Henrietta Sees It Through (24 page)

Charles and I started VE Day in sober mood. ‘After all,' we said to each other, ‘we haven't beaten the Japs yet, and we haven't suffered like London has.' We didn't even crack open the bottle of champagne which we have been talking about for the last five years, but decided to keep it for when Bill and the Linnet's Philip come home. I went to church, and Charles rushed out of the house muttering something about Major Operations. It was Evensong's day off, so I didn't even lie down with my hot-water bottle and the trashy novel I had promised myself, but bumbled about the house feeling unaccountably tired.

We asked the Admiral and Mrs Admiral to come and share our evening stew, and they arrived with their own beef and carrots in a little bowl to add to our casserole, because, they said, it would make them unhappy to think they were eating our rations.

‘I'm afraid this is a rather sad day for you,' said Charles, giving Mrs Admiral a hug.

‘No, Charles,' said Mrs Admiral, ‘though of course, we are thinking of our dear boys.'

‘I think they both enjoyed their lives,' said the Admiral, ‘and they certainly gave us a great deal of happiness.' Then he cleared his throat and said, ‘This is a very good cocktail, Charles. What have you put in it?'

‘A little Vodka,' said Charles, ‘in honour of our gallant Allies.'

‘Vodka, eh?' said the Admiral, smacking his lips. ‘I'm beginning to understand why the Russian parties go on until six o'clock in the morning.'

We soon began to feel quite gay, and by the time we had finished the washing-up we were longing to celebrate, but the village was as quiet as it had been every night, except for air raids, ever since the beginning of the war.

‘If only the blackout had been lifted,' said Mrs Admiral with a sigh, ‘they might have thought of something to do.'

‘Listen!' said Charles. We all listened and heard the sound of music and singing. The next minute Evensong came panting up the garden path. ‘There's a Caper going on down the Street,' she said, ‘and they're asking for Doctor Charles.'

‘Come on!' shouted Charles, and he tore down to the gate.

In the Street, where I have spent so many unhappy shopping hours, a ‘Praaper ole Caper,' as we say, was indeed in progress, and conveniently adjacent to the pub. Some
large-hearted Resident had allowed his piano to be dragged out onto the pavement, and before I knew where I was I was seated before it playing ‘Annie Laurie' on as many notes as still felt like sounding. As you know, Robert, I am but a poor performer on the piano at the best of times, and now, with everybody crowding round me, pressing my elbows into my side, with soldiers breathing beer on me, and children shrilling into my ears until my head buzzed like an alarm clock, I felt I was giving a poor performance. But nobody seemed to mind. Everybody was yelling, and on the outskirts of the crowd a group of independent-minded Marines were singing different songs all together. Charles put half a pint of beer on the piano, and between ‘Loch Lomond' and ‘The Old Folks at Home' I took a grateful swill, but next time I looked for it, it had gone.

After a time a Marine appeared who said he could play dance music, and I gladly gave up my place at the piano to him, for my fingers were giving out, and so was my repertoire. The Marine began playing ‘When I Grow Too Old to Dream' with his right hand and something quite different with his left. This absence of harmony, so prevalent among the piano-playing youth of today, always worries me, but I know that Rhythm Is All, and I try not to mind.

Charles was by now revolving in a very stately manner with a lady in a red hat; Lady B, equally stately, was in the arms of Mr Pook, from the bacon counter, and the Admiral was making many impressive swoops and twirls with a Land Army girl, who laughed so much that she fell down twice.

Faith, prevented from dancing because of the New-Baby-in-August, plucked at my sleeve. ‘Dance with our Canadian,' she said.

‘Can't we find a girl for him?' I said.

‘No,' said Faith. ‘He's just out of a prison camp, and sometimes he feels bad and can't talk. He wouldn't mind with you.'

Laughed so much she fell down twice

The Canadian's arm, when he put it round me, was tense. So was his face. ‘You dance very beautifully,' I said.

‘Do I? I haven't had any practice - for a long time.'

‘I know. This is how the English enjoy simple pleasures.'

‘It's fine,' said the Canadian.

‘Everybody is very glad to have you here, you know.'

‘I like to be here,' said the Canadian. Then he saw the Land Army girl and the Admiral fall down for the second time, and he gave a sudden snort of laughter.

Then people began shouting ‘Bonfire!' and there, at the other end of the Street, was the beginning of a very healthy one. The Marines were throwing their love letters onto the flames in an abandoned manner which I felt would not have been appreciated by their writers, and people came rushing out of the houses with bundles of what would undoubtedly have been salvage if they hadn't lost their heads. We made a huge ring and danced around as other people were doing all over England, but soon it was blackout time and the police arrived to say that there really might be submarines in the bay. They threw water on the bonfire and put it out, but you could see they hated doing it.

Then we took Lady B home, because Charles was afraid the Caper might be too much for her heart, though she said she didn't mind if it was.

When last I saw the Canadian he had a pretty girl on each side of him and was singing ‘Auld lang Syne'.

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

H
ENRIETTA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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