‘You’ve thought it all through.’
‘Of course. Mind, if I have my way that will only be temporary. I’d much rather join the Red Cross, train to be a nurse. Something truly
splendid.’
‘What could
I
do? If it happens. Which I’m sure it won’t.’
Dora gave her what Lily could only describe as an old-fashioned look. ‘Heaps of things. Roll bandages, collect woollens, raise funds to buy sheets for the hospital. I’ll let you know after our inaugural meeting, shall I?’ She leaned closer, sensible grey eyes grown oddly bleak. ‘Believe me, Lily, there’s going to be a war, and all our young men will be in it.’
The splintering of china, and Margot’s surprisingly calm voice instructing the unfortunate miscreant to ‘run along and fetch a dustpan’, interrupted their conversation. Both girls raised their eyebrows at each other, for the anticipated explosion had not come.
‘Poor Betty,’ Lily said. ‘She’s taken quite a shine to George. She probably heard what you were saying and no doubt fears he too will join up.’
‘Drivers and engineers will be greatly needed.’
But there was no sign of the little maid. ‘Sobbing her heart out in the kitchen, I shouldn’t wonder. It’s most unlike Margot to take the loss of one of her best china cups so quietly.’
Always uncomfortable with servants, Margot generally took the view that the louder you berated them, the more in charge you were. But though she’d chivvied more than usual today, her patience had remained exemplary. Suppressed excitement fizzed from her like the froth from a bottle of champagne. She could hardly contain it.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Dora whispered. ‘Not at all her usual carping self’
Lily shook her head, stifling a giggle as she reached for a meringue. ‘Haven’t the faintest idea. You’ll have to ask Selene when she arrives. Mama-in-law confides nothing to me.’
And why should she worry when in less than three hours she would be in Nathan’s arms?
Seconds later, all was made clear when Fothergill appeared at the door and Selene herself swept in. She wore a fragile gown of coffee silk and cream lace, her blonde hair swept up into a wickedly clever chignon. Her eyes at once turned to meet Lily’s, and in that moment her pale beauty was compelling. The reason soon became all too apparent: she was not alone. By her side was a man, and instantly the matrons burst into a frenzy of tutting and twittering as he strode confidently into their midst.
Dora was busily relating some amusing anecdote and took no notice at all, until she saw the change come over Lily’s face. ‘What is it, Lily? What…’
It was Nathan who stood by Selene’s side. There was something in the way he remained there, so quiet and expectant which brought a blast of cold fear to Lily’s heart, as if a hand were wringing every drop of life from it.
Margot clapped her hands delicately together in an effort to gain the attention of the chattering company. ‘Ladies, ladies, may I present to you Mr Nathan Monroe, the new owner of the Public Steamship Company, and my darling daughter’s intended husband.’
That night, too unbearably miserable to sleep or to tolerate her own company, Lily went to her husband’s room. She stood by his bed in her peignoir, weeping like a child. ‘Are you asleep, Bertie? I feel in need of some company tonight. Do you mind?’
‘Course not, old thing. Come in here and cuddle up with me.’ Generous as ever, he pushed back the covers and Lily crept into his arms to sob out her anguish on his shoulder.
Why hadn’t she taken Selene’s infatuation seriously? Why hadn’t Nathan been open with her?
Because he didn’t wish to hurt her? Or because he didn’t care what she thought? Or because he was entirely pig-headed and independent? More likely ambitious, Lily realised. What better way forward than to ally himself with the richest family on the lake. Hadn’t she done exactly the same thing.
Dear God, he would be her brother-in-law!
In that terrible moment when Lily had forced herself to go to the ‘happy couple’ and offer her congratulations, kissing each cheek, shaking hands, she’d come as close to hating him as ever in her life before.
His eyes had focused tellingly upon her and he’d whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t be hurt. I’d much rather it was you.’
She didn’t believe him. Why had she ever believed him?
Bertie did not ask why she wept and she did not tell him. When there were no more tears left, Lily at last slept, cradled in her husband’s arms where she felt safe and secure, cherished as a child.
She hadn’t intended anything to happen between them, of course, needing only his warmth for solace. But perhaps waking to find his familiar body beside her recalled the happier, early days of their marriage. Or perhaps she simply needed to prove that she was still a woman capable of being loved, wanting to obliterate the deep sense of betrayal. Whatever the reason, when he kissed her, Lily made no protest. When he lifted her nightdress she welcomed him as readily as she had ever done.
Afterwards she cried again, but not with joy as she would after a night with Nathan. Lily cried for what she had lost. Everything.
In the first week of August, as Dora had predicted, war was declared. The 4th Border Regiment, having gone off to their annual camp in Caernarvon, returned the very next day to their headquarters to await further orders. The St John Ambulance put out a call for volunteers; the banks closed for several days while they worked out how best to deal with the situation. Even food prices soared as people rushed to stock their larders.
‘Which just goes to show how very disorganised some folk were in the first place,’ pronounced Mrs Greenholme, from the comfort of her well-stocked kitchen.
Kendal Drill Hall became a hive of activity, serving out one hundred rounds of ammunition to each man who enlisted, preparing the Territorials for departure amidst a chorus of enthusiastic cheering and the weeping of wives and sweethearts.
Nathan and Bertie were two of the first to volunteer.
And last but not least of this trio of disasters, Lily discovered that she was pregnant. Though which man was the father she had no idea.
1915-1917
The war was not, as so frequently predicted, over by Christmas. Lily found work was the best way to dampen the painful desires which came unbidden at any time of the day or night, triggered perhaps by the sight of her beloved child.
Thomas Albert Clermont-Read made his appearance in March, 1915, providing the family at last with a much longed for son and heir. Certainly Bertie welcomed him as such. If Lily had any thoughts to the contrary, she kept them to herself.
It had proved to be a difficult pregnancy. Lily seemed to be sick the whole time. The very idea of Nathan’s marrying Selene was almost more than she could bear. She felt used and more isolated than ever.
There had been many occasions during those long months when she had longed for Hannah’s rough commonsense and blunt good humour and, despite a very real sense of betrayal, she’d even missed Rose.
But Margot wouldn’t hear of Lily’s visiting her old friend. ‘A visit to The Cobbles? Are you mad? Haven’t you already lost one child?’
This so filled her with fear that Lily gave up all hope of seeing her family ever again. They, like The Cobbles, were a part of her past now, where it was best to leave them.
Lily wrote to Bertie twice a week, and he insisted she write to Nathan also.
‘Every chap needs as many letters as he can get in this hell hole,’ his letter instructed her, patriotic fervour in every page. ‘See you write to us both. Selene too.’
How could she argue with such a plea? For all Selene believed her own daily letters to her fiancé were surely enough.
‘He’s an old friend,’ Lily patiently and inaccurately explained. ‘We owe it to them both to keep in touch while they’re living through this horror.’
But she wished, almost as fervently as Selene that she could escape the task, while waiting eagerly each day for a reply.
Lily longed for, and dreaded, like a breathless young girl, Nathan’s first leave home. A dozen questions buzzed in her head, thoughts and feelings she needed to express. Sometimes she felt herself to be almost going mad with the fear that she might never see him again.
Then one day, unbelievably, he sat before them in the little parlour with a cup of Earl Grey tea balanced upon one knee, swallowing tiny sandwiches whole. Margot, for once, was not present, but Selene had taken great pleasure in inviting Lily to this little tea-party, in order to show off her intended.
He looked so fine and handsome in his khaki uniform Lily wanted simply to sit and drink in the sight of him, etch every line of his face and figure into her memory to make sure she would never forget them. He too, it seemed, above Selene’s chattering, was bent on doing the same. It felt at times as though they were the only two people in the room. Lily wished, with all her heart, that they were.
Only once, just before he’d joined up, had she confronted him on the subject of his coming marriage, reminding him that he’d claimed not to be a marrying sort of man. He’d kissed her softly then, saying he would miss her. ‘A man has to look to his future, Lily, and you aren’t free, are you? You never were.’
Now, watching him smile patiently at Selene’s remorseless chatter, Lily told herself that if Bertie hadn’t been unfaithful she might never have got involved with Nathan Monroe. But no, she couldn’t blame Bertie. The fault was entirely hers. She’d wanted Nathan, there was no denying that fact.
What a fool she’d been! What a mess she’d made of her life. But she must look upon it more objectively. If she’d read more into their time together than he had, the fault surely lay in her own foolish sentimentality? Nathan had never actually said he loved her, never used the word. And he certainly had every right to marry, if he wished.
If only he hadn’t chosen Selene, who was preening herself even now, as sleek as a cat devouring cream.
Lily sipped at her tea, praying no one, in particular her ill-tempered sister-in-law, would see how her hand trembled as she replaced the cup in her saucer. Nor did she dare lift her eyes to Nathan’s one more time for fear she might betray herself by blushing. Or by running into his arms.
It was amazing the way Selene could chatter on, oblivious of their mutual absorption in one other. She was busily recounting the trouble she’d experienced in purchasing her latest gown. To listen to her, you would have thought that Britain had become involved in the greatest war mankind had ever known simply to vex her. So like her mother.
‘Would you believe, they told me I simply could not have the material I wanted?’ she complained. ‘The very idea!’
Nathan turned to his bride-to-be, smiling his most devastating smile. ‘It must be most annoying for you, my dear, that supplies are so difficult to obtain. Nevertheless, I have to say that you would look perfectly charming whatever you wore.’
Selene flushed with delight, making a half-hearted protest, while Nathan, with a swift but provocative glance in Lily’s direction, which no one but herself could interpret, leaned closer and placed a kiss upon Selene’s uptilted nose, and then upon the softness of her mouth, making her blush deepen.
Lily jumped up, depositing her cup and saucer with a clatter on the tea tray. Making hasty excuses that she must see to baby Thomas, she almost ran from the room.
Lily grew ever more thankful for her war work which kept her fully occupied. But hard as she strove to do her bit, it never seemed good enough so far as her mother-in-law was concerned. Margot had risen to the occasion by chairing several committees. Always in her element when giving orders and handing out work for others to do, she managed to give the appearance of being rushed off her feet without actually doing a stroke.
The war was a nuisance to Margot in one respect. It meant she must associate with the kind of people with whom she would not normally exchange the time of day - a situation which quietly amused Lily but which meant that whenever Margot felt bored or tired, which was frequently, she put the blame squarely upon her daughter-in-law, often using little Thomas as a bargaining tool.
If Lily should attend too many meetings, show herself to be working hard or raising more money than herself for the poor or the hospitals, Margot accused her of neglecting her son.
If Lily stayed in and devoted herself to her child, Margot claimed she was deliberately avoiding hard work and refusing to face up to the reality of life in wartime.
Selene declared herself too weak to do anything. Ever since the diphtheria, she had taken to playing the invalid whenever it suited her to do so. She sat about dreaming of her wedding, collecting her trousseau and planning the house she believed Nathan, or Edward, would build for her.
Life at Barwick House became increasingly difficult: three women playing out their own small war, with poor Edward gloomily returning home each weekend to spend his free time acting as a kind of reluctant referee.
And behind all the histrionics and sulks hung an ever present fear: for Bertie, for Nathan, for Dora Ferguson-Walsh, now driving an ambulance somewhere in France, and for all the other young people who had joined up on a wave of patriotism. For this reason alone Lily held her patience better than she would otherwise have done, and continued to play the dutiful daughter-in-law. But it was going to be a long war.