The Last Letter from Juliet

by Melanie Hudson

  But there was another reason for Anna’s exuberance this Christmas and the source of the joy could be found at the Predannack party. I sat in a corner for most of the night, catching up and reminiscing with Lottie, while Anna was serenaded by a pilot who asked her to dance – and had continued to ask her to dance until the final number – I’ll Be Seeing You, sung by Jo Stafford.

  Until now, Anna had been happy to keep herself to herself on the man front. Yes, she had occasionally agreed to a date rigged up by Marie and gone up town from Hamble with some chap from the Navy or the Royal Marines. Men were not usually looking for a real date, just a bit of fun on a Saturday night, which suited Anna. Being a practical soul, the last thing she wanted to do was fall desperately in love with someone who, in Anna’s words, ‘might not make it past the final furlong’.

  ‘I do not,’ she said, ‘ever want to be like Lottie!’

  But Anna hadn’t reckoned on Bill, the RAF pilot, who had flown in the Battle of Britain and who, within less than an hour of meeting Anna, had fallen madly in love with her. The feeling, much to Anna’s dismay, was mutual.

  And as for me? My Christmas was spent with that unsettling feeling of nervous turmoil bubbling around in the pit of my stomach, the sort of turmoil that is the curse of the anxious lover. I roamed for miles around the local area with Anna, showing her our haunts – the Tiger Moth stored in the barn, the village, the church and even (from a suitable distance, of course) Edward’s cottage.

  Like any close female friend who is supporting a pal who has suffered heartache, Anna spent hours listening to me ramble on as I went over and over questions buzzing around in my head, the most important one being, why on earth Edward would agree to go to the Christmas drinks party with Lottie if he knew I would be there? Did he have designs on Lottie, after all? Was it revenge for not meeting him? Did he even think of me now? Was my mother right? Had I been fooled by this charmer, this coddiwompler, all along? These were all questions that we couldn’t possibly know the answers to, but as any woman who have ever been desperately in love will know, talking about him endlessly to a patient friend – even in a negative way – made him real.

  And so, it was with a sense of both dread and excitement that we prepared for the party by putting up the blackout blinds, lighting the candles on the tree and gathering the house party together in the hallway to welcome the men from the other side of the house into our home. The guests were a sullen bunch, but it wouldn’t be for several months more that I would discover just how risky and complicated their operation was. I would also learn that Pa Lanyon had known the true nature of their work all along, but none of this information came to light tonight. Tonight was for sharing the significantly reduced and somewhat meagre feast from our Christmas table and, in so many ways, making the best of a bad lot.

  Lottie had pulled out all the stops in terms of choice of outfit and was looking fabulous – if on tenterhooks – waiting for Edward to arrive. Charles chose not to stand in the hallway but to sit in the lounge by the fire, with the family’s King Charles Spaniel by his side. My heart went out to Charles, but it seemed that every single time I tried to get close to him, he pushed me away. I was a prisoner in a marriage neither party wanted and Charles wasn’t even trying to mask the estrangement any more, which meant my disastrous marriage would be laid bare tonight for all to see – for Edward to see. And yet, would he even care? Edward was expecting to spend the evening with Lottie and with the way Lottie looked tonight, who could blame him.

  Anna – at my insistence – had brought Bill to the party, but she stood by my side as we welcomed guests, offering drinks. Eats did not match up to pre-war standards, but Ma Lanyon and Lottie had done us proud with the little they had and as the guests filtered in, just for a moment, one might almost – almost – have forgotten about the war. Edward was the last to arrive. I saw him before he saw me. I took Anna’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘He’s here!’ Lottie squealed, rushing to the door to welcome him.

  ‘She’ll never get him to fall for her behaving like that …’ Anna whispered in my ear. ‘I can see why you like him though. Quite the dish!’

  With her widowhood seemingly forgotten, Lottie – dear, sweet, naïve Lottie – ushered Edward towards the welcoming party for introductions.

  ‘This is Edward,’ she said to us all, beaming. ‘Edward – from left to right – this is Anna, Bill and finally, my brother’s wife, Juliet – oh, I forgot, you already met, didn’t you? Years ago!’

  Edward looked directly at me.

  ‘It was four years ago almost exactly,’ he said.

  Anna held out her hand, despite having met him briefly before. ‘Pleased to meet you, Edward.’

  Edward did not look at me for a moment longer than is usual during an introduction. We shook hands but it was too much for me. I couldn’t maintain the pretence. ‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me, Lottie. I really should see if Charles is all right.’ I turned to Edward. ‘Have a good evening, Edward. It’s … good, to see you again.’

  He nodded and for a moment I thought I saw a flicker of … warmth?

  I sat with Charles on the periphery for a while. At times he was almost tender and I wondered, not unkindly, if this tenderness was something of a show on his behalf, to save face for both of us, but who on earth could tell what Charles was thinking anymore. The whole evening was a confusing mess.

  By nine-thirty Lottie decided to fill the house with music and established a make-shift dance hall in the dining room. Anna appeared by my side at ten o’clock. She had left Bill in the lounge, talking to Charles.

  ‘How’s tricks?’ she asked, watching Edward and Lottie move around the floor to a catchy big band song playing on the gramophone.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Really? I wouldn’t be.’

  ‘Charles is behaving like a husband – well, almost. Edward has clearly forgotten me and I’m happy playing out the role of the dutiful wife. And in two days’ time you and I will go home. It’s all fine and exactly how it should be, truly.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Fine is how people describe a situation when in reality they are feeling awful. You deserve better than “fine”.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘I want you to be wonderful, not fine’.

  We stood in silence and watched the dancers.

  ‘What’s he playing at, do you think?’ Anna asked, nodding towards Edward.

  It was my turn to sigh and shake my head.

  ‘I doubt he’s playing at anything. I don’t think “playing” is Edward’s style. Do remember that I consistently walk away from his advances and I am married. Why shouldn’t he have a good time with Lottie?’

  ‘Because he’s in love with you, that’s why.’

  I linked my arm in Anna’s.

  ‘Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore.’

  During the whole evening – perhaps because there were far too many guests gathered in too small a space – Edward and I managed to behave like two independent planets, circling in the same orbit, but always a million light years apart.

  At ten, Charles had excused himself and expressed a wish to go to bed. I offered to sit with him in his bedroom a while but he reached for my hand, pulled me close, kissed me on the forehead and declined. It was when I followed him into the hallway, where Lottie was dancing with Bill, that my heart finally broke in two. On seeing Charles retiring, Lottie had broken away from Bill and rushed over, offering to escort him around the dance floor before he went to bed. I had, on a number of occasions, offered to do the same thing, but Charles had refused to dance every time. But now, asked by Lottie, he accepted. And it was at the moment Charles stepped onto the dance floor with Lottie that Edward caught my eye. He was across the room, standing in the entrance to Pa’s study. His head tipped slightly to the side. Noticing Charles on the dance floor, Edward crossed the room towards me. He held out his hand.

  ‘Would you care to dance, Juliet?’

  Anna kissed Bill goodnigh
t just as the clock struck twelve. I waved off the last of the guests and joined Anna on the sofa in the lounge. An exhausted but happy Lottie had already said her goodnights and gone to bed, which left the two of us alone in the semi-darkness, with only the embers of the fire and a last flickering candle for company. We slouched side by side on the sofa, my cold left hand tucked into Anna’s warm right one.

  ‘He’s definitely not in love with her, you know,’ Anna began, staring into the fire. ‘I watched them all evening and, honestly, he made every possible excuse to get away from her at every possible moment. It was quite sad for Lottie, really. I don’t think Edward even knew he’d been invited tonight as Lottie’s particular guest. I think she’s a bit … delusional.’

  I said nothing. What was the point of analysing the thing? I was married. Edward was single. The end.

  ‘Charles has upset you again, hasn’t he?’

  I nodded, just as the tears I’d buttoned in all evening spilled over my lower lashes.

  ‘At first, I thought he was actually being quite husbandly towards you,’ she said, dabbing my eyes with a handkerchief, ‘quite sweet, in a way, but to dance with Lottie and then with that other woman at the end of the thing and not with you … it was cruel, Juliet, not to mention bloody humiliating, especially in front of Edward.’

  I was too tired to argue. Anna didn’t let up. She took my hands firmly in hers.

  ‘Listen. It sounds to me like this marriage happened for all the wrong reasons at a time when you were excessively vulnerable. I know he’s been injured, but I really do think you should leave him, Juliet, for your own sanity, if not for his. I hate to say it, but the man seems to resent you.’

  This one-way conversation carried along the same path for some minutes until Anna suddenly stopped.

  ‘Ssshhh,’ she whispered. ‘I can hear someone …’ We quietened a moment. ‘Is that Charles’ voice?’

  It was.

  We tiptoed to the door and listened.

  ‘… I know, darling,’ we heard him whisper into the phone, ‘and I feel the same way too, it’s all a wretched, blasted mess. But what can I do? She put bags of money into the house and we’re her only family. I can’t just walk away, not at the moment … yes, I love you, too … yes, yes, I know, but just give me some time …’

  Anna and I turned to face each other in the firelight. She leant forward and whispered into my ear.

  ‘Get your warmest coat. I’ll see you at the kitchen door in ten minutes.’

  It was one a.m. when I arrived at Edward’s cottage. The moon, just like a reliable old landing light, shone a path from across the sea down to Angels Cove, guiding me home. I freewheeled down the hill through a wind so sharp it cut into my face like a dagger and by the time I pushed Lottie’s bicycle up the track for the last hundred yards from the harbour to Edward’s cottage, my face burned bright red with a mixture of wind-burn and exhilaration. I didn’t care.

  Despite the blackout, a low candle burned in Edward’s lounge window. I propped Lottie’s bicycle against the cottage wall and glanced through the window. Edward was sitting on the sofa, a whiskey glass in his hand and a slow, melancholic tune echoed through the glass. Without hesitation, indifferent to the time of day, I knocked on the door.

  There were so many questions to be answered, but as we looked into each other’s eyes across the doorway, the need for explanation faded away. Edward glanced at his watch and whispered just three words.

  ‘Happy birthday, Juliet.’

  I smiled, took his outstretched hand in mine, stepped through the door and – the devil be hanged – stayed the night.

  Chapter 28

  Katherine

  A return email

  ‘You go, girl!’ I thought (not being able to think of anything similar, a little more English, just at that moment).

  I lay the manuscript down on Juliet’s bedside table, smiling, and thought of her – a beautiful, frail, enigma of a woman, who sat alone in the care home every night, living through her memories, living a life of perpetual last goodbyes.

  I turned off the light and tried to sleep, but my head was full of contradicting, bizarre images and in my dreams my own story was mixed with Juliet’s, making for an unpleasant cocktail of drama and death. At three a.m. I grabbed my phone and typed a text:

  Are you out there, James? Can you hear me?

  I was about to press send, but then, letter by letter, pressed delete. I had just deleted the last letter when the phoned pinged.

  An email, from Sam.

  Hi, Katherine.

  I just read your email. I’m so sorry about your husband. I do, kind of, understand, but it certainly looks like you’re beginning to have a lovely (and lively) time, which is great. I just wanted to say, I wouldn’t worry too much about the size of your thighs. Men are never as bothered about these things as women think they are.

  Yours,

  Sam

  P.S. Call it a wild guess, but have you been drinking Percy’s cider this evening?

  P.P.S. I’m on my way home! Thanks for the offer to stay, but as I’ll be back late I’ll crash down in the wardroom and probably get to Angels Cove on Christmas morning, for Juliet’s birthday. I don’t suppose you would like to come flying with us, would you? To be honest, I could do with the support. See it as a bit of an introduction to coddiwompling, perhaps?

  Dear God, why had I mentioned my thighs?

  But flying? On Christmas Day? The old Katherine would have shied away, but the new one ..? The one who was on the first rung of the ladder?

  I hit reply.

  Dear Sam

  As a converted coddiwompler I can confirm that I’d love to come flying with you!

  See you soon!

  Katherine

  I closed the lid of the laptop and it hit me that, in her own story, Juliet had stridden out beyond a kind of crossroads tonight, and if I, too, was going to start dying to live rather than living to die, I would need to get my skates on if I was ever to catch up, because the world had not been waiting to move on without me.

  Chapter 29

  Juliet

  A day to last a lifetime

  I spent the whole of Christmas day with Edward. It was the most selfish, inconsiderate, downright rude thing I had ever done and yet I didn’t care a jot, because that crisp, sunny December day at Angels Cove was the most perfectly put together passing of time of my entire life.

  Within the ten minutes it had taken me to grab my things the night before, Anna had devised a cover story to explain my absence on Christmas Day. At breakfast she would say that a message had been delivered to the house just as we had gone to bed instructing me to report to RAF Predannack the following morning to do a test flight on an aircraft that was possibly required back at the factory for deep maintenance. It was all nonsense, of course. Any number of RAF pilots could have carried out such a task and we weren’t even qualified to carry out test flights. The only person at Lanyon other than Charles who may have smelled a rat was Lottie, and she wasn’t working that day and wouldn’t surface till gone midday. But as it happened, I really didn’t care what Charles or anyone else thought of my absence. To hell with them.

  Dawn brought only a little sleep before we eventually, reluctantly, rose to make something of the day – Christmas Day, my birthday. Edward dug a rusty saw out of the shed and we went on a hunt to find the perfect Christmas tree, but I felt a desperate pang of guilt. There was so much destruction in the world, why harm a little tree? Instead, we knocked on the door of a chap Edward knew in the village and borrowed the man’s wheelbarrow and spade. I watched while Edward dug up a tiny little fir tree we found in a copse at the back of the school and placed it carefully in the barrow. The little tree was placed into a pot and given pride of place in the lounge.

  ‘It’s not quite finished, though,’ Edward said, frowning from the doorway as I turned the pot to offer the tree’s best aspect to the room. ‘There’s a box of decorations in the loft. Back in a second.’<
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  We sat in front of the fire and took great delight in rummaging through a box of decorations Edward had saved from the festivities of Christmas 1938. Most were bits and bobs made by the children in the hall – dried orange peel on string and paper chains. In 1938, Angels Cove had seemed far removed from the real world and the prospect of war, and even now, with the war raging on – not just in Europe but via the Luftwaffe on our home front, too – Angels Cove still seemed separate from the rest of the world, an escapists paradise, where all the right elements came together to promote nothing but harmony and an inexplicable feeling of peace and contentment.

  But there were two particular items in the box which, when I saw them, filled my heart with joy – a Christmas tree ornament and a Christmas card.

  I recognised the Christmas card, which had a hand-drawn angel on the front. I opened it up to read the message.

  Dear Edward.

  I have loved my week at Angels Cove and it’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you.

  Here’s wishing you the very best of Christmases.

  Yours, with love,

  Juliet

  Edward smiled as I read it. My eyes misted over.

  ‘You saved it?’ I whispered, still looking at the card in my hand.

  ‘Of course. Although, once you married Charles, I put it away with the decorations … too painful.’

  I glanced up at him adoringly.

  ‘When did you know?’ I asked.

  ‘That I was in love with you?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s a school girl question, I know, but answer it anyway.’

  ‘I suppose it would have been that day on the cliff, when you jumped out of the Tiger Moth with oil smeared all over your face, trying to shoo the cows.’