As he guided her gently back to her bedroom, she willed herself to calm down. She could hear human noises outside her room, but her mind was still numb from the shock, and they made no sense. As she sat with James at the edge of her bed, as he patted her hand gently, she slowly started to make out what these noises were.
First, she heard Jen soothe Freddie in the next room. Alarmed, she recalled his desperate cries from earlier. They hadn’t registered at the time. Now, she remembered she’d first heard them as she tried limply to hold on to the banister, as Charles towered over her, a menacing bull, about to deliver the next strike.
She cringed at the very idea of him ever laying a finger on her child like that. She knew already that from now on she’d be shadowing Freddie all day, never allowing him to be alone with that lunatic; not even for a second.
And now, as her attention drifted again past James’s soothing voice, she listened as Harold tried to calm Charles down, outside on the landing.
He was urging him to go with him to the drawing room downstairs. There was the promise of whisky and ice. There was the lure of a warm fire and a sensible, quiet chat. Even as she heard Charles finally concede and start to go down the stairs with him, Laura knew it was pointless. There was no calming him down, no helping him, no changing his mind ever. It was final. He was capable of anything still. She wasn’t ever going to have her freedom.
Chapter 49
Laura spent the next few days at home, nursing her ugly bruises, both in body and mind. The staff at home acted like nothing had happened; except of course for the evident pity that Laura occasionally registered in their eyes, or perhaps it was her own sense of shame that gave her this impression.
Despite Harold’s daring behaviour towards Charles that horrific afternoon, his position at home hadn’t changed, nor his relations with him. He continued to tend to his master’s needs as dutifully and respectfully as before, while Charles, realising that the man had stayed his hand to protect him from himself, felt grateful towards him.
Under the burden of his own shame, Charles had chosen not to discuss the incident with his valet further, after their quiet talk in the drawing room that same afternoon. Harold had worked wonders to calm him down and to restore a rudimentary sense of peace in his mind.
Charles hadn’t forgiven Laura for her insolence that day and for expressing the wish to leave him. He still loved her more than anything and knew he’d never find the strength to let her go. Tortured by his feelings of inadequacy and remorse, he preferred to let things lie and not talk to her until, somehow, time healed the hurt between them.
Now, the atmosphere would grow heavy whenever they crossed paths in the house. Thankfully, it didn’t happen often, since they did their best to avoid each other all day.
Charles spent most of his waking hours in the small warehouse that he rented and which served as the secret address of his black market dealings. Most evenings, he visited The Black Cat, where his regular girls offered relief from the carnal desires that clearly, he could no longer satisfy at home.
These days, he needed the female touch a little more than normal, and not just in a sexual way. His deep sense of guilt for letting his marriage deteriorate to this unbearable extent, had made him desperate to seek the odd caress and to reach out and talk; just talk, whenever a female body lay beside him after the time of ecstasy had come and gone.
Back home, Laura felt relieved for his long absences. If anything, she had started to fear there was something very wrong with Charles, something frightening inside his head that made him a potential madman. She didn’t fear so much about herself, but more so for her child. For that reason, by now she guarded Freddie whenever Charles was in the house, never letting the boy out of her sight for a single moment.
Other than that, she no longer had the intention to leave her husband. After that harrowing afternoon, she knew with certainty this man was capable of anything. She also knew that had the others not rescued her from his hands that day, he probably would have killed her out of rage because she wanted to leave. And as he’d once threatened to hurt Christian if she left him, she believed that if he had to, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the child as leverage next time.
The very thought made her shiver with dread. To make sure this would never come to pass, she simply accepted her fate, knowing that in this house, she was destined to always be two things: the mistress and a prisoner to Charles’s warped sense of love.
Laura tried to find solace in other things so she could forget her own troubles. Of course, there was the joy of watching her precious son grow; the excitement she always felt as he gradually learned to string bigger and more complex sentences together, as she watched him grow to be strong, joyful, caring, and intelligent.
But what about the rest of the world? What morsel of comfort could she find in a world plagued by war? Whereas people lived their lives carefree before, now they worried all day about loved ones at the Front. As they slept, they dreaded the sound of aeroplanes thundering overhead.
Resources were running low in every household, mainly in terms of food and petrol. People’s favourite topic of discussion had got to be all the trivial things they got to miss, and all the big things they ached to do once this awful war was over.
Yet, it didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Germany had now invaded Poland, France and Belgium. Nazi troops were sweeping through France, approaching all the Channel ports. Every moment that passed, made the danger of an imminent attack on Britain greater and greater, deepening in the Britons’ hearts their sense of unease and fear.
Laura was no different to anyone else, as she worried daily over Christian and Eric. Maggie had finally had word from her cousin that they were fighting in Belgium. The last letter had been particularly bleak, speaking of awful conditions in the trenches. He had shared the gory details about some men, who had started to lose their toes from time spent sitting in muddy puddles inside those trenches, their boots offering little protection from pooling water. At least, it seemed that Christian and Eric were both well. All the girls could do is pray every day for their safety and their safe return to Britain.
That morning, Laura had asked for her breakfast to be served upstairs again. Freddie had woken up earlier, and she’d brought him to her room to play. The fire was blazing in the hearth and his cheeks were bright red, as he played on the carpet, blathering to himself while taking in his chubby hands one toy soldier after another.
When the doorbell rang, Laura expected it to be Maggie and due to her eager anticipation, her shoulders jumped at the sound. Maggie was rather later than usual that day. As she waited for her to show up, she’d been wondering why that was. These days, considering the fragility of the world around her, the slightest thing out of the norm would send her pulse racing.
Maggie rushed up the stairs as soon as Jen let her in and knocked on the bedroom door that stood ajar. Without waiting for an answer, she swung it fully open and strode in with urgency.
“Hello, Laura!” She huffed audibly. “Sorry I’m late! But you won't believe what’s happening in town!” Her face was flushed.
Laura mirrored her anxious expression and jolted upright. “What’s happened?”
“The Army! They’ve taken over the Pier! They came early this morning and blocked the entrance off!”
Laura brought a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. “Oh, my God!”
“Yes, can you imagine? I can’t believe it myself, and I’ve just seen it with my own eyes.” She shook her head forlornly. “To think Ian and I had tickets tonight to watch A Dangerous Corner at the Pavilion!”
“Do you think the show will be cancelled?”
“You’re not listening to me, Laura! Of course, it will be cancelled! The Army has sealed the entrance for good. No one is allowed on the Pier any more! Right now, the soldiers are unloading equipment from trucks. There’s talk that there are more to come; that they’ll be sealing off the whole promenade and our beaches!”
&
nbsp; “What? But why?”
“Everyone says they fear an invasion; now more than ever; that the Germans may want to use our piers for an easy evacuation off their boats. They’re approaching the opposite shores on mainland Europe fast!”
Laura took her friend by the hand, and they sat on her bed together. “It’ll be all right, Maggie,” she said, although she didn’t believe it. But her most precious friend in the whole world had broken down crying. It seemed like the right thing to say.
“Oh, Laura, what will happen to my cousin? And Christian? My God, I can't bear to think about it!”
“Don’t worry, Maggie. God is merciful. He will keep them safe.” Laura spoke her friend’s language on purpose, in order to give her a morsel of comfort, the kind she also yearned for but failed to find. Maggie was a firm believer in God; a devoted Catholic. She prayed day and night and had pinned all her hopes on the Divine.
Laura on the other hand, prayed more out of desperation rather than faith. There seemed nothing else she could do and so, she was willing to try it. But faith; that was another thing. Deep down, she had a deep-rooted sense of anger towards God for taking away her happiness and for turning it into absolute misery in a matter of a handful of years. This anger in turn had brought on a sense of guilt, which meant she believed her prayers were in vain. Why would God answer a prayer for someone who bears such grudges? But, being the only thing she had left, she prayed all the same, hoping that at least, God loved Christian more than He could ever love her.
Maggie continued to cry so Laura fetched a clean handkerchief from her wardrobe and offered it to her.
As her friend dabbed her eyes, Laura turned on the wireless and put on some jazz music to try to cheer them up. The jovial tune filled the room and in response, Freddie started to jerk his arms and legs about, then turned to the two women with a huge grin across his face, his striking blue eyes twinkling.
“If only we could be unaware of this horrid war as well,” said Maggie with a wistful smile, as she watched the boy’s mirthful, carefree expression.
Laura gave a thin smile as she sat upright. “Yes . . . If only a bit of dancing was all we needed to keep our troubles at bay.”
“We’d all be going around with a wireless strapped onto our backs then, wouldn’t we?” Maggie blew her nose and tried to smile, but all she managed was a twitch from her lips.
Laura smirked. “Or maybe they could make them smaller one day, and we could carry them in our pockets. Then we could dance all day long and feel light like feathers. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Her friend considered the ridiculous notion of small-sized music appliances and gave a wide grin.
Laura threw her hands in the air. “Finally! I got you to smile!”
Maggie gave her a cuddle and then rested her eyes upon her, their tenderness touching Laura’s soul like a caress.
“Look at you, Laura,” you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders, and you still manage a smile and a joke to cheer me up. If only I could convince you to make the same effort for yourself from time to time!”
“Ah Maggie, what hope is there for me? I’ve accepted my fate. Even if the war ends, there’s no hope for this prisoner,” she replied wryly, pointing at herself with a sharp finger.
“There is hope, Laura. There is always hope. As long as Christian is alive . . .”
Laura exhaled deeply. “Let’s not discuss this again today, Maggie. Maybe one day, if this war ever ends and we survive it, if . . .” She paused and turned away. Her eyes pooled with tears at the very thought. Another chance on happiness?
It was Maggie’s turn now to offer comfort. She took Laura by the shoulders and turned her around, gazing deep into her eyes. “Believe it, my darling . . . and pray! God tests us, Laura. Don’t you forget that. But in the end, a child should be with his real father, and two people who have loved each other so much should be given a second chance. The good Lord can never deny that to anybody.”
“All right, Maggie, I will keep praying . . . and I will try to believe that one day, God will forgive me enough to bring Christian back. If not to love me again, at least to give Freddie a chance to meet his real father.”
“There, that’s better,” said Maggie, satisfied to get this response out of her. It sufficed for now, to know she had got her to admit happiness could still be possible.
“What a time to get married, huh?”
Maggie shook her head. “You tell me . . . Sometimes I think Ian and I are mad doing this now, of all times. But he can't wait to do his bit for our country, and I refuse to let him go to war unless I can be his wife first. You don’t think this is wrong, do you, Laura?”
Laura squeezed her friend’s arm tenderly. “Of course not, dear Maggie! You two are crazy about each other. And what would happen to the world if we didn’t carry on with our lives in times of war? You’re doing the right thing! And I could sing at your wedding, if you like?”
Maggie’s face lit up. “Oh, Laura, thank you!” She put her arms around her friend and left a big kiss on her check. “You do realise you’ll be singing in our humble living room, back in my house though, don’t you? It’s a far cry from the fancy theatre halls you’re used to.” She giggled.
“Maggie, singing in the house I used to live in, and which is to house your new life with Ian, would be to me the greatest pleasure ever.”
As the cheerful music continued to fill the room, and as they watched Freddie play on the carpet, the two friends tried to forget all about the approaching menace on the opposite shores, and the looming threat of death for their loved ones in foreign lands. As if all that weren’t enough, now they’d also have to miss their beloved Pier, too. Without a warning, just like that, it was now the stamping ground of the Army.
In their troubled minds, practical questions pressed. What will happen to Mr Fern and his tearoom? To the stall-sellers, the staff at the arcade, the Pavilion, the Concert Hall? What will all these people do? What will Meg and Paul do, both of them having lost their jobs overnight? And Ian, soon to be married, having rehearsed for so long back at the Society, now, no longer having a venue for opening night . . .
The Army had just come to Brighton to carry out the first of many invasions in the life of Brightons. Unbeknownst to them, the Pier would never be the same again. Their lives had been instantly transformed when the Army sealed off its entrance.
But that wasn’t all; other than depriving the locals from their everyday fun time on the Pier—what little they had left by then—the Army had come to confirm their greatest fear too: that no matter how they tried to shake the idea of war from their minds, pretending it would never knock on their door, the threat was real after all. Now it was tangible, as the enemy troops reached the opposite shores, soon to hammer their daily lives with constant reminders of their destructive intentions.
Chapter 50
1988
When Sofia arrived at the West Pier after a brisk walk, she found the seafront deliciously quiet. This was the first time she came here at this hour, having favoured the mornings to marvel at the two piers and the generous sea view. She found a vacant bench and sat down, then spent a good ten minutes mesmerised, just watching the starlings’ swirling dance back and forth over the West Pier.
In the sky, the light was diminishing, fluffy white clouds moving slowly towards the east. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, sitting here till sunset. Does The Lady intend to offer me another sighting? Or is Danny in the vicinity, and she’s trying to get us to meet? She had a good think as she waited, then decided it would be best to stop worrying, not to expect anything and just be open to whatever was meant to happen.
She waited, as the descending sun slid softly towards the horizon, the sea, deep blue and foamy, reflecting the tender sunrays that caressed it. As the sky began to come alive with pink and lavender hues, so did the sea somehow, livening up and sparkling on the surface as if strewn with precious diamonds.
It was at that time, while Sofia
was deeply lost in the dramatic landscape unfolding before her eyes, that she noticed an old man approaching the bench. He was hobbling, aided by a cane, and had a kindly expression. He smiled and bowed his head, then said, “Hello, miss. Would you mind terribly if I sat here with you? It’s my favourite spot, you see. I always sit here.”
Sofia’s good manners kicked in as if by their own accord, before she even had the chance to feel annoyed by the intrusion. “Of course,” she responded with a polite smile, yet, in the time it took the elderly man to sit beside her at a respectful distance away, she managed to feel vexed. So many benches on the seafront! He had to come to this one? Let’s hope he’s not one to blather, at least. I don’t need distractions right now!
The old man, oblivious to her sense of discomfort, stretched out his legs before him and gave a long, luxurious sigh. “Ah . . . Isn’t the Pier splendid at this hour? Just look at the sky!”
Despite her mild annoyance, Sofia nodded her assent.
“You know, I come here every day. I love to watch the sunset here at the West Pier. Well, not at the West Pier any more, but you know what I mean . . .”
Sofia threw the man a surreptitious glance as he spoke. His skin was heavily wrinkled. He looked quite old. She guessed he was definitely in his eighties if not in his early nineties. “Did you visit the Pier in the old days?” The very idea intrigued her.
The elderly man nodded and when he turned to look at her, his dull brown eyes were glazed over with nostalgia. “Yes, I’ve been lucky enough to know the Pier in its better days.”
“So, you’re a local?”
“Yes. Born and bred. But I imagine you’re not. Actually, from your accent I am guessing you may even come from another country. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I am Greek.”
“Greece . . . the land of the Gods! That’s lovely.”
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