Authors: Lily Baxter
‘Nor I, miss. But there you go, that’s what war does to folks. You either swim with the tide or you go under. I ain’t the type to do that. Unsinkable, that’s me.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Miranda said and was surprised to realise that she meant it. With his father and brothers constantly in and out of prison, Tommy’s future had always been a matter of conjecture, but his devotion to Rita appeared to be genuine and he was obviously determined to better himself.
He dropped her off at the gates of Highcliffe and drove away with a toot-toot on the car’s horn, which made her smile. Perhaps he was unsinkable as he
said
; she hoped so for his sake. She opened the gate, pausing for a moment to take in the view although the world seemed to end at the cliff top, and Portland had disappeared behind a grey veil of fog. A few seagulls mewed mournfully overhead, but otherwise the only sound was that of the waves lapping the shore. The wind had dropped suddenly and the air was eerily still, as if the elements knew that there was sadness and loss hanging in a cloud over the old house. She went down the path and made her way round to the back door.
Annie was in the kitchen, kneading bread dough. She looked up as the door opened and her face cracked into an attempt at a smile. ‘It’s good to have you home, Miranda.’ Her eyes misted with tears but she brushed them away with her sleeve. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ Wiping her hands on her apron she went to the stove and put the kettle on the hob. ‘She’s in her sitting room. It’ll do her the world of good to see you.’
Miranda dropped her case in the doorway and rushed over to give Annie a hug. ‘I’ll go and say hello and then I’d love a cup of tea. I haven’t had anything since I left Henlow early this morning.’
Annie moved away, straightening her pinafore. ‘I’ll make some sandwiches. I’m afraid it’ll have to be jam or Marmite.’
‘Either, I don’t mind.’ Miranda watched her as she moved about the kitchen, keeping her hands busy as if clinging on to routine was her lifeline.
‘You
knew my dad when he was a boy,’ she said softly.
‘I always had a soft spot for young Ronnie.’ Taking a hanky from her pocket, Annie blew her nose.
‘I know he was very fond of you,’ Miranda said with a break in her voice. ‘He always said you made the best jam tarts ever.’
‘He was very partial to a jam tart, was Ronnie.’ Annie sighed and put her hanky back in her pocket. ‘I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. When your gran brought the children back from Kenya your dad was just ten and Miss Eileen was two, going on three. Ronnie spent most of his time with me or going out on his rounds with Elzevir, until he was packed off to boarding school. I had a lot of time for Ronnie.’ She bustled into the larder to fetch a jug of milk. ‘But thanks for asking. No one else has thought to consider my feelings.’
‘I didn’t realise that you knew Dad so well. I suppose I just took it for granted that you’d been here forever. It’s silly, isn’t it?’
Annie screwed her face up in a semblance of a smile. ‘I’m just the wallpaper. Always there but no one really notices.’
‘I’d say you were more like the glue that sticks this crazy family together, and I’m sorry if I’ve taken you for granted, Annie. I don’t know what we’d do without you, especially Granny; she relies on you so much.’
Annie waved a teaspoon at her. ‘Get away with
you
. You’re just like your dad. He could soft-soap his way out of any scrape. Go and say hello to your gran. She’s taken it very hard, so don’t be surprised by anything she does. It’s her way of dealing with the grief.’
Mystified and anxious, Miranda left the room and hurried through the maze of passages that led eventually to her grandmother’s inner sanctum. She peered round the door, not exactly knowing what to expect or how she would comfort a bereaved mother when her own feelings were so raw that she felt almost numb. To her surprise she found her grandmother chatting on the telephone as if nothing had happened. She looked up, smiled and motioned Miranda to sit down in the saggy armchair by the window. ‘I won’t be a moment,’ she mouthed. She sat silently for a few seconds, listening intently, and then she nodded. ‘Of course. That’s fine. We’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening at seven.’ She paused, concentrating on what the other person was saying. ‘Dress? Oh, definitely casual. Ronnie could never stand to see women wearing black. He said it made them look like crows.’ She listened again, still nodding. ‘Yes, Ivy. It’s a celebration of his life: a salute to a brave soldier. Ronnie wouldn’t want anyone to feel sad.’
She replaced the receiver on its hook and turned to Miranda, holding her arms out. ‘It’s so good to see you, darling. Give your poor old granny a hug.’
‘I’m so glad to be home, Granny.’ Enveloped in
her
grandmother’s arms, Miranda inhaled the familiar scent of Apple Blossom perfume and Nivea Crème, which her grandmother applied liberally to her face every night before retiring to bed. She remembered her father teasing his mother about it during one of their frequent holidays at Highcliffe. Suddenly it all became too much for her and she broke away, fishing in her pocket for a hanky. ‘I’m sorry. I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry.’
‘Darling, you’re entitled to shed a few tears for your poor father. Heaven knows I bawled my eyes out when I first heard the news, but I meant what I said just now, Ronnie wouldn’t want us to be sad. He was a professional soldier, just like his father, and he knew the score. We’ll just have to be brave and be glad that we had him for as long as we did.’
‘But what about my mother? Does she know?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘Your grandfather has been in touch with the War Office, but the truth is that we simply don’t know where Jeanne is at the moment. She will be told, of course, but whatever she’s doing is so top secret that we’ll just have to wait for her to contact us whenever that may be.’ She laid her hand on Miranda’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry, my dear. It’s absolutely ghastly for you to lose one parent and not have the support of the other.’
‘I’ve got you and Grandpa,’ Miranda said with a wobbly smile. ‘And I just hope and pray that Maman is all right.’
‘That’s all we can do, darling.’
Miranda blew her nose in the large white handkerchief, and then realised that it was the one that Gil had given her just before they parted. She experienced a sharp stab of conscience, wishing that she had not sent him off thinking that she was a cold-hearted, ungrateful Goody Two-Shoes. Perhaps the name fitted after all. Maybe she should have relaxed a bit and allowed herself to enjoy a mild flirtation, instead of mooning after a man who was not the slightest bit interested in her. ‘I’m all right, Granny,’ she said, noting her grandmother’s worried expression. ‘Just a bit of a cold coming on.’ She tucked Gil’s hanky back into her pocket. ‘What were you saying to Aunt Ivy when I interrupted you?’
‘Poor Ivy’s been bombed out. Did I write and tell you? No, I probably forgot what with everything that’s been going on here. She’s staying in a hotel at present, but goodness knows when her house will be habitable again.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, but you were talking about a party, or something?’
‘Yes. I’ve arranged a little soiree for tomorrow evening, Miranda.’ Maggie held up her hands. ‘Don’t look so shocked. It’s just a few close friends who knew Ronnie and would like a chance to say goodbye. The most wretched part of all this is not being able to give him a decent burial. It’s part of the grieving process that’s denied to us, and this way I thought we could do something that my boy
would
appreciate. Ronnie loved to party, you must remember that.’
Miranda shook her head. ‘Not really. They used to go out a lot when he was on leave but I was always left at home with a babysitter when I was younger, and then later on I had friends of my own. I loved him, of course, and I’ll miss him terribly, but it’s Maman I feel really sorry for. She’ll be devastated. I wish I could be with her now and give her a big hug.’
‘Yes, of course. It’s dreadful not knowing where the poor girl is, but tomorrow evening we are not going to be gloomy. We’re going to send Ronnie off in style. He would have loved that.’ Maggie turned away to thumb through a well-used address book. ‘Now who have I missed out?’ She took the receiver off the hook, turning her head to give Miranda an encouraging smile. ‘Get Annie to make you some lunch, darling. I won’t be long, and then we can have a lovely long chat and you can tell me all about life at Henlow Priory.’
Miranda retired to the kitchen and ate Marmite sandwiches while Annie passed on titbits of gossip, most of which meant very little to anyone who was not a local, but Annie in full flow was virtually unstoppable. Miranda had just finished eating when her grandmother appeared in the doorway, flushed and with a purposeful look on her face. ‘Annie, I want you to go into the stables and get two bottles of embrocation. Elzevir has promised to take them
to
the farm and swop them for some cheese and butter, otherwise there will be no cheese straws for the party tomorrow evening.’
‘Are you sure about that, Mrs B? I mean, the Major said no one was to touch the stuff. Not after Elzevir got hauled up before him for being drunk and disorderly last Christmas.’
‘George will be at court all day and he’s taking the Home Guard practice in the church hall this evening, so what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over. Do as I ask, please, and be quick about it.’
‘Oh, all right. But on your own head be it.’ Annie snatched a key off its hook and stomped outside, grumbling beneath her breath.
‘Grandpa would be awfully cross if he knew,’ Miranda said warily. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit of a risk letting Elzevir loose with that stuff?’
‘We’re having a party. Life is all about risks as I’m sure you’re well aware. I’ve lost one son and might well lose another.’ Maggie’s eyes reddened and she sniffed loudly, holding up her hand as Miranda made a move towards her. ‘No, I don’t want sympathy. I have to be strong and so have you. I’ve telephoned the aerodrome and Jack isn’t on duty tomorrow evening. If he can get transport he’ll be here, and you’ll have a chance to see him and chat about planes and things. It will all be lovely – absolutely lovely.’ She hurried from the room, leaving Miranda staring after her and thinking that
indeed
the whole world had gone stark raving mad.
She saw little of her grandfather that day as he returned from court with only enough time to snatch a quick meal and to change into his Home Guard uniform. She went to the door to see him off. ‘You look splendid, Grandpa.’
He leaned over to kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you, darling girl. But I’m an old fogey now, not the man I was years ago.’
‘You’ll never be old, Grandpa.’ She raised her hand to touch his lined cheek. ‘You are all right about this party thing, aren’t you? You don’t think it’s too soon after …’ Her voice trailed off and she did not trust herself to finish the sentence.
‘If it helps your grandmother to cope with the grief then it’s fine by me. We’re all different, Miranda. She doesn’t want to let go and yet she knows that she must. It’s terrible to lose a child, and this is her way of dealing with it. Now, I must go or I’ll be late and that would never do. I’ll see you at the bun-fight tomorrow evening.’
She stood on the top step watching him striding towards the ancient Bentley with the vigour of a man half his age, and she felt a surge of love and pride for the grandfather who had given her so much. He had been always ready to lend a sympathetic ear when she was in her teens and rebelling in a quiet way against her strict upbringing. He was patient where Granny was quick-tempered, always flaring up like a firework and then fizzling out when
the
moment passed and wondering why those around her were upset. Grandpa was solid, dependable and kind. Granny was full of fun but unpredictable as the weather.
The phone rang as she was closing the door and when no one answered it she crossed the hall to pick up the receiver. ‘Hello.’
She heard the sound of coins dropping in the box as someone pressed Button A.
‘Hello. Who’s that?’
She recognised the voice immediately. ‘Rita? Where are you?’
‘Miranda, is that really you?’
‘It most certainly is.’
‘I’m in the village phone box and there’s a queue. Got to be quick but I’m just ringing to say that me and Tommy will be coming to the party tomorrow. I’m not on duty and Tommy’s got a pass too. I’ll see you then.’
‘I can’t wait. It’ll be lovely to catch up.’
‘There’s the bloody pips and I haven’t got any more change. Got to go, love …’
They were cut off and Miranda was left with the dialling tone. She replaced the earpiece on the hook. Perhaps the party would not be such a disaster after all.
The guests who lived within walking distance had come on foot and the local doctor and his wife had arrived in a pony and trap. Miranda stood beside
her
grandmother while she received them, and was almost smothered in Aunt Ivy’s capacious bosom as she greeted her with an all-enveloping hug. ‘My dear girl, I was so sorry to hear about your father.’ Ivy held her at arm’s length, gazing at her with moist eyes. ‘You poor little thing, and now you’re in the forces too; I can hardly believe it. You were still a schoolgirl when I last saw you.’
‘Well she’s grown up now, Ivy,’ Maggie said, motioning her to move on. ‘Go and get yourself a drink, my dear, and easy on the gin. Heaven alone knows when we’ll be able to get more. Everything is so scarce these days.’ She moved forward to greet a distinguished but rather stuffy-looking couple. ‘Judge Walters and Mrs Walters, how kind of you to come. I don’t think you’ve met my granddaughter, Miranda. It was her father who gave his life so bravely for his country.’
‘How do you do?’ Judge Walters acknowledged Miranda with a courtly bow and his wife nodded, smiling vaguely.
‘May I take your coats?’ Miranda could see that this was going to be a long evening and a dull one at that. She could hardly believe that her father would approve of this event as being a suitable send-off for a man who had loved to socialise, but Granny appeared to be in her element and was behaving as if nothing untoward had happened. Miranda could not help wondering what would happen to her grandmother when she had to face the fact that she
had
lost her eldest son and would never see him again. She could only hope that Rita would come soon and save the evening from total disaster. Forcing herself to smile, she saw the judge and his wife through to the drawing room.