‘You’re going to have a baby. It’s not all pleasure having children,’ Kathleen said to me. ‘You have to give up so much for them – but they are reluctant to give up anything for you.’ I tried to comfort her by saying that Anne looked so radiant but she burst into tears and said she felt already that she was in their way. The flat was her home – but the young ones seemed to have taken it over completely and it was no longer hers. She didn’t know if she would be able to continue to live with them there. But where else would she go? And that she did not want to live alone was obvious. We encouraged her to talk about her business, which was doing very promisingly. She became enthusiastic at once. She had all sorts of plans for it – if only the war would end and the restrictions on everything be lifted she felt that she could spread her wings and soar. There was no limit to her ideas and plans. Kathleen was really gifted in designing clothes – her creations had that something which marked them from the ordinary everyday garment. No matter how simple a dress or coat she made – it had distinction. The Blitz had become so much less frequent and violent that there was a spate of entertaining now that it was no longer such a problem to get home in the black-out.
As I knew now that I was going to have a baby in the autumn, Betty Compton sent me to her gynaecologist, who told me that he did not consider me very robust and that he would prefer me to give up some of my work, and this I agreed to do at the end of April. He also said that he would not confine me in London – he was adamant and, remembering Catherine’s ordeal, I understood his reasons. We were delighted at the prospect of a baby, and decided immediately that our home would not be large enough and I must set about finding a larger one. Spring was well on the way, the raids were lessening, life began to look radiant.
On the 17th Richard left the Ministry of Home Security and was appointed Director of the Home Division of the Ministry of Information. I was glad for him as it meant promotion, but sorry otherwise. This Ministry had become a source of much satire and amusement to the public – and somehow I mistrusted it as much as the public did. The Ministry of Home Security had something reassuring in its very title although doubtless it suffered from the inevitable anomalies and red tape as did all the other war-time ministries.
At this time all women, married or single, were required to register for war work. The decision to use and direct women in the war-drive upset many people, who said that even in Germany women were still absolutely free to help in the war effort or to tend their families; but most of us felt that this was only right and were glad to be regarded as equally liable as men for the defence of our country.
There were so many damaged houses now in Chelsea, and so many requisitioned ones, that to find a new home suitable for a family was not easy, but after much search I had found one just around the corner in Tite Street which seemed to answer the purpose. It was a delightful modern house with a small garden, and had plenty of large airy rooms. The owners were in the country, but the agents said that there would be no difficulty in renting it on a long lease with a possibility of buying it if we wished. Kathleen and Mrs Freeth both approved it, and Kay, who inspected it with me while Mr Hore Belisha was visiting his friend only a few houses away, thought it was a wonderful find. I was thankful for her that the Blitz had quietened down recently. Mr Hore Belisha was a most considerate and charming person, but he had a cottage on Wimbledon Common and Kay often had to drive through the heavy Blitz when taking him there or returning with the car. Like our ambulance drivers she simply took it all as part of the job.
Chapter Twenty
IN APRIL it really seemed that the worst of the winter’s horrors could be forgotten. Everywhere in their gardens or allotments people were digging and sowing seeds. Even the smallest amount of food grown helped. The refugees, now that the question of their garden plots had been settled satisfactorily, were very happy raking and sowing and many of them were planting potatoes. The trees, probably because we now had time to look at them, seemed especially lovely this year, the flowering ones laden with blossom. In the little physics garden in Swan Walk everything was budding and shooting. The gardener allowed me to take Vicki in there. The gate had to be kept unlocked now because of raids, and this small, fascinating place full of rare herbs and strange medicinal plants was a great joy to me. In the grounds of the Royal Hospital I met Asta Lange and Peer Gynt again. He still loved Vicki as much as ever. The Norwegians were having a terrible time under the Germans, who were helped by the Norwegian Nazis, known as the Hirdmen. The children, Asta told me, used to go and stand outside the Royal Palace and shout, ‘Long live the King and Queen. Down with Quisling,’ and were brutally treated by the Hirdmen and the German Nazis. They didn’t care – they went on doing it. The Hirdmen had formed a Nazi regiment and their marching song began, ‘In serried ranks, we march through London’s streets.’ This amused Asta very much. ‘Let them come and try it!’ she scoffed. So great were the disturbances caused by the Resistance in Norway that Himmler, chief of Nazi police, had to go there to try to quell the insurrection. Asta’s family were all in Norway, but she was undaunted – the war could only end in victory and the end of the criminals who were behaving so brutally to her fellow countrymen.
Easter was early that year, Good Friday being on April 11th. The week-end was cold, there had been snow and sleet although the spring was so advanced. I had at last given in to the pleadings of my young niece to be allowed to come and stay with us in Chelsea. I also gave in to Carla’s entreaties. Ruth was still in the mental hospital – she was, in fact, no better. Carla was beginning to feel the need of a home of some kind and I agreed that she should come for ten days. Ruth still appeared to have no recollection of Carla – or of her sons in Germany. Her mind was a blank as regards her former life. I had had letters from some friends of hers offering to help with Carla – but not to have her with them. They felt that a child would be too much of a responsibility in war-time. What they offered was money – but this I did not accept. What if they should want it back from Ruth at some future date? No, I had accepted Carla as my responsibility and she was passionately attached to me now.
My niece, known as Bobbie, although her name was Nora, arrived in high spirits from her boarding-school in Dorchester. She was delighted to be in London. Carla arrived, equally gay. Both were growing into very pretty girls, both blonde and blue-eyed. I took them to buy clothes and was urged by Richard to get some for myself. But if I were going to have a baby what would be the use?
When a few days later the rationing of clothing was announced I understood his having pressed me to do this, but I was very indignant that he had not told me the real reason for his advice – it seemed to me to be carrying governmental caution too far.
On Easter Sunday we had an Easter egg-hunt for the refugee children. We hid the eggs in the gardens of each house and at a signal they had to hunt for them. Larry had supplied a great many of the eggs and thoroughly enjoyed the fun in giving the children, now able to talk to him in English, some clues as to whether or not they were ‘hot’ or ‘cold’.
Sweets were not yet rationed, although very scarce, but there were plenty of chocolate eggs at a price, and Richard gave me the very biggest one I had ever had. Carla’s and Bobbie’s were almost as huge. We had given great pleasure to old Granny of Paradise Walk by giving her an Easter egg. She was quite overcome with delight when the two girls, who liked to go and pet the horse Beauty and take her tit-bits, presented her with it. Beauty was still very frightened and restive in heavy raids – but since the lull she had become much easier to manage. The old couple loved her, and she was their first thought when the sirens sounded.
Granny was still hoping that they would get the old-age pension – she had spoken to me about this many times. Richard told me that they should swear an affidavit as to the place and dates of their births to the best of their ability. I took Granny to my solicitors and this was done the week before Easter. The documents lay in my desk and immediately after Easter I intended taking them
to the Town Hall to see what could be done. The fruit and vegetable trade was diminishing rapidly now that the war curtailed imports and transport was difficult. They felt that their living would soon be taken from them and what would they do then, at their age, asked Granny? Her husband still drove most mornings to Covent Garden in Richard’s overcoat, but sometimes he came back with almost nothing. Food for the horse was becoming very difficult too, and altogether life was very hard for the old couple and their lodger.
Anne and Cecil had gone away for their honeymoon. They were both able to add the Easter holiday on to some leave so that they had over a fortnight. They went to the Midlands, where Anne had friends, for part of the time. Kathleen was alone and spent a lot of time with us.
On Easter Saturday A P Herbert, whose work I had always liked, and whom I had met with Leon and Mary Underwood, gave us a delightful Postscript in a broadcast. He called it, ‘Let’s be Gay!’ It exactly suited our mood of spring after winter, and the lull after the storm of the Blitz. I know I liked it so much that I wrote it down for the two girls. It began:
Let’s be gay. It’s Easter Day –
And Spring, at last, is on its way.
It’s Hitler’s habit in the Spring
To do some dark disgusting thing,
But you and I may still decline
To sign on Hitler’s dotty line. Let’s be gay. It is the Spring
And even postscripts have to sing.
The last verse went:
Let us be gay because we’ve got
The finest leader of the lot.
Let us be gay because we see
The breed is what it used to be,
Let us be gay because we know
That Franklin Roosevelt won’t let go
And in the war of Night and Day
The English-speakers lead the way.
I thought APH had caught the feeling of us all wonderfully. The news that America was going all out to help us had made a difference in our outlook, Larry was jubilant but he was not satisfied – he wanted the United States to come right out in the open and join the Allies in actual war. There were other volunteers with the Canadians who were Americans like him, and in the ARP we had several working with us – nurses, fire-watchers, and wardens doing voluntary shifts.
Yes, we all felt cheerful! The winter, which had been grim, was over. Every day the sun became a little stronger, and life a little brighter. In this mood we decided to give a really big cocktail party on Easter Sunday, as we had not had one since our marriage. Bank holidays had been abolished since the war, everyone had to work on the Monday. We had a very gay party, in marked contrast to the one I had had in that fateful June of last year. There were a number of schoolgirls and boys in London for their holidays and I asked several of them for Carla and Bobbie. They looked after the cocktail snacks and were a great success. Larry had brought some of the Canadians, including Anne’s and Cecil’s best man. Many colleagues of Richard’s from the Ministries came, and many of my colleagues from the FAP and the Control Centre, all the Fitzgerald family from the Royal Hospital, Asta and Jennie, Kumari, and Dr Pennell – and, to my great joy, Marianne Ducroix, happy and assured now that the French were helping magnificently in the Libyan campaign. It was a lovely party! and it seemed in some way for me to have a special significance. I was very happy that we were going to have a child – and feeling wonderfully fit. All my family, especially my mother, were delighted, and had already begun sending me small garments for the baby.
During the evening Carla and Bobbie gave Vicki a whole glass of sherry. She loved it so much that they gave her another one before I could prevent them. Poor Miss Hitler was very drunk! She could not stand up properly, but rolled about in a helpless, ridiculous way. Afterwards she undoubtedly had a hang-over and would not look at alcohol but turned her face away resolutely whenever a glass of any kind was offered her. I saw Carla off on the Monday; she did not want to go. She was an affectionate child and cried bitterly at leaving me, but she had been invited to a school-friend’s for the remainder of the holidays and I felt that for her own sake she must make friends and learn to stand on her own feet. I promised her that by next holidays we would have moved to the house in Tite Street and that there would always be a room for her there. My sister telephoned the next morning and said that Bobbie must return. The child pleaded with me to stay – but my sister, who told me afterwards that she had the strangest presentiment of disaster, was adamant about her immediate return. That evening we were all playing about in the studio with Vicki and a ball, and Richard was tipping his chair backwards as he caught it from Bobbie. I had yielded to persuasion and had moved the Green Cat from the window on to a low table. As Richard tilted backwards, his foot caught the table and tipped it over. The Green Cat fell on to the carpet. It was a thick carpet but one of his pointed ears was knocked off and broken into several pieces.
I made an abominable fuss about it. I was terribly upset – not only because the Cat was so beautiful, but because it had been impressed on me that he was the Guardian of the Home and must be kept intact and inviolate. Richard was very apologetic but he was rightly annoyed at the fuss I made. He said it could be repaired so cleverly that no one would know. He also reminded me that many people had lost everything in the bombing. I put the damaged Cat back in the window – it did not seem to matter now.
With Bobbie and Carla gone I felt quite desolate, and so did Mrs Freeth. Larry brought me a blue rabbit for the baby which he said would be a boy – we put this beside the damaged Cat to console him. It was Wednesday, April 16th, and a lovely warm day – so warm that it seemed that summer had arrived without any proper spring.
In the afternoon I went to visit some of the refugees. They were very excited; two of the men had gone to join their boats in Brixham, and there was a prospect of others getting employment soon. They were also digging and planting potatoes in their small plots. For once there was not a single complaint – they were full of the same gay feeling as I was.
Vicki had been trying to get out all day to Peer Gynt, who had escaped from Asta and was sitting hopefully in the middle of the Royal Hospital Road watching our windows and our front door – the spring and biology had affected them too. At lunchtime a policeman had rung the bell and asked if it were my dog in the road as it was obstructing the traffic which had to go all round it. I explained about Vicki being the object of his attentions and we chased him off. When I went out in the afternoon with her we were relieved to find that he had gone home.
Anne and Cecil returned from their honeymoon about six o’clock. Kathleen came to wait with me for their arrival. I had saved a bottle of champagne for them. I had had a postcard from them both – so had Larry.
Anne came in, impetuous and gay, and flung herself upon us. She looked radiant. I held her away from me and said, ‘Well, how was it?’ She hugged me, and said, ‘Wonderful! Wonderful!’ and her glowing face was all the evidence I needed. Richard came home and we drank their health and future happiness and they insisted on drinking to the baby we were expecting. We stood there, Larry, Cecil, and Richard, all well over six feet tall, and Kathleen, Anne, and I, and drank to everything – to Victory, to Canada, to America, to them, to Kathleen, and to us. Then the honeymooners went upstairs to unpack and Kathleen stayed with us for a while. When I looked at her I saw that she was weeping bitterly. She could not get accustomed to Anne being married to Cecil. But I thought that she would have felt the same way at first about any man who married Anne and that she would soon get over it. But she was sad – and we couldn’t cheer her up as we usually could. She had financial worries, she said, and they kept her awake. She worried about Penty too. She seemed to have a presentiment that death was not far away for she asked me suddenly if I would become a trustee and guardian to Penty. I hesitated – already I had Catherine and Francesca and Carla – and now my own baby was on the way. I felt it would not be fair to Richard to burden him with any more responsibilities – although I intended to should
er mine quite independently.
She said, ‘All right, let’s leave it for a few days. I know you’ll do what you can for her if anything happens to me.’ I said, ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, have another drink.’
We discussed the financial troubles – and told her we could help her. She went away much happier, and kissed me very warmly.
It was too late to start cooking. I had sent Mrs Freeth home. She had not wanted to go, but I thought she had been working too hard and I made her go. Richard suggested that we went out for dinner. We would go and see Madame Caletta, who had been carrying on the restaurant very successfully since her husband’s death. We talked with Madame Caletta about the sunshine, the quieter nights, the war, and everything in general and we had a very enjoyable dinner. It had been quite light when we entered the restaurant, but when we came out it was quite dark. As we walked home enjoying the warm air to our astonishment the sirens went – first in the distance those eerie mournful howls and then nearer until they blasted the still air in full fury. It was five minutes past nine.
Almost immediately there was the sickening roar of a great drove of planes which increased and increased so that we knew that there must be hundreds of them. The guns opened up at once – a terrific barrage, so loud that it was difficult to speak, and huge flares – different to any which we had seen – were being dropped.
A Chelsea Concerto Page 26