She was more ashamed of her deviousness with Gerald. She acted all breathless and happy to see him, pretending his kisses excited her to maintain his interest, because she liked being wined and dined and treated like a lady.
She could see him now, enjoying the party. He was chatting with Rose, Peter and a couple of other people, but he kept looking around longingly for her with his puppy-dog eyes. He was a considerate man, so he probably sensed she wanted a bit of time to herself and would wait for her to go over to him. She liked that about him – in fact, she liked a great deal about him – but as a friend, nothing more.
She’d become so good at playing the ideal guest that she found herself becoming the ideal daughter too. When she spoke to her parents on the telephone, she was always careful to say how much she missed them, her brothers and Mog. She took an interest in everything they were doing, knowing all this would convince them she had grown up and become a responsible person. She only told them news that smacked of culture or education, such as the plays she’d seen at the theatre, the ballets at Sadler’s Wells, or her friendships with fellow students at college. She left out the parties and wilder entertainment.
A few weeks ago, while in Noah’s study, she’d seen and sneakily read a partly written letter to her parents. He wrote with warmth and affection about how mature she’d become, how charming she was to their friends, and how helpful to Lisette. He had broken off at the point where he said how much they would all miss her when she went home, and she had wondered if he was considering pleading for her to stay.
If she could just rid herself of nostalgic thoughts about Morgan, she would claim to be the happiest girl in the world tonight. She didn’t understand why he kept creeping back into her mind after the shocking way he’d behaved towards her.
But perhaps it was just as well he’d shown his true colours because living here in St John’s Wood had given her a taste for the finer things in life, and he could never have matched it. Maybe that did make her mercenary, but she couldn’t think of anything worse than living in a couple of shabby rooms and wearing the same dress day in and day out, not even if Morgan treated her like a queen.
‘That’s what I want,’ she thought as she watched Noah and Lisette dancing cheek to cheek. It was obvious to everyone that theirs was a marriage made in heaven. Even when they had a little tiff about something, one of them would start to laugh, and suddenly it was all over and they would be hugging each other. Mariette couldn’t imagine anything or anybody ever coming between them. Her parents were the same, although her mother was a lot less docile than Lisette.
She wondered if you knew when you’d met the right man, from the very first meeting. And if not, how long did you have to give it to be absolutely certain?
In the weeks that followed her graduation party, Mariette observed that people had become much more focused on what was important and what wasn’t. Everyone kept talking about making the most of everything because they didn’t know what was around the corner, the implication being that death could snatch them away at any time. It helped that the weather in July and August was beautiful, with long periods of hot sunshine. Noah said he’d never before seen so many people picnicking on Hampstead Heath and swimming in the ponds there.
People were remarkably calm about the prospect of war, but that could be because they weren’t very well informed and still imagined it would be averted at the last moment.
Mariette was informed, thanks to Noah. He had been incensed, back in March, when Hitler sent his troops into Czechoslovakia. And when Germany and Italy agreed the Pact of Steel, in May, he’d said no one could possibly claim they hadn’t got aggressive intentions.
It was his sense of duty, and the need to keep his finger on the pulse, as he put it, that prompted Noah to pack Lisette, Rose and Mariette off for a holiday in a cottage near Arundel at the start of August, while he stayed at home in London.
‘You don’t want me around, harping on about war,’ he said to Lisette as he saw them into the car. ‘You have a good time together, it might be the last chance you get for some years to enjoy a relaxed holiday.’
As Andrews drove the car out of the driveway, Mariette looked back at her godfather standing on the doorstep. She thought he looked suddenly older, and a little fearful.
‘He is haunted by things he saw in the last war,’ Lisette said, picking up on the same thought. ‘He was so sure all those millions of brave young men, on both sides, had died to ensure lasting peace. Now he finds he was wrong, and that is hard for an idealist to come to terms with. He told me this morning he is going to find some kind of war work, and I’m hoping that will pull him round.’
Lisette’s words jolted Mariette and made her think of her father. She hadn’t ever really considered before what he went through in the last war. She had always known he had been a war hero and was awarded the Croix de Guerre, France’s highest military honour. But was he feeling the same as Noah now, thinking that perhaps the sacrifices made by so many of his countrymen had all been for nothing? He was getting old and it must be hard for him to watch young men full of fire and patriotism enlisting, knowing that many of them would die.
Was he worrying about her too? Afraid that she might be hurt or killed? She had spoken to him on the telephone, just after Noah had explained why she couldn’t go home, and he sounded calm, not even slightly emotional. But he had said something which she thought sounded very odd.
‘War can bring out the best or the worst in us, Mari. True courage is when you can hold on to what is right, whatever the cost to yourself, even when it seems all hope has gone. I hope you will never find yourself in that situation. But if you do, remember what I told you.’
All gloomy thoughts of what war might bring to them and their families vanished when Lisette and the girls arrived at the quaint thatched cottage in Arundel. It was tiny, with just a living-room-cum-kitchen and two bedrooms. There was no bathroom, and the lavatory was out in the garden, but it was so pretty and had a view over fields to the river, so they didn’t mind. Rose said it was like a doll’s house, and she suggested they all take turns to cook and tidy up so that Lisette could have a real rest.
She grinned at Mariette. ‘Of course, that means we’ll only get a decent meal every three days, when it’s Mama’s turn. And expect salad from me, I can’t do much else.’
It was good to see Lisette relaxing; at home, she was always busy with voluntary work, gardening and jobs around the house. Mariette had often wondered why she didn’t get Mrs Andrews to do a little more – she was, after all, supposed to be the housekeeper.
‘Isn’t it odd that when you go away you enjoy the ordinary things so much more?’ Rose said on the second morning, while they were eating breakfast at a little table just outside the kitchen door. ‘I mean, we eat toast every day at home. But this toast, with this superb marmalade, tastes so much better in the open air. At home, I think it’s a terrible chore going to the shop to buy some eggs or something. But the thought of wandering up the lane later to buy a few groceries fills me with delight.’
‘You’d soon get bored, if you lived here all the time,’ Lisette laughed. ‘And speaking of going to the shop in the village, we ought to start buying up some sugar, tea, flour and such like. It will all be rationed as soon as the war starts.’
‘Isn’t hoarding food frightfully bad form?’ Rose asked.
‘Maybe. But I remember going without, and how awful it was, in the last war. I used to go over to Blackheath sometimes, when Belle was in France. Mog always seemed able to lay her hands on meat and cheese, I think Garth must have got it on the black market. I envied that so much. She always stuffed some little parcels in my bag before I went home. We had a day bottling fruit together too, and that’s something we should do when we get back – in fact, we can probably buy a lot of plums to take home with us.’
‘Mog still bottles fruit, makes jam and chutneys,’ Mariette said, suddenly seeing an image of Mog stirring a huge saucepan on the stove with
rows and rows of sparkling jam jars lined up on the kitchen table. ‘We ought to grow vegetables in the garden, Auntie Lisette, and maybe get some chickens. That was what kept us going, when times were hard a few years back – that, and Dad going fishing. I know all about chickens, I could look after them.’
Lisette laughed at Mariette’s earnest expression. ‘I never expected to hear you suggest growing vegetables or keeping chickens,’ she said. ‘But you are right, that’s exactly what we should do. We kept chickens, pigs and grew vegetables when I was a girl in France. Back then, I used to wish for a pretty garden with lots of flowers. When Noah bought the house we live in now, I was so excited that I could finally have my flower garden. Now you want me to dig it all up to grow things to eat?’
It was the first time Lisette had ever said anything about her childhood, and Mariette wanted to know more.
‘You could keep some flower beds,’ she said. ‘But were your family poor?’
‘Very poor,’ Lisette said with a grimace. ‘I was one of five children, and I can remember being hungry many times and having holes in the soles of my shoes. I used to dream of food – roast beef, pork and big fruit cakes. I wanted pretty dresses and dainty underwear, a warm coat and shoes that fitted properly. I ran off to Paris when I was only fourteen, believing all these things were waiting for me there. I soon found out that there is only one way to get them, and that is to work very hard.’
‘Or marry a rich man,’ Mariette said.
‘Rich men don’t marry poor little country girls with ragged clothes,’ Lisette said sharply.
Mariette blushed, sensing she’d touched a raw nerve with her remark.
‘You never say anything about your brothers and sister. Are they still alive?’ Rose asked her mother.
‘My sister died of pneumonia in 1911. My brothers may have died in the war. But if they survived, they would be in their late sixties and seventies now as I was the youngest. We fell out a very long time ago. They were mean-spirited people, I do not want to know them.’
Mariette was sure there was a great story behind the little that Lisette had revealed, and resolved to tackle her about it another time.
Meanwhile, it was the best kind of holiday. The weather was beautiful, and they went for many long walks exploring the countryside, caught the train to Littlehampton, or sat around in the garden reading. They bought Kilner jars, bottled gooseberries and plums, and made a large quantity of raspberry jam to take back to London. In the evenings, they played card games or just chatted.
As the end of August approached, it seemed that everyone in England was holding their breath, waiting for an announcement about the war on the wireless. As there was no wireless in the cottage, their elderly neighbours invited them in on Sunday, 3rd September, at eleven o’clock to hear Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain make his speech.
The day was hot and still. As they clustered around the wireless, somehow as soon as they heard the grave tone of Chamberlain’s voice, they knew he had only bad news.
‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.
‘I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’
Everything seemed to go into slow motion for Mariette as Chamberlain continued his speech. She watched a tear trickle down Lisette’s cheek, saw the alarm on the faces of the old couple who, she already knew, had lost both their sons in the previous war. Rose just stared into space, as if she’d been turned to stone.
Mariette noticed there was a bee stuck on the lace curtains at the window. She wanted to go and help it get free, but it seemed wrong to do something so trivial at such a moment.
‘Now may God bless you all,’ Chamberlain finished up. ‘May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution – and against them I am certain that the right will prevail.’
The old man was the first to speak. ‘Well, war or not, I need to water my runner beans,’ he said.
That broke the silence. Lisette got up and thanked the couple for allowing them to hear the broadcast. Then they went back to their cottage.
Without anyone saying a word, they all sensed that the holiday was now over. Lisette put the kettle on, and Mariette and Rose sat at the table waiting to be told what they must do.
‘I should go to the telephone box and ring Noah,’ Lisette said. ‘I expect he’s already told Andrews to come and get us. So, while I’m ringing him, you had better start packing.’
‘How long will it be before bombs start dropping?’ Rose asked anxiously.
Lisette moved closer to her daughter and caressed her cheek comfortingly. ‘I don’t know, darling, but I would assume Germany will attack France first. But, as you know, they began evacuating all the London children on Friday. And they’ve been urging us to take our gas masks everywhere for weeks now, so maybe the government are expecting bombs immediately.’
‘Is it wise to go back to London then?’ Rose said fearfully. ‘Why can’t Papa come and stay with us here?’
‘I don’t want to stay here. I want to do something useful for the war, and that means being in London,’ Mariette said eagerly. She liked Arundel for a holiday, but she’d be bored stiff if their stay ran into months. ‘I’m sure you want to do something too, Rose. And won’t all your clients need you back?’
‘I think a great many of them will leave London too,’ Rose said.
‘Noah will decide where we go for the duration of the war,’ Lisette said firmly. ‘I know I would prefer to take my chances in my own home. We have, after all, got a fine cellar beneath it. Besides, my place is with my husband.’
Just the day after they returned from Arundel, Peter and Gerald called round to say they’d enlisted in the RAF. As both of them had been in the RAF cadet corps at school, and they had some flying experience too, they were going straight to pilot training school the following morning to learn how to fly Spitfires and Hurricanes.
Mariette applauded them both, but Rose burst into tears, throwing herself into Peter’s arms and saying she was afraid he’d be shot down.
‘Come on, old girl,’ he said, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I’ve got to do my bit for King and country and all that. We will get leave, you know. We’ll only be in Kent, easy enough to get back and see you.’
Gerald suddenly looked far more attractive to Mariette. Later that same evening, when the four of them went up to Hampstead Heath for a drink, she kissed him passionately in the pub car park and promised to write to him.
‘It will mean so much to me, knowing you are my girl and are waiting for me,’ he said, showering her face with kisses. ‘You mean the world to me.’
‘I’m very fond of you too,’ she said, suddenly aware that she really was. ‘Just keep safe, Gerry.’
As it turned out, for the general public there was no need for panic or hasty decisions, because nothing happened at all. There were no bombs, no threat of imminent invasion, nothing. The newspapers reported that Poland had been taken by the Germans, but in England it became known as the ‘Phoney War’. People complained about the ration books that were issued, and about the blackout regulations, as if they didn’t believe the real war would ever affect England. In fact, by Christmas, many of the children who had been evacuated were back in London with their parents.
When they first returned from Arundel, Lisette’s pleas to stay put and the stringent petrol rationing that was about to be enforced persuaded Noah to change his mind about moving away from London. He decided to put the car into the garage for the duration of the war, and got Andrews to clean and whitewash the cellar in readiness for using it as an air-raid shelter.
Mariette really enjoyed the challenge of making the cellar cosy.
When Noah bought not only beds but also paraffin heaters and oil lamps too, in case the electric went, Mariette took charge of the lamps. She found a sense of irony in that, just a short while ago, it had been her job at home to fill lamps and trim the wicks. And now she was doing it again. Lisette let her go up into the attic, where she found some old pictures, a bookcase and various other small pieces of furniture. She arranged these in the cellar, filling the bookcase with books and collecting up a few games and jigsaw puzzles too.
‘I don’t know how you can be so enthusiastic about spending time in here,’ Rose said when she came down to have a look. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘It smells nasty and it’s so cold. I think Mama is wrong to want to stay here; we’d be far happier in the country, nearly all my friends have gone already.’
A great many of their neighbours in St John’s Wood had boarded up the windows of their homes and moved away from London. Mr and Mrs Andrews decided they would leave too, to go to stay with relatives who had a farm in Dorset. ‘They’ll need us more than you will,’ Mrs Andrews said to Lisette. ‘With all the young farm workers being called up, they’ll be in a pickle.’
The morning after Mr and Mrs Andrews left, much to Mariette’s shock, a letter arrived from Morgan, as badly written and inarticulate as the previous ones. He wrote:
I know I behaved bad. But I do, I love you. And didn’t mean to harm you. Please say you’ve forgiven me and write back. Because I’m off to France now with my regiment. And please send me a photo.
She felt she should be outraged, but instead she could only shake her head in wonder at his cheek. He’d only written now because he was scared of what lay ahead of him and wanted to think he had a girl back home. She didn’t want to be that girl any more, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit anxious for him.
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