Part of the Furniture

by Mary Wesley

  Robert blew his nose again and, bending, replenished the fire with logs, then sat too, quiet now, afraid he had rushed the girl, said too much. (Evelyn would have been more subtle, known what to say.) Deliberately Robert relaxed his legs, stretching them towards the fire, stifled a sigh and closed his eyes to blot out visual memory, uselessly of course.

  Sneaking a glance at him, Juno thought, they are uncannily alike, but this one is taller, stronger, more alive, his hair thicker. He breathes easily, does not wheeze. I must speak. She opened her mouth.

  ‘You are not likely to keep body and soul together surviving on bowls of soup.’ Ann bustled into the room. ‘You must be starving, so please, sir, both of you, come along and eat the supper which is spoiling in the kitchen. I can’t be doing with all this waiting about and, by the way, I have brought those puppies down,’ she said bossily to Juno. ‘They will soon be crawling and I can’t have them messing the carpets upstairs. The kitchen is the place for them now.’

  Obediently Robert rose to his feet and, holding out a hand to Juno, pulled her up from her chair. ‘Here we come.’ As they followed Ann towards the kitchen, he said, ‘Juno tells me all her clothes have gone astray, Ann, and that she has no clothes coupons. What miracle can you come up with?’

  With her back to Robert, Ann said, ‘I can lend her enough coupons for working clothes, gumboots and overalls, and cut down Evelyn’s clothes to fit.’

  In the semi-darkness of the hall Robert drew in his breath, winced.

  Still with her back to him, Ann said, ‘What is the difference? She is wearing his dressing-gown. I can cut down shirts and trousers, can’t I? What is the use of having learned tailoring if I don’t use it? Tell her, sir, how I came to learn tailoring.’ She chuckled.

  ‘What a realist you are.’ Robert recovered himself and then, observing Juno bewildered and embarrassed, he told, as they sat at supper, of how when Ann married Bert many years ago she had discovered that she did not care for the rumpy-pumpy that went with that state, and removed herself to Bradford. There she studied tailoring for a year until, overcome by homesickness, she had come back to Copplestone House. This all came with many embellishments to the tale, which had Juno laughing by the time he finished and laughing even more when Ann added a full stop, ‘I came back on my own terms.’

  Thus was Juno’s moment to speak put aside as they ate Ann’s steak and kidney pudding, parsnips, cabbage and jacket potatoes, restoring their physical and emotional energies. And Juno, munching, wondered what good it would do if she did speak. She weighed the pros and cons of her awkward situation and thought perhaps that it would be best to say nothing, for she hardly knew either the father or the son.

  It was as they finished the meal that they became aware of the growling flight of German bombers, and almost simultaneously the thud of bombs falling in the valley.

  Robert exclaimed, ‘The farm, they may hit the farm, scare the animals,’ and was out of the front door and running before either Ann or Juno got out of the kitchen.

  Ann, moving fast, shouted at Juno, ‘Put some clothes on, don’t show a light or let the dogs out.’ Pulling on a coat as she ran, she slammed out of the door after Robert and thudded across the yard.

  Juno nipped up the stairs to dress in trousers and sweater, lace-up shoes over thick socks, then she too ran outside but, running, heard the telephone peal and doubled back to answer it.

  A voice was shouting, ‘This be Fred Pearse from ARP. Tell Mr Copplestone the bombs missed the village, but they was coming out your way, tell ’im that.’ Juno said she would and the caller rang off.

  Outside in the yard she had to accustom herself to the dark. The horses in the stables were whinnying, agitated. She picked her way across to their boxes and said, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, nothing to worry about,’ stroked silky noses and patted necks. Then, leaving the yard, she strained her eyes downhill to the farm. A bomber was circling the valley, flying low. She watched its shadow cross the moon, then lost its silhouette against dark clouds as its engine growled and groaned, reminding her of London. From the farm she thought she heard voices and cows lowing, but could not be certain. Taking the short cut she began to run downhill, but tripping over a tussock fell headlong, winding herself and wrenching an ankle. Getting up, she trotted on in the direction of the farm, unaware that, favouring the hurt ankle, she was bearing away from the farm towards the wood. As she ran she was afraid and found herself muttering, ‘If there’s a raid take cover, take a taxi or better still the tube, you’ll be all right in the tube,’ and fumbling in her pocket for the ten-shilling notes. When the whistle and shriek of a descending bomb halted her in her tracks, she cowered down, hands over her ears as it crashed into the wood a hundred feet away.

  When the rustle, pattering and creak of broken branches stopped she got to her feet to listen, and hearing panting and whining nearby, made out, as the quarter moon shone through the clouds, the shape of dogs knitted together on the grass ride. Curiosity overcoming fear, she approached the entangled animals and recognized Bert’s old and decrepit sheepdog with its penis trapped in the aftermath of mating inside a collie bitch. As she approached they came apart; the bitch shied away to bolt through the trees, while Bert’s ancient animal slumped exhausted, apparently dying.

  As Juno crouched by the dog she realized that the bomb had crashed but there had been no explosion. ‘If there had been an explosion, I would have been blown away and so would you,’ she said to the dog lying gasping on his side. ‘Come along, it may go off yet.’ She tried to recollect what she had heard of unexploded bombs. ‘I don’t like it here. Get up, boy, come along.’ But the dog was spent and could not move.

  Juno was carrying the dog when Robert and Bert met her limping into the farmyard.

  ‘Where have you been? You are hurt,’ Robert exclaimed, but Bert was shouting, ‘What are you doing with old Nipper? Was he hit? Was he killed? What was you doing with the poor old bugger and enemy planes?’ His voice rose to a shriek.

  Robert said, ‘Don’t be a fool, Bert. Nipper’s half-dead at the best of times. He looks no different from usual.’

  Juno said, ‘I tripped and twisted my ankle, it’s nothing.’

  Bert shouted, ‘You fell over old Nipper, you’ve done him in.’ He was beside himself.

  Juno raised her voice. ‘No. I found him by the wood, he was with a collie, they were sort of stuck together. I’ve never seen—’

  ‘They was mating? Bert let out a whoop. ‘What sort of collie was it?’ He peered into Juno’s eyes.

  ‘Very pretty, black and white.’ Juno, not liking Bert so close, stepped back. ‘She made off through the wood. She seemed all right but Nipper collapsed, so I carried—’

  But Bert no longer listened, he was crowing. ‘Oh, the good dog. That ’ud be Tom French’s bitch, too good for old Nip, Tom said. Tom said my Nipper’s too old for his bitch. We’ll show ’um, won’t us, boy? When she whelps with Nip’s pups, he’ll owe us the best of the litter. You’m a great dog, Nipper.’ Bert leaned down to caress the aged Romeo, who lay where Juno had laid him, just managing a faint wave of his tail.

  Robert said, ‘A spoonful of brandy might help. Lust is extremely debilitating at his age.’ He was laughing as he, too, bent to stroke the dog.

  From outside the group Ann asked in a voice which indicated that there had been quite enough about the dog, ‘What about the bomb, Juno? You might have been killed. Where did it fall?’

  Juno said, ‘I don’t know exactly, but I was quite frightened. The farm, is that all right? As I was leaving the house the ARP post telephoned Robert.’ She had not called him by his Christian name before. ‘They wanted to warn you, said the bombs had missed the village.’

  Robert said, ‘Two bombs fell wide, one fell in the stream and the blast from another has damaged a wall, but the stock are safe.’ Then, looking closely at Juno, ‘I am thankful you are not badly hurt. We must get Ann to strap up that ankle.’ Then he laughed some more. ‘I’ve hea
rd air raids make people randy, but I didn’t know it applied to dogs.’

  Bert, pressing close to Juno, asked, ‘You sure now what you saw? Sure the old dog was—’

  Juno, backing away assured him, ‘Yes, yes, I am certain.’

  Bert, all smiles, assured her, ‘Then you’s welcome to come milking and I’ll teach ’ee dairywork.’

  Robert remarked sotto voce, ‘The raid’s made you a friend, Evelyn would love this.’

  NINETEEN

  VIOLET MARLOWE READ HER sister-in-law’s letter with rising eyebrows, put the letter back in its envelope and laid it aside. ‘Some people!’

  ‘Trouble?’ John Barnes looked up from his newspaper; breakfast on Saturdays when they were in London was a leisurely affair; Bill Bailey was likely to sleep till noon.

  Violet said, ‘It’s my sister-in-law.’

  ‘Who was married to your conchie brother?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Mother of the niece who was scared in an air raid?’ John liked to get things straight.

  ‘Yes, John.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘My sister-in-law writes that she has married that Sonntag man and that from now on she will have Canadian nationality.’

  ‘No harm in that.’

  ‘Changing nationality in time of war when you are British seems—’

  ‘Like jumping ship?’

  John had got it in one. Violet said, ‘Of course, and that’s not all; she writes that Juno has not arrived, and do I know where she is?’

  ‘She jumped ship too?’

  ‘Don’t be frivolous, John.’

  ‘Wasn’t she sailing to join her mother?’

  ‘That was the plan, though, come to think of it, she did not seem keen, but when I suggested various jobs she was not keen on those either. I thought perhaps she didn’t look forward to the life her mother had planned for her in Canada. I know she told me Juno would have opportunities she would never have in England, they were very badly off. But oh my God, John,’ Violet exclaimed, ‘think of all the ships which have been sunk.’

  John said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Violet, you would have heard. Were you next of kin?’

  Juno’s mother would be next of kin. Oh, John, how ghastly, she was barely seventeen. Think of it!’

  ‘I am thinking. If your sister-in-law met the ship, it can’t have been sunk; it sounds as though the ship arrived minus your niece. When she came to see you, where did she say she was going next?’

  ‘I gathered she was going home to collect a case of clothes. I supposed she would then go up to Liverpool to join the ship. Oh, John, she could have been transferred onto another ship! I wasn’t kind enough to the girl, and if she’s been torpedoed I shall never forgive myself,’ Violet agitated. ‘My brother may have been a conchie, but blood is thicker—’

  ‘And water drowns. Violet, keep calm, don’t jump to conclusions. Where was home? Your sister-in-law’s and Juno’s home, where she was to collect a case?’

  ‘A cottage in Berkshire; they rented it from friends called Murray or Johnson. They’ve lived there for years.’

  ‘Got the number?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘Then telephone these Murrays or Johnsons, they will have seen Juno when she fetched her case and know where she went. She is probably still there. You know what girls are like.’

  ‘You may know, I don’t. Shouldn’t I phone the shipping company to check the passenger list?’

  ‘Try the Murray Johnson people first. Then, if you get no joy, I’ll deal with the shipping company.’

  ‘Dear man, what a help you are.’ Violet went to the telephone and presently got through to Susan Johnson, catching her when she was just leaving the house to keep a dentist’s appointment. She explained her dilemma, and asked whether Susan had knowledge of Juno’s whereabouts.

  Susan’s voice on the line was clear. ‘Of course I have. She went to join her mother in Canada.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Violet gripped the instrument.

  ‘Of course I am sure. Mrs Marlowe gave up the lease of the cottage and moved out; it’s let to some other friends now. She’s gone to Canada, and Juno’s gone too.’

  Violet said, ‘But I hear from my sister-in-law that she hasn’t arrived.’

  ‘Hasn’t arrived? What do you mean, hasn’t arrived?’

  ‘Hasn’t arrived wherever you arrive in Canada. There must be a port’

  ‘There must be a port,’ Susan Johnson echoed.

  Violet tried again. ‘When I last saw my niece, she said she was going home to collect a case. I wondered whether she might still be with you?’

  Susan said, ‘Well, she isn’t.’ Realizing that she sounded abrupt, she added, ‘And I am afraid I know nothing about a case or your niece, and she certainly isn’t here.’

  Violet persisted, ‘I am sorry to be such a bore, but I have to try and find her. I am so afraid she may have been torpedoed. Could you tell me when you saw her last?’

  Susan said, That’s easy. My son and his cousin let her travel as far as London with them when they went to join their unit. She was going on to Liverpool. Why don’t you try there?’

  Violet said, ‘But if she had stayed in England and hasn’t been torpedoed, would your son or his cousin know where she would be?’

  Susan said, ‘Why on earth should they?’ Her tone was abrasive.

  ‘I thought as her friends—’

  ‘Not friends, the girl was just a child who was about the place. What are you suggesting?’

  Irritated, Violet snapped, ‘I am not suggesting anything. I am trying to find my niece who seems to have disappeared. I am worried and her mother will be frantic’

  Susan Johnson, irritated in turn, said, ‘Well, I am sorry I can’t help.’ Her tone indicated clearly that Juno’s whereabouts were not her concern.

  Violet put down the receiver. ‘Bloody woman! She doesn’t care, and doesn’t seem to like Juno.’

  John, thinking, And nor did you much, suggested ringing the shipping company, but it was Saturday and the office was closed. Having failed, he murmured, ‘I had no idea you were fond of her.’

  Violet said, ‘I am not, but she’s my niece. I owe it to my brother.’

  ‘Nor were you fond of him,’ said John astutely, feeling bored with Juno for spoiling a peaceful Saturday morning. ‘Hearing you speak of him has never given me that impression.’

  Violet said, ‘I dare say not, but I am dealing with family. Juno is a blood relation.’

  ‘What is she like? Apart from the fact that she was caught in a raid, shot in here for a bath, was wearing unsuitable shoes for the snow and was gone when you got back from work, we don’t know much.’ John, hoping to alleviate Violet’s fuss, adopted a teasing note. ‘Is she for instance pretty?’

  ‘Oh yes, she’s pretty. Thin like my brother, dark hair, but rather—’

  ‘Rather what?’

  ‘She left the bathroom door unlocked and lay in the bath with her clothes scattered on the floor. She did not seem to mind my coming in. It was rather—’ Violet paused, unwilling to tell John that she had thought Juno indecent.

  John said, ‘I wouldn’t mind that. My girls scream if I try the door.’

  Violet said, ‘Your girls know how to behave.’

  ‘Are you implying that your niece is a bit on the wild side? What used to be called loose?’

  Violet said, ‘I don’t know her well enough to judge, but if she is anything like her father she would be difficult.’

  ‘Who were her friends? Would she be likely to light off? Elope?’

  ‘Heavens, John, no. Would one of yours?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised by anything my girls did.’

  ‘Well, Juno wouldn’t. She’s a shy and timid little thing, never had friends. My sister-in-law hoped Canada would help there, draw her out, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘And now you’re suggesting that she is wandering loose like some c
ommon tart! Oh God, John, I am so worried. The losses in the Atlantic are so frightening.’

  John said, ‘Come on, Violet, don’t start that again. Don’t work yourself into a state.’

  ‘But what am I to tell her mother?’

  John said, ‘Try and keep calm. Wait a day or two and you’ll get another letter to say she’s arrived safe and well, your sister-in-law made some silly mistake. It happens all the time, there’s a war on.’

  Violet said, ‘I could hit you, John.’ And when, two days later, Juno, persuaded by Robert, telephoned her aunt to apprise her of her whereabouts, she flew into a rage. ‘I could strike that girl. She rings up, cool as you please, as though I was not worried sick by her being sunk in the Atlantic.’

  ‘And if not sunk,’ Bill Bailey, who had joined his fellow lodger in the job of assuaging Violet’s agony of mind, now asked, ‘where might this volatile drownee be?’

  ‘She’s working on a farm in the West Country, milking cows, feeding hens and pigs—’

  ‘Did she give you the address?’

  ‘I was too angry to ask.’

  ‘So what will you tell your sister-in-law?’

  ‘I told the little fool to tell her herself. She is just like my useless brother.’

  John Barnes raised his eyes towards the ceiling and said, ‘Family, Violet, family.’

  TWENTY

  ‘KEEP STILL WHILE I measure you. Stand on that stool so that I don’t have to bend.’ Ann held a tape-measure. ‘Bending gips my back.’

  Obediently Juno mounted the stool while Ann ran the tape from neck to bottom, armpit to wrist, looped it round her chest. ‘Keep still a minute while I write it down.’ She wrote Juno’s measurements on the back of an envelope. ‘When I have you measured, we’ll go upstairs and see what we find in those cupboards and drawers.’

  ‘What cupboards? Can I get down now?’

  ‘Not yet! Evelyn’s cupboards, haven’t you looked? You are a funny one.’

  ‘It seemed like prying. Was the room always his?’

  ‘Yes. I put you there as it was the one room ready. He’d come at short notice when he managed a day or two off; I kept it ready with the fire laid.’