to contact his old regiment and allay his fears.

‘You were invalided out, pet. There’s no chance they’re going to want you. Please, Jeremy, write a letter and put your mind at rest. At least once you’ve heard for definite, it will make you feel better.’

But Jeremy would sit there in his chair in the study, staring out into the distance and not hearing her.

When war was announced at the beginning of September, Mary felt a sense of relief. Perhaps now, they’d all know where they were. Ten days later, Mary was lying in
bed reading a book when there was a knock on the door.

‘M-May I c-come in?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Of course you can. For pity’s sake, this is your bedroom.’ Mary watched Jeremy as he shambled over towards her. He’d lost considerable weight and his face was as gaunt and drawn as when she’d first met him. He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hands in his.

‘Mary, I w-wanted to tell you that I l-love you. You and Anna and Sophia have made my l-life worth l-living.’

‘And you mine,’ said Mary gently.

‘I’m s-sorry for being d-difficult in the past f-few weeks. I won’t be any more, I p-promise.’

‘I understand, pet. I hope that now it has begun, you’ll start to feel better.’

‘Yes.’ The word was no more than a whisper. Jeremy reached forward and took Mary into his arms. ‘I l-lo-love you, my darling. N-never f-forget that, will you?’

‘I won’t.’

‘Be as strong and b-brave and kind as you’ve always been.’ He released her, kissed her on the lips and smiled at her. ‘W-would you mind if I s-slept in here w-with you tonight? I don’t w-want to be alone.’

‘My love,’ replied Mary tenderly, ‘this is your bed and I am your wife.’

So Jeremy climbed in next to her and Mary held her husband in her arms, stroking his hair, until she heard the tell-tale signs of his regular breathing. Unable to sleep herself, she watched over Jeremy. And, only in the early hours, when she was content he was sleeping deeply and peacefully, did she let herself sleep too.

The following morning, Mary left Jeremy in bed and went downstairs to make breakfast for Sophia. The two of them left the house at eight fifteen to make the ten-minute walk to Sophia’s school, just off the Brompton Road.

‘Have a good day, pet, and I’ll be here as usual to collect you afterwards.’

Mary watched as Sophia turned away from her and headed into school. The day was sunny and bright, and as Mary walked towards the row of shops where she routinely bought her meat and vegetables, she felt more cheeful than she had for a while. At least Jeremy had communicated with her last night and had seemed calmer. Even though this new war promised to be hell all over again, Mary knew that as long as she and Jeremy clung to each other, everything would be all right. She lingered for longer than normal, listening to the other women chattering to the butcher about the likelihood of rationing, and when the Germans would begin to bomb London in earnest. Whatever came, Mary thought as she made her way home, she and Jeremy could face it together.

There was no sign of her husband when she arrived home. But this was not unusual; often Jeremy would take a stroll out in the mornings to buy a newspaper, and then meander through Kensington Gardens on his way home.

Mary went about her usual chores, thinking how many
would feel it strange she preferred to do the menial work herself, when it was entirely possible to employ someone to do it for her. She had dismissed the housekeeper when she’d first wed Jeremy, feeling uncomfortable under what she had perceived as a patronising eye, and had only a daily maid to help her run the big house. But there was a pleasure and a joy in providing a neat, clean, well-run home for her husband and her child.

At midday, when she had prepared a light lunch for Jeremy and herself, but had not heard the key turn in the front-door lock, Mary wondered if exhaustion had caught up with him, and he was still sleeping where she’d left him.

‘Jeremy? Jeremy?’ she called as she went from room to room downstairs. Jeremy’s study was empty, as was the drawing room, the library and the dining room. An edge of panic filled Mary. One of the ways in which Jeremy had survived since his ordeal was with routine. It was unheard of for him not to be in for lunch at the appointed hour. She climbed the stairs with a sense of foreboding, pushed open the door to their bedroom, and saw the bed was empty.

‘Where are you, pet? Are you here?’ she called as she walked along the landing towards his dressing room. She knocked on the door and received no answer, so she opened it.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to what she saw. A pair of highly polished shoes dangled in front of her nose. She looked up, and saw the rest of his body attached by a rope to the light fitting above him.

After the doctor had arrived, pronounced Jeremy dead and called for the police to come and cut his body down, Jeremy was laid on the bed. Mary sat with him, unable to stop herself from stroking his pale, grey skin. Catatonic with shock, she couldn’t process what had happened.

‘Do you have any reason to suggest why Mr Langdon might have taken his own life, madam?’ the policeman asked.

Mary, holding her dead husband’s hand, nodded. ‘Perhaps.’

‘I’m sorry to ask these questions at what is a very difficult time for you, madam, but I’d be grateful if you could elucidate. And then we won’t have to bother you again.’

‘He –’ Mary cleared her constricted throat – ‘he thought he was to be called up again. He suffered from shell-shock, you see.’

‘And was he? To be called up?’

‘He’d been invalided out of the army after the last war. I told him, over and over, they wouldn’t want him, but –’ Mary shook her head in despair – ‘he wouldn’t believe me.’

‘I see. If it’s any comfort, madam, my uncle was the same way. Nothing you could do or say would take away the fear. You mustn’t blame yourself.’

‘No. But I do … 
I do
 …’

The doorbell rang downstairs. ‘That’s probably the ambulance, madam, come to take your husband away. I’ll pop downstairs and let them in. While I do that, would you be kind enough to check your husband for anything you might wish to keep?’