We'll Meet Again (26 page)

“He’s come to investigate,” said one of the women.

“Do you think there is a spy here?” asked another, looking round suspiciously.

“Something like that,” said the first speaker. “Well, it’s ever so exciting and there’s a war on anyway.”

As the morning progressed, I noticed that Marian was in a state of increasing uneasiness. Mary Grace noticed it too.

“I am sure she is worried,” she said to me. “I wonder what it is she has done … or is doing?”

“I could not imagine Marian as a spy, or involved in anything dramatic,” I said.

“You never can tell,” said Mary Grace. “I could not imagine it either, but sometimes the most unlikely people do these things.”

Two or three days passed. We heard that the inspector was to be at the Ministry until Thursday. No one had any idea what he was doing. Billy Bunter was now and then called to his office and came back looking more important than ever.

Poor Marian was in a nervous state, I could see. Every time the door opened and someone came into the department there would be panic in her eyes. I tried to think of what misdemeanors she could have committed, and came to the conclusion that they must be serious to have this effect on her.

Thursday came. The inspector was leaving that day. She was safe. I could sense her relief. But then, during that morning, Billy Bunter came to our table.

He said: “Mrs. Owen, the inspector would like a word with you.”

I saw the color rush into her face, and then she turned so pale that I thought she was going to faint. I wanted to run to her but restrained myself. Billy Bunter was smiling his urbane smile. We watched her as she followed him through the door, then we looked at her in dismay, too shocked to speak.

We just sat there, pretending to work, shifting our papers round and seeing nothing but Marian’s stricken face.

And then, at last, she returned.

We stared at her. We had not expected to see her. We had imagined her handcuffed and taken away to prison. Spying for the enemy. Or perhaps she had murdered someone years ago and it had just been discovered.

She was smiling as I had never seen her smile, and she looked at least ten years younger.

We waited breathlessly. There was a new air of confidence about her.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve been worrying about nothing.”

“What was it?” demanded Florette.

Marian looked around the table.

“I shall not tell you now,” she said. “I want you all to come as my guests to the Café Royal this evening. Is that all right? Free, are you?”

“Oh, you are mean, making us wait to know,” cried Florette. “We’re dying to hear.”

“You must be patient,” said Marian.

She picked up her papers with a happy smile on her face and began sorting them.

Florette was right when she said we were all eager to know. We all sat at our favorite table and Marian ordered sherries and then she started.

“You see, I was very worried. I’ll tell you frankly. I needed this job badly. I had my little pension, but I just could not make ends meet. Then the war came and they wanted people for work. This was the kind of job I fancied. I didn’t want anything menial. This was a nice office job where you met nice people.”

“All right,” said Florette. “You wanted the job. What else?”

“They didn’t want people over sixty. Well, I have a confession to make. I lied about my age.”

“Is that all?” demanded Florette.

“It’s lying,” said Marian. “It’s a terrible thing to do in wartime, and when this inspector came, I thought, he’s going to find out. He’s vetting us all and you know how thorough they are? I thought he’d turn me out and then what would I do?”

“And what happened?” I asked.

“Well, I went along and Billy left me with him. He was a nice man. He had a ledger open on his desk and he said, ‘Sit down, Mrs. Owen.’ I was shaking all over like a leaf. Then he said: ‘It’s this matter of age.’ Then I knew it had come. He was going to send me away, I thought, and I just wondered what I would do. It’s made such a difference. It was just what I wanted.”

“Yes, yes,” said Florette impatiently.

“‘According to your records,’ he said, ‘you are sixty-two.’”

She looked at us searchingly, to see what effect this information was having on us.

“You see, I’d let them believe I was ten years younger. Nobody had doubted it. You didn’t, did you?”

“Never thought of it,” said Peggy.

“None of us did,” I said.

“I never think about people’s ages,” added Mary Grace.

“Then he laughed,” went on Marian, “and I burst out, ‘I wanted the job. I needed the job. If they had known my real age, they wouldn’t have had me.’ ‘Well, Mrs. Owen,’ he said, ‘it’s always best to tell the truth. But I suppose you’re right. There would have been some question about employing you at that age. Well, you’re here now and Mr. Bunter tells me you are as good a worker as the rest. I don’t think Mr. Hitler is going to care very much whether you are too old for the job, do you?’ He laughed. That seemed very funny, so I laughed with him. I thought I’d burst into tears if I didn’t. ‘Let’s say no more about this, Mrs. Owen,’ he said. ‘I don’t blame you for knocking off those years. Nobody would guess.’ Then I came away.”

“Is that all you’ve been worrying about all this time?” demanded Florette.

The four of us looked at each other and smiled, remembering what we had imagined.

“How did you know I was worrying? Was it so obvious?”

“Poor old Marian,” said Florette. “People in show business always knock off a few years. It’s all part of the game.”

We all laughed. That was a very merry evening at the Café Royal.

M
AY HAD COME AND
there was a feeling of anticipation everywhere. Great events were about to burst upon us and people were saying that the end of the war was not far off.

Richard was reticent about his activities and I guessed that he was involved in some secret operation. His leaves were less frequent and when they did come we made the most of them.

He very much enjoyed those evenings we spent in the Victoria flat. He would send a message to me and I would be there, going through the cupboard so that I could make supper by the time he arrived, for it was always uncertain how long he would stay or even if he should be called back almost immediately. There was a telephone in the flat and on one occasion he was called back when we were in the middle of a meal.

It was a beautiful day and I had had a message during the previous one. He could get away. Could I be there? I think we all felt at that time that we must be free when a soldier friend wanted to see us. There was always a possibility that it might be the last opportunity for a long time.

I went to the flat and let myself in, for Richard had acquired a key for me. I went into the kitchen and prepared the meal. It was almost ready by the time he arrived. He looked a little strained, I thought.

“Has life been hectic?” I asked.

“I should say so. Hardly a minute when one isn’t rushing somewhere. I think these little respites are going to become fewer in the weeks to come.”

“Let me wait on you,” I said, and I poured a drink for him.

“It’s good to be here,” he said. “I’ve grown fond of this little flat. Have you, Violetta?”

“Yes, I have.”

“I have never experienced coming across an oasis in the desert, but I imagine it is like this.”

“I have the supper all ready.”

“That sounds like bliss.”

“So you think something is about to break?”

He lifted his shoulders.

I went on: “All very hush hush, I suppose.”

“Top secret.”

“I see. I hope you are going to like your supper. I’ve had to improvise a bit.”

“It will taste delicious, I am sure.”

“Don’t be too sure. Just hope.”

I sat down with him while he finished his drink. I thought he looked a little uneasy. I tried to amuse him with gossip about the Ministry and made much of Marian’s drama.

Suddenly he said: “Violetta, I want to talk to you seriously. This may be my last visit to the flat for some time to come.”

I was alert. There was something different in his attitude.

“I can’t tell you how much our meetings have meant to me. You remember how it was in the past.”

“I remember,” I said.

“I asked you to marry me then. If only you had …”

“We both felt it wasn’t quite right, didn’t we?”

“There were misunderstandings. We could have cleared those up … and then there was this Cornish man.”

“There really always was,” I said.

“Do you think he will ever come back?”

“I have to think that he will. I have to hope.”

“There is only one hope. If he is a prisoner and Europe is liberated, he might be able to get back.”

“I feel sure he is alive.”

“That’s because you want to believe it. It’s highly improbable, Violetta.”

“Lots of highly improbable things happen.”

“I think you must know that I love you.”

“I know-we are very good friends. We always were.”

“One can love one’s good friends, can’t one? All these days we have been together, I’ve had to stop myself from telling you everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. I have a great deal to tell.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I must.”

“Well, I am listening.”

“It isn’t easy, Violetta. When the war is over and it is absolutely certain that Jowan will never come back, would you marry me?”

“Oh, Richard!” I cried. “I can’t let myself think of his not coming back. I don’t think I shall ever want to marry anyone but Jowan.”

“You can’t spend the whole of your life mourning for someone who will never return.”

“I suppose some people have done that. In any case, I can’t believe that he is dead. His grandmother feels the same. We understand each other absolutely.”

“It could be that you are deluding yourselves. Perhaps, when the war is over and he has not come back …”

“He will come back. I know he will.”

There was silence for a while, then he said: “I daresay you have wondered how things could have been so different between us … different from the way they were, I mean. You remember how in the past I urged you to marry me?”

“Yes, but it didn’t happen.”

“I had a reason for not asking you again … not, as they say … pressing my suit.”

“I just thought we were good friends and all that was over.”

“It is not over for me. But I will tell you why I could not ask you to marry me. It is because, Violetta, I have done a very foolish thing. I am married already.”

I stared at him in amazement. “Then where … ?”

“Where is my wife? I have no idea. I have not heard of her for more than a year. It was a disastrous mistake. The war had just started. I had made friends in the army. One of them had a sister. She was a very accomplished young lady. Lady Anne Tarragon-Lee was her name. She was sophisticated, clever, somewhat haughty, and I was rather flattered, I think, that she should show me some attention. I don’t know how I could have been so foolish, but those were the first days of the war when everything seemed exciting. We were all waiting for the battle to start, and you know there was the long wait. It seemed like an unreal war. For me, army life was like being at school again. I felt irresponsible, I suppose, and I can’t quite explain how it happened. It seemed wonderful at the time.”

I was so amazed that I remained silent. Richard, whom I had always thought to be so practical, so full of common sense, to have married rashly! It was hard for me to believe.

He understood my feelings, for he said: “I see it is difficult for you to understand. It was the times, I suppose. We were all a little bemused then.”

“And you are no longer bemused?”

He nodded. “I soon realized the folly of what I had done.”

He paused and, as he did so, I heard the air raid warning, faint at first but growing louder.

He disregarded it. After all, we were accustomed to hearing its frequent wail.

I said: “And now … where is your wife?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you not see each other?”

We started as the crunch of a falling bomb hit the air.

“Not far off,” commented Richard, then: “I hope they are not coming this way.” He went on: “I think she is as eager to be free as I am.”

“There will be a divorce?”

“I expect so. There are many like us. We rush into these wartime marriages and then have to concern ourselves with getting out of them.”

“Well, if you both feel that way, it will be easier, I suppose.”

We heard the bomb fall, nearer this time; we sat listening to the sound of falling masonry.

Richard said: “That was very close. I think we had better get out of here.”

I rose, prepared to go down to the basement which was used as a shelter for the flat dwellers. I picked up my coat and handbag and we went to the door, but we did not reach it, for suddenly the earth seemed to open and I was falling. Richard was not there. My eyes and mouth were full of dust. I was lying down and then the darkness descended.

I awoke in a bed in an unfamiliar room. I noticed other beds. When I saw the girl in a nurse’s uniform, I realized I was in hospital. Then I vaguely remembered being in the flat and hearing the falling bombs.

Richard, I thought immediately. Where was Richard? We had been together on our way to the basement… and then this had happened.

The nurse came and stood by my bed.

“Hello,” she said. “Feel all right?”

“Where am I?”

“St. Thomas’s.”

“Hospital?” I said.

“That’s it. Nasty shock, was it?”

“We were bombed, of course.”

“That’s it … along with others. It was a bad night.”

“My friend?”

“Oh yes, he’s all right. I mean he’s here. He came off worse than you did.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not now, dear. See if you can drop off. A sleep will do you the world of good.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

She looked at the watch pinned on her blouse.

“Just on two.”

“In the morning?”