The House of Vandekar (20 page)

‘Nick was the lynchpin of the whole operation. When it was suggested to me I knew we couldn't attempt it without him. I told him what we wanted him to do when he was at Princess Mary's. Obviously he couldn't tell anyone else until the mission was completed. He went in the leading aircraft, and with his direction the raid was a complete success. The prison was attacked and the majority of the French prisoners escaped. Including our agents. The tragedy is, we lost two aircraft. The leading bomber was shot down. It crashed outside Lyons and there were no survivors.'

He waited for a moment. She looked so still and stricken that he was at a loss for words of sympathy. He tried. ‘He was one of the bravest men I've ever met,' he said. ‘And he wanted to do this. You see, he never really forgave himself for breaking under torture. He couldn't be sure how much he'd given away and who had suffered because of it. He saw this as his chance to atone and he took it. He knew the chances of coming back were pretty slight. But he wanted to go. You must believe that.'

Alice looked up at him. ‘I do,' she said. ‘I knew Nick. And so did you when you came here that day and told us both a pack of lies. He's dead and he's a hero. I hope you can live with yourself. Now, will you please go?'

‘Mrs Vandekar,' he began, but she interrupted. ‘Get out. Get out of my house. If you have any decency …' As he closed the door behind him he saw her sink to the ground and begin to cry.

She had no sense of time. She wept until she was exhausted and fell into a merciful sleep, slumped on the floor. When she woke, it was so late the room was quite dark.

Nick was dead. The plane had been shot down and there were no survivors.

Slowly Alice got to her feet. She switched on the lamp and huddled onto the sofa. This room, seen dimly in the soft focus of a single light, this beautiful room was the scene of her great heartbreak. And the place where he had held out his arms to her and said, ‘I love you.' It seemed to Alice as if her life had begun and ended in that room. Nothing felt real before that moment; nothing will feel real from now on, she thought. Full circle. And so short. Such a short time to know what it meant to be loved and to learn what it meant to lose that love for ever.

The high point of her shock and grief was over. Now there was a dragging pain that would be with her for all the days she could imagine. She sat on until it was pitch dark outside the windows and she felt chilled. She got up, switched out the light and closed the door on the room. It was nearly nine o'clock. She remembered what he had said. It'll be public knowledge by this evening. I didn't want you to hear it on the news … She went upstairs, passing Lily's door without stopping. She didn't want Lily; she didn't want anyone. There was a wireless in her bedroom. She lay on the bed and listened.

Details had just been released of a daring raid on a Gestapo prison in occupied France. The same story Wallace had told her. Highly successful rescue attempt. Tragic loss of a British agent who had directed the bombing from the first aircraft to go in. They gave his name, and she felt it like a blow, hearing it come over the airwaves. How long ago, she wondered, how long had he been lying dead while she read his one letter and the poetry he'd written to her, thinking him alive, waiting for a message that would never come.

‘We were so close, my darling,' Alice said aloud. ‘Why didn't I know something had happened … I carry you inside me, you said. Isn't it strange that I didn't feel anything? I should have known.'

‘Madam.' Lily was standing in the doorway. ‘Madam, I just heard the news on the wireless.' She seemed hesitant, as if she was afraid to come in.

‘Yes,' Alice said. ‘I've known since this afternoon. Group Captain Wallace drove down here to tell me before it was broadcast. He's dead. What am I going to do, Lily? What am I going to do now?'

‘Take care of yourself,' was the fiercely spoken answer. ‘That's what he'd want. He loved you, God knows he did, but he's dead and you're here. And there's the baby to think of … He shouldn't have gone,' she said suddenly, ‘not leaving you like this …' There was a choke in her voice as if she was going to cry.

Alice said quietly, ‘He didn't know about the baby. He asked me to leave Hugo and marry him after the war. I was planning to do it, I really was.'

Lily blew her nose. ‘It's not fair on you,' she declared. ‘After all you've done for everyone. It's just not fair. There's no God, that's what I say, or He wouldn't let it happen!'

Alice turned away and closed her eyes. She was so tired. Poor Lily was upset. She'd want to help her undress, fuss over her and make her comfortable. Alice didn't want to hurt her, but she couldn't have borne that. She said, ‘Lily, I'd like to be alone. Just this once. Tomorrow will be better, but I don't want anyone tonight. So you go to bed and let me be. There's a dear.'

‘All right, madam. All right.'

Alice knew she was crying as she went out. She began to drift, lying fully dressed on the bed. The baby gave a little jump and she touched the place with one hand, letting it lie on the spot. His child. Not Hugo's born out of a loveless union on her part, like Fern. A child that was part of him, living through her, carrying him on into a second life. She slept.

It was a scorching autumn. The uncut lawns at Ashton turned brown and the air was close and dusty. The baby grew and Alice wilted; for the first time in her life she felt drained of energy, lethargic and low-spirited. Lily was so worried she mentioned it to Dr Banks, who said Alice was perfectly healthy and that when the weather changed she'd feel much better. A lot of women suffered from nervous exhaustion in that heat. There was nothing to worry about. He didn't mention grief. He didn't have to. Lily saw her many mornings and knew she had cried herself to sleep.

And not only Lily. One day when she was sitting sewing with her door open, she saw Fern come out of Alice's room. The child stood for a moment with an odd expression on her face. Lily stopped her work. Fern began to walk away almost on tiptoe.

As she passed Lily's room, Lily came out and stood in front of her. ‘What do you think you're doing, miss? Why are you creeping about like that?'

‘I went in to see Mummy,' the child said. ‘She's got a very big tummy. That's the baby, isn't it?'

‘Yes, it is,' Lily answered, not caring whether Fern was supposed to know the facts of life or not. She was too fly, that one, to be fobbed off with the gooseberry bush.

‘She was crying,' Fern stated. She watched Lily from under her lids and saw her start. ‘Is it because that Air Force man is dead? The one who was here that Mummy looked after?'

Lily stood very still.

‘I saw his picture in the newspapers,' the silky little voice went on. ‘I cut it out and kept it. Miss Groves said he'd been given a medal.' The pale eyes looked up at Lily and there was a gleam of malice in them.

Lily reached out and grabbed her by the arm. She held tight and squeezed hard. Fern whimpered. ‘Now you listen to me,' Lily hissed at her. ‘You ever say anything about that Air Force man again and I'll give you the hiding of your life, you understand? When I was a kid my Dad used to take his belt off and lay into me, and that's what I'll do to you. So you just remember. Keep your trap shut!' She gave a final savage squeeze and then pushed the child away.

Fern backed off, but to Lily's surprise she didn't turn and run. She was very white and the tears were spilling down her cheeks. ‘I hate you,' she said. ‘I'll hurt
you
one day …' Then, sobbing she fled towards the stairs and nursery.

‘Little bitch,' Lily muttered, and went off to comfort Alice.

The call from the United States was for Lily. Alice was resting; she was very big and suffered badly from backache. Not long to go now, thank God. Just let's hope, Lily said to herself, that she has an easy time, not like the last one.

She was expecting the call. ‘Mrs Holmes Fry? Good afternoon, madam. Yes, very well, thank you. No, she's sleeping at the moment.' There was a pause while Alice's mother talked. Lily said yes once or twice and nodded. Then she said, ‘Oh, it would be such a help to her. It really would. I'd never have written to you but I've been so worried about her. She'll kill me when she finds out, but that can't be helped. When? Oh, good. No, I won't say anything. She'd only try and stop you. You know what she's like, madam. She can't bear anyone making a fuss. Yes, thank you. Thank you so much. We'll see you then.' She hung up.

Thank God for that, she said to herself. It was time Alice had someone to support her through the birth. Old Mother Vandekar was as much good as a sick headache, Lily thought angrily. After all Alice had done for her when Mr Phillip was killed, she couldn't come down and let Alice lean on her for a change. Same thing when Alice had pneumonia. Just flustered round and got in the way. Thank God Mrs Holmes Fry was coming. Even though Lily would probably be blown sky high when Alice found out that she had been responsible. It didn't matter, she thought stoically. I've done the right thing for her.

Alice was reading when her sitting-room door opened. She looked up, expecting Lily with some tea. She hadn't noticed the time and her baby hadn't kicked or stirred since after lunch. It was Lily, but without the teatray and a look of mingled guilt and triumph on her face. ‘You've got a visitor, madam,' she announced, and stepped out of the way. Alice's book fell to the floor. She heaved herself up and stared in amazement.

‘Mother! Mother, I don't believe it!'

Phoebe came towards her and they were folded in each other's arms. ‘Darling,' she said, hugging her daughter. ‘Darling, how are you, let me look at you …'

‘How did you get here?' Alice demanded. She was breathless and overcome with joy.

‘Pan Am. They have a flight via Lisbon. I used a bit of influence to get on board, but it was safer than trying a sea crossing,' her mother said.

They were side by side and Alice was grasping her hand.

‘Safer? Mother, they've been shooting down civil planes. God, I can't believe it. Why didn't you let me know?'

‘We wanted to surprise you,' Phoebe said.

Alice said quietly, ‘We, who's we?'

‘Lily and I,' her mother said. ‘Now you're not to be cross with her. You'd never have asked me, would you?'

Alice looked grim. ‘No,' she said, ‘I certainly wouldn't have let you take a risk like that.' She felt her temper rise and suddenly explode. ‘How dare she! How dare she take it upon herself!'

The baby gave an agitated lurch in response to her change of mood and she addressed it furiously. ‘You shut up in there,' she snapped. ‘Just shut up! This is too much – I'm going to sack that woman! I'm going to sack – Oh, Mother, Mother, I'm so glad you came …'

When Lily came back with tea for them both Alice was in Phoebe's arms. She smiled at Lily over her daughter's shoulder. Alice said in a muffled voice, ‘Lily, take a week's notice, you hear me?'

‘Yes, madam,' Lily said, and to Phoebe, ‘Milk and sugar?'

The baby was born on a cold December afternoon at Ashton. Dr Banks delivered it after a short straightforward labour. ‘You've got a little boy,' he said. ‘Congratulations. A fine healthy baby boy.'

A lusty cry confirmed this and Alice smiled. ‘Nothing wrong with his lungs anyway. Can I have him, please?'

The midwife placed the small, bundled-up baby in the crook of her arm and Alice looked down at him. She was still slightly muzzy from the gas and air given in the final stage.

‘He's beautiful,' she whispered.

‘He's fair,' Dr Banks said. ‘Just like you.' He didn't know what Major Vandekar's colouring was. He thrust that thought aside. It was a strong, perfect baby and the mother had come through without too much discomfort. Birth always filled him with a sense of joy. It was a long time since he had practised that side of medicine. He looked on them both, contented and at peace, and smiled. So much of his skill had been devoted to mending the shattered bodies of war's victims. He felt truly grateful and renewed by the experience of bringing a new life into the world.

Phoebe told the staff and the patients the good news. They clubbed together to buy flowers for Alice. Beatrice arrived by the end of the week, and a message was sent to Hugo via the War Office telling him he had a son. They kept the reply from Alice until the child was ten days old and she was allowed out of bed. Major Vandekar was in the base hospital at Tripoli after being wounded. The news had been conveyed to him, and as soon as he was sufficiently recovered he would send a message back.

Influence was a help, no doubt about it. The old friends from the palmy days before the war were in high places and Alice didn't hesitate to call on them. She had no conscience about making use of her position and her contacts. ‘Just because some poor women have to wait to find out, that doesn't mean we have to,' she insisted. ‘If Hugo's wounded I want to know how and where and how badly. Beatrice, it doesn't do anyone any good to
cry
until we know!'

She was amazing, her mother thought. Bad news seemed to galvanize her.

‘I'm damned if I'm going to just accept that message and wait till some half-baked idiot out in Tripoli sends me an answer. If Hugo's badly hurt he must be brought home. And I know just the people who can fix it.'

But it couldn't be fixed. Not even Alice's powers of cajolement and insistence could cut through the red tape and get Hugo out of hospital ahead of time. He had lost his left leg above the knee. When she heard that she cried bitterly. For him, not for herself. She had her precious baby, her health, her spirits and her strength of purpose back. He would come home a cripple. The worst thing that could have happened to such a proud and active man. She grieved for him, and at the same time searched the baby's face for some resemblance to Nick. Some shade in the expression as he grew, some quirk in the infectious, ready smile. But there was none. He was fair as the sunshine, with her blue eyes. He was the image of herself.