The Granville Sisters (26 page)

Henry spoke. ‘Nothing is going to stop Hitler rampaging through the whole of Europe, is it? Germany is armed to the hilt. Only last week I heard that the Nazis have trained six thousand pilots for the Luftwaffe.’

‘It doesn’t help, either,’ Ian remarked forcefully, ‘that Britain has been selling bloody Rolls-Royce aircraft engines
to
the Germans for some time.’

‘I know. Sometimes I despair of this government. The Prime Minister was crazy to trust Hitler when he signed that peace treaty in 1937.’

Ian glanced around to make sure he couldn’t be overheard.

‘There’s going to be something different about the way we fight this war if it happens,’ he murmured.

‘Such as?’

‘Apart from the usual armed forces there are plans to create a secret organization, led by a British Army Officer, which will train suitable people to be dropped behind the enemy lines; not only to spy on the Germans and transmit the information back to England, but also to carry out acts of sabotage.’

‘That’s interesting,’ Henry said thoughtfully. ‘I suppose they could recruit the members of any resistance movement in whichever country they will operate in.’

‘Better than that,’ Ian whispered. ‘In this country they plan to recruit the cream of the criminal world. Safe-breakers, cat burglars, pickpockets – they’ve all got skills that will be invaluable for a saboteur. The regular Army are furious of course; think it’s an underhand way of fighting a war.’

‘To hell with that,’ Henry agreed.

‘Churchill has been having secret talks … he backs the idea to the hilt.’

‘All we’re really waiting for now is for Hitler to make a move towards European domination, isn’t it? Before we do anything?’

‘We’ll intervene before that happens,’ Ian said quietly.

Henry raised his blonde eyebrows, his blue eyes sharp with anxiety. ‘When?’

Ian nodded, and drank deeply of his Burgundy. ‘What will happen is we’ll issue the German government with an ultimatum.’

‘When?’

Ian gave a slight shrug. ‘When the time comes. Where are we now? July … I’d say, if things continue like this, we’ll be at war in just over a year’s time.’

Although Henry already knew it was an inevitable outcome, he didn’t think it could happen as soon as 1939. Confirmation from someone in Ian’s position was like a blow to the heart.

‘Dear God,’ he murmured, appalled. ‘How can we? We’re not equipped for war. We won’t be ready by next year, even if we started to re-arm right now. Why the hell didn’t the government listen to Churchill back in ’35? Instead of calling him a warmonger?’

They’d sat talking until they were the last to leave White’s imposing dining room.

Henry slept badly that night, dreaming of the men in his regiment who hadn’t returned from the Great War. Dreaming of the shell fire, the bloodied and broken bodies of his comrades, the hideous pungent stink of latrines, sulphur, and of death. Wondering all the time, guiltily, why he was still alive.

When he awoke, he realized for the first time that he was glad he’d only had daughters.

‘Henry? … Did you hear what I said?’ Liza asked.

They were entering Guildford, busy with people doing their weekend shopping.

‘Sorry, darling. I was concentrating on the traffic,’ Henry apologized glibly. ‘What did you say?’

‘I
said
,’ Liza repeated, with martyred patience, ‘that I’d never make the mistake I made last time … by bringing out two of the girls together. It blighted Rosie’s year; that’s why she lost her confidence. I wish we’d done it differently. Given them each a season; things might have worked out better, mightn’t they? Anyway, now that Charles has got a job in an art gallery, and there’s another baby on the way, Rosie seems quite happy again. And coming out that year was certainly very good for Juliet. What a wonderful life she’s living now! I wonder when
she’ll
have a baby. Cameron must want an heir. Anyway, as I was saying, how far ahead do you think we should book the Hyde Park Hotel for Louise’s coming-out ball? On the other hand, there’s nothing as nice as a ball in a private house, is there? Henry! Henry, what are you doing?’

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Henry swerved the car violently up a side turning into a quiet little street. Then he slammed on the brakes so hard, Liza was thrown forward, her face missing the windscreen by inches.

She turned on him, enraged. ‘Have you gone out of your mind?’ she screamed. ‘What are we doing? You could have killed us both!’

‘Attempting to get you to face reality! That’s what I’m doing,’ he shouted back. It was the first time in twenty-four years he’d raised his voice to her.

‘What … what do you mean?’ she quavered, about to burst into tears.

‘Liza, do you never read a bloody newspaper? Or listen to the wireless? Unless it’s the weather forecast so you’ll know what sort of bloody hat to put on your head? How can you be so bloody stupid?’ Henry thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, his face scarlet with anger. ‘Don’t you realize there’s going to be a war? Possibly next year? You’ve got to stop behaving like an ostrich. It’s going to happen, and it’s no good pretending it isn’t! Forget about bringing Louise out in three years’ time. Remember how long the Great War lasted?’

‘Of c-course I remember.’ She was sobbing now, her face buried in her hands. ‘I prayed
every night
for four years that you’d return safely. It was the worst four years of my l-life …’

Henry looked at his pretty, vapid little wife, whose worst fear was that the splendid life she’d acquired through marrying him might all come to an end. He sighed inwardly, wishing sometimes that he’d married an intellectual equal; a woman with whom he could share a real life, not a roundabout of parties.

‘Darling, don’t cry,’ he said wearily. ‘You were such a brave girl during the last war. Such a brave little bride … waving me off at Waterloo Station.’ He knew he ought to put his arms around her, but the chill of anxiety paralysed him, and he was unable to offer her comfort beyond the reassurance of his words.

‘But what are we going to
do
, Henry?’ Liza felt soggy and shaken. ‘You won’t have to go to the front again, will you?’

‘Of course not. Much too old,’ he replied with false jocularity. ‘They wouldn’t want an old timer like me. In truth, I don’t know what will happen. But we’ll manage, like we did last time. We’ll get through it, Liza, because we’re Granvilles.’

‘What’s wrong with Mummy?’ Louise asked. The sisters had come down earlier by train, with Nanny and Ruby in attendance.

Liza had slipped up to her room as soon as she and Henry had arrived, avoiding seeing anyone, including Lady Anne.

‘She’s got a headache,’ Henry said lightly.

‘She
always
has headaches when she comes here,’ Charlotte remarked. Now seven, and acutely observant in the same way Juliet had been at that age, she was also inclined to ask awkward questions and make blunt remarks. ‘I don’t think she likes being in the country. It’s too quiet,’ she added sagely.

‘The reason Mummy doesn’t like it here,’ Amanda pointed out bossily, ‘is because there aren’t enough parties.’ She’d been forced to wear glasses during the past year at Henry’s insistence, not that she cared. If wearing glasses prevented her from making ‘a good match’, so what? She hated parties anyway and thought they were a dreadful waste of money.

Amanda had become a ten-year-old rebel, who, to her father’s amusement, disapproved of most of her family’s activities.

‘I thought we’d have tea in the conservatory,’ Lady Anne said.

‘A lovely idea,’ Henry agreed. ‘Come along, girls.’

‘Shall I be mother, then?’ Lady Anne asked gaily, picking up the silver teapot.

Smiling with relief at being back in the peaceful haven of Hartley, Henry sank into one of the cane chairs. ‘That would be marvellous, Mother.’ He surveyed the table, set with cucumber sandwiches, scones and jam, and a rich Dundee cake. ‘I see Mrs Dobbs has been busy.’

His mother smiled. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her.’ Her bright eyes looked at him closely. ‘You look tired, Henry.’

He made a little grimace. ‘It’s been a long week.’

Louise sat down beside him. ‘You work too hard, Daddy.’ She was approaching the borders of puberty with serenity and there was a gentle stillness about her that attracted people, as if they felt safe in her company. Slightly plumper than her elder sisters, and with freckles scattered across her nose, she was the calm one. The placid one.

‘It’s half term, Daddy. Can’t you stay for the rest of the week with us?’ she asked.

‘I wish I could, pet,’ he said ruefully. ‘But everything is … well, very unsettled.’

‘Can’t you take a holiday? Everyone has holidays, even if they are chairman of a bank.’

Henry looked at her tenderly. She had a great nurturing streak, always rescuing motherless kittens, or birds that had fallen out of the nest. One day she would make a wonderful mother, he reflected.

‘Daddy,’ Amanda asked. ‘I want to start collecting money for the poor children of the village. I don’t think they have enough to eat. And why don’t we give them some of our clothes? And
someone
,’ she continued darkly, ‘someone should be raising the money to get a new school built. And cottages with loos
inside
the house and not in the back yard. Couldn’t you give some money to help?’ she suggested.

Henry and Lady Anne exchanged looks.

‘Could it be,’ Lady Anne asked Henry, when the children had gone out to play, ‘that we have a budding Socialist in our midst?’

They both started to laugh. Neither mentioned Liza, reclining upstairs on her
chaise longue
, but both could imagine the uproar it would cause if Amanda were to grow up and betray her own background.

‘Oh! Is that your car?’ Charlotte exclaimed excitedly, rushing out of the house as Juliet parked her new Rolls Royce coupé next to her father’s Bentley.

‘Yes, darling. Cameron gave it to me for Christmas.’ She started gathering up all her parcels. ‘These are presents for you all. I had a shopping spree in Harrods yesterday.’

‘But it’s not Christmas,’ Charlotte pointed out.

‘Who cares about Christmas?’ Juliet joked, as Warwick helped her with her luggage.

Louise and Amanda came running up. ‘How much did that car cost?’ Amanda asked immediately.

‘I haven’t the faintest,’ Juliet replied merrily. ‘Lots and lots, I expect, but then Cameron has lots and lots.’

Charlotte looked impressed. ‘As much as the King?’

‘Maybe more,’ Juliet teased, amused.

‘More?
More?
’ Her little sister’s mouth dropped open.

‘Does he give any to poor people?’ Amanda enquired.

Juliet had no time to reply, as the whole family, led by Henry, came out to greet her.

‘You look well, darling,’ Lady Anne told her. ‘How is life in the Highlands?’

‘Not as much fun as life in the Lowlands,’ Juliet quipped drily.

‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ Liza exclaimed dismissively. ‘You have a lovely time up there.’

Lady Anne looked closely at Juliet, recognizing the signs of boredom. In spite of everything, she could tell Cameron Kincardine was obviously not enough for Juliet. She needs a real man, Lady Anne reflected, and then immediately wondered why she’d used that phrase.

In fact, Juliet was inwardly feeling desperate. She’d found Daniel’s telephone number in Kent, through directory inquiries, and, plucking up courage, she’d actually dialled it, only to have it answered by a servant, who informed her that Mr and Mrs Lawrence were away. Juliet had hurriedly hung up, without having to leave her name. But how long was he going to be away? Did she dare telephone him again in a few days? A week? Cursing herself for not having got more information, she’d decided to go back to the houseboat on the Embankment. Maybe the old man who owned it could help. But there was no one on the boat and it had a depressingly deserted air.

On Friday evening she’d phone Cameron to say she’d have to stay down in London longer than she’d expected, because she’d need several fittings for the clothes she’d ordered.

Letting Hartley work its magic on her, Juliet felt much calmer and happier by Sunday morning. She
would
find Daniel somehow, and meanwhile it was wonderful to be back with all her family.

Dressed in elegant cream slacks and a silk shirt, she decided to walk to the village to see Rosie, once more living at Speedwell Cottage, whilst trying to make a go of her marriage.

She found Sophia, who had just turned one, in her playpen on the tiny back lawn, while Rosie kept an eye on her through the open kitchen window, as she did the washing-up.

‘Hello, there!’ Juliet called out gaily, walking round to the back door.

Rosie, furious at being caught unawares, and wearing an old cotton dress covered by a grubby apron, with her hair a mess, was less gracious. ‘What on earth are you doing down here?’

The stark contrasts between their lives hit Juliet like a thunderbolt. She hadn’t made a bed in her life; hadn’t washed even a teacup; didn’t know how to work one of those modern vacuum cleaners, and didn’t even know how to boil an egg. And she had more money than she knew what to do with.

‘Don’t overdo the warm welcome, will you,’ she remarked sarcastically.

‘You might have warned me you were coming,’ fumed Rosie. She jerked the plug out of the sink by its chain, and the soapy water glugged noisily down the drain. ‘I thought you were still in Scotland.’

‘Would you prefer it if I went back?’

‘Do as you like,’ Rosie snapped sulkily. She glanced round the small cluttered kitchen, seeing it through Juliet’s eyes. The charwoman didn’t come on a Saturday, so there was a pile of saucepans still to be cleaned; dirty nappies in a bucket of water, waiting to be washed, and a dustbin brimming to the top, so that the lid was placed at a precarious angle. Even Rosie, accustomed to the mess, realized it looked like a slum dwelling, and the rest of the cottage wasn’t much better.

‘I’m having to do everything myself today. Mrs Black doesn’t come at the weekend,’ she said defensively.